#they have to pick it up and carry it every day

[norikuna]

pick your love story °🍵⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ jujutsu kaisen edition (sfw)

gojo satoru ☆ childhood friends to lovers

loves to tease you, and he'll always poke your cheek, ruffle your hair, or steal your food just to get a reaction. if you're shy or quiet, he lives to make you flustered. buys the most ridiculous gifts, including matching sunglasses and designer items that cost more than your rent. acts like your personal heater, always draping himself over you, wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, or sneaking his hands under your sweater to press them against your skin. if someone flirts with you? well, he's throwing him arm around you so dramatically, calling you his 'beloved' in the most obnoxious way possible. if the person doesn't back off, his carefree tone disappears and he gives them a chilling smile. loves late night drives and cafe dates, he's so the type to blast music in the car and sing off-key on purpose, always laughs when you tell him to zip it. his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation, and he needs to be touching you at all times, and he constantly reminds you how much he loves you in different playful and heartfelt ways <3 he's even softer when he's sleepy, nuzzling into your neck and shit, voice always dropping to a quiet murmur as he spills whatever's on his mind.

geto suguru ☆ best friends to lovers

pretty chill, protective and a faux deep thinker type of guy. gentle and attentive, always knowing what you need before you even ask. if had a rough day, he's gonna run you a bath and try to get your favourite drink. tries to sit still and listen patiently while you rant. lowkey a bit overzealous when it comes to jealousy, but never petty. he doesn't get outwardly possessive. but if someone flirts with you, he'll wrap an arm around your waist and give the person a pretty sharp look, enough that they'll back off and shit. always takes pictures of you, and he has an entire album of random shots of you reading, laughing or even just existing bc he really does think you look beautiful in every moment. loves bookstore and vinyl shop dates, and he enjoys those sweet peaceful moments with you (flipping through books, aka arguing about different genres). he's super big on quality time + acts of service, and if he sees you struggling with anything, he'll try to take care of it before you even have to ask. loves running his fingers through your hair, and he claims it calms him, and sometimes he just gets so lost in thought while doing it, that you have to snap him out of it. he's the type to whisper sweet things in your ear absentmindedly, like 'you have no idea how much i love you' when he thinks you're not paying attention. goes all red and dismissive when he realises you actually did hear that :D and he says he's not in gossip and drama but no one talks shit like he does, lets be real

ryomen sukuna ☆ prob sum weird enemies to lover shit

claims he doesn't date, but somehow ends up trying to figure out your favourite flower. calls you stupid shit like 'brat' or 'pet' more than your actual name, but if someone disrespects you, he tears them apart without hesitation. gets jealous easily, but he won't admit it, and if someone looks at you wrong, he'll grab your chin and kiss you (not that you mind <3) his love language is physical touch and dominance, expect him to always keep a hand on your waist, neck or chin because as much as he pretends otherwise, he loves feeling your skin against his. gaslights you over silly things for fun ('i literally told you that' 'no you didn't' 'oh, so you're forgetful now). also whispers absolute nonsense in your ear just from time to time, 'did you know that octopuses have three hearts? bet you didn't, but now you do. you're welcome'). will open a jar way too aggressively to try and show off his strength but breaks it, and now you're left with no pickles and a sulking sukuna with pickle juice on his hand. carries you like a sack of potatoes on his shoulders if you piss him off. pretends he doesn't gaf, but always shares his food with you and tries to order what you like.

toji fushiguro ☆ reluctant friends to lovers

grumpy but soft for you typa boyfriend who doesn't believe in using full words in texts. only texts in 'ya' or 'nah' and he accidentally replied 'k' to you saying 'i love you' and he called you immediately afterwards because he knows he messed up. loves pda but in the most lazy way possible, and will always drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and refuse to move. always steals bites of your food (half the meal) but will act offended if you do the same. once won you a stuffed animal at a carnival and acted like it was no big deal, but he actually used up all his carnival tickets trying to win you the biggest prize. spoils you in a reckless way, and he'll hand you a wad of cash and refuses to tell you how he got the money. he just tells you to go buy something nice. love language is acts of service and physical touch because he claims he's not amazing with words, but his hands always find their way back home to you. loves lazy mornings, and grumbles when you try to get out of bed, pulling you back in with an arm around your waist.

nanami kento ☆ love at first sight

exhausted but devoted you get me, and he claims that you energise him and light up his life. lectures you when you only sleep for three hours a night. replies to the tiktoks you send with corporate replies 'that was humorous. thank you for sharing. i love you.' he thinks you're absolutely the most beautiful person on the planet, and always lets you know. pretty gentle, mature and devoted. shows his love in sweet, meaningful ways. always puts your comfort first, and he tries to take things off your plate without asking. loves cooking for you, and believes cooking is its own love language. hates unnecessary, brash pda but loves quiet intimacy. holds your hand, brushes your hair against your ear. lingering kisses on your temple. reads to you at night, and he'll sit beside you if you have trouble drifting off. his love language is absolutely acts of service and quality time, and he doesn't just say he loves you, he'll prove it in every little action of his. loves taking you out to scenic parks and hikes, and just stares after you with so much love as he tries to adjust the focus of his camera lenses to try and capture you as well as he can.

choso kamo ☆ strangers to lovers

kinda awkward but genuinely, really quiet sweet. overthinks everything, and at the start of your relationship, he even started overthinking how you said 'goodnight!' and wondered if you were mad at him, because there was no heart or emoji. would die before making the first move idk, like you're going to have kiss him first or else, otherwise i fear he's going to have a stroke. holds grudges as long as he can, and will bring up little shit (like you stealing his lunch) six months later 'remember that time you betrayed me?'. but he can only really give you the silent treatment for two whole minutes when you tease him, and then immediately apologises because he feels bad. a lot of friends tease the two of you because they think choso is too quiet or a pushover but the truth is that he's actually pretty snarky, clever and observant. very determined and always sticks to his morals, even at times when you disagree with him, he's able to put his foot down. love language is quality time and gift giving, because he's the type to remember everything you like and surprise him with it. loves watching movies with you, and pretends not to care for 90s chick flicks, but he's digging them deep down. loves holding your hand, and even in public, he'll reach for you quietly.

higuruma hiromi☆ coworkers to lovers

overworked but loves you so bad. he sometimes reminds you of a tired, single dad but he's truly joyous to date. if you call him baby in public, he immediately malfunctions and blushes. you once kissed him in a courtroom (not even when court was ongoing!) on the tip of his gorgeous nose, and he almost choked. will 100% object to random things just to irritate you, with topics like takeout for dinner, 'objection. we had sushi two days ago.' takes everything pretty seriously, until you do something cute. then he just sits there, hiding his smile behind his hand like an adorable anime protagonist. tries to be strict or protective, but you just make him super soft. secretly likes pda but pretends that he doesn't. grips your hand so tight like he fears you might disappear. loves when you rest in his lap or against his chest as he reads over cases and paperwork. you told him that he'd look hot with glasses, and you caught him browsing through lens frames.

naoya zenin ☆ arranged marriage (kinda ooc naoya btw, bear with me)

sort of a menace who should have been left on read a long time ago, but this wasn't your first choice. somehow, he folds for you almost immediately but you think he'd rather dig his own grave and neatly fold his hands over his chest as he buries himself at his own funeral before he admits that he likes you. calls you annoying but will drop everything if you text him that you need help. always saying dumb shit to you, or trying to make fun of you, but if someone else does? they're gone, like he's going to stalk them, find where they work, and get them fired from their job. texts you the stupidest things like 'if i was ugly, would you still love me?' 'i just saw an ugly baby. damn' 'what would do if i got arrested? be honest.' saw someone flirting with you once at like a fancy event, and rolled his eyes, pretending that he didn't give a flying fuck. ended up at the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink and trying not to throw up. if you ignore his texts, he's gonna send vaguely ominous messages, like 'answer me' followed by 'this is how it ends?' 'i'm leaving btw, i'm going to pack up and leave you forever and go live on my own in the wild.' you check his location and he's still at home. naoya thinks he's the prize in the relationship, he's not. definitely a pda menace, and he loves just kissing you in public.

hajime kashimo ☆ enemies to lovers but in that 'we met when we were fighting' way

your relationship is just him being reckless with no survival instinct, and you trying to keep your boyfriend alive. aka trying to stop him from licking the power outlet. will randomly challenge you to fights for no reason, never mind the fact that he'll feel bad and back out at the last minute. has no concept of personal space, and will stand nose to nose with you just to make you uncomfortable. if you back away, he's gonna follow you and ask where you're going. if someone flirts with you, he's not even going to do too much, just laugh in their face and ask the offender if they really thought they had a chance. kashimo has no concept of an inside voice at all, so god forbid you try to take him somewhere quiet. energy level always at 200% and it's a mission to even take him someplace like a grocery store. if you said 'i love you' first, it might have been the only time that someone else has bested him in something. hajime physically can't process emotions and goes green and pale (he loves you so much btw) and he looks vaguely ill at your confession. stares for five minutes before throwing himself at you. definitely a words of affirmation type of guy, instead of actions, because sometimes, he's all bark and no bite.

noritoshi kamo ☆ sweet, rom-com crush

he's actually a bit traditional, but very sweet. unfortunately, he's also so formal that it hurts sometimes. but it's fun when he asks you things like 'would you like to accompany me for an evening meal?' or 'shall we go for a stroll?' if you hold his hand, for the first few months, he sweats profusely but acts as though he's totally cool (narrator: he was not cool). lowkey believes that he doesn't deserve you and he absolutely treats you, the love of his life, like royalty. super observant and determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so you're never really left wanting for anything. if someone flirts with you, he doesn't really get jealous, but rather gets philosophical. 'it is natural for others to admire beauty such as yours. however, they must know it's not theirs to claim.' a key forefront runner of the sassy men apocalypse, even though you wouldn't be able to tell at the start. super quick-witted, but he's the type to keep his thoughts to himself, but luckily, he gets more comfortable sharing his jokes with you as times go on. blushes super easily, and he hates it because he thinks it ruins his aloof/mysterious guy persona.

[miniscapes333]

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

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[tarotbyjam24]

messages from your future spouse

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Masterlist \pick a cards

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ? Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pile 1

Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful .

Some people don't change no matter how hard you try.

But we can not simply sit and stare at our wonds forever .

You spread joy because you're joy that's what I admire most about you .

First love teaches us what love isn't .

It's better to feel the hurt of honesty then to live in a false comfort of lie .

The secret of life is to be obsessed with yourself and be kind to everyone around you.

Some days are just heavy .

Everything you lost will be replaced with something better.

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 2

You haven't met the best version of yourself yet don't give up

when you choose yourself everything around you will choose you too

remember you can start again over and over as often as you need

people don't cry because they're weak it's because they've been strong for too long

the little things ? little moments ? they aren't little

perhaps we should learn to love ourselves so loudly , it silences our insecurities

I love seeing you happy

it happened so that you could grow

you will forever be my always

do it for your future self

Pile 3

You can't go back and change the beginning but you can start where you're and change the ending

expect nothing appreciate everything

you can also comit injustice by doing nothing

be patient. Sometimes you've to go through the worst to get best

how many time can the same thing break your heart ? As long as you love it

find joy in simple things life will always be fulfilling

In the end, I realized the hurt never turned to hate. No matter how much my emotions led me to feel so. I never stopped loving people. I stopped trusting them.

The art of observing and not absorbing

Not liking me is fine, but making up lies to destroy my character is weird.

Keep it private until you know it's permanent

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 4

First love teaches us what love isn't .

Discipline is the strongest form of self love .

She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind

people talk about me behind my back and i just sit here like damn i got myself a fan club

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations .

Forgive yourself for the mask you wore when you didn't feel safe enough to be yourself

YOU DON'T NEED EVERYONE TO love you, JUST A FEW GOOD PEOPLE

may every hour in your soul be golden, may it be filled with endless magic .

Vibes to carry through out the week

You're not sensitive. You're not overreacting. If it hurts you, it hurts you. Don't let anyone invalidate your feelings. Ever

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[yourlocallunatic]

You're Insufferable

Ridoc Gamlyn x Fem!reader 18+

Summary: Ridoc is a tease and everyone knows it and deals with it. But for some reason he drives you absolutely insane. The bickering is constant but there is something else lying underneath all the arguing. (follows Fouth Wing plot! I'm only halfway done with OS but I just love Ridoc sm)

Warnings: minor character deaths, smut! piv, oral sex (f receiving), light choking, a spank or two. sorta dom!Ridoc domsub dynamics. our boy is a relentless tease.

wordcount: 12.5K

notes: reader is described to have long hair because this is entirely self-indulgent. there is just such a lack of Ridoc stories, I needed moreeee. (yes it's long I got carried away)

Ridoc fucking Gamlyn. The bane of your existence. It started the day you crossed the parapet, you were determined to get across if only to spare your family from seeing your dead body on day one. The first rider of the family meant you were already dead to them, no one was there to prepare you for the onslaught you would face. And that day on the parapet was too close, the wind and rain caught you off guard, but it was your stupid long hair that was almost the death of you.

Your arms were out at your side to keep your balance while the wind whipped around you. You could hear the soon-to-be cadet behind you cursing with every step he took, his nervous laughs filling the air. It was hard to keep your balance though with your hair flying into your eyes every five seconds, and moving it away from your face took away precious time, the boy was getting closer. In a swipe of your hair, you glanced behind you quickly catching the dark-haired boy's eye, and he fucking grinned at you. Was it meant to be intimidating? No. But with how much adrenaline was coursing through your body the only thought you had was that he wanted to throw you off the edge to get rid of you early. You tried to pick up your pace but it only caused the wet strands of your hair to fly back in your face quicker resulting in you momentarily losing your balance. You crouch closer to the rocky surface trying to regain your balance slowly, a shaky breath leaving you as you hear the boy approaching closer.

"Better chop off that pretty hair when we get across or you're as good as gone when challenges start!" he shouted over the wind, his voice was teasing but you couldn't help the fear that was still running through your veins.

"Shut. Up." you grit out. You'd recovered your pace but he was still behind you.

"Hey, just trying to help. Or you can fall and I'd have one less cute girl to talk to and that would be a shame," he was so close to you you could feel his laugh on the back of your neck. But you ignored him, trying to focus on getting across the last quarter of the parapet. "You excited?" you give no response, again tucking your hair behind your ears, "can't say I'm thrilled with being potentially killed but hey, the lives we choose to live." You roll your eyes your pace now quickening with being so close to the confined walls of Basgiath once more. "Wait up! Don't want you running off without your new friend!" you were so close, ten more steps.

A deep exhale leaves you as you jump the short distance from the parapet to the grounds, a girl sits at a table with a sheet of paper and a pen waiting to take names. She jots down your name and gives you a tight-lipped smile before calling the next person.

"Ridoc Gamlyn," that gods-damned voice again. You try to speed away before he can get to you after giving his name but you don't make it. "Hey!" he calls to you. That's it. Better to get him off of you now before it becomes a habit.

"Hey?" you turn on your heel and stare him down causing him to almost run into you with the stride he was going at, "What the fuck was that back there?"

"Uhm I'm sorry?" he questions confusion taking hold of his face.

"I said, what the fuck was that? You were right behind me shouting in my ear! I know we're not supposed to root for each other but you're trying to kill me already?" you knew your face was going red with the anger consuming you. Gods, you couldn't wait for this guy to be gone.

"Woah, princess, I was just helping. Your hair is going to get in the way, take a look around, who else here has that long of hair?" you don't want to but you look around anyway. Every person, male, female, or otherwise had either short, cropped hair or it was tied back tightly. He gives you an I told you so look before speaking again. "That's because they're all at the bottom of the river, I was just there in case you lost your sight again. Whatever I'm done with this shit." He rolls his eyes before turning away and walking elsewhere.

You sigh to yourself. This was going to be a long three years and you've already made an enemy. With your luck, he would try to kill you that night.

Your first night as Basgiath started better than you expected. You'd managed some small talk with some other first years and the two girls invited you to sit with them at supper that night. One of them was the Sorrengail girl you'd heard everyone talking about, she was slight but with her stubborn determination you had no doubt she would try to cheat death in here. The other girl was taller, her hair braided back in dark cornrows, Violet was also smart enough to have her long, silver ends tied up. Shit. Maybe Gamlyn was right. You did your best to keep your eyes on him throughout supper, he sat a few tables away from you with some other first years, but clearly, you weren't being very discreet with your wandering gaze.

"Already found someone worth sleeping with?" Rhiannon questioned teasingly, turning to look at who you were staring at, "He's cute."

"No. He's a fucking asshole is what he is." You grumble, stabbing some lettuce with your fork.

"Ridoc, I talked to him earlier," Violet speaks up, "he was nice to me. Bit of a smart-ass but he's funny. What happened with you two?"

"He tried to kill me up on the parapet!" you say, definitely louder than you wanted to, and shit of course he looked up right as you said that. He excused himself from his table and made his way over to you guys. You swear your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. His stride was confident, a smirk playing on his lips as he brushed his dark curls away from his forehead. No. You internally scold yourself, he may be attractive with his lean frame but he was annoying as hell.

"Is the princess telling lies about me?" he smoothly slides between Rhiannon and Violet throwing his arms around their shoulders a grin eating up his face.

"You tried to kill her?!" Violet shoves his arm away from her, looking at him incredulously.

"Of course not!" rage consumes you, "I was just staying close to her, her hair kept flying in her face, was just there in case she lost sight completely and fell," he says as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"No. You were fucking distracting me!" your utensils clatter on your plate, "telling me to 'chop off my pretty hair'" You lower your voice to imitate him and he dares to laugh at you.

"Well...what do you girls think?" he says looking between the other two, their minds processing.

"I hate to say it...but Ridoc is right, it'll probably make it easier if you cut it, or at least tie it back like Violet," Rhiannon gives you an apologetic look and a shrug.

"That settles it then princess, just trying to help," Ridoc shoves himself away from the table before walking back to his seat, turning around halfway to meet your gaze, and winks at you. You roll your eyes in response before turning back to the girls. They share a look before going back to their meals.

The next morning in the barracks Violet had offered to braid your hair back for you and you begrudgingly agreed. You hated Ridoc being right. Zihnal was not with you because when first years began being added to squads you were thrilled to be with Rhiannon and Violet, but your excitement was short-lived as Ridoc was the next name called to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing. He takes his place behind you and you do your best to ignore him as he talks to Sawyer–another member of your squad.

"Ah, look who took my advice!" you feel a tug on one of the two plaits Violet had done on you and you turn with fury.

"Take your hands off me Gamlyn," Rhiannon turns from where she stands next to you, grabbing your hand in an attempt to calm you.

"Someone's fiery this morning," he laughs, "looks good on you princess," he winks again, and before you or anyone else can stop you, the hand Rhiannon didn't have a hold on flew and slapped Ridoc straight on the cheek. He raises his hand to hold his face as you hear a shout a couple of rows ahead of you. "What the fuck?!" Ridoc shouts the shock evident on his face.

"Cadets!" your new squad leader–Dain Ateos–approaches the two of you, "You're a part of a squad now! Act like it. There will be plenty of time to fight during sparring, now behave yourselves." You turn back into formation hearing Ridoc grumbling behind you. Holy shit. What've you just done...? You hit your squadmate! You'd unknowingly unlocked months of intense rivalry between the two of you, all because you couldn't hold your temper.

The weeks went by slower than you thought, days of intense training and studying. Being a rider was a hell of a lot more difficult than you imagined it to be. But the most difficult part was trying to keep your temper around the man who was trying to make your life a living hell. Your other squadmates were fed up with your bickering. It ranged everywhere from trivial arguments about homework to betting who would make it up the gauntlet first when the training was to start. Challenges were going to start soon too, no longer assigned fighting partners and you knew Ridoc would challenge you only to bring revenge on the slap you'd landed on him the first day. But you were smart, you'd started studying his fighting style the moment he stepped onto the mat during the assessment. He held up alright, eventually knocking a tooth out of Aurelie's mouth, but that was before the daily training. As annoying of a squad leader that Dain was, he worked you all hard, and with gauntlet practice approaching too, he ensured you were all eating more than your share of food. Ridoc had gone from a lean floppy-haired boy who teased you on the parapet, to a now filled-out man beating most of his opponents in challenges.

But the most annoying part about Ridoc is that you didn't mind him...he was kind to the people he cared about and there had been more than one occurrence where you had to hold back your laughter from one of his jokes. But it was already over, you'd already hit him and he'd already decided that he would get his retaliation. So now every morning at breakfast you'd have to hear his taunting voice tease you.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"Does that scowl hurt your pretty face?"

"Seems like the princess hasn't gotten any this week, she's grumpy."

Day after day. Thank the gods when it came to serious moments he seemed to hold back. You were halfway up the gauntlet, about to cross the shaking posts. Only moments earlier Ridoc had been arguing with Tynan about Barlowe, you and Violet had shared a glance, never seeing him lose his temper and it was...kind of hot. He was taunting Tynan from the ground, and you'd expected the same when you began, but he stayed oddly silent. You'd surprised yourself after making it to the top, the training was paying off.

The next week, challenges began, and you were ready. Just as you'd expected Ridoc challenged you. Rhiannon gave you a nervous look as Sawyer tried to talk him out of it.

"Are you sure?" Rhi asked you as you stripped off your flight jacket, leaving you only in your training top and pants with half of your daggers strapped to your belt.

"It's fine, Rhi. We all knew that this was going to happen. Maybe after this, he'll give up and stop annoying the shit out of me." You approach the mat, Ridoc already standing ready, his arms swinging at his sides to pump himself up. Did his shirt get tighter somehow? No. Not the time for that. You shove the thoughts to the back of your mind, trying to bring all the memories of the times he irritated you to the forefront. You take your stance, a dagger in each hand just like he did.

"Ready, princess?" He teased, that gods-damned annoying smirk splayed across his face.

"Begin," Emmeterio announced, and Ridoc pounced. You'd been watching him, he always skirted around his opponents waiting for them to make the first move, but not this time. It caught you off guard but you were able to move away in time, moving around him before throwing out a leg to knock him off balance. It worked for a moment but he was on you again in no time. He was moving fast, but you could move fast too. You hit each other with a series of blocks before you were able to knock a dagger out of one of his hands. He cursed, but that only freed up his hand to be able to grab your wrist, twisting until you dropped a dagger of your own. A gasp left your lips from the pain, and he eased up with the sound. He was going easy on you. Well fuck that. With his guard down you pull him closer, close enough that you could smell his sweat. Damn, why did he have to smell good too? You used that closeness to wrap a leg behind his knee to take you both down to the ground. You were on top of him now, his face contorted in frustration, only the second time you'd seen him lose his temper. He grunted and cursed.

"Fuck!" he shouted from between his teeth. Did you really get him this worked up? You grappled with each other, both of your remaining daggers lost somewhere on the mat, you tried to reach for your belt to grab another one while you were still on top but it made you lose your leverage. He was still stronger than you and you roll so that he now has the advantage above you. All these months he'd been preparing just so he could beat you. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. You've lost all semblance of control and tactic, now just thrashing to get out of his hold. He holds your wrists with one of his hands, his other shooting out with the speed of light to grab the dagger closest to him and bring it to your throat, "Yield!" he shouts louder than necessary. You stared into his eyes above you, his gaze was concentrated, and he knew he'd won. But you continue to stare at him before swallowing thickly, your eyes burned, tears threatened to spill over and his gaze softened, and the pressure of the dagger at your throat lightened significantly. You could use his moment of softness to try to gain back control but it was over, you'd already been humiliated.

"I yield," it was barely a whisper, only enough for him to hear. He gathered himself quickly and reached his hand down to help you up but you ignored it and picked up your daggers from the mat. You were missing one and you knew it was in Ridoc's hands. You turn to him, your gaze still low to the ground refusing to make eye contact. He mutters your name quietly, gently, and holds your dagger out to you, but you just push it back to him before rushing off the mat and gathering your things, leaving the training room. He'd won it, fair and square. You lost all control in that match, what was happening?

The next few days were awkward, to say the least. The rest of the squad tried their best to keep things normal, but nothing was normal without the banter between you and Ridoc. Slowly he seemed to regain some confidence in teasing you, it started light with you just rolling your eye in response, but by presentation day the two of you were in full-on arguments again.

"So how many of us do you think are going to be dragon lunch today?" Ridoc asks as you and the rest of the first years in your squad are waiting for your turn on the gauntlet.

"That's cruel, Ridoc," you reply, not in the place for humor this morning with how nervous you were, and you were sure you were not the most nervous, Violet still couldn't get up the wall.

"We live in a cruel world, princess," he mutters shaking his head. You groan in annoyance, trying your best to hold your temper instead of retorting, instead turning your attention to Violet.

"How are you doing Vi? Is there anything we can do to help?" you weren't much taller than her but those couple of inches were enough for you to bridge the gap to get up the wall.

"I'll be okay," she takes a deep breath, strangely calm for the situation you were about to enter. Luca was behind you two beginning her rant on the dragon she would be choosing. As if. Presentation was for the dragons to decide who was worthy and who would be torched. The past months had all led up to this. Every breath you took was shallow the entire way up the gauntlet, so aware of every step you were making and how fast you were making them. You released a breath once you reached the top, the rest of your squad cheering for you. Ridoc was right behind you breeching the top of the sloped wall, he whoops and gathered Rhiannon and Sawyer into hugs, the three of them laughing before he turned to you, a huge smile still on his face.

"Nice work Gamlyn," you say giving him a forced smile.

"Ah, a compliment, that's the first one I've received from you, I could get used to this!" He throws an arm around you squeezing you close.

"Way to ruin it," you grumble removing his arm from you before turning your attention back to Violet on the course. Oddly, you miss the warmth of his arm on you. He's always been touchy with the rest of your little crew, often embracing them or keeping an arm on them during meals or classes. You'd even see him press a kiss to Rhi's head after she'd helped him with physics. But with you, he didn't cross that line. Did he hate you that much? Or was it just because he knew how you would react? Your thoughts race as you watch Violet do the same, right before she grabs a rope from the side of the course and hauls herself up. Then using her daggers to climb her way up. This girl was something special. You grin and clap your hands as the rest of your squad cheers.

"That's our girl!" Ridoc shouts, obviously proud of his friend. Some of the other wings began groaning complaining that she cheated but all the noise falls into the background as the rest of your squad huddles up. That was the easy part. Now the next could very well mean your death. You try to calm yourself, hold it together, and keep all semblance of control before the dragons can sense you.

Now at the top, you waited for the other squad to finish before you entered the flight field. One of the other wingleaders stood before you preparing you to enter, instructing you to make small talk so the dragons would get a feel for you as well as recommending staying at least seven feet apart in case another squad member got torched.

"Nice day for presentation," Ridoc jokes 'small talking' with the senior wingleader.

"Not with me, with them," she rolls her eyes at his antics, and gods of course Ridoc will be right behind you annoying you the whole way. You knew you'd have to try your best to be in control or else you'd lose your temper in front of the dragons.

"Lucky me I have a wonderful view to distract me from our impending dooms," Ridoc laughs, anger swelled in your chest. You hear Rhiannon scold him and smack him upside the head, a smirk grows on your face but you stay facing forward.

Your senses feel heightened as you make your way onto the flight field, dragons surrounding the edges, a smile gracing your face at the pure wonder that these creatures held.

"They're pretty incredible aren't they?" you hear the awe in Ridoc's voice behind you, no humor or teasing, just... Ridoc.

"They really are," you respond to him and turn to face him, he was grinning, clearly he was made to be a rider. He turned slightly and met your gaze, his smile not faltering. His eyes shined in the sunlight this high atop the cliffs and you turn back to watch where you're walking before you get caught up in staring at him any longer. Why did this keep happening to you? As you neared the end of the field before turning back you caught sight of the illustrious feathertail, Violet was enthralled, her eyes not moving away from the creature. But your eyes wandered to something else going on only feet away.

A red scorpiontail on the smaller side was sitting peacefully in the sun, she was practically glowing. But what caught your attention was the brown swordtail a little larger than her that approached where she sat. He nudged her with his nose, seeming to almost mutter things at her before he rolled on top of her putting what seemed to be his entire weight on her. The red reared up, a deep growl leaving her throat, drawing the rest of your squad's attention to the two dragons. The brown stood again, circling the red while making grunting sounds to her, right before she swung her neck and snapped her massive teeth at the swordtail.

"Hey, princess," Ridoc is right beside you now, his voice hot on your neck from where he leans down close to your ear. "That red looks like you during math lessons, so grumpy," he's whispering to not draw attention to the two dragons, but you make the deadly mistake of reacting.

"Well if you helped me like you did everyone else maybe I'd be fine!" you turn to face him, a scowl traced between your brow, unbeknownst to you two it drew the attention of the two dragons.

"Woah now you look even more like her!" he laughs quietly before reaching out a finger to poke right between your eyebrows where your scowl formed.

"Ugh! You're insufferable!" you turn on your heel expecting to walk ahead of him again before coming face to face with the red scorpiontail. Your breath stopped and fear coursed through you. You heard Ridoc gasp your name.

"Don't fucking move," his words are seethed between his teeth but you barely resonate them. You feel the dragon's hot breath on your face, the smell of sulfur strong. "Please don't die, please don't die," Ridoc repeats the mantra as if it will help seal your fate. You keep your eyes low to the ground not daring to make eye contact, knowing that would be your death sentence. The dragon's gaze moves from you and you take the opportunity to look at her face. She was incredible. And her eyes were locked on Ridoc. Shit. But you didn't have time to assess your feelings before the massive creature was tackled to the ground by the brown swordtail.

You released your breath staring at the creatures fighting in front of you. Their roars echoed through the field as the chuffs of other dragons were heard from the edges as if they were egging the two on. You felt someone grab your hand and you were tugged to the beginning of the field again. You meet up with your squad about 20 feet ahead where Rhiannon is standing in front of the burnt corpse of Pryor, you hear Luca start to say something about him right before she gets torched right in front of your eyes. You gasp holding on tighter to the hand in yours, Ridoc's hand. Once you realize you dropped it immediately, but not before Violet could notice. You risk a glance behind you to look for the red scorpiontail again, praying she is alive. But the sight you were fixed with was not one you were expecting to see. The two dragons were still on the ground fighting, but they were both still alive, the brown was a bit bigger, you had expected him to take the red down fast, but there they still were.

