#no one wants a serious relationship anymore

[solxamber]

Hi! Trey, romantic, Casual by Chappell Roan:)

"Is it casual now?" || Trey Clover

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Casual by Chappell Roan

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 730

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Suggestive Content, Casual to serious relationship, Happy Ending

Trey doesn’t know what to do with you.

His friends say he should walk away. Riddle tells him he's being reckless. Cater tells him to live a little, but not this much. Even Ace, of all people, warns him not to get too attached.

"They’re just playing with you, Trey. You’re a good guy, but you’re not special to them. Something fun to pass the time."

He knows they’re right.

But when you text him at midnight, he still picks up his phone. When you tug him into your room, he still lets you push him against the wall.

When your hands are in his hair and your lips are on his neck, he still groans and gives you everything you want.

He knows how this ends.

You’ll tease him, take what you need, and then you’ll leave. And yet—

When you press against him in the dark, breath hot against his ear, when you whisper “You’re so good to me, Trey,”—he still hopes.

And he hates himself for it.

He should be stronger than this.

But every time he’s with you, his resolve cracks like fragile glass.

Because you never stay away for long.

You let him hold you after, even when you say this isn’t serious. You let him touch you, let his fingers linger, let him pull you back for one last kiss, then another, and another.

You tell him not to get attached, and then you slip your hands under his shirt, run your nails down his back, and he groans into your mouth.

You make it impossible for him to let go.

And god, he wants to let go.

Because you don’t belong to him. You never have.

But his shirts are still in your room. Your scent lingers on his skin. Your toothbrush sits next to his in the bathroom, and when he finds your favorite ring in his pocket one day, he swears he’s losing his mind.

He tries to be casual, too. He tries to play the same game.

But he still wakes up wanting more.

He wants to wake up with you in his arms, your legs tangled with his, your breath warm against his collarbone.

He wants you to drag him to brunch and introduce him as your boyfriend, wants to hear you say it like you mean it.

He wants lazy Sundays with you, wants you curled against his chest on the couch, wants to kiss you slow and deep without thinking it might be the last time.

Most of all, he wants you to want him back.

But he can’t pine alone forever.

So tonight, he’s ending this.

You’re draped over him, body warm and pliant, your fingers still tracing over his chest, teasing, tempting. You’re smiling like you know you have him wrapped around your finger. Like you know he won’t say no.

But tonight, you’re wrong.

“This is the last time,” Trey says, voice low and rough.

You pause, blinking up at him. “What?”

He exhales sharply, raking a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t do this anymore. Not if you don’t want something real.”

You stare at him. And then you shift, pressing your bare leg between his, your lips ghosting over his throat, the way you always do when you don’t want to answer a question. “Trey—”

“No.” His fingers grip your waist, holding you still. “Not this time. If I’m just a game to you, tell me now, and I’ll walk away.”

You don’t speak for a long moment.

Then, finally, quietly—

“…What if I don’t want you to?”

Trey stills. His breath catches. “What?”

Your fingers tighten around his arm, holding onto him like you’re scared he’ll slip away. “What if I want more?” You swallow hard. “What if I don’t want this to be casual anymore?”

His head is spinning. His heart is pounding so loudly, he swears you can hear it. “Say it again.”

“…I want you.”

And Trey breaks.

He kisses you, deep and hungry, pressing you down into the sheets, pouring everything he’s been holding back into you. His hands map over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he finally, finally has permission to love you.

Like he never wants to be casual with you ever again.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

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

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

-Much love, Bianca 🌻

Inocencia

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — In which you and Jude are soulmates.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 24.2k

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

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

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

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

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

So you became a master of disguise.

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

At school, the contrast was striking.

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

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

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

And then came Charlie.

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

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

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

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

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

And that scared you as much as it fascinated you.

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

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

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

And that’s how you ended up there.

The nightclub was chaos incarnate.

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

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

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

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

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

Loosening up was easier said than done.

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

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

And that’s when you met him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pushed them away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But something about him made you pause.

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

Maybe it was time to try.

So you nodded. “Yeah.”

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like it.

You love him.

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jude huffs, his smirk faltering. “Smartass.”

“Yup,” you agree, grinning back.

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

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

He shrugs. “Whatever you want, babe.”

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

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

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

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

*********

The apartment feels quieter than usual without Charlie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dinner is a blur after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jude,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s overwhelming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, baby?,” he murmurs huskily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*********

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

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

Now, though? It’s radio silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums, not looking at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you breathe out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Your voice comes out pouty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Charlie!" You push her with a giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See you soon, love."

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

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

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

"Will do," you say, smiling softly.

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You follow him, feeling like you’re floating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can tell. Of course, he can.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***********

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

And Jude is relentless. Ever the indulger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jude…”

“Mm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it’s always true.”

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

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

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

“Excited?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, unable to find the right words.

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

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

“Jude…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitches. “Jude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s easy. Being with him.

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

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

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

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

You hum, considering. “Depends.”

“On?”

“On how well you listen.”

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

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

“Mm?”

“You’re distracting me.”

He laughs, low and deep. “Am I?”

You nod, cheeks burning. “Very much.”

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

Your pulse stutters. “I—I have?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jude hums, squeezing back. “Yeah.”

“That’s Vega.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you make your decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, exhaling softly. “I know.”

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

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

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

“Hey,” Jude murmurs against your lips, his voice a touch rougher now, laced with need. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and intense. “It's just me, okay? Always just me.”

You nod, swallowing hard, but Jude's fingers tighten on your waist like he needs more assurance. Like he needs to hear it from you.

“Just you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude's eyes flash with something like triumph, and his lips find yours again in a kiss that's soft, deep, devouring.

Jude is gentle, almost unbearably so, as he slowly tilts you back onto the pillows. The world seems to narrow to just the two of you—the rustling of the blankets beneath you, the warmth of his hands steadying your body, the quiet exhale of his breath fanning against your skin. Your hair spreads out like a halo against the sheets, and Jude just stares for a moment, his gaze roaming over you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

"Fuck baby, look at you," he murmurs, voice rough, reverent. "You don't even know how pretty you are, do you?"

You swallow hard, looking at him through wet clumpy lashes, the warmth of him overwhelming you already. Jude bites his bottom lip at the sight of you already so fucked out for him. You're so fucking pretty and he can't wait to ruin you.

Jude’s weight shifts over you as he lowers himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that steals the breath from your lungs. He’s everywhere—his scent, his warmth, the solid weight of him pressing into you in all the places you’re most sensitive. You feel him, all of him, and your lashes flutter as you try not to tremble beneath him.

His hands slide up your sides, slow and deliberate, his fingers catching the hem of your dress. He pushes the fabric up inch by inch, exposing more of your skin to the cool air, and then he makes a sound—low, almost pained.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he breathes, dipping his head to your neck. He kisses you there, soft at first, then with more intent, dragging his lips over the delicate skin until he reaches your collarbone. His mouth is hot, open-mouthed, tasting you, lingering. The smell of you putting him in a haze. "Need to taste you. Gonna let me? Mhm?"

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core.

You nod, but the motion is shaky, your lips parted as you struggle to find your voice. "Y-yeah," you whisper, barely more than breath.

Jude smiles against your skin, finding your shyness utterly endearing. Even after all this time you're still so fucking cute. "That’s my girl," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lower.

You feel them at the edge of your panties, feel the soft tug as he starts to slide them down. Your breath hitches, and Jude pauses immediately, glancing up at you. His eyes are warm, searching.

