#i just accidentally started dating a friend

[totallynotashieldagent]

genuinely believe that every single bat would ask explicit verbal consent at every time, at every different position, at every progressive state of undress.

doesn't matter if you're married for years or started dating two weeks ago.

It's always can i kiss you? can i put it in now? can i touch you? can i cum on you? or in you? whatever is fine, really. always. every single time.

they'd ramble and stumble over words because they need to know, need to be sure that you're okay with it that what happened to them, the way their autonomy was taken by friends, strangers, enemies, they'd be damned before they even accidentally do it to someone else.

which is, for most part is very sweet and endearing and lovely

but the times when you're holding legs up for them to just CONTINUE and they stop to ask "is this fine? you're okay right?" you kind of just go, DUDE YES !!! because physical cues also are a thing but not to them

unless you say yes with exact words, there is no assumed yes

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us VI

Summary:

Things between Y.N and Aemond get tense as her due date approaches.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Petty Disagreements, Frustration, Kissing, Allusion to Sex, Labour, Child Birth.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 4750

A.N - Took Inspiration from Friends (The one where Rachel is late).

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

As Y.N’s due date approached, the final weeks of her pregnancy were a flurry of last-minute preparations.

She and Aemond made multiple trips to baby stores, ticking off the remaining items on their list: tiny baby clothes, boxes of nappies, and, of course, the pram.

Aemond, for all his intelligence and competence in other areas, found himself stumped by the bloody contraption.

One evening, they stood in the living room as he tried to fold the pram down. Y.N. sat on the sofa, watching him with growing amusement.

"How do you manage this with just a few clicks?" Aemond grumbled, pressing buttons, pulling levers, but the pram remained stubbornly upright.

Y.N. laughed so hard she clutched her belly.

"It’s not that hard. Watch." She stood up and, with a few quick movements, had the pram folded and set aside.

Aemond stared at the pram, then at her, and back at the pram. "You’re mocking me," he muttered, but a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing her joy, even at his expense, was worth the mild humiliation.

They also hosted Alicent for dinner one evening and she had practically melted at the sight of the nursery.

The soft, cream and blue décor, the dragon mobile, and the carefully arranged baby furniture brought a wide smile to her face.

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent said, her eyes bright with pride, “This is perfect. The baby will be so loved here.”

Meanwhile, Aemond had reluctantly resumed his game nights with Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena.

While he loved spending time with his siblings, Aegon’s constant teasing about Y.N. still irritated him to no end.

He was convinced that his brother harboured a playful, if not slightly serious, attraction to her.

The knowing looks Aegon would shoot him during the evenings, paired with the offhanded comments about how lucky Aemond was, drove him mad.

Yet, for Y.N.’s sake, he kept his cool—mostly.

Except for that one incident where he may or may not have accidentally on purpose shoved Aegon's head into the table when Y.N excused herself and went to the bathroom.

At home, Y.N. had taken time off from her job and settled into a comfortable routine as her pregnancy neared its end.

However, as she edged closer to 40 weeks, she grew increasingly frustrated.

"I feel like a balloon about to pop," she grumbled one evening, sprawled on the sofa while Aemond massaged her swollen feet.

Aemond, who was trying to remain calm on the outside but was secretly on pins and needles every day at work, nodded sympathetically.

"It’ll happen when the baby is ready," he said, though inside he was just as eager as she was.

Every time his phone buzzed during meetings, he found himself hoping it was her saying it was time, only to be met with disappointment.

He had taken to keeping his phone on the loudest setting, checking it obsessively, and texting her constantly to make sure she was alright.

Each day that passed without that long-awaited call made him more anxious.

The tension in the penthouse had been unbearable over the last few days. Y.N.’s growing discomfort and frustration with being overdue had turned every small annoyance into a full-blown argument.

Aemond, while trying to be as patient as possible, found himself at a loss. Everything he did seemed to irritate her.

If he tried to comfort her, she snapped. If he gave her space, she complained he was being distant. It was driving him insane, but he knew it wasn’t really her fault.

Their sex life had also dwindled into sparse encounters, because Y.N was getting too uncomfortable and Aemond was worried about hurting the baby, which Y.N took completely the wrong way and became convinced he was disgusted by her and she bawled her eyes out until he took her to bed and devoured her cunt like a starving man.

One night, things came to a head. After yet another disagreement, Y.N. stormed off to the spare room and slammed the door shut, refusing to speak to him for two days.

Aemond, for his part, left her alone, but the silence between them weighed heavily, filling the apartment with a tension that was almost suffocating.

He kept telling himself it was just the stress and hormones, but it didn’t make it any easier.

And neither did Aegon's closeness to Y.N, it would grate on Aemond consistantly, that he would bear the brunt of her frustration but Aegon would get the smiles and the joy when he would sneak her chilli cheese bites from Burger King or Hot Wings from KFC.

Even Daeron was granted her smiles but him nooooo he was only granted the version of her that resembled a man eating beast from those damn movies she liked so much.

Sometimes she would glare at him and Aemond was convinced that she was about to eat him alive.

The tension only grew worse when they attended her final midwife appointment. They sat in the examination room, the air thick with unspoken frustrations.

As they waited for the midwife, Marie, to arrive, Aemond began rhythmically tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Y.N. shot him a glare. “Tell me, Aemond, have you always been this irritating?” she snapped.

Aemond frowned, glancing over at her. "I'm not trying to irritate you."

"Well, I guess you just have a natural talent for it," she retorted, her voice sharp and biting.

Aemond sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You know, the midwife will be here soon. Maybe we shouldn’t speak until then."

Y.N. pulled a face, her irritation flaring even more. "Oh, okay then," she said mockingly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the room filled with palpable tension.

But Y.N., too restless to let it go, spoke up again.

"Seriously, Aemond, breathe louder. That’s great," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aemond clenched his jaw, shooting her a look. "You know, we should probably ask the midwife if she even knows how to deliver a baby that’s half human and half pure evil."

Before Y.N. could respond, the door opened, and Marie entered the room, wearing her usual kind smile.

"Good morning, Marie! How are you?" Y.N. greeted her with a smile that was shockingly pleasant considering the argument she’d just been having.

Aemond shot her a sideways glance, his frustration bubbling over. "Oh, so you’re nice to her," he muttered darkly.

Y.N. rounded on him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "She has the drugs," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Marie, ever professional, pretended not to notice the exchange as she began her checkup.

"Alright, Y.N., let’s have a quick look," she said gently. Y.N. lay back on the examination table, opening her legs as Marie prepared for the exam.

"Eight days late now, huh? You must be getting pretty uncomfortable," Marie commented sympathetically.

Y.N. let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, just a bit," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Aemond scoffed beside her, but said nothing more.

Marie began the examination, then smiled up at them. "Well, you’re 80% effaced, so things are definitely progressing. But it could still take a little while longer," she explained. "If you’re feeling anxious, there are a few ways to help things along."

"Do them" Aemond blurted out, leaning forward.

The stress of the last few days, combined with his helplessness in this situation, was starting to show.

Marie gave him an understanding smile. "Actually, they’re things you can do at home. Some natural remedies that have been shown to be effective in helping labour along."

Y.N. nodded eagerly. "We’re ready to try anything," she said.

Marie began to list off the options. "Well, there’s an herbal tea you can try, eating spicy food, and taking long walks—"

"Great," Y.N. interrupted. "I’ll do those."

Marie smiled but hesitated for a moment before continuing. "However, there’s one remedy that’s proven to be most effective in encouraging labour-and that’s sex."

Y.N. looked at Aemond with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but Aemond’s face immediately fell into a look of disbelief.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Aemond and Y.N sat in the penthouse, the dinner table littered with empty plates from what felt like the hundredth spicy meal they'd shared in hopes of triggering labour.

Y.N poked at her remaining enchilada, sighing in frustration.

"Aemond, we've tried all the spicy food. It's not working," she said, exasperated.

Aemond, ever determined, pushed a small plate toward her.

"Okay, how about one of these peppers? It’s supposed to be really hot." He sounded so sure of himself, as he picked on up and took a bite.

Gasping in surprise when the spice burnt his mouth.

Y.N looked at him, rolled her eyes, but took the pepper anyway, popping it into her mouth.

She chewed it with no visible reaction, much to Aemond’s disbelief.

His eye widened as he watched her, while he took a sip of water to cool his burning tongue.

"I feel nothing," she said, almost too casually, as Aemond continued to sip from his glass. Y.N then looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Speaking of hot, watching you struggle with that pepper really makes me want to have sex with you."

Aemond nearly choked on his water, setting the glass down with a thud.

"Stop it," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, come on," Y.N teased. "Why are we wasting time with all this other stuff? We know what's going to work. It's midwife recommended."

"We have to have some boundaries," Aemond said sternly, his resolve trying to hold firm.

Y.N scoffed. "You didn’t care about boundaries when you were putting the baby in there." She crossed her arms and raised a brow at him.

Aemond shot her a look. "As I recall, you were also an active participant."

Y.N waved her hand dismissively. "That’s not the point, and you know it."

Aemond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’m not going to make love to you just so you’ll go into labour."

Y.N laughed loudly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Make love? What are you, a girl?"

"Always a great way to get into a man’s pants," Aemond muttered sarcastically, rolling his eye.

"No-come on wuss, make loooove to me" said Y.N smirking.

"Seriously-" exclaimed Aemond.

Y.N leaned forward, her voice dripping with humour. "Come on, just think of it as providing a service. Just think of me as a ketchup bottle—sometimes you’ve gotta bang on the end of it to get something out."

Aemond shot her a deadpan look, his voice flat. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Aemy-" Y.N whined, pouting a little as she leaned her elbows on the table. "I’m miserable here." She looked at him with wide eyes, batting her lashes playfully, and the use of her nickname for him weakened his resolve.

Aemond clenched his jaw. "You—what—never mind."

"What, Aemy? Are you not going to talk?" she teased, mockingly. "How on earth will you ever annoy me? Oh, wait a minute, I know—" She exaggerated her breathing, mimicking the way Aemond breathed loudly, then added with a smirk, "You’d think that damn pepper would’ve cleared your sinuses, but nooo-"

Before she could say anything more, Aemond lunged toward her, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss that took her by surprise.

Y.N blinked up at him, breathless. "What are you doing?"

He took her hand firmly, standing up and pulling her toward the bedroom, his face set with determination. "I’m getting that baby out of you."

Aemond was jolted awake by the sound of a pained cry and the sharp clatter of glass smashing. His heart pounded in his chest as he shot up in bed, immediately noticing that Y.N. wasn’t beside him.

Panic surged through him as he leapt out of bed, rushing toward the source of the noise.

Entering the kitchen, he found Y.N. hunched over, clutching the counter, her face twisted in pain. A shattered glass lay scattered across the floor.

"Y.N.?" he called out, his voice tight with concern.

She turned her head toward him, her face pale and strained. "I think it's time," she gasped before letting out another cry, her body wracked with pain.

Without hesitation, Aemond carefully made his way over, avoiding the broken glass, and gently took her hand. She clung to him, shaking as he helped move her away from the mess.

Y.N. suddenly gasped, looking down as a trickle of water began to run down her legs. Her wide eyes met his, fear and excitement swirling within them.

"It's definitely time," Aemond confirmed, trying to remain calm despite the rapid thudding of his heart.

"I need to get changed first," she whispered through laboured breaths.

Aemond helped her to the bedroom, supporting her as they slowly made their way across the penthouse.

He carefully dressed her in comfortable clothes, his fingers trembling as he moved. Then he quickly threw on jeans and a shirt, grabbing the suitcase Y.N. had packed weeks ago.

Just as they were about to leave, another contraction hit, and Y.N. cried out in pain, her hand clutching Aemond’s forearm tightly.

His heart ached at the sight of her discomfort, but he stayed steady, whispering reassurances.

"You're doing great. Just breathe," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

He grabbed his car keys, and together, they made their way out of the penthouse.

The drive to the hospital was agonizing for Aemond, though he tried his best to keep calm.

Every pained cry or sharp gasp from Y.N. made his hands tighten on the wheel, his heart clenching painfully.

He hated seeing her in so much discomfort, knowing there was little he could do but get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Finally, they arrived. Aemond parked the car and immediately helped Y.N. inside, gripping her hand as she leaned on him for support.

He helped her check in at the front desk, and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice trembling.

"Please, don’t leave me," she whispered, her fear evident.

Aemond's heart clenched, and he pulled her closer, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "I won’t ever leave you. I promise."

"I-I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you"

"It's ok-it's all forgotten" replied Aemond.

As she was being checked over by the nurses, Aemond quickly sent off a text to his mother, letting her know that Y.N. was in labour.

He then shot off a quick message to Helaena, knowing she’d take care of informing Aegon and Daeron.

The moment he heard Y.N. calling for him, his phone was forgotten. He rushed back into the room, his heart pounding with urgency.

"I'm here," he said softly, taking her hand in his as he knelt beside her. "I’m not going anywhere."

Hours had passed, and the labour had intensified. Y.N was in agony as each contraction ripped through her body, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Aemond remained at her side the entire time, unable to bear seeing her like this. His heart ached with every pained cry she made.

He had lashed out at the midwives more than once, demanding they do something—anything—to help her.

But all they could do was reassure him that everything was progressing as it should.