"Come on, let's go!" Ridoc urges you, pulling on your arm yet again.

"Wait, Ridoc, watch them!" You were captivated, and surprisingly, Ridoc stopped pulling and watched the dragons with you. "They're playing."

"No, they're fighting, let's go," he tugs again, and this time you comply. His hand doesn't release yours until you're off the flight field.

The mess hall that night seemed a hell of a lot smaller after having lost so many first years in one day. You were sure there would be even less after threshing. Your squad was down two more people now. You sat with Rhi, Violet, Sawyer, and Ridoc who were all discussing the dragons you'd seen today. Rhiannon talks about a green that had been all up in Violet's business while you and Ridoc were being intimidated by the red scorpiontail, while Violet says she didn't feel a connection to any of them.

"What about you?" Rhiannon says your name, drawing you into the conversation. You open your mouth to speak but before you could Ridoc interjects.

"Well, I for one think that red scorpiontail already loves you. You two even have the same frown and grumpy demeanor!"

"Shut up, Ridoc," you turn your attention to Rhi. "But yeah, I did feel drawn to her..." your voice went quieter.

"Well you might as well go for that brown then, Ridoc," Sawyer speaks up. "with how annoying he was being to that red those two dragons are practically you guys already." He laughs, the girls nodding in agreement.

"You wound me," Ridoc puts a hand to his heart, "but unfortunately I think that guy took down the red so the princess is gonna have to find another dragon." No. He didn't, you knew that both of the dragons were still alive, and it pissed you off that Ridoc decided to taunt you about it when you'd just said you were drawn to that red.

"They were just playing Ridoc!" you shout, sounding almost childish with your insistence.

"Yeah right," his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

"They were! Don't you think one of them would've already been dead by the time we turned around? And neither of them were going for death blows, it was almost like they were sparring or something..." you mumble out the end, brows knitting as you think about it.

"Maybe it's their form of flirting then," Ridoc jokes, earning him a groan from Rhiannon. "What? If I were a dragon that's how I'd try to get a girl, relentless teasing, tackling her to the ground, you know that sort of thing." Ridoc shrugs and the wheels in my brain start turning.

"And that's why you mostly sleep with men..." Violet says under her breath, she and Rhiannon start to giggle.

"Hey! I'll have you know I can pleasure a woman just as well as I can a man. The women at Basgiath are just too controlling, I like to be in control," Ridoc smirks, leaning back in his seat. Why did he have to talk about this... now that's all you could think about. Your memory shifts to when he challenged you, his hands pinning your wrists, his body on top of you. You shake your head to try to clear the thoughts, this was your rival for god's sake! Why were you thinking like this?

"Really? You're the controlling one in bed?" Sawyer scoffs in disbelief.

"Don't sound so shocked. From my experience, everyone needs to give up control every once in a while, and the bedroom is an excellent place to do it when you have someone like me to be in charge." Oh. Fuck. You try to take a drink of water to cool your burning nerves but all it does is cause you to choke on it. You sputter trying to catch your breath, "You okay there, princess? Not scaring you off am I?" Ridoc winks at you. Okay. That's enough. Time for a cold shower and bedtime, surely you wouldn't feel like this in the morning. You ignore his comment and excuse yourself from supper before rushing to the showers.

It was late when Violet and Rhiannon returned to the barracks, you lay there pretending to be asleep. Even when Violet brought up the fact that you seemed off at dinner. Fuck, you really had to pull yourself together before threshing next week, or Ridoc was going to make your life miserable with his teasing.

You managed to make it through the week without drawing too much attention to yourself, though Ridoc was still relentless when it came to teasing you. But the morning of threshing was...rough to say the least. Everyone's nerves were on fire, even the ever-confident Ridoc was vomiting behind a tree. You grimaced feeling sorry for him, he might not show it but he wanted to succeed, just as you all did. Professor Kaori advised on what to do when approaching a dragon, he also said that if a dragon had already chosen you they'd be calling you. Okay, what is that supposed to feel like? You snark internally. You had no idea what to expect when entering the valley. It was happening too fast, you heard Ridoc instruct the rest of your squad to stay alive and you all went your separate ways.

You'd been walking through the valley for hours now, and the sun was falling low on the horizon giving you one maybe two hours maximum. If you were any other person you'd be wondering if there were even any dragons left out here, but you felt in your bones that your dragon was still out here, you just had to find them fast enough. You neared the ends of the boundaries only a few miles left within them, you'd managed to avoid other dragons thus far and only ran into one other cadet–a girl from Third wing–who looked so frightened that you would kill her that she ran off right away, like a dragon would choose that. The further you walked the stronger the hum in your body felt, you were getting close. The setting sun shone through the trees illuminating the path and if it weren't for the sun, you would've entirely missed the glint to your right side. You turned, hand ready on your dagger, but once you met her gaze you knew the beautiful creature wouldn't hurt you.

The red scorpiontail stepped out of the shadows of the forest, the sun glinting off her scales making them look like rubies. It was the dragon from presentation. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as she walked closer to you, she was alive. You stood, watching her in awe as she circled you sniffing you and feeling you out before a warm grumble sounded in her throat.

"Will you come with me?" her voice echoed in your head, elegant but firm, she was not asking you, she was telling you to come with her, or you would not return.

"If you’ll have me…" You didn't want to scare her off so you held your palm out to her, letting her run her face along you, the warm scales felt so naturally under your hand. She turned to the side in a silent order to climb on her back. You made the movements and took your seat. This was unlike anything you'd felt, you were a rider.

"Now hold on, squeeze your legs, and keep your grip," you don't know if you'd ever get used to hearing her voice in your head. You do as she says, you keep your grip and hold on. The wind through your hair is like nothing you've felt before, tears sting your eye from the brightness of the setting sun. As you climb higher into the sky you look around you, you're a good five miles from the field where all the new riders are landing their dragons. Over the wind, you're able to hear the loud shouts of someone all too familiar. You look to your left and see Ridoc on the top of a brown swordtail, again the same one from presentation. What are the fucking odds?

"Look at us, princess! We're riders!" the joy in his tone is infectious and you can't help but smile as he risks throwing one of his hands in the air to feel the wind. Despite your joy, you feel grumbles beneath you and look down to see your dragon shooting sideways glances at Ridoc's dragon.

"Are you alright?" you shout over the wind, "Do you not like that dragon? We saw you two the other day!"

"Not so loud girl, I can hear your thoughts just fine. I know you saw me, dragons remember much better than humans," Her tone is short, clearly she's irritated.

"That's Ridoc, he hates me." you give the whole 'mental talking thing' a go.

"Don't be stupid, girl, I said I saw you two that day, he was begging for me not to kill you."

"Well I saw you two that day too, you're practically shooting fire through your eyes at his dragon now but the two of you were rolling around in the grass together the other day..." Shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said that, red dragons are known for being notoriously angsty. A grumble reverberates through her chest as she flies faster, and out of range from Ridoc and his dragon.

"Aotrom has been trying to mate with me since we were adolescents, we're both still too young to mate but he doesn't seem to give up,"

"Oh so he likes you, that's what this is about."

"Yes but he's insufferable about it, you saw him, he laid on top of me!" her body seemed to grow even hotter with the annoyance running through her. This conversation was all too familiar.

The two of you continued talking until you landed most of the cadets already back. It was odd but strangely comforting talking to Cairistìona, the two of you feeling the same things.

Ridoc had landed just after you, running over and pulling you in a hug before spotting Rhiannon and doing the same to her. He was too excitable, you don't even know if he noticed it was you he was hugging. Rhiannon came over to you and gathered you in her strong arms.

"I'm so happy!" She squealed. "Fierge told me that's the same red you saw in the field the other day."

"Yeah, Cairis," You return her embrace and turn your head to look where you left her. Aotrom–Ridoc's dragon–was rubbing against her like a cat and chortling, she whipped her head around and blew a small cloud of fire at the brown dragon.

"Hey!" you hear Ridoc shout, running over to Aotrom. "Tell her to back off!"

"Oh he's fine," you defend Cairis walking to where she bares her teeth at Ridoc. "Dragons are fireproof, and besides, he was in her personal space."

"He likes her, can't you tell her that!" he cries, Aotrom lowering his nose to receive attention from Ridoc, gods these boys were going to be menaces.

"Tell the boy I already know and don't want to talk about it." Cairis turns her head in a pout.

"She knows Ridoc, and she doesn't care, maybe you should tell him to leave her alone!" you fold your arms across your chest, watching Ridoc as he walks closer to you.

"Oh please, he's not going to give her up, she's his mate!" your voices arguing carried across the field, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Sawyer and Rhiannon approaching and you briefly worry about Violet.

"Not yet she's not! And I pray to Amari they never do mate because that means I'll have to spend the rest of my life miserable!" the two of you are inches apart now his warm brown eyes staring into yours.

"Woah, woah, calm down guys," Sawyer says as Rhiannon pulls you back.

"You have no idea, princess I'd rock your world," he smirks and you're sure your face blooms red, out of anger or because he flirted. You had not a clue.

"Want me to torch him? He reminds me of a certain dragon, maybe they can burn together..." you hear Cairis' voice in the back of your head.

"NO." Your response is too quick and you know it.

"Oh...you don't like him do you?"

"No, I just...he's still my friend...I think. He just annoys the ever-loving shit out of me. And don't pretend you'd kill Aotrom too, we both know you could've killed him already."

"Don't forget your place little one," Cairis' voice looms louder before she turns with a whip of her tail, the poison barb inches from Aotrom's face. "Now go to your friend she just returned, the Empyrean has much to talk about now."

Violet was certainly a force to be reckoned with, you'd learned that early on. But bonding two dragons? And one of them being one of the most powerful...gods, she was something. The Empyrean discussed while the rest of your squad sat in the grass and waited. Rhiannon and Sawyer separated you and Ridoc before you got into any more arguments. This was good because Ridoc was going on and on about how hard he was going to be celebrating tonight with the rest of the new rider cadets, as well as deciding who he wanted to take to bed. You couldn't help the annoyance (jealousy?) that came from it.

"Yeah right, Gamlyn, like anyone wants to go to bed with you after the long day we've had," you scoff, not able to hold back your comment.

"I can be relaxing, want me to show you, princess?" He retorts. How does he always have something to say back?!

"Down boy," Rhi jokes, "she already has to deal with you and now she has to deal with your dragon too, give it a rest." You throw Rhiannon a thankful gaze before your dragons approach you again.

"Time for you to sleep girl, we start flight maneuvers this week, rest up." You stand to greet Cairis and her head nestles in your hands. She seemed to have a bit of a temper but you knew she would do anything to protect you now. You were bonded. So you watched her launch into the sky before heading back to the caves of the Vale, Aotrom following behind her like a love-sick puppy.

-------

The next few weeks grew harder, all your free time thrown into school work and flight maneuvers, and since Violet was attacked Dain has ordered squad hand-to-hand combats every Tuesday night. You could tell that even Ridoc was getting weary, his comments to you had just turned to eye rolls. He would still throw one in now and again during flight, Cairis and Aotrom's petty snaps at each other made it difficult for you not to fight with one another. You'd managed to talk Cairis into being gentler with Aotrom–at least when you were around–if only to give you a slight sense of peace. But just like his rider, Aotrom was untamable.

It was a Tuesday night, you were in the training room and everyone began to spar with one another. Ridoc had tried to convince Liam to join him but Liam refused now that he was Violet's guardian so Imogen stepped in. You and Sawyer worked on your blocks with one another when Xaden and Garrick walked in. The two stripped their shirts off and began to spar with one another. You hear a low whistle as Violet and Rhiannon, even Imogen from where she held Ridoc in a headlock had their heads turned to watch the bulky, chiseled men fighting each other. To be fair it was boiling in the training room that night, the heat was cranked due to the cold December snows, and nearly every man had his shirt removed, including Sawyer across from you and the girls all in their training vests. Ridoc taps in fast succession before Imogen releases him and you're all dismissed by Dain for a water break. You chug from your bottle as Rhiannon approaches next to you.

"Did you see those two?" she asks you, talking about Xaden and Garrick. They were sure something to look at, their winding rebellion relics and dragon relics covering them. "Makes me feel way too straight looking at them..." she draws off and you giggle at her, looking over to see Violet who is practically drooling at Xaden.

"I don't know if I want to be them or be with them," you hear Ridoc speak from the other side of you. You turn to see him drinking his water, small dribbles falling down his chest–his now bare chest–as he pants heavily. You thought Xaden and Garrick were something sure... but Ridoc...holy Dunne. You knew he'd gained some muscle since he'd gotten here, but you didn't know he was fully jacked now! His body was fully carved by the gods. Maybe he wasn't as chiseled as Xaden or built like an ox like Garrick but he was...perfect. Your body grows hotter than it already was your mind racing. Why were you reacting like this to Ridoc of all people? Sawyer was just as attractive and way nicer. It had been happening way too often for this to just be a one-time thought.

"Ever occur to you maybe you like him?" Ciaris asks, listening to your thoughts.

"Not now," You reply quickly before putting up your shields and blocking her out.

"Hey, princess, want a rematch?" Ridoc asks, a grin plastered on his face. "No weapons this time?" You're sure your face was bright red at this point, your whole body at that. You just shake your head before gathering your stuff, haphazardly throwing your flight jacket on. You had to get out of here now.

"Hey where are you going?" you hear Violet call to you as you leave to ask Dain if you can leave early to finish homework.

"I have way too much homework, gonna see if Dain'll let me off 30 minutes early," you respond, still walking to your squad leader. He gives you the okay, and you go to walk past the rest of your squad before leaving the training room.

"I thought we were studying tonight for the math exam tomorrow?" Sawyer asks and you halt your steps. Oh shit, you'd forgotten, and Ridoc would have to be there, he was the best of you at math.

"Oh...um-yeah! Just wanted to shower first, just come to my room, we can study in there." Right a cold shower, would help. Then it would be fine to see Ridoc again, with his shirt on.

The cold water sprayed over you and you quickly cleaned yourself and washed your hair, rinsing away all your impure thoughts with the water. Once back to your room, you run oil through the ends of your long hair, still not having cut it since parapet, though now you'd kept it safely tied back. It was so much nicer to have your own room after being in the barracks for months. You sit at your desk and look over your workload, deciding to get some history done before the others come to study.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed before there was a knock at your door. You leap up from your chair, a smile on your face ready to greet the rest of your crew, but when you open the door your smile falls.

"Really? Are you that disappointed? I thought you were lightening up, didn't realize you were still a brat," Ridoc walks into your room and shuts the door behind him, flopping on your bed like he lived in there–at least he was clean, you could tell by his damp, tousled hair.

"Where are the others?" you ask turning from where you still stand by the door in your loose black sleep pants and a vest.

"'Hi Ridoc, hello, nice to see you' would be the appropriate response," he taunts, tossing his bag on the ground before laying back on your bed, his hands behind his head. You don't even respond to him, only giving him an annoyed look before he rolls his eyes and answers your question. "Sawyer took a fist to the face from Ateos, Rhiannon is taking him to the healers, broken nose. And Violet has whatever she has going on with Riorson...I don't even want to know. They said to go without them, that you'd need the most help with math anyway." He sits up again on your bed scooting to the edge, seemingly not able to sit still.

"Whatever, I'll just fail, you can go back to your room," you complain heading to your desk and shutting your history books.

"No, it's okay, princess. I can help you."

"I don't want your help, Ridoc, just go," You turn and face where he sat on your bed, his face unreadable.

"Seriously? You're that proud?" his words strike you across the face, his mouth turned downward in a frown as he stands and takes a step towards you.

"I'm not proud!" you fumed, "I just know you're going to tease me for being so shitty at math!"

"You think that little of me?" he takes another step forward, "Sure, I like to tease you but don't mistake me, I wouldn't tease you over something you struggle with!" this is the most serious you've seen him. But you still have some confidence left.

"Really?! Because you've already done that!" you shout back at him, thankful that you have a sound shield on your door so no one hears you seething at each other.

"When?!" he retorted, throwing his arms to the side in confusion. You wrack your brain, looking for the right words to describe how it had made you feel.

"Every-fucking-day Ridoc! It's constant taunting and I just don't know how to respond! With everyone else, you're nice and funny but you just have it out for me! I know I started it when I slapped you, and I know I don't make it easy with how I respond, but I thought at least when you humiliated me after challenging me you would let go!" tears are welled up in your eyes from the amount of anger you feel. You thought you'd get Ridoc with that, you thought he'd break and apologize like the nice guy you know he is, but a terrifyingly playful smirk grew on his lips.

"Ever take a moment and think it's cause you're always acting like a brat, princess?" he takes another step towards you and another, and another, until he's hovering over you, your back pressed against your desk, his face only inches from yours. "Yes, I tease you, I tease all our friends, but you're the only one who stays acting like I'm some sort of fucking villain when I stop." You think about it. Truly think about it. Were you the only one? He was an over-confident smart-ass he made comments to everyone, so why did it bother you so much?

"Ah, cat got your tongue?" your breath is caught in your throat and you watch as he raises a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Y'know, I saw you staring at me tonight, you're not nearly as sly as you ought to be..." he was fucking teasing you again. But the way he was doing this...gods your body was on fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lie, your voice barely a whisper. You look up and meet his eyes, his warm eyes, pools of chocolate that you could just melt in, and he is looking at you, really looking at you. In this moment you felt as if he could read your soul on a piece of paper.

"We both know that's not true," his voice dangerously low and confident. "And I think we both know that all you need..." his hand that tucked your hair behind your ear moves and he begins to trace your neck with the backs of his fingers, "is to give up control." You know your heart is beating out of control now. His hand now moved to grasp the side of your neck tightly, his other hand braced on the desk behind you. You were trapped against his body, the same way you were trapped when he held you against the mat, and it felt so good.

Before you could ask him for more, or surge up to kiss him like you may or may not have thought of doing while you were in the shower, he moves away and your body slinks in disappointment.

"Wanna know why I tease you?" he asks, his back turned to you as he picks up the trinkets on your bedside table.

"Desperately," you sigh out, hoping for an actual answer. He turns again a smirk on his face as he looks at the absolute mess he'd made of you already. He backs up and sits on the edge of your bed again, his legs spread wide before he answers you.

"Because it riles you up."

"Well I think I gathered that," you roll your eyes and look down at your hands.

"That first day after the parapet, I couldn't get over how fucking sexy you looked with that annoyed face," Oh. You knew this was heading somewhere, but for him to flat-out call you sexy made you press your legs together, "I can't get enough of it, even now." he looked away, all of his confidence suddenly gone. "And I wanted to see if once, once, you'd lose it."

"Lose it?" you question, and he laughs at you before running a hand through his dark hair.

"It happened once when you slapped me, and I thought it was going to happen again when I challenged you, but instead, you melted in my hands like a fucking puddle," he shakes his head and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, embarrassment evident on your features, "Awe, don't be embarrassed, princess." Gods, why was every fucking word he was saying making the wetness pool in your core?

"Ridoc?" You ask him, taking a step away from the desk and towards him, he hums in response, looking you over from head to toe, studying every inch of you. "You said that night, after presentation, that if you wanted to get a girl, you'd just 'tease her' and 'tackle her to the ground' like Cairis and Aotrom," you felt a bit silly saying his same words over again but continued, your voice still quiet, "is that...what you've been doing with me?" You take another step forward, "all the taunting, then challenging me...was that you trying to tell me you like me?" You were close enough to him now that he could just reach out and grab you, and he did.

Ridoc grabbed your arm and pulled you straight between his legs, the largest smile you'd ever seen from him taking up his entire face.

"Took you long enough to figure that out, princess," and there you were, in the arms of Ridoc Gamlyn, the man you'd argued with and fought with for the past several months, and it felt incredible. He seemed like a completely different person, but he wasn't. It was you and your perspective that changed, you were feeling what it felt like to just give into him, letting him tease you and taunt you for his pleasure, giving up your control.

"And do you remember what I said after that?" your breath caught in your throat at the memory. He liked to be in control, in charge. You nodded shyly from where you stood between his legs, all your confidence now lost. His hands that held your arms moved up to cradle your face, and you melted. "Look at you," he hummed, "Tell me. I want to hear you say what I said." you gathered all your courage and looked him in the eye.

"You said that everyone needs to give up control at some point..." your voice still low and quiet. "and that in the bedroom with someone like you is a good place for it."

"Seems like someone remembered well. The look on your face after I said that, gods...made me so fucking hard to see you that flustered." you couldn't help but press your legs together at his words, thinking of him getting so worked up over your reaction to him. "I knew after I challenged you just how easily you'd give in, but that was when I realized that it was me and my words that were getting you so fired up and you just don't know how to respond other than with anger." he was reading you like a damned book. How had he gathered all this when you couldn't even realize the capacity of your feelings?

"Y'know you're a lot smarter than everyone gives you credit for, Gamlyn," you smile a bit, opening yourself up.

"Yeah? I think that deserves a kiss," your instincts take over and you roll your eyes at his comment. One of his hands that held your face moved lower, his long fingers wrapping deftly around your throat and applying slight pressure, the annoyance in your face dropped and you felt your body submitting to him, a whine leaving you at the feeling of his hand on your throat. "Really, princess? I thought you were done with the attitude?" His voice is deep and raspy and he licks his lips as he watches your expression. Oh to feel that tongue on your body.

"I'm sorry...I just..." you trail off, your body practically quivering at this point in anticipation.

"'Just-just' what?" He mocks you. Fuck it. You couldn't wait any longer. You surge forward and capture his lips in yours. He's taken aback for a moment but it doesn't last long before he's devouring you. It's a mess of tongue and teeth as he pulls your body against him, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, "Still got some fire left in you? We'll see about that..." he mumbles out between kisses.

You're desperate for more, your hands moving all along his body before he picks you up as if you weigh nothing switches places with you, and pushes you back until you're laying against your bed. Your hands reach the bottom of his shirt and you begin to tug wanting more than anything to feel his skin on yours, but he stops you. Oh. Was he upset? You thought he wanted this...

"Huh uh, princess..." he drawls out, his voice like honey. Okay, he's still turned on, what was this about?! He takes a step back from you, his eyes raking over your body that was on the precipice of convulsing. "I've wanted this for too long, and once I have you...gods, I don't think I'll ever be able to keep myself away from you." your face scrunches in confusion, was he asking you to be his girlfriend right now?

"What do you mean?" you ask, looking for clarity.

Ridoc runs his palms over his face in exasperation before raking them through his still-damp hair. He seemed almost stressed. Whatever control he held just a moment ago, he was letting go of, show you his full, raw, emotions. "I mean that I like you. A lot. Probably more than I should. And I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I want you fully and wholly. I'll even stop teasing you if that's what it takes for you to say yes! Even though you look so damned cute with your little frown." he smiles at the end of his sentence as if remembering the specific look on your face. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face, as if only now you'd recognize the capacity of your feelings. You'd been drawn to him before but your inability to give in to him was what was holding you back. But you were ready to let go.

"I don't want it to either..." You look him in the eye and reach out to pull him into you again, placing a small kiss on the tip of his nose before continuing. "I want you to have me, I'm done running away from you. Take me, Ridoc." You took his hands that were still nervously tangled in his hair and place them on your waist, a physical way of showing him what you just told him.

"I want you to be sure, sweetness. I don't know if I can hold myself back from you, I can get prettyyy...excited." He grips your waist harder, testing the waters.

"I want you to take charge, Ridoc, I want you to do whatever you want to me, I'm at your mercy," you're all but begging him at this point to just give you everything he's teased to you.

"Fuck..." He groans out, leaning down and burying his face in your neck causing the flesh on your arms to rise at the feeling. He places sloppy kisses there, searching for the spot that will drive you nuts. Once he hears your little moans as he kisses the spot right behind where your jaw and earlobe meet he begins to nip and suck, marking you for everyone to see. "Y'know when I pinned you to that mat, I was about certain you were going to finish right there, sadly I was mistaken. But I learned that you seem to really like being beneath me." Even then he could tell that you were lost in him, and he took this opportunity to put you in the same position he held you in that day.

You lay with your head at the top of the bed, Ridoc's hands pinning your wrists to the pillow behind you, his legs tangled in yours. You moan lightly at the sight above you as he works kisses down your chest and to your cleavage where your shirt cuts off. You try to move your hands to reach down and take off your top, but his grip on your wrists is firm. You hear him laugh at your attempt pathetically against your chest, the heat of his breath causing a shiver to run down your spine. You whine at the loss of your ability to move, your body on fire for him to touch you more, but he keeps lingering with his hot lips all over your neck and chest.

"What? Want more?" He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes glazed over and lips swollen. He looked utterly sinful.

"Please..." you beg, attempting to move your arms again to see if his grip has loosened.

"I think that's the first time you've ever used that word with me," he ignores your plea and licks down your chest, his teeth nipping the edge of your top, pulling it down slightly.

"Ridoc, please, you said you wouldn't tease!" your voice raises slightly a sliver of shame entering your body with how you were begging him.

"Well that wouldn't be as much fun," he states but removes his hands anyway and moves them to the bottom of your top moving it up inch by inch, feeling your warm skin beneath his hands, "you're so fucking hot when you beg for me." his hands reach the bottom of your unbound breasts and his fingers creep up tauntingly. Your now free hands shoot out and reach for him, you sit up your mouth going straight for his, you couldn't get enough of how good he tasted. "Slow down there, princess, mm-wanna take my time," he murmurs through your lips.

"You've made me wait long enough...please just take me," he seems to let go at your words, his hands fully enveloping your breasts and squeezing, a hum sounds from his throat at the feeling. His fingers move to pluck at your hardened peaks, and you move yours to the edges of your top, breaking the kiss to remove it.

"Oh, gods, knew you'd look this good," Ridoc says, his voice just as desperate as you felt. But you waste no time, as soon as your shirt is removed you start pawing at his to take it off. Once it's off you wrap your arms around him mouth moving to his neck to taste him just as he did to you, the feeling of your hot skin together driving you mad. He grunts at the sensation of your mouth on his neck, only giving in momentarily before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he stands up. As soon as he stood he reached for the waistband of his pants and removed his belt in one motion and undoing the button. He takes off his pants quickly, his painfully hard cock bouncing up to hit against his toned stomach. Wow. Ridoc talked a big talk when it came to his dick. You'd always thought it was a part of his jokes, but the evidence was here in front of you and he was not joking.

"Oh gods..." You moan out at the sight, not being able to hold back from sinking to your knees in front of him as he tugged at himself, "Please let me taste you."

"Hmph, not today," He says and reaches down to help you off your knees and shove you back onto the bed, "I'm about to finish just seeing you on your knees, and I want to cum inside you first." His words are filthy and it spurs you on more. You sigh dejectedly, your mouth watering at the sight of his leaking tip, you can't help but reach a hand out to try and feel him, but he slaps your hand away, pushing on the middle of your chest until you're lying flat against the bed. "I said, not today, or don't you want me to taste you first? Don't you think you deserve it? You've been so patient...but I can always take it back and wait till tomorrow to fuck you..."

"No! Please! I'll be good, I'll stay put!" you sit up on your elbows, an acute fear growing in your body at the thought of him leaving you here until tomorrow.

"Hm, that's more like it," Ridoc approves, removing his hand from his cock and to your pants, dragging them and your panties down far too slowly. You do your best to be patient and hold back your whines, you know that it's a test. He kneels in front of the bed and spreads your legs open his calloused fingertips running along the inside of your thighs, drawing up closer to your center. "I really did get you worked up didn't I?" Ridoc remarks before dragging a fingertip through your dripping wet core. You don't hold back your sounds knowing he's about to make you feel incredible.

Ridoc's mouth on your pussy is unlike anything you'd felt, he meant it when he said he knew how to pleasure a woman just as well as a man. Your hands moved and threaded through his mop of hair as he licked and sucked, hardly letting up at all. One of the hands that held your thighs tightly moved to your lower stomach and pressed down to keep you from squirming, a hard grunt coming from his throat in warning. The other hand moved lower and rubbed at your clit in slow motions. It was all too much, the pleasure coursing through your veins, the realization that Ridoc was the one making you feel that good. You were a mess.

The fingers on your clit slipped lower and teased at your entrance a finger slipping in at a slow pace. You whine, trying to buck your hips forward in an attempt for it to go deeper.

"Ah ah, what did I say?" Your whines echo through the room at his words but you comply anyway, stopping your squirming. He makes a noise in approval before continuing his ministrations, adding another finger and pumping them gently, all while switching between long strokes and little licks with his tongue on your clit. Your body convulses when he curls his fingers into a spot that makes you see stars. Ridoc doesn't move fast in this process and doesn't try to bring you to your peak immediately. His strokes are consistent and thoughtful, he notices your reactions to every single one of his movements and plays to them. He's deliberate with his motions and brings you to peak gently, continuing his gestures throughout.

"Please, fuck me now, Ridoc, I don't want to wait," You tug at his hair trying to bring him up to kiss you. But he stays, lapping up your release before pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. Then your stomach. All along your hips. No place is untouched by his lips. "Ridoc!" you beg louder, pulling harder at his hair. His hands grip your waist tighter, fingers digging with a pressure that you were sure to feel tomorrow. But he doesn't stop peppering your body with kisses, ignoring your words. "Baby please..."

"That's enough," he scolds, pulling on your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. He grabs your ass roughly before bringing his other hand down on it in a slap. You squeal at the act but pleasure runs through your core all the same. "You want to be fucked? Hm?" His voice degrading. "Let's see how you handle it then." He says before slapping his hand on your ass again and plunging into you in succession.

"Fuck!" your voice pitches at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

"Yeah? You begged for it, princess. Now take it," Ridoc's voice was rough and demanding, the sound of it made your mind reel. You let your body and mind give in to the feeling. The sound of his hips slapping your ass and the feeling of his balls hitting your clit with the angle made your head go foggy. All it was was you and Ridoc. Your bodies were one as he pounded into you. He fucked you hard, a contrast from just minutes ago when he was gently licking into your cunt, and you couldn't get enough of it.

You lean back and face Ridoc, watching the fucked out look on his face took you to a new level. You reached back to grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to yours. You needed him everywhere. "Please," you risk your words, "I want to look at you." His controlling guise fell for a moment as he gave in to your plea.

