#all that is to say I don't love my parents

[kyri45]

And when the day kisses the night you know that, even after the dark, the light will shine on a new sunrise.

AT LONG LAST.

AT LONG.

LAST.

THE BITCHES. FINALLY. KISSED!!!!!!!

SHADOWPEACH IS OFFICIALLY CANON!!1!1!1 (in the au)

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (PREV/ FIRST / )

Next part is coming on February 8th, 1PM ET

You can bet your ass they kept making out on the way to heaven.

More rambling and Horizontal and vertical versions of the kiss under the cut!

Well, what can I say. It's been a long journey, but the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU can finally be officially a "Shadowpeach-canon" AU ahah. Hopefully the slow-burn wasn't too painful. I put my heart on my sleeve when I say that I swore to myself that as soon as the two bitches completely, fully forgive each other, then, and only then, they could have their moment.

Then, something something-having your true form while doing an act/saying something means showing the honesty of what you are saying/doing-something something

I laughed my ass off so many times while drawing panel 7 bc like- Mac is just "omg this idiot is so stupid, he's my idiot, I love him so much"

lastly, finally, FINALLY, I don't have to hold back anymore! Prepare yourself, Im gonna go full blast with these bitches. If you thought whatever they were doing before was gay, BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU. this story might as well turn intp a FWP (plot? what plot? fluff without plot)

hehe mac in panel 17 is like "oh NO U DON'T! PUT YOUR MOUTH WHERE IT BELONGS

Maybe this is not as epic or as a boom as the spicynoodle kiss. But that's kind of the point. They are the doomned toxic yaoi who healed in the past 6 months. They have always been together kind of. A kiss is just one of the hundreds other actions and words they shared during all the other parts of the story. They loved each other well before this chapter. So a kiss is just a natural course of them re-discovering each other and their intimacy. They sleep together (literally sleeping together, not sex yet) they comfort each other at their lowest, they saw each other inner selfs, they call each other nicknames, they call each other beautiful. I mean this was less of a "Slow Burn" and more a "put it in the microwave cause it got cold so that it slowly get warm again, but the food was already cooked"

[mulloey]

distracted

bad students must face the consequences of their behaviour. it doesn’t matter who your boyfriend is.

words: 2.9k

part of my february festival event

join my taglist

warnings: dom!professors matz x sub!student reader, teacher-student relationship (hongjoong x you), power dynamics, threesome, punishment, spanking with ruler, very light anal play, face fucking, double penetration (mouth & pussy), under-negotiated kink, unprotected sex, sir kink, degradation, light dumbification etc

i am not responsible for the content you consume.

“What is this?”

He waves the sheet in front of your face indignantly and you recognise it instantly as the test you’d taken last week; the red D scrawled in the top corner gives you away and you huff. “How did you even—”

“Seonghwa,” he says, cutting you off. You’d roll your eyes if you thought you’d get away with it right now.

You knew it was a bad idea, really, dating Hongjoong; he may not have been your professor, but he is a professor, so you should’ve figured he’d be in cahoots with your teachers. It’s not like discretion was a massive concern, anyway; your relationship is an open secret among the staff. It’s technically not allowed, but you’re a grad student, an independent adult and your parents donate enough money to the school that neither of you would be in too much trouble if anyone did find out anyway. So you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that, when you turned in a piss-poor exam, Seonghwa had run off tattling to your boyfriend. Dickhead.

“I was just having a bad day,” you say. “I studied, really. I don't know what happened.”

Neither of you believe that, but you push your lips into a pout and do your best to look contrite—to play the sweet, innocent girl your boyfriend loves to ruin.

“Joong…” You try to sound scared but you both know you’re not; there’s nothing he could do to you that you wouldn’t enjoy, after all. You’re just as sick as each other.

Hongjoong chuckles, clicking his tongue. He looks thoughtful for a moment, like he’s pretending to be conflicted over whether to punish you or not, but he’s not very good at hiding his excitement. The regretful sigh he lets out when he makes his decision is laughably disingenuous. “Bad girl,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I can’t let you get away with this, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to respond but he doesn’t give you time; he shoves you down harshly, bending you over his desk so your ass is sticking up in the air. It’s a familiar position that you’ve found yourself in time and time again since you met him and you body prepares itself automatically; expecting him to spank you, you stick your ass up higher and wait with bated breath for the first blow. It doesn’t come. You crane your head around, confused. “Joong, what—” Oh.

You don’t need to finish the question; standing behind you, next to Hongjoong, is the very man who’d got you in this predicament in the first place— your medieval history professor, Park Seonghwa himself. He tilts his head, smiling sweetly. “Good afternoon.”

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t expected this—when did he even come in, anyway? “Joong—”

“You think we didn’t notice how you look at him?” Your boyfriend asks coolly. It’s only because of the cock in his hand, hard and already leaking, that you’re not worried he’s mad at you; no, he loves this. You should’ve known.

“Is that why you failed?” Seonghwa asks. “Too busy dreaming about me bending you over your desk? You have a boyfriend; an esteemed colleague of mine, in fact.” His tone is chiding and you feel yourself flush.

Hongjoong snorts almost petulantly. “As if she cares about that.”

“No?” Seonghwa asks. “What does she care about, then?”

“Pull her panties down and find out.”

Your cunt throbs painfully at the surety of the demand and the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes as he obliges without hesitation. He doesn’t ask permission before he touches you—he already has it from the one who matters, after all—but when he pushes your skirt up your back, his hands still momentarily; you smile into the wood as you realise what they’re both looking at—the white, lacy panties sitting snugly across your pert cheeks.

“Well, isn’t that a sight.” Seonghwa’s voice is hoarse and affected as he rubs a hand across the delicate material. You feel yourself tense under his touch, the unfamiliar feeling of his skin on yours, and he gently pinches the soft flesh. “Relax,” he mumbles. “Be good, yeah? I won’t hurt you, I’ll be gentle.”

A sweet sounding lie; you can tell from the heaviness of his hand as it comes to rest on your ass that he has no such intentions. He fingers softly at the lace of your panties, sighing ruefully. “These really are beautiful,” he muses. “I hate to have to take them down like this, but bad students have to learn, don’t they?”

“They certainly do.” You crane your neck to follow your boyfriend’s voice and find him leaning against the wall behind Seonghwa, staring you down with familiarly cold eyes. He cocks an eyebrow when you finally catch his gaze. “Got something to say, precious?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“Turn around, then,” he smiles. “I’m just here to watch.”

You turn back, though more so he doesn’t see you roll your eyes than out of a desire to obey him. Seonghwa has carefully shimmied your panties down to the middle of your thighs and the cold air of the office bites at your sensitive pussy.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Show me how wet you are.“

Blushing furiously, you part your legs, spreading them as far as you can without snapping the panties bunched around your thighs. Seonghwa hums, running a long finger through your wet folds. The touch is unexpected but Hongjoong’s trained you well enough that you manage to stay still despite your surprise. You whine a little when he pulls away and you hear both men chuckle.

“Professor Kim,” Seonghwa says. His voice has a new quality; delicate and flirtatious as he addresses your boyfriend. “Come and taste how wet she is.”

You hear Hongjoong approach the elder and try to move around to see it, but Seonghwa’s firm hand on your neck holds you still. “I don’t think so, bad girl,” he tuts. “Only good little girls get to watch. Keep still.”

“Good call,” Hongjoong purrs. “She’s always loved seeing me with other people. Little pervert would probably start humping the table if she saw me doing this.”

You hear the wet, lewd sounds of Hongjoong sucking at Seonghwa’s finger, lapping up your juices with a noise of pleasure. “Delicious little slut,” he chuckles. “Let’s get her properly disciplined so we can play with her how she wants.”

Somehow you hear the wide grin in Seonghwa’s voice as Hongjoong backs away. “I quite agree.”

His hands rests on your ass again, squeezing it softly. “This is what’s gonna happen, little one. You got a 48 on my exam, didn’t you?”

You’re almost embarrassed to hear the number and you know Hongjoong is too. “Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes, Professor will do,” he says. “You’re not my friend, sweetheart. You’re just a wayward student being put back on the right path.”

Shame courses through you but it would be a lie to say it’s anything but thrilling. “Yes, professor,” you whisper.

He taps your ass appreciatively. “Good girl. So, you got a 48 on my exam. What was the pass mark?”

“60, Professor,” you mumble.

“Now that’s not very hard to achieve, is it Professor Kim?”

“It’s not. The pass marks in my class are higher, in fact.”

You want to roll your eyes at their smug, jovial tones but you’re too aroused now to do anything but anticipate.

“A pathetic score, really.” Seonghwa’s voice is closer than ever and you feel his presence just inches away. “Especially for such a bright young woman. I think you need to learn to separate your head—” he gathers a piece of your hair, gently folding it behind your ear “—and your pussy, hm?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.“ Something long and thin taps at your bare skin and you recognise it instantly—the wooden ruler Hongjoong keeps in his desk drawer for when he’s feeling particularly on-the-nose about the taboo nature of your relationship.

“I’m going to hit you with this twelve times,” Seonghwa purrs. “For each of the marks you easily could have gotten if you hadn’t been too busy imagining my cock in your mouth. Yeah?”

You nod, feeling yourself pulse. “Yes, Professor.”

“Repeat after me, alright?” The first hit is quick and sharp, spread over your ass and it makes you gasp. Seonghwa chuckles and rubs the reddening flesh before he grabs your hair, yanking your head back to whisper in your ear. “One,” he says. “I’m sorry for being such a slut, Professor.”

You repeat it quietly and he tuts. “Louder than that, love. I’m sure your boyfriend wants to know you’re learning your lesson.”

You oblige, repeating it louder and he makes a noise of satisfaction before the ruler comes down again, this time at the tops of your thighs. “Two,” he says. “I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

“Two, I’m… I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

The next hit lands in the same spot. “Three. I’m sorry for dripping over Professor Kim’s desk just from being spanked.”

You blush in embarrassment; you’d half hoped he wouldn’t notice, but that was a tall order anyway. When it comes to Hongjoong and anything to do with him, you’ve never been subtle.

The next hits follow the same pattern, spread across your ass and thighs with each one making you gasp louder than the last.

“Four. I’m sorry for making Professor Park waste his time disciplining me.”

“Five. I’m sorry for daydreaming about choking on another man’s cock.”

“Six. I’m sorry for being arrogant enough to think I’d get away with such an embarrassing performance.”

The last one hits you right on your dripping pussy, making you scream and he grabs your hair, spinning you around to face him and your boyfriend; your eyes hone in on Hongjoong’s cock, pulsing in his hands before Seonghwa forces your attention back to him. “Twelve,” he growls. “I’m sorry for being such a cockwhore that I’m making Professor Park break his rule about sleeping with students.”

You can’t help but grin as you repeat his words, feeling proud. Of course, you knew from the moment you turned around and saw him standing there what was going to happen, but it’s nice to hear it from him. He smiles, grasping your neck gently. “Did you like that?” He asks. “Getting spanked by your professor while your boyfriend jerks off to it?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I liked it.”

“Well, now that you’ve learnt your lesson,” he says, “I think it’s time you got fucked, no?”

You nod and turn to your boyfriend; he tilts his head, nodding towards his hard cock. “You know what to do,” he says.

“Yes, sir.” You sink to your knees, staring up at Seonghwa and sending him a teasing smile before crawling towards Hongjoong. You open your mouth, letting him push his dick inside; after all this time together, he doesn’t need to ease you into it anymore and can go straight to fucking your mouth and you take it diligently, opening your throat the way he’s trained you to. You hear Seonghwa whistle, admiring.

