#thank you though this was such a lovely message to get

[almostempty]

The more you suffer

Self Esteem Part 4 | Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’. Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence??? 

Warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia 

Notes: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots! 

Thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me 

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

WC: 12.1K  AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on. 

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability. 

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo. 

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner. 

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later. 

Holy shit. 

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves. 

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat. 

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie. 

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan??? 

Katie: Can it be both? 

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date? 

Katie: I told you! Green flags! 

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel. 

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions. 

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other. 

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours. 

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer. 

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.” 

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth. 

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response. 

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth. 

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear. 

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff. 

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire. 

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto. 

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal. 

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision. 

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed. 

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause. 

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip. 

“Sit.” 

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders. 

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.” 

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down. 

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?” 

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill. 

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” 

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts. 

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands. 

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him. 

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly. 

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough. 

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.” 

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.” 

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning. 

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back. 

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you. 

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate. 

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth. 

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place. 

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up. 

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented. 

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit. 

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt. 

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.” 

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out. 

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more.  You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.  

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.  

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans. 

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you. 

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed. 

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

 And he does. 

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free. 

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head. 

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel. 

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie. 

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts. 

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him. 

Joel: Miss me? 

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut. 

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape. 

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze. 

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself? 

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay. 

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom. 

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care. 

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away. 

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed. 

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up. 

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside. 

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home. 

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course. 

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like. 

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides. 

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart. 

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall. 

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him. 

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you. 

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.” 

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location. 

You didn’t. 

You texted Joel. 

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded. 

He did. 

Joel: Where? 

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards. 

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?” 

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.” 

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met. 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb. 

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face. 

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.  

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself. 

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park. 

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together. 

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you. 

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still. 

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.” 

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up. 

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.” 

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away. 

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?” 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch. 

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave. 

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning. 

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number 

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT 

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone! 

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything 

You: and a cold brew? 

Katie: Duh 

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune. 

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.” 

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely. 

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child. 

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle. 

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion. 

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses. 

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look. 

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.” 

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?” 

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?” 

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone. 

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.” 

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?” 

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly. 

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart. 

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The 

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget. 

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched. 

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy. 

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS. 

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door. 

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face. 

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality. 

You open the door and start before he even has a chance. 

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?” 

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts. 

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.” 

“Go on then.” 

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now. 

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–” 

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?” 

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles. 

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy. 

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.” 

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car. 

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose. 

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.” 

“Good.” 

“You accept?” 

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently. 

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt. 

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool. 

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.” 

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?” 

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink. 

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?” 

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot. 

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock. 

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel. 

You smile again, “Yes.” 

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him. 

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. 

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them. 

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?” 

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth. 

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather. 

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you. 

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly. 

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes. 

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile. 

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?” 

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily. 

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge. 

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused. 

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders. 

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you. 

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?” 

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.” 

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves. 

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel. 

“Yes.” 

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration. 

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours. 

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.” 

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track. 

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home. 

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust. 

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly. 

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you. 

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead. 

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still. 

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?” 

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.” 

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him. 

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer. 

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.” 

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body. 

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before. 

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology. 

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead. 

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute. 

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor. 

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you. 

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room. 

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected. 

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move. 

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch. 

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, ��Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you. 

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp. 

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?” 

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation. 

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take. 

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly. 

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you. 

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.” 

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.” 

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more. 

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.” 

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs. 

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again. 

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace. 

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax. 

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you. 

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No. 

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same. 

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.” 

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can. 

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes. 

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you. 

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?” 

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.” 

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you. 

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy. 

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him. 

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods. 

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile. 

“No.” 

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel. 

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on. 

“Can we talk?”

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‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 11 - 'Go | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.3k

When the clock neared 7 AM in Madrid, Jude knew it would be late for you in New York, and although he didn’t know you weren’t there he couldn’t wait any longer. You were laying imagining him this same morning, seeing him, grumbling at his alarm, refusing to get out of bed. But then you imagined his usual routine—how he’d eventually get up, stretch his muscular frame, and peel off his clothes before stepping into the shower. The thought made you sigh, your emotions a mix of longing and frustration. Jude was imagining you stepping out of a shower of your own. How you used to wind down for the night, leaning over his vanity in tiny shorts, your ass out, as you applied your skincare. You’d turn around and wink at him with a coquettish laugh that was haunting him. The smell of you filling the room. It was a scent now he wished he could’ve bottled. Unable to resist any longer, he reached for his phone. His fingers hovered over your contact, his heart was racing with both fear and hope. What if you didn’t want to see him? But what if you did? He took a deep breath and began typing, his heart pounding in your chest.

‘I’m coming to see you’

He stared at the message, his mind stilling as the familiarity of it all washed over him. He was commanding because he’d had enough. He needed you back. The anxiety, the excitement, the undeniable connection you shared—it was all there, in those few simple words. He hit send. The message pinged on your phone, the sound breaking the early morning silence. You reached for it groggily, assuming it’d be anyone but Jude, your heart skipping a beat when you saw who it was from. Your stomach dropping. As you read his message, a slow, relieved smile spread across your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as you read the message. For the first time in weeks, you felt something other than the dull ache that had been plaguing you since you left. The possibility of him wanting to come to New York brought a flicker of hope, though it was tangled with nerves. What did it mean? Was he coming to make things right, or just to say goodbye? 

To say Jude been in a terrible funk ever since you left would’ve been an understatement. Nights had become endless stretches of sleeplessness, and his performance on the pitch had suffered as a result. His frustration boiled over in ways that were unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He’d even snapped at his mum a few times, something he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. Jude knew he needed to talk to someone about what was going on, but the idea made him cringe. He didn’t want to admit how deeply you had gotten under his skin. He knew if he opened up to someone like Trent, he’d undoubtedly tell him to fix it, or to Toby, who’d probably suggest he forget about you altogether. Neither of those options felt right. But the silence in his room at night was getting too loud. He’d spend hours just staring at pictures of you, writing in his notebook, the memories only making the emptiness worse. Eventually, it got to the point where he couldn’t hold it in any longer, and the tears came—tears he never thought he’d shed over anyone, let alone a girl. Jude wasn’t the type to cry. He didn’t let himself get that vulnerable. But with you, everything was different. He was different and it was time he grew up. One evening as you were helping Whitney put Teddy down for sleep, Trent got an unforeseen but not unexpected call from Jude. He didn’t tell Jude you were down the hall, he kept it to himself, figuring it wasn’t his place to meddle. But he had been watching Jude struggle, not just on the pitch but in everything. His mate wasn’t himself, and Trent knew why, even if Jude wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Tonight they were casually chatting about football as they always did. Jude was unusually quiet, which wasn’t like him. Normally, he’d be cracking jokes amidst tactics, but this time, he contributed little. 

"You’ve been off lately, mate." Trent, noticing, finally broke the awkwardness, his tone light but deliberate. Jude had clearly called for Trent’s comfort but was hiding behind the guise of football.

“Just tired, I guess. Football's been... rough. I’ve been rough.” Jude shrugged, trying to play it off. Trent raised an eyebrow to himself, seeing though the deflection. 

“Come on, we all get tired, it’s mid season but this isn’t just that. You’re not playing like yourself. You’re not acting like yourself.” Trent hesitantly called him out. Jude rubbed the back of his neck, looking down as if he could avoid Trent through his phone that way.

“Yeah, well, I’m working through it.” The conversation drifted for a few more minutes, Jude trying to focus on tactics, on form, on anything but the real issue at hand. But Trent wasn’t going to let it go that easily, not after he’d seen how this was affecting you. 

“This is about her. It’s because you’re missing her.” After a pause, his voice softer but more direct, Trent bluntly told him.  Jude froze at the mention of you. He hadn’t expected Trent to go there, even though, deep down, he knew Trent saw right through him. Jude’s jaw clenched as he stared at his feet, his chest tightening. He didn’t want to admit it, not because it wasn’t true, but because saying it out loud felt like tearing open a wound he hadn’t yet figured out how to heal. Trent waited patiently, not pushing too hard but not letting it go either. It was time. They’d talk about relationships here and there but you’d become less of a conversation since things turned sour and Jude needed to face the music because now people were getting hurt. Trent wasn’t going to have you come to his house crying and let Jude get away with it.  “You’ve been a mess since she left, man,” Trent continued, his tone gentle but firm. “And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s why you’re struggling, it’s why she’s hurting, you know it as well and maybe it’s time you face it.” Jude’s hands were gripping his knees now, his mind racing. He didn’t know how to express what he was feeling. The regret. The love. The guilt. It all tangled together into a knot that sat heavy in his chest, impossible to untangle.

“I… I’m in love with her.” Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. The admission hung in the air. Jude had said it, the words that had been building inside him for so long. “I know I’ve been in love with her.” Jude whispered again, almost silent. His words came out raw, as if he hadn’t meant to let them slip, but there they were, impossible to take back now.

“There he is. Good lad. Finally,” Trent said, his voice filled with a quiet pride. Trent smiled softly, almost able to hear the weight shift off his friend’s shoulders. 

“I know. I know. You were right but bro….” Jude admitted that Trent had been right but it was through gritted teeth. Jude didn’t want to hear Trent’s cockiness right now. “Nothing feels right without her,” Jude admitted, his voice strained. “I can’t function. Every day... it’s like I’m half here, half somewhere else. She’s always in my head.” Jude vented, Trent leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. 

“That’s because you’re in love with her, mate. It’s not supposed to be easy when you’re apart or in a riff. But here’s the thing: you don’t just let it sit there and eat at you. You have to do something about it.” Trent had a sly smile pulling on his lips. 

“I fucked up. Badly. I don’t even know how to fix it.” Jude sighed, running a hand over his hair.

“You can’t fix everything overnight,” Trent said wisely. “But at least you're finally being honest about it, finally admitting something you’ve known for ages… I’ve known for ages.” Trent softly laughed. “Bro. you love her… it’s about time you owned up to it but I’m not the one you should be telling.” Jude sat quietly for a moment, letting the conversation sink in. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in a long time. But at the same time, there was a strange sense of relief in saying the truth out loud, in finally admitting that everything about you—about the relationship, about the love he tried to deny—was real and important.

“Do you think it’s too late?” Jude asked, his voice barely audible. Trent smiled knowing, calm. 