"Hey," he murmurs, pressing a kiss just above your navel. "You okay?"

You nod again, but he doesn’t move right away. He watches you, patient, waiting for you to really settle before continuing. It’s so incredibly tender that your heart squeezes in your chest.

When he finally does pull your panties away, his breath catches. His hands part your thighs, thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin there, and he exhales like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. He has.

"Fuck, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "Such a pretty pussy."

Your fingers curl into the sheets as he works his way lower, his lips tracing paths of fire down your legs, teasing, deliberate. You’re already shaking by the time his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your mound.

"Can I kiss it, baby?" His voice is low, dark, laced with something sinful, something that makes your entire body burn.

You can’t even speak. Your lips part, but no words come out, just a soft whimper that makes Jude grin against your skin. He loves this—the way you melt for him, the way you look at him with wide, innocent eyes like you can’t believe what’s happening.

"You’ve gotta tell me, princess," he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles. "Need to hear you say it."

"Y-yeah," you stammer, barely audible, but it’s enough.

Jude groans, his lips pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before finally, finally—

The first touch of his mouth is pure ecstacy. You gasp, your body jolting against the bed, and Jude hums in approval. His tongue moves slowly, languidly, savoring every inch of you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. You are.

"God, baby," he groans into you, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Taste so fucking good. Could stay here all night."

His hands slide beneath your thighs, pulling you closer, tilting your hips just right so he can get even deeper. His tongue flicks over your clit, teasing, and your entire body tenses. Your fingers shoot to his hair, gripping onto the dark coils as if they’re the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

Jude chuckles, and the sound is pure sin. "That good, huh?"

You let out a broken whimper, your head tipping back, your cheeks burning. He’s watching you—God, he’s watching you. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, dark and hungry, and the sight alone is enough to make your stomach twist with want.

"Look at you," he murmurs, licking into you again, slow and deep. "So fucking pretty when you let go for me."

You squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed, but he’s not having it. One of his hands moves up your body, sliding beneath your dress until he finds your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

"Don’t hide from me, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin. "Wanna see you. Wanna watch you fall apart."

And you do.

With every stroke of his tongue, every whispered praise against your skin, and wet slick sound of his mouth, your body coils tighter, your breath coming in sharp little pants. It feels like you’re being pulled apart at the seams, every nerve on fire, and it’s terrifying, overwhelming, but Jude—he’s there, holding you, grounding you, whispering sweet nothings against your pussy.

When he flicks his tongue over your clit once more, you lose it.

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing around him, and Jude holds you through it all, his tongue never ceasing its motion. He groans against your skin, his hand gripping your thigh hard, but you barely feel it. All you can do is sob his name, your head tipping back in a silent scream, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

Jude stays with you through it all—licking, sucking, slowly bringing you down from the high. He doesn’t stop until your body finally relaxes against the mattress, limp and warm and pliant. Then he moves up your body in a slow, languid crawl, lips dragging over your skin, kissing everything he passes. His fingers find your hair, stroking it back from your face, and then his mouth meets yours.

You're still reeling from what he's done, from the way he’s touched you, taken you apart like he was born to do it. Your body is thrumming, heat pooling low in your belly, and yet Jude’s kiss is gentle—softer than you expect, coaxing you back to reality, back to him.

He tastes like you—salt and sweetness mixed into something heady and intoxicating. The taste of him makes you whimper against his lips, and he swallows the sound like it’s his favorite thing in the world.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours, lips barely ghosting over your mouth as he speaks. "Still with me?"

You hum, nodding shyly, your fingers fisting the sheets beside you.

Jude grins against your lips, his voice turning teasing. "Good girl."

His words send a ripple of warmth through you, but before you can say anything, he leans back, arms flexing as he peels his shirt off in one smooth motion. The sight of him, shirtless and breathtaking, has your breath hitching. His body is all lean muscle, defined and golden brown. Spit pools in your mouth, and you have to swallow quickly to stop from embarrassing yourself.

Jude notices. Of course, he does. His smirk is knowing, his dark eyes full of mischief as he tosses the shirt aside.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he teases, voice dipping low, sinful.

Your face burns, but you can’t look away.

His laughter is soft, affectionate. "You’re too cute," he murmurs, brushing his fingers over your flushed cheek before dipping lower, reaching for the hem of your dress. His knuckles graze your skin, making you shiver. "Let’s get this off you."

Before you can protest, the fabric is slipping over your head and then—then you’re bare for him.

The moment stretches, thick with anticipation. You shift slightly, suddenly shy under his gaze, but Jude just looks at you like you’re a masterpiece, like he’s afraid to blink in case you disappear.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice rough, reverent. "You're so fucking pretty."

You barely have time to register his words before his lips are back on yours—hotter this time, more insistent. There’s no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he’s trying to consume every last bit of you.

You gasp against his mouth, arching into him, needing more, and he groans, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip. The new angle has you feeling him more, the thick press of his cock through his pants sending sparks of desire shooting straight to your core.

"Jude," you whisper, breathless.

He presses his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. "I know, baby," he murmurs, rolling his hips against yours. The friction is maddening, sinful. You moan, and he catches the sound with his mouth, swallowing it greedily.

"You're so soft," he whispers, his hands roaming, fingertips dragging over your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. "So warm." Another roll of his hips, slow and deliberate. "I need you, baby."

His words send a shiver down your spine, heat curling deep inside you.

Jude’s mouth finds your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses down to your chest. His hands follow, palms covering your breasts, kneading softly before his thumbs brush over your nipples. The sensation is too much, not enough, all at once.

You whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, clutching him.

"You're so sensitive," Jude mutters, voice thick with want. He pinches one of your nipples lightly, watching as you jolt beneath him. "Makes me so fucking hard."

His words are filthy, but instead of making you shy away, they send another wave of heat pooling between your legs.

Your eyes flicker downward, and you see it—see the thick outline of him straining against his pants. Your breath catches.

"Take them off," you whisper, surprising yourself.

Jude stills, his gaze snapping to yours, surprised. Then, he smirks, but there’s something darker, hungrier beneath it. "Yeah?"

You nod, biting your lip.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he kicks off his pants and boxer briefs, and then he’s bare before you.

Your breath stutters. He’s—God.

Thick, veiny and oh so hard.

Your thighs press together instinctively, and Jude notices. His smirk grows, but there’s a softness in his eyes, too. He leans down, brushing a kiss to your jaw, your cheek, your nose.

But then—

"Shit." He suddenly freezes, his face scrunching in frustration. "I don’t have condoms."

You blink, his words slow to register through the haze of desire clouding your mind.

Jude groans, dragging a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think we’d be doing this tonight."

You hesitate, then swallow your nerves. "It’s okay," you murmur. You reach down, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the warmth, the weight of him in your palm. He sucks in a sharp breath. "I’m on birth control."

"Sweetheart," he groans, his hips jerking slightly into your hand. "Don’t do that."

But you do. You stroke him slowly, experimentally, fascinated by the way his breathing stutters, the way his jaw clenches like he’s barely holding himself together.

Jude curses under his breath, his head dropping to your shoulder. "You’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up."

You hum softly, dragging your thumb over the tip, spreading the precum leaking out. He chokes on a groan, his hands gripping your hips tight.

You’ve never seen him like this—so undone, so desperate.

And God, you love it.

"Please, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with need. "Squeeze tighter for me."