“She sucks cock like a fucking pro,” he laughs; the arousal in his voice is thick and unmistakable. “You’ve trained her well, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong laughs too, patting your head. “I had an excellent student,” he grins. You smile around him at the praise and he curses. “You’re too good at this, babe, Jesus. Gonna cum before I even fuck you.”

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before pulling out abruptly, shoving you off of him and in an instant Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as he pulls you to your feet and shoves you back over the desk. You collide painfully with the wood but you barely notice; you’re used to being manhandled by now, and it only makes you more excited.

Large hands you recognise as Seonghwa’s grab your ass cheeks, pulling them apart slowly; the air hits your exposed holes and makes you jump in surprise but you quickly regain your composure. As you still yourself again you feel Hongjoong’s finger running gently across your asshole, almost like he’s inspecting it, before it slides down to toy with your pussy.

“Hm…” Seonghwa’s voice is teasing. “What’s your favourite hole of hers, Professor Kim?”

“What a question,” Hongjoong chuckles and you hear the smile in his voice. His finger prods gently at your rim, making you tense unconsciously and he tuts, lightly slapping the tight little hole. It’s a subtle, painless chastisement but it makes you whine all the same. “Now, now, kitty cat,” he chuckles. “I didn’t train you to squirm, did I?”

“No, sir,” you mumble.

“Good,” he says. “To answer your question, Hwa, I’d have to say her pussy. I love her ass, of course, but nothing compares to the way that little cunt clings to my dick like it’s just begging for a baby.”

“Well that does sound nice.” Seonghwa’s hands leave your ass, returning to your pussy to spread you open. “It looks snug,” he says. “What do you think, little one? Want your professor to breed you?”

It takes you a moment for your brain to catch up with the rest of you and you frown in confusion. “I- you mean you, Professor Park?” You ask. It comes out as more of a strangled cry; your head is a mess of arousal and you barely even register what he’s saying to you, let alone comprehend it fully.

He laughs, patting your soft skin gently. “Yes, perhaps I should be more clear. It must be confusing to be bending over in front of two of your teachers.”

Your face burns at the obvious mockery; the degrading, sneering tone of his voice but you say nothing. Seonghwa hums. “So?” He asks sweetly. “You want me in your cunt, baby girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Professor.”

“There’s those manners,” he praises.

He keeps a firm grip on your hips as he slides in from behind; the feeling of his skin against your still burning ass is uncomfortable, but the way his cock is stretching you as he buries himself inside you is the only thing your brain can process right now.

He’s just as big as Hongjoong, maybe a little bigger, but his thrusts are more fluid and controlled; where Hongjoong fucks you like an animal hungry for more, Seonghwa fucks you with precision; with intention. His hands on your hips are firm yet gentle and the way he finds you in your deepest places has your head spinning with euphoria. “Jesus,” he curses. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth to respond, barely getting a whine out before you feel hands in your hair, yanking at it to pull you forward. Hongjoong comes into view on the other side of the desk, his dick somehow still hard as he feeds it into your mouth. “There you go,” he coos. “Keep it hard, baby.”

You nod as best as you can and the friction against his dick makes your boyfriend groan. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking good with cock you could make me cum on accident.”

The feeling of two dicks inside you makes it hard to focus on either one; let alone to begin to process the filthy words they spit down at you. Intesd you close your eyes, letting the tears fall as Hongjoong starts to fuck your throat again; you’re limp against the desk now, held up solely by the wood and by the two men using you to satisfy themselves. “Oh shit,” Hongjoong says, seeing your dazed expression. “Baby’s gone dumb already.” He strokes your hair gently, a small comfort between punishing thrusts. “You okay, little dove?”

You groan in response, unable to do much else; it makes them laugh and Seonghwa pats your ass affectionately. “You’re doing so well,” he says. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Gonna fill you up real nice, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasp.

The feeling of Seonghwa’s thrusts growing faster and harder and more desperate is overwhelming; coupled with the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock hitting the back of your throat again and again, it’s almost unbearable. Your fingers claw against the wood, surely leaving marks but you don’t care; you feel unlike you ever have before, stuffed full and used by two of the most attractive men you’ve ever even imagined.

You’re in so deep that you don’t even realise it’s over until the emptiness of your mouth and cunt becomes obvious; you feel cum leaking from your hole, a wet substance dripping down the desk and only when you look closer do you figure out what it is—squirt. You squirted. You squirted all over your boyfriend’s desk with another man’s cock in your pussy and you’ve never been more fucked out and satisfied than you are now.

When you stand up fully your legs, numbed and weakened by their abuse, start to give out but Hongjoong is there in an instant; he catches you in his arms, lowering himself to the ground so he can cradle you in his lap. You’re faintly aware of Seonghwa’s voice and strong hands stroking your hair before he’s gone, and it’s just you and Hongjoong.

“Good girl,” he mutters. “You took that so well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I only hope your performance in Professor Park’s class improves soon. Otherwise he’ll have to tutor you if you want to keep your spot in his class.”

Your heart jumps. “What?”

“Uni rules,” he shrugs, appearing nonchalant but the knowing smile on his face tells all. “If you fail two exams in a row, that’s what happens.”

You don’t know why he seems so surprised when you turn up in his office a month later with a D-minus and an already leaking pussy. He always knew you were insatiable.

Lucky for you, so are they.

—

comments/reblogs appreciated! i’m not sure im super happy with the ending but we move. let me know your thoughts! love🖤🖤🖤

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta (unable to tag: @lemonkait00 @mylovelymito)

february festival taglist: @hohongsan @nopension

[diagonal-queen]

im basically back so i'm doing this even though nobody will read it lol (i dont even blame you because look at all that TEXT)

Do you have a good relationship with your parents? not really i guess? it's complicated so imma just say nah

Who did you last say “I love you” to? i think to my dog lol

Do you regret anything? i regret writing rpf as a kid 💀 i also regret smacking my little brother's butt to discipline him as a kid. it goes against my stance of 'don't hit children' that i have today and i do feel real bad about it, i just emulated the parenting techniques i knew at that age.

Are you insecure? HELLA lmao

What is your relationship status? single as FUCK boiiiiiiiiiii

How do you want to die? peacefully and in my sleep with my puppies laying next to me

What did you last eat? right now i'm eating crackers

Played any sports? used to be a bit of a discus prodigy as a kid, and was also not a half-bad sprinter. i danced from 2-12 as well and also enjoyed chess. nowadays i don't play any sports

Do you bite your nails? i do on occasion but i try not to

When was your last physical fight? i've never been in one. maybe with my sister when we were kids? idk

Do you like someone? kind of? if that makes sense

Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? no. but i've tried for sure lol

Do you hate anyone at the moment? yeah, but by now it's a dormant hate that just lingers

Do you miss someone? is it possible to miss someone you haven't met irl before?

Have any pets? two doggos!

How exactly are you feeling at the moment? neutral, but like a 6/10

Ever made out in the bathroom? i mean a lot of people pee in the woods right so technically yeah

Are you scared of spiders? i'm desensitised mostly, like if i see one i won't kill it (unless i KNOW it's dangerous). if the spider is on me it's a different story

Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? i literally always think about this lol. there's so much i wish i could change but at the same time, even though i don't like myself, i don't think i deserve to be put through all that again

Where was the last place you snogged someone? the gay bar

What are your plans for this weekend? moving lol

Do you want to have kids? How many? i would usually say 'i'm 20 i'm too young to consider it yet' but one of my classmates from highschool has a baby already so i don't know man T-T

Do you have piercings? How many? just on my ears

What is/are/were your best subject(s)? english and legal studies in highschool, and psychology now.

Do you miss anyone from your past? i reminisce but don't miss

What are you craving right now? a warm brownie would be great

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? HE said i did, i don't believe him, but even if i did he deserved it (trust me on this one. he deserved it.)

Have you ever been cheated on? not that i'm aware of, but i wouldn't be surprised if i was

Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? not that i'm aware of. i hope not??

What’s irritating you right now? the heat. i'm not having a hot girl summer at all T-T

Does somebody love you? i hope so

What is your favourite color? i like baby and dusty pink. and lilac

Do you have trust issues? i'm pretty sure

Who/what was your last dream about? last night i dreamt that i was in a relationship with pt4 jotaro. he was quiet, gentle and loving. this is weird because i am female

Who was the last person you cried in front of? i think my mother? if not then probably my bestie

Do you give out second chances too easily? yes, sadly

Is it easier to forgive or forget? it's hard for me to forgive someone if they don't at least apologise. so i guess forget

Is this year the best year of your life? it's february, but like hopefully yeah!

How old were you when you had your first kiss? sweet 16

Have you ever walked outside completely naked? no T-T

Favourite food? fried chicken, one specific chocolate cake, yellow nectarines and sushi

Do you believe everything happens for a reason? not in the way others do

What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? watched scott cramer

Is cheating ever okay? usually i'd say no. but there are rare instances where i reckon it's not necessarily a bad thing (as bad as that might sound)

Are you mean? i don't think so

How many people have you fist fought? none?? T-T

Do you believe in true love? yes

Favourite weather? dark and overcast (not raining), cool but not cold

Do you like the snow? i've only been in snow once and it was a good time. but i got ice in my eye during a snowball fight and it scarred me a little bit

Do you wanna get married? for sure i do! i know most people think of marriage culture as outdated and heteronormative (which i fully understand) but i do want to be a bride one day. i'd love that

Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? hm...when a girl does it i don't mind but when a boy does it it feels a little icky IM SORRY </3

What makes you happy? clowns, stuffed toys, colourful soap, poofy sleeves, tbh i'm really a six year old at heart and a lot of things make me happy

Would you change your name? okay so i wouldn't legally change my first name (i don't often like when people besides my family use it, but it's rare and pretty so i wanna keep it), but i would like to make Dia my legal alias that would be so sick. i would for sure change my last name though that shit boring asf

Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? no. i'd kiss her again she was nice

Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? i'd marry and adopt kittens with you @jesterph0bic

Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? refer to question 55

Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? my brother (hbd btw)

Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? my sister

Do you believe in soulmates? yes but not in the traditional way

Is there anyone you would die for? yes

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[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🌻

[growth-opportunities]

Even though we don't talk anymore, this is the picture I love to go back to when I think about my old friend group. It's just so thrilling to me, to think about what this picture used to show. We were all moderately busty when we met (I have my own theories about women of similar bust sizes becoming friends, but that's for another day.) Jenny, sitting next to me in the leopard print, was the biggest at an E cup and I was the smallest, though still sitting pretty with a pair of juicy C cup tits. We were all headed up to my parents' summer home for a few days to really break in the new swimming pool. It was meant to be a dream vacation with my best friends, girls who had been my best friend for a long, long time.

All it took was a few shots of Pink Whitney to turn it into a nightmare.

Okay, that's kind of an exaggeration. It was already a nightmare, I just didn't know. But alcohol helped loosen Allison (in the back, behind Jenny)'s lips. As soon as she mentioned Joe, my boyfriend, I knew something was up. A few more shots and a screaming match later, it all came tumbling out. Turns out Joe had been cheating on me with Jenny for a few months now. Allison and Shannon knew about it but they were all keeping it a secret from me. It broke my heart, of course, but it really twisted the knife when she started talking about how her boobs meant she could steal any guy she wanted and that Joe deserved someone better than someone 'small' like me. Needless to say, I kicked them out and made them find their own way home. I had never been more furious in my entire life. Just the betrayal of it all, from people that, just days before, I felt like I could trust with my life.