“It’s not too late if you mean it. She should know, mate. But you can’t just say it, Jude. You have to show her. You fucked up and you gotta accept that. You have to prove it. She deserves that, doesn’t she?” Jude nodded to himself, his throat tight with emotion. “I know a girl like Y/N and she’s not just going to forget the fact that you’ve been a right ass to her.” Trent laughed a little. You and Whitney weren’t that alike but you both were similar in the way you were going to let someone treat you like shit, probably you more than Whitney, and Trent needed Jude to be prepared for that. 

“I know…. But yeah, she does. She deserves everything.” Jude muttered hating himself a bit more for the circumstances he’s put you in. Trent knew you were in love with Jude and so he was encouraging to him but he didn’t want Jude to think this was all resolved by him admitting that. Frankly that bit was just long overdue and probably the easiest bit. 

“Then give her everything. Don’t half-ass it. If you want her back, you have to show her you’re all in.” Jude took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of what Trent was saying. He knew his friend was right. You were everything he wanted, and it was time to stop running from that truth. It was time to stop being afraid.

“Do you think…” Jude began to hesitantly ask Trent a question. 

“Go.” Trent told him, cutting him off. Jude didn’t need to finish his sentence. Trent knew what he would be asking.  Jude stood up, feeling lighter than he had in months, even though he knew the real work was still ahead of him. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was ready to face it. Ready to face you. 

And the next morning, this morning, was the time. The warmth that spread through your chest when you saw his message was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was like a light had been switched back on, and you realized just how much you’d missed that feeling. The idea that he wanted to come to New York made your heart ache with a mix of hope and fear, but most of all, it made you feel alive again. Jude's thoughts had swirled as he clutched his phone, his chest tightening with the realization that he couldn’t ask you to come to him anymore. You weren’t just anyone—you were someone who truly mattered to him, in ways he was still trying to understand. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you deserved more than just a half-hearted gesture. You deserved everything, and he wanted to be the one to give it to you. As the minutes ticked by, Jude sat on the bed, staring anxiously at his phone. He prayed for a response, something to tell him that reaching out hadn’t been a mistake. But as the clock inched closer to 7:30, the silence on the other end felt like a rejection. Jude’s heart sank, and before he knew it, tears were building on his lash line. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the covers over his head in a futile attempt to shut out the growing despair. Maybe you weren’t going to respond. Then, in the darkness, his phone vibrated. He almost didn’t believe it at first, thinking he’d imagined it in his desperation. But the vibration happened once more, and with trembling hands, he reached for his phone. The brightness of the screen burned his eyes.

‘Please.’ 

That’s all you could say but it was potent. In that moment, everything you both had been feeling—the fear, the doubt, the heartbreak—melted away, replaced by a surge of emotions neither of you could barely contain. Albeit digital, but a bridge had been formed. He was coming to you. You started to cry. The tears that had been primarily of despair now flowed with something else entirely—relief, hope, but most of all… love. You didn't fully understand the weight behind Jude’s text, but your emotions surged all at once, blending tears with laughter. You sprang out of bed, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you began frantically throwing your things into your luggage. The excitement propelled you up the stairs of the massive house, and without hesitation, you barged into Whitney and Trent’s room. You landed on their bed like a child, your energy infectious.

"Good morning."  Whitney greeted you with a sleepy laugh and a warm smile. 

"He texted me!" You blurted out, your voice tinged with a mix of relief and exhilaration. As you explained your plan to leave immediately and get back to New York before Jude arrived, Whitney's eyes lit up with excitement for you. You chatted excitedly, Whitney offering encouragement and support and a bit of caution while you rambled about not wanting to reveal that you'd been staying with them. A smug smile curled on Trent’s lips, still half-asleep. As you continued to ramble to Whitney, it suddenly dawned on you that both Whitney and Trent were naked under the blankets. You couldn't resist teasing them with a playful grin.  "Sorry for barging in on you two," you quipped, eyes twinkling as you got up to make your way back downstairs to finish packing.  With each step, your excitement grew. You were going back to New York, and Jude was coming to you. It felt like the beginning of something important, something you weren’t ready to let go of. 

“Took him fucking long enough.” Trent yawned with a stretch pulling Whitney into him. Whitney giggled, laying her head onto his chest. 

Jude hesitated in the hallway, his phone still in his hand remembering Trent’s quiet, but powerful ‘go.’ Trent’s words hung in the air, echoing in Jude’s head, as if they were the push he needed, the final nudge over the edge. He stared down at the phone, the weight of the moment settling over him like a blanket. He wasn’t sure if he could fix it, if you would even want to hear him out, but Trent’s simple word, his unspoken encouragement, gave him the clarity he had been chasing for weeks. Taking a deep breath, Jude slipped his phone into his pocket and headed towards the kitchen, where his mum, Denise, was finishing her morning tea. She glanced up when he entered, her expression soft and warm, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern. She had sensed that things had been off with Jude lately, though he hadn’t said much. She smiled at him softly, almost as if she knew exactly what was on his mind without him having to say a word. Jude stood there for a moment, shifting awkwardly, unsure how to broach the topic.

“Mum…” he began, his voice lower than usual, almost timid. “I need a favor.” He muttered.

“What is it, love?” Denise set her cup down and looked at him, her eyes patient, waiting.  Jude swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He had been running from this for too long, burying his feelings, and now it was all spilling out.

“Could you drive me to the airport?” The question hung in the air for a moment, and Denise’s eyes softened, understanding immediately what this was about. She took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as if the tension she’d been holding for her son was finally easing. 

“Finally,” she said with a sigh of relief, her voice gentle but filled with a knowing warmth. She had been waiting for him to take this step, to stop avoiding what was clearly breaking his heart. Jude blinked, slightly taken aback by her reaction, but also relieved. It felt like a weight had been lifted, like he wasn’t carrying the burden of uncertainty alone anymore. Denise stood up and walked over to him, wrapping him in a hug. “It’s about time, Jude.” He hugged her back, his chest tightening. He didn’t know what would happen when he got to England, but for the first time in a while, he felt like he was doing the right thing. Finally facing what he’d been running from. “Go get your things, I’ll drive you.” As they pulled apart, Denise gave him a reassuring smile. Jude nodded, feeling a sense of urgency settle in his bones. This was it. It was time to fight for what mattered most. He turned and headed towards his room to grab his things, his mind racing with the thought of seeing you, of finally telling you everything he should have said long ago. He knew he was late. But at least he was on his way now.

You knew Jude was planning to come to New York, but everything felt so uncertain. You had an idea of when he might show up, but no concrete details. So, when there was a knock at your apartment door, your heart raced. You froze, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside of you. Could it be him? Suddenly, a wave of nervous energy hit you, and you bolted to your bedroom. You threw on a tank top, one that accentuated your curves just enough, and adjusted the straps hastily. Running your hands over the fabric, you tugged it down a little lower, exposing more of your cleavage. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and with every second that passed, you felt the anticipation grow. You could hear another knock at the door. Before answering, you stopped at the mirror in the hallway, frantically fixing your hair. You adjusted a stray strand, trying to look effortlessly composed. Slowly, you approached the door, your pulse quickening with each step. When you opened it, you felt like your legs might buckle beneath you—but then your heart shattered.

It wasn’t Jude.

It was a delivery man, holding a massive bouquet of flowers. You stood there, blinking in confusion as a lump formed in your throat. The delivery man smiled politely, handing you the flowers. ‘For you,’ he said simply. You barely managed a thank you, feeling the weight of disappointment crash over you. You took the flowers, and as soon as you shut the door behind you, the tears welled up. You sat down on the couch, trembling, bracing yourself to read a note from Jude. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe this was a goodbye wrapped in beautiful blooms. The uncertainty gnawed at you, and as you hesitantly reached for the card nestled among the flowers, your breath hitched. You feared the worst, and the tears that had been brimming finally spilled over, blurring your vision as you prepared yourself for whatever words were written inside. Your fingers trembled as they pulled the note from the delicate bouquet. The flowers were beautiful, but all you could focus on was that small, fragile piece of paper nestled between the blooms. You felt sick to your stomach as you slid it free, your hands shaking uncontrollably. Everything seemed to hang in the balance of what was written on that card. You had been bracing yourself for a goodbye, or worse, an apology that would tear at your already raw heart. But when you unfolded the note, what you saw wasn’t anything you’d expected.

‘I know I’m late but I’m here now. Please let me in, Angel.’

Just a couple words. So simple, but they hit you harder than anything you had prepared for. Your breath caught in your throat, the tears that had been quietly lingering in your eyes now rolling down your cheeks without permission. You blinked, brushing the tears away, staring at the words again as if reading them a second time would make them change. But they didn’t. They were as real as the ache deep in your chest. You set the flowers down, your hands still trembling, and stared at the door. You felt frozen in place, as if opening it meant opening something much deeper inside you. You didn’t know if you were ready. How could you be? Everything between you had been broken, shattered in a way you didn’t think could be pieced back together. But then again, you assumed, there he was, outside that door, asking to be let in. You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You took a shaky breath and pushed some strands of hair back, fixing the edges of your appearance, as if that would somehow prepare you for the emotional storm that was about to blow through your life again. As you stepped toward the door, each step felt heavy with anticipation, your heart thudding louder with every inch closer. You stopped in front of it, your hand hovering over the handle, taking in one last shaky breath. You could practically feel his presence on the other side. Your chest felt tight, and for a moment, you wondered if you could actually go through with this. Your mind was racing with memories — all the good times, the heartbreak, the questions left unanswered. But you couldn’t deny that you wanted this moment, that you needed to see him again, no matter how much it scared you. With trembling hands, you finally unlocked the door and slowly, ever so carefully, opened it. And there he was. Jude stood in the doorway, tall and familiar, his face looking more vulnerable than you had ever seen it before. His dark eyes locked onto yours instantly, and in that moment, you felt the ground drop from beneath you. It was the same Jude you had known, the one who had held you, loved you, and then left you. The boy who had broken your heart. And yet, seeing him there, standing so close, you were overwhelmed by how much you still loved him. The air felt thick between you, the silence stretching out. Neither of you spoke for what felt like forever. You just stood there, frozen, taking each other in, hearts racing but words caught somewhere in your throats. Jude’s expression softened, and he took a small step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"Angel," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. The word itself was enough to make your knees weak, your heart breaking all over again, but in a different way this time.  Tears filled your eyes again, but you didn’t brush them away this time. You couldn’t. The weight of all the feelings you’d kept inside for so long was crashing over you like a wave. You wanted to be angry, you wanted to tell him how much he had hurt you. But all you could feel in that moment, staring at him, was how much you still loved him. Despite everything. He took another step toward you, his hand reaching out, hesitant but gentle. His fingers brushed against your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, despite the ache it brought. You closed your eyes for a second, letting the warmth of his hand on your skin ground you. “I’m here,” Jude whispered, his voice soft but full of meaning. And in that moment, it felt like enough. Like that was all you had ever wanted to hear. Your lip trembled as you tried to find words, but nothing came out. It was all too much. The feelings, the memories, the love, and the pain. It was overwhelming. 

