#they take turns capturing each other for hang outs

[mawidixon]

"I will be your light in this cruel world"

Daryl x fem!reader

one-shot

Genre: fluff

Setting: Season 5 - Alexandria

Warnings: Twd violance (killing walkers and other stuff), swearing

Summary: Daryl never thought about marriage until he stumbled upon a beautiful ring in an abandoned jewelry store. From that moment, he put all his effort into making the engagement special.

A/N: I love that one-shot! I wanted to write Ink and Ashes first, but I just needed to write this!

@mawi22 I don't want my work to be modified, copied, or any of this kind of stuff without my consent!!!

It was one of those days when nothing seemed to happen and all the time was wasted. Daryl was on the run, alone because you were assisting Carol in cooking a meal for the rest of the people. To make matters worse, you had accidentally cut your leg while in the woods and you could not run in case of anything. Daryl, the hunter that he is, was now walking on a street that looked as if it had been abandoned. Attached to his belt were several rabbits that he had killed during the day.

The street was deserted; the closed shops bore testimony to what they used to be some time back. Cracked wooden panels and peeled paint spoke of a different reality that no longer existed. Daryl’s eyes shifted from one store to the other, the archer was ever vigilant. He was not only hunting for food but he was looking for anything that could be of use back in Alexandria.

He walked around each shop with purpose, looking for groceries, food tins, medicine, utensils, clothes, and other items. The rabbits followed the movements of the man, a small sign that he was successful in hunting. With every twist of the handle of a door and every crunch of his boots on the floor littered with debris, his senses were heightened. Daryl was determined; Alexandria required much more than food, and he aimed to make the people there as ready as they could be.

Soon, Daryl approached a destroyed jewelry store, its windows shattered and the door barely hanging on its hinges. With a cautious glance around, he pushed the door open, the jingle of a broken bell echoing eerily in the silence. Inside, the store was a chaotic mess, but remarkably, the displays of rings, necklaces, and other jewelry remained largely untouched. As he stepped further in, Daryl's eyes scanned the glittering pieces. Gold, silver, and other precious metals lay scattered about, some adorned with diamonds, others with various gemstones. The price tags, still attached, revealed their former value—these items had been incredibly expensive. In the old world, Daryl wouldn't have given them a second look, their opulence far removed from his everyday concerns. But now, in this new world where rules no longer applied, he could take whatever he wanted without consequence. Yet, the question lingered: what was the point?

Daryl continued his search, moving from display to display, his mind occupied with thoughts of Alexandria and the group. He checked behind counters, opened drawers, and scanned the room for anything useful. He was about to leave, dismissing the jewelry as unnecessary, when something caught his eye.

In a dusty display case near the back, a beautiful gold ring with a shiny sapphire gleamed faintly. The deep blue stone seemed to capture the dim light perfectly, drawing him closer. Daryl's thoughts immediately turned to you. He remembered the welcome party in Alexandria, how stunning you looked in that blue dress, the way it brought out the color in your eyes. The sapphire reminded him of that exact shade. He stood there for a moment, the ring in his hand, feeling an unexpected wave of sentimentality. In the chaos of their current lives, moments of normalcy and beauty were rare. This ring, this small token, could bring a bit of that back. He imagined your face lighting up when he gave it to you, a symbol of something good amidst the turmoil.

With a newfound resolve, Daryl slipped the ring into his pocket and left the store. The day, which had started as long and monotonous, had suddenly gained a new purpose. He continued his search of the abandoned street, but now with a hint of a smile, knowing he had found something special for you.

"I dun' know when to give 'er this ring," Daryl said, his rough voice barely a murmur as he twirled the sapphire ring between his fingers. The deep blue gem caught the light, casting small reflections on the walls of the dimly lit room.

Rick, leaning against the doorframe, glanced at the ring and then back at Daryl. "You've been together for a long time," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Maybe it's time to propose to her." Daryl shook his head, a mix of uncertainty and self-doubt clouding his usually stoic expression. "Nah, she gonna say no," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the ring. Rick stepped closer, his brows furrowing in concern. "Why do you think like that?" he asked. "She loves you, man. And you love her. What's the problem?"

Daryl let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's jus'... things ain't never been normal for me, Rick. I ain't used to all this," he gestured vaguely with the ring, indicating the weight of emotions and commitments it represented. "What if I ain't good enough for 'er?" Rick's expression softened. He placed a reassuring hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Listen, we've all been through hell and back. None of us are the same as we were before all this. But what you have with her, that's real."