I still had a few days at the vacation home, so I continued to drink all by myself, threw myself a nice little pity party. And, in a moment of impulsiveness, I may have kind of turned to magic. The others had always teased me for my interest in the occult, so I thought what better way to get back at them. And if they were all fine with stealing my boyfriend, then I had no qualms stealing something back from them. And what better than the things that Jenny thought made her so fucking superior. I threw together the stuff that I needed (though admittedly, it was a little janky to use my mom's scented candles for the ritual) and called upon the Powers Beyond to help me. Turns out, the Powers Beyond respond really well to revenge. Not only did I steal almost all of their tits, but they rewrote reality so that I always had tits that big and they were always that small.

It was unbelievably arousing to look down and see my tits swelling, watching my bikini top shift as reality adapted to my new size. Feeling their growing weight, watching as they swelled larger and larger, spilling out of the top until reality gave me a new one... I can see why people keep going back to make deals with otherworldly powers. I thought the picture of us together and happy, just before my world shattered, would always be a painful reminder, but now it's proof of my revenge. I doubt Joe is with Jenny still, in this reality, but I couldn't give a shit about them anymore. Their tits have made me absolutely enormous and I can't wait to see what life is like at this enormous size.

[ledesaid]

William (Billy) Joseph Batson Constantine?

12 years ago, John Constantine offered his genetics with the intention of serving others while putting his own interests first (he was a donor at a fertility clinic) and forgot about it.

Indeed, he also forgot when he pawned his firstborn in some pagan ritual to save his own neck...

Once and...

Again...

Oh, heavens! A fifth time?

Can someone stop this man?

Call it luck or chance, but his sample was used only once. An American couple turned to a fertility clinic and, by chance, their firstborn was born.

Yes, that firstborn.

William Joseph Batson always wondered why all sorts of bad things happened to him. From the premature death of his pet fish, to the variety of monsters that started living under his bed, and culminating with his inability to look at himself in a mirror. That didn't deprive him of his parents' love, fortunately, at least until a demon took them when he was seven.

Everyone believes they died, Billy doesn't... He remembers they were dragged to what that monstrous creature called hell... Billy searched how to get there on Google Maps.

He is absorbed by the system for the next two years, he is nine when he starts looking for answers on his own.

He's not starting from scratch, he still remembers what the demon said that night...

"The time has come, spawn of John Constantine."

The Internet told him what "spawn" meant, but there seem to be no traces of this Constantine except for an anonymous complaint, on an occultism forum, about his poor services and his "charming" personality.

An informational seed.

He starts with local fortune-tellers' houses, all charlatans... Continues with people from questionable cults and escapes before becoming the main dish.

Other terms appear along the way: alcoholic and gambler.

He's eleven years old when his tour around the country takes him to a show by a certain Zatanna. He does the usual routine... Sneaks into her dressing room and waits...

He's already an expert at waiting.

Billy: John Constantine. He's harder to find than cockroaches. I've been looking for him for three years... They say he's my father... Do you know him?

Finally, for the first time in three years, he finds someone who knows him and has his number. It only took two more cities, of stalking the magician, for her to call that man...

That man... The one responsible for everything.

But when he sees him, his stomach churns as he notices their clear resemblance. Billy looked a lot like his mother, but the handful of the man's genes was evident.

He doesn't scream when a portal appears in the dressing room. He's seen worse and smellier ones.

John: Hello, love, is everything alright? You don't usually call first... I brought a good bottle of...

And the man also realized. Of course, he did, he knows... whispers his tortuous mind.

Billy: Finally, you are John Constantine...

John: And you must be the reason why my firstborn trick stopped working.

Billy gets angry and lunges at the Englishman. With one knee on the blond's stomach, he takes advantage and grabs him by the collar of his trench coat. He shakes him violently and shouts all he's been holding back for so long.

Billy: I've met at least five principalities, I've been chased by things I still can't comprehend, and they took my parents when I was seven... You're going to fix this now!

Billy starts to sob as he steps away from the man and leans against the dressing room door.

John: Would you believe me if I said I'm sorry?

He's not sincere, Billy knows it and also knows that his voice is nothing more than a sign of his defeated certainty.

Billy: No, you are everything they said you were...

[spencewalterreid]

what if…don’t hear me out on this, i’m sleep deprived and projecting…reader is something of a favorite student of spencer’s whom he confronts about the, erm, suspiciously increasing bandages he’d been noticing on their leg or smt? he’d probably frantically point out the abundance of arteries there at some point 😭 please ignore this so hard if you don’t feel like it lmao

In The Morning, I'll Make Cereal

Summary: When Spencer notices you've been in a daze, he checks on you and finds bandages on your arm.

Pairing: Professor Reid / Reader (p)

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Suicidality, self harm, scars, surviving an attempt

Word Count: 2,262

Author's Note: I loved this prompt. I hope you appreciate my interpretation of it:) it wasn't very specific but I did what I could!

It had been a long fucking week. Finally, at long last, it's your last class on Friday, But Professor Reid has been rambling for the last two hours. This class is only supposed to be an hour and forty-five minutes, but good God, this man can drone. Generally, you wouldn't mind it. On a better day, you would relish in his tangents, on and on about victimology and how parents not kissing their children enough makes them kill people or whatever, you're just not into it today.

Squinting, you scratch a few more lines of graphite into the head of the portrait you're drawing in the margin of your notebook, trying to shape the hair properly. It's giving you fits. You knock your knee against the side of your desk absentmindedly to the rhythm of the music in your wired headphones.

Spencer pauses mid-sentence, his brow furrowing as he sees you. There’s at least a hundred kids in this room, so he hadn’t noticed it before now. His amber eyes scan the classroom as they always do, but keep returning to you; head in your notebook and your bouncing knee. He sighs softly, rubbing his temple before continuing his lecture.

"…and as we've discussed, the lack of proper familial affection in the formative years can lead to a host of psychological issues that may manifest in aggressive or criminal behavior later in life. Take, for instance, the case study of Ted Bundy, who…"

Spencer's voice drones on, the words blurring together as you tune out, focused on the intricate details of the portrait taking shape beneath your pencil. You lean forward slightly, squinting as you shade a particularly difficult shadow, your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth in concentration.

"That's all. Thank you for your patience, I know today ran long. I'll see you all on Monday," Reid says, his gaze lingering on you. You’re always so attentive, hanging on every word. What the hell? He waits a moment at his desk, looking over the notes the students had dropped in the tray before leaving, but keeps glancing up. A few minutes pass and you’re still scribbling away, making no move to pack up. His face pinches in worry.

“Hey, class is over now. We just ran a bit over today," he says, projecting his voice to reach you.

Spencer stands up, straightening his suit jacket as he walks over to where you sit when you don’t reply, still scribbling away. He glances down at the notebook, his eyebrows raising as he recognizes the portrait beginning to take shape.

"I didn't realize you had such skill," Spencer comments, unable to hide the note of surprise in his voice. He leans down a bit closer to get a better look.

You don't reply at all until he leans down and you finally notice his presence. Your pencil scrapes across the portrait when you damn-near jump out of your skin. "Jesus!" you gasp, then place your hand over your heart. "You scared me." The corner of your lip twitches up into a smile, and caught up in your embarrassment that he saw the portrait of him, you didn't even realize that your long-sleeve shirt rode down a bit, revealing a bandage wrapped firmly around your forearm.

Spencer takes a step back, looking mildly alarmed at having startled you so severely. "I apologize, that was not my intent. I didn't mean to frighten you." His gaze drifts down to your wrist, his eyes widening briefly as he notices the bandage. "Are you… are you alright? That looks bad," Spencer asks, taking a knee and reaching for your hand to take it in his to assess the damage before you subtly pull it away.

Your heart falls through the bottom of your ribs, clashes against your intestines, and tumbles straight out your ass. "Uhm." Words. Form them. Hang on, do I even know any? Shit. You force a wry chuckle, dropping your hands to your lap and wringing them together, knocking your sleeves down enough to cover your wrists again. "I just." Ahem. "I just dropped a knife last night when I was making dinner. No biggie." Please, Please believe me. You thank any God that might be out there for having everyone else clear out before he approached you.

“Okay,” he agrees with a nod, letting you believe that he buys it. “Uh, you should be more careful, though,” he continues hesitantly. He reaches for your arm again and you let him. He pushes up your sleeve, and you swallow an argument. “Right here,” he says, dragging a finger gently along your forearm, the inner part of the left side, along the outer part of the bone. “This is the ulnar artery. You’ve got a lot of smaller veins in your arm, too, that could be dangerous if nicked, but that could have been really bad.” You don’t tell him how close his finger was to the gash made only hours ago.

Spencer wanted to pretend not to notice all the smaller scars dotted along the base of your wrist, and a couple on your hands that you could more believably wave off as accidents. He rests his elbow on your lower thigh, above your knee and a bit inward, making you wince. Again, he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

“This,” he draws another line, this time down the side of your arm, “is the anterior condylar vein, or ACV. Easier to hit because it’s more shallow.” Spencer sighs, dragging a thumb across one of the smaller, now raised and white nicks. “I didn’t want to say anything, but-”

“I know,” you interject. “You have to report this. I get it.” The beginnings of tears nudge at the back of your throat, agitating a lump into it, and threaten to fill your eyes. “It’s okay,” you add, yanking your cheeks up into a suggestion of a smile.

The professor huffs again, revoking his touch and shifting from a one-legged kneel to a squat, resting his elbows on his own knees and looking up at you. “I’m not going to report you. I don’t think-” He runs a hand through his dark curls and puts it back on his leg. “That has only exacerbated the issue, in my experience. I need you to know… to know that I care.”

You shift uncomfortably, staring at your fingernails as you drag dirt out from under them. “Okay,” you mumble. To say you believed him in the slightest would be a falsity of the highest order.

“I do,” Reid insists as though he read your mind, craning his neck down and chin up to catch your eyes under the curtain of your hair. “I do care. I know you’ve been going through something, and I’m sorry, but I’m here.”

Spencer reaches out to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that managed to escape. The empathy in his eyes makes your stomach churn. He’s just so genuine.

"Listen to me. I know you're hurting. I know you feel alone. But you're not alone right now, do you understand that? You have me, and I promise I will help you through this, any way I can. My offer to talk stands, anytime, anywhere. My door is always open to you."

“I heard you.”

“No, I know you heard me. I asked if you understood me. There’s a difference.”

Your lip wobbles against your will and you know you’re about to cry. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away from him, a last ditch effort to hide your face. “I can’t-”

He leans in, pulling you into him, his voice lowering to a low, soothing murmur. "Please, don't let anyone else see these scars. Not until you're ready. I need you to take care of you. You're stronger than this. You have so much potential, so much to offer the world. Don't throw that away. Not now, not ever.”

Sobs wrack your body, and as the breaths leave your lungs in short, desperate hiccups, his embrace is an anchoring force. “You’re okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay. This isn’t your fault.” One of Spencer’s hands card through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “I’m here, alright?” He doesn’t expect you to answer.

“I almost killed myself last night,” you sob, pulling away with great reluctance.

Okay, he really wasn’t expecting that. The look in his eyes, despite his trepidation, encourages you to elaborate. He only now notices how pale you are, and the dots connect.

“I–” You take a deep breath, centering yourself before you continue. “I had a spiral. I called- called everyone. My mom, my best friend, even the fucking hotline. And you know what? It was busy,” you laugh incredulously. “The suicide hotline was busy!”

He doesn’t get a word in, you’re too busy in a tear-fueled tangent. “And I- I cleaned my room. Spotless. I made my bed, and put on a good outfit, and I wrote a letter, and I, uh-” you smile, and it’s sad, a macabre thing. “I knew about the arteries.” Your spine straightens. “Anyway. I ended up sleeping in, so I guess that’s good, but when I woke up… it felt… it felt so dull.”

