#so i might have that to look forward too! or maybe i will buy another miffy and cry in bed a bunch. who knows 🫶

[darcyolsson]

gonna apply to another room tomorrow......... lets hope i get it so i can get out of here

[cheswirls]

oh i totally forgot in the being-out-of-town hype that turned out to be my birthday weekend but i DID finally secure copies of pksp hgss 1 and 2 AND got the last full volume of xy so hopefully i have all of xy in physical form now since the epilogue isn't in the magazine-release mini volumes :) if there are any add-ons to earlier xy chapters or bonus chapters (the one where y gets a sylveon tho there must be more) in other full volumes then i'll get those eventually but for now!!! aaaaa!!!!!! my heart is full

[satorusugurugurl]

would you able to do smth that’s pure full angst??? like angst that doesn’t lead up to smut, love your work btw!!

Choose

Summary: Gojo is forced the choose between his two best friends, Geto or you.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru AFAB!Reader (slightly implied??)

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, torture, blood, physical abuse, pain, character death

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: y’all wanted angst, I deliver 🙂‍↕️ enjoy your meal! Thanks @sugurubabe for your help!

The room was musky, thick was the humidity that had sweat heading against your forehead as you lay on the floor wheezing painfully before another blow hit your stomach hand. You curl into a fetal position, crying out in excruciating pain as boots crunched against broken glass that littered the floor. This wasn't how the mission was supposed to go; it was supposed to be easy!

A curse, a grade-two curse! Something both you and Suguru should have been able to handle! But it seemed as though there was no curse, none whatsoever.

What you and Suguru found waiting for you was a curse user and an assistant supervisor who had betrayed you all. Everything had happened so fast. The woman led you down a hall, revealing this supposed curse. You were in front of Suguru, listening to details and trying to sense the nonexistent cursed energy when a heavy thud sounded from behind you.

Nothing could have prepared you to see Geto on the ground out cold. The sight left you frozen in shock as your eyes darted back to the assistant supervisor holding a plank of wood stained with a bit of blood. You tried to act fast, reaching into your uniform to throw a talisman paper at the traitor, but the world went black for you. Someone hit you from behind.

When you came to, Suguru was still out, and the hats when the curse user began his shitty interrogation. He asked over and over again where Gojo was, and every time, you had a smart-ass remark. Which ended up with you getting the shit kicked out of you.

“I’ll ask you again.” The curse user barked out, crouching down next to your face. “Where is Gojo Satoru?”

Holding onto your stomach, you smirked, slowly lifting your head to look at your captor. “Your mom’s house.” Instead of a kick, the bastard backhanded you, making you wince before you cupped the side of your face, trying to hide the pain that you felt throbbing in your cheek.

“I don't like wasting time, and I don't like little liars.”

“Yeah, and I don't like assholes who beat up a couple of teenagers!” You yelled back, ignoring the iron taste that flooded your mouth.

“This is going nowhere; I thought you said the three were inseparable.”

That was true; Before the three of you were sort of a thing, going on dates, making out, sleeping together in the same bed. And that’s how it had been true until last year after the Star Plasma Vessel was killed. Ever since that fateful day, things have changed between you, mostly Gojo, but you could tell Geto was also starting to pull away too. He wasn't sleeping well, refusing to come to your room, go on dates, and you were both getting sent on more solo missions. You were honestly surprised you and Geto had been assigned this mission together, but even the two of them were slipping apart it seemed.

You’d been excited, looking forward to working together with one of your boyfriends? (Maybe you guys weren’t official yet), and had been planning to go on a soba noodles date afterward. Things were supposed to have gone differently today. What you imagined as a pleasant time with one of your best friends had turned into a literal nightmare.

You shot a glance in Geto’s direction. He was still out cold, but from the movement behind his eyes, you were hoping he was going to come soon enough. If you worked together, you might get out of this without further injuries. Until then, you just needed to continue to buy some time, and you could accomplish that by being extra annoying. You did learn from Gojo firsthand.

“T-They are—I thought they’d be assigned this together.”

“Well, he ain't here, is he?!”

“Yeah, sorry,” you spit your blood-laced saliva on the ground, “the band split up!”

“Oh did it?” The curse user asked, cocking a brow down at you.

“Yep! So I wouldn't count on him showing up anytime soon.”

That should have been enough to deter them from following through with whatever plan they had. But your words made your captor smirk. He said nothing as he reached into his pocket, tossing your phone to the traitor, before he moved fast, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you to your feet.

“Why don't we get the band back together then?” You tried out in pain as he slammed you back down against the floor, lifting your head an inch as he crouched behind you. “Take a picture of her and Geto, and send it to Gojo along with the address.”

The flash was both blinding and suffocating as you struggled to free yourself. This wasn't good; you knew if Gojo were to see it, he'd come running. You were his best friends, and even thought he's been busy with training and all the missions he had been sent on, you knew he still cared for the two of you. And when he showed up, he would fall right into the hands of these monsters who were worse than the curses you constantly took out.

With the second flash that flooded the abandoned hospital room that was only illuminated by the light of twilight, you felt panic swell in your chest. You thrashed and screamed against the man still holding you down on the ground, watching in horror as they texted Satoru from your phone. This wasn't happening; it wasn't real; this was a terrible nightmare that was going to end soon, right?!

“There, done.”

“No!” You screamed, kicking your legs out underneath you. “No! You bastards!” Tears welled in your eyes as you focused on Suguru, grimacing near you. “Suguru! Suguru, wake up!”

“You’re too loud!” The curse-user shouted, kicking you in the stomach a second time, followed by a third, before he kicked you in the ribs.

The impact of that fourth hit had you dry-heaving and sobbing from the pain. You collapsed on the ground, vision blurring for a minute before a crashing sound from down below caught your attention. You wheezed painfully, trying to pull yourself up. You had to tell Satoru to run, that it was a trap, but you couldn't speak. Every breath you took was like stabbing to your stomach, to your lungs; everything hurt.

“Suguru?! Sweetheart?!” Satoru yelled, bounding up the stairs towards you. While you might not be able to speak, you used all of your strength to crawl, inching towards the doorway. Maybe your actions would prevent him from stepping closer. “Where are they, you bastard?”

“T-Tor—Toru—” you gasp out, crawling closer to the door to have the assistant supervisor kick you in the stomach this time. “Agghh!!” You screamed out, and you could hear the footsteps running closer to the door.

You didn’t want him to come inside, to be the reason he fell for a trap. But your prayers and wishes didn’t come true. The door flew open, and your best friend stood in the doorway, his blue eyes taking in the scene in front of him. He met Suguru first, watching as his best friend blinked a few times as he started to regain some form of consciousness. Then, pretty cerulean eyes found you. You could see the rage burning within the irises.

“Ah, the infamous Gojo Satoru, finally we meet.” The curse user unsheathed a katana from his side, licking his lips. “. you sure do know how to piss off a lot of people. And a lot of these people want to hurt you in so many ways. I was hired to deal with that pain for them.” The Curse user said in a condescending tone. “They want you to suffer, and they want to hurt bad. So prepare yourself; it’s not going to be pretty.”

“S-Satoru—run,” you whined, trying to lift yourself.

Your friend threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I don't no dumb ass hired you to ‘hurt’ me, but I’ve been living under a rock for the last year. I’m stronger than I was before, and nobody will kill me. So my friends go, and I’ll deal with you.” You couldn’t help but grin even though the pain was excruciating; leave it to Satoru to have a snarky comeback.

“Oooh, I’m sorry, there seems to be a misunderstanding.” You blinked, watching as the traitor bitch dragged Suguru towards you, throwing him down next to you, leaving him groaning as he blinked hard, trying to come to his senses. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I said I would hurt you, and unlike my clients, I have to know you are untouchable. So if I’m not able to hurt you physically, I decided hurting you emotionally would be much better.”

“Huh?”

The katana slammed against the floor right between you and Suguru’s heads. “Choose.” The curse user said in a deep voice, leaving your eyes wide as you stared at your reflection in the blade.

Satoru froze up, eyes focusing on you and Suguru on the ground. “What?”

“Pick one, him or her.” You swallowed as Suguru's eyes widened in shock.

“I ain't picking one over the other!” Satoru snarled out, looking back at your captor, who was smirking.

“You aren’t going to pick?”

“Fuck no!”

The curse user hummed, twirling the katana around in a circle. The dying light menacingly reflected off the blade. You swallowed harder, looking into Suguru’s eyes as the katana twirled faster. This whole situation, everything about it, left you feeling sick to your stomach.

“Then I guess we’ll choose for you!” The curse user announced, picking the katana up out of the ground.

“You—”

“Nuh-uh!” The katana slanted into the ground, an inch away from your face, making you cry out and fear. “Come near us, use one of your special moves, and I’ll slice both their heads off right here. You might be the strongest, but I can assure you that I’m the fastest.”

Your stomach twisted in pain and fear as your breath fogged against the blade. This really couldn’t be happening right now. You choked on a sob, as the katana lifted out of the ground, allowing you to stare into Suguru's eyes. He swallowed, exhaling through his nose as he inched closer towards you. That subtle action to let you know that everything was going to be okay, that he was there by your side, only caused more tears to stream down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay,” Suguru whispered, his eyes darting towards Saroru, who was clenching and unclenching his fist in apparent concentration, his eyes roaming between the curse user, the traitor, and his two best friends. “Satoru will figure this out; we’ll be okay.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the katana slammed down again, cutting strands of Suguru’s bangs. “I don’t like repeating myself, Gojo. And I believe I ask you a question. Choose. Someone has to die today.”

Dark eyes glittered with amusement as Suguru looked up at the curse user. “You obviously don’t know my friend, he would nev—”

“Suguru.” Satoru blurted out. You slowly turned your head to look at the tufts of white hair that dropped as he clenched his fists harder.

“Satoru.” Suguru purred out, smiling. “What I can—”

“I choose to save Geto Suguru.”

Your stomach twisted in pain as you felt tears welling in your eyes as the curse user barked out a laugh, moving the katana so fast you didn't see it slicing Suguru’s bindings. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Did he re—really just pick Geto? Was he choosing to let you die?

You meant nothing to him?

Your stomach churned with nausea as the room started spinning. You felt like you couldn't breathe as Satoru refused to look at you. He did, and he picked Suguru over you.

Tears blurred your vision as you listened to Suguru cursing as he was quickly unbound. “Wow,” the man towering above you breathed out. It looks like you see where you stand.” Anger and betrayal hit you as you whirled to glare.

“Fuck you—nngh!” he kicks you in the stomach for a fifth time. And the impact made you see dark spots.

“You heard the man; it’s time to die.” he kicked you again, rolling you onto your back, where it was hard to breathe. “I hope you're watching Gojo Satoru; watch the hope and trust she had for you fade along with her life!”

The katana rose up, and you shut your eyes, waiting for the pain to hit. Instead of your cries of pain, the man above you screamed. When you forced your eyes to open, you watched as one of Geto's curses shot out, swallowing the man’s upper half in one bite, before swallowing the rest of him in another. Weakly you turned your head as the traitorous bitch was wrapped up in one of Suguru’s other curses.

Your beaten and bloodied best friend was panting as Satoru stared at him in shock. As if he couldn't believe he had stepped in. But his shock quickly dissolved into realization as his head turned towards you, and he moved, running towards you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, reaching to lift you up. But as his hands inched towards you, you pulled away from him, tears running down your cheeks. “Sweetheart?”

“Don't touch me.” you wheezed, vision blurring as your stomach twisted in pain. “Don't you ever fucking touch me again, you son of a bitch.”

“Sweetie, I—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Satoru pulled his hand away as if your words badly burned him. “I-I—” You laughed out bitterly, turning your head, and it was a look Gojo would never forget.

Your eyes were dull, blurred with tears, but he could see the betrayal and hatred swirling within them even with their dull hue. You wheezed deeply, blood seeping out of the corner of your mouth as Geto rushed towards you on the phone, calling Yaga. But nothing mattered nothing but you right then and there.

“Sweetheart, I-I wouldn't have let them hurt you. I promise!”

“You chose Geto.” you spat out, a droplet of blood jotting Gojo’s infinity as you curled in on yourself. “You chose to keep him alive and let me die.”

“I wouldn't have let them!”

“Bullshit!”

The pain in your face was like a million needles to Gojo’s heart as Geto told Yaga about what had happened. “That’s enough right now, you two! Satoru, Yaga wants you to take her back to campus so Shoko can help.” Gojo could see the shame in Geto’s eyes as he hung up the phone. “Princess, Gojo’s going to teleport you to the school.”

“No,” you whispered with a shake of your head.

“Come on! I won't hurt you; let me help you!”

“Don't you fucking touch me! I'd rather die than let you touch me. And you shouldn't have an issue with that, seeing that you picked me to die.”

Satoru gritted his teeth with anger but backed off, giving Suguru a shrug as the other man sighed. “Whatever.” With a sigh of annoyance, Sugiri picked you up princess-style and started running out of the room, heading down the stairs to get you in the car while Satoru followed behind, staring at the ground in shock and disbelief.

He knew you were mad; anyone would have been angry. But he panicked; he had to make a choice; otherwise, he would have lost you both, and that was something he was never going to let happen. Maybe he yelled out Suguru’s name because he was closer to him. Or perhaps it was just out of reflex, but he meant it when he said he would save both of you. There would be no way he would let anything happen to you. Both of you were his best friends.

You were just angry now; it would take some time, and he would explain that to you when you calmed down. All you needed was a little bit of time and space. What was the saying? Time heals all wounds?

Yeah, that was it. He just needed to give you some time to process what happened and allow your wounds to heal.

“Huh?” Gojo asked as he stood in the morgue, staring at Shoko.

“I said there wasn't much we could do.”

His eyes trailed down to the body that lay on the metal slab between him and Shoko. Your face was lax, your eyes shut, and bruises were discoloring your pretty face. This was a joke; it was all a fucked up joke for what he had said, right? You were going to sit up and say ‘jokes on you’ or ‘I got you bitch’ right? But your skin was too ashen, your pulse wasn't racing in your throat, and he couldn't sense your cursed energy with his Six-Eyes.

You were gone.

“B-But I don't understand. W-What happened, she was—she was fine.”

“On the outside, maybe.” Shoko lit a cigarette, holding it between her teeth as she moved some of your hair from your face. “But she took several kicks to the stomach, it looked like, and the sheer force formed an abdominal hematoma that ruptured with that last kick. If she got here a bit sooner, then maybe, just maybe, we could have saved her.” Shoko frowned, pulling the white sheet back up to cover your face. “But there wasn't anything we could do.”

Satoru's hands started shaking as he smelt earthy musk and mint approaching his side. He swallowed hard, turning to find Suguru staring down at your body, an almost unreadable expression on his face. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? One where they both lost their best friend?

“She stayed true to her word,” Suguru whispered as he turned, his white button-down shirt tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m going on a mission to the countryside and won't return for a while.”

Satoru turned, glaring as Suguru opened the door to the hall. “What the hell do you mean she stayed true to her word?!” Suguru paused before looking back at Gojo with dull, lifeless eyes that almost mirrored yours the last time you had looked at him. It was so eerily similar that Gojo took a step back.

“She would have rather died than have you touch her.” His eyes focused on your body before he met Satoru's teary eyes. “And she did just that, all because of your choice.”

With that, the door slammed shut, leaving Gojo standing in the morgue with the body of one of his best friends while his other went off on a mission alone. A mission that would lead to him massacring an entire village. Little did Gojo know his choice would cost him the lives of both his best friends.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable VIII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry I took so long to update this story. I got major writer's block for it :(( This chapter is short but I wanted to get something out to you guys. We're almost at the end though! One more part after this and then an epilogue <3 Thank you guys for all the kind words/support! I don't have a lot of free time so I'm shit at replying to your comments/asks but I promise I read them all and they make me so happy! Hope you enjoy!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VIII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stumbled backwards, away from the evil sorcerer who was hovering above the lake. You frantically looked at Cedric. “Please, Cedric, what is this?”

He didn’t even look your way. You kept stumbling back until you knocked into the hard chest of one of the guards. He grabbed you by the upper arms, locking you in place despite your attempts to wiggle free.

“I brought you the girl,” Cedric said to Koschei. “Now it’s time to uphold your part of the deal.”

You twisted to look up at the guard. “Deal? What deal is he talking about?”

But the guard ignored you too. 

Koschei waved a dismissive hand at Cedric, his eyes still lingering on you as if you were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "Yes, yes. You will have my support to overthrow your father."