“You’re here," you finally choked out, the words barely a whisper, but they hung in the air between you. Jude’s eyes softened even more, his thumb gently brushing a stray tear away from your cheek.

“I fucking missed you so much,” he said, his voice low and filled with regret. “I’m so sorry, Angel.” You shook your head slightly, not wanting to hear the apology, not yet. All you wanted was him. His presence. His warmth. But then reality set in. Like a rubber band to the back of your neck. You stepped a bit away from him. His hands dropping from your face. The tension going thick in the air. Your body went cold to him. You looked at him on the verge of a sob. Here he was, standing in front of you, his presence filling the room like a storm about to break.  He looked different—more tired, more raw. His eyes locked on yours the second he stepped in, as if you were the only thing he’d been searching for. You froze, heart racing, unsure of what was going to happen next. Jude’s brow furrowed. He could feel the shift. Almost as if you were going to slam the metaphorical door shut to your heart. “Nah, enough of all this, alright?” Without wasting another second, he spoke again, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence. His tone was more harsh than you expected now, and it startled you. “I’m done getting my feelings hurt.”  He stepped closer, and despite the towering stature he usually carried with such ease, you scoffed. Your eyes, hardened from weeks of silence and heartache, met his. 

“You’re getting your feelings hurt?” you asked, mocking him as the words felt absurd coming from someone like him. Jude, always in control, always untouchable, now standing here telling you he was the one hurting. But Jude was quick—he closed the distance between you with another short stride. His hands were on your face again before you could even register it, his touch both gentle and firm as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His fingers dug lightly into your skin, but it wasn’t the pressure that made your breath hitch—it was the look in his eyes. You’d never seen him like this. His gaze bore into you, unwavering, filled with something deeper, something almost desperate.

“Yes, my feelings hurt because being apart from you has been the worst experience of my life. I’m done with it,” he said, his voice cracking at the edges. “I’m done pretending. I’m done with all this bullshit. I’m done with hurting you, with hurting myself.” You tried to pull away, tried to come up with something to say, something to protect yourself, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip on your face tightened, his eyes glistening with a vulnerability that left you speechless. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. 

“Jude.” You tried to caution him. You were suddenly filled with fear of hearing or maybe not hearing the three words that had defined the past. It felt like your emotions were a pendulum swinging back and forth. You couldn’t control them.

“I love you, Y/N.” Jude said, the words falling from his lips like they’d been trapped inside him for far too long. The world stopped for a second, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him. “I love you.  And I’ve been in love with you.” Jude took a deep breath as his eyes glazed with emotion.Your breath hitched. For a second, you felt paralyzed. You’d waited so long to hear those words, but now they felt too heavy to bear. You wanted to be angry, to remind him of all the times he hurt you, but the moment he said it, something shifted inside you. “I’ve been too much of a coward to admit it to your face but I’ve known.” Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, Jude continued, his voice rough with feeling. “I’ve been an idiot, okay? I know I have. I’ve been selfish, and I’ve done things I shouldn’t have. I’ve hurt you—God, I know I’ve hurt you and seeing you hurt was the most painful thing. But none of them mattered. None of them were you. No one is you.” You shook your head, disbelief flooding your chest. 

“Then why?” you managed to get out, your voice trembling. You had to know. “Why did you sleep with other people if it was always me? Why did you entertain them like I was nothing? Why was I nothing?” Your voice wavered and almost faded into silence as the weight of it all hit you, the pain of months, maybe years of uncertainty collapsing in on you. But his eyes—they were locked on yours, and for the first time, you saw it. The fear, the regret, the love.

“You were never nothing. You were exactly the opposite. You were everything and it was terrifying. You once told me that I made you weak but it couldn’t be more on the contrary. It felt like I was losing control and that was the only way to hold onto the old me. But I’m not that person. I haven’t been that person for a long time. I’ve never been good at telling people how I feel but you made me, not want, but need to try. I need you to know I love you.” Jude admitted, his voice hoarse, like the confession was tearing him apart. “I was scared. I was trying to hold onto some stupid idea of who I thought I needed to be. I was running from what I was feeling because I didn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t anymore, you don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who loves how all consuming loving you is. Who embraces that you fill my every thought.” His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Your chest tightened, your anger wavering, giving way to something else—something softer. He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours as he spoke again, quieter this time, almost as if he was scared of the weight of the truth. “I’m so madly, stupidly in love with you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you since I first met you, angel.” Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there, frozen in his arms, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so open. His confession hit you like a wave, knocking down all the walls you had built to protect yourself from him.  “I love you,” he repeated, his voice trembling, the words slipping out between shaky breaths. “I don’t want to be without you. I can’t.” You were both crying now, silent tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath. The moment felt surreal, like you were floating in some bizarre, euphoric haze but everything was clear but you couldn’t respond, nothing would come out so Jude kept talking. “If you want me to go… If you don’t want to be with me, I understand. I know I hurt you. Hurt you more than you ever deserve to be. I just needed you to know, I needed to look into your eyes and tell you how much I love you. To apologize and thank you. Y/N, thank you for letting me know you. It’s been the greatest privilege of my life to matter to you and I’m sorry I didn’t show you that before…” Jude tried to keep talking but you grabbed his face and pulled him into a desperate kiss. 

When Jude arrived in New York, his nerves were shot. He had played in front of tens of thousands of people, faced the pressure of the world watching his every move, but this—this was different. He had never felt more determined or more terrified in his life. Every step up to your apartment door felt like it was carrying the weight of all the mistakes, all the missed chances, all the words he should’ve said. But he had to do this. He had to make things right. It wasn’t the reunion either of you had imagined, but it was real. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of his presence, and every emotion—anger, sadness, love—rushed to the surface all at once.

“I’m so sorry, angel” Jude pulled away from the kiss with a serious expression, his voice low and steady. “But I’m not here for sorry. I’m here to tell you I love you. You need to know how much I love you. I should’ve said that a long time ago.” Your bottom lip quivered. His eyes searching yours.  “I love you so much.” Jude cooed. "God I fucking I love you more than I can manage," he repeated, more forcefully this time. Jude watched your face fill with sadness. Like it hurt to hear all of this. He didn’t want you to be hurt anymore. “Come here.” Without waiting for you to respond, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. But it wasn’t suffocating—it was grounding. For the first time, it felt like Jude was holding on to you like he never intended to let go. Your walls crumbled. Completely. You collapsed against his chest, the sobs coming hard and fast. It wasn’t just crying—it was every emotion you’d suppressed since Madrid pouring out. The betrayal, the insecurity, the hope, the love. It all flooded out as you buried your face into his shirt, your fingers clutching the fabric like it was your lifeline. “I’ve been so wrong,” Jude murmured against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “So wrong about everything. But you don’t have to show me how wrong I was anymore. I see it. I know it. You have me now, alright? You have all of me. I don’t want anything else.” His words hit you like a tidal wave, crashing through the remnants of your resistance. His arms were still around you, tight and secure in a way they had never been before. You weren’t afraid of him slipping away. You weren’t afraid of losing him in the noise of his life. He was here, and he was real. You pulled back slightly, enough to look up at him through tear-stained eyes. 

“Please don’t hurt me anymore,” you choked out, your voice breaking as more tears spilled down your cheeks. “Promise me you won’t hurt me anymore.” you whimpered. Jude cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. His own eyes were glassy now, filled with the sincerity of someone who had finally realized what they stood to lose. “

“I promise,” he whispered, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I won’t ever hurt you. Not again. Never again.”  You nodded, but the tears kept coming. It was as if all the pain and heartache of the past months were being released in this one moment, and you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to.  Jude kissed the top of your head, his grip on you still tight. “It’s done,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “All the back and forth, it’s over. You have me, all of me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to lose you again.” His words echoed in your mind as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, both of you crying. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t some magical fix. But it was real. For the first time, it felt like you were both standing on solid ground. Together. And in that moment, as your tears began to slow and your heart settled into the rhythm of his, you believed him. You believed his promise. You believed in the love you had for him and the love he was finally ready to give you back. 

After the entryway reunion, the relief you felt was both overwhelming and terrifying. After everything—the heartache, the distance, the uncertainty—it was all hitting you at once. But despite the rush of emotions, you let him inside, past the threshold of your apartment for the first time since your reconciliation. Jude stood there for a moment, taking in the space with a soft smile on his lips. His eyes held a tenderness, one that made you feel like you had nothing to hide, even though everything between you had been so complicated. 

“Can I have a tour?” Jude asked, his voice warm and playful. 

“It’s just an apartment, Jude. There’s only so much to see.” You giggled, feeling a bit self-conscious. Sure, it was larger than your average but nevertheless an apartment. He pulled you into his arms, swaying the both of you back and forth.

“I want to see every inch,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “Every. Single. Inch.” His words, punctuated by soft kisses, melted away the nerves you’d been holding onto. So, you agreed, guiding him through the space that had become your sanctuary in New York.  First was the living room, a space that screamed you. Personal touches were everywhere: your favorite books stacked on the coffee table, a throw blanket in a color Jude remembered you loved, and a few plants that surprisingly looked healthy. Next, you led him to the kitchen. Jude chuckled when he saw it—pristine, untouched, as if it had never been used. 

“I order in. You know this.” He raised an eyebrow at you, but you just shrugged with a laugh. Then came your office, which was flooded with sunlight. The space was cozy, but it had an energy about it, like it was where you were most creative. Jude admired the space, taking in the little details—the organized chaos of your desk, the art on the walls, your notebooks scattered around. It felt like he was seeing a new side of you, one that had grown and flourished while you were apart. You continued the tour, leading him to your walk-in wardrobe that was bursting at the seams with clothes. Jude smiled seeing your Louis duffel but then raised an amused brow, muttering something about how you hadn’t changed a bit, making you roll your eyes in jest. Finally, you reached your bedroom. The moment you opened the door, Jude stilled in the doorway. His breath hitched, his usual confidence faltering as he stared into the room. The atmosphere shifted—it wasn’t just another part of your apartment. It was different. This space felt sacred, personal. He stood there, as if frozen in place, his hand gripping the doorframe. It was as if stepping inside would make this all real, make everything you had been through with him undeniable. Like he could contaminate it and he wanted to be sure you wanted him there. He knew that if he crossed the threshold, there would be no going back. No more walls, no more pretending.  Jude looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and vulnerable. He wanted to be part of this—your space, your life—but he also knew that with it came a weight of responsibility. He took a deep breath and, without saying a word, finally stepped into the room. In that moment, it felt like a shift, as if the two of you were crossing into something new. Something deeper. Jude turned to you, gently pulling you into his arms again, but this time his embrace was more serious, more intentional.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against your hair, his voice soft but firm. And for the first time, you believed him. 