You bite your lip as you obey, watching him through your lashes. He’s so big, so hard for you. Your walls clenches just thinking about it, a rush of slick flooding your core.

Jude notices. His eyes flick down to where your thighs press together, and then the last of his control snaps.

He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from him.

His hands slide down, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping your thighs, spreading them open carefully.

"Tell me if it hurts, sweetheart," he murmurs, reaching down to stroke himself. He brushes his lips over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, soothing you in every way he can. "I’ll stop if you need me to. I’ll take care of you, I promise."

You believe him. You always have.

Then, he shifts, and you feel him at your entrance, his heavy gaze locked between your thighs. A nervous breath hitches in your throat, your fingers fisting into the sheets. Jude notices, of course he does, and his lips curve into a teasing smirk.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and sweet like honey. “I got you.”

You nod, though your body remains tense, overwhelmed by his closeness, by the way his touch ignites something deep inside you. Then, he moves the head of his cock over your clit, slow and deliberate, rubbing lazy circles that have your breath stuttering. The sensation is new, foreign yet delicious, and just as you’re adjusting to the pleasure, he taps it against your swollen bud, making you jolt.

A soft gasp escapes you, your fingers gripping the sheets tighter.

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, shaking his head as he watches how his thick head glides easily between your slick folds. The sound it makes makes you bury you face in his shoulder “You’re so wet, baby. All fucking mine.”

His words send a rush of heat through your body, your cheeks burning as you turn your face to the side, too shy to meet his gaze. But Jude isn’t having it. He cups your chin gently, coaxing you to look at him.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. 

The hunger in his voice makes you clench and he groans at the feeling. Then, he’s pressing in, the thick head pushing past your entrance, stretching you in a way that makes you suck in a sharp breath. Your lashes flutter, but Jude’s there, his eyes locked on yours, his lips brushing reassuring kisses over your nose, your cheek.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know, baby.” 

He slides in further, slow, slow. You feel yourself spreading around his girth, the feeling of fullness intense but not quite painful. The dull pressure borders on discomfort, but Jude doesn’t rush you. He moves slowly, carefully, inch by inch, pausing to let you adjust, his hands soothing over your sides.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he praises, his lips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, down to your throat. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You exhale shakily, trying to relax as he pushes deeper. There’s a slight burn, your body resisting the intrusion, but the way Jude watches you—so patient, so gentle—eases the tension. He strokes your thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, reassuring circles into your skin.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. His voice is wrecked, thick with restraint. “God, you feel so fucking good. So warm, so tight.”

Your nails dig into his back as he finally sinks in all the way, filling you completely. A whimper leaves your lips, overwhelmed by the stretch, by the feeling of being utterly, entirely full. Jude stills immediately, concern flickering across his face.

“Too much?” he asks, his thumb brushing your cheek.

You shake your head quickly, blinking up at him. “No—just… full,” you admit breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there.

He doesn’t move, just holds you, letting you adjust at your own pace. His lips find your neck, trailing slow, reverent kisses down to your collarbone. His hands never stop moving, caressing your thighs, your hips, your waist—everywhere. It helps, the ache easing into something warmer, something better.

You shift slightly beneath him, testing the sensation, and a tiny moan escapes you at the delicious friction. Jude groans, his fingers tightening on your hips like he’s barely holding on.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight. Pussy feels like heaven, baby.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, making you squirm in embarrassment. You bury your face against his neck, but he only chuckles, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes, his voice laced with amusement. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart.”

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping them gently as he pulls out, slow and careful, before sinking back in. The friction sends a shiver up your spine, something new and intoxicating unfurling in your belly. Your breath stutters, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jude watches you closely, his eyes dark and heated. Then, his lips twitch into a knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “You like that, baby?”

Your cheeks flame, but the pleasure is too much to deny. You nod, barely able to form words, and Jude groans, dropping his head to your collarbone as he fights to keep himself together.

“Fuck, this pussy,” the last sound drags out as his jaw goes slack. “fucking made for me.”

His thrusts remain slow, deep, every roll of his hips sending a ripple of pleasure through you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a sensation you can’t begin to describe. Every brush of his skin against yours sends sparks of sensation through your body.

It’s not long before you find yourself moving with him, arching beneath him, searching for more. He hums in approval, his teeth nipping gently at your neck as he thrusts into you deeper, harder. You cry out, a high whimper, and Jude swallows it greedily.

You’re completely lost in the sensation of him, the way he moves above you like a dream, like a vision. The way his lips drag over your skin, the soft praise against your ear, the heavy weight of him on top of you. It all feels so good, so overwhelming, that you find yourself clinging to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders like he’s the only thing that exists in this moment.

Jude growls, his mouth finding yours as he kisses you hard, deep. He fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast, rougher than he ever thought he’d be with you. But you—it’s like you were made for him, like your body was built for this, for his cock.

And it makes him crazy.

“Fuuuckk,” he rasps into your mouth, your lips barely parting for words. “Gonna cum for me? Hm?”

He slips a hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He strokes it, hard, slow circles that make you cry out. Your walls clench around him as he rubs you faster—it’s like the best thing you’ve ever felt.

And then…

"Oh, fuck! Jude!" you cry out, your back concaving into him as his tip grazes a spot that has tears spilling down your cheeks. You can only describe it as pure ecstasy and he’s not letting up. “Oh, God. Oh, God”

Jude curses, his hips moving faster, thrusting into your gspot over and over again. You’re sobbing now, "Found it."Jude whispers, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face as he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot over and over.  You're getting so close, your body’s a live wire, waiting to snap.

“Jude—fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!” you sob.

His hand tightens on your hip, his fingers bruising. “Then cum, baby,” he grunts, his own body tense, close. “Let me feel it. Cum for me, sweetheart. Fucking milk my cock.”

The filthy words send you over the edge, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you, a force so intense it steals the air from your lungs. Your fingers clutch at Jude’s broad shoulders, nails pressing into his flushed skin, as a broken sob falls from your lips. The pleasure is overwhelming—too much, too deep, too consuming—but you surrender to it, trembling as your body spasms around him.

"That’s it, love," Jude groans, his voice rough with desperation, his fingers tangling with yours as he pins your hands above your head, holding you there, helpless beneath him. “Jude,” you gasp, voice trembling, eyes glazed over with pleasure.

The sight of you—flushed, trembling, your lips parted in a breathless moan—Your slick gummy walls spasm around him, clenching tight, and it’s all Jude needs to follow you into the abyss of bliss.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his head tipping back as his thrusts turn frantic, desperate, chasing his own pleasure. You watch as his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack as his mouth forms an 'O'. “Fuckkkk,” he grits out, his entire body shuddering. “That’s it, princess. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

His hips stutter, his thick cock jerks inside you once, twice, then he’s gone—spilling deep inside of you with a strangled moan. You feel it—the warmth of him, thick and hot, filling you up completely. His body trembles against yours as he collapses, his chest pressing against your own, heartbeat wild and erratic.

For a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the cool night air brushing over your sweat-slicked skin. The world outside the tent is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of crickets or the distant rustling of leaves.

Jude’s nose brushes against your temple, his lips following in a lazy path along your hairline, down your cheek, over your jaw. He peppers soft kisses across your skin, like he can’t bear to stop touching you. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, like he’s afraid you might slip away.

You blink up at him, your vision still hazy, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. And then, unexpectedly, a giggle bubbles past your lips. 