"I need more than just your word," Cedric grumbled. "I'm not handing over the girl until you make a bargain with me." 

Koschei laughed under his breath. "You wish to make a bargain with me?" 

While the sorcerer's attention was elsewhere, you realized this might be your one and only chance to break free. 

You threw your cuffed arms up around the head of the guard holding you in place and bucked forward as hard as you could, effectively tossing him over you and onto the muddy ground. A move Azriel had taught you once. 

You ignored the shouts and yells as you darted off towards the wooded area that surrounded the lake. You couldn't winnow away, not while the faebane handcuffs were still on you. But maybe you could run and hide, buying yourself some time to think of an actual plan to escape. 

You darted into the trees, forcing yourself to run as fast as you could. The air was cold, making it hard to breathe but you pushed yourself forward. You could hear the pounding of feet running behind you. You chanced a glance over your shoulder to see the three guards chasing you but no Cedric or Koschei. 

One of the guards winnowed into the clearing in front of you, causing you to scream as you ran straight into him, knocking both of you on the ground. You rolled off him before he could grab you and winnow you away, pushing yourself to your feet. The guard snarled, getting off the ground faster than you considering his hands were free. 

"Don't you run," he growled at you. 

You took a step back. Another.

Rhysand! Help!

You screamed and screamed for your brother in your head, even though you knew he wouldn't be able to hear you from this distance. You were fucked. 

"My brother will come for you if you don't let me go," you hissed at the guards, keeping out of their reach. They were circling you like they were predators who had just found dinner. 

One of the guards scoffed. "With Koschei on our side, your brother won't be able to do anything to us."

"Koschei is offering his support to Cedric to kill the King," you shouted back. "Not to help Vallahan fight against the Night Court and its allies once my brother has realized what you've done!" 

That seemed to make the guards pause for a second, the three of them exchanging glances as if now just realizing how stupid the Prince's plan was. Mor knew you were going to visit Cedric. That's where they'd look for you first once they didn't hear from you. And you knew your brother would rain hellfire down on the Prince's territory to get you back. 

Suddenly a loud noise cracked in the air like two boulders smashing against each other, causing the ground to rumble. You fell, your legs collapsing, as three people winnowed into the clearing. You let out a cry of relief. Your brother stood in his fighting leathers, looking ready to murder with Cassian by his side. But it was Azriel who made you falter.

You had never seen him look as angry as he did now—it almost spiked fear in you despite knowing none of it was directed in your way. He looked feral, unhinged. 

The three guards around you were misted by your brother before you could even blink. Their blood rained down on you, still slightly warm. You gagged, rolling over and trying to push yourself to your feet.

“Y/N!”

You heard your brother shout but his warning came too late. 

You felt someone grab you by your hair, lifting you off the floor. You let out a cry of pain, your cuffed hands rising to grab the attacker by their wrist to get some of the pressure off your scalp. You were turned forward to face your brother and the two Illyrians just as the cold metal of a dagger was placed against your throat.

“Don’t move,” Cedric ordered and you realized it was him who had you in his grasp. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Azriel growled. It was dark and full of primal rage. You knew Cedric felt it by the way his body shuddered in response but he held his ground. 

“I don’t think so, shadowsinger,” Cedric hissed.

Azriel’s shadows poised around him like venomous snakes ready to attack. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your nerves on fire. But still, the pain of seeing Azriel fought its way through despite the dire circumstances. The image of him and Elain together was enough to almost fold you into Cedric’s embrace. 

Perhaps death would be a mercy compared to the anguish building in your chest. 

You focused on your brother instead. His violet eyes were hardened with rage, his entire body tense. “Let my sister go, you bastard, and I’ll consider making your death swift and painless.”

Cedric chuckled, his hand in your hair tightening causing you to whimper at the sharp pain. Azriel took a step forward at the noise but came to a halt, his eyes drifting to the area above your head. 

You felt it then, that dark presence. The foreboding. You knew Koshcei was in the clearing now. Could feel his horrid magic in the air. This was a powerful death god sorcerer and despite your brother being the most powerful High Lord, he was no match with a God. None of them would be. 

“Kill them,” Cedric demanded as he too realized Koschei was here.

But the death god did no such thing. Instead, you felt his darkness wrap around you, encompassing you into its hold. You let out a cry of fear, calling out for your brother. 

“The girl belongs to me now,” Koschei said. “Leave and never return or I will do more than just keep her as a little pet.”

“Why do you want her?” Rhysand switched into his diplomatic role, realizing a fight would not be won here today. “Whatever you need her for, I’m certain I can do it all the same. Better, even.” 

He was…He was offering himself over to the sorcerer in place of you?

“No, Rhys,” you cried out. “Just go!”

But you were ignored. 

“Unfortunately,” Koschei drawled. “I do not have a taste for males otherwise I would take you up on your offer. But your sister will do just fine. There is nothing you can give me for her. I don’t think you even realized what a prize she was—what sort of power she holds.” 

“Anything,” Rhys begged. “Please, I will give you anything. You want my armies, you can have them. You want my court, take it! Just give her back. Please.”  

You couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. Rhys would never give up his power, would never give away his court and his people. But here he was, offering up all he had for you. You had caused this. You had made the mistake of running away to Cedric. This was all your fault.

“Get him out of here!” you shouted to Cassian and Azriel. 

All you could think about was your brother’s lovesick bargain with Feyre, of his death leading to hers, of Nyx left with no parents. No…Rhys needed to get out of here before things got worse. You tried to convey your thoughts to the other two Illyrians with a single look. Cassian gave you a dip of the head in understanding, evidently having the same thoughts.

Azriel wouldn’t look at you, his rage filled eyes focused on the sorcerer that held you. 

“Anything,” Rhys pleaded again, surging forward. But Cassian gripped him by the shoulders, holding him back. “I’ll give you anything.”

Your eyes darted between the three of them. At Cassian’s look of despair and uncertainty, Rhy’s pleading face and Azriel….Azriel who was shrouded in his shadows, who circled him in a frenzy—his eyes darkened, his lips twisted in a snarl. He took another step forward. 

“Let her go,” he growled. You swore the birds in the clearing took off fluttering, as if they knew the sort of darkness that was coming. But Koschei let out a small noise of understanding before he chuckled—an awful noise. 

“What an interesting turn of events,” Koschei purred, his grip on you tightening. 

“Kill them,” Cedric hissed, slight panic in his eyes. If Koschei left him behind, you knew your brother would tear him to pieces. 

Koschei chuckled again, as if realizing the same thing. In the end, he would get what he wanted without having to follow through on his half of the bargain, not if Cedric was dead. 

“Say goodbye to your brother,” Koschei laughed in your ear. “And your lover and friend. You’ll never see them again.” 

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” you cried. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Rhys fell to his knees, Cassian still holding him back with his lips pressed in a thin line. You felt Koschei’s shadows wrapping you up, spreading up your legs. Time was running out. Azriel stepped closer with another growl.

“I will kill you for this,” he promised, his eyes shifting from Cedric to the sorcerer. “Let her go!”

Your voice caught in your throat. All the words you wished to say to him with it. You loved him, still, even after knowing these past few months had all been a lie. Your heart was broken, stomped on, discarded by the only one you had ever given it to—but you loved him. You always would. 

He finally looked at you, his hazel eyes so full of rage but you saw it then, the fear. 

“Take me,” Azriel shouted. “Take me instead!”

Koschei laughed again. “Oh, but it is much more fun this way, shadowsinger.” 

His shadows spread over your torso, up your neck, nearly choking you. Tears ran down your face; you were gasping for air. You took one more look at Azriel. One more look at the male you loved with all your heart. One last look because you knew you’d never see him again.

Azriel met your gaze—fear and anguish written all over his face. And just as the shadows began to darken your vision, something snapped into place. Something gold and bright. A thread that extended from your chest and speared right into the shadowsinger. A mating bond. 

Azriel’s grip his chest, his eyes wide, as he stumbled back a step. You watched him realize it at the same time as you. Something burned on your hip and you realized you were feeling Azriel’s bargain tattoo dissipating. He screamed your name as Koschei laughed one more time, swallowing you in his shadows.

Azriel’s pained roar shook the trees of the forest around them and echoed all the way to the small cabin on the lake, where you were thrown to the hard flooring, still shackled and trembling. 

Koschei stood over you, his face a painted picture of glee and lust. He tsked, circling around your weeping form. Your thoughts were filled with Azriel. With your mate. You could feel his horror, his rage, his anguish, all through the bond. 

“Did you know,” Koschei purred, “that Cedric and his family are quite exceptional at illusions? The magic runs in their family.”

You were crying, panting—barely able to hear his words. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Koschei laughed. “Those images of you walking in on your mate with that little fawn were never real, my dear. You fell for Cedric’s tricks and now you’re here. You’ll never see your mate again.”

Those images of you walking in on your mate with that little fawn were never real, my dear.

You hunched over, falling limp against the floor as sobs racked your body. You had lost everything, everything, tricked by that stupid Prince. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except the crushing weight of your despair.

 And all you could hear were those final words. 

Over and over and over again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 1. tags: dubcon

-

You duck behind a stack of boxes when you hear Johnny come whistling into the warehouse.

He shouts your name out somewhere off on the other side of the warehouse, voice echoing through the building. You keep absolutely still, fingers clamped around the clipboard that’s pressed close to your chest. Even your breathing slows, open-mouthed so as to keep it almost soundless. It’s strategic. You’ve gotten good at making yourself invisible back here, practically melting into the stack of boxes. 

A minute or two goes by with repeated calls of your name, echoing from different parts of the warehouse like Johnny’s making the rounds. Searching for you. He’s probably been looking around the store for ages, with his track record. Someone must have let it slip that you were assigned to inventory today instead of being out on the floor. 

You only let out a sigh when it’s been long enough that any reasonable person might have given up on trying to find you in the loading dock.

“Hiding from someone?” a deep voice asks from behind you.

Your gut all but self-ejects. When you turn around, he’s standing there in the same bright blue shirt that you also wear. His is stretched tight across his chest though, like it’s a size too small. You wonder sometimes if it’s on purpose. It’s hard not to let your eyes wander, but by now you’ve trained yourself to keep your eyes level when speaking to Johnny. 

“Nope,” you squeak. “Just…you know…counting. Counting boxes and…stacks.”

He laughs, loud enough to make you startle. It’s far too enthusiastic, like you told a particularly funny joke instead of stumbling over your words and you still don’t actually know if he finds you funny or not. 

“Cool,” Johnny says, taking a step closer to you. The clipboard doesn’t feel sufficient enough to put any real distance between the two of you. “Thought I could maybe come hang out with ye back here. Dinnae want ye to feel lonely.”

“Nope, not lonely at all. Totally peachy. Actually glad I could catch a break from…everyone.” You take a step back.

He follows you, another step forward. “Aye, dinnae worry, I get what ye mean. Some of the others—” he whistles, “—right buggers. Glad to catch a break myself as well.”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be…out in the front? I, uh, don’t want you to get in trouble with Jeff—”

“Ah, Jeff’s fine, kitty, dinnae worry about me,” Johnny coos, sounding pleased as punch. He takes you at face value instead of reading into the set of your jaw and the way you keep inching away from him as he gets closer to you, convinced that you genuinely in your heart care about whether he gets written up or not. “They fuckin’ love me, ye ken? Think he wants ta take me out for lunch tomorrow, but told him I’d only go if he invited ye as well.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” you whisper instead of screaming. You’re doing that a lot these days. Talking through the scream bubbling behind your front teeth. 

“Would ye want ta then?” he asks, suddenly in your face, three quick steps bridging the gap between you in barely a second, hardly enough time for you to blink. You blink and it’s just Johnny, in startling definition. Thick eyebrows and scar across his chin, the bridge of his nose perfect like he’s never broken it before. “Grab some lunch with me?”

“I, uh…I brought my lunch from home.”

“It’s a’right, I’ll buy it for ye, hen. Dinnae need ta waste your money.” Sometimes when he talks to you, he gets like this, fervent and almost desperate. He seems only half aware of it. “Ye like that mediterranean place nearby, right? Seen ye go there once or twice; wanted ta tag along, but dinnae want ta alarm ye.”

“You saw me go there?” you repeat. 

“Aye, happened ta glance out the window when ye were on your lunch break. Back before management changed my break time. Cheers for that as well because it was really startin’ ta bother me, ye ken? Not being able ta eat with my favourite coworker.” 

You never know how to respond when Johnny lets on a bit too much about how he feels about you. Sometimes he slips up and it comes rushing out, a big spool of thread unwinding in front of you.  

“Yeah, well…I don’t know about today but maybe…” you say, trailing off. There’s a danger in just brushing him off, you feel. 

“Tomorrow then,” he decides, grin still splitting his face. “I’m no’ on the schedule, but I can drop by at your lunch break and go with ye. How’s that sound?”

“Well, you know…it sounds…” He’s close enough now that if you lean forward, you’ll faceplant in between his pecs. Despite everything, you have to slightly fight the urge. Sometimes you think it’d be easier if he weren’t so absurdly gorgeous. It doesn’t make any of his actions okay, it doesn’t excuse his behaviour just because he’s pretty, yet still he pulls you in somehow, magnetic. “It sounds—you know, actually, I think Jeff wanted to talk to me about something, so if you don’t mind—”

Johnny tries to say something, but you manage to duck around him and scurry off, disappearing into the stacks of boxes before pressing forward until you burst out the main doors out of the warehouse. It leads to a hall that goes towards the store, but you haul it to the women’s washroom instead. The one place he can’t follow you inside. 

In the washroom, you can finally breathe. Resting your hands on either side of the sink, you look into the mirror where haggard eyes with deep circles underneath stare back at you. 

You flinch when one of the toilets flush and the stall door opens, another coworker stepping out. 

“Did I hear Johnny outside?” she asks, taking the sink beside you to wash her hands. You nod, still tongue tied. “He really follows you everywhere, huh?”

For a second, your shoulders relax. “God, I know, he’s always just hovering—”

She cuts you off, sighing dreamily. “You’re so lucky. He’s so hot, it’s unreal. I can’t believe he works here, like that’s insane. I’d kill to have him as obsessed with me as he is with you.”

“He’s—he’s not into me, he’s just…you know, he just hovers.”

The water shuts off. Your coworker shoots you a dubious look, almost mocking. “Yeah, alright. Sure. Not into you. Not like he hangs off your every word. You don’t have to be humble—we’re already jealous. It’s like rubbing it in when you pretend like it’s totally normal.”

You slump, defeated, when she leaves without drying her hands. It’s moot to try and commiserate with anyone. They don’t see him the way you do, not for who he is. Your coworkers love Johnny; you’ve seen someone genuinely fistpump after being scheduled with him. 

They don’t see any of the weird shit though. They don’t see the way he insists on walking you to your car well into the evening after a closing shift together. They don’t notice the way Johnny laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent. 

They’re never around to see him ask if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. They’ve never seen him beg management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch. 

Sometimes you look at him and think, this guy should not be in the Appliance section of a big box store. Johnny should be on the front cover of magazines, in commercials for toothpaste, acting in Hallmark movies, or maybe hand modelling for obscenely ornate watch companies that cost the equivalent of a mortgage—not handing out free samples of sliced cheese.

That was then.

It starts like this: an overeager sales associate who butts his way to the front of the line on your first day. 

You think at first that you’re golden. It seems like a sweet deal—an easy enough job, maybe not what you went to school for, but still something to pass the time and not too backbreaking. Plus, the guy shaking your hand and chatting up a storm in front of you is making you melt inside. He’s easy on the eyes—all bright smiles, effortless charm, either just brushing or exactly six feet, and built. Broad shouldered and lean. 

Johnny’s a model employee as well—knows the handbook inside and out, and shows you the ropes on your first day along with the assistant manager giving you a tour of the store, which is helpful because there’s at least three floors that you could easily get lost on. He walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude, and you find out early on that management loves him because of his frankly incredible sales record. 

(And you get it too; you can’t imagine anyone looking into those gorgeous blue eyes and turning him down.)

He's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some “Jobs for Vets” program that they just rolled out. The guy can also stack things on a shelf like no one's business, products lined up with military precision (hence the ex-military status). 

All in all, you can’t help feeling like for once in your life, you didn’t draw the short stick. 

Then one day, you’re alone with Johnny in the breakroom early in the morning before the store has opened yet and he turns to you with a wide, boyish grin and says apropos of nothing, “Named my fleshlight after you.”