"Alright, sweetness" he listens, pulling out momentarily to turn you onto your front before plunging back into you. Moans tumble out of your mouth as you revel in the new angle, his cock pushing deeper into you. His head falls to the crook of your neck and he presses sloppy kisses all along you. You grasp at his face, needing to feel his lips on yours as you feel the resistance at your core pulling tighter. Your sounds get louder as you get closer and Ridoc's hand reaches down to play with your clit. "That's it, you're taking me so well." He groans out, his face turning up in pleasure. He was just as close as you were. It reaches you faster than it did the first time, the orgasm peaking quickly and hard. Ridoc fucks you through it, his thrusts growing sloppier as he gets closer. He looks at you with a questioning gaze.

"Fill me up, Ridoc, please," you answer his unasked question, knowing you were both on the fertility supplement that Basgiath provided. That was all the permission he needed before he thrust a few more times and spilled inside of you. The warm feeling almost brings you to finish a third time. His head falls to your chest as he breathes deeply, trying to catch his breath. You comb your fingers through his hair and press a kiss to the top of his head, a smile gently growing on your face.

He catches his breath for another moment before pulling out and standing. He picked through his clothes on the ground and slipped on his boxers and loose pants.

"Are you leaving?" you as suddenly, your voice tinged with fear. You sit up and try to cover yourself with your hands. Ridoc stands up straight, his long-sleeved shirt in hand.

"No, princess, don't worry," He smiles and hands you his shirt to put on before taking a tissue from your desk and moving closer to you. He gently pushes you to lay back again and brings the tissue to clean between your thighs. A soft gasp escapes you from the sensitivity, "Shh, sh, it's okay." Ridoc's voice was so soft, so thoughtful. Your heart melted as you thought of his earlier comments. He's liked you for so long now, more than he should in his words. You let him finish cleaning you and lay back in your bed, finding the covers and crawling under them, holding out the edge for Ridoc to come under as he walks back from turning off the light.

The moonlight that shined through the window barely illuminated your room as you lay next to Ridoc, he lay against your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. You rest your head atop his as your fingers trace the relic that Aotrom left him on the top of his muscular arm. He buries his head deeper into you before speaking.

"I don't think Cairis will be very happy about this," You laugh at his comment but know it's true, you let your shields down just slightly letting her presence flow through you.

"I'm not," her voice deadpan and sharp. Well, you can deal with it later.

"She'll get over it," You respond, letting your eye drift closed.

"Maybe, she'll learn from you and let Aotrom in," Ridoc thinks aloud, "He's very convinced that she's his mate and that she's going to give in soon enough. You did with me..." You smile, thinking of your dragons and the similarities you all share. You'd noticed it before, everyone had. Maybe it was just a matter of time before Cairis would give into Aotrom's relentlessness. You sort of hoped that she would if her feelings were anything like yours.

"Don't get your hopes up..." Cairis enters your head again, clearly annoyed.

You woke the next morning far too late, the early morning sun was shining through your window. Fuck. Your math exam. You sit up out of your bed quickly, noticing that Ridoc had already gone and you briefly remember him kissing you on the forehead before he left for his early watch duty before classes. You smile to yourself at the memories of last night, but only give yourself a second before rushing up and gathering all of your things for class and running straight there, knowing you'd already missed breakfast.

At least the math exam was first thing this morning so you could get it over with, but unfortunately, you were most definitely failing after not studying last night. The class was about to start as you entered and Violet waved a hand over to where she and the rest of the first years of your squad were sitting. Ridoc smirks at you and scoots over to make room for you. Your friends could tell by your panicked look that something was off.

"You okay?" Rhiannon asks from the other side of Ridoc.

"Yeah, you look tired. How was studying last night?" Sawyer says, turning from his seat in front of you to join the conversation, his nose only healed and not mended telling from the bruises. Before you had the chance to respond Ridoc interjects.

"We uh...didn't get much studying done last night if you know what I mean," he swings his arm over your shoulder and draws you close, planting a kiss on your cheek. You push him away out of annoyance.

"Ridoc!" you chide. "We didn't even talk about if we were going to tell anyone!" you say lower talking only to him.

"What the fuck?!" Rhi shouts, gaining the attention of the rest of the class before grimacing and quieting down.

"They were gonna find out sooner or later, princess, I can't keep my fucking hands off you," he explains, diving in again and pressing another kiss to your neck this time. Shivers run down your spine at the feeling before you remember where you are and push him off of you again.

"What happened?" Violet asks leaning in on the other side of you, Ridoc's hand now moving to grab at your thigh, she looks away in disgust at the sight, "Never mind, I don't want to know..." she fakes a gag, and Rhi and Sawyer look to each other with a mass of confusion before breaking out in laughter.

"They fucked, obviously," Liam says casually from the other side of Violet where he's working on a wood carving.

"Thanks, Liam, like they hadn't gathered that already..." you say sarcastically and bury your head in your hands.

"I'm scarred," Sawyer says, barely able to contain his laughs. You groan in embarrassment as the professor walks in and starts giving directions on the exam. Yep. You were failing. Ridoc caught the worry in your face and he leaned into you.

"It's okay, princess, you can cheat off me," he winks and leans back away, but leaves his hand on your thigh still, giving it a light squeeze. Shit. It was going to be hard to focus now. 

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

could you do a long smut where Jude and Reader are dating and she's just extremely innocent and that turns Jude on, but at the same time he wants to corrupt her, he wants to protect her innocence. The reader sits on his lap or is always wearing short clothes (as she is inside the house) and he can't take it anymore... one time, they are kissing and Jude loses control, he gets on top of her and kisses her with desire and So she's all confused because she feels strange, like she's never felt before and she wants more, but Jude gets off her right away and he's so hard and the reader can't help but watch that with curiosity... they don't They talk about Aquil, but as the days go by, she notices that he doesn't want to kiss her and always pushes her away and this makes her sad and she decides to talk to him about it... he is frank with her saying that she is extremely innocent and that the things he wants to do to her have destroyed her innocence; She says she trusts him and wants to go all the way with him (even though she doesn't know exactly what to do) and then Jude takes her virginity, being extremely careful and always asking if she's sure. Reader stares in fascination upon seeing him naked for the first time and Jude can't help but be enchanted by how adorable she is. She had never felt that way, Jude's hands are all over her body and when Jude enters her, no matter how much it hurts, it makes her feel so good (please could you put dirty talk in that, I'm just a bitch about Jude being naughty and talking dirty)

I finally did it! After two weeks of writing, I’ve finished this project! This is the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I poured my heart into it as an apology for my long absence. If you notice any repeated scenes… well, that’s because I wrote this over two weeks, and my memory is about as reliable as a goldfish’s. Plus, I was way too tired to edit. I tried to stick to the request as much as I could but my imagination got carried away.

-Much love, Bianca 🌻

Inocencia

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — In which you and Jude are soulmates.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 24.2k

Warnings! FLUFF! Jude is so soft with her, he's so in love, insecurities, first love, established relationship, this is the softest thing I've ever written, slight angst for the plot (nothing serious), NSFW! SMUT (18+), corruption kink, virgin reader, first time, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering, soft sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader, a little surprise at the end for y'all

Growing up, your life wasn’t just structured; it was scripted.

A carefully choreographed routine, every step dictated by expectations you had no hand in setting.

Your parents didn’t ask for much, just obedience, and you learned quickly that nodding and murmuring yes was easier than explaining the no lodged in your throat. Childhood wasn’t about exploration; it was about perfection. Whims were traded for polished manners, because mistakes were lessons learned the hard way.

Mornings began with perfectly made beds and meticulously crafted schedules, while evenings were reserved for review sessions of tests you wouldn’t take for weeks. Every minute of the day was accounted for, leaving little room for anything but perfection.

So you became a master of disguise.

The messy, loud, imperfect parts of you? Those were hidden away, locked behind a wall of politeness and precision. You never thought to question it. This was life, wasn’t it?

At school, the contrast was striking.

Your classmates had lives that seemed so chaotic, so mesmerisingly beautiful. At least to you. You dreamed of being like them. Of joining the dance team, of skipping class, of reading books that your mother didn't pick out for you.

They had the kind of freedom you couldn’t fathom. They whispered about parties that ended at sunrise, secret crushes, first kisses stolen under streetlights. You listened, fascinated but silent. Rules first, fun later.

But "later" had a funny way of never showing up.

And then came Charlie.

You first met her on orientation day, a whirlwind of awkward introductions and icebreakers that felt anything but natural. Later, you discovered she was your roommate.

At first, you weren’t sure what to make of her. Charlie was… a lot.

At first glance, she seemed like someone you might not click with—her energy almost too big for the room, her laugh too loud for the small spaces you preferred to inhabit. But Charlie wasn’t the kind of person you could easily dismiss. She had a way of pulling you into her orbit before you even realized it.

She was the type to breathe chaos into order, and somehow, it felt exhilarating instead of terrifying.

Her hair was perpetually tousled, like she’d just stepped out of a convertible, and her eyeliner was smudged in a way that teetered between effortlessly cool and slightly rebellious. Charlie didn’t believe in plans or schedules. She just lived.

And that scared you as much as it fascinated you.

Charlie’s world was the opposite of yours. Plans? Schedules? Those were foreign concepts to her. She moved through life with a kind of chaotic grace, unburdened by rules or the need to please anyone. It wasn’t just her confidence that drew you in; it was her freedom, the way she seemed to exist without fear of judgment.

So when she begged—insisted—you come to her boyfriend’s birthday party, you barely had time to think up an excuse. “It’s downtown,” she said, practically vibrating with excitement. “You never go downtown. You’ll love it. Or hate it. But at least you’ll survive it. Please?”

You hesitated, of course. Clubs weren’t your thing. Loud music, strangers, flashing lights—it sounded like a nightmare. But Charlie had this way of pulling you out of your shell with sheer force of will.

And that’s how you ended up there.

The nightclub was chaos incarnate.

The music wasn’t just loud—it was alive, a relentless bassline that seemed to sync with your heartbeat and vibrate in your throat. The air was thick with perfume, cologne, sweat, and the faint tang of spilled drinks. Lights pulsed like strobes, casting sharp shadows and brilliant flashes over the crowd.

You clung to the drink Charlie had handed you—something neon pink and overly sweet—sticking to the edge of the dance floor, hoping to blend into the wallpaper. But, alas.

“Having Fun!” She had shouted over the music when she found you a half-hour later. Her smile was wide, her cheeks flushed from dancing.

“Yeah!” you’d shouted back, though you were far from it. Your feet ached from heels you regretted wearing the moment you stepped outside, and your head throbbed from the bassline that seemed to shake the very floor.

Charlie didn’t buy it, but she didn’t press. She just grinned and teased, “Loosen up! We're here to partayyyy!” before spinning back into the crowd.

Loosening up was easier said than done.

You stayed, partly out of stubbornness and partly because she’d promised burgers afterward. But the crowd didn’t get any less overwhelming, and the bass didn’t grow any quieter. Soon enough, the drinks you’d nervously sipped started making demands on your bladder.

Navigating the club was its own kind of ordeal, like threading a needle through a sea of moving bodies. By the time you reached the bathroom line, you were convinced the club had been designed by sadists who enjoyed watching people suffer in heels.

And that’s when you met him.

You were half-distracted, balancing your drink in one hand while trying to make your way through the packed hallway without spilling it. Your friends had already disappeared into the crowd, and you were craning your neck, trying to spot them, when you took the corner too sharply.

It happened fast. A solid wall—or at least that’s what it felt like—stopped you in your tracks. Your drink, the bright, sticky concoction it was, jumped out of your cup, splattering the pristine white shirt in front of you.

“Ah, no!” you yelped, realizing what you’d done as you stumbled back a step. The sound of your drink hitting fabric was followed by an awkward silence.

Your eyes shot up, wide with panic. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The words tumbled out before you could think, your heart pounding like it might leap out of your chest.

The guy blinked, looking down at his now-ruined shirt, then back at you. For a split second, you braced yourself for anger, irritation, or some sharp comment that would make the whole situation worse. Like you were so used to. Your head instinctively bent, ready for the scolding you were sure you'd get.

But instead, he laughed—short and low but unmistakable.

“Guess I shouldn’t have worn white, huh?” he said, his accent soft, the words rolling off his tongue like he found the whole thing funny.

You blinked, caught off guard by his reaction. “I—uh—wait, let me—” You spun around, spotting a table nearby and snatching up a handful of napkins. Your hands were shaking as you turned back to him. Memories of fists and broken plates and your fault, your fault danced in the corners of your mind.

You pushed them away.

The napkins were gone before you knew it, your fingers flying over his shirt, trying to mop up the pink liquid. His brows furrowing in concern as he watched your panicked motions, but when he reached out to touch your wrist, you flinched.

“Hey,” he said gently, “it’s okay.” And you had to force yourself to relax into his grip. “Look, why don’t I go clean up in the bathroom real quick, and you can take a deep breath. I’m sure we can get the stain out.”

He stepped away, and you could feel your breath return in increments, your heartbeat slowing as he spoke. Your gaze followed him, watching the way his shoulders moved under the white fabric, now blotched with pink. He disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing there, clutching a pile of sticky napkins, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

You wanted to melt into the floor, vanish into the neon lights and pounding music. Instead, you took a deep breath, like he’d suggested, and tried to shake off the lingering panic.

When he came back, his shirt was damp but clean enough, a faint pink stain barely visible. “See?” he said, grinning as he gestured to his shirt. “No harm done.”

You managed a small smile. “I’m still really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

He shrugged, the movement easy, as if he genuinely didn’t care. “It happens. You okay?”

The question caught you off guard. “Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “I dunno. Just… you looked kinda spooked back there.”

“Nah, I was just worried about your shirt is all.” You could feel your cheeks start to flush, a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness. “I didn’t mean to ruin it. I'm sorry.”

He grinned. “I told, it's cool. How about this,” He gestured toward the bar, where a long line snaked out into the crowded hallway, before continuing. “Next drink is on me. You game?”

You hesitated for a split second. This was the part where you should say no, walk away and find Charlie or the bathroom. This was the part where your mom would warn you against talking to strangers. And then you’d go back to your normal, structured life and forget the whole incident.

But something about him made you pause.

For some weird reason, you felt safe with him, which was strange because he was still a stranger. But then again, that’s life, right? Making mistakes? Learning by them? Trying things and seeing if they work out or not? Maybe it was time to do that.

Maybe it was time to try.

So you nodded. “Yeah.”

*******

Eight months. That’s how long it’s been, and somehow, he’s still just as captivating as the first day. Maybe even more so.

You’ve never felt anything like this before—not with anyone. The way Jude looks at you, the way he listens when you speak, it’s like he sees through the layers you’ve spent years building up. Sometimes, it’s unnerving, how easily he seems to read you, like your thoughts aren’t secrets at all, but something written in a language only he understands.

He’s everything you never thought you’d find in someone—charming in a way that feels effortless, patient when the shadows of your past make you falter, and protective in a way that doesn’t smother but shields.

It’s in the way he holds doors open without making it a spectacle, or the way his hand hovers near yours, like he’s waiting for you to reach out, to let him in. He never forces, never pushes—just waits.

And when you finally let him, it’s like coming home to something you never knew you needed.

He makes you feel precious, in a way that’s unfamiliar. His touch is careful, his words thoughtful. He treats you like something rare, something fragile—not because he thinks you’re weak, but because he doesn’t want to be the one to hurt you.

And that’s a feeling you never thought you’d know.

Not after growing up in a house where fists spoke louder than words, where anger lived in every corner. Where the man who should’ve been your protector was your first lesson in betrayal.

For so long, that was all you knew. Rage masquerading as love. Pain disguised as discipline. You’d convinced yourself that was all there was, that kindness and warmth were things meant for other people, not you.

But then Jude came along. And with him, the impossible became real.

He showed you that there are more ways to love than hurt. That there are words that could comfort instead of cut, that there were hands that could hold instead of slap. That maybe—just maybe—you deserved more than what you’d gotten.

He tells you things that make you feel like a goddess, a queen, a princess. That you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. That he could stare at you all day and never get tired of it. That he’s falling in love with you, and every word makes you fall even more in love with him too.

He calls you his princess, and it doesn’t make you cringe like you think it would.

You like it.

You love him.

********

The shrill buzz of your phone pulls you from your lecture notes, dragging your attention away from the professor’s voice. You squint at the screen, the light stark against the dimmed classroom. A text from Jude lits up your screen: “I’m outside.”

Your stomach flutters, a small smile creeping onto your lips. Quickly, you tap out a reply, “Coming” before stuffing your phone back into your bag.

The professor's voice drones on, giving out last-minute details about the upcoming assignment, but your focus has already shifted. You glance at the clock, your heart ticking a beat faster. With a whispered "thank you" as class concluded, you gather your belongings in a blur of movement, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you make your way to the exit.

The crisp air outside greets you, a welcome contrast to the stuffy classroom. It doesn't take long to spot him.

Jude leans casually against his car parked by the curb, his hoodie slightly wrinkled and joggers hanging just right. The late afternoon sun catches on the strands of his messy coils, highlighting the slight curve of his lips as he catches sight of you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice carrying over the hum of campus life. He doesn't move at first, just stands there watching you, a playful glint in his eyes that make your cheeks warm.

You wave, suddenly hyperaware of the way your bag bounces against your side as you walk. By the time you reach him, his smile has softened into something warm and familiar, and before you can say a word, he reaches out, opening the passenger door with a fluid motion.

“You’re late,” he teases, though the way he leans forward to press a quick, soft kiss to your lips told a different story.

"Am not,” you reply, your voice mock-indignant as you slip into the seat.

Jude chuckles, closing the door behind you before circling around to the driver’s side. Once he slides in, he immediately reaches for your seatbelt, the motion so casual it makes your heart skip. His fingers brushes lightly against your arm as he clicks the buckle into place. It's such a small gesture, but it carries a kind of intimacy that leaves you momentarily breathless.

“Safe and sound,” he murmurs, sitting back and adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. His gaze flickers over to you, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “You good?”

You nod, still caught in the warmth of his attention. “Yeah. You?”

“I’m better now,” he says, flashing a grin that is so unfairly charming it should be illegal. He starts the car, the low hum of the engine blending with the soft music playing from the speakers. “Hungry?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Is that a trick question?”

Jude huffs, his smirk faltering. “Smartass.”

“Yup,” you agree, grinning back.

He shoots you a look—playfully annoyed but still affectionate—and you giggle in response. It’s the kind of thing that happens so easily between the two of you—a sense of banter that doesn’t feel like fighting, just friendly sparring. It took a while for you to get used to them.

“I can cook tonight,” you offer, reaching for your phone as he eases out into traffic. “What do you want?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want, babe.”

“Okay,” you murmur, scrolling through your messages to pull up Charlie's last text. You’d asked her if she was staying over at her boyfriend's, and she’d replied with a thumbs-up and a string of hearts. A smile crosses your lips as you tuck the phone away.

“We've got the apartment to ourselves tonight,” you say, settling back into your seat and gazing out the window. “If you still wanna come over, that is. I can make you dinner.”

Jude's smile turns languid. “You know I do, princess. I’m always up for food at your place.”

“Okay,” you murmur turning to look at the passing scene as the corners of his mouth quirk even higher.

*********

The apartment feels quieter than usual without Charlie.

Not in an uncomfortable way—just different. Her energy always filled the space, a constant buzz of chatter, music, and the occasional burst of laughter that never failed to make you smile. Without her, the silence feels oddly still, like the apartment itself is taking a deep breath.

You emerge from the bathroom wrapped in your fluffy pink robe, the one Charlie always teases you about but secretly adores. Your hair is slightly damp from your shower, loose strands sticking to your neck. The cool air from the air-conditioning brushes over your skin, and you shiver slightly as you step into the living room.

Jude is exactly where you left him, sprawled on the couch like he owns the place, phone balanced precariously on his knee.

His brows are drawn together in concentration, and his thumbs fly over the screen at a speed that seems almost superhuman. He’s clearly playing some game, utterly absorbed in whatever digital battlefield he’s dominating.

You tread softly across the room, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. He doesn’t even glance up, so focused that he doesn’t notice you until you’re right in front of him. When you settle onto the couch beside him, the cushion dips under your weight, and only then does he stir.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, his voice warm and slightly distracted. His arm snakes around your waist without hesitation, pulling you into his side. His eyes stay glued to his screen, but his lips find the top of your head in a lazy, affectionate kiss that makes your heart flutter.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean into him. His embrace is as familiar as it is comforting, the warmth wrapping around you and sinking into your bones. He smells like fresh laundry and that woodsy cologne he always wears, the one that lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone.

For a moment, you just sit there, tucked against him as he plays.

His body is solid, a loving strength that you’ve come to rely on without even realizing it. You let out a contented sigh, your cheek resting against his shoulder. Jude glances at you briefly, his lips quirking into a small smile as he presses another kiss to your temple.

“You smell so good, baby. Like strawberries,” he remarks, his tone teasing but fond.

“It’s my shampoo,” you mumble, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His ability to fluster you with the simplest comments is as maddening as it is endearing to him.

“Smells good.” He pauses his game just long enough to tilt his head down, his nose brushing against your damp hair. “Smells like you.”

You bite your lip, the corners of your mouth twitching upward despite yourself. His charm is relentless, and even when he’s trying to be casual, it lands like a full-force assault on your heart.

For a while, the room settles into a comfortable silence.

Jude’s arm stays around you, holding you close as he continues indulging in whatever virtual madness is happening on his phone. You don’t mind.

The warmth of his body against yours, the faint clicking of his fingers against the screen, and the soft hum of the air conditioner create a soothing melody, lulling you to sleep. And for a second you forget about deadlines and responsibilities, if only for a little while.

But eventually, the nagging thought of midterms creeps back in, pulling you away from the comfort of Jude’s arm draped lazily around your shoulders. You shift slightly, sighing as reality nudges its way back in. “I should study,” you mumble reluctantly, already regretting the words as they leave your mouth. “Midterms are coming up, and I need to get a head start.”

Jude freezes mid-controller click, his focus snapping to you with a speed that’s almost comical. His brows knit together in concern as he sets the controller down and turns to you fully. “Do you need help?” he offers, his voice warm, eager, and so earnest it makes your chest ache. He sits up straighter, reluctantly moving his arm so you can wiggle free if you want to. “I could quiz you or something.”

The way his brown eyes lock onto yours tugs at you. For a fleeting moment, you consider saying yes—just to keep him close a little longer. His enthusiasm, the little crease of worry between his brows, all of it makes you want to say yes. But you’ve been here before.

You bite back a smile and shake your head. “You know how it goes when you help me study.”

“What?” His face splits into a boyish grin. “I’m great at helping.”

“You get bored,” you counter, raising an eyebrow at him.

His grin widens, the mischief in his eyes almost tangible. “I don’t get bored. I keep things interesting.”

“Interesting?” You scoff lightly, though your lips twitch at the corners. “You mean you start distracting me.”

“Distractions are good for you," he says, leaning in closer. His voice dips into that flirty tone that always seems to weaken your resolve. “Keeps your brain from overheating.”

You try to hold firm, crossing your arms as you fight the smile threatening to bloom. “Distractions,” you repeat, deadpan, “like kissing me every five minutes?”

“Only every five minutes?” he teases, his lips quirking upward. “I’m slacking. I’ll make it every two.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands as your cheeks flare with heat. “Jude, stop.”

“Why?” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he leans closer, his hand slipping over yours to gently tug them away from your face. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”

You feel your heart do a little somersault as he takes your hand, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over your knuckles. His touch is maddeningly gentle, and his gaze is soft yet playful. “Come on, let me stay. I promise I’ll behave this time. Swear on… well, on your favorite pen or something.”

“You said that last time,” you remind him, though your voice lacks the conviction you want it to have.

“And I meant it," he says with exaggerated sincerity. “But then you started doing that thing where you chew on your pen and look all smart and adorable. What’s a guy supposed to do?”

“Focus,” you say firmly, though your lips betray you by curving into a reluctant smile.

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, sending a little flutter through you. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to it.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, though his grin tells you he’s far from serious.

True to his word, he pulls himself away from you, standing and stretching lazily before grabbing his phone. But before he leaves, he leans down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a kiss so soft and lingering that it leaves you momentarily breathless.

“Good luck, baby,” he murmurs, his voice warm and sweet. “You’ve got this.”

The soft click of the door closing behind him echoes in the quiet room, and you let out a long breath, trying to steady the racing of your heart. Even now, minutes after he’s left, his presence lingers—his touch, his whispers, his look that leaves you feeling shy and disarmed.

You force yourself to turn back to your notes, determined to focus on the task at hand. For sixty blessed minutes, you manage to keep your head down and concentrate, letting the scratch of your pen on paper drown out the memory of his teasing grin.

But, as if summoned by your thoughts, he slips back into your space without so much as a sound. You only notice him when you feel the featherlight brush of his lips against the curve of your neck. A startled gasp escapes you, and your pen stills in your hand as his warm breath fans over your skin.

“How’s the studying going?” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with playful mischief.

Your pulse quickens, and you try to muster some semblance of composure. “Jude,” you whisper, his name barely audible as your voice falters at his closeness.

“Hmm?” He hums, the sound rumbling softly against your skin as his hands settle on your waist, fingers toying idly with the hem of your pajama top.

“You’re distracting me,” you manage, though the tremble in your voice betrays your lack of conviction. You're a little thankful for the break he's forcing you to take.

“Am I?” he asks innocently, slipping his hand ever so slightly under your top, his lips now brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. You can feel the curve of his grin, knowing he’s completely aware of the effect he has on you.

You grip your pen tighter, clinging to the pretense of focus, but the heat of his palm against your skin and the teasing lilt of his voice unravel you piece by piece. Desperate for some distance, you push his chest gently, your face flaming as you turn to face him. “I’m going to cook dinner,” you declare, your tone firmer this time, though your skin betray you, burning with an unmistakable flush.

His brow arches, and for a moment, you think he might relent. But as you make your way to the kitchen, his footsteps trail right behind yours.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder, though the teasing lilt in your voice takes the sting out of the words.

“Not when it comes to you,” he replies smoothly, his grin utterly shameless as he catches up.

Once in the kitchen, you busy yourself with pulling out ingredients, determined to create a barrier between you and his relentless touching. But Jude, being Jude, is relentless in his own way. He's being very clingy today, more than usual.

As you start chopping vegetables, he edges closer, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you back just slightly against his chest.

“Jude,” you warn, your voice firmer this time as you wave the knife in a small arc in his direction.

“Dangerous,” he quips, leaning back just enough to dodge your playful swat, though he’s far from deterred. “You’re cute when you’re dangerous.”

Your lips twitch despite yourself, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, shaking your head as you try to focus on the task at hand.

He chuckles, a low, warm sound that sends shivers dancing down your spine. “Are you sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning in to whisper, “But you love it.”

“I do not,” you retort automatically, though your voice lacks any real heat.

“Liar,” he teases, and you can hear the grin in his voice even without looking.

You spin around, your cheeks warm as you glare at him—or at least try to. “I need to finish dinner. Either help or sit down.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, though there’s no hiding the amusement in his expression. “Alright, alright. What do you need me to do, boss?”

You hand him a carrot, your lips quirking into a small smile despite yourself. “Peel this. And don’t distract me.”

“Can’t make any promises,” he says with a wink, but he takes the carrot anyway, grabbing a peeler from the drawer next to you.

For a few minutes, there’s an ease of peace as the two of you work side by side. He whistles softly under his breath as he peels glancing at you every now and then, and you chop in rhythm, the sounds of the kitchen filling the space. It feels so incredibly domestic and your thoughts start to drift to a future that you don't often dare to dream.

Is this what he would be like if we're married? you ask yourself. And deep inside, a part of you aches, and longs to find out.

But then, as you reach for the salt, his hand brushes yours, and you freeze, thoughts scrambling at his touch. He’s quick to close the distance again, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth in a kiss so fleeting you almost think you imagined it.

Your breath catches, and you stare up at him, wide-eyed and utterly flustered.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say.

“Jude,” you manage finally, though your voice is embarrassingly breathless.

“Hm?.” His fingers trace lazy patterns over the curve of your hip, sending little shivers through your skin. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs softly, his lips brushing against your hair, making you shiver. “In your little robe, making dinner for me. Fuck.” The last word comes out as a groan, and he buries his face into your neck.

The sensation of his breath against your skin sends a ripple through your body, leaving your muscles soft and weak. You lean into his embrace almost automatically, your palms flattening on the counter to steady yourself.

You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you as he nips at the curve of your neck, the touch sending sparks coursing through you.

You try to catch your breath, your cheeks warming with heat as your thoughts scatter. His hand trails higher up to rest on your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and you bite back a whimper. He’s being too bold, and it’s thrilling and terrifying and so, so good.

“Jude,” you stammer out finally. “We haven’t finished dinner yet.”

“I’ll survive,” he murmurs huskily, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin behind your ear.

And before you can muster up a protest, he spins you around to face him, his grip firm and demanding on your waist. His lips land against yours without warning, all heat and pressure, and your breath stutters out of you as you cling to him, unable to do anything but hold on.

The kiss turns hot and breathless so fast it leaves you reeling, his tongue sweeping into your mouth in bold strokes that leave you dizzy.

Your lips part in response, inviting him deeper, and he takes you up on the offer with a low groan of pleasure. He presses you into the counter, the kiss so urgent it feels like he needs it to survive. Your skin flushes, your body humming with a need you’ve never known before.

It’s too much. It’s like a wildfire burning out of control, and Jude, Jude, Jude.

You’re not even sure what it is that you’re craving so desperately, but you know it involves him.

And when he pulls away abruptly, it feels like being dunked into an ice bath.

Your head spins, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. Your breath is still ragged, your lips tingling, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart stutter.

It’s dark, unreadable, and you feel like prey caught in the sights of a predator—not in a dangerous way, but in a way that makes you hyperaware of every inch of your body.

Your fingers tighten on the counter behind you, grounding yourself as the silence stretches between you. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he steps back completely, dragging a hand over his face in what feels like frustration. The absence of his warmth hits you immediately, leaving you feeling cold, exposed, and a little disoriented.

