#there's like... so much more i could have gone into | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elikajinnie · 3 days ago

Note

Heyy, could you do 5 and 14 with Jake pls?

Love you work btw!!!

P: Roommate!Jake X Fem!Reader (NSFW 18+)

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Emotional Tension, Possessive Behavior, Unspoken Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Teasing, Sexual Tension, Dom/Sub, Wall Sex (kinda?), Touch-Starved!Jake, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks,) Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Degrading, Needy!Reader, Dom!Jake, Rough Sex, Munch!Jake, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving,) Dirty Talk.

Synopsis: The tension with Jake has been building for months. You try to ignore it, to play it safe. But when another ruined date ends in a heated confrontation, the truth slips out and so do his hands. One kiss, and suddenly, pretending you don’t want him isn’t an option anymore.

5. "You don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?" 14. "Just one kiss? Or are you planning to leave me wanting more?"

a/n: surpriseee! I’m actually posting smut instead of letting it rot in my docs this time.. I’ve always been a little unsure about sharing smut here, especially with all the mixed opinions on enhablr… but honestly? Fuck it. I wrote it, I liked it, and maybe you will too. so yeah. enjoy! Reblogs and commentary are appreciated!

You weren’t expecting much from your first year of university, maybe some decent lectures, too many all-nighters, and a shoebox-sized dorm that smelled vaguely of instant noodles and poor life choices. What you definitely weren’t expecting was being assigned a roommate like Jake.

And, well... you didn’t mind it.

He was cute—like, actually cute. Tall, warm smile, hair that flopped into his eyes when he laughed, and a voice just raspy enough in the mornings to make brushing your teeth in silence feel slightly inappropriate. But more importantly, Jake was easy. Easy to talk to. Easy to live with.

He made dangerously good ramen at 2 a.m., always added an egg like a chef or something, and somehow never minded sharing. He watched movies with you on quiet nights, quoting dumb lines or laughing at scenes he clearly knew by heart. And he never, ever interrupted you while studying, just quietly slid a granola bar or bottle of water onto your desk when you were too deep into your work to notice how late it had gotten.

You’d look up and catch his retreating back, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair messy from his own unfinished assignment. And maybe your heart would thump once. Maybe twice.

But it was fine. Really. He was your roommate. And you were lucky to have one who didn’t suck.

Right?

Yeah, well—he sucked when it came to the topic of boys. Or more specifically, your hopeful hookups.

It was honestly kind of ridiculous how he always seemed to know.

You weren’t careless. You had his schedule memorized—well, sort of. You both kept a shared calendar on the wall, filled with messy scribbles and color-coded classes, so it wasn’t like you were stalking him. You just... planned accordingly. You knew when he’d be gone for hours, off to some late lab or a campus event, and you took those precious windows of alone time to invite over whatever cute guy had caught your attention that week.

The pattern was always the same: drinks, music low, a little harmless flirting on your tiny couch. Maybe things would get close, hands on knees, mouths hovering, but before anything remotely good could happen, you'd hear it.

The jingle of keys. The unmistakable sound of the door unlocking.

Cue the door swinging open and Jake stepping inside, always with the same casually surprised expression. “Oh,” he’d say, as if he wasn’t ruining your entire night. “Didn’t think you’d be home.”

Your date would tense. You’d force a tight smile. And within minutes, they’d be grabbing their jacket, muttering something about having an early morning. You’d stand there, still a little breathless, lips just barely swollen with possibility, watching Jake toss his bag onto the floor like it was any other night.

And when the door shut behind your date?

You’d turn to him, crossing your arms, annoyed but trying not to show it. “Weren’t you supposed to be out until, like, ten?”

Jake would blink at you, all innocent. “Yeah. But the event got canceled.” Or, “Lab ended early.” Or, “Wasn’t really feeling it.”

Every. Damn. Time.

At first, you thought it was just bad luck. Coincidence. But after the fifth time—maybe sixth—you started wondering if it really was just that. Because Jake never seemed all that sorry. In fact, sometimes you could’ve sworn he looked almost... pleased.

So after the seventh fucking time it happened, you kind of gave up.

No more cute guys in your apartment. No more risky almosts on the couch or stealing kisses in the kitchen while Jake was supposedly gone. You adapted—started meeting people off campus or agreeing to go to their places instead.

It wasn’t ideal, but at least you would not hear the sound of Jake’s damn keys in the lock, his perfectly timed entrances sending everything crashing down.

But even then... it never stuck.

Because the guys you met? They never lasted. Maybe a few dates, maybe one night if you were lucky, but nothing ever felt solid. And it wasn’t just you being picky—it was Jake.

Somehow, without fail, they all brought him up.

“Your roommate’s kind of intense, huh?” “He stared at me the whole time like I’d killed his dog.” “Is he always that... territorial?”

Territorial.

That one stuck with you longer than it should’ve.

You always laughed it off. Said Jake was just protective, or weirdly good at making people uncomfortable without trying. But deep down, there was this annoying little voice in your head whispering things you didn’t want to hear.

Because yeah, Jake was protective. He made you ramen at 3 a.m. He knew your class schedule better than you did. He always walked on the outside of the sidewalk and handed you a jacket when you forgot yours. He never touched you in a way that crossed a line, but his presence was always there, just close enough to feel it. And now, without meaning to, you’d started adjusting your life around him.

You didn’t bring guys over anymore. Not because you didn’t want to. But because they never stood a chance. Because Jake was… someone else entirely.

Sweet in a way that wasn’t performative, he didn’t flirt with you for fun or toss compliments around just to get a reaction. He just was. Always thoughtful, always present. The kind of guy who remembered how you took your coffee without asking, who stayed up to watch your favorite comfort movie just because you’d had a bad day. He was cuddly, too, the kind of casually affectionate that ruined you. Throwing an arm around your shoulder on the couch, falling asleep too close during movie nights, letting his legs tangle with yours like it meant nothing. Like you were just that comfortable.

He was smart, too. Unfairly so. He didn’t even have to try—acing tests, explaining things to you with that patient tone that made you feel less stupid and more seen.

And, yeah. He was hot. So hot.

Stupidly hot, if you were being honest. Shirt half-ridden up while stretching, messy hair post-nap, low voice in the morning kind of hot. You used to think the attraction was harmless, just a surface-level thing. A little eye candy to make your living situation more bearable.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped being funny.

Because unfortunately, Jake had managed to set your standards sky-high without even trying. The bar? Ruined. Crushed under the weight of every time he handed you a snack wordlessly, every lazy smile he threw your way, every casual brush of his fingers against yours that shouldn’t have made you feel anything—but did.

You tried to cheat around it. Tried going for guys who reminded you of him. Guys who were tall and kind and maybe wore the same kind of rings or had a similar laugh. But none of them made your heart skip the way Jake did. None of them made your skin flush just by saying your name. And eventually, you had to face the truth.

Somewhere in the mess of shared ramen, missed hookups, and one too many movie nights that ended with you biting your lip and pretending not to stare at his stupidly perfect jawline—

You’d developed a crush on Jake.

And worse? You didn’t know what to do about it.

It was supposed to be nothing. No strings, no messy feelings. Just a roommate. Just a guy.

Just a stupidly… hot guy.... Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You were mid-spiral, head buried in your laptop under the pretense of studying, when you blinked up—and instantly regretted it.

Jake had come back from his shower at some point without you noticing. Steam still clung faintly to his skin, hair wet and dripping as he towel-dried it lazily with one hand. His grey sweatpants hung loose and low around his hips, the waistband dipping just enough to make your brain short-circuit. The plain black T-shirt clung a little too well to his chest, still damp in spots, and seriously, who gave him the right?

Your mouth went dry. And the worst part? You weren’t even being dramatic. You could feel the heat bloom across your cheeks, creeping lower, settling somewhere in your stomach and spreading.

Dripping. That was the only word your brain could hold onto.

His hair was dripping.

You were dripping.

Fuck.

Jake looked up just then, catching your gaze before you could look away, and smirked faintly, like he knew exactly what was going through your head. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and crossed the room toward the kitchen, completely unbothered, like he wasn’t out here looking like a walking wet dream. “Want anything?” he asked, voice rough from the heat of the shower. “Gonna make tea.”

You blinked at him, nodded way too fast, and muttered something that vaguely resembled “Sure.”

You watched his back as he moved, broad and unfair, and tried very hard not to melt into your chair. This was fine. Everything was fine. You were not attracted to your roommate. Not at all.

Right?

…right?

You buried your face back in your textbook the moment Jake turned away, determined to focus—actually focus—on something other than the image of him shirtless and dripping wet.

Studying. You're studying. Not thirsting over your roommate.

You recited that to yourself like a mantra, highlighting a sentence you didn’t even read and pretending the words weren’t blurring on the page. You could hear him in the kitchen, casually rummaging around. The clink of a mug. The quiet hum he made when he found what he was looking for. It was so domestic it made your heart ache.

A few minutes later, you caught the familiar scent of chamomile and cinnamon before you even heard him approach.

“Here,” Jake murmured, placing a steaming mug on the desk beside you.

You looked up—and nearly forgot how to breathe.

He was close. Way too close.

One hand settled on the back of your chair, warm and solid behind your neck. The other landed on the desk right beside your arm, making the muscles in his forearm flex slightly, veins standing out beneath skin that was still flushed from the shower. His shirt stretched tight across his chest from the angle, and his damp hair hung just barely in his eyes, water still dripping occasionally onto his collarbone.

You could smell him. Clean soap, a hint of mint, and something unmistakably Jake. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he leaned in closer, voice dipping near your ear.

“What are you reading?”

You froze.

His breath brushed against your skin, hot and barely-there, and it sent a shiver straight down your spine. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry, fingers tightening slightly around your highlighter like it could anchor you to reality. “I—uh…” you started, blinking down at your page like you’d never seen words before. “Psych… something. Case study. Doesn’t matter.”

Jake hummed, low and lazy, like he was amused by your sudden brain short-circuit. He didn’t move away right away. Just lingered, casually caging you in without touching you, like he had no idea what he was doing to you. Or worse... like he did.

You refused to look at him. If you did, you weren’t sure you'd survive it.

“Your tea,” he said, finally pulling back, but not without letting his fingers brush your shoulder lightly. “Just how you like it.” And with that, he strolled back to the couch like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just turned your bones to jelly with one breath and a flex of his arm.

You stared down at your textbook, heat crawling up your neck, and wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust from pure, helpless want.

This… was getting dangerous.

You were starting to think you were losing your mind.

Because lately, something had shifted. You didn’t know how or why, but Jake… Jake had started testing you. Not in obvious ways, he wasn’t throwing out dirty pickup lines or cornering you in the hallway like some walking cliché. No. That would’ve been too easy. Too manageable.

Instead, he was teasing you. Flirting—more than usual. And not the playful, harmless kind you were used to. This was different. Suggestive. Low voice, drawn-out words, that smug smile he wore when he caught you staring too long at his hands, his mouth, him.

And he knew.

You could see it in the way his eyes flicked to your lips mid-conversation, or how he leaned just a little too close when reaching for something behind you. He’d started using your name more, saying it like a secret, like it tasted good in his mouth. It sent a weird, warm shiver down your spine every single time.

What was worse? He was getting touchier, too.

At first, it was subtle—his thigh brushing yours on the couch and staying there. His hand finding the small of your back when you passed in the narrow hallway. Then it escalated. Light fingers trailing along your arm when he walked by. Pulling you into his side during movie nights like it was second nature. Fixing the hem of your shirt when it rode up, his knuckles grazing your stomach like it meant nothing.

You’d lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the exact tone of his voice when he whispered something stupidly innocent that somehow left your entire body buzzing.

And the he never acknowledged it. Never pushed past the edge. Never made a move that gave you permission to call it what it was. So you were stuck—trapped in this torturous middle ground where everything he did made your heart race and your thighs clench, but none of it could be labeled. You couldn’t confront him. Couldn’t risk misreading it and ruining everything.

But still... you couldn’t help but wonder:

Was he playing with you?

Or were you already too far gone to tell the difference? All you knew was that Jake kept leaving you high and dry.

Every time.

A brush of his hand here, a whispered comment there, lips inches from your skin, that stupid smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing to you—and then? Nothing. He’d walk off like it hadn’t happened. Like your pulse wasn’t still hammering in your throat and your thighs weren’t pressed tightly together under the desk.

It was maddening.

Your body would buzz for hours after. Skin hot. Mind racing. You’d sit in the quiet of your room, staring at the wall like it owed you an explanation, still breathless from nothing and everything.

So, naturally, you tried to smother the need. Drown it in distraction. You started saying yes to the flirty DMs, to late-night invites, to lingering touches from boys who looked nothing like Jake but felt safe—distant. You let them take you out, let them kiss you, sometimes more. You told yourself it helped. That maybe if someone else could make your heart race again, Jake would stop invading your head.

But they didn’t.

No matter how hard you tried, it was always the same. Their hands didn’t feel like his. Their voices didn’t curl around your name the same way. No one ever looked at you the way Jake did when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

You’d leave their rooms unsatisfied, unsaid, untouched in the way that mattered. Worse—sometimes, you’d come home and find Jake sprawled across the couch in nothing but sweats and a shirt, hair messy, eyes tired, and mouth tilted into that crooked, lazy smile. He’d glance up and say, “Have fun?” like it didn’t matter at all. Like he wasn’t watching you come home flushed and frustrated and wishing he was the one undoing your buttons instead.

It felt like punishment.

Or maybe a game.

Either way, you were losing.

And Jake? He was still sitting there—unbothered, untouchable—and somehow still everywhere, all at once.

You weren’t proud of it.

You hadn’t planned to let it go that far, not in the library of all places, but the guy was cute, persistent, and more importantly, a distraction. His lips were soft, eager, and his hands were already roaming beneath your sweater as he backed you into the far corner of the third floor—dead quiet, barely anyone around. Just shelves, soft fluorescent light, and the illusion of privacy.

You let yourself melt into it. Let him kiss down your jaw, hands sliding along your waist, fingers pressing just a little too high under your shirt. You closed your eyes and tried to pretend.

Tried to pretend it was someone else.

You barely heard the cough over the blood rushing in your ears.

You both froze.

And then—his hands still on your waist—you looked up to see Jake standing just a few feet away. Expression unreadable. Lips pressed together. One brow slightly raised. His eyes flicked from you to the guy—and then, calmly, to a shelf just over your shoulder. “Sorry,” Jake said coolly. “Need that book behind you.”

The silence was deafening.

Your mouth opened—no words came out. The guy stepped back quickly, awkwardly wiping his mouth like a kid caught red-handed. You were still leaning against the shelf, heat crawling up your neck, heart pounding in your chest as Jake casually stepped forward, reached around you—around you—and pulled a book from the shelf like he hadn’t just caught you mid-makeout.

He didn’t even look at you. Just nodded once, muttered, “Enjoy your study session,” and turned on his heel.

Gone.

Just like that.

You stood there for a moment, stunned, lips still tingling and whole body suddenly ice-cold, while the guy awkwardly asked if you wanted to keep going. You didn’t.

You mumbled some excuse and left a minute later, heart racing, Jake’s voice echoing in your ears. Enjoy your study session.

He hadn’t even sounded mad. But somehow, that made it worse, because something in his voice—low, clipped, polite—felt like punishment.

Like the slow tightening of a string that was about to snap.

And after that day in the library… Jake changed.

Not toward you, exactly. He still brought you tea. Still shared his ramen. Still dropped his hoodies in your lap when you complained about being cold. But something in him had gone quiet. Tense. Sharp around the edges.

It wasn’t until the next time you tried to talk to someone, just a casual conversation with a guy from your elective that you really noticed it. You were sitting on the quad, sunlight warm on your legs, smiling at something the guy had said, when Jake appeared behind you like a shadow. He didn’t say anything at first. Just hovered, arms crossed, eyes locked on the guy like he was measuring how fast he could take him down.

You introduced Jake, voice light, a little unsure. The guy offered his hand. Jake didn’t shake it. Just gave him that same polite, empty smile and said, “Didn’t know we were doing office hours out here.”

The guy left two minutes later with an awkward laugh and a mumbled excuse.

You turned to Jake, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

He just shrugged, all innocent. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You laughed it off at the time, even though it sat heavy in your chest.

But then it kept happening.

Every time a guy so much as stood too close, Jake would show up—leaning into your space, slipping an arm around your shoulder like it was second nature, voice a little too casual as he interrupted. If someone tried texting you and he happened to see it on your screen, he'd make some offhand comment like “Another one already?” with a tilt of his head and a tone that made your stomach twist.

He was never mean. Not directly. He didn’t need to be. His presence alone was enough to drive everyone else away. And you couldn’t decide what scared you more—the fact that Jake was acting like that… Or the fact that part of you liked it.

Did that make you a bad person?

No. You didn’t think so. Not after that day.

You’d been walking back from class, a little distracted, earbuds in and sun warm on your shoulders. You hadn’t even noticed the guy trailing a few steps behind you, some rando you vaguely recognized from a party weeks ago—until he caught up and said something under his breath.

At first, you didn’t catch it. Then he said it again, louder this time.

“You dress like that and expect people not to look? Come on. You’re clearly asking for attention.”

You froze, spine going rigid. Not out of fear—just disbelief. Because you were so tired of this shit. Of people thinking they could say whatever they wanted, get in your space, chip away at your confidence like it didn’t matter.

And then, like some twisted act of fate—Jake appeared.

He’d just been walking by, hands in his pockets, probably heading somewhere casual. But the second he picked up on the guy’s tone, his whole posture changed. His jaw tightened. His stride slowed, and before you could say anything, Jake was there, stepping between you and the guy with his body angled like a shield.

“The fuck did you just say?” he asked, voice calm but sharp enough to cut steel.

The guy blinked, stammered something that sounded like a backpedal. Jake didn’t flinch. Just stared him down, low and steady, as if daring him to try again. “I don’t know what kind of response you were hoping for,” Jake continued, voice dangerously smooth, “but here’s mine: don’t talk to her like that. Don’t talk to anyone like that.”

And that was it.

The guy didn’t fight back. Just scoffed, mumbled something bitter under his breath, and walked off with his pride dragging behind him.

You stood there, frozen in place, heart pounding as Jake turned back to you, the anger in his expression softening instantly. “You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

He looked at you for a second longer before exhaling. “Don’t listen to assholes like him,” he said, voice gentler now. “Wear whatever makes you feel good. Confident. You look—” he hesitated, his gaze flickering downward for a second too long, before dragging back up to your eyes. “—you look great.”

You didn’t call him out on it.

Didn’t say a word about the way his eyes dipped again, this time lingering a little too low, lingering like maybe he wasn’t just being protective. And you definitely didn’t mention the way you liked it. Because that would make this too real. And you were still clinging to the lie that Jake was just your roommate. Just a guy. Just someone who looked out for you.

Even if everything he did lately said otherwise.

Spring came fast.

One day it was hoodies and oversized jackets, and the next, the sun was out, the windows were open, and your tiny university apartment started feeling like a sauna by midday. Naturally, your wardrobe adjusted accordingly. Shorts. Tank tops. Loose-fitting tees that barely grazed the tops of your thighs.

Nothing dramatic—just comfortable.

But you noticed it.

The shift.

At first, it was in the way his conversations got shorter. Not cold—just distracted. He’d pause mid-sentence on a call with a friend when you walked into the room, eyes flickering over your legs before snapping back up to your face like he hadn’t just looked. Like he wasn’t still thinking about it.

He started pulling at the collar of his shirt more often, mumbling something about how hot it was. You caught him watching you from across the room, the tip of his tongue resting against the inside of his cheek, like he was trying very hard not to say something he’d regret.

He never said anything. Not really. But his eyes lingered now. Traced over your bare thighs, the curve of your waist, your chest. His jaw would tighten. His grip on his coffee mug would shift. Sometimes, he’d be mid-sentence and suddenly forget what he was saying.

And you noticed.

God, did you notice.

The silence would stretch just a little too long. His tongue would dart out to wet his lips when you bent over to grab something from the fridge. The air in the apartment felt heavier, like the tension had weight. Like every brush of your arm against his, every moment you shared the couch, every laugh that ended too close was leading somewhere neither of you wanted to name.

One night, you walked into the living room wearing a cropped tank and boyshorts, ready to call it a night, only to find Jake sprawled on the couch in just a pair of loose gym shorts, damp from a late workout. His skin glistened slightly under the dim light, and his hair stuck to his forehead.

He looked up at you—slowly. Quietly.

Didn’t say a word for a beat too long.

“You trying to kill me?”

You blinked. “What?”

Jake smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back, arms stretching behind his head, the motion making his muscles flex and his abs pull taut. “You can’t just walk around looking like that and expect me to concentrate.”

Your heart did a full somersault.

“I live here,” you said, trying to sound unbothered, even though your voice had gone slightly breathless. “I’m comfortable.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your legs, then dragging back up, slower this time. “I can see that.” He turned back to the TV like he hadn’t just sent a shockwave through your entire nervous system.

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight as you lowered yourself onto the far end of the couch—far, like that would somehow help. It didn’t. Not when the heat from his body practically reached you. Not when the soft sounds from the movie blurred into white noise, your attention caught on the way his chest rose and fell, the light sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin.