You think your brain skips a couple tracks like a record player. You rewind and replay what was just said to you. There’s no two ways about it—you must have misheard him. Of course you did because surely your coworker of two months didn’t just look you in the eyes and say with a sweet sunshine smile that he named his sex toy after you. 

He doesn’t laugh, just stands there and smiles while stirring sugar into his coffee. He takes it black. You take note of that because the brain still has to work when the mind shuts down momentarily, so you use it instead to catalogue things around the breakroom. One of the motivational posters hanging near the door is hung a bit off-centre. The fluorescent lightbulb on the far side of the room is dimmer than the others. Johnny’s eyes have a little light spot in them like the tip of an ocean wave.

“Excuse me?” you ask, dumbfounded. Your voice sounds hollow even to you.

“I named her after ye,” he repeats, not a trace of shame in his voice. “Used ta not have a name at all, but figured since I say it so much when I’m enjoyin’ her, she might as well share it with ya.” 

He stares at you after saying that, letting it hang in the air. Your brain chooses that moment to come back online and all it can do is load that image of Johnny home alone with his fleshlight, toes curled in his sheets and the muscles of his legs straining as he moans your name. All you can do is give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking. 

Then, something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, laughing and clapping you on the arm before wandering off to the men's apparel section. 

It leaves you reeling for the rest of the day, sure you imagined it. It recontextualizes a few things for you though. He’s always been on the handsy side, verging on inappropriate, but skirting just enough around the edges of it that you usually brush off Johnny’s weird behaviour. Chalk it up to annoying little brotherly tendencies. You know he has a few older sisters anyway; you figured it was just how he related to women in his environment.

Not so. 

It escalates after that initial escalation. Not that things started off on an appropriate note, but at least before you could rationalize most of his quirks.

Now it’s this: his hand on your lower back during work hours when you’re busy helping a customer and he sidles up next to you, pinkie brushing so low on your back that you worry for a second that he might slip it down the back of your pants. Lifting you up by the hips whenever you have a hard time reaching something on a shelf instead of just reaching up and grabbing it for you. A complete misuse of his height. He digs his fingers into your sides and never lets you go right away when he puts you down. 

“Aw shit, bonnie,” he coos when you complain about it hurting you. “Dinnae mean ta hurt ye. Want me to give ye a little massage in the breakroom?” 

You learn quickly that there’s no point in complaining about his behaviour to anyone. You can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. He's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet, they say. They defend him almost viciously; the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you to stand there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. That you'll just have to teach him better. 

There’s not much you can do besides grin and bear it. You can hope one day that you'll get transferred; you don't have much hope for him being transferred. Not with how endeared he is to management.

When you finally open the door, ready to leave the bathroom and get back to work, you nearly scream when Johnny lurches off the wall across from the bathroom door where he’s been leaning. Waiting for you.

“C’mon, hen,” he says, all teeth. “Lemme walk ye back ta work.”

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Peeping Tom

Smut and Story Building (Blackmail, Deep Penetration, Defloration, Creampie, Rough Sex, First Time, Choking, Light BDSM, objectification)

Chapter 6

3,585 Words

(You encounter a peeping Tom as you have fun with one of your assistants. She tries to use her newfound information against you, but instead, you end up using her. By the end, you found yourself a new toy to play with.)

You return to your office with IU after a business meeting outside the company. The two of you talk about what just occurred during the last few days and how busy it’s going to get moving forward. 

“How does it feel receiving your first private jet, sir?”

“I’m excited; I remember riding on my father’s jet when I was younger and always wanted one of my own. Now I just need to get it customized, and I’ll be able to use it.”

“Before that, we need to hire a flight attendant.”

“That’s true.”

“What about asking your father for one of his?”

“No, I'd rather get someone that has nothing to do with my father. I don’t want them to tell him anything about my business.”

“I’ll try to put a post online to hire an assistant.”

“Sounds good.”

“Any requirements?”

“Someone not too old, eye candy. You know my tastes.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Also, any news on Big Hit and JYP?”

“I’ve heard that they are suffering a bit money-wise, so I think they are going to accept your offer.”

“Let’s see what they say. I don’t want to buy them outright, but I do want to hold a good chunk of shares, especially Big Hit. Bang Si-Hyuk seems like a pretty cool guy. He gave me a tour of his small building and even introduced me to his debuting group a while back. I really want to help the guy.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy with anything you give him, sir.”

“Let’s see how it goes.”

IU then hands you some documents and says, “This is some information I found out about JYP Entertainment. If you look at the third page, you can see that JYP was going to debut a new girl group under the name “6MIX,” but it fell through.”

“Oh, it seems like they had a hard time debuting due to one of their members leaving.”

“Yes, they added another member, Sana. It seemed like they were going to debut, but another of their leader also left the company, so they ended up scrapping the whole thing.”

“Poor girls, so much hard work and training to debut only to have it scrapped.”

“Yes, one in particular has been in their company for a long time. I heard she’s a very good singer.”

“Oh really? If JYP accepts the help, maybe I can ask him to release them from their contracts and send them my way.”

“I’ll keep you posted if there is any news, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Would that be all, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I have a meeting with one of the girls, so I’ll head to my office.”

“Actually, I’m going to grab a bite at the cafeteria, so I’ll walk with you.” 

The two of you walk towards the hallway, slap IU's ass, and walk the opposite from each other. Little did you know that you were seen by someone, the person IU was going to have a meeting with.

———— 

You get a message from IU that she has received some inflation about the deal with Big Hit and JYP as you are coming from the gym. It’s been a few days since you got any information, so you’re excited to see what’s going on. Without changing, you walk into her office, sit on the couch, and listen to some good news. 

You might not have noticed that Jennie has been curious about the relationship you and IU have since she’s a higher-up than you. She doesn’t know about your real position in the company and only thinks of you as one of the staff members. She was shocked when she saw you slapped IU on her ass and decided to follow you after that. 

Today, she had another meeting with IU and planned on having a light snack at the cafeteria before meeting up with her. Since she finished early, she decided to head up to the administration floor and relax on the outdoor patio before the meeting. She exits the elevator and makes it to the top floor. Jennie walks down the hallway and notices how quiet it is. She wandered around and found Irene’s and the CEO's office before hearing a faint noise coming from the hall. She quietly makes her way to the noises and gets to IU’s office from where the noise is coming from. 

Jennie tries to listen and places her ear by the door. She hears moaning coming from the other side. She tries to make up what the people instead are saying and can only decipher the male voices yelling that he’s going to cum. 

After some silence, she notices that the voices are getting nearer and runs towards the opposite side of the hallway to where the patio is. She peeks her head out and sees you coming out the door and IU fixing her skirt. 

“What the fuck, were they fucking in her office?”

“Omg, he’s getting it on with a higher-up in the company. Maybe I can use this.” 

———— 

Later that night, you get a message from Jennie from your staff phone. You read the message, and it is asking you for help moving some items around the house. You’re not in the mood to message her that you can do it tomorrow, but she is persistent. 

Somewhat annoyed, you put on a shirt and head down the elevator to the floor where their apartment is. You ring the doorbell, and Jennie opens the door within a few seconds. She wears a loose crop top and small shorts that show off her petite body. 

“You said you needed to move some stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the living room.”

You walk to the living room and see the items she was referring to. You spend about ten minutes moving the things, and Jennie is watching you up close the whole time.

“Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright, I’m going. I’m tired.”

“Okay, but I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Please, don’t. The stuff wasn’t that heavy. Maybe try moving it between the five of you before calling me.”

You can tell that Jennie got upset by this based on her facial expression. “I don’t know why you’re complaining; it's part of your job.”

“It’s not. I was just doing this as a favor since you all just moved into the apartment, but that was a few months ago. You girls can figure stuff out,” as you grab your phone and head for the door. 

Upset, Jennie yells, “If you’re going to be a douchebag about it all like the CEO, you’re messing around with his assistant.” 

You turn around and see a grin on her face, blackmailing you. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know that the two of you were fucking in her office the other day.”

“Lies.” 

“I saw smack her ass a while back, and this time, you were leaving her office, and she was skirted and had a smile on her face.”

“If that’s true, how would you know?”

“I heard the two of you doing it.”

“No one is going to believe you.”

“Hmph, I wouldn’t be so sure. I have the CEO’s number.”

“You’re bluffing. You don’t have his number.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, holding her phone out.

“Alright, do it.”

“Okay, I will” and is about to press the call button but then says, “actually, he might be busy with important stuff. I don’t want to bother him.” 

You know she doesn’t have your actual work number, so you tease her, “I don’t think he’s busy. Why don’t we go visit him and tell him the situation? I think he would be more than happy to hear about it.” 

You can see her expression change, and she says, “No, I think we can just leave it like that.”

You grab her waist, “Let’s clear things up. I don’t want rumors that I’m messing with the CEO’s assistant.” You pull her hand, exit her apartment, walk towards the elevator, and press the button for the top floor.

Jennie looks nervous but tries to hide her expression. “He’s going to be upset that we’re bothering him.”

“I don’t think so, plus you’re blackmailing me.”

When you arrive at the top floor, the elevator rings, and you both exit and walk towards the hallway. You ring the doorbell, but there is no answer. 

With a faint smile of relief, Jennie says, “See, he’s not here, so let me waist go.”

“Hmm… let me try something.” You press the numbers on the keypad and hear a ring, unlocking the door.

“How did you do that?”

You pull Jennie and lock the door. “Seems like no one is home. CEO-nim! Jennie and I are looking for you!”

“Stop, he’s going to be made that we’re inside his home. Let’s go.” 

“No, I don’t want to; let’s have a bit of fun.” You walk towards the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab a beer. “He has some good taste, nice.”

“Leave it; he’s going to get mad!”

“No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he is. I heard that he’s mean.”

“Really? They said that?”

“Irene said that he makes them work to the bone.”

“No, I don’t. Wait until I see her tomorrow.”

Jennie’s reaction changes, and she says, “What did you say?”

“Nothing, forget about it.”

“You said something.” She stops, looks around, and walks to the living room. She sees pictures of you and freezes. 

Frozen for also a minute, she turns around and says, “Are you CEO-nim?”

You want to play it off, but know that the gig is over. Instead, you smile and say, “Dang, you caught me. Surprise!”

Many things go through her mind, like how she ordered you around the apartment, teased you, and even tried to blackmail you. 

“So what’s this about having my phone number and blackmailing me about fucking IU.”

Jennie gets on her knees, rubs her hands together, and begs, “I’m sorry. I was just joking around. I didn't mean it.”

“It wasn’t funny. Why did you do it?”

She bites her lip and tries to come up with a reason, saying, “I don’t know. I just wanted to tease you a bit and got jealous.”

“Jealous? What for?”

“You’re my type, and when I saw you and IU, I wanted to blackmail you so you can do whatever I say.”

“You know, that could have really gone bad and gotten someone hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“If you’re sorry, how will you take responsibility?”

“Ehh?”

“You said I’m your type, and you’re pretty cute yourself. How about we have some fun?”

Jennie can’t believe what your words. She knows she said that you’re her type, but that was as a staff/trainer. Now that she learned you’re the one in charge of the company, she doesn’t want to do anything that might endanger her chance at debuting but, at the same time, finds it kind of hot. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“What do you think?” giving her a smirk.

Jennie knows what you’re thinking; it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it herself. You come close to her and grab her small behind, causing her to yelp.

She’s being this close to her. You know that she’s small and petite, “too, like a doll.”

“What?”

Instead of replying, you pick her up, carry her to the guestroom, and toss her onto the bed. 

“Wait… what are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were. I’m telling you what I’m going to do to you.”

Jennie is stunned by your words. The image of you has been turned 360 from ordering you around to the other way around. Deep down, she can’t help but feel small and submissive by someone so huge and powerful enough to change her life.

“Okay, I understand.”

“Since you do, then strip. I want to see what I’m going to be working with.”

Jennie gets off the bed and stands in front of you. She slowly begins to undress herself, taking off her crop top and her small shots.

Now in underwear, she shyly takes off her bra, revealing her small, cute breasts. She tries to cover them, “Don’t forget the bottom.”

You smile as she hesitates to pull down her panties and whines, “Do I really have to pull them down?”

“Do you want me to do them for you? Just letting you know that I won’t be gentle.”

“I…I’ll do it then,” as she slowly pulls them down until it drops on the floor and quickly cover her cunt. 

“Take your hands off.”

“But…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

 Jennie removes her hands, revealing her semi-bare cunt. 

“Fuck, you have a pretty-looking pussy and a nice pair of tits. Lay down on the bed and spread that pussy for me.”

Jennie feels embarrassed but does what you told her. She lays on the bed and puts her legs up. She tries to spread her legs, but the idea of spreading them open and showing her pussy to someone for the first time is nerve-wracking. 

“Spread them more!”

She widens her legs until you see her whole cunt in view. With both her index and middle fingers, she slowly spreads her pussy lips, giving you a view of her unused cunt. “How’s this?”

“Hot. You’re making me hard.”

“Really? I’m making you hard?”

“Yeah. Want to see?”

Jennie has never seen a cock before in real life, only on the internet when she would masturbate while in the dorms. Seeing one in real life is making her both nervous and excited, “yeah. I want to see it.”

You undo the bottom and drop your buttons, leaving only your boxers and a large bulge in sight. 

Jennie can feel her heart beating faster as you pull down your boxers, which makes your cock springs out. “Wow, it’s so big. Can I touch it?”

“Of course,” you say with a grin.

Jennie, with her index finger, touches the tip of your cock and throbs, “Haha, it’s likes me.”

“How about grabbing it with your two hands?”

“Okay, but I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap my hands around it.” With her small hands, she tries to wrap her hand, almost touching her fingertips.

Turned on, you ask, “Can I take a picture?”

Jennie looks up at you and smiles, “Sure, you’re the boss, right? I have no say.”

“Glad to see you know your place.”

You grab your phone and take a shoot of Jennie handling your cock. “Try putting it in your mouth.”

“Like this?” as she uses the tip of her tongue to lick the head of your cock. “Yes, just like that.”

You record her slowly licking your length, your shaft, pulling the head in her mouth, and even her trying to take a bit of your cock in her mouth as she plays with her cunt.

“Fuck… I knew you were a slut” you say as she has your cock in her mouth. “Hmmm… I’ll be your slut, Daddy,” giving you a devilish smile. You grab her chin in between your hands and say, “We’re going to get along very well.” 

She stands and lays on the bed once more and willingly spreads her legs for you, spreading her pussy, and says, “Make sure you get a picture of this.” 

“You know how to turn on a guy, huh.”

“I just want to please you, Daddy. Plus, I want everyone to know that you’re going to be my first.” 

You can’t wait any longer; you need to fuck her now. You set the phone down, walked back, and spread her legs. She grabs your cock and presses it against her belly, and asks, “Is all of that going inside of me?”

“It’s going to go right in here and reach all the way up here,” as you trace your finger and her wet cunt all the way up to her belly button. 

“Fuck me already, Daddy. Make me a real woman,” begs Jennie.

You grab your cock and rub your shaft against her wet lower lips, spreading them and covering them in her sticky nectar. “I’m going to put it in; just relax.” She balls up her waist against her chest, “Okay.” 

Jennie nervously watches as you align your massive cock against her small entrance, waiting for you to be her first and only cock she’s ever going to taste. 

You press the tip on your cock and slowly insert yourself until you reach her thin barrier, which separates her from womanhood. You look directly into her eyes, signaling that you’re going to go all the way into it. She nods back and tries to prepare herself for what’s to come. 

You grab her small waist and, without mercy, put your weight onto her petite body and slam yourself into her fresh womb. “Fuck!!! I’m cumming; you’re too big; you’re making me cum!”

Jennie’s body spasms, and she tilts her head back as she feels her orgasm overwhelming her. 

“Haha, you just came from me putting it in? Let’s see how many times you cum.”

You don’t let her rest and put her into a mating press. She groans from not being able to ride off her orgasm, “Daddy, wait. You’re going to make me cum again. Let me rest.”

“A girl like you doesn’t deserve to rest; you’re my sex toy. I get to use you however I want,” slamming yourself inside her once again. 

Jennie cries as she feels her insides being rearranged by your cock, “Ahh, you’re messing me up inside! I won’t be able to with anyone beside you! Fuck…you’re stretching my small pussy out!”

Watching her becoming a mess is getting you more turned on. Even if it’s her first time, she’s a natural. You place your hand on her neck and firmly tighten your grip. Jennie panics when she feels your hand choking her, puts her hands around your arms, and looks at you in terror. “Shh… baby girl, calm down; I’m not going to hurt you, just something the both of us to enjoy. Trust me.”