You lower your gaze, your cheeks burning, unable to meet his eyes. The apartment feels too quiet, too still, and when you finally dare to look up, he’s gone—retreating into the living room with an almost frustratingly casual stride.

Dinner is a blur after that.

You push food around your plate, barely tasting it, too caught up in the memory of his lips on yours, the way he’d kissed you like he couldn’t get enough. It leaves you feeling equal parts flustered and thrilled, and you hate how obvious it must be. Jude, of course, notices. He keeps sneaking glances at you, his smirk growing every time he catches you looking away too quickly or fiddling with the edge of your napkin. But he doesn't say anything.

After dinner, he suggests a movie. You agree, mostly because you don’t trust yourself to say no without stammering, and before you know it, you’re in your room. The lights are dim, the glow of the screen casting soft shadows across the walls. You sit beside him on the bed, your knees tucked up to your chest, trying not to focus on how close he is.

“Relax,” he teases, draping an arm over your shoulder. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

You swat at him, your face heating up. “Jude!”

He laughs, low and rich, and you feel the sound settle in your chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

For a while, you focus on the movie. Or at least, you try to. Jude, apparently, has other plans. Somewhere halfway through the film, he shifts beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders. You glance at him, confused, only to freeze when his lips brush against the side of your neck.

“Jude,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Hmm?” His voice is soft, playful, but there’s a heat to it that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m trying to watch,” you manage, though your resolve wavers as his hand finds your waist, pulling you closer.

“Am I distracting you?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin.

You nod, your breath hitching, but it only seems to encourage him. His kisses grow more deliberate, his hand sliding up to cradle your face as he tilts your head toward him. The movie is completely forgotten as his lips capture yours, and this time, there’s nothing hesitant about the way he kisses you.

This kiss is different than the one in the kitchen. This kiss is greedy and demanding, the type that makes you forget how to breathe. You melt into him without hesitation, your hand finding its way to his neck as he pulls you onto his lap.

He lets out a low groan that sends shivers down your spine, his hands coming to settle on your thighs. The kiss deepens, becoming something more, until the world narrows down to nothing but him. His touches are hot and firm, his mouth demanding in a way that leaves your head spinning.

It’s overwhelming.

His touch, his scent, the low hum of his voice when he whispers your name—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. You’re hyperaware of everything: the way his hands skim your sides, the way his thumb brushes against your jaw, the way your own fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him.

When a soft sound escapes you—half gasp, half moan—he freezes. His forehead presses against yours, his breathing heavy and uneven. Still lost in the haze of lust he's started to awaken in you, your lips chase his in a desperate pathetic attempt to keep him close, and you whine when he pulls back, the sound embarrassing you to no end.

“Baby,” he murmurs hoarsely, his voice the epitome of need and restraint. “Baby, you need to stop that.”

It’s only when you look up into his eyes that you realize how affected he is. His pupils are blown, his cheeks flushed, his breath quickening as he holds your gaze. The intensity of his eyes makes your stomach clench, but the effect is different this time—different in a way that you can’t quite place.

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity, searching for something, anything, to explain the strange flutter in your stomach.

His expression is unreadable, but as you sit there, chest heaving, thighs squirming restlessly on his lap, you feel something press into your inner thigh and Jude groans again, his head dipping to rest against your shoulder.

A little noise of surprise slips out of you, and before you can look down, he's flipping you over, pinning you to the bed with a groan.

“Fuck, baby. You don’t know how good you feel,” he whispers huskily, pulling back just long enough to let you breathe. The sight of him—so desperate, so needy, and so turned on—leaves you reeling.

Your heart is pounding, your pulse frantic in your ears as your body responds to his proximity. The feeling between your legs grows slick, the sensation almost strange enough to distract you from the weight of him above.

Jude must feel the way your body tenses because his voice drops, taking on a soothing quality that makes your muscles relax against him. “Shhh, baby. It’s alright.” He leans in, his lips trailing down the side of your neck to leave featherlight kisses there. “Relax.”

But the feeling of being pinned between him and the bed is overwhelming, and before he can kiss you again, you shift restlessly, trying to escape. He lets you get away, his hands following the curve of your sides as you sit up, his gaze roving over you hungrily.

Your cheeks heat, and your hands flutter over your stomach as if trying to find a way to hide yourself. “I—” you start, but then you stop, unsure of how to finish the sentence. “I’m sorry.”

The apology slips out of you automatically, though you’re not even entirely sure what you’re apologizing for.

Jude shakes his head, a wry smile tilting his lips upward. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. “I just…” He trails off, shaking his head again, though his smile turns into a smirk. “I want you so bad it’s driving me fucking crazy." His voice drops into a growl, his hands tightening on your thighs, and you gasp softly. "And it's—fuck. It's turning me on so much." He leans down, pressing you against the mattress once again, and your whine is audible.

“Jude…” you whisper, your voice quivering as your hands press against his chest in a weak attempt to create some distance. But your resolve falters when you meet his eyes—stormy and filled with a look that leaves you breathless. Hunger.

“Yes, baby?,” he murmurs huskily.

But you don’t get a chance to answer because his lips close over yours, pulling you into a kiss that’s everything and nothing you imagined a kiss to be. It’s urgent, hungry, and maddeningly sweet, and you cling to him without a second thought, your legs wrapping around his waist as if by instinct alone.

It feels like everything in the room blurs to nothing around the two of you, like the world has stopped turning.

The sensation between your legs turns wet, slick, and you can feel his hardness through the thin fabric of your shorts, the sensation both thrilling and overwhelming. He groans into the kiss, his hips rocking against you in a motion that leaves you gasping.

You feel so hot all of a sudden—like your whole body is on fire. Your thoughts scatter as you cling to his shoulders, his name on your lips, and it's like he's pushing you higher and higher.

The kiss becomes messy, teeth clashing, lips biting, his hands pulling at your shirt as if trying to pull it off. You’re completely lost to his touch, your body moving against his in a needy rhythm that feels like instinct alone.

But just when you think he might push you further, Jude pulls away abruptly with a sharp groan, his chest heaving as he buries his head against the curve of your shoulder. You’re left with your arms wrapped around his neck, your body trembling as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the word hot against your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His body shudders, his hips rocking forward once, then twice, then he's yanking himself off you like you've just burned him.

You try to hold him closer, but he's too strong and it only seems to make him pull away harder.

“Jude?” you ask, your voice trembling as your thoughts catch up. You’re breathless, your body aching for something you don’t even know how to ask for. ��What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just rolls away from you, his hands burying in his hair as he lets out a long groan of frustration.

Your cheeks warm, but there’s something in his look, something that makes your chest flutter. It’s dark, almost possessive, and the intensity steals your breath. You open your mouth to say something—anything—to fill the silence, but before you can speak, Jude rolls to his feet, standing up with a swift motion that sends you sprawling on your back.

“I’m…” He swallows again, “I have to go,” he says, his voice thick, rough. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

You open your mouth, ready to ask why, but he’s already halfway out the door. You catch up just in time to watch him slam the front door closed behind him, the sound of his car roaring to life outside.

You stare at the closed door for a moment, blinking slowly as if you’re half-asleep. Your body still hums from his touches, your muscles soft, your heart pounding, and all you can think is: what did I do wrong?

*********

You don’t see him again for a couple of days.

It’s not unusual for Jude to be busy, his schedule crammed with training sessions, meetings, and endless obligations. But this feels different. He’s never been too busy to send a good morning text, check in with a quick call, or find some excuse to see you, even if it’s just for an hour.

Now, though? It’s radio silence.

The first day, you try to brush it off. You tell yourself that he’s probably exhausted and needs some space. By the second, the worry creeps in, uninvited but persistent. Did you do something wrong? Was it something you said? Something you didn’t say?

By the time he texts you to come over on the third day, you’ve practically convinced yourself he’s about to break things off. The idea leaves your chest feeling hollow.

When you step into his house, he greets you like always, flashing that charming grin that makes your stomach flip. But there’s something off in his posture, the way his arms wrap around you just a little too loosely.

The two of you settle on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Jude is quiet, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch but not quite pulling you in. Normally, he’d be all over you by now, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh, his lips brushing against your temple. Tonight, he’s… distant.

You bite your lip, stealing glances at him. He seems engrossed in the screen, but his jaw is set tightly, and his hand keeps flexing like he’s restless.

The movie plays on, and you feel like you’re sitting next to a stranger. Your heart pounds as you shift closer, testing the waters. His arm twitches but doesn’t move to pull you closer.

Your voice comes out soft, hesitant. “Jude?”

He hums, not looking at you.

“I missed you,” you admit, hoping it doesn’t sound as needy as it feels.

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Missed you too.” His tone is distracted, his gaze not straying from the screen.

You frown, your brow furrowing. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in the way his body tenses every time you shift a little closer. His hand tightens, loosens, tightens again, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Can I ask you something?” you start, your voice tentative. When he doesn’t respond, you clear your throat. “Why didn’t you call me this week? You’re always so busy, and I know that, but—” You trail off, hoping he’ll fill in the blanks.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. The silence between you stretches out uncomfortably, but then his gaze shifts, and you catch the way his eyes soften as they land on you. “It’s nothing.” He reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You let him take your hand, but the touch feels fleeting, hollow—like he’s holding back. Your chest tightens, the ache spreading to your throat as you try to steady your breathing. You don’t want to push him, but the silence between you is unbearable.

“Jude,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

He sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Look, I’m just busy. That’s all.”

“You’ve always been busy,” you point out, feeling the sting of rejection. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t find time to call me this time.” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your lap to hide it.

He shifts then, his body twisting to face yours, his hand cupping your chin as he forces you to meet his eyes. His expression is soft, his brows furrowing as he studies your face. “Hey,” he murmurs. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s not your fault. I just… I was busy with some things.”

“What things?” you press, frowning at the way he looks at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “What did I do? You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me. I promise.”

Jude’s lips quirk, his smile almost wry. “I’m not trying to sugarcoat anything, baby.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. His voice drops, turning soft. “It’s just hard for me to be around you.”

“Why?” you breathe out.

He hums, his nose nuzzling against your temple. “You're so… fucking innocent, baby. And you have no idea how much that fucking turns me on. I just can’t—You deserve everything, and I don't want to fuck this up.” He pulls back, his expression shifting to one of frustration. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I want to be good for you, baby.” His thumb brushes against your cheek as he whispers against your skin. “I wanna ruin you."

His words make heat pool low in your stomach, your thighs pressing together. His voice is hypnotic, low and husky, and it takes you a moment to respond. "How would you do that?” you whisper.

His pupils dilate, his lips parting. “Oh fuck.” He swallows audibly, his gaze dropping to your mouth. Jude groans softly, his hand trailing up to cup the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You don’t wanna know, sweetheart," he says, his voice thick with restraint. "I shouldn’t even be saying this."

You blink up at him, your lips parting to protest, but no sound comes out. His confession leaves you breathless, and your heart stumbles in your chest. "But I want to know," you whisper, feeling the heat of his gaze settle over you like fog.

His jaw tightens, and he leans in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You’re playing with fire," he murmurs, his breath warm and tantalizing against your lips. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

You don't move—can't move. It's like his words are pinning you in place with the weight of their meaning.

Jude chuckles softly, the sound low and almost reverent. "God, you’re so cute when you’re shy." His other hand moves to your waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt. "I missed you like crazy these past few days, you know that? Couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. Just kept picturing you." He swallows thickly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Your lips are so fucking soft, and you taste like fucking honey."

His hand cups your face, his eyes burning into yours as he pulls back enough to meet your gaze. "Do you know how many times I've jacked off this week just thinking about your mouth? About what it would be like to fuck you?" He leans in closer, his voice turning harsh. "Do you even realize how fucking sexy you are? You make me lose my goddamn mind, baby."

You don't answer. You're not even sure if you can. His words have your head reeling, your breath catching in your throat. Heat pulses between your legs, making your thighs clench and unclench restlessly.

Jude groans, his face tucking into the crook of your neck as if seeking shelter. "Fuck. See what you fucking do to me? I can't even have a conversation around you, baby. I'm fucking obsessed." His fingers flex against your skin, his hot breath gusting over your neck. "Just being this close to you is driving me crazy."

Your breath hitches, a small noise escaping you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders instinctively. His words are making you feel… something. Your brain can't quite put a name to it, but it's making you feel soft and needy and… wet.

Jude seems to notice because he freezes, his nose dipping to the side of your neck, breathing you in deeply. "Are you wet, baby?" he murmurs, the question sending a flush up your cheeks. His voice is low, dark, and it does nothing to help the ache between your legs.

You squirm against him, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the sensation. His hand cups your ass, pulling your body flush against his as he growls low against your neck.

"Answer me," he grunts, his hips pressing forward with a motion that makes you gasp.

Your head swims as if from a lack of oxygen, but you manage to whisper, "Y-yes."

Jude's whole body shudders against you , his head dropping to the crook of your shoulder as he groans again. "Fuck, sweetheart." His voice is hot against your skin, the words a mix of frustration and desire. "What did I tell you?" he murmurs almost absently. "About making me lose my fucking mind?"

The tension between you seems to grow thicker with every second that passes, and before you know it, you're being pulled onto his lap, his mouth crashing over yours in a desperate kiss. You cling to him, letting him devour you completely, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters but this.

Except he pulls away again just as quickly, his hands coming up to grip your shoulders and hold you at arm's length. You stare at him, confused, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming out in quick pants.

"Jude," you breathe out, reaching for him.

But he shakes his head, his jaw flexing with restraint as he holds you still. "No, baby. If I touch you again right now, I don’t think I'll be able to stop myself." His voice dips, growing rougher. "You're not ready for that." He leans in to nuzzle your nose, his words coming out as a soft apology against your skin. "You deserve better than me losing control like this."

You frown at his words, feeling them hit somewhere deep in your chest, but before you can find a way to respond, he pulls away and stands up. "Wait!" Your hand shoots out and drags him back to the sofa with a strength that surprises both of you.

"I—I want it. I want you to… have me." The words come out before you can take them back, but instead of being met with rejection, Jude’s eyes darken, his pupils expanding to eat up the color of his eyes. His grip tightens on your hand, and you hear him swallow thickly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice husky and soft. "Baby, if you let me touch you like that, I won’t be able to hold back." He leans forward as if drawn by gravity, his lips grazing against yours as he murmurs against your mouth. "You want that?"

The question makes your cheeks flush, the sensation traveling down to pulse between your legs. Your stomach clenches, and you find yourself nodding, your lips brushing against his with the motion.

His soft groan vibrates through your entire body. His hand cups the side of your face with a gentleness that contradicts the heat in his eyes. "Baby," he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. He leans back then, his expression softening, a hint of amusement tilting the corner of his lips upward. "You sure? You’re not just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?"

You shake your head , your breath hitching when his thumb trails over your bottom lip. "I trust you." The words slip out of you on a whisper, but they seem to mean something to him because he lets out a soft exhale.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “If you don’t stop being so fucking sweet, baby, I’m gonna fuck you on this couch, and neither of us will be ready for that.” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his words making heat spread through your body. "You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into." He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing, a small smirk twisting his lips. "But if you still want me to teach you after tonight, then I promise you that I’ll be the one to ruin you like you want." With that, he leans in and kisses you gently, the motion soft and sweet.

When he pulls back, his voice drops to a growl. “I can't wait to ruin you.” His words are so low, so full of warning that you wonder what he plans to do to you. The idea makes your pulse quicken, your stomach fluttering.

Jude leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your mouth. “I’ll show you just how good it can be,” he whispers against your mouth, and then he pulls away with a soft bite to your bottom lip, leaving you breathless and wanting so much more.

He gives you another kiss that promises to corrupt, then leaves you on the couch feeling like your whole world has been flipped on its head. You wonder what the next few weeks will be like now.

********

"I want to learn how to please Jude." Is not what Charlie expects to hear from you.

You who are painfully shy and would rather hide under the covers than have a conversation about this sort of thing. So you imagine that your words catch her off guard when you approach her in your room, both of you lying on the bed side by side.

Charlie looks at you with a mixture of shock and amusement. "Well shit, girl. What brought that on?" She reaches over and puts a hand on your arm in comfort. "What happened?"

You fidget nervously. "It's just… I want to please him, and I don't know how. We've been dating for a while now, and I feel like it's time to try something new." You lower your eyes at the last part, your cheeks burning like crazy. "We've been together for so long and we still haven't done anything." You take a shaky breath. "I don't want him to get tired of me."

Charlie stares at you for a long moment, then she cracks out laughing. "Girl, you're so silly."

"What?" Your voice comes out pouty.

"Oh, come on." She chuckles. "You're being silly. There's no way in hell that Jude could be upset with you." She gives you a playful push, "Y/N, that guy is madly in love with you. He looks at you like he's obsessed. There's no chance he's getting tired of you."

You smile softly at her words, hope blooming in your chest at her confidence. "Yeah?" you ask, your tone breathless.

"Yeah." Charlie's expression softens, her voice turning gentle. "He looks at you the same way you do him. So please, stop worrying about it and just let him make the first move. Don't feel pressured into doing something you don't want to."

You nod, your brows furrowing as you look away. "That's the thing though. I do want to." Your voice drops to a whisper. "But I don't know what I'm doing."

Charlie looks at you for a second, then nods. "Ok. So what do you want to do?" She asks, her tone soft.

You look up at her, "What do guys like?" You ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it. You bite your lip and look away, feeling your cheeks burn.

Charlie laughs softly, the sound almost like a purr, "Ooo, Y/NNNN. Are you trying to turn me on?" She jokes. You know she's kidding because she's making that face she always makes right after telling a really funny joke.

"Charlie!" You push her with a giggle.

"What?" She pushes you back with a grin, "Come on, Y/N. If you're going to be a big girl and have sex, you should be able to talk about it."

You pout at her. "That's not fair. I ask you for help, and you're teasing me."

She chuckles and rolls her eyes with a smile, "Ok, ok. What do you wanna know?"

"Everything." You say, your face heating up even more.

"Everything?" Charlie quirks a brow, propping herself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. "Girl, that's a tall order. Are we talking the birds and the bees 'everything' or just the Jude-specific 'everything'?"

You bury your face in your hands, groaning. "This is so embarrassing."

Charlie laughs, a genuine, warm sound that makes you peek at her through your fingers. "Y/N, relax. Seriously. This is normal stuff. And you’re with Jude Bellingham, of all people. Do you have any idea how hungry he is? That man eye fucks you everytime you're in the room."

You groan again, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face in the pillow. "Stop! You're making it worse."

Charlie snorts, patting your back. "Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Let’s get serious for a sec. First of all, there’s no ‘right’ way to do anything. Everyone’s different. But if you really want to know what Jude likes, just…ask him. You already know him better than anyone else."

You lift your head slightly, just enough to look at her. "But what if I mess up?"

Charlie tilts her head, giving you a soft smile. "Y/N, you can’t mess up with someone who loves you. Jude’s not going to care if you don’t know everything. He’s crazy about you—trust me, I’ve seen it. The guy practically glows when you’re in the room. Just talk to him, be yourself, and let things happen naturally."

You chew on your bottom lip, processing her words. "I guess that makes sense. But what if—"

You’re interrupted by the familiar sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. Charlie smirks knowingly. "Bet you ten bucks it’s him."

You reach for your phone, and sure enough, Jude’s name lights up the screen. Your heart does a little flip, and Charlie cackles at the way your face immediately softens.

"Go on," she says, waving her hand. "Answer it. Lover boy’s probably wondering why you’ve been ignoring him all evening."

You hesitate for a moment before swiping to answer. "Hey," you say softly, your voice a little shaky.

"Hey, love." Jude’s deep, smooth voice comes through the line, instantly putting you at ease. "What’re you up to?"

"Just hanging out with Charlie," you reply, glancing at your friend, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. You roll your eyes at her. "What about you?"

"Thinking about you," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Missed you today."

Your cheeks flush, and Charlie makes a gagging motion, though her grin only widens. "I… I missed you too," you admit shyly, your fingers twisting in the hem of your sweater.

"Yeah?" Jude’s tone is playful, but there’s an edge of sincerity that makes your heart flutter. "What’re you doing after Charlie goes? Can I come see you?"

Your stomach flips, and you glance at Charlie, who’s mouthing Say yes! with an exaggerated expression. "Um, yeah," you say, trying to sound casual despite the way your voice wobbles. "If you want to."

"Of course I want to," he says, chuckling softly. "I’ll be over in a bit, yeah?"

"Okay," you whisper, unable to keep the smile out of your voice.

"See you soon, love."

You hang up and immediately bury your face in the pillow again, earning a loud laugh from Charlie. "Oh my God, you’re hopeless," she teases, nudging you with her foot. "You’re like a lovesick puppy. It’s adorable."

"Shut up," you mumble, though you’re smiling. You peek at her as you sit up. "Thanks, though. You were really helpful."

She snorts. "Clearly. But seriously, just relax. Be yourself. I promise he’ll love it. And if all else fails just give him a blowjob" She ducks just in time to miss the pillow you chuck her way. "I’ve gotta go. My ride’s coming in a minute." She climbs off the bed and heads over to the dresser to grab her phone. "I think I left my keys downstairs. Tell Jude I said hi."

"Will do," you say, smiling softly.

She waves before heading out the door and leaving you alone. You sink back into the covers, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you.

**********

A half hour later, you’re pacing in front of the living room door, your nerves bubbling up with every step. You keep glancing at the clock, willing the minutes to tick faster and slower all at once.

Your hands feel clammy, and you’re acutely aware of every tiny sound in the apartment—the hum of the refrigerator, the distant chatter of your upstairs neighbors, the soft patter of your socked feet against the floor. You’ve checked your reflection in the hallway mirror at least five times, brushing nonexistent lint from your sweater.

When you finally hear the familiar, rhythmic knock that signals Jude’s arrival, your heart skips a beat. You nearly trip over your own feet as you hurry to the door, pulling it open so quickly that Jude looks startled for a split second before his expression melts into that devastatingly familiar grin—the one that never fails to make your stomach flip.

"There’s my girl," he greets warmly, his voice a velvety blend of affection and amusement. Before you can even stammer out a hello, he steps forward, slipping one arm around your waist and pulling you into him. His lips find yours in a heartbeat, soft and warm, and you let out a small, involuntary sigh as his other hand settles on the back of your neck.

"Hi," you manage to mumble against his lips, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude chuckles, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. "Hello to you too," he murmurs, his thumb brushing an absentminded circle against your hip. His brown eyes are locked on yours, teasing. "You seem a little eager tonight. Miss me, baby?"

The heat rushes to your cheeks in an instant, and you lower your gaze, biting your lip to suppress the shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Maybe," you mumble, your voice so soft it’s almost lost in the space between you.

Jude’s grin widens, and he cups your face with one hand, his thumb brushing gently over the apple of your cheek. "Maybe?" he echoes, pretending to be wounded. "I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I get a maybe?" His tone is playful, but his eyes are so full of adoration that it makes your chest ache in the best way.

You fidget under his gaze, your hands instinctively gripping the hem of your sweater. "Of course I missed you," you admit shyly, barely managing to look up at him.

"That’s more like it," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for a moment, and when he pulls back, there’s a tenderness in his expression that makes your heart flutter. "Missed you too, you know. More than I probably should admit."

Your stomach flips at his words, and you let out a breathless laugh, not quite sure how to respond. Jude doesn’t seem to mind your silence; he just brushes another kiss to the tip of your nose before letting his hand slide from your face to your hand, lacing your fingers together.

"So," he starts, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone, "is Charlie still here, or do we have the place to ourselves?"

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks warm again at the implication. "She left about an hour ago," you reply, your voice still soft.

Jude grins. "Perfect. Let’s do something scandalous then," he teases, his voice dripping with faux mischief.

You blink up at him, wide-eyed. "Scandalous?" Is this it?

"Yep," he says with a wink. "Like…watching a movie we’ve already seen twenty times while cuddling on the couch. Absolutely outrageous, right?" You try not to deflate at his words and he must've noticed because he smirks down at you.

You let out a soft force chuckle, not seeing the teasing grin on his face. "Yeah, sure."

"Great!" Jude quips, tugging you toward the living room. "C’mon, let’s pick something good."

By "good," you know he means your favorite DVD, the one you’ve insisted on watching so many times that you’re sure he knows half the lines by heart. Sure enough, you makes a beeline for the small shelf in your room, plucking the case from its spot with a triumphant flourish.

"We have to find something new, you know that right?" he teases as you holds it up for him to see. Like he doesn't love it just as much as you. Maybe more. Not that he'll ever admit that to you.

"And yet you keep coming back," you counter quietly, feeling braver than usual.

Jude’s grin softens into something sweeter as he crosses the room to stand in front of you. "Because you’re worth it," he says simply, his voice so sincere it makes your chest tighten. He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before taking your hand again and leading you to your bed. "Now let’s go watch our favorite movie while cuddled in bed like good little nerds."

You follow him, feeling like you’re floating.

The movie’s been playing for about twenty minutes when you finally start to relax, tucked under Jude’s arm with a cozy blanket draped over both of you. The familiar dialogue flows easily in the background, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of Jude’s chest against your side. You're lulled into a state of peace, your head resting against his shoulder, your leg draped over his as you settle in.

It's when the movie gets to the good part that you hear (feel) Jude's stomach growl from under your ear, the low sound vibrating up his chest.

"Shit," he mutters with a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand absently over his stomach. "I’m fucking starving."

You lift your head from his shoulder to peer at his face. “You want me to make you something?” you ask, even though you don't feel like cooking, your hand coming up to copy his gesture.

His eyes flick down to yours, "Yeah," he says slowly, his voice low and soft. He lifts a hand, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch so gentle you barely feel it. His gaze follows the motion, his eyes darkening. "That’d be great, baby."

Your pulse quickens at the softness of his tone, but you nod and slip out of his arms, the movement sending the blanket tumbling to the bed. You slip out of the room, feeling his eyes on your back like a caress.

When you return with two bowls of popcorn in hand and a couple bags of snacks, Jude looks up from the spot he's settled in on the couch, his eyes sliding to yours for a heartbeat before dropping down to the food.

“Thank God,” he murmurs, taking one of the bowls from your hands with a grin. You try not to notice the way he brushes his fingers against yours as you pass him the bowl, but the touch makes your stomach flip anyway.

You sink back down beside him on the bed and take a seat. His leg presses up against yours, warm through the fabric of your jeans, and you feel yourself melting into him automatically, his warmth and scent pulling you in.

Jude lifts a handful of popcorn to his mouth, chewing as he settles his arm around your shoulder, the motion drawing you in even closer, until you're practically nestled against his side. His other hand lands on your thigh, his thumb brushing a slow pattern against your leg as he watches the movie. The motion sends a shiver up your spine, and you find your eyes dropping to the sight of his large hand against your leg, his fingertips lightly tracing the soft skin.

The feeling of his hand on you, the heat of his body against yours, is so good that you forget everything else around you—his soft, contented munching, the gentle way he tugs you in closer every now and then, the way you can feel his breath ghosting along the back of your neck and sending shivers up your spine.

You forget about it all until you feel his eyes on you, and you glance up to meet his gaze.

Jude is staring at you, his eyes half-lidded and his face tilted toward you. His expression is soft, his gaze almost… hungry. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, his teeth catching it for just a heartbeat before he lets it slide free. You watch the whole thing in rapt fascination, your cheeks flushing when his gaze flicks down to yours and catches you staring.

"See something you like?" he asks with a low smirk, his voice soft and playful.

You feeling your skin heat up, feeling your pulse quicken and your stomach clench. You lower your eyes, biting your bottom lip to try and contain the frown that's threatening to break across your face.

"Y/N." His voice drops even lower, his hand tightening on your leg as you feel him lean in. His warm breath feathers along the shell of your ear, making you shiver and squirm. "Look at me."

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and his gaze is so warm that you can't look away. You're caught in his stare, the heat building between you like a flame.

"You're really fucking cute when you're shy," he murmurs softly, his grin widening as he reaches up to brush his thumb against the apple of your cheek, his touch feather-light. His eyes follow the motion, and his lips part as he takes a shallow breath, his body seeming to lean in on its own.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you forget to breathe for just a heartbeat as he presses his lips to yours, the kiss light and quick. When he pulls back, he doesn't go far, his face still hovering just a breath away.

"What?" you whisper, your pulse quickening at the way his eyes seem to darken as they drop down to look at your lips.

He lets out a soft, deep chuckle that vibrates through his chest. "What do you think?" His gaze is full of heat as he leans in again, the kiss softer this time, his lips barely brushing over yours. The motion makes you melt into him, your body seeming to go pliant under his touch. "You're too fucking sweet."

Your stomach flips at the way he says that, your hand coming up automatically to cup his neck. You draw him in, deepening the kiss with a soft sound, and he makes a pleased noise against your lips as he opens for you, letting you in.

The kiss turns soft and gentle, a sweet press of lips that makes you feel all fluttery inside, and you sink into it like a fish to water, losing yourself in the heat between you.

When Jude pulls back this time, it's with a groan, his brow furrowing as he tugs away, his breathing a little ragged. "We gotta stop."

You frown, feeling the sudden loss of him like a cold shower. You hesitate for a second, then reach out to cup his face with your palm, my thumb brushing over the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

"Jude—" you start softly, and he lets out another soft groan, sinking into your touch as he closes his eyes for a moment.

"Hm?" he hums against your palm, his tone low and tortured.

"I want you," you whisper, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

His eyes fly open at your words, his gaze snapping back to yours, and for just a heartbeat, he looks almost pained. Then he lets out a harsh breath and drops his head to yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"I—fuck," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin, and you can feel his body vibrating with the tension of his emotion. His hand cups the back of your skull, pulling you in closer. "I need a minute."

Your brows furrow at his words. What's wrong? you want to ask, but then Jude lets out a soft groan and bites you lightly on the neck, and all thoughts fly out of your mind.

His lips press to your skin with a soft, wet sound, the suction making your stomach flip. When he pulls back to look up at you, his mouth is swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded. He stares at you for a long moment, his gaze roaming down over your features before meeting yours again.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice almost a growl.

You nod, swallowing hard, your heart beating in your throat. I've never been more sure of anything.