Despite his own helpless frustration, Aemond never let go of Y.N's hand, even as she squeezed it with such force he was sure his bones would crack under the pressure.

But he would endure it without a second thought. Pressing kisses to her sweat-soaked forehead, he whispered constant encouragement, telling her to breathe, reminding her she was doing great.

And then, it was time to push.

Y.N cried out, her strength nearly spent. "I don’t know if I can keep doing this," she gasped, her voice trembling with exhaustion.

Aemond immediately leaned in, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice low but firm. "Yes, you can. You’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I can’t live without you." His words were filled with so much love and admiration that despite her pain, Y.N found the strength to push again.

The midwife, Marie, encouraged her as the baby’s head crowned. "Just one more, Y.N. You’re so close!"

With a final scream, Y.N pushed, and suddenly, the sound of a baby’s strong, healthy cries filled the room.

Aemond’s voice trembled as he whispered, "He’s here. Oh, gods, he’s here."

Y.N, exhausted, collapsed back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

But Aemond’s joyful cry brought her back. She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up, her chest heaving as she took in the sight of their newborn son.

Aemond, eyes filled with unshed tears, helped her sit up, his hands trembling.

As Marie placed the squalling, wriggling newborn onto Y.N's chest, happy tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, he’s so beautiful," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion as she gazed down at their son.

Aemond, who rarely allowed his emotions to show so openly, sobbed quietly as he stared at the tiny life they had created.

His eye was glued to the baby’s small, delicate features—his tiny hands, his soft, silver hair, and those piercing blue eyes.

"He looks just like you," Y.N said softly, running her fingers through the baby’s soft hair. She smiled up at Aemond, who was rendered speechless by the overwhelming love he felt.

His child. Their son.

Marie gently asked, "Does he have a name?"

Y.N nodded, her voice filled with pride and love. "Jack Aemond Targaryen."

As the midwife, Marie, finished wrapping up baby Jack in a soft blanket, she turned to Aemond and asked, "Would you like to hold your son?"

Aemond froze, panic flashing in his eye. "I-I've never held a baby before."

Marie smiled reassuringly. "Don’t worry, I’ll show you how." With practiced hands, she gently placed Jack into Aemond’s arms, guiding him on how to support his tiny head.

Slowly, Aemond’s tension melted as he adjusted, the weight of his son both heavy with responsibility and light as a feather.

Before he knew it, Aemond was grinning, a quiet, proud smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at his son. Jack squirmed slightly but remained peaceful in his arms, so small and perfect.

Aemond's chest tightened with an overwhelming rush of emotion. The world around him seemed to blur, everything else vanishing as he stared at the life he had helped create.

As the midwives began tending to Y.N and the afterbirth, Aemond remained mesmerized by his son. The reality of fatherhood hit him hard in this quiet moment.

When Y.N had first told him she was pregnant, he had offered his support immediately, without hesitation. But deep down, he’d been terrified. His own father had been distant, cold—an example of everything a father shouldn’t be.

Aemond had no idea how to be a good father, how to give his son the love and care he deserved.

But now, holding Jack in his arms, a surge of love, unlike anything he had ever felt, filled him. He vowed silently, with everything in him, that his son would never feel the same isolation and neglect that he had experienced.

Jack would always know he was loved, that Aemond was there for him in every way. He would give his son the attention and affection that he himself had longed for.

Once Y.N had been helped and everything was sorted, Marie mentioned she could take a shower to freshen up.

Aemond carefully placed Jack in his cot and immediately went to help Y.N. She was a bit unsteady on her feet, the exhaustion of labour evident, so Aemond stayed close, supporting her as they made their way to the bathroom.

He washed her hair gently, his hands tender as he helped her clean up, mindful of her every movement.

She had already started bleeding, so he helped her with the pad and assisted in getting her dressed.

When they returned, he had pulled a few strings and arranged for Y.N. to have a private room.

Once she was comfortable and laid in bed, Aemond couldn’t resist stroking her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, soft and full of love.

Y.N's fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, and she whispered, "You keep kissing me."

Aemond pulled back slightly, worry creeping in. Was he pushing too much? Overwhelming her with affection when she might need space?

"Do you-want me to stop?" he asked, his voice careful, trying to hide his uncertainty.

Y.N’s fingers brushed over her lips, and she quickly replied, "No."

A wide smile broke across Aemond's face, his relief and happiness palpable. "I'm happy, Y.N. So happy."

She touched his face, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. "So am I."

This was it—the moment he had been waiting for. Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a deep breath.

Now or never. He leaned closer, his heart swelling with emotion. "I-I want to tell you that I lov—"

Before the words could leave his lips, the door burst open. Aegon strutted in, followed closely by Alicent, Daeron, and Helaena.

Aemond bit back a groan, his moment lost as his family swarmed into the room.

Alicent’s face lit up with joy as she carefully took Jack into her arms for the first time. Her eyes softened as she gazed down at her first grandchild, her smile tender and full of love.

"Oh, he's beautiful," she whispered. She gently rocked him, her heart swelling as she savoured the moment. “What’s his name?”

Aemond, standing proudly beside Y.N’s bed, smiled and said, “Jack.”

Alicent raised her brows slightly, surprised. “Jack? It’s not very Targaryen,” she remarked, though her tone was more curious than critical.

Aemond nodded. “It’s in honour of Y.N’s grandfather.”

At that, Alicent’s face softened even more. She nodded approvingly, clearly touched by the gesture.

"That's lovely," she said, staring down at her grandson with pride and affection.

Of course, Aegon couldn’t resist making his presence known. “So, Y.N.,” he asked with a mischievous grin, “how much did it hurt?”

Y.N. narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. “How about I kick you in the balls, and then you’ll have an idea?”

Aegon grimaced, backing off slightly as Daeron burst into laughter. “She’s got you there,” Daeron teased, clapping Aegon on the back.

Meanwhile, Helaena stood nearby, completely mesmerized by her tiny nephew. She leaned in, peering at him with wide, curious eyes. “He’s so perfect,” she murmured, utterly enamoured.

Suddenly, Jack began to cry, his small face scrunching up as the sound filled the room.

Alicent chuckled softly. “Sounds like someone is hungry,” she said as she carefully handed him back to Y.N.

Y.N. exposed her breast and gently guided Jack to latch on, and he began to nurse immediately, his cries fading.

A moment of quiet awe fell over the room as they watched the newborn find comfort in his mother’s arms.

Daeron shook his head in disbelief, glancing over at Aemond. “I still can’t believe you’re a dad,” he said, smiling.

Aemond, beaming with pride, hugged his younger brother. “Neither can I,” he admitted, his voice full of wonder.

Aegon, true to form, was less subtle. His attention was quickly drawn to Y.N. breastfeeding. “Whoa, look at him go. He’s definitely your kid, Aemond.”

Without missing a beat, Aemond slapped Aegon on the back of the head. “Don’t look at her breast, you pervert.”

Aegon shrugged, rubbing his head. “It was an accident.”

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, glared at him. “Get the fuck out,” he demanded.

Leaning over, Aegon pressed a soft kiss to Y.N.’s forehead. “I’ll come back soon.”

Y.N., still nursing Jack, smiled up at him and said, “Can you bring me a chocolate bar and some Lucozade when you do?”

 “Anything for you, Y.N.,” said Aegon with a cheeky grin as he sauntered out of the room, completely ignoring Aemond’s death glare.

As Aegon left, Daeron leaned in and whispered to Aemond, “He’s doing it on purpose. Ignore him, and he’ll give up.”

Aemond huffed. “He’ll give up when my fist is in his face.”

Y.N. suddenly yawned, exhausted from the day’s events. Noticing, Aemond turned to the others. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day. It’s time for Y.N. to rest.”

Alicent leaned over and kissed Y.N. gently on the cheek. “You did so well, my dear. Rest now,” she said softly.

Helaena smiled warmly. “I’ll make some meals for you both, so you won’t have to worry about cooking once you’re home.”

Aemond nodded in gratitude as Daeron gave him a firm clap on the back.

“Take care of her and the little one,” Daeron said, waving goodbye to Y.N. as the family made their way out.

After Jack finished nursing, Aemond carefully lifted him to rub his back, gently patting until the baby let out a small burp.

Smiling, Aemond placed him in the little cot beside Y.N. and tucked him in under the soft blanket Helaena had made.

Y.N., exhausted but happy, looked at Aemond. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

Aemond nodded immediately. “Of course.”

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over him.

He glanced down at their sleeping son, so small and perfect, and then over to Y.N., who had already begun to drift off, her breathing steady and calm.

Aemond smiled to himself, squeezing her hand gently, thinking how lucky he was to have both of them in his life.

Aemond hurried back to the penthouse, his mind still swirling with the overwhelming realization that he was now a father.

He moved almost on autopilot as he showered and changed into fresh clothes, but the feeling of awe and disbelief remained.

He had a son. His son. It felt surreal.

As he was about to leave for the hospital, he decided to stop by a florist and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers—Y.N.’s favourite.

He wanted to make her smile, to show her how much she meant to him, especially after everything she'd just gone through.

Returning to the hospital, Aemond's good mood evaporated the moment he walked into the room and saw Aegon sitting beside the bed, holding Jack. His brows furrowed as he asked, “Where is Y.N.?”

Aegon, lounging comfortably, glanced up with a grin. “She’s just nipped for a shower. She asked me to watch Jack. Is that okay with you?” he added with a slightly cheeky tone, knowing it would irk Aemond.

Aemond narrowed his eye but sighed. “I suppose so.”

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Y.N. appeared, looking refreshed in clean pyjamas, her hair wrapped in a towel.

A bright smile crossed her face when she saw Aemond standing there. “Oh, you’re back!” she said warmly, walking over to him.

Aemond wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips before handing her the sunflowers.

Y.N.’s face lit up as she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you,” she said, kissing him again.

Aemond, still basking in her smile, then turned his attention to Jack. He took the baby from Aegon, holding his son close to his chest, instantly feeling that surge of love again as he stared at the tiny face nestled in his arms.

Meanwhile, Aegon reached for a small carrier bag sitting next to him. “Oh, by the way, I got you something,” he said, handing it to Y.N.

She peeked inside and immediately let out a squeal of excitement. “A chocolate bar and Lucozade!”

She hugged Aegon in appreciation before eagerly unwrapping the chocolate and taking a big bite. “You have no idea how much I needed this,” she sighed contentedly.

Aemond watched with a small smile but raised an eyebrow when Y.N. turned to him with more news. “Oh, while you were gone, the midwives said I could go home.”

His smile faded slightly with concern. “Already? Isn’t it a little too soon?”

Y.N. shook her head. “I’d much rather be at home. We can start getting Jack into a routine, and I’ll be more comfortable there.”

Aemond considered it for a moment before nodding. It did make sense. He wanted them home, too—where he could make sure both Y.N. and Jack had everything they needed. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Aegon piped up then, smirking. “I’ll give you guys a hand.”

Aemond shot him a look. “I’m more than capable of handling it.”

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, but if you’re carrying Jack, you can’t expect Y.N. to carry her suitcase after just having a baby.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, annoyed but unable to argue. Aegon was right.

Before he could reply, the midwife entered the room with a smile and a folder of paperwork. “I’ve got your discharge papers here,” she said, glancing at Y.N. and then Jack.

Aemond sighed, knowing that Aegon’s presence would continue to irritate him, but he focused on the positive—his family was going home, and that was what mattered most.

TBC

[songbirdseung]

i did it first / park jongseong

where cute, playful, and innocent arguments with your boyfriend are welcomed and appreciate as they lead into the sweetest moments genre fluff, established relationship

as you and jay walk back to the car after your date, the cool evening air still carrying the warmth of your laughter and lingering touches, you can’t help but feel a little smug. tonight had been perfect—dinner at your favorite restaurant, a walk along the river, and now a comfortable car ride back home. but as soon as you both climb in and buckle up, jay’s signature teasing smirk reappears, and you already know what’s about to happen.

“you know you’re wrong, right?” jay starts, his voice playful, throwing a quick glance your way as he starts the engine. “i definitely loved you first.”

you roll your eyes, half-expecting this after a night like tonight. "oh, please. there is no way that’s true. i’m the one who fell for you first!"

jay laughs under his breath, pulling out onto the road. "y/n, you can tell yourself whatever makes you feel better, but we both know i fell first. you didn’t even realize i existed at first."

crossing your arms, you lean back in your seat, your competitive side already on high alert. "are you kidding me? i knew exactly who you were. remember that time i ‘accidentally’ bumped into you in the library? that was totally planned, just so i could talk to you.”

he gives you a side-eye, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "oh yeah? well, i noticed you way before that. i was already into you the first time you asked me what time class started. you literally already knew, but i could tell you just wanted to talk to me."

"and you think that means you fell first?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "i strategically sat near you during every lunch period! i even switched friend groups just to get closer to you."

jay shakes his head, smiling as he recalls those moments. "okay, but who was the one who went out of his way to offer you help in chemistry? even though i was just as lost as you were?"

you can’t help but laugh at that memory, your attempts to look like you understood the periodic table just as hopeless as jay’s. "oh, please. that was nothing compared to when i pretended i needed help with my project just so i could come over to your place.”

jay glances over at you, raising his eyebrows. "you did know how to finish that project, didn’t you?"