Directly looking at you, she lets go of her hands and instead focuses on you, thrusting inside of her. “You feel so tight, Jennie; I feel like cumming already,” as you tighten the grip of your hand around her neck. 

You see Jennie trying to speak, so you loosen your grip, “Ahhh… cum… cum inside me, Daddy. I… I want to feel your cum in my tummy.”

You tighten your grip on her neck again as you fuck her roughly, only hearing the sound of both your flesh against each other. Little by little, you feel your peak approaching, a cold sensation in your back. 

“Fuck… I’m going to dump all my cum in your tight little pussy!” 

You feel all your cum shoot deep inside Jennie’s womb with your thick cum. Her eyes roll back from how tight you’re choking her as you pump a large load. Her body starts to go limp from the lack of air, so you let go of her neck and see the imprint of your hand around it. 

Immediately, Jennie gasps for air and comes back to her senses. “You’re such a good girl, Jennie. I think you’re going to be my favorite toy from now on.” 

She gives you a weak smile, grabs your hand, and places it back around her neck, “Keep fucking me, Daddy. I’m your dirty like toy.”

The two of you keep fucking all night long, every time you pump your cum in and on her body. At the end, you take a series of photos and videos of your work, Jennie’s body covered in cum and her cunt oozing out a mixture of both your juices.

—————

You wake up the next day and see Jennie under your arms. You try to get up, but she’s holding on to you. Rubbing her eyes, she turned around and said, “Good morning, Daddy.”

“Good morning, Jennie. How are you feeling?”

“Sore. I can still feel some of your cummies in my tummy. I feel my pussy gaped. I don’t think I'll be able to get married anymore, haha.”

“Good. You’re mine, anyways.”

“Jealous?”

“No. I just got like sharing my toys.” You grab her by the neck with a firm grip and say, “Don’t forget that, okay? You’re mine.”

“Yes, Daddy,” as she feels your strong hand choking her. 

You let her go and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. Jennie looks at her phone and sees text messages from her group mates asking if she visited her mom since she didn’t sleep at the apartment. 

Jennie replies to them and immediately gets an idea that makes her smile excitedly, “Daddy.”

“Yes.”

“Since I’m your sex toy, how about making the rest of us your toys?”

“You mean your groupmates?”

“Yeah, how bout it? Sounds like fun, right?”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea; I’ll think about it.”

[luveline]

would you ever be willing to write the day spencer and stripper!reader met in the grocery store? i’ve always loved the concept when you’ve referenced it in the story, i would love to read it👀 you’re absolutely incredible and i can never say anything not anon to you because my blog is flooding you with notes constantly and i’m embarrassed😅

thank you for your request ❤️ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for domestic violence and workplace abuse

There's this weird organic grocery store by Spencer's place that's far too expensive, but it's a ten minute walk, so that's where he goes. (Weird in separation to organic.) 

He needs a lot of groceries now he's home for the week. Bread, vegetables, rice, flour if he wants to try and make pancakes, which he does. He also needs a new pen to write a letter for his mom, but Leaven is slightly too small for a stationery section. 

He doesn't know what he'll say to her in this one. Maybe that the cases he's going on are easy, or that he's been reading about crows. She's not feeling well lately. It might help her to know he's doing gentle things, even if it isn't true. 

No, he thinks. Can't lie to her. He never lies to his mom. 

Eggs. Sugar. Coffee grounds. He fills his cart. It'll be a lot to carry on the way home, but better to do it in one go. He likes keeping busy but he's a human being, too, and he's looking forward to spending at least sixteen hours in bed after dinner tonight. 

You look tired, too. 

Your back is turned, but Spencer knows it's you. You must live close by, he's been seeing you duck in and out for months. Usually with a loaf of bread or a single box of painkillers tucked in your pocket. You don't steal, he'd be able to tell, and he wouldn't say anything if you did, anyways. All he knows about you is that you have a nice smile when you have the energy, and your voice is like silk. Purposeful or by nature, he's yet to guess. 

You're standing by the end of the aisle near the checkouts with a basket hanging from your fingers. All you're buying today is a box of pancake mix and a bag of peas. 

Weird, he thinks with a smile. Spencer likes weird stuff. It's quirky. 

You turn to see which checkout is empty and Spencer's smile abruptly drops. 

You have a bruise across half of your face. It isn't strictly fresh —he can see the split skin on your cheek starting to close in on itself, and your purpled eye is open (though barely). You're frowning. Spencer knows how bad it hurts to get hurt like that. For a split second he can't believe someone could do that to another person, and then he remembers the hundreds of women he's had the privilege to meet at their most vulnerable, who trusted him, and he thinks maybe he's capable of helping another one. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You meet his eyes with a funny smile. “Hey. Sorry, am I in the way?” you ask, your voice stretched, thin but not weak. 

“No, you're not, it's… I see you here all the time.” 

You hold your breath. When you talk, it rushes out. “So?” you ask wearily.

“Are you okay?” 

Your funny smile fades as Spencer's had. He supposes that's the talent of cruelty. Even when it's over, it's not truly over. Your bruise still hurts, and Spencer still needs to know you'll be okay when you go home tonight. 

“I see you all the time too. We've… we've actually spoken before, haven't we?” you ask after a moment. 

“Yeah, about spirometry. I was out of breath running and–” It doesn't matter. You asked him if he was okay, and he explained that he was, just that his lungs don't hold much air on account of his own laziness, and it doesn't matter. “Are you? Alright? It's a bad bruise.” 

“It's getting better.” 

It might be, but there's something so raw about seeing you standing there in your sweatpants too big for you and a hoodie with a hole in it, purple and yellow contusion across your eyes and nose like the clumsy stroke of a paintbrush. Spencer will admit to feeling sorry for you.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, knowing this isn't the right place. “There's the cafe at the front? Let me pay for my stuff and–” 

“I'm really okay–” 

“You had a cast on your wrist two weeks ago and now you're here with a limp and a really bad bruise,” he says softly, imploringly, “I just wanna talk to you about it. You don't have to say yes, I'm not trying to be weird, but I–” 

You cut off his mile a minute speech with a small smile. “Okay. I'm not, you know, doing anything anyways. It'll be nice to sit down.” 

Spencer knows it's dumb, but he wants to show he has good intentions. He takes your basket out of your hands and nods toward the cafe past the checkouts. “I'll come and meet you.” 

“You don't have to,” you say, gesturing at the basket. 

“The damage is done, right? This place is ridiculous.” He doesn't like the way you're holding your hip. It makes him feel sick, even though there's no proof one way or another to say you've been hurt beyond your bruising.

He pays for his things and yours and meets you at the cafe. He's half expecting you to have bolted, but you sit at a table near the entrance, completely still. 

Spencer puts his two bags under the table and offers you your pancake mix and peas in their own bag. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“It was my boss.” You look at your fingers, spreading them slowly over the table top. “I’m a dancer. Sorry. I know you’re going to ask.” 

“And he hit you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Spencer knows the number for every women’s shelter in every state, but he doubts it would matter to you. He can tell already that you’d say no. He can tell you’re scared, even if you don’t realise it yourself. “Is it getting worse?”

You can’t offer him anything else. He understands how that feels. There have been moments where he desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was going on in his life, but he always holds his secrets like a perpetual ache in his throat. It’s like he can’t tell someone, even if they ask. 

Sometimes he just wishes they’d ask twice. 

“You can tell me. It won’t sound stupid,” he promises. He’s in some odd place between Agent Reid and young, terrified Spencer, determined to help you, but not sure how. “It’s getting worse, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, the weight of tears on your tongue. 

“You’re a dancer. Is he just a boss– Does he… abuse you financially?” 

You laugh wetly. “He’s not my pimp.” 

He can feel his face heating up.’“No, but do you get paid on time? Everything you earn?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t get paid on time. He takes a percentage, and somehow there’s always another percentage, and then discipline. And now…” 

“Now he’s hitting you.” Very badly. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

Spencer frowns gently, talks softly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” 

“No, I know, but I need you to know I’m not stupid. When we talked before, you– you’re so smart, I bet you know so many smart people.” 

He’s not sure where you’re going with this. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about being hurt anymore. It must be a kind of torture to be hurting and know that that hurting will come again. There isn’t an end in sight for you, just right now. 

“Can I buy you something to eat?” 

“I have money,” you say, taking your small purse from your pocket. There are a few notes wedged inside. 

“You can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach, and you should take painkillers again soon. You had some before you came, and they’re wearing off.” He meets your confused frown with a frown of his own. “Your hands are twitching like you want to move away from yourself.” 

“You’re very perceptive,” you say in that smooth murmur. Power clawed back, he thinks. You’re protecting one of the things you can control about how you’re seen when everything else is far from it. 

“I’m a profiler. Do you,” —he tries not to sound hoity toity— “know what that is?” 

“No.” 

“I’m an FBI agent.” You’re laughing as he takes out his badge. He joins you. “I know it sounds like I’m making it up.” Spencer offers you his identification passport slowly, so you know he isn’t wielding it around to be an asshole. “I’m in the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse the way people act. That’s why I know you’re in pain.” 

You take his badge, looking between his photo and his real face with a growing smile. “If you need all that to know I’m in pain, you’re not as smart as you think,” you tease, gesturing to the mottled skin of your bruise sweetly. 

Spencer buys you both cold sandwiches from the front of the shop and a drink to wash down your aspirin. It’s awkward, he guesses, but he’s used to that by now, and under it he can feel your palpable relief. You trust him to not hurt you, if nothing else, and he can work with that. 

[gilverrwrites]

Hi

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

 “Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips.  His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy.  “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

[sillylittlegirlthoughts]

Hiii maybe wroetoshaw festival fic? Can either be social media or irl🫶🫶

festival | wroetoshaw

thank you anon for this request!! this is if you, harry and friends went to a festival together. i might also write a fic where you meet harry at a festival if you’d be interested !!

w2s x reader

open for requests.





Harry smiled at you as he watched you primp yourself up on the train. Purely afraid of being rushed out into the festival once you arrived. You hated being rushed.

He admired you, watching as your eyes light up and your smile grew wider as you and chip discussed the anticipation you both had for the following days. On the train was you, Harry, Chip and Freezy. Many others were going. The remainder of the sidemen, Callux, Talia, Freya and Willne. To name a few. Your friend group were extremely lucky with their opportunities but they found it was always for work that they were meeting up. Yes, this weekend many people were bringing along their vlogging cameras but they weren’t there because they had to be everyone wanted to be there.

“I’m looking forward to a couple of pints,” Harry added to the conversation. Chip laughed, “Aren’t we all my friend.” As he held up his water bottle waiting for Harry to return the toast.

liked by taliamar, w2s and 32,679 others

y/n y/l/n: weekend loading…..

theburntchip, cal sitting beside y/n sobbing

calfreezy, i thought i was loved

y/ny/l/n, who told you that?

w2s, chip looks like he’s already had a weekend

theburntchip, bugger off

y/ny/l/n, he did just have to sit beside you for three hours

taliamar, so so so excited to see you!!!!!

y/ny/l/n, i miss you!!

callux, please hurry some of us need a drink

The four of us arrived at our hotel, eager to get out and explore the festival grounds. You loved hotels, something Harry knew. You were too busy looking for the reception to notice Harry had changed which hand was lugging his suitcase as he intertwined your fingers with the other. You finally broke out of your trance. “Hi Harry.” You smiled and he sheepishly smiled back.

Once you all arrived in your room, messages from the groupchat came flooding through. Everybody begging the four of you to hurry. “Tell Simon we’ll be there in a minute,” you groaned, unable to find your shoes. “I just need to find these shoes.” You rummaged through your suitcase that might have been a little too full. “These ones?” Harry queried holding up your shoes as you pulled them from his hands. “Yes! Oh my god.” Harry smiled as you kissed him on the cheek, scurrying to put your shoes on.

You and Harry made it to the lobby just after Chip and Freezy. A group, probably to others distaste, were gathered in the middle. All riddled with a buzz of excitement. It radiated as you smiled as soon as you seen the herd of them. “Y/n!” You heard one of them shout, only if you knew which one. Harry’s name was called soon after as he came into their view. “So good to see you.” Callux said as he embraced you. “Great to see you too.” You smiled at him before being welcomed by another’s embrace and then it carried on. Eventually, everyone arrived on the field for the festival. The good thing was, music was playing from every end on every stage. Everybody ran for a drink. “Would you like a beer?” Harry asked, pointing to the bar some were already off too. “Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He replied, giving your forehead a kiss before moving on.

As the sun went down, the atmosphere grew and drunk levels were significantly increased. You and Harry were dancing with one another, his hand sometimes resting on your waist but other than that it was reckless dancing. Unfortunately, as you danced your night away you knocked over a man’s beer behind you. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry—Let me, let me buy you another.” You scrambled as you picked up his cup, looking at him with apologetic eyes. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” He yelled, Harry turned around. “Hey mate, back off!” He shouted, the guy just laughing in his face. His girlfriend rapidly apologised logging her boyfriend through the crowd. “I’m so sorry. He’s so drunk. Sorry.”

Harry wrapped his arm around your shoulder as they walked away into the crowd. “Hey. You okay?” He yelled over the bustle of the crowd. “I’m fine, Harry. It’s just people when they’re drunk.” You said, it didn’t bother you but something about his anger felt so genuine even through the slurred speech and drunken eyes. Suddenly the crowd raved as the main artist came on stage. Harry nudged your arm with excitement. “For this first song, grab your significant other or maybe someone you care about.” Harry had never leaned into you faster his arms grasping your waist as he turned to face you. The song flowed as did your bodies. “I love you.” Harry spoke as he pulled you closer. “I love you more.” He pulled you in for a kiss and the night never felt younger.

y/ny/l/n posted!

liked by w2s, calfreezy and 23,216 others

y/n y/l/n: if i told you we only drank a little would you believe us?

w2s, i look out of it in everything im in

stephentries, you were

y/ny/l/n, you necked two pints in like 40 seconds

stephentries, i love my boyfriend 🥰

y/ny/l/n, you can have him

w2s, oi

willne, my shoulders are suffering

calfreezy, my heads suffering boy

taliamar, before my cowboy boots got destroyed thanks to simon

y/ny/l/n, men! i will get you new cowboy boots

[princessmaybank]

Hey Princess 👑! Chefs Kiss 💋😘 for writing and you deserve the 1.5K celebration 🎉 and may I please get Cherry red 🍒 with prompts 24 and 25 cause they are my fav! Thank you so much have a wonderful day! Love you lots!😘

Thank you so much honey and absolutely! Sorry it took forever baby, I hope you like it though!

Gettin' Mouthy

Pairings: Dom!Boyfriend!JJ x Kook!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Annoying!reader, public, hickeys, fingering, grinding, oral (Fem. receiving), rough!JJ, gagging, daddy kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, etc.

Summary: Reader had an attitude problem and JJ decided to fix it!

Author's Note: I hope you all like this one, I would really enjoy some feedback on this one! Enjoy!

Moodboard

"I just don't see why you can't get me both Jay!" She whined. All day long it's been this back and forth game of which thing to buy her. I couldn't afford both and she damn well knew that but didn't seem to care I guess.

"You know I can't afford both!" I said, irritated. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Maybe you should get a better job." That's when I snapped. I pulled her by the wrist until we were far enough away from the street in a small alleyway. I pushed her harshly up against the brick wall and my hand found its way around her throat. "Who do you think you're talking to?" I ask through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes again, not giving a fuck. "You. Who else would I be talking to?" She snipped at me. "I suggest you choose your words very wisely darling." Her attitude hasn't gone away, I can still see it in her eyes and in her body language. "Or what?" She asks. I paused. She's a brat but she's never been this bratty. "Who do you think you're talking to?" I ask, getting genuinely upset. Her arms crossed against her chest with another huff and eye roll. "There's no one else around...who do you think I'm talking to?" She said in the same tone that started this mess. I let out a huff as my tongue swirled the inside of my cheek.

"You're testin' my patience darlin'." I gave a small fake laugh. "Oh boo hoo.." Y/N mocked. I slammed her against the wall again, keeping my hand around her throat. "Fix your attitude or I'll fuck it out of you." I snapped. "Take me home then." She rolled her eyes with a huff. I let out a deep chuckle.

"Oh no princess, you wanna act like a spoiled little bitch in public, you're gonna get punished in public too." I smirked and her eyes finally went wide. "What? No Jay..I was only playin! Swear!" She tried to save her ass but it wasn't gonna work. "Too late for that princess. You're fucked." I grinned.