You were hyper-aware of everything. The way your thighs stuck slightly to the couch’s faux leather. The way the fabric of your shorts rode up when you crossed your legs. The way Jake’s eyes flicked over to you every few minutes, barely noticeable—except that it was every few minutes.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

But then his foot brushed against yours.

It could’ve been accidental. Could’ve—if it didn’t linger just a second too long before pulling away.

You glanced at him.

He was still watching the screen. Calm. Blank-faced.

You leaned back, pretending to adjust your position, stretching your legs out until they rested next to his. You felt, more than saw, the way his jaw clenched.

Another scene passed. Quiet. Tense.

Then you felt it—his fingers, just the lightest brush, trailing over your ankle. Slow. Testing.

You looked at him again, and this time he was already looking at you, eyes darker, that playful glint nowhere to be found.

“You sure this is comfortable?” he asked, voice low. Rough around the edges.

You nodded. Slowly. “Yeah.”

Jake’s hand slid a little higher, up your shin, warm and deliberate. “Cause you’ve been squirming since you sat down.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively, and you hated how obvious it must’ve looked. But Jake didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. He just shifted closer.

You could feel the heat radiating from him now, could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and something so Jake it made your head spin.

“You always wear stuff like this to bed?” he asked, fingers ghosting over the hem of your shorts.

“Only when it’s hot,” you whispered, not trusting your voice any louder.

He hummed, eyes dropping to your legs again, but slower now. Lazier. He reached over, fingers brushing your bare thigh—light, barely-there, but so charged it made your breath hitch. “You’re killing me,” he muttered, half to himself.

Your heart was pounding now, wild and loud in your chest. And when you didn’t pull away, didn’t say stop, Jake leaned in—his palm resting against your thigh, thumb rubbing slow, hypnotic circles against your skin. “Say something,” he said quietly, voice at your ear. “Or I’m gonna keep touching you like this.”

You didn’t say a word. You just leaned into it. And his hand slid higher.

You didn’t remember what movie was playing anymore. Whatever it was, it faded completely into the background, muted voices and shifting colors on the screen, all irrelevant now compared to the slow, heavy thrum of heat building between you.

Jake’s hand stayed on your thigh, fingers moving in lazy, circling strokes. Teasing. Testing. He didn’t look at you when he spoke again, like the words weren’t really meant for you, just thoughts slipping from his lips.

“You know,” he said, thumb brushing just under the hem of your shorts, “it’s kind of unfair.”

You tilted your head, pulse racing. “What is?”

“That you walk around here looking like that and expect me to sit through a whole movie without getting distracted.”

You didn’t answer. Just gave a soft, amused hum, your legs shifting slightly beneath his hand, as if inviting him closer.

And he took the invitation.

Slowly, Jake leaned in, his body turning toward you until your knees bumped, his palm trailed further up your thigh, warm and sure, until he was cupping the curve just above your knee, thumb dragging across bare skin in rhythm with the pounding in your chest.

His other hand lifted and pushed a strand of hair away from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek as his eyes met yours—intense, unblinking, like he was trying to read you.

Still, you didn’t speak. You didn’t really need to. Your silence said enough. The way your breathing picked up. The way your fingers curled slightly against the couch cushion. The way your legs opened, just a little more, letting him settle between them.

Jake’s gaze dipped lower, and then he was moving again—leaning down, slower this time, the kind of slow that made your skin prickle in anticipation. His face hovered just above your chest, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath through your thin top.

“Comfortable still?” he murmured, lips ghosting the curve of your collarbone.

You swallowed, throat tight. “Mm-hm.”

Jake smiled against your skin, a slow, wicked thing. His hand slid higher up your thigh, palm firm now, possessive in a way that made your stomach flip. “You keep humming like that,” he said, eyes flicking up to meet yours again, “I might start thinking you like this.”

You didn’t break his gaze.You just let out another soft hum, sweet and quiet, but so full of meaning it made his eyes darken.

The room felt too hot. The air thick. Your body buzzing.

And still, neither of you moved to finish it.

It was a slow unraveling, like pulling at a thread, knowing eventually everything would come undone.

And you were letting it happen. Maybe even hoping for it.

Jake’s breath against your skin, the weight of his hand on your thigh, the way his eyes watched you like he was waiting for a green light, it was all so heavy, so close, you could barely think. His lips were just about to brush lower, his fingers tightening slightly, when—

Rrring. Rrring.

The shrill sound of your phone sliced through the tension like a knife.

You both froze.

Your body went rigid, Jake’s hand still warm against your skin, his face hovering so close to your chest you could feel the air shift as he let out a quiet, sharp breath.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, straightening up with a frustrated exhale as you reached for your phone with trembling fingers. You didn’t even check the name before answering, still breathless, your voice cracking slightly. “Hello?”

“WHERE ARE YOU?” your friend’s voice practically screamed through the speaker, making you wince. “You promised! We’re literally outside the club—do not bail on me again!”

You blinked, trying to reorient yourself. “Wait—what?”

“The club?” she repeated. “Short dress? Bad decisions? You swore you'd come tonight. Don’t make me come drag you out myself.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear for a second, glancing at the time—and then it hit you.

You had promised her.

The plan had been made days ago. A night out. Something about dancing off stress, drinking too much, maybe making out with a stranger in a dark corner, back when you were still desperately trying to exorcise your Jake problem. You glanced up, and Jake was already watching you, leaned back now, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking as he waited.

Your friend shouted your name through the phone again, snapping your attention back. “Okay, okay—I’m coming,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead, your skin still tingling from where Jake had touched it. “Give me twenty.”

“Ten!” she demanded. “You better be wearing something hot!” The call ended before you could respond.

Silence settled between you and Jake again, heavier this time. He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at you, shoulders a little tense now, his hands clasped loosely between his knees.

You shifted, suddenly too aware of your barely-there clothes, your flushed skin, and how close you’d come to letting everything snap. “I, uh…” you stood slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I forgot I made plans.”

Jake’s gaze dragged over you—slow, unreadable. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I figured.” But his voice didn’t carry the same heat as before. It was quiet. Cool. Like something had shut behind his eyes. Like maybe he hated the reminder that you still had other places to be. Other people to see. Other guys who weren’t him.

You didn’t give Jake a chance to say anything.

Didn’t let yourself look at him for more than a second, because if he so much as breathed the wrong way, you already knew what would happen. You’d fold. Stay. Crawl right back onto that couch and into the dangerous gravity of his hands, his mouth, his everything.

So you bolted for your room, muttering a rushed “I’ll be quick,” before shutting the door behind you.

You moved fast. Thank God you’d already showered. No time to overthink. No time to wonder if he was still sitting on the couch with that same unreadable expression, or if he’d gotten up, pacing the room like he always did when he was trying not to say something.

You yanked open your dresser and grabbed the black dress you’d shoved in the back last week—short, slinky, barely-there. Something your friend had convinced you to buy during a “hot girl summer” phase you were now very thankful for. You slipped it on, the material hugging your skin like a second layer. It left your shoulders bare, dipped a little too low at the back, and hit mid-thigh like it had no business pretending to be modest. Next, you pulled on your comfiest heels—chunky, easy to dance in—and moved to the mirror. You did your foundation, brows, a little concealer. The rest could wait for the club bathroom. You were already running late.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you applied gloss to your lips, and not from nerves about going out. Because through the cracked door, you could feel it.

Jake’s gaze.

Heavy. Lingering. Burning into you with every shift of fabric, every bend of your body, every subtle adjustment of your dress. You didn’t even have to look to know he was still there. You could feel the tension in the air like static, the way it clung to your skin and made the hair on your arms stand up. And for a second, just a second, you almost slowed down. Almost turned around and walked back into the living room, let him pull you into his lap and finish what you’d started. But instead, you slipped in your earrings, grabbed your tiny bag, and pushed open the bedroom door like your heart wasn’t pounding in your chest.

Jake was standing by the kitchen now, hands braced against the counter, jaw tight. His eyes found you instantly.

And fuck.

He didn’t say anything, instead his gaze dragged over you like a physical touch, slow and anything but innocent. From the curve of your thighs to the way the dress clung to your waist, to the dip of your collarbone where the gloss on your lips caught the light.

You swallowed hard.

“Well?” you asked, keeping your voice light, like you weren’t moments away from completely combusting. “Do I pass the vibe check?”

Jake’s eyes didn’t move from you. “You look…” He paused, voice low and rough. “Yeah. You look dangerous.”

And God help you, you liked how that sounded coming from him way too much.

The word clung to your skin like heat, sitting heavy in your chest as Jake’s gaze burned through every layer of pretense you tried to wear with that dress. You couldn’t tell if he meant it as a compliment or a warning.

You didn’t ask, instead, you gave him a tight smile. “Don’t wait up.”

And then you were gone. Out the door, heels clicking down the hallway, pulse racing with every step like you’d just escaped something you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

The air outside hit you like a shock, cooler than you expected, but it didn’t settle the warmth still simmering beneath your skin. Your phone buzzed as your friend texted again: “Hurry up, the line’s insane. I’m losing my mind.”

You typed back a quick “2 mins” and kept walking, trying to shake the feeling of Jake’s stare still clinging to your back, your hips, your thighs. You could still feel itm like his eyes had left fingerprints on your skin.

And God, how you wanted them there.

The club was loud, packed, the music pulsing through the floor and straight into your bloodstream. You were instantly swallowed by the energy of it all—colored lights flashing, bodies pressed together, the smell of sweat and perfume thick in the air.

Your friend dragged you to the dance floor with no time for drinks or second thoughts. She was glowing, already half-tipsy, and the kind of reckless that made her infectious. You let her spin you, pull you into the crowd, and for a moment, you let yourself forget.

But it didn’t last long.

Because every time someone put their hands on your waist, tried to dance close behind you, your mind flashed back to him. To Jake’s hands on your thigh. Jake’s voice in your ear. Jake’s breath against your chest.

You laughed it off. Danced harder. Drank faster.

But it was no use.

Every guy you danced with? They weren’t him.

And no amount of bass or neon lights or sweaty touches could replace the fire he left behind.

Back at the apartment, Jake hadn’t moved much.

He was still in the kitchen, still leaning against the counter, the room quiet now, save for the faint hum of the fridge. He hadn’t turned the movie back on. Hadn’t started his usual late-night routine.

He just stood there. Jaw tight. Eyes locked on the door you’d walked out of. Every part of him tense, coiled. Because the image of you in that dress was burned into his brain now. Seared. He could still see the way the fabric clung to your hips. Could still hear your voice when you said Don’t wait up—like that wasn’t the cruelest thing you could’ve said with your lips still wet from lip gloss. He didn’t know what he was more pissed about—that you looked that good, or that someone else was probably touching you by now.

Ugh. He knew he had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the possessiveness curling in his gut. It didn’t stop his hands from clenching at the thought of you dancing for someone else. Letting someone else pull you close. Letting someone else taste what he hadn’t even dared ask for yet.

Not because he didn’t want to.

God, how he wanted to.

He just hadn’t let himself have you. Not fully. There was a line—an invisible one he drew the night you became his roommate, when you dropped your bags at the door and smiled at him like you didn’t have any idea what you were doing to him.

But now?

Now that line was starting to blur.

Because it wasn’t just a crush anymore. It wasn’t just stolen glances and casual touches and teasing flirtation that ended with him fisting the sheets in silence, replaying the sound of your laugh, the shape of your mouth.

No, now it was need.

And it hit harder than he expected. Hard enough that he was still pacing the kitchen floor an hour later, shirt discarded, drink untouched on the counter, your last words echoing in his head like a taunt.

Don’t wait up.

Like hell he wouldn’t.

His phone buzzed once—then again. A message from a friend about a party, another about a group meetup. He ignored them both. His attention was fixed on the clock, every minute ticking by like a warning.

Was it stupid to be this wound up? Probably. But that didn’t change the way his blood ran hotter every time he imagined someone else’s hands on your hips. Some guy’s mouth pressed against your neck, your back arching into a touch that didn’t belong to him.

You weren’t his. He knew that.

But if tonight proved anything… it was that he wanted you to be.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise.

The night air was warm, sticky against your skin as you made your way back to the apartment, heels clicking quietly on the pavement. You were tipsy, just enough for your limbs to feel light and your brain pleasantly fuzzy. The club had been fine. The drinks strong. The dancing easy. But your heart hadn’t been in it.

You’d spent the night smiling too politely at hands that wandered, swaying half-heartedly to songs you normally loved. Your mind had been miles away—here, in this apartment. With him.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unlocked the door, fumbling with the keys before finally twisting the knob and pushing inside. The lights were dim. Just the glow of the kitchen light spilling into the living room. And there he was. Jake. Sitting on the couch. Waiting.

One arm draped along the back of the couch, the other lazily holding a half-full glass of water. His hair was a little messy, his expression unreadablem but his eyes locked on you the second the door clicked shut.

You blinked, slightly startled. “You’re still up?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. His gaze dragged over you slowly, taking in the way your dress clung to your body, the way your makeup had smudged slightly, the faint sheen of sweat at your collarbone from dancing. His jaw tensed. “Wasn’t tired,” he said finally, voice low and smooth. Controlled. Too controlled.

You stepped further into the apartment, setting your keys down with a soft clink, suddenly all too aware of how quiet it was.

“How was the club?” he asked, voice still casual, but there was something in the way he asked it. A tension that didn’t quite match the words.

You shrugged, slipping off your shoes with a sigh. “Loud. Crowded.”

“Fun?”

You looked at him. Really looked at him.

His eyes didn’t leave you. Not once.

“Not really.”

He nodded once, slow. Took a sip of his water. Then, quietly: “Did you dance with anyone?”

Why did that question feel loaded?

“A few people,” you said carefully, watching him for a reaction.

Jake hummed. “Anyone worth remembering?” His tone was light. Teasing, almost. But his grip on the glass had tightened just enough for you to notice.

You let out a soft breath, walking toward him slowly, arms crossed under your chest, partly because you were cold, partly because your heart was beating too fast now. “Why?” you asked. “Gonna take notes?”

Jake’s eyes flicked up to meet yours again. “No,” he said, voice dropping just slightly. “Just wondering if I need to remind you what it feels like when someone actually knows how to touch you.”

Your breath hitched.

The room went quiet.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t blink.

And you—still tipsy, still buzzing from the way his voice dipped so low felt the air shift.

He set the glass down on the coffee table slowly, then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, gaze still locked on you like you were something he’d been starving for.

“Come here.”

Just two words.

But they hit like a match to gasoline.

You didn’t move at first. Just stood there in the soft light, your heels discarded by the door, skin warm with heat and sweat.

Jake didn’t repeat himself. He just watched you, elbows on his knees, jaw tense, like he was holding something in his mouth he didn’t dare say.

And maybe it was the drinks, or the way your body still buzzed from the club, or the fact that his voice wrapped around your spine like a hand. But you walked over. Slowly, each step louder than it should’ve been. You stopped just in front of him, close enough to feel the heat coming off his bare chest.

He looked up at you like he wanted to say something. Or maybe do something. But he didn’t. His hands stayed on his knees, fingers twitching slightly like he was holding them back. “Had fun teasing me all week?” he asked softly, head tilting a little. His eyes dragged over your bare thighs, up to your collarbone, slow and purposeful. “Walking around in little shorts. Tight tops. Laughing like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”

Your breath caught. “I wasn’t teasing.”

He raised a brow. “No?”

You shook your head. “You’re the one who started it.”

Jake let out a quiet breath—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. His eyes dropped to your mouth for just a second, then back up. And then his hand lifted slowly, barely brushing the side of your thigh with the backs of his fingers. So light, it was more suggestion than touch.

It sent a ripple through you all the same.

His gaze flicked up to meet yours again, searching. “You going to bed?”

You licked your lips. Nodded once. “Yeah.”

Jake’s hand dropped back to his knee, just like that. His face unreadable now, voice quiet when he spoke again. “Sleep well.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

You didn’t trust yourself to respond, so you turned and walked away, pulse racing with every step back to your room.

You didn’t look back.

And neither of you said what you were really thinking.

Okay, you were so over everything.

The tension between you and Jake had gotten unbearable—so bad that you’d started avoiding your own reflection at night, because even you could see how strung out you looked. How restless. How badly you needed something that you couldn’t have.

Nights were the worst.

You’d lay in bed, your skin flushed and hot, your body aching in ways that had nothing to do with the weather. Sheets tangled between your legs, your teeth sinking into your lip as your hand slipped beneath your waistband again, trying to quiet the frustration clawing at your chest.

It never helped.

You’d close your eyes and see him. Jake, shirtless in the kitchen. Jake, sweat-slicked and grinning post-run. Jake’s hands on your thigh, mouth ghosting against your skin, saying your name in that low, unreadable voice.

It drove you mad.

More than once, your fingers would still, your breath catching as you stared at your closed bedroom door—tempted. So tempted to just throw off the covers, march across the hall, and crawl into his bed to put an end to this sick little game once and for all.

But you didn’t.

And now it was harder than ever. Because Jake was busy. His schedule had shifted—more classes, more shifts, later nights. You barely saw him anymore. Passing each other like strangers in the hallway, awkward silences over takeout, faint smiles and tired eyes that said I’m thinking about it too, but neither of you said a damn word.

The heat between you hadn’t disappeared, it had just been buried under new routines, overbooked calendars, exhaustion. But it simmered. Lurking just under the surface, waiting for a moment alone. Waiting for one of you to finally break.

You hated how much you missed him. How often your eyes flicked to the door when you heard keys in the lock. How your heart jumped when he said your name, even casually, even half-asleep.

You were over it. Over the tension. Over the silence. Over pretending like you didn’t want to rip this thing wide open and find out what the hell it would feel like to have Jake finally touch you like you knew he wanted to.

But if Jake wasn’t going to start anything, then fine.

You’d just have to get creative.

You were done waiting. Done pacing your room like some love-struck idiot, breathless over fleeting glances and unfinished touches. So you went back to base one—teasing him.

You started small again. Soft shorts. Tank tops without a bra underneath. Bare legs propped up on the coffee table, shirts that slipped off your shoulder just right. Sometimes you’d walk past him fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, water glistening on your skin.

And you’d catch it.

The way his jaw clenched. How his eyes lingered a moment too long. How his hand would flex around whatever he was holding—his phone, a coffee mug, a pen—like he had to physically restrain himself.

There were moments, real ones, when you swore he was about to break.

Like the time he paused behind you at the sink, his breath brushing your neck as he reached around you to grab a glass. Or when you’d dropped your phone and bent over a little too slowly, feeling his eyes drag down your spine and lower.

You would’ve bet anything on it—he wanted you just as bad.

But he never made a move. Just smirked. Threw out a teasing comment. Something harmless and loaded all at once, like, “Careful. Keep walking around like that and you’ll drive someone crazy.”

And he would say it like he wasn’t already losing his mind.

So. Fine.

If he wasn’t going to crack, you’d push harder.

Jake had been home less and less lately. Long days, late nights, crashing in bed before you even got the chance to properly torment him. The apartment felt emptier—colder, despite the heat that still lingered in the walls.

And if Jake wasn’t around to see you, to touch you, to do something about the fire he started—

Then maybe someone else would.

So the next part of your plan was simple.

You started inviting guys over again. Not the sweet, awkward ones like before. No, these ones were confident. Forward. They didn’t hesitate to flirt, to touch your knee under the table, to compliment your lips or your dress or how good you looked that night.

You didn’t do much—at first.

A drink. A few laughs. A few almosts on the couch, just enough to remind yourself what it felt like to be wanted out loud. But with every guy who leaned in too close, every hand on your waist, every whispered compliment into your ear, there was always one thought in the back of your mind: This isn’t Jake.

And no matter how much you smiled, no matter how close you let them get... It was never enough. Because they weren’t him.

Their hands didn’t make your skin tingle. Their voices didn’t sink into your bones the way Jake’s did. You let them touch, let them talk, let them get close, but it was always a performance. A game you were playing for someone else, even if he wasn’t in the room.

Until one night, he was.

You were in the living room, low music playing from your speaker, the soft hum of city noise leaking in from the cracked window. The guy was cute—tall, smooth-talking, a little too confident for his own good, but he served his purpose. He made you laugh just enough. Said the right things. Touched your knee like he wanted more.

And at some point, you ended up straddling his lap on the couch. His hands resting on your thighs. Your arms lazily looped around his neck. His lips hovering just a breath from yours.

You weren’t even really listening to what he was saying. You were too focused on the phantom thrum beneath your skin. That part of you screaming that this wasn’t right. That it was too soft. Too staged.

That it wasn’t Jake.

And then—

Click.

The sound of the front door unlocking.

Your heart stopped.

The guy didn’t notice it at first, not until your body went a little too still in his lap, your fingers pausing mid-movement on his shoulder.

The door opened slowly. Jake stepped inside and froze.

His eyes landed on you in an instant. Then dropped to the guy’s hands on your thighs. The way your dress was bunched slightly around your hips. The angle of your body pressed against someone else’s. And for a second—just one second—he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe. But his eyes… his eyes burned.

The guy beneath you tensed, sensing the shift in the air. “Uh… hey, man,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Jake didn’t respond. He just closed the door behind him, and then he turned his eyes to you. Not angry. Not confused. Just controlled—so tightly wound it sent a jolt straight through your chest. “Didn’t know we were having company,” he said, voice flat.