After your short tour had ended you smiled down at him, feeling a strange mix of joy and disbelief as Jude sat on your bed. There was a brief moment of hesitation-your usual concern about keeping your bed clean of outside germs-but you let it go. This was different. It was Jude. Your Jude, in your bed, and that fact alone outweighed any fleeting worries. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, gently pulling you closer to stand between his legs. His grip was warm and familiar, like everything had finally fallen back into place. You gazed down at him, cupping his face tenderly. The feel of his skin beneath your fingers made your heart swell.

"Are you even allowed to be here?" you asked, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Jude smirked, dropping his hands lower, resting them comfortably on your ass. He squeezed slightly, looking up at you with that mischievous glint in his eye. 

"No," he admitted, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Probably not but no one was stopping me. I've stayed away way longer than I ever wanted." The reality of what he was saying hit you. Jude was in the middle of the season, and you knew there were rules, restrictions, things that could get him in trouble. But here he was, breaking them for you. Choosing you over everything. The weight of that choice settled in, and it filled you with an indescribable warmth.

"Jude." You took a deep breath, calling his name softly, your voice full of emotion. He hummed in response, his lips pressing soft kisses to your stomach as if he couldn't stop himself from touching you, from reminding you that he was here. Really here. You hesitated for a moment, the question heavy on your heart. "Am I worth the risk?” Jude stilled. He looked up at you, his eyes serious, the playful smile fading into something more profound. His hands gently moved to your hips, holding you with care, as if the weight of your question mattered more than anything else in the world.

"You're not a risk," he said quietly, his voice full of certainty. "You're the greatest reward. I'd risk everything for you. And I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't show that sooner. But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel like a risk again." His words pierced straight through your heart, filling the empty spaces that had been left by doubt and fear. You knew, in that moment, that Jude meant every single word. He wasn't just here to fix things—he was here because he had chosen you, and nothing else mattered more than that.

Since he arrived, you refused to let go of Jude, clinging to him as if any distance between you would break the fragile spell of your reunion. That evening, instead of going out, you decided to stay in. The only light in the room came from the city beyond your windows and a single candle flickering on the table. You were both tucked together on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine resting nearby.  You lay curled into him, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat—a comforting, steady rhythm that grounded you. Jude's arm was wrapped around you protectively, his fingers occasionally brushing through your hair. Every so often, he would whisper soft words into your ear—sweet compliments and quiet ‘I love yous,’ each one filling the room with warmth. But beneath Jude's affection, there was a quiet ache in his chest. He hadn’t expected this—the fact that you hadn’t said those three words back. He told himself to be patient, that you just needed time. Still, it hurt more than he wanted to admit. After all, he had flown across the ocean, bared his heart to you, and put everything on the line. He had hoped to hear you say it, to feel the reassurance that you still loved him as much as he loved you. You knew you hadn’t said it. Not yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him. You did. God, you did. But the past few months had left you raw and bruised, and the weight of the hurt had made you cautious. You needed to be sure—sure that Jude meant every word, that he was here for good, that you wouldn’t lose yourself again in the pain of being let down. Jude shifted beneath you, his fingers pausing in your hair. He pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering there as though waiting for something, for a sign, for you to say something back.

“You okay, angel?” he asked softly, his voice gentle, but you could hear the uncertainty creeping in. He spoke barely above a whisper, as though he was afraid to break the fragile moment hanging in the air. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his eyes. There was a vulnerability there, a quiet plea for reassurance, and it tugged at your heart. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough—not for either of you. Jude gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours with a quiet intensity, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. You swallowed hard, feeling the lump in your throat as your chest tightened. You were tangled up in a mess of emotions—relief, love, fear—all swirling around inside you. “Is it okay if I love you?” Jude asked with a sly smile, his voice trembling ever so slightly. It wasn’t his usual confident tone; it was laced with uncertainty, a vulnerability you rarely saw in him.You nodded, unable to speak at first, because the truth was, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the fear was there too, gnawing at the edges of your heart. 

“Yeah. I want you too. I’m just…I’m scared,” you finally whispered, the words barely making it past your lips. You looked down, afraid to meet his gaze, afraid of what might happen if you fully let him in again. Afraid of the pain that came with loving someone this much. Jude didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he could soothe all the pain and worry away. 

"You're safe with me," he murmured, his voice steady, comforting. He tucked you closer into his chest, like he was trying to shield you from the world, from all the things that had hurt you both. “I promise.” You closed your eyes, letting yourself breathe him in, feeling the warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around you. In that moment, everything else faded away—the doubts, the hurt, the time apart. It was just you and him, right there, and you felt your walls slowly crumbling.

“Jude…” you began, your voice wavering. You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I want you to know… I…” You began to stutter through your words. You didn’t think this would be so hard so you took a deep breath trying to reset. “I love you... It’s just… I don’t know” You trailed off, struggling to explain. Jude looked at you, waiting patiently. Taking another deep breath, you finally let yourself say the words that had been sitting on your heart for so long with a bit more certainty. "I’m in love with you. I have been… for a long time." Your voice wavered, and you felt the weight of the confession lift, but at the same time, you were terrified of what came next. Jude’s eyes widened for a second before his face broke into a soft, almost shy sly smile. He ducked his head in an exaggerated, bashful manner, making you laugh through your tears. It was so ridiculous and yet so perfectly him. “Stop!” You giggled. Your nerves draining. “Don’t act like you didn’t already know,” you teased, poking him in the chest with a playful glare. “You knew I loved you.” He grinned, the familiar spark of confidence returning to his eyes, but there was a tenderness there that hadn’t always been so apparent. 

“Maybe,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But hearing you say it, finally hearing those words…” He trailed off, his voice catching for a moment. “From you. It’s perfect.” The way he looked at you—like you were his entire world, like everything in his life had been leading up to this moment—made your heart ache in the best way. You could feel the tears welling up again, but this time they were happy tears, tears of release, of finally letting go of the fear that had been holding you back. You kissed him then, slowly, tenderly, pouring every ounce of love and emotion you had into that kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate like the last time you’d been together. It was steady, reassuring, like you were both saying, we’re here, we made it, and we’re not going anywhere this time. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, your breathing heavy, but the moment felt so light. Jude looked at you, his thumb tracing your jawline, and for the first time in a long time, you saw peace in his eyes. He nodded, his expression softening even though the pain was still there. “I know. I hurt you. And I’m so sorry, angel. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that I mean what I said.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart aching because you knew he meant it, but part of you was still scared.

“I just need time,” you whispered. “I need to be sure.” Jude nodded again, pulling you back into his chest, holding you even tighter. 

“I will make you sure of me but you can take all the time you need. I’ll prove it to you day after day,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.” And as the city lights flickered outside, you lay there in the safety of his arms, both of you knowing that love was there, even if fear was still lingering. It would go in time. You just needed to heal first. "I love you," he whispered again, like it was the only thing that mattered, like he needed to keep saying it just to make sure you knew it was true. "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I’m not letting you go again. Ever." Your heart swelled, the weight of everything you’d both been through finally lifting. You felt it then—certainty. Not the fear that had been clouding your mind for months, but a deep, unwavering certainty that this, right here, was where you were meant to be. Where you both were meant to be.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve always loved you.” Jude closed his eyes for a moment, letting your words sink in, and when he opened them again, he was smiling, a quiet, content smile that spoke volumes. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, pulling you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other, the weight of the past few months finally melting away. The fear, the doubts, the distance—it was all gone, replaced by a love that felt stronger than ever before. And in that moment, you knew—this was it. You had found your home in each other. And while you felt a comfort and a stillness in his arms there was different part of you that was feeling energized, eager, and desperate to be with him in a different way. 

When you finally made it to bed that night, everything felt like a dream. You were together and it was as if all the tension, the distance, and the heartache between you had evaporated. You lay wrapped in his arms, your back snug against his chest, the rhythm of his breathing calming your racing thoughts. For the first time in weeks, everything just felt...right. When your phone rang, you hesitated for a moment before picking it up. It was Whitney, of course. You smiled, feeling a little giddy as her name flashed on the screen. As you answered, her familiar, teasing voice greeted you almost instantly.

"Why do I see a certain Jude Bellingham is in New York on Find My Friends?" she asked, her tone playful. You could hear her giggling through the phone. You opened your mouth to respond, but Jude had already started placing soft kisses along your neck. At first, it was gentle-just enough to send a shiver down your spine-but then the kisses grew more persistent, and his hands started to roam. You felt him pull the fabric of your top up slightly, his warm hand brushing over your stomach in slow, teasing strokes. Whitney was still talking, probably cracking jokes, but you could hardly focus on her words. Jude's touch was making it hard to concentrate, his kisses and his fingertips creating a warmth that made everything else fade into the background. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh or a moan-you weren't sure which would come out-but you knew you were losing the battle. Jude smirked against your skin, clearly sensing your distraction. Without a word, he reached over and took the phone from your hand. He held it up to his ear with a casual confidence, still kissing you, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke into the phone.

"She's busy," Jude said, his voice low and smooth. "You'll have to call her back later. She’s got someone in her bed who loves her." Whitney screamed on the other end of the line, a dramatic and over-the-top shriek that made both you and Jude laugh. You could practically hear her laughing as she tried to compose herself, probably throwing some humorous, exaggerated reaction your way. Jude ended the call with a quick, "Goodnight, Whit," before tossing your phone gently onto the nightstand. He turned his attention back to you, a playful grin spreading across his face as his hand settled once again on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You really didn't have to do that," you whispered, trying to sound annoyed, but the truth was, you loved every second of it. His possessiveness, his confidence-it was intoxicating.

"Oh, I did. I'm not sharing you tonight." Jude pressed his lips to your ear, his voice a soft murmur. His hands reached to pull you on top of him. The covers fell from your body, the cold air hitting your exposed skin.