“What do you mean?”

“It felt small. My arms had scabbed over, miraculously, and I got up. I wrapped them, and I brushed my teeth, and I made cereal. I got in the car and drove 120 on the highway to get here, and I didn’t crash. I jaywalked across a busy street and nothing happened, and I just-” a shaky breath flowed over your lips and you slumped down in your seat. “I failed, and the world kept turning. I could have died last night, should have, and… nothing changed. Nothing at all.”

Spencer listens intently, his face twisted in something that looks an awful lot like heartbreak. When you finish speaking, he takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully.

"I'm so sorry you felt you reached that point, but I'm nothing short of relieved at your survival. You did the right thing by reaching out, even if the support you needed wasn't immediately available. That takes courage and strength."

He places his hand on your shoulder, warmth seeping through your jacket, and squeezes. "Feeling small and insignificant after a crisis like that is completely normal. It's a common reaction, but it's a lie. Your life has value. Your existence matters, and the world changing or not is not a reflection of your worth."

Spencer studies you like at any moment, you could fade into smoke. "You didn't fail last night. You survived. That's not a small thing, it’s significant. It means you have the strength to keep going, to keep fighting. And I will be here to support you in that fight, in whatever way you need. It means,” he pauses to gently jab a finger at your chest, above your heart. “It means that this doesn’t care about your feelings, and I apologize if that sounds harsh. When you… When you did that, your baroreceptors activated, which monitors your blood vessels, and caused your heart to start taking blood away from your limbs to keep it in your core, keep you warm. That caused vasodilation and a decrease in heart rate, which lowered your blood pressure back to a survivable rate.”

“What’s your point, Professor?” you ask, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“My point,” he continues firmly, “Is that your body is stronger than your mind sometimes. It fought to keep you alive, even when you felt you wanted to let go. That's a testament to your innate will to live, to survive. It's not a reflection of your feelings or wishes, but it's a part of you that can't be ignored."

Spencer takes your hand, covering it with both of his. "Please don't dismiss your survival as insignificant. It matters, and I believe it's a sign that you have the strength to keep going, to keep living. I know it's hard, and I know grief and pain can feel all-consuming at times, but you have so much life ahead of you. Your mind and your body are connected, but they are also their own beings in a way. Your body has carried you your whole life. Your blood cells have fought sickness, your muscles have soothed their own aches, and your bones have held you up. Your body isn’t attacking you, but you’re attacking it. How is that fair?”

You’re not sure what to say to that.

Spencer looks at you intently, pressing your hand in his tightly to ground you. "I know this is difficult to process. I know you're hurting. But I need you to understand that your body and your mind are not your enemies. They are part of you, and they need your care and compassion. I’m not going to make you promise me you’ll seek help, or that you’ll stop. I know it isn’t that simple. But I will ask this,” he says, and your heart contracts. “Be kind to yourself. Have compassion. Try to put things in perspective. You deserve so much better than this.”

“Can you feel that?” he asks, tilting his head to your hand.

You consider it, and you notice the steady throbbing from his unforgiving grip. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, and the sweet look in those beautiful brown eyes almost makes you believe it. “You’re gonna save your life, and I’m gonna cheer you on.”

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE

My son Braden brought in a couple of beers - I'd been cutting back and was on a fitness kick, but this felt like a special occasion. But as he set them down on the side table he knelt down in front of the couch, his thick muscle filling out his black T-shirt and jeans.

I had a good idea what was going to happen. "Um, Brade... this is supposed to be YOUR homecoming," I said.

My son looked up at me. He had a killer smile, and some gorgeous looks he'd partly inherited from his mother, fair haired, ruddy complected, cute dimples. The square jaw, roman nose, and brown eyes were mine, though.

"It is, Dad," he said. God, somehow his voice had gotten deeper during his deployment. "I've been thinking about this for months." His hands reached forward and undid my belt then the button of my khakis.

"You sure, buddy?" I asked. We'd moved past the furtive, guilty phase, but this was incest, and I was always looking for a way to put the breaks on things with Braden.

"Sure, I'm sure, Dad." His fingers skill fully peeled down my briefs and pulled out my growing dong. I topped out at 7 and a half inches, and very thick. Braden had almost a carbon copy of my dick, just a smidge shorter, only I'd left his foreskin on. But he wasn't concerned about pulling out his own meat. Instead, he examined my heft and pulled it toward him. "Sit back and let me take care of you."

And like that my hunky Marine son started to give me a slow, loving blowjob.

***

I've made mistakes in life, God knows, but Braden wasn't one of them. Even if he was the result an unplanned pregnancy - wouldn't you know... my swimmers did the job the first time I got laid at 16. I did the right thing in marrying Susan, and we were a good team, at first. Me working full time even as I got my econ degree in college. And me somehow fitting in my CFA studying in between work and child care.

Susan and I made it work, until it didn't. There was no love and no sex, just a partnership in raising our kid. Braden was 8 when we divorced. The only bad part was seeing my son go through that, and visiting with him only on custody weekends and holidays.

He rebelled in his teen years. Brade was good at sports, or more accurate to say that's all he cared about. He refused to take school seriously, and the more I got on his case the more he actively resisted doing homework. Susan, god bless her, tried everything from punishment to incentives, but Braden was a solid C kid who failed sophomore English and had to do summer school.

I was pissed as hell and tried to give him a tough love lecture. Tell him he was going to fuck up his future if he didn't take school seriously. That was the first and last time Braden talked back to me. Calling me a dumb prick and a controlling asshole who wanted to be a parent only when I was in the mood to be. I was enraged, but I held it in.

After that, it was like something shifted. Brade never became a star student, but he apologized to me. He opened up about his emotions, and we talked through them. I assured him I'd be better about being there for him. I could be a workaholic and that was my way of dealing with divorce and realizing I was mostly gay. I finally told Braden that his dad was a homosexual and may at some point date another man. No time soon. I wasn't sure what I expected but my surly jock son clasped in me in a tight hug. "Me, too, Dad," he said. When he pulled back he was tearing up some. "I haven't told anyone," he said. "Don't have the guts."

That was an emotional connection with my son that I wasn't expecting.

I still had a demanding job but I made an effort to see all of Brade's football games and to catch some of his practices too. And then, in Spring, catching wrestling meets.

I'd been frustrated that my son was growing into a man very much the opposite of me. Then I came to love him for who he was. Custody visits stopped feeling like an obligation for him, and something he looked forward to.

Our first kiss just happened. Maybe there was a little sexual tension there, but Braden and I were hanging out and eye contact grew and a spark happened between us. I leaned in just a little. Braden leaned in the rest of the way. He was nervous, and so was I. But our lust took over. The forbidden aspect made us insanely horned for each other.

We made out and groped each other and stripped our clothes off. Right there in the living room, Braden made a beeline for my hard cock.

"God, I've dreamed of this, Dad," he whispered as he wrapped his fingers around the base and pulled it to his lips. "So much."

"Buddy...!" I urged in a tone that let him know he didn't have to do this. But that I wanted it.

It felt great. That was an understatement. It was the mind fuck of incest and the fantasy of seeing my jock son service me - all come to life. I wasn't Brade's first cock, I could tell, but he was still green. Innocent in his way.

I warned him I was about to cum. He sucked harder and moaned. I watched my hunky son take my load and swallow every drop.

I could taste my cum in our kiss when he finally pulled off and I gripped his neck to pull him in toward me.

"Let me do you, Sport," I urged. I was very much in the receiving is better than giving category when it came to sex, and it turns out there was a good supply of men on Grindr who were happy with that arrangement. But Brade deserved some recip head from his Dad.

That dick was a challenge, and I blushed at how much easier Braden had sucked my big cock than I was doing him. But it didn't matter. I loved the taste of him and the knowledge I had my own son's dick in my mouth. Pushing into my throat with each bob.

Brade went wild. He came buckets. I did my best.

As I finally pulled off and licked around his foreskin the best I could without overstimulating him, I heard him say simply and softly. "Thank you, Dad."

***

I took Braden's cherry the night before he shipped out to Basic Training. He didn't ask me to, and I didn't ask him if he wanted it. I just started rimming him, licking and feasting on his nearly hairless hole before I reached for the lube. As I locked eyes on him and slid one finger in and out, then two, then three, I knew Brade was ready. I wanted him so bad just then, but more than that I wanted to connect with him in the most intimate way before he went away.

Lord knows I'd lectured him about using protection. Even if Braden was the light of my life, I didn't want him facing an early pregnancy like I did as a teen. So I sheathed up my thick piece of dad meat before I slowly entered him.

I could tell it stung, maybe a lot, but Brade was a trooper. Holding on to me. Feeling up the chest muscle he loved. Focusing on the act he'd dreamed of. Pretty soon, he was feeling it, the pleasure of bottoming. It's something I'd tried only a couple of times before I realized I enjoyed topping a lot more. But Braden was getting very into it. His insides opened for me and his whole body seemed to receive the fuck, his thick athletic legs pulled back, his angelic face pleading with me as much as his deepening jock voice. "Fuck me, Dad!" he said aloud into private space of the master bedroom.

My hips began pumping for real. I'd never been so hard or so much in a sexual frenzy. I wanted this first time to last, but I knew it couldn't, not with how worked up I was and how quickly Braden was approaching orgasm. His 7-incher throbbed and jutted off his crunched abs, leaking like crazy, then quivering like his voice.

"Dad!" he hissed, his eyes widening in disbelief. I was gonna get my Brade across the finish line to a hands-free cum.

I powered the last strokes with that goal.

My son's grip on my body grew tighter, an eagle talon's grip, and his voice climbed to a high whimper.

It was a glorious sight watching that teen cock shoot unaided, all over his body. I could smell the fresh scent of sperm and see the light of the lamp make the white splotches stand out more on his still largely smooth body.

I'm the kind of guy who can't cum with a condom on. But I came inside one while I fucked my son. The sensation and physical thrill was incredible, but mostly it was the idea that Braden was fully a man now.

He loved watching me nut, and I could see a big smile sweep across his face, and a laugh came out of him. He was riding some major sex endorphins, too.

"Way to go, Dad!" he enthusiasm.

"Buddy..." I started. "Goddamn..." I reached down and held on to the rubber as I extracted my dick from my son's ass. No longer vice tight I thought lewdly as I watched my condom-sheathed head clear the breach, a heavy reservoir of cum at the end. Fucking Brade had inspired one of my healthier cum loads.

My son's eyes were on that bulbous tip. "Let me drink that, at least," he urged.

Jesus.

I nodded and scooted up in the bed, waving my still turgid dick in front of him. "Serve yourself, Sport."

His fingers peeled at the rubber and gingerly tugged it off. He brought it to his lips and up ended, taking the semen into his mouth like a shooter. Braden moaned excitedly as he swirled my cum in his mouth before swallowing it. That alone was enough to keep me rock hard.

Wide eyed, my son then discarded the spent condom and then turned back to take me into his mouth.

"You're too good to me, Sport," I hissed.

***

I told myself it was sex. Fooling around of the naughtiest kind. My own goddamn kid. The only thing that kept me from feeling completely guilty is that Braden wanted sex even more than I did. Anytime he came home we found ways to get it on nonstop. Long slow sessions at night. Him giving me road head. Us sneaking into a bathroom stall for a quickie. I got a big box of Trojans and learned to carry a couple on me at all times.

We had our first date night. And the next homecoming our first argument. We were still the odd couple, and Braden resented when I asked him what he wanted to do with his life after the Marines.