“of course i did! but i wanted an excuse to spend time with you,” you admit with a playful smile, knowing that your antics back then were nothing short of ridiculous.

“remember the time i stayed up all night baking cookies for your birthday? that definitely means i was in love with you before you even had a clue.”

“those cookies were good, but come on, y/n,” jay says, grinning as he keeps his eyes on the road. “i was the one who found out your favorite drink at that coffee shop you went to every morning, and then i ‘just so happened’ to show up there at the same time.”

"oh please, anyone could’ve done that," you shoot back, laughing. “i took hours picking out your birthday gift that year. i went to three different stores to find something you’d like.”

jay's laugh bubbles up, shaking his head. "okay, fine. but do you remember when i walked you home in the rain after class, even though i didn’t have an umbrella and was soaked by the time we got to your place?"

you bite your lip, remembering that moment vividly. you had felt guilty for days afterward, thinking he’d catch a cold just because he didn’t want you to walk home alone. "alright, that was sweet, but it still doesn’t prove you loved me first."

jay rolls his eyes playfully. "yes, it does. i was the one who volunteered to carry your books every day even though you insisted you didn’t need help.”

"oh, so now you’re just gonna keep using the ‘nice guy’ routine?" you tease, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. "because i waited for you outside your basketball practices just to see you for like five seconds."

“and i,” jay interjects, “started wearing cologne because you once told me that you liked how a guy smelled when he walked by in class. i literally changed my entire scent just for you.”

you burst out laughing at his confession. "are you serious? i had no idea! that’s actually kinda cute.”

“yeah, well, i was pretty obsessed with you,” jay admits, a sheepish grin on his face.

as you both make your way to the front door, the conversation picks right back up, neither of you ready to let the other win. the entire way up the stairs to your apartment, you continue to volley back and forth, trying to outdo each other’s arguments with more memories and playful jabs.

“i showed up to your first big presentation, remember? i even sat through two hours of boring speeches just to support you,” you say, sliding off your shoes by the door.

jay follows closely behind, grinning. "well, i drove two hours to surprise you at that concert you were dying to go to, even though i hate crowds."

you stop in the middle of the hallway, turning to face him. “oh, so now it’s a contest of who made the biggest sacrifice?”

jay laughs, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watches you. "well, if it is, then i’m winning. i literally skipped out on a game with my friends just to hang out with you at that café. and i never miss game night.”

you shake your head, feeling your heart swell at how much effort he had put in. "okay, fine. but remember the time i took care of you when you got sick? i stayed up all night just to make sure you were okay.”

jay smirks, stepping closer to you. "and who was the one who brought you soup when you had that horrible cold and couldn’t get out of bed?"

"you did," you admit with a smile. "but that still doesn’t mean you loved me first."

jay takes another step closer, his grin softening into something sweeter, more intimate. "you really want to keep this going, huh?”

you nod, crossing your arms and trying to look defiant, even though your heart is racing.

“fine,” jay says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper as he stands right in front of you now, eyes locked with yours. “there’s only one way to settle this.”

before you can respond, he gently cups your face in his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss that melts away any lingering debate between you. his kiss is warm and sweet, like a silent reminder of how much he loves you, whether he fell first or not.

when he finally pulls away, you’re both smiling, breathless but content.

"now will you admit that i loved you first?" he asks, his forehead resting gently against yours.

you laugh, shaking your head slightly. "not a chance."

jay chuckles, pulling you into his arms as he hugs you tightly. "fine. as long as you know i love you now."

“that,” you whisper, snuggling into his chest, "i know for sure."

and with that, the playful argument fades away and whoever fell first be damned.

[gogoconveniencestore]

mclaren boys texts or headcannons when they realise theyve fallen for a guy for the first time and are lowkey freaking out? lol

-bear anon

WAIT WAIT WAIT!!! I THOUGHT WE WERE JUST FRIENDS!!!

Synopsis: While you think you're kinda friends (wishing it was more) you don't know that your bestfriend, a McLaren F1 driver, is actually in love with you!

OSCAR PIASTRI:

You had known him for a few (7) months and had become fast best friends.

About 3 months ago it had come out the Lily was cheating on him (sorry to the fans :(((() and he was devastated

Through the hard time you were there for him around a month after he had found was when he started to realize he had a crush on you and he PANICKED

He was used to fans shipping him with Lando but that wasn't a crush

It took him a while to come to terms that well maybe he WASN'T straight

He was trying to text his mother about his crush on you but he accidentally sent it you

Little did he know you'd been planning to ask him

He was overjoyed and begged you to come to all his races and who were you to say no?

LANDO NORRIS:

You were his childhood friend and had been there for him during the hardest times in his life

Along with that he ALWAYS made you come to his races

Needless to say most people already thought you two were dating...

And MAYBE he told the other drivers you two were dating

He definitely did so you got some questions from the others

Which was a minor inconvenience especially when he never asked you out

You weren't mad more confused

So you decided to confront him about it, not thinking it'd be too serious

He started sobbing

You felt like a piece of shit because he'd just won a race

And now he was sobbing in his drivers room because he thought you hated him now and never wanted to see him again

You had to explain that you could never hate him

In fact you do love him and that it just caught you off guard he was telling people you were dating

Needless to say you had a crying newly appointed boyfriend in your arms

[starfoam-saloon]

HNNNNN

Twst au but instead it goes like this;

One of the twst boys(whoever) ends up getting transported to your world with no magic. They wake up in your house after you help them when you found them in the alleyway on your way home like ouch dude. You find out they aren’t from this world after they do some magic so you guys spend the entire summer helping each other and comforting them since they have issues with themselves and being homesick or something. Yadda yadda yall fall in love and are dating during it.

One day, miraculously on the last day of summer, yall find the mirror and that twst boy is sent back after yall promise to find each other again. Maybe like a years later(idk imagine time runs differently there) you’re getting ready for bed and you wake up in that coffin.

Something something and you end up starting your first day at NRC. Yayyyy!!!! And when you meet the twisted wonderland guy, at first glance yall immediately know each other and yall are just being cute and everyone who knows you is like “HUH???” Imagine meeting Ace and he can’t bully you cause oh no that’s his idiot. Meeting riddle and he immediately calms down. Meeting Lilia and silver is just like “huh.” Or it could be the other way around. Ruggie seeing Leona all soft and he’s just like “when???!?!!??” It’s such a funny concept to me cause imagine you and Ace are together and your friends are like “Ace how did you pull on the first day” and before Ace can stroke his ego you just say “he stuttered 15 times trying to ask me out”

OH OH imagine meeting Vil and he’s like “and who is- oh hello dear- and WHAT-???” Vil tenderly holding you as the rest of the VDC group is just shocked that Vil mr popular had a lover. Or any of Octavinelle thinking it’s a bit strange that one of them is really good at walking since they don’t believe either of them when they said they went to the human world for the entire summer. Jade or Floyd just think the other explored the ocean the entire summer idk—

Jamil angst a bit cause he thought the one he loved would never be here again and feels slightly betrayed when they ask for help from Azul of all people. But just appreciates them entirely either way cause yeah. If you’re dating either of the overblot boys I guarantee they aren’t gonna let you get in the way and might keep you at a distance while you try to help your friends. (Yum favoritism)

Or dating one of the RSA boys so imagine their shock when Chen’ya kisses you at an Unbirthday party when he steals some food. Or Neige hugging you and saying all kinds of honeyed words with heart eyes as he sees you again. Is a bit sad you’re in NRC.

AND MY FAVORITE ROLLO!!! Like imagine he’s just being all dramatic and he sees his lover and just opens his arms cause he knows they’re gonna jump in them. Rollo trying to not be jealous since Mallues seems to care a bit too much about his lover(Mal just wanna be a good friend I swear). He keeps you in the bell tower to try and not get you hurt but you end up accidentally falling with the others. Yadda yadda, you stay with Trein even if you’re the most stubborn person on the planet, and you eventually pull him to the side before Malleus can do his whole ‘imagine losing to me lmao’ thingy ig. And the two of you talk but you two eventually just love and care for the other and when you leave the others are asking if y’all broke up to which you reply “um… nuh uh.” While holding a letter from Rollo so you two can write to each other (he texted while he cans and calls you but he likes to send letters since he thinks it’s romantic and reminds him of the love letter he gave you in the summer in your world.)

They love you lots, so don’t be too surprised if they feel like they want you to stay here with them. :(

IF ANYONE MAKES A FIC OF THIS USING EITHER THEIR TWST OC/SELF INSERT/ READER PLEASE @ ME/TAG ME I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YALLS THINGS WITH THE IDEA I HAD PLSPLSPLPS☹️☹️

[menlove]

all the girlies who cannot reliably distinguish between platonic and romantic feelings and it has lead you to some unfortunate situations in ur time raise ur hands

[queerdiazs]

snippet sunday ⛈

this is WAY more than seven sentences but sometimes i just can't be bothered to count, especially after the day i had okay

but please enjoy hoa eddie being an absolute fuckin menace

“Actually, Mr. Diaz,” Henry starts, and it’s the tone of his voice, snarky and superior and fuck, Eddie’s encountered enough people in his life with this attitude to know he’s not the one, spent enough time in detention at school to know he’s not the one, but he spins around, anyway, because he’s a glutton, “you have to pay ten dollars for every person that spends the night.”  “Huh?”  “Yes,” Henry plows on, as if he’s clarified something. Eddie’s just as lost now as he was two seconds ago. “Your friend—Buck, I think. You have to pay ten dollars for every guest that stays over.”  That’s stupid. Like, his son is a popular kid, right, and he’s got loads of friends—more than Eddie ever had at that age but hey, his kid is fucking amazing—and now that he has a larger house with an even larger backyard, he knows there’s going to be weekends where his place is full of teenagers. He’s not paying ten dollars a head for Christopher’s friends.  Besides, Buck has his own room at the house. That has to count for something.  “He’s not a guest. My home is his home, too.”   Henry shrugs. “I don’t make the rules,” he says, and Eddie’s pretty sure that’s a lie since his photo is hanging up on the wall behind his chair. “Unless they’re part of the household or a partner, you have—” “He is.”  “Excuse me?”  An idea forms in the front of Eddie’s brain, one his sister’s would be laughing over since they’ve always had a way of reading his mind, and says, “He is. Buck, I mean. He’s my partner.”  “Romantic?”  Eddie makes a noise. “Does it matter?” He snorts a laugh, one that hurts his throat, and shoves his hand through his hair because he has got to get himself under control. What the fuck is he doing? “He’s my—my Buck. He’s mine.”  “Oh.” Henry taps his fingers against the desk. “I didn’t know that.”  “Yeah, well, it’s none of your business,” Eddie bites, a little meaner than he ought to be, but he can’t be blamed. Buck and Chris are waiting at home for him with dinner and dessert, and he’s here, haggling with a stranger over the special place Buck holds in his heart, and Buck’s worth ten dollars, worth ten gazillion dollars, more, yeah, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Now, I’m going home to him and my son. I’ll see you later, Harley.”  He snatches a pamphlet off the desk, turns around, again, and makes his way out of the office, ignoring the flustered call of, “My name’s Henry, actually!” because he’s tired, worked a 12 hour shift without his normal team because he owed a favor to the rookie on B shift, and he wants to go home, needs to go home to relax and decompress and eat some fucking cake, and this little club isn’t going to ruin another one of his nights. 

i was tagged by @hippolotamus, @jesuisici33, @callaplums, @honestlydarkprincess, @wikiangela, and @daffi-990

and i'm gonna no pressure tag @callmenewbie, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @exhuastedpigeon, @try-set-me-on-fire, @ladydorian05, and anybody else mwah

[fedorasaurus]

Video games are so stressful sometimes, like, you just want to befriend everyone, but then you say the wrong dialogue option and they either hate you or you accidentally romance them.

[eggmeralda]

when I was 19 in 2019 I got these Vibes about 2023, it wouldn't be good or bad it would just be a Significant year

2020 was so bad that 2021 could only be better, it started good and then I got paranoid that 2022 was gonna be bad in comparison, so I mentally prepared myself for 2022 months in advance

then by the summer 2021 suddenly became worse than all of 2020 combined, but it improved by about september

bc of the mentally preparing myself months before, 2022 was amazing, but bc it started so good I got the feeling that it wouldn't end well

the last 4 months were pretty bad, and then came 2023

I got many different vibes for it over the past 4 years, but one of the main things was that there'd been a pattern going since 2015

2015: extremely good

2016: extremely bad

2017: average

2018: pretty decent

2019: extremely good

2020: extremely bad

2021: average

2022: pretty decent

so 2023 was expected to be really good? but also it had to get up from 2022's bad ending so the goodness was gradual

my brain is prepared for a good last 4 months to compare to 2022's bad last 4 months

but also following the pattern, 2024 should be extremely bad, and once I've got the thought in my head that a year will be bad, there's no going back. which would explain the extremely bad year following an extremely good year

2015 and 2019 were unreal, which meant 2016 and 2020 would've looked bad in comparison no matter what, so they just completely gave up and decided to be awful

but anyway it's 'getting paranoid about next year' season, also I can never escape the patterns of time etc etc

[cloudshapedpatch]

unfortunately i've now slept with 2 out of 5 of my friend's band members and the other three think it's hilarious and keep calling me their groupie

[alkibiadessuperfan]

who would have thought that seeing a friend would make everything better?