“Did I say thank you for coming.” You cooed looking at Jude with sincerity in your eyes. You rolled your bottom lip with a bit of a pout. 

“I wanted to come, angel.” Jude told you with mischief flickering in his eyes. He sat up a little as you straddled his lap. His big hands gripped your waist pushing you down onto his hardening cock beneath you. “And I want you to come for me now.” Jude whispered and you felt a shiver run up your spine. His hands slid from your hips up to knead your tits. You whimpered, not used to his hands back on your body.  “So sensitive. Did you think about this, baby? My hands on you again? Been so long.” He mused in a tone that had your skin on fire. You nodded with a desperate pout. Your hips rocked against his cock.  His hands were attempting to touch as much of you as he possibly could. Jude missed you, missed your relationship, but obviously a massive part of him missed having sex with you. Right now you could feel something massive beneath you that you wanted just as much as he wanted to give it to you. His big hands traveled the planes of your body. No one could convince him there was a better place on earth right here in this moment. He grabbed your hips again, rocking his hips up into yours. You moaned, arching your back. His hands ran over your body exactly where he knew and remembered would elicit the reaction he so desperately had been craving to hear from you. He wasn’t hasty though. He wanted to savor this. There was no rush to his movements. They were slow, and more caring than anything else. He sat up right and began peppering your soft and sensitive skin with kisses.  You ran your hands over his shoulders, glided up them around his neck up to his jaw, holding him to you. Until you fell into a rare bliss that only Jude could give you and you gripped his hair needing more of it.  You could feel his teeth softly graze your neck, threatening to sink into your skin at any moment, but he never even nipped at your flesh. His fingers tracing the lace edging of your lingerie teasingly. 

“Jude I missed your hands… I missed your lips. I missed you. I need more.” You moaned. It took Jude moments less than a second Jude had your lingerie peeled off you. Your brain was short circulating you almost forgot how smooth he was. 

“I’ll give you more, baby. I’m all yours tonight.” He whispered to you as he kissed down your exposed chest, his lips grazing your sensitive nipple and taking it gently into his mouth, leaving the teeth tucked away for another night. “Forever.” He muffled against your skin. It was as if your time apart had made it all the more clear that Jude had never felt this way about anyone, he was absolutely and completely whipped for you, and there is no way he will ever let you forget it. “Tell me you love me, angel.” It almost felt like he was pleading to hear it but you weren’t going to hesitate. He never needed to ask, you’d do anything for him, you’d especially do anything for him in bed and he knew that. 

“I love you Jude. I always will,” you whimpered back to him, before quietly repeating ‘I love you.’ again and again. Your words and the sounds of his lips on you echoing in the space of your bedroom, along the limited space between your bodies.

“God, I fucking love you.” Jude muttered, breathing you in, inhaling you in before he rolled you over onto your back as he hovered above you. He picked up your wrists and pinned them above your head. His eyes darkened with lust as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. His mouth is demanding, yet tender, and you respond eagerly, your tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. His hands roam over your body, exploring the curves he knows so well, and you arch into his touch, moaning softly into his mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you had been in this exact position, as Jude’s fingers traced down your body and down the front of your panties he could feel his handiwork. You had drenched the fabric and Jude was just as excited as he was the first time he ever felt you get wet for him. “Is this all for me?” There was an almost boyish grin plastered to his face as he traced his fingers through your folds, the tip of his finger gently circling the entrance to your wet heat, threatening to slip inside of you any second.  Breaking the kiss, Jude began a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He worshiped your body with his lips and tongue, leaving a path of fire in his wake. His hands slid up you, cupping your tits once more, thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples. You gasp, your head falling back as pleasure surges through you.

"Jude," you pleaded, your voice breathy and urgent. "Please, I’m serious, I need you." You couldn’t wait any longer. You didn’t want to be teased. He smiled against your skin, his warm breath sending goosebumps along your neck.

"Patience, angel. I’m getting there," he teased, before taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You squirm beneath him, your hands tangling in his  hair, urging him on. His other hand travels lower, sliding between your thighs, and he groans at the wetness he encounters. With slow, deliberate strokes, he teases your clit, making you writhe and beg for more.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growls, his voice filled with satisfaction. He plunged a teasing finger into you. Your back arched immediately in response. He slowly worked his fingers, working you over just the way you loved, craved for him to touch you. It was like a game and he had fucking cheat codes. His thumb grazed over your clit, rubbing harsh deliberate circles. Jude was needy for you, for your touch, for your attention. Jude adds another finger, stretching you, filling you, and you match his rhythm, your body moving in sync with his hand. His thumb continues to circle your clit, and you feel your orgasm building, an intense coil of pleasure in your core. You felt like you were seeing stars over and over again. You couldn’t barely even register that he had you cumming on his fingers until you were shaking in the aftershock. “That’s it, angel. Cum f’me.” He encouraged you. “Cum f’me. Gonna make you cum so many times tonight” He greedily whispered, desperate to see you cum for him. You whined, your hips bucked against his hand as his fingers worked you through the high.  “Yeah you like the sound of that angel?”  You nodded deliriously, your inhibitions gone as the pleasure consumed you. Your body trembles as the waves of pleasure wash over you, and Jude continues to stroke and caress you through the climax, murmuring words of love and adoration. “It’s really such a shame you can’t see how beautiful you look when you cum.” He beamed, giddy after getting you to cum after so much time apart. As your breathing slowed, Jude gently removed his fingers, leaving you feeling deliciously empty. He kisses you softly. He licked them clean, savoring the taste of you on his skin. “Or how fucking good you taste.” He greedily smiled. "Baby… I want to be inside you, now, yeah?" He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. His own arousal evident in his boxers, his hard cock tenting and straining against the fabric. 

“Jude please, baby. I need you inside me…” He positions himself between your thighs, his hands under your knees, lifting your legs and spreading you wide. “Now Jude.” You desperately begged. You simultaneously moaned as he pushed into you, only dipping into you a couple of inches. He rocked his hips against yours so you get used to the feeling of his big cock. Slowly fucking himself further into you. With one swift thrust, he filled you, his cock sliding deep into your welcoming heat. His face fell into your neck groaning at the feeling of you wrapping around him. The sensation of being joined together after so long is almost overwhelming. Jude began to move, his hips pumping in a primal rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your slick pussy. He moved slowly but precisely, able to find the spot you loved instantly. Your nails dug into his back as he kissed your skin. Each stroke loving and thoughtful. He picked up his pace though lost in the feeling.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunts, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. "So tight, so wet. Soaking my cock.” He grunted, hooking your leg over his arm, pushing your thigh up further to your side, hitting deeper inside you. The grip of his fingers on you dug into your soft thigh. The way he held you made it felt as if they’d leave permanent indents on your hips. You matched his pace, your hands gripping his firm ass, urging him deeper with each thrust. The bed creaks beneath you as Jude pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. “Need to make up for all this lost time. Gonna have to fuck you for days. Can’t believe I havent been able to fuck the love of my life for so long.” Jude told you. His words combined with the slow, tantalizing thrusts he was giving you made you gasp with a whine. “Like that, angel? You like being the love of my life?” He asked and you moaned in response, hearing the name once more. “You are. Don’t fucking forget that.”  The weight of his body on top of yours feeling like nothing compared to the weight lifting off you two. Your orgasm approached faster and faster, minute after minute. He bit onto your earlobe and tugged, grabbing your attention. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" you chant, your voice hoarse with passion. "Please. Harder, Jude, fuck me harder!" You begger and he obliged happily, driving into you with abandon, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. A spot only he knew.  “Oh my god. I missed you.” You whined. You could feel another orgasm building, your pussy tightening around him. Your nails digging into his biceps, your legs wrapping around him, dragging your heel down his muscular back. 

“I know, baby. Doing so good. F’me. Just hold it. Let me cum with you. I wanna cum with you this time.” All you could do in response was nod, the feeling in your stomach driving you wild as you try to hold it off for a while longer. You whimpered. His mahogany eyes poured back into yours. He felt his heart skip a beat when you pulled him back down into a kiss. He fucked you harder with a harsh grunt juxtaposed by the sweetest kiss. Jude picked up his pace beginning to chase his own orgasm. Frankly Jude had been fighting his own release since he got his hands on you, it wasn’t that big of a feat to get there now. His fingers snaked between your bodies finding your clit once again, teetering to keep you on your edge. The sound of sex and love hung in the air of your room, his skin slapping against yours, the sound of your squelching pussy, and your voices soaked in pleasure mixing. 

“Jude…” You whined. You couldn’t hold on any longer. Your bodies move as one, a frenzied dance of passion and desire. You climax in unison, your pussy milking his cock. You collapse in a sweaty, satisfied heap, Jude's weight pinning you to the bed, his heart pounding against yours.

“Yeah, angel? You gonna cum on my cock? Let me see how pretty you look cumming on my cock.” He purred. You didn’t need any more encouragement than that before you were slipping over your edge. The knot in your stomach tightened. It only took a few more mind numbing thrusts before Jude’s head dropped into your neck. Your climax erupting inside of you, your vision going white. His cock throbbed inside of you, beginning to paint your walls. You moaned ‘I love yous’ simultaneously. You felt him pouring into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. You hid your face against him. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath ragged in your ear. You smiled, your eyes glistening with happiness. After the intense and emotional reconnection, you lay in Jude's arms, your bodies still intertwined in the warmth of the moment. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, save for the occasional soft breath and the rhythmic beating of Jude's heart beneath your cheek.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 12 xx

[trulyumai]

unfit and disloyal

Pairing: Emperor Geta / Wife! Reader

Synopsis: Seeing your husband get so close with another woman, you confront him. But such an accusation of disloyalty makes anger swell up bubble beneath his skin. Until eventually it oozes out and onto you, his darling wife.

Warnings: Geta gets violent, angry.

A/N: This was highly requested, thank you all so much for the messages and comments!

A glass was thrown, shattered against the back wall of the chamber. Geta let out a surprised cry, still bent towards the ground in the quick action that fled his senses. He had expected a hug, maybe a kiss of welcome from his pretty wife.

“You idiot—you fool! You... you—!”

Another cup was already in your hands, and Geta barely made it behind a merciful beam that splayed out in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing, wife?!” Geta’s voice was hoarse with confusion as he peered from behind the pillar, his chest rising and falling from the sudden burst of chaos. He had prepared himself for an evening of peace after the long day—he had not been ready for war within his own walls. Where was his sweet wife to dote on him? To kiss and smother his face with little pecks, to hug his frame like it was the missing piece you were waiting for?

