#being good at one doesn’t mean you’re good at the other

[tender-rosiey]

I NEED SUKUNA AND HIS SHY BABY CUDDLING I BEG YOU🙏🙏

heartbound — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: loving your ideas for shy daughter fr guys (also i promise i am working on the gojo fic 🥹) also she is around like 3 years old here

sukuna is a man of destruction. a force that leaves ruin in his wake.

but now—now he is a man pinned to the floor by a bundle of warmth barely the size of his forearm.

you lean against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with amusement as your daughter clings to his chest like a particularly stubborn vine.

she is small—delicate in a way that contrasts starkly against the sheer scale of the man beneath her.

but her grip is unyielding, tiny hands fisting into the fabric of his robe as if letting go would mean losing the entire world.

sukuna glares at you, though the effect is rather muted by the tiny, sleeping body nestled against him. “say nothing.”

you press your lips together, biting back a smile. “I wasn’t going to.”

he narrows his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t argue.

instead, his attention shifts back to the little figure sprawled over him.

your daughter—his daughter—is not loud like him, not wild like him.

she does not command attention the way her father does, does not carve her presence into the world with the force of a blade.

instead, she is soft and quiet, her voice barely above a whisper, her movements timid, as if she fears being seen at all.

but for all her shyness, she clings to sukuna like he is the safest place in the world.

and he lets her.

you step closer, settling beside them on the floor. “what happened?” you ask, keeping your voice low.

sukuna exhales sharply, the rise and fall of his chest barely disturbing the little girl curled against him. “bad dream,” he mutters. “came crawling to me the second she woke up.”

a soft hum leaves your lips. “and she wouldn’t let go?”

sukuna clicks his tongue. “wouldn’t stop crying until I picked her up.”

your gaze flicks to the little face buried in his chest, the faintest trace of dried tears clinging to her lashes.

you brush a gentle hand over her back, fingers skimming the fabric of her sleeping robes.

“she must have been really scared,” you murmur.

sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, his brows furrowing slightly as he looks down at the tiny form curled against him.

one of his hands—massive in comparison—rests against her back, his claws careful not to press too hard.

a long silence stretches between you.

then, he scoffs.

“she’s too fragile.”

you arch a brow. “says the man currently being held hostage by a baby.”

his eye twitches. “she refuses to let go.”

you smile. “oh, I can see that.”

sukuna scowls at you but doesn’t move, not even when your daughter shifts slightly in her sleep, nuzzling closer with a quiet sigh.

the sound is soft—barely audible—but the way sukuna stiffens makes something in your chest ache.

your hand slides over his, fingers grazing against his knuckles. “you don’t actually mind, do you?”

sukuna exhales through his nose, his jaw working as if he wants to argue—but the weight on his chest betrays him.

his fingers twitch, then relax, his palm settling more firmly against her back.

you giggle. “I didn’t think so.”

he glares at you for that, but it lacks any real bite. instead, he shifts slightly, adjusting his grip so that your daughter’s tiny body is fully supported against him.

his other set of arms rests idly at his sides, unmoving, careful.

your daughter stirs slightly, her tiny fingers flexing against his chest before curling into a loose fist.

she shifts, tilting her face just enough for her features to be visible—round cheeks, soft lashes—as she breathes in the warmth of her father’s presence.

your heart clenches at the sight.

sukuna watches her, his gaze unreadable.

“you’re good to her,” you murmur, your fingers tracing absent patterns against the back of his hand.

his expression remains unchanged. “she’s mine.”

the words are gruff, almost dismissive—but the weight behind them is undeniable.

you hear it anyway.

your fingers curl around his wrist, squeezing gently. “she adores you, you know.”

sukuna huffs. “she clings to you just as much.”

“it’s different,” you say, smiling. “a girl’s love for her dad is different.”

sukuna says nothing more, only shifts again, his hold unconsciously tightening around her.

and then, without warning, one of his free hands reaches for you, fingers curling around your wrist before tugging you forward.

you blink, caught off guard as you suddenly find yourself pressed against his side, his arm wrapped securely around you.

his warmth envelopes you, and you don’t resist when he pulls you even closer, settling you against him.

you rest your head against his shoulder, your hand sliding up to rest against his chest, just beside where your daughter lays curled up.

she gently turns towards you, hand sleepily reaching out till she gets a hold of your kimono.

he doesn’t say anything, but his hold is steady, firm, keeping you right where he wants you.

you smile against his skin, your fingers brushing over his robe. “so, I’m yours too, then?”

a scoff, low and unimpressed. “was that ever in question?”

you huff a quiet laugh, closing your eyes as the warmth of him seeps into your skin. “no,” you murmur. “never.”

the night stretches on, the estate silent save for the soft sound of your daughter’s breathing, the steady rhythm of sukuna’s heartbeat beneath your ear.

and in that moment—beneath the weight of his family, beneath the quiet warmth of the ones who belong to him—

sukuna allows himself to stay still.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will stub your toe

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[backtothefanfiction]

Reblogging as I know as a smut consumer and creator who has seen a lot of different stuff in different formats these last few years as smut books have become more popular (especially dark romance) there are often things in those stories which are glamorised for the purpose of fiction and thrill while in the safety of your home in a made up world in our heads playing make believe, but those aspects are toxic nonetheless and just because it’s fun to read, doesn’t mean you should have to live those things. You should feel happy safe and comfortable in any relationship you find yourself in. Never settle for less than you’re worth.

Just like the drinking and gambling ads say, “when the fun stops, stop.”

There’s a lot of misinformation that gets spread about love not being love unless it hurts. As far as I am aware, love shouldn’t hurt in a relationship until that person is gone and all that is left is the feeling of grief for all the good times you had. It shouldn’t be something you have to force or fight for. Sure you might come across some problems along the way, but those should be things you face as a team. That’s your partner. The person you trust above all else. The person who listens and understands and makes you feel safe. Someone you can say no to and they don’t get angry about it. And sure at times you can use the example of opposites attract for things like one of you being more out going and the other shy. But never forget to be aware enough to see when you are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole and causing yourself unnecessary pain.

Another advice for girls and young women: love and sex is supposed to be fun, happy and make your life better. If it’s not, if it’s making you miserable, if it’s making you love yourself less, if it’s making you doubt yourself, and if you feel like you have to sacrifice yourself or put up with things you don’t want to, you are absolutely entitled to throw it out from your life. In fact, you should, because your life is so, so valuable and you have the right to be happy. Being a girl does not mean having to accept misery and pain, even if that’s what we’re often taught. You are allowed to decide what comes into your life. Let it be happy and beautiful.

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: What you need to work on (it can hurt a little)

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you what you need to work on. I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

                     pick a card

Pile 1:

You need to find balance in your emotions, you need to know and figure out what is good for you, and what you want. And the moment you do know, make sure you do it, even if it hurts, even if you are scared of the outcome. You need to get a hold of your true wishes, your true beliefs and thoughts, and take the control you wish to have. Leave those insecurities, and those fears behind, get through them, and think about your true wish, even if it hurts.

It’s hard to look back at what you’ve been through, the happy moments, the sad and conflicting moments. It’s hard to realise that these good things must come to an end, and hurt is okay to have, you are allowed to feel and acknowledge that hurt, you need to accept it be able to work on it and grow through it.

Extended reading

Pile 2:

Be happy with the little things. You can’t be happy with little progress, because the greater goal hasn’t been accomplished. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sometimes have progress but it still makes you frustrated because it wasn’t the full thing that you wished for.

Learn to realise that little progress can and must be celebrated too, you’re allowed to be proud of yourself for the little things, even if you get disappointed by it. You need to learn to leave those disappointed thoughts behind, accept them and move on. You can be happy and relieved while being disappointed that you didn’t fully succeed. But those little things, those little things are worth celebrating, they can help you gain more confidence and believe as long as you let them, they can make you stronger.

Extended reading

Pile 3:

Don’t just sit around and do nothing while waiting for the luck of the draw. If you want to accomplish something, then go do it. The universe won’t bend for you, you must bend the universe yourself. Don’t think your success will come from nowhere, don’t think the journey to this success will be easy without any obstacles. Every journey has obstacles, and every journey has moments where you want to quit and not continue.

If you want something, go do it. Just because something small happened that you didn’t want to happen, which made you disappointed, it doesn’t mean you should give up. Do not give up and believe the whole universe is against you. Of course, not a single journey is the same, but that doesn’t mean your journey should come easy to you, nor does it mean it should come hard to you. Every journey also teaches you something, and maybe for you, this journey wants to teach you that you must work hard and continue even though certain moments suck.

Extended reading

Pile 4:

You are not better than anyone else, so please stop trying to act like you are. Even if you are not aware of the fact that you act like that, you do. Please watch your words because a lot of things happening around you are just a roll of the dice. If something good happens you’re lucky, and if something bad happens it was just something that would happen one way or another.

Being confident in your knowledge is good, but don’t make yourself believe you know so much, because you don’t. Don’t put your insecurities so far away that your way of coping becomes a burden for others. You can be insecure yet have knowledge, you don’t need to be over-confident with it. And even if you are not confident, don’t try to mask it off. You need to learn how to balance these things. You do not know how much you don’t know, and as you grow older and experience more and more you will realise that you will never know a lot; because there is too much out there to know for your knowledge to be ever considered a lot.

Extended reading

Pile 5:

Go for it, don’t wait around and be scared, do it. It is good that you think about possible dangers and the wish to do it correctly, but over-thinking is also something that exists, and it’s not good. Don’t sit and imagine everything, being able to control everything, if you want it to happen you must do it. Get a grasp of that wish, stand in confidence and become the person you’ve always wanted to become, do the thing you’ve always wanted.

You are insecure, and being insecure is okay, but just because you are insecure it doesn’t mean everything and everyone should handle you with care. Everyone should be treated the same, which includes you. Do you want to do this? Well, it’s a tough world, get ready for it. Don’t be scared and wait around doing nothing, do it or don’t, in the end, you’ll know what you want.

Extended reading

[jiminomenon]

how would jimin react if one day yn came into work with lipstick stains/hickeys on her? would she be jealous or upset

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n didn’t think much of it when she stepped into jimin’s penthouse that morning. she was running on four hours of sleep, an empty stomach, and a mildly burned neck from rushing through her morning routine. she barely even looked in the mirror before heading out—too focused on not being late.

jimin, however, noticed immediately.

the second y/n stepped inside, jimin’s eyes zeroed in on the faint reddish mark near her collarbone. she was lounging on her expensive white couch, one manicured hand holding a coffee cup, the other lazily scrolling through her phone.

“what the hell is that?”

y/n blinked, still half-asleep. “what?”

jimin set her coffee down, sitting up straight. “on your neck.”

y/n frowned and instinctively reached up, fingers brushing against the small burn. “oh. it’s nothing—”

“nothing?” jimin scoffed. “it doesn’t look like nothing.”

y/n, still groggy, didn’t process the way jimin’s voice shifted—the slight edge, the way her usual bratty tone was just a bit sharper.

“it’s just a burn,” y/n yawned, setting her bag down on the counter. “from my straightener.”

jimin didn’t look convinced. “really.”

“yes, really.”

silence.

jimin’s gaze flickered to the mark again, her fingers twitching slightly—like she wanted to reach out and inspect it herself but refused to make it that obvious. her mind, however, was already running wild. because what if y/n was lying? what if—no.

jimin leaned back against the couch, crossing her arms. “well, it looks like something else.”

y/n, still completely oblivious, simply grabbed a tablet from the counter and started scrolling through the day’s schedule. “yeah? like what?”

jimin’s jaw tightened. “like a hickey.”

y/n froze.

slowly, she turned to look at jimin, eyebrows raising. “a what?”

“you heard me.” jimin huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “i don’t know what you were doing last night, but you should at least try to cover it up. it’s unprofessional.”

y/n blinked, then—oh.

the realization hit her all at once.

she looked at jimin, really looked at her—the crossed arms, the slightly pursed lips, the way her usual smug expression was forced rather than natural. and then there was the way her gaze kept flickering back to y/n’s neck, like she couldn’t help herself.

oh, this was good.

y/n bit back a grin. “huh. didn’t know you cared so much about my personal life.”

jimin scoffed. “i don’t.”

“mmhmm.”

“i just don’t want people thinking my assistant is running around with—” she waved a hand vaguely, ”—whoever, when she should be focused on me.”

“focused on you?” y/n teased, tilting her head.

jimin glared. “you know what i mean.”

“i really don’t.”

jimin let out an exasperated sigh, standing up abruptly. “whatever. if you want to flaunt your little love bites around like an idiot, be my guest.”

y/n snickered. “you’re jealous.”