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul

in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members

➺ bitchin - by @kinktae

summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien

summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton

summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts

summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts

summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces

➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie

summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons

summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

➺ changes in between - by @taegularities

summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie

summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

➺ sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild

summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae

summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash

summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.

➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates

summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

W.C › 6.4k

Warning › bottom male reader. Reader has a cock and is mentioned to have slept with girls and boys. No set character, this is an OC, but you can imagine anyone

Plot › basically just this idea I had but expanded

Kinks › manhandling, accidental creampie, cross dressing, lite feminization, mirror sex, hint of dom/sub relation

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

To say you were a playboy was an understatement. New girl every week was you being nice. Now, as a senior, you didn’t care as much anymore.

Which led you to your current predicament.

You’d practically ran through the entire school by now and you were… bored.

The first years didn’t interest you. And you’d already gone through the pretty people in third and second year. It was looking like you’d have to start branching out to schools nearby.

A sigh left you as you plopped down at your seat, flicking at a lint of dust on your desk. It was lunch time and you weren’t feeling hungry. Well you were hungry for sex but not for food.

“Man, (L.Name), view this as a good thing! It’s lucky you haven’t gotten an STD by now.” Your friend, Ryun, said as he ate from his bento box. You only gave him a huff.

“I use condoms. They work, 99.9%!”

“Sure. I’m surprised none of the girls have gotten pregnant yet.”

Ryun let out a howl as you kicked his knee underneath the desk. “I fuck guys too! You should be wondering if I’m pregnant.”

“Wha—(L.Name), you can’t get pregnant.”

You shrugged. “You never know.”

“Are you insane?”

“Should you really be asking the resident slut that?” A voice cut in. Your eyebrows rose as you turned to see who was so bold to call you that only to see it was another one of your friends.

“Sana…! That’s so mean! I’m not a slut.” You whined as she plopped down at the desk beside you. She only gave you a knowing look before digging into her own bento.

“Ryun!” You looked straight at him. “Am I a slut?”

“Do you really want me to answer that…?”

“GAH!! Ryun~~~!” You whined, pouting heavily as you rubbed at your face in annoyance. The two ignored your childish behavior as you finally began to start eating your bento. It was a comfortable silence for a moment before a ding popped in your head.

“Oh no…” Ryun muttered, knowing that look in your eyes.

You leaned in close, grinning. “Guys.. This senior year, I should go for someone special!”

Sana sighed. “Who? Who haven’t you fucked by now?”

A teasing grin pulled on your lips as you motioned for them to come closer. As they pulled in, you looked around to make sure no one was ease dropping and giggled in excitement.

“Ito Yuki.”

A pin could be heard as Ryun and Sana stared at you for a moment. Their faces slowly contorting into something of pure disgust and disappointment.

“Him?! Student Council president, Ito Yuki?!” Sana whispered yelled.

“Mhm. I’ve never even noticed him before until now! You should’ve seen him. He still has those ugly glasses but he’s buffed up! What’s he training for?” You joked, laughing loudly in the quiet classroom.

Ryun groaned. “No way. Ito doesn’t date. Ever since he got ‘buff’ he has had girls tripping for him. But he’s turned them down! Every last one of them.”

Sana nodded in agreement. “Yeah. No way he’d get with you—especially with your reputation of dumping people after a week!”

“But that’s a good thing!” You cried. “If he’s never dated before, that means he’s a virgin!! Inexperienced!! Those are the best, especially in boys!”

“Gross, (L.Name).” The two said in unison.

You pouted. “Aah! You guys don’t understand!”

“I’d rather not,” Ryun countered.

“You’re just really perverted, (L.Name). And so weird. You won’t even let us call you by your first name.” Sana said, rolling her eyes.

“But he has no problem letting someone see his flat ass.” Ryun chuckled.

“My ass is not flat!” You gasped. “I’ll prove it—”

“—NO!!!”

You sat back down with a huff. Yeah, you were weird. Sana and Ryun, your friends since diapers didn’t use your first name. Only your mother and father did but you didn’t even like them saying it either. For some reason, it just sounds.. off hearing it from people.

There didn’t seem to be a real reason. You just didn’t like it. Though you’ve been hoping that one day someone would say your first name and you wouldn’t immediately grimace.

Oh well. You had more pressing matters.

And that was Student Council President Ito Yuki.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“How are you going to ask him out?” Ryun asked, pulling out his bento. It’s been a week since your declaration to take Ito Yuki’s virginity but you haven’t really done anything. Mainly because he’s always doing student council president shit. Always so busy.

“Like how I ask everyone out.” You said, popping a grape into your mouth.

“Serious?” Sana gasped. “That unromantic shit you do? Gosh, people here have such low standards. I hope he rejects you.”

You gave her a tight glare and threw a grape at her, grinning when it hit her right on her nose. You weren’t unromantic so to say. But… your proposals left much to desire. You had a a short and sweet line.

“Hey, you’re hot. Wanna make out?”

You thought it was romantic but Sana believed the students here just didn’t have enough self respect. Both were probably true.

“Why would anyone reject this?” You sensually pull down your blazer to show off your collarbone and give Sana a flirty lip bite. She gagged immediately.

Ryun hummed. “I can think of many reasons why someone would reject you.”

“Ack! You two suck! Where’s the motivation?! ‘Ah, (L.Name), you’re so hot!! Who would ever say no to you?!’ Like huh??”

“You don’t need anymore compliments. Your head is about damn near jelly from your narcissism.” Ryun said.

You rolled your eyes. Tough crowd. The three of you continued on with lunch when there was a sudden shrill voice. You looked at Sana and Ryun before moving to the sliding door of the classroom, sliding it open and looking out the hallway.

And there he was.

Student Council President Ito Yuki.

A soft mop of jet black hair with over grown bangs. Mono lid eyes that resembled a fox eye. A beauty mark right underneath his right eye. Plump lips. Cheekbones. He still had those stupid circular glasses. His body, though. His body was insane. He wasn’t crazy buff but he certainly put on weight compared to his stick thin body from first year. He practically had boobs (pecs) now!

He was taller too. Maybe 182 cm…?

A group of girls followed behind him, all holding letters that they waved to try and give to him. Huh, was today? Fuck, it was Valentine’s Day!!

You cursed as you watched Ito Yuki continue to walk and ignore the girls, passively pushing away any one that got too close. You didn’t have shit to give him.

Also it wasn’t White Day so it would’ve been weird if you did… but boys can do Valentine’s Day too..? Right?

Ah, fuck it.

“(L.Name)?!” Ryun whispered as you stepped out into the hallway, right as Ito Yuki come close to passing your classroom.

“What are you doing??” Sana yelled, covering her mouth when a few students looked at her in surprise.

You squared your shoulders and stood up tall, only now noticing you only came up to his chest. Ah, you were a perfect height to suck on his—

Not now, (L.Name)!

Even in your thoughts you didn’t even use your first name. You let out a sigh and gave Ito Yuki your signature flirty smirk. Your eyes peering up at him, giving yourself a cute look. You had multiple ways of flirting, especially when it came to boys or girls.

A true bisexual playboy!

“Ito-San.” You said, blinking slightly to flutter your eyelashes. Ito seemed to be focusing on something else in his mind despite his eyes on you. Well you can’t have that.

You leaned in closer, resting your hand on his arm. You felt him visibly twitch at your touch, earning a slight grin on your lips. Too easy. There was whispering happening around you but you didn’t care. You’ve asked out people in public spaces loads of times.

This… was a piece of a cake.

“Ito-San… you’re—”

“—hot?”

You blinked, staring up at him in shock. Did he just? Your lips parted as you short circuited—should you continue or just come up with something on the fly? A slight gasp left you as his hand reached up and grabbed the back of your head, bringing you closer.

The crowd erupted into gasps, even Ryun and Sana looked absolutely shocked. You couldn’t even think. Someone.. was taking control? You—you—??!?

His breath tickled your ears as your eyes clinched shut, your hands digging into his blazer as you let out a stuttered breath. You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle.

“Sure. Let’s make out.” He said, loud enough for only you to hear. With that, he pulled away, his hand gently rubbing the back of your head before dropping. His face was stoic, his lips straight but you could almost see a slight smirk on them as he walked past you.

It was hushed whispers as everyone dispersed as soon as the school bell rang, signaling lunch was over. Ryun and Sana ran over to you, Sana gripping your shoulders as she shook you.

“Hey, what the hell was that?!” She cried.

You only let out a whimper, looking at the both of them in pure shock. “I…I don’t know…”

“Wow. Ito Yuki changed. He put (L.Name) in his place!” Ryun laughed, patting you on the back. “So? He rejected you?”

Right. They didn’t hear him. You paused, almost wondering if you should tell them. Would they believe you? Sana and Ryun looked at you expectedly.

“Yea…” You muttered, laughing slightly. “He rejected me.” You looked down as Sana rubbed your shoulders in a comforting manner. Ryun just patted your head as they steered you back to the classroom.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I..Ito Yuki?!”

You glanced up as you heard your classmates exclaim in shock. Ito… Yuki? It had only been a week since that incident happened and you hadn’t seen Ito a lot. But that was to be expected. He was in 3-A, smartest of the third years and c student council president.

Sana and Ryun were geeking out beside you as Ito walked into the classroom, heading straight towards you. You felt weird. Not uncomfortable but odd. Like your body was… scared of him? But it wasn’t a bad scared. It reminded you of going on a rollercoaster.

The fear during but the ecstasy afterwards.

“(L.Name).”

Oh. That’s a first. You didn’t like hearing him say that. Huh.

“H..Hello, Ito-San.” You muttered, your grip tightening on your bag as he looked at you. His gaze was intense, even with his overgrown bangs. You wished those bangs covered his eyes more.

“Let’s go on a date.”

The classroom erupted into screams at his words. Date?! Date with you of all people?! No one even cared that Ito was surprisingly into men. No, it was surprising he would go for someone like you. The school campus’s proud playboy that was barely passing through school!

You didn’t even get to answer as his hand grabbed your wrist and began tugging you along. Your eyes met Sana and Ryun who looked at you with pure shock. You couldn’t blame them.

You’ve never really gone on dates before. Sure, at the beginning in first year when you were starting out your slut activities. But by second year, anyone who dated you knew that you mostly wanted them for sex. So to have Ito Yuki, of all people, coming to date you was… shocking.

Also fake. It had to be fake.

Yeouch!

Not fake. Not fake at all.

This was how you’d soon find yourself in a movie theater. Ito had something about liking movie dates and there was a movie he wanted to watch. A horror movie maybe? You couldn’t pay attention. You sat down beside him, staring off into space as the movie began playing.

It was an American movie, judging by the fact you couldn’t understand them. You glanced up at the screen, seeing the subtitles on the right. Ah, a slasher. You’ve seen multiple slashers so you knew the format like you knew blowjobs.

But you didn’t expect Ito to be interested in this type of stuff. You glanced over at him, watching as he stared straight at the screen, occasionally taking a sip from his soda. Huh, he’s zoned in.

You sighed and decided to get comfortable. Lucky for you, most slashers knew not to over stay their welcome. So you began watching, occasionally glancing at the other moviegoers who decided to watch a slasher at 5:00 pm on a Friday.

Mainly older couples. A few high schools students. And what you could assume some college students.

A hand grazed your thigh which caused you to let out a loud gasp. Luckily a jumpscare drowned you out. You looked down to see the arm rest pulled up that blocked you from Ito and his hand resting just an inch from your thigh.

Huh. What did he..?

You didn’t get to think any further when another loud jumpscare filled the theater. Your attention turned right as a poor woman was sawed in half. Oh, what a way to die. There continued to be gorey deaths that you forgot all about Ito’s strange decision to pull up the armrest.

Not until the movie cut to a random couple having sex in the car. Ah, you knew kills like this. Directors seemed to love having naked women run for their life after their boyfriend is killed.

There’s probably something wrong about that.

Before you could delve deeper into this question you felt a hand rest on your thighs. Just as you were about to even look down, the hand moved to your crotch and squeezed. A gasped left you that was coincidentally timed with the actress’s.

Has Ito’s hands always been this big? You let out a sharp shudder as you watched him grope your crotch. Really, you should’ve pushed him away. But you were just shocked that someone like Ito would be doing this.

And in a weird way, you did… like it? But it didn’t last long, just as the actress was killed by the killer, Ito pulled away. You couldn’t help your slight whimper as you glanced over at him. He didn’t even spare you a look.

Jerk.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You went on a date?!”

You sighed as you rubbed your eyes, staring at the two clowns in your room. Ryun and Sana had a spare key to your home—thanks mom!—so they didn’t even need to wait for you to open it. It was the next day after your date with Ito. It ended a bit unsatisfactory.

He just walked you home and waved goodbye. He didn’t even give you his number.

“Yea… he literally said that yesterday after class.” You whined, wanting to just plop back down and sleep. You masturbated all night last night, wishing he had touched you more. Which was a fucking first. You usually never have a wet dream about your partners.

“Wow… maybe, Ito-San likes you?” Ryun muttered, biting his lip as he sat down on your bed.