You swallowed. “You’re home early.”

Jake’s jaw flexed. “Clearly.” And then, without another word, he walked past you. Not a glance back. Not even a pause. But the air he left in his wake? Suffocating.

The guy under you cleared his throat awkwardly. “So… should I go?”

You didn’t answer right away, you just stared at the hallway Jake disappeared into, every nerve in your body lit like a fuse.

You couldn’t sleep—not that you really tried. Your thoughts were too loud, looping around the same moment again and again: Jake’s face when he walked in. The tension in his shoulders. The way he hadn’t even looked at you when he passed.

You sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, a bag of chips crinkled between your hands and a random video playing quietly on your phone. Something dumb. Pointless. Background noise to drown out the silence.

The light above the stove cast a soft yellow glow across the room, just enough to keep you grounded.

You were wearing nothing but a big, oversized t-shirt—Jake’s, actually. One you’d stolen weeks ago and never gave back. It hung just long enough to cover your thighs, but not by much.

And you didn’t hear him coming. Not until he was right there.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

You looked up, startled, and there he was standing in the doorway, barefoot, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of dark gray sweatpants that hung just a little too low on his hips. His hair was messy, his voice hoarse with sleep, and there was something heavy in his eyes as he stepped into the kitchen.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Just… couldn’t turn my brain off.”

Jake nodded once, his eyes dragging over you slowly, the way the shirt barely covered your legs, the familiarsight of his own shirt stretched across your chest. His jaw tensed.

“Didn’t hear you come out,” you added, trying to sound normal. Trying to pretend like your body wasn’t humming just from the sight of him in low light, all muscle and shadows and tension.

“I saw the light.” He leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossing over his chest. “Didn’t expect to see you still up.”

You gave a weak smile. “Guess I’m a little wound up.”

Jake tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “That why you had someone over earlier? To help you unwind?”

The words hit sharp and fast. Not loud. But laced with something bitter underneath. “Jake…”

He pushed off the counter slowly, stepping forward. “You can spare me the explanation,” he said, voice low, calm. “You don’t owe me one.”

“Then why bring it up?” you asked softly.

Jake stopped in front of you, close enough that your knees could brush if you shifted. His gaze dipped to your thighs, bare against the counter’s edge, then back up to your face. ��Because,” he said, his voice quieter now, “you keep playing games.”

“I’m not,” you said, but it came out too fast. Too defensive.

“Aren’t you?” he asked, eyes locked on yours. “You walk around in barely anything. You touch me. You look at me like you’re begging me to do something about it—and then you invite some guy over and climb into his lap like none of it meant anything?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Jake stepped even closer, between your legs now, hands braced on either side of the counter beside your thighs. His body heat pressed into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hear your video anymore. Couldn’t feel anything except him.

He let out a short, breathless laugh, like he couldn’t believe any of this, like he was shocked at his own breaking point. His voice was rough, low, edged with something dangerous as he looked down at you. “You don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll stop pretending like I don’t want it too.” His voice was hoarse, wrecked, his eyes boring into yours like he already knew the answer. But he wouldn’t move. Not until you said it.

You stared at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs, mouth dry.

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Tried again.

“I didn’t…” Your voice faltered. “I didn’t bring him over because I wanted him.”

Jake didn’t move, but his jaw flexed like he was forcing himself to stay still.

You exhaled shakily. “I—I thought maybe if I let someone else touch me, I’d stop thinking about you every time I was alone.”

His eyes flicked to your mouth. His fingers curled against the counter.

You shifted slightly, knees brushing his thighs, and he stepped in closer like it was instinct, like he needed that space filled just as much as you did. You parted your legs without thinking, making room for him to stand between them.

The second he did, your breath caught.

He was so close now you could smell the warmth of his skin. See the tension in his shoulders. His hands stayed put, but his whole body was strung tight, like he was one word away from losing control.

You swallowed hard and pushed yourself to keep going. “I couldn’t sleep tonight because… I can’t stop thinking about you,” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to his chest before dragging back up to meet his gaze. “About how you look at me. About how you don’t touch me, even when I want you to.”

Jake leaned in just a little, breath brushing your cheek, his voice low and rough. “Then say it.”

You blinked up at him. “Say what?”

“What you want.” His stare never wavered. Unblinking. Unmoving. Like you were the only thing he could see in the world right now.

And you were trembling now—just slightly—but not from fear. From finally letting it crack. “I want you,” you breathed. “I want it to be you. It’s only ever been you.”

Jake exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for months. His hand lifted, slow, and brushed a thumb over your cheek, like he still wasn’t sure this was real. His other hand hovered at your thigh, not touching yet, but so close it made your whole body ache. “Say that again,” he whispered, like he needed to hear it.

You met his eyes—wild and dark and so full of something that made your knees weak. “It’s only ever been you, Jake.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. And then he moved. No hesitation this time. No teasing, no pulling back. Just heat—pure, crashing heat—as Jake surged forward and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was desperate, full of months of pent-up want and frustration and all the words neither of you had said. His mouth crashed against yours, open, greedy, like he’d been dying to do it and finally stopped giving a damn about holding back.

You gasped into it, breath catching as his hands gripped your hips—firm, grounding, possessive. He pulled you forward on the counter, bringing you flush against him, like he needed to feel all of you to believe this was happening.

Your arms flew up around his neck, hands diving into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth. His lips parted yours deeper, tongue brushing yours, slow and hot, tasting you like he’d dreamed about this a thousand times.

You kissed him like you’d been starving. Because you had.

His thumbs dug into the sides of your hips as your legs wrapped loosely around him, dragging him impossibly closer, and his body slotted perfectly between yours like it was meant to be there.

The kiss didn’t slow. It just burned. Over and over again, like you were trying to memorize each other through touch alone. Like he didn’t know where to start.

Your breath stuttered as you pulled back just a fraction, foreheads touching, your lips still brushing against his, swollen and warm. “You’ve been driving me insane,” you whispered.

Jake laughed softly, breathless. “Yeah? Good.” And then he kissed you again.

Deeper this time. Slower. Like now that he had you, he was going to take his time.

He kissed you slower now, but no less deep. His mouth moved over yours with a kind of reverence, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted, the way you sighed when his tongue slid over yours, the way you melted against him without hesitation.

Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer until your hips were pressed to his, the friction making your whole body thrum. He groaned into your mouth, fingers flexing against your skin before they slipped beneath the hem of his shirt you wore—his shirt—and pushed it up inch by inch.

“Take this off,” he murmured against your lips, voice low, raw.

You nodded, dazed, and raised your arms.

He pulled the fabric over your head in one swift motion, tossing it somewhere behind him without looking. His eyes dropped, lingering on your bare skin, the soft curve of your chest, the way you sat open for him on the counter, already breathless and flushed. “Fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself, brushing his thumb gently along your ribcage. “You’re so…”

He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.

You reached for him again, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers brushing the skin just above it, and his breath hitched in response. His hands found your thighs again, sliding up, gripping tighter now, leaving heat in their wake, as he leaned in, kissing your jaw, then down your neck—slow, hot, dragging his mouth across your skin like he was trying to brand you.

You gasped when his teeth grazed just beneath your ear, one hand slipping up to cup your breast, thumb circling over your nipple until you arched into him. “Jake…” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, eyes dark, wild, so full of something you’d never seen in him before—need, adoration, hunger. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted, his voice nothing more than a rasp. “I wanted you since the first night you walked out of your room in one of my shirts.”

You smiled, soft and shy despite everything, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Then take me.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, capturing your mouth in another deep, aching kiss—this one rougher, messier, full of tension. His hands were everywhere, sliding over your bare back, gripping your thighs as your legs locked tighter around his hips, when he suddenly pressed you back against the counter, mouth trailing down your throat as his hands slipped under your thighs, lifting you just enough to reposition you—right at the edge, legs parted around his waist. The cool counter beneath you clashed deliciously with the heat spreading through your skin.

Jake kissed down the slope of your chest, slow and lingering, and you gasped when his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking just enough to make your back arch. His hands squeezed your hips, holding you steady as you rocked against him, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to hide how needy you’d become.

“You have no idea,” he muttered against your skin, “how many times I’ve imagined this. Right here. Just like this.”

You whimpered, fingers tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. “Then stop imagining.”

that was all it took for Jake to pin you against the kitchen counter, his body pressing firmly against yours, the cool marble at your back a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. His hands roamed possessively over your curves, tracing the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips. You could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, against your thigh.

Jake's hands grew more urgent, his touch becoming almost desperate as he explored your body, his fingers digging into your flesh. He ground against you, his hard length pressing into your thigh, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to hide his need. You could feel the heat of him, the throb of his arousal, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

His mouth crashed down on yours again, his lips hungry and demanding. You parted your lips for him, your tongue meeting his in a desperate dance. Jake moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, sending waves of desire crashing over you. You gripped his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his flesh, holding him close, urging him on.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with lust. "Fuck, I need you," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. "I need to feel you, taste you, be inside you." His hands roamed lower, cupping your ass, squeezing and kneading, pulling you harder against him. You could feel his cock, hot and hard, pressing against your core, the friction of his movements sending sparks of pleasure through you. You rocked your hips against him, meeting his thrusts, your body aching with need.

Pulling back slightly, his eyes met yours, dark with desire that made your heart race. In that moment, you caught a glimpse of the wet spot on his sweatpants, a testament to his arousal, and it sent a thrill of anticipation through you.

Before you could even gasp, Jake's hands were on your waist, pulling you down from the kitchen counter with a swift, fluid motion. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies pressing tightly together as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you dizzy.

He guided you out of the kitchen, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body possessively. You could feel the heat of his desire, the urgency in his touch, and it matched your own need, your own desperation for him.

The journey to the bedroom was cut short when Jake suddenly slammed you against the wall of the hallway, his body pressing firmly against yours. His kiss deepened, becoming more desperate. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. When he pulled back, a thin string of saliva stretched between your lips. "Fuck, I need to taste you now," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire.

Before you could even form a question, Jake dropped to his knees, his hands hooking into the waistband of your panties. With a swift, fluid motion, he pulled them down, the fabric tearing slightly in his haste. He threw the panties over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours.

He then propped your leg over his shoulder, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady. And then, without hesitation, he dove in, his mouth finding your most intimate place, his tongue exploring, licking, devouring you like a man starved.

You cried out, your back arching, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him to you. Jake's tongue swirled and flicked, his movements urgent, desperate, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you. He groaned against you, the vibration sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, your body trembling.

Jake's tongue kept swirling and licking, exploring every inch of you with a fervor that left you gasping for breath. He groaned into you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, each lick, each suck, each nip pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Jake!" you cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Oh god, Jake, I'm coming!" Your body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over you, your inner muscles clenching and releasing. Jake groaned against you, the sound muffled but intense, as he continued to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm, his tongue lapping up every drop of your release.

When he finally pulled back, his chin was glistening with your juices, a sight that sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you.

You wobbled slightly, your legs trembling from the intensity of your release, but Jake was there, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. He guided you into his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

As he laid you down on his bed, you could feel the cool sheets against your back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. Jake crawled between your legs, his eyes dark with lust, his breath ragged with desire.

"Jake," you started, your voice breathless, "I need a minute—"

But he cut you off, his hands spreading your thighs wide, holding you open for him. "Sorry baby... I need another taste," he moaned, his voice hoarse with need.

And with that, he dove back in without hesitation, his nose bumping against your clit, his tongue exploring, licking, devouring you once more.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed, your hands fisting in the sheets. Jake's tongue was relentless, his movements urgent, desperate, as if he couldn't get enough of you. He groaned into you, the vibrations sending fresh waves of pleasure through your body, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Jake," you moaned, your voice breathless, your body trembling.

After a while, Jake added another finger, his movements slow and deliberate, opening you up, preparing you for more. You cried out, your body tensing, your nails digging into his scalp, your hips bucking against his hand, his mouth.

"Jake," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "I'm so close... I'm so close..."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, his mouth glistening with your wetness. "Come for me," he growled, his voice hoarse with need. "Let me feel you come all over my fingers, my tongue."

With that, he dove back in, his tongue finding your clit, rubbing and circling, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot, pushing you over the edge.

"Jake!" you screamed, your body convulsing, your inner muscles clenching around his fingers, your juices gushing out, coating his hand, his mouth.

He groaned into you, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body.

When you finally came down from your high, your body still trembling, gasps tumbling out of your mouth, Jake pulled back, his chin and fingers glistening with your juices. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I could eat you out all day."

You lay there, your body slack and sated, your breath slowly returning to normal, your eyes locked on Jake's as he crawled up your body, his hands roaming over your curves, his mouth finding yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, and it only served to heighten your arousal, to push you further into the abyss of pleasure.

Jake slowly pulled off his sweatpants, revealing his hard cock, red and angry, precum dripping and soaking it. He gave himself a few jerks, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky, his hand still moving slowly up and down his shaft. "So fucking beautiful, so fucking wet for me. You know, none of the other men you've been with could ever compete with me. I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, who can make you come this hard."

You whimpered, your body responding to his words, your inner muscles clenching with need. Jake leaned down, his mouth finding your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"I'm going to fill you up so nicely, baby," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "I'm going to stretch you out, shape your pussy to my cock. You're going to think about me every time you move, every time you sit down." With that, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock rubbing against your lips, spreading your wetness, teasing you, driving you wild. You could feel the heat of him, the throb of his arousal. "Please," you whispered, your voice breathless, your body aching with need. "Please, Jake. I need you inside me. I need you to fill me up."

Jake paused, his cock poised at your entrance, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something more intense. "I'm not fully convinced," he murmured, his voice low. "You've been acting like such a slut, going around with other guys, letting them touch you, fuck you. How do I know you're not just using me for my cock?"

His words stung, bringing tears to your eyes, but they also sent a thrill of dark pleasure through you. "Jake," you begged, your voice hoarse with emotion. "Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I need you. Only you. I love you. Please, fuck me. Show me I'm yours. Show me I'm yours alone."

Something in your words, in your tears, in your desperate plea, seemed to snap something in him. With a low groan, Jake thrust into you, filling you completely, stretching you out, shaping you to him. You cried out, your back arching, your nails scraping along his naked back, holding him close, urging him deeper.

He stayed inside you for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his presence, his heat. You could feel every inch of him, the throb of his arousal, the power of his body, and it sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. Slowly, you began to clench around him, your inner muscles milking him, drawing him deeper.

Jake choked, a low gutteral sound that vibrated through you, his body tensing, his grip on your waist tightening. You did it again, clenching and releasing, squeezing him, and he pulled back slightly, his hips thrusting forward, filling you once more.

You gasped, your back arching, your body trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Again," you begged, your voice hoarse with desire. "Please, Jake. Do it again."

With a low moan, Jake complied, his hips moving in a steady rhythm, each thrust driving you higher and higher. Slowly, his pace picked up, his movements becoming rougher, more urgent, more desperate. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving marks, claiming you, marking you as his. The wet sounds of your connection filled the room, the slap of skin on skin, the squelch of your juices, the low moans, groans, and whines of pleasure.

Jake leaned down, his mouth at your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You know, I had to hold myself back so many times," he grunted. "I wanted to bend you over right there in front of your dates, show them who you really belong to. I wanted to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'd never forget who owns this pussy."

You whimpered, your body responding to his words, clenching around him, drawing him deeper. Jake's pace quickened, his hips thrusting in a steady, relentless rhythm, each stroke driving you higher and higher.

"Remember that time I walked in on you kissing that guy in the campus library?" he continued, his voice a low rumble. "I wanted to punish you so badly. I wanted to throw you over that table, hike up your skirt, and fuck you right there, make you scream my name so loud everyone in the library would hear. Wanted to make you beg... make you forget every other man but me."

You were too far gone to respond, overstimulated and hot, your body trembling with each thrust, each stroke. You looked up at Jake, your eyes glazed with pleasure, your lips parted, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Jake chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Aww, baby, already cock drunk?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You can't even form words, can you? You're so far gone, so lost in pleasure."

With that, he reached between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and circling, pushing you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing, clenching around him as you came, coating his his cock and his fingers.

You twitched slightly as he stilled, stopping his thrusts, instead opting to grind against you, his hips rolling, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you, sending aftershocks of pleasure crashing over you.

You whimpered, your body oversensitive, your mind a haze of pleasure and need. Jake only shushed you, his voice low and soothing, his hands gentle on your skin. "Shh, baby, I've got you." With that, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty, your body aching with need. Before you could protest, he flipped you over, his hands grabbing your hips, positioning you on your hands and knees, your ass up, your pussy exposed and glistening.

The sudden feeling of Jake's mouth on your pussy again made you cry out, your body tensing with need. You tried to get out of his grip, your body too sensitive, your mind too far gone, but Jake only slapped your ass hard, the sound echoing in the room, the sting sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. "Jake," you moaned, your voice breathless, your eyes glazed with desire. "Oh god, Jake, please."

But Jake only continued, his mouth driving you wild. You didn't know if you were coming anymore, the pleasure and pain mashed together in a beautiful, chaotic mess. Your body was his to command, his to use, his to devour, and you were powerless to stop him, not that you wanted to.

When you tried to pull away, your body too sensitive, your mind too far gone, Jake only whined, and pulled you back to his mouth, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady as he feasted. "Fuck... Jake, I can't take anymore. It's too much. It's too intense."

As if in response to your plea, Jake's mouth suddenly shifted, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue flicking and swirling. With one big suck, he pulled your clit into his mouth, and you exploded. Your body shook violently, a scream tearing from your throat, as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and boneless, collapsing onto the bed, your body trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your mind a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. For a long moment, you lay there, your chest heaving, your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath.

Eventually, you opened your eyes, your gaze drifting down to where Jake still sat and your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him. His eyes were fully focused on your pussy, his gaze hazy and hypnotized, as if he were in a trance, completely entranced by the sight and taste of you. His jaw, chin, and chest were dripping wet with your juices, glistening in the low light of the room. The realization hit you belatedly, and you gasped, your eyes widening in surprise. Jake had come, untouched, just from eating you out.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your body still trembling. "Jake," you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion, your eyes locked on his. "Oh my god, Jake. You... you came?"

Jake looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something more intense, as a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "Mmm," he murmured, his voice low and husky, a note of pride in his tone. "You taste so fucking good, baby. I couldn't help myself. You made me lose control." With that, Jake flipped you over onto your back again, his movements swift and sure. He spread your legs, his cock already hardening again, ready for more. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of exhaustion and lingering desire, your body still tingling from your previous orgasms.

"Think you can you give me one more, baby?"

You shook your head, your voice breathless and hoarse. "I don't think I have any more, Jake. I'm spent..."

Jake only smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Then I'll have to take one more, won't I?" he said, his voice a low rumble, a promise of pleasure and possession.

Before you could respond, Jake thrust into you, filling you completely, his body covering yours, his weight a welcome pressure. You gasped, your back arching. "Jake!" you cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Oh god, it's too much!"

But Jake only growled, his hips moving in a fast rhythm, each stroke driving you higher and higher, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once more. "You can take it, baby," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "You're so strong. You're so fucking perfect. Give me one more. Give me everything." As he spoke, Jake's mouth trailed down your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a path of fire in their wake. He sucked and nipped at your collarbone, marking you, claiming you, his teeth grazing your skin, his tongue soothing the sting, leaving dark marks.

You were only grabbing on, your hands fisting in the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric, your moans filling the room.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," he mumbled, his voice low and hoarse, his words slurred with lust and need. "So tight. So wet. So fucking perfect. I never want to leave your pussy. I want to fuck you every moment of every day. I'll never be satiated. I'll always be here when you want someone to fuck. I'll block every guy on your phone so I'll be the only one. The only one who can make you feel this good. The only one who can make you come this hard."

You whined, your body oversensitive, your mind a haze of pleasure and need, your voice a breathless, hoarse whisper. "Jake," you moaned, his name a plea, a prayer, a promise.

"Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes locked on yours, a fierce intensity burning in their depths. "Let me feel you come all over my cock. Let me feel you milk me dry."

With a final, powerful thrust, Jake pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing weakly, your inner muscles clenching around him in a spasmodic, exhausted release. You cried out, your voice hoarse with pleasure, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm, but it was a weak, spent release, your body too far gone to give more.

Jake, luckily followed you over the edge, his body shuddering, his cock pulsing inside you as he found his own release. He moaned and whimpered, his eyes rolling up, his body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. You could feel him filling you up, his hot seed spilling deep inside you, marking you, claiming you.

For a long moment, you laid there, your bodies entwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal, the sounds of your pleasure still echoing in the room. Jake collapsed against you, his breath hot on your neck, his heart pounding in time with yours.

"You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his body still shaking with the aftershocks of his pleasure. "So beautiful. So mine."

a/n: yeah.. so if this goes good, ill write more smut.

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amatariki · 3 days ago

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THIS LOVE'S POSSESSIN' ME 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ don't wanna fight the fall

(𝓐UTREMENT) — competitions with your boyfriend always end with endearment.