Jude groans softly and kisses you again, the motion firm and deep as he pushes you backward until you're lying flat on the bed, his body covering yours. "How far do you want to go?" He mutters against your mouth, his voice deep and husky, his tongue darting out to trace your lips.

You hesitate for a heartbeat, unsure of how to answer. "Just… more than this?" you mumble softly, your hand tracing up his arm and coming to rest on his chest.

His other hand slides down to your waist, his fingers curling around your hip as he shifts, pressing you back into the bed. The weight of him, the heat of his body against yours, is overwhelming in the best way, and you can’t help the soft sound that escapes you.

"God, you’re perfect," he mutters. His lips trail down to your jaw, then your neck, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses that make your skin tingle. "Tell me if I’m going too far, okay? Promise me."

You nod wordlessly, unable to speak around the pulse pounding in your throat.

Jude trails his lips along your collarbone, nipping gently at the skin before he lifts his head and catches your eyes with a heated look. "If it feels good," he starts slowly, his gaze locked on yours as his hand shifts up to cup your face, "tell me."

His other hand drops to your waist again, his palm skimming along your hip before sliding up underneath your shirt to land on the bare skin of your stomach. You gasp at the feeling of his warm palm against your skin, your breath catching as his fingers splay out over your belly, his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

"You like that, baby?" His eyes are dark with arousal as he stares down at you, his fingers sliding up to trace over the underside of your breast through your bra. The touch sends a shock straight through your body, your eyes fluttering closed. "Tell me, Y/N," he urges softly.

You gasp softly, letting out a wordless sound as you arch under his touch, your hands coming up to cling to his shoulders. You feel like you're melting into him, like your body is going limp as you let out another soft sound. "Yes."

Jude groans and presses a kiss to your neck, his mouth moving against your skin as he speaks. "Good girl." His hand moves up again, his fingers tracing up the bare skin of your side before his palm cups your breast, his thumb brushing lightly over your nipple.

You gasp again, your breath catching in your throat as you squirm under his touch. He doesn't stop, though; his fingers slip under the edge of your bra cup to brush over your nipple with a feather-light touch.

"God," he mutters hoarsely against your skin, his palm moving in a slow circle over your breast. "You have no idea how fucking good that feels."

His other hand shifts down to settle on your thigh, just above the knee, and you feel a shiver run through you. Your pulse is racing in your ears, the touch of him setting your whole body aflame.

You squirm under him, a soft, high-pitched moan slipping from between your lips, and Jude’s groan is immediate and deep. He shifts to settle his leg between your thighs, and you gasp again at the feeling of him against you. You can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and the sensation sends another shiver up your spine.

"Fuck, Y/N," he rasps against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers trail down your ribs to your stomach, his palm landing flat against your belly with a soft press. "You’re gonna kill me."

The feeling of his hands on you is too much, and you squirm again, arching under his touch as you let out a high, breathless sound. Jude curses softly, shifting his leg against your center, and you feel another rush of wetness slip from you. His palm moves down to settle between your legs, his hand covering your mound with a warm press that makes you gasp.

"Tell me," he rasps, his voice full of emotion as he kisses your neck again. "Does this feel good?"

You can’t speak; all you can manage is a wordless nod, your hips arching up against his hand. Jude groans again, his breath feathering along your neck, his lips brushing a trail down to the neckline of your shirt.

He's still kissing you when he slides his hand down the waistband of your pants, his fingers trailing over the wet cotton of your panties before slipping under the edge to press against your bare skin. You feel a rush of pleasure at the touch, your whole body tensing, and Jude curses again softly as his palm presses against you, the weight of him making you feel warm and safe.

"Is this okay?" he asks raggedly, his fingers moving up to stroke against your clit through your panties.

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you let out a soft gasp as your hips shift against his palm. You nod wordlessly, your hands shifting up to clutch at his shoulders, and Jude groans again at the sensation of you against him.

"I need words baby," he rasps, his finger slipping under the cotton to brush against your clit with a slow press.

You let out another high-pitched sound, squirming under his hand as his finger shifts to rub against you in slow circles. His palm presses against your mound with a gentle weight, the pressure building between your legs and making your breath come in short, shallow gasps.

"Jude…please," you gasp, your hips shifting against his hand again.

"Please what?" He nuzzles your neck again, his lips feathering a trail along the skin. His finger doesn't stop moving, though, the feeling sending a rush of warmth through you. "Tell me what you need."

Your cheeks flush at his words, and you swallow hard. "Jude…" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Come on," he rasps gently against your ear. "Tell me."

You squirm again, trying to get away from the feeling of his finger on your clit and the sudden wave of embarrassment that crashes over you. Jude doesn’t let you escape, though; his other arm tightens around your waist as his finger presses down harder against your clit, making the pleasure build between your legs.

"Yes!," you moan again, your voice high and breathless, your legs squirming against his hips. "More! P-please."

He groans loudly against your neck, his teeth catching at the skin in a sharp nip that makes you cry out. "God, fuck. You’re so good for me," he mutters in a hoarse rasp. Then he's pulling away. "Take off your pants for me baby. I wanna see you."

You nod, your hands dropping to your waist as you shove the fabric down. You’re not even fully out of them when Jude slides in the bed behind you. His arms come up around your waist, drawing you back against him, and his mouth drops to nuzzle against the back of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

He pulls you flush against him, his hips fitting against your ass in a way that makes you realize just how turned on he is. You let out another soft gasp, squirming back against him as you feel the length of his cock pressing between your ass cheeks.

Jude groans loudly again, his hands coming up to grip your hips as he pulls you more firmly against him. "Fuck, you feel so good," he rumbles, his mouth nuzzling a trail up the back of your neck. He kisses your skin softly, the warm press of his lips sending another shiver through you.

His hands move down to slip under the edge of your underwear, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your thigh. You feel your stomach clench, the anticipation building inside you as his hand skims up to press between your legs. His fingers slide against your wet pussy, his palm cupping you firmly with a possessive press that makes your whole body tremble.

"Fuck," he growls hoarsely again, his lips trailing down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder. "You're so wet for me." His fingers shift to press your folds through the fabric, stroking lightly against your clit as the wet slick sound of your arousal fills the air. "Do you like it when I touch you?"

You gasp at his words, feeling a hot blush rise up your neck. "Y-yes…" you gasp out.

He groans again, "You're really fucking perfect for me, you know that?" he rasps. "Take these off for me, baby."

You swallow hard, your hands lifting to your sides as you move to shimmy out of your panties, quickly closing your legs as soon as they're off. You hear Jude’s groan against your hair a moment before you feel his palm press down to your thigh.

"You getting shy on me, princess? Hm?" His voice is teasing as he nudges your legs apart again, his fingers trailing down over your skin as he pulls them further and further apart. You gasp softly as you feel your pussy lips spread with the movement, your clit throbbing. "Open up for me."

Your blush deepens, and you hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, but Jude’s warm breath on your neck is making you melt and your thigh part for him.

"Good girl," he praises softly. "Now let me see what's mine." His hand trails down to settle between your spread legs, his palm cupping your pussy firmly with a warm weight. Your eyes roll back at the sensation. "Look how wet you are," he groans. "You're fucking dripping for me, baby."

His hand shifts, his fingers dipping down to press against your folds, and the feeling is so good it makes you shiver. You gasp again, feeling another rush of liquid heat slip from you as his fingers spread your lips apart. You feel the cool air brush against your wet skin, and you blush hotly again at the sound of your own wetness filling the air.

"Look at that pretty pussy," Jude rasps, his voice deep and rough as he looks down over your shoulder at your wet folds "Fucking gorgeous."

His fingers shift to press against you again, and he lets out a pleased sound as he feels your wetness, his voice dropping to a deep whisper. "You love it, don't you?" he rumbles. "I can tell by the way you soak my fingers." He nuzzles his face into the back of your neck again, his breath making your skin prickle.

"Yes," you moan softly, your eyes drifting closed at the pleasure of his fingers against you.

Jude groans in response, his hand tightening around your hip as his fingers stroke against you faster. The feeling is so good that you can’t hold back your high-pitched sounds.

"Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?" he rasps against the skin of your neck, his fingers finding your clit with a sure press. The pleasure is so intense that you cry out at the sensation, your legs quivering as his thumb begins to rub against you with slow circles.

"Yeah?" Jude whispers in your ear, his voice low and husky. "Give it to me, baby." His voice is like liquid honey against your skin as his fingers shift, two of them sliding up to circle your clit in tight motions, the pad of his thumb rubbing against you in a steady, soft press.

You're so wet that you can hear the sloppy sound of him touching you, his palm cupped around your mound to shield it from the cool air of the room. You can tell he likes it, too; his breath is hot against your neck, and he groans roughly at the feeling of you in his hand.

The contrast between the heat of his palm and the chill of the air makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the way his fingers are lazily stroking through your slickness, his touch teasing, reverent.

“God,” Jude groans, the sound raw, like he’s barely keeping himself together. “You hear that, sweetheart?” His voice is heavy with something dark and sweet, something that makes your stomach flip. “So fucking wet for me.”

You let out a tiny whimper, embarrassed but unable to deny how much you like the way he’s touching you, the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You try to close your thighs instinctively, but he doesn’t let you, his hand pressing you open again with a quiet chuckle.

“No, no, don’t get shy on me now,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. “Let me make you feel good, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod, your face burning, and he exhales a quiet curse before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

“Can I stick a finger in, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, like honey, like he already knows the answer. He presses the tip of his middle finger against your entrance, just barely there, waiting, teasing.

You gasp at the sensation, your hips arching against his hand without thinking, seeking more. You don’t even realize how eager you are until you hear the sharp breath he takes in, feel the way his other arm tightens around your waist, holding you flush against him.

“That’s a yes?” Jude teases, but his voice is strained, like he’s holding himself back.

You nod, swallowing thickly, and then his finger presses inside you, sinking in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open in the most delicious way. Your breath stutters, a soft, helpless sound escaping you as your body adjusts to the intrusion, and Jude groans in response, his face pressing against your hair.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost pained. “You’re so tight, baby.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you as he strokes his finger in and out, curling it slightly with each movement. The sensation is foreign but intoxicating, sending little sparks of pleasure through your body with every slow, deliberate thrust.

His lips find your shoulder, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin as he moves, his breath fanning over you in hot, uneven bursts. “Little virgin pussy just for me,” he whispers against your skin, and the words send a rush of something heady and desperate straight to your core.

Your body clenches around him involuntarily, and he groans at the feeling, his whole body shuddering behind you. “Fuck, baby. Do that again.”

You don’t mean to, but the way he’s touching you, the way his palm is dragging against your clit every time his fingers move, it’s too much. Your body reacts on instinct, tightening around him again, and he curses under his breath, his teeth sinking lightly into your shoulder as if he needs something to ground himself.

“Jude,” you whimper, unsure of what you’re asking for, only knowing that you need more.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and then he’s slipping another finger inside you, filling you even more, stretching you in a way that feels impossibly good. His other hand slides under your shirt, palms up your stomach until he finds your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipple. “You’re taking me so well,” he praises, voice thick with adoration.

The combination of it all—the heat of his body, the skill of his fingers, the sweetness in his voice—is overwhelming, and you can feel something building, coiling tight in the pit of your stomach, desperate to break free.

He can tell. Of course, he can.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Jude murmurs against your skin, his fingers moving faster, his palm pressing just the right way against your clit. “You’re close, aren’t you? Gonna come for me?”

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his voice dripping with pride, and the praise sends you spiraling.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your whole body trembling as your release washes through you.

"Oh, God!" You cry out, Jude’s name falling from your lips in a breathless moan, and he groans, holding you tightly as he works you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing it out until you’re completely spent, boneless in his arms.

You don’t realize how loud you were until the room falls into a thick silence, the only sound left is your heavy breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets.

Jude presses a slow, lingering kiss to the back of your head, his fingers slipping out of you with a wet pop, and you whimper at the emptiness, the oversensitivity. He shushes you gently, soothing you with soft touches, sweet kisses.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling against your hair. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Your heart is still pounding in your chest, your body still tingling, but all you can focus on is the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back.

For the first time in your life, you feel like you’re seeing color.

"That good, huh?," Jude murmurs as he pulls his fingers from between your legs, sliding them up to cup your pussy possessively with a slow rub. Then he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a quiet groan of pleasure as you watch, your breath catching in your throat at the sight. His eyes locks on yours, the heat between you palpable as you gasp.

You nod, your cheeks flushing as he smirks, his tongue darting out to lick his palm.

"Tastes so fucking good too," he mutters, his voice dark with emotion. He drops his head to press a kiss to your neck, your collarbone, his hands slipping up to grip your shoulders firmly.

It's like a switch had been flipped inside you—And all you know is that you never want to go without feeling that again.

You're still breathing fast, your heart still pounding in your ears, "God damn, baby. You're gonna be the end of me."

***********

Pleasure has had a whole new meaning for you since that night.

And Jude is relentless. Ever the indulger.

There are moments when it feels like he can't keep his hands off of you at all. It's like he's gone feral.

Like the other day when you were cooking dinner, and you were wearing nothing but shorts and a tank top that barely covered your ass.

You were leaning over to stir the pot of pasta, completely focused on your task, until you felt Jude’s arms curl around your waist, pulling you back against him. His chest was warm, solid, and you felt the slow rise and fall of his breathing against your back before his hands slid up to cup your breasts, squeezing them roughly with a low groan.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?” he murmured against your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “Walkin’ around like this, actin’ like I won’t do anything about it.”

Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips against your ass, making you gasp. “J-Jude, I’m cooking.”

“Mhm.” He hummed lazily, fingers toying with your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. “And I’m hungry for something else.”

That ended with him eating you out for the first time, right there on the kitchen counter. An experience unlike any other. The way his tongue moved against you, how his fingers rubbed over your clit as he lapped at you—fuck. Just thinking about it makes your cheeks flush and your panties wet.

Then there was the time you fell asleep in his lap while watching a movie at his place.

You woke up to his hands between your legs. He wasn’t even doing anything, just keeping his hand there, warm and possessive. When you stirred and gave him a sleepy, questioning look, he just smirked down at you, dimples flashing.

“S’ mine,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if you belonged to him in every possible way.

And, god, the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s starving. Like he’s memorizing every inch of you. Like he’s still in disbelief that you’re his.

Right now you're at his apartment getting ready for your picnic date. You've decided to spend the summer with him since going home is out of the question for you this year. You're super excited to go on this picnic. It’s a surprise, so you have no idea where you’re going. But, from the way Jude looks, you’re pretty sure it's going to be great. He's practically bouncing in excitement.

Jude’s apartment smells like sandalwood and something faintly citrusy, a scent that clings to his skin, to the soft cotton of his hoodie, to the air around you. You’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, smoothing out the fabric of your sundress, your heart fluttering with the kind of nervous excitement that makes your fingers tremble just a little.

Behind you, Jude is practically bouncing on his heels, barely containing his excitement. It’s endearing, the way he can hardly stay still, like a golden retriever about to go on a walk.

“You almost ready, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice warm, teasing.

You catch his gaze in the mirror—he’s watching you with an expression that makes your stomach tighten, makes heat rise to your cheeks. The way he looks at you, dark eyes smoldering with something unspoken, always makes you feel like he’s seeing more than just what’s on the surface. Like he’s memorizing you.

“I—I think so,” you say softly, reaching for your cardigan, but before you can grab it, Jude steps in behind you, his chest pressing lightly against your back. His fingers brush over your bare shoulders, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You don’t need this,” he murmurs, lips so close to your ear that you feel the warmth of his breath. “It’s warm out.”

You swallow hard, your skin prickling under his touch. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and the worst part is that he enjoys it—loves the way you get all shy and flustered under his attention.

“I might get cold later,” you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

Jude grins against your hair, his arms slipping around your waist, pulling you back against him. “I’ll keep you warm, baby.”

Your breath catches. The way he says it, so effortlessly, like a promise wrapped in silk, makes you dizzy.

“Jude…”

“Mm?”

“I—I thought we were leaving?” you manage, heart pounding.

He laughs, nuzzling into your neck, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. “We are. But you keep distracting me.”

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, and you don’t trust yourself to say anything without making a complete fool of yourself, so you just push lightly at his arms. He chuckles but lets you go, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Fine, fine. But you really do look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You duck your head, smiling despite yourself. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You shake your head at him, but the warmth in his gaze, the sincerity laced in his words, makes your heart swell.

As you gather your things, Jude grabs the picnic basket, still humming under his breath, his excitement infectious. He won’t tell you where you’re going—he’s been annoyingly secretive about it all morning—but from the way he keeps stealing glances at you, like he’s holding onto some grand secret, you know it’s going to be something special.

The car ride is filled with soft music and Jude’s hand resting comfortably on your thigh, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your skin. Every now and then, he glances at you, a small, knowing smirk playing at his lips whenever he catches you sneaking a look at him.

“Excited?” he asks.

You nod, fingers twisting together in your lap. “Yeah. I love surprises.”

Jude grins, squeezing your thigh. “Good. ‘Cause you’re gonna love this one.”

The drive takes longer than you expected, but you don’t mind. With Jude, time always seems to melt away, the world outside shrinking until it’s just the two of you, wrapped in a little bubble of quiet intimacy.

When he finally pulls up to the destination, your breath catches. The sun is beginning to dip in the sky, casting everything in soft golden hues, and in front of you is a secluded little meadow, framed by towering trees. It looks like something out of a painting, untouched and serene.

“Oh,” you breathe, stepping out of the car, eyes wide. “Jude… it’s beautiful.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “Yeah? You like it?”

You nod, unable to find the right words.

“I wanted it to be special,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “For you.”

Your throat tightens at that, and you turn in his arms, looking up at him. The sunlight catches in his eyes, turning them into molten honey, and for a moment, all you can do is stare.

“Jude…”

His fingers tilt your chin up, his gaze flickering down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” You swoon at how he still asks.

You don’t even have to answer. You lift onto your toes, closing the space between you, and he meets you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep, filled with all the things he doesn’t need to say out loud.

When you finally pull back, breathless and warm, he smiles against your lips. “Told you you’d love it.”

You laugh, heart full, and let him lead you toward the picnic he’s set up under the trees, the blanket spread out beneath the stars. It’s so romantic you could cry.

Jude wasn’t lying when he said you’d love it.

The picnic setup is nothing short of breathtaking. A thick, cozy blanket is spread over the grass, weighed down at the corners with a wicker basket, a bottle of wine, and a few lit lanterns that flicker warmly against the encroaching twilight. A small tent is pitched just a few feet away, its entrance left open, revealing plush pillows and more blankets inside. Everything about it feels intimate, private, like your own little world hidden away from everything else.

And Jude—God, Jude looks so pleased with himself, hands on his hips, watching your reaction with a boyish grin.

“You really did all this?” you ask softly, still a little stunned, still trying to process just how perfect it all is.

Jude chuckles, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Of course,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “Wanted to spoil my girl.”

Your face burns at that, heart skipping an entire beat. His girl. It’s ridiculous how much those two little words make you melt, how they settle so easily into your chest like they’ve always belonged there.

“I—I love it,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

His lips graze the sensitive spot just behind your ear, and you shiver, hands gripping his forearms instinctively. “You can thank me later,” he teases, his voice laced with something dark, something promising.

Your breath hitches. “Jude.”

He just chuckles, pressing one last kiss to your neck before pulling away. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s eat before you get all shy on me.”

He’s right—you’re already flustered, barely holding yourself together as you kneel on the blanket. Jude joins you, opening the basket to pull out an assortment of food. There’s fresh fruit, sandwiches, some of your favorite snacks, and even ingredients for s’mores.

“You thought of everything,” you muse, watching as he uncorks the bottle of wine with practiced ease.

“‘Course I did,” he says, winking. “Gotta impress my girl.”

Your stomach flutters. You shake your head, biting your lip as you take the glass he hands you, trying to suppress the ridiculous smile threatening to take over your face.

The two of you eat leisurely, the conversation flowing as effortlessly as it always does. Jude makes you laugh until your sides ache, teasing you in that way only he can—flirty, playful, but always affectionate.

It’s easy. Being with him.

Eventually, the stars come out, a sprawling canvas of light stretching endlessly above you. You lay back on the blanket, staring up in awe, while Jude props himself up on one elbow, watching you instead.

“You brought your telescope, yeah?” he asks.

You nod, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Mhm. It’s in the car.”

Jude smirks. “Think you could teach me some constellations?”

You hum, considering. “Depends.”

“On?”

“On how well you listen.”

He grins, leaning in, his face dangerously close to yours. “I always listen to you, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches. His hand finds your hip, fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns through the fabric of your dress. “Jude…”

“Mm?”

“You’re distracting me.”

He laughs, low and deep. “Am I?”

You nod, cheeks burning. “Very much.”

Jude’s fingers tighten on your hip, just slightly, just enough for you to feel the possessiveness in the gesture. “That’s funny,” he murmurs, dipping his head so that his lips ghost over yours, not quite kissing you, just teasing. “Because you’ve been distracting me all damn night.”

Your pulse stutters. “I—I have?”

Jude exhales sharply, like he can’t believe you’d even ask. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your hands grip at his hoodie, trying to ground yourself, trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of heat pooling low in your stomach. “Jude,” you whisper, barely able to get his name out.

He groans, like you saying his name alone is enough to drive him insane, and then he finally closes the distance, kissing you deep and slow, like he has all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.

And you let him. Because it’s Jude. Because you trust him. Because he makes you feel safe even when he makes you feel like you’re coming undone.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, dizzy. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, his fingers still gripping your hip like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, but he’s smiling when he says it, and you can’t help but smile too.

“You started it,” you tease, voice barely above a whisper.

Jude laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He presses a quick, final kiss to your lips before rolling onto his back, staring up at the sky. “Go on, then. Teach me something.”

You giggle, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Okay,” you say softly, squeezing his hand once. “See that bright one over there?”

Jude hums, squeezing back. “Yeah.”

“That’s Vega.”

He turns his head to look at you, eyes full of something unbearably fond. “Is it the prettiest star?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “Well, I—”

“Because if it is,” he interrupts, grinning, “then it makes sense why it reminds me of you.”

Your heart stutters, cheeks burning, and you groan, covering your face with your hands. “Jude.”

He laughs, warm and rich, pulling you closer until you’re curled into his side, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your ear.

You stay like that for a couple minutes, his fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, his warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you. You feel safe here. Cherished.

And you make your decision.

“You’re quiet,” Jude murmurs, tilting his head down to look at you. His voice is low, roughened by the night air, by the intimacy wrapped around you both like a second skin.

You swallow, nerves bubbling in your stomach. You’ve been thinking about this for weeks now, letting the thought sit in the corners of your mind, letting it grow into something more solid, more certain.

And now, in the golden glow of this moment, with the stars watching and Jude holding you like you’re his world, you finally gather the courage to say it.

“Jude…” Your voice is small, hesitant. You shift slightly so you can look up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I—I think I’m ready.”

His brows furrow, lips parting slightly as he processes your words. Then his expression softens, something warm and deep flickering in his gaze. “Ready for what, sweetheart?” He knows what you're asking for. But he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, so he waits for you to confirm.

You bite your lip, fingers twisting in the fabric of the blanket. It takes everything in you to hold his gaze, but you do, because you need him to know that you mean this. That you want this.

“For… us. For that.” Your cheeks burn, and you’re sure you must look ridiculous, but Jude just watches you, patient as ever. “I want to be with you. I want you to be my first.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you with an unreadable expression, his grip on you tightening slightly. Then, slowly, his thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch feather-light.

“Are you sure?” His voice is barely above a whisper, careful and deliberate, like he’s giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You nod, pressing your cheek into his palm. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

Something shifts in his gaze—something deep, something intense. His jaw tightens like he’s holding something back, but then he exhales, his hand slipping from your face to intertwine with yours.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, baby.” He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Let's go inside then.”

You nod and he helps you up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push. Just holds your hand as he leads you toward the tent, zipping it open and stepping aside to let you in first.

The inside is cozy, lit only by the soft glow of the lanterns Jude set up earlier. The air is warm, thick with something unspoken, something electric. You settle onto the pile of blankets and pillows, watching as Jude kneels in front of you, his hands resting on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice barely above a breath, as if the words are meant only for you and the universe.

You duck your head, suddenly shy, but Jude doesn’t let you hide. He reaches out, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss over your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your lips. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, exhaling softly. “I know.”

His lips find yours then, slow and tender, like he’s savoring the moment. His hands are gentle as they slide up your arms, over your shoulders, down your back. There’s no rush, no urgency—just soft touches, soft kisses, soft whispers.

The world outside fades into nothingness, leaving only the two of you. The stars, once so distant, now feel like they're watching closely, witnesses to something both innocent and deeply intimate. His kiss deepens slowly, the pressure of his lips soft and coaxing, as if he's waiting for you to lead, to guide him through this moment. His hands are everywhere, but always with a reverence, like he's treating every inch of you as something precious.

You feel your pulse quicken under his touch, the fluttering of nerves mixing with something else, something sweet. He can sense it, too—how your breath catches every time he moves, every time his fingers graze your skin.

“Hey,” Jude murmurs against your lips, his voice a touch rougher now, laced with need. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and intense. “It's just me, okay? Always just me.”

You nod, swallowing hard, but Jude's fingers tighten on your waist like he needs more assurance. Like he needs to hear it from you.

“Just you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude's eyes flash with something like triumph, and his lips find yours again in a kiss that's soft, deep, devouring.

Jude is gentle, almost unbearably so, as he slowly tilts you back onto the pillows. The world seems to narrow to just the two of you—the rustling of the blankets beneath you, the warmth of his hands steadying your body, the quiet exhale of his breath fanning against your skin. Your hair spreads out like a halo against the sheets, and Jude just stares for a moment, his gaze roaming over you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

"Fuck baby, look at you," he murmurs, voice rough, reverent. "You don't even know how pretty you are, do you?"

You swallow hard, looking at him through wet clumpy lashes, the warmth of him overwhelming you already. Jude bites his bottom lip at the sight of you already so fucked out for him. You're so fucking pretty and he can't wait to ruin you.

Jude’s weight shifts over you as he lowers himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that steals the breath from your lungs. He’s everywhere—his scent, his warmth, the solid weight of him pressing into you in all the places you’re most sensitive. You feel him, all of him, and your lashes flutter as you try not to tremble beneath him.

His hands slide up your sides, slow and deliberate, his fingers catching the hem of your dress. He pushes the fabric up inch by inch, exposing more of your skin to the cool air, and then he makes a sound—low, almost pained.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he breathes, dipping his head to your neck. He kisses you there, soft at first, then with more intent, dragging his lips over the delicate skin until he reaches your collarbone. His mouth is hot, open-mouthed, tasting you, lingering. The smell of you putting him in a haze. "Need to taste you. Gonna let me? Mhm?"

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core.

You nod, but the motion is shaky, your lips parted as you struggle to find your voice. "Y-yeah," you whisper, barely more than breath.

Jude smiles against your skin, finding your shyness utterly endearing. Even after all this time you're still so fucking cute. "That’s my girl," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lower.

You feel them at the edge of your panties, feel the soft tug as he starts to slide them down. Your breath hitches, and Jude pauses immediately, glancing up at you. His eyes are warm, searching.

"Hey," he murmurs, pressing a kiss just above your navel. "You okay?"

You nod again, but he doesn’t move right away. He watches you, patient, waiting for you to really settle before continuing. It’s so incredibly tender that your heart squeezes in your chest.

When he finally does pull your panties away, his breath catches. His hands part your thighs, thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin there, and he exhales like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. He has.

"Fuck, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "Such a pretty pussy."

Your fingers curl into the sheets as he works his way lower, his lips tracing paths of fire down your legs, teasing, deliberate. You’re already shaking by the time his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your mound.

"Can I kiss it, baby?" His voice is low, dark, laced with something sinful, something that makes your entire body burn.

You can’t even speak. Your lips part, but no words come out, just a soft whimper that makes Jude grin against your skin. He loves this—the way you melt for him, the way you look at him with wide, innocent eyes like you can’t believe what’s happening.

"You’ve gotta tell me, princess," he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles. "Need to hear you say it."

"Y-yeah," you stammer, barely audible, but it’s enough.

Jude groans, his lips pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before finally, finally—

The first touch of his mouth is pure ecstacy. You gasp, your body jolting against the bed, and Jude hums in approval. His tongue moves slowly, languidly, savoring every inch of you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. You are.

"God, baby," he groans into you, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Taste so fucking good. Could stay here all night."

His hands slide beneath your thighs, pulling you closer, tilting your hips just right so he can get even deeper. His tongue flicks over your clit, teasing, and your entire body tenses. Your fingers shoot to his hair, gripping onto the dark coils as if they’re the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

Jude chuckles, and the sound is pure sin. "That good, huh?"

You let out a broken whimper, your head tipping back, your cheeks burning. He’s watching you—God, he’s watching you. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, dark and hungry, and the sight alone is enough to make your stomach twist with want.

"Look at you," he murmurs, licking into you again, slow and deep. "So fucking pretty when you let go for me."

You squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed, but he’s not having it. One of his hands moves up your body, sliding beneath your dress until he finds your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

"Don’t hide from me, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin. "Wanna see you. Wanna watch you fall apart."

And you do.

With every stroke of his tongue, every whispered praise against your skin, and wet slick sound of his mouth, your body coils tighter, your breath coming in sharp little pants. It feels like you’re being pulled apart at the seams, every nerve on fire, and it’s terrifying, overwhelming, but Jude—he’s there, holding you, grounding you, whispering sweet nothings against your pussy.

When he flicks his tongue over your clit once more, you lose it.

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing around him, and Jude holds you through it all, his tongue never ceasing its motion. He groans against your skin, his hand gripping your thigh hard, but you barely feel it. All you can do is sob his name, your head tipping back in a silent scream, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

Jude stays with you through it all—licking, sucking, slowly bringing you down from the high. He doesn’t stop until your body finally relaxes against the mattress, limp and warm and pliant. Then he moves up your body in a slow, languid crawl, lips dragging over your skin, kissing everything he passes. His fingers find your hair, stroking it back from your face, and then his mouth meets yours.