Jude stirs, lifting his head to look down at you with a lopsided grin. His honey brown eyes are filled with amusement, mischief, and something far softer—something that makes your stomach flip.

“What are you laughin’ at, princess?” His voice is hoarse, still rough with pleasure and a hint of exhaustion. His thumb strokes slow circles over your hipbone.

You shake your head, a little breathless, still giddy. “That was…” You pause, searching for the right words, but nothing feels like enough. Your cheeks burn as you hide your face against his shoulder. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Jude chuckles, the deep sound vibrating against your skin. “I think I do.”

You peek up at him, curiosity flickering in your dazed gaze. “Yeah?”

He hums, pressing another slow, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to study your face, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin

“It was,” he starts, dragging the moment out, watching the way your lips part slightly, the way your lashes flutter. He smirks. “Pretty fuckin’ perfect.”

Your blush deepens, and you swat at his chest, but your hand has no real strength behind it. “Jude,” you whine, embarrassed, but he only laughs, catching your wrist and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to your palm, then your fingertips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, voice lower now, more serious. “You’re perfect.”

Your heart stumbles, skipping a beat before thudding heavily against your ribs. You swallow, suddenly shy, suddenly overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his gaze.

The way he's looking at you now. It's too much.

“I…” Your throat feels tight, words catching. But Jude just smiles, like he understands, like he doesn’t need you to say anything at all.

He shifts, rolling onto his side making you wince as you remember he's still inside you, bringing you with him so that you’re tucked against his chest, your leg draped over his hip, your face buried in the crook of his neck. His fingers trace lazy patterns down your spine, soothing, grounding.

It's so intimate; knowing that's he's inside you, the warmth of him filling you completely as you involuntarily clench around him. The knowledge of his cum still inside you and the slight burn from the stretch that's making your hips sore.

Jude groans quietly, his head tipping back at the overstimulation, his eyes falling closed as he tries to calm himself down. “Hold on, love, just a second.” He hisses out a breath and reaches down to grasp himself at the base before gently pulling out, whispering sweet nothings and soft apologies at the wince you let out.

The feeling of emptiness is immediate, your walls clenching, but you say nothing, just bite your lip and look away as Jude reaches for his shirt. He wipes himself clean before he getting up. You watch with confusion as he slips on his boxers and slides out of the tent. But it's not long before he's back. He crawls back inside with a wet cloth, a small bowl of fruits you packed earlier and your water bottle. He sits down next to you with a soft smile, the cloth held out in his hands. Your cheeks grow warm as you realize what he’s doing. 

“Spread your legs for me, princess .” His voice is soft, gentle. He waits patiently for you to do as he asks, and the way his eyes soften as you listen… It makes tears well up in your eyes. To be taken care of like this—is beyond what you expected. He cleans you gently before he sets the cloth down and reaches for the bowl of fruit.

His eyes light up as he holds a grape to your lips and you accept it with a giggle. He hands you a slice of apple next, and you take a bite, smiling softly at the sight of his relaxed expression. It's like nothing else exists, like only you two are here in the moment. After you finish your snack, he holds out your water bottle and you thank him as you take a long drink.

Jude watches you with something dangerously close to adoration, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s memorizing every little thing—your flushed cheeks, your sleepy eyes, the way your lips glisten as you sip from the bottle. His fingers trail absentmindedly over your thigh, warm and soothing, tracing lazy patterns onto your skin.

“You okay, love?” he murmurs, his voice thick with something soft, something that makes your chest feel too tight.

You nod, still shy, still unsure what to do with all the emotions swirling inside you.

Jude must sense it, must see the way you hesitate, the way your fingers fidget in your lap. He tilts your chin up with the barest touch of his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his expression unreadable.

"You're thinkin' too much," he teases gently. "Wanna tell me what's goin' on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You hesitate, your throat bobbing as you swallow. But under his gaze, so open and patient, you find yourself whispering, "Just… I don’t know how to explain it." Your fingers toy with the hem of the blanket, suddenly fascinated by the texture. "I just feel… full."

His brows lift, and for a second, a wicked smirk plays at the corners of his lips. “Full, huh?”

Your eyes widen as you catch the meaning, and you smack his arm with an indignant squeak. "Not like that, Jude!"

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, rich and warm, and you feel it against your cheek where you’ve buried your face again, hiding. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against him with ease, his lips brushing against your temple.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, amusement still thick in his voice. "I’ll behave."

You huff, but the way his fingers thread through your hair, his touch slow and methodical, makes your body melt against him. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, taking his time with each one like he’s savoring the taste of you.

“You feel full,” he echoes, more serious now, as if he’s trying to understand. "Full of what, love?"

Your lashes flutter as you blink up at him, "I love you, Jude Bellingham ."

His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, but then a softness takes over, and his arms tighten, his hands cupping your face with such gentle care.

“Y/N Y/L/N” His voice is low, raspy, filled with something deep and real. "I love you too. More than I ever thought it was possible to feel. You’re my everything, Y/N. I never wanna spend another night without you in my arms. Every day without you feels too long, too much, too wrong. Will you marry me?"

The world slows, the weight of his words sinking into your bones, melting into the marrow. You blink, stunned, your breath caught somewhere between your ribs as your heart hammers wildly against your chest.

He shifts slightly, one arm still wrapped around you, the other reaching into the pocket of his discarded jeans. You watch, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a small velvet box. The soft glow of the lantern casts golden hues on his face, highlighting the nervous anticipation in his warm brown eyes.

“Jude…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your fingers trembling as you reach up, touching his cheek as if to confirm it’s real and not some dream spun from the afterglow of your love.

He smiles, tilting his head just slightly into your touch, his thumb tracing gentle circles against the small of your back. “Yeah, love. It’s real,” he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “Been carryin’ this around for weeks, waitin’ for the right time. And I realized… there’s no better time than right now.”

He flicks open the box, revealing a delicate ring, the band slender and elegant, a diamond nestled in its center, catching the lantern light and scattering it in tiny flecks across the canvas of the tent. Your breath catches, tears welling in your eyes, blurring the sight of it.

“Y/N, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, his voice steady, thick with emotion. “I know we haven't been together long, but I can’t live without you. Every single day, you make me happier than I ever thought I deserved. I love you. I love your shy little smiles, the way you tuck your face into my neck when you get flustered. I love the way you look at me like I hung the stars, when really, you’re the one that lights up my whole world.”

A soft, overwhelmed sound escapes your lips, something between a laugh and a sob, and he grins, his dimples carving into his cheeks.

“You don’t have to say yes right now,” he adds quickly, as if he’s worried you might feel pressured, as if he can’t bear to see even a hint of hesitation in your eyes. “I just… I want you to know that I’m all in. I wanna be yours for the rest of my life. Whenever you’re ready, whenever you want me—I’m here.”

Your hands shake as you reach for the box, fingers barely brushing the velvet before you shift, pressing forward, wrapping yourself around him as best as you can. Your lips find his—soft, eager, trembling against his own. He catches your breathy gasp with a quiet groan, deepening the kiss, his hands firm at your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

When you finally pull away, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Yes,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “Yes, Jude. I want you—I want forever with you.”

The way his face lights up, the way pure joy radiates from him—it steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” His voice wavers just slightly, disbelief laced into the happiness.

You nod fervently, laughing softly as tears slip down your cheeks. “Yes. A million times, yes.”