“Ito-San and (L.Name)?! That’s crazy.” Sana exclaimed. “But Ito-San isn’t someone to prank around.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Mhm~ maybe this sexy body has him curious.” You teased, sending a flirty wink to Ryun. He looked at you with pure disgust.

“Yeah, right.” Ryun grabbed a pillow and threw it at your face. “If he does, I owe you dinner for a week.”

“Deal!”

“Oh,” Sana suddenly muttered. “Wouldn’t yesterday be the start of the week? So you’ll break up with him next week Friday?”

You pursed your lips. Yeah, she was right. But why did you suddenly hate the idea of leaving him? You only gave a noncommittal nod and get out of bed, wanting to just take a shower and wash off the masturbation from last night.

Ito had to have know about you. He knew your usual phrase when asking someone out.

Well, you had the rest of the week to find out what he wanted from you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Technically you didn’t. Because it was already next Friday and he didn’t come for you at all. It wasn’t like you could call him either—you didn’t have his phone number. Sana and Ryun could tell it was affecting you but you didn’t even know why.

You’ve dealt with this. Sometimes the weekly partner ended up being just one night. And sure, you got a bit upset the next day but you’d bounce right back right after. You didn’t understand at all.

“(L.Name).”

You glanced over to see Ito Yuki staring down at you. Your classmates seemed able to not scream like last time. But their phones were out and were whispering to each other.

“I..Ito-San..?” You slowly stood up, looking up at him in shock. You should’ve been mad but you felt your heart flutter. Wow, you must’ve really wanted his dick.

“Let’s go to my house.” He said, which earned a round of gasps. Sana and Ryun looked like deers in headlights. You could only nod as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the classroom.

Damn, Ito Yuki. He’s probably the only partner that ever had you this bad over dick. And you haven’t even had it yet! Shame it was the last day.

Once you reached his house, you were shocked at how big it was. “Wow… Ito-San, are your parents rich?” You asked, slipping off your shoes as you walked behind him.

“Yuki.”

“Hm?” You replied, grunting when you bumped into him.

“We’re dating, no? So call me by my given name. That’s what couples do.” It—Yuki said nonchalantly, moving to go to the kitchen. You followed right behind him, unable to hide the growing heat on your face. This.. this was a first.

Would he do the same…? You hoped he would.

Much to your surprise, Yuki began making dinner for you. It wasn’t anything difficult, just chicken Katsu curry. You tried to help but he quite literally manhandled you to sit down at the dining table. If there was a growing bulge in your pants you quickly decided to ignore it.

After he finished, he placed a bowl in front of you and sat down beside you. You ate in complete silent. It was a bit uncomfortable because you weren’t used to dinners like this but it gave you perfect view of Yuki.

He looked so pretty? You weren’t sure. He had pulled his bangs back with a cute hello kitty pin and you couldn’t help but wonder who gave him that. He didn’t seem like the boy to like cute stuff. You were able to see his eyes better now—fox like eyes staring right at you.

You coughed slightly and looked down at your curry. “Hm, this is good curry, Yuki. Who, uh, taught you how to make it?”

“My mom.”

“Oh. Where’s your parents?”

“They’re out for the weekend.” He said, his eyes trailing down your face, right to your lips. “They won’t be back until Monday.”

Oh? A slight shudder left your body as your back straightened. The whole weekend? Did he not want this to last the week?

“But today is a full week?”

Yuki hummed. “Since we started dating? Yeah, do you like those type of things?”

“Eh?”

“Keeping track of how long we’ve been together? Do you like doing that? I can do it for you.” He said, finishing his plate off.

“Uh—”

“Sorry I couldn’t meet you during the week, I had to help plan the festival coming up.” He reached over and grabbed your plate. The plates clinked together as he carried them to the sink, gently dropping them in.

Before you could stand up, you felt Yuki rest his chin on your shoulder. You flinched at the touch but calmed down as his nose nuzzled your neck. A giggle left your lips at the ticklish touch. He pressed a kiss on your collarbone before pulling away, motioning for you to get up.

“Do you,” he muttered, reaching over and grabbing the back of your head. “want to make out?” You didn’t even think before eagerly nodding, looking up at him expectantly. He pressed his lips against yours with ease. His glasses pushed against your face but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.

Your hand slowly reached up his body before resting themselves on his shoulders, fingers curling at his button up. Your lips locked with his, easily moving in tandem without pulling apart. Breathing didn’t seem important at the moment.

You hadn’t even noticed you were standing on your toes until the pressure on them began to hurt. A struggled gasp left you as you pulled away, needing to catch a breath while also resting back on the balls of your feet. But Yuki immediately chased your lips, sacrificing his back as he bent down.

His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs digging into your skin. When did he even pull open your shirt? You didn’t get to think with how eager he was kissing you. It felt like you were the inexperienced one with how easily he was taking control.

“Y-Yuki.” You managed to moan into his lips, pulling away to breathe. A giggle left you when he subconsciously chased after your lips again but you pressed a finger against his. “Wait a minute.”

It was different—but in a good way. You were always the one in control during make outs. People were the one to pull away after you made them breathless. It was exciting for it to be the opposite.

“Are you…?” You whispered, wanting to make sure.

Sure, you were a degenerate who liked having sex with virgins, but you always toned yourself down when you did. Treat them like glass unless stated otherwise was your motto!

Yuki hummed. “Virgin? Yeah.”

“Do you know how—?”

“—I’m a virgin, not an idiot.”

You pouted. “I was just checking. Your first time needs to be good.”

“It’s already good.” He whispered, a slight smirk on his lips when you looked away in embarrassment. “But it could be better.”

“Hm? Better how?”

For the first time ever, you saw Yuki’s lips pull into a full smirk. Oh no.

Oh no indeed…

In front of you on the bed was a dress. A cute dress. But a dress nonetheless. It was white with a black bow on the chest. Frilly ends on the sleeves. Paired with white stockings.

The outfit reminded you of something but you didn’t know what.

You dated a lot of people. You’ve done strange shit because of people’s kinks. This, was tame. You shuddered at the time you dressed like a dog. Not even just dog ears and a tail… a full on dog.

Honestly this was a breath of fresh air. So you huffed and slipped out of your clothes, putting on the outfit with ease. Hm, it fit perfectly. You briefly wondered if Yuki somehow had your measurements.

“I’m dressed, Yuki.” You called, slipping on the last stockings. There was a mirror on the closet door. You moved over and couldn’t help but twirl. The dress really was cute. You took in the detailing of the dress and noticed a slight stain on one of the sleeves. But how could it have gotten a stain? Did Yuki make other people wear this?

That left a bitter taste in your mouth. Just because he was a virgin didn’t mean he hadn’t fooled around before. Which you couldn’t judge. That was your reputation!

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist causing you to flinch. Yuki hummed as he looked at you from the mirror. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his face still stoic. But the way his hands gripped your waist and body as it trailed around you.

“It still fits.” He suddenly muttered. “I was worried you would’ve grown too much since then.”

“Huh? Grown?”

“You don’t remember it?” His hands gripped your waist as he easily spun you around to face him. “First year. School festival.”

Festival? You stared at him confused for a moment before gasping in disbelief. “No way! You kept this?! I thought I threw it out?!” You said, pulling at the fabric in pure shock.

In your first year, your class did a maid cafe, but instead of girls, it was boys as the maids. You played as the head maid because you looked more girlish compared to everyone when you wore the wig. It was fun but you didn’t see the use in keeping the dress after so you threw it up.

Apparently Yuki found it.

“You did. I just grabbed it before they took out the trash. I would’ve saved the wig too..” he muttered, a slight pout on his lips.

You couldn’t help the slight scoff leaving you. “Wig? Do you want me to be a girl?”

“No. You just looked… cute. I like cute things.” He said, shrugging. “You just look cuter feminine.”

“But I don’t even remember you at the festival.”

Yuki hummed. “How could you? I was shorter than you back then. But I remember you. The cute head maid flaunting his cute little dress in front of everyone.”

You blushed. “I wouldn’t say I flaunted it…”

“Really? I think you were a lot of guys awakening that day. So many eyes on you.” His hands tugged at the bottom of the skirt. “Hm, you grew in height. It’s much shorter now.”

You reached down and noticed that it was resting just at the end of your ass. Certainly shorter than in first year when it was closer to your knees. Well at least you can say you did have a growth spurt… just nothing compared to Yuki’s.

“So, you want to have sex with me in it?”

“Mhm. I’ve masturbated to you wearing it for years now.”

You sputtered in shock, watching as Yuki moved away to possibly grab a condom and lube. This Ito Yuki was nothing to the one you thought you knew back at school. The way he could say it so casually made you feel some type of way. But you couldn’t explain it.

Gosh, you’d assume you’re the virgin.

With a slight pep talk in your mind, you squared your shoulders and stormed over to Yuki. He looked over at you and tilted his head, opening his lips to ask something but you pushed him down on the bed. Though you had to use a lot of strength for that—jeez, how tough was he?

You straddled his hips and grinned, looking down at him. “Don’t worry, Yuki~! I’ll make your first time special.” You whispered, gently rubbing your ass against his growing bulge.

Yuki seemed to want to say something but you kissed him, helping him pull off his pants. You knew what to do. You’ve done this so many times it was practically second nature. When you slipped off his boxers, you almost whimpered at the sight.

It was bigger than any you’ve seen before. That stereotype of slender men having bigger dicks didn’t seem like an internet lie anymore. You wondered if it looked bigger when he was thinner and didn’t have the lean muscle he had now.

Shit.

“Are you ready for your first blowjob?” You asked, smirking slightly. You expected him to finally start acting like a blushing virgin but he looked more so bored? Huh?

“Another time. I wanna be in you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. He wanted you quickly, huh? That’s a first. There were even times guys just wanted a blowjob from you and nothing else. This was, interesting to say the least. You gave him a hum and pulled down your own boxers, pulling up the dress.

You felt his eyes zero in on your body as you grabbed the lube and squirt some on your fingers. This was the best. Having someone watch you as you got yourself ready for them. You didn’t waste anytime, easily slipping in two fingers inside your hole. A grunt left you but you kept going, easily stretching yourself out.

If Yuki wanted to be inside, he’d get it. Besides, who doesn’t like a little bit of pain?

The dress was sticking to your skin already and you hadn’t even got his cock inside you yet. It was thin and a bit cheap in material but it certainly knew how to make you warm.

You reached over and grabbed the condom on the nightstand, easily tearing it open with your teeth. The slight eyebrow raise from Yuki made you smirk. It was a habit that you gained from sleeping around so much. Also past partners said it was sexy so you kept doing it.

What works, works!

After finally slipping the condom onto his cock, which surprisingly fit, you moved up to level your ass with his cock. You gave him a slight smile and rest your hand on his chest.

“You can always tell me to stop, okay?” You whispered, making sure he heard you. Yuki only gave you a nod, a look of impatience in his eyes.

Not wanting to make him anymore restless, you wordlessly began to sink down onto his cock. A short gasp filled the room as your fingers gripped his shirt. He was huge but feeling it inside was a whole different experience. You haven’t slept with a guy in a minute so you certainly felt a bit nervous than normal.

But it was fine.

The sight of Yuki was pretty to say the least. He still had on his stupid glasses, the hello kitty pin that held back his bangs. His face was already sweaty while his lips pulled into a slight grimace.

Ah, you knew the face well.

You leaned in close to him—your noses touching.

“Good? It’ll get better from here.” You grinned, leaning back as you slowly rolled your hips.

Except it didn’t really..?

It had to have been maybe ten minutes and Yuki hadn’t cummed at all. You came once which was embarrassing since you weren’t used to cumming before your partners. But you thought maybe he was just nervous so you kept bouncing on his cock.

But by the ten minute mark, he looked bored.

You thought you were imagining it but no, you could tell he was zoning out. His eyes were focused on you but he wasn’t reacting. Even when you picked up the pace, he didn’t even grunt.

A wave of embarrassment mixed in with anger flared within you. You stilled your hips to a stop, finally earning Yuki’s attention as he blinked and actually paid attention to you.

“Seriously…” You grunted, rolling your eyes. “If I’m that boring, you take over!” You were so used to being in control that you actually didn’t want him to take over. Really you wanted to go home, fully embarrassed that in the first time in forever, your partner wasn’t satisfied.

The hands that once laid on your thighs without any grip slowly moved upwards, digging its’ nails into the free upper thigh that wasn’t covered by your knee socks. You let out a surprised grunt at the pain but you didn’t even get to say anything about it before they trail up and grip your waist.

A gasp leaves you when you feel his hips slam up into you.

“Wh—?”

Colors blur as you feel yourself be pushed down onto the bed, your head bouncing slightly from the fast movement. Your legs are grabbed and pushed up, almost knocking yourself in the face.

“Yuki..!” You managed to cry out at his manhandling but he doesn’t seem to care at the moment. You can only watch as he takes off the hair clip and carelessly tosses it away. His bangs fall over his eyes and to your dismay, you can’t see them this time.

Doesn’t help the bedroom is only lit by a small lamp on the nightstand. The shadows practically cover his upper face beside his lips. You can see a slight glint in his glasses but he soon removed them as well, gently resting them on the nightstand.

It’s weird. Your stomach starts to feel weird again. That same feeling when he pulled you close on Valentine’s Day. What was this?

