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plutotheplum · 2 months

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The First Fall of Snow

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 2!

summary: the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, breast play, masturbation, thigh riding, mentions of exhibitionism, virginity loss

wc: 7.7k

a/n: i did imagine long-haired zayne for this (like his master of fate card!) and he just gives off emperor vibes soooo

also on ao3!

The Emperor was a peculiar man.

He was not a man who fancied company. When the years for marriage had passed, his royal advisors had grown increasingly anxious. All potential candidates were refused, princesses from far lands given profuse apologies and lavish gifts in hopes of quelling their anger after they had traveled such vast distances, only for the Emperor to turn them away.

In an effort to try and draw out the Emperor’s romantic and sexual nature, several concubines were gathered. The Emperor had never overseen this, the affair carried out in veiled whispers as his advisors had sought to dispel their desperation by pooling their efforts into securing an heir for the dynasty.

That was what you were told when you arrived in the palace anyways. It had been a year since you were hand-picked as a concubine, along with a few other girls who had been eager to accept when the opportunity had been provided to them.

You had only met the Emperor a handful of times, when you first been brought to the palace and during private meetings that had been scheduled. He had never touched you or any of the other girls, had never sought after pleasure or secured an heir, much to the chagrin of Imperial staff. Like any other person, you thought it was odd.

Part of you felt as though you were wasting away in this palace, days spent outside by the pretty gardens and overlooking the fish in the ponds, entertaining stray cats or inside, like you were now.

You stare down at the steaming water in the teapot, watching as the tea leaves stain the water. The blurry reflection of your face looks back up at you and there’s a soft sigh escaping you, wondering what might’ve been if you hadn’t been chosen.

Such thoughts are lost when a short, stout man comes hobbling in. He grabs at your arm, teacup filled with hot tea tipping to the side. You wince when the hot liquid lands against your skin, burning you.

“The Emperor needs tea,” the eunuch hisses, pulling another set of teaware from the shelves as he tugs you closer.

“Why does that involve me?,” you ask, trying to free yourself so you can soothe your irritated skin under cool water.

“You will deliver it to him,” he says, fiddling with your robes and straightening out the fabric to make you look more presentable.

“Have another one of the girls-” you begin to complain, shrinking away when he sends you a glare.

You huff out a breath, making sure the pin in your hair is in place. There’s no time to tend to the burn on your forearm, the reddened skin hidden by the sleeves of your robes as the eunuch passes you the tray.

Sending him a glare of your own, you don’t stay behind to be chastised. Feet padding against the floor, you pass through the courtyard and hallway. Imperial guards stand outside the Emperor’s quarters and you bow your head, stating your business.

One of the guards opens the doors and you suck in a sharp breath, gathering your confidence as you step inside the Emperor’s quarters.

It’s a familiar place. The room is large, scrolls stacked upon shelves tucked against the walls, decorative screens partitioning the entrance to where his bed was placed. You swallow nervously, eyes blinking about. You can’t seem to find the Emperor. Deciding to step forward, you’re pushing your luck, sticking your head outside the open doors at the other end of his quarters. It opens into a private courtyard, greenery pruned to perfection.

There’s a frown pulling at your lips when you can’t see him. Perhaps he had left? Just as you’re about to give up, a man clears his throat. You jolt in place, tea sloshing as you struggle to keep a hold on the tray. Whirling around, you find the Emperor standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. There’s a curse entering your mind, placing the tea tray down on a table nearby before your knees are bending, meeting the floor as you bow in a seated position.

“Please forgive me, your majesty” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut.

You would rather not feel the wrath of the Emperor.

“I did not ask for tea,” he says bluntly.

“The- the eunuch insisted,” you supply lamely.

The Emperor only sighs and your eyes are peeking open, head tilting slightly as you try to get a glimpse of his expression.

“You may stand,” he murmurs, waving his hand. You do as he says, stumbling to your feet, teeth gritting together when the cloth of your robes rubs against the still fresh burn on your forearm.

He takes a seat on a cushioned mat and you’re standing awkwardly, trying to taper down your fidgeting as the pain flares up again.

“Is something the matter?” the Emperor asks when he sees your inability to stand still.

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. The Emperor only stares at you, unimpressed. His gaze drags over you and your cheeks are flushing in embarrassment.

“Sit,” he says suddenly, pointing to the space across from him.

“I-” you begin to refuse, restless to get out of this stifling place and tend to the burn that was currently beginning to sting.

“Sit, or will you refuse an Imperial command?”

To refuse an Imperial command is to forfeit one’s life. It’s why you’re sitting down in a flurry and looking everywhere at everything except him.

“Arm,” he murmurs, holding his hand out.

You extend your arm towards his hand without question. He hums when he brushes the sleeves away, moving your arm closer to his eyes so he can examine the burn. The Emperor’s lithe fingers prod at the edges of your reddened skin, and a whimper slips out of you, the tender skin sensitive.

He pulls away from you and your eyes are darting towards the doors, wondering whether it would be worth it to make a break for it. The Emperor returns soon after, a small pot in his hand, containing some sort of salve.

“Your majesty, it is beneath you to tend to such a matter,” you remind him, feeling his cool fingers wrap around your arm again.

“Perhaps so, but I happen to take interest in the ailments of the body,” he replies, spreading the salve against your skin.

So the rumors were true then. Many spoke of the Emperor’s affinity for the study of medicine. You had assumed he would’ve taken more interest in other pursuits such as hunting, but it appeared the Emperor valued intellect above all else.

As the salve soothes your skin, you find your gaze slipping over him. Pale skin, intelligent eyes framed by dark eyelashes, a strong nose and long hair tied back neatly, there was no doubt that the Emperor was a handsome man.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, his own gaze dipping over you once again. You feel as though you’re being scrutinized, so you’re sitting up straighter, trying to not present yourself as a mess.

“He sent you here to entice me,” the Emperor explains, beginning to wrap your wound using a thin, silken cloth.

“Oh. Is- is it working?” you ask tentatively.

“If you consider making a fool of yourself enticing, then maybe so,” he says, the side of his mouth curling up as amusement flashes through his eyes.

There’s a sharp scoff leaving you, arm tugging free from his grasp. The bandages are tight around your arm and you send him a frown, placing your hands in your lap.

“You take liberties that others do not,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I apologize, your majesty,” you whisper, head hanging low. He was right, you were taking liberties.

“Zayne,” he says, opening a scroll.

“Your- your majesty?” you reply, confusion flitting across your face.

“Zayne,” he repeats, not bothering to even spare you a glance “you may address me by my name.”

You hold your tongue in return, eyes narrowing as you stare at the Emperor. It must be a trick of some sort, you think, a ploy to make you slip up, and just like the traitors of the Empire, your head would be severed from your neck.

“You would distrust my own command?” he asks, sensing your hesitation. “I never said such a thing!” you protest, exasperation spreading across your face.

Sitting in place, you pout to yourself, tracing random shapes onto the cushioned mat. Zayne ignores your presence and it has you fidgeting even more, a huff of air leaving you.

The Emperor only continues to read the scroll in his hands. Pouring out some tea, you decide to indulge yourself. Your face contorts when you taste the now lukewarm liquid. It’s hardly enjoyable. Letting out another deep sigh, your body sags. There’s nothing for you to do here, the Emperor won’t carry a conversation and you only find that you’re making a fool of yourself even more.

“Shall I leave?” you ask him, feeling hopeful that you might be able to escape.

Zayne shakes his head.

“Stay a little while. It would do good for my advisors to think they have succeeded.”

“Succeeded?” you echo, brows furrowing.

“They expect an heir,” he sighs, setting down the scroll to give you his full attention, “surely you are aware of my… aversion to the entire matter.”

“I cannot say I understand,” you murmur, “you need an heir, and an illegitimate heir is an heir nonetheless.”

“The duty will be fulfilled when I am ready,” he says firmly.

Your head tilts at that, eyes narrowing. When he was ready? There would be no reason for the Emperor to not be ready.

“Other noblemen take pleasure in using women’s bodies,” you mutter, peering over at him, “it is strange that you have not yet touched any one of us.”

“You wish for me to use you?” Zayne asks, raising his brows.

“N- no! I just meant, it is odd that an Emperor whose rule has granted him anything he may possibly desire chooses not to engage in anything,” the words come out of you in a rush, your cheeks flushing.

“And have you engaged in anything?” he shoots back, his eyes sharp.

Admitting your own virginity wasn’t on your plan of things to do today. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, eyes averted to the side. Your silence is answer enough, and Zayne sighs, his fingers rubbing at his temples.

“I did not ask for concubines,” he says quietly, “and so, I do not expect you to serve me in such a fashion.”

“You may leave,” he says after a few moments, standing up with you.

Your head tilts, teeth worrying into your lower lip as he stares down at you.

“It appears you care for me,” he murmurs, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart flutters at the unexpected action, eyes widening when he touches you.

“Only for the dynasty,” you breathe out.

Zayne lets out a low laugh at that. He gives you a faint smile and your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look so ethereal, but such is the favor of the gods.

It’s probably why you’re leaning forward, hands reaching to fix the crumpled collar of his silk robes. He stiffens under your touch and you pretend as though you don’t notice. Your fingers graze his skin and his hand curls around your wrist, stopping your movements.

“I shall expect you here in a week’s time,” he says.

“A week’s time,” you nod, feeling his fingers touch the cloth wrapped around your burn.

The Emperor lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin gently so he can stare into your eyes more intently. He seems lost in thought as he swipes his thumb over your chin, his head nearing until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

It’s almost too much for your racing heart. Your already half-lidded eyes are slipping shut, lips parting as you lean in closer, waiting for him to kiss you. But it never comes and your eyes flutter open to see Zayne staring down at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes. He was making a fool of you yet again.

To preserve whatever dignity you have left, you’re pulling away, freeing yourself from his suffocating grasp. Bowing in deference, you don’t look back to see his expression, pushing past the doors as you leave his quarters.

Almost immediately, you’re met with the eunuch from earlier.

“Well?” he asks, his cheeks puffed with exertion as he tries to keep up with the pace you’ve set in an attempt to escape questioning.

“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly, looking back to see the short man totter after you.

“Nothing?” he repeats, voice laced with irritation, “not even-“ his voice lowers, mindful of the other staff working in the palace, “he did not even touch you?”

You shake your head. He doesn’t need to know that the Emperor had indeed touched you; tended to your burn even, that you were hoping the Emperor would hold you close and kiss you, and he most certainly didn’t need to know about your little displays of insolence.

The eunuch soon loses interest in you, grumbling curses under his breath as you retire to your own chambers shared with the other girls. It’s no secret that many of them have become bored with the Emperor’s apathetic outlook, some turning their charms to try and garner the affections of noblemen at court.

It’s raining the day you’re meant to meet the Emperor.

You step inside his chambers when the guards permit you, your hands clasped in front of you.

“Your majesty” you bend at the waist, bowing.

Zayne hums in response, striding closer to you. His fingers lift your arm, undoing the gauze to uncover your injury. The salve he had applied to your skin had soothed the burn, and it had begun to heal nicely.

“I told you to address me by my name,” he reminds you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he examines your skin, “must I remind you again, or will phrasing it as an Imperial command suffice?”

Your mouth opens automatically to retort sharply. He looks at you, brows raised. Spending more time in his presence has only vexed you, irritation making you almost forget who you were with. Mouth clamping shut, you send him a tight-lipped smile.

“Forgive me,” you say begrudgingly, “Zayne.”

“Better,” he murmurs.

You don’t know whether he’s referring to your obedience or the state of your wound.

“It will scar,” Zayne continues, turning your arm so that he can see your skin in better light.

“Badly?” you ask, a frown tugging at your lips.

“More salve will lessen the effect,” he says, finally letting go of your arm.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The Emperor stares at you, his gaze unwavering. It has you wishing that you hadn’t listened to his request at all. The palace physician would have more than likely provided you with the necessary treatment, and yet here you were, being tended to by the Emperor of all people.

“Do you wish for me to repay you?” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Did we not already have this conversation?” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I had assumed-”

“Do not assume anything.”

Zayne’s voice has hardened, the slight softness in his eyes no longer present. You’ve overstepped. He pulls away from you, turning his back to you as he walks towards the open doors of his quarters. Rain wets the inside, the mats on the floor darkening but the Emperor doesn’t seem to care.

Feeling like a scolded child, you trail after him.

“Forgive me,” you whisper, keeping your gaze trained on the floor.

It seems to be all that you’re doing now. Apology after apology after apology. It’s a miracle you haven’t yet been executed for your impertinence.

He turns to face you, his hand lifting. For a moment you think he’s about to slap you, a grimace settling on your face as you await the stinging punishment. Instead, all you feel is his hand on your head, petting you like you were some sort of unruly cat.

Zayne’s fingers begin to slip and you can feel the soft tips of his fingers graze the side of your face, traveling lower as he traces your jawline. You hold still, eyes wide with anticipation. He doesn’t stop, his fingers dragging down the length of your neck, parting your robes until you feel his fingers swipe across your collarbone.

“You are stubborn,” he says softly, “steadfast and oddly endearing. Perhaps I should keep you by my side.”

You stare up at him, jaw slackening, baffled.

“I thought you would appreciate it,” he murmurs, the sharpness in his eyes returning, “just moments ago you were offering yourself to me.”

It’s a struggle to bite back the whimper that so eagerly wants to escape when his fingers drag lower, skimming across the soft skin of the tops of your breasts. His other hand plays with the knot tied at the side, nimble fingers untying the only thing keeping your robes together. The soft fabric slips from your shoulders and you find yourself in front of the Emperor, breasts bared.

He lets out a low hum, both of his hands coming to cup your breasts. Your teeth have been biting into your lip so hard that you can taste the tang of blood on your tongue. Zayne swipes his thumbs over your nipples and you find yourself unable to rip free from his wandering touch.

“Should you not tell me to stop?” the Emperor asks, his face nearing yours.

There’s no will left in you to answer, a sharp gasp escaping you when he pinches your nipples to punctuate his question. The sensation only adds to the wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper, the desperation clear in your eyes, “please, Zayne.”

“I may have the favor of the gods, but I cannot foresee your desires,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “tell me. What is it you want?”

“Kiss,” you manage out, “kiss me, please.”

The Emperor’s hands haven’t stopped their exploration, squeezing and groping at your breasts. Zayne lowers his head, forehead pressing against yours as you mewl and whimper under the onslaught of his caressing touches. The ache between your thighs has become unbearable with the way he plays with your nipples. He tugs and pinches, thumbs swiping over your areolas to grant you reprieve before rolling your nipples between his fingers again.

“Wantonness has made you far more polite,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours.

It’s not a kiss, and you’re squirming in frustration with the way the Emperor is stringing you along, driving you to the edge of pleasure and yet refusing to grant you what you desire the most.

“I- I can be even more polite,” you mumble pathetically, hands curling into his robes.

You chase after his lips, brows furrowing when he draws up to his full height, smiling down at you. Lips jutting out into a pout, you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to tug him back down so you can kiss him. It’s a futile endeavor, the Emperor only manages to evade all of your attempts to draw him into a kiss.

“I shall look forward to it,” Zayne murmurs, his lips pressing against your forehead gently.

There’s no way to discern what exactly is going through the Emperor’s mind. He no longer continues with his lustful touches, pulling away with a final caress of your breasts as he pulls your loosened robes over your shoulders again. You can only watch with dazed eyes, frozen in place as he helps redo the knot holding your robes together, covering you up properly so that unnecessary slivers of skin aren’t showing anymore.

“Do you do this with the others?” you ask, eyes finding his.

“Does the thought make you jealous?”

You frown at his retort, sending him a glare, “the Emperor may do as he wishes,” you grumble.

It’s hard to hide the jealousy that underlies your words. You want to be the only person he touches, to be the object of his affections. It’s a selfish desire to want the Emperor to need you only, but you can’t help yourself, envy flaring up inside of you at the thought of him touching another woman the way he touches you.

“You are the first to elicit such a reaction from me,” Zayne says, his fingers tilting your head so he can stare into your eyes more directly.

Letting out an irritated huff, you feel irked by his subtle way of trying to please you. He doesn’t reply to your display of irritation, nudging his forehead against yours as though trying to convey his affection.

“Go now,” he whispers, petting your hair again before he’s moving away, turning his back to you as he returns to peer out at the rain that falls outside.