A sound rumbles in his chest—something between relief and elation—as he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly. And then he’s kissing you again, laughing against your lips, his hands tangling in your hair, his body pressing you back down onto the soft blanket beneath you.

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, love.” His voice is warm, reverent, as his lips trail along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His fingers find your hand, threading through yours, the cool metal of your new ring pressing against his skin. “I swear, I’ll spend every day making sure you never regret saying yes to me.”

You smile, your free hand slipping into his curls, tugging just slightly until he looks up at you, his eyes dark with something deep, something infinite. “I could never regret you, Jude.”

His breath stutters, and then he’s kissing you again, deep and slow, his love spilling from his lips, from the way his hands trace over your skin.

When he finally pulls away, you’re dazed, breathless, your fingers still curled into his like you don’t want him to go too far.

Jude chuckles, resting his forehead against yours again. “Gotta say, camping’s never been this fun before.”

You giggle, and the sound makes something warm bloom in his chest.

“I think I like it too,” you admit, your voice small, “Especially… with you.”

His arms tighten around you, and when he speaks next, his voice is quieter, raw with something unspoken.

“Good. ‘Cause I plan on makin’ a lot more memories with you, princess.” He tilts his head just enough to steal another soft kiss. “Forever and always, huh?”

“Forever and always,” you echo, smiling into the next kiss.

-Bianca🌻

[demigodsanswer]

So you really are incapable of making a bad AU I'm absolutely loving the tattoo AU. I love mom annabeth and sophia, I love the lukabeth angst, I love the potential percy & luke angst, I love the fact that you have percabeth basically flip their traditional roles while staying true to their character (annabeth is still a genius and percy is still goofy but they can be so much more too!!). I hope you expand on this story more I wanna see percabeth develop and percy form a relationship with sophia and everything that does to annabeth bc we all know girl can overthink. Anyway I'm rambling but I love your writing you're probably my favorite fic writer and I just adore everything you come up with.

Thank you so much! I've noodled around with a few more ideas. Right now, the fic is really heavy on the Lukabeth B+ Coparenting, with just a side of Percy going "hell yeah, hot milfs in my area want me!"

(for any concerned, given what I did to him in tuap, this Luke is genuinly a good dad, and also mostly pathetic and sopping wet.

he spent his teen years in love with a girl who turned out to be a lesbian who got a tubal ligation at 27, and at 29 she introduced him to a pretty 24 year old who he might like. he ended up not liking her that much on a romantic level, but now he's tethered to her forever. Oh and the love of his life's snot nosed baby cousin is back in town, six feet tall, chiseled, and handsome, and now he's sleeping with his baby mama. And all Luke wants to do is take his daughter to disneyworld while princesses and minnie mouse are still real for her. And for some reason, baby mama isn't immediately on board with the idea. and he's also starting to think he might be gay. he's had a rough six years)

Here's a little bit more -- set a week after the last bit:

~~

Percy still had his hand around her waist as they walked into the shop, ignoring the people queued up in line. 

“I’m serious about that Sting tattoo,” Percy said. 

“Give me a week to design a better one than what I scribbled on a place-mat,” she said. 

“Deal, but next week,” Percy said. 

“I book up months in advance, you’ll have to try your luck with a walk-in,” she said, turning towards him. His hands rested on her hips, and he looked at her with that troublemaker smile. Thank goodness he was on a tenure track; soon, whatever trouble he got into wouldn’t matter. “Of course,” she pulled him in a little closer by the belt loops, “I might be able to find the time, if you ate me out again.” 

Percy smiled and brushed some hair behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll do that again, tattoo or not.” 

“Stop being gross in my establishment,” Thalia yelled at them. “Things went well then?” She asked, looking between them. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth confirmed, stepping away from Percy. 

“So, should we expect a mini Percy in nine months?” Thalia asked. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat on the stool behind the reception desk. “I’m more careful at thirty than I was at twenty-four.” 

“Not thirty yet,” Thalia reminded her. 

“Birthday coming up?” Percy asked. 

“In July,” Annabeth confirmed. 

“July fifteenth, mark your calendar, we’re taking her out,” Thalia told him. She watched Percy take out his phone and make a note of it. Annabeth smiled. 

She was about to warn him that she didn’t really party much anymore, but her phone buzzed. She slipped it out of her back pocket and stared at the screen. 

Luke 

Calling her? 

On a Sunday morning? 

She held the phone up to Thalia. “This can’t be good,” Annabeth announced. 

“You better take it,” Thalia said. 

Annabeth answered. 

“Hey?” 

“Hey, don’t freak out.” He sounded completely freaked out, which only freaked her out more. 

“Why?” She asked, turning to face Thalia and Percy so they could read her expression. 

“Sophie got hurt at the park. She fell. We’re in the ER,” he told her. 

“What?” Her heart raced, and she ran a hand through her bangs. 

“They did the X-rays, she broke her arm.” He sounded guilty, and sad, and scared. Although the sad and scared might have just been her projection. She turned away from Percy and Thalia then, her eyes welling with tears. 

“Is she okay?” Annabeth asked. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, then a head. Thalia. Thalia’s arms wrapped around her, and held her upright. In her periphery, she watched Thalia flip off the walk-ins who were staring at them through the window. 

“She’s okay. They gave her pain meds and set the arm. They just need to put it in a cast and discharge her. We should be out of here in an hour,” he told her. 

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Annabeth almost yelled at him. 

“I’ve been trying. There’s no cell reception in here. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

All she ever wanted to do was get mad at him, but he always had a reason to keep her from exploding at him. 

“Well, tell her I’ll be there in -- what hospital are you at?” 

“Beth-Israel, fifteen minutes from Electric if you’re there already,” he said. 

“Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said. 

“You don’t need to -- I mean, I’ll bring her right to you --” 

“No, I’m coming, and tell her I’ll be there,” Annabeth said. 

“Okay,” Luke said, “we’ll see you soon.” 

Annabeth hung up with a huff, before wiping at her eyes, grateful now that she decided against make up that morning. 

Annabeth’s hands shook as she opened the Uber app, and Thalia just took the phone from her. 

“I got it,” she promised, “he said Beth-Israel?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, her voice thin and squeaky. 

“Kids get hurt, mama,” Thalia reminded her, as she confirmed the ride, “but if you go in there all weepy, it’ll scare her.” 

Annabeth nodded and grabbed tissues from the box on the counter. Percy handed her a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks,” Annabeth said to him. 

“Is she okay?” Percy asked. He hadn’t heard most of Luke’s part of the conversation like Thalia had. 

“She broke her arm,” Annabeth said. 

“I did that when I was seven,” Percy said, “it hurt, but once the bone was set, it was okay. And I still have arms,” he said with a dopey smile, holding up his two forearms to prove it. 

“Which arm?” Annabeth asked, not sure why. 

Percy pointed to his SPQR. “It broke right about there,” he said. 

 Her phone buzzed again. Her Uber was pulling up. 

“I’ll call you?” She said to Percy. Percy gave her a thumbs up. “Do you need me to come back?” She asked Thalia. 

“Just walk ins today, mama. Just take her home.” Thalia took out her wallet and handed Annabeth a twenty. “Buy her an ice cream on me.” 

Annabeth smiled. “Her dad is probably going to buy her all of Disney World after this, I’m sure.” 

“Good, he should,” Thalia said, turning Annabeth towards the door. “It’s just ink, it’ll be here tomorrow.” 

And with that, Annabeth was out the door. 