“What am I doing?" you snarled. "What am I doing?" Your hands shook with fury as dainty fingers fumbled for another object to throw. Your eyes, usually soft and full of warmth, were now blazing with a fire he had never seen before. “You dare to ask me that when I saw you with her? You let her touch you, let her throw herself on you like—like a dog in heat!”

Geta’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall how you could have come to such a conclusion. Woman? What woman? He was with you all night! The only time he wasn’t was when you had stepped away after the dessert had been devoured, kissing his cheek as you uttered a tired departure.

He meant to follow, but decided to finish his goblet first—and then it hit him. The realization sank in. The woman who had placed herself upon his knee, whispered generous actions and promises without batting an eye.

"Her? You mean the woman at the celebration?" He stepped out from behind the beam cautiously, raising his hands in surrender. A laugh already escaping him from such a deluded thought. “She meant nothing. Less than nothing. She was dealt with, pretty wife, without a second thought!”

You scoffed, laughter bitter and sharp. "Nothing? You looked like you were enjoying yourself, while I stood there, watching, like a fool. And in front of the citizens... Have you no shame, husband?" The words were spat with venom, the kind of harshness only Geta had spoken with before.

Geta’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You left before you saw what happened next. I pushed her off the moment you turned away, threw her to the ground like the vermin she was for daring to disrespect you.” He took a step closer, trying to close the distance between you. “I grabbed her by the face and told her to remember her place—unless she wished to be charged with treason. Wife, trust me, I beg of you.”

Your grip faltered, and the third cup clattered to the floor. Your breathing was uneven, the anger mingling with something else now—uncertainty. “Then why didn’t you stop her sooner? Why did you let her touch you in the first place? Why bestow such a public betrayal onto me?”

Geta’s shoulders sagged. He was exhausted, emotionally worn from the day’s battles, and now here he was, fighting the one person he loved most. The shift in the air was palpable now, the sting of your words pressing further into his skin. The thought of you doubting him, even for a moment, sparked something darker within him. His eyes darkened, and his fists clenched at his sides.

“You accuse me of betrayal?” His voice, though low at first, began to rise, sharp and jagged as he stepped closer, each footfall deliberate. “You think I’d ever choose someone else over you?” The fury in his tone rattled the air between you, and his body towered over yours now, his shadow swallowing the small frame you stood in.

His breath came fast and heavy as he drew closer, his face inches from yours. “Do you know what kind of man you married? The kind who would crush anyone who dared stand between us!” His words came like thunder, reverberating against the stone walls, spit flying from his mouth in his rage. “I've killed men, burned them at the stake, slit their throats for weaker words. Yet you still sit there.. And look at me with such animosity, hm?”

Your body recoiled instinctively, shrinking away from his imposing presence. For the first time, there was fear in your eyes—fear of him. Geta’s breath hitched at the sight of you trembling beneath his gaze. He froze, his fury draining as quickly as it had flared. He blinked, his body suddenly stiff as realization set in.

He had never meant to frighten you.

“I didn’t...” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair, his jaw still clenched tight. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stood frozen, still shaken, your breath shallow. Geta took a step back, releasing a slow breath as he fought to control himself, his fists relaxing at his sides. “Pretty wife, listen to me,” he rasped, voice now gentler, though it trembled. “I was angry. But not at you. Never at you.”

“But you said-” 

“I know.” He interrupted, already regret bit at the seams of his mind. He didn't need a reminder.

Ringed fingers reached for your cheek, gently wiping away the spit that had landed on your skin. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” His voice was soft, desperate, as though each word were pulling him further from the edge of the abyss he had been teetering on.

You looked at him, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “I saw you with her,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And for a moment, I believed it. All the rumors. The lies. I believed you had chosen someone else.”

Geta’s heart clenched. He could see it now—how fragile your faith had become. He stepped closer, cupping your face with his large, calloused hands. “Never,” he breathed. “There is no one else for me. There never will be.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m always competing with the world for you?”

His chest tightened, the weight of your words sinking in. “You aren’t competing. There’s no contest. I may belong to Rome, to the battlefield, to the politics of the Empire... but my heart, my soul, they belong to you.”

You searched his face for a long moment, and the anger finally faded, giving way to vulnerability. Letting out a shaky breath, you leaned into his chest, your voice small and muffled against his tunic. “I'm sorry, husband.”

Geta wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chin rested on top of your head as he whispered, “It's okay.” 

He breathed in your scent, sweet and intoxicating to his overburdened mind. 

“It's okay.”

[icycoldninja]

Dating Gojo headcannons

A/N: I was watching jjk at 2 am as I tend to do and was hit with inspiration. Naturally, I wrote it down.

-------------------

-First of all, do not let your delulu nature consume you. Gojo is not going to be the perfect boyfriend.

-He's hardly ever at home thanks to those goddamn curses, and when he is, he's busy showering, taking his daily 3 hour nap, or just trying to relax. You might not even see him, since it'll be so late.

-Sometimes he'll bully you by stealing your stuff and never returning it, eating all your food, and literally kicking you out of your own bed at night.

-He'll let you come with him on missions because he knows he's the strongest and can protect you from any danger, though he does want you to have a little training first, just in case.

-Will bring you back souvenirs, but never snacks. Why? Cause he ends up eating them all while travelling home.

-Bothers you day and night over the stupidest things ever. For example, he will send you a text message at 3 AM alongside picture of two frogs just chilling together with the caption "This is us", then 15 minutes later, call you so you can hear him pee in this one public bathroom he found that has "great acoustics".

-You guys are prank buddies for sure. Megumi will have an aneurysm followed by a nervous breakdown one of these days.

-He will love you forever if you can make him mochi (or desserts in general) whenever he wants some.

-Will use Infinity against you in an argument by monopolizing cuddles. 5 minutes of shouting at him equals 5 hours without a single hug. It sounds easy to handle, but after you get used to being bombarded with his annoying attempts to get your attention and all of sudden it's ripped away, you're left in shock.

-Still, there are some upsides to dating him. Having a human Barbie doll to dress up is one of them.

-He'll wear whatever you want him to, whenever you want him to, experiencing no shame whatsoever. Want to go to a party in matching dresses? Done and done. Do you desire to see him in your lingerie? He can do that too.

-Sometimes makes you carry him around bridal style because...well...no one really knows why. He just seems to like it.

-If you listen carefully at the door while he's showering, you might hear one of two things: singing or sobbing.

-He loves to dance with you, and if you are the type who doesn't know how to dance or doesn't want to dance in front of others, good luck.

-Talks to you nonstop because he's an uncontrollable chatterbox, even worse than he is in public. He'll talk with you, at you, about you, and around you--there's no way to get him to shut up, don't even try.

-Sometimes these chats get dark, really dark, especially if he's been rambling for a while.

-All in all, Gojo can be a lot of fun at times, and at others, a huge pain in the ass, whereas on rare occasions he will be a sad little marshmallow that you need to pamper and cuddle. Just make sure you take good care of him, and he will repay the favor tenfold.

[ryuichirou]

RE: Ortho (+Shroudcest) post replies

Phew, alright, I think I didn’t skip anyone. If I did, I’m sorry, I’ll reply to you next time then!

Thank you so much for your wonderful messages of support and for your takes. I really appreciate it! I say it all the time but it saying it again feels appropriate: we had no idea we would ever see so many people who share our point of view despite not shipping Ortho with Idia or any other character. The fact that we can have this conversation really makes me happy.

You are welcome to share more of your thoughts if you want, but unfortunately I might not be able to reply to everyone. I will do my best though.

All of the asks in this blog are related to this post.

Anonymous asked:

Different anon, I think Ortho is in this nebulous situation like superboy in young justice who is physically 16 years old but chronologically 16 weeks old. I genuinely hate the uwu babying of characters. The dwarfs are all second years(so theoretically 17 at the youngest) but no one makes anything with them. Heck the characters I see get lewded the most are the octo trio who are the same age.

Heck, even Grim gets the baby mascot treatment by fans when he's also lumpedwiththefirst years. Like yes, he's a whiny brat but he's also grown up all alone as far as he can remember. I can't help but compare him to Puppycat who acts similarly and is a grown ass man.

Yeah, this probably plays a role too! Ironically, we were just having this conversation about Stitch the other day lol Being new to the world you exist in (and to existing in general) and being a baby aren’t necessarily the same thing.

And even in that case Ortho doesn’t fully fit into the trope because he was created quite a while ago and is already pretty well adjusted. But since he is still learning and doesn’t always understand people + doesn’t always get things like sarcasm, people consider it to be a proof that he is a toddler lol Who am I kidding, their reasoning doesn’t even go that far. They say “he died when he was a baby therefore he is a baby forever” and call it a day.

I feel bad for people who love Grim, I haven’t even thought about it… The Puppycat comparison is so spot-on lol

Grim is inexperienced and doesn’t know much about the world, but yes, he is one of the freshmen + just as he at times acts like a whiny brat, there are also times when he tells Ace that he should be more considerate of Deuce’s feelings, like wtf was that? That was Grim. Because Grim also isn’t a baby, he is a furry gremlin…

Anonymous asked:

As one of the most avid Ortho stans, it really is a pet peeve that people act like he's a little kid

You're so right that it's people that want to write him like Idia's little convenient plot device

I do want to note that it's also sometimes just the infantilization of an autistic coded character

God forbid he be somewhat optimistic, this must mean he's just an innocent baby /s

One small thing that gets me: Ortho can and has made his own gears!! Idia doesn't need to and maybe this is inspired by a post I saw that used the fact that Idia has made his stuff to take away Ortho's agency in what is supposed to be him having a tattoo analog. Not having a character be the architect of their own body mod equivalent is wild and I just.

He's a silly little guy, but he's not a fucking baby!

Indeed, Anon. I feel like people either completely ignore Ortho or see him as Idia’s appendix. I absolutely love them together, and of course I am biased towards scenarios that focus on their deep codependence, but I also really love how they get to have their own adventures, their own relationship, their own experiences separate from each other. Because they are wow, different characters, and Ortho has his own agency. He had it even before ch6, but after that he fully and officially became his own person. Being with Idia is his choice, not his only option. And just like you mentioned, he makes his own gears pretty much all the time now… even though I don’t agree that Idia making his gears has anything to do with Ortho’s agency.

I don’t even think Ortho is that optimistic. He is a little sunshine, but not even close to people like Kalim for example. Ortho even has his own cynical moments and douchy moments that people also tend to ignore. But even if he was 100% optimistic and naïve, it still would not be a valid reason to infantilise him. And you are absolutely right, people do that a lot. With Kalim too, actually, now that I think about it.