“am not!”

y/n hummed in amusement, setting her tablet down before walking right up to jimin, closing the distance between them. jimin didn’t step back, but her jaw did tighten just a little.

“relax,” y/n smirked. “it’s really just a burn. unless you want it to be something else?”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you’re annoying.”

y/n grinned. “and yet, you’re the one who noticed it first.”

jimin opened her mouth to argue but ultimately just huffed and turned on her heel, walking away dramatically. “i don’t care anymore.”

y/n laughed, shaking her head.

because she knew jimin cared.

[miedei]

sick day

roommate!spencer is sick (and lovely)

a/n: wrote this in a fugue state i think, just couldn't get the thought of being spencer's roommate out of my head

cw: best friends who definitely don't love each other noooo why would you say that, spencer is sick and annoying but also the best

wc: 2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

Living with Spencer Reid is usually wonderful. He’s relatively neat, but messy enough that you don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s always willing to recommend you a new read, he doesn’t judge you when you spend an entire day slumped on the couch, and is always up to help you stress bake. 

It’s decidedly wonderful, until it’s not. A week into your living together, you’d realised what a workaholic he was. After the first time you’d caught him asleep on top of paperwork in the living room, you’d understood how much of a pain Spencer Reid really can be. 

Unfortunately, today is one of those days. Spencer returned from a case last night, and the moment you’d seen the slump in his shoulders, you knew you were going to have to work from home today. 

“You really don’t have to stay home. I don’t even have to stay home! I’m seriously not sick, I swear!” His voice is low, as if attempting to mask the rasp in it. It doesn’t work.

His rambling doesn’t cease, not the entire time you steer him away from the front door and into the living room. 

“Yeah? Spence, do you even remember the last time you got sick? I came home to find you lying on the dining table! I’m not going to leave and come back to you trying to climb out of the window or something.” You deadpan, watching him cross his arm and grumble something about ‘elevating the upper body’, and ‘actually very good for the immune system’. 

Having shoved him not-too-lightly onto the couch, you stand with your arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him.

“I can’t believe you were going to go to work! Living with you is like living with a child sometimes, god. You know you would have been sent home straight away, look at you.” You gesture wildly at him. 

He’s a pathetic sight, curled up on the couch looking distinctly sorry for himself. His hair is limp, flat against his scalp, his weak limbs shoved haphazardly in a button down and slacks. He hasn’t even knotted his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. 

Grabbing his phone out of his bag, you thrust it towards him. 

“Call your boss and tell him you need a sick day. You said it yourself, it’s just paperwork today, right? You can take a day off once in a while, Spence, it won’t kill you.” Once finished, you stomp out of the room, heading to his bedroom to grab him some clothes. Surveying his closet, you grab one of his Caltech hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, grinning to yourself when you hear his hoarse voice on the phone. 

As you walk back into the living room, he’s settled in, clearly resigned to his fate. 

“Yeah, Hotch, I need the day off. I’m sorry, I’m just- Oh. It’s okay? You’re sure? Um, okay. Thanks Hotch.” He hangs up, his eyebrows pinched as if he’s loath to admit you were right. 

You can’t help it, snickering as you dump the sweats and hoodie on his chest. 

“I told you so.”

“You’re so mean to me.” 

It’s nice, spending a day with Spencer like this, even with how whiny he is. Sitting at the desk in the living room, you’re not being incredibly productive, but Spencer’s fever-induced rambles more than make up for it. 

“So, some moron made a blog called ‘What Would Carl Sagan Do?’, and Garcia - remember her, my coworker? She showed it to me, and oh my god, it’s so ridiculous! I mean, to start, all the entries were lifted from different sci-fi movies and books, and they were all so inaccurate, like, ‘The Martian Chronicles’ were good, but it’s been debunked so many times! Carl Sagan debunked it!”

He’s laying on his back on the couch, slender fingers waving in the air above him, eyes lidded as he speaks animatedly. 

“Yeah? What was wrong about it?” You rise from the desk chair, heading into the kitchen. “Also, do you want tea?”

His voice softens, speaking slower as he answers your question. “Yeah, that black tea you brought home last week, please.”

You can hear the moment he slips back into his rant, words growing more and more spirited as he continues to rail against whatever that blog was. Puttering around the cramped kitchen, you let his words roll over you, balancing two mugs and a plate in your hands. 

He doesn’t stop speaking, but flashes you a grateful smile as he takes a mug from you, swiping a cookie from the plate before delving back into the topic at hand.

“So, Bradbury, and a lot of the other sci-fi writers of the time, believed that colonisation of Mars would be possible within the 20th century. And then, in 1960, Carl Sagan, along with a bunch of other astronomers, discovered that Mars doesn’t have an atmosphere, so humans living there long term is virtually impossible without a huge improvement in technology, which probably won't happen until the latter half of the 21st century. And this moron with a blog is pretending like Sagan wouldn’t care, and that he would advocate for irresponsible space travel and I hate him.” 

He finishes with a huff, taking a large gulp of tea and sitting up against the couch. His eyes are hazy with exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he looks at you. You can’t help but giggle. He looks adorably dishevelled, and his eyebrows pinching together at your laughter only intensifies it.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“I’m- I’m sorry Spence, you just look really cute right now, like you’re going to fall asleep.” You can barely get it out, body shaking with mirth. His eyebrows furrow further, a slight pout forming on his lips. 

His attempts to get you to stop laughing go unanswered, and he huffs once more, crossing his arms and settling against the couch cushions. 

It’s the late afternoon when a knock on the door stirs you from your reverie. Spencer is sitting next to you, your legs slung over his lap as he leans back, eyes trained on The Fellowship of the Ring on the television as his hands tap out something on your calves. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” He shakes his head no, not averting his gaze from the screen. 

You sigh, jostling his shoulder. 

“Spence. Spence, can you go get the door? It’s probably a salesman or something.” 

He hums, shaking his head once more. 

“Can’t. Too sick.”

You groan, tipping your head back in frustration before hauling yourself off the couch, flicking his shoulder as you walk past.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” His only response is a grin, before he turns back to the movie. 

Grumbling under your breath, you trudge through the room to the front door, frowning when you look through the peephole to see two figures. 

One is shorter than the other, a woman wearing a hot pink and orange dress that should be garish, but looks completely natural on her. The man next to her is grinning, holding several plastic bags in one hand, the other arm linked with the woman’s. 

Not salesmen. 

Concluding that they’re probably not a threat, you swing the door open, causing their heads to pop up. 

“Hey, Reid- Oh.” The man speaks immediately, but pauses when he sees you. 

“You’re not Reid.” The woman concludes. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused. 

“Yeah, I’m not. Um, how do you know Spencer?” 

They share a confused look.

“We’re his coworkers. Derek and Penelope. Sorry, who are you? Do we have the wrong apartment?” 

You brighten, recognising the names from Spencer’s many stories about work. 

“Oh, that’s who you are! No, you’ve got the right apartment, of course. Come in.” You turn to the side, allowing them to walk in, although their expressions remain bewildered. “I’m Spence’s roommate, Y/N. He’s in the living room.”

“Roommate?” Derek exclaims before setting his sights on Spencer, striding over to him. 

“Hey, pretty boy.” Spencer jolts, the haze of sickness having made sure that he didn’t notice them till now. His voice is higher than normal, squeaky. 

“Morgan! What are you- Garcia? Why- why are you here?” Penelope smiles mischievously, plopping down on the couch next to Spencer. 

“Well, we obviously wanted to check up on you, Boy Wonder. This is the first sick day you’ve taken in the last two years - don’t try to lie to me, I checked - and now, we’re very interested in your friend here.” Her smile loses its teasing edge when she turns to you. 

A grin spreads over your face, recognising the same teasing affection you feel towards him in the two newcomers. Retaking your seat on Spencer’s other side, you pull your feet up on the couch, tucking them under Spencer’s thigh. 

Penelope squeaks quietly, but averts her gaze when you look up at her questioningly. 

“So, you guys have worked with Spence for a while, huh?”

Derek sits in the armchair across from you, chuckling under his breath.

“Since he was 22. Back when he straightened his hair and wore those sweater vests that were three sizes too big.” Spencer lets out a strangled noise of protest next to you, but you both ignore him in favour of continuing your conversation. 

“Seriously? I’ve seen one photo of him back then, but then he started hiding them all from me. You got any?” 

Penelope perks up, pulling out a tablet from her work bag. 

“Yes! Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I have so many. Did you know, he used to do this thing where he would gel his hair back, said it made him look older but it was honestly just really cute, hold on…”

She shifts and moves to sit on your other side, huddling over the tablet with you and Derek. 

Spencer is suddenly left in the lurch, stuck observing the three of you from the other end of the couch. He feels like he should be irritated, angry even, but he can’t do anything but watch, eyes softening. 

“Oh my god, Spencer, you were so cute, what happened?” Never mind, he’s feeling a bit irritated now.

It’s not endearing, no. No matter how lovely you look, your face flushed with excitement. No matter how easily you fit in with some of his favourite people in the world.

It’s not captivating, not at all.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Expect me to creep into your inbox whenever you ask for requests 👀 I am always going to annoy you because you are so talented

Eddie smut with a plus size reader? Maybe she’s there at one of Corroded Coffin’s gigs at The Hideout and Eddie is just like

girl you keep giving me a big head (don't stop) and I love writing about plus sized!reader so your wish is my command!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex

You enter the smoky bar, looking around the place to take everything in. It's exactly what you thought it'd be but that doesn't mean you don't like it. It's exactly your scene and you love live music so when you heard that a local band preforms there every week, you just knew that you had to check it out.

You make a beeline for the bar to get a drink as the band is setting up. Your eyes immediately catch the guy at the front of the stage fixing up his microphone. He's got long curly hair and the tight t-shirt he's got on is so distracting. You swore to yourself that you weren't going to do this again.

You're trying to not get involved with anyone but that doesn't mean that you can't have a little fun, right? He's exactly your type with the way he's dressed and those large rings he's got on his fingers are making your head spin with the dirtiest thoughts.

Eddie's eyes lock on yours and he's immediately in love. He's always loved curvy girls but there's something about you specifically that is making hearts appear in his eyes. It's the way you carry yourself like you're hot shit and fuck are you.

The tight pants you're wearing are making him dizzy. He wants to have you in the back of his van and love on every inch of you, telling you how beautiful you are. You've got such a hold on him and he doesn't even know your name.

His eyes follow you as you head over the bar and he’s so close to following you just so he can know what name he’s supposed to moan. He just has to have you and straight after the gig, he’s going to ask for your number. 

You give him a little wave and he winks at you before you turn and head to the bar where you take a seat before ordering a drink. Eddie’s watching you the whole time, wondering what you’re drinking, wanting to sit next to you and let you talk his ear off the whole night. You’ve completely captivated him and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s seen you.

The set starts and you get closer to the stage, fully intending on being in the action. You just want to be near him. You want to see how pretty he is up close with the sweat dripping off him in the heat of the bar. You want to feel the scruff of his beard against your skin as he kisses his way down your body. 

You’re nodding along to the music, really hoping that they have a tape or something so you can listen to it on repeat. The lead singer’s voice is nothing like you’ve heard before. It’s deep and raspy and you just know that you’d run the tape out because of how much you’d listen to it. 

His eyes are shut tight and it makes you wonder if that’s what he’d look like as you topped him, pretty hair fanned out on your pillow, his eyes shut tight as his hips buck against yours, trying his best to keep up with your pace. 

You clearly haven’t been out in a while because why are you thirsting over the first man you’ve seen? But considering the other women around you seem to be thinking the same, you feel a lot better, more sane for thinking about this stranger in such dirty ways. 

His eyes open and he’s staring straight at you, a smirk playing on his pretty lips as he strums on his guitar, pulling away from the mic as he goes into a guitar solo, his fingers moving down the neck in a rapid motion. You’re not even sure how that’s possible, but at least you know he’s good with his fingers. 

Eddie’s trying his hardest to focus on what he’s doing, trying not to turn his head and look at you because if he does, he’s going to fuck up the set then take you by the hand to go somewhere private where he can kiss you absolutely stupid. 

But he can’t help it. You keep catching his eye and he’ll just stare before he’s pulled out of his trance and thrown back into the song. He can tell you want him too because of the way you’re staring back with that flirty look and he’s counting down the seconds until he’s finished. 

So as soon as the set is done and the crowd begins to disperse, Eddie jumps down from the stage and takes you by the hand, pulling you to his chest, your body flush to his as his hand rests on your back. 

“Hi,” he greets.

“Hi,” you smile and watch his gaze drop to your lips. 