~

The nurses all seemed to figure out who Annabeth was right away. She didn’t know if Luke told them to look for a blonde woman covered in tattoos, or if she really did just look that much like her daughter. 

They had given her a private room in the ER. It wasn’t too busy it seemed, and the nurses directed her there easily. 

Sophia was sitting up in a big hospital bed, still in a pink tee shirt and gray sweats, while Luke read something to her. Her tiny arm was in a beige cast. 

“Mommy!” Sophia called out, her eyes immediately filling with tears, her good arm reaching out to her, as both she and Luke said “be careful with your arm!” at the same time. 

“Hi nugget,” Annabeth said, running over to her, and scooping her up in a big hug, mindful of her injury. 

Sophia sobbed into her shoulder, her little lungs struggling to push out words as she became hysterical. “I was -- on the -- swings -- even though -- you told me -- not to -- and I jumped off -- even though Daddy -- told me not to -- and I fell -- and I got hurt -- and I learned my lesson!” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Annabeth promised her, rocking her gently back and forth in her lap as she cried. “You’re not in trouble, I promise. You’re okay.” 

Annabeth glared at Luke over Sophia’s shoulder though. You are in trouble, she tried to communicate. Luke looked away, guilty. 

“Aw see, I told you your mommy would be here soon,” the nurse said, walking into the room. He was a male nurse with dark skin and locks pulled back in a pink bandana. “She was very brave, mama. But all she wanted was you. All the nurses have been on the lookout.” 

Annabeth looked at Luke again, angrier now then she had been. This time he didn’t even try to look at her. 

“I bet you were so brave,” Annabeth said to her girl, pushing down her anger. “I bet Daddy was scared.” 

Sophia nodded, her tears slowing and her breathing calming down. Annabeth wiped her tears away with her thumb. 

“Did this nice man get you all fixed up?” Annabeth asked. Sophia nodded. “Did you say your thank yous?” Sophia nodded again. 

“Alright Sophia,” the man said, “I got the colors, which one do you want?” Annabeth spotted his name tag as he moved closer. Austin. She hoped her brain held onto it through everything. 

There was blue, purple, orange, yellow, and pink. 

“Your Belle dress is yellow,” Annabeth said. 

“Oh, I’ve heard about the Belle dress,” Austin said. “Do you want yellow?” 

Sophia shook her head and pointed to the pink. 

“Pink?” Austin confirmed. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Can we use our words, nugget?” Annabeth asked. 

“Pink please,” Sophia said. 

“You got it girlie. Mama, we are gonna need you to put her down for this part.” 

Annabeth nodded and got Sophia back into the bed. 

A few minutes later, the hard cast was in place, and Sophia was cleared for discharge. They’d check on the arm in three weeks, and go from there. 

“I want to go home,” Sophia mumbled into Annabeth’s shoulder while Luke filled out the discharge papers. Sophia was under his health insurance. 

“I bet. We’ll go right home, I promise,” Annabeth said. She looked at Luke standing at the desk, filling out forms. It was still his day with her. She rolled over her options in her mind. If she wanted Sophia to herself, she’d bet Luke would allow it. But -- “Do you want Daddy to come home with us?” Annabeth asked. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Okay sweetie,” Annabeth said. 

A minute later, Luke was walking up to them. “We’re all set,” he said. 

“We want to go home,” Annabeth said, adjusting Sophia on her hip, holding onto her tight despite her weight. 

“Right,” Luke said, “sure, I figured --” 

“Will you come back with us?” Annabeth offered. 

Luke’s face lit up. “Really? You’re sure?” 

“Sophia wants you to,” Annabeth said. As if to prove, Sophia reached for her dad, who took her from Annabeth, holding her with more ease than Annabeth had been. 

“Okay,” Luke said, “let's go home then.” 

~

Sophia fell asleep in the Uber, and Luke carried her inside. 

“I’ll order lunch,” Luke said, walking out of her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

“Great, thanks,” Annabeth said, her tone short. For want of something to do, she started on the dishes she left in the sink. 

Luke’s arms snaked around her waist and he rested his head on her shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked. 

“Begging your forgiveness,” he said. 

“Okay. Beg,” she told him. 

He squeezed her a bit, and then said, rather pathetically, “Please don’t take her away from me.” 

Annabeth laughed, confused. “What?” 

“I’m sorry she got hurt, but please, I … I don’t want to stop seeing her.” 

Annabeth put the dishes down and pulled herself out of his hold. She turned to look at him. “Kids get hurt,” she reminded him. “Would you sue me for custody if she broke her arm on my watch? Or would you sue her school if she got hurt there?

“No,” Luke said, “but you are mad at me.” 

“Oh, I’m so mad at you I could scream,” Annabeth confirmed. 

“See, that’s the difference. I also wouldn’t be mad at you if she got hurt on your watch --” 

“I’m not mad she’s hurt!” Annabeth yelled, before bringing her voice back down to a whisper. “I’m mad that I told you no swings, and that you decided to undermine me, even though you said you wouldn’t. I’m fucking pissed that you told me not to go to the hospital when she’d been asking for me. All the nurses were looking for me!” Annabeth reminded him. 

“By the time I got ahold of you,” he said it as if she simply hadn’t been answering her phone, “we had barely an hour left, you didn’t need to at that point --” 

“You should have called me sooner!” 

“I was trying! She was in so much pain. I didn’t want to leave her alone. What would you have done? Stuck in a hospital, no cell service, when would you have called me?” 

“In the taxi on the way to the fucking hospital,” she said, poking his chest with a stiff finger. “What are you getting for lunch?” She asked. 

“Jersey Mikes?” He suggested. 

“Great, you know what she likes?” 

“American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and bread,” Luke rattled off. 

“No oil or vinegar,” she reminded him. 

“I know.” 

~

Annabeth woke Sophia up after an hour and got her to eat. Sophia, blessedly, gave her parents a break from Beauty and the Beast and selected Encanto. Annabeth relaxed finally, nibbling on an okay Italian sub as the iconic tunes of Lin Manuel Miranda entertained her kid. 

“Your grandpa is a big fan of the guy who did the music for this movie,” Luke told Sophia. 

“Poppop likes Encando?” She asked. 

“Sure does,” Luke confirmed. 

At six, Thalia dropped by. “I had to come check on our tiny badass,” Thalia said, running over to hug Sophia as she giggled at the bad word. (Annabeth told her Sophia wasn’t allowed to say swear words until she was eighteen, and Sophia seemed to interpret this as legally she wasn’t allowed. Annabeth hadn’t corrected her).

“Nice cast,” Thalia said, reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a huge pack of Sharpies. “I brought you these so me and your mom can give you some tattoos on your cast.” 

Sophia grabbed the markers with a big thank you hug for her aunt, and Thalia squeezed her back. Crotch goblin, ha. 

Sophia started to rattle off the things she wanted Annabeth to draw, and Annabeth just smiled. “Okay, why don’t you sleep on it, and then pick out what you want where?” Annabeth suggested. Sophia nodded, obviously taking the decision about her tattoos very seriously. 

“Now, I told your mom to take you out for ice cream,” Thalia said. Sophia looked at Annabeth, obviously already feeling betrayed. “Has she?” 

“No!” Sophia announced. 

“Well! We should fix that,” Thalia said. 

“We were getting there,” Annabeth promised, “but we can go now. Go get your shoes on.” 

Thalia pointed to Luke as Sophia ran to get her shoes. “Are we taking the pouty one?” 