天使ℳade :: bf!nishimura riki x fem!reader ⋆˚✿˖° 𝒆𝒔𝒕. (740) (ℒ)lust. not much, kissing, skinship, regular making out stuff ig

ᥫ᭡⊹ ࣪ ˖ (1) notification! yumyumyumyum i love my boyfie. again, expect less updates bcs im working on a smau on the side + mathp. i will also be travelling soon so i wont have access to the internet most of the time.

💋 #reblog for kisses ☆゙ catalogue ˖°— 𝐕𝐎𝐋.𝐗𝐕

“Winner has to buy the other dinner.”

“Deal.”

Turning chores into little competitions was a pastime you and Riki had adopted, now a small tradition between the two of you as you ran to your shared bedroom with your arms filled with both of your respective laundry.

You pout as you watch Riki dart past you, his longer legs carrying him to your shared bedroom much quicker than your shorter legs could. As you stumbled into the room, he had already started folding his clothes neatly, despite how quickly he was doing it.

“Hey, no fair!” you whine, racing to fold your clothes after dumping them on the bed. “I deserve a headstart! You got here first, and I have more clothes than you to fold!”

“Mhm, no,” Riki replies coolly, continuing to work on his shrinking pile.

You frown, working even quicker, determined to beat him at least once.

Yet, once again, Riki wins the competition, shoving his clothes into the wardrobe in an organized manner after having stacked them into a folded pile while half of your clothes still lay in a mess.

You sigh, throwing the shirt in your hands onto the duvet, crossing your arms that were now reproachfully throbbing as a way of expressing how much you overexerted them. You flop onto the bed, burying your face into the plush expanse underneath you.

Riki follows suit, practically falling on top of you and lying there like a weighted blanket, one arm wrapped around your stomach, while the other spanned across the bed.

The two of you lie peacefully, taking a moment to come down from the adrenaline of competing against each other before Riki rolls off you. He tugs you along with him, pulling you on top of his chest so that you two were now directly facing each other.

You raise your head to stare down at him with a cold glare, only to be met by softness and devotion in his eyes. A hand makes its way from your back to your face as he caresses it solemnly: his slender fingers tracing the curve of your jawline, the softness of your cheek, the slight bulge of your eyes, and the bridge of your nose before finally making its way to the plush pink of your lips.

Your heart jumps at each movement, his finger igniting a searing fire beneath the surface of your skin as it traces over your face, your hair falling over your shoulders as if to cage this intimate movement between you two from the prying eyes of the world around you.

Your eyes met his brown ones. And just like that, you were gone.

One look into those endless brown voids and you felt like you were falling.

You were falling harder for this man than you’d already fallen for, if that was even possible.

Falling harder than you’d ever felt yourself fall.

“Stop,” you whisper.

“Stop what?” Riki whispers back.

“Looking at me like that.”

Riki didn’t reply. None of the usual witty remarks. This time, he just acted.

In a heartbeat, his lips were against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. In that moment, the whole world was empty. Everything you felt and could think about was the way his lips moved against yours. It sent jolts inside you.

A small whimper broke from your mouth, matching your surprise, and you felt the corner of Riki’s lips lift into a smirk.

You pulled back to check whether he was actually smirking, but mainly to catch your breath.

“Shut up,” you mutter, face reddening even more at his cockiness, not the least surprised to see that a smirk was plastered on his face.

“I didn’t say anything,” he retorts smoothly.

“Yeah, but take that smirk off your face!” You stammer.

“Or what?”

“Or—”

Your words get cut off as Riki kisses you again, your heart stuttering as his tongue slips into your mouth this time. You melted into the feeling of his tongue carving the inside of your mouth, mapping it with the same dedication he would give a choreography he was learning.

Eventually, the need for air separates you two, pulling back to catch your breaths while both of you gaze at each other’s dazed faces, drunk for each other’s love.

“You were saying?”

“Huh?” you echo, your brain short-circuiting.

Riki just chuckles at your clueless face.

“You look like a tomato,” he hums playfully.

“Do not!”

------ᝰ‧₊ taglist open — nets! @k-films — ©amatariki 2k25

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reallyromealone · 3 days ago

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Title: idol

Chapter: 6

Prev next

Fandom: Kpop demon hunters

Genre: omegaverse

Warnings: hurt to comfort, angst, omegaverse, male reader, Omega male reader,.alpha HUNTR/X,.alpha Saja boys

Notes: wrote this on a four hour flight back to Toronto lol also I'm back bitches, writing Rome IS BACK

Summary: reader learns how to be himself agaim after the loss of the Saja boys, but are they really gone?

Tag list: @robbin-g @heinzsqueezebottle @sooobiinn @sfxtiebee @kittenwerewolf @gh0stiedd3ath @strangebarbarianbarbarian @0eye0 @barrythestrawberry041 @cherry-blossoms-187 @snowy-violet @akira3na @hot-older-bro

🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛

(Name)s days moved slow, the Omega finishing his degree with a heavy heart and the HUNTR/X girls watched him slowly shut down.

Shrine duties and home, Mira paid for his expenses but it wasn't like he ate much, sinking deeper in depression and trying to keep it together but failing at every duty.

It had been six months.

Bzzzt.

(Name) Glanced at his phone and saw the notification 'after a six month hiatus, the Saja boys release a new album: lovestruck' (name) immediately stood up as he re read it and looked at the album photo....

"They're alive?"

What the fuck.

(Name) Couldn't figure out if he was furious or even more heartbroken or elated...

Why didn't they tell him?

Glancing at the clock he sighed, time for shrine duty...

The elders was looking at him to be the next to watch over the shrine as it's head priest, (name) putting all his energy into the old property and trying to make it look better.

(Name) Put on his shrine clothes, dressed incredibly traditional and got ready to go the routes that Tourists typically avoided, he hated when they made him late.

He was a pretty Omega in traditional clothes, nothing special...

(Name) Stepped out into the world and made his way to work, putting on his priest persona and smiling to the elderly and politely bowing as he went, even in the big city everyone knew who he was professionally and a few even knew who he was personally "ah (name)" an old woman walked towards him slowly "just the one I was looking for..." She said sweetly and (name) immediately recognized her, Mrs (random name) who owned the sweets shop "I made these for you, you have been looking down these days" the old woman handed him a paper bag filled with treats and the likes.

(Name) Smiled at her sweetly, bowing deeply "thank you so much, that's very kind of you" and ignored how a few tourists that found their way to his location whisper about the pretty Omega, (name) covering his face when they took photos "it's illegal to take photos without consent" (name) said seriously to an alpha man who glared "then why are ya wearing some weird cosplay?!"

"Sir, I'm a priest" (name) glared at him "you are in another nation, please respect our culture" (name) said firmly, he wasn't going to let some asshole disrespect him or his home like that.

"Yeah! Leave him alone!" Another tourist piped out and some locals came to his defence, (name) politely bowed to the elderly woman before continuing his journey, not letting that be an issue for his already terrible day.

(Name) Always had a hands on approach with his work, after the events at the idol awards he wanted to make sure he could help in whatever way he could and even put aside his ambitions for the safety of those around him. The girls tried to get him to pursue his career ambitions but he would just smile and say "there's more important things, don't worry about me" his words empty and distant while continuing his duties.

(Name) Put together local events for children and the rest of the community, fundraisers for both the shrine and struggling communities and putting all his pain and struggling into something useful.

It didn't make him happier but it got Mira off his back a bit.

He still hasn't spoken about his weapon, not really wanting to think of it... What happened for him to even receive it.

"(Name)! The flower stuff came in!" A shrine maiden said excitedly and (name) perked up at this, taking off his sandals and wandered towards the supplies "perfect, this should be great!" (Name) Said softly, having used his own money to buy tiny compostable flower pots, soil and flower seeds, free for people to take and grow their own little flower when visiting the shrine, a little something to set off the new year.

It wasn't much but... It made people happy.

(Name) Spent the afternoon making countless little flower pots and members of the shrine would bring them out into the public space inside with a cute sign the children in the area made, cute little drawings and even a dragon? (Name) Didn't question the children's imaginations, always telling the little pups to pursue their ambitions and goals, usually having a few of the. little ones following him around.

"You have been busy" Rumi said softly as her and the others looked curious at everything "cute! Can I take one (name)?" Zoey asked curiously and (name) nodded "we have a lot so go ahead" he said softly and the girl beamed before taking a tiny flower pot "the shrine looks great" Mira said thoughtfully, it was immaculate and lively "so many people came, your ideas have been working"

"Attendance has been going up too" (name) said softly before looking at them seriously "I have a request... A HUNTR/X request" he never asked for a request from them as artists "what's up, (name)?" Rumi asked softly and (name) sighed "the Saja boys... They're back..."

"They're what?" Mira asked wide eyed and (name) nodded "I-I want to know if you guys... Can figure out what happened?" His words hesitant and the three looked at him seriously "we will figure this out (name)" Mira said firmly, the other two nodded in agreement "don't you worry (name)"

"Thank you... Now go do your prayer"

"Uuuugh you just wanna use our faces for the shrine!"

"Shrine needs donations!"

"Yeah yeah!" The girls hugged (name) tightly, the Omega getting a smooch on the cheek from each of them and he chuckled, a genuine chuckle that made their hearts feel warm.

He was healing... Little by little.

"Bobby?" (Name) Was confused at his sister and her mates managers presence (he knew those three were mates, he just didn't say anything... Didn't want to be rude ya know?) "hey (name), long time no see" the short beta said softly and quietly thanked (name) when he let him in "what brings you here? The girls aren't here" (name) spoke softly and the elder sighed "actually I wanted to talk to you about something"

"Oh?"

"I have a job offer for you" the two sat on (name)s couch, Bobby smiling softly "I was wondering if you... Wanted to go into modeling? With me managing you of course" the beta looked at (name) with soft eyes "c-can I think on it?" (Name)s words were barely a whisper and Bobby smiled at him with a gentleness that he reserved typically for his girls "of course, kid... Here" he handed (name) a card "lemme know your answer when your ready, just know... You would do great"

When Bobby left, (name) looked at the card "I'm tired of waiting for them, it's time to live for me" he said softly to himself and went to his door and Bobby was standing there with a smile "so it's a yes?"

"Yeah... As long as I can do my shrine duties too"

"That shouldn't be a problem"

When Bobby did leave for real, he scheduled a day for (name) to come in and they could talk further and honestly?

(Name) Was excited for once.

"Saja boys!" Zoey said seriously when they caught them on a joint show special guest event "can we talk?" Rumi said softly and they seemed nervous to be near them but followed regardless into their dressing room, once the door locked Mira glared at them "how are you back?!"

"We got our souls back" Jinu said softly, looking at them with a hesitant expression "were still... Demons but demons with souls? We aren't sure what we are honestly" the others nodded and their chests glowed but... Their eyes also glowed gold.

"Why haven't you checked on (name), we know you guys were talking to him before the idol awards" Rumi asked confused and romance sighed "we-- we were really cruel to him, we didn't want him getting hurt and we knew we were going to die... So we made him hate us"

"He doesn't hate you, he misses you" Zoey was serious as she spoke "he spent six months crying over you guys! How dare you act like you're doing some noble shit?! You guys better go find him and beg for forgiveness! He the alphas he believes you can be you cowards!"

Everyone froze at her outburst and she looked a little.sheepish "he deserves love, go show him you love him before someone else does"

"Also if you hurt him again, I'll crazy murder you" Mira said seriously and pointed her weapon to Abby's throat "got it?"

"Got it"

(Name) Was excited for his first shoot, apparently be was working with some famous model in Japan for a collaboration-- he couldn't believe Bobby got him such a big gig for his first gig...

He just hoped he didn't blow it.

He spent two hours getting his hair and makeup done, humble and polite to the two omegas working on him and they swooned at how sweet he was "you're ready for the camera! Good luck!"

(Name) Stepped towards the set, looking ethereal to those around him and locked eyes with the alpha he was working with, dressed in dark and gothic clothes compared to (name)s sweet and pastel clothes "pleased to meet you, I'm (name)" he said softly in slightly broken Japanese and the other looked at him wide eyed before smiling kindly and spoken in fluent Korean "it's great to meet you, I wasn't told about working with someone so beautiful"

(Name) Looked up at him and tried to not look flustered at his words, especially from someone so handsome.

"Oh, how rude of me... I'm (pick a character or oc)

(Name) Was excited to tell his sister about his photo shoot, immediately calling her on video call while getting into the private car Bobby got him and waited till the Alpha answered "how'd it go?!" The three asked and (name) grinned "great! And I made a friend!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah! Some model guy from Japan, his name is (pick a character or oc)!"

The girls froze at that name, they knew him damn well.

And they knew he was a fuck boy.

"That's.... Great" Rumi said with a nervous smile and (name) seemed proud of himself, it wasn't easy for him to make friends so this was big for him.

"Yeah! He invited me to go see a movie!"

Oh god he invited poor (name) on a date.

"What theatre?"

#anime x reader #anime x male reader #x male reader #omega male reader #omegaverse #male reader #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters x male reader #saja boys x reader #saja boys x male reader

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hanimanny · 23 hours ago

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WIKIHOW: HOW TO GET YOUR GIRLFRIEND BACK (FROM YOUR FAMILY)

a.k.a Tim needs his girlfriend back

tags: Tim drake x reader (established relationship), batfam x platonic!reader, crack, no mention of ‘y/n’

word count: 2.7k , likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

Tim loves that you're close to his family, he adores it. He couldn't have asked for anything better. To know that the love of their life so easily integrates themselves into their partner’s already slightly dysfunctional- adopted family.

Tim loves it, because you love it. His family, I mean. But if you were to ask him how he feels about how close his girlfriend is to his brothers, sisters, pseudo-father?

He’d say he hates it.

The first few months were great! He would bring you over and you'd greet every member of the family you pass, awkwardly bowing (even to Damian who had the biggest ego trip known to man) as you scurry off, glued to Tim’s side.

He misses those days. You were like a little bird, too shy to leave the nest, finding comfort in each other’s presence. He had you all to himself; and he would not call himself selfish in a way, but gods, does he want to take you and hide you from the world (his family).

Like all baby birds, they have to leave home eventually, and you did just that.

It started off small. Girls night with Cassandra, Barbara and Stephanie, who'd want to drill as much gossip and secrets out of you about himself. Innocent at first, Tim trusted you, after all, and doubted you'd say anything incriminating about him to the girls.

Then, the rubber duckies began to appear. He first assumed it was you and one of your weird pranks. Finding the yellow toys perched on his PC, bed stand, his closet, the usual places he would find you around. Then it got progressively stranger. The batcave, his utility belt, his secret stash of stalkerish pictures of you before you guys dated. No way would you find this stash, the only person sneaky enough to get past his secured hiding spaces was… Cassandra.

That was when it all started.

The ducks were okay. Eventually, you took a huge liking to them and told him to give them all to you and you would start a mini-army of rubber duckies, in his name of course. Though, he couldn't miss the devious glances the girls would send him, like he owed them something.

What ticked Tim off was when you started to come over to the manor. Not that you weren't allowed to, he loves it when you spontaneously visit. But the reason you gave, irked him to no end.

“Hey Duckie, sorry can't hang, Damian wanted to test those new katanas I’ve been working on.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips and a little hug before dashing towards the batcave, clunky bag full of prototypes jingling beside you. Before Tim could even ask to help carry your bag, you were gone.

Okay, yeah, this is fine. You help his family come up with new innovative weapons, it's literally part of your job description.

And then it happened several more times.

Sometimes needing to cut well needed cuddle time short because “Damian wants to test out all your new gear for himself to deem it useful or not” or “Damian said he’d teach you how to paint after his training session”.

And with demon spawn at that! his replacement! his arch nemesis. All your inventions were useful! And brilliant! That little demon spawn is just digging his claws into your soft kind back to drain you of all your brilliance.

And He could teach you how to paint! If Bob Ross taught him anything, it's how to paint using what little skills he had. Though, the large canvas you painted of Tim, yourself and the large army of rubber duckies you gifted him was certainly… something (he had it framed and hung it above his bed).

Whatever… you're still with him 80% of the time, and if not at the manor, then at Wayne Enterprises!

He thanked the gods that he ended up in an office romance type-thing, even though he is sorta kinda your boss and you work in the STEM department. He would show up at your lab unannounced and the two of you would have spontaneous lunch breaks, talking about anything and everything. About the silly nerdy geeky stuff his family would horrendously bully him for, because you are as equally silly nerdy and geeky as he is.

But something always had to ruin his fun.

That something, being Bruce.

The first time he showed up was during an actual lunch break. You and Tim sitting on one of the tables in your Lab, devouring a bat-burger you had begged him to order because, in your words:

“It's literally your dad! No way you gotta pay.”

He had to pay. Not that he minded, never minds when it comes to you.

You were mid rant about some ship that kept breaking your heart, with a smudge of ketchup on your chin and your mouth disgustingly stuffed full of fries.

“Like what do you mean you guys were just ‘best friends’, you literally faked your death, gave up the only career you ever knew and loved, just to get ride off in the sunset with him.” You scoff as you comically swallow your food. “Coming from a guy, that seems pretty platonic to me” Tim humoured as he sipped on his drink, amused with the way your face contorts with disbelief.

“I can’t believe you had a boyfriend and still have the worst gaydar known to man.”

“Hey!”

“Bernard would totally get me.” You frown dramatically and Tim rolls his eyes at that, tossing a fry at you.

“Why aren't you eating in the cafeteria?” A deep authoritative voice shatters your little world, pulling your attention away from him and onto the voice.

Bruce stands at the doorway to your lab, signature scowl on his face. You lean to the side, to get a better view of him and wave with enthusiasm.

“Food’s Trash today,” you boldly claim, chewing sideways on a fry. “Is that why you're in my lab? Because you want to have lunch with us?” you ask innocently.

Which is how Bruce started attending both impromptu and promptu’ lunches. You obviously welcome him with your big loving heart, and definitely not because he’s your terrifyingly, stupidly scary boss and possible future father-in-law.

To no one’s surprise, Tim is less than… let’s say excited… to have his pseudo father crash his work dates. Now lunch is filled with you explaining to his poorly out of date father the difference of “being cooked” and “cooking.”

and don’t get him started with his god forsaken, golden child of a brother, Dick Grayson, who unknowingly cockblocks. With his brotherly hugs and how he somehow always manages to incite family movie night. or game night. or whatever night.

And even worse, you slowly grow the habit of inviting Dick to your hangouts. like some b-grade pavlovian experiment.

“Hey, wanna finish watching Lost?” innocent enough, and if Tim played the right cards, you’ll even decide to stay over (you’d still do it even if he played the wrong cards).

“Sure! let me text Dick” and at first he’s confused, dick? Why? bros in bludhaven doing bludhaven activities. He has his own life, own job, own responsponsibilities, probably too busy to hang out with his younger brother and pretty birdie.

“he’d throw a fit if we continue without him” you absentmindedly add in, typing away on your phone. No one's worse than a brother dick grayson who looks like a sick kicked puppy once you tell him you continued the show you started together without him.

After this incident, Tim slowly started to notice the lack of reality show binging time with you (at least without Dick) because somehow, Dick is always there once you start a new reality tv show. Even worse, he Pavlova’d himself, catching himself thinking of Dick when it came to reality tv.

And Jason Todd who cockblocks purposely. The taste of freedom was so close, during the time of confusion where Jsson had no clue Tim was even in a relationship. How he'd eye the two of you skeptically, watching how you seamlessly integrated yourself into their family. His siblings, father, even Alfred, left unblinking at your interactions.

But now that he knows, that fuckass zombie does everything in his power to ragebait.

Tim seriously thought he grew accustomed to Jason Todd and his offhanded remarks about him, but now? now he really might dox someone (jason todd).

TIm can tell he’s doing it on purpose, that smug (and stupid) look in his eyes when Jason asks you about old literature and introspective texts, and god knows how much you love to talk about things you’re interested in (which we all love).

“I just think that he really captured girlhood, like I don't even understand how he did— I felt so connected with him” you drone on and on about a new book you were reading, something that Jaosn read back in his old robin days. While Tim loves to listen to you talk, literature is something Jason has him beat at (unfortunately…)

Tim just sits there, arm wrapped around you as you face Jason politely, chatting the room up. Jason occasionally sends Tim the knowing glance of smugness and in turn, Tim stares at Jason like he’s the blame for the economic state of the world.

Tim zones out, plotting on the best opportunity to shit in Jason’s food. He smiles quietly to himself as he envisions his plans taking place, the reaction and satisfaction he’d feel, only snapping out when you suddenly gasp.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot, I need to give him his meds” and the smile fades from his face instantly. You turn to him with a crazed look, your arm already in motion as you stick your hand in a hidden compartment under the couch.

“Come on, Duckie, it’s nap time” you say almost ominously, despite your sweet smile and beautiful face, it does nothing to hide your menacing aura. “Yeah, nap time, Duckie” Jason taunts, and his pet name coming from Jason’s mouth tastes sour to Tim.

“Hold him down, will you, JT?” you ask sweetly, as you pop open the pill bottle.

In a swift motion, Tim snatches the bottle from your hand, “No need, i’ll take them willingly” Tim interjects, rather anything other than to give Jason Todd the satisfaction of holding him down.