“I’m Eddie.” You’re not sure how, but the name suits him, almost as if it was made specifically for him.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I hope you don’t have any plans tonight.” You don’t and for the first time, you’re glad for it. You have a feeling you know exactly what you’re going to get up to.

“Just whatever you’re doing,” You reply, twirling a strand of his hair. Oh yeah, he’s definitely wrapped around your finger now. 

“I need to pack up my equipment but as soon as I’m done, it’s you and me.” His lips press to your cheek and then he hurries back to the stage while you stand there, waiting for him to be done. You watch him bend over to put his guitar into the case and can’t help but stare at his ass as he does so. You want to just give it a squeeze and hope you get a chance once you’re alone.

He finishes up pretty and quickly hands his guitar off to one of his bandmates before heading over to you, sticking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. His eyes are raking over your body, his tongue slowly licking across his bottom lip as he does so. 

They get to your thighs and he so desperately wants to give them a squeeze, to bury his head between them and eat your pussy like a man starved. Fuck, he’s never been so attracted to anyone like this in his life and he needs you so bad. 

As his band mates flee, he takes you by the hand and lead you out to his van. He pins you to  the side of it and his lips find yours in a hot kiss, not afraid to slide his tongue into your mouth as his hands grab a firm hold of your waist. 

You push his jacket from his shoulders and he lets it fall to the ground behind him before pulling to the back. He opens the doors and helps you inside before climbing inside himself and closing the door behind you.

Once you’re safely inside, you’re quick to undress each other between heated kisses. His lips are hot in your skin as he presses them to every new inch of skin that’s revealed as another piece of clothing is removed. He’s mumbling compliments into your skin and you’re so glad that you’re sitting because you feel like you’re melting under his touch.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly what to say and what to do and if just making out with him is making you melt, you’re not so sure how you’re going to handle the sex. Once your bra is off, he lays you down onto the floor of the van, his lips kissing down your chest before wrapping around your hard nipple.

His tongue swipes across it gently and you let out a whine as if asking for more. Eddie pulls away to give you a shit-eating grin before going back in, giving your nipple a suck as his tongue flicks back and forth across it, his other hand reaching up and massaging your other one. You’re whining at the feeling and he takes that as an invitation to continue, going in with his teeth to bite down on it which causes a loud moan to fall from your lips. 

So Eddie does it again, harder this time, causing you to grab fistfulls of his hair, yanking on it to show just how much you’re enjoying yourself. He lets out a little yelp in response, but that doesn’t stop him from biting you again. In fact, it only makes him do it again and again until you’re close to an orgasm.

And when he moves onto your other nipple, you swear that you’re seeing stars as he does the exact same thing, your back arching in pleasure as you keep tugging on his hair, feeling yourself getting progressively more wet as he does so. It’s soaking wet between your legs and you need him between them so bad. You need him to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk for days. 

“Need you,” you whine and spread your legs so he knows exactly what you mean. So his lips travel down your torso and you gasp as his teeth grab onto the waistband of your panities, pulling them down so slowly because he’s such a goddamn tease. He’s looking up at you as his eyes darken, almost looking black. 

He then removes his own before taking out a condom from his jeans pocket and rolls the thing on. He spreads your legs as wide as possible so that they’re touching the floor then positions himself so that he’s lined up with you before going in, pumping as hard as he possibly can, watching you respond to every touch as you lie beneath him. 

You’re watching him in awe, getting even more wet as you take in his tattoos and the way his hair falls, the chain around his neck hitting against his collarbone in a rapid pace because of how hard he’s fucking you. 

“Look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart. And you’re taking me so well already.” His cock is not even halfway inside and you need to feel all of him. You’re desperate for the whole thing, to see just how much you can take so you grab hold of his ass and push him farther inside you until his bush is pressed up against you. 

You gasp at the feeling and tears well up in your eyes because of how big he is, but it just feels so good. Your nails dig into his cheeks and he takes the hint, fucking you with his whole cock as he picks up the pace, moving in and out so quickly you can hardly keep up as you buck your hips against his. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says as his lips press to your neck in a soft kiss. “Like fuck, this is just unfair sweetheart.” He reaches up and swipes some sweaty hair from your forehead. He then picks up the pace even more as he sees that you’re close, making sure to insert all of himself as he does so. 

And when you finally do come, he continues thrusting into you until you’re crying his name. Once you’re coming down, he pulls out and disposes of the condom before helping you get dressed, being nothing but kind to you as he does so. 

And once you’re both dressed, you drive around the city talking about everything and nothing until it’s early in the morning. He then reluctantly drops you off at your car and is quick to make plans to do this all over again because there’s no way he’s only going to do this once. He’s got to see you again because he’s pretty sure that he’s already falling in love with you.

[lowkeyremi]

BLOCKED ! (part 5) (smau series)

Summary: As a student of class 1-B, the first time you really saw Bakugo Katsuki was at the sports festival. That’s when you decided you would pursue him. It’s not easy though, because he absolutely hates you. Content: crack smau, just teens being teens, angst, miscommunication between bkg and reader, Bakugo is bad at feelings, reader might be a little ooc(?) she’s scared of confrontation (like me), stuff will clear up in the next part :3 Masterlist

(Written from Katsuki’s point of view for the explanation)

Ever since his little falling out with you, the both of you have made it your jobs to avoid one another. He doesn’t like it one bit, not after you confidently stepped into his life.

He really didn’t mean to avoid you after inviting you to his dorm. It just turned out that way, because he sucks at talking about anything that has to do with emotions. He definitely felt something too, when you were sitting on his bed making little jokes while eating with him. He felt warm inside and that scared him a little bit. So, he did what he does best and just ignored it, blocked it out.

Obviously that wasn’t the best route to go down, because you’re not talking to him at all now. Katsuki will never admit it, but he misses your annoying little texts, and honestly he’s not sure how to get you talking to him again…

The boy can only hope that you’ll give him an opening, an olive branch. He hopes you’ll be brave enough to make the first move because he’s too scared to.

You invited Kendo over to watch your favorite series. She was a little mad, because you watched a few episodes without her, so now you’re going to get her caught up.

“Thank you for coming over, Itsu.” She smiles and waves her hand.

“No problem, you know I’m always there for you.” You move in to hug her and it feels good to be in her embrace. Those same hands she uses to hit Monoma, bring you great comfort as she rubs them up and down your back.

“I forgot the snacks in the kitchen, so I’ll go grab those real quick.” You say, letting go first from the hug. She nods, her ginger ponytail swinging as she does.

A giggle escapes your lips, “Hey, what’s so funny?”

“it’s just, your ponytail is like an extension of you, I rarely ever see your hair down.” Kendo’s arms cross and she fake pouts.

“I like my ponytail, so what?” She questions playfully.

“No shade I promise, I just think it’s cute.”

She smiles. “Okay okay, you can go get our snacks. I’m ready to start."

You nod your head in agreement, walking out of your dorm to go down and grab your snacks.

Kendo waits a little bit until she thinks you’re downstairs. She quickly grabs your phone and sends a message to Bakugo. As soon as he replies she deletes all the messages from your view and from your phone. Perfect.

Taglist (Taglist is closed! Sorry loves)

@katsukota @nemisimp @herefor-tojis-tits

@haechansbbg @rcveriees @hearts4heidi

@kodzubaby @kiritokunuwu @xerophyides

@wisecatmentality @1ndee @call-me-prodigy

@harryzcherry @defnotriri @kxllanxtdoor

@sukunaspillow @djlance-rock @mouthymha

@ita606 @chemiru @msjaeger @katthekat1234

@ssrcsm @ilovemushroomss @sadgenderfluidmaniac

@cielito--lindo @dreamybabbyy @mrssiida

@cheriiepies @luvvvarmy @spooky-cupid 

@marsilis @ndgshsns @welpydonut 

@thoughtswithbbg @tenthmilo @aikojwhpa

@dqni31a @peachesvault @justforyou-18

@holobean

sorry to those who couldn’t be tagged!

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[strawbearyxx]

⊹˚⋆ જ ꒰ in-ho as your bf ꒱ જ ⋆˚⊹

warning, he’s toxic asf i can’t imagine him being a good bf

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

~ stares at you all the time, everyone else thinks it creepy but you lowk love it

~ obsessive over you and insanely possessive

~ will try to control you whether you like it or not, you’re too scared to disobey him

~ his kisses are always filled with desire, seeking to claim you as his own

~ would kill anyone who he thinks is a threat

~ makes you cry so he can be the one to comfort you and wipe away your tears

~ “i’m sorry baby, i’m here okay? shh, we’re alright, don’t cry now you know i love you”

~ spoils you and gives you every material thing you’ve ever wanted

~ controls who you can see, when you can see them, what you can wear, etc.

~ has moments where he seems like he’s going to stay sweet to you, but it never lasts long

~ loves leaving marks on you and doesn’t let you hide them

~ makes you tell him you belong to him after an argument

~ has you wear showy outfits just for him to see, buys you a tonnn of clothes you’re never allowed to wear outside

~ loves punishing you for doing something wrong, he makes up new rules all the time to get more chances to

~ the second you cry to someone about him, they disappear

~ sends the salesman to follow you when you’re out

~ his touch is possessive and he's always holding your waist when you're around other people

~ you can't help but give in to his desires because he's so tempting

~ "you're mine, you know that? no one, and i mean no one, is allowed to touch you like i do. say it now, tell me you're mine"

~ acts like he worships you sometimes to give you a false sense of security

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

[lulufandom]

The past: Macaque's Reaction

(this is about my Forgotten Wukong au! feel free to look at the masterpost linked at the end if you wanna know more!)

_______________

Liu Er Mihou was the first to notice something happened. 

It’s been some years since his fight against Wukong, in which the Great Sage explained the best he could why he had to go through this pilgrimage and protect this monk. Mihou decided to give him one last chance and Wukong promised he will get home as soon as this Journey ended. Now Macaque is back on Flower Fruit Mountain hoping the King will keep his promise.

Macaque listens now and then in direction to the west, to know if the travel with the monk and the other pilgrims was almost done. The last time he listen what Wukong was up to, he was on his way to get his circlet removed by Guanyin after sealing the brotherhood in a scroll.

Finally! Wukong did kept his promise of getting back home after all of this was done! And about the brotherhood, well, Macaque wasn’t that sad about them. Sure they were friends, but not anymore, not after the fight against heaven and how they completely abandoned Wukong after it. Macaque still did try to find him and talked to him, even if the result was a smashed peach on the ground.

Mihou was still very conflicted about how to feel toward Wukong, they needed to have serious talk as soon as the King will be back on the mountain. But something wasn’t right, something was missing. Macaque couldn’t shake off this feeling of something missing, something big. Then he notice.

Wukong’s magic. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Minutes ago he could feel it getting closer, feeling Wukong getting closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. But now, nothing. It vanished into thin air. And then he noticed the lack of sounds.

He could no longer hear Wukong's breath, or his heartbeat. Normally Macaque is able to hear it even if he is far away thanks to his six ears.

But now, there was only a deafening silence. He couldn’t understand, what just happened? 

Not wanting to alarm the other demon monkeys on FFM, he continues to listen, to find any hints, anything to ease his mind and to tell him that all of this is a cruel joke. 

His mind went blank. There was no way Wukong just disappeared like that. Yes, he still hasn't forgiven him for going with the pilgrims and how he abandoned him, but he never expected all of this.

_________

No more than an hour later, Nezha was at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain,asking to see Macaque or any monkey in charge of Wukong's kingdom.

Macaque was pulled back from his spiraling of thought when he noticed Nezha's presence.

Using his shadow to teleport to him, he told him he better have a good reason why he's there. 

Nezha told him about all the things the Jade Emperor said; how Wukong died from a powerful curse he got during his journey, that apparently one of the many demons he fought had a cursed weapon capable of slowly killing an immortal being . And now his staff became cursed and is protected by a powerful barrier.

“ …where is he?” Macaque ask. “I- I don’t know. They didn’t answer when I asked, only saying he got disposed of.” “What do you mean disposed of?! You’re telling me it’s only been an hour since he supposedly died and he’s already disposed of??!” Nezha sighed: “Look I know this sounds very bad, and I agree something is awry. That’s why I came here as soon as I could to tell you this. Apparently his body was emanating a cursed energy after dying so that’s why they acted quickly” “... this doesn’t make any sense.." macaque paused "and what do you mean by something is awry? I was sure you would agree to whatever Heaven decided to do”. “I am not completely blind to what they do. Not long before they announced this, I saw that a part of the celestial army left the palace in secret and they got back when the news was spread. Perhaps it is connected, perhaps it is not. But my intuition tells me something is just wrong.”