I swiftly grabbed her wrists and held them above her head with one hand. My other hand roamed her body as did my lips. I kissed and bit at her neck, leaving a path of beautiful red markings. "Jay- s-someone might see us!" She whined. I continued my line of kisses down her breasts and smirked against her skin. "Shoulda thought about that, huh." I said looking up at her with a shit-eating grin. All she could do in response was whine some more and wiggle around, but she wasn't going anywhere.

"Remember princess...I'm still in charge, no matter how bratty you think you can be." I whispered in her ear before flipping her around and pinning her to the wall. I put my hands on her hips and pushed my hips against her ass. I placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, causing a small gasp to come from her lips. My hand snaked its way up under her dress. I gasp in her ear when I find a little surprise. "No panties? Naughty girl." I tease her slit by lightly running my finger over her folds. "For you daddy. For later." She whined again. "You're lucky it isn't a windy day, doll." I release a breathy moan in her ear as I insert my middle finger into her. She moaned and tried to grind against my hand. "Ah ah ah. I don't think so princess." I pulled my hand away from her and placed them both back on her hips.

I jutted my pelvis forward, lightly grinding my cock against her ass. "JJ, please, stop teasing!" Y/N yelled. My hand slapped over her mouth to keep her from shouting more. "Gonna get us caught with that loud mouth of yours." I pulled her a little bit away from the wall so I could bend her over. "C'mon princess you know what to do...hands on the wall." I smirked as she huffed before complying.

"Mmm good girl.." My hands slowly massaged her ass, giving each cheek a little slap before dropping to my knees. "Wha-what are you doing Jay?!?" She yelled again. Without a second thought I gave her pussy a nice slap causing a yelp. "Shut that pretty little mouth princess, ya never know what could get shoved in there."

She finally settled before my tongue swiped from her clit to her asshole. I grabbed her thighs to support her as my tongue swirled around her perfect little cunt. Moans spilled from her lips, even when I peppered her lower lips with kisses. My tongue circled her hole before plunging in and out with the most beautiful noises coming from my little lady. "Oh fuck Jay- need more!" She always loves to whine.

Before I knew it she was fuckin' herself with my tongue. Her hand crept down to her clit and toyed with it as she pushed herself backwards. "Oh..oh shit..." Moan after moan leaving her body. Just when she thought I'd let her cum, I pulled away and stood up. Once again she whined and complained about me doing this to her. Y/N turned around to start arguing with me.

"Really Jay?! You knew how close I wa-" I cut her off by slamming her against the wall. I quickly pulled off my belt and wrapped it around her head and used it as a gag. I stepped close to her and bent down to her ear. "Since you seem to have no control over that pretty little mouth princess.." I smirked.

One hand stayed on the extra length of my belt while the other worked my jeans down. My lips attacked her neck, earning me some muffled moans. I got my cock out and started pumping myself and continued. Y/N was eager and so was I, she took my cock and led it to her entrance. "Someone's needy.." I tease. She rolled her eyes at me. "Even gagged you find a way to give me attitude.. unbelievable" I let out a small laugh before slipping inside her juicy pussy.

I lifted her leg up and gently started thrusting. Her head fell back against the wall and she closed her eyes. Y/N didn't get to sit like that for long because I pulled her head back up with the belt. "Eyes on me princess." My thrusts got faster and I forced her to keep looking at me.

I was a mess. She looked so beautiful like this. I took the belt off and urgently attached my lips to hers while speeding up my thrusts some more. I reached down and started circling her clit. "Ya ever-gonna mouth off- again princess?" I said through pauses for breaths. "mmmm fuck, probably!!"

I pinched her clit. "Ow! fuck, no! I won't ever mouth off ever again daddy!" She squeezed her eyes shut as my pace quickened and I suddenly got sloppy. "Almost there princess..c'mon.." I grunt. "Oh fuck- don't stop daddy! please please please...right there" She squealed and came on my dick, nearly sending me over the edge.

"Where do ya want it princess?" My breath hitched. "In-inside.." I smirked. "Fuck..yea take my cum princess..fuck- just for you..oh shit.." I released inside of her just like she wanted. She was still recovering as my liquid shot into her.

"Sorry for mouthing off Jay, I learned my lesson, even though, no one came down here." She giggled and I chuckled. "Next time your ass is on display princess. But I am glad I fucked your little tantrum away."

[teamatsumu]

Can I please request rekindling a relationship with ex-boyfriend Atsumu who is a total ass man? (He can't stop touching, fondling reader 's ass.)

one day. (miya atsumu x fem!reader)

word count: 755

warnings: post-break up. sexual language but no explicit smut. swearing. osamu is there. slight angst if you squint. nsfw. mdni.

Taglist: @keiva1000

Atsumu should have known that even after breaking up with you, your presence in his life would be inevitable. After all, you had been childhood friends, and while your relationship had soured and fizzled months ago, you were still very, very close to Osamu, and no beef with Atsumu could stop you from seeing his twin.

So Atsumu had gotten used to walking into Onigiri Miya and seeing you perched on a stool at the counter, deep in conversation with Osamu who was carefully shaping onigiri for you. You were just as much a fan of his brother’s food as he was, maybe an even more enthusiastic supporter. Osamu often called you his little “taste tester”, and Atsumu would make a sleazy joke in your ear about how he was your taste tester, in that he would bury his head between your thighs to taste y-

You would always smack him before he could finish.

Ah well, those days were long gone. You weren’t interested in anything he had to say anymore, which Atsumu thought was karma for the last few weeks of your relationship, when he had started missing all your calls, messages, dates. After the fight that led to your breakup, which was filled with your teary complaints about how he had no time for you at all, Atsumu wondered if his volleyball career just left no room for him to date. But then he would look at Meian, who had a whole wife, and think that maybe it was just him. He just didn’t know how to maintain a relationship.

That didn’t stop him from hesitating now, catching sight of you in conversation with his brother, your arms folded on the counter before you with your torso leaning forward, and Atsumu’s gaze was immediately beckoned down to your-

Fuck.

Those were his favorite pair of jeans on you.

You had gotten them when he took you birthday shopping, and Atsumu had been enamored with them the minute you tried them on. High waisted and tight, they hugged your ass deliciously, so much that Atsumu had insisted he buy them for you, later using that as an excuse to bend you over the nearest surface any time you wore them and having his way with you. This couldn’t be a coincidence now, why would you wear them today? To come to Onigiri Miya? Where you knew you would likely run into him? Atsumu’s jaw clenched at the thought and he stepped further into the shop, finally catching your and his brother’s attention.

“Finally. What’s the point of making ya fresh onigiri if ya won’t show up on time?” Osamu scowled at him, but Atsumu paid him no mind, catching your eye and giving you a smirk.

“Nice ass.” He quipped, making you roll your eyes and turn back to your own plate, but Atsumu caught the tips of your ears turning red, making him grin. Victory.

“You’re disgusting, Miya.” You replied, voice low before you took another bite. Atsumu settled into the stool next to you.

“Ya never minded that when we were datin’. In fact, I still remember the sweet sounds ya made-”

“Shut up.” You glared at him, while Osamu made a disgusted face, saying something along the lines of ‘not in front of the food’. Neither of you reacted too viscerally though. Atsumu’s foul language was nothing new. You might have broken up with him, but you both knew he still liked you, and he would never stop flirting. That was his way of saying he wasn’t giving up on you.

Deep down, Atsumu knew you liked it. So when Osamu turned his back to search for something behind him, Atsumu leaned close to you, lips brushing your ear.

“Why’d ya wear those jeans, doll? Temptin’ me to bend ya over this counter?”

You dug your elbow into his side to push him away a bit. “In your dreams.”

Atsumu hummed, no longer resisting the urge to reach down and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. You jumped a bit, turning to glare at him. “Ya really don’t wanna know what goes on in my dreams, sweetcheeks.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, but Atsumu caught the corners of your lips, fighting to hold back a smile. He sighed as Osamu placed a plate of food in front of him, not bothering to bite back his own smile. You still loved him, deep down, Atsumu was sure, and he was determined to make you his again one day.

One day.

[foreverisntenough]

‘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 6 - Footballers | ‘Act II’

word count - 9.4k

You stood side by side in Jude’s en suite, both of you brushing your teeth in comfortable silence. You caught each other’s reflection in the mirror, and with foam spilling from your mouth, you gave him a playful nudge. Jude raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended by your antics.

“So, are you going to wear my jersey to the match on Saturday?” He asked you once you’d both rinsed your mouths as he leaned against the counter.

“Hmm, no, don’t think I even own a Real Madrid jersey in general actually.” You paused, looking at him with a playful smirk. 

“Sorry? You what? You don’t own a Real Madrid jersey? You should be ashamed!”  His eyes widened dramatically, and he placed a hand over his heart like he was mortally wounded.

“I was thinking maybe I’ll get a Tchouameni one, you know.” You laughed, enjoying his theatrics and contributing your own.

“Aurelien? Are you serious?” Jude dropped his jaw in exaggerated disbelief. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you just tight enough to be a little ridiculous. “Nah, not having that! You have to wear mine. I want the most beautiful girl in the Bernabéu to be in my jersey.”

“Fine, I’ll wear yours,” you said, giving in to his adorable dramatics.You grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“You can wear one, sure, but you’ll have to get it yourself.” Jude wasn’t done teasing. He stepped back, crossing his arms with a smirk. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Your smile faltered slightly in confusion.

“I’m not just giving my jersey away to anyone, you know. If you want a Bellingham top you’ll have to go to the store and buy one like everyone else.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Baby…Really? You could probably get 500 jerseys if you wanted to.” You burst out laughing, knowing full well he could get you one in a heartbeat.

“Nah, can’t do it. Rules are rules. You’ve gotta earn it.”Jude kept up the act, shaking his head.

“Says who? You know what…Fine. I’ll go to the store and buy your jersey like a normal person.” You rolled your eyes and pulled him in for another kiss. Jude laughed, clearly enjoying how much you were playing along. 

“Good. And when you walk into the stadium, everyone’s gonna know who you’re there to support.” He kissed your forehead, smiling against your skin. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, loving the playful back-and-forth between you two. The day before the big game, you sat on the couch waiting for Jude to come home from training, a mischievous grin already forming on your face. When he walked in, still a bit sweaty and tired, he immediately caught on to your look.

“What’s that smile for?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m going to the Real Madrid store on Gran Vía.” You shrugged, trying to keep the grin from growing too wide. 

“For what?” Jude chuckled, dropping his bag by the door.

“To get my jersey for the game tomorrow, of course,” you replied, standing up and giving him a playful look.

“You’re not serious. I told you, I’m not just giving one away to anyone.” Jude laughed again, thinking you were joking. 

“Exactly. My favorite player won’t give me one, so I guess I’ll have to go buy it myself.”  You rolled your eyes with a shrug still smiling.

“You’re actually going to the store?” Jude’s face softened with amusement, and he shook his head. 

“Yes! And you’re coming with me.” You poked him lightly in the chest.

“Come with you?” he repeated, laughing. “Do you want me to get mobbed? It’s impossible for me to walk around Gran Vía like a normal person. Let alone to a Real store.” His eyes widened, not sure if this was a bit or not.

“Then stay in the car. But I’m serious. If you want me in that jersey tomorrow, I need to go buy one.” You crossed your arms, still determined. 

“Fine, but I’m not stepping foot inside that store. I’ll stay in the car and watch you struggle without my help.” Jude shook his head with a smile, knowing he wasn’t going to win this.

“Deal. Let’s go.” You grinned. Before long, you both were driving down to the famous Gran Vía. Jude kept his word, staying in the car as the driver waited just outside the Real Madrid official merch store. You could feel his eyes on you as you got out and walked into the shop, a playful sense of excitement buzzing in the air. Inside, it was surreal seeing all the people browsing through jerseys and merchandise. None of them had any idea that Jude was sitting right outside in the car. You spotted his jersey on the racks and couldn’t help but laugh a little to yourself as you picked it up. You paid for the top, imagining what Jude would say about you having to actually buy it. The clerk handed you the bag, and you stepped back outside, heading toward the car with your little purchase in hand. Sliding into the car again, you flashed the bag at Jude with a grin. 

“Was a tough choice, you know” you said, teasing him.

“You really bought one, huh? I can't believe you.” He laughed, glancing at the bag. “There better a fucking number five on that jersey when you pull it out.” Jude gave you a serious face. 

“You insisted, and I’m a woman of my word.” You held up the jersey from the bag, waving it playfully. 

“Can’t wait to see you in it tomorrow.” Jude shook his head, a smirk on his face as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Can’t wait for you to see me out of it after.” You giggled nestling your body into his side as he draped his arm around you, pulling you into him tight with a kiss to your temple. 

Jude was sitting in his gaming chair the Sunday following the match you wore your newly purchased jersey to, headphones on, his eyes fixed on the screen as he played a game of fifa with his friends. Laughter and banter filled the room, though his focus was split between the game and glancing at you from time to time, peacefully tucked into his bed. The duvet clung loosely around your naked form, your bare back rising and falling with your soft breaths, completely unaware of the world around you. It wasn’t long before one of his friends on the other side of the screen noticed you in the background. 

“Oi, Jude! Who’s that in your bed, mate?” One of them teased, followed by a round of laughter. Jude rolled his eyes, trying to concentrate on the game.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, brushing off the comment, his tone playful yet slightly guarded. More teasing followed from his friends, who had no idea just how deeply Jude cared for you. They saw the bare back in the background and made all kinds of assumptions, jokes flying around as they continued to rib him about the mysterious woman in his bed. You stirred slightly, half-asleep, but heard enough to catch their words. It stung, just a little, how easily Jude brushed it off. You had always known how fiercely private he was, especially about your relationship, but hearing him dismiss the situation like that gave you a small pang of hurt. You stayed still, not wanting to interrupt or make it a thing, but the ache lingered in the back of your mind. After the game ended, Jude pulled off his headset with a sigh of relief, stretching in his chair before finally turning his full attention to you. He stood up and crossed the room, his soft steps barely making a sound as he approached the bed. You stirred in the luxurious bed, your naked body still entangled in the soft sheets, a stark contrast to the intense passion from the night before. As the morning light filtered through the elegant Spanish bedroom, you felt a pair of warm lips trailing kisses down your spine, making you shiver with anticipation. It's Jude, his breath hot on your skin, waking you up in the most delightful way.

“Hey, angel,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You still sleeping?” He asked leaning down, he pressed a few gentle kisses along your shoulder, his hand trailing up your back, fingertips grazing your skin, sending shivers through your body despite the warmth of the duvet. You slowly opened your eyes, rolling over to face him, the faint memory of the teasing fading as his touch seemed to melt it away. He smiled down at you, his hand now caressing your cheek, fingers tangling gently in your hair. His presence was warm, comforting, and in that moment, any hurt you felt seemed so insignificant.

“Don’t worry about it,” you teased back, your voice groggy but playful as you tried to mimic his earlier words. There was no accusation, just a soft laugh and a small smile that told him you weren’t holding it against him.

“You heard that, huh?” Jude’s smile softened as he leaned down, kissing you tenderly, his lips lingering longer this time. 

“Mhhmm,” you hummed, but your fingers traced up his arm, pulling him closer. “It’s okay.” The way his hands moved over you now, how he held you like you were precious, dissolved any lingering doubt. His kisses, each one deeper than the last, spoke louder than any words, assuring you that what you had was real, far more than just a fleeting moment in the background of his life. His cold hands slid over your warm naked body. 

“You look so sexy in the morning.” He whispered, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. 

“You think?” You smiled with a stretch, your full breasts rising against the silk of the sheets, and turned your head to glance at him over your shoulder, a playful glint in your eyes.  He hummed and nodded. “Better than last night?” You asked. Jude chuckled, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Up for debate, it’s not a fair comparison. You’re not doing the same thing.” He mused with with a found memory of your antics last night in bed. 

“Would you like me to be doing the same thing or maybe something new?” You asked him feigning innocence. Feeling a little daring, you prop yourself up on your elbows, your naked body on full display, and lean forward to nibble on his ear. He groaned, his hands immediately reaching for your hips, pulling you closer. 

When you returned to New York once again, you missed Jude a lot. Being apart was harder than you thought. You just wanted to hear his voice again so you decided to call Jude, pacing in your apartment,  the city lights flickering through your window.  You two had spoken a lot the second you were apart but it was just strange not being together anymore. With a longing sigh, you pick up your phone, unable to resist the urge to hear his voice. Your heart racing as the phone rang questioning if this was a good decision or not, but when he finally picked up, the tension melted away instantly. You immediately jumped back into your bed, comforted not only by your plush surroundings but now by him. 