Worse of all, by the time Tim wakes up, you’re gone, and the aroma and food reaches his senses.

He’d wake up, unceremoniously groggy, drool trailing down his face and the pillow within his arm he uses as a substitute for your flat to all extent. Tim feels like the start and end of the universe, all at the same time. He feels his hands tingle and theirs a blanket imprint stained on his forearms and face. Not to mention, what time is it?

Unable to recollect his own dreary thoughts, Tim drags himself to the kitchen for his obligatory concoction of coffee and energy drink, ready to immediately shave off the 5 extra years off his life he gained from sleeping.

TIm instinctively floats towards the sound of your giggle, along with the soothing scent of food that roams the air.

When he enters the kitchen, looking like he forgot his name and knows the entire history of you, you and Alfred don't even flinch at the site.

“Hey Duckie! You slept longer this time, a whole 8 hours” you chirp as you pull out a tray of cookies, cooking the oven door closed. “Congrautlations, Master Tim, that's 5 more than last time” Aldred adds, stirring the pot of delicious smelling food.

“Thanks…” Tim mumbles, still dazed.

“I’ll be right with you, i just need ice the sugar cookies” You hum as you vigorously mix the icing while somehow simultaneously piping another batch in a bag.

Tim can't help but smile gently out the domestic site, heart fluttering and not because of the residual caffeine that circulates through his veins.

Just as Tim was about to sneak up behind you, and suggest he helps, Stephanie, Cassandra and Barbara burst in like they're about to rob a bank.

“WE’RE HERE! BARBIE BAKER! Now the icing decorating competition can commence! Alfred, you're the judge” the girls push Tim aside, him knocking against the wall like a discarded ornament, ignoring him.

“By the way, Tim, Bruce needs you” Barbara adds, as she wheels herself near the table as you carry the trays of cookies while Cassandra balances the various bags of icing.

Tim stares blankly, his soul threatening to leave tired bones.

Dear Lord, please give me patience.

Tim’s at his wits end, he's barely seen you this week (aside from the fact you sleep in his bed every night tucked securely in his hold), stolen by one of his many family members.

Which brings him to now, calling a family meeting as if a world ending war is approaching. With all the family lounging on the couch, with the exception of Alfred who stands at the doorway and Jason who thinks he’s too cool to lounge with his loving family.

“What do you want, Replacement? You know some of us have lives” Jason quips, leaning against the wall like 2000s grunge emo delinquent.

“I am a full time CEO and hero who solves all your cases, you run a gang of D-list vigilantes and still come to me for help, we are not the same” Tim spits, the bags under his eyes seem much heavier, darker, like he hadn't slept for days (which might actually be true). At. his. Wits. End. Jason grumbles a retort, licking his teeth and sending Tim a glare that’s somehow more glare than his usual one.

Then, Tim releases a forbidden command.

“You’re all on Birdie Ban”

In that moment, the whole room bursts into cries, and an instant influx of complaining rips through the air.

“WHAT? you have no right to ban us!”

“YOU CANNOT DICTATE WHO SHE CAN AND CANNOT SEE”

“Dick’s right! let Birdie see who she wants”

“You’re just a jealous loser”

“Dictator!”

“Worse than Joker”

“Woah, Steph, that’s a bit much”

“Nah, I was killed by him, Replacement is definitely worse”

“Now, let’s not make any rash decisions, Master Tim”

“I’m going to make a rash decision.”

“No innuendos, Cain. I'm going to gut Drake and use his insides as a scarf”

“Holy shit, Damian, Do we need to talk to a therapist again?”

“Yes, if that therapist is Birdie”

Tim stands there taking the brunt of the comments without flinching, his face passive as if he mastered the art of the Tibetan monks.

And then: “If I catch you stealing Pretty Bird from me, I’m going to stop helping you with any of your cases…and ill dox you”

“empty threats, Drake”

“says the guy lost a twitter war to a Brony”

Instantly, Damian shuts up, though his eyes burn with something akin to psychopathy.

With one look, Tim scans the room seeing that everyone has fallen silent.

“By the way, no one tells her about this or I'll hack into all the tech in the house and block them off, out of spite”

With that, everyone reluctantly agrees and Tim can’t help but smile in satisfaction to himself.

“Anyways, Pretty bird told me to let you guys know that she’s throwing a Gregory House theme party, everyone has to dress as a version of him”

Tim may hate the fact that his family steals his girlfriend, but he’s more than grateful that his family loves you so much— enough to show up with a cane and stubble at least.

epilogue

“Wait, why aren’t you dressed as House?” Dick, slack jawed, asks as he leans on his cane, dressed as convict season 8 house.

“seems like you can’t even stick to your own girlfriends theme” Cassandra quips, in her rehab house attire, holding an ipod which blasts radiohead at a soft volume.

“I'm Amber, a.k.a. female house— know your lore” Tim retorts, brushing his faux blonde hair to the side.

Then you burst into the room, brown wig galore, and your certified doctors coat

“I, too, am at this party— omg bruce! i love cheerleader house, you look so authentic”

The adventures of Pretty bird (shenanigans revolving you and Tim's family)

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magicalgirlava · 21 hours ago

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TW: vent, illness, chronic illness

This! Coming from someone who usually cannot leave the house due to chronic illness and suspected autoimmune diseases and when doing so needing excessive preparations and medications, and a mobility aid.......it's really difficult to be seen in this world which chooses to blind themselves to things they don't want to see.

The fact two years ago I used to be a healthy 16 year old girl..and all of sudden I just fell ill with no warning. None whatsoever.. they don't want to see because they then have to accept that this could happen to them without warning. All they had in their life before. Just gone. Gone.

I had to rebuild everything piece by painstaking piece. But it's not the same anymore. But the bricks are less durable and I'm missing pieces.

I can't even eat what I want anymore because my body mistakes it for poison. No gluten, diary, soya, eggs, peas, peanuts.

Many things I suddenly can't eat anymore. My diet can't even be balanced anymore. I'm not getting vital nutrients because I'm in pain whenever I try to eat. Or even drink. And don't get me started on the fatigue seeping into my bones.

All at the grand age of 18- having started at 16

And some still have the nerve to call us lazy.

And I just have to deal with it.

And that's why we need more representation of those who have lost so much and cannot mask these issues. The ones who are visible yet unseen. I'm pleading for you all to pay attention to the suffering of those people. And understand that literally anyone without warning could become like me.

If you are struggling with something similar or just in general my heart goes out to you.

You are not a burden or lazy. You didn't choose this. You do not deserve pain.

We have to stand to be seen- metaphorically. Because some days and even everyday for some... We can barely or not even stand.

But we have our voices. Words are power, silence is subjugation, or in some cases a statement.

But we need to fight. Running will just tire us more..in the long run it's worse to run than to fight.

If you cannot fight then cheer.

We are all so closely connected and need to start utilising our strength as a united group of people.

Bless you all with strength endowed.

This disability pride month I'm BEGGING you to acknowledge and care about the people in this community who often fly under the radar when it comes to positivity and information. People who require equipment to live, like ventilators, pacemakers, and feeding tubes. People who are bedbound. People with visible differences. People who have disabilities caused by things like substance abuse, overdose, or self harm. People with conditions so rare that they've never met someone who has the same one. People who need full time care and have to have help to use social media.

If you want to support the community, that means supporting all of the community. Disability pride means being proud of every last one of us, and making sure everyone feels heard. Make sure to amplify the voices of those who need it this month, and ideally for the rest of the year too.

#chronic illness #disability #disabled #vent post #personal vent #autoimmine disease #disabilties

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galene-gothic · 18 hours ago

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𝖶𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 ?

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES PATREON

SUMMER SALE ˖ TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

One thing that is obvious right away is that you’re a very internal person in many ways. You try to keep your inner world as beautiful as possible and are pretty good at doing so. Many of you tend to wonder if you are or feel as though you are performing at times but because you value inner peace, you decide to just accept yourself as you are. 2019-2020 seems to have seem a significant time for many of you. For some of you it could have been upto 2023. I just heard ‘impact’. You still do have significant stuff happening in your life but no matter what comes upon you, your life feels beautiful to you because you experience it as such. Whatever you experienced impacted you so deeply that you have grown a lot of resilience and resistance to the external world, you believe that everything you need is within you. In fact, it’s not just a belief, it’s more of an awareness. You resist, avoid and might not even be able to look outside of your own awareness at times but usually, you’re aware of how other people function. As in, you can make sense of many behaviours even if you personally do not relate and it’s sometimes because you have acted similarly in the past but you also have days when you simply do not understand the way people who act badly function because you function in a very pure and loving manner. I will not lie, many of you have gone through phases in which you operated very differently so you have an understanding of such people’s mindset but you do not relate to it anymore which is a matter of pride for you because it is a testament of your own growth. I’m looking at how people perceive you in general but what’s coming through right away are the people from your past. You pretty much went non existent in their life as in, it was like you never even knew them? That’s how you’ve moved forward. Whoever this is or whoever these people are, they clearly took you for granted. Whenever they go through hard times, they think of you. Not much about them is coming through because you and your spirit guides both actively try to be present. Another thing that is coming through here is that you’ve become incredibly attractive now.

Some of you may have stepped out of your house after a long time recently or went somewhere that was out of your routine and there are people who found you incredibly attractive there. Some of you are aware that at least one of them was attracted to you but obviously, due to how internal you are, some of you may not be aware. There is someone who wanted to get your number or socials but they couldn’t? This person feels like you’re attracted to them too and they’re not sure because you’ve both only had basic human interactions for now. I can’t tell for sure whether you’re attracted to them or not but the vibe that I’m getting here is - looking at each other from across the room, looking at each other when the other isn’t looking and wanting to be around each other but not trying too hard. This person could have come in with a friend or one friend one day, another friend another day? Their friend(s) seem to have appreciated your beauty behind your back. They perceive you to be incredibly attractive. Someone whose presence is electrifying yet comfortable but they don’t feel comfortable enough to openly interact with you yet but even so, they perceive you to be a very comfortable and homely person. This person perceives you to be beautiful and as having the courage to be gentle. Aww, I just heard that you’re beautiful but that’s not the best thing about you. You are compassionate and seem very confident in that to them. They think that you have a strong mentality, mindset and attitude, and that it is a gentle internal strength that allows you to be compassionate, gentle and loving. They see you to be full of life and someone who doesn’t let their thoughts crush them. Now onto the general perception that people have of you and not just this one person, whenever you go through something that upsets you, you do not let it get to you and instead choose to move past it without giving it much if any power at all. You don’t let anything pull you down and aspire to fly higher, and higher and people can see that. People close to you are in awe of how you actively try not to let frustrating events get to you.

Now especially, you are trying to avoid ranting, venting and complaining about situations because you want to be able to process, and let things go by yourself, not giving situations, emotions and people any power. You’re comfortable by yourself and feel safe by yourself. You’re not looking for anything outside of yourself and others can tell. You trust yourself and are actively growing. You may have undergone a physical glow up and try to actively go towards that direction now but growing character wise is quite important to you too. You have a ‘first love’ vibe going for you. Let me explain how your energy feels, there’s something light about it because you’re very gentle and you interact with people openly. Some of you may have quite exaggerated expressions, mannerisms, movements or a big voice but it is still very gentle most of the time. You may high five your friends playfully and jump around if something makes you happy but it’s all gentle, when you interact with people one on one, you’re very gentle and polite. Even your vocal tone tends to be on the softer side when you interact with people from the second time onwards. Possibly first time onwards for some of you but I’m getting that when you’re not comfortable enough and not focused on the other person which is likely to happen on a first meeting with you, you talk to them in a lower octave. People find themselves looking for you before they even know it because you have a light, affectionate, elegant, sophisticated and candid ‘first love’ vibe going for you. I’m not getting you being on the extreme end of sexiness or extreme end of cuteness but instead the classic pretty and attractive type that has a light, elegant and feminine vibe going for them. I’m not sure who saw you in a lighting in which the sun was shining from behind you, sort of like a halo or the golden light was on your face and hair when you were in a vehicle at evening but oh my god, you’re on their mind. You focus on love and that causes you to possess an inner glow that comes out as some sort of a halo. You possess little to no fear due to how you focus on love.

Whenever people are around you, you make them feel incredibly loved and seen, and they feel very safe because your focus is on the positive i.e. love and joy. You’re also very ambitious and driven, and want to succeed in life but the more that you fly in life, the more that you try to place yourself on the ground. “Even the bird that flies knows that it needs to rest somewhere on the ground.” The more that you grow in life, the more successful that you get, the more that you try to be humble and place your feet down on the earth. There’s this thing in which you are becoming nicer, more loving, gentler and more humble the more that you are growing in life. Also, the more wisdom that you’re getting, the more that you’re trying to have compassion for those who aren’t as wise as you. I am not sure if I should call it compassion to be honest, you just get rid of them because you know that you do not have to be the one to change people and that they’re the problem, and you choose to focus on yourself but when people are younger than you or seem to have even just a little room for growth, you try to instil certain values into them but again, you do not really care because you think that if they take it and learn from it, it’s good for them, and if they don’t, that’s fine, you can’t do anything about it. Many of you have been wanting to eat well and workout for a while now. Some of you may want to practice dancing or something too but you’re always looking to improve yourself. Some of you look like puppies or might sleep like one, like sort of curled up. People find you adorable and some people think that you sleep or nap a lot. You may be the type to sleep during the day but I don’t that it comes from laziness, it’s more so maintenance of energy. You might study/work, eat, sleep, wake up, study/work and repeat. There are certain things that you do that you hold sacred to you and don’t share with others. For example, you might meditate, read tarot readings like you are right now, use these things as a tool to get better and you’re very in tune with yourself, and your own body right now. If you feel sleepy, you sleep so that you can function better. People perceive you as being incredibly abundant and that’s all because of the deep inner work that you’ve done, and how emotionally abundant you yourself are. Thank you for reading. I would love to know how to resonates. Much love and take care.

Synchronities: 222, people around you passing away a lot, a pet passing away, graveyard dirt, burial, recently coloured your hair and damaged it, stove, apple juice, bunny or rabbits, blush, blush + bronzer.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

Your life is funny, you are perceived as a bit harmless so people do not realise how strong you are until they test you. You do not even act out instantly or push back, you do so when the situation has long passed and you come by the right opportunity. You have had people corner on you, gang up against you and had people taunt, mock, and humiliate in social settings. People wanted to shake you up mentally and emotionally, just genuinely break you down and you do not push back until you absolutely cannot take it anymore. I don’t think that you’ve been pushed to your absolute limit yet but you’ve been pushed to the extent in which you channelled your inner strength and pushed back in some way. I believe that the way you pushed back was not direct but also very personal. Think someone wants something and you go, and get it instead. That was the kind of energy that took place. If the situation is still ongoing, I’m impressed. Even if it’s not, I’m still impressed. When you do push back, you know how to crush people down to pieces. Often, it may not even be like you’re pushing them back but that you’re simply just living your life but they feel threatened because you get what they want. You’re not exactly into drama but in the past, you were made to believe that everything was your fault by a group of people. You’re more of the type to endure things and try to resolve it maturely, and that’s exactly what you did back then but now you’ve risen above them all and gotten better so if they try to test you even though they’re not a part of your life, you’re going to crush them by simply just living like right now. You’ve grown a lot and are threatening people left, and right. For example, people who humiliated you in the past, they might like someone who likes you. Also, you have many secret admirers that NEVER come forward to you. You’ve built yourself exactly the way you wanted to and built your life exactly the way you wanted to in the process of moving past alienation. You were separated by yourself when you were friends with or acquainted with these people. There seems to be so much alienation and pain, possibly even bullying that you underwent, I’m so sorry. Your former friends who you thought of as your own tried to knock you down to a peg and make you feel guilty, embarrassed, ashamed, and lonely.

Now you’ve found clarity and cut through whatever illusion you were under, and these people are damaged so they genuinely hate you. You left them to think that they were at power but they also knew that they weren’t and now, they see that the things and people they want, you have them, the opportunity to have them, and their attention. I just heard that they’re burning. People see you as extremely merciless when it comes to your own personal goals and what it is that you want. For example, if you liked a guy and your friend liked him too but he turned out to like you back, you’d be with him. Maybe, some of you have done something like this in the past. For the rest of you, what sucks is that you could have done something like that but didn’t and it’s pretty obvious to me that you can do so now. Not to mention, you’re very harmless and loveable on the surface causing you to always have someone to rely on if you want that. Something saved you when you were struggling back then. It could be related to people but the main thing here is you. Maybe you received a lot of love and kindness that caused you to want to become the same way, and it made you act out in ways that brought about more opportunities for you. You know just how much you love and how much you’ve sacrificed for others, and you went through a process of reconnecting with yourself, of finding memories that were grounded in how things actually happened rather than in shame, fantasy or any of it. No matter what triggered you towards this path, you did things by yourself so you’re hella grateful to yourself and also others but you are placing credit where it’s due, and you know that if it weren’t for your own strength and willingness, other people wouldn’t have been able to push you down this path. People are very very very jealous of you. That keeps on coming through here. I want to look at general perceptions of you but what’s coming through is your haters and other people whose perception of you is tinged by jealousy because yes, even your friends and acquaintances tend to be jealous of you. It’s just that they keep it healthy but I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned against you at some point. It would make sense if people have turned against you in the past. I’m especially getting that while you do have one or two people who try to make you feel like shit one on one or you had people like that around you in the past.

Most people wait for the chance to have a group of people turn against you so that they can express their animosity towards you as well 😭. You’re also perceived as being possessive and jealous by those close to you. You know that love is a risk but when you’re not alone and around people, you take that risk and genuinely believe that it’s safe to love because you can always fall back on yourself. Your past experiences have shown you why it’s unsafe to love and trust but they’ve also shown you how you can, and will recover. You’re very attractive, people try to resist you but they simply can’t. I kept on getting the term ��trophy wife’ and ‘trophy girlfriend’ earlier but didn’t want to use those terms because I find them to be quite degrading. People feel passionate towards you. You do this thing in which you look at people’s lips or their eyes directly, maybe both? Maybe even within the same conversation. You have a blank face at times yet you tend to be the first one to catch people’s eyes when they enter the room. You recently wore either red nails, red clothing, black clothing or leather, or simply something fitted that really enhanced your look and aura. The way you look, the way you dress and simply just the way you are, it looks like something that would require effort but you make it effortless at the same time. You also have this careless manner in which you speak. You talk to people casually as if they’re just any other person and you seem very comfortable interacting with them even if you just met them but if you don’t feel like it, if they greeted you, you’d either just smile at them or look at them for a split second with your hand raised as if to wave but you wouldn’t and you’d start talking to someone else who you’re more comfortable with. People try to stay away, divert their path but simply can’t do so. They can’t help but feel attracted to you and the fact that they aren’t getting over you, and your presence causes them to be even more attracted to you. Even the coldest people tend to hold a soft spot for you 🥹. You look the most attractive when it’s hot, even if you look messy and disheveled. You look good when you’re a bit sweaty and red. I need you to look at yourself after an orgasm or workout session, you’d fall in love with yourself too. You seem to be pretty confident and people tend to be confused by their attraction towards you.

Even when they try to escape, they simply can’t. I’m not sure how to put it for you here but the people who you wanted once who didn’t want you back likely find you incredibly attractive now. Also, the people who you find attractive first, you do not exactly go towards them directly but through mistakes, you’ve learned how to bewitch them in your own special way. You don’t play but you naturally push and pull so it feels like a game to the other person but at the same time, they find themselves wanting more of you. There are a lot of hormonal functions that take place when you’re around people and blood rushes to places that they weren’t even aware it could run to xD. You have principles and ethics, and seem very serious and virtuous on the surface, and honestly you don’t play about yourself but when it comes to romance, it is a playful game to you. You want something stable and serious but you want your partner, and you to continue playing and seducing each other overtime. So when you aren’t with someone yet, you do the same thing. Seduction happens overtime and through subtleties, and that’s something that you seem to be aware of. So you’re very good at seducing even if you personally think that you have some anti seductive traits. You know how to make people feel desired without degrading yourself and your own worth. You have seriousness and a sentimental side but you’re extremely fun loving, and joyful. You are also not ashamed of experiencing pleasure. Post nut guilt doesn’t make sense to you because you never it xD. You instead experience intense pleasure and the desire to get even more of that. You prefer body thrumming pleasure that has your body slightly tingly all over even after hours. You express your desire for people through your eyes or people feel like you are doing so. “Most communication is non verbal” and you’re proof of that because you communicate whatever you have to in order to attract people without having to speak to them. Thank you for reading. I would love to know how to resonates. Much love and take care.