“...”

“I know we are not on good terms but I thought it would be correct to tell you all this. I need to go now , my condolence for your loss.”

Nezha left the mountain as quickly as he got there to go back to the celestial palace.

Macaque stayed in the same spot,paralysed, still processing all the informations. ________

The news spread like wildfire. And everyone was too scared to go near the mountain with the "cursed magic staff".

Time passed, and Mihou was still looking for Wukong whenever he could, while protecting and taking care of the kingdom left behind after the sudden departure of the King.

Au Masterpost

[kashverse]

some say let your hands and fingers do the talking. not like that, you perv! i mean by playing the guitar. what did you think? anyway, when your boyfriend pulls out a guitar, it’s a moment of pure suspense. it can either go very, very good—think angelic strumming, a voice so smooth it makes you question if he’s been hiding a secret record deal—or very, very bad, like an out-of-tune massacre that makes your eardrums file for divorce. there’s no in-between. he’s either serenading you into a nicholas sparks movie, or you’re suddenly trapped in a hostage situation where the ransom is pretending to enjoy his soulful (read: painful) rendition of wonderwall.

ah, gojo. the man, the myth, the self-proclaimed musician. he played the guitar once—once—in high school, butchered wonderwall in a way that made even noel gallagher cringe from a distance, and now he tells everyone he’s a ‘part-time guitarist.’ you don’t have the heart to tell him that whatever note he’s playing isn’t in the known musical scale of this universe. he strums with the confidence of a rock god but with the technique of a toddler discovering sound for the first time. the worst part? he believes in it. “music transcends rules,” he tells you with a wink, completely unaware that he’s transcended harmony, melody, and all known music theory altogether.

then there’s geto. now, he looks like a guy who plays the guitar—cool, effortless, the type to lean against a wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips while plucking out a song that makes everyone in a ten-mile radius fall in love. and technically, he does play. but does he play songs? absolutely not. geto is a man of riffs. he’ll pick up a guitar, pluck out a legendary lick that would make jimi hendrix’s spirit shed a tear, and then… stop. no full songs. no verses. just a 15-second snippet of greatness before he casually shrugs and says, “eh, i never learned the rest.” it’s infuriating. masterful, but infuriating.

choso, on the other hand, is eager. enthusiastic, even. and the shocking part? he’s patient with it, which you didn’t expect given his general aura of broody silence. but the man loves to learn—he already had a thing for keyboards, so naturally, guitar was the next step. and he’s good. so good, in fact, that you have to physically restrain him from playing in front of random people. because let’s be real: if choso sits down with a guitar, strums even a single melancholic tune, women (and men) will descend upon him like he’s the last attractive man on earth. you’re not dealing with that. not again.

does sukuna play the guitar? please. your big, beefy, borderline villainous boyfriend doesn’t do “basic” instruments. he plays the shamisen. yeah, that’s right. while everyone else is fumbling through 'hotel california,' sukuna is out here commanding an ancient instrument with the kind of raw, aggressive technique that could send every mainstream musician straight into retirement. the way he plays is nothing short of feral—sharp, powerful, sending sound waves through your soul like he’s calling forth a battlefield. you don’t know whether to be turned on or to fear for your life. possibly both.

toji, bless his heart, tries. he wants to play the guitar. he knows it looks cool. and, honestly, the intent is there. but here’s the thing—his hands are the size of dinner plates. the pick disappears between his fingers like a lost sock in the laundry. fretting a chord looks like he’s trying to delicately handle a teacup with boxing gloves on. it’s not a skill issue. it’s a size issue. the guitar wasn’t built for a man whose hands could palm a basketball and a toddler’s head at the same time. but he keeps at it, convinced that if he just tries hard enough, one day he’ll stop making the guitar sound like it’s being physically assaulted.

and then there’s nanami, the dark horse. the unexpected legend. you find out, completely by accident, that he plays guitar—not just plays, but plays it well. sings with it, too. every night, he softly strums lullabies for yuuji, an act of pure paternal love that no one would expect from the stoic salaryman. but when you ask him about it? he shuts that conversation down. you don’t get details. you don’t get demonstrations. and you definitely don’t get to see the video of 17-year-old nanami covering ‘pocketful of sunshine’ with embarrassing sincerity. it exists. he won’t admit it. but one day, one day, you will find it.

[fayelero]

ⓘ 03. MY STRANGE ADDICTION !

⤷ FIC ﹫ timeskip!kenma x fem!reader ﹫ angst/fluff ﹫ toxic au!

⚠︎ I really want to warn this one cuz it is really a heavy subject!!! I do not want hate so only read if you’re okay with the disclaimers: really toxic, obsession, corruption of reader, suggestive, fluff, insults, smoke, drugs, identity loss .ᐟ.ᐟ

Kenma wakes up to the sound of soft rain tapping against the massive windows of your penthouse. The sky outside is gray, overcast, the city below blurred by the misty drizzle. It feels like a dream—like he’s caught in that space between sleep and waking, where reality and illusion blend together.

And then he sees you.

You’re standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, wrapped in nothing but the silk robe he bought you last week. It hangs off your shoulders carelessly, draping over your body like it was made for you. Your hair is slightly messy, the kind of perfect disarray that makes you look like you just stepped out of a painting. A cigarette dangles between your fingers, the faint glow illuminating your nails, perfectly manicured, expensive.

You don’t even try, and still, you’re the most effortlessly beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Kenma doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.

You do this sometimes—wake up before him, stand by the window, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe you like watching the city move beneath you, knowing none of it touches you. Maybe you just like knowing you have all of this, that money is nothing but numbers to you, that luxury is just a natural state of being.

Or maybe—maybe you just like making him feel like he’s in a fucking fever dream.

Your lips part slightly as you exhale, slow, smoke curling past your lips, disappearing into the air. Then, as if sensing his gaze, you glance over your shoulder, half-lidded eyes locking onto his.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

Kenma exhales through his nose, dragging a hand through his already-messy blonde hair. “You look fake,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

Your lips curl at the edges, amused. “Good morning to you too, baby.”

You turn fully now, walking towards the bed with that slow, unbothered grace that makes his stomach twist. Like you know exactly the effect you have on him. Like you enjoy it. You flick the cigarette into a glass ashtray before crawling onto the bed, hands splaying over the silk sheets as you hover above him.

Kenma just looks at you.

God, he’s fucking obsessed with you.

It’s not normal. It never has been. From the moment you met, it was like something chemical snapped inside both of you—like magnets being forced together, something too strong, too immediate, too much.

Five years, and it hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s worse.

“You didn’t sleep,” you whisper, fingers brushing against his jaw.

Kenma doesn’t deny it. He never sleeps well without you, not unless he’s exhausted to the point of collapse. Even then, his body searches for yours in the sheets, muscle memory guiding him to where you should be.

You hum, leaning down until your lips barely ghost over his. “Bad habit,” you murmur against his skin.

“You’re my bad habit,” Kenma mutters back, and he hates how much he means it.

You are. You’re the worst kind of addiction, the kind that doesn’t destroy you outright but sinks into your bones, corrupting you slowly, beautifully, until you can’t tell where you end and where it begins.

Neither of you are cruel, not to each other. You don’t fight. Don’t scream. There’s no chaos, no violence—just an obsession that runs too deep, a love so consuming it wraps around your ribs like vines, tightening, squeezing.

Kenma knows it’s not healthy.

You never go anywhere without him. He never goes anywhere without you. Even when you’re apart, you’re not—you text, call, send photos, constant proof that the other still exists. The longest you’ve ever been away from each other was three days, and by the end of it, Kenma felt like his skin was too tight, like the world was too loud, like nothing made sense anymore.

You came back, and he remembers the way you just collapsed into his lap, burying yourself in his hoodie, inhaling him like you needed him to breathe again.

He remembers whispering never again into your hair, and he remembers the way you nodded, nails digging into his back like a silent promise.

Never again.

You’re pressing lazy kisses to his jaw now, soft and slow, like you have all the time in the world. You do. Time is irrelevant when you have everything.

“You love me,” you murmur, not a question, just a fact.

Kenma exhales, fingers tightening around your waist. “Too much.”

“Good.” Your lips ghost over his. “Me too.”

That’s the problem. You love each other, but it’s too much, too intense, an all-consuming fire that doesn’t burn out, just keeps raging. You don’t fight because you can’t—hurting each other isn’t an option. The thought of it makes Kenma feel physically sick.

But it’s not normal.

It’s not normal to panic when he wakes up and you aren’t there. It’s not normal to have to touch you constantly, just to make sure you’re real. It’s not normal to hate the idea of other people looking at you, talking to you, existing in the same space as you.

It’s not normal to be so deep in someone that you forget who you were before them.

Kenma doesn’t care.

Because even if it’s wrong, even if it’s unhealthy, even if it’s an addiction—

He’s never fucking quitting you.

It started slow.

Kenma likes to think he didn’t do it on purpose, that he didn’t set out to ruin you. But deep down, in the part of himself he doesn’t like to examine too closely, he knows that’s a lie.

Because the truth is—he wanted to ruin you from the second he met you. Don’t get him wrong, he never wanted to arm you or make you feel bad.

You were too fucking perfect.

When he first saw you, you were everything he wasn’t. Innocent in a way that wasn’t naïve, but untouched. Untainted. You weren’t fragile, weren’t weak, but you carried yourself with an effortless grace, a beauty so natural it made his stomach twist. You were kind without trying, soft in a way that wasn’t fake. You weren’t like the world he knew—cold, cynical, hollow.

You were warm.

And Kenma—Kenma, who had spent years keeping himself at a distance, who had built walls so high no one had ever been able to reach him—wanted to ruin you.

He wanted to pull you into his world. Wanted to see that warmth twist into something darker, something for him. He wanted you to be his.

And he got exactly what he wanted.

At first, it was little things.

The first time he handed you a cigarette, you wrinkled your nose at it, hesitant. “I don’t smoke,” you had said, voice soft but firm.

Kenma didn’t argue. Just shrugged, took a slow drag, let the smoke curl lazily from his lips.

But then you were kissing him, and his fingers were slipping into your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slid against yours, smoky and slow.

You tasted it.

Didn’t pull away.

And he knew then—it’s only a matter of time.

The first time you actually smoked, you coughed, eyes watering, nose scrunching in a way that made something deep inside him ache. But then you tried again. And again. Until it became natural, until the scent of tobacco clung to your skin like perfume, until he could press his lips to yours and taste it on you like a promise.

Then came the drugs.

Not an addiction—never an addiction. You weren’t stupid.

But you liked the feeling. The way it blurred the edges of the world, made everything a little softer, a little less real. You liked the way it made your skin hum, the way it made you feel invincible.

You liked the way Kenma would watch you when you were high—like you were something unreal, something ethereal. Like he couldn’t believe you were his.

You liked being his.

You had always been confident. You had always known you were beautiful. But Kenma—Kenma made you something else.

Something dangerous.

Because there was a difference between being beautiful and being desired. And no one had ever desired you the way he did.

The first time he touched you, really touched you, it was slow. Worshipful. Like he wasn’t sure you were real. Like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. But as the years passed, it became something else—something desperate, something obsessive, something hungry.

You were addictive.

Kenma was never the type to lose control. He was calculated, always two steps ahead. But with you—with you, he could never get enough.

You learned how to play with him, how to push his buttons. How to wear something too short, just to see his jaw tighten, his grip on his phone turn white-knuckled. How to let your touch linger just a little longer, just to watch the way his pupils would dilate.

You liked it.

Liked watching him fight to keep his composure. Liked knowing that you were the only one who could make him unravel.

It was a game.

A dangerous one.

Because if Kenma was possessive before, now he was something else entirely. You never questioned it. Never pushed against it. Because the truth was—you liked belonging to him.

Even when it was too much.

Even when the world started to feel smaller, reduced to just him.

Even when you realized you didn’t have any friends anymore. Didn’t go anywhere without him. Didn’t want to.

Because why would you?

When Kenma was your world.

When you were his.

Five years.

Five years, and now, when you look in the mirror, you barely recognize the girl you used to be.

The girl who didn’t smoke.

The girl who didn’t do drugs.

The girl who didn’t need him to breathe.

But that girl is gone. And what’s left is something else—something sharper, something darker, something that only exists in relation to him.

You should be afraid.

But you’re not.

Because if this is a mistake, if this is wrong, then you don’t want to be right.

Because this—this obsession, this madness, this love—

Is all you’ve ever wanted.

The morning is slow, stretching like golden syrup over the silk sheets. Kenma watches you move through the bedroom, and he can’t help but think about how different you are now.