Anonymous asked:

Aaaaah, Ryuichi, after reading your post (rant) about Ortho, made me very happy! I'm glad there's someone else who shares the same opinion. The number of fans who infantilizes Ortho is beyond me. I absolutely hate the argument Ortho's mentally "8 years old" it's like they completely forget his storyline.

I'm guessing that the people who genuinely believe the theory that he's "8 years old" are younger fans with no media literacy so no hate towards them but it's frustrating when fans pretend it's Canon when it's not.

Not only that but it’s so sad to see how he's also so mischaracterized by the fandom. He's always seen just as Idia's little brother but never himself despite the fact that Ortho's life doesn't revolve around Idia. He has his own interest and hobbies different from Idia AND he is NOT innocent! Fans tend to forget this is a game about a school full of villains and that includes Ortho too! If I remember correctly Ortho has multiple times tried to blow up the school with his laser! He's violent! He's not a kid.

Unfortunately, I've seen this kind of stuff happening across all fandoms this isn't exclusive to Twisted wonderland. Heck a few months ago I've seen fans in the black butler genuinely believe that Ciel's in fact 9 years old instead of 13 year old!? And then they call us weird? The SebaCiel shippers? Like why do YOU want him to be younger?? I'm getting too old for this.

Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy you also agree.

I don’t hate younger fans, and I know that some people might be genuinely confused; but I also believe that there are a lot of people that simply do not care about Ortho’s actual story and any arguments one could make about this case. The actual issue isn’t Ortho being a certain age, it’s a pretext, an excuse, an invitation to harass. If Ortho didn’t exist, they would still do it with other characters, and even if all the characters were adults, they would still find a reason to do so, like, for example, their appearance. There is no winning in this game, this is why factual arguments won’t work even if Ortho Shroud himself looks in the camera and says “hi, I don’t care if people ship me with my niisan, I am also in fact not 8 years old”.

I am also very glad you mentioned Ortho being his own person! I mentioned it in a previous reply, so I won’t talk about it, but yes, you are absolutely right. Ortho is a menace, and all of his disappointed “come ooon, niisan, don’t do that” moments come from his desire for Idia to have more friends, not because he genuinely cares for other people. He clearly doesn’t – hence his multiple attempts to blow up the school lol

I love it when characters just keep getting younger with every single wave of this shitstorm. Didn’t you know he is 13? How dare you post something like that about a 9 years old! He is a toddler who is only 3 months old! That’s one powerful fountain of youth right there. Antis in Kuroshitsuji fandom do that a lot, just as antis in TWST fandom.

Anonymous asked:

I really feel bad for people who have Ortho as their oshi. It's not like fans of other characters don't get shit on too, apparently pretty much everyone is an immoral heathen these days, but I feel like Ortho gets often excluded in fan content, especially when it features any mature theme.

Also, if you a problem with people liking Ortho in the same way as they do with the rest of the guys, you should take your issues to the creators, since that was definitely their intention when they put him in the pretty boy gacha. Or maybe just play another game.

Anyway Ryu and Katsu, keep doing your thing, cause you guys are awesome!

What I love about it is that Ortho himself would be so pissed if he learned that all the other guys get to do fun mature stuff and he doesn’t lol That’s so not fair, he’s charging his lasers as we speak!

Also yes, it was absolutely the creators’ intention. He is supposed to look like that, just like Lilia is supposed to look like that – both caused confusion in the game story with how young they look, and yet both are a big part of the cast (+ As we know, even Idia was supposed to be younger looking…). Ortho has one of the biggest amounts of cards, he is clearly a popular character, not just a lovely addition or a mascot. 

Thank you so much for your support, Anon <3 It means a lot. This shit might be upsetting, but it will never stop us from creating.

Anonymous asked:

While I am not an Ortho/Idia shipper, I do like your art pieces because your art style is straight-up gorgeous. So when I do see your Shroudcest art Im like: not my cup of tea but I respect the time and effort made into this. (And here is my rant siding with you bc they are fictional characters)

The babyfication of Ortho is something I do not understand. As much as Idia made RoBro in trauma, rn I doubt he wants RoBro to remain stagnant in mind and hardware. With Ortho's ability to learn, he is practically a teenager like the rest. He displays more emotional maturity than most ppl despite his killer laser beam. Kindness, hope, and optimism are traits not limited to children. Shortness is also not limited to children. If we treat other characters by traits often shared by children, then Neige's fellow dwarf classmates are also children. What they don't count bc they are not human? Ortho is not human either. Similarly, Kalim and Silver display positive internal traits of kindness, hope, and optimism. Shortness? Well, we got Grandpa Lilia and the Napoleon complex twins Riddle and Epel. They are all teenagers (minus Lilia) and no one is babying them.

...And are we ignoring all the shit he has seen on the internet. The amount of porn (from adult sites and even the soft-core types you can even find by watching some twitch/yt streamers) that can be seen. Videos of violence, crimes, and ppl doing their best to win the Darwainism Award. Ortho could access and go through like 5 terebytes by the time I reach page two of Google.

As for the Shroudcest, they are fictional characters! You can go straight to phub and have incest type (the sheer amount of the step family porn troupe) porn being acted out by actual breathing people. Do you want to metaphorically die on this hill of ppl shipping fictional 2D characters? Are we just going to ignore you targeting this harmless ship? At least go for a larger target like Game of Thrones or House of Dragons. So much incest in those media that it has it's own fan wiki page, but you don't see ppl go for George R. R. Martin's throat for writing about characters willing or unknowingly committing incest.

It is like people reading/watching media of horror movie killers. It's something you can enjoy or have a preference for because you, as a sane person, will not become a serial killer. AND, as a productive member of society, you condemn actual, real-life serial killers. You read horror stories or watch scary movies for entertainment value not for a guide to be one. Similar logic to furries. Furries consider anthropomorphic creatures as hot, but those same furries are against beastilaity.

TL;DR: While I am not personally a fan of incest or shota type of media, I do not mind they exist (or go after creators who use FICTIONALLY characters to enhance their form of FICTIONAL media), bc they are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS from a FICTIONAL MEDIA. Stop with the performative activism. Use that effort and go after people who do it for real in real life. If you prevent/stop an actual crime from happening, I will applaud and thank you! AND I DOUBT I WILL BE THE ONLY ONE.

Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy that you like my stuff despite not shipping some of our ships. I am very grateful for the respect, and also for your message! I really like your points and I’ll go through them briefly.

The entire part about all those traits not being exclusive to children + about other characters having those traits but still not being babied – YES, thank you so much for that. Like I already mentioned, the game clearly plays with those tropes, and even though the characters are young-looking, they are still of high school age (other than Lilia). Ortho is weird, Ortho is different from some of the other boys, but all of them are weird in their own way, Ortho is just a robot. If we can make “not a human” excuse for the dwarves, why can’t we look at Ortho that way? And yes, Ortho absolutely knows stuff a kid wouldn’t be able to digest lol All of his difficulties come from him being an AI – he doesn’t always get sarcasm, he doesn’t fully understand why people do certain things and doesn’t understand some limitations of human’s body and mind; none of it is tied to him being childish or too innocent.

Incest in media is very popular indeed, and it’s SUPER popular in porn! You are right. If any kind of media ends up “normalising” this kind of relationship, it definitely won’t be shippers of incest. But also that won’t happen because wow, it doesn’t work that way. People love to say that fiction affects reality, and while in a way it does, it’s never a “everyone is going to start shooting people because the videogames brainwashed them” type of deal, and this is exactly what they’re doing with their arguments. It’s fear-mongering, moralism and ignoring the fact that people do in fact know how to separate fiction from reality. And the key to making sure no one is going to jump out the window because their favourite character did so isn’t in censorship, but in people learning this difference and always keeping in it mind. Ironically, that would mean that people who harass others over cartoons can’t make this separation very well because of their lack of critical consumption of media; but then again, they can’t even see (and don’t care, which makes it worse and my point stronger) how their own reckless actions seriously affect real people in real life, and I think this is a more important issue to resolve lol

Unfortunately, people who prefer performative activism very rarely end up becoming real activists, but I do hope that they will at least find some other hobby, something that doesn’t cause so much harm to both innocent people and the cause they claim to be fighting for.

I got a bit carried away there, but yeah, I totally agree with your point, and once again grateful for your understanding. There will always be media that makes you uncomfortable – and that’s the beauty of it. Creativity is a boundless ocean and no amount of bricks can contain it.

Anonymous asked:

I was just scrolling through and saw your explanation of ortho and shroudcest the other day. As tiring as I’m sure it is, it always gives me hope to see people who remember what shipping is really about. I mean problematic content has existed all through human mythos and history, and society still survives! According to the studies the “art morality” argument is roughly the same as “but da violent games!!” Argument, or metal music, or clothes, or any other form of media deemed ‘new’ or ‘too different’.

Anyway, I don’t ship cest stuff myself but your art is lovely and it’s become one of the things I can view without feeling uncomfy despite how my head usually responds to such content (woohoo free therapy??? /j)

I ship ortho with an OC who’s also 16. Said oc’s mother said she would never treat her child differently for who they choose to love, and while she definitely wasn’t expecting a robot, she’s not going back on her word.

Thank you so much, Anon!! YES, this is exactly what shipping is all about! It feels like “umm but they’re not even canon” type of people are suddenly the majority in fandom spaces ahhh lol

As long as art exists, there will always be people who are against it, especially if it’s something niche, and despite how popular fandoms are, all of the fandom activity is a niche, ESPECIALLY shipping, ESPECIALLY this kind of shipping. So unfortunately it’s unavoidable, but it’s so useless and annoying!

I am very happy that you like our stuff. Thank you for enjoying it. Your OC’s mother is amazing and very supportive lol I am sure she and Ortho will get along swimmingly.

[vodika-vibes]

Hi Vodika🤗🤗

Congrats on 800 followers🎉🎉🎉

Is it possible for a request to have the scavenger hunt with either one of the nulls or with delta squad. (Sorry I know you said pick a clone but I cant😭 so please have the creative freedom) also if you can make it fluffy as a cloud that would be amazing.

Thank you and congrats again!!!!

Counting Stars

Summary: When Scorch tells you he has a surprise for you, you expect the normal kind of surprise, a snack or something like that. Normal things he’s gotten you in the past, you don’t expect a scavenger hunt.

Pairing: Clone Commando Scorch x F!Reader

Word Count: 982

Prompt: Scavenger Hunt

Warnings: Very fluffy, you've been warned

A/N: So I couldn't go into detail about the scavenger hunt, not without going over the word limit, but I hope you like it anyway!