You have half the mind to call him out on his behavior, but the reminder of your position is the stifling reality in which you live in. Despite his gaze elsewhere, you bow to him, turning on your heel to leave.

Thankfully, there are no lurking eunuchs to question your brief stay in the Emperor’s quarters. The palace staff don’t pay you any mind as you return to your chambers, and you explain to the other girls that you feel sick.

The whimpers that spill from your mouth are muffled by the pillow that you’ve pressed your face into, the fingers of one hand rubbing at your clit and the other hand pinching at your nipples as you try to mimic the way the Emperor had touched you. With the image of Zayne’s face ingrained into your mind, it doesn’t take long, a soft moan escaping into the quiet of your chambers as you come apart on your fingers.

You’re spying on the Emperor.

The past year had been plenty of time to explore the palace and figure out the little passageways that weren’t well known. Perhaps you were just as bad as his advisors that were intent on prying into Zayne’s private life, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

It’s why you’re here now, hovering outside his quarters, pretending to take great interest in the portraits that line the halls. Every now and then, your eyes flick over to where the guards stand, trying to discern whether anyone was entering or leaving his chambers.

You almost feel pathetic for acting in such a way, but he was the only thing you could think about. Visiting the gardens had grown dull, despite the leaves turning into pretty shades of orange and red in the autumn air, thoughts of the Emperor taking root in the crevices of your mind instead.

“My grandfather,” a deep voice breaks through your thoughts. You don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Handsome,” you mutter, taking a step closer to examine the portrait genuinely this time.

“My guards have complained about a woman hiding in the hallways,” Zayne says, his hand falling onto your shoulder. “I did not realize it was an offense to admire fine art,” you shoot back.

“There are far finer things in this palace,” he murmurs, stepping forward until you’ve been backed up against the wall.

It’s becoming more and more apparent to you that the Emperor must be suffering some sort of illness to the mind. You struggle to come up with a reason as to why his arm curls around your waist, whilst he presses himself closer.

You try and push at his firm chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“People will see,” you whisper heatedly, eyes darting to the sides despite Zayne being so close that you can hardly see anything but him.

“So let them.”

Zayne reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. You stiffen under the sudden touch, eyes widening when his thumb brushes over your skin.

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, frowning.

“Is my mind not allowed to change?” he asks in return, head lowering until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“I am far more concerned that you have lost your mind.”

The Emperor lets out a deep chuckle and you think the air around you both has somehow grown thicker with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

“I assure you, I am still of sound mind.”

His nose brushes against yours, and you rise to meet the challenge, nose nudging against his gently. The heat of his body is intoxicating, his arm tightening around your waist as he exhales. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating the feeling of his lips against yours.

It’s not to be, not when an Imperial guard insists on interrupting your moment with the Emperor.

“Is this woman bothering you?” the guard asks, his gaze dragging over you with obvious disregard.

The utter nerve. Eye twitching, you ready yourself to snap back but Zayne’s squeeze to your waist has you staying silent.

“She was feeling ill,” Zayne lies steadily.

The Emperor’s mask of cool indifference slips over him easily, his lips pulled thin as he speaks to the guard.

“I shall escort her to the physician,” the guard offers, his hand reaching for you.

Zayne pulls you out of reach before the guard can touch you, tucking you against his side.

“No need,” Zayne says, “I shall take her myself.”

You can almost hear the nervous gulp that the guard takes, his face paling at the Emperor’s stony disposition. Unfortunately, you don’t get long to revel in the satisfaction that spreads through your body when Zayne reprimands the guard. Zayne tugs you along, his hand wrapped around your wrist. It appears the Emperor knows of the passages as well, and a few twists and turns later you find yourself back in the Emperor’s quarters, having bypassed the Imperial guards.

“Did you see his face?” you snicker, looking over at Zayne.

Your smile fades when he doesn’t reply, the grip on your wrist almost painful without how firmly his hand is still holding onto you.

“Zayne? Are you-”

You nearly trip over your own feet when he suddenly pulls you closer. Zayne’s lips are slotting over yours, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you. There’s a small noise of surprise coming from you, eyes widening before they flutter shut, your body lulled into submission with the feverish kisses Zayne gives you.

He groans into your mouth and you cling to his robes, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kisses better. The Emperor might’ve been starved with the way he’s kissing you, his lips firm and insistent against yours whilst he holds you in place.

Zayne pulls away after a while, and you’re completely and utterly dazed, chest heaving as soft pants fill the space between you both.

“Will you have me?” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek.

No man has ever spoken such words to you. Your breath catches in your throat, heart clenching uncomfortably in your chest. As the Emperor, he shouldn’t say such a thing.

“It is beneath you to ask,” you murmur, averting your gaze.

“And yet, I am asking,” Zayne replies, his hands maneuvering your head until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.

Letting out an irritated huff, as though he had somehow inconvenienced you, you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his lips. You can’t bring yourself to say the words out loud, feeling uncharacteristically shy as you shift on the spot.

“I see.”

Zayne’s surging towards you again, lips crashing onto yours. You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as you press yourself closer. His arms are wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he ravages your mouth. His tongue is teasing your lower lip, coaxing it open. You have no choice but to obey, letting out a muffled moan when his tongue slides deeper into your mouth, his hand pulling at the pin holding your hair together.

You squeak when he picks you up, his lips trailing burning kisses down your neck as he nudges the partition blocking his way to his bed. Zayne undoes the knot holding your robes together before long, your thighs straddling his hips as you sit perched on his lap once he sits down on his bed.

“Have you really never given yourself to anyone?” Zayne asks quietly, his fingers tracing across the soft skin of your shoulders.

You nod, body leaning forward to chase after his touch as his fingers find their way back down to your nipples, rolling the pebbled buds between the pads of his fingers.

“H- have you?” you ask, biting your lip as he presses heated kisses against your collarbone.

He shakes his head, lips drifting lower and lower, until your body twitches as his lips enclose around your nipple. A whimper leaves you, and Zayne grows bolder with his movements, sucking harshly as his tongue swirls around your nipple, flicking the little bud in his mouth.

Your hands have drifted into his hair, pulling free the band that holds his long locks together. His dark hair runs past his shoulders, the strands soft under your touch as you pull at his hair, moaning as he continues his exploration across your chest.

Zayne looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, spit-slick lips dragging across your chest to pepper kisses against your other breast, his mouth enveloping your nipple yet again. He lets out a low groan and you whine, pulling at his robes desperately to pull them off.

“Oh,” you breathe out when he lets you, biting your lip at the sight of his bare chest and abdomen. Your fingers spread across his chest eagerly, mapping out the expanse of his skin. There’s a sly smile spreading across your face when you see his cheeks flush pink as your fingers drag lower, past his navel.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks hoarsely, his head tipping back.

“Should I not?” you whisper, fingers delving lower until you can feel his hardness through his robes.

You rub your hand against the bulge experimentally, eyes lighting up when he lets out a grunt. Face tucking into the crook of his neck, your breasts squished against his chest, you place hungry kisses against his neck, palming at his bulge.

The Emperor tugs at your hair, pulling your head back. You stare up at him, meeting him in the middle when he leans forward, sharing a sloppy kiss. His hands squeeze at your waist and you shift in his lap, letting him undress you completely.

Nervousness flits across your face as he stares at your bare body, hands leaving him to cover yourself up. He grabs your hands before you can, placing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers, lips drifting to kiss the shell of your ear.

A shy smile pulls at your lips and he squeezes your waist again. Your brows furrow when he jostles you, making you straddle his thigh instead.

“I want to watch,” Zayne says, his fingers dimpling into the fat of your thighs.

“Watch?” you echo, head tilting in question.

“I want to watch you come undone,” he clarifies, gripping your hips as he guides you into grinding against his thigh.

A strangled noise leaves you and he pats your hip, satisfied. You’re so aroused that your slick has begun to wet his silken robes, the fabric darkening as you roll your hips, dragging your pussy against his thigh.

“I- I want to watch you too,” you gasp out.

Zayne obliges and you watch as he pulls his cock free. The sight is almost enough to have you coming on his covered thigh. His fingers wrap around his cock and you whine, hips rolling faster. “Is it to your satisfaction?” he murmurs.

You nod rapidly. It is. You’ve never seen one before, but you just know Zayne’s is pretty compared to the others. His cock is thick, flushed prettily at the tip to match the blush on his cheeks and you lick your lips, wondering what it might feel like in your mouth.

“Another time,” Zayne says, smiling when he sees the expression on your face.

It’s entrancing to watch the way his hand drags up and down his cock, his long fingers wrapped around himself. Globs of pre-cum bead at the tip, wetting his hands and his cock, creating a sinful sound. Unable to help yourself, you tilt your head, tongue lolling out as you let your own spit drip down onto his cock. You hum in delight when his thighs twitch, your eyes peering into his as you drag your cunt against his thigh, clit catching on the fabric of his robes just right.

“I did not know my concubine was so depraved,” he murmurs, his hand kneading the flesh at your hip roughly.

You give him a dopey smile, eyes slipping back down to watch his hand move around his cock whilst you rock your hips. Head falling against his shoulder, your lips drag across his chest, landing soft kisses against his skin before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, nipping his skin lightly.

Airy sounds fill the air, his quiet moans and your soft whimpers emanating in his quarters.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press yourself closer, guiding his head into another kiss. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth with no hesitation. Zayne’s pulling apart suddenly, his previous desire of watching you come undone on your thigh forgotten as he manhandles your body, making you lay down against his bed.

The Emperor kisses you over and over, and your head is swirling, trying to keep up whilst his fingers have found their way down to your pussy, rubbing your wetness across the sensitive flesh before he finds your clit. All it takes is one firm press of his thumb, your thighs twitching violently as you grasp at the sheets, moaning loudly as you come. He smiles against your lips, granting you one last kiss before he directs his attention elsewhere, his face disappearing between your thighs.

“Z-Zayne!” you squeal, pushing at his head, trying to get him to stop as the overstimulation becomes too much.

The Emperor ignores you in favor of thumbing apart your folds, his eyes trained on your clit.

“Pretty” he whispers, the pads of his fingers stroking over your clit gently, “and so, so swollen.”

It has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he kisses the inside of your thighs, edging closer to your pussy, letting out a low breath, the air hitting your exposed pussy.

He groans when you tug at his hair, and you writhe, trying to somehow free yourself from the onslaught of his tongue as he laves over your pussy, pressing sloppy kisses against your skin, his lips latching onto your swollen clit. Zayne’s tongue flicks against the sensitive bud, teasing you.

Something between a moan and a scream climbs its way out your throat, the sound ringing in through his chambers as you come again, thighs firmly squeezing his head. Your eyes widen when you realize the guards are still outside the doors, panic flaring through your body as you scramble to sit up.

Zayne’s hand slides over your mouth before you can get anything out, the stern look in his eyes making you go still. The rapping of the guard’s knuckles against the door has you rigid, eyes widening in alarm as he begins to move his tongue yet again.

You glare at Zayne, tugging at his hair roughly to make it hurt as you attempt to get his mouth off of you. Zayne only gives you a hazy look, looking utterly gone as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. It’s a struggle to keep the noises in, your body shaking as his nose rubs into your clit and his tongue fucks in and out of your aching hole.

“Your majesty?” An urgent voice calls out from behind the door, and you can hear the faint scuffling noises of the guards’ boots.

“Someone get this door open!” another voice hisses, the sliding doors rattling soon after.

The Emperor grunts into your cunt, raising up finally. The sight of him is nearly enough to make you come for a third time. Zayne is utterly disheveled, his cheeks pink and the lower half of his face glistening with your slick.

You watch as he runs his hand through his hair, biting your lip as you let your gaze wander, catching on his cock once again. He looks painfully hard, cum smeared across his skin and drool is pooling in your mouth. Getting onto your knees, you crawl forward eager to envelop it in your mouth.

The tip makes its way into your mouth for a brief moment and you can barely suck when Zayne is yanking you off of his cock, his hand curled into your hair.

“Everything is fine,” the Emperor snaps, narrowing his eyes when you pout.

“We heard-”

“I said,” Zayne’s voice grows louder, “everything is fine.”

You think he might take out his wrath on you with the way he grips your cheeks roughly, planting another kiss to your lips. He’s manhandling you yet again, pushing at your shoulders to make you lie down as he settles his hips between your thighs.

Zayne’s cum smears against your skin and you whimper when the fat tip of his cock nudges against your clit. He lands a gentler kiss to your cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as you squirm under him, whimpering as he grinds his cock against your cunt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he lets his cock slide up and down against your folds, “my good girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, cheek squishing against the pillow, “all yours.”

“I want to see you like this all the time,” Zayne confesses, his hand grasping his cock to press it firmly against your cunt, coating it with your arousal, “all flustered and needy… perhaps I am losing my sanity.”

You need him inside of you. The emptiness in your pussy has made you all too aware, hips bucking with every drag of his heavy cock.

“More,” you whisper, voice slurring, “Zayne, I want more.”

Zayne draws back slightly and you watch as he squeezes his cock, pre-cum dripping steadily onto your thigh. He reaches for your hand, fingers lacing with yours.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

You nod, swallowing down your nervousness. He presses his cock into your hole and the stretch is uncomfortable, a pained whimper leaving you as Zayne guides his cock into you.

“A little more,” he coaxes, kissing your forehead to try and distract you from the initial stretch.

He finally pushes his entire cock in, and you feel as though the air has been punched out of your lungs. Zayne fills you up so perfectly, his cock snug inside your cunt, the emptiness from earlier disappearing almost immediately.

It appears you have affected him just as much, his eyes squeezed shut as he pants into the crook of your neck, trying to get used to the wet heat of your cunt.

“Perfect,” he mutters mindlessly, and you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside of you, “so- so perfect and warm and tight.”

A hazy smile drifts across your face, legs locking tighter around his hips as your pussy clenches around him.

Zayne lets out a ragged gasp, and you know he can feel it. His eyes bore into yours, brows pulled together in annoyance at your little tease.

“Little minx,” he hisses.

It’s you that gasping this time when he draws his hips back, nails clawing at his back as he thrusts into you. His cock is stretching you out, over and over, as he tries to press it in deeper, trying to carve a path from your pussy to your heart.

“Too- too much!” you wail, arms wrapping around his neck to cling onto him.

“Do you want the guards to hear?” Zayne murmurs against your ear, his hips slowing slightly.

Through the haze of it all, your head turns, eyes finding his. The truth is, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea. Zayne can see the flash of interest in your eyes and he lets out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head.

“I should have taken you sooner,” he mutters, his fingers squeezing at your hips, “kept you close to me from the beginning.”

You preen at the thought, pressing sloppy kisses against his jaw, feeling his cock drag in and out of you.

“Next time, I shall take you on my throne.”

Your movements pause, eyes widening as he whispers those words, his lips brushing across yours.

“Not like that-” you begin to say, cheeks flushing deeper as you imagine him taking you on his throne, his hips rutting into yours like they were now.

“Why not?” he asks, “Shall I command it? Have-” Zayne lets out a shuddering breath “have my entire court watch as my pretty, little concubine loses her mind, drunk on my cock as I claim her atop my throne?”

You moan unabashedly, cunt clenching around him tightly. Zayne grunts, his hips stuttering when at the feeling of your walls tightening before he’s gripping your thigh, his chest flush against yours as he picks up the pace. It’s no secret that the guards must have heard what was happening inside, your loud moans most likely drifting through the wood of the doors. Both you and the Emperor don’t seem to care, lost in the blur of lust that swirls between you both.

“Deeper,” you mumble, pouting up at him, “need- need you closer, Zayne.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” Zayne mutters, dropping his weight on top of you.

You mewl in delight, the feeling of his body against yours deliciously warm. He hikes your thighs up a little higher, hips pressing deeper until you gasp. You can feel his balls pressed snugly against your ass, his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.

“Take it,” he whispers, his hand beginning to stroke your hair as he moves his hips. Short, sharp thrusts that serve to bury his cock into your cunt the way you want, “take it, my love.”

My love. Skin against skin. His hand stroking your hair gently. Girthy cock filling you up perfectly.

The sensations mixed with his affection are too much, pulling at your heart uncomfortably until you let out a sniffle, staring up at him with glassy eyes.

Concern passes through his eyes when he hears you sniffle, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes away a stray tear that beads at the corner of your eye.

“Am I hurting you?” Zayne asks softly.