How different you’ve become.

The girl he met five years ago would’ve wrapped herself in a blanket after crawling out of bed, would’ve worn an oversized hoodie, would’ve sat beside him with bare feet tucked beneath her, warmth radiating from her skin like the last light of a setting sun.

This version of you—his version of you—doesn’t do that.

You don’t bother with modesty anymore. The silk robe you wear barely clings to your body, loose enough to slip off your shoulder, short enough to reveal the curve of your thighs. It’s barely even tied. You don’t care.

And he fucking loves it.

Because you weren’t always like this.

You used to wear pretty dresses, elegant but never loud. Never anything too short, too tight, too much. You used to cross your legs carefully, sit with your hands in your lap, tuck your hair behind your ear when you were nervous.

Now? Now you stretch your arms above your head, making the robe slip further down your body, rolling your shoulders like you know he’s watching. You don’t even bother tying it properly. You don’t need to. You live in a place where money shields you from judgment, where you only leave when you want to, where Kenma is the only person whose opinion has ever mattered.

It’s not just the way you dress.

It’s the way you carry yourself now—completely unbothered, effortlessly sexy, indulgent in the way only people with everything can be.

You pad across the room, barefoot on the marble floor, fingers trailing over the cool surface of the vanity as you pass by. Your reflection stares back at you, and for a brief second, you don’t recognize yourself.

Not because you look bad. No—you look beautiful. Too beautiful.

Your lips are a little fuller, a little darker, the faint stain of yesterday’s lipstick still there. Your eyes are sharper, half-lidded, lazy, with a sleepy kind of sensuality. There’s no innocence left.

It should scare you.

But it doesn’t.

You glance at Kenma through the mirror, and he’s already watching you, amber eyes tracing the curve of your spine, the bare skin peeking through the loose silk of your robe.

You smirk. “You like staring at me, huh?”

Kenma doesn’t even blink. “You make it easy.”

Your smirk widens. You grab your cigarette from the ashtray and light it again, the scent of burning tobacco filling the air. You never used to smoke, but now it’s second nature. You love the way it makes you feel—like time slows down, like the world bends around you.

Like him.

Because that’s what Kenma does. He warps reality around himself, makes it impossible for you to think of anything else.

You take a slow drag, exhaling through parted lips. “You used to hate smokers.”

“I used to hate a lot of things.” Kenma’s voice is lazy, low, like he doesn’t even have the energy to pretend otherwise. “You make everything look good.”

You laugh, slow and syrupy. “Even addiction?”

“Especially addiction.” His gaze drags over you again. “It suits you.”

You should roll your eyes. You should say something sarcastic, should push against the way he owns you with just a look.

But you don’t.

Because he’s right.

It does suit you.

Everything he’s made you into—all the little corruptions, all the ways he’s reshaped you into something that belongs only to him—it fits.

You weren’t always like this.

You used to have boundaries.

Used to go out with friends, used to laugh without a cigarette between your fingers, used to kiss Kenma with soft lips instead of ones stained with nicotine and remnants of last night’s lipstick.

You used to be someone.

But that girl is gone for the best.

And the version of you that’s left—this spoiled, indulgent, obsessive thing—is so much more beautiful.

Kenma shifts on the bed, stretching, the sheets pooling around his waist. You take another drag, watching the way his muscles flex beneath smooth skin, the way his hair falls into his face, strands of blonde and brown mixing together in messy waves.

You were never meant for something normal.

Kenma knew that before you did.

So you take another slow inhale, lean against the vanity, and exhale with a smile. “So what now?”

Kenma watches the smoke curl between you, head tilting slightly. Then he smirks, slow and lazy, before reaching a hand out toward you.

“Come back to bed.”

[agiiiiiiiiiiiii]

Until Now

Hiii. Let me know if you would like part 2.

nico hischier x reader

Theme: fluff, friends to lovers

Words: 3565

—————————————————————————

Walking into the Prudential Center as an official part of the New Jersey Devils’ staff feels surreal. You’ve been in locker rooms before, worked with athletes at the highest level, but there’s something different about this. Maybe it's because the team is new to you or perhaps it's because one particular player isn't.

Nico Hischier.

He doesn’t know you’ve been hired yet. The team only found out a few days ago that they were getting a new physio, and with their game schedule, there wasn’t much time for introductions. You were hired based on your experience, and despite your history working in high-performance hockey, you can’t shake the nerves buzzing in your stomach.

“Hey, you must be the new physio,” one of the trainers greets you as you step into the medical room, offering you a warm smile. “I’m Mike. Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks,” you say, shaking his hand. “Excited to get started.”

“Good,” Mike grins. “You’ll fit right in. Most of the guys are good about their recovery, but you’ll quickly find that some of them think they’re invincible.”

You smirk, already knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “Let me guess—hockey players who refuse to admit when they’re hurt?”

Mike chuckles. “Exactly. You’ll see soon enough.”

Before long, the locker room begins to fill as players trickle in from the morning skate, each offering a greeting and a warm welcome to the team. You’re busy organizing some rehab protocols when you hear a familiar voice.

“Mike, do you have time to check my—”

Nico stops mid-sentence when he sees you.

You turn, trying not to smile too wide, but the look on his face is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, mouth slightly open, like his brain is short-circuiting trying to process what’s happening.

Your story with Nico was never simple.

You met through mutual friends years ago, at some party where the music was too loud and the drinks were flowing, but somehow, the two of you had ended up in a corner talking like you’d known each other forever.

From the start, there was something there—something easy, something that made you gravitate toward him without even meaning to. And from what you had heard from his friends, that feeling wasn’t one-sided. Nico fancied you. A lot.

And you couldn’t say you weren’t interested.

But something was always in the way.

One of you was always in a relationship or tied up in something that made timing impossible. There were stolen glances, lingering conversations, maybe even a fleeting moment where it almost happened—but it never did.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

So you remained in each other’s orbit, moving closer, then apart, again and again—like fate had a twisted sense of humor. You would see him at gatherings, catch up with ease, laugh at inside jokes like no time had passed.

But the years passed. Life happened. And eventually, you convinced yourself that maybe this was all it would ever be.

Until you got the offer to work for the Devils - an opportunity you couldn’t turn down.

You told yourself it wouldn’t change anything. That after so much time apart, you and Nico had both moved on, that whatever almost existed between you had faded into nothing more than a fond memory.

Being around him again would be fine. Easy. A reminder of the years before, when timing was never on your side but friendship had always been enough.

But now, standing here—seeing the way his eyes linger on you, the way his expression flickers between surprise and something deeper. You can’t help but wonder if this was ever going to be as simple as you tried to convince yourself it would be.

“You’re—” He blinks. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Nico,” you say, teasing.

He runs a hand through his hair, still looking completely thrown. “Wait. You—are you working here?”

You nod, trying to suppress a laugh. “Just started today.”

Before Nico can respond, Jack walks in, glancing between the two of you. “Oh, you two know each other?,” he says, grinning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Cap.”

Nico finally snaps out of it, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “No one told me about this.”

Mike chuckles from the side. “Surprise.”

Nico glances at you again, and you can see the way his mind is racing. You've always meant something to him—unacknowledged, lingering, yet constant. And now? Now you’re part of his world in a way he never saw coming.

Jack slaps a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Man, this is gonna be so fun to watch.”

You laugh, meeting Nico’s eyes. “Looks like you’re stuck with me now, Captain.”

Nico exhales, shaking his head with a half-smile.

————

Over the next few months, you and Nico fall into an easy rhythm as always—friendly banter finds its way back into your dynamic. You joke with him during treatments, roll your eyes when he insists he doesn’t need rest days, and sometimes, you catch him watching you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

But you don’t let it go beyond that.

Because you have a boyfriend—a fact you hadn’t told Nico about. Yet.

In his mind, everything had been falling into place. Nico feels like, for the first time, the stars have finally aligned.

For years, it was always something—bad timing, distance, relationships that never left space for anything more. But now, with you here in a part of his world that feels permanent, he can’t help but think that maybe this is it. Maybe this is the chance he’s been waiting for.

But then, in the middle of an easy conversation, you mention something—someone—and the ground shifts beneath him.

A boyfriend.

You don’t say it like a confession, don’t drop it like a bomb. It’s casual, slipped into conversation like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t change everything.

But it does.

Because all this time, Nico thought the universe was finally on his side. Turns out, it was just playing another cruel trick on him.

After hearing you mention your boyfriend, Nico takes a moment, his face betraying nothing but the quiet storm raging inside. He forces a small, tight smile, but there’s a flicker of something else—disappointment, maybe even a little hurt—behind his eyes.

“You have a boyfriend,” he repeats softly, like he’s trying to process the words in a way that makes sense.

You nod, watching his reaction closely, but you can’t read him. “Yeah, we've been together for a while now.”

Nico looks away briefly, running a hand through his hair, then meets your gaze again. “I… didn’t know.” He lets out a small, almost inaudible laugh, shaking his head. “I guess I should’ve figured it out. I don’t know why I thought…” He trails off, eyes downcast for a second, as if weighing his words carefully.

It’s clear he’s trying to mask whatever else is there, but you can still feel the weight of what he’s not saying. He might not want to admit it, but the truth is, hearing you’re with someone else stings in a way he didn’t expect.

There’s a stretch of silence, thick with something unsaid. Finally, Nico clears his throat. “Is he… good to you?”

You pause for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. He is.”

It’s not a lie. Not really. Your relationship isn’t bad—it’s just… not great, either.

But Nico doesn’t push. He just hums in acknowledgment, his jaw tight, and you pretend not to notice the way his entire demeanor shifts after that.

————

From then on, things are a little different.

Nico is still friendly, still professional, but the lingering tension that had started to build between you evaporates. He keeps a little more distance, doesn’t hold your gaze as long, doesn’t joke with you the way he used to.

And you tell yourself that’s a good thing.

And because, deep down, you know that if Nico really wanted to, he could ruin every single feeling you’ve been trying to suppress.

————

A few months after that conversation, things only get worse. The constant fighting with your boyfriend has taken its toll, and you’re at a breaking point, feeling like you need to confide in someone before you completely lose it.

It happens late one evening after a long road trip. The team had just gotten back, exhausted but relieved to be home. Most of the guys had gone their separate ways—some heading straight to their beds, others to grab a late-night meal—but you and Nico somehow ended up in the training room.

He had come in for a quick post-trip stretch, and you had stayed behind to finish organizing some rehab plans. It was quiet, the hum of the therapy machines the only background noise, and for the first time in a while, it felt like there was space to talk.

You didn’t even mean to say it.

But as you stood there, watching him work through a shoulder stretch, the words just… slipped out.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Nico looked up, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the clipboard in your hands. “My relationship…,” you say, your voice soft but firm, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “It’s not what it used to be, and I don’t even know how it got here. We’ve been drifting, and I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t anymore.”

Nico’s expression softens, and for a brief moment, you see the hesitation in his eyes, as though he’s unsure whether he should say anything at all. But after a beat, he steps closer, his voice gentle.

“You deserve someone who makes you feel good, who makes you feel happy,” he says, his words full of sincerity. “I don’t want you to stay in something that’s not right for you.”

You nod, fighting the urge to explain more, to justify yourself. “I don’t know what’s been happening. It’s just… been falling apart, and I don’t know what to do about it.” You look at him, your voice cracking a little. “It’s been hard to admit, even to myself.”

Nico falls silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. He wants to reach out, to comfort you, but hesitates, unsure if it’s his place. Instead, he meets your gaze with quiet understanding, his expression softer than it has been in a long time.

Nico stays quiet for a moment, taking in what you’ve said. He wants to reach out, to comfort you, but he doesn’t want to overstep. Instead, he looks at you with that quiet understanding, his expression softer than it’s been in a while. “Since when?”

You sighed, setting the clipboard down. “I don’t know. A while, I guess. It’s just been feeling… off. Rocky.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Guess it happens.”

Nico was quiet for a moment, studying you. And even though he didn’t say it, you could feel the way he was carefully measuring his reaction. Because deep down, you knew he wanted to hear this. You knew that part of him still hoped. But more than anything, you knew Nico—and he was never the kind of person who would want to see you unhappy.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Are you?”

His lips quirked slightly, but there was no real amusement in his expression. “I mean, yeah. I don’t want you feeling like that.”

The way he said it—so simple, so genuine—made your chest ache.

You nodded, glancing down. “Yeah. Me neither.”

A heavy silence hung between you, filled with words neither of you were brave enough to say.

After a moment, Nico reached for his water bottle, his voice softer this time. “Do you think it’s fixable?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

And for the first time since this conversation started, you met his eyes again.