"Hey Angel," his voice came through, soft but tinged with that familiar warmth. It was amazing how just hearing him could make everything feel lighter, like the weight of the day disappearing, the weight of your distance. Your fingers trailed idly across your silk sheets as you listened to Jude’s voice come through your phone.  Your body ached for his touch, his scent, the feel of his strong arms around you. Jude's voice resonated through the phone, instantly making your heart flutter. His warm greeting sent a shiver down your spine, you could almost feel his breath on your neck, even though he was thousands of miles away.

"Hi," you purred, the sound of his voice already soothing the ache that's been gnawing at you since you left Madrid. There was a beat of silence where neither of you spoke, but it's not awkward. It's the kind of quiet where you were both trying to figure out what to say without really saying how much you miss each other. It was obvious and while you had decided you would ‘date.’ there really was no clarity of what that meant. Dating means different things to different people. Dating could be exclusive and in a relationship or it could very well mean you’re just going on literally dates to sus things out and that’s it. The ambiguity was stressful but wither way you just wanted to hear him.  You leaned back against the pillows, your voice dripping with desire

"You okay?" Jude asked, his voice gentle, like he was testing the waters.

"I'm okay... just, you know, it's different without you." You tried to keep it light, but the words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t respond right away, you could hear him exhale, the sound of his breath stirring something inside you.

"Yeah... I know what you mean. It's weird, not having you here." There was that vulnerability again, the one that neither of you wanted to fully admit. It made your chest tighten, this unspoken longing that'd been growing between you, but the distance felt like it was pulling you closer in a strange way. You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it, and there's a soft laugh on the other end. You could imagine him running his hand over his hair, leaning back, trying to stay casual.

"Miss me?" you teased, your voice dropping just a little, testing the waters just the same. There was a pause, just long enough to make you think he might brush it off.

"Of course I do," Jude said, and there was something in the way he said it, like he's letting down his guard for a moment. It sent a shiver down your spine. "But I figured you might be too busy being my New York girl again." He cooed. 

"Not too busy for you," you replied, your voice softer now, more intimate. You shifted on the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest, imagining what it would be like if he were here with you. You can hear the change in his tone when he speaks again, a little deeper, a little more playful. 

"Yeah? What are you doing right now?" Jude asks. As you listened to his words, your fingers unconsciously started to trace the outline of your tits through the thin fabric of your silk nightgown like he had some mind control over you. You imagined Jude's hands replacing yours, his rough palms cupping your boobs, thumbs grazing your sensitive nipples.

"Thinking about you," you admitted, feeling your pulse quicken. It was a simple confession, but it changed everything. You heard him chuckle, a low, sexy sound that sends a flush through your body.

"I wish I was there with you right now," Jude murmured, his voice thick with longing. "I miss you, being close to you." He mused. Your heart skipped a beat at the honesty in his words. 

“What would you do if you were here?" You asked him, borderlining on a moan. You missed being with Jude, just in and around him, but you also really missed being in bed with Jude.  

"I'd... l'd probably start by kissing you," he sais, his voice rougher now, the playful edge slipping away, replaced by something more serious. "I'd pull you close, feel you against me." You swallowed hard, the image of him right there, touching you, flashing vividly in your mind.

"Just kissing?" you teased, trying to keep the mood light, but you can feel the heat building between you, even through the phone. He laughed softly, but there's a hunger behind it.

"Oh, l'd do a lot more than just kiss you, you know that angel.” Jude cooed. Your breath hitched at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through you, you bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. 

"Tell me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath and Jude didn't hesitate.

"I'd run my hands down your body, press you into that mattress. You know, like I used to, when you were here with me. couldn't keep my hands off you in my bed." The vividness of his words makes you shift in your sheets, your body reacting to the mental image he's painting.

"And then?" You asked him breathily. 

"I'd take my time with you," he continued, his voice deeper now, sending a delicious shiver through you. "I'd touch you everywhere, make sure you remember exactly how good it feels when I'm the one doing it." You let out a soft moan, unable to stop yourself. 

"Jude, this is unfair." you whined, feeling the heat between your thighs.

"I think you like it," he said, his voice thick with desire now. "And I know you miss it." Your heart races as you close your eyes, lost in his words, in the sound of his voice, and the feeling of being with him, even though he's miles away.

"Baby..." you start, but your voice trails off, caught in the haze of lust and longing. You want him, more than you've ever wanted anyone, and it's almost unbearable being apart. 

"What are you wearing, YN?" Jude's voice is low and seductive, his tone making your cheeks flush. "I want to picture you while I stroke my cock, thinking of you." A naughty smile curves your lips as you sit up, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'm wearing that sheer babydoll you love, the one that shows off my tits. Remember how you couldn't keep your hands off me the last time I wore it?" You smiled. You were in a Carine Gilson silk babydoll slip dress. Honestly you had put it on tonight with the intention of sending him a photo of it so it was only fair you told him.

"Fuck…yeah angel, I remember," he growled, his voice thick with desire. You had brought it with you on your last trip to Madrid. I recent purchase that clearly was serving its purpose. "I can see it now. Your perfect tits straining against the fabric, your hard nipples begging for my mouth." Your fingers moved to the hem of the nightgown, slowly lifting it up, baring your soft skin to the cool air.

 "I'm touching myself right now, Jude," you confessed, your voice breathless. "Imagining it's your hands on me." You whined a little really missing his massive hands compared to your more delicate ones. 

"Oh, fuck, baby," Jude moaned, his words speeding up as his imagination takes over. "Show me. Slide your hand down, touch your pussy for me. I want to hear how wet you are for me." He commanded you and you obeyed him immediately, you slid your hand beneath the fabric, your fingers finding the damp heat between your thighs. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you begin to stroke your swollen clit, already sensitive from thinking about Jude.

"That's it, angel," he encouraged you, his voice hoarse. "Rub your pussy. Imagine my fingers joining yours, filling you up. I want to make you cum tonight like I always do.” You closed your eyes, picturing Jude's strong fingers mimicking your movements, his touch sending electric shocks through your body. Your fingers delved deeper, circling your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure that you knew drove you wild. "Yeah, just like that," Jude whispered, his voice a raspy contrast to your soft moans. "You're so fucking hot when you touch yourself. I wish I could taste you, lick you." He groaned wishing that the three thousand mile distance could evaporate. Your breathing quickened as your fingers worked feverishly, your body responding to Jude's words and the memories of his skilled mouth. 

"I’m so close," you pant, your voice hoarse with need. "I want to cum for you, Jude. Tell me what to do." You whined. 

"Fuck, yeah, cum f’me. Be a good girl and cum f’me," he urged, his voice intense. "Slide a finger inside, feel how tight you are. Imagine my cock thrusting into you, pounding that sweet pussy." You did as he said, slipping a finger inside your slick folds, groaning at the fullness. Your finger curled, searching for that sweet spot, and you add another, attempting to mimick the feel of Jude's thick cock that you could never replicate. "That's it, take it all," Jude growled, his voice a dominant command. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, Y/N. Let me hear you cum." He told you and your heart faltered. Your free hand reached up to pinch your nipple, tugging gently, just the way Jude does when he wants to drive you over the edge. The combination of sensations pushes you closer to the brink.

"Oh my god, fuck." you cried out, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your fingers moving in rhythm with your orgasm, prolonging the exquisite release.

"That's my girl. I love making you cum, even when I'm not there. Now, I want you to keep touching yourself, baby. I'm gonna cum for you too." Jude's voice is a soft, satisfied purr in your ear.  Your fingers, still wet from your orgasm, resume their dance, stroking your sensitive flesh as you listen to Jude's dirty talk. You hear the sound of his hand on his cock, the wet, slick sounds filling your ears. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm so hard for you," he grunted, his breath coming in short gasps. "I'm gonna cum thinking of my fingers playing with your clit, your tight pussy milking my cock." Your body responded to his words, a second orgasm building swiftly. You pinched your nipple harder, imagining Jude's mouth sucking you, his teeth gently scraping your sensitive peak. "Cum with me, baby," Jude pleaded, his voice strained. "I want to hear you scream my name as I fill your pussy with my hot cum." Jude shut his eyes relishing in the images of what it was like for you to be back in his bed. His filthy words pushed you over the edge, and you cry out his name as your body convulses in pleasure. Your fingers move frantically, matching the rhythm of your heart as you climax together, connected by desire across the miles. As your breathing slowed, Jude's voice is a soothing balm. "That was incredible, baby.  So good f’me. I love making you cum, even when we're apart. I can't wait to feel your pussy around my cock again soon. Need you back with me, hmm?" He cooed.

"I can't wait. I really can’t.” You smiled, sated and content, already looking forward to returning to Madrid.

"Get a good sleep f’me and dream of me filling every inch of that gorgeous body of yours." He replied, his voice filled with adoration. You hung up the phone, a satisfied smile on your face, knowing that the next time you'd be in Jude's arms, you’d make up for lost time in the most delicious ways. Although as you laid in bed about to go to sleep that night a feeling of worry loomed over you. Was this strictly physical? You just got off to each other but said nothing about even a tentative return. What if you quite literally never saw him again.  Your stomach dropped a little trying to recall things Jude had said in the past. What were you to him. Jude sighed when you hung up. His morning was a bit brighter now considering your phone call but still he felt a bit of unease as well. He was kicking himself wondering if you were just calling him to cum. You didn’t say ‘hey Jude, I’m free next month, can I come visit?’ And Jude took that as disinterest. He got scared to ask you to actually fly over now. It felt too intense . It felt like the second you returned things would be more serious than ever. Was he ready for that? He grappled with his feelings and just settled for orgasmic calls.

When you had left Madrid things were good. Jude had always known your time together would be fleeting, but that didn’t make it any easier when your departure for New York finally came. Your days in Spain had been a dream—a blur of laughter, late-night conversations, and a closeness that seemed to grow with every passing moment. You had slipped into a rhythm so natural, so perfect, that Jude had almost convinced himself it would last forever. But reality had a way of creeping back in, and despite what Toby thought about your work, your job back in New York couldn’t wait forever. You spent your last night together curled up in his bed, the weight of the impending separation hanging over you like a storm cloud. There was no dramatic goodbye, just a lingering kiss at the airport and a promise to text when you land, though both of you knew that after that text you weren’t sure what to do next. When you left Madrid things had all been so good until they weren't.

Jude tried to distract himself after you left, throwing himself into training and matches, but the empty space you left behind felt like a constant ache. He missed you—missed the way you’d roll your eyes at his jokes, missed the sound of your laugh, missed waking up to you beside him. It was the kind of longing that settled deep in his bones, refusing to let go. You texted and called almost every day using phone sex and nudes to convey how much you missed each other. Two weeks or so after you left you both were painfully aware that the conversations were starting to be more infrequent. You both were busy but because of the infrequency it felt more pressure packed for someone to communicate how much you missed the other. No one had really had the balls to say all that you were feeling.

As you entered the third week Jude was scrolling through his phone when a notification popped up—an Instagram story from Whitney’s sister, Winnie. He tapped it open, eager for any glimpse of you, and there you were, in a dimly lit bar in New York. The sight of you smiling, your hair falling in loose waves around your shoulders, hit him like a punch to the gut. But his smile faded when he noticed the guy standing next to you, leaning in too close, his face inches from yours as you spoke. This night was no different then every night out you’d had since you met Jude. It was spent wishing Jude’s hands were on your waist. Coincidentally after being with Jude you’d find yourself with platonic groups of men. This was information unknown to Jude though. Neither of you properly able to find the time nor the courage to admit just how much you longed to be back together, how much you still felt for the other. Jude’s chest tightened, a flare of jealousy surging through him. He knew it wasn’t fair—you had every right to live your life, to talk to whoever you wanted—but the image of you with another guy, even if it was just a casual conversation, twisted something ugly inside him. He tried to shake it off, telling himself he was overreacting, that there had to be a reasonable explanation. But the jealousy festered, gnawing at him, especially as his own insecurities bubbled to the surface. The next day, everything seemed to go wrong. He had a game, and from the first whistle, it was clear he wasn’t on his A-game. His mind was somewhere else, distracted by thoughts of you and the guy in the Instagram story. Mistakes piled up, and by the end of the match, they’d lost. He never lost. He hated losing in fact. The only time Jude ever even accepted a loss was to you, hell, he even enjoyed losing to you, which was confusing enough. He could feel the weight of the loss bearing down on him, the frustration mixing with the unresolved feelings about you until he could barely think straight.

After the game, Jude headed to a club with some teammates, hoping to drown out the noise in his head. The drinks flowed freely, and he found himself slipping into a haze of alcohol and anger, the jealousy from the night before still burning under his skin. He barely noticed the girl who slid up beside him, her hair and frame reminding him of you in some hazy, distorted way. Maybe that was why he didn’t push her away when she started flirting, didn’t stop her when she whispered in his ear, her hand resting on his arm. He knew it was wrong. Somewhere deep down, past the fog of alcohol and jealousy, he knew he was making a mistake. But he was too far gone, too caught up in his own bitterness and hurt. And so, when she leaned in for a kiss, he let her. When she suggested they leave together, he agreed. The night was a blur of bad decisions, and he stumbled back to his house with her, pretending she was someone else, pretending she was you. It was effort to not only get back at you for being with another guy but to forget you. To prove to himself he just wasn’t that into you but it did neither of the two. Jude woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a sick feeling in his stomach. The girl was gone, her absence barely registering as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the previous night crashing down on him like a tidal wave of regret. His mind raced, replaying every moment, every bad choice. The reality of what he’d done hit him hard, and he felt a deep, gnawing guilt twist in his gut. What had he been thinking? How could he have let things get so out of hand? He wasn’t the type to act out like this, to hurt someone just because he was hurting. But now, here he was, with nothing but regret to show for it. Jude groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to piece together what to do next. He knew he’d messed up, and the thought of telling you made his chest tighten with dread. What could he even say? That he’d been jealous, drunk, and stupid? That he’d hurt you in the worst way because he was too wrapped up in his own insecurities? The shame was overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, Jude didn’t know how to fix things. He didn’t know if he could. But one thing was clear—he couldn’t keep it from you. You deserved to know the truth, even if it meant losing you. He just had to figure out how to say the words, and more importantly, how to face the consequences of his actions.

"So, we’re in Spain, right? And I end up hooking up with this guy whose super famous there, I guess a soccer player and he’s hot but it’s totally out of the blue. Everything's going great, like incredible night but then the morning after, I look over, and his phone lights up. And when I tell you my jaw dropped. He has a whole girl as his phone background.  I’m just sitting there like, did I really just hook up with a guy who's clearly seeing someone else? I mean, who does that? The background is like full-on couple vibes, and then I see his last text was to this girl! It literally said, 'Thinking of you xx.' I was like, wow, okay, guess I’m just the side dish in this situation. But seriously, who keeps their main girl as their phone background while hooking up with someone else? Wild, right?" The women’s voice continued her story with a mix of disbelief and amusement. Whitney's heart sank as she paused a podcast episode of two girls from California who had just been to Madrid for a brand trip, her suspicion growing with every word. 

"I swear on my life I think… I think this girl is talking about Jude on this podcast " She turned to Trent, her voice shaky. The influencer’s laugh haunting her. 

"What? Nah. You really think so?"  Trent frowns, trying to process the information. Whitney nodded, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach

"I just have this gut feeling. And if it is… Y/N needs to know." Whitney sat in silence for a moment, the words from the podcast echoing in her mind. She could feel the weight of what she’d just heard settling heavily on her chest. Her thoughts raced as she tried to piece it all together—the timeline, the details, the way Jude had been acting lately. “Trent,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. “This doesn’t feel right. I mean, has Jued mentioned anything? Last I heard things were like really good between them. I honestly thought they would end up being official in some capacity. That influencer could easily be talking about him. Who else would it be?” She cooed. The girls in the podcast had explained it was a young footballer at the pinnacle of the sport and that city, discussing at length how hot he was. His name was never mentioned but their description was down to the T.

“Nah, didn’t say anything to me but Y/N’s back in New York, no? Maybe they had an agreement. I can’t see him doing that on purpose but I don’t want to jump to conclusions, Whit. This could be about anyone.” Trent sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed what Whitney was saying.