"You're just mad I didn't clear enlisting with you first," he said bitterly.

"Come on, Brade," he said. But he was right.

I was in the doghouse the next couple of nights, sleeping on the couch. Part of me resented the fact I was exiled from my bedroom, but the fact I considered it mine instead of ours - after all the ways Braden had given his body to me, after all the pleasure we'd had together - was part of the problem.

I apologized. A real apology, not a Bill half-assed apology. I told him I was in love with him.

My big tough Marine son melted at that. He got off of the kitchen stool and met me in a bear hug. "God, Dad. I love you so much. For real." My son didn't show emotion a lot but he was better at it than me. I hugged back.

Then we kissed. A real lover's kiss. A boyfriend's kiss. Soft, sensual. I didn't want that kiss to end, but it did.

"I'm gonna miss you bad, tough guy," I said, running my fingers along his square jaw.

"I'll miss you, too, Dad," Braden said. "A lot." His hand reached down to cup my crotch. I hardened up under his touch.

He gave a soft laugh. "You must think I'm some kind of nympho."

"I think you're perfect, son." I ran my fingers along his T-shirt, eager to feel the hard flesh beneath. "And I'm grateful for every way you make me happy."

Brade smiled but just took in the words. He looked down at my sweats, which were filling out big time with dad meat, getting harder by the second. "I'd so love to suck you off right now, Dad."

"Why don't you?" I asked, my voice croaking. I was getting very turned on now.

Braden's brown eyes looked up into mine. "Cause it's been three goddamn days since you're fucked me, that's why."

We kissed, harder this time, and began stripping one another. I wanted this to be romantic, a slow screw in the master king-sized bed I'd been exiled from. Braden wanted to be bent over the kitchen table and taken like a whore with just a little cooking oil for lube.

We did it Brade's way.

It was hot, crazy hot, and we'd gotten carried away. In my mind I knew we were fucking without protection. And given how much in heat my Marine son was, there was a good chance he was ovulating. But it felt so good being inside him raw. Intimate with my boy like this. My big hunky, muscled boy, taking my dick and asking for more. Calling me Dad as I railed him.

My Dad brain won out. I pulled out just before I came. I only had to give two tugs and I was firing out one of my biggest loads, all over his muscled back. Brade tried to wiggle his way back onto my but I held him apart. My son was definitely in full fertile heat.

I pulled him up and kissed his neck as he went for his cum, my own semen cementing his back to my chest as I growled how fucking hot incest was. How I wanted to fuck my son every single day. I got a little rough in my fantasy talk. Not only did Braden not mind, the scenario I was describing got him to shoot big. I loved feeling him orgasm as I held his body. Not seeing his face but knowing the intensity of his cum from the way his muscle tensed and shook.

We came down from the sex high and laughed at how carried away we'd gotten. I patted his chest and nuzzled my face against him. "All right young man," I said in a voice that was playful even as I meant every word. "You're going on the pill."

***

It was super hard to see him go off again. He had another year on his enlistment contract. I stayed off Grindr and all the apps. No hookups, no dates. Partly it was my desire to be faithful and monogamous with my son. None could compare to my Branden anyway.

My son made a show of pulling out his birth control pills when he was home next, setting him on the counter.

"I've been taking them, Dad," he said proudly.

I laughed, stepping up to him. "You didn't think I'd trust you?"

He shook his head in a way that maybe I didn't trust him enough. "You know I'm crazy about you, sir, but you got some control issues."

"Just wait till you're a father," I said.

Brade got a serious look on his face. "You won't let me be one." His hand was now reaching down to cup my crotch. I'd learned to go commando whenever Braden was home, with just some shorts or sweats that could come off easily. So my son was now feeling a very hard piece of dad dick through some flimsy gym shorts.

My heart pounded. It had never occurred to me that Braden would want to get pregnant, especially that he'd want to be knocked up with MY kid.

"You think about that, buddy?" I asked, looking into his hunky-adorable face and his soulful brown eyes. God, I was so crushed out on my own son.

"All the fuckin' time, Dad," he replied. His fingers now slipped beneath the elastic band of my shorts to make contact with my hardon. The touch of his fingers was electric.

He looked down briefly then back up at me. "I know you're gonna lecture me about responsibility and being ready for parenthood."

"Probably, yeah," I replied. This idea was so crazy, and I needed to put the breaks on it. But my dick sure liked it. And Braden could tell.

"You like the idea, though," he said. He was now frigging my dick as our eyes locked.

"I almost didn't pull out before..." I said with a croak in my voice, getting majorly turned on. "When we barebacked."

Our kiss was intense. And I heard Brade undoing his jeans and could tell he was shucking them down as he moaned into my mouth. He was crazy turned on when he pulled back, breathing heavy. "I wish you hadn't," he said with a half apology, then turned around. Between high school sports and Marine conditioning and plenty of leg day time at the gym, Braden had an incredible ass. Round, meaty, mostly smooth except for a dusting of light brown hair that got thicker in the crack. I'm not a religious man, but some god had given me a gift.

Instantly, my hand was on his buns, feeling up that warm muscle.

"I lubed up, Dad," I heard his masculine voice say.

I ran my finger into his crevice. Even before I got to his pucker, I felt the telltale viscous stickiness. It would be our first time with petroleum jelly. Turns out it wouldn't be the last.

I scooted up. I craved to have more foreplay time with Brade, but this wasn't the time. I lined up my prick into the tacky gel and rubbed it around his hole with my cock head.

"You took your pill today?" I asked. I wanted confirmation before entering him bare. But I also wanted to hold onto that idea of knocking him up.

"Yessir," he hissed. He was backing up some, trying to get me into him. He wanted this.

I reached around and held his body. Even through the T-shirt Braden's chest was hard and warm.

"And if you hadn't... would you stop me from being inside you, like this?" God, I was getting carried away by the fantasy. Particularly as I pushed in, about a half inch of raw dad cock.

"No, sir," Braden replied. Then "Fuck yes!" as I breached him all the way. A homecoming fuck that felt more intense than the ones before. Almost more intense than taking his cherry.

It was awkward fucking standing up. I was a couple inches taller than Brade. But bent my knees a little, and Brade leaned over to brace himself on the wall as I pounded him.

"Love ya, Sport..." I said as I fucked faster and deeper. Maybe it was in my head, but Braden's ass had never felt so good.

"Love you, too, Dad. So fucking much." His voice was needy now.

The words were what I needed to hear as I pounded us both to a heavy climax.

It took me a minute of the afterglow to realize Brade was crying.

"What is, buddy?" I asked with concerned. Jesus, if I'd gone too hard on the boy, I wouldn't forgive myself.

I could hear a laugh come through. "Just happy is all.. fuck! Sorry..."

I pulled him back against me tighter. My dick had slipped out and it all felt very lewd now that the act was done with. It only added to the emotional roller coaster we were both on. "Nothing to be sorry about. Let it out, Sport.... Guess it's pretty intense dating your old man," I said empathetically.

Braden nodded. "Pretty much," he said. "It's fucked up, right?"

I thought for a second. I mean, objectively it was. And yet... "Inside this house, inside these walls, it's not fucked up, Brade. It's what's meant to be, OK?"

He turned and looked at me with an emotional openness that melted me. I wasn't good at this stuff. Relationship stuff, emotional stuff. But I knew I could assure my son in this moment.

We kissed. Softly, like boyfriends.

Then we cleaned up and talked, for hours.

***

Braden was done with the active duty part of his contract and was living with me. Full time, day in, day out. It took some getting used to. I maybe had a loner thing going on, and it was hard to shift from the Dad role to the boyfriend role. And the honeymoon period of homecoming sex quickly wore off.

It came to a head one evening. I had to work late, later than normal, even. Brade had a dinner ready for me and plated it for us.

I was still preoccupied with work, though I gave a quick thanks before digging in.

Braden picked at his food but was sulking. Finally, he set down his fork. "I guess workaholic Dad is back now," he grumbled.

I felt both chastised and pissed off. "Forgive me for making a living, Son."

"It's all you think about."

"That's not true," I said sternly.

Braden shook his head and went back to eating. Maybe he was right, but he was acting like a sullen teen again, goddamnit. And here I was the father who didn't know how quite to handle that.

I did make a point of thanking him again for the dinner and of doing the dishes. "Go kick back, Son," I urged in my best contrite voice. Braden didn't even reply but just got up and left the room. I guess it was silent treatment time.

I'd dried the last of the dished when Brade came in.

"Sorry, Dad," he said.

I turned toward him. "Oh buddy... it's me who should be sorry. You do all this work, and I come home late."

I set down the dish towel and stepped toward him. He was stepping up to me, too. Our mouths met, hungry. This was gonna be me and Brade's first time having make up sex.

"Bedroom?" I asked.

"Yeah, Dad."

We were like kids jumping into a lake, rapidly stripping off our clothes and hopping on to the bed we now shared. His body felt amazing. I mean it always did but I craved the contact now. My hunky 23 year old stud in bed with me, his hardon battling mine as I started to roll him over.

Only he stopped me. "Let me ride you, Dad. Please."

"Pretty please?" I teased.

"Pretty please, sir. I wanna ride your cock."

This was a fun change of pace, my lying back and having Braden lube up my thick cock before straddling me. The penetration was quick, too quick for my son, and he had to rise up before trying again. The second time was a charm and I watched my hunky stud sink down on my bone.

I pumped up into him, but position equally allowed Brade to use his hips to work up and down my dick. It was magnificent, like a slow steady milking motion.

"Fuck, Son... so good, buddy."

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile. "I want it to be so good for you, Dad."

"You have no idea, Sport."

That increased his determination to ride me up and down. "I took my pill today... but if I didn't..." he said with a lust-filled voice.

I grunted. The idea was hitting me hard. We'd indulged some of this talk, but it was coming back even harder than before. "I'd feel a fertile ass riding me," I answered.

Braden had to let go of his cock to keep from coming. "God, Dad... this turns you on too."

"Damn straight it does, Sport. Fucking you... knocking you up..."

Even without stroking, Brade was getting close to cumming. "It's my biggest fantasy, Dad. Having an incest baby with you."

That tripped my trigger before I expected. I was fucking up into my son, but it was the mental shock as much as the physical sensation making me shoot a heavy series of cum shots into my son's bowels.

I could sense Brade was imagining it fertilizing him. His voice quivered and his body flushed pink. And I watched his dick shoot out its thick cum as he bounced up and down hard onto my still spurting prick.

"FUCK!" he gasped.

I patted his thigh. This was intense sex, for sure, and I was starting to return to normal. "Yeah," I said.

Braden eased off and slid down next to me, meeting me in a hot kiss.

After we made out he lay his head on my chest. Like that night I took his cherry. Before he shipped off. Life has a way of coming full circle.

His voice now seemed tentative. "Dad... you know I wouldn't do that, right? Stop taking the pills without your permission?"

I patted his back muscle. "I know, buddy. It's just talk... something to get us going."

"Yeah," he said. "Only if you ever decided it was right..." he said softly.

"I know, buddy. We'll talk about it, OK?"

"OK."

***

Like moths to a flame, we couldn't avoid getting deeper into the pregnancy talk. It spiced up our time in the bedroom, then became our fixation during sex. No longer occasional, it became every single time that me and Brade talked about having kids. Me impregnating him, us imagining his body being transformed by our kid.

I occasionally opened the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom to check that Braden was still taking his pills. I felt bad that I didn't 100 percent trust him.

We tried to mix it up. Braden gave me more blow jobs. He became an expert at edging me, and that felt new and exciting.