Synchronities: 333, lilith 10th/11th house, mango ice cream, red nails, leather, fitted clothing, spanish, ‘senorita’, flag of Spain?, lace, cat, kittens, 888, swan, sequins, ballet flats, yoga, meditation, heart chakra.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

There is something very angelic about you. I’m picking up on a lot of shimmer, pink, blue and highlighter but what interesting thing is coming through is that despite your angelic and softer, more feminine appearance, in romance or personal connections, you are a bit dominant. I personally don’t think that it’s dominance but more so that you’re a very serious person who is self controlled and you desire the same behaviour from those in your inner circle. You do not look around when you’re in a relationship so if your partner was to do so, you’d lose your mind. You want a partner who does everything and anything to maintain self control, and keep you as the only one in their heart and mind. You can seem very rigid and strict, and even a bit controlling but it’s only because you have high standards for yourself and others. I’m picking up on really intimate messages here so if you haven’t gotten physically intimate with anyone, it is simply about emotional intimacy. You understand intimacy very deeply and sex is likely entwined with emotions for you. Some can pick up on it and if you have ever gotten involved with someone in that manner. You turned into an absolute sex goddess in bed 😭. If you haven’t yet, this will be you in the future so I’d stick around. Your appearance and energy are more light, and airy in perception but are very serious as well as devoted in a relationship. Also, quite strict so when in bed, when you turn into a freak, it is a pleasant surprise but the depth that you possess in a close romantic relationship and in bed cannot be matched. People often want to spend their entire lives admiring the marks that you’ve left on them, be it literally or figuratively. You are an intense lover and if someone wants to get lost with you, and experience emotions deeply, experience passion deeply, you’d be the right match for them but the wrong people will be repulsed and overwhelmed by you.

When you touch people, you want it to be endless. In fact, when you touch yourself too, you wish it could be endless. You love pleasure and the feeling of intimacy. Being with you means to burn. Their emotions become very obvious. When someone gets close to you in a romantic manner, their conscious and subconscious collides causing their emotions to flow quite intensely. Anyone who enjoys indulgence in feelings and sensations would love you. Your love is endless but it comes at the small price of your possessiveness, extreme passion, emotions, strictness, anger and what others would consider to be ‘controlling’. You’re definitely deeply devoted though. You are the type to linger around people when you’re attracted to them 😭. Touching someone’s body in a sexual manner is a method of kissing their soul to you. If you’ve ever gotten intimate with someone physically, they may have cried or expressed a lot of emotions during, or after the activity. You are perceived to be very emotional by people especially your own romantic partner. Some of you may hold sexuality to be sacred and others know of it. Some of you may look like a bunny or have bunny teeth, or do your makeup as such. You are the type to find only one person and only them attractive, and loveable when in love. Your eyes literally don’t wander so you want the same and you make it very clear to others. To those who are the same way and who appreciate such qualities, you are literally the most beautiful person. Regardless of whether you’re conventionally attractive or not, you’re perceived to be the most attractive person by some. People around you know that you receive a lot of romantic attention. A pretty smile, innocent gaze and sweet scent, that’s you. Pink and blue are your best colours. Princessy, barbie like and siren like looks suit you the best. In fact, many of you already dress and adorn yourself this way.

I’m not sure if all of you possess all of these vibes and looks but those of you who do resonate with the mermaid/siren look, and archetype, you give off the vibes of the ones in Pirates of the Caribbean. Some of you will pull off more of one look and vibe than the other but many of you can pull off all of them. Maybe, you lean more towards one of the above because you’ve actually tried it but if you try out other looks and find what works for you, you’ll find that other styles suit you too. When I say ‘siren’ vibe and look, I’m not talking about femme fatale style though that could be the case for some of you but more so an ethereal mermaid-like style. I just heard that you’re a total babe but you look like a sweetheart, even though you are a man-eater. You’re not a man-eater as in you chew up and spit them out but more so that once you start getting really close to a man, you stick with them in a way in which you destroy them. I’m not sure how to say this without making you seem like an energy vampire but when men exert any energy towards you especially energy that causes you to have negative experiences, you use it to grow and glow up in some way. Your quality of life gets better with every man that you deal with, be it negative or positive. Of course, if you are a heterosexual male or homosexual female, it’s going to differ. Some of you may have liked or simply just noticed Cinderella the most out of any other Disney princesses when you were younger. I honestly think that you share many similarities with her but I’ll just let this one line speak for me - “while Cinderella was abused, humiliated and finally forced to become a servant in her own house, and yet, through it all, Cinderella remained ever gentle and kind.” You are generally perceived to be very kind and gentle. Even your mannerisms and the way your body moves, it’s like it’s flowing. That’s all I’m getting for you today. Thank you for reading. I would love to know how to resonates. Much love and take care.

Synchronities: fashion/fashion designing, nyx nude mega shine lip gloss, any nude lip liner, Laila Majnu, mac angel, revlon primrose, pink rose, pink, blue, Pirates of the Caribbean, blue bra, zaalima female part, Cinderella, ‘so this is love’, ‘a dream is a wish your heart makes’, Barbie princess and the pauper.

#pac reading #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading #tarot pac #pac #pick a card #intuitive readings #pick a photo #pick a deck #paid readings

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lovemepartly · 2 days ago

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guilty as sin...? ✩ thanos & namgyu

featuring: thanos x reader, namgyu x reader (seperate, mainly namgyu x reader)

synopsis: in which you break up with your rapper boyfriend... and accidentally end up in the arms of his friend.

wc: 2.5k

warnings: 18+, smut. mentions of drinking and drugs. toxic relationships (fighting, cheating (on both ends)). cursing. thanos and su-bong used interchangeably. not proofread

a/n: i could not get this idea out of my head so here you go!! lmk if you guys want a part 2 :) title inspired by taylor swift's guilty as sin

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

you and thanos had been dating for about a year. the media never saw much of it, just subtle instagram stories, paparazzi photos at a restaurant, and pictures of you— dreamy-eyed as thanos took the stage.

but behind closed doors it was different. thanos was always out, especially late at nights. he'd come home smelling like drugs and alcohol, too glassy-eyed to pay much attention to you. and a couple of times, you'd noticed faint lipstick marks on his cheek and neck, always messily smudged like he'd tried to wipe them away. but you never said anything, always buried those feelings deep down. and over time, the feelings that once held sadness turned into anger. he was a famous rapper and you weren't stupid— you knew how many girls he attracted— from famous singers to models, and then there was just you. and when the feelings of anger bubbled to the surface, you exploded. unfortunately, thanos was just as hot-headed. some nights were spent fighting with tears, others tangled up in the sheets.

in an attempt to spend more time with your boyfriend, you began joining him some nights at the club. he actually really liked having you around with him and it somewhat subsided the nights spent fighting. he'd still get drunk and high but with you around his arm. and when you were with him, he wouldn't bat an eyelash at another woman.

some times you'd go to the club with him to just have fun on your own. those nights were typically the best. thanos would be smoking in a circle of people with pedigree - rappers, singers, models. you didn't mind, not when you were tipsy and flitting around the room to talk to everyone.

that's how you met namgyu.

namgyu worked at club pentagon and would often bring thanos whatever drug he asked for, as well as the occasional free drink. because you were usually sitting on thanos' lap with his arm wrapped lazily around you, namgyu got to know you too. namgyu would often linger a little bit longer to talk to thanos, which never bothered your boyfriend who only loved the attention. when thanos' attention moved elsewhere, usually to another pretty model sitting in his circle, namgyu talked to you instead. you really liked talking to namgyu. he asked you questions that thanos never bothered to ask.

you made out with him once. it was a night that you frequently tried to forget— when thanos drunkenly had another girl on his arm and you'd followed namgyu to the back of the club. he was a great kisser, that was undeniable. he kissed with such passion, enough to make you feel special. namgyu swore he'd never say a word about it to thanos or to anyone for that matter, which only made things all the more harder. part of you wished he'd let it slip to thanos so you finally had a reason to leave him, but the other part of you was thankful that thanos would never find out. as much as parts of your relationship were hard with him, it was so comfortable, so predictable, so easy.

but tonight was different. thanos had gone to the club, like he usually did. you stayed home to finish up some work. when the door clicked open at 1am, thanos stumbled into the bedroom, eyes red and smelling of the club.

"hi, baby." he mumbled, taking a seat on the bed, watching as you worked. you looked up, but your gaze immediately landed on a lipstick mark on his neck. and for some reason, this one made you more angry than all the other ones you'd seen on his skin before.

it wasn't smudged, wasn't wiped away. it was faint, but still there. red. taunting you. mocking you. like he didn't care if you caught him anymore. like he didn't care about you.

"you have something on your neck." you said, still sat at the desk.

thanos' hand reached towards his neck, his fingers immediately landing on the mark, like he knew where it was, like he left it there on purpose. "oh, yeah, this one fan wouldn't leave me alone." he said casually, fingers still grazing the lipstick stain.

you took a shaky breath at his words. whether it was true or not— and you were certain it wasn't— he still let it happen. when you didn't say anything for a couple moments, your gaze still sharp and glued to where his fingers covered the mark, thanos added, "baby, it's nothing. i'm here with you now."

"you always do this, you know," you finally said, "hanging out with other women and thinking i won't notice."

"it's part of my job." he retorted, the response automatic.

your jaw clenched. because it wasn't. but this time when the anger bubbled to the surface, it was quiet. "sometimes it feels like you don't respect me." the words were quiet, murmured like a sin you shouldn't have said out loud.

"i do respect you, baby." another automatic response.

you could see it in thanos' response. in his words, in his red eyes, in the way he made no effort to get rid of the lipstick stain. it was different this time. you always thought the fight that would break you two up would be loud, passionate, like your relationship was. but this was quiet. bland. pathetic, almost.

so you took a shaky breath, already feeling tears sting at your eyes as you stood, muttering, "i'll be back later tonight." you grabbed your hoodie which was slung over the bedframe, and walked out of the bedroom. you almost wished thanos would chase after you. but he didn't— of course he didn't. the door to the house slammed shut and you made your way to the car, vision blurry as tears threatened to fall down your cheeks.

you drove without direction, but your subconscious had a plan. instinctively, your hand reached for your phone to call someone.

"hello?" namgyu's voice.

you almost breathed a sigh of relief. "are you still at the club?" you asked, voice shaky.

a pause on the other line. "... i am. why?"

"i need to see you." the last word came out like a whisper, like it was forbidden.

"are you okay?" the question caught you off guard. thanos' never asked you that. you wiped at another tear, trying to focus on the road. you didn't even know what to answer to that.

"i'm almost there." you said, before hanging up the phone. a few minutes later, you pulled up into the parking lot behind the building. it was virtually empty since it was after hours. you made your best attempt to wipe at your cheeks before knocking on the back door.

"hey, i'm just cleaning up," said namgyu, who opened the door, but he soon caught sight of your teary face, "are you okay?"

you sighed softly, stepping into the club. it was so quiet, almost eerie. "su-bong cheated on me again." you murmured softly, looking down at the floor to avoid his gaze, like your statement was embarrassing.

"again?" were the first words out of namgyu's mouth, but he quickly added, "i mean, i'm sorry. i..." he trailed off, like he had more to say, but couldn't find the right words, instead pulling you into a hug. you nearly collapsed against his chest. his fingers lazily played with your hair as he held you, the same way thanos would play with your hair. but this was... different. it was namgyu.

"did you two break up?" namgyu finally murmured after some moments of silence. maybe you were just tired, but you swore you could hear a twinge of hope in his voice.

"i'll do it tomorrow." you said softly.

namgyu hummed in response, almost like he didn't believe you. if thanos had cheated on you before and you were yet to leave him, why would you now? but he didn't really care. not when you were in his arms, seeking solace from him.

you lifted your head up from his chest to meet his gaze. his arms were still wrapped around you, his eyes soft as he looked at you, almost like he was searching for something, a sign. and you knew what he was looking for. his gaze flickered down to your lips once, then back to your eyes, then again to your lips. when he finally leaned in to kiss you, it was soft, filled with unspoken words. his hands gently cupped your face and the way he kissed you was so tender— almost reverential, so different from that other time you'd kissed him.

he finally pulled away, looking down at you, searching your gaze for hesitancy this time. and when he found none, he couldn't stop himself from murmuring softly, "i'd never do that to you."

he brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes and you nearly melted into the gentle touch of his hand. "i know."

he leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it was filled with something more. passion, hunger, almost an apology. as the kiss grew more passionate, his hands roamed down your body, slipping to graze the bare skin just under your hoodie. his mouth moved it's way down to your jaw, your neck, pressing soft kisses. and when his teeth grazed your skin softly, you didn't care that it'd leave a mark.

"fuck," he finally breathed out, admiring you as you stood in front of him softly, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, "i could treat you so much better than that asshole."

"i want you." you whispered before you could stop the words from coming out of your mouth.

those words were all he needed. his mouth was back on you in an instant, his hand on your waist as he blindly led you to a couch in the club, one of the many couches that thanos would frequently sit on. the thought almost made you feel bad as namgyu peeled your hoodie off, but your mind went back to the lipstick stain on his neck, the way he could've been sitting on this very couch himself that night with that woman.

namgyu's kisses now trailed down your chest, his hands still gripping your waist to keep you in place as he placed a kiss on your breast, just above your thin lace bra. you watched as he fumbled with the belt on his jeans and instantly moved to remove your own pants and underwear, tossing them to the side carelessly as he slid out of his boxers. he was hovering above you now, his eyes taking in the beautiful scene in front of him. you, desperate and in only your bralette, needing him. he fisted himself once, twice, before sliding his length up your folds, collecting arousal. it was enough to make you whimper as his tip brushed against your clit, the sound escaping from your lips making him shiver.

he aligned himself with your entrance, glancing at you once to make sure you were okay, before slowly pushing in. his hands came to rest on either side of your head on the couch, and your fingers gently gripped his shoulders for support as he pushed in deeper. "you okay?" he breathed softly, almost struggling not to move himself at the feeling of your tight walls around him.

"fuck— yeah— just need you—" you murmured. at your words he began to thrust. you whimpered at every sensation, soft moans escaping your lips. his lips occasionally brushed against your neck, kissing you softly.

you felt him reach a hand down, pressing it softly on your lower stomach. "fuck." he whispered, the feeling of himself in you enough to make his head spin. the cold metal of his rings against your stomach were enough to make you shiver.

without warning, he moved his hand lower a little bit and one finger began circling your clit. you moaned louder in response, back arching and gripping his shoulders a bit tightly.

"that's it, baby," he whispered, increasing his thrusting and the movement of his finger, "let go for me, pretty." a couple more movements and your orgasm crashed over you. your back arched, his name spilling from your lips, almost like a prayer - a cursed prayer.

your walls fluttered around him, squeezing him softly, but he didn't stop moving, chasing his own high. every thrust that followed him was almost too much, louder whimpers falling from your lips until you felt him still, a loud grunt escaping from his mouth as he filled you up. his body slumped down a little, his forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering shut. when his body finally stopped shuddering, he murmured softly, "you felt so good."

you could only muster a small whimper in response. he gently pulled out but you could still feel yourself leaking from him. namgyu stood up, tucking himself back in his boxers and pulling up his jeans. you sat back up on the couch, but he gently held you down, murmuring, "hold on."

you stayed seated on the couch as he quickly returned with a towel, gently wiping the mess on your thighs and core. thanos had never done that. you got dressed again before he helped you up. you looked up at him for a moment, unsure what to say now. your gaze flickered down to the couch to which namgyu said with a small smile, "i'll clean that up later."

you laughed softly, meeting his gaze again, murmuring, "thanks."

he looked at you, his gaze soft as he pulled you a bit closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. you wanted to say something more, but the only words that could come out of your mouth were, "you won't tell su-bong about this, will you?"

something in his expression changed at your words, like he'd forgotten the reason you were here. but he nodded, quickly recovering, "yeah, i won't. don't worry."

"thanks." you murmured again, offering him a small smile. "and thanks for... you know."

he laughed softly at that, hand on the small of your back as he walked you to the door, "any time."

as he opened the door, you felt the cold wind surge inside, like a harsh reminder of what'd you done. but you shook the feeling away, instead looking up to meet namgyu's gaze softly, before leaning up to kiss him once softly, letting your lips linger just a moment longer than they needed to.

his expression held something different as you gently pulled away from the kiss, something pained, like he knew he could never really have you. "i'll see you later, yeah?" he said softly.

you nodded, humming, "bye," as you stepped outside, walking to where your car was parked. the drive home was a blur, you felt like you couldn't even think straight, something heavy weighing on your heart as you drove, finally pulling up to thanos' apartment again.

you climbed out of the car, climbing up the stairs, before stepping inside the house. it was quiet as the door clicked shut behind you. you took off your shoes and padded inside the house, walking to the bedroom. thanos was asleep on the bed, curled up in the sheets, breathing softly. you couldn't help the way your gaze softened as you looked at his sleeping form, almost forgetting what he'd done. being as quiet as possible, you changed into your pajamas and climbed in bed next to him, eyes fluttering shut.

#squid game #squid game season 3 #thanos #namgyu #choi subong #choi su bong #thanos x reader #namgyu x reader #choi subong x reader #choi su bong x reader #thangyu #thangyu x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #namgyu smut

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illumoria · 2 days ago

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nsfw!

jj maybank who almost cried when you told him you were leaving for a week to go out on a trip to nyc with your girlfriends–his teasing expression melting into big puppy dog eyes as he begged you not to leave him.

"one week!? baby, that's not fair! what am I gonna do?" he'd whine, trying to persuade you by peppering your cheek with kisses–only for you to break his heart by declaring your bags were already packed.

and when you left for the airport the following morning? that's when it hit him that you really weren't there with him anymore.

(he's so dramatic...)

jj maybank who'd call you 24/7 especially late at night when you tell him you're curled up in your bed, away from your friends and in your underwear–swearing under his breath when you sent a photo.

jj maybank who was borderline desperate, begging you to just come back–that it was physically painful to be without you.

"please baby, just cut it short–fuck. i-it'd only be a couple hours flight and then I'll have you again. I ..I really needa fuckin' touch you."

and sure..you did feel a little bad but what could you do? you had confirmed tickets! and that's what you told him. but all he could reply with was a weak, breathy,

"c-could you at least keep talking to me then, y'know stay on the phone a little longer?"

"yeah..but talk about what?"

"anything–nngh. whatever you want."

so you did. about what you and your friends did in townsquare, shopping till you dropped, what food you'd gone out and tried–completely unaware that he was fucking his fist–the lace panties you'd left behind wrapped around his cock like a claim. it got so bad he had to mute himself–moaning into his empty bedroom like you were right there next to him.

"jay you listening?"

he'd unmute himself instantly, mumbling out a small "mhm" before eventually coming–leaving his mark all over that pretty pink fabric.

"ohmyfuckinggod–'

"jj are you okay?"

"yes. y-yeah I just ..just saw a fuckin' bug...the little shits."

"well, the girls just got back from the bar. gonna head to bed. I love you."

"love you more–so much."

"bye, jayj."

"bye."

jj maybank who definitely didn't go to sleep after you hung up the phone, immediately darting to your room, preparing his gift for you when you get back. ready to blame the fact that you "probably didn't do laundry before you left" when you asked why some of your pairs of underwear were in your hamper. you swore you didn't go through that many...

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pinkpuppipawz · 17 hours ago

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DRUNK

°ᡣ𐭩 . Poly! Saja boys x GN! Reader

CONTENTS ꒱ ➜ Fluff, some suggestiveness, mentions of puking, Abby’s abs, reader eating a shit ton of chocolate, reader being a mess, the boys don’t know what to do (send help)

CREDITS ꒱ ➜ Saja Boys belong to KPOP Demon Hunters (Sony) on Netflix

AUTHORS NOTE ꒱ ➜ hiii! Sos I haven’t posted anything in seemingly years, I’ve been busy with life and such. Haven’t written in a while so may be a bit rusty. I have only been drunk once so this may not be accurate. Also this is my first time writing for Saja Boys! Planning on writing for them more in the future bc yes, feel free to request if desired!

You had promised them it would only be one small drink, and they decided to trust you. Never again are they doing that after what occurred tonight.

You were currently stuffing your face full of any chocolate you could get your hands on, seemingly in a trance of some sort. The boys didn’t know if they should stop you or just leave it.

Jinu tried, key word tried, to stop you from indulging too much just in case you threw up later, only for you to turn around, give him the nastiest glare you could muster in your not so sober state whilst growling like a dog.

Mystery may or may have not found that kind of hot, and may or may have not had to go to the bathroom real quick to get rid of his problem.

Abby tried distracting you with his abs, to see if you would just maybe turn away from the chocolate for enough time for the others to snatch them from you. Nope! Did not work, for once. Abby felt his ego deflate like a balloon, muttering something along the lines of ‘my abs have failed me for the first time in my life’.

The boys were lost at this point, they didn’t want to make you cross yet they didn’t want you to be sick later, plus Baby didn’t want all of his snacks to be gone (he didn’t want to go to the shops bc he’s lowkey lazy). At this point they had tried everything, or so they thought.

Out of the blue (pun intended), Derpy appeared from the floor, his eyes unfocused per usual. The bird was sitting atop his head, donning the usual hat that he stole all the time.

In the blink of an eye, you practically rugby tackled the tiger, causing him to slightly budge a bit from the sudden force. ‘Oh my god you are so CUTE!!!! Why are you so cute???’ You cried out, petting the tiger all over whilst cooing a bunch of unintelligible words that probably didn’t even exist.

The boys sighed in relief. Finally! Something to distract you from finishing all their chocolate in one sitting. They are never letting you drink again. (Not without someone to supervise you whilst you do so).