Daryl glanced up, meeting Rick's eyes. There was a flicker of hope in his otherwise guarded expression. "Ya really think she'd say yes?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Rick nodded firmly. "I do. She's stuck by you through everything, Daryl. That means something. She sees the good in you, even when you don't see it in yourself."

...

After that talk with Rick, Daryl began seriously thinking about how to propose. He knew it had to be perfect, something truly special. Unsure of how to go about it, he sought advice from Carol and a few others. Carol, always insightful and supportive, offered him some ideas and shared stories of heartfelt proposals she had witnessed.

With their guidance, Daryl finally crafted a plan. He remembered how much you loved daisy flowers, and he knew of a meadow not too far from Alexandria where plenty of daisies grew. It was a place you often spoke about with fondness, a reminder of simpler, happier times. He also knew the perfect spot to propose—a secluded lake nestled in the middle of the forest. This location held a special place in his heart, reminding him of your gentle touch and the soft kisses you often placed on his forehead. The tranquility and beauty of the lake made it the ideal setting for such an important moment.

Determined, Daryl set his plan into motion. He decided to tell you he had arranged a special date, something to brighten your spirits and provide a brief escape from the harsh realities of their world. On the day of the proposal, he rose early and made his way to the meadow. There, amidst the tall grass and wildflowers, he carefully picked a bouquet of the freshest, most beautiful daisies, picturing the delight on your face when you saw them.

"Y/N! You really dun' have to do make-up. Remember we're goin' to the forest," Daryl called out from behind the door, his voice carrying a mix of impatience and affectionate concern.

Inside the room, you were transforming yourself into a vision of beauty. With careful precision, you applied your makeup, enhancing your features with subtle touches. Your eyes sparkled with a hint of eyeliner, your lips a soft shade of pink. As you finished, you turned to the beautiful long white dress that Jessie had given you. The fabric was soft and flowed gracefully around you, hugging your figure perfectly and making you feel elegant and radiant.

You slipped into the dress, smoothing it down and twirling slightly to see how it moved. The dress was more than just clothing; it was a piece of the old world, a reminder of times when dressing up was a regular part of life. In this dress, you felt a connection to those memories, a sense of normalcy that was rare in these harsh times. True, you were heading into the forest where walkers could be lurking, but you felt confident. Your experiences had honed your survival skills, and you knew you could fight and run if necessary, even in a long dress. The dress might be unconventional for such an outing, but it made you feel special, and you wanted to hold onto that feeling.

You took a final look in the mirror, admiring the transformation. The long white dress accentuated your grace and poise, and the makeup highlighted your natural beauty. With a deep breath, you turned towards the door and opened it. Daryl stood there, his rugged features softening as he took in your appearance. His eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and admiration flickering across his face. He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit flustered.

"You look...amazing," he said, his voice sincere and a bit husky. "But you sure 'bout that dress? We might have to run."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "I'm sure, Daryl."

Daryl chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, jus' stay close to me."

You nodded, and together you stepped outside. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over Alexandria, and the path to the forest beckoned. As you walked beside Daryl, the dress swaying with your movements, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. Whatever the day held, you were ready to face it, with Daryl by your side and a touch of elegance to remind you of the beauty still left in the world.

You had been walking for about ten minutes when you finally reached the place by the lake. The forest seemed to part just for you, revealing the serene expanse of water nestled among the trees. The wind gently swayed the leaves, creating a soothing rustling sound, and the lake's surface was calm, reflecting the late afternoon sky like a mirror. You and Daryl found a spot by the water's edge, where the grass was soft and inviting. As you sat down, you couldn't help but wonder if Daryl had scouted and cleaned up this area beforehand. There were no walkers in sight, save for maybe two or three in the far distance, making you feel surprisingly safe and at ease.

Settling onto the grass, you let out a contented sigh. The tranquility of the place was mesmerizing, and you felt a rare sense of peace wash over you. Daryl sat beside you, his presence warm and comforting. As you talked and laughed together, he reached out and rested his hand on your thigh, a simple gesture that always made you blush. His touch was gentle yet possessive, a silent reassurance of his affection. You glanced at him, catching the way he was looking at you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness that made your heart flutter. The intensity of his gaze left no doubt in your mind-Daryl adored you. Each look, each touch, spoke volumes of his love and devotion.