My son and I found our rhythm as a couple. Braden got used to my long work hours, and I did my best to make weekends about us. Brade would the first to point out that I wasn't good at romance, but Sundays were Brade Day, when he'd choose what we'd do. I was a big saver when it came to money, but I learned to relax a little. For Brade Day, I'd buy tickets for to catch a baseball game or go see the nearby city football team's home game.

Sometimes for Brade Day, he'd choose to do something I wanted, which was usually playing golf. I'd object, but he insisted that relationships weren't one-way things.

That stuck with me. I'd run through it all in my head why Braden and I couldn't have kids, why we shouldn't have kids. Incest was one thing, but having a child together was another. And the practical side of my personality was persistent. I knew raising a kid would cost money. I had it, but I wasn't sure what job or career Braden had in mind for his future. If we'd be on the same page in our parenting.

OK, my idle thoughts were no longer idle.

It was fun surprising my son. It was Sunday morning, Brade Day, and it took him a while to notice. Even after his cup of coffee he was still groggy.

"Um, Dad," he asked as he walked back into the kitchen. "Have you seen my pills?"

I nodded, with my best poker face. "Yeah, Sport. I threw them in the trash."

He was processing what I was saying. "You're joking."

I shook my head. "Nope. You can feel free to fish them out, if you like."

"Oh fuck," he hissed.

This was like make up sex on steroids. Me and Braden embracing in a bear hug and then a hot kiss. Then fucking on the kitchen floor.

I'd have felt bad if we'd conceived our son like that, but even lost in my fantasy I knew it would be a couple of weeks until Braden was fertile.

But it was decided now: we were gonna have a kid together.

[kurstyxscave]

"Huh... Azul-kun sure does have a lot more people around him lately. Guess I have to learn to share..."

(Ah! Im' so excited to finally post this. I love @quartztwst noyansim au so much! So many cute and cool yuusonas. One of my fav's has got to be @liyuviq)

Btw he modified his uniform to fit gyaruo More Info:::

Does Kursor have parents or family?

Yes, but he and his little brother, a first year, room together in the dorms.

What are their thoughts on Quartz?

"I like her hair. Oh wait- She's probably nice. Like the rest of Azul's fan club."

He likes to people watch during lunch, so he has seen her around. He thinks she looks kinda cool.

What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

They met when he went to check out the board game club before signing up. They are on good terms, but Kursor doubts that Azul would call him a friend even though he feels that way. He really likes beating Azul in games and teasing them over it, mostly because he likes watching him get red in the face and get all competitive. Those feelings make Kursor assume he might have a crush on Azul.

What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

"Idia? Oh he's cool I guess. We both like BeatCats, so its not that hard to talk to him."

Only really ever hangout or talk in the clubroom. They can be caught talking for long bouts of time over all kinds of dorky shit. Kursor is super into dorks, so he overlooks Idia's worst traits.

"T-Trey?! Who told you to ask me about him?"

Massive crush on him and shit at hiding it. He has the awful habit of staring and occasionally literally drooling over Trey.

"I like their cardigan... Maybe I should get one... Oh! I want to draw her!"

He gets too anxious to start conversations with any of them outside of compliments, small greetings, and basic etiquette. So he people watches and draws whomever he feels like. Though, he does get a little jealous of the other rivals. He likes being able to hang out with Azul whenever he wants and gets anxious over losing that.

What grade/year is he?

He's a 3rd year (18).

What is Kursor's goal for the school year or in life?

He hopes to make more friends, or maybe even a partner, during the school year. He kinda hates how much he struggles with that. He really hopes to be recognized more positively as a monster.

Kursor is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does he react to that? Does he know it's Quartz?

He freaks the hell out, shifting into a werewolf in an attempt to escape wrongful imprisonment. He doesn't know it was Quartz specifically but his strong intuition keeps gnawing at him saying she did something. Unless if anyone else has antagonized him, he will keep thinking it was Quartz.

Kursor notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does he report this?

He tries to report it anonymously. He doesn't want anyone to think he said anything. He will always keep his guard up around Quartz from then on.

Where is Kursor usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

He can be found in the clubroom often. Between classes and lunch, he walks with his brother, stares at Trey, or very rarely trying to talk to Idia. Just as rarely, he attempts to ask Azul to eat with him one-on-one. Usually, he sits under a tree in the courtyard, eating and people watching.

How are his grades?

Kursor typically lucks his way into Bs. Cs at worst (he tries to study).

No Yandere Simulator ? (TWST AU)

AU Information:

This AU takes place similar to Yandere Sim but with Twisted Wonderland but Taro is Azul and Ayano is Quartz. Her goal is to eliminate… AZUL ASHENGROTTO. Yeah, her goal is actually to kill Azul and NOT the rivals. The rivals being your OCs/sonass and they have to protect Azul from Quartz and her dumb elimination plans.

More info on Quartz + Tweels info

Q&A for OCs!!! / PT 2

Flower Bullies info

Dormleader <- Student Council info + School info

This is an AU just for fun!! lol I just had a silly idea. Here’s a template if you wanna make your own oc into the AU (rival or not)

ALSO THEY DONT KNOW IT'S QUARTZ bc she's just a nobody girl

Bro you can tell I was hella lazy with Azul idk he’s too much

Rival List:

Romeo by @skrimpyskimpy

Shuu by @oya-oya-okay

Chiyo by @inotonline

Sable by @twsted-void

Jovie by @jovieinramshackle

Finn by @thehollowwriter

Elena by @angelwishess

Albert by @the-trinket-witch

Milo by @hy4c1nthh

Alice by @sinjaangels

Starrz by @astral-pr0jecti0n

Atlas by @silvery-stars-above

Mei by @ieatfriedeggs

Rubellite by @prefectrose

Yuuka by @hanizmiyu

NPC/Non-Rival List:

Elfie by @quartzelfgf

Higashikuramori Shin by @liyuviq

Jade Leech

Floyd Leech

Rizy by @rizdoodls

Yuuki by @theolivetree123

Joseph by @readsrandomstuff67

Yuubeni by @bunniehunn

Yuya by @cheerleaderman

Shuu and Silly by @sillybillymillyrilly

Superstar!! By @imafrealinrainbow478484

Viz (Vizzie) by @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

Yuhua by @distant-velleity

Nyx by @blackcat101

Gia by @ramshacklerumble

Yuuko by @silkkorchid

Moch by @thatsadguymochi

Faye by @faerieluvss

Yukana by @babyghoul138

Antoinette by @antoinettedoodles

AJ by @karamatsuboy-aj

Evelyuu by @h0neybane

Paloma and Hydris by @mhedusard

Levi by @the-trinket-witch

Alan by @alan-without-the-an

Vee and Viva by @evexe

Sophie by @gl00myb3arz

René by @tixdixl

Liánhuā by @lafashionlsta

Yuu Shi by @boopshoops

Xen by @xen-blank

Astrid by @cheerleaderman

Yumi by @marinahavik

Undine by @juchioris

Lilian by @sillyslipperybananapeel

Layla by @laylakongg

Niz by @hanizmiyu

The Yuris by @0ann3

Ryuuni by @rinis-reality

(Let me know if I made a mistake lol)

[skzhua]

episode 2.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female reader

genre: Fluff, angst, exes-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 4.1k (not proofread yet!)

warnings: Cursing, post-breakup feelings, jealousy.

summary: while kitty explores her bi awakening, you try to navigate how to deal with being friends with min ho again, and it's not quite how you'd like it to be. especially not when stella is around.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

"My world got so much bigger because of you and because of Simon," Kitty read as you and Q laid in her bed, as if she was reading bedtime stories to you both. "Jina has to know something about Simon. Why else would my mom mention him in her letter?"

"Yuri emailed her mom," you pointed out.

"Yeah, but Jina's at some wellness retreat and doesn't have any service," she sighed before grunting. "It is killing me to be this close to finding the guy that my mom was so in love with that she moved here against her parents' wishes..."

She kept on rambling on about her frustrations and wonders, meanwhile Q was attempting to make sense out of it. As for you, you couldn't focus much. Eyes on the phone, you were still hoping someone would text you any moment now. You got up from Kitty's bed and dropped yourself on yours, letting out a whine in the process.

"Y/N, stop thinking about it," Q said.

You shook your head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kitty hummed. "So there is somebody more dramatic than me!"

You all heard laughs coming from the other room, and Kitty rolled her eyes.

"I guess Yuri and Juliana are still in their honeymoon phase, uh?" Q commented.

"They're always tickle-fighting!" Kitty exclaimed, a fake smile plastered on her face. "We basically have to tear them apart for curfew checks so the RA doesn't figure out they're a couple."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Oh, not at all! Their squeals of joy act as a helpful reminder for me to stay focus on my goals. It'll get rid of this silly little crush-"

Her alarm went off went off and she sighed in relief. "Thank God."

You forced yourself to get your butt up and yell "Okay, guys, break it up! Ten minutes until curfew check!"

"Thanks, Y/N!" they yelled back.

The three of you got out the room to lead Q out the door, only to be welcomed with the sight of Yuri and Juliana cuddling. While you were so happy for your friend, you couldn't help but feel bad for Kitty. I mean, you were pretty much in the same situation.

"You're really going to subject yourself to an entire semester of that?" Q asked.

"You know what they say," Kitty responded. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

Unconvinced, he nodded. "Right. Something's telling me this is just killing you, though, so... Good night!" he waved at you both before walking out the door.

"Girls!" Yuri called out as soon as the door closed. "You're always hiding out in your room, come hang out with us!"

"Yeah, come distract us," Juliana added. "Otherwise, an RA might walk in and catch us making out."

"Oh," Yuri said in a teasing voice.

"Sure," Kitty responded, uncomfortable.

The couple began to tease each other with jokes and stuff, making you both even more uncomfortable. They ended up deciding to hide in their bedroom, and so did you in yours. Assuming Kitty would follow, you let the door open. When you noticed she wasn't coming with you, you turned on your heels to head back to stopped yourself as soon as you heard Yuri's voice. You were never the kind to eavesdrop, doing it a little wouldn't be so bad, right?

"What about you? You going to bed?" Yuri asked.

"Soon," your friend replied. "Y/N and I are just going to wait for Stella to get home. She's on her big date with Min Ho."

Your heart tightened as a short silence fell between your friends.

Yuri was the one to break it. "I don't know why Y/N gave her his number."

"Well, she was pretty mad at him. Maybe it's her way to move on."

"But they were getting on so well at the barbecue the other night. I'm sure I even saw a spark between them."

"You heard Y/N, though. He did some fucked up shit."

They were right. Why did you give her his number if you were hoping so bad he'd text you, telling you how boring she was and how he wished you were there to save him?

That text never came.

Chores. That was your punishment for staying with the boys last semester. In the end, you were also discovered to be one of the roommates, hency why you were mopping around a classroom with the whole gang: Dae, Q, Kitty... and Min Ho, of course. So far, avoiding Min Ho had been going pretty well. You caught up on a lot of stuff with Dae, such as how he had been dealing with the break up and how things were going at his place. You did manage to get your mind away from your problems for a short amount of time. It was also a good reminder that Dae was an excellent friend.

"You're avoiding him," he nodded his head towards Min Ho.

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"He really does feel bad about your argument."

You let a breath out. "I know that you're trying to ease things between us, and I appreciate it. But I want to heal in my own way first."

He smiled apologetically. "I get it."

And as if the world was doing everything in its power to make your life miserable, the man in question decided to mop right at your feet. And as to make any worse, the guy was intentionally poking your feet every two seconds. While you glared at him as a sign to stop, he could only smile lightly, and do it again. The silent interaction went on for a few minutes, until he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention.