BONUS

Baby and Romance spent the night with you on the couch, as you were too stubborn to haul yourself to bed or let them carry you, so you all agreed to compromise. When asked why you didn’t want to go to bed with the others, you claimed that you wanted to pat the squishy kitty all night long. Only to end up falling asleep on top of Derpy not long after, with the blue tiger seemingly purring in content at the affection. The boys may or may have not taken a bunch of pictures at the sight.

#kpdh x reader #saja boys x reader #kpdh x you #kpdh #kpdh saja boys #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpdh x gn reader #kpdh x female reader #kpdh x male reader #kpdh fluff #saja boys x female reader #saja boys x male reader #saja boys x gender neutral reader #saja boys fluff

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iindiafterdark · 2 days ago

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welder sevika surprising you with flowers

you had a not so good day, so sevika surprised you with flowers

pairing: blue collar! sevika x f!reader

tags: modern!au, no use of y/n, established relationship, just a bit of angst, tooth rotting fluff, housewife ish themes, just sevika being a big softie

you were having a bit of a hard time lately. as new homeowners in your neighborhood, you were running a mile a minute, making sure everything was perfect. you wanted to make an impression and had a desire to mingle with your neighbors.

but nothing had turned out how you imagined. you couldn't quite seem to fit in with the other women in the neighborhood, leaving you in your house to sit in your own company most days.

sevika never fully understood your eagerness for it, always telling you that they'd love you and you'd have nothing to worry about. but, it wasn't that way and the disappointment had gotten to you.

you were in the living room, laying on your couch in your very curated and beautiful home, nursing a glass of wine with a small grimace on your face.

you were lonely, extremely lonely. and with sevika always gone at work, that was the only human interaction you'd gotten since moving here.

the sound of the door clicking made you perk up, so much so that you almost spilled your glass getting up from the couch. you walked over to the door, only to be greeted by your doting wife.

you instantly wrapped your arms around her, eager to be in her presence after a day of being alone. she's just as eager, wrapping her burly arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

the familiar scent of metal eased your longing sadness as you nuzzled your face against her chest. "hey baby, i missed you too. i have a surprise for you," she chuckles, giving you a small kiss on your cheek before pulling away slightly.

you hadn't noticed her other arm being behind her back until now, watching as she pulls out a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers, as well as metal flowers that look like she spent hours to weld for you. you gasp, the unexpected gesture making tears prick in your eyes.

"i know you've been having a hard time getting used to the neighborhood..so i brought you these," she murmurs, a soft look on her face. her brows furrow in worry as she meets your eyes, realizing that tears are streaming down your face. "..baby? was it what i said?"

you shake your head, making a futile attempt at trying to wipe away the tears. "no, no it's perfect. i-it's just..this. i didn't expect it to be this hard. i feel so isolated sev," you whimper, the silent crying turning into quiet sobbing.

sevika sets the flowers down, pulling you back into her arms as you cry. she doesn't attempt to shush you or make you feel invalidated, she just rubs small circles on your back as comfort. "i know baby, i'm sorry," she coos, brushing your stray tears from your face. she takes your face in her hands, gently tilting it up to look at her.

"i know it's been hard doll, i'm sorry that they can't see how absolutely wonderful you are. you know what? fuck them for that. they don't deserve to have a person who lights up every room that she graces, you hear me?" she says, a hint of anger peeking through her tone.

you slowly nod, feeling yourself calm down the more she holds you. "that's it, now where's my happy beautiful wife, hm?" she quips, a small smile on her face. you let out a watery laugh, closing the gap between you once more.

she holds you tighter, placing a slow, tender kiss on your lips. it's like all of your sulking thoughts from before wash away instantly, your mind only being concerned about sevika and you in the middle of your entryway.

you look over to the flowers again, admiring the beauty of them. she notices, picking them up in her hand so you could see them properly. your finger traces over the cool metal of one of the welded petals, in awe of the craftsmanship. "you did this for me? this must've taken hours," you murmur, looking up at her in curiosity.

she only smiles, kissing your forehead softly. "of course i did doll, i'd do anything to make you happy."

#sevika x f!reader #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika fluff #arcane drabbles #arcane fluff #indi writes✧˚ · .

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adoredvi · 3 days ago

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So, when I die, which I must do. Could it shine down here with you?

BUILDERMAN x FEM!READER

Vi notes: first time using codes kinda scared...this is short lols also added the headcanon of John Doe being builderman's son(I think this is TRUD's lore I'm pretty sure) and to clarify Jane has a different parent🙅

Builderman never really see himself falling in love with someone at first sight. He is a man of class, someone who values his reputation, someone who takes his job seriously and without a fail, he is someone who'll never let anyone fall behind. He's just naturally hardworking and kind to those in need, the leader a community needs.

So when he fell for you, it was a surprise to everyone. Sure it's only natural for the highest and strongest admin to fall for the pit of romance, but what they noticed is how soft he becomes around you, how his smiles get softer, more gentler, his eyes lighting up, his touch becoming more gentler despite his tough and rough hands that showed years of hardworks.

Builderman never raised a hand on you, never raised his voice. Only speaking with that same gentleness and understanding tone he always carries around you, he never would dare to hurt you, he doesn't know what he'll do if he did. You're far too precious to him, you're his treasure, the shore to his raging waves, the earth to his moon. He loves you far too much.

So when you disappeared without any warning, or any sign? He felt his world collapse like a building falling after getting demolished. He felt his world slowly crumbling to pieces as he seeks for your presence that is nowhere to be seen or heard.

Close friends, the ones close to him is shocked, surprised, and fearful even. They had never seen this positive and serious man rage and crumble Infront of them in search of his wife.

He searched and searched for months that had turned into years but there was no sign of you, nothing. Throughout those years his son, his only hope, his only reminder of you vanished too, gone like the wind.

That, official made his world that he tried to keep together collapse. No matter how much Brighteyes, shedletsky, or even dusekkar tried to console him, he didn't budge. The man became dull as each days passed by. The lights that once lit up in his eyes, gone, his hair longer than before, dark bags under his eyes becoming more prominent. It was clear that he is starting to neglect himself, but not his work. He still tried to give all his best despite the grieving for the loss of his wife and only son.

It was unbelievable how a loss of a love ones can change a person, he didn't even believe it himself too, but here he is, tired, exhausted, and grieving.

He just wish he'll see you, again, with John. He hopes that both of you are alright and are doing well.

Only if he had known what you're going through for the past months, if only he had known that you have to suffer trying to survive what once left of your son, overcoming death over and over again. If only he were here, he'd known what to do, he'd known how to comfort you. But he isn't. Perhaps that's for the better for now.

So everytime Builderman looks at the moon, he imagines that you are doing the same, he hopes that you are thinking of him too, missing him. He just wished he's there for you when you needed it.

Vi notes: part two...or not🤔🤔

#𐔌 . 𓎟 Vi Writes ᐟ｡୧ ꒱#x reader #forsaken x reader #forsaken #forsaken x you #forsaken builderman #builderman forsaken #builderman x reader #builderman x you #builderman x y/n

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keirareidss · 15 hours ago

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learn for you - s.r

♡ summary: when spencer meets a cute librarian, finding out that she's deaf sets him back a bit but he's determined to understand her pairing: spencer reid x deaf!librarian!reader warnings: pretty much just fluff, reader feels a little insecure, maybe written poorly i'm sorry 🫣 wc: 2.5k a/n: i've never worked at a library before so some of this might not be accurate but 🤷 based on this request divider by @uzmacchiato

Spencer visited his local library frequently. He'd become well-known to the employees by this point, gifting them cookies around Christmastime, donations when needed, and smiles constantly. The old woman at the cashier was the one he was closest with. She talked about her grandson, he talked about his mother, so when he walked in, finding a different face behind the counter, his gait stuttered.

"Um... hello." He greeted and you looked up from your book. You'd sensed his presence when he walked in but he seemed like the type to just find his books and use the self checkout.

The fact that he wasn't standing right in front of you, offering a confused look, said otherwise. You waved, smiled at him, but he stayed, opened his mouth to speak.

"What happened to Betty? I thought she worked every evening." You read his lips as best you could but it was difficult when the person didn't know to enunciate. You set down your book on the counter, raising your hands to sign back to him.

Do you speak sign language?

His eyebrows furrowed and you grabbed a piece of paper, writing down what you'd just signed to him.

"Oh, uh, no... sorry." He spoke, realizing halfway through that you still couldn't hear him. He shook his head offering an apologetic look, a red hue rising on his face.

You stood from your chair, quickly grabbing another co-worker, Mabel, to help him with what he needed. As she spoke to him, his eyes kept trailing back to you, back in your chair, gaze flitting over the words on the page.

He must have gotten the help he needed because the next time you glanced up, he was gone. You turned to Mabel.

What did he need? She gave you a soft smile.

Just help locating a book. She signed back. Mabel was probably your favorite co-worker. She was a single mom with three kids and your absolute biggest inspiration. She was so strong and hard working and everything you wanted to be. Despite everything she'd been through she was always so smiley and cheery.

He was kind of cute, no? You chuckled at her antics.

I guess. You shrugged.

You should ask him out.

He doesn't know sign language. We wouldn't be able to talk to each other. She just shook her head, turning back to whatever she had been doing before you pulled her away to help with mystery man.

You saw him once more before he left, back at the checkout counter with three books. You were able to help this time because you knew what he wanted, starting to scan the books. When you scan his card, his account comes up to confirm.

He has an excellent record. Never an overdue book, never over the limit of maximum items. Truly an ideal customer.

You hand the books over to him and give him a smile. He hesitated, looking like he wants to say something to you, before he leaves with not only his books, but thoughts of the mysterious woman behind the checkout counter.

Spencer stayed up late that night. He opened his old laptop from 2002 to look up 'basic sign language for beginners'. He studied for a bit before sighing and giving up. The screen had started hurting his eyes and he always preferred using physical books anyways.

It was around 7:45 when he decided to head back to the library and check out some books on sign language. You weren't there this time, but that was okay, he didn't want you to see that he'd come back only a few hours later to check out books on something he'd just learned about a stranger.

He headed back home and turned on the warm lamp next to his bed and started reading. He fell asleep with books strewn about his bed, glasses crooked on his face, sure to leave a mark in the morning.

Despite that, and his rushed morning after forgetting to set his alarm, he had a pretty good day. He studied more on his lunch break and he was truly, honestly excited to go to the library again. He didn't even falter when Derek made fun of him for 'being a nerd'. Very clever Morgan, thank you.

He walked into the library, making his way to the front desk, his grin widening when he spotted you in the chair again. Stopping in front of you, he waited for you to look up at him. You smiled again and he felt a burst of courage in his veins.

Hello. My name is Spencer.

His fingers were clumsy but you looked happy anyway. Well, first you were shocked, then happy, then confused.

I thought you didn't know sign language. He processed for a moment, racking his brain for the meanings.

I just learn. His movements were sloppy but you understood.

That's so cool! Why did you decide to learn? He paused. Should he tell you it's for you? Would you be uncomfortable because of that?

I thought it would be fun. You smiled, nodding your head.

So, can I help you with something else? Shit. He hadn't thought to come up with a reason why he's back the next day.

My friend at sex knows sign language and I thought it would be cool. His movements were getting sloppier and you could tell he was nervous by the way he mistaked sex and work. He sensed the confusion and surprise in your eyes and continued.

You may have seen her here, she wears a lot of penis. He signs. Another mistake in his signs, you assume, but it's funny imagery anyway.

Pink? You corrected, showing him the right sign and his head tilts. You chuckled, grabbing a pen and paper and telling him what he did wrong. He instantly flushed red, stammering before remembering he needs to sign.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know-

You cut him off, waving your hands and shaking your head with an amused smile.

It's okay.

I meant penis. You laughed, correcting him again and, if possible, he flushed even more red. He buries his face in his hands and you laugh harder.

"I should go." He says after he removes his hands and you are able to lip read it. You shake your head as he turns to leave, reaching over the counter to grab his sleeve before he can return home, never to show his face in the library again.

Don't leave now. I didn't get your number yet. He looks at you, eyes wide in shock and perplexity.

You want my number?

Of course I do. You're cute and you're funny. When he doesn't say anything, you quickly scribble your phone number on the same piece of paper that you corrected his signs on, ripping it out and sliding it across the counter to him. Call me.

He barely remembers to grab the damn slip of paper before he's out of the library and in his car. He pulls out his phone, texting the group chat with his friends.

Spencer: A girl just asked me out

JJ: That's great Spence

Penelope: Oh my god! I'm so happy for you! Tell us everything!

Spencer: I met her at the library and I checked out a few books on sign language so I could talk to her. I'm pretty sure she's deaf.

Penelope: THAT IS SO ADORABLE

Derek: Nice, man. Proud of you

Spencer rolls his eyes at Derek's reply before tossing his phone in the passenger seat and starting his car. It buzzed the whole ride, most likely his friends asking for more details.

When he got home, he gave them a bit more to feed their gossip hungry minds before going to bed. He knew they'd harass him tomorrow anyway

Spencer had written out and deleted seventeen texts to you just this morning before dropping his phone, burying his face in his hands, and groaning.

"Rough day, pretty boy?" Derek chuckled, leaning against the side of his desk.

"I don't know what to do." Spencer's grumble was barely heard from behind his hands.

"About what?"

"About the girl from the library." He lifts his head, frowning at his friend, who just chuckled, reaching out to mess up his hair. Spencer weakly swatted his hand away.

"Man, just text her and ask her out. It's that simple."

"It isn't though! What if I say the wrong thing and ruin any chance I ever had with her?"

"Okay first of all, that's not gonna happen, even you can't mess this up, second of all if that does happen, you move on, find a new girl, and third of all, give me your phone." Spencer hands it over and Derek starts typing.

"There. Sent."

"What- Derek!" Spencer snatches his phone back, eyes scanning the message Morgan sent to you.

Spencer: Hey, was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner this Friday?

"Oh god, I'm doomed."

"You're not doomed, it'll be fine. Trust me."

"I don't." Spencer muttered and Derek just chuckled, shoving his shoulder before heading back to his own desk. A moment later, Spencer's phone buzzed on the table.

You: Sounds fun! When do you get off work?

Spencer was fiddling with his tie, his sleeves, the buttons on his jacket, waiting for you to show up. He'd made reservations at a restaurant, nice but not too nice. He arrived twenty minutes early just to be safe, but once that had passed and you still hadn't shown, he started getting worried.

To be honest, he'd been worried since when he arrived. Well, actually, since this morning. Technically, since Friday when Derek sent the text- you know what? Doesn't matter.

Suddenly, he heard quick footsteps approaching from his left and when he turned his head, he spotted you rushing down the sidewalk towards him. He was speechless, his gaze caught on your appearance. You wore a nice black dress, not showing too much skin, with cute strappy heels and your hair done up nicely.

Hi. He waved with a small smile once you stopped in front of him. You returned the smile, waving back.

Sorry I'm late, I lost track of time. You signed, giving him an apologetic grimace.

It's okay. He smiled. His movements were smoother and he could understand you better since he'd studied and practiced a lot more leading up to this. He'd also shoved a small pencil and pad in his jacket just in case you said something he couldn't understand.

Are we going inside? You asked and he nodded, leading you up to the restaurant. How long were you standing there? You asked your date, a slightly concerned look on your face.

Not long. He sighed, unable to control the embarrassed flush rising up his neck. You pick up the menu, your eyes scanning the choices as Spencer's gaze stays on you. His attention is held captive by your image, your serene energy sucking him in.

Eventually, the waitress comes around and Spencer orders. You have to turn the menu and point to what you want, flushing pink in embarrassment as Spencer watches. You always felt different and unusual when you were forced to order like this, no matter how much you told yourself that no one cares.

Sorry, that's kind of awkward. You signed and Spencer tilted his head in confusion.

What is?

When I need to order like that.

It's not awkward. You feel slightly reassured.

Conversation comes easily between you two. You find that you have a lot in common. You both have pet fish, Spencer a Corydora, you a couple beta fish, one of them coincidentally named Spencer, after Herbert Spencer, the philosopher.

You shared interest in sci-fi shows, historical fiction books, and surprisingly, knitting. You laughed at one of Spencer's complicated science jokes and his eyes shone. He smiled as your giggled subsided.

You have such a pretty laugh. He signs and you blushed.

Really? I've always been self conscious about it. You were bullied for your laugh all through school... among other things.

Yeah, I like it.

Throughout your date, Spencer struggled not to get lost in a rant because he knew if he did, he'd start talking about loud while his hands moved animatedly in front of him and he'd forget to make sure you could understand.

Once it grew late, like, way later than you'd planned on staying, Spencer picked up the check, with a weak protest from you, and led you outside.

Neither of you had driven so he decided to walk you home. It was a little harder to converse while walking side by side, so you settled to hold hands. Maybe a big step for a first date, but you didn't care.

His hand felt warm, slightly clammy, his long fingers intertwining with yours. He swung them slightly in between you and soon you were approaching your apartment. Spencer turned to you, a soft smile on his face as he raised his hands.

This was really fun. The whole night felt very cliche and, if you were lucky, maybe he give you a soft kiss and say something like, 'We should do this again sometime', or 'I'll text you'.

It was fun. You both stood in awkward silence before he raised his hands again.

We should do this again. There it was. You nodded, smiling anyway, your cheeks hurting from all of the grinning and laughing tonight.

Definitely. I'll text you. He nods, stepping back. You turn towards the front door of your apartment, pausing. Before you know it, you're turning back, grabbing Spencer by the arm as he turns to leave.

He looks back at you with a confused look.

Can I kiss you? He didn't hesitate to nod, letting you pull him down by his neck, pressing your lips to his. He gently cups your jaw with both hands, not needing sign language anymore, communicating to you with his lips. I really like you. I really like this. You're so pretty. You're not weird or different and if you are, so am I.

You pulled away, the chaste, first date kiss turning out to not be so chaste as you spotted remnants of your lip gloss smeared on his lips.

Well... goodnight. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

Goodnight. Spencer waited until you made it inside before he turned to leave, immediately finding a text on his phone from you.

You: Free next weekend?

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni, @pixie-verse, @westanleovaldito, @khxna

#criminal minds #♡ keira's fics #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff

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sacr1ficialang3l · 3 days ago

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𓉸 I'm bad, he's worse. 𓉸 (we're already dead)

SUMMARY: dean never thought he'd ever enjoy killing, until his dark queen showed up and made blood taste like a goddamn aphrodisiac—quite literally. 4.9k

WARNINGS: death!dean. smut (mdni). blood and gore. explicit violence. unprotected piv. disgusting sex. very literally. they're gross, and insane. mentions of cannibalism (i'm sorry). depictions of torture.

NOTES: take this offer as a late 800 followers celebration. ⛧playlist

Dean never expected to become a horseman.

He already had enough on his plate—being a hunter, Michael’s vessel, and apparently the chosen one to fight every single big bad villain and apocalypse that threatened the earth. He didn’t need to add another thing to the fucking list.

But then Sam had gone to the cage, and there were only two beings in this world who could save him. God, of course—and another creature just as ancient and powerful, if not more: Death.

Dean still had the ring, the small silver hoop burning in his pocket, calling to him. The Pale Horseman had never reclaimed the artifact, and Dean would be damned if he let such a valuable object out of his sight.

It was hard to decide whether he should use it or not. There was no guarantee the ring wouldn’t make him combust the moment he slid it on—or that it would summon Death, who would then make him combust. It was risky, dangerous, and, like everything he did, incredibly idiotic.

But there wasn’t a single thing in this world Dean wouldn’t do for his little brother.

So Dean Winchester—the boy who had died and come back more times than he could count—became Death.

He brought Sam back. Every part of him. His body, and heart, and soul. But when he tried to take off the ring—eager to get away from the electricity running through his veins, the hypnotic whisper of the shadows all around him—it wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard the brothers tried, no matter how many spells Bobby gave them or how much lube they used—

“Ew, Dean. Don’t you have something else we can use?”

“Do you wanna get this off me or not, Sammy? Suck it up. Plus, it’s blackberry flavored.”

“You’re so fucking disgusting.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk. Now stay still before I decide to just chop off your finger.”

It just refused to come off.

And Sam had, actually, tried to chop off his finger. They summoned Castiel—the angel reassuring them, “Yes, Dean. I will regenerate your finger if you decide to amputate it.”

So Dean had drunk almost half a bottle of whiskey in two long sips before placing his hand carefully over the wooden desk in Bobby’s study, forcing himself to stay stoic as Sam quickly lowered a machete toward his finger.

But before the blade could even make contact, Sam and everyone else in the room except Dean were flung across the space, slamming into the walls—a bright, pale halo of light erupting from the ring and shielding Dean from harm.

The next morning, the scythe appeared beside the guest bedroom at Bobby’s house.

It was obsidian black, and seemed to draw in the shadows, fog pooling around the heavy silver. When Sam tried to pick it up, he couldn’t move it an inch. Bobby tried, then Castiel, and then all three men at once. The fucking thing wouldn’t budge.

But the moment Dean wrapped his hand around the long handle, it felt as light as a feather.

So, just like he always does when weird shit happens to him, Dean took a deep breath, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and rolled with it. He picked up the scythe, went out into the salvage yard, and started to practice with his new abilities. He let the instinct in his chest—that same pale light burning inside of him—guide him. And because he’s Dean fucking Winchester, he got the hang of it in a few weeks.