“Not sure I deserve ice cream,” Luke said. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a martyr, come on!” She said, pulling him to his feet. 

Sophia picked the brightest blue ice cream Annabeth had ever seen. It was just vanilla, allegedly, with Oreos, but dyed bright blue to look like its namesake: the Cookie Monster. Annabeth stuffed napkins into her cast to keep it clean. 

After a careful bath (with Sophia’s arm wrapped in a trash bag), Annabeth and Luke took turns reading more of The Hobbit to her until her eyes finally started to close. Thalia had been gone since Annabeth announced it was bath time, and now that Sophia was asleep, it was just her and her baby daddy. 

“Should I stay over?” Luke asked. 

“Oh,” Annabeth said. He did stay sometimes. They shared the bed when he did. It wasn't a big deal. It usually happened if Sophia was sick, or on Christmas eve. “Sure, uh,” shit, “I just need to change my sheets,” she said. 

There was a long, terrible pause as Luke figured it out. “You and Percy slept together already?” He asked, obviously judging her. 

“Yeah, so?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

“Seems a bit fast,” he said. 

“Well, I haven’t had sex with someone since you,” Annabeth said, “so forgive me for having some fun.” 

“I’m not mad at you --” 

“But you’re judging me --” 

“It’s just of all the guys --” 

“What’s wrong with Percy?” 

“He’s like a little brother to me!” 

“He told me you two weren’t close!” 

“Not anymore! It’s --” Luke lowered his voice. “It’s fine,” he promised, “I’ll just go home. Do with the sheets what you will.” 

Annabeth frowned. She wasn’t sure how he managed to do it, but she always felt compelled to apologize to him at the end of every spat. She held herself back this time. 

“Alright,” Annabeth said. “I’ll keep you posted about the doctor’s.” 

Luke nodded. “What about …” he glanced at Sophia’s door, “that thing we were talking about.” 

Disney World. 

Annabeth smiled and nodded. “You’re right, we should do it. It’ll mean the world to her. It’s so generous, Luke, I … I’m sorry I wasn’t immediately grateful like I should have been.” 

He shrugged as if to say it’s fine. “You’ll come with us?” Luke asked. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Annabeth said. “I can cover myself --” 

Luke kissed her head. “I don’t want you to. Just go and enjoy yourself.” 

“Okay, I will,” Annabeth said. 

“My friend’s wife is a Disney travel agent. She thinks she can get us into the Beauty and the Beast restaurant.” 

“Oh Sophia will love that,” Annabeth agreed. “Do they serve chicken nuggets?” 

“I’d bet my life they do,” Luke said. 

He leaned in again and kissed her cheek as a goodbye, but when he pulled back, his face lingered. She didn’t stop him from kissing her lips. They tried this every few months or so. 

“Anything?” Annabeth asked when it was over. 

“No,” he confirmed. “You?” 

“Nothing.” 

Luke seemed a bit sad but just shrugged. “Worth a try,” he decided. “I’ll be in touch about vacation,” he promised, before leaving her and Sophia alone. 

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 34

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

  I joined her in her car that Monday evening, parked outside my apartment, with a tinge of apprehension.   I was somewhat dreading this evening, wondering how it would unfold.  

Our kiss was brief, distant.  

I was the one to break the silence.  

 "Really, once again, I’m sorry for those late-night texts..."   

 "It’s fine, let’s not bring up your childish antics at night again, Ona!"   

The evening had started, I thought. I chose not to respond to her provocation, changing the subject instead.  

We talked about everything and nothing in particular, in an atmosphere that was rather peculiar and quite cold.  

Halfway through the drive, I received a message from Alexia. She sent me a photo of all of us from the party, dancing on a table. I burst into laughter suddenly, unable to hold it back.  

 "What’s so funny?"  Lucy asked, glancing at me.  

 "Nothing, just a picture Alexia just sent me!"   

I bit my lower lip. Why had I said that? Unsurprisingly, she followed up.  

 "From your little party?"   

I should’ve thought before I spoke.  

 "Yes, yes..."   

 "With your girlfriend?"   

I immediately replied.  

 "I told you, Lucy, she’s not my girlfriend."   

She didn’t look at me, her eyes fixed on the road.  

 "Since we’re on the topic, can I know how many girls you’re sleeping with at the moment?"   

Her question made me jump. She was looking for a reaction. Before I could answer, she added:  

 "Because honestly, we’ve never really talked about it! How many?"   

Her tone was haughty, cutting, and downright irritating. I was boiling inside.  

 "Look, I’ve lost count!"  I replied with irony.  

Faced with provocation, I had chosen to respond with provocation. At the next roundabout, she didn’t go straight and instead made a U-turn.  

 "What are you doing?"  I asked, surprised.  

 "I don’t really feel like going to that exhibition anymore, you see..."   

 "Fine, suit yourself."   

A silence followed, lasting several long minutes. The tension was palpable, and the evening was turning into a nightmare. As we neared the starting point, I decided to break the heavy silence, letting my frustration slip out.  

 "Why are you acting like this? Huh? I didn’t do anything with that girl or with anyone else. And anyway, you told me you didn’t care! So what’s your problem? The whole 'I don’t care, do what you want'—those were your words! So why does it matter to you if I’m sleeping with half the town?"   

I was fuming, out of control, nerves frayed.  

She pulled the car over to the side of the road, right at the city entrance.  

She turned to me, her gaze unusually serious.  

 "Ona, it would bother me if you were sleeping with half the town. And it did bother me seeing you, Saturday morning, with her, dancing on that float, with her..."   

So, she had seen me on that float.  

 "I told you, she’s a friend, she was just having fun with the situation!"   

 "Having fun with the situation?"  she asked, surprised.  

 "Yes, she knows about us, and, well, she wanted to see how you’d react. That’s Marion; she’s like that!"   

 "Very funny, indeed! So, she knows, then?"   

I replied, visibly annoyed.  

 "Yes, Lucy, she knows! But she lives in Paris, and I doubt she’s going to sell the scoop to  Paris Match !"  I added with a hint of sarcasm.  

I continued,  "You see, normally, I tell my friends everything, especially when it comes to relationships. But this time, I can’t say anything, not even to Alexia. I have to keep everything to myself."   

She looked at me, searching for her words.  

 "Look, it’s a bit of a unique situation, I know, but..."   

I cut her off.  

 "Do you want me to be honest with you? I was hurt, upset when you called me an experiment. I know I can’t expect anything, but it stung. This hidden relationship, kept out of sight—it was exciting at first. But now, it’s weighing on me, okay? I want more. There, I said it: I want more. My late-night texts, as you call them, they mean something! I wanted to see you, I even wanted you to meet my friends. I have feelings for you, do you understand? Romantic feelings!"   

My words poured out of me like a flooded river—fast, sharp, and uncontrollable.  

Lucy stared at me, seemingly stunned by what I’d just said.  

 "I don’t know what to say, Ona,"  were her only words.  

My heart was pounding. I felt suffocated in that car, desperate for air.  

 "I’m sorry, I need to step out, take a walk!"   

She didn’t say a word, letting me go.  