“I know. I know.” Whitney hummed. “Jude’s always had a bit of a wild side, but he’s never been careless. He wouldn’t have his phone background as Y/N if he was seriously hooking up with someone else—unless…he was trying to prove something. I’m a little shocked she would be his background to begin with. Maybe he thought Y/N was with someone else and acted out?” She hesitantly said it as if Trent's suggestion of you and Jude agreeing to see other people when apart wasn’t even a possibility. 

“If that’s the case, it’s pretty messed up. Y/N doesn’t deserve that, and Jude’s just making things worse for himself. But we don’t know for sure.” Trent’s face darkened at the thought. 

“We need to tell her, Trent. She really fucking likes him. She deserves to know what’s going on. If it’s true…she’ll be devastated. She’ll say she’s not but she will be. This will send her. She genuinely started to like him, to trust him. Fuck…” Whitney bit her lip, her mind swirling with concern for you. 

“Yeah, we should tell her, but carefully. We don’t want to hurt her if we’re wrong or shake the relationship.” Trent hesitated, knowing how much you meant to Whitney—and to him. Whitney nodded, her resolve strengthening. 

“I’ll call her later. I just…I hate this. I hate that Jude would do something like this. It’s so unlike him, but at the same time, I can see how he’d jump to the wrong conclusion if Y/N wasn’t communicating and go and mess everything up. He really cares about Y/N, I know he does and she does too, even if they’re too scared to admit it.” Trent pulled Whtitney into his comforting embrace kissing her temple.  Whitney leaned into Trent’s touch, feeling the weight of the situation settle over them both. She knew this conversation could shatter everything you believed about your relationship with Jude, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread building in her stomach. Whitney needed a minute to think of how she was meant to tell you about her hunch or to even inquire about your relationship but she knew it was a fine and very blurry line. Whitney was terrified this would upset you and build the walls Jude had just so carefully dismantled right back up and reinforce them to the tenfold. That evening Whitney coyly snuck onto an unrelated FaceTime Trent was having with Jude. Cheekily Whitney asked how you were feigning innocence believing everything had been good between you and Jude. Jude winced telling her something along the lines of ‘fuck that.’ She had asked about you with the intention of keeping things light, but Jude’s sharp reaction caught her off guard. The way he dismissed the situation with such frustration made her heart sink. She could see Trent’s confusion mirrored in her own expression as they both tried to make sense of Jude's outburst.

"If she’s gonna fuck about in New York, then I’m not putting up with that." Jude quipped, leaving out how much your presumed actions hurt him. Whitney couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of dread, realizing there was much more to the story than she knew. As Jude continued to ramble, his words laced with anger and hurt, Trent sighed heavily, cutting him off. 

“Mate, I think you’ve got this all wrong,” Trent said, his tone a mixture of exasperation and concern. But Jude wasn’t having any of it. He seemed determined to stay in his narrative, his mind made up. Whitney’s mind raced, connecting the dots to what she’d heard on that podcast earlier. It had to be Jude. There was no other explanation for the influencer's story aligning so perfectly with Jude’s current mood. But if Jude had hooked up with someone else because he thought you were seeing another man, what would that mean for you when you found out? Whitney’s worry for you deepened, and she knew she needed to talk to Trent more privately. There was no way they could let this spiral out of control without getting to the bottom of it. Whitney finally mustered up the courage to text you asking if she could call you.  You thought it was Whitney maybe filling you in on some gossip, unfortunately it was gossip about you. You told her you’d call her in a little because in fact… you were at the airport boarding a plane. You were about to board a 6:15 pm flight from JFK to Barajas.  

“Hi baby!” You beamed anticipating to receive the same enthusiasm in return. When you arrived unannounced at Jude’s house in Madrid, the surprise on his face was mixed with something else—guilt. He hadn’t expected you, hadn’t prepared for the flood of emotions that came rushing back the moment he saw you standing there in the doorway, looking radiant and happy to see him. For a brief second, he thought maybe he could push down the truth, bury it deep and pretend everything was fine. But the guilt gnawed at him, and he knew he couldn’t. He led you inside, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had to confess. You sat on the couch, the atmosphere between you tinged with an unease that hadn’t been there before. You noticed it immediately, your intuition kicking in as you studied Jude’s expression. There was a nervousness in his eyes, a reluctance in the way he held your hand.

“Jude, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, not wanting to jump to conclusions but needing to know why he was acting so distant. He hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. How could he tell you that he’d done exactly what he feared most—betrayed you, let his insecurities get the best of him, and hurt you in the process?

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice low and strained. “After you left… I made a mistake. A big one.” He almost mumbled. You remained silent, your heart starting to pound as you braced yourself for whatever was coming. Jude ran a hand over his hair, unable to meet your eyes. “I was angry and jealous… I saw that Instagram story of you with that guy at the bar, and I just lost it. I didn’t handle it well, and I ended up getting drunk and… I slept with someone. Someone who… well, she looked a bit like you.” The room went still, the air between you thick with tension. As Jude admitted it he was heartbroken but also embarrassed that this wasn’t the first time he’d been rash after seeing you for afar. He hated himself for not only hurting you but letting himself get so invested in someone else. You felt the words hit you like a punch to the gut, no, a knife to the heart, a wave of hurt crashing over you. But you didn’t let it show. You had always been good at that—at hiding your feelings, at keeping your emotions in check when you needed to. This was exactly what you had feared when you started falling for Jude, the reason you had been so hesitant to let yourself get close. You had known, deep down, that this kind of heartbreak was a possibility. And now, here it was, staring you in the face.

“Erm… Okay,” you said, your voice calm and even, though it took every ounce of your strength to keep it that way. “Thanks for telling me.” You drew in a slow breath, forcing yourself to stay composed. Jude looked at you, searching your face for any sign of what you were feeling, but you gave him nothing. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to let him see just how much he had hurt you. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply this cut, weren’t going to let him see the tears that threatened to spill over. You had trusted him, allowed yourself to be vulnerable, you took down the fucking glass, you leant him the fucking bag and this was how he had repaid you. But you wouldn’t break—not in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jude said, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the couch.

“I need to go back to New York,” you said, your tone clipped and distant. “I have work to do.” You snipped. Jude’s heart sank as he watched you retreat into yourself, the warmth and closeness that had been there between you replaced by a cold detachment. He wanted to reach out, to pull you back, to somehow make you understand how much he regretted what he’d done. But he could see the wall you were putting back up, the way you were shutting down, and he didn’t know how to break through it.

“Y/N, please… I didn’t mean—” he started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you yelled sharply, your eyes finally meeting his. “You don’t get to say anything else right now. I need to go. I’m getting an uber because you can’t even fucking drive.” And with that, you turned and walked out of the house, leaving Jude alone with his guilt and regret and an additional dig about not having a license that made this sting all the more. .

The flight back to New York was a blur for you. You kept yourself composed, your expression carefully blank, but inside, you were a storm of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal—it all swirled together, fueling a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface for too long. You had let yourself fall for Jude, let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. But it wasn’t. He had let you down, just like everyone else before him. When you landed in New York, you knew you needed a distraction, something to numb the pain that was threatening to consume you. You went out that night, dressed to kill, your makeup flawless, your hair cascading in perfect waves. You were in a dress that some would argue even a dress at all. It was a Retrofete completely sheer glittery maxi dress.  You looked better than ever, and you knew it. If Jude was going to betray you like that, then you weren’t going to sit around and wallow in your pain. You were going to take back control, even if it meant doing something reckless.

At the club, you spotted him almost immediately—an NFL player you had met once before, a professional football player, American football, who was charming enough, handsome enough, but ultimately forgettable. You couldn’t even remember his name, maybe it was John or maybe James. He was exactly what you needed tonight: someone who could give you a temporary escape, someone who wasn’t Jude. You didn’t care that he wasn’t the one you wanted; all that mattered was that he was there, and he was willing and he wouldn’t ask. You were no longer the version of yourself who had spent nights wrapped up in Jude’s arms, feeling safe, cherished, and adored. You were on autopilot, your heart numb, yet furious, aching in a way that couldn’t be softened. Jude had taken that from you—turned every kiss, every laugh, every whispered promise into something false. Whitney’s sister Winnie was more than willing to help you forget although she just assumed it was a bad work day not the crumbling of a relationship. She was never one to turn a night out down. The club was packed, bodies pressed together in a blur of movement and flashing lights. You threw back a tequila shot as soon as you walked in, the alcohol buzzing through your veins, giving you the illusion of control. But every sip, every beat of the music, felt hollow, drowned out by the thundering hurt inside you. As you danced, with the intention of fucking John or maybe James you let the night blur as then storm inside continued to brew. In an instant your facade was shattered though. That’s when you saw it. A guy in the crowd, laughing, chatting with his friends, wearing a Bellingham jersey. Your stomach twisted violently, and you pushed past the people surrounding you, barely making it to the bathroom before you retched. 

“Breathe, please,” Winnie said, her voice gentle but panicked. She was by your side in an instant, her hand on your back, trying to soothe you as you knelt over the toilet. But you couldn’t stop. The tears started then—hot, angry tears spilling down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat from the dance floor and the bitterness rising in your throat. “Y/N please. I don’t know what happened but this isn’t right please.” Winnie’s eyes had gone wide. You slumped against the bathroom stall, trying to hold yourself together, but everything was falling apart.

“I loved him! I loved him. I loved him and he just had to fuck some plastic version of me. I work for this Win. I fucking work for this!” You sobbed gesturing to your incredibly toned physique. “I loved him,” you sobbed, your voice broken, raw. “I fucking loved him.” You yelled through tears. Winnie was in utter shock hearing you say that. 

“Y/N I know. Fuck.” Winnie ran her hands over her face a little overwhelmed. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know about that. I didn’t know you even said I love yous.” In all the years she knew you she wasn’t sure she ever heard you say you loved a boy.

“We didn’t! And I’m fucking glad I didn’t!” you gasped between sobs, feeling the weight of that truth crush you. “Fuck him!  I can fuck someone too. I’m glad, Winnie, because he doesn’t deserve to know I loved him.” You cried uncontrollably. “I’m gonna go fuck James.”

“I think it’s John.” Winnie smiled. She crouched down beside you, her face full of concern.  “But that’s not right Y/N.” You shot her a vicious glare. “Okay, sorry. Pop off queen.” Winnie quipped with sarcasm and disapproval. 

“He went and slept with someone else,” you choked out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “Some fake, plastic version of me, and it was all a joke to him. I looked her up and now... now I’m going to sleep with someone too.” You wiped your face with the back of your hand, tears still streaming uncontrollably. You’d never been the type of girl to compare yourself to anyone else. You were confident. You felt invincible until you met Jude. You told him he made you weak and you loathed him for it and he had seemed to relish in that power. You felt he took advantage of you letting him in.

“You don’t want to do that. You’re hurt, and this is just going to make it worse. You love him Y/N you don't care about John or James or whatever.” Winnie sat back, clearly at a loss for words. You laughed bitterly, feeling the hysteria bubbling up in your chest. 

“I don’t care!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I have to. I can’t just sit here and let him be the only one who... who—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. Your chest heaved with sobs, and you slumped further against the stall wall. Winnie grabbed your shoulders, trying to bring you back to reality. Winnie whimpered out a measly broken ‘please.’  But you shook your head stubbornly. “I can’t be the only one hurting. I need to hurt him back. I need him to feel what I’m feeling. He had to know I loved him. I gave him my fucking dad’s bag, my fucking bag, and the glass and then…” You felt like you couldn't breathe sputtering words. What had Jude done to you? Winnie couldn't follow your thoughts; your dad? A bag? The glass? But Winnie’s face softened anyway, her expression pained. You think she said something but you couldn’t hear her over your thoughts. The betrayal, the anger, the heartbreak—it was all too much, and right now, the only thing you could think about was finding a way to take the power back, to make Jude feel the same gut-wrenching pain he had inflicted on you. It terrified you that there was a possibility though that it wouldn’t hurt him. It wouldn’t hurt the way it hurt you because maybe he didn’t love you the way you loved him and that made you feel broken in a way you didn’t know you could. You pushed yourself up, wobbling slightly from the alcohol and exhaustion. Winnie stood, still pleading with you. But regret was the last thing on your mind. All you could think about was revenge, and no matter what Winnie said, you were determined to make Jude feel just what you felt. You knew exactly what you were doing when you posted the first picture on Instagram—a shot of you laughing with Winnie at a rooftop bar, the New York skyline glittering in the background. It was perfect, the kind of image that would make anyone believe you were having the time of your life. And that was exactly what you wanted Jude to see. If Jude thought your innocent stories that caused his jealousy earlier bothered him he was in fro a rude awakening. As the night went on, the posts kept coming. A boomerang of you clinking shot glasses with Winnie and people Jude had never seen before, a sultry shot of you leaning over the bar with a coy smile, and then the kicker—a video of you dancing with the NFL player unfortunately Jude recognized, his hands resting a little too comfortably on your hips, his lips on your neck. The comments from people surrounding you egged you on, hyping up your carefree night, while you plastered on your most convincing smile. You knew Jude would see it. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist watching, just like you couldn’t resist the pull to post it all. It was petty, maybe even cruel, but after what he had done, you couldn’t help yourself. If he thought he could hurt you and get away with it, he was dead wrong. You wanted him to feel the same way you had felt—angry, jealous, and helpless. In Madrid, Jude couldn’t tear his eyes away from his phone. Each new post from you was like a punch to the gut, the images and videos sending his mind into overdrive.

You were out, looking stunning, clearly enjoying yourself with some guy who seemed all too comfortable in your space. The pit in his stomach grew with every swipe, a sickening combination of jealousy and fear settling deep in his chest. You weren’t officially together, hadn’t defined whatever it was between you, but that didn’t change how he felt. You were meant to be his. He had messed up, he knew that, but the thought of you moving on—of you being with someone else—was unbearable. Watching your night unfold from miles away, he felt trapped, powerless to do anything but scroll through the evidence of you moving on without him. He wanted to reach out, to call you, to ask you to come back, but he knew he had no right. He had told himself he was giving you space, that it was the right thing to do, but now, that space felt like a chasm between you, one he didn’t know how to bridge. Every time his phone buzzed with a new notification, his heart sank a little more, until he felt like he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Meanwhile, you were barely holding it together. You had spent the night throwing yourself into the role you had created—fun, carefree, unbothered by anything that had happened. But as the evening wore on, the weight of it all started to press down on you. The act was exhausting, and no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to Jude. By the time you got home the next morning the facade had cracked, and you felt emptier than ever. The night was a haze of alcohol and dancing, of flirtatious smiles and whispered nothings. You let yourself get lost in it, in the adrenaline and the thrill of doing something you knew was wrong. When you ended up back at John or James's place, you didn’t think twice about it. You let him undress you, let him kiss you, but your mind was somewhere else the entire time. The American footballer was a poor substitute for the other footballer you really wanted, the man who had broken your heart, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You needed to feel something, anything, that wasn’t the pain of Jude’s betrayal. When it was over, orgasmless, you laid in the dark beside him, staring up at the ceiling, feeling emptier than before. It hadn’t worked, not the way you had hoped. John or James was nothing compared to Jude—he didn’t make your heart race, didn’t make you feel alive the way Jude did, certainly didn’t make you cum the way Jude could. And now, instead of feeling empowered or in control, you felt hollow, like you had betrayed yourself as much as Jude had betrayed you. You knew you had done it out of spite, out of anger and hurt, but it hadn’t brought you the satisfaction you had expected. Instead, it only deepened the void inside you, the realization that no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape the way you felt about Jude. He had gotten under your skin in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart. You laid in his stupid navy sheets in a poorly decorated apartment. Yes, you were spoiled. You realize how this sounded but you missed Jude's white high thread count bedding and sunny floor to ceiling windows in Madrid

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

Next part - Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan xx

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Broken- Rafe Cameron x Toxic!Reader

I wanted to try and write a toxic reader fic but idk i might redo it

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Rafe Cameron knows what it's like to be broken.

He knows what it feels like to always be hurting, and yet also be the villain, that's why he stays.

Rafe had gone out without you and his phone died, so he had no way to contact you halfway through his night out. He should've found a way to charge it or even started making his way home, all of this would've been avoided, he's beating himself up for letting this happen. He knows how worried you get about him and when his location stops updating and your calls go to voicemail what else can you do other than assume the worst.

He got home so late and you stayed up, unable to sleep with thousands of thoughts running through your head, you were drained. The exhaustion you feel is quickly replaced with anger as Rafe tries to quietly enter, stumbling over himself, phone in hand. He sobers up completely as soon as he makes eye contact with your fired glare.