The conversation flowed easily between you, interspersed with moments of comfortable silence. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the lake and the surrounding trees. You leaned back on your hands, your dress spreading out around you like a halo, and took in the beauty of the scene. The soft hum of nature, the warmth of Daryl's hand on your thigh, and the serene ambiance of the lake combined to create a perfect moment. Daryl shifted slightly, and you turned to look at him again. He seemed a bit nervous, his usual calm demeanor tinged with something else. He took a deep breath, and you felt a sense of anticipation build.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and earnest. "There's somethin' I wanna ask" Your heart skipped a beat as you saw him reach into his pocket. The world seemed to slow down as he pulled out a small box and opened it to reveal a beautiful gold ring with a sparkling sapphire.

"Will ya marry me?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and love.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the ring and then back at Daryl. This moment, in this beautiful place, was everything you had ever dreamed of. With a joyous smile and a heart full of love, you answered him.

"Yes!" you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you both leaned in for a kiss, sealing the promise of a future together. The lake and the forest stood as silent witnesses to your love.

As you admired your new ring, you noticed Daryl seemed a bit uneasy. "You okay?" you asked, your voice filled with concern.

"Yeah...jus' I forgot 'bout..." he muttered, sighing heavily. You gave him a look that immediately coaxed the rest of his words out. "I wanted to give ya daisy flowers but I fuckin' forgot. 'M sorry," he admitted, his eyes dropping with a hint of regret.

Your face softened, and you laid a gentle kiss on his cheek. "You can give me them at home. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Just then, you both heard a cracking sound. Daryl immediately stood up, crossbow in hand, ready for action. Emerging from the trees were six walkers, their movements slow but menacing. Without hesitation, Daryl shot four of them with swift precision. You sprang to your feet, adrenaline coursing through you, and with swift, practiced movements, you took down the remaining two, leaving your dress and pretty face splattered with blood. Despite the gore, you smiled triumphantly. Daryl looked at your blood-stained dress and shook his head. "I could've shot them all, darlin'. No blood on your dress was needed."

You glanced at the lake and chuckled. "Maybe a quick bath?" you suggested, a mischievous glint in your eye. Looking at your future husband, you smirked and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him towards the water. "Come on!" With a playful laugh, you both stumbled into the lake, the cool water washing away the blood and grime. The sudden chill took your breath away, but the laughter and the joy of the moment kept you warm. You felt the weight of the world lift as you splashed around with Daryl, the man you loved.

The atmosphere was perfect, filled with laughter and light. You looked at Daryl, his hair wet and his eyes twinkling with happiness, and felt a surge of love and gratitude. This man, who had been through so much, was your friend, your partner, and soon, your husband.

As you floated together in the lake, the setting sun casting a golden hue over the water, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace. The feeling that you would soon be married to the man you loved filled you with joy. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

You are his light and hope for a better tomorrow.

#Spotify #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x oc #x reader #daryl fanfiction #fem reader #one shot

[muchosbesitos]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝

pairing: suguru geto x fem reader, satoru gojo x fem reader

contents: some angst, sorta kinda follows canon, smut, oral (f+m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, some marking (pls lmk if i missed smth)

synopsis: you and suguru are so undeniably in love and all satoru can do is wish for that to be him.

author’s note: one day i’ll stop writing angst, not today tho 🗣️

word count: 10.8k (i may have yapped too much, i’m sorryy)

"What?"

The word came out strained, the sight of Yaga blurry by your own tears. The paper in your hands threatened to fall with each shake of your fingers, the paper that you were hoping was just a cruel joke. But no matter how many times you forced yourself to read through the paper, the contents of it stayed the same. The words had practically imprinted themselves into your brain by now, yet you desperately hoped that maybe you'd read it wrong.

Yaga looked at you with a pained expression, "Don't make me repeat myself, please." You almost wanted to commend him for his acting skills and the dedication that he held towards making this a believable prank, yet you already knew at the back of your head that this was anything but that. That the words printed onto the paper were true- that the man you loved the most was set to be executed.

Labeled as the worst curse user.

You looked over at Gojo standing next to him, the same expression of pain painted across his features. Even his eyes seemed more dimmed down than usual.. if that was somehow possible. You wanted to shake him for some kind of answer, yet you could see your expression clearly mirrored onto his face. "No, no, you're lying. This prank isn't that funny anymore," you shook your head, almost as if that would remove the knowledge from your head.