[leslie057]

probably that she loves guns or something...she doesn’t love guns, she doesn’t enjoy using them, nor does she even pride herself on her aim in my opinion. she simply recognizes that it’s a skill of hers and, because it’s a skill of hers, it’s something she has to fall back on time and time again for her safety and the safety of others. she’s careful with that and she’s serious about it. [“there’s a six year old in the house—i know where i keep my guns.”] her relationship with weaponry and just battle in general really stands out to me against other characters. we can take eddie and steve for an example; in the field scene in s4, we see eddie bragging about/playing with his spiked shield in front of dustin. he made it, it is an extension of him, he’s proud of it. in a way, the only thing that is keeping his courage up at that point is his desire to prove himself. he doesn’t want to be the one that retreats, but obviously this is nightmarish shit, so he kind of starts to think of the weapons as toys to make it easier (or that’s how i saw it, anyway). just like a dnd game. steve had a similar thing going with his (nancy’s) bat—sure, he’s protected plenty of people with that bat, and that’s great, he’s very brave, but the way he swings it around like it’s a toy is a little objectionable because it’s like…okay, that’s enough, let’s not play with that. the bat is seen as an extension of steve as well, and for both these boys, as brave as they are (i’m really not trying to completely shit on them, i’m not, and steve is a protective person which is wonderful), we as viewers do get this sense of—particularly during battle scenarios—how aware they are of…themselves. it’s all about them, it’s all about what they can represent for the group (valor, basically). it’s about their personal growth. disclaimer i realize that this is a show with a lot of monster fighting/action happening in it, and also the duffers want their characters to have badass moments, and also they like to lean into some campier physical acting (hello unnecessary flip steve did onto that mattress), which is—fine.

but i find it so weird that a good portion of this fandom reduces nancy to her battle skills, skills that they think represent her identity. i find it weird that people don’t see how much it takes out of her having to be the leader all the time, that people think she’s driven by ANYTHING other than her survivor’s guilt, that she’s supposedly found confidence and purpose in the guns or something, that she’s empowered through that. i mean. yeah, she’s empowered by the fact that she’s not dying. that she can prevent others from dying. i would be much quicker to argue that steve finds confidence/purpose/maybe even satisfaction in battle (not that he doesn’t genuinely want to protect his friends, he does, not that he doesn’t have ptsd, i am sure he does, and he probably doesn’t take literal pleasure in the fighting, per se). there’s just this…..desperation to be the big savior there. i’m sorry but there is.

he projects this onto dustin and eddie at the end of s4 [“don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something”] to which dustin reassures [“don’t worry, you can be the hero steve”] with a judgmental note in his voice, honestly. which is interesting, too.

nancy does not want to be a savior—she just wants to save.

she uses guns only because she’s good with them, because she has to, she needs protection and others need protection. i’m sure there are times for her when pulling the trigger is somewhat of a cathartic release, but i also think she kind of NEVER wants to pick one up again for the rest of her life. of course, if that happened, she wouldn’t be cool and interesting to [some] fans anymore, so. whatever.

tldr; nancy is full of fear and rage, not violence, and she is probably SICK of those damn guns !!! please start looking at her as more than just a “badass.”

what is a mischaracterisation of Nancy wheeler that gets on your nerves (answer in comments pls)

[omglaurashutup]

i don't know how to live life

[klutzytomb]

I never thought I'd say this, but there's no way I'm one of the only ones here that isn't chronically online. Right? Right??

[ianthesmells]

like ooouuuughhh the sadness n grief makes me nauseous and then i cant eat anything because im nauseous which in turn makes me more nauseous

[thenntrewrite]

This a rough outline of what I had in mind for the start of my rewrite, but I wanted to share my thoughts here as well:

Essentially for the very basic layout of the rewrite, I had the idea of the first half following the journey of a rare hybrid—Aleron/Morgan—go through many centuries of her life and building up as an all powerful mage—though she's not entirely alone. It'd be original content mixed in with some Holy War where important moments are focused on that all leads up to the main part of the rewrite. But I'm wondering if perhaps I should focus on the main rewrite, and then do flashbacks of important moments throughout all those centuries in between.

Nothing's truly set in stone yet though. I'm just spit-balling and seeing what sticks. But doing a build-up would work in my favor for another reason outside of character development—I planned on making Meliodas and Elizabeth go from enemies to lovers to friends and make their soulmate bond more platonic by the time he meets 107th and final Elizabeth. I still want their relationship to be what kicks-off the main story and what puts Meliodas through 3,000 years of depression and hell, but, uh, what if he had a companion that he sees occasionally throughout those many centuries?

Spit-balling some more, but I imagine Aleron and Meliodas would also be enemies to friends to... eventual lovers. But it'd take a lot longer for that last bit. Hell, it'd take at least a few centuries for the second bit to occur. They wouldn't be true companions until then. The ultimate slow-burn (A truly self-indulgent rewrite). But the rewrite, if I were to start it three-thousand or so years ago, would be right when the Holy War was at an all around high and many people were dying left and right. Morgan (known at the time) was a somewhat neutralist on the matter, not finding a lick of interest in the war, but would help if called upon to the best of her ability. She was only a few centuries old at the time, and her magic wasn't as strong as it would be later in life, but she spends her time studying and practicing whenever she's not plucking off demons. She has a strong distaste for most races for her own reasons, and I believe most of them wouldn't like her since she was born from two different races. But since her mother is a highly respected Goddess warrior, and her father a highly respected faerie king, her existence is tolerated. In turn, she tolerates others and their existence. After some tragic deaths relating and unrelating to the Holy War, Morgan abandons her birth name since it 'died with them' and becomes a true neutralist living out on her own. She stays out of the war altogether and keeps to herself and her studies, only lifting her weapon out of need than out of obligation. Morgan can't recalls how the war ended, but it only takes a few centuries before she meets Meliodas sometime after the fifth or so Elizabeth. I imagine she stumbles upon him and tries to pretend she didn't see him, but the ever-growing doctor/alchemist in her can't really ignore the stench of blood. Her morals may be skewed now, but she can't ignore the oath and promises she made, so the first step in their bond is making sure the demon prince doesn't die.

This would become a tale of not only tragic soulmates, but the story of something new forming.

[horrorsequel]

i was so good at situationships in the 2010s i was basically winning at situationships

[comixandco]

my favourite part of season 5 is still the reveal that Gabriel and Tomoe thought Adrien and Kagami made the perfect pair and wanted them to be together because it completely flips their relationship

Kagami and Adrien sneaking around and finding the slightest gaps in their schedule and giving their bodyguards/parents the slip to spend time together and feeling so clever that they’ve gotten away with it their parents don’t suspect a thing

only to smashcut to Gabriel and Tomoe doing an evil pound it because their ship is canon

[gifti3]

[riddlertrophy]

loving gotham penguin but hating b22 penguin you will never see the light of heaven the deepest pits of hell will consume you

[binders-and-beanies]

Pondering bottom surgery in the tags I mf guess

[major-fukkup]

Ahhhhhhh there's this guyyyy at work and I've been like 97% sure for a lil bit now that he LIKES likes me and we friended each other on FB recently n he just messaged me asking if I'm married or have a boyfriend and AHHHHH now I have anxiety I told him no bc it's the truth but I don't know what to say next if he asks anything else 💀

[sammydem0n64]

Tbh fellas my identity has reached a point of true “idgaf” (it has been like this for months actually. Lolz.) Thinking abt it gives me brainrot. Pronouns? Idc call me whatever. Gender? I am not a man that’s all I got. Sexuality? Idk. I don’t wanna date people tho!!!!!!!!! I don’t wanna find myself!!!!!!!!!!!! I am Aaliyah sammydem0n64 and I am autistic and that’s it‼️‼️‼️‼️