You're still reeling from what he's done, from the way he’s touched you, taken you apart like he was born to do it. Your body is thrumming, heat pooling low in your belly, and yet Jude’s kiss is gentle—softer than you expect, coaxing you back to reality, back to him.

He tastes like you—salt and sweetness mixed into something heady and intoxicating. The taste of him makes you whimper against his lips, and he swallows the sound like it’s his favorite thing in the world.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours, lips barely ghosting over your mouth as he speaks. "Still with me?"

You hum, nodding shyly, your fingers fisting the sheets beside you.

Jude grins against your lips, his voice turning teasing. "Good girl."

His words send a ripple of warmth through you, but before you can say anything, he leans back, arms flexing as he peels his shirt off in one smooth motion. The sight of him, shirtless and breathtaking, has your breath hitching. His body is all lean muscle, defined and golden brown. Spit pools in your mouth, and you have to swallow quickly to stop from embarrassing yourself.

Jude notices. Of course, he does. His smirk is knowing, his dark eyes full of mischief as he tosses the shirt aside.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he teases, voice dipping low, sinful.

Your face burns, but you can’t look away.

His laughter is soft, affectionate. "You’re too cute," he murmurs, brushing his fingers over your flushed cheek before dipping lower, reaching for the hem of your dress. His knuckles graze your skin, making you shiver. "Let’s get this off you."

Before you can protest, the fabric is slipping over your head and then—then you’re bare for him.

The moment stretches, thick with anticipation. You shift slightly, suddenly shy under his gaze, but Jude just looks at you like you’re a masterpiece, like he’s afraid to blink in case you disappear.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice rough, reverent. "You're so fucking pretty."

You barely have time to register his words before his lips are back on yours—hotter this time, more insistent. There’s no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he’s trying to consume every last bit of you.

You gasp against his mouth, arching into him, needing more, and he groans, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip. The new angle has you feeling him more, the thick press of his cock through his pants sending sparks of desire shooting straight to your core.

"Jude," you whisper, breathless.

He presses his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. "I know, baby," he murmurs, rolling his hips against yours. The friction is maddening, sinful. You moan, and he catches the sound with his mouth, swallowing it greedily.

"You're so soft," he whispers, his hands roaming, fingertips dragging over your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. "So warm." Another roll of his hips, slow and deliberate. "I need you, baby."

His words send a shiver down your spine, heat curling deep inside you.

Jude’s mouth finds your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses down to your chest. His hands follow, palms covering your breasts, kneading softly before his thumbs brush over your nipples. The sensation is too much, not enough, all at once.

You whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, clutching him.

"You're so sensitive," Jude mutters, voice thick with want. He pinches one of your nipples lightly, watching as you jolt beneath him. "Makes me so fucking hard."

His words are filthy, but instead of making you shy away, they send another wave of heat pooling between your legs.

Your eyes flicker downward, and you see it—see the thick outline of him straining against his pants. Your breath catches.

"Take them off," you whisper, surprising yourself.

Jude stills, his gaze snapping to yours, surprised. Then, he smirks, but there’s something darker, hungrier beneath it. "Yeah?"

You nod, biting your lip.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he kicks off his pants and boxer briefs, and then he’s bare before you.

Your breath stutters. He’s—God.

Thick, veiny and oh so hard.

Your thighs press together instinctively, and Jude notices. His smirk grows, but there’s a softness in his eyes, too. He leans down, brushing a kiss to your jaw, your cheek, your nose.

But then—

"Shit." He suddenly freezes, his face scrunching in frustration. "I don’t have condoms."

You blink, his words slow to register through the haze of desire clouding your mind.

Jude groans, dragging a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think we’d be doing this tonight."

You hesitate, then swallow your nerves. "It’s okay," you murmur. You reach down, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the warmth, the weight of him in your palm. He sucks in a sharp breath. "I’m on birth control."

"Sweetheart," he groans, his hips jerking slightly into your hand. "Don’t do that."

But you do. You stroke him slowly, experimentally, fascinated by the way his breathing stutters, the way his jaw clenches like he’s barely holding himself together.

Jude curses under his breath, his head dropping to your shoulder. "You’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up."

You hum softly, dragging your thumb over the tip, spreading the precum leaking out. He chokes on a groan, his hands gripping your hips tight.

You’ve never seen him like this—so undone, so desperate.

And God, you love it.

"Please, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with need. "Squeeze tighter for me."

You bite your lip as you obey, watching him through your lashes. He’s so big, so hard for you. Your walls clenches just thinking about it, a rush of slick flooding your core.

Jude notices. His eyes flick down to where your thighs press together, and then the last of his control snaps.

He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from him.

His hands slide down, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping your thighs, spreading them open carefully.

"Tell me if it hurts, sweetheart," he murmurs, reaching down to stroke himself. He brushes his lips over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, soothing you in every way he can. "I’ll stop if you need me to. I’ll take care of you, I promise."

You believe him. You always have.

Then, he shifts, and you feel him at your entrance, his heavy gaze locked between your thighs. A nervous breath hitches in your throat, your fingers fisting into the sheets. Jude notices, of course he does, and his lips curve into a teasing smirk.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and sweet like honey. “I got you.”

You nod, though your body remains tense, overwhelmed by his closeness, by the way his touch ignites something deep inside you. Then, he moves the head of his cock over your clit, slow and deliberate, rubbing lazy circles that have your breath stuttering. The sensation is new, foreign yet delicious, and just as you’re adjusting to the pleasure, he taps it against your swollen bud, making you jolt.

A soft gasp escapes you, your fingers gripping the sheets tighter.

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, shaking his head as he watches how his thick head glides easily between your slick folds. The sound it makes makes you bury you face in his shoulder “You’re so wet, baby. All fucking mine.”

His words send a rush of heat through your body, your cheeks burning as you turn your face to the side, too shy to meet his gaze. But Jude isn’t having it. He cups your chin gently, coaxing you to look at him.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. 

The hunger in his voice makes you clench and he groans at the feeling. Then, he’s pressing in, the thick head pushing past your entrance, stretching you in a way that makes you suck in a sharp breath. Your lashes flutter, but Jude’s there, his eyes locked on yours, his lips brushing reassuring kisses over your nose, your cheek.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know, baby.” 

He slides in further, slow, slow. You feel yourself spreading around his girth, the feeling of fullness intense but not quite painful. The dull pressure borders on discomfort, but Jude doesn’t rush you. He moves slowly, carefully, inch by inch, pausing to let you adjust, his hands soothing over your sides.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he praises, his lips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, down to your throat. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You exhale shakily, trying to relax as he pushes deeper. There’s a slight burn, your body resisting the intrusion, but the way Jude watches you—so patient, so gentle—eases the tension. He strokes your thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, reassuring circles into your skin.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. His voice is wrecked, thick with restraint. “God, you feel so fucking good. So warm, so tight.”

Your nails dig into his back as he finally sinks in all the way, filling you completely. A whimper leaves your lips, overwhelmed by the stretch, by the feeling of being utterly, entirely full. Jude stills immediately, concern flickering across his face.

“Too much?” he asks, his thumb brushing your cheek.

You shake your head quickly, blinking up at him. “No—just… full,” you admit breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there.

He doesn’t move, just holds you, letting you adjust at your own pace. His lips find your neck, trailing slow, reverent kisses down to your collarbone. His hands never stop moving, caressing your thighs, your hips, your waist—everywhere. It helps, the ache easing into something warmer, something better.

You shift slightly beneath him, testing the sensation, and a tiny moan escapes you at the delicious friction. Jude groans, his fingers tightening on your hips like he’s barely holding on.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight. Pussy feels like heaven, baby.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, making you squirm in embarrassment. You bury your face against his neck, but he only chuckles, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes, his voice laced with amusement. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart.”

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping them gently as he pulls out, slow and careful, before sinking back in. The friction sends a shiver up your spine, something new and intoxicating unfurling in your belly. Your breath stutters, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jude watches you closely, his eyes dark and heated. Then, his lips twitch into a knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “You like that, baby?”

Your cheeks flame, but the pleasure is too much to deny. You nod, barely able to form words, and Jude groans, dropping his head to your collarbone as he fights to keep himself together.

“Fuck, this pussy,” the last sound drags out as his jaw goes slack. “fucking made for me.”

His thrusts remain slow, deep, every roll of his hips sending a ripple of pleasure through you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a sensation you can’t begin to describe. Every brush of his skin against yours sends sparks of sensation through your body.

It’s not long before you find yourself moving with him, arching beneath him, searching for more. He hums in approval, his teeth nipping gently at your neck as he thrusts into you deeper, harder. You cry out, a high whimper, and Jude swallows it greedily.

You’re completely lost in the sensation of him, the way he moves above you like a dream, like a vision. The way his lips drag over your skin, the soft praise against your ear, the heavy weight of him on top of you. It all feels so good, so overwhelming, that you find yourself clinging to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders like he’s the only thing that exists in this moment.

Jude growls, his mouth finding yours as he kisses you hard, deep. He fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast, rougher than he ever thought he’d be with you. But you—it’s like you were made for him, like your body was built for this, for his cock.

And it makes him crazy.

“Fuuuckk,” he rasps into your mouth, your lips barely parting for words. “Gonna cum for me? Hm?”

He slips a hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He strokes it, hard, slow circles that make you cry out. Your walls clench around him as he rubs you faster—it’s like the best thing you’ve ever felt.

And then…

"Oh, fuck! Jude!" you cry out, your back concaving into him as his tip grazes a spot that has tears spilling down your cheeks. You can only describe it as pure ecstasy and he’s not letting up. “Oh, God. Oh, God”

Jude curses, his hips moving faster, thrusting into your gspot over and over again. You’re sobbing now, "Found it."Jude whispers, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face as he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot over and over.  You're getting so close, your body’s a live wire, waiting to snap.

“Jude—fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!” you sob.

His hand tightens on your hip, his fingers bruising. “Then cum, baby,” he grunts, his own body tense, close. “Let me feel it. Cum for me, sweetheart. Fucking milk my cock.”

The filthy words send you over the edge, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you, a force so intense it steals the air from your lungs. Your fingers clutch at Jude’s broad shoulders, nails pressing into his flushed skin, as a broken sob falls from your lips. The pleasure is overwhelming—too much, too deep, too consuming—but you surrender to it, trembling as your body spasms around him.

"That’s it, love," Jude groans, his voice rough with desperation, his fingers tangling with yours as he pins your hands above your head, holding you there, helpless beneath him. “Jude,” you gasp, voice trembling, eyes glazed over with pleasure.

The sight of you—flushed, trembling, your lips parted in a breathless moan—Your slick gummy walls spasm around him, clenching tight, and it’s all Jude needs to follow you into the abyss of bliss.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his head tipping back as his thrusts turn frantic, desperate, chasing his own pleasure. You watch as his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack as his mouth forms an 'O'. “Fuckkkk,” he grits out, his entire body shuddering. “That’s it, princess. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

His hips stutter, his thick cock jerks inside you once, twice, then he’s gone—spilling deep inside of you with a strangled moan. You feel it—the warmth of him, thick and hot, filling you up completely. His body trembles against yours as he collapses, his chest pressing against your own, heartbeat wild and erratic.

For a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the cool night air brushing over your sweat-slicked skin. The world outside the tent is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of crickets or the distant rustling of leaves.

Jude’s nose brushes against your temple, his lips following in a lazy path along your hairline, down your cheek, over your jaw. He peppers soft kisses across your skin, like he can’t bear to stop touching you. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, like he’s afraid you might slip away.

You blink up at him, your vision still hazy, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. And then, unexpectedly, a giggle bubbles past your lips. 

Jude stirs, lifting his head to look down at you with a lopsided grin. His honey brown eyes are filled with amusement, mischief, and something far softer—something that makes your stomach flip.

“What are you laughin’ at, princess?” His voice is hoarse, still rough with pleasure and a hint of exhaustion. His thumb strokes slow circles over your hipbone.

You shake your head, a little breathless, still giddy. “That was…” You pause, searching for the right words, but nothing feels like enough. Your cheeks burn as you hide your face against his shoulder. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Jude chuckles, the deep sound vibrating against your skin. “I think I do.”

You peek up at him, curiosity flickering in your dazed gaze. “Yeah?”

He hums, pressing another slow, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to study your face, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin

“It was,” he starts, dragging the moment out, watching the way your lips part slightly, the way your lashes flutter. He smirks. “Pretty fuckin’ perfect.”

Your blush deepens, and you swat at his chest, but your hand has no real strength behind it. “Jude,” you whine, embarrassed, but he only laughs, catching your wrist and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to your palm, then your fingertips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, voice lower now, more serious. “You’re perfect.”

Your heart stumbles, skipping a beat before thudding heavily against your ribs. You swallow, suddenly shy, suddenly overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his gaze.

The way he's looking at you now. It's too much.

“I…” Your throat feels tight, words catching. But Jude just smiles, like he understands, like he doesn’t need you to say anything at all.

He shifts, rolling onto his side making you wince as you remember he's still inside you, bringing you with him so that you’re tucked against his chest, your leg draped over his hip, your face buried in the crook of his neck. His fingers trace lazy patterns down your spine, soothing, grounding.

It's so intimate; knowing that's he's inside you, the warmth of him filling you completely as you involuntarily clench around him. The knowledge of his cum still inside you and the slight burn from the stretch that's making your hips sore.

Jude groans quietly, his head tipping back at the overstimulation, his eyes falling closed as he tries to calm himself down. “Hold on, love, just a second.” He hisses out a breath and reaches down to grasp himself at the base before gently pulling out, whispering sweet nothings and soft apologies at the wince you let out.

The feeling of emptiness is immediate, your walls clenching, but you say nothing, just bite your lip and look away as Jude reaches for his shirt. He wipes himself clean before he getting up. You watch with confusion as he slips on his boxers and slides out of the tent. But it's not long before he's back. He crawls back inside with a wet cloth, a small bowl of fruits you packed earlier and your water bottle. He sits down next to you with a soft smile, the cloth held out in his hands. Your cheeks grow warm as you realize what he’s doing. 

“Spread your legs for me, princess .” His voice is soft, gentle. He waits patiently for you to do as he asks, and the way his eyes soften as you listen… It makes tears well up in your eyes. To be taken care of like this—is beyond what you expected. He cleans you gently before he sets the cloth down and reaches for the bowl of fruit.

His eyes light up as he holds a grape to your lips and you accept it with a giggle. He hands you a slice of apple next, and you take a bite, smiling softly at the sight of his relaxed expression. It's like nothing else exists, like only you two are here in the moment. After you finish your snack, he holds out your water bottle and you thank him as you take a long drink.

Jude watches you with something dangerously close to adoration, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s memorizing every little thing—your flushed cheeks, your sleepy eyes, the way your lips glisten as you sip from the bottle. His fingers trail absentmindedly over your thigh, warm and soothing, tracing lazy patterns onto your skin.

“You okay, love?” he murmurs, his voice thick with something soft, something that makes your chest feel too tight.

You nod, still shy, still unsure what to do with all the emotions swirling inside you.

Jude must sense it, must see the way you hesitate, the way your fingers fidget in your lap. He tilts your chin up with the barest touch of his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his expression unreadable.

"You're thinkin' too much," he teases gently. "Wanna tell me what's goin' on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You hesitate, your throat bobbing as you swallow. But under his gaze, so open and patient, you find yourself whispering, "Just… I don’t know how to explain it." Your fingers toy with the hem of the blanket, suddenly fascinated by the texture. "I just feel… full."

His brows lift, and for a second, a wicked smirk plays at the corners of his lips. “Full, huh?”

Your eyes widen as you catch the meaning, and you smack his arm with an indignant squeak. "Not like that, Jude!"

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, rich and warm, and you feel it against your cheek where you’ve buried your face again, hiding. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against him with ease, his lips brushing against your temple.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, amusement still thick in his voice. "I’ll behave."

You huff, but the way his fingers thread through your hair, his touch slow and methodical, makes your body melt against him. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, taking his time with each one like he’s savoring the taste of you.

“You feel full,” he echoes, more serious now, as if he’s trying to understand. "Full of what, love?"

Your lashes flutter as you blink up at him, "I love you, Jude Bellingham ."

His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, but then a softness takes over, and his arms tighten, his hands cupping your face with such gentle care.

“Y/N Y/L/N” His voice is low, raspy, filled with something deep and real. "I love you too. More than I ever thought it was possible to feel. You’re my everything, Y/N. I never wanna spend another night without you in my arms. Every day without you feels too long, too much, too wrong. Will you marry me?"

The world slows, the weight of his words sinking into your bones, melting into the marrow. You blink, stunned, your breath caught somewhere between your ribs as your heart hammers wildly against your chest.

He shifts slightly, one arm still wrapped around you, the other reaching into the pocket of his discarded jeans. You watch, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a small velvet box. The soft glow of the lantern casts golden hues on his face, highlighting the nervous anticipation in his warm brown eyes.

“Jude…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your fingers trembling as you reach up, touching his cheek as if to confirm it’s real and not some dream spun from the afterglow of your love.

He smiles, tilting his head just slightly into your touch, his thumb tracing gentle circles against the small of your back. “Yeah, love. It’s real,” he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “Been carryin’ this around for weeks, waitin’ for the right time. And I realized… there’s no better time than right now.”

He flicks open the box, revealing a delicate ring, the band slender and elegant, a diamond nestled in its center, catching the lantern light and scattering it in tiny flecks across the canvas of the tent. Your breath catches, tears welling in your eyes, blurring the sight of it.

“Y/N, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, his voice steady, thick with emotion. “I know we haven't been together long, but I can’t live without you. Every single day, you make me happier than I ever thought I deserved. I love you. I love your shy little smiles, the way you tuck your face into my neck when you get flustered. I love the way you look at me like I hung the stars, when really, you’re the one that lights up my whole world.”

A soft, overwhelmed sound escapes your lips, something between a laugh and a sob, and he grins, his dimples carving into his cheeks.

“You don’t have to say yes right now,” he adds quickly, as if he’s worried you might feel pressured, as if he can’t bear to see even a hint of hesitation in your eyes. “I just… I want you to know that I’m all in. I wanna be yours for the rest of my life. Whenever you’re ready, whenever you want me—I’m here.”

Your hands shake as you reach for the box, fingers barely brushing the velvet before you shift, pressing forward, wrapping yourself around him as best as you can. Your lips find his—soft, eager, trembling against his own. He catches your breathy gasp with a quiet groan, deepening the kiss, his hands firm at your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

When you finally pull away, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Yes,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “Yes, Jude. I want you—I want forever with you.”

The way his face lights up, the way pure joy radiates from him—it steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” His voice wavers just slightly, disbelief laced into the happiness.

You nod fervently, laughing softly as tears slip down your cheeks. “Yes. A million times, yes.”

A sound rumbles in his chest—something between relief and elation—as he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly. And then he’s kissing you again, laughing against your lips, his hands tangling in your hair, his body pressing you back down onto the soft blanket beneath you.

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, love.” His voice is warm, reverent, as his lips trail along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His fingers find your hand, threading through yours, the cool metal of your new ring pressing against his skin. “I swear, I’ll spend every day making sure you never regret saying yes to me.”

You smile, your free hand slipping into his curls, tugging just slightly until he looks up at you, his eyes dark with something deep, something infinite. “I could never regret you, Jude.”

His breath stutters, and then he’s kissing you again, deep and slow, his love spilling from his lips, from the way his hands trace over your skin.

When he finally pulls away, you’re dazed, breathless, your fingers still curled into his like you don’t want him to go too far.

Jude chuckles, resting his forehead against yours again. “Gotta say, camping’s never been this fun before.”

You giggle, and the sound makes something warm bloom in his chest.

“I think I like it too,” you admit, your voice small, “Especially… with you.”

His arms tighten around you, and when he speaks next, his voice is quieter, raw with something unspoken.

“Good. ‘Cause I plan on makin’ a lot more memories with you, princess.” He tilts his head just enough to steal another soft kiss. “Forever and always, huh?”

“Forever and always,” you echo, smiling into the next kiss.

-Bianca🌻

[redsrooftopprincess]

Chills

Raphael xGN!Reader

The sound of the evening bustle transitions the city from day to night, seeming to herald the neon darkness, and you smile to yourself a little more with every streetlight that flickers on. If he isn't already, he'll be on his way soon, ascending with the darkness, rising like steam from the tunnels below. Up, over, and above the rooftops.

Standing at the window, looking out into the blooming night, you tug on the latch. It's easier to open now, the action smooth besides the slightest catch. You remember when it used to stick horribly. And you totally didn't use it as an excuse to keep him longer when you first met, why would you think that? But time, and an abundance of use, has left it opening easier these days. (Either that, or it's about to break. You may need to talk to Donnie about that.)

It's only been a week since you saw him last, both of you having been busy with work, and separately, both of you have been feeling the distance. Calls and texts can only do so much when your body is screaming for someone. There's this itch. This need. You'd been friends for a while, but a week ago everything changed.

It had been a normal night. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was your night off, and you'd been looking forward to it because it meant he'd be coming by on his "lunch break." You loved nights like this. When it was just the two of you on the rooftop in the wee hours of the morning. When even The City That Never Sleeps is quiet.

It was magical. Like you were alone in the world. In those small hours there was freedom. Unconstrained by propriety, acceptability, and expectation, you could just... exist for a little while, side-by-side with someone you know you're safe to just exist with. Being beside Raphael is like being in the eye of a hurricane. No matter what chaos is spinning around you, Raph is peace. Home. Clear skies, and safety. And that night, the weight of your gratitude pressed heavy on your chest.

It did that sometimes. He'd do something, or say something, or even apropos of nothing, your heart would swell and your chest would ache with something beautiful and profound, and you'd need to be close to him.

It's the feeling you'd always imagined having with... someone. This peace. This pain. This is what you'd been chasing in every failed relationship. It wasn't until recently that you realized you have a type. You're drawn to fire. To passion. The problem with that type, is that those that carry fire inside them... tend to be explosive.

The last one was a couple of months ago. You had to spend a good three hours trying to convince Raph not to kill the man who'd put his hands on you. In the end, he wheeled away, breathing, with only a broken spine.

You took a deep breath, exhaling into the night, and laying your head against his arm. He responded by sliding that hand around your waist, and pulling you closer. Not lifting from his arm, you turned your face upward to find him already looking down at you.

You can't help the smile that blooms across your features, "What?" you challenge, lifting your chin.

Usually, at this point, he would clap back with something sassy, or suck his teeth and look away, feigning indignation. But that night he just... looked at you. A quiet smile on his face, feeling his own flood of gratitude blooming in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

He'd always dreaded the day when he would fall in love, if it ever were to happen, that is. He knew it would hurt all the more because he couldn't act on it. But then you happened. He'd love to hate it. To hate you for making him feel it. But the day he realized he was in love with you, it didn't hurt. And he could act on it.

Maybe not fully. Maybe not entirely the way he wanted, but love is an action word, and he loved you every single day with every last piece of him. Calling you at work to make sure you'd eaten, walking you home, being there to pick up the pieces every single time someone or something tore you apart, Raphael loved you. Completely.

He couldn't hate it, or you. You'd come into his life and he'd let your light fill him, and warm him, and in the end he didn't care what you called it, or what it looked like, you were a part of his world and he was grateful. But some nights, like that night, his heart ached, heavy with all the love he could never give you.

His smile became almost sad, and he turned to look back out into the darkness. You saw it. You always did. The blue-black flicker of mourning set deep within his amber eyes. He couldn't hide. Not from you. You never mentioned it. Whatever it was, it was deep, and important, and belonged to him, and you had no right to know if he didn't want to tell you.

But, for some reason, that night, you couldn't bear it. Even if you couldn't help, he should at least know that you care. That you see him.

You sit up, pulling yourself from his arm and nigh hovering over the edge of the rooftop to face him. You reach up, gentle fingers brushing the side of his jaw "No really, what?"

He returned his gaze to yours, still wearing that sad smile. "Nothin'," I love you... "I just..." I love you... The blue-black in his eyes poured into you then, as he drew a deep breath, and his eyes softened as yours stung, "Nothin'." I love you...

He looked at you like the sun through a sewer grate. Like he longed to bask in you, but had convinced himself he was content with the smallest break in the shadows. Like that's all he was worthy of. It was the first time you saw it. Really saw it. Deep red in the blue-black, his own beating heart, and you.

Your fingers trailed down his jaw, and it was everything he could do not to lean into the touch. When they whispered over the scar on his lips, his eyes fell closed with a soft sigh. When his eyes opened again, they held a deep pain, and a question he was unworthy of asking.

He reached up and took your hand, his lips longing for the taste of your fingertips, and resisted the urge to kiss each one. His thumb bushed over your palm, and down your wrist, scattering gooseflesh down your arm and across your chest, as he held your gaze. He couldn't help it, the hand on your waist tightened and pulled you closer.

Every sweep of his thumb over your pulse drew shivers from your skin, and as he took notice, the question in his eyes became clearer.

I love you...

Will you let me...?

You held his gaze. You hadn't been looking for this. This feeling. This want. With every inferno that you'd allowed you consume you, you hadn't been chasing this.

You'd been chasing him.

And, your eyes held the impossible answer.

Yes.

The hand holding yours pulled you to him and the one around your waist pulled you up, as he captured your lips with his. Both of your arms looped round his neck and his hold on your waist tightened as he kissed you deeply over the edge of the rooftop.

Almost floating in free space, all you could feel was his body on yours, scales cooled by the night air sliding against bare flesh, he was all that tethered you to the earth. He usually was.

Opening to him, your tongues tangled in a dance older than time, and his hold tightened as a thunderstorm gathered in his chest. Every gasp and quiet sigh carried that storm into your own, as you pressed against him and his churr deepened.

It could have been a few minutes or an eternity, and it wouldn't have been long enough. You parted, foreheads pressed together, grinning, laughing breathlessly, in equal parts relief and disbelief. It was like breaking through surface tension. The weight of want had lifted, and you both were almost dizzy with the oxygen high.

Leo had called not long after, and it was like being dragged away by chariots, but, duty-bound, he went.

The sun now, officially, below the horizon you look out over the living room, almost nervous. Dinner and a movie. A pretty typical (if rare) night off for the two of you. But you'd taken your time getting ready, and power-cleaned the apartment, despite the fact that he basically lived there, anyway.

A soft landing overhead draws your eyes upwards. You clear your throat and pull it together so that the moths swarming in your stomach don't cause you to giggle like an idiot. You manage to scale it back to just a grin, the window slides open, and he lands, meeting your gaze with a soft and deadly smile.

"Hey."

....

...

Tag list

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[mattatouilletkachuk]

#6 with Quinn? I imagine it similar to him reacting to the exploding golf ball with the whole exasperated “that’s gotta count for something. He does something big but mundane (such as carrying your groceries for you or something) and is just tired or exasperated in saying it :)

A Disastrous Decoration || Chaos With Quinn

Prompt: 6. “i think i deserve a kiss.”

WC: 1.3k

A/N: I’m so excited! I haven’t gotten a Quinn request yet! So I’m going to make this a part of The Hockey Babies Au & Chaos With Quinn.

💕 Sunny’s Season of Love 💕

Whoever it was that claimed that making cupcakes for the whole of the preschool classes would be easier than other jobs was simply lying. You were sweating and huffing and puffing as you pulled the third tray of cupcakes out of the over and placing the, on the granite counter top. Without closing the oven door you placed two more trays into the oven and started the timer again.

Your young daughter watched your every move, or, more so, watched every single cupcake that came out of the oven. The small cakes were all vanilla as Miss. Kathleen suggested. No kid in Oliver's class had a nut allergy nor did the kids in the other preschool classes, but in her own words "it was better safe than sorry."

For days on end, you and Quinn had to hear about the Valentines Days Party that the entire preschool was throwing. You were happy that your oldest child was happy but when he came home with a paper asking all parents and caretakers to join in and hep with the party, your own excitement had waned a bit. You were the one to take Oliver to school, and your daughter to her tumble bug classes, and at the end of the day you either picked Quinn up from practice or stayed to watch his games, and on top of all of that, you helped a small mom and pop business in Vancouver in all aspects so they wouldn't have to close down.

The next day, while the kids were out of the house and it was just you and your fiance you had come up with a plan. You would ask Miss. Kathleen for an easier way to help and if there wasn't an easier job, well then, you would work on the cupcakes together,

Despite her small stature and seemingly kind nature, your son's preschool teacher was not one to budge. Most jobs were already taken and one of the few parents that could afford to buy all of the supplies to bake and decorate over one hundred cupcakes it would be you and Quinn,

That's how you ended up here. Sweating and mixing a new bunch of vanilla cupcakes as your two-year-old watched you like a starved dog. Quinn was out getting icing, edible glitter,candy rings and other things to decorate the cupcakes as you were at home in the middle of a staring contest with your child.

"Do you plan on staring at me the entire time, dear?" you asked,leaning your back against the counter behind you. You rubbed your swollen belly, not yet noticeable if you were wearing an oversized hoodie, but noticeable enough that those closest to you knew that you were pregnant with your third child.

"Can I have a cupcake?" her voice was high and sweet and it was hard not to give in. She was only 1-years-old turning 2-years-old soon, and while she was sneaky she was sweeter than the small cakes on the table.

"If you keep behaving, even after daddy gets homes, you can have a pretty decorated one." you smiled as her face lit up. She nodded in agreement and mimed zipping her mouth so she wouldn't say another word.

It was when you took out the last tray of cupcakes out of the oven that Quinn came through the front door. Your heart swelled at the sight of him. He walked in with all of the grocery bags. He had several in his hands and others draped on his arms and two between his teeth, If there was one things Quinn hated it was making two trips back to the car whilst it was cold outside.

You greeted him as he placed the groceries on the ground. He kissed your cheek, wet and cold, and you tried not to squeal. His smirk told you he knew what he was doing but turned from you and went to grab his little girl as she squealed happily as her dad threw her high up into the air. Eventually he settled her in his arms and brushed her curly dark hair out of her face as he questioned conspiratorially, as if you couldn't hear him him, " were you a good girl for your mommy?"

she nodded quickly, her hair getting in the way of her eyes again.

"If I asked her would she the same thing?"