"I'm just not that into Stella."

Your eyes grew bigger. "Pardon me?"

"I mean, she's cute. Don't get me wrong. But, maybe she's a bit too nice?"

You scoffed. "Is this where you're the playboy wanting to corrupt the good girl, and you're just mad because you're not getting anywhere with her?"

He threw his head back, letting a laugh out. "Please, I already did that with you." Instant blush. "I just think she's boring. Why are you so focused on my love life anyway, pup?"

It took everything in you to not let it show you were hearing exactly what you wanted to hear. "You tell me, you're the one who brought it up. But to answer your question, I'm not," you faked his accent.

"I actually miss the two of you bickering like this," Dae commented, reminding you he had been there the entire time.

"Am I still the only one who's irritated by her?" Min Ho groaned. "It's her and Covey's fault that we're cleaning the building for my dad's vanity project."

Q chuckled. "Guys, there could be way worse punishments. Like your dad forcing everyone to take one of his arts electives. Except for me! Your boy got an exemption. The star of KISS' track team needs to focus on getting gold at regionals."

"I'm taking Entertainment Management," Kitty informed.

"Yeah, same. Kind of sounds interesting," you affirmed.

"Me too," Min Ho said as he winked at you, making you blush again. "It's the only one without singing or dancing."

"I signed up for Advanced Voice," Dae informed casually.

Kitty turned around slowly, doubt on her face. "You sing? How did I not know this?"

"Because we were long-distance, and it's weird to serenade someone over the phone."

"I think we should hear something," Q encouraged as the four of you positioned yourself to be his audience.

"Now, like, here?"

"No, next year," Q joked.

"Yes," you and Min Ho said in unison.

"I wanna hear it," Q said.

"Yes, right now," Kitty rushed him.

In an instant, Dae jumped on top of a desk amd began to sing his heart out. Frankly, it was one of the prettiest voices you've heard. If this was his hidden talent, who knew what else he was capable of? The fun was cut short once Principal Lee walked in the room, visibly bothered byt the concert.

"This is a punishment for secretly living with Ms. Covey and Ms. Park last semester." At the sound, you straightened your posture, now face to face with the principal. "No fun!"

The moment you thought you were done for, Min Ho's father walked in with some of his employees following behind. You exchanged glances with Min Ho, who shrugged as to show he was as perplexed as you were.

"Okay, kids, you're dismissed. My cleaning crew will take care of it," Mr. Moon announced, Principal Lee shaking his head in disapproval.

"Wait, you can't overrule me on student matters."

"Renovations must begin today to stay on schedule, unless you also want my donation delayed."

Mr. Lee paused before his shoulders dropped in defeat. "Students, you're dismissed. For today."

The adults left one after the other until only the five of you were left in the room once again. It was a matter of seconds before you exploded in laughter, feeling somewhat relieved as well.

"I have never seen anyone talk to Professor Lee like that," Dae commented.

"I mean, he kind of ate," Q added.

Kitty squealed. "Mr. Moon forever!"

Min Ho let out a chuckle before he went on to gather the cleaning materials. You grabbed some yourself and left with him to put them back where they belong. You wanted to speak, say something. Only, nothing came to your mind that was slightly interesting. Even less after learning he had close to no interest in Stella. For the few eye contacts you had, small smiles were exchanged. But again, nothing more.

As your aunt told you, you stopped by her office before going to your Entertainment Management class. While you were having a harsh return, you did realize you hadn't visited her since school started. Knocking at her office's door, she immediately yelled for you to come in. As you stepped in, you immediately noticed the bags beneath her eyes.

"Are you killing yourself with work again?"

She might have looked exhausted, but she didn't let it stop her from laughing at your comment. "I'm trying to slow down, but you know me. And with Jina gone, things are working out differently this semester."

"Tell me about it... The curfew checks are getting annoying."

She nodded, and then picked a letter up. "I'm glad you came. I wanted to show this to you."

You took the piece of paper from her before reading the information on it. Frowning, you held it up to her again. "It's not addressed to me, it's for you."

"I know, but it's from your father. While cleaning this week, I rediscovered it and thought you might want to have a look at it."

Your expression softened and you took her hand, grateful. "Thank you. Anyway, I just wanted to see you a bit and let you know that things are settling down."

"I'm glad. Have you seen Min Ho? Seriously, that guy is handsome! What a shame it had to end."

You rolled your eyes. "And that is my cue to leave for class."

You could hear her from behind as you left as she was trying to either apologize or reinforce her point. Either way, you were far too gone to hear any of it, and you went to join Kitty at the cafeteria. Phone in her hands, she was trying to contact another retreat center in hopes Jina would be there. You started to walk and she mindlessly followed, phone now glued to her ear. They didn't answer until you reached class.

"Hey, could you connect me to Jina Lim's room? She's a guest at your resort," she spoke but her disappointed look was all it took for you to understand the call went nowhere. "Oh, my mistake. She must be staying at another property. Thank you."

As she hung up, you patted her shoulder. "You'll get a hold of her. Want me to ask Yuri?"

She groaned. "I did already, but she can't even reach her mom herself, so I guess it makes sense I'm not getting anywhere."

As you scanned the room to find a seat, your eyes landed on Stella, who just happened to be sitting next to Min Ho. The class you were almost excited to attend was now definitely the one you'd hate the most. Still, Min Ho gestured the seat next to him so you allowed yourself to take the spot, and Kitty sat on your other side.

"Hey, do you know who our teacher is?" she asked the pair.

"I'm just glad I won't have to perform. I'm still scared from playinh the donkey in m church's Nativity play," Stella replied. "But I'm guessing, you know, with your dad, you'll have a record deal, blockbuster movie out soon?"

You could only roll your eyes — though you did it mentally. She didn't know him, and it showed. Your inner comments were confirmed as soon as Min Ho opened his mouth.

"Yeah, not my thing."

"Imagine," you said in an ironic tone, making him chuckle lightly.

The door finally opened, revealing who your teacher would be. You were unsurprised to see Mr. Moon step in, as flamboyant as ever.

"Good afternoon," he greeted.

Min Ho' glanced at him for a second only to look at you with panicked eyes. "Oh my gosh."

"And congratulations. Out of all the new arts courses offered at KISS, you lucky few have stumbled into a masterclass." his dad continued.

"Masterclass, my ass," Min Ho said under his breath, you being the only person to laugh at his comment.

"But, I have news for you. Being a successful manager isn't something one can teach."

"Then why is this a class?" Min Ho commented once more, looking so done.

"It comes down to trusting your gut. And today, you will determine who will earn a spot in Advanced class and who will get their mic cords cut."

Kitty raised her hand. "Uh, Mr. MOON, i don't know enough about singing to be an effective-"

"Knowledge is do overrated," he cut her off. "My strongest opinions are on things I know almost nothing about."

"And that's my dad..." Min Ho sighed.

"I really wonder why you didn't want me to meet him," you joked only to receive a glare.

"Y/N, are you seeing the same man that I am seeing right now?" he gestured to his father.

"Yeah, an icon."

He huffed in frustration, but you could only laugh more at his reaction. As you were about to say something else, you met Stella's eyes. She was obviously telling you to back off. Who was she to tell you so? If anything, she should be grateful you gave her Min Ho's number even if he was your ex.

"Let's bring in the aspiring singers!" Mr Moon exclaimed.

Class went by quickly and, frankly, your feedbacks were written half-consciously. For most of them, you wrote some sweet comments with one or two flaws. Except for Dae, because he is a friend who just happens to be an excellent singer. At the end of the class, Mr. Moon went over everyone's feedback quickly — noting that Stella was being too kind and that Min Ho was a perfect critic — before class was dismissed.

"Y/N, you coming?" Min Ho said the moment the bell rang.

"Where?"

He shook his head in annoyance. "Just, come with me."

"Alright, my bad," you groaned.

Putting your belongings in your bag, you followed him out. You could hardly catch up to him as he was running out that room as fast as he could.

"Would you slow down?"

"Stop whining. I forgot how irritating that sound of yours is," he said in a huff.

"Well, why did you want me to leave class with you if I'm oh-so fun to be around?" you asked, growing impatient.

He stopped, making you almost run into his back. "Avoiding my dad and Stella. I feel comfortable with you so I guess you were my easy way out."

You took his hand — only as a friend — and rubbed it in a reassuring way. "You'll get through the semester just fine, I promise."

He let a chuckle out. "Well, if you and Covey are there, probably not."

You slapped his arm. "That's what I get for being nice?"

Satisfied his mocking worked, he laughed some more. "Is coffee going to make up for it?"

You perked an eyebrow. "Am I paying for it or-"

"On me," he said as if it was obvious.

Satisfied, you dragged him behind as you still had a grip on his hand. With a few protests, he tried to break away but gave in soon enough since you were clearly not going to let go of him.

Maybe he missed the two of you bickering like this as well.

It would have been a fun moment between you two if it wasn't for Mihee thanking Min Ho for getting into Advanced Voice which got Min Ho to go speak about it with his dad who kind of got into his head as he showered him with hopes and compliments... All that, and you had to follow him around like a literal lost puppy.

"I'll go," you said once you left his father.

He frowned. "What do you mean? We barely had time for ourselves."

"Exactly," you exhaled before clearing your throat. "I get this wasn't your fault, but I don't want to be your pet, following you while you do your stuff. That's what I did in L.A. and I don't it to happen again."

"Y/N," he tried to interfere but you didn't let him.

"And, please, let down Stella easily. She's nice, but she'll still give me death glares if you keep leading her on."

And with that, you left him there.

Kitty threw a dress on your bed... while you were laying in bed. You took the piece of clothing, looking at it up and down, and stood up to put it back in the wardrobe — where it belonged.

"Oh, come on!"

You threw yourself back on your mattress, pulling your phone out again. "I said I was not going."

"You're leaving me alone?"

You gave her a look. "It's a date, Kitty. The purpose of a date is to go one on one. Not with your friend as an extra."

She groaned. "But how am I not going to make a fool of myself?"

You shrugged, still on your phone. "Yuri and Juliana will be there too, no? They're getting ready as we speak."

Distressed, she took a huge pile of clothes from her drawer and dropped it on her own bed. "Help me out instead of making fun of my misery."

You ended up doing so because, well, you were her friend and you also did enjoy dressing her up. However, as soon as she was dolled up, you were back to being a couch potato. You didn't even hear the girls leave, and with Stella being gone wherever she was, you were left alone in the dorm.

Hunger got the best of you eventually, which made you check in the refrigerator what food you had left. Eggs and fizzy drinks were not going to fill your belly, so you took it upon yourself to change into a decent outfit. Once dressed, it was time to head to the department store near school so you could buy instant ramen for the hundredth time already.

Min Ho: Can we talk?

You saw the message, but ignored it. You had one goal in mind: food. While the fresh air hit you as soon as you opened the door, you got used to it quickly and rushed yourself to the store. Only then you spotted a familiar figure. Min Ho, again.

"For fuck's sake," you cursed under your breath as you tried to act as if you didn't spot him yet.

Thankfully, he was on his phone. You checked yours and he was, indeed, in the process of writing you another message. You almost found his attempt at reaching you cute. There was a lot of debating happening in your brain whether to text him back, come up to him, or even offer for him to go get food with you. The universe decided for you when his father appeared, walking furiously towards his son.

"Mihee dropped Advanced Voice," he said, anger spread through his entire body language. "You tipped her off, didn't you?"

"Well-" Min Ho started.

"You went around my back just to protect her feelings."