The moment stretched, charged and unspoken, before Nico finally gave a small nod.

“Well,” he said quietly, “for what it’s worth… I just want you to be happy.”

The sincerity in his voice almost broke you.

And maybe—just maybe—that was the moment you realized where your heart had been all along.

————

The tension in the Devils’ locker room is so thick you could probably cut it with a skate blade. Someone is shouting at someone else, their voices cutting through the room, but you keep your head down, focused on your work. You don’t feel like yourself anymore—you just go through the motions. Your mind is somewhere else. Or, more accurately, on someone else. Your boyfriend—if you can even still call him that—has been distant, arguments bubbling up over the smallest things, and at this point, you’re starting to wonder if you’re just holding onto something that’s already broken.

And Nico knows.

He hasn’t said anything outright, but you can feel it in the way he watches you. The way his eyes linger a little too long when he thinks you don’t notice. The way his jaw clenches whenever he overhears you on the phone, your voice tight with frustration. The way he always asks if you’re okay—like he already knows the answer but wants you to say it out loud.

Today, it’s no different.

You’re finishing up with one of the guys when Nico walks in, fresh from the ice, his hair damp and his jersey clinging slightly to his frame. He offers a polite nod to the other player but doesn’t take his eyes off you as he makes his way over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, leaning against the treatment table as the other player exits.

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face before looking up at him. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He hums, not buying it. He never does. “Tired from work, or tired from… other things?”

You give him a pointed look. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

His jaw tightens slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table. “Did something happen?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “Just the same old fight. Different day.”

Nico is quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he’s debating whether to say what’s really on his mind. Finally, he speaks—carefully, like he’s choosing his words with precision.

“You deserve to be happy,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “Really happy.”

Your breath catches, because there’s something in the way he says it—something unspoken but so incredibly obvious.

Your stomach twists, and not in a bad way. Because you both know what he’s really saying. You both know what’s been lingering between you for months now. And you both know he’s too good to ever cross a line.

But damn, do you wish the line didn’t exist.

“Nico—”

“I know,” he cuts in, shaking his head as if he already knows what you’re going to say. “I know. It’s not my place.” He pushes off the table, raking a hand through his hair. “I just— I hate seeing you like this.”

You swallow hard, your fingers curling into your palms. “I know.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. It’s just you, standing there, your heart pounding, his eyes dark with something he won’t act on.

Not yet.

————

The breakup was inevitable. You knew it, your ex knew it. It wasn’t dramatic. No big fights, no yelling for once—just a quiet conversation that ended with both of you knowing it was over. It was overdue, really. And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.

You didn’t tell anyone right away, though. Not because you were hiding it, but because you needed time to process it on your own. And maybe, deep down, you knew there was one person whose reaction mattered more than anyone else’s.

Nico.

Which is why, when you end up out with the guys weeks later at , he’s still acting the same way he always does—watching you from across the bar with that same careful restraint, never letting himself get too close.

You’ve had enough of it.

That’s how you end up outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you lean against the brick wall, your heart pounding. You’re not second-guessing this. Not tonight.

And Nico follows. Of course he does.

The door swings shut behind him, muffling the music, and he stops just a few feet away. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice low, cautious.

You don’t answer. Instead, you take a step forward, closing the space between you, and before he can say anything else—before he can stop you—you kiss him.

He freezes.

For a second, he doesn’t move at all, like his brain is still catching up to what’s happening. You’re kissing him—something he’s only ever imagined in his dreams, but now, it’s actually happening. The warmth of your lips, the closeness he’s always wanted, is real. Every part of him is aware that this moment, this thing he thought would never come, is finally here.

But then, just as you deepen the kiss, he pulls back, “What—,” he shakes his head, trying to process. “What are you doing?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Kissing you?”

His jaw clenches, and for the first time, you see something close to frustration in his expression. “You—” He exhales sharply.

“You have a boyfriend,” Nico says, his voice tight, like it physically pains him to say the words.

You blink up at him, your stomach twists, a mix of nerves and something dangerously close to excitement. Because you’re about to say something that changes everything.

“Nico,” you say softly, reaching for his hands where they’re still gripping your arms. “I don’t.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“We broke up.” You give his hands a small squeeze. “Few weeks ago.”

He stares at you, processing, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. His grip on you loosens, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your skin.

“You…,” he trails off, his expression still bewildered. “You didn’t tell me.”

You swallow, searching his face. “I wanted to. I just—needed time. And I wasn’t sure if…” You hesitate, heart pounding. “If it would change anything.”

Nico exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his whole body still tense. “Are you serious?” His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. “It changes everything,” he pauses, “And you know it.”

Something inside you flips, hope bubbling to the surface. “Yeah?”

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus, I’ve been losing my mind watching you, thinking I just had to live with it—” He cuts himself off, his hands coming back to your waist. “And now you’re telling me…”

“That I want you,” you finish for him.

His breath hitches, his fingers tightening on your hips.

“You don’t have to hold back anymore, Nico,” you whisper.

For a second, he still looks like he can’t believe it, like he’s waiting for someone to tell him this isn’t real.

But then, finally, he exhales, his shoulders relaxing, and his lips crash onto yours.

And this time, he doesn’t pull away.

Nico’s kiss is urgent, almost desperate, like he’s been holding back for too long. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, his body pressed against yours as if he can’t get close enough. You respond just as eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him even nearer, deepening the kiss.

For a moment, it’s like the world falls away—like it’s just the two of you standing there in the cool night air, the buzz of the club a distant hum in the background. His lips move with a kind of practiced hunger, but there’s a gentleness beneath it, as if he’s waiting for your signal, checking to make sure you’re still with him.

When you pull back, gasping for air, your chest rises and falls rapidly, and Nico’s forehead drops to yours, his breath uneven. “God,” he mutters, his hands still resting on your waist. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You chuckle, a soft sound, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. “It’s real,” you whisper. “I’m right here.”

He takes a slow, deep breath, his hands gently cupping your face now, as if to make sure you’re not going anywhere. His eyes are dark, intense, but there’s a warmth in them now—something that feels different. Something that feels… right.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because this… this is more than just a kiss for me.”

You smile, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I’m sure.”

Nico’s expression softens, his smile slow and tender. He leans in again, pressing a light kiss to your lips, before pulling back just enough to look you in the eye.

“I’m not going to screw this up,” he says, determination in his voice. “I won’t.”

You rest your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. “You won’t,” you promise him. “I know you won’t.”

His eyes search yours, cautious but certain, like he’s trying to memorize this moment, just in case.

There were so many chances, so many times you could have fallen into this. Every moment before this was a chance left untouched.

Until now.

[a-b-riddle]

Just a religious rant

If I ever had a better example of why I keep my faith to myself it’s this.

I’m Catholic. Husband is agnostic. We agreed to not raise our child with a particular faith, but going off of “I believe___” “they believe ____” because we don’t feel like it’s right for us to try and indoctrinate our kid into believing into a higher power when they can be convinced easily that things like Santa or the boogeyman. We don’t want to teach them at an early age if you do something bad, you go to hell or that other people will go to hell if they don’t believe the same as you.

Note: I love my faith. I love being Catholic. But I will never be bringing my child to a church unless they are older (8-10) and want to go with friends, but by then it’s their choice to start discovering.

Well went to a mom group asking who else has their own faith, but didn’t push it on their kids. Every fucking comment was like “well I’m this type of Christian and our church doesn’t teach that why not look for a church like that near you?” or “it’s a shame you’re not letting your kids know Jesus.”

Like if there was ever an example of why my faith does not involve other Christians it’s that. I didn’t believe in anything until I was almost 15 and started exploring and somehow became Catholic. My husband was raised Catholic and is agnostic. Just because we raise our kids one way doesn’t mean they’ll stick to it. And why risk them struggling with fear mongering that if they don’t believe they’ll go to hell??

I believe Bad Catholics can go to hell and Good Atheists can make it to heaven.

But it’s frustrating because it’s one area where I feel like I’m lacking support for our decision except one Pagan who was extremely nice and gave us kudos for letting our kid choose.

[baffledandbewildered]

“Evi4 - can you kill me with the mace at some point?” Betty asks.

“Yes!” Evi says immediately.

It’s been an eventful week - few weeks, honestly - and - well. 

Betty’s been scared of the mace for a while now… it’s a terrifying weapon, and whenever Evi’s used it before she’s always skittered back, all nervous laughter and shaking hands - she remembers that weapon crashing against her helmet, Chips yelling at her to run, be afraid -

And she has been. It’s been months and honestly - she’s sick of it. Especially after what Chips said to her the other day, after Nara - Betty knows Chips is hurting, that they probably didn’t mean what they said, she understands that, she’s not mad - well. She is. A little. The feeling will fade with time, she knows, but for now…

“I want to know what it feels like,” Betty explains. It’s true, but also - I want to stop being afraid.

Evi giggles. “I understand!” And he probably does, even the stuff Betty isn’t saying out loud. He’s always been good at that.

“Should we - now?”

“Yes yes yes yes!”

To make room in her e-chest, Betty hands Evi one of her shulkers - it’s a far cry from where they were a few months ago, when anything left in the vicinity of Evi4 had to be carefully watched for fear of theft - it’s nice, to be able to know that Evi won’t take anything from her without it first being offered. It’s nice to trust.

Evi suggests setting her spawn here - Betty, once again, refuses - her spawnpoint isn’t too far away, and while it’s not the most secure it’s still better than, well - spawn itself. But Evi doesn’t take the refusal personally - Evi knows where her spawnpoint is currently, and really that probably says enough about how far they’ve come as a relationship.

Then she removes her armour, e-chests her gear, and Evi builds a short tower into the sky -

“Ready?”

“Yep!”

There’s not even time for the sound of their laughter to fade before the mace is crashing against her head and she’s gone, respawning in the deepslate box - she really needs to change her spawn point. 

Wow. That was - something. But not as terrifying as she expected - if anything, the tightness in her chest is from laughter. She picks up her communicator, still giggling - Evi’s complaining about how far away she is as she starts putting her armour back on.

Yeah. That wasn’t scary at all - it hurt, sure, but all deaths do and she doesn’t mind that so much - especially when it’s Evi, that’s…

“I’m kind of scared you’re going to kill me,” Betty had said, long long ago, when she was still alone and scared and felt she had no one to turn to.

And Evi had stopped her pacing of spawn, sword disappearing from her hand in less than a second. There’s not much Evi took seriously, or so Betty had thought at the time, but she looked… concerned, before her face brightened.

“I would never hurt a BettyisBaffled!” Evi4 said, grinning, dancing forward into her personal space a little.

“Oh!” Betty said. “Really? I - uh. Thank you?”

She hadn't believed it then. It took a while, multiple murder attempts on the people around her but never coming close to touching her before she realised Evi was telling the truth.

She’s still not sure why.

And then they became allies and then they became more and this time Betty offered her life - “You can kill me! I don’t mind -” … I kinda want you to.

(Yeah, Betty’s a little weird about the. Dying thing.)

And then one thing had led to another to another, to murder plots and engagement and secrets shared, and all that led to today.

The mace feels… like the same sort of power of a lightning strike, inescapable, deadly. A force of nature. Not necessarily bad, not necessarily good.

Not something to be unreasonably scared of, and she giggles again. Wow.

She digs her way out of the room, through the tiny box in the wall Evi made himself so he could watch Betty and Nara kill each other - there’s still some of her and Nara’s blood on the floor, she notes - she really needs to change her spawnpoint, she keeps meaning to, Nara and Aster keep reminding her to and she keeps forgetting.

Then she flies back to spawn. Evi’s been rambling in her communicator the whole time, and when Betty lands in front of them they’re beaming at the sight of her - gods, Betty is so lucky. 

This is her fiance - the label makes her a little giddy. “Hiii - I love you by the way,” she says breathlessly, and Evi buries his face in his hands - she can see the blush on his cheeks and it makes her giggle, lean up to kiss him on the forehead before turning to the chest beside them.

Betty grabs the rest of her stuff she wasn’t able to fit in a shulker, then -

“Oh, can I have the heart back?” she says.

“Yes!”

Evi jumps up from the shulker box they’d been sitting on - they’re so much taller than her damn - then they’re leaning down to kiss her, and that’s hardly unusual but what has her gasping is the feel of the heart passing between their lips, travelling down her throat and settling along her collarbone with only the slightest flicker of pain as it joins the others.

She laughs. Wow. Wow.

Her fiance. Yep.

“I love you,” Evi says shyly, and Betty echoes it immediately, beaming.