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This has to be your favorite time of year, when the leaves start to change colors, and the miserable heat of summer fades into the more comfortable temperatures of autumn. 

Sure, it gets chilly occasionally, but that's what you have sweaters for.

Today you’re clad in a yellow sweater dress. It’s new, and you hope Scorch likes it. It took you ages to find a sweater in his specific shade of yellow, after all.

But, he’s late.

He said that he would be here at 10, and it’s now 10:30 and he hasn’t even sent you a message saying that he’s on his way.

You’ll wait for him. Of course, you’ll wait for him, he’s worth it, but it’s still annoying to not hear from him.

Warm fingers brush against the back of your neck, and you jump slightly, before tilting your head back to look up into the grinning face of your boyfriend. 

“Found you,” He jokes as his arm slides around your shoulders and he gives you a slightly awkward hug.

You can’t help the smile that crosses your face, Scorch never fails to make you smile, it’s one of the reasons you love him. “Was I lost?” You reach up and lightly brush your fingers against his cheek, before tapping the tip of his nose.

“Nope, I just like finding you,” He drops a loud kiss against your cheek, and then hops over the back of the bench and eagerly tugs you to your feet, “Are you ready for your surprise, cyare?” He’s grinning like a schoolboy and his excitement is contagious, as you start to feel the same amount of excitement.

“I do like surprises,” You reply as you slide your hands into his. You look him over, “Is the surprise a place?” He’s not carrying anything.

Scorch’s grin broadens, “Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, and then crack open an eye to peek at him.

“Ah! No peeking!” 

You giggle as he presses a hand over your eyes, and you reach up to wrap a hand around his wrist, his skin is warm and you can feel his pulse racing as if he’s nervous about something. “You seem nervous, lover boy.”

“I worked hard on this surprise,” Scorch replies. You hear him move around slightly, and then the sound of paper unfolding. Then Scorch moves his hand, “Alright, open your eyes.”

Once again, you do as Scorch asks and open your eyes. Your gaze immediately falls on the paper he’s holding in front of your face. You tug it from his hand and hold it so you’re able to see it properly.

“A gift awaits you at the path, to find your next clue go to the place we first met.” Your gaze snaps to Scorch, “A scavenger hunt?”

“The others helped,” Scorch admits with a sheepish grin, “I promise the reward at the end is worth it.”

“Mm, do I get hints?” 

“If you need them. I doubt you will, though.” 

Honestly, you don’t think you will either. Not if all of the places are related to your relationship with Scorch. So, you flash a bright smile at him and take his hand, “The place we first met was that little bookstore near the spaceport.”

Eagerly, you tug him down the street, heading toward your favorite bookstore.

Once there, the owner hands you a second slip of paper with a kind smile. That clue leads you to the park where you and Scorch had your first date.

Upon arriving at the park, Sev appears, tucks a red rose behind your ear, and hands you the third clue before he leaves. This clue leads you to the university you attended when you and Scorch first started dating.

Your old professor supplies you with the fourth clue, which leads you to the lake where you and Scorch shared your first kiss.

Fixer is at the lake, and he hands you a thermos full of your favorite caf, as well as the next clue before he too leaves.

By the time you receive the last clue, from Boss, the sun is starting to set and you’re starting to get hungry. But you want to see the scavenger hunt to the end, so you lead Scorch to the clue location.

It’s only when you arrive that you realize that you and Scorch have never been here together before. 

You’re at a small fountain, far removed from the bustle of the city. It’s quiet and peaceful, and you know you’ve never been here with Scorch before. Still, maybe you’re misremembering.

So you release his hand and poke around a little bit.

But, there’s nothing.

“Mm, Scorch? I think there’s been a mistake. There’s nothing—” You finally turn to look at Scorch, and your words trail off.

He’s on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, “I was hoping that this place would become important for us,” Scorch replies with a nervously excited smile. 

“Scorch,” You are not going to cry, even though you can feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

His gaze locks with yours, “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I first met you. And I thought that a walk down memory lane would be a good preface to this,” He absently lifts the ring box, “So, cyare, will you marry me?”

You don’t answer, but then you don’t have to. Because as soon as he finishes his question you tackle him in a tight hug and crash your lips against his.

When you break the kiss, you’re beaming at him and you’re perched on his lap. Scorch’s arms are tight around you, and he’s a little breathless and hazy-eyed. “So,” He says, “Is that a yes?”

You giggle and bump your forehead against his, “Silly man. Yes, I’ll marry you. Nothing will make me happier.”

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[badassindistress]

Hello! I'm a huge admirer of your work, you're amazingly skilled and I would love to follow one of your sew-alongs one day.

The only problem is, I'm terrible at sewing - I can't cut a straight line to save myself; I measure a million times and always end up short; all the different terms even in "beginner" patterns are confusing and overwhelming. But I really want to learn, and the few things I've managed to make, even though they look like trash, have made me feel accomplished. Any beginner projects you'd recommend and/or novice sewing advice for someone without a crafty bone in their body?

Thank you and can't wait to see what you make next!

What a lovely message to wake up to, thank you!!

Anon, I'm going to go and find the first apron I made just for you. it is terrible in both design and execution but it accomplished its goal of existing in a fit enough state to encourage me to continue sewing.

It sounds like your projects do that too, so you're already doing awesome!

One isn't born with crafty bones, one creates them in hellish experiments bathed in blood and lost scissors.

That said, there's lots of ways to make the experiments less hellish. As with most things, money or help from someone with experience can make things much easier.

Can't cut straight? If you've got the disposable income, get yourself a quilter's cutting mat and a rotary cutter, or at least a clear ruler like this:

Picking your battles also helps. Using fabric with a clear grain that doesn't fray too much as you start out will prevent a lot of headaches, as will sharp scissors and a good chalk marker.

Depending on what your interests are, these are things I would call good ultimate beginners projects: pillow covers, aprons, gathered skirts, straight capes.

But ultimately, the best beginners project is whatever you would be happy pouring the hours and effort in, even if the project won't turn out perfect. It's really about gathering experience and if you get that by stitching random squares together or attempting a ballgown for your dog, that's the way to go!

Anyway, your message came at a good time. I've been musing on doing a sewalong for true beginners, since my previous ones were more for people new to historical sewing than new to sewing in general.

Not quite sure what, though...

Maybe a cloak?

[apnourry]

braids tomorrow? yes or no

[pushing500]

Where did mechi get his mechlink?

In my idea for his background, Mechi applied for a mechlink on his homeworld (one of the more developed urbworlds) and, after what probably felt like an achingly long period of review, was approved for it!

Probably the only person more excited about it than Mechi was his baby sister Yamka.

Also, the description of mechlinks on the RimWorld wiki made me grimace at how uncomfortable it sounded. I bet Yamka had a ball teasing Mechi about it, and I'm sure he had one hell of a headache for a few days after it was first installed.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

my 1 (one) stardew opinion is shane should not have won the bachelor poll

[souenkun]

Hi I saw you reblogged my huntershipping fanfic post with a bunch of kind comments and I just wanted to say thank YOU for writing those fics 😭🙏🏻

Everytime I see that a new fic pops up in the tags I get super excited to read what you’ve written :)))

Your fics cheer me up and brighten my day! ☀️ (I also love how you characterize Ethan and Silver) (they’re so sweet 🥲) (and you’re so sweet too thank you for taking your time to share your work with the community 🥲🙏🏻)

I’ll leave more comments on ao3 when I go back to reread them 🫶🫶🫶

And I hope you have a great week too! 🫂💕 🌈

Hello!!!! 😭😭😭💗💗💗 my apologies for the super late reply, but waughhhh thank you for taking the time to send this sweet message! 🥺🫶 you have to know that seeing my series in your hbslv fanfic rec list already made my day as is, and I was over the moon when I got your ask that day 😭🥺💗💖 thank you for all of your love and support, truly, and I'm glad that I could do ethan and silver's characters justice; they deserve to discover love as a kind and warm joy for them to enjoy together! 🫂

I'm currently writing something for aokabu, but once that's done? I'm BACK at my hbslv brainrot, and hopefully I could pick up from where I left them in the series (either for the dinner gala or them meeting kabu part, hehe) 🥺👍 thank you once again for all of your love, and I hope your weekend treats you as wonderfully and joyful as you made me, op!!! 🫂🫂🫂💗💗💗

[crescentfool]

on spoiler tags

since reload is coming out soon, i wanted to give people some heads up for tags i'll be using as a courtesy. please curate your experience accordingly! if you haven't used the mute feature, here's how to 👍

i will continue to use #persona 3 for all posts related to p3 (it's my main tag)

for posts about reload specifically, i'll be using #persona 3 reload, but it might also be worthwhile to mute the abbreviations #p3r and #p3re.

for the people who don't know anything about p3, i will attempt to tag spoilers for p3's events as #persona 3 spoilers but i cannot guarantee that i will remember to do so...

i hope everyone enjoys their experience with the game! i will still post here occasionally, but in general i'll be steering clear of socmed until i'm finished with reload.

tangentially related- i expect splatoon 3's side order dlc to come out during this time. all stuff related to that dlc will be tagged with #side order and will also be tagged as #splatoon (main tag)

thank you for your time! enjoy gaming, and remember to drink water 🥤

[awakenthebeing]

I FOLLOWED YOU FOR PIEPOE AND I COME BACK AND YOURE???? A HUGE MEGA MAN FAN ?????? WHAT WE WENT THROUGH THE SAME CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ???

BEGQHHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS THE BEST MESSAGE IVE EVER GOTTEN FR !!!!! The mega man moment has actually been with me way before the piepoe arts and things but this is super cool to hear anyways!!!! We care the silly fighting robots :3!!! same character development indeed!!! 🙏🦩‼️‼️‼️

[evansbby]

[indigopoptart]

HIII- sorry I’ve been acting dead, my computer fried and I’m currently using my iPad 😅-

how are you doing 😁

ft @akemima and @sammysun. yall real ones fr

[commsroom]

i’m so glad someone understands me when it comes to Eiffel because I, too, would also fuck that man if given the chance. I am SO sorry if this is Like unexpected or gross or whatever because it came out of nowhere but like. I would do unspeakable things to that guy, like i am unapologetically down bad for Doug Eiffel and would sell my kidney for a chance to dom him tbh

this is so funny; would you believe you're not even the first person who has sent me an ask like this? it's like i'm running a support group for people who want to fuck doug eiffel. his raw animal magnetism.