Again, you hated eavesdropping, but with how loud Mr. Moon was speaking, he didn't make it any easier. You poorly tried to hide behind a tree closeby. While you didn't like where this was going, you couldn't intervene. Not yet.

"I don't know why I thought you had what it takes to be a manager. I gave you a chance to step up and impress me," he continued, growing angrier by the second. "And instead, you threw it away for some loser who can't even sing."

"Don't talk to him like that."

Min Ho turned around and his eyes immediately softened when they landed on you. The words left your mouth without your knowledge, giving you no choice but to approach the duo.

"This is a private conversation between father and son."

"Well, you're a crappy father. Not just from what I am seeing right now, but also from everything I've heard about you. Min Ho does have what it takes to be a manager, more than you do with this tired Simon Cowell routine from 2002,"

You looked at Min Ho real quick to see if he would try to stop you, but he was speechless. Letting you steal the show, he was almost admiring you.

You took it as a sign to continue. "For a man who claims to have his finger on the pulse, you should know that bullying is so over, Mr. Moon. It's really a miracle you haven't been canceled."

His jaw clenched. "You certainly have a lot to say, don't you?" is all he said before taking off.

Not a sound could be heard after that. You didn't dare to look at Min Ho, not after the stunt you pulled. You had no idea what took over you.

"I'm sorry... I-" you started but left, embarrassed.

Only, you were stopped by a hand grabbing you by the arm. "No, wait," he said, turning your body to face him. "Y/N, where did that come from?"

"I don't know, it sort of just... came out? Seeing you being yelled at, I just snapped. And with everything you told me about him, I don't want you to suffer more than you already have."

He took both of your hands, grazing on your skin with his thumbs. "I've never had someone who'd stand up for me that way, so thank you."

You nodded shyly. "I just hope I didn't make things worse."

"You did quite the opposite. I think you impressed him. I bet he thinks you're a real badass," he chuckled. "It's a shame it's when we're not together anymore. He would have approved."

You didn't know what to respond, so you nodded again. "I should go, then."

His grip got firmer, a sign he didn't want you to leave. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Sure."

He gulped. "I'm sorry for kind of using you as some decoration I can bring wherever I want. That's never what you were to me and it will never be."

By default, your bodies kept getting closer to one another. Everything around you was like fog to you, there was only him and the sound of your heartbeat. A voice in your head told you to get away, to learn from the mistakes of the past. Another was screaming for you to play your cards right, and let him be back in your life again. In a word, divided. That's how you were feeling.

You raised an eyebrow, now curious. "What am I to you, then?"

"Hopefully, this."

Before either of you could process, you were kissing. It truly felt like your lips were meant to be together as they moved in sync. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his were placed on your waist. It felt... like home. And you hated that you loved it so much.

What you hated even more was seeing Stella behind him once you pulled away.

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[bugisastranger]

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

[thehollowwriter]

I mentioned it my earlier reblog but I've just gotta say that the way this fandom treats Mrs Rosehearts is actually vile. Is she a bad parent? Yes. Is she absuive? Yes. But my god it's awful how she is written or drawn being assaulted, mutilated, murdered, run over/crushed/etc and everyone is cheering on about "that bitch getting what she deserves." People gleefully going on and on and on about how they want to murder or assault her as violently as possible is horrific.

It's mysogny, obviously, I know that. But it's still so awful to see, especially since even I was guilty of things. Graphic violence against women as "punishment" for any form of wrong is so normalised that it's considered a normal reaction to "someone as horrible as her" but then I look at Mr Rosehearts and Leona's father and Idia's parents and Lilia and so on where even though they too were harmful or abusive (intentionally or otherwise) to their children, they are adored and loved.

The Knight of Dawn fights for an oppressive, colonising empire and has absolutely killed people but hey he says some nice things so he's obviously an innocent sweetiepie who just has the best intentions, he would've been a wonderful dad awww. And of course there's Lilia and all the "Lol he's so silly he forgot child Silver and Sebek in the woods for 3 days oopsie look at the funny comic I drew of it dw he feels bad" treatment he gets.

It's just. It's so infuriating. I know what Mrs Rosehearts does to Riddle is bad, but she does not deserve the treatment she gets, ESPECIALLY when Mr Rosehearts, who is absusive too because of his lack of action and emotional distance from Riddle (neglect is abusive too), is treated like a sad little victim who's "abused by that awful bitch." Riddle has two parents. Don't place all blame for everything on one.

[13leaguestories]

I think you have answered asks about this in the past, but maybe things have changed or you understand your characters better by now? So, how are the Superstition ROs with jealousy? Are they jealous and/or possessive of us, and what do they think about us being a jealous/possessive partner? (not in a psychotic "you're not seeing your parents and friends ever again" kind of way, by the way, just a very noticeable "you're mine and I'm yours" kind of way)

Chris: The "quiet" jealous. He makes it seem like he's cool with it, kind of one of those "I'm with someone everyone else wishes they could have" kind of mood but he's not happy. He's not about to cause a scene but it's obvious something is bugging him. | He's fine with Roe being jealous, kind of a hypocrite on that as it'll be a "you don't need to be jealous, you can trust me" and yet he doesn't exactly take his own advice.

Sydero: Doesn't get jealous. She's the type to encourage people to keep flirting so when they realize that they can't have Roe, it's a bigger slap in the face. | Loves a jealous Roe, more reasons to tease them.

Zillah: Literally the most jealous in the group. 100% I don't need to say more right? Like he's that "you can't go around punching people you don't like" kind of guy. | Has no issue with a jealous or possessive Roe, thinks it's pretty cute in fact.

Rahim: He's the type to say he's not jealous but then won't shut up about that one person who was flirting with Roe. Like uh huh, definitely not jealous. | Can't stand a jealous Roe but mostly because it annoys him to think that Roe doesn't think they're the only one he ever has his eye on. Like come on. But is fine with a possessive Roe.

Amari: Is not jealous or possessive. In fact she doesn't even know when others are flirting unless it's OBVIOUS. And then she'll just kindly tell them to back off ... she can get a bit possessive but nothing out of the norm. | Doesn't feel one way about a jealous Roe. It's cute at times and can get annoying but her focus is Roe so it never gets that far most times.

Chanara: Not jealous at all. She'll more so just be bothered if boundaries aren't respected. Like come on, I just told you that's my partner, fuck off. | Doesn't find a possessive/jealous Roe attractive at all and in fact sees it as kind of annoying. She already told you she didn't even know that person was flirting, stop making it seem like she was lying.

[genderqueerdykes]

"entire online queer community collectively forgot, or rather pretends that queer allies don't exist"

funny thing was when I was in high school in the mid-2000s, the "A" in LGBTQIA was just as often assigned to "allies" as asexuals. the obvious reason being that if you didn't yet want to label yourself in a homophobic society, 'ally' was an easy way to say that you're here to be supportive without outing anything about yourself

yeah! that's exactly it!

i think we've lost the spirit of that entirely. we should not have to force people to out anything about themselves whatsoever. i don't like that. i feel like that goes against what we stand for. i don't feel like any queer space should force its participants to out themselves. i don't really care if people who are cishet or whatever read my blog and genuinely learn and take the time to understand things better. that's a good thing.

it was kinda cool that the A could mean multiple things, it didn't force people to disclose exactly what. now obviously we need asexual, aromantic, agender and other aspec representation, and my college's pride group had that, mostly because i was talking about it to the president who was a childhood friend of mine, but i think we just straight up forgot that it really can stand for ally. like. i don't like that people don't want to acknowledge that there are a lot of cishet people out there who genuinely like trans partners and people and aren't judgment or weird or gross about it. there genuinely are cishet people who like it, or don't care in the sense that it doesn't bother them, but they are invested if you talk about it.

we have to stop assuming the worst. i think that's really what it comes down to.

it's a good thing if someone's 70 year old cishet grandpa comes to the pride meeting and sees that gays, lesbians, mspec people, trans people, intersex people, and other queers are just normal people. it's a good thing if the lesbian brings their supportive mom and dad. it's okay if a gay man brings their supportive mom and sister to their drag performance at the gay bar. it's okay if trans women bring their supportive cishet brothers, dads, sisters and girl friends who can help them pass or stay safe outside of queer spaces. it's okay if trans men bring their best friend who's a cishet guy and is supportive of the community to the trans meetup.

hot take but i also believe that cis gay dads with a lesbian daughter belong in lesbian spaces, too. i believe that cis lesbian moms belong in trans spaces so they can support their trans kids. i believe that cishet parents belong in gay spaces to learn more about and support their gay kids. i believe perisex cishet parents, friends and partners belong in intersex spaces so they can support their loved ones and the community. i believe that cis bi/pan/mspec men & women belong in trans spaces if they're attracted to trans people. i believe that the cishet polyamorous guy who has 4 girlfriends who all love each other gets to come to the meeting. cishet people belong at the aromantic & asexual meetings.

we need to stop assuming things about each other and let us have open discussion. it's not good to try to guess what someone else's identity is just by looking at them. that's profiling. it's just not helping. people are allowed to disclose as much or as little information as they want. asexuals and aromantics don't deserve to be talked over of course, but i feel like we've tried to erase allies in order to lift aspectrum people up and it's not the way to go. we should uplift everyone who supports us!

thanks for stopping by! i appreciate this ask a lot

[pr1nce-elias]

I'm friends with a Kevin unfortunately. he just says the most wackass shit and it's like... dude. you're a 21 year old trans guy who's been on T for years, has top surgery, lives at home with your two loving parents who love you and each other and you have fuck off money. Your parents arent homophobic or transphobic at all and send you 200 dollars a week. We are not the same!!!!!!

Don't you fucking "he's still your dad" me!!!!!!! Your dad loves you! My dad made fun of my chosen name and told me i was too much of a wuss to be trans.

This guy talks like being transmasc isn't an insanely rough experience for many people who are transmasc people and like. I'm sorry dude but when you're starting to treat me the same way many cis men do.... you need to reevaluate how you view yourself and your transmasculinity

it truly is the most privileged men who come on here acting like their experiences are universal

i’m glad that the white man kevin who lives in a blue state in the USA got to go on testosterone when he was 16 and the only misogyny he ever experienced was being told ‘you throw like a girl’ but that does not apply to all of us

why do the kevins of tumblr feel the need to downplay our oppression. i am glad that kevin never got raped or beat up or had medical care withheld from him for being a trans man but some of us don’t get to have it that easily

[canonizzyhours]

Here's the thing I feel like people don't get in all the discourse about Izzy.

In my real life I have had close friends who had stalkers. Specifically I have known more than one person who had an unhinged ex who threatened physical violence against their new partner, and sincerely believed they were doing it out of "love," for reasons like "he's not good enough for you."

I have also had multiple friends with really toxic, enmeshed, emotionally abusive parents. Parents whose own identity was so enmeshed with their child's that they felt like they had the right to control the kid's life well into adulthood. Parents who knew exactly what triggered their children and used that knowledge to manipulate them at will. Parents who tried to pressure their kids into going into professions that made them miserable, and justified it by insisting they knew better than the kid what would make them happy. Homophobic parents who bullied their kids into the closet and justified it as being for their own good, because being visibly queer would just get them hurt. They too sincerely believed they were doing this out of love.

I have also known some people who suffered pretty severe physical abuse, but in no case was it anything even remotely similar to being forced to eat your own toe.

So basically what I'm saying is, all the ways Izzy harms Ed are terrifyingly, horrifically realistic, and everything Ed does to hurt Izzy falls squarely into a category I can only describe as "Looney Tunes shit." The idea that the second category is the stuff I'm supposed to take seriously is just profoundly goofy

#444.