You shake your head, lips trembling even more at his display of concern.

“I just like you a lot is all,” you whisper, sniffling quietly.

“I like you too,” Zayne replies in kind, his lips pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “and I take care of what’s mine.”

He leans down, lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss. Your tears wet his cheeks as he keeps you there, kissing you gently whilst his hips roll into you.

“Let go for me, my love” he murmurs, and you’re clenching around him again, feeling his hand sneak its way between your bodies as his thumb rubs against your clit.

You whimper, head pressing back as you arch your back, the sensation of his cock and his fingers driving you further and further to the edge until he latches his mouth onto your breast, catching your nipple between his teeth. He bites down and a broken moan fills the air, body shuddering as you come on his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Zayne grits out when he feels the harsh clench of your cunt around his cock.

You can feel him bury his face into your chest and you reach up weakly, running your fingers through his hair. It’s enough to have him letting out a guttural noise against your chest, his fat cock twitching as his thick cum floods your pussy.

The Emperor lays on top of you, both of your bodies loosened completely. You whimper when he pulls out of you, his cum beginning to leak out from your cunt. Zayne stares at the sight for a moment, entranced, before pulling you closer, letting you press your face into his chest as he kisses your forehead.

“Everyone will know by now,” you whisper.

“They will,” he agrees, his fingers prying your face away from where it hides.

Zayne peers down into your eyes, a faint smile playing across his lips as he swipes his thumbs against your skin.

“Stay here with me,” he says quietly, “by my side.”

You laugh softly at his proposition.

“I am your concubine,” you murmur, reaching up to curl your hand around his wrist, “nothing more.”

“You will be more,” Zayne insists, his voice hardening, “I will have you.”

“Your advisors would not allow it!” you protest, eyes turning glassy again.

“Desperation will make them vulnerable to acceptance,” he retorts, his body pressing closer as though to keep you tethered to him, hands tightening around your cheeks.

“I am the Emperor,” he continues, forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours, “you said it yourself. I may do as I wish, and what I wish for is for you to be by my side.”

You swallow harshly, blinking up at him when you hear the sternness of his voice. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, kissing you desperately.

“Stay with me, my love” he whispers again, stealing kiss after kiss from you.

“Okay,” you relent, sinking into his embrace and returning his kisses just as desperately, “okay.”

The Emperor holds you close to his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. The heat of his body has your eyes drooping shut, his lips brushing over your forehead as he whispers sweet promises of his love.

Outside, far away from the warmth of love’s embrace, the first fall of snow has begun to drift from the sky.

#zayne smut #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace #lnd smut #lnd zayne #lnd #zayne x you

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cathkaesque · 6 months

Text

Relentless direct action has secured another victory in the fight against Israel’s arms trade, as Elbit Systems are forced to sell their ‘Elite KL’ factory in Tamworth.

The company had previously manufactured cooling and power management systems for military vehicles, but was sold on after stating that it faced falling profits and increased security costs resulting from Palestine Action’s efforts.

After the sale was completed last month, Elite KL’s new owners, listed as Griffin Newco Ltd, confirmed in an email to Palestine Action that they will have nothing to do with the previous owners, Elbit, and have discontinued any arms manufacturing:

“Following the recent acquisition of Elite KL Limited by a UK investment syndicate, the newly appointed board has unanimously agreed to withdraw from all future defence contracts and terminate its association with its former parent company”.

This victory is a direct result of sustained direct action which has sought, throughout Palestine Action’s existence, to make it impossible for Elbit to afford to operate in Britain. Before they sold the enterprise to a private equity syndicate, Elbit had reported that Elite KL operating profits had been slashed by over three-quarters, with Palestine Action responsible: Elbit directly cited the increased expenditure on security they’d been forced to make, and higher supply chain costs they faced.

And these actions did, indeed, cost them. The first action at the site, in November 2020, saw Elite KL’s premises smashed into, the building covered in blood-red paint. Between March and July 2021, the site was put out of action three times by roof-top occupations – drenched red in March 2021, with the factory’s camera systems dismantled, before again being occupied in in May. Another roof-top occupation in July, despite increased security, saw the site forced closed – once again painted blood-red, and with its windows and fixings smashed through.

In February 2022, activists decommissioned the site for weeks – closed off after an occupation that saw over £250,000 of damages caused, the roof tiles removed one-by-one. After this, Elbit erected a security perimeter around the site – but to no avail. One month later, six were arrested after Palestine Action returned to Tamworth – again taking the roof and smashing through, preventing the production of parts for Israel’s military machine.

Elite KL is a ‘specialist thermal management business’. Since the sale, the company focuses on cooling systems for buses and trains, but it had, under Elbit, manufactured these systems for military vehicles. Until December of last year, Elite KL’s website was advertising its military and defence products, and it was known to provide parts for Israel’s deadly Merkava tanks, with export license records demonstrating its provision of ‘ML6a’ components for military ground vehicles to Israel. The company was also known to manufacture crew cooling systems, for the military vests of tank operators.

Elbit Systems itself provides 85% of the drones and land-based military equipment for the Israeli military, along with a wide range of the munitions and armaments currently being used against Gaza’s beseiged population. Its CEO, Bazhalel Machlis, has claimed that the Israeli military has offered the company its thanks for their “crucial” services during the ongoing genocide in Gaza

A Palestine Action spokesperson has stated:

“Each activist who occupied and dismantled Tamworth’s Israeli weapons factory did so in order to bring an end to Israel’s weapons trade, and to end the profiteering from Palestinian repression. Every defeat Elbit faces is a victory for the Palestinian people.

Kicking Elbit out of Tamworth shows once again that direct action is a necessary tactic. It is one which must be utilised and amplified in the face of the Gaza genocide.”

#socialism #palestine #palestine action #elbit systems

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luveline · 22 days

Note

I’d love to see hotch finding out that Spencer and his sister have told Each other they love each other, like he realizes holy shit this is serious, yk?

”No, I’m okay.”

Aaron wonders who’s to blame for the way you talk, your shared father or himself. You aren’t quite as expressionless as Aaron’s told he is, and you’re nothing like your father, a tense, angry man, but it's possible you learned to be as calm as possible. Nothing unnecessary can be read from your tone. No snark, no attitude.

So you sound like you’re just making polite conversation on the phone at first, and when your voice softens, Aaron’s too nosy to walk away.

“Yeah? That’s an interesting one. You’ve been learning fun facts for me. No, all your facts are fun. I wasn’t lying,” —you laugh, giggly and caught— “I like when you tell me stuff. You know everything there is to know about everything.”

You’re sitting on the porch swing with your legs crossed, posture terribly bent, phone held to your ear. Aaron and Jack had been tending to the flower beds around the side of the house, but Jack spotted a paper kite butterfly and wandered off to find it while Aaron finished watering.

He knows you’re telling the truth. Aaron’s watched you and Spencer together many times now, and he knows you truly enjoy one another’s company. It’s why you’ve made a good couple. It’s why Spencer comes to work each day with a sense of settlement, and why you’ve calmed down some. There’s security in things. Still, Aaron knows how fickle younger relationships can be—

“I love you.” He stands straight. He frowns. You make a humming sound. “I love you,” you say again, like Spencer’s heard you wrong. “Yeah. Yeah, I love you more… I miss you today. I’m fine, just–” You stand up, the porch swing creaking. “Maybe I can come over? After dinner, it’ll be late, I just want to see you. Is that– Okay, good.”

You walk to the end of the wrap around porch, just a foot from Aaron where he’s hiding in the shadow of the side of the house. He can hear Spencer’s voice now, too.

“I don’t know why you’re asking me like I won’t say yes! Please come over, I begged you to come over yesterday!”

“Don’t make me feel guilty,” you say, a loving murmur.

“I’m not trying to do that! Just, you tell me you love me and then we don’t see each other for two days, which is fine, it’s not that you can’t be busy, but try and see it from my point of view.”

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask.

“Y/N, I love you. And you love me, and I was hoping you’d let me earn it by taking you out or something. You just ran away.”

Aaron breathes out, alerting you to his presence accidentally. You turn on the porch with an incredible embarrassment in your screwed lips, glaring at him, and almost dropping the phone in your hurry to see the screen.

“Spencer, I gotta go. Aaron’s being a creep.”

“What?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Uh, okay? Is everything–”

You click the phone off and squeeze it in your hand. “Eavesdrop much?”

“I’m very sorry. But in my defence, I’m watering the flowers.”

“You’re so embarrassing.”

“I’m embarrassing? What did I do?”

“That was a private conversation.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

You know he’s lying in the same way he knows you’re not as angry as you wish you were. You are embarrassed, though.

“I had no idea you and Spencer were that serious,” he says mildly.

You drape your arms over the porch railings. “Well, it is, I think. It’s serious for me. Does he– d’you think he’s serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

You bite your cheek. He can see you doing it, see the concern in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know, but he’s been so nice about it.”

“Nice isn’t the right word.” You talk about love like you’ve confessed to something awful. It’s love. “You should let him take you to dinner. Then you should tell me where you went and I’ll work out if he deserves you or not.”

“That’s not funny.”

Aaron smiles as you turn away, seemingly to call Spencer again and make arrangements. It was funny, and you’ll think so too once you forget he was being a busybody.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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moonlight1110 · 6 months

Text

Thinking about bf!simon rn

This is a quickie bc i just love him

Simon, who knows you aren't in an established relationship, yet he can't help the jealousy that creeps up his back and latches on like a parasite every time he sees you talking with another man, especially when you give them a smile, and especially when you laugh at something they say because in his mind, only he can make you smile like that.

Simon, who knows he doesn't have the right to tell you to stay with him but he just can't help it. "Can you make me some tea, love? Feeling tired tonight", anything just to get you to stay even for a few minutes more because he enjoys your company, but most of all, he enjoys seeing the way your eyes light up when you look up at him.

Simon, who so desperately wants to reach out and grab your hand when you walk alongside each other down the hall. He wants everyone to know who he belongs to and where his loyalties lie, but he just can't do it despite the aching desperation that claws at him every time your hands brush against each other, even for a moment.

Simon, who's unsure if he should actually pursue a relationship because he doesn't want to ruin your friendship. You have a good thing going between the both of you, why would he want to ruin it?

Simon, who seeks advice from the rest of the team and gets a rough talking-to when they scold him for holding in how he feels all this time, but they also encourage him to go for it. "The worst they can do is say no".

Simon, who finally gathers enough courage to finally ask you to talk, but he's so serious about it because he has never done this before and he doesn't want to mess it up. You think something has happened, so when he asks you to talk in private, you don't ask any questions and follow him, concerned that something bad happened to him.

Simon, who stutters and mumbles when he explains how much he likes you and how sorry he is for being so bad at words, but he tried his best and finally asks you if he can be your boyfriend.

Bf!Simon, who's eyes widen when you say yes and he almost can't believe it. He's immediately reaching for your hand, and when he finally gets to hold it, its like his love for you just tripled.

Bf!Simon, who doesn't get as jealous anymore when you talk to other men because at the end of the day, he knows he's the one you look for and the one you seek comfort it. He trusts you, he knows he can.

Bf!Simon, who still asks you to stay with him for your company but he doesn't do it as much anymore. He knows when work is over, you'll be waiting for him with open arms, ready to cuddle him and ease the stress of the day. He has you at the end of the day and all the comfort and company he could ever ask for.

Bf!Simon, who gently caresses your hand when he holds it as you walk down the hallways, everyone knows who he belongs to now, and he wants it to stay that way. His hold on your hand is gentle, loving, and warm. He loves feeling your hand in his and intertwining your fingers together as you walk.

Bf!Simon, who is so much more secure than he was before, he knows that he made the greatest decision of his life now that he has you by his side.

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darkdemeter · 3 months

Text

BY THEIR LEASH

◤✘WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN | Wanda Maximoff x Female Werewolf!Reader

NOTES 🗯️ ↳ Long overdue, finally knocking this one out before it gets retired to permanent draft status ughhhh... *proceeds to fall face first in tired raccoon* WARNINGS❕ ↳ Mafia stuff — mention of death — alcohol consumption (like a lot) — 18+ SMUT, MINORS DNI — Porn with plot? — lesbian sex — threesome — may be some grammar errors and such — slight bondage — little bit of muscle/stomach riding if you squint your eyes, turn your head that way... — I think that's it?

✎ 4.3k

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz @mathxa @blackbirdv98

↳ WANDA MAXIMOFF TAGLISTS

────────────────┘

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true.

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation.

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration.

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market.

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay.

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t worth every single cent he spent on you three years ago.

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs.

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one.

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.”

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot.

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment. And not too soon after is it halfway downed.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need another refill and pronto.

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.”

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere shot in the back?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.”

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women.

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his hand, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work.

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless.

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way, you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your renewed liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress?

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun.

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.”

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow.

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support.

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs.

But she never committed to joining forces.

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress.

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand.

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included.

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous.

She’s facing you, back arched and arse resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, a sweet bouquet of lavender which rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin.

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow.

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress.

“You really think she wants a guard dog?”

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you.

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you.

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you.

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue.

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head.

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.”

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help.

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. Refilling your empty glass with more liquor. You’ve yet to scratch the surface of being tipsy.

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment, for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.” Steve is calm in his approach to reason with her, but if anything, her raised hand indicates her refusal, unswayed by the honey of his words. Your tongue rolls the rounds of your mouth, each time measured by your impatience as you slowly circle around the dealings table, unable to find yourself comfortable against the stiffened wood of your seat.

“You do realise that you’re asking for more than your so-called ‘support’ is actually worth.” You blink several times, the blow of it a downright attack on their egos.

“No, I want something more.”

“And I want alcohol to affect me so I can sleep well at night,” you mutter to the glassy rim against your bottom lip. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, bearing down a sinister glare. “Excuse me?”

“And we were just about to suggest that very thing!” Tony interjects with a grin, eager to utilise his card, his Ace Wolf as he liked to call you. He gestures to where you stand now at the table’s other end.

She directs her eyes to look you up and down slowly, gaze polished with keen observation. She hums thoughtfully before she looks to Natasha.

“E atât de bună?”

The red haired chuckles and sitting back in her chair, chest heaving with a breathy sigh, she nods.

“Exceptional de bun. Cu o limbă ca asta…”

Bucky shifts in his seat, a hollow whistle on his lips over the exchange of heated words, and you flash a grin at both women. The words of foreign tongue, however, pass over the heads of the other men, their eyes looking to either you or Bucky only to be answered with a shrug, but knowing that look in your eyes, they can take a good guess as to what’s being discussed.

With another passing frame of time, both women pull away from their engrossed conversation. “I’ve been made aware that you intend to bargain your wolf to me,” she says, once again letting her sight fall on you.

“And if that is the case, and what I have been told…” She trails off momentarily, finding to correct herself in the midst of something you can smell very clearly on her - or rather between her legs. “Then I’ll accept.”

Each man present in the room is given pause to revel in the stun before them. Wanda Maximoff, the heiress of Europe’s biggest family, accepts their deal. All at the price of you.

“You’ll have your answer by tomorrow, Mr Stark,” Wanda says, standing from her chair, she beckons you to follow with a kink of her fingers. One by one and following in unison, their eyes turn to you as you shuffle back on your heel with shrug your shoulders and fanged grin.

“Animal magnetism, boys.”

Wanda’s heels bound a steady beat as she wanders over to the foot of her bed, making an elegant show of swaying her hips and drawing your attention to her form. From behind, Natasha slips the dark suit jacket from your shoulders. Tosing it aside, her hands play the form of an enchanting guide, ushering you forward while tracing the hidden curves of your muscles.

“As per courtesy, Miss Maximoff wants the first claim.”

You huff in reply, “And you?”

Natasha hums softly and plucks your belt loose from your trousers. “I have you two, I won’t go unsatisfied tonight.”

Tilting your head to view Wanda who stands idle, fingers playing with the lining of her dress above her breasts, you stalk towards her, her back arching under your touch with a breathless whimper, you trail the zip of her gown down slowly. Falling around her ankles as a fabricated halo, she turns suddenly and your lips collide together in hunger.

