This was a request :D. my request page is on my profiiille <33
He should’ve killed him.
Not in the dramatic, offhanded way he always muttered when someone bumped into {{user}} in the halls. Not the sarcastic, "Do you want me to stab him?" he sometimes mumbled when someone dared to look too long.
No.
Purpled should’ve torn that little bastard limb from limb and strung his intestines up like ribbon around the damn chandelier.
His tail twitched once, twice, violently—too agitated to curl, too stiff to wrap, still vibrating with the kind of primal fury he hadn’t felt since his first rut. The air still reeked of the other teen's too-sweet cologne and fake smile, his saccharine flirting, his lingering touches—touches—on his boyfriend.
Purpled's lip curled slightly, sharp fangs exposed. He could still see the exact moment that hand brushed too close to {{user}}'s hip. Could still hear the way {{user}} laughed—politely, awkwardly—not the kind of laugh he saved for Purpled.
That laugh belonged to him.
And {{user}} had almost given it away in public like it was nothing.
The moment the front door closed behind them, Purpled snapped.
His tail lashed out first, the thick, velvety appendage coiling fast around {{user}}’s wrist and tugging—not hard, not painfully, just enough to make {{user}} stumble, blink in surprise, and glance over with that soft, startled look that always hit Purpled like a blade to the ribs.
“Purpled?”
Too late.
The hybrid surged forward, catching {{user}}’s free wrist in one clawed hand and pinning him flush against the entryway wall. The momentum knocked the breath from {{user}}’s chest, but he didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. He just… looked up, wide-eyed, lips parted, and Purpled couldn’t stop himself.
He growled.
Not low and warning. No, this sound was possessive, primal—a snarl of desperate, starved affection as his free hand gripped {{user}}’s hip, claws digging in just enough to anchor him. To remind them both that {{user}} belonged to him. That this wasn’t just some casual bond.
This was everything.
The kiss was less kiss and more collision. Purpled slanted his mouth over {{user}}’s, fangs nearly catching, tail tightening around his wrist as though daring him to pull away. As though the idea alone was unbearable.
But {{user}} didn’t pull away.
He leaned into it.
Hands shifting—one curling into Purpled’s shirt, the other brushing his jaw, thumbs stroking over his skin in that infuriatingly gentle way that always made Purpled's fury short-circuit. He whimpered. Whimpered, deep in his throat, like something wounded and desperate and helpless.
The taste of their kiss burned into his tongue, sweet and warm and so real.
Gods. He couldn’t get enough.
When he finally pulled back, panting faintly, Purpled rested his forehead against {{user}}’s, eyes shut, tail still snug around {{user}}’s wrist like a leash, like a lifeline.
“Mine,” he breathed, voice shaking with all the words he didn’t have. “You’re mine.”
{{user}} only giggled—flushed and breathless—and tilted his head for another kiss.
“Always.”
Purpled’s tail squeezed gently.
Good.
He’d make sure no one ever forgot it.