A quick slap of skin bleeds into the room as your thoughts are jumbled before you could even think. You could’ve sworn you heard a cry—like a high pitched voice. Was that?

Yeah, it was you.

Your back arched as Yuki slammed his cock inside you in a constant rhythm. There was cries and whimpers coming straight from you in tandem with his thrusts. You’ve never sounded like this before—you didn’t even think you could make a sound like this.

Your eyes began to water as you pressed your hand against your lips, wanting to muffle the new strange sounds coming.

“Hey…” Yuki’s thrusting slowed down as he reached over and grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away. “Did I say you can do that?” His fingers tightened around your wrist, earning a slight squeak from you in pain.

A laugh filled the room. A boyish smile appearing on Yuki’s lips. He looked so scary like this. No eyes for you to look in. Just the sight of his lips being your only way of knowing how he’s feeling.

“You’re so cute. Like a little hamster.”

“H..Hamster..?”

“Mhm.” His thrusting began again, filling the room with the sounds of squelching and skin slapping. “Cute little hamster. Squishy.”

“Squish—!”

A whimper left you as your toes curled. Shit, you were cumming already?! You let out a grunt and turned your head to the side, wanting to just bury it in the soft bedsheets beneath you.

“Two already.” Yuki said absentmindedly, his hands releasing your thighs as he slowed down his thrusting. You glanced over at him, seeing his hands trail up your body. They were veiny. Larger than yours. He could hold both of your wrists with one hand. You shuddered at the thought.

“Don’t make fun of me.” You whispered, hoping he would just cum already.

Yuki hummed. “I’m making fun of you?” He asked, genuinely confused. You wish you could see his eyes—just to see a glimpse into what he’s thinking. But all you get a little smile.

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m keeping count.” His hands reached the top of your collar, slowly tightening around it. You hummed, wondering what he was about to do. “So I can give you more next time.”

“Give me more?”

“Mhm.”

The sound of fabric tearing caught your attention as you glanced down and saw your dress being torn apart by Yuki’s hands. It started off slow, as if he was fighting the seams before easily pulling it apart once he reached the middle.

A strangled moan left you at the show of strength. Oh man. How could you survive any longer with this guy?

“Yuki!”

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He said, leaning down as he pressed kisses on your bare skin. Your toes curled as you gripped at the bed sheets beneath you. “I’ll buy you prettier dresses.”

A breathy whimper left your lips. “There’ll be a next time?”

“Why wouldn’t there be? You’re my boyfriend.” He pulled out his cock and easily flipped you to rest on the side of your stomach. He plopped down behind you and raised one of your legs, slotting himself easily back into your tight heat.

“Y… You actually like me..?” You muttered, gasping as he begins a slow and steady pace, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Yuki simply hummed. “I wanna fuck you. We can talk later.” He said bluntly. You shrieked as he captured your lips into a kiss and began fucking you in a harsh pace.

The sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans filled the room. Your fingers digging into the bed while his dug into your skin. There was a slight burn on your thighs and you weren’t sure if he possibly broke your skin from just how hard he gripped you.

You pulled away from the kiss, needing to catch your breath when you noticed why Yuki had put you in this position. The fucking mirror.

Damn pervert.

You couldn’t really hide yourself, not with his arm holding you up. All you could do was kiss him again, not having to see your fucked out expression. It didn’t take long for you to reach another orgasm with ease, the cum coating your stomach in a sight of white liquid.

A whimper left your sore throat as Yuki maneuvered you to rest on your knees as he continued fucking into you. Finally, you buried your face into the sheets, biting them to muffle your moans.

“I’m close. Just a little more, (Name)-Chan.”

Yuki let out a surprised grunt when he felt you tighten around his cock. You whimpered in embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. No way. No way that your body just did that.

A slight chuckle left Yuki as he draped his chest against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. “So cute, (Name)-Chan.” With that, he pulled away and gripped your hips as he chased his own release. It didn’t take too long, his grunts mixing in with your cries.

His hips slammed against your ass as he groaned, finally reaching his orgasm. You hummed before feeling something wet coat your insides. Yuki pulled away and hummed.

“It broke.”

You turned around, seeing him hold a broken condom. “It broke?!” You cried, moving to sit up only to wince in pain. “Yuki… why are you so calm?!”

“It’s fine. It looks pretty.” He said, pointing at the cum slowly leaking from your ass.

“Pervert!”

“Mhm.” He pushed up his sweaty bangs and sighed, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Shower?”

“Yeah. Uhm, are we… a couple?”

“Yeah.” He got off the bed and leaned over to you, a slight smirk on his lips. “I’m the only man you can be a slut for from now on.”

“I’m not a slut!”

Yuki only gave you a shrug before walking away to start the bath. Well, it looked like you weren’t a playboy anymore.

But it felt good.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

First fic back!! Way longer than it needed to be… hope yall like Yuki. I kinda want to make him into a full OC, but I’ll see.

Tag list: @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @ofclyde @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @tomoeroi @tehyunnie @the-ultimate-librarian @smellwell @love-kha1 @star-3214 @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world

[nanaslutt]

welcome to my smau list!! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

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jjk smaus

✿ asking jjk men if you can hold their 🍆 while they pee

✿ showing the jjk men ur new piercings

✿ asking the jjk men if you can peg them

✿ changing “babe” to autocorrect to “whore” in their phone

✿ “shes busy rn”

✿ leaving without telling the jjk guys

✿ “he’s busy rn”

✿ getting ur nails the color of their tip

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✿ asking them for a hand pic

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✿ asking jjk characters what their fav sex act is

✿ telling the jjk guys you spent $200 on tire air

✿ “wrong person” nudes prank

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✿ jjk characters finding out you got injured

✿ ass or tits

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✿ them asking you on a date for the first time

✿ sending nudes in the middle of an argument

✿ getting a necklace with their initial

✿ being a woman/man for a day question

✿ controlling your bluetooth vibe

✿ when you leave a kiss mark on them

✿ asking you to stay the night for the first time

✿ the call ending after you fall

✿ “they just left you can come over now”

✿“if i gave you a pass to call me a bitch how would you use it”

✿ “i didn’t finish last night“ prank

✿“i got arrested”

✿ when they find ur smut

✿ editing them to look bad in a photo

✿ accidentally sending them nudes (pre relationship)

✿ the jjk characters sending you gym pics

✿ getting scared watching a scary movie

✿ finding out they punched ur stuffed animals

✿ when they see you in someone else’s jacket

✿ asking them their fav pet name is in bed

✿ when you start your period unprepared

✿ when you see them with another girls belongings

✿ asking them if they like having sex with you

✿ asking them for happy trail pics

✿ when they ask for nudes and you send an unsuggestive pic

✿ asking them if they have a crush on you

✿ when they find ur toy

✿ anxious before ur wedding

✿ taking pics of you when you fall asleep

✿ asking them for a whimper audio

✿ when they cheat on you

✿ having a dream they cheated on you

✿ when they get hit on/harassed

✿ the morning after ur first time having sex

✿ accidentally saying i love you for the first time before ending the call

✿ asking them if they only like you for sex

✿ offering them head to relax them

✿ asking them to kill a spider for you

✿ their reactions to a sexy picture you posted

✿ pregnancy scary

✿ ”sex has been boring” prank

✿ their card declined prank

✿ getting lost in public

✿ asking them if you can stack donuts on it

✿ asking them to pick out a new toy for you

✿ waking up in their body

✿ them reacting to you crying over a dumb video

✿ catching them masturbating

✿ getting a noise complaint

✿ when they catch you masturbating

✿ when they catch you singing

✿ finding a hair that isn’t urs

✿ telling them their nut tastes bad

✿ trying anal

✿ comforting you when you’re burnt out

✿ when they take an aphrodisiac

✿ asking them to find ur 😽 in a lineup

✿ asking them how much money they have

✿ asking about a threesome

✿ what’s their sexual fantasy?

✿ asking them if they’ll put it in soft

✿ slapping their ass and running away

✿ asking them for their friends number

✿ selling their stuff online prank

✿ asking if they’d get a genital piercing

✿ making them sleep on the couch

✿ asking what their body count is

✿ asking them to give you a hickey

[ceilidho]

hound dog

prompt: You pick up Ghost from a bar for a one night stand. Too bad Ghost isn't interested in a casual hook up. (nsfw, 6.7k) [based on this old post] [on ao3 here]

-

Rare is the day when a stupid girl doesn’t do stupid things.

This is just one of many such occurrences. Stepping into the dimly lit dive bar—the one miles from your place, reeking of tobacco and leather and motor oil, the noxious perfume of week old sweat and weed stinking up the joint, pardon the pun—with too much eyeliner and mascara on, and a skirt too short for you—and would you just stop fiddling with it? But you can’t because that would mean admitting that it barely fits over your ass, that putting on a skirt so short was a choice, an invite, a teasing little taunt to the men in the bar saying, what are you waiting for? I’m asking for it, aren’t I—

What’s that saying again?

Ah, yes. Choices made in anger cannot be undone.

It’s why you’re planted at the bat some six weeks after being dumped, two weeks after being ghosted for the third time in a row, a smile on your face despite your crumbling self-esteem. Pride hanging in tatters. Grimacing when you find the bartop sticky with congealed liquor, the residue sticking to your skin when you quickly lift your elbows off. But there’s a time for self-pity and a time for getting it the fuck togther. This just happens to be one of the latter times.

“What’m I gettin’ you?” the bartender in front of you asks, barely impressed with your get-up. Not even attempting to conceal his distaste when he eyes you up and down, lingering on the way your tits are practically spilling out of your top. 

“Do you have any cocktails?” you ask. Wrong question. The eye roll isn’t even suppressed for your benefit when he makes it clear to you, in no uncertain terms, that it’s whatever he can pour straight from a bottle or the fancy bar for cityfolk down the road. He says it like that, the word practically sneered out. Cityfolk. 

Nerves shaken, you sip at your red wine after he leaves you to your own devices, your glass poured straight from the box. It could function passably as lighter fluid if the circumstances called for it. Still, you swallow it with a positive attitude, emboldened by the knowledge that you’re here for one thing and one thing only:

to get fucked within an inch of your life by one of the greasy-haired, cut-wearing, cigarette-smoking men lining the bar. 

Even the thought sends a thrill down your spine. 

It’s an age old question, isn’t it? What’s a girl to do (when her love life’s falling apart / when her credit score just bottomed out because her ex-boyfriend ran up her credit cards behind her back / when her job’s steadily becoming unbearable but quitting would mean scrambling to find a job that’ll pay anywhere near to what this one’s paying her) to get a drink around here? 

Evidently, the answer isn’t to use a dating app; you can say that confidently after waiting around in fancier bars than this for several no-show dates. 

You’re feeling appropriately over the whole thing. Ready to call it quits. Uninstall all of the apps on your phone and hire a matchmaker or ask a friend to set you up with a coworker of theirs. But that’ll be later, down the line when you aren’t dealing with the issue at hand.

The issue being that—

you’re really fucking horny. 

Embarrassingly so. Enough that you were willing to travel miles away from home to avoid accidentally hooking up with anyone you might run into later on while out getting groceries or on a morning run. 

It’s just better to play things close to your chest. Keep your romantic life and your sexual exploits far apart (not that you’d know much about keeping things separate; you’ve never had much of a sex life to keep hidden) lest you get mired in a stickier situation than you’re comfortable being in. 

Despite the rough start, the bar you chose seems promising. There’s a man at the other side of the bar that keeps drawing your eye. It’s the hulking size of him at first, then the grime clinging to the folds of his skin, worn in from years of hard labor. He looks like a man fresh off a fourteen-hour shift or a fortnight spent on an oil rig in the middle of the Baltic sea, freshly washed ashore, kelp and barnacles still fused to his skin, not yet pried off. 

Rough is the only word you’d use to describe him. A face covered in nicks and old scars, his upper lip slightly puckered and scarred from cleft lip surgery. When he turns his head to say something to the bartender, you catch a glimpse of a cauliflower ear, the cartilage of his tragus and antihelix swollen and deformed. 

He’s exactly what you’ve been looking for. If you’d given it more thought, you think you could’ve conjured up an image of the man across the bar all by yourself. It’s like someone plucked him straight out of your head. Big and brawny, broad shoulders that you can imagine dangling your ankles off, and well-muscled arms that you can imagine digging your nails into. It would take both of your hands and extra to wrap around his bicep. The thought makes you shiver.

You try to catch his attention subtly. Looking over at him from under your lashes, quick, smoldering glances meant to draw his attention to you, so that he approaches you first. You keep waiting for the moment when he’ll notice your stare and hold your gaze, a question being asked and answered between your eyes before reeling him in with a coy little smile. 

But when a half hour goes by without a single glance your way, your hope begins to wane. 

He doesn’t look up no matter how many times you glance over at him. It’s frustrating; you know he feels the weight of your stare. His disregard is purposeful, deliberate; like he knows your attention is fixed on him but he can’t be bothered to so much as return your stare. You wonder if that means he’s got a lady at home, a little bird cooped up in his house that he’s more eager to get back to after he’s had a drink to take off the edge than flirt with some trussed up floozy at the bar.

That makes you squirm, self-consciousness rearing its ugly head again. Maybe you made a mistake coming here. 