She sinks down to the bed, laying back until her hair fans around her, spreading her legs apart. That feverish hunger boils within your blood, running it hold and thick, the fur beneath your skin bristled in your excitement as you take care to roll the sleeves of your skirt to your elbows. To your knees, you’re brought to the sight of her soaked underwear, the dark patch evidently giving away just how badly she required you between her quivering thighs. Natasha’s hands rake through the length of your hair and scratches at your scalp, earning a low purr of pleasure to rumble in your chest.

You lean forward and all it takes is a single inhale and you’re let loose of your chain of control, claws shearing the fabric that dares to confine her awaiting cunt any longer. She gasps upon contact, your lips smothering her moistened, slick lips and she gives a deep-noted moan, arching her hips up, your hands wrap around her thighs to drag her to you more.

She tastes like the fine wines of heaven, a forbidden savour on the tongue that which you greedily lap, your eyes close as you succumb to the wolf’s hunger, tongue lapping heavily at her clit.

She whines and cries, breath hot and light in her lungs as her nails rip into the sheets to no damaging avail. Natasha hovers above, watching on in her own longing and desire. She dips a hand beneath the hem of her dress, aside she pushes her own soaked panties and delicately dances her fingers over the sensitive bulb with a keening breath you hear catch in her throat.

Natasha leans down low until the scape of her breasts brushes against your shoulder blade, lips a tantalising thing and moving sinfully to mouth, “I’m touching myself to you.”

“Watching you please her is making me so wet, Wolf.”

“Make us both cum.”

You growl deeply and Wanda’s body visibly shudders in response to the wild vibrations that course through her abdomen, shaking her whole and off centre, her hips begin to jerk as she nears her climax. Both women mingle in their euphoria and your own core comes to life, sparked by the noises they make in unison, an orchestra of pleasure. Suckling and licking at her core, she cries out and the lips of her pussy shrink around absence and she sighs in bliss. In tandem, Natasha moans loudly from behind and you feel her body press against you as her hand works hard as fucking her fingers into her cunt, the sound of slick and skin melding together addicting.

“You weren’t… kidding, Nat,” she says between laboured breaths.

Slowing your advances, you finally pull away with a sigh, her juices glistening on your lips. Wanda looks at you and her cheeks flush at the sight before Natasha’s other hand forces your attention to her. Her lips connect with yours and her tongue darts over the bottom of yours, tasting Wanda with a delicious sound that you swallow.

After she pulls from you, she then shares a look with Wanda and the two of them grin. “Shall we reward her?”

“I think she’s been a good girl.”

Oh, how the wolf loves that. Praise for a job well done you can hardly suppress your proud smirk. Buu before you can do much else, Natasha pushes you and your knees are knocked out from beneath you, Wanda having rolled to the side only to follow Natasha’s lead as they both halfway straddle you, otherwise keeping you pinned to the mattress below.

Together they peel away your dress pants, giggling and muttering to one another in that alluring tongue, your mind in a haze to catch barely a sentence shared between them but you gained awareness of what they intended when they each stroked their tongues over your stimulated pearl.

“‘Sh–shit!” you hiss sharply and your hips buck, the two women giggling at the sight of you writhing.

They give no further warning as they duck down. Their mouths work together against your clit, suckling it to draw pathetic whines from that deep part inside you dare not let anyone see, their voices trespass the air with betraying praises that speak only of teases and their tongues lap at the slick of your pussy that clenches at the attention. Your hands grapple the sheets and tear hard, the damage unnoted and not cared for.

“Girls– fuck!” you groan at the rise in your core, oh so ready to reach that climactic end that you have been denied for the past several weeks. It’s not too long that your first release has you whining, the nois a higher pitched sound that does slowly in broken notes as you cum, the girls moaning and allowing their lips to graze one another as they lapped and sucked you.

Wanda is the first to make eye contact and move towards you, her leg swoops over to fully straddle your stomach, in her hands is your belt. She rips the centre of your shirt apart, buttons flying to discarded corners of the room to be mere pebbles of disregard.

You see the way her eyes drink in the sight of your toned muscles, the pinky tip of her tongue darting over her wet lips.

She adores the way you tilt your head to the side, a curious whine on your lips. “I’ve always wanted something on a leash. May I?”

You don’t particularly care for the way her question hits a mark submerged deeper into your heart, reaching for something you denied was there. Dignity. Usually people just took from you and you came to accept that. Expect it.

You nod up at her and she fixes the belt around the column of your neck, the leather cool against the blazing heat of your skin, but something inside you flutters. Quickly, you push it down.

Natasha moves into the same position behind Wanda, your larger size very much able to accommodate both of them, Natasha trails light kisses along Wanda’s shoulder as she fastens the belt and gives an experimental tug. A soft grunt hitches in your throat in retort and you flash her a grin, the sharpened points of your fangs perched against your bottom lip.

“The wolf never let me tame her, Miss Maximoff.”

“Oh, she just needed some reassurance,” Wanda replies gently with a smile. For a moment, you wanted to believe her words were sincere. Your hands run along Wanda’s thighs until they reach her hips and with a roll forward, she grinds her pussy against your torso, feeling the defined muscles press and tense against her, bringing her to moan under her breath. Natasha drapes a hand over your own to roll and pinch Wanda’s swollen clit, her eyes finding yours.

“Watch her,” she commands breathlessly and you do so, amber glows in fluorescent pulses as Wanda biomes slick with her arousal. The fine artistry of their bodies moving together as they roll and grind against you, you cannot help but reach a hand up, claw catching the thin silk of Wanda’s bra and severing the contraption into two, letting it fall and reveal her plump breasts; her nipples erect.

Wanda circles an arm behind her and behind Natasha’s head, her back arching to the pleasure she becomes lost in, and you purely enjoy the show above, admiring the glow of sweat collecting on their skin, groaning as their slick covers your stomach as they ride you. The hand working Wanda’s clit speeds up and then slows, teasing the heiress, she gives you a sly grin.

“Do that thing with the claws,” she says and Wanda’s eyes open, as if awakening from her bliss and becoming enlightened with wonderment.

“W-what thing?”

“I’ll show you.”

You sit by the bed, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm with a glass in your grasp, imagination lost in the reverie of last night’s events with a smirk carved into your mouth. Both women lay wrapped together, bodies nude and pressed up to each other as they continue to sleep. You surely tired them out.

Thankfully and mostly dressed when Tony came wandering in, the band of his fellow brothers staying just beyond the room’s threshold, though it still didn’t make to hide the snarl creeping up your throat as the sudden intrusion. You take a sip of your drink as Tony scans the room, gaze flickering between the two women and you who bares an illuminated glare at him.

“What the hell happened last night?”

“We got her affirmative answer on the deal,” you answer with a raise of your glass in cheers before downing the last of your drink.

#headlinesxcomics publishing #female reader #mafia au #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #werewolf reader #wanda maximoff smut #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader smut #wanda x werewolf smut #natasha x werewolf smut #wanda maximoff fic #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff

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agentfascinateur · 2 years

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Fascinating...

#war in ukraine #ukraine #wagner group #private armed security companies #zelensky #africa #middle east #mining #natural resources

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whxtedreams · 25 days

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Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist - series masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.”

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

"If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

"Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor. His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x you #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian

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skrrts · 2 months

Text

older, wiser & hotter than ever (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x song mingi ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, dating, fluff ✧ word count: 2,1k

Mingi didn’t anticipate spending his 25th birthday stuck at an airport because your flight home was canceled at the last minute. There isn't much you can do about it but it doesn't mean you won't make sure it's a birthday to remember in your own little silly ways.

a/n: i wanted to write something short and cute for his birthday. no special warnings. queued it to be posted at Korean midnight hour.

“I am really sorry we have no better news for you, but due to the weather, there won’t be any flights until morning, once the fog has cleared. However, your rescheduled flight at nine should leave as planned,” the woman apologized again, and you hurried to smile.

“Of course, I understand. Thank you so much for the help,” you offered a polite nod and turned around. After the most amazing week in Los Angeles, it seemed not all plans were meant to work out. Of course, everyone else frowned a bit when Mingi announced with a playful grin how you managed to plan your vacation so that you’d land and return home at the moment of midnight, him stepping out of the airplane as his birthday began. There was a bit of a romantic idea to see it as a symbol of stepping into the second half of his twenties.

Mingi was quite emotional about it; the idea of letting go of his youth was challenging, and you knew it was his way of dealing with it. Now the two of you were sitting at the airport, your flight was canceled because of bad weather, and neither of you had enough cash left to book another hotel to be a bit more comfortable.

Mingi was obviously disappointed. He always failed to hide it, as much as he hurried to smile when he saw you, his hand reaching out to pull you onto his lap.

“I take it they told you there is nothing they can do about it, and we have to please be understanding, while also reminding us that bad weather will not be a reason for the travel company to give us a refund.”

You laughed when he changed his voice, trying to sound like one of those travel agents. You curled your arm around his neck and placed a short kiss on his lips.

“Something like that. I guess we’re stuck here until tomorrow. At least you’ve got a great story to tell — just add a little more action and tension, like thousands of tourists stranded in Los Angeles, scenes close to a battle.”

It was nice to see his features form into his iconic smile: “Don’t forget about the aliens, then.”

The two of you laughed, and he sighed, allowing his chin to rest on your shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind, though, if we suddenly found a black credit card and could spend the night in one of those big, fancy airport hotels. That would be nice. We totally deserve that, don’t we?”

The idea of a large bed instead of the uncomfortable seating areas of the airport was certainly more tempting.

“Absolutely. Speaking of sleep, though, it’s getting late. While we’ll make it back home with half a day of delay, you still should rest a bit.” You ruffled his hair. “Don’t want to start your special day being all tired.”

Mingi pouted and looked at you before giving in. “Fine, but only with my favorite pillow. Let’s move to one of those corner sitting areas, then I can relax against the wall and you can lean against me.”

You nodded and took his hand, Mingi taking care of the luggage you shared with his free hand as you carefully made your way through the upset crowds of passengers, as you weren’t the only ones affected by this. At least you managed to find a more private spot quickly, a small sitting corner far from the ticket counters.

Once the bag was securely stored, Mingi got comfortable, opening his arms wide for you. You snuggled into his embrace, and his arms held you tightly, your head against his cheek as you listened to his heartbeat.

“This was a really fun vacation, even if it ends like this,” your boyfriend noted after a while, his voice sleepy but content. “I never thought I’d come here until you just said we’re gonna do it. The food was really good, and I will have to save up properly next time. Then, I can buy one of those fancy jackets, maybe some cool shoes to go along with it. I’ll wear both at the water restaurant, with some sunglasses, and flash you a smile so you fall madly in love with me, and we walk into the sunset.”

As you listened to him, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Mingi, you already are the coolest and hottest person to me, and while maybe your clothes aren't the big brands, you look amazing in every photo we took.”

As your head tilted a little to look at him, your gazes met, and he smiled lazily but happily. “I have the most stunning and gorgeous person by my side, just making sure I always live up to it.”

He always would have your heart and silly admiration; there was nothing special needed, but you knew Mingi was stubborn, and you did not want to tell him not to aim for something important to him.

“Said person would not mind a good night kiss.”

This time you were the one to pout your lips and grin, mumbling something about how you learned from the best, and you kissed. Your hand rested against his warm cheek as you slowly gave him a gentle shove to relax back.

“Time for that nap. We do not want to miss that late flight because of being too tired,” you teased, but Mingi yawned. Unlike you, he drifted off within minutes, and while you fell into a soft kind of slumber, it was not deep. You just could not see yourself sleeping at an airport at all, eventually ending up just watching passengers pass by, many leaving as it got dark and likely booking some hotel to spend the night there rather than here.

You pulled out your phone and checked the time; it was about an hour left to the eighth of August back at home. This was not how you planned it, but improvising was one of your strengths. You gave your boyfriend a gentle shove.

“Mingi, are you awake? I really need to use the bathroom.”

It took a moment, but eventually, Mingi stirred and gave you a small nod, a big hand ruffling through your hair.

“I’m awake, go ahead.” His husky, sleepy voice was nice — you always loved to hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised. A quick kiss was placed on his cheek before you got up and grabbed your bag. The truth was you had a few other intentions, a plan made on the spot, finding one of the many restaurants and bakeries at the airport. This one was a little smaller and seemed more personal.

When you approached the woman and asked for the favor, she seemed amused but offered a kind smile.

“That’s no problem if you say the flavor does not matter. We have a few smaller cakes. Would you like a ‘Happy Birthday’ with a name or an age, maybe?”

There was a hint of color on your cheeks: “Actually, I was thinking this?”

You had seen a few of those cakes on Pinterest when searching for ideas for Mingi’s birthday for the small celebration you two had planned for the weekend with friends.

The woman laughed, followed by her co-worker who also glanced at it: “That we can do as well. We just finished a new row of cakes, so give us twenty minutes and it should be done.”

You clapped your hands together: “Thank you very much.”

The woman smiled, and you sat down on one of the free chairs, dropping Mingi a message that you were hungry, and decided to grab some food on the way back, just so he wouldn’t be worried about where you went.

He answered within a moment with a few kissing emojis, so you were relieved to see he was doing okay.

The past few years with him had been some of the best. You loved how reckless he could be while also just embracing his cuteness when everyone else often thought of him as a guy who was a little mysterious and hard to figure out. If anything, Mingi always felt easy to read; the longer you two were together, the fewer the occasions where he would try and hide his feelings from you, something you honored by doing the same.

“Here you go,” the woman handed you a small box, and you opened it, giving it a glance before smiling.

“This is perfect, thank you!” The cake really was small, but that was perfect; wasting food was not an option, and you wouldn’t be able to take any on the flight.

“We hope even with this weather, he has a nice birthday.” The woman winked and gifted you two bottles of coffee for free.

When you slowly returned to your seats, Mingi looked like a lost puppy, his head going left and right to see just where you had been.

“You didn’t think I was running away, did you?” you teased softly as he looked at you, his face brightening up right away.

“Of course not, you just were gone for some time,” he replied, and his gaze wandered to the box in your hand. You offered one of the bottles to him; it was late for coffee, but he did not seem to question it after the two of you just had a nap.

“Well,” you started, looking at him. “I know this day was meant to be special, and we’re about to spend half of it on an airplane instead, but I don’t think that means it has to be any less amazing. After all, it is your day, and how could it not be?”

Look at you being all sappy! At least there was a blush, and he rubbed a hand over his neck.

“Yah, what’s this all about?”

Two minutes until midnight at home.

You smiled, leaning over to unzip the bag and pulling out something you managed to sneak in without him noticing when you packed. The branding on it already made his face surprised.

The two of you went to this one store; they sold really unique pieces of denim jackets, each one of a kind, but the prices were a little steep. So when Mingi tried on the same one four times but sighed because of the price tag, ultimately leaving it behind while talking about just how nice it had been for days, you knew this was it. You went back and bought it.

“Seriously?” Mingi looked like you gifted him a car rather than a jacket when he pulled it out and looked at it like it was the most stunning piece of clothing.

“You loved it so much, and you look good in it, so when I said I wanted to buy some souvenirs, I actually went back to the store. It is your birthday, so no notes about the price! You just owe me to wear it plenty and tell everyone how amazing I am,” you teased, and he pulled it on, right over his hoodie.

“This is the best — you are the best!” He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. It took a bit of effort not to just lean in and let him pull you over. The hour changed, and you smiled into the kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Song Mingi,” you whispered. Mingi was smiling brightly.

“Thank you. Oof, I love you so much!”

You laughed and finally offered the box to him.

“Well, I hope with a new age comes great hunger. Every birthday should start with a cake. Candles will have to wait for the other one at home, but until then, here you go.”

Mingi grinned: “Is that so? Ah, okay then!”

He accepted it and opened the box slowly, greeted by the text you requested.

‘Older, Wiser, and Hotter than Ever.’

Getting older was scary but also exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see where Mingi was going from here. You were happy to be the one by his side.

“I cannot deny I get older and hotter. I am pretty hot, am I not?” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes, smirking.

“Fine, I admit it.”

“ I will make sure it becomes a daily thing. I don’t promise to get any wiser, but the rest, leave it to me. You won’t regret it.”

Mingi kissed you again, and this time, you just allowed yourself to melt a little more.

Yeah, you were more than content to let him impress you, day by day, for the rest of your life, and all it would take was for you two to be yourselves and be together.

The world stopped, just for you, as thousands of passengers rushed through the busy airport.