Evi presses another kiss to her forehead, then is pacing spawn again - “Wait -” they say, spinning back to her. “Let me try to mace you again it won’t kill you I promise -”

Betty laughs. “Okay! With the armour?”

Evi nods rapidly, once again climbing the carpet tower. “Heartcount test!” Evi yells, giggling, then jumps -

Betty respawns in the deepslate box again. “What the fuck oh my god how were you on full health how did you die -” Evi4’s saying through her communicator, and Betty can’t stop laughing.

[loomiseater]

You're too good for him

warnings: smut ofc!, oral!f!receiving, cheating, and slight virginity loss.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Stu Macher x fem!reader

A/N: Wrote this because I'm so excited for Stu's return and I'm also working a pt 2 to one of my Scream fics.

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Written: February 5th, 2025- February 9th, 2025

Published: February 9th, 2025

Summary: Randy isn't being all that loyal to you..but Stu helps you get over it.

wc: 2,000

“Oh come on! What’s it gonna take for you to sleep with me one time?!” Stu teasingly asked. We were currently at his house, he threw a party for whatever reason, and the music was so loud. “Stu..we talked about this, I am in a very committed and serious relationship with Randy.” I explained as he rolled his eyes at my statement. 

“So? He doesn’t have to know.” Stu shrugged. I sighed before responding to his stupid statement. “Like I’ve said before, I am not going to-“ Before I could finish, Stu cut me off. “He doesn’t even like you. He’s using you to get close to Sid.” 

My heart dropped..what does he mean? Is Stu joking? If so it’s not funny. “Don’t joke like that, it’s not funny.” I stated. My face was getting hot, I hoped what Stu was saying was some kind of sick joke..but deep down, some part of it feels true. I felt Stu place his arm around me and shift me in the direction of Sidney and Randy laughing with each other and getting all touchy. Randy has never looked at me with that much love before.

“That’s the guy you’re staying loyal for.” He said with a hint of sadness in his voice. It was becoming too much, the air was becoming stuffy, the room was becoming cramped, and tears were flowing down my face. I hurried and ran upstairs to an empty bedroom, slammed the door shut, and placed my face into the pillows. 

Why does this always happen to me? No one ever really likes me, they always like Sid. I know I sound like a jealous and bitter friend, but it’s not fair. For once, I would love it if a boy actually liked me for me but instead they always go for her. 

Maybe I should talk to Sid? What if it’s only a one sided thing? Randy likes her but she doesn’t feel the same way about him? Besides, Sidney is dating Billy so I’m sure she doesn’t feel that way about Randy…I hope. I was still deep in my thoughts until I heard the bedroom door open. It was Stu, he walked in and closed the door behind him. I sniffled and hurriedly wiped my tears.

“I hope you took what I said seriously.” He said before sitting down on the bed. “Uhm- I did, and I decided that I needed to have a talk with Sidney because maybe she doesn’t like Randy in that way and it’s just all one sided and-“ I was rambling on and on as I felt my tears run down my cheeks again. I bursted into tears, I broke down in front of Stu as he held me in his arms. 

“You’re too good for that bozo anyways.” Stu said with head laid on top of mines. It was hard to focus on what he was saying because of his cologne. One thing about Stu is that he always smelled so damn good, after years of our friendship I’ve never been this up close to him. He smelled of some type of wood rainforest musk. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing he’s going after Sid…you need a real man, unlike that pussy.” He scoffed as I sat up out of his arms. I softly chuckled at him before speaking up. “Stu you’re not that much of a man either.” He playfully pointed at him self in shock. “Me?!” “Yes you!” I giggled. Stu’s face now had a soft smile on his face as he scooted closer to me.

My breath hitched as his thumb stroked my cheek. “You could do so much better.” He sincerely said as he looked into my eyes. I always forget how beautiful his bright, piercing blue eyes are. I was so lost in his eyes that I didn’t notice him leaning into me until our lips collided. His lips were soft and plump, his mouth tasted like beer. 

I grabbed his neck and deepened the kiss as he did the same. The kiss was hungry and passionate, nothing I’ve felt with Randy. “Let me show you what a real man is.” Stu lowly said as he pulled away from the kiss and softly pushed me on the bed. It took me a while to realize that this was his bed. His bedroom. 

I was now laid on my back as he slowly sucked on my neck. Soft moans fell from my mouth as I felt him cheesing against my neck. “You like that?” His voice was so seductive and low, it made me so wet. “Mhhm” I hummed as I closed my eyes. He moved away from my neck and was now in between my legs. 

He rubbed my inner thighs softly before asking me a question. “You’re one of the most innocent girls I know, so I know you haven’t done anything-“ I cocked my brow at him. “How do you know I haven’t done anything?” I asked as he gave me a look. “Okay-fine. You’re right, only thing I’ve ever done was kiss..” I was a bit embarrassed. Stu is more experienced than me and I’ve only ever kissed. I guess he could tell from the frown on my face.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t be rough.” He said with his charming smile. He gave me one last kiss on my lips before unbuttoning my jeans shorts and pulling them all the way off. I was nervous, my whole body became hot, and my heart was pounding. No one has ever seen me like this before.

Stu gripped my inner thighs and started rubbing my clit through my lace panties. “Ouuu!” I moaned as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I’ve never felt this type of pleasure before. “Let me hear those pretty moans, baby. I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this way.” He smirked. He started spreading my folds through the panties and sliding his thumb up and down on my slit. 

“Fuck!” I said to myself. I then felt him sliding my panties off my legs, he thought I wouldn’t notice but I saw him place my panties in his pocket. Pervert. “Your legs are so smooth and soft..and they smell good” Stu said with his hands gliding up and down on my legs. I’m so glad I shaved last night. He placed soft kisses on my inner thighs, kissing everywhere but the part I need him most. 

“Stop teasing me!” I pouted. My pussy was practically throbbing and desperate for him and he’s over here playing. “Someone’s a bit demanding..” he sassily said. I rolled my eyes at his remark and his mouth was now hovering over my core. I could feel his breath on me, I was craving him, I need him. I had enough of the teasing and finally shoved his mouth onto my core. 

“YESS!” I shouted as he started sucking on my clit. It felt so fucking good, his mouth was so warm and wet. My whole body jolted when his mouth connected with my clit. I tried to close my legs around his head but he grabbed them and opened them back up as I started to whine. “Don’t start bitchin now, princess, you wanted this.” He cockily said. “I knoww but it feels too good!” I practically shouted as he started poking started thrusting his tongue in and out of my pussy.

I forgot how long his tongue is but damn it sure does feel good. “You taste so good!” He said into my core as he dove deeper and was now slurping my juices. “Yeah?” I teasingly asked. Eating healthy actually paid off. “Tastes so sweet like fruit.” He moaned. I placed one leg on his shoulder as I pushed his head deeper into me. 

Stu flicked his tongue back and forth as my breathing started to pick up and a tight feeling appeared in my stomach. “S-Stu-I think I’m close.” I stuttered. “Squirt on my face-I wanna taste all of those sweet juices.” He demanded. 

He was now sucking on my clit basically trying to get every drop of juice out. I gripped the sheets tightly as the coil in my stomach had snapped and my pussy was spraying Stu in my juices as he was rubbing my clit as fast as he can. He let his tongue get covered in my juices, his face was glistening. 

My voice was cracked after the loud scream I had let out. I fell back into the pillows as Stu now laid on top of me. “I gotta eat you out more often.” He said with his infamous smirk. I playfully rolled my eyes before responding. “You’re so nasty!” I giggled. “Kiss me, you gotta see how good you taste.” He said as immediately placed his lips on mine. My eyes widened, he in fact did not lie. 

“Now common, let’s go back downstairs and enjoy the party.” He smiled before kissing me one last time. I sat up and watched Stu fix himself in the mirror before speaking up. “Can I have my panties back?” I asked with a raised brow as he shook his head. “Nah, you can get them the next time I eat you out.” He confidently said while fixing his hair. “Whatever.” I mumbled to myself before sliding my jean shorts back on. 

Stu and I went back downstairs and saw Sidney sitting in Randy’s lap. I frowned a bit at the interaction, Stu noticed this and placed his arm around my waist. “Ignore those fuckers. Like I said, you’re too good for him.” I’ve never seen Stu more serious. 

I nodded my head as Billy popped out of the corner and scared the living shit out of me. “Gosh, Billy! What happened to saying hello?” I complained. He studied me and Stu for a second and pointed at us. “She finally let you hit?” Billy smirked as I pinched his nipple. “Ounch!” He cried as Stu laughed at the both of us. “You’re talking about me like I’m not even here!” I stressed. 

“So you two didn’t fuck? There’s just this glow to you that I’ve never seen you had-“ I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “Shut the hell up.” I said as I rolled my eyes. “I ate her out. Should’ve heard her, she was screaming and everything.” Stu laughed as they dapped each other up.

“Stu!” I whispered yelled as he laughed. He gripped my ass I took me into a kiss, it felt right, I didn’t even try to back away from it. He pulled away from the kiss and spoke up. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind Billy joining us?” He lowly said in my ear. I looked over at Billy as he was now standing in front of me too. “I’m sure the princess doesn’t mind, doesn’t she?” He asked, referring to me. 

“Not at all.” I breathlessly said. As I was about to walk up the stairs with the both of them, Randy came running over. Stu and Billy both rolled their eyes at him. “Where are you guys going?l” he asked, you could tell he was a bit nervous and slightly worried. “We gotta handle something, won’t be done until about an hour, two tops.” Billy smirked as I tried to hold in my laugh. 

Before he could say anything else, Billy and Stu practically dragged me up the stairs and that’s when Randy caught on. We hurried up to Stu’s room and locked the door. Randy was banging on and apologizing. 

I was too busy sitting in between the boys and kissing them both at the same time. Randy could hear my moans from out the door. He know figured out that I must I’ve saw Sid sitting on his lap. 

He couldn’t do anything but sit outside the door and listen. 

That should be him. Not Billy or Stu he thought to himself.

[sunwoniie]

REVENGE

Pairing: idol!virgin!soft dom!Jay x idol!virgin!brat!Isabella

Synopsis: Lately, Isabella has been ignoring Jay, which is pretty weird considering she usually loves messing with him until he’s absolutely furious. At first, he’s just confused, but when he finally figures out why she’s avoiding him, he realizes it’s the perfect chance to get back at her. And he’s not about to let it go to waste.

Warnings: virgin jay and isa, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (pulling out before coming), bathroom sex

Old scenario

English is not my first language

Lately, I’ve been getting familiar with cold showers. They’re known for their health benefits, but that’s not why I take them. Cold showers are also used to calm people down—especially when their urges become overwhelming. Like me. Right now.

I’m ovulating, and it’s driving me insane. The need is so intense that I might actually call an escort just to get some relief.

My ovulation periods have always been wild, but things got worse when I practically started living with a bunch of ridiculously attractive guys. And yet, despite being surrounded by them, my fixation is on Jay. When that started, I have no idea.

Jay and I have always had this bickering dynamic. I don’t hate him—if anything, I love to annoy him. Seeing that irritated expression on his face is pure entertainment. Pranking him is my specialty, and nothing amuses me more than watching him turn red with frustration when he realizes it was me. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and the moment he spots me, he yells my name before chasing me down.

Running while laughing? Impossible. He always catches me, pinning me down against whatever is closest—the floor, the wall—before tickling me until I can’t breathe.

It’s fun.

But not when I’m ovulating.

When he pins me down, holding my wrists above my head with one hand while tickling me with the other, my thoughts spiral into something else entirely. Something not-so-innocent.

That’s why, from the moment my ovulation started, I began avoiding him. No teasing, no pranks. I knew exactly where it would lead, and I didn’t trust myself to handle the consequences.

It’s late at night, and the boys are having a sleepover in our apartment. I can’t sleep—not with these thoughts clouding my mind—so I decide to take a cold shower, hoping it will help.

I step out of the tub, wrapping my bathrobe around me before opening the bathroom door—only to freeze.

A sharp gasp escapes my lips before I slap a hand over my mouth, as if that could undo what just happened.

Jay is standing right in front of me, his messy hair and relaxed posture making it clear he just got up. His hands are buried in the pockets of those gray joggers I hate—because he looks so damn good in them, and I would never admit it—but also love, because they fuel my fantasies about something I’ve never seen.

“Y-you scared me,” I stammer, lowering my gaze to the floor, unable to handle the intensity of his stare. The normal me would be mortified at how easily he’s intimidating me right now.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t let me pass.

I shift to the side, hoping he’ll take the hint and enter the bathroom so I can leave, but he remains planted in place.

“Jay… are you okay?” I whisper, mindful of the others sleeping in the living room.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” he finally speaks, his voice low.