Yes!" She yelped happily. "Mommy even said that if I kept being good I could have a cupcake when the two of you are down,"

Quinn hummed and pursed his lips as if he were actually thinking about it, You would have paid more attention but at just that moment the baby inside you kicked gently. You knew better than to get Quinn's attention. It was too soon to feel the baby kick from outside just yet. You would just be getting him excited for no reason.

Quinn placed your little girl back down on her island chair and placed a bag of googly eyes in front of hers. Her eyes rounded excitedly whilst yours rounded in horror "Quinn-"

"hold on I have a plan!'" He said as he pulled other items from the bags, You looked at all the supplies, confused. "Lady Bugs!"

"We'll decorate them as lady bugs because hearts are just so over done." He pointed at you, "you'll do the base, The brown underneath and i'll do the red wings and you" he said in a funny voice as he tickled his little girl, "will add the googly eyes and after all of that. mom will add the little hearts for the spots."

you placed your hands on your hips and sighed. "It's a cute design Q, but this is gonna be a mess."

He smiled that wonderful smile at you, the one that could make you do anything and said, "in that case, at least we'll have plenty of happy memories.

"What about Ollie? He'd want to help!" your sweet girl chimed in.

"Oliver is at Garland's house playing with Quint. I'm sure we'll be forgiven when we give him a few cupcakes."

"Otay…"

With the final confirmation of your almost toddler, you all started to decorate.

Ollie came home just as the three of you were finishing "decorating". Some of them had turned out well, but most of them were either entirely red, entirely brown, or had five eyes. After all of the hard work you thought you would have been upset but you couldn't stop laughing every time you looked down at the deformed cupcakes. You and Quinn each took one and you split one for each of your children, and despite the look of them, they were tasty.

Covering your mouth you looked at your boyfriend, a smile on your lips and a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "I think we should have simply done hearts,"

Quinn nodded and laughed loudly. "I tried, though."

You sighed happily. The soft contentment in your chest took over as you nodded and said, "yeah, you did."

He placed his cupcake down and leaned towards you like an over excited middle school boy, "I think that means I deserve a kiss."

You pretended to think for a moment, "I think your right."

You said this before leaning in and kissing his chastely, His lips were sugary and you were sure your were too. It didn't take long for Quinn to place a sticky hand on your neck and one on your curving waist to pull you closer and to deepen the kiss, There was no protest from you but just as his tongue touched your a choir of 'eewwww" came from your two children.

You both pulled away and laughed softly. Quinn whispered in your ear before going to put the cupcakes away for tomorrow "little cock block”s

[nickeverdeen]

Fuck It | Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Pairings: Ellie x reader (freshly romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff

Warnings: Smoking

Summary: Being freshly in a relationship everything still feels a bit too amazing - which is not a bad thing - and when Ellie notices that her smoking near you is making you a bit uncomfortable she decides to cut back

Ps: As mentioned in the story, Ellie is not an addict

——————————

The relationship between you and Ellie was still new, the kind of fresh where every smile felt like sunshine and every touch carried an electric charge. You brought out a side of Ellie she wasn’t used to showing—a softer, lighter side she didn’t know she still had. You were bright, bubbly, and full of warmth in a way that made her think there might still be some good left in the world.

But there was one thing Ellie couldn’t help but notice.

It was small at first—just a slight wrinkle of your nose or a quick turn of your head whenever she lit a cigarette. You never said anything, but Ellie wasn’t clueless. You didn’t like the smell, and though you tried to hide it, your subtle reaction was enough to make her pay attention.

Ellie didn’t blame you. Smoking was a habit she picked up in Jackson, more out of boredom than anything else. She wasn’t addicted, but it had become a part of her routine. Still, the thought of bothering you—even in such a small way—didn’t sit right with her.

So one day, Ellie decided to stop.

It wasn’t a big declaration or a dramatic moment. She simply told herself, “Fuck it,” and tossed her last cigarette into the trash.

The first few days weren’t bad. Ellie wasn’t the type to chain-smoke anyway, but there were moments—quiet nights by the fire, a particularly frustrating day at patrol—when the familiar urge crept up. She’d shake it off, telling herself it wasn’t worth it, and if she ever gave in, she made damn sure you weren’t around.

She wasn’t hiding it from you, not really. If you asked, she’d tell you the truth. But the idea of smoking in front of you again, of seeing that tiny flash of discomfort on your face, was enough to keep her from lighting up in your presence.

One evening, the two of you were sitting on the porch of your shared space, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. You were chatting away about something—probably the latest drama in Jackson—and Ellie found herself smiling at your energy.

Out of the blue, you turned to her and asked, “You stopped smoking, didn’t you?”

Ellie blinked, caught off guard by your sudden observation. “Yeah,” she admitted, scratching the back of her neck. “I mean… mostly. I still do sometimes, just not around you.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but curious. “Why?”

Ellie shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I noticed it bothered you. Figured it wasn’t worth it.”

Your cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude flooding your chest. “Ellie, you didn’t have to do that for me. I mean, it’s your thing, and I—”

“Yeah, I know,” Ellie cut in, her voice steady. “But I wanted to. You’re, uh… important to me. And if it’s something small like that, it’s not a big deal.”

You stared at her for a moment, your heart swelling at the quiet sincerity in her words. Then, without thinking, you reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you said, your sunny smile lighting up your face.

Ellie rolled her eyes, but the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You laughed, leaning into her side as the two of you watched the sky fade into night. Ellie didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment, she knew she’d made the right choice. Giving up smoking—or at least cutting back—was nothing compared to seeing you happy.

And if she ever needed a reminder of why she’d quit, all she had to do was look at you.

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride there's only one bed?

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader  Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader [separately]

Choose your own adventure with Shig//Dabi routes. Lightly suggestive, but no smut.

previous - this is part 3 - next (coming soon) [series masterlist]

As you walk through the parking lot to the door of the motel, you realize you’re about to spend the night alone with a man who you met jumping into a stolen van less than 48 hours ago. On its face, this should be a red flag but, thus far, it hasn’t felt like it. If anything, he looks more nervous about being in a room alone with you than you are. 

You slide the keycard four times before the light flashes green and beeps. Shoving open the door, you flick on the lights and -

“There’s only one bed?”

Tomura Shigaraki ᝰ⛐ 

“At least I only have to share with you,” Shigaraki shrugs, “the last hotel stop there were three of us in each bed and Twice kicks in his sleep.”

You laugh, feeling a bit less nervous about the situation. Your laughter also hides the grumbling you feel in your stomach. You wish there was room service, or even a restaurant close. The lackluster dinner you had did nothing to stave off your hunger. As if he could read your mind, Shigaraki walks to the door.

“I think I saw a vending machine earlier, I was about to head over there. Want me to get you anything?” he asks.

“I’ll go with you!” you exclaim, a little more excited than you intended to sound. “I need to move my legs a bit after sitting all day anyways.”

The two of you wander back into the dimly lit parking lot and around the building. Snack and drink vending machines glow side by side like an oasis in the desert. 

“Watch,” he says, hitting the machine with his hip at just the right angle to make a drink fall out. He repeats it again, and another drops. You try the same on the snack one to no avail. Everything seems to be tucked solidly between the metal coils. Without thinking, you pull a semi-large bill from your pocket and shove it in the machine.

“Pick whatever you want,” you say to him, stepping aside. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything,” he mumbles, hitting C6 to send a bag of chips plummeting to the bottom. 

“Yeah, but I want to. You’re the only reason I’m not-” in prison right now, you think. “I definitely owe you. For the ride.”

“It’s fine,” he mutters as the two of you alternate picking more snacks until you each have an armful.

After dropping some gummy candies while you try to get the keycard to work, you’re back in your room dumping your haul on the motel comforter. 

He gives you the first turn for the shower. Dragging your bag in there, you open it to find not much that will be helpful in this situation. You try to clean up the best you can, but at the end of it all, you’re still putting your dirty clothes back on. After looking in the mirror for the first time in months, you decide this is the best it’s going to be and walk back out.

“You’re carrying around a giant bag of money, but no clothes?” Shigaraki asks.

“Wait, how do you know-”

“We picked you up by a bank robbery and you’ve been paying for everything, I put two and two together.” He doesn’t seem phased by this, barely bothering to look away from the motel info sheet he’s reading his way through. “You can’t sleep in that. If you want, you can borrow one of my shirts.”

You nod, thank him. He throws you a shirt from his backpack before heading to take a shower. With the time he’s in there, you fiddle with the remote. Trying to find something worth watching but it���s three cable tv channels and static.

Not ten minutes later, he comes back out in a t-shirt and underwear. You try to keep your eyes glued to the tv, but fail miserably. He’s very attractive, you decide. Every bit of fabric hugging in exactly the right places. Through the corner of your eye, you catch a slew of scars over his legs. Some are scratches, others look like bullet wounds. No wonder he didn’t bat an eye at sharing the room with a bank robber.

“What,” he muses, climbing under the covers by your side. “Still going to sleep in pants?”

Admittedly, you wanted to be comfortable but weren’t sure if you’d make him feel weird by sleeping in your underwear. But if he is… You slide your pants off under the covers, feeling relieved already.

“I’m not a perv,” he asserts, while flipping through the channels and finding nothing you didn’t already skip. “I won’t touch you or anything.”

Before you can stop yourself you find your mouth mumbling, “but what if I want you to.”

He laughs and before turning off the light you notice his face has darkened a few shades of pink.

Ten minutes later he asks, “wait, were you serious?”

After that, you end up talking for half the night while watching infomercials. While you couldn't quite place when it happened, by the time you're falling asleep both of your legs are tangled up together under the covers.

[scroll to continue the story] 

Dabi/Touya Todoroki ᝰ⛐

“It’s fine,” Dabi mumbles, “still more space than sleeping in that van.”

“Yeah,” you remember how you woke up with his arm around you this morning and hope that’s his default sleeping position.

“We’ve been crammed in that thing all day though, I’ll give you space.”

You think to yourself how unnecessary that is, but appreciate the gesture. Unpacking what you do have, you bring your toiletries into the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you come back out, Dabi's wandered off somewhere already.

Not up for much but still not tired enough to go to bed yet, you look at the hotel info sheet to see what’s around here. There is a pool and hot tub on the other side of the building, with seemingly no hours. You strip down to your underwear, everything covers as much as a swimsuit would which is close enough for you. Grabbing a towel and your keycard, you head out the door.

Arriving at the pool, you see you’re not the only one there. Dabi is already sitting in the hot tub, staring up at the stars. 

The area is dimly lit, a humming light above casting a warm tint over everything, but at least the water looks well-maintained. You unhook the metal gate fencing the area in, drop your towel on a broken plastic lounge chair, and climb in. The bubbles tickle your legs as you sink into a spot across from him. He flashes you a smile in acknowledgement but stays quiet.

Looking up at the clear night sky, it really is beautiful. You get lost in it until the jets slow to a stop.

“I’ve got it,” he says, already half out of the water by the time you look up.

He’s in his underwear as well, the wet cotton clinging to his body as he walks to the control panel. You try not to notice the way the thin fabric gives you a view of everything. Water drips down his back, over the scars which you now know cover most of his body. The bubbles resume and you promptly look up, pretending to have been staring at the sky the whole time. 

When he gets back, he mentions how nice of a night it is and how beautiful it’s been getting out of the city. Small talk turns to more, and before you know it at least an hour has passed, your skin is pruney, and you’re laughing hysterically. Shigaraki Someone yells out of one of the windows at you to be quiet. Glancing at each other, you laugh even harder while grabbing your towels and heading back inside.

You let him take the first shower, knowing it’ll take you a while to scrub the chlorine off your skin. When he comes back out, he’s wearing nothing but his underwear again. Knowing he’ll be sleeping next to you in that hits differently than sitting with him in a hot tub.

“What,” he taunts, walking past you to climb into bed, “nothing you haven’t already seen.”

You hoped he hadn’t noticed you checking him out earlier, but based on the look on his face he doesn’t seem to mind. He makes himself comfortable while you take your turn washing off.

One issue.

The small hair dryer attached to the wall does a slow job of drying your underwear, leaving small damp patches all over the fabric. At some point, you decide it’s good enough and pull them back on along with the shirt you’ve been wearing all week. 

Dabi laughs, “I take it there aren’t clothes in the bag.”

“That is correct,” you walk past him, shoving the massive sack under your side of the bed. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

“I had a suspicion,” he smiles and the world melts around you. “Grab one of my shirts to sleep in, you don’t have to dress like a bank robber 24/7.”

Your jaw drops at the bluntness, but he’s not wrong. You go back into the bathroom, changing into the shirt he let you borrow. When you come back out, the lights are off and he appears to be drifting off to sleep. You climb in next to him.

His arms wrap around you and this time you think it’s on purpose.

⛙ Continued ⛙

According to the alarm clock by the bed, 9:14. Checkout is at 10.

Begrudgingly, you extricate your entwined limbs from his to let him get a few more minutes of sleep. He looks so peaceful and you’d hate to interrupt it. You throw your pants on to see what a free continental breakfast looks like in a place that doesn’t even have wifi. 

Making your way through the parking lot, you think back on the conversations you had last night. Life wasn’t necessarily easy prior to this, there’s a reason you’re on the run with nothing but a stolen bag of money and the clothes on your back. He could have pried more when you declined to talk about it, but he didn’t and you’re grateful for that. Honestly, being on the run with the group has been an amazing break from life, feeling more like a vacation than anything else. 

That’s partially why you offered to share some of the money (that and the fact that you involuntarily made them all accomplices when they picked you up so you felt like you at least owe them some portion of it.) When you brought it up last night, you could tell he wanted to say no but knows that everyone needs it.

The breakfast is exactly what you expected, but at least it’s a meal. You throw a few pale orange slices on a plate with a pastry and whatever else looks edible. Sitting next to Compress and Magne, you begin eating as everyone else slowly trickles in. There’s an occasional knowing glance at you wearing his shirt, but no one says anything until Toga shows up.

“Ooooooooohh,” she starts before Magne kicks her leg under the table.

After everyone eats their fill (and fills their pockets,) you quickly pack up, and you’re all back on the road again.

series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @kitkat13001 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @shigarakislaughter @idkidk32

[yummyrevivalfluid]

Muse

Senku x Artist Reader Pt.2

Summary: Reader seeks Senku's Help. The reader finds herself nearly failing all courses involving science and math, what a shocker! Senku can’t help but give the reader a hard time as she asks him to be her tutor...

Word Count: 1,372

Tag List: @maria-trisha

It wasn’t often that Senku was left alone, unbothered by distractions in the school lab. Usually, other classmates carry on with experiments. Sometimes Taiju would keep him company, but Taiju was too extroverted of a friend so much work wasn’t completed with him around. Senku was enjoying the quiet stir of the boiling water, he was currently crouching as he slowly poured some unknown liquid down a buret. Pouring until he reached the desired volume. Senku was deeply concentrated in his work, unaware of you quietly approaching from behind.

“Senku….”

Your voice so soft, Senku almost didn’t acknowledge your presence until he saw your reflection from the lab counters. Slightly startled, he put down the liquid and turned around to face you. Right away Senku could tell something was off. Your voice was too soft compared to your loud and obnoxious self, you looked flushed, and your eyes kept averting him as you slightly swayed.

“Is something wrong?” Senku, asked slightly worried by your behavior.

“Everything thing is ok…. it’s just…” your voice started to trail off as you walked closer to him, standing beside him as you placed the papers you were holding onto the counter, “…I need a favor…” You nudged the papers closer to him. Looking over the papers, the red marking on the paper was hard to miss. Nearly every question was marked with a red X’s. He could see eraser marks littered on the paper, hardly masking the drawings underneath.

You just couldn't help yourself.

 He could feel you staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He knew he had to be delicate, clearly you were embarrassed. He let out a deep sign as he ran his fingers through his hair, “You make Taiju look smart…”  He glanced at you, and he knew he could’ve been more delicate. You were looking at him with tears in your eyes as you hurriedly scrambled to pick up the papers.

“Neverminded! I’ll ask someone else…”. Before you could walk away from him, he gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Senku….”

“I think I have vague of idea of what you need from me. But I need to be ten billion percent sure. What’s the favor?” He waited as you calmed down, blinking the tears in your eyes away.

“Not to make your head any bigger…” you started off, you gripped Senku’s hands in yours and looked into his eyes, pleading. “you’re the smartest person I know! You know so much about science and math! It’s your specialty! And well…I need help from the best!”

He didn’t say anything, he watched as you pulled the crumbled test scores back out, placing them on the counter. “I need you to be my tutor!”

“Hmmm…. I don’t kn- “before he could finish teasing you, you had dropped down to your knees and gripped his right leg and began to shake and beg.

“PLEASE SENKU! PLEASE BE MY TUTOR!”

“OK! Just get off me you airhead!”, he shook his leg to get you off. Pleased by his response you beamed and leaned in for a hug only to be stopped by his hand to your face.

“Thank you so much Senku! I owe you one!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a few days since you asked Senku to be your tutor and finally you were going to have your first study session with him. He trailed behind you, following you home as you began to ramble about all these other courses and clubs you were in, making more sense for him as to why your grades were lower than Taiju’s.

“…And I also joined the beginner’s pottery, and OH! I joined a glassblowing class! How cool is that! You turned to see Senku not so amused at your choices.

“Glassblowing? Why the hell would you take that?!”

“Because it sounds cool! Who knows, it might come in handy one day! Maybe someday you’ll be asking me to make you some of the glass bottle thingies that you use!” you said very smugly.

“Uh huh…whenever that day comes, I’ll be sure to get on my knees and beg the very same you did for me…WHICH IS NEVER!” Senku stated as he pinched your arm to get you moving faster.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally at your home, you and Senku got yourself situated getting ready to learn. Before Senku could even open the book, you let out a deep groan.

“Uhhhhh! I don’t want to do this!” you grumbled. Resting your cheek on the table as you looked up to Senku, whose eye was twitching at your behavior.

“The sooner we get started, the sooner we can finish. So, get your damn head off the table and let’s do some science!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After 2 hours of Senku nonstop calling you an airhead you were finally taking a break, although you had to do a lot of convincing on your end to make it happen. Senku was a relentless tutor.

Senku watched as you got up to go get some snacks before moving onto the next topic on your tutoring.

“You want anything?” you asked, looking down at him sprawled on your floor.

“Just a cola…thanks.” Senku listened to your footsteps getting further away, until it was just him in your room. He glanced around your bedroom, and he realized just how much you were into art. Paintbrushes and pencils scattered on your bed, posters of bands that he has no clue about littering your bedroom walls. Stacks of sketchbooks up against the leg of your desk. Standing up from his spot on the floor, he walked over to your desk and noticed a sketchbook he hadn’t seen you with. It wasn’t unusual that he wouldn’t recognize one of the many sketchbooks you owned, but this one was different. It was well taken care of. The leather of the sketchbook was in pristine condition, the paper wasn’t crumbled or had pages coming loose from the binding.

Curious, Senku opened the sketchbook, flipping through the pages, he noticed that he was the subject of many of the sketches. You had drawn him from different angles, some in his lab with a serious face, others with a soft look in his eyes gazing into the night sky, others it was just him…He felt like he learned something he wasn’t supposed to. This felt personal…Senku hurriedly closed the sketchbook and sat back down in his spot.

“Hey Senku, here’s your co-are you okay?” you kneeled in front of him, tilting your head as you examined his face.

“Yeah, I’m okay!” he swatted your hand away from his flushed face, “Break’s over let’s move on…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are we done? “You whined as you watched as Senku grade the practice sheet he created for you.

“You definitely improved…I guess we’re done for the day.” He watched as you cheered, relieved to give your brain a break. “Since I was teaching you about science, it’s only fair if I ask a question about art…”

You turned to look at him shocked written all over your face.

“YOU WANT TO LEARN ABOUT ART! OMG! YES! WHERE DO I EVEN START!” you gushed. Senku quickly cut you off before you could start your usual rambles.

“I didn’t say I wanted to learn about art! Listen, you airhead! I just had a question regarding art.”

“Oh…what’s your question?”

“What does it mean if an artist…repeatedly draws something or someone?” he asked. He tried to make the question as ambiguous as he could, without exposing what he saw.

“Hmmm… it could mean many things! I guess it depends on the artist…I would just assume that the subject is the artist’s muse.” You replied, nonchalantly, sitting on your bed as Senku packed his stuff.

“If you were to draw your muse over and over again…what would that mean?” he asked, by now he towered over your sitting form, and watched as you slightly turned red by his question.

“W-what? W-why are you asking?” you stuttered out, confused by his questions.

“Just curious…about art and stuff…you’re the only artist I know…” Senku said quietly, looking into your eyes.

“Well…it’s like I’ve always said,” you looked away from his eyes as you glanced at your hands, smudged with pencil stains. “My muses are my love.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Thank you so much for reading! If anyone has suggetions or requests don't hesistate to ask! Just please be patient with me!

[banditomojado]

ATTENTION I HAVE FOUND A NEW SHOW TO OBSESS OVER. THE FOLLOWING IS A BRIEF BREAKDOWN OF ALL THE MAIN CHARACTERS AND WHY I LOVE THEM/WOULD DIE FOR THEM ALREADY.

Mild spoilers for the first 5 episodes of The Legend of Vox Machina!

Oh boy, where do I begin!!! I have always been a lover of fantasy ever since I saw LOTR as a young child! Unfortunately, I didn't grow up around friends who were into the genre so I was never exposed to things like D&D. But fear not, folks like me! You need not be a D&D veteran to enjoy this show! Okay, so let's start talking about the characters featured in this party!

First up, the twins! Specifically here, Vex'ahlia "Vex" Vessar! So I love that the series features a sibling pair. Vex, at least in the first few episodes, seems to be the de facto leader of the group. She's a half-elf, half-human, a ranger-type, a badass archer and skilled warrior. The group, especially her brother, seems to look to her for guidance and commands in a lot of situations. She's so cool and has a strong presence in every scene. She has a dry wit, always on point with her verbal jabs. I've only known her for a day, and already I would trust her with my life. I do feel like she is a little too controlling of her twin brother, but so far she hasn't done anything too awful besides passive-aggressively disapproving of her brother's budding attraction to another member of the party, but more on that later!

And now for her brother, Vax'ildan "Vax" Vessar! He is a rogue-like character, specializing in daggers and throwing knives, and stealthy combat. He is also a wizard at picking locks. Much like his sister, he maintains a cool, mysterious aura about him, and he seems to come in handy whenever the situation calls to be sneaky. LOVE that the series has heavily implied he's a bi-king, featuring several scenes in the first five episodes where he flirts with both male and female characters. I love his relationship with his sister, you can already tell they have been through a lot and have helped each other survive it all, although it could prove troublesome if he does in fact decide to pursue a certain other half-elf, half-human member of the party...

Speaking of which, up next is Keyleth of the Air Ashari! She is a druid, capable of a wide array of magical abilities like controlling plant-life and shape-shifting into different kinds of animals! She's so cool, but she also has a sort of "fresh-out-of-college-stumbling-through-life" kind of vibe that I find utterly adorable. She's awkward, messes up a lot, struggles with self-esteem issues, but always tries her absolute best and has already saved the party from certain death a few times. I'm a sucker for flawed, awkward characters who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and are just trying to do their best. Apparently she is currently on a ritualistic quest (Aramenté) to prove herself to her people so she can one day lead them and is not allowed to return until she has done so. So much pressure on my girl! She is obviously attracted to Vax, and I think they would make a cute couple, but something tells me that things won't quite work out for them...

Up next is Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III! He is by far the "edgiest" member of the group. He is a human gunslinger, a somewhat surprising set of skills for a fantasy setting, but it fits into this world perfectly! He's incredibly skilled with his gun, very smart, and by far the most sophisticated of the party. He comes from royalty, after all, and the first five episodes reveal how that life was ripped from him following a violent coup d'état which resulted in the slaughter of his entire family. So needless to say, my man has some baggage. He seems to possess a darker side to him that only appears when he is in a state of rage. He is very scary when in that state, and even carries around a plague doctors mask for such occasions. Revenge stories are a favorite of mine, as they always manage to provide the character seeking revenge with immensely satisfying/cathartic arcs, so I'm very much excited to see where the story takes him! I also think it's very telling that he is the sole human character of the party, it explains his inclination towards the dark side!

Next up we have Pike Trickfoot! She is a gnome cleric, capable of magical abilities like healing and conjuring up light-based energy shields. She is a fascinating character, given that her magic stems from heavily religious beliefs, though she seems to revel in violent situations and vices like binge drinking. She is a sweetheart, always looking out for the other members of the party, but also not afraid to go toe-to-toe with an enemy! The first five episodes see her lose connection to the Everlight, a kind of goddess that is the source of her magical abilities, thus she is forced to separate from the group. This was a huge bummer, because I really enjoyed her interactions with the other members of the party, especially her close friendship with the next member of the group I'll be talking about!

Next up is Grog Strongjaw! He is a Goliath barbarian, specializing in brute strength and combat with his mighty ax. Normally I'm not that interested in big, buff, warrior-like characters, but he's an absolute delight! He provides a lot of the show's comedic relief, due in large part to his limited wit and insatiable desire for bloodshed. He is big and dumb, but full of heart and determination to keep his friends safe, especially Pike, who he seems to share an especially close bond with. LOVE that he calls her "Pikey"! Having to see them go their separate ways so early into the series was definitely upsetting (seeing him cry over not being able to feel her presence while they were apart was precious), but I'm glad the group still has his brute strength to rely on if things get hairy.

And finally, we have Scanlan Shorthalt! He is a gnome bard, who also seems to possess a few magical abilities via his lute, such as being able to conjure up a large, floating purple hand. He is by far the main source of comedic relief of the group, crass and hedonistic, with an admirable ability for quick wit. He is also the group's resident slut, never wasting an opportunity to possibly get laid. He also appears to be bi, which is lovely. Comic relief characters often hide the saddest backstories, so I'm excited to delve more into his past and learn more about him. He also seems to have a crush on Pike, which is just absolutely adorable, although based on how he acts around the group, it's no wonder nothing has happened between them yet. Better wait until he grows up a bit, Pikey.

So far, the series has given me plenty of reasons to love each member of the party, and the writing for them has so far been excellent! Love their various little interactions, I think you could pair off or group any member together and you would still get a satisfying story/adventure. Five episodes in and I'm completely hooked! If anyone who is a fan of the show wants to watch along with me, let me know! I know I'm super late to the party, but I would LOVE to discuss the story with someone! I'm aware that these characters existed long before the Amazon show and that the show itself was a result of a large fan-funded campaign, so I'm especially eager to get to talk to fans who have been there from the very beginning!

[captain-huggy-bear]

I have my MOT and service coming up for my car and I hate booking it, I had doing it, I hate it all and Clay feels like the sort to 100% do it for you so his a short drabble/prompt thing... Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You're sat staring at your phone in the kitchen, trying to work yourself up to do it, to just pick the phone up, call them and book it all in...but you really won't want to. Every year you hate the process of getting your car serviced. You know its important, of course, that's why you make yourself do it, but you hate it. You hate booking it, the fact it always has to be a phone call. You hate taking your car in, showing your service book and dealing with the overwhelmingly male environment. You hate how they always try to convince you you need more work doing on your car than you do, how they try to overcharge you, how they talk to you like you're an idiot and you hate the resulting bill and awkward pick up.

Clayton comes into the kitchen from the garage, a dirty rag being used to clean his hands of grease from where he'd been changing his car's engine oil. You're staring so intently at your phone that he thinks you might actually cause it to explode in a minute, your shoulders are tense as he turns the sink on to wash his hands.

"Why are you staring at your phone like that, baby?" He asks as he lathers his hands in soap, bracelets clinking, shirt rolled up to his elbows. How he manages to make washing his hands attractive you're not sure but he does.

"Because I have to call the mechanics about my car service and I don't want to..." You mumble, pouting a little as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. Even if you weren't he'd still have made the same offer.

"What's the number?" Clayton's drying his hands off and reaching for his phone within seconds of your answer, fingers hovering over the screen ready to type the number in.

"Huh?" The way you blink at him, pout still firmly in place, but brows furrowing in confusion is adorable and it makes him huff out a laugh. His smile, your favourite thing, all crooked and dimpled, teeth poking out from underneath his top lip.

"What's the number? I'll book it and I'll take your car in, you can borrow my car for work for the day." He comes to lean on the counter next to you, hip popped slightly, thumbs still hovering to type in the number of your mechanic.

"You'd do that?" It shouldn't make your chest ache with affection, it's a simple thing, but it does because you hate doing this and he's offered without hesitation to do it for you, to make your life easier. It makes you want to kiss him, something so simple, but so meaningful.

"Yeah, I don't mind. You know how I feel about cars, besides stops you getting swindled over your shitty Vauxhall." Clayton laughs, phone being placed on the counter, as you gasp in offense at his comment about your car, even as you do he's reaching out for you, hands landing on your hips to pull you close. It doesn't matter that you cross your arms over your chest and he can't get you as close as he wants, he can't help but have a hand on you.

"Gimli isn't shitty!" You try to defend your car, your car you've had for a decade, your first ever car. The red little car that's carried you through university, your big job, to now.

"He's 10 years old and creaks, baby...I wish you'd just let me buy you a new car." Clay's been trying to buy you a new car for almost as long as you've been dating, but every time you refuse. You're attached to your car and you hate the idea of Clay spending that much money on you. He hates the idea that you're driving a car that might break down at any second when he's not there to help.

"But, Gimli..." You pout, arms dropping so he can pull you chest to chest, one of his hands smoothing a path up your side to cup your cheek. His hand is almost as big as your face, a perfect resting spot for your cheek.

"...Gimli..." He sighs, "s'cute how attached you are."

"Shut up..." You mumble out.

"Oh, so you don't want me to take your car to the mechanics?" Clayton goes to pull away from you, inching back with an expectant grin. It works because even though he's joking, even though he's being silly you can't help but wrap your arms around his waist, chin pressing into his chest and look up at him with a sweet apology on your lips.

"No, please, 'm sorry...I love you."

He grins down at you all teeth and dimples, a strand of brunet hair falling into his blue eyes and it only makes him more handsome, the way he loves to tease even as you both know he's still going to take your car to the mechanics. Because he loves you and anything to make your life easier is worth it in his eyes.