#mingi x reader #mingi x you #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez writing #mn tag #mingi oneshot #mingi fluff #ateez fluff #reis writes #song mingi x reader

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bunji-enthusiast · 8 months

Note

Heya again!! <333 as per tradition, before I put an order, I want to say ty for feeding the PP fandom and I hope you're doing well <333 may whatever you're planning to write, original or fandom, be successful!

May I order a blast in the past, where the Hour of Joy hasn't started, Caretaker! Reader is yet again an employee at Playtime Co. and they happened to find out about the rejected isle and they were overwhelmed by the sheer cuteness and charm of the toys, they do kinda get why some of them were rejected but thought mostly they were fine.

For the sake of the plot, they got to keep the toys and bring them home with permission from the higher ups ( wow reader charisma 💯 ). As they're happily making their way back, Catnap noticed them carrying this unknown toy, giving it affection, and overall just showering it with love from the shadows and gets quite pouty about it. So much so that the rest of the smiling critters had to pry it out of him to tell them what he saw and oh boy, they too were quite pouty.

Dogday tries to reassure them that everything's alright and they agreed to " ask " more like interrogating the reader the next time they come in to work. When that happens, Reader is caught red-handed still giving that rejected toy their love and affection, Dogday sends the rest of the group off so he and Catnap could talk it out with Reader more privately. Ends with them getting the full story and the smiling critters getting their fair share of love and affection, especially Catnap who's by the way still pouting about the whole ordeal 😂

I really just wanna see this sleepy cat having someone else he could actually trust as a parent figure and him just getting worried that his place might be taken away by some rejected toy 🥹 ahhh I'm starting to love him more and more slowly,, the Smiling Critters are such babies and I love themmmm

Signs Of Love

Note || yesss insomnia kitty needs love, all of em need love 💕

WC || 1,931

Sypnosis || Misunderstandings occur, but as quickly as they come, they can also very much leave.

You were quite the lover of many things, having been assigned to be a caretaker when your superiors saw how well you integrated yourself into the role at your interview. They are quite fond of you and all their other caretakers, since they know you all (you and the rest of the caretakers) are the only ones able to keep all the toys and children in line.

Though the children were mostly left to the Playcare Attendants as the caretakers were more or less focused on the toys themselves. It was without a hint of a doubt, you certainly had garnered the attention of many toys. Some who liked you, though it really was the Smiling Critters who liked you more than most.

Yet when you found out about the rejected toys, you thought it was really saddening that they were even rejected in the first place – though you understood why – you just wanted to simply take them home with you!

Deciding to try and convince a higher-up to take one home, that is exactly what you did.

“Ma’am, please look at this adorable potato!” You held up the rejected toy in your hands, clearly enough for your superior who shrunk back in surprise against her recliner chair. She let out an exasperated sigh, recollecting herself as she adjusted her position on the seat.

“I am well aware,” She begins, gesturing to the rejected toy. “But by no means are you allowed to take it home, rejected or not–it is still company property.”

You frown as you search your mind for conceivable reasoning to convince your superior, you sigh as the toy falls out of your hands, landing on your lap. “W-well, maybe I could keep it for a little while?” You jump up, your hands landing straightforwardly on her desk. “Like a-a security precaution!”

A frown adorns her face in return to your earlier one, crossing her arms across the top of the desk as gently as she possibly could. Appearing to be searching your face for any lying or incompetence, her shoulders slump in defeat. “Very well, if you insist.”

“Keep it.”

You let out a yelp of success, almost falling backward as you did so. You grin, an exasperated noise leaving your throat as you cautiously upright yourself, as to not uproot or accidentally change her mind in turn. Your hands make their way to your superiors, shaking them to be polite. “Thank you thank you! You won’t regret this.” You smile at her, then let go of her hand as she is left in befuddlement by the actions that had just happened.

Normally you weren’t much of an extroverted person, only conversing and confronting social situations when necessary. But you had simply felt joy bursting through your veins at the accomplishment you had achieved, to convince a superior to let you keep the rejected toy! (One of the rejected toys at least, you couldn’t do much else for the rest as much as you wanted too) Now you were making your way back, rejected toy in hand and you had a lot of affection to give it.

Too bad it wasn’t alive as much as the other toys you knew were, but at least it was alive in your own heart.

A familiar figure in the distance resting on a rooftop had taken notice of this quite easily, may it be quite the discovery they had found. CatNap couldn’t let this go unnoticed, a strange pang resided in the depths of his hollow yet dense chest. The giant cat couldn’t pinpoint the feeling he felt, not knowing what name to put to the feeling he felt so strongly, like a parasite it wouldn’t leave him alone.

He felt a strange guise of loneliness, noticing how much you began giving the unknown toy such a sudden bout of affection and hugging. Even nuzzling it as well to boot, CatNap was jealous?

How strange, CatNap wasn’t entirely familiar with the concept of emotions. Even with how certain ones could flare up at times, depending in response to the situation, whatever one he may be in. CatNap got up, stretching his finely tuned legs. CatNap wasn’t prepared for the others to pry the information out of him, trying to figure out what he saw and knew. He almost felt a little intimated, but he was… in the sense very emotional–even beneath his sleepy and quiet demeanor.

Then he could feel himself justified for the guilt of jealousy.

Well, CatNap certainly did expect the outcry, all at the same time he truly didn’t expect it either. The group, he felt rightly justified in their emotions as he had reported it to them, he too was quite in earnest – very jealous of the unknown toy. KickinChicken spoke externally with the whole of his heart, “This sucks! Why does that toy get more love than we do?”

“I wanted a hug!” Bobby cried, sitting on the floor as Crafty had patted her back, trying to gently soothe her. The colorful unicorn too was upset, yet she hid it very well. Picky had remained quiet, just stuffing her face with an apple to conceal her upset, she had big emotions and wasn’t sure on how to deal with them unlike the rest of the Smiling Critters.

Hoppy on the other hand was pounding the ground with her feet, hopping around so as to not completely create noise. She was woefully upset too as it appeared to CatNap, he hadn’t expected any of them to take this information the way they did. But they had pried it out of him, He didn't know what they were expecting to hear anyway.

CatNap’s voice came out short and strained as he made an attempt to comfort any of them, “It’s ok–” His voice fell on deaf ears, CatNap huffed a puff of red air. His tail lapping about, then overlaying to rest upon his left leg.

Bubba was muttering to himself, rapidly tapping his feet. As if his intellect could formulate a reason as to why this had happened, alas CatNap knew the elephant was simply just trying to find reason in coping with his emotion.

Believe it or not, CatNap pays very good attention to all the Smiling Critters. They are his friends after all.

“Guys!--” The group still went on, continuously upset. No means of comfort getting through to them. “GUYS.”

His visibly noticeable purple fur rustled about as he sat down, noticing that DogDay was finally back in leadership mode. CatNap didn’t know what to do to calm them all down anyway, he was pouty and upset as they were. DogDay spoke slowly, “I’ll ask Angel what’s up, maybe we just don’t understand it fully. Okay?”

The group notices, finally relenting in defeat. None of them questioned him as DogDay always had a way with words usually, he wasn’t one to go wrong as he was the leader of the group for a very good reason.

As the group clamored to find you, you weren’t that hard to find surprisingly. Mostly as you were hard to find other times, they could all easily see that you were still found with the rejected toy. Sitting back on your chair that you had found, and giving it all the affection that had made a few members quite pouty.

“Guys, let's take it easy. Me and CatNap will talk with Angel alone,” DogDay motions for them to take their leave, holding out his hands before he elaborated. “Let’s not take it personally, okay? I don’t think it’s that complicated.”

KickinChicken sighs, as Bobby and the other few do. They all take their leave, showing that Hoppy was still there. She points at DogDay, then CatNap who was confused by the predicament. A silent gesture.

Nothing weird boys, you got that?

DogDay nods at Hoppy, who finally leaves as she hops away to rejoin the rest of the group. CatNap taps DogDay’s shoulder, gesturing that he should take the lead on this chat. His own paw comes up to pat CatNap’s, “I know bud, but let’s not overdo this.”

If the sunny leader were to be honest right about now, he too felt a pang of jealousy at the lack of affection and attention that he hadn’t received like his fellow critters.

You were aimlessly cooing at the rejected toy, happily partaking in giving it all manners of affection (nothing weird, ahem). It certainly had a charm and adorableness too it that you couldn’t ignore, you have no idea as to why the designers and superiors had rejected this design or any other one in the reject aisle that you saw for that matter.

Suddenly you felt a creeping chill crawl up your spine, traveling thoroughly all the ways to your shoulders and sides.

Feeling two taps on your shoulder almost had you jolting, causing you to turn around to see CatNap and DogDay standing right behind you, albeit very menacingly from your perspective. “DogDay? E-eh CatNap?!”

DogDay waved his hands, trying his best to reassure you, “Sorry we didn’t mean to frighten you like that Angel!” CatNap nodded along with DogDay’s words, doing his best to affirm that fact. You sigh in relief, hand very visibly held to your chest.

“So..” You straighten your posture as DogDay and CatNap came around you and sat down, to really level with you at most. “What’s up? Anything bothering you or the others?” You shrug, jabbing a questioning thumb as you spoke, directly in the general direction. They both knew what you meant, but they had more pressing matters.

DogDay let out a breath, before he spoke as to steel his nerves. CatNap deadpans, directed toward DogDay, emotional expression clearly evident despite the restriction of movement his own mouth has. “Well, we just… uh, wanted to know what was up with you.” DogDay pauses, then pointed at the toy which was unknown to him laying in your lap.

“And that.” He emphasized, wincing as he searched your face for any reaction. Suddenly what had surprised the two was how you began to laugh and giggle, waving your hand as the other clutched your stomach.

“Ah.. I’m sorry.” You shook your head, wiping your face. “Were you boys… perhaps jealous of this?” A small grin plasters on your face, with convoluted happiness as you held up the toy in question.

DogDay felt embarrassed, looking away as to not stutter or speak any words. CatNap sighed in reprieve, laying his head upon his front legs. Those actions alone had answered your question that effortlessly. “I see..” You couldn’t help but try and stifle the giggle, they were simply so adorable.

Them, jealous? It’s so cute. You really couldn’t resist their pouty moods, so you calm them down, proceeding to tell them the whole story so they didn’t have a misinformed perception of the situation.

You happily spread your loving and hugs to all the Smiling Critters and CatNap individually.

Albeit, CatNap was a little embarrassed that he had saw your situation with the rejected toy incorrectly. Feeling as if he might’ve been replaced.

You had reassured him individually as you had taken your time with each of the members, “I would never replace you CatNap! There’s always room for everyone..”

“Even you.”

You grin, booping CatNap’s nose. He recoiled back as he had the set revelation, CatNap slumped as he gave in to your very touchy movements. Feeling your hands thread throughout his fur, CatNap was content that he now knew.

He really had no reason to worry.

He truly was loved.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #dogday poppy playtime #catnap poppy playtime #catnap #poppy playtime dogday #dogday #smiling critters

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writingbynova · 1 month

Text

Nanami Kento

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⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⊹ : ceo! Nanami x employeefem!reader - explicit content; minors DNI - pwp (porn with slight plot) [un]protected sex - pet names (princess) - kinda possessive - mind breaking - this is short af coz I'm sleepy sorry babes ♡ (let me know if I missed any tags)

Word count: ~ idk but it's short

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A corporate bitch. It's what you could call yourself. Clean, demure, obedient, quiet. It's the etiquette you held onto. Until he ripped it off.

"show me your true self"

Finally your first year in this company, although that wasn't the reason for the party. Your boss, the ceo had just signed an extremely promising deal, thus, a party was thrown to celebrate. You were walking from the car to the entrance of the building, like you had done so many times but today was different, these heels were high, this dress wasn't something you'd usually wear to a party, it wasn't something you'd wear at all, you only did because your friends forced you to, a strapless corset-top short black velvety dress, barely hiding your ass from anyone who walked behind you, that made you more nervous than ever.

You finally walked in the building lobby, it was empty except for a security guard, asleep. You walked to the elevator to the sound of your heels hitting the cold building floor. The closer you got to the 17th floor, the louder it was, the more anxious you got, your heartbeat ringing through your ears, you weren't late, you had brought a gift, but you were so anxious, oh how you wished to turn back, this was a bad idea, you should have sat this one out, why did you want to integrate in the company so much? this was not your place to be, you're not welcome- *DING*

The elevator's metal pans slid open, exposing you to the whole room. They all stared at you. All of them. You walked into the room, trying your best to ignore the eyes following you. What was wrong with them?

As the party went on something felt different, entirely too different. The atmosphere has shifted, he was too close to you. Nanami Kento. CEO. Ever since you handed him the gift you got, his gaze hadn't left you. You tried ignoring it but how could you ? You could feel your heart beating harder every time your eyes crossed his. As the night went on people your coworkers started leaving, one after the other. Some offered to take you home, even though you had driven there. But he opposed it every time. Saying you had 'promised to help him clean after they all left' of course nobody would defy the boss words, except you. You would, but the grip his hand had on your hip made you a pliant corporate bitch. You stood next to him until the last person left. And when the elevator door finally closed on your last coworker you were met with reality. It was only you and him left. You didn't dare moving. But you could feel the butterflies in your stomach your thoughts ravaging your mind. Your pussy already excited at the thought of what could happen.

"You were beautiful tonight." His words caught you off guard "oh! thank you so much si-"

"Don't you ever dare wear something like that again around here? Understood? I don't like the way those bastards look at you, I should be the only one allowed to look at your beautiful body sway in this room. Right before my eyes. Now come on darling, give me a private show."

Oh and a show you held. Your body writhed against him, his arms bouncing you on his thick large cock. Your heels were slowly dropping to the floor, your makeup was ruined, mascara dripping, lipstick all over his shirt's collar instead of your lips. Which instead were quietly moaning his name. "You've always been such a nice girl. Always dressing modest, being quiet, shameful. But today...ah... Coming in, dressed so sluttily? How could I resist indulging in you?" You could barely speak, your mind only focused on how good it felt. "Thought, ahh, you'd like i-it" you whimpered, shuddering above him. "I loved it princess"

This wasn't the plan, you were supposed to spend some time at the party, not spend the entire night riding your ceo's dick like a whore...but it felt so damn nice. His hands rubbing your lower back enticing you to go rogue on him "I know you've been holding back. Tonight you need to let go, show me your true self princess" his words ignited a fire in you. You felt so little in his arms, tightly holding your body close to his. You felt so hot. Burning, you buried your face in his neck "I need your help" you whispered, as much as you wanted to let go and show your true disheveled self to him. He had to provoke it. You had turned into the perfect corporate robot for him. Now he had to fuck you out of your shell.

"Mhm, gladly"

"Ah! K-Kento, s-so de—ep, fu-fuckk, 's too good" you cried, panting heavily beneath him.

You used your elbow to cover your face, hiding how good you felt. In vain.

"Told you I want to see that pretty face, hide from me again I'll fuck you on your own desk so you'll think about it every time you sit in that chair" he groaned, sliding his thumb to abuse your throbbing clit. "Ngh! Ah- m-mercy Ken" You whined, immediately revealing your face. "Mhm much better". His hips slammed against you, drowning you in pleasure, you struggled to talk, struggled to breathe. You held your body up on your elbow, unable to keep your head from bobbing around. You felt your legs spasm, your toes curling, you threw your head back, biting your lower lip. But you were too far, too far from him to give in. You mechanically stretched your hand, in a desperate attempt to feel him, body to body. He's Nanami Kento. Did you really think he'd disappoint ? His arms immediately wrapped around your back, pulling you into his hold, you gasped, almost choking on the air that filled your lungs, feeling his tip nudge your g-spot, with each thrust he rammed into you. He slightly moved back, his forehead against yours, his eyes dug into yours, watching you break. You felt too close entirely too close, it's like you were losing control over your body. And you did. It only took one thrust. Only one. You were cumming, all over him, throbbing and pulsating around his girth cock. Fat tears slipping out your pretty eyes. Oh he'd indulge in you every day from now on. What a perfect employee he had.

TYSM for reading!! And for all the notes on my previous posts ♡

I'm so eepy rn so this is kinda trash but I wanted to post a little something, hope u enjoyed ♡

Divider by : adornedwithlight

#nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #18+ mdni #kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #smut

185 notes · View notes

foreverisntenough · 14 days

Text

‘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 4 - Oldest Friend | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.8

The two of you decided to go back to familiar ways and sit outside in your bathing suits by the pool wrapped in each other’s company. There was no anxiety, no uncertainty—just the two of you, finally alone, finally able to be together without the weight of the outside world pressing down on you. Jude reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Today was perfect," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled up at Jude, feeling the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his words.

“Yeah?" you questioned him softly, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss that quickly deepened, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air between you. As you curled up against him, feeling his arms tighten around you, you knew that this moment—this quiet, perfect moment—was one you were enjoying too much and it was terrifying. When Jude tucked inside to go grab you both something to drink he caught himself standing by the window, his eyes fixated on you lounging by the pool before he returned. Your silhouette was captivating against the sunlit backdrop of his Madrid home. He couldn't help but feel drawn to you in a way that was both confusing and exhilarating. There was something about you that was intoxicating, a mystery he was desperate to solve. Every word that came out of your mouth was like a puzzle piece, hinting at something deeper, something you never intended for anyone to see.

You grew up living a life many would envy but few truly understand. Your childhood was one of privilege and prestige, cocooned in a world of private schools, penthouse apartments, and summers split between the Hamptons and Côte d'Azur. Your parents were French expats who had found their fortune in the glitzy world of film. Your dad retired early, his wealth nearly obscene, opting to buy vineyards in Burgundy and live the life of a refined vintner. You were born there in France then moved to the United Stated but back to France shortly after. You lived in a sprawling apartment in the 7th arrondissement, filled with exquisite antiques and modern art. Your father’s success in film had not only bought him vineyards but also a lifestyle that many could only dream of. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect family lay a complicated web of emotional neglect and unmet needs. Your parents, wrapped up in their own pursuits and societal status, often used money, lavish gifts, and trips to other homes around the world to compensate for their absence. They tried to keep a genuine connection but it was often though the phone. This emotionally cold upbringing left its mark on you. You had everything you could ever want materially. Although, you grew up without the warmth and emotional security you craved, something Jude clearly seemed to experience the exact opposite of. You learned early on that love and affection in your family were conditional, transactional, something that could be bought and sold just like the art pieces in your gallery. This realization made you cautious, a self-preserving instinct kicking in that taught you to protect your heart and to rely on yourself for your emotional needs. Despite the glamorous veneer of your life, you often felt a profound loneliness and used hook ups to fill that. Although you had Whitney of course. She was your closest confidant, the one person who understood the strange blend of opulence and emptiness that colored your childhood. You were bonded by your shared experience, but even with her, there were things you could never fully express—wounds that went deeper than words. After finishing your education at a prestigious private school in Paris, you returned to New York, eager to carve out a space of your own. You had always been drawn to art, finding in it an emotional resonance that you couldn't find anywhere else. You pursued your passion relentlessly, eventually opening your own gallery in downtown Manhattan. Your gallery quickly gained a reputation for its cutting-edge exhibitions and the way it seamlessly blended contemporary art with more classical influences. You were stunningly beautiful, with a look that turned heads wherever you went. You allure undeniable and enigmatic. Yet, behind the captivating exterior, you were a complex blend of vulnerability and strength, a woman who had learned to use your looks to your advantage but never let them define you. Men were drawn to you like moths to a flame, and you enjoyed their attention but never let it go beyond the surface. You used them for sex, a fleeting connection that never demanded more than you were willing to give. They were like your art—beautiful to behold, to experience, but not something you were willing to let into your inner world. Though you portrayed an image of effortless confidence and control, deep down, you longed for something more meaningful. You desired a connection that wasn’t superficial, a love that wasn’t just a transaction, but something real and raw, something that didn’t need to be bought or proven. Yet, your experiences had made you cautious. You built walls around your heart, protecting yourself from being hurt by the very thing you longed for the most. Your life was a series of contrasts—luxury and emptiness, beauty and solitude, strength and vulnerability.

Jude sighed wondering just all that. Who were you? You looked stunning, your bikini revealing just enough to be alluring without being obvious and as much he appreciated your outer shell he wanted to know what went on in that head of yours. The way the sun kissed your skin gave you an almost angelic glow, contrasting sharply with the cool, guarded demeanor you usually wore like armor. Jude knew there was more to you—something softer, sweeter, hidden beneath that hard exterior. He had seen glimpses of it in your quiet moments together, in the way your eyes softened when you weren’t paying attention or the way you laughed when you thought no one was listening. He was determined to see more. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next. The sunny late summer air was warm on his skin as he stepped outside, walking toward you with a casual confidence he didn’t quite feel. He dropped down beside you on the lounge chair, reaching over to playfully pinch your waist. You squealed in surprise, your body jolting slightly as you turned to look at him. Your reaction made him smile, but it was the way your lips curled into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen that made his heart skip a beat. There was something so genuine about it, a softness that you rarely showed.

"Hi." You simply greeted him with a giggle. You tilted your head, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulders Jude’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he was speechless, lost in the depth of your eyes and the warmth of your smile. He couldn’t remember the last time a single word had such a profound effect on him.

“Hey,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

“You look happy,” you noted, your tone light, but your eyes held a hint of curiosity, as if you were trying to read his mind.

“I am,” he replied, and it was the truth. He felt happier in this moment than he had in a long time. “Just enjoying the view.” He cooed. You rolled your eyes but smiled, a soft blush coloring your cheeks.

“Smooth, Judey. You’re very smooth.” You giggled. Jude chuckled. He waved you to scoot over on your chair. His arms around you fast as he slid next to your body before leaning back in the chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

“I mean it. I like having you here. I like… getting to know you.” He smiled, playing with a piece of your hair. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—hesitation, maybe even fear. But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar guardedness he was beginning to know well.

“You already know me, Jude,” you said lightly, though he could hear the edge in your voice.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “I want to know everything about you, Y/N.” Jude, despite his love for a playboy lifestyle, was a significantly more open and emotional than you. He was close with his parents, his brother, his friends, he felt comfortable opening up. It was scary for him, sure, but he’d done it before. A significant more amount of times you had. Although he had never been this candid with a girl before and certainly not one he met only two weeks ago.

“Why?” You asked softly, almost to yourself. You glanced away, your gaze shifting to the shimmering water of the pool

“Because there’s something about you that I can’t get enough of,” he confessed. “You’re like… I don’t know. What’s a really beautiful painting?” He asked you and you couldn’t help but giggle at the overzealous nature of what he was trying to say. “I want to study you, to understand you. You’re beautiful, but there’s so much more to you than that.” He confessed. Your lips parted in surprise, your breath hitching. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, your guarded expression softening into something more vulnerable.

“Wow. I erm…I don’t know if I’m ready for someone to know all of me though. Maybe I’m just one of those paintings that’s meant to be behind the glass.” You whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft breeze. Jude’s heart ached at the admission, at the raw honesty in your voice. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you and tell you that it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Tell you that he didn’t mind the glass protection. In fact, he understood it.

“That’s okay, angel,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere though, Y/N. If the glass ever comes down, I’m here. But I understand.” He cooed. You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his for something he hoped you found. Finally, you nodded, your lips curling into a small, grateful but sad smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Jude smiled back, his heart swelling with something he wasn’t quite ready to name. But as he looked at you, he knew one thing for sure: he wanted to be the one to remove that glass, to see the real you. And he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of Jude's bedroom, casting a warm, golden light over the room. The soft, lazy glow bathed the bed where you and Jude laid entwined beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten as they enjoyed the rare luxury of a day without responsibilities. Jude stretched slightly, wincing as the soreness from yesterday’s training reminded him of the bruises and aches that came with football fast approaching again. He let out a low groan, rubbing a hand over his shoulder as he settled back into the pillows. You, who had been resting your head on his chest, looked up at him with a playful smirk, your eyes bright and mischievous.

“Sore, are we?” You teased, your fingers tracing light circles over his chest, the touch soothing yet electrifying.

“You could say that,” Jude replied with a grin, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at you. Despite the discomfort, he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. The softness of the morning, the warmth of your body against his—it all made the soreness a minor inconvenience. “But I’ve had worse.” He smirked lazily.

“Well, let’s see if I can make it better,” You murmured, your voice low and sultry. You shifted slightly, trailing your hand down his torso, your fingers dancing over his skin in a way that sent a shiver through him. The way you looked at him, with that blend of affection and desire, made his heart race in a way that no game ever could. Jude let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding into your hair as he pulled her closer.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. You laughed, the sound light and teasing.

“Maybe,” you said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, your lips lingering as you spoke. “But I’m good at it.” You giggled.

“Too good,” Jude agreed, a smirk playing on his lips. He shifted slightly, despite the soreness, so that he could wrap his arms more securely around you, pulling you fully on top of him. “You might be the reason I never leave this bed today.” He cooed. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you looked down at him, your hair falling in a cascade around them, creating a private little world where only the two of them existed.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you whispered, your voice soft yet heavy with meaning. Jude’s heart swelled at your words, a wave of emotion washing over him that he hadn’t expected. As he looked up at you, he realized just how happy he was to have you here, in his home, in his bed. The past week with you had been more than just fun—they had been… right. The kind of right that made him question everything he thought he knew about himself and what he wanted. “I need to go soon.” You dramatically pouted at him. That was a fairly unfortunate truth. You were scheduled to leave Spain tonight.

“Nah, you need to take this off.” Jude cheekily cooed, dropping his tone. His hands began to roam all over you pulling at your clothes.

“Seriously, I have to shower and pack.” You frowned for real this time. You genuinely were sad but were trying hard not to deep it too much.

“Stay with me a little longer,” he found himself saying, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. The words slipped out before he had time to second-guess them, but he knew they were true. “I like having you here, Y/N. A lot more than I expected.” You blinked, the teasing smile fading from your lips as you met his gaze. There was a flicker of surprise in your eyes, followed by something softer, more tender. You searched his face, as if trying to figure out if he really meant what he was saying.

“You mean that?” You asked quietly, your fingers stilling against his chest.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t expect to feel like this, but… I don’t want you to go just yet. I want… more. I want more of you.” Jude nodded, his expression serious now. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. You had been so careful not to let yourself get too attached, to keep your distance emotionally. But the way Jude was looking at you now, with that mix of hope and sincerity, made it hard to hold back.

“I’ve been thinking about it… and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave either.” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I need more.” You tentatively smiled. Jude’s lips curved into a slow smile, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you down for a kiss. It was soft and unhurried, a promise of the lazy day you had ahead of yourselves, a day where you could just be together without worrying about what came next. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, your heart pounding in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You asked, a hint of playfulness returning to you voice. “Stay in bed all day?”

“That sounds like a good start,” he murmured with a chuckle, the sound warm and content as his hands slid up your back, his touch sending sparks of heat through you. “And maybe, if I’m feeling up to it, we can move to the couch later.”

“I think I can handle that.” You laughed, the sound light and full of joy. Jude smiled, his heart swelling with a happiness he hadn’t expected to find. As you settled back into the pillows, you snuggled into his side, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried about what came next. He was just happy to be here, with you, in this moment. Jude’s hand trailed down your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Right now let's stay here though, yeah?" He nuzzled into your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Jude gently pushed you from your side onto your back, his eyes burning with desire as he peeled off your clothes, relishing in the gradual sight of your naked body. Your heart began to race when he spread your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to him. Honestly, you were already aroused from the moment you woke up with that boy next to you. Jude leaned down, his tongue tracing a path from your knee up your inner thigh, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. As he reached your core, he blew gently, the cool air contrasting with the heat between your legs. You gasped, arching your back, as if you were offering yourself to him. When his tongue finally made contact, he teasingly flicked your clit gently. You let out sinful moans, the sound filling the bedroom. Jude was a master of his craft, and he took his time, teasing you with soft licks and gentle sucks and just when you're close to the edge, he’d stoped, leaving you teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

"Please, Jude," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Please let me cum already." You asked desperately after his third round edging you. Jude laughed, the sound sending vibrations through your whole body.

"Not yet, angel, I have plans for you." He smirked and with that, he reached for his phone on the bedside table, his fingers deftly navigating the screen.

"What are you doing?" you asked almost in a panic, your curiosity piqued but your desperation at a boiling point, your body craved release.

"Changing your flight," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I told you I don’t want you to go just yet unless you changed your mind. I can just get up.” He teasingly offered with a smug smile. You simultaneously wanted to scream with impatience but also pout at how much you liked that he was changing your flight because he wanted you to stay. You felt a true rush of excitement and relief that he wanted more of you, more mornings like this.

"Oh," you breathed deeply trying to compose yourself but your voice was heavy with desire. “Okay, thank you.” You mumbled shutting your eyes and dropping your head back into the pillow accepting that you’d have to wait a moment.

"You’re welcome, baby" Jude cooed as his tongue suddenly resumed its dance, lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped at the suddenness. He slid a finger inside you, curling it to hit that sweet spot you felt like he had discovered just for him. You cried out, your body trembling as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to climax, he slowed down again, his finger stroking a more leisurely pace.

"Please, baby!" you pleaded, your words almost becoming incoherent as pleasure consumed you.

"Shh," Jude soothed you, his breath hot against your throbbing pussy. "I'll let you cum, but you promise to stay a little longer?" He smiled and you nodded frantically, a little confused because you thought you told him that already but anything to feel the release he'd been teasing you with. He chuckled, taking pity on you. He devoured your pussy with renewed fervor. His tongue worked in rhythm with his fingers, driving you wild. You clutched the sheets, your body tensing as your orgasm built to an explosive peak. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Jude encouraged you, his voice thick with desire. You whined his name as your body shuddered, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Jude didn’t stop though, he milked your orgasm, drawing it out until you were a trembling, satisfied mess. As you came down from your high, Jude kissed his way up your body, his lips claiming yours in a passionate embrace. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

"That was… that was so fucking good," you whispered, running your hand over his slightly messy hair. “Why would I ever leave?” You cheekily asked him, moving to cup his cheek. In swift succession Jude positioned himself above you, his hard length straining against his boxers. His eyes went dark with want. His cock thick and long. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You reach for his boxers, eager to free him, but he caught your hand.

"Not yet," he breathed, his voice a bit strained. "I want to be inside that pretty mouth first." He gently pushed your head towards his hard on, and you obliged, taking him in, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his salty pre-cum. Jude moaned, his hands gripping you as you took him deeper, your hands caressing his firm ass. "Fuck, YN," he grunts, his hips thrusting gently, guiding you. You sucked and licked, taking him to the back of your throat, your hand stroking the base of his shaft. Jude's control seems to be slipping rapidly, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva. “I need to be inside you.” He growled, positioning himself between your thighs, With one smooth thrust, he filled you, his length stretching you deliciously. “You're not leaving. Too good of a girl f’me.” He cooed as you gasped, your eyes widening at the intensity of the sensation. Jude began to move, his hips snapping forward, pounding into you with a primal need. The bed creaking beneath the force of his thrusts, and you matching his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"God, you’re so fucking hot." You whined. He grunted, his eyes locked on yours, your praise only fueling him. Your nails dug into his back muscles as you clung to him. “Jude, fuck! You’re so fucking deep.” You moaned when he repositioned you, picking up one of your legs drilling into you somehow impossibly deeper. Jude reached between you, his skilled fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect sync with his powerful strokes.

“'Gonna make you cum again, yeah?" he panted, his voice hoarse. "Cum all over my cock, angel. Make a mess f’me." He commanded you to and as if possible, you listened just letting go of any control you had. You were a moaning mess as your high crashed over you. Your whines now matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your lips stuck parted as he fucked you into another orgasm. The knot in your stomach coming completely undone. Your pussy gushing around his thick girth in uncontrollable squirts. The release causing your body to shudder. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Jude groaned watching you. He continued hitting a spot deep within you, your pussy pulsating, milking his length. Your pussy gripped so tight and intensely around his cock as you came Jude couldn’t hold back his own release. He pumped you full of his warm cum, spurting into you while your pussy throbbed. You stayed in that position. Refusing to pull his cock out, preventing any of his cum from spilling out as he rolled his hips a few more times into you. As your orgasms slowly subsided, Jude collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his breath ragged. "I think I can get used to mornings like this," he said, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. You smile, snuggling into his embrace, pretty okay if all your mornings were just like this one.

Returning to New York felt surreal after your extended holiday in Madrid with Jude was extended a little further. The city was buzzing with life as usual, but there was a new layer of nostalgia coating everything you saw. On your early morning run through Central Park, you couldn’t help but smile when you spotted a jogger wearing a Bellingham #5 Real Madrid jersey. It was like he was there reminding you just how much you missed him, even though he was thousands of miles away the ache was there. Without thinking, you quickly texted him, the familiarity of even seeing his name on your phone brought a warm feeling to your chest.

‘Just saw your jersey in Central Park xx’

As you continued your run, you decided to call Whitney to catch up. It felt good to hear her voice, her playful energy always bringing you a sense of home no matter where you were or where she was. You were deep in conversation, laughing about some silly story she was telling, when your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You glanced at the screen and saw Jude’s name flashing.

“Whit, sorry someone else is calling me,” you interrupted her mid-sentence, your voice slightly breathless from the run and the excitement of hearing from him. You couldn’t hold back the grin pulling your lips.

“Oh, Jude, huh?” Whitney teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course, answer, answer. Tell him I say hi, and that he should be thankful I’m sharing your attention.” She giggled. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you switched over to his call.

“Hi,” you meekly greeted him, trying to sound casual even though your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. You slowed your pace, your feet hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm, your mind racing with thoughts of him.

“You were thinking about me?” Jude asked cheekily, his tone playful, but there was something more beneath it, something tender. “Was just thinking of that pretty face too, you know. I was going to call you anyway, see if you were awake.” He told you and you were fairly sure your heart grew three sizes. You stopped your run and began to walk needing to focus solely on him.

“You know I always get up early,” you reminded him with a soft laugh. It was a habit of yours he’d come to know well. Even if he wasn’t exactly a morning person, Jude missed feeling you kiss him in the morning before slipping out of his bed.

“Yeah, I know, angel. You used to wake me up with you, remember? And as annoying as it was,” he teased lightly, but there was a longing in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide. “I miss it… I miss you.” Jude sighed on the other end of the line, a sound that made your chest tighten. “Needed an excuse to call though, didn’t I?” Jude smiled hearing a slight giggle and hum from your end. His words hung in the air between you, the distance suddenly feeling more tangible. It was strange to be back in New York, in your own space, yet feeling like a part of you was still back in Madrid with him.

“I miss you too,” you admitted quietly, the truth of it all sinking in. Being back in the city was supposed to feel like coming home, but instead, it felt like you’d left a piece of yourself behind. Jude sat at the kitchen table in his house back in Madrid, staring blankly at the steaming cup of tea in front of him. The trip to Greece, followed by your stay in Spain, had left him with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t quite sorted out. He absentmindedly swirled the spoon in his tea, the clinking sound filling the silence of the room.

“Morning, hun,” Denise greeted him as she entered the kitchen with a warm smile, her eyes immediately landing on Jude. She reached out to squeeze his arm affectionately

“Morning, Mum,” Jude replied, still somewhat lost in his thoughts. He took a sip of his tea, hoping it would wake him up from the fog that had settled in his mind. Denise sat down across from him, a knowing look on her face. She had noticed how quiet Jude had been since you left for New York. It wasn’t like him to be this distracted, and she had a feeling she knew why.

“So, you had a good few weeks? Y/N is a lovely girl. I liked having her here. Hope you had fun.” she spoke casually, though there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Yeah, it was all good. We had fun,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug trying to play it cool but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips when he thought about your time together.

“So only good?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “You’ve been awfully quiet since she left.”Denise raised an eyebrow at his lackluster response Jude shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not entirely sure how to articulate what he was feeling.

“Yeah, it’s just… you know, holiday thing,” he said vaguely, trying to brush it off. “Nothing serious.” Denise leaned back in her chair, studying him for a moment. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to downplay what clearly meant a lot more to him.

“Jude,” she began gently, “is YN your girlfriend?” Denise asked cautiously but outright. Jude’s reaction was immediate.

“No!” he blurted out, perhaps a bit too quickly. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just… having fun, you know?” He winced at what he had said. Denise nodded slowly, not entirely convinced by his casual dismissal.

“Just having fun, huh?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Because from what I’ve seen, it seems like there’s more to it than just a bit of fun.” She sympathetically smiled at her son. She watched you two for a week and a half, hell the fact that Jude brought you home was enough for her to know there was more.

“Mum, it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he wasn’t sure what “like that” meant. “It’s just… it’s complicated.” Jude shifted again, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation

“Complicated or not, you need to figure out what she means to you, Jude,” she said softly. Denise gave him another sympathetic smile, but there was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You can’t keep her hanging on a thread because you’re afraid of what it might mean if you care about her.” She cooed. Jude felt a twinge of guilt at his mother’s words. He knew she was right, but the thought of defining what he and you were scared him.

“I don’t know, Mum,” he admitted, running a hand over his hair. “I don’t want to mess things up by making it more than it is. What if it’s just…” Jude sighed pausing not totally sure how to articulate what he wanted to say but Denise spoke first, filling the air.

“So, it's just sex, then?" she asked, her tone matter-of-fact. Denise, sensing his discomfort, filled in the silence. Jude immediately grimaced, recoiling at her bluntness.

"Mum, eugh," he muttered, his face scrunching up in embarrassment. It wasn't news to Denise that he was having sex—it was obvious, and they had an open relationship where they could talk about almost anything, sex included and they had but hearing her say it, especially about you, made him feel like a kid being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Jude, it's not a big deal. You're an adult, and I'm not naive. But it seems to me that it's more than just physical with her." Denise chuckled softly at his reaction, her smile warm but knowing. Jude shifted awkwardly. Jude had shared tidbits of his playboy lifestyle with her but only in doses never giving the full picture so it didn’t sound too promiscuous but for some reason Jude felt like it was more vulnerable to be seen falling for someone than to just be fucking them. Denise’s expression softened, but there was a firmness in her voice. “Hun, I know you’re scared of getting hurt or hurting her, but you can’t reduce what you two have to just… some holiday sex,” she said, the words almost sounding harsh as she repeated them. “You’re not being fair to her or yourself by dismissing it like that. You brought her home.” Even though Jude was thinking just that he didn’t like that she said it.

“I’m not dismissing it, I’m just… being realistic,” he argued, though his voice lacked conviction. Jude’s brows furrowed, defensive. He didn't want to admit to himself how deep his feelings for you really ran, let alone say it out loud to his mother. But how could he explain that to her without sounding like he was trying to convince himself?

“Realistic or not, it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you care about her,” she said gently. “And from what I can tell, she cares about you too. Don’t let fear of a label keep you from something that could be really special.” Denise sighed, leaning forward to rest her hand on his Jude stared down at his tea, Denise’s words sinking in. He couldn’t deny the way his heart ached when you weren't around, the way he missed your laughter, your smile, the way you made everything feel lighter and brighter. But at the same time, the idea of taking things further terrified him. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he ruined it? “Just be honest with yourself and with her,” she advised. Denise squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his thoughts. “That’s all you can do. Don’t let fear keep you from something you want.” Jude nodded slowly, the weight of his mother’s words settling on him. He knew she was right. He had to figure out what he wanted, and more importantly, he had to be brave enough to go after it, whatever “it” was.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, giving Denise a small smile. “Thanks, Mum.” Jude sheepishly got out feeling like a school boy all of a sudden who needed his mums help.

“Anytime, love,” she said. “Just remember, you deserve to be happy. And so does she.” Denise smiled back, her eyes soft with understanding

Your time apart from Jude was filled with a lot of nudes, a lot of dirty FaceTimes, and very little discussion about what the hell was going on between you too. Jude was sprawled out on his couch, his legs stretched across the cushions as he lazily scrolled through his phone. The house was quiet, the only sound coming from the occasional chirp of birds outside the window. Normally, he’d relish the peace after a grueling week of football, but today, something was off. He opened Instagram, mindlessly tapping through stories until he saw your name pop up. His heart gave a small, involuntary jump at the sight of your profile picture. He hadn’t physically seen you in a couple of days since you’d gone back home, and though he’d tried to shake it off, the distance between you was starting to weigh on him more than he’d expected. The story opened, and there you were, looking radiant as ever, your face slightly flushed from what he guessed was a drink or two. You were out at a bar, surrounded by friends, all laughter and carefree energy. The dim lights of the bar cast a warm glow over you, and the background music was just loud enough to drown out any coherent conversation. Jude watched as you tilted her head back, laughing at something off-camera, your eyes sparkling with a happiness that made his chest tighten. He should’ve been happy to see you enjoying yourself, to see you surrounded by friends and having a good time. But instead, a sharp, unexpected pang of jealousy twisted in his gut. It wasn’t anger—he knew you had every right to go out, to live your life—but something about seeing you there, in that atmosphere, without him, made him feel… possessive. Maybe this was ‘it.’ Maybe this is what his mum was talking about.

Because you didn’t really know where you stood with Jude, you found yourself in a confusing limbo when you returned to New York. The uncertainty gnawed at you—you weren’t sure if you were exclusive, or if you were still technically single. Deep down, you had no interest in other men, but the fear that Jude might move on the moment you left was hard to shake. To avoid overthinking, you decided to go out with some friends. You ended up tucked in a cozy corner of a bar, surrounded by some of your friends who just so happened to be gay men. You told yourself it was just by coincidence, but in reality, you knew it was because they were the only men you felt safe around—no expectations, no pressure, just a night out without the looming threat of complicated feelings. Jude hated how much seeing you with men bothered him. The men you were with couldn’t be less interested in pursuing you sexually but he didn’t know that. The logical part of his brain knew he was being ridiculous, that you were just out having fun. But another part of him, the part that was getting more and more difficult to ignore, wanted nothing more than to be there with you, to pull you close and remind you that you were his. Except, you were not.m and that almost bothered him more. The thought of some random guy chatting you up, making you laugh the way he did, sent a wave of frustration through him that he struggled to tamp down. Jude let out a low groan, running a hand over his hair as he tossed his phone onto the couch beside him. What the hell was happening to him? He’d never felt like this before—this desperate, almost embarrassing need to be close to someone. It was unsettling, and more than that, it was making him realize just how deep he was in. You had a hold on him that he hadn’t anticipated, and it was messing with his head in ways he hadn’t expected. He stared at the ceiling, trying to rationalize his feelings, but all he could think about was how much he wanted you back here with him. He’d never been the jealous type, never had to be. But with you, it was different. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else catching your attention, even for a second. He needed you, and the thought of you being so far away, living your life without him, was driving him crazy. Before he knew it, his phone was back in his hand, his fingers moving quickly as he opened the flight booking app. It was impulsive, maybe even a little reckless, but he didn’t care. He needed you here, in Spain, with him. He found a flight that left the next day, booked it, and without thinking twice, sent the confirmation details to you with a simple message.

‘Come back. I miss you.’

As soon as he hit send, he felt a mix of relief and anxiety. He didn’t know how you’d react—maybe you’d think he was being too much, maybe you’d laugh it off. But deep down, he hoped you felt the same way he did, that you were missing him just as much, that you wanted to be with him just as badly. The minutes ticked by slowly as he waited for your response, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes hoping you’d even be awake. Finally, his phone buzzed with your reply, and his heart leapt into his throat as he opened it.

‘ I miss you too. I’ll pack my bags xx’

A grin spread across Jude’s face, and the tension that had been knotting in his chest unraveled in an instant. He could already picture it—you walking through his front door, that smile on your face, the way you’d fit perfectly back in his arms. Yeah, maybe he was being a little overprotective, a little too eager to have you close. But he didn’t care. You were worth it. And he wasn’t going to let anything come between whatever was happening between you two, not even a little distance.

As you stepped off the plane in Mallorca, a wave of anticipation washed over you. You hadn’t seen Jude since your whirlwind holiday extension in Madrid and the thought of being with him again filled you with a mix of excitement and anxiety. His rather rash invitation purred on by jealousy for you to return to Spain consisted of you flying to Mallorca to go see his match there ahead of returning to Madrid with him. You were nervous but there was another reason for your unease—tonight upon your arrival you were meant to have dinner with his best friend, Toby. Your last interaction with him during the Greece trip had been brief, almost distant. He was polite, yes, but there was something in his demeanor that made you feel like he was holding back. It left you wondering whether he didn't like you, or if there was something else at play. The drive to your hotel from the airport was beautiful, the Mediterranean landscape stretching out under the setting sun, but you were too preoccupied to fully appreciate it. When you arrived at the hotel, Jude sent you a text because unfortunately you’d have to wait to see him until after his match tomorrow.

‘Toby's meeting you at the restaurant at 8. See you tomorrow, can't wait to kiss you.’

Jude's message was sweet, a reminder that he was thinking of you even amidst his hectic schedule. You appreciated it but the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. Eight PM sharp, you walked into the restaurant wearing a silple YSL beige top, a pair of low rise red linen shorts, chunky black Gucci heels and a coordinated bag. Your eyes scanned the room until you found Toby seated at a corner table. He greeted you with a small smile and stood up, pulling out your chair for you. His manners were thoughtful. You sat down, giving him a polite smile in return, but inside, you felt a twinge of discomfort. The menu in front of you offered plenty of distractions, but you found it hard to focus on the words. Your mind was racing, filled with thoughts of how this evening would unfold. Toby ordered a bottle of wine, a Spanish red that the waiter described as ‘bold with a touch of spice.’ Normally you’d want to know more than that vagueness. The first few sips were a bit awkward, both of you sticking to safe topics like the weather and how lovely Mallorca was this time of year. Toby was polite, but his answers were short, almost clipped. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was an invisible wall between you two. It made you hesitant to open up, to be your usual self. But as the wine continued to flow, you started to notice a shift. The initial tension began to ease, and Toby started sharing funny anecdotes about his adventures with Jude. His eyes lit up as he recounted a particularly wild night out they had in Madrid, his laughter infectious. You found yourself genuinely laughing along. With each passing moment, you began to feel more at ease. The wine helped, but it was more than that. It was the realization that Toby wasn’t as standoffish as you’d initially thought. He was protective, sure, but as he let his guard down, you started to see the warmth beneath his exterior. He was someone who valued loyalty and friendship deeply, and it became clear that his initial distance had more to do with his protective instincts over Jude than any personal dislike of you.

"I have to admit," you began, swirling your wine glass, "I wasn’t sure how you felt about me when we first met. I got the impression you weren’t exactly my biggest fan." You took a chance, deciding to ask him about it directly. Toby looked at you, surprised for a moment, before his expression softened.

"It’s not that, really," he said, pausing to find the right words. "It’s just…Jude’s been through a lot, you know? And as his mate, I just want to make sure he’s with someone who’s good for him. Someone who’s in it for the right reasons." He explained. You nodded, understanding where he was coming from.

"I get that. And I appreciate it, actually. He means a lot to me too, more than I’ve probably let on." There was a moment of silence as Toby took this in. Then he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. Dinner with Toby had started off better than expected. You were seated at a chic outdoor restaurant in Palma, the kind of place with white tablecloths, candlelight, and a view of the harbor that made everything feel a little more relaxed. The warm breeze carried the scent of saltwater and the distant hum of the city. Toby had been charming initially, offering compliments about how much Jude had mentioned you, and you began to think this evening might go smoothly. The conversation carried on with light topics—football, your recent travels, and even a bit of banter about the match Jude was set to play the next day. Toby seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and the wine was flowing easily between you both. He was quick-witted, effortlessly funny, and you found yourself laughing more than you had expected. You began to let your guard down, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of a friendship. But then, the mood shifted.

“So, do you want to be a WAG because of Whitney?” The question was like a punch to the gut. Toby asked in a casual tone that didn’t match the weight of his words. Your stomach twisted as the phrase hung in the air between you, the atmosphere suddenly thick with tension. You hadn’t seen it coming, and your initial reaction was to gape at him, utterly thrown off. What had started as a pleasant evening suddenly felt like a test you hadn’t prepared for. You tried to answer quickly, stumbling over your words as you asserted,

“I mean I’m not Jude’s girlfriend and definitely not just someone trying to latch onto his lifestyle.” But as soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they sounded defensive, almost dismissive of Jude, as if you were trying to distance yourself from the very relationship you were defending. Toby’s brow furrowed slightly, his skepticism evident as he sipped his wine, studying you. Realizing you had inadvertently downplayed your feelings for Jude, you attempted to recover, but it only made things worse. You began to explain how much Jude meant to you, but the more you talked, the more it sounded like you were trying too hard, like you were selling something you weren’t even sure Toby wanted to buy. Each word seemed to dig you deeper into a hole, making you sound less like a genuine partner and more like someone trying to prove their worth. The conversation spiraled further out of control when you tried to pivot to something safer—your work. You thought talking about your career would help you regain some footing, but Toby was ready for you. With a hint of challenge in his voice, he started to compare his own journey, how he had built his business from scratch. His words carried a subtle jab, implying that whatever success you had achieved was simply handed to you. The insinuation stung, especially because you’d worked hard to establish yourself, but in that moment, Toby’s words made you feel small. You tried to counter, to explain how much effort you had put into your own career, but it felt futile. Toby was unrelenting, and every attempt you made to steer the conversation away from this uncomfortable territory was met with a calm but cutting remark. By the time the main course arrived, you were exhausted from trying to keep up, feeling more like you were under interrogation than enjoying dinner with someone who might become a friend. Despite the tension, you forced a smile onto your face, hoping to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. You could barely taste your food, too preoccupied with the feeling that you had failed some unspoken test. As Toby continued to chat, seemingly unfazed by the awkwardness he had caused, you nodded along, pretending to enjoy the evening. But inside, you were dreading the rest of the night. You weren’t sure how you were going to sit through 90 minutes at the match tomorrow, knowing that Toby might continue to dissect everything you said, looking for cracks in your armor. You only hoped that Jude wouldn’t pick up on your discomfort, though you knew it would be hard to hide how much this dinner had rattled you. At this point it was hard to even look forward to seeing Jude after his match. You could already picture the way his face would light up when he saw you, the way his arms would wrap around you, pulling you close. The thought made you smile but your earlier worries haunting every positive thought. The memory of the dinner still gnawed at you, the words he said lingering in your mind. It’s not that you didn’t understand why Toby would be protective of Jude; after all, they’ve known each other forever. But the insinuation, the way he asked if you were trying to be a WAG, felt like a punch to the gut. You didn’t want to just be seen as someone tagging along for the ride; you’re so much more than that.

The ride to the stadium was filled with light conversation. Toby talked about the match, mentioning that it should be a good one. You nodded, trying to focus on what he’s saying, but your mind kept drifting, wondering if Jude felt the same way Toby did. When you arrived at Son Moix, the energy was electric. Fans buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. You’d never been to a Madrid match before and the game itself is exhilarating. You loved watching Jude play; there was something mesmerizing about the way he moved on the field, so confident and in control. The crowd roared with each near miss. When Jude scored, your heart swelled a little with pride, and you couldn’t help but beam as you caught his eye from the stands. He winked in your direction, a small, private acknowledgement that made your cheeks flush.

After the match, you met Jude down inside the stadium hesitantly with Toby. He was waiting for you looking effortlessly handsome back in his tailored suit. His eyes lit up when he saw you though, and despite everything, your heart skipped a beat. Whilst Toby pressed to go out, Jude negated the idea claiming he was tired post match but settled for only dinner. Jude’s hand slipped into yours, a subtle but meaningful gesture that didn’t go unnoticed to you nor Toby. He was proud to have you by his side, and despite your earlier worries, it made you feel more secure.The drive to the restaurant was quiet for you, filled with conversation for Jude and Toby, the city lights blurring into a soft glow outside the car window. Jude’s hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing gentle circles that sent a shiver down your spine. When you finally reached the location, Jude held you close, his presence comforting and steady. It was a Mediterranean restaurant that was chic inside with low lighting and soft music playing in the background. It felt like the perfect setting to unwind after the adrenaline-filled game but also one you wanted to be alone with Jude in. Jude had made it very clear he wanted to go to this specific restaurant and you weren't sure why until you were seated.

“Good list, no?” He smirked whispering into your ear as his big hand squeezed your thigh. Your whole chest warmed as you inspected the menu. Your cheeks raised and there it was, your family's winery, a couple of bottles littered throughout the wine list. You blushed leaning into Jude.

“Wait, did you know?” You giggled just to him. He hummed kissing behind your ear. “Thank you, this was sweet.” You cooed with a pout. As you sat next to Jude, you couldn’t help but admire how at ease he seemed. He was still riding the high from the match, and it was fairly infectious. You tried to push away the nagging thoughts about Toby, focusing instead on the familiar wine and Jude’s easygoing banter. The conversation shifted to light topics, you were laughing, the earlier awkwardness dissipating. Jude’s mood was contagious, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence, grateful that you could with him. Despite the feeling of relaxation and flowing conversation, you were astutely aware you knew you needed to talk to him about your conversation with Toby. Even so, as the night went on, you couldn’t help but feel a deepening connection with Jude. There was something about the way he listened, the way he cared, that makes you feel truly seen and valued. And as you left the restaurant, his arm wrapped around your shoulder subconsciously, you knew that despite the challenges, it felt good to be with him.

Finally back at Jude’s the following evening, you and Jude sat outside. The soft glow of Madrid seeped into your evening enveloping you both, adding a warm intimacy to the night. The sushi you had ordered sat beautifully arranged on the table, a mix of vibrant colors and delicate textures. You reached for a piece, savoring the familiar taste of fresh fish and rice, all while enjoying the rare moment of quiet. Jude, on the other hand, seemed a bit out of his element.

"You know, I don’t have sushi that often," he admitted, almost sheepishly. He picked up a piece with his chopsticks clumsily, giving you a playful smile. You couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him.

"Really, Mr. World Traveler? All those Michelin-starred restaurants and yet sushi isn’t on your menu?" You grinned, leaning in a little closer. "I’m amazed. How is it that you, of all people, haven’t embraced the wonders of sushi?" You giggled, honestly it was just sweet he didn’t make a fuss before, letting you order what you wanted.

"Maybe I’m just not as cultured as you think I am. You still have to culture me, don’t forget." Jude chuckled, shaking his head before reminding you of a promise you’d made in Greece. You laughed along with him, but as the conversation flowed, your mind began to drift back to the dinner with Toby. The laughter faded as you remembered the awkwardness that had settled over that meal, the discomfort of feeling like you were being judged. You took a sip of your wine, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingered, nagging at you. At the match, you had managed to keep a smile on your face, cheering for Jude, hiding the unease that still bubbled beneath the surface. You wanted to support him, to show that everything was fine, but deep down, you knew now was probably the time that you needed to address what was bothering you. As you sat there with Jude, the intimacy of the moment gave you the courage you needed. You took a deep breath, setting down your chopsticks as you looked across the table at him.

"Jude," you began, your voice softer than usual, "I need to talk to you about something." He immediately picked up on your tone, his playful expression fading into one of concern.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes focused on you.

"When I had dinner with Toby, he asked me something... something that really kind of bothered me." You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But you knew you had to say it.

"What did he say?" Jude’s brows furrowed in confusion.

"He asked if I was trying to be a ‘WAG,’ you know, like Whitney." You took another deep breath, feeling the tension in your chest tighten. Jude’s face went blank for a moment, processing your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of it. You expected anger, maybe even indignation on your behalf. But instead, his response caught you off guard.

"Toby’s just looking out for me," Jude said, his voice calm, almost understanding. "He’s my oldest friend. He knows how things can be in this world." His words hung in the air, heavy with implications. You stared at him, stunned, the weight of his response sinking in. He wasn’t angry at Toby. In fact, he seemed to understand why Toby had asked such a question. It felt like a betrayal, even though you knew it wasn’t meant to be.

"Looking out for you?" you repeated, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. "Jude, he basically accused me of being with you for the wrong reasons. Do you really think that’s fair?" You asked him.

"It’s not about being fair," he said finally, his gaze returning to yours. Jude sighed, running a hand over his head as he looked away for a moment, clearly torn. "Toby’s just protective. He’s seen people try to take advantage, and he doesn’t want that to happen to me." His words were meant to reassure you, but they only made you feel worse. It was as if your character was being questioned, as if Toby—and by extension, Jude—didn’t fully trust your intentions. You felt a lump forming in your throat, the hurt beginning to overwhelm you.

"I’m not some gold-digger. Frankly Jude, I really don’t need your money nor your status, you know." You said quietly, your voice shaking slightly but with some fire. "I care about you, Jude. I thought you knew that.. I thought it was..." You felt your heart break in an instant. You were going to say you thought it was mutual but the sentiment just wouldn’t come out. Instead Jude began to speak.

"I know that. I know you do," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know you’re not like that. But Toby... he doesn’t know you like I do. He’s just being cautious." Jude’s expression softened, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"But it’s not just Toby," you replied, pulling your hand back, unable to hide your frustration. "It’s you too, Jude. You’re defending him. You’re acting like what he said is okay, but it’s not. It’s insulting." You quipped. Jude’s eyes flashed with emotion, and you could see that he was struggling to find the right words.

"I’m not saying it’s okay," he insisted. "I’m just saying that I understand why he would say it. He’s seen people with bad intentions before. He doesn’t want that to happen." The conversation was spiraling into a place you hadn’t expected it to go. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, the hurt and frustration bubbling over.

"So, what? You think I’m just here because of who you are? Because of what you think you can give me?" You coldly asked. Jude’s eyes widened in alarm, and he immediately shook his head.

"No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I trust you, I do. But you have to understand, people in my world... they can be suspicious. They can be guarded." His attempt to explain only made you feel more isolated, more misunderstood.

"I don’t want to be seen that way, Jude. I don’t want to be with someone who thinks I have an ulterior motive." You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as you did. Jude looked up at you, his face filled with a mix of guilt and confusion.

"I don’t think that," he said softly, standing up as well. "I don’t want you to feel like this. I care about you, and I know you’re not with me for the wrong reasons." He sheepishly explained, overwhelmed by all the facts and emotions swirling in his head and he didn’t know which were right or wrong.

"But you didn’t defend me," you said, your voice breaking. "You didn’t stand up for me." Your voice quivered.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice full of regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. I just... I don’t know how to handle this." He stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently touch your arm. You looked up at him, the tears now threatening to spill over.

"This? You mean me? You need to figure out what you think then, Jude. I need you to be honest with yourself and decide what you think of me…not just because of who you are or what people think, but what you think." You told him outright. If you were putting yourself into uncomfortable territories for him, he had to at the very least meet you halfway.

"I know I like you," Jude’s eyes softened, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he whispered into your hair. "I’m sorry if I made you doubt that. I’ll talk to Toby, okay? I’ll make sure he understands. I don’t want you to feel like this." You stayed in his embrace, letting the warmth of his body comfort you. The tension between you began to ease, but the hurt lingered. You knew it would take time to fully move past this, to really sort out what was going on between you two and how it just was so shaken. But in that moment, with Jude holding you close, you felt a small glimmer of hope that things would be okay.

The sun poured through the oversized windows of Jude’s Madrid home, casting a warm glow over the modern furnishings. You sat curled up on the edge of the couch, your gaze fixed on a Frieze magazine, though you weren’t really reading it. The argument from the night before still lingered in the air, creating an uncomfortable silence between you. You hadn’t fought like this before. Sure, there were disagreements and the occasional banter that could get a bit heated, but this had felt different—raw, unfiltered emotions bubbling to the surface, exposing the insecurities you both had been trying to keep at bay. Jude had a hard time fully wrapping his head around why you took such offense to Toby’s question but to you, it wasn’t nothing. It was a reminder of how fragile your situation was, how undefined and precarious your relationship felt despite how deeply you cared for each other or at least you cared about him and this amplified your questions about how important you were to him, were you ultimately just a holiday fuck?

Last night, you’d gone to bed without a word, turning your back to Jude, who had laid there in the dark, feeling the growing chasm between you. He wanted to reach out, to fix it, but pride and confusion had held him back. Now, the morning light only seemed to highlight the emotional distance, the words left unsaid building a wall between you. Jude left for training early, his departure marked by an awkward goodbye that didn’t involve your usual goodbye kiss or affectionate teasing. You had stayed behind, feeling both relieved and disappointed by the space. You didn’t want to talk, but you also didn’t want this silent treatment to stretch on or carry it home with you. As the hours passed, you found yourself thinking about all the little things—how Jude would usually text you from the dressing room, some silly message or a photo that made you laugh. But today, your phone stayed silent. The absence of those small gestures felt heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on you. You tried to distract yourself with anything you could—watching TV, flipping through social media, even cleaning up his wardrobe—but nothing could shake the sense of unease that had settled over you.

Jude wasn’t faring much better. On the pitch, his movements were mechanical, his usual flair and confidence dulled by the unresolved tension at home. His teammates noticed the difference, shooting him curious glances, but no one dared to ask. Jude was usually the life of a training session, but today he was quiet, barely engaging with the banter or jokes. His mind kept drifting back to you—how you’d barely looked at him this morning, how your usual warmth had been replaced by a cool detachment that made his stomach knot with worry. By lunch, it became unbearable. He found himself sitting alone in the cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate, unable to eat. His phone buzzed with a notification, but it wasn’t the one he wanted. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hated this feeling—this sense that he’d messed up but didn’t know how to fix it. After training, on Jude’s ride home from the training center his mind was racing. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but he knew he needed to make things right. He ended up stopping at a small flower shop he remembered. He picked up a massive bouquet of a myriad of green flowers, mostly hydrangeas though—your favorite. The shopkeeper wrapped them in delicate paper, adding a ribbon that matched the soft hue of the petals. Jude stared at the flowers, hoping they could somehow convey what he couldn’t seem to put into words. Before home, he made one more quick detour to Serrano, Madrid’s upscale shopping district. He remembered how you had gushed over a pair of Bottega Veneta heels you’d recently seen on Instagram, but you hadn’t bought them, saying you probably didn’t need another pair. Jude disagreed; he loved spoiling you, not just because he could, but because he wanted you to have everything and anything that made you happy. So he bought the emerald green strappy heeled sandals, picturing the look of surprise and delight on your face when you saw them. When Jude finally walked back into the house, it was late into the evening. You were back on the couch, though you’d switched from the magazine to your phone, scrolling absentmindedly. You glanced up as he entered, your expression unreadable. He held the bouquet and the gift bag a little awkwardly, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey angel,” he started, his voice softer than usual. He walked over, holding out the flowers first. “I know last night ended a little rough… I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Your eyes flicked from the flowers to his face, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if you were going to accept them. His bottom lip rolled and it made you just want to undo it all. But then you sighed, putting down your phone and taking the bouquet from him.

“They’re beautiful,” you said, your tone no longer as distant. “Thank you.” The tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you breathed in the subtle scent of the flowers. Jude let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I got you something else too,” he added, a hint of his usual playful charm returning. He sat down beside you, the shopping bag still in his hand. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What is it?” You asked, recognizing that Bottega green shopping bag with it’s signature triangle cut.

“Open it and see.” With a small smile, Jude handed you the bag. You pulled out a shoe box, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Jude, you didn’t have to…” you began, but your voice trailed off as you opened the box to see the pair of heels you’d been lusting over. “They’re perfect.” You cooed, running your fingers over the smooth leather.

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to downplay how you felt. I get it now… I get why it hurt.” Jude reached out, his hand finding yours, your fingers intertwining. You looked up at him, your eyes softening as you saw the sincerity in his expression.

“It’s not just about what Toby said. It’s about us… I don’t want to feel like we’re just floating, you know? Like this thing between us doesn’t matter but if that’s the case for you, you need to tell me.” You shyly told him, leaning your head onto his shoulder beside you.

“It does matter,” Jude said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “It matters a lot. I know I don’t always say it, but I… I really care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.” He cooed. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time since the argument, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift.

“I care about you too, Jude. That’s why it hurt so much.” You squeezed his hand, your voice softening. He nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I don’t always know how to do this. But I’m trying, and I’m going to keep trying.” Jude spoke calmly and securely, his gaze never leaving yours. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You whispered an ‘okay,’ leaning in to close the distance between you. Jude met you halfway just like you’d hoped he would although this was a bit literal as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a kiss that held all the apologies and promises he hadn’t been able to say. When you finally pulled apart, the tension that had filled the house earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet understanding and the warmth of reconciliation. You spent the rest of the evening together, the argument fading into the background as you rediscovered the comfort of each other’s presence. You slipped on the Bottega heels, playfully showing them off to Jude, who couldn’t stop grinning at how perfect they looked on you. There were still things you needed to figure out, conversations you needed to have, but for now, you were content to just be with him, knowing that despite the challenges, you were both committed to at the very least hearing the other person out.

•

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Next part - Chapter 5 - Important to Me xx

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