How he could be that and still be the same man that wiped away your tears from the corner of your eye with his thumb, whispering silent reassurances that you'd be okay. That he'd always be here for you whenever you needed him. The same man who'd cheeks had flushed pink when he asked you on a date one March afternoon, dusting a cherry blossom off your shoulder as he anticipated your answer was the same one who'd murdered those people. There was no way that it was him, right?

As much as you wanted to delude yourself into believing that the information was false, the mounting evidence piling up was proving to make that task difficult. You knew he must've had a reason for it, that he didn't just go on a rampage for some form of twisted fun like many others had made it seem. At least, you desperately wished he had a reason as bad as it made you seem. The knowledge of this didn't remove the years that Suguru had spent with you, the amount of memories that the two of you accumulated throughout.

"I know that you both have fond memories with him, but you have to remember that he still has to be executed for what he's done," Yaga's voice turned into a dull tone, almost static as you tried to let the situation compute. He continued talking, probably about how to go about capturing him successfully but you couldn't bring yourself to pay attention to this conversation. The walls of the temple seemed to be closing in on you, every breath that you were taking weighing heavy on your body.

"Wait, we're not do-" you heard Gojo start off before Yaga dismissed him by saying, "Just let her go for now."

You weren't even sure when you started running, all that you knew was that you needed to leave. You looked up to see Shoko standing next to you, an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth while she held out a sheet of paper out. She gestured for you to take it, simply stating, "He left that for you." You thanked her for the paper, debating on wanting to cherish it or open it right away. What if you regretted not opening it? What if it was something important?

Eventually your curiosity won the best of you, your nimble fingers starting to open the piece of paper. A small breath escaped from your lips as you willed yourself to try to read the words on the paper. "I'll leave you to that," Shoko told you before she headed out, her head peeking through the door. His handwriting looked messier than usual, almost as if he were scribbling the note in a rush. It was an apology, not an explanation like you'd hoped for.

Tears flowed down freely as much as you tried to hold them back, your hands gripping the sheet of paper. You had enough self control not to rip it up with the force you were holding it, wanting to savor the last item he'd left for you. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem to make up for the fact that he'd abandoned you, after he promised that he'd be willing to stay no matter what. You weren't sure how long you were crying for, only looking up when Shoko extended a tissue towards you.

What was his purpose of being a Jujutsu sorcerer?

Suguru found himself contemplating this question more often that not, the amalgamation of everything that happened throughout the course of the past year making his head spin. The own morals that he'd tried to convince Satoru of were starting to falter. All the deaths that had occurred becoming a taboo subject, everyone recognizing the efforts that they each put into maintaining the order of society without taking the time to remember them as a person.

Was all that he was meant for? Just another cog in a machine that wouldn't be mourned after his passing? A body added to a countless pile for a meaningless sacrifice?

Every single one of his actions seemed pointless in the grand scheme of things. No matter how many times he had to put up with the rancid aftertaste of absorbing curses, more would just end up popping up. How every single person he'd lost in his life had died with some type of regret, some type of longing to do something with their life. All whilst humans lived their lives blissfully unaware of the messes they create.

The only thing keeping him afloat was you and even he was conscious enough to know how selfish it was. Of seeing the small frown that would take form on your face after he lied once more about how he was doing, that he was just tired. Of only sharing small pieces of information about the big mess that was unraveling in his head, just enough so that you wouldn't be scared of him. Just enough to still keep you close to him. "Just don't feel like eating," was what he'd told you when you noted his drastic weight loss.

So when Yaga had called him into his classroom and said, "There's a disturbance in a nearby village. I need you to check it out," Suguru didn't hesitate to agree. As much as Yaga tried to reassure him that it was fine if he didn't feel up to it, that Satoru would take over. The train ride to the village had been quiet despite the amounts of people that stood beside him, too distracted in his own thoughts. Every once in a while he'd hear a, "So let me tell you what happened" or a "You would not believe this."

All so self absorbed. Disgusting.

The scent of burning flesh would be something that imprinted itself in his brain forever. It was supposed to be a simple mission, he kept repeating to himself. Just absorb the curse and go. But how would he be able to live with himself knowing that while the villagers thanked him, two little girls were getting crucified for the very same thing that he was. The blurry path that he'd been trying to navigate for months now seemed all the much clearer, every last bit of resistance melting away.