I swallow. “W-what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

His words make me tense. “Jay, can we talk about this later? The others are sleeping.” I try to keep my voice quiet.

He moves at last, but not the way I want. He steps toward me. Instinctively, I step back.

My breath hitches when he enters the bathroom, swiftly turning around to shut the door behind him.

“Jay—w-what are you doing?” My voice trembles, my pulse racing at the thought of being alone with him in a closed space while I’m barely dressed.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong,” he says, arms crossing over his chest.

I exhale sharply, playing with my fingers, eyes glued to the floor. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Jay steps closer.

“Stop,” I blurt, taking another step back. “D-don’t come near me. Please.”

His eyes search mine. “Why?”

I sigh, my shoulders dropping. It’s too awkward to tell him the truth. That I’ve been fantasizing about him. That’s why I’ve been keeping my distance.

“I’ve been… feeling weird lately,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “Especially around you.”

Jay watches me carefully. “What do you mean?”

I force myself to meet his gaze, inhaling deeply before confessing, “I’m ovulating.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I shut my eyes, hating how vulnerable I feel.

Silence.

I peek through my lashes to find him smirking. His lips curl into that maddeningly smug grin, his expression laced with amusement.

“Are you masturbating to the thought of me?”

My breath catches. My whole body stiffens.

Jay steps forward, closing the distance between us inch by inch.

“Jay…” My voice is shaky, betraying my rising panic—and something else I refuse to name.

His gaze darkens with mischief. “Are you having nasty thoughts about me?”

I keep retreating until my back meets the sink. There’s nowhere left to go.

“Jay,” I breathe, barely able to get the words out. “D-don’t come any closer.” My hands lift instinctively, a feeble attempt to stop him.

His smirk only deepens. “Why?” His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I can help you. But you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

I stop breathing altogether.

“Jay.”

“Yes, Isabella?”

The way he says my name—slow, deliberate, seductive—sends a shiver down my spine.

He never calls me by my full name. Never.

It’s always Isa like the rest of the group. Or Bella, when he’s feeling playful.

But Isabella?

That’s new.

And it’s dangerous.

I feel wetness slowly dripping between my thighs as I instinctively press them together. My breathing is uneven, and before I even realize it, Jay has already closed the remaining distance between us.

His hands gently cradle my face, tilting it upward so our eyes meet. “Aw, look at you… so red,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. “It must be really hard, huh?” His smirk deepens, clearly satisfied with the effect he has on me. Now, it’s his turn to tease, to watch me squirm.

Annoyed, I slap his hand away. “S-stop playing with me,” I stammer, turning my head to avoid his gaze.

“Who said I was playing?” he counters, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him again.

His voice is low, teasing, dripping with control. “Tell me… how can I help you?” His lips hover just inches from mine, and I know he’s enjoying every second of my struggle. He knows exactly what I want—he just wants to hear me beg for it.

“I-I need you,” I breathe, leaning in, desperate to close the distance between us. But he pulls back at the last second, his smirk widening. He loves this. Loves watching me writhe, loves making me desperate.

“What do you need me to do, Bella?” His voice is a taunt, a challenge.

I let out a shaky sigh, surrendering to the inevitable. “I need you to fuck me… please.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all he was waiting for.

His smirk turns predatory. “Took you long enough to say it,” he murmurs before crashing his lips against mine.

The kiss is messy, desperate—our first, but I don’t care. His hand slides down my back, pulling me against him as we devour each other, tongues tangling, teeth grazing. My hands grip the sink behind me, my knees weak, barely holding me up.

I’m already addicted—to the taste of him, to the way his lips move against mine, to the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away, leaving us both breathless, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth moves to my neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, sucking, teasing. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, and in embarrassment, I slap a hand over my mouth.

Jay halts immediately, his darkened gaze locking onto mine. He reaches up, prying my hand away. “Don’t hide those pretty little noises from me,” he murmurs.

His fingers move to the knot of my bathrobe, untying it with excruciating slowness before sliding the fabric off my shoulders. It pools at my feet, leaving me bare before him.

His eyes finally break away from mine, traveling down my body. I watch as his pupils dilate, his jaw tightening. His gaze is hungry, devouring every inch of my exposed skin—from my round breasts and hardened nipples to my wide hips and thick thighs.

I shiver as his fingertips ghost over my stomach, tracing a slow path upward until he cups one of my breasts. A soft groan escapes me at the sensation, and he watches, fascinated, as my chest rises and falls under his touch.

His thumb brushes over my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to my core. My thighs press together instinctively, desperate for friction.

“W-why are you acting like that? Haven’t you ever seen a—ahh—a woman’s body before?” My voice is shaky, my breaths uneven.

He smirks, his hands kneading my breasts, applying just the right amount of pressure. “No, I haven’t.” His voice is calm, but there’s something darker beneath it.

I let out a breathy chuckle. “Y-yeah, I… ahh… I kinda figured.”

His head tilts slightly, amused. “Oh?”

“You’re always so irritated,” I manage between gasps, my body arching into his touch. “I just assumed it’s ‘cause you’re a virgin… and you just needed to get fucked.”

He chuckles at my state—flustered, desperate, unraveling under his touch. But instead of responding, he pinches my nipples, drawing a strangled moan from my lips.

“I find it funny how you’re still being a brat,” he muses, “when I’m here to help you.”

Then, without warning, he leans down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. A sharp gasp leaves me as he sucks, his tongue flicking, teasing, driving me insane.

I’m losing myself in the pleasure, my body greedy for more. “You can play with my body another time,” I pant, barely able to form words. “Just hurry up and get this done before someone wakes up.”

Jay pulls back slightly, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “So… you’re planning on doing this again?”

Realizing what I’ve implied, I quickly look away. “Shut up and hurry up.”

He chuckles again, the sound deep and rich, before I feel his hands leave my breasts. When I glance down, my stomach tightens—he’s sinking to his knees, eyes never leaving mine.

A thrill of anticipation runs through me as he lifts one of my legs, placing it over his shoulder. My heart pounds when I realize how close his mouth is to my dripping heat.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” I stammer. “Just go straight to—ahh!”

My sentence is cut short as his tongue flicks over my clit, a low groan vibrating against me. The sensation sends a shockwave through my body, making me moan.

What starts as soft, teasing licks quickly turns into a full-blown assault on my pussy. His tongue moves with precision, alternating between slow, sensual strokes and intense, desperate sucking.

“Jay~ ah! Jay~ ngh! Please!” I can’t control the words spilling from my lips, my head thrown back as pleasure overtakes me.

His grip tightens on my thigh as his tongue dips lower, teasing my entrance before sliding inside. His fingers replace his tongue on my clit, rubbing circles that have my legs trembling.

A wave of pleasure crashes over me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My fingers tangle in his hair, my hips moving against his mouth, desperate for more. “Fuck, it’s so good!”

Then, without warning, he slides two fingers inside me.

I cry out, the sudden intrusion sending a jolt of sharp pleasure through my core. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust—his fingers pump into me, curling, stretching, filling.

I’m overwhelmed, completely at his mercy, my walls fluttering around his digits. The coil in my stomach tightens, my breaths turning ragged.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant mindlessly, gripping his hair harder as my body starts to tremble. The pressure builds higher and higher, an unstoppable force surging through me.

“Jay—ahh! I’m—I’m gonna—ngh!”

My orgasm crashes over me, violent and all-consuming. My body jerks, pleasure detonating in my veins as I come undone around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop.

Instead, he continues—licking, sucking, fucking me through the aftershocks. My body twitches, my nerves overstimulated.

“Ja—Jay, stop, stop! I can’t take it anymore!” My voice is high, desperate, as I try to push his head away.

But he just smirks against me, completely ignoring my pleas.

Because Jay doesn’t give a fuck if we get caught.

Eventually, I stop feeling any movement inside me—the friction of his fingers, the warmth of his tongue on my clit. He withdraws his hand, and I hear the slick sound of him licking his fingers. My head is tilted back as I try to regain my senses, so I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can picture it in my mind. The thought alone sends a shiver through me.

Slowly, he stands, taking his time to admire my body. When I lift my head, I find his eyes locked onto mine.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I ask, struggling to believe he’s really a virgin after what he just did.

"YouTube tutorial," he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, pulling down his joggers.

I watch, my gaze trailing down to where his erection strains against his boxers.

"Yeah, right," I scoff, rolling my eyes at his broken humor.

"I'm just naturally good at this," he says, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he slides his boxers down, revealing his thick, veiny length. My breath catches. How is that supposed to fit inside me?

"Wait, we don’t have condoms," I say, snapping back to reality as he steps closer, his bare chest now fully exposed. He’s fit—lean, toned, perfect.

"I’ll pull out before I cum," he assures me, positioning himself between my legs.

His gaze flickers down to my chest, rising and falling with my heavy breathing, before meeting my eyes again. He can tell I’m nervous. But I’m not scared—at least, not in the way he thinks. I’m more excited than anything, overwhelmed by the anticipation of something so unfamiliar.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asks, his voice softer now.

I swallow hard. "Yes. Keep going."

But he still doesn’t seem convinced, so I lean forward, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. When I pull away, I whisper again, more confidently this time, "Keep going."

"Alright, but this time, try not to be too loud—"

"Hey, you’re—"

Before I can finish, he presses forward, the thick head of his cock stretching me open.

"Ah," I gasp, my body instinctively clenching around him.

It hurts, of course—just like any girl's first time—but the need for him overshadows the pain.

"Does it hurt?" Jay groans, his voice strained as if he’s holding himself back.

"Just a little, but I’m fine. Keep going."

He sinks deeper, my walls fluttering helplessly around him. I bite my lip hard, my gums aching from how tightly I clench my teeth.

A low, guttural moan escapes him. "Can you—ah… can you try not to clench so much?" His eyes remain shut, his brows furrowed as if he's using every ounce of willpower to keep himself together.

"S-Sorry, I-I can’t control it… but I’ll try."

He pushes in further, stretching me open inch by inch. The more he fills me, the harder it is to breathe.

By the time he’s fully inside me, I can feel his cock twitching slightly, making me clench around him even more. His breath is shaky against my ear as he wraps one arm behind my back, pulling me closer while his other hand keeps my leg hooked around his waist.

We stay like this for a moment, giving me time to adjust—or maybe giving him time to focus, to keep from losing control too soon.

I feel his warm breath ghosting over my skin. "Jay… y-you can start moving now," I murmur, my hips rocking unconsciously to create some friction.

Instead of answering, he straightens, his arm still bracing my back as he slowly thrusts forward.

"Ah," I moan, louder than I intended, before quickly covering my mouth.

I try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. The way he moves—the way he fills me—makes it feel too good. Too good.

"Fuck, you’re clenching so much," he groans, voice tight with restraint.

"Mmnh… fuck, fuck, fuck," I whimper under my breath.

Jay suddenly lifts my other leg, leaving me completely at his mercy. The new angle makes him reach deeper, thrusting faster, harder, hitting a spot inside me that makes it absolutely impossible to keep quiet.

"Jay! Jay!" I whimper, feeling an intense, familiar pressure building deep in my core.

"Yes, Bella," he groans, voice raw, his thrusts growing more desperate. His cock twitches inside me.

"Don’t stop—I’m going to cum~" I cry, my walls spasming violently around him.

"Fuck—I-I’m not planning on stopping, Bella," he rasps, pounding into me a few more times before I shatter around him, pleasure crashing over me in waves.

My body shakes from the intensity, but he doesn’t stop—he keeps fucking me through it, chasing his own release.

"J-Jay—too m-much," I whimper, my body twitching from overstimulation.

"I—I know, I’m sorry. I’m about to cu—ah—ah," he groans, pulling out at the last second.

His breath stutters as he strokes himself frantically, his release spilling hot and thick across my stomach. His head drops against my shoulder, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

"Do you still think my dick is small?" he asks after a moment, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face.

"Yes. Very much," I lie, refusing to feed his ego.

He chuckles, lifting his head. "Ngh, so big," he mimics, tilting his head with a playful smirk. "Isn’t that what you said?"

"Shut up," I mumble, smacking his arm lightly, making him laugh.

Suddenly, he hooks his hands under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly.

"What are you doing?" I yelp.

"We’re taking a shower," he says simply, carrying me toward the bathroom.

Once inside, he sets me down gently before turning on the water. The warm spray cascades over us as he grabs a washcloth, squirting body wash onto it before rubbing it across my skin, cleaning away the sweat and the mess he left on my stomach.

His touch is slow, deliberate, almost tender. And as he moves the cloth over me, I can’t help but think—I never expected this from him.

And yet, I never want it to stop.