"Love you too, even if you're using me for your vehicle check-ups."

"I'm not! I promise!" You laugh, cheek rubbing against his shirt, arms tightening around him as one of his own comes to rest at the back of your neck, kneading the tight muscle there. "I'm thankful though, thank you...I hate doing it."

"I know, that's why I offered, sweet girl." He says it so simply, like that's just something you do. That anyone would do. When you know it's not. Your ex had never offered, he never even considered it. But, Clay? It's like he lives to serve, to make your life as easy, as simple as possible and it makes you love him so much more.

He leans down all sweet, smiling as he kisses you. It's so utterly domestic, the idea that he's taking your car to get serviced, that he's being the man of the house in a very traditional sense. You can picture the rest of your life with him in that moment. The tasks he'd take on his shoulders, the burdens he'd lift for you.

Clay starts taking your car to the mechanics every year from that point, like clockwork he phones up, books an appointment and like clockwork makes sure your car is safe for you to drive.

The few times you go with him to pick your car up, it's an experience, the way he haggles down the price, the way he argues that a type of work was superficial and unnecessary or downright shouldn't cost the price they're setting.

It not only takes the weight and stress from your shoulders, but there's something about Clay, about the way he argues and haggles and knows his stuff that always makes you admire just how attractive he is and if you can't help but want to kiss his face off when the two of you finally get home? Well, that's his reward for always taking care of your car for you.

[365emotionlessfaces]

@schemmentits sorry for the spam! we’re nearing the end of this one. even now i’m thinking of possibly doing a sequel 😅

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 9 WC:~1.1k

‘Oh, unh-unh. No way,’ Ava thought, as she watched Melissa and Barb turn on their heels and start heading for one of the rooms down the hall. She immediately followed them. When she walked through the door, the two women were talking in hushed tones about something clearly important.

“I thought I told y’all that if you had any tea, you had to loop me in. How am I supposed to be the most beautiful principal with all the knowledge if y’all aren’t gonna inform me of the knowledge? Come on, y’all, spill.”

Barb looked to the redhead, waiting for Melissa to make the first move.

“Alright!” Melissa threw her hands up after a few moments of Ava staring into her soul. “I went to the Aspiring Teachers Program a long time ago, when I was goin’ through my divorce. I had a whirlwind romance with a nineteen year old, and gave her my stuffed Ronny Jaworski eagle on the off-chance that she might find me again.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Ava remarked.

“Thanks, Ava,” Melissa muttered out through clenched teeth.

“No, I mean you got that fine young thing out in the hall practically throwing herself at you, and you worried about some girl you haven’t seen in a million years? Girl, please.”

“That’s the thing, Ava, she is the girl from the Program.” Barb pointed out, before turning to Melissa. “And you told me that you just hated the girl’s name, but you hated it because it reminded you of your young girl from Chicago,” Barb said with a few soft chuckles. The glare she got from the redhead made her smile disappear instantly.

“Oh! Well, go get her then! What are you waiting for?” Ava grabbed Melissa’s arm in an attempt to pull her out the door, but Melissa shook out of the principal’s grasp.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? She’s literally right out there, and clearly she’s still into you if she’s carrying around that weird little eagle thing,” Ava said.

“What if when she realizes who I am she hates me for breakin’ her heart? Then, she never talks to me again?”

Just as Ava was about to tell Melissa how silly she was being, Janine poked her head into the door. “Everything okay?” She asked.

“Janine! Tell Melissa that your little friend out there has it bad for her, and all she needs to do is admit her feelings and we’ll all go back to our regularly scheduled lives. Well, except her. She gonna be gettin’ nasty!” Ava did a little dance for emphasis.

Janine pulled the rest of her little self into the room, and gave Melissa a questioning look. When Melissa wouldn’t look up at Janine, the young girl put the pieces together. She, too, had witnessed the moment Melissa saw Ronny.

“Oh! My God! You’re Em! Of course, you are! The eagle and the red hair, and the fiery attitude, it makes so much sense now! But she-” Janine looked at the door, clearly thinking about you “-doesn’t… oh my god, she has no idea! You gotta tell her, Melissa. It’s like a fairytale come true. Star-crossed lovers. Destiny!”

Melissa groaned loudly after the girl practically shouted the last word. This day was not going anything like how she expected, or wanted! Somehow, Melissa had managed to fall in love with the same girl twice. In her defense, she didn’t know that you were the same girl. It had been so long since she had seen Parent Trap’s face, she hadn’t been sure if she could have picked the girl out of a lineup, but now all she could notice was every similarity between you and the girl from years ago.

The three women just stared at Melissa, waiting for her to say or do something. “Alright!” The redhead huffed. “I’ll do it, but I’m not doin’ it tonight, not with all youse guys around being nosy.”

True to her word, Melissa didn’t confess her feelings that night, much to the dismay of her friends and colleagues. She couldn’t bear it. She just knew the moment you found out that she was the one from the Program all those years ago, that you would never talk to her again. She figured she could try and enjoy one last night of being able to see your beautiful smile and your eyes that shined brighter than some of these kids’ futures. One last night to hear your sweet voice.

Over the following week, Melissa could tell that you could sense the growing tension in the break room growing, but had no idea what was going on, and when you asked, Melissa was increasingly thankful that no one was willing to spill the beans. Janine, Ava, and Barb were all getting increasingly frustrated with Melissa, but none of them would tell you why, and when you asked Melissa about their looks, she panicked and she acted like she had no idea that the women were giving her stranger and stranger looks as the week went on.

It all came to a head on that Thursday. The following day would be a non-contact day. The students wouldn’t be at school, but all of the teachers would. Everyone knew that Melissa would be taking the day off, she hated non-contact days, so the three women who had confronted Melissa last week were ready to cause some chaos.

You were the last to arrive in the break room for lunch, much to Melissa’s dismay. Melissa had already warmed your food, like always, so you took your seat and began eating, choosing to listen to the conversations around you, rather than contribute, definitely being quieter than Melissa had grown used to. Jacob and Janine were talking about a movie they were planning on seeing over the weekend, and Mr. Johnson was telling Ava about this underground casino he’s running.

No one in the room noticed as Ava and Barb made eye-contact and enacted a plan they had been preparing for days. Barb turned to her friend and asked loudly what her plans for the weekend were.

“Yeah, Em, got any special plans?” Ava asked innocently. Janine whipped her head to look at the older women after hearing a nickname that no one used for Melissa. The redhead then watched as Janine had a conversation with you across the room, just through your eyes. Before anyone could say anything else, they all watched as you stood quickly, the force of your chair sliding back causing an awful noise, drawing the attention from anyone who hadn’t already given it, grabbed your plate of food and left the room without a word.

Not a single soul left in the break room knew what to do. They didn’t dare say another word because Melissa already looked like she was going to tear Ava limb from limb.

Barb wondered for a moment if she had actually crossed the line this time. She worried that Ava’s life may truly be in danger. That feeling was not quelled when the redhead stood and glared at them. “I’ll deal with you two later,” Melissa said before stomping out of the room to finally face the music.

Part Ten

[gingiesworld]

Untitled Drabble

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: TW: Suicide, character death, not a happy one

AN: If you are uncomfortable or triggered with reading things associated with the warnings topic, feel free to miss this one. Also remember to talk to someone if you ever have feelings or thoughts similar to what's in this drabble. Also remember to keep on fighting, you are stronger than you know. Although this is going to be my only post for a while, I am not entirely sure when I will definitely be coming back. But remember your feelings matter, as do you.

MINORS DNI 18+

It had been months since the accident, since Y/N had lost their entire world, struggling with grief and purpose. Always putting on a smile and a brave face for everyone of their friends and family. Little did they know what lies beneath the fake smiles.

Y/N was always one who struggled with expressing their feelings, always answering everyone with “I’m okay.” But no one really saw the pain behind their eyes, the emptiness that they felt, the lack of purpose they had felt. That’s why they had written letters, hidden them away in the drawer of their night stand.

Every night, for months without fail they went out, heading towards the one place where they felt they had belonged, after drowning themselves in booze or drugs, hoping to get rid of the pain somehow, but nothing had truly worked, the pain they had felt only grew day by day, becoming unbearable. Although one night on their walk, they had reached their limit. Sitting on the edge, overlooking the overpass, watching as cars and trucks passed by underneath, wanting to finally be free, they rose to their feet, their heartbeat increasing slightly, although they had found peace in that moment, free of the pain as they stepped off of the ledge.

It was the middle of the night when Wanda had gotten the call, lying peacefully asleep beside her husband before the phone rang. Once she had heard the words she feared the most, the loss of her best friend. Jarvis was quick to pick up the phone once she had dropped it, finishing the call before wrapping his arm around his wife, trying to console her.

As the days went on, preparations for their funeral were ongoing, but Y/N’s mom had asked for Wanda’s help in finding their suit, the one they had bought for the wedding that was cancelled. Once she had the suit hanging, she had took a moment to gather herself as she sat on Y/N’s side of the bed, her eyes soon fell on the nightstand, the drawer slightly ajar, her curiosity peaked as she opened it, revealing sealed envelopes, addressed to different people, although she had come across one addressed to her. With shaky hands, she opened the envelope nervously, her eyes soon drawn to their handwriting. She had always admired their penmanship, seeing how neatly they had written in cursive. She chuckled at the memory of them telling her that they hate writing in print, always telling her you can see how much effort had gone into the words just by the neat handwriting. She then took a deep breath before reading it.

Wanda,

I’m sorry to be telling you this in a letter, but I am not okay, as you already know if you’re reading this letter. I tried to carry on, taking everyone’s word that it gets easier in time, but in truth it has only gotten worse. The pain has become too overwhelming, I have tried talking to someone about it but the words just get stuck, it’s like I know what I want to say, but on another note, I don’t know how. I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on, I just don’t have the will to keep fighting anymore. I feel like I am drowning, in my own grief and the thoughts that come with it, but there have been moments where I don’t feel a thing, not a single thing. I don’t even recognise myself anymore, and I hate the person that I have become. I had become the liar that I never was, because everytime I said that I was okay, I was barely holding on. I hope that you can have the life you have always wanted and I know you will get through this, because you have people to help you, you have people who give you purpose, especially those two boys of yours.

I just want you to know that I am at ease now, I’m no longer drowning in my own pain, I have found peace. But most of all, I want to thank you for being the best friend that anyone could ask for. You were truly more than I deserved and I will always love you for that.

Y/N/N

No one truly knows what others are fighting, whether we can see it or not. No one knows what thoughts or feelings we have, but it’s not always easy to express them, it can be difficult to find the words to say, even if we were to say a simple “I’m not okay.” Doesn’t exactly say what kind of battle we are facing alone.

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

WE NEED MORE SUBBY PUPPY SLASH

A/n: This might kinda suck but I needed to start and finish something and this seemed easy NO IDEA WHERE THE IDEA CAME FROM BUT IT'S A LITTLE EXTRA

Warnings: Smut, use of toys, multiple orgasms, cum eating, slight pet play, Slash is technically a prostitute, I will be repenting for my sins but if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You'd strapped Slash to a chair in your room, sitting him in front of the bed so you'd have somewhere comfortable to sit while you watched.

Suctioned to the seat was a dildo, a vibrating one with lots of fun textures you were were driving him insane. You had the remote for it in your hand, beside you were two more controlling the small bullet toys strapped to his cock.

His breathing was heavy and weighted, whines mixing with his muffled moans as he choked around the ball gag in his mouth, drool dribbling down his chin and onto the chair between his spread legs.

He'd cum more times than you could count and you didn't plan on ending this torture anytime soon, you knew how much he loved it even if he begged you to stop, which he couldn't.

Between his feet on the floor was a glass, a fancy one from a set you found at a thrift store. The rest were kept in the kitchen for special occasions, but this one was specifically used for Slash.

Right now it sat half full of his cum, the towel under it collecting the strings that missed.

You sat naked on the edge of the bed, touching yourself as you got off to Slash. You always started fully clothed, just wanted to watch him, but the more times he came, the whinier he got, you never made it through this without getting off.

You pressed a button on one of the remotes, the one for the dildo deep inside him at just the right angle. He jumped, a loud sob leaving him. His cock jerked and more cum dripped out, you loved seeing him as a little faucet, incapable of stopping as his balls drained.

His blushing tip, flushed body, perky nipples. He was so sensitive and it was all going to waste.

You moved closer to him, sitting in his lap, the heat of your cunt hovering over him only making things worse for him. You undid the strap of the gag and pulled it out of his mouth, letting him relax his jaw.

Slash leaned forward as much as he could, resting his forehead on your shoulder. "Ah- I-I c-ah-! Can't cum anymore!" He whined. "It-it hurts, master, please!"

You lifted his chin up so he was looking at you. You smiled down at him warmly. "Poor thing, sitting here getting exactly what he wants and he's complaining?" You asked, staring at his puffy and bruised lips, chin wet with saliva and cheeks streaked with tears. "I haven't even cum once, I'm giving you everything and you've given nothing."

His eyes widened at the realization, he lived here rent free and made a mess every day, this happened at least once a week. "Please, master, I-I can do it, I- ah-fucking-ngh Christ!" You felt his cock twitch, bumping your ass as more cum shot from him.

You watched his eyes glaze over, every thought leaving him. His body was reacting to every feather light touch, even the softest breath had a small bead trailing from his slit.

You watched in awe as your masterpiece came to be, your perfect pet. You happily undid the cloth around his wrists and ankles keeping him tied to the chair along with the taking off the bullets on his dick.

He slowly got up from the chair, using you as support while you stared amusedly at his hole stretching around the toy until it was fully out.

Slash curled up at the foot of your bed, body shaking and his eyes were droopy and crossed. You picked the cup from the ground and carried it over to him. He used whatever strength he had left to hold himself up to make it even just a little bit easier.

"Careful, puppy." You instructed, holding the cup to Slash's pouty and quivering lips. "Don't spill any or we're gonna have to make another cup, and you wouldn't want that now would you?" He drank slowly, making sure every drop hit his tongue.

You watched his throat bob as he chugged his salty seed. "Aren't you happy we had pineapple for dessert?" You asked in a teasing tone. "You should be happy this is all I need from you for letting you stay in my apartment, puppy."

You took the glass away once he was done, not minding the little bit that was on his cheeks, and set it on the nightstand before pulling out the drawer, taking out your own toy and setting it to the right setting.

Slash didn't have to do much, seeing him lying there all used up at the end of the day was all you needed to finish the job your fingers had started on yourself.

"Such a good puppy, aren't you?" You said through soft moans. "Such a pretty puppy."

[sophrosynesworld]

The Night Shift (Part 8)

“The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail that has not been set up yet. Please try again later. Goodbye.”

The automated message cuts off, leaving you staring at your phone screen. A heavy sigh escapes your lips. It’s been weeks since you woke up, but every attempt to reach Bakugo has been met with silence. Four missed calls, two unanswered texts—the message is clear. He doesn’t want to see you.

The crowd surges forward, and you move with it, carried along in a wave of shuffling feet and hurried glances. A rough cough tears through your chest, sharp enough to leave your throat burning. You try to clear it, but the effort only makes it worse.

If he did pick up, what would you even say? Hey, Bakugo. Sorry for dying? The thought twists something deep in your stomach.

You keep walking, head down, focused on the steady rhythm of your footsteps against the pavement—until you stop. Right there in the middle of the subway staircase.

Someone behind you mutters a curse, brushing past with an irritated shove. But you're not able to process it, memories claw at the edges of your mind, pushing past the dam you’ve worked so hard to build.

“How long do I have?”

Dr. Morri sits across from you, a tray of untouched cafeteria food between you both. The speed at which the hospital revoked your credentials was almost astonishing. Before the loose diagnosis, pulling 100-hour workweeks was just another Monday for you. Now, you’re “on sabbatical,” a sanitized label slapped on to keep questions at bay.

"You’re a medical mystery," he says. "You know how hard that question is to answer."

You lean in, arms crossing over the table, voice low. “What am I supposed to do? Wake up every day not knowing when I’m going to die?”

"Jesus, will you—" Morri had caught himself, exhaling sharply. "Talking like that won’t get you anywhere."

Your colleague drags a hand down his face, exhaustion settling in the lines around his eyes. You're not quite sure if he looks older than you remember or if you’re just seeing him clearly for the first time.

"You want the truth?" he sighs when you nod. "If we can’t find a cure… maybe a year."

"A year?"

"That’s on the generous side."

"Do you think they'll let me cash out on my social security early?"

"Dammit, don’t—" Morri cuts himself off, pausing for a moment. "We’re not giving up on you. We have every specialist looking into this." He leans back into his chair. "Quirk research is evolving everyday. But we need time, and you…" He exhales. "I think you need to tell someone".

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the table, nails digging into the plastic. That’s the problem, isn’t it? How do you tell people that you’re dying? That no matter how strong they think you are, no matter how much you’ve fought to survive, your own body has turned against you?

How do you tell someone like Airi?

You feel it again—the acid in your throat. Another person pushes your shoulder and it's finally enough to break your frozen state, your feet moving towards the platform and onto the correct train without having to think about it.

Your friends could never know. Your family would never find out. You made that choice—selfishly, maybe. Kento had called you out on it, tried to talk you down, but you didn’t listen.

"A year of happy memories is better than a year of them waiting."

Your eyes stay down, locked on the scuffed subway floor, refusing to let your thoughts spiral. The panicked thought slips away, shattered by the buzz of your phone in your back pocket. For a split second, your heart jumps—Katsuki.

But it’s Rina.

Hey! Wanna grab lunch this weekend?

You stare at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard. The simple question feels impossibly distant, like it belongs to another version of you. With a quiet sigh, you slip the phone back into your pocket, promising yourself you’ll reply later.

The subway doors slide open with a hiss, releasing a surge of passengers onto the platform. You move with them, climbing the steps until the center of the city swallows you whole—blaring horns, flashing advertisements, the ceaseless hum of bodies in motion.

Your eyes flick up on instinct, and there he is. The hero you've waited over a month to see. Or at least, his face—scowling down at you from a massive billboard, advertising Dynamight-branded protein powder. The absurdity of it pulls a scoff from your lips.

Shaking your head, you step forward, weaving through the crowd. Your gate quickens as you near The Booknook, a familiar restaurant just a few blocks away. Stepping off the sidewalk and into the alleyway, you suddenly feel something—a light tap on your shoulder.

Frowning, you glance back, half-expecting to see a old coworker. Instead, you find yourself looking up at the number one hero, clad in an evergreen and silver hero suit. He looks out so different. His boyish smile is disarmingly warm, tinged with nerves that somehow make him seem more approachable. Was he wearing a hero suit when he came into the hospital? You frown, trying to remember.

“You recover fast,” The words slip out reflexively, your professional instincts kicking in.

Izuku chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that’s almost endearing. “Only thanks to doctors like you.”

The casual acknowledgment stops you short. “You… know about that?”

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah. They told me everything. If it weren’t for you… I wouldn’t be standing here.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. It’s rare for a hero to acknowledge you so directly—your work usually fades into the background of their larger-than-life narratives.

“Well,” you manage, brushing off the moment with a faint smile, “you got to us just in time.”

Izuku chuckles. “You shouldn’t do that.”

"Do what?" you ask, stepping deeper into the shaded alleyway, away from the relentless heat of the dusk sun. You tilt your head slightly, a silent invitation for the hero to follow.

“Brush things off like they’re nothing,” he replies following as you step forward, the muted clink of his armor echoing against the walls of the pothole-ridden alleyway. His polished boots crunch against loose gravel as his eyes lock onto yours. “Take credit for what you do. From what my friends tell me, you're a real hero. Own it.”

A flicker of warmth stirs in your chest, but you wave it off with practiced nonchalance. “Thank you, Midoriya. But, I'm on holiday now so don't inflate my ego."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Izuku chuckles his eyes flicking left, then right, scanning the alley.

You follow his gaze, but all you see is cracked asphalt, a few scattered puddles from yesterday’s rain, and a pigeon that looks way too invested in your conversation. Late afternoon sunlight filters through the fire escapes above, cutting sharp lines of light and shadow across the walls. You’ve never thought much of it before—it’s just an alley. But the way Izuku’s locates every rustling scrap of paper and distant clatter makes you wonder what he's seeing that you don't.

His armor catches the sunlight in flashes, the green and silver plating looking oddly out of place against the dingy bricks and rust-streaked dumpsters. Yet somehow, it fits him perfectly. He looks… cool, you begrudgingly admit to yourself, though you’d rather bite your tongue than say it out loud.

“Shouldn’t you be off saving the world right now?” you ask, your tone casual, though the question feels more pointed than you intended. It feels almost ridiculous, standing here with him when it’s so clear he could be anywhere else—doing something that actually matters.

You expect a quick, snarky reply. Something cocky to match the confidence you constantly see online. But instead, he says:

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" You stop in your tracks, holding still so the crunch of gravel beneath your soles doesn’t mask whatever he’s listening for.

Izuku’s eyes stay fixed ahead with an unreadable expression. His footsteps still crunching. "Exactly," He exhales, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Izuku slows, just enough for you to catch up, his sharp eyes flicking to a shadowed doorway before returning to the path ahead. You can’t tell if he’s on edge or if this is just how he is—always scanning and assessing. Either way, it’s unsettling. How does someone live like that? Constantly waiting for something to go wrong?

"Take a left up here," you say, hoping to lighten the mood. "It's not a bad neighborhood, you know."

He shrugs. "I never said it was."

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.

"So, where are we headed?" Izuku asks, stepping aside as the alleyway opens into a wider street.

"The Booknook." you say, shoving your hands into your pockets. "Ever heard of it?"

He tilts his head, glancing at the faded street signs. "Can’t say I have. Is it any good?"

"Guess you’ll find out,"

"Is that an invitation?" His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something in his expression—like he’s giving you a way out.

You hesitate for half a second before nodding. The moment you confirm, your stomach twists. Why did I just invite Deku with me? Panic flutters in your chest, but you keep your tone casual. "If you’re chasing me all over the city just to say thanks, the least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee."

He chuckles, falling into step beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. "I appreciate that."

“How’ve you been?” you ask, starting up the first set of stairs. The incline feels steeper than it should, a tightness creeping into your chest with each step.

“Honestly?” The seriousness in his tone forces you to glance over your shoulder. “I’ve been having a hard time breathing.”

Your right foot stops moving mid-step causing you to nearly trip, catching yourself just in time before spinning around to face him. Standing a few steps higher, you’re eye-level with him for the first time.

"For how long?" The words come fast, concern sharpening your tone. "Since the accident, or before? Have you seen a doctor?" The questions tumble out, one after the other, leaving no room for hesitation.

His expression shifts—seriousness breaking into something playful, his grin lighting up like a switch flipped.

"Are you... are you fucking with me?"

"Yes," Deku admits with a laugh, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Midoriya!" You swat his arm, cheeks warming, but the metal plating of his armor dulls the impact. Izuku still moves as if you actually hit him, feigning injury with an exaggerated wince.

Rolling your eyes, you take another step forward. "This healer is off the market," you say, the joke barely out before a wave of sadness crashes over you. "Go find someone else to save you next time."

"Don't be like that," he laughs.

A few people wave as you pass a stationary store, their attention fixed on him. You glance ahead at yet another incline, groaning internally. Why are there so many damn hills in Japan?

"Could we stop for a second?" Izuku leans casually against the railing, squinting at the sun. "I always think I’m in shape… until I have to walk up all these hills."

You let out a breathy laugh. "Sure," you say, shooting him a knowing look. "But shouldn’t you have more stamina? I feel like that's an important trait in heroes."

Izuku huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, turns out crime-fighting doesn’t require this much uphill cardio."

Whatever awkwardness was left between you dissolves as you both break into breathless laughter, the kind that makes your ribs ache but feels way too good to stop. For a moment, it’s like you’re both teenagers again—no weight of the world, no expectations—just two kids without expectations.

Somewhere between catching your breath and teasing him about his supposed stamina, you learn a few things. Like the fact that Izuku drinks an almost concerning amount of melon soda, keeps an entire journal dedicated to analyzing his students’ quirks, and sometimes gets so caught up in hero work that he forgets to eat. In return, you offer little pieces of yourself. How your heart has always been just a little too reckless, how sleep never comes easy no matter how exhausted you are.

It turns out, you have more in common than originally thought.

You both push yourselves too hard. You both let responsibility weigh heavier than it should. And neither of you know how to slow down.

And yet, there’s a difference.

Because while you blend into the background, Izuku never can.

People watch him.

Not just a passing glance or a quick double take. It’s more than that. Every step he takes seems to draw eyes, conversations pausing mid-sentence as he moves past. Somehow, it just seems effortless—the way he acknowledges each one with a smile or a wave.

You watch him, too. The way the sunlight weaves through the green of his hair, catching in the unruly strands. You’ve heard rumors, of course, the hospital is full of gossip and secondhand stories. But none of it compares to seeing him like this, laughing at one of your jokes with a crinkled-up nose.

It's in that moment you understand why Japan idolizes him.

"Are you ready?" Izuku asks, standing up from the curb and extending his hand to help you up.

You look back at the hero, your mind still a little distracted, but still replying with a nod, focusing on him as he waits, hand outstretched.

"Of course." You smile, your lips pulling upward more naturally than you expected as you reach out. Your hand fits in his much larger one, the warmth of his grip grounding you as he effortlessly pulls you to your feet.

"We’re getting close. I think it’s only another block or two," you say, stepping forward—but then you hesitate, suddenly aware of how close you’re standing next to him. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make you notice.

For a split second, you wonder if Katsuki sent him. But the thought vanishes just as quickly—Katsuki won’t even call you back, so why would he go through the trouble of sending Izuku? The sting of that realization settles in your chest, but you push it aside, along with the dozen other questions piling up in your head.

Izuku, oblivious to your inner spiral, keeps pace beside you. The sound of your footsteps blends into the steady hum of the city—distant car horns, students filtering out of their evening study groups, laughter spilling from a nearby café.

"Never heard of this place before," Izuku says, breaking the silence. "What is it?"

"It’s part library, part restaurant," you explain. "Coffee and lunch during the day, liquor in the evening. People go there to read, work, or just exist for a while."

He perks up at that, intrigued. "What’s it called again?"

You huff a small laugh. "The Booknook. It’s probably my favorite place in the city."

Izuku chuckles, shaking his head like he should’ve guessed. "Sounds like something my friend Ida would visit. I’ll have to mention it to him next time I see him."

By the time you reach the correct street, the cozy, wood-paneled storefront glows warmly against the encroaching evening. A few patrons sit outside under string lights, noses buried in books, steam curling from their mugs. Through the large windows, you can see shelves lined with well-worn novels and quiet corners where people have tucked themselves away, lost in stories.

"Here we are," you say, your pace quickening slightly as you gesture toward the door. The store stands warm and inviting before you, the glow of its interior spilling onto the sidewalk.

Izuku tilts his head, taking in the café, but before either of you can step inside, the door bursts open with a sharp bang.

Someone barrels through, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off balance. Your breath catches as you stumble backward, only to collide with something solid. Izuku. His armored arms embrace you before you can hit the ground, steadying you with an ease that makes your stomach flip.

"Hey!" Izuku’s voice is sharp now, the calm politeness from before shifting into something more authoritative as he moves you behind him.

The man who crashed into you barely spares a glance your way. His focus snaps immediately to Izuku as a sneer curls on his lips. His entire presence oozes entitlement, like he owns the street beneath his feet.

"I don't have any spare change." he spits, his tone thick with disdain.

Your pulse kicks up, unease creeping beneath your skin. The man is tall and wiry, dressed in a suit so elaborate it probably costs more than your entire month’s rent. It's clear that he's the kind of rich that demands more from the world simply because he can.

"We don't need your money," you manage, squaring your shoulders. But he doesn’t even acknowledge you. His copper eyes locked on the man in the hero suit.

"I’m just here for drink," Izuku says smoothly, his voice measured. "No need to make a scene."

The man scoffs. "Right. Because that’s all you heroes ever do—just mind your business, huh?" Mockery drips from his lips, daring Izuku to react as air between them shifts. You’ve never seen anyone talk to Izuku like this—openly hostile, taunting. But what unsettles you more is how unfazed Deku seems. He doesn’t rise to it, doesn’t even blink. He just tilts his head slightly, his warm eyes now harsh.

"I don’t want any trouble," Izuku says, his voice steady, even—calm in a way that only makes the tension feel heavier. "But you need to apologize to my friend here."

The man sneers again, his lip curling like the mere suggestion is an insult. He doesn’t push further, though. Instead, his narrow copper eyes finally slide to you. There’s something sharp about them, something that gleams. He studies you, trailing over your face like he’s searching for something.

The sneer falters, just for a second. His brows pull together, the look flickering once again into something else. Uncertainty? Amusement? It’s hard to tell. But then his expression hardens again, his jaw clenching like he’s come to some conclusion you don’t understand.

A sleek black car pulls up to the curb, its presence too smooth and convenient. He exhales through his nose, his attention shifting away as if we’ve already become irrelevant. There’s no apology. No words at all. Just a slight, almost imperceptible nod in my direction.

As he moves, his fingers flick out in a lazy, dismissive wave, like Izuku is hardly worth his time. The car door swings open, swallowing him whole. The silence that follows as his car pulls off is heavy, charged with something neither of us can quite name.

Izuku exhales slowly. "That guy…" he mutters under his breath, eyes still on the retreating taillights. "I don’t like him."

Neither do you, but you won't admit that.

"Come on," you say instead, forcing your voice to sound steady. "I'm sure we won't see him again."

Author’s Note: Hey, darling! Long time no read… or, I suppose, long time no write on my part. Life has been a whirlwind lately—I’ve been buried in work on my personal novel, which has unfortunately made me slack a bit on my content here. But I haven’t forgotten about you all! I hope you're staying safe, warm, and surrounded by good things. (Also, sorry if this is clunky?? Writing in second person is so much harder since I haven't done it in so long.)

Tags: @simplyraeblue @moonfloweronmars @kalulakunundrum @froggy-crystal @msjaeger @crystalssncw @dragonscribble @gina239 @abcdefbeom @bakugonnathrowitback @your-mom3000 @elarakive @piluhns @deadhands69 @rienin @pikachuzhc @vanillabeama @cheshairacat