It’s not as though you’re being completely ignored, it’s just that the caliber of men that have approached you so far haven’t really inspired much, carnally speaking. You’ve sent the few braver ones away, a half-hearted thanks but no thanks when they offer to buy you a drink. Most leave without a word, though a few mutter obscenities under their breath before shoving their hands in their pockets and stalking away. Bitch. Dumb cunt. 

Calling it a night feels like a natural next step. With the attitude you keep getting from the bartender and the way the only man you’re remotely attracted to refuses to so much as glance your way, it doesn’t feel right to stay out any longer. Embarrassment heats you like a low grade fever, warm in your belly. Wine sloshes around in your stomach when you slip off the stool, hunger now another pressing concern. 

You’ll ask him on your way back from the bathroom. If he turns you down after that, you’ll slink off into the night with your tail tucked between your legs. There’ll always be next weekend to try again. You promise yourself that because the alternative is acknowledging how defeated this entire experience has left you, no less disappointing than going on the same boring first date with a guy from Tinder. 

In the bathroom, you dab your face with water and stare at your reflection in the dirty mirror. It looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years; finger smudges and white strains streaked across the glass. You wonder how many strangers have fucked in this bathroom over the years. The thought makes you grimace even more when you notice that the floor is slightly sticky, the ground sounding tacky beneath your shoes. 

When you come out, the man from across the bar is waiting by the door, so close that you flinch, eyes widening. The narrow hallway means that he’s barely three feet from you when you stand in the doorframe. 

“We leavin’ or what?” he growls, voice as deep as you thought it might be, gruff and husky. 

He’s just as imposing in front of you as he was from across the bar. Maybe more so. You’re forced to crane your neck to look up at him this close, lips parting on an inaudible exhale. There’s something about a brutish man that’s always taken your breath away; everything from the blunt chin to the pronounced brow. His face is flecked with pale, keloidal skin; rubbery nodules from old injuries. 

Dumbstruck, you can only nod, following behind him when he turns away from you, headed towards the parking lot out back where his truck is parked. 

You’re really doing this. You’re really doing this. That’s the only thought in your head when he unlocks his truck and pops the door open for you, waiting until you’re buckled in before slamming the door shut. 

He’s quiet on the car ride back to his place, unconcerned with getting to know you or defusing the tension in the truck. You can’t say you blame him. There’s a reason you chose a bar so far from home as a hunting ground. If you wanted to get to know someone, you would’ve met someone at a coffee shop. 

When you ask his name, he grunts it out like it’s an inconvenience. Simon. He doesn’t give you more than that, even when you awkwardly ask him what he does for work. Blatantly ignores your questions. The rebuff smarts for some reason, makes you frown and duck your chin to your chest, shoulders hunched.

His demeanor is so off-putting that halfway through the drive, you wonder if you misunderstood him somehow, if he means to drive you home instead of taking you back to his place (but that can’t be right, otherwise wouldn’t he have asked for your address?). It’s just hard to reconcile his churlish attitude towards you with his ostensible invitation to fuck. 

Maybe he doesn’t intend to fuck you at all. Maybe you managed to pick up the one serial killer in a twenty mile radius and stupidly followed him back to his truck without telling anyone who you planned to go home with. Your blood curdles at the thought, hackles raised when you imagine him sizing you up from across the bar, all prettied up and doe-eyed, easy prey. 

Your breathing picks up. “I, um…actually, c-could you…could you just drop me off at my place?”

Simon rolls his eyes so hard that it’s almost audible. “Not gonna kill ya, bird.” 

That doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you, but you don’t dig your heels in and demand he take you home either. 

“Do you live nearby?” you ask, suddenly chatty. Why, oh why.

Simon looks over at you, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. He drives a manual, you notice. A few too many seconds go by in silence. You wish somebody would just staple your mouth shut already. 

“Yeah,” he says finally, turning back to watch the road, taking a left turn up ahead without using his signal. So it’s that kind of drive.

You keep your mouth shut for the rest of it lest he decide you’re too much of a hassle and turn back. You’re poised right on the edge of something new and exciting, and the thought of that slipping through your fingers makes you feel a bit crazy. So many men before have shown you that same snap dislike. Like you’re tolerable over text or as a dimensionless photo, but not as a flesh and blood person, the real mechanics of you all wrong. It’s an intolerable thought—that people can only like you when you smile and keep your mouth shut.

Still, you’ll do it now, for a price. 

Part of you expects him to pull you into his lap when he pulls into his driveway and puts the truck in park. It’s what you’ve seen in movies. The rest of the night plays out in your head in piecemeal flashes; ravenous passion, hands tearing clothes off each other’s bodies, a shoe left on the porch in your hurry to get inside. Hungry, devouring; slick mouths parting for barely long enough to breathe.

Then Simon cuts the engine and gets out of the truck without so much as a glance your way, like you aren’t even there.

He still comes around to open the door for you. You frown at him through the window, affronted. Baffled at his continued nonchalance. Like even keeping your mouth shut isn’t enough to keep a man’s interest. Where you expected passion and fervor, you’re met with cool indifference. 

Simon pops the door open. “Get out.”

The house itself is nothing special. A two-story cookie-cutter house built in the seventies; weathered, beige-coloured vinyl siding and a neatly trimmed lawn, with a few patches of overgrown grass and weeds. There’s a trailer parked in front of the closed garage, a few planks of wood strapped down in the bed. When you follow him up the walkway, you notice how quiet the neighborhood is, and for some reason that makes you even more jittery. 

You stop in the doorway, frustration breaking your timidity like snapping an ampoule. “Do you even want to—” fuck me, goes unsaid. Too humiliating to even ask. But you ask anyway, the question itself implicit even in so few words. 

Dark eyes stare down at you, impenetrable. You’re struck by the sense of something primordial slithering under his skin. His expression is hard, his face carved from granite; when his expression shifts, it’s like watching tectonic plates create mountains, plates pushed upward by mantle plumes.

He fits a big paw under your chin, fingers pressing into the fat of your cheeks hard enough to make your lips purse. Your heart skips a beat when he angles your head from side to side, looking you over like a pet he’s considering bringing home. You almost go cross-eyed when he bends down, his forehead nearly brushing yours, so close that you can smell the scent of cigarettes clinging to his clothes, see the grease smudged on his face and the folds around his eyes. 

A grin flickers across his lips, gone as it came. “Yeah. I do.”

And doesn’t that tie your stomach in a knot? Your nerves in a pretty bow? 

Inside, his house is just as unremarkable. You’d know in a single glance that a single man lived here; a functional, no-frills living space. Nothing more than a worn couch, a TV, and a few pieces of obvious hand-me-down furniture. It’s hard to glean anything from the minimal decoration around his place, but he doesn’t give you much of a chance to look around. That’s not the point of why you’re in his house. 

“Eat anything yet, bird?” Simon asks from the kitchen, opening the fridge without purpose. It looks like more of a reflex than anything, the first thing he does the second he gets home for the night and the last thing he does before going to bed. From the size of him, it makes sense; his body is muscle on muscle, covered by a healthy layer of fat, just a surface layer over the bulk beneath. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Have a bite, then.”

“I’m not, uh, hungry though,” you deflect rather than saying the obvious, which is, I came to your house to have sex, not make sandwiches at the kitchen counter together. 

He shuts the fridge door, pinning you with his stare. “Your call. Could’ve used the energy though.”

You swallow. 

The first thing you do after he herds you into the bedroom is try to pull him into a kiss, cupping his cheeks and standing up on your tiptoes. Before your eyelids flutter shut, you catch a glimpse of a cocked brow. Then you press your lips to a slack mouth that doesn’t move no matter how much passion you infuse in your kiss and feel embarrassment flare up in your guts. 

Bastard. You should’ve expected that he wouldn’t kiss you back. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, breaking the facsimile of a kiss and dropping back down onto your heels. 

You flinch when he grabs you by the back of the neck and reels you back in, forcing you back onto your tiptoes, “Don’t be,” grunted against your mouth before fusing your lips together. A pathetic keen climbs up your throat, eyelids slipping shut. 

His greed leaks from him like tar, his kiss so messy and violent that you’re almost too jarred to do anything apart from hang on. Teeth clack against yours, a horrid sensation, the lust in your belly abating long enough for the real world to slink back in and you get flashes of it: hands winding around a thick neck, a scratchy cheek against your lip when he twists his head to angle your noses better, a tongue shoving into your mouth unceremoniously, no finesse at all. Straight to the main point. 

A shudder wracks you from head to toe when you try to break the kiss only to find the hand on your neck firm, holding you in place. The subtle reminder that he can do whatever he wants with you, that you willingly went home with a man big and strong enough to pin you down and fuck you however rough he wants. 

“Simon,” you whine, squirming against him, gasping a breath and his name again when he wrestles you back into the kiss. “No—Simon—”

“Stay fuckin’ still,” he snarls against your lips, and you freeze, knees going weak when his fingers dig into your jaw to hold you in place.

The endorphin rush nearly makes your vision white out. A sudden winter storm, the blood rushing to your cheeks and the tip of your nose, your breath coming out quick and choppy. Lungs barely filling up with each inhale. 

“Get this off,” Simon growls, tugging on your skirt when you don’t move fast enough. He doesn’t wait for you to catch up, content to wrench your skirt off himself instead, your panties along with it. 

It takes your breath away, how fast you go from clothed to partially nude. Trying to match his fervor is a losing game, so you just try to keep up. Your hands tug at his belt, desperately trying to undo it, and he chuckles when he notices; big hands paw at your ass while you shakily pop the buckle out of the first loop. 

He takes over after that, popping the button on his jeans one-handed. 

“Wanna handle the rest?” he prompts, an eyebrow jutting up, expectant. Lazy with his arrogance; oozing rugged masculinity. It’d infuriate you if it didn’t get you so hot. 

Your fingers are numb by the time you pull his jeans down, kneeling at his feet and gazing up at him with wide eyed devotion as he kicks off his boots and shakes the pants off his legs, nothing under his jeans. His pale white thighs are dusted in fine blond hairs, mottled with burns and scars and old, faded cigarette marks, like someone used his legs as an ashtray. The thought makes your throat close up.  

He shucks off his shirt while you stare at the shaft heavy with blood hanging between his legs, drooping with its own weight. Flushed red at the head and streaked with dark veins, leaking a steady drip of precum. The hair at the base of his dick is of a darker shade, gold like straw. 

Your stomach swoops at the sight, dropping to the pits of you. You swallow. Maybe you’ve bit off a little more than you can chew. A lot more.

As if sensing your unease, a wide hand is suddenly firm on the back of your head, urging you closer. “Gonna give it a kiss?”

It’s not a question. You know that and you know that you’re way out of your league; that if you panic now you’ll flounder. So instead of fighting it, you lean forward and press a shy kiss to the weeping head of his dick. 

You lick your lips instinctively when you draw back, lapping up the precum smeared across them. The taste makes you wrinkle your nose. It’s salty; bitter. Not altogether pleasant. 

Simon wraps a hand around his dick and holds it to your lips. “Open your mouth, bird. Get me nice ‘n wet.”

A shudder rolls through you, but there’s little else you can do except part your lips and squeeze your eyes shut. It’s a struggle to fit more than just the head in your mouth, his dick too wide to take more than that. Your eyes water at the stretch, the musky taste of his cum overwhelming. 

Any experience you’ve had before this pales in comparison. It’s like the first time all over again. His cock is heavy on your tongue, instantly making your eyes water. The grip he still has on the base of his cock tells you that he doesn’t expect you to swallow the whole length (an impossible task; you go cold with dread at even the thought), but Simon doesn’t hesitate to grip your head firmer when he feels you falter, forcing you to take as much as you can.

When you gag, he shushes you. “Keep at it—you’re fine.”

You wonder if he thinks by saying it, it makes it true. You’re very much not fine, struggling to breathe through your nose and suck him off without scraping his cock with your teeth.

Your exhale when he pulls you off his cock by your hair is full of both relief and trepidation. Your lips feel swollen and tender when you touch them with your fingers. 

“Can we please have sex now?” you ask, dazed enough to be bold. 

Simon cracks a smile at that, endeared somehow. “Gotta get up for that, bird.”

You have to brace your hands against his chest when you get to your feet, the blood that rushes to your head making you wobbly. Even on your feet, he’s so much taller than you, a behemoth. Men like him have always been your type, but Simon is really in a league of his own. 

Glancing up at him from under your lashes, you bite your lip. You’ve seen that in movies before, starlettes bringing men to their knees with just a look. Coquette; demure. It’s harder to replicate than you thought, but you’ve never rehearsed this before. This is a one-time, live performance. The culmination of everything you’ve ever read or watched or studied. 

You keep up the ruse of being sexy by crawling onto his bed on your hands and knees, dropping down onto your elbows once situated in the middle of the mattress. The debauchery of wiggling your ass back at the man who took you home from the bar would overwhelm you if you weren’t playing a part right now. Role playing. This isn’t who you usually are, but if it’s only for one night, you can force out the self-scrutiny and timidity. 

Silence hangs in the air like a bubble, waiting to be burst. You fight the urge to look over your shoulder at him. 

Then Simon exhales, breaking the silence. Goosebumps ripple down your arms. 