Something had begun to settle in him—slow, relentless, vast. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t even angry. It was ancient. Inevitable. Like frost creeping over glass, or flesh rotting under rich soil. It moved through him not with malice, but with purpose. And Dean realized, with a kind of reverent dread, that it was Death. Not just the concept—the force. As real and raw as the blood in his veins, as steady as the air in his lungs.

Everything that lives has to die. Everything that starts has to end. That’s the way it’s always been.

Death isn’t wicked. It isn’t cruel or violent. It simply is. It’s not punishment—it’s gravity. The final hush. The closing of a door. Eternal rest.

Dean doesn’t fight nature anymore. He doesn’t recoil at blood, or shy away from righteous violence. He doesn’t pretend he’s something he’s not. The shadow inside him has a name now, and he’s not afraid to speak it. He wears it like a second skin. Understands it down to the bone. It’s not heartlessness. It’s balance.

And whatever tattered, mortal understanding he once had of life and death—of right and wrong—has been torn wide open and replaced with something colder, older, and far more honest.

He doesn’t flinch when he kills anymore. He doesn’t hesitate. He knows.

And if the monsters used to be afraid of him… they should be fucking terrified now.

Yes, having to kill some people—the innocent ones, the sweet and pure ones—still makes him feel a little sick. And reapers aren’t exactly the best subordinates—always either too brown-nosing or defiant as fuck. And now Crowley thinks they’re coworkers or some shit. But this might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to Dean.

Because now Sam will never die again—and if he does, Dean will bring him back with a snap of his fingers. Because this power that he can’t even begin to describe—one that ignites every cell in his body and turns everything in him to light—means he’ll never feel insignificant and helpless again. Because now Dean can kill a whole fucking den of werewolves with a touch of his fingertips, not even bothering with silver. Because now he’s almost invincible. And finally, he has enough power to do more good than bad.

Because the scythe is fucking badass.

Because he had met you.

It’s another day at the office—no hunting today, just Death duties. Dean is going through a long list of people he has to touch and let die, wait for a reaper to show up and guide them to their resting place, and then repeat. It can get tedious sometimes, but he manages.

“No, no!” the guy in front of him screams, hands shaking and body curled in a small, pathetic ball against the brick wall of an old building.

In reality, it’s not. His body is still lying in that dank back alley, unmoving and slowly cooling. Dean can see it under the last few rays of sunlight, just a few feet away—the guy’s black suit and perfectly gelled hair, the bloodstain on his crisp white shirt already drying where it lies, right over his heart. His now-empty wallet—real leather, limited edition—thoughtlessly discarded beside the corpse.

A robbery gone wrong.

“Please, I have a daughter! Have mercy, please!”

Oh, how Dean hates it when they beg.

He’s just leaning in, ready to brush his fingers against the man’s temple and put him out of his misery, when everything suddenly stills.

“Wait.”

The air gets colder, and there’s suddenly a faint scent of black satin dahlias and clove—something citric like blood orange mixing with incense and graveyard dirt. The world around Dean darkens, and there’s a buzz under his skin that he can only describe as instinctual.

There’s a slow, deliberate tap of footsteps getting closer, and Dean sighs in apparent aloof resignation as he keeps staring down at the man—who now looks a hell of a lot more confused than scared—but there’s an undeniable flutter in his heart and a string of murderous affection tugging at his chest.

“What are you doing here, darlin’?”

That’s when you finally walk into view. Your skin glows like the moon, your dark hair framing your face like the midnight sky. There’s a wicked smile on your lips, and your black dress looks as if it’s made of shadows—hugging every curve of your body before melting into nothingness at the hem, showing off chunky black heels that make the ground shake with every step you take.

The flowers blooming from cracks in the asphalt darken around you—they don’t wither, they look more alive than ever, but their colors shift to deep shades of red and purple. You fix your gaze on the phantom of the man still trembling on the ground before turning to Dean, and he sees that unhinged glint in your dark, fathomless eyes.

“Are you not happy to see me, my love?” you pout, your words as sharp as knives and smooth as silk.

Dean gives you a deadpan look—one that keeps his Death image up for the public, but you know it really means, of course I’m happy to see you, gorgeous. But what the fuck are you doing here?

Still, he leans in and kisses your cheek reverently.

You sigh, roll your eyes, and turn back to the man. Your lips reset into that crazed smile, and the poor guy shivers—both from fear and lust.

Dean doesn’t blame him. But he’ll kill him for it anyway.

“I’m here, my Lord—” Dean wants to roll his eyes at the nickname he’s told you to drop a hundred times, but he can’t deny the way it makes something inside him heat up. “—because I’m feeling… playful.”

You kneel in front of the guy, grinning as you pinch his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, studying his face with sadistic amusement.

You had first shown up one random day during Dean’s first week as Death.

It had been a normal day—a vampire nest cleaned out before doing some reaping. Dean had just been learning how to teleport without hurling into the nearest trash can, and he was sending off a reaper when the air stilled and that scent of grotesquerie and eroticism filled his nose. He turned around, scythe in hand, ready to slash you to bits.

But you just laughed, circled his dumbfounded form with confident, cheerful steps—and disappeared into the shadows again.

Ever since, you started showing up at reapings, hunts, and even in the backseat of Baby. You’re not a reaper, and none of Dean’s subordinates know who or what you are. At first Dean thought you’d be a problem—some maniac goddess trying to steal his position or simply cause chaos.

But he was wrong. Not completely—but still wrong.

You do live for the chaos, and you are maniacal and utterly insane, but you’re not after the Horseman job. You started helping on hunts, saving Sam’s ass more than once when Dean was too distracted trying to master his new powers. You’d occasionally help with research—spitting out half-assed facts before melting into the night. But mostly, you showed up to rile Dean up and then disappear with a cackle.

Between snarky remarks and teasing words, you taught Dean how to handle his abilities. You slid your hands up his arms, nails digging into his skin as you positioned his grip on the scythe. You whispered in his ear—glossy lips brushing his lobe—how to make a death fast and painless or slow and agonizing. You laughed at every insult he threw your way and replied with something just as venomous.

You liked to play with the dead—mostly the bad ones. Drawing shapes on their skin with knives, licking their splattered blood off your lips, threatening them with grotesque medieval tortures Dean had never even heard of—and he called you a monster for it every time.

But then, one day, Dean had been late for a reaping—too busy hooking up with some occult chick thrilled by the sight of his scythe—and he found you already there.

It was a little girl. Small, young, with dirty clothes and blue lips. She was malnourished, clearly neglected, and left for dead in the backyard of some filthy old trailer park. Her heartbeat was faint—even Dean could barely hear it—and he knew the body was just waiting for his touch to finally shut down. The spirit was nowhere to be seen. Probably scared. Hiding.

At first, Dean was afraid you were desecrating her corpse—but then he saw what you were doing. Your hand brushed her cold cheek delicately, and your lips moved in a silent prayer. A send-off. A blessing. All the dirt and bruises disappeared from the girl’s skin, her clothes freed of their tears, and her hollow cheeks filled out slightly.

You moved your hand again, and flowers bloomed all around her. Dark red and purple blossoms tangled in her curls, formed a bed beneath her. A bouquet grew between her hands, folded gently over her chest, and you leaned down to kiss her forehead before murmuring something in what sounded like an ancient dialect of Latin.

A second later, the phantom of the little girl appeared beside you, her sad gray eyes focused on your face. You picked a soft lilac flower—contrasting gently with the wine-colored blooms—and tucked it behind her ear before pointing at Dean.

The kid turned to him, and with one last encouraging nod from you, she approached. Dean offered a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, her body gave out—and a reaper appeared to guide her away.

Dean stayed frozen, staring at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

You rose to your feet, your expression bittersweet but still formidable. You wouldn’t look at him directly. You stared down at the little girl’s body instead.

“I’m not the monster you think I am, Dean Winchester,” you muttered.

Then you vanished—only to reappear a week later in a Washington basement, studying the torture chamber of a psychopathic wraith Sam and Dean were hunting. You floated around the moldy room, picking up every ancient tool and laughing like a lunatic when the wraith (still alive) started sobbing the moment you suggested using them on him.

That day, Dean took in your devilish grin and felt nothing but twisted, macabre fondness. Maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

“You know I don’t like when you interrupt reapings, doll,” he lies through his teeth.

He loves it when you show up. When you curl around his side as he sends off some poor soul. When you offer to help him relax after a hard day. Every time, his imposing façade crumbles, and he feels a little like Cerberus when his owner comes home. Suddenly, souls and duties and the natural order mean nothing—the only thing that matters is the swing of your hips, the press of your mouth, the gleam of your blade.

He tries to keep his nonchalant expression, but he knows he’d evaporate every ocean and implode every planet if you asked—if you looked at him with those starry eyes and your sharp teeth biting down on your lip.

You don’t even dignify his words with a response, still carefully studying the man in front of you.

“Your guy here,” you murmur, gripping his jaw a bit harder, “doesn’t deserve a quick death.”

Dean sighs, rolling his eyes, but an enamored smile still creeps across his face. He was hoping this would be a quick gig—snatch the guy’s soul, hand it off to a reaper, then go home to fuck his girl on a bed of bones and velvet.

But he recognizes that look in your eyes. Whatever you’ve planned, it won’t be quick.

Dean’s eyes follow you carefully as you rise from the ground, the way one can’t keep their eyes off of a shooting star. And when you get within reach, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

You giggle—and it would’ve made him smile if you didn’t immediately smack his hands away and step back. He grunts, reluctantly letting go.

You have him wrapped around your blood-stained finger.

“Our dear Isaiah was a supposed man of God, weren’t you, Isaiah?”

You circle Dean until you’re behind him, your hand crawling up his arm as you stare down the almost-dead man.

Isaiah nods frantically, pressing himself back against the wall, trying to escape your gaze.

“Yes! Yes, of course!”

Wrong answer, Dean thinks. Dumbass.

“But you had a special… appetite, didn’t you?”

Your face is tilted down, eyes hooded and seductive in that way he knows is only caused by bloodlust. Your lips settled in a pout, hand resting possessively on his shoulder.

Dean wonders how mad you’d be if he killed the guy now and teleported you to a motel.

Isaiah’s face pales, and he tries to run. Dean snaps his fingers—his eyes never leaving your gorgeous face—and the man is slammed back against the wall.

You laugh against Dean’s back, and it makes him smirk. You glance at him—eyes vicious and undeniably horny—then kiss him.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a collision. Sudden, messy, violent. Your tongue slides into his mouth and Dean lets it. You taste like pomegranate and carnage. One of his hands leaves the scythe and grips your nape—but you pull away.

He growls, chasing your lips, but you just laugh and turn back to the guy.

Right. The guy. He’s supposed to be killing that guy.

The bastard looks more terrified than ever.

“Our boy here liked to sink his teeth into girls and consume them—quite literally.”

Dean’s brows raise. His eyes snap back to the man.

“P-please,” Isaiah begs. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me—”

“Is that how they begged, Isaiah?” you murmur, your grin as sharp and cruel as ever. “The girls you ate. Is that how they pleaded to go home? For you to stop?”

He sobs, you ignore it. But it all fades to nothing when your lips brush Dean’s ear.

“He deserves some punishment, don't you think, my Lord?” you whisper, like the snake whispering in Eve’s ear. “Let me make him bleed a little, hm?”

As if Dean could ever say no to you.

And you know it, you know just how irrevocably devoted he’s to you, because you don’t even wait for an answer. You already have your dagger. Dean just watches.

From there it’s laughter, slashes, bloodshed.

You carve him up like a banquet. Every slice accompanied by a wicked giggle. Every plea met with a kick of your heels. Every sob answered with a threat pulled from some unspeakable era.

His body will show no signs. But his soul will remember.

Dean stays back, observing like he’s watching the rise of a goddess—fascinated, bewitched, worshipful.

Your blood-splattered face is the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed, the way your tongue curls around every insult you callously throw at the cannibal is hypnotic, the way you lick your dagger clean after you're finished is the most erotic thing in this and every universe.

Dean doesn’t even flinch when your blade finally stops moving.

What’s left of Isaiah is unrecognizable—just a twitching, oozing echo of the son of a bitch he was. You stand over him, chest heaving, the blade slick with viscera and your eyes glassy with something holy. Or unholy. Maybe both.

“All done,” you whisper sweetly, wiping your knife on what’s left of his slashed-up tie.

Dean exhales, low and long. “You always make such a mess, darlin’.”

You turn to him slowly, your teeth and hands still stained crimson. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the show.”

And he did. He thinks he never really understood desire until he saw you rip your way through a body like this.

But something in him wants more. Something deeper. Something filthy.

With deliberate slowness, Dean steps over the broken pieces of Isaiah and kneels beside the wrecked corpse. He presses two fingers to what used to be a chest, his hand ghosting over shattered ribs and pulped lungs. Then—

With a grin full of sin, he digs his hand into the man's chest cavity and rips out what’s left of his red, mutilated heart. It's barely hanging together, still warm and dripping between Dean’s fingers.

Your chest heaves, and your pupils dilate until all Dean can see is black.

“Oh,” you mutter, eyes wide and shining like a dying star, “do it again.”

Dean’s head tilts back with a laugh that sounds like thunder and hunger. He swiftly gets up from the asphalt—then crushes the heart in one hand.

You lick your lips slowly, lewdly, and take a few slow steps toward him.

Your hand finds his waist, then slides down, further south until you grip his clothed cock. Hard, rabid, almost painful.

“Have I corrupted you enough that killing makes you hard now, my Lord—?”

A snarl is torn from his throat, and then he’s shoving you against the wall, your heel digging right into the man’s eye socket.

Dean’s hands are everywhere on you—your thighs under your shadow dress, squeezing your perfect fucking tits, wrapping around your neck. His tongue digs into your mouth, tasting nothing but metallic and you. His teeth bite down onto your lip until your blood mixes with Isaiah’s between your tongues, and he moans at the taste, his hands ripping your dress half-off until it’s nothing but a bunch of magic fabric bunched around your waist.

You’re not wearing anything underneath, of course.

His touch is brutal—but you’re right there beside him. You pull at his hair until he groans, your hand cups his jaw until his face is smeared with blood and gore, your long nails leave angry red lines all over his chest as you tear his black long-sleeve shirt open.

In a smooth movement, Dean’s hands slide under your thighs, and he pulls you up until your legs wrap around his hips and he has you completely entrapped between his body and the brick wall.

“This,” he presses his clothed cock against your bare cunt—glistening under the slowly rising moon, fucking dripping with need. It makes you throw your head back, and Dean takes the opportunity to fill your long neck with his teeth marks. “Isn’t because of him, doll. This is all because of you.”

You moan, crashing your lips together again. Your hand finds his pants and quickly unbuttons them with the expertise that only comes from being in this same exact position almost every day.

You pull his dick out, fisting it with such ferocity Dean hisses. “Always so fucking hard for me, baby,” you laugh against his lips, sharp and almost mean in a way that makes him twitch. You start to move your hand up and down, the slide wet with the man’s blood. “Fuck, I need your cock inside of me.”

Dean grunts, his chest stuttering with how bad he wants it. It doesn’t matter how many times he fucks you—it feels like paradise every time. His movements are desperate as he aligns his dick with your entrance, and you laugh—arrogant and downright pornographic.

But it’s quickly turned into a moan when Dean buries himself all the way to the hilt with one swift thrust, your head thrown back with a loud bang against the wall, your nails digging into his shoulders—deep enough to draw blood.

“Fuck, Dean. You’re so fucking big,” you moan, your lips wrapping around the words obscenely.

Dean doesn’t miss a beat, hips pistoning against you with feral frenzy. His head gets fuzzy at the way you feel around him—so fucking warm, so goddamn tight. His lips latch onto one of your nipples, one of his hands finding the other, rolling it between his fingers. He sucks and bites devotedly, leaving purple bruises all over your sweet skin. His.

“So deep, Dean—I can feel it in my fucking soul.”

When Dean looks up at you, your eyes are rolled back in your head. Your mouth is parted open, and when Dean slides his fingers—previously wrapped around Isaiah’s heart—between your lips, you mewl and start sucking all the blood off like it’s the sweetest of elixirs.

Your tongue brushes his ring, the one that marks him as a Horseman, and you grin at the taste of silver. At the taste of Death.

“You like it, darlin’?” You nod, throat contracting around his long fingers. Dean keeps his ruthless pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your thighs echoing through the alleyway. “You fucking love it when I fill you up? When you can feel me in here?”

His hand moves from your mouth to your stomach, pressing. It makes you gasp, spine shooting up. Dean presses harder, and you spasm around him in a way that makes him groan. Your whole body shakes with the force of your climax, and your smart mouth is fucking useless as it hangs open, drool dripping down your chin.

It’s then that a reaper shows up. Dean can barely feel their presence over the way you’re wrapping around his cock, fucking dripping like crazy, the little noises leaving your mouth the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. He fucks you through your orgasm, not paying his subordinate any mind, and it’s goddamn sacred.

The reaper doesn’t say anything, only stares for a second too long at the crude scene—their boss and his lover, slick with sweat and blood and viscera, fucking like rabid animals—before dragging what’s left of Isaiah away quietly.

You laugh at the sight—breathless, but still fucking wicked. Dean’s thrusts become erratic, pounding into you like sin. He can’t keep his eyes off of you—your sharp teeth glistening with blood, your eyes glossed over and dark, your hair all messed up and cheeks flushed, your perfect body under his hands. It’s too much. You’re too perfect. And Dean craves you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he grunts, licking a stripe from your collarbone to your jaw. You taste ambrosial. “Prettiest fuckin’ sight when you’re all fucked out. My perfect little psycho.”

Every thrust is so deep that he’s pretty convinced he’s hitting your cervix—hitting that spongy, glorious spot inside of you every time. It’s almost too much. The way you kiss him—all tongue, spit, and blood. The way your heels dig into his ass, pulling him impossibly closer. The way you whisper against his lips.

“Fill me up, my love. Make me yours. Mark me inside and out.”

Dean growls, cock throbbing inside your raw cunt. His fingers find your clit, rolling the small nub between his calloused fingertips. You cry out, loud and sanguineous, and you come again. You bite down on his neck, cunt spasming around Dean’s cock, thighs trembling around his middle.

Dean can’t hold back anymore, and with one last roll of his hips that leaves him nestled right against your insides, he lets go. His cock twitches as he fills you up, painting your walls with hot, thick cum.

You mewl at the sensation, clenching around him, sending shockwaves down his spine and making him hiss. He wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly in warning. Don’t.

You look at him through hooded eyes, skin glistening under the moonlight and that godforsaken smug smirk. What are you gonna do about it, my love?

Nothing. He would do absolutely nothing. Because you could stab him with one of your many knives, and he’d throw himself further down the blade just to be a little closer to you.

Still inside of you, refusing to pull away from your warmth, Dean nuzzles into your neck. You smell like blackberries and red roses and vice. He kisses over every bruise, he licks over the blood now drying on your skin, and he chases your lips like a feral dog chasing a bone.

“I adore you,” he murmurs against your bloody teeth, keeping you rightfully plastered against his chest. And your expression softens up. “You’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me.”

Dean loves every version of you—the unhinged psycho killer, the ungodly sex goddess, the melancholic dark angel. But this one has to be his favorite.

When Dean says just the right thing—when he compliments a part of you you consider way too rotten, when he notices the small things you try to hide from everyone, when he makes you feel loved, actually loved—you melt.

Like right now, when your cheeks flush underneath all the gore, and your eyes turn almost heart-shaped, and you hide your face against his chest because you don’t like being vulnerable like this.

Still, Dean knows. Still, Dean loves you.

“Just take me home, my love,” you murmur against his naked chest, before biting the skin there—right over his beating heart. “We can wash this asshole’s blood off of each other, and then I’ll suck your soul out of your fucking body.”

Dean laughs, pressing you harder against him with one arm as the other reaches for his scythe. He starts summoning his powers, willing them to take you home—or what Dean eloquently calls his own personal Batcave.

Dean knows you could just teleport yourself with your powers—you’ve been using them a lot longer than Dean. You could be snuggled in bed in the blink of an eye. But you’ve told Dean you like when he does it.

“It feels like we’re melting into the shadows—melting into each other, intertwined together.”

You played with his fingers as you spoke that night, fidgeting with his ring as you two lay in bed.

“I like when I can’t tell when I end and you begin.”

Dean almost cried that day. Instead, he fucked you so hard you passed out—which is basically impossible, with your powers and all.

“La petite mort,” you grinned up at him minutes after, boneless and satiated, eyes shiny with adoration. “Parfaite pour mon roi de la mort.”

So yeah, maybe Dean doesn’t know why you even know French. He doesn’t know the extent of your powers, or even exactly what you are.

But he knows who you are.

And that’s all he needs—to know he’d follow you to the deepest pits of the underworld. To know he’d fucking die with you. Die for you. Kill for you.

To know that he loves you.

His beautiful fucking psychopath.

NOTES: this is for all my perverts out there, I love you all<3. I still cannot write smut for the life of me, but pls appreciate the fact that i'm trying. I know this isn't an amazing celebration for 800 followers but I wanted to at least ut something out. Thank you for all your love and support, I ADORE you guys<3

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