"Hey baby" he speaks timidly as he leans down to kiss you, but as an instant reaction you put your hands on his chest and all of your weight into them, shoving him away from you and making him stumble backwards a bit. "Don't hey baby me asshole, where the fuck were you?"

"I went out with Kelce and Top, remember baby you said I could" he tries desperately to remind you of the conversation that happened prior, anything to try and prolong the explosion that he knows is bound to happen.

"I said you could go out with them not cheat on me, like what the fuck?" You whine, fighting back tears and quickly letting your anger blend into sadness.

"Baby please, it's not like that" he approaches you again with caution, holding your hands in his until you drop them down, crossing your arms instead.

You wipe your eyes and abruptly stop whining, exchanging it for a glare. "I don't believe you, your location is off and I called your phone a thousand times"

"My phone died I-" you lunge forward and snatch his phone

"If it powers on rafe I swear to god i'll fucking kill you" You scream at him, fumbling with his phone, hands trembling with anger. He chews on his lip in anticipation as you hold the power button. The phone powers on and you don't even wait to see the battery percentage at three percent, or wait to see it almost immediately shut itself back off, you just react. You throw his phone as hard as you can towards him, but he dodges it, making the phone spike the ground. he knows it's broken without even looking at it, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because you breakdown in front of him crying. You're crying because your constantly convinced and scared he's cheating on you, crying because you feel guilty about breaking his phone, and maybe even crying a little bit because its how you manipulate him, he's a sucker for your tears after all. "Do you want to break up with me?" you cry at him.

He rushes to your side, holding your head in his hands and wiping your tears softly, "No baby, of course not. I love you so much. I'm sorry I should've just came home so you wouldn't have had to worry." It's 2am and his phone is on the ground shattered, his body still holds the weight of the harsh slaps and pushes, yet he holds you as you cry.

You nod, agreeing with him. "You love me?" you ask pouting up at him.

"I do. I won't ever let my phone die again I'm sorry" he promises like he always does, always making and trying to upkeep the most outlandish promises if it meant making you happy.

You flash him a sweet smile and pull him into a hug that he quickly reciprocates. "It's okay Rafey, I forgive you. Im sorry about your phone"

He pulls back, smiling down at you, relieved that you’re back to your normal self again. "Don't be princess, I'll buy another, get you an upgrade too huh?"

[wonryllis]

HAPPY FOR A WHILE ☆ ( sunghoon )

` —SOMETIMES, love will leave you even when it’s right.

preview. eversince the start, you had noticed something off. but you were far too into him to scrutinize things. as a result it came back to you when you were way in deep and thought everything was fine. (this is a repost!)

meet the cast. park sunghoon with gn!reader LIBRARY?

genre. angst, nonidol!au, side character death mentioned, sort of rebound!reader, no physical cheating, it's good i promise.

word count. around 1400 listen to. smile again by blackbear. 

827 days.

that’s how much time you’ve been in a relationship with sunghoon. a simple two expanding to so many days and so many more moments. you were never the one to keep a track, just too forgetful to continue the numbers, yet this time something is different, so different that it feels like another version of a first love.

3017 days; that’s sunghoon’s count.

at first you had assumed that he had simply made a mistake, when you saw the figure showing up on the lockscreen of his red iPhone. for a long time thinking that perhaps the count started from when he had known you, remembering the time he told you he knew you way before you got to know him.

but as time passed, all the pieces connected and everything made sense. how the first thing he wakes up in the morning and does is check for messages, fingers hovering over a certain contact you only caught a blurry glimpse of a few times. but never opening it as if waiting for a notification- an excuse. how on specific dates he disappears for the entire day only to come back home around midnight, always dressed in that blue shirt he never lets you touch, the cloth tucked away in the deepest corner of his closet. how sometimes he pauses for a minute before calling out to you, as if trying to find the right name or realizing you are the wrong person for the name at the tip of his tongue.

sometimes he would buy the wrong things, like a different ice cream flavor, different color of scarf, different shoe size, different boba flavor or coffee order, tickets for a different genre of movie or band concerts, forgetting your favorite or preferred ones; turns out it isn’t you who’s on his mind when he’s out in the store or the line. it hurt you everytime it happened but when he apologized, you couldn’t find it in you to question why and just forgave him.

you met him two and a half years ago, when he was in his most vulnerable phase. you had gotten to know from his friends about his break up, that he had recently been single again. the same friends who told you a few months ago that it wasn’t exactly a break up, his girlfriend died in a plane crash six months before you met him.

maybe that was what the count is for. he’s waiting for her, even when he knows she’s gone.

they say first love is a memory of a lifetime.

one might not still have romantic feelings for their first but they always remember, the person, the moments, the feelings of the past. maybe, just maybe if she was his first love it would have hurt a little less. but she wasn’t.

they had been dating for five years, had a lot of things they wanted to do together, a future they looked forward to with the other. and most of all, sunghoon was planning to propose when she came back from the work trip; but she never did.

eversince you often wondered why he agreed to be with you if he wasn’t over her yet. it had just been about a year after her death that you had made a move on him, soon asking him out to be your boyfriend. no one told you why he broke up with his girlfriend not to mention she wasn’t even alive anymore, sunghoon himself never talked about his past or her. maybe it was the same old, “she would’ve wanted me to move on”, but this wasn’t moving on, this was pretending to be. it made you question whether all those loving things he did and still does with you, for you are genuine or not.

in all those movies you’ve seen and books you’ve read, where the character stays even though their partner is cheating physically or emotionally, you never understood why, why they never leave but perhaps now you do.

“do you love me?” you had once asked him when he was drunk, trusting the saying ‘a drunk mind speaks a sober heart’, holding his face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes so he knows it’s not her but you. “i really want to,” he had mumbled softly, a whisper of her name following after, so inaudible yet you still heard it; it was as if he felt guilty for trying to find new happiness. the words had broken your heart, but you wanted, still want to stay. for you it’s the attachment and the hope, and the love, how he treats you better than any of your exes though you’ve always been in healthy relationships.

and watching him wake up everyday, and then checking for a sign of her, you realize as long as he wanted, you would keep pretending along with him. because just like he’s stuck with a part of her, you’re stuck with a part of him. a part of him which maybe actually loves you, or at least shows that he does.

what they had he considered forever, knowing very well the forever would end someday but he didn’t know it would be that soon. and just like that you think you can go on like this forever, even if that forever were to end tomorrow.

today you had a date planned, a table reserved in your favorite restaurant where you’re currently seated after sunghoon left in a hurry. he had gotten a call an hour ago, which he had excused himself to attend. you had managed to catch a glimpse of the contact name, it was her mother, his ex’s mother, he still had her saved as mother-in-law. when he came back to the table, a look of apology and dismay on his face- you immediately knew he had to leave. but he couldn’t just leave you there so you did what you thought would be best, told him you can go back on your own anyways and that you still wanted to stay out for a while longer so he need not worry. he told you to text him when you reach home and that he’ll be back late before he was out the door and you watched as he got into his car and drove away.

you know the call had something to do with her, you knew it the moment you looked into his eyes when he came back to leave. you are no one to decide what he should do with things to related to his past yet the fact that he cared enough to ask you even if it wasn’t words and even if you knew he would have left anyways showed that maybe he is trying; trying to live in the present. maybe the clench in your heart made you conscious of how he must feel. of course the pain is different for you both but you want to understand.

later at night when you go back to your shared apartment, you find sunghoon passed out in the living room, a cardboard box beside the couch, containing things you assume belonged to her. sunghoon is sitting on the floor, his head resting on the coffee table ontop of a handmade photobook, pages covered with pictures of him and his ex. just beside it, is his phone screen showing her contact opened, where the last message he sent dates back to three years ago,“have a safe flight, i love you,” a little bubble showing unread below the text.

something he has never before said to you, only ever replying with a 'me too’, maybe someday you both will find a paradise where the past will be a happy memory or perhaps you’ll part ways. all you know that you were happy for awhile, the while before you knew of her. you’re still happy now, not all parts of you, but the part which has come to love him enough to disregard that he’s not wholly yours.

it feels bittersweet to love him, like a dust storm swallowing the sky yet the sky is still there in all glory. you’ll hold him for as long as you can, as long as he will want you to. maybe he'll learn to love you enough to let her go, or maybe you'd learn to love him enough to let him go.

taglist. ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia

[speakeasyaoi]

Rocky Rickaby x GN!Reader

> Requested by @d144-catzie | A bit shorter and messier than I'd like it to be, schoolwork got in the way :P

PROMPT: Rocky is in a close friendship with the reader that looks more like a couple at first, and has the beginning buds of a romantic relationship.

Rocky has a tendency to be extremely clingy and attached from the minute he meets you, especially so if he finds himself attracted and crushing on you. He ends up finding every excuse he can to spend some quality time with you, be it skipping out on work at his own expense and following you around at your heels like a stray pup, or dragging you along by your scruff on his chaotic escapades- He's constantly craving your presence, and he'll scrape together any opportunity he can to get it.

Rocky just adores both giving and recieving physical affection, and it's fit to make him burst with excitement nearly every time without fail. He tends to avoid things like chaste kisses and handholding in fear of seeming too forward, but he's more than open to ruffling your hair, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, patting your back or walking by your side with your elbows interlocked. Maybe he sneaks a hand on your waist or your hip as you're walking together, or hugs you for just a little longer than what might be considered platonic, but nothing too drastic. When he hugs you, he totally does the thing where he sways you side to side or lifts you up and spins you around.

He tries to talk you into getting some kind of matching article of clothing with him; matching neckties with your initials on them, matching bracelets he can wear under his sleeve or lapel pins he can wear alongside his Lackadaisy pin, he really isn't picky. Though, doesn't have the money to afford to buy you something of the quality he thinks you deserve, so it's probably going to be handmade. ...Or stolen. One of the two.

It's a fun pastime of his to tell you long, over-exagerrated stories of his life- including anything during his youth, adolescence, his time spent travelling around the states in search of work, and earlier years spent working for Lackadaisy with Zib's band. His storytelling skills are nothing short of grand and over-the-top, and he'd be ecstatic to ramble on to you over a shared platter of pancakes or a brisk walk through St. Louis if you'll let him. Fair warning, you're not going to be able to shut him up.

It's often he'll invite you over to Lackadaisy to watch him play his violin, and if not there, he just takes you to a nice, secluded area where he can show you without interruption. Most of what he plays is upbeat, spritely instrumentals or brief little tunes, but every once in a while he'll work up the confidence to sing you a ballad with vague lyrics that seem to apply to you a bit too well.

Similarly to how he calls Calvin Freckle, Ivy Miss Pepper, and Mitzi Miss M, he can't help but come up with a fun, sweet little nickname to call you, mainly serving to take the place of the more romantic terms of endearment he wishes he could call you without coming on too strong. But for now, what he's chosen works.

There's a 100% chance that Rocky's going to try and sweet-talk his way into staying with you in your home instead of continuing to live in his car. He'll beg and whine and plead and hug you tight once you finally give in, agreeing to crash on the living room couch. Though, if you aren't careful enough, he's probably going to end up sleeping in your bed one way or another. Oh well!

If you're able and willing, Rocky takes to teaching you how to play the violin. In all honesty, he makes a pretty shitty teacher, but he tries his damn hardest to help you with the very basics at the least. He also can't help but use it as an opportunity to be close with you, laying his hands over yours as he guides you into playing the right notes and holding the violin in the right position, peppering words of praise an encouragement all throughout.

Other notes: I struggled to keep this one not overly romantic, but still close and fluffy enough to stick to the prompt, this should be fine. I'm also probably going to keep to a range of 8-15 bulletpoints moving forward to speed up the time it takes to get to each post and keep me from burning myself out lol

[luveline]

hi jade!!! i was wondering if i could request a bassist!remus x roadie!reader fic in which they spend time together on their day off from touring? maybe reader is totally surprised that he even asked her?

hi gorgeous!! modern au, fem 1k

cw vague adult theme, mdni 

"There you are," Remus says, as though he's said it a hundred times before, and he'll say it a hundred times again. "I've been looking for you." 

As a roadie (merchandising, mostly), there's no reason for Remus to know who you are, nor care, but he seems to like you anyhow. And there's nowhere for you to hang out in your downtime beside hotel lobby's or your literal assigned seat in the minivan, so here you are, in your pyjamas, laying on a random lobby couch with a book smushed to your chest. 

"What?" you ask, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

"I've been looking for you. You weren't in your room." 

"I share my room with three other girls, one who has sleep apnea." The muscles in your back sing like plucked strings as you sit up. "It's quieter here… You're looking for me?" 

"Mm. Come on. We'll go get a late dinner." 

"I'm in my pyjamas." 

Remus gestures down at himself. "I thought you might be." 

He's dressed down too. Every roadie has their thing —it's hard, learning so many names at once, and eventually people begin to typecast one another as their most defining feature. Yours, to your indifference, seems to have become your more comfortable clothing choices. You're not gross, everything's clean, but is everything acceptable attire for going out into the world? 

"No one will even notice they're pyjamas," he assumes you, holding out his hand expectantly. "They look like jogging bottoms." 

"Remus, they're lavender." 

He pulls your hand toward his chest, encouraging you to stand. "They're nice." 

He ferries you out of the hotel, and you thank your lucky stars you wore your converse rather than the hotel slippers. He's clearly thought about this, offering you a hoodie (your size, clearly swiped from the merchandise van, 'marauders' written in jagged lettering across your shoulders like bat wings) as he explains the details of your trip. 

"First we'll get dinner. Then see a film in the cinema, if you want to? They have the new Exorcist." 

"I love horror." 

"I know." He nods to himself. "And then I have to buy you fresh donuts. James says they're the only way to eat them." 

"You don't have to buy me anything." 

"Sorry, I should say it differently. I'd love to buy you fresh donuts. If that's what you want to do." 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. "I would've stayed in the lobby if I didn't want to come out with you." 

"In that case," he murmurs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

This is worse than flirting. It feels like an initiation, or a turned tide. You smile at him from under his arm and he visibly pauses, falters, before his own smile hooks and he walks forward with a little more purpose. 

The day moves on as promised. You eat a quick dinner at a mid range restaurant before he takes you to the cinema, where he insists he doesn't want any popcorn but eats half of yours anyways. Then he takes you for donuts, and the entire time, you're thinking, what does he want from me? If Remus wanted sex he could fuck a groupie. Half the techs would crawl into bed with him if he asked. Maybe he's just gentlemanly? 

But why would he wanna fuck you? Ignoring any self-esteem issues, you're in cuffed bottoms and bare-faced, and he has no reason to believe you'd be any good in bed. 

He might want something slower, he decides. It's easier to believe when he asks if he can hold your hand on the walk home. 

"What?" you ask, sure you heard him wrong. 

"Can I?" he says, offering you his palm. 

It's different from his pulling earlier. You give him your hand and he squeezes his fingers between yours slowly, as though savouring the feeling.

You shake your head. "Was this…" 

Remus waits for you to finish. It's hard to ask under the weight of his gaze, happy but with that air of knowing you can't quite crack. He always seems so put together, even when he's asking for things, like any answer you give is one he's prepared for. 

"Was this a date?" you force out. 

"That depends. Did it go well?" 

"I would've said yes, if you asked me." 

Remus leans in like he's telling a secret, his voice hushed to match. "I know," he says gently, the tiniest hint of smugness threaded in the slight scratch of his voice. "That's mostly why I didn't ask." 

"Mostly?" 

"I couldn't face rejection. Not from you." His eyes light with an emotion you can't name. "But if you still want to reject me, I'll cope. It might be good for me, actually, it'll give me some material. Nothing makes for better music than losing a pretty girl." 

You fluster at his wording. "I would've worn something nice," you say apologetically. "If I'd known. I would've made an effort to look nice." 

"You always look nice. You think I'm put off by your pyjamas?" 

"Stop," you mumble, mortification creeping in. I can't believe I just went on a date with a rockstar in my pyjamas. 

"It's cute. You're cute, I love that you can fall asleep anywhere–" 

"Stop!" 

Remus laughs and pulls you that last inch into his side, elbow to elbow, hip to hip. "I can't. Teasing you is half the fun. It's why I haven't mentioned the powdered sugar on your lip." 

You sigh and turn your face away from him, wiping your lip with your sleeve. "You always do this." 

"Don't wipe it off, I'll get it. It'll taste sweet." 

You take your hand out of his. "Did you want this to be a date? I'll change my mind." 

He's kinder after that, and when he rubs your shoulder like he knows you need it, you almost pass out.