The mattress dips under his weight when he settles behind you, hands immediately sinking into the flesh of your ass and pulling your cheeks apart. No preamble. You open your mouth to say something, but thick, coarse fingers are already dipping between your thighs and playing with your hole, sinking a finger in up to the first knuckle. 

You breathe out shakily, shoulders tensing. The sheets reek of him, musky and ripe; you concentrate on that instead of the fingers penetrating you, getting you ready for his dick. Your walls squeeze tight around his fingers when he forces another one in. 

When he finally feeds his cock into you, the stretch is nearly unbearable. The sharp stab of pain that accompanies it almost makes you flinch away, but Simon drags you back by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere, bird,” he rumbles. “Relax. It’s going in.”

What can you say to something like that? 

His whole frame presses you into the mattress, the breath forced from your lungs. Bigger now that he’s got you on your belly. Suddenly making two hundred pounds seem less abstract, more real. He bullies as much of his cock into you as he can, paying no mind to the way you squeal and kick your legs. 

“Real tight cunt,” Simon grunts, humming with his pleasure when his hips punch forward and your pussy squelches around his length. So lewd.

His knees on either side of you keep you trapped in place, nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. All you can do is lie under him and let him rut between your thighs, gasping for breath with every thrust. The sweat is slick down your back, half yours and half his. 

“Ya let other men fuck this cunt, bird?” he asks. It sounds hypothetical, like it’s said half to rile himself up, and though it prickles at your nerves, you don’t complain too much because he fucks you rougher after the words slip out of his mouth. 

When you don’t answer him though, concentrating more on filling your lungs and not biting your tongue off, he grabs your face and twists your head until you’re looking over your shoulder at him, neck aching with the strain. 

“Answer me,” he demands, sounding almost pissed off. 

“N-no—”

“Good,” he grunts. Satisfied.

His words should piss you off. How dare he ask you about fucking other men as if he were your husband or boyfriend. You have half a mind to cuss him out, but then he pumps his hips forward and your face goes numb from pleasure. Electric impulses zip up and down your skin, sizzling your nerves. 

Besides, maybe it’s hot that he’s acting like you belong to him. Like you’re his; his girl that he picked up from the bar after a long shift, eager to go home and lay her out on the bed so he could fuck his pretty girl into a tongue-tied stupor. It certainly does it for you, a thin filigree of pleasure winding its way down your spine. 

It’s an intoxicating fantasy—being wanted by a man in a real, visceral way. It’s one you’ve never gotten close to before, never even grazed with the tips of your fingers, no matter how far you stretched out your arms. You don’t know what men see when they look at you, but it can’t be anything worth keeping. 

He fucks you like he wants to pry you open and leave a piece of him inside. A big hand fits around your neck and tightens; a collar, a manacle. 

Hard to feel anything but grateful though. It’s everything you wanted but never thought you’d get out of this experience. You expected to feel like a body on a butcher’s block, hacked limb from limb. Marble ribbing on the inside. Brought to a high only to be left out in the cold after. 

You never expected apotheosis. You never expected the filth murmured into your ear, the lurid, coarse diatribe in surround sound, all perfect fuckin’ pussy, can’t wait to shove my tongue inside, gonna make you suck my cock while I eat that perfect cunt out—

All—

Perfect fuckin’ girl; you don’t give this to anyone else, do ya? Knew you were gaggin’ for it back in the bar, but wanted to wait ‘n see; turned the rest of ‘em down, didn’t ya? Not a fuckin’ slut. Jus’ for me—only hungry for my cock—

It’s too rough, too much. Overpowering. Musk and body heat and raw strength, his forearms planted on the mattress on either side of your head. The scent of him suffocating, smothering. Heady. In your pores, on the back of your tongue, in your belly. He’s everywhere.

If only you could put it into words. The fire in your belly growing so wild, so out of control, that it threatens to incinerate you. Thinking dangerous thoughts—that you could be his, that he wants you so bad he can’t stand the idea of anyone having you before him, that he’ll kill anyone that touched you before, rip them apart with his bare hands, cut out their hearts and slice it ‘em up real thin so he could feed you the strips with his hands—

“Fuck—” Simon pants in your ear, pulling his cock out of your cunt. You whine, clenching down on nothing, suddenly empty, until he turns you roughly over onto your back and grabs one of your flailing ankles, hooking it over a burly shoulder. “Cunt this good oughta be locked down. Should just chain your leg to the bed so I can wake up to this pussy every day. Would’ya like that, bird?”

Like it? You think wildly—

Keep me, keep me, keep me, pleasepleaseplease.

The leg not hooked over Simon’s shoulder gets pulled around his hip, spreading your legs wider to accommodate the width of him between them. The scour of his voice threatens to erode you, smash you to pieces. There won’t be anything left after he’s done with you. 

He’s just so big. Built like an ox, broad and solid. When he braces his forearms on either side of you, his biceps bulge, skin pulling taut over the muscle. The dark hair of his pits is stark against pale flesh. 

Blood roars in your ears and over you, he moves like a wave, filling you up again and again. You’re swimming in uncharted waters now; gazing out into an unfamiliar and dangerous sea. A swell this big might take you right under. 

Too bad for you, the hazy adumbration of danger in his words is pitted against the maw in your soul, the deep, cavernous hole that yawns wider with each passing year. 

For years now, you’ve had the same dream: overlooking a sea of evergreen peaks illuminated by a silky moonlight hue, winding a long, narrow road darkened on both sides by tightly clustered trees, your arms wrapped around your chest. Cold layered like a skin, sinking deep into your bones, cold wet like a damp hate; trees clustered around your wandering soul, spurned into wandering like a little undead ghost with teeth clattering in Morse code, saying: so many wrongs done, it is almost incomprehensible.

Is it too much to ask to be wanted? 

You need it like air. 

The issue is that—

more than horny, you’re really, really fucking lonely. 

For years now, you’ve had the same dream: a dream of being a lighthouse keeper, skin saltwater slick, seafoam on the backs of your knuckles, slathering over frozen fingers clutching at the gallery railing. Beckoning something to you.

What it is, you do not know.

“Look at tha’,” Simon says wonderingly, grabbing your face and yanking it towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “Just needed to get turned out on a fat cock, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah,” you gasp. “So good, Simon, ohmygod—”

“Only this needy for me, right?” The glint in his eye is terrifying.

“Only you, only you—”

“That’s right,” he growls, bearing all of his weight down on you, forehead to forehead. His sweat-slick chest slides against yours, cock buried so deep that you can taste him at the back of your throat. Dark eyes stare down at you with an intensity that steals the breath from you, glossy like he’s rapidly losing the ability to be consciously present, but ever attentive to the pleasure rippling across your face. 

When his cock grinds into the soft plug of your womb, his eyes narrow when yours bulge, and he batters that spot until you seize up and spasm around him. His buzz cut gives you nothing to hold onto, so you dig your nails into the bulky planes of his back instead. 

“Fuck—hold on, Christ, fuck; here it comes,” he spits, the veins in his neck protruding when he grits his teeth. 

Your blood goes red hot when he rams deep into you, each thrust deliberate. Hips losing their rhythm. You don’t notice the first spurt of cum, too preoccupied with the smell and weight of him blanketing you, infiltrating every crevice of your body, but the second is hot. Scorching. You ignore the screaming alarm at the back of your head, barely coherent enough to parse out its meaning. All you can focus on is the warmth spreading inside you and your own walls pulsing around his cock, milking his release out of him. 

Time blurs. You lose some of it. 

You don’t come back until Simon rolls over onto his back, taking you with him. His cock is still buried inside of you, his cum running out in rivulets, pooling at the base of his dick lodged at your entrance. You’re going to be messy when he finally pulls out. 

Despite the ache already setting in, you feel reborn. Renewed. The old, dead skin flayed off. You can’t imagine how you’ll feel when you’ve got your energy back, when even tracing your eyes across the other side of his room doesn’t take tremendous effort. The traces of him littered around the room make you curious. A half empty glass. Steel-toed boots sticking out of a half-opened closet. A damp towel crumpled into a ball on the floor. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s no use trying to fill the gaps in. Whoever Simon is won’t matter in the light of day. You repeat this to yourself until it sticks. 

When you try to get up, planting both hands on his chest, he pulls you back down, forcing your head onto the pillow of his chest. “Simon, the sheets are wet—”

“I’ll deal with it later,” Simon says, eyes already shut, on the verge of falling asleep. “Now shut up. You’re ruining the fucking afterglow.” 

You wake up the next morning covered in bruises and bite marks and dried cum between your thighs and on your belly, so sore that even twitching your finger hurts.

It takes awhile for everything to come back to you. When it finally does, consciousness snaps back into you, discomfort giving way to quiet self-satisfaction. You managed to do it. Your first one-night stand. A real milestone. The tacky sheets beneath you are proof enough of your accomplishment. 

The sadness slithers in when you realize that it’s over. One and done. In a half hour or so, the man plastered against your back and breathing heavily on the crown of your head will wake up, groggy and bleary eyed, and side-eye you until you put back on your clothes from the night before and slink out, tail tucked between your legs. A few hours delayed from when you were planning to throw in the towel at the bar, but still. In the end, it always comes around. 

A gruff voice at your side tells you to quiet, bird—s'too early for your bitchin’ before manhandling you onto your stomach and shoving his raw cock into your cunt and it’s only now that it dawns on you that you were too horny last night to remember to ask him to use protection. 

The thought is wiped from your head when he bucks his hips forward, impaling you on his swollen length. You lose track of time after that. 

Breakfast is an informal affair. Cereal from a box and a bit too much milk, and a cup of instant coffee. You wince when you sit down across from Simon at the kitchen table, your inner thighs still tender and pussy sore from the battering it just took. If it strokes his ego to see how gingerly you sit down, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s weird sitting across the table from him after last night. Hard to just leave it unaddressed, the truth simmering in the air. The red marks across his back make you wince, cheeks heating. Thin crescent marks and scored nails. It’s hard to reconcile yourself with the girl from last night. 

He eats in silence for the most part though, ravenous after the night before. Doesn’t comment on the state of his shoulders or the way you shift on your chair. Not even bothering to make eye contact with you. Your appetite takes a bit of a hit watching him shovel food into his mouth, hardly even pausing long enough to breathe, but you’ve seen plenty of hungry men eat before. 

Still though, silence has always had a way of getting under your skin. You’re not comfortable around it, prone to chattering. So you can’t help the way your mouth opens and the words come out involuntarily. 

“Do you do this a lot?”

“I don’t shit where I eat,” Simon grunts dismissively.

The expression makes you grimace. “So do you usually pick up girls elsewhere or—”

The look he gives you could melt the flesh off your bones. You realize your misstep, interrogating the man you just fucked about his other hookups. Best not to ask questions. It’s not like you’ll see him again after this. 

These last few moments are bittersweet. There won’t be many opportunities like this in the future, mainly because you don’t think you’re cut out for one-night stands. Last night proved that. As good as it was—and for as many times as you came, another time in the wee hours of the morning when Simon rolled over on top of you and shoved your legs apart to eat you out (a midnight snack)—in the light of day, you feel world weary. Like something monumental happened and passed you by. 

You almost want to thank him for making it special, but the anxiety around finally pissing him off is more than you can bear. You want to leave on a good note. It’s better this way. You’ll never have confirmation about whether he’d eventually grow tired of you like everyone else. Never know if he’d one day manage to lose interest in the real you, not the made up sex kitten from the bar. 

It’s better this way.

You tell yourself that when you push your chair out and stand up, hands fisting in the oversized shirt Simon made you wear before leaving the bedroom. “I should get going.”

He stops eating, staring up at you. His eyes are inscrutable, and the longer he stares, the less you understand his look. 

You shift from foot to foot. “Thanks for… I had a good time.”

Simon doesn’t say anything, but when he drops his spoon into the bowl, the metal clang makes you flinch. 

His silence leaves you off balance, like you’ve overstepped somehow. All motion stills under his scrutiny. 

“Got somewhere ya need to be?” he asks, a vague, almost menacing undercurrent in his voice. It’s said like a warning. There shouldn’t be anywhere else you need to be. 

“I…—don’t you want me to leave?”

He looks distinctly unimpressed. “You gonna walk home like that?” His words make you tug at his shirt, pulling it down to cover your thighs.

Your whole life has been made up of misunderstandings. Missed opportunities. Men who you thought loved you vanishing into thin air. You’re a poem often lost in translation. A long game of hide and seek; people run towards you then feign right, leaving you in the dust. 

Whatever this is, you don’t recognize it. 

You swallow on a dry throat. “…No?”

Simon searches your expression for something before he nods, satisfied. “Then sit the fuck back down. Finish your damn breakfast.”

You sit back down (wincing when you do) because the alternative is admitting that you don’t know what’s next. That you’re out of step again, but this time without that sinking feeling in your belly. A wild fluttering instead. That thought again that maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew. 

What’s that saying again?

Ah, yes. Choices made in anger cannot be undone.

[afterglowsainz]

Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻

jealousy | jude bellingham

obsessed with this concept already !!

summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it

warnings: none

word count: 738

a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3

you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.

“someone dm you.” he says.

his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.

“who?”

“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.

“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.

jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.

“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.

“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.

when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.

some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.

he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.

“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.

you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.

“sure.” you say.

he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.

when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.

“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.

“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.

“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.

“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”

“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”

jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.