There isn't anything he could really say to justify his actions- not that he's trying to. But he was running off autopilot from the moment that he saw the two girls locked up in a cage, treated like circus animals. He could feel his anger flare up as the two gripped each other, whispering promises about how they'd be good, how they wouldn't use their technique for anything evil. How these little girls had convinced themselves that they were capable of evil was beyond him.

He was certain that he'd left close to zero residuals when he left the village, escaping off to a cabin in the woods with the two girls holding on desperately to him. A knock on the door startled him from that certainty, every single thought in his head starting to spiral. Surely if someone was here to execute him, they wouldn't bother with knocking on the door? Or maybe that's what they wanted him to think? He was running out of time, the knocks on the door becoming more and more persistent.

"Run. Don't come back," he whispered to the girls, getting down to their level when they walked over to him. He knew that this was to be awaited but he wouldn't stand for taking them down with him.

"But Master G-"

"Run!"

He steadied his breathing, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to calm himself down. He opened the door to see you, your fist raised like you were about to go for what seemed to be the thousandth knock on the door. He let out a small breath of relief, barely registering that it was you in front of him. He'd come to terms with the idea of never seeing you again, unless it'd be at his death bed. Though, he couldn't deny that this was a nice surprise.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, watching as you stepped inside of the cabin like you owned the place. Well, at least you'd been courteous enough to remove your shoes by the door. "I'm here to see you, obviously," you responded, picking up the basket of food that before handing it over to him. You glanced around the small cabin, the space devoid of anything other than clothes and empty food wrappers. You made a mental note to pick up more food for him the next time you came over.

He warily grabbed the basket, inspecting the items inside before going over to place it on a counter in the kitchen. "If you expect me to have some kind of repentance towards what I've done, I don't," he didn't seem remorseful in the slightest, talking about the events like it was just today's weather. "I haven't said anything about repentance, nor am I expecting that," you assured him, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the living room.

"Then what are you doing here?"

What were you doing here? You'd convinced yourself that you were just coming here for an explanation, that you'd demand for some kind of answer and leave immediately. But it felt like being with him all over again, the same comfortability that you'd grown too accustomed to. You wanted to prolong your stay and bask in his presence for a little while longer. "I missed you," you managed to tell him after he'd been expecting an answer for a couple seconds, his face contorting into one of shock just a millisecond. Enough for you to notice though.

"You didn't misread the reports or anything?"

You shook your head before speaking again, "I'm aware of what you've done. I'd like to believe that you wouldn't have done that without any reason though. Even so, I still love you Suguru. It's hard to stop just because of what some words on paper say."

“It’s not just words on paper. People lost their lives because of me.”

You wanted to say something more, but what could you really say? He was trying to convince you that the same monster that the stories weaved, despite how much you wanted to believe otherwise. "Then explain it to me. If you think I'm gonna run away, I'm not. But don't keep me in the dark then."

He hesitated for a bit, almost as if it was worth going through the retelling of the events. After seeing you stay in your seat, he eventually decided to sit down across from you. "I've been.. struggling with wanting to keep non sorcerers safe. A part of me hates them with every fiber of my being, hating them for being so ignorant yet another part of me wanted to savor in the vulnerability that they also have," he started off, your hands clasping his as he spoke. He continued to tell you what happened, your fingers gently grazing over his skin as a form of reassurance.

Two girls came out of the bedroom, timidly shuffling their feet against the wooden floor as they walked over to Suguru. They hid behind his back, barely peeking their head out to get a glimpse of you. Trying to analyze if you were a threat, if you had to assume. "She's the one I told you about, you have nothing to worry about," Suguru reassured them, gently running his hands through their hair. With the way they leaned into his touch, you had no doubt that he'd be willing to protect them.

"I'm sorry about their behavior, they're not exactly used to people being kind to them," he spoke up after a while, seeing how hesitant they were to even move an inch away from him. "It's alright, what are their names?" You inquired, giving the girls a small wave. They hid their faces into the thick material of his robes, a small chuckle eliciting from his lips. He stayed in the kitchen where the girls felt safe, asking about the students from the school and answering your own questions. Whether it be about the girls or about him.

You stood by the door, unwilling to leave just yet even if you could tell that Suguru was aching for you to return back to the school. "Just have a little faith in me, please," you told him just low enough to reach only his ears. Though he didn't verbally acknowledge your statement, his expression softened just the slightest bit. "Have some faith that I'm willing to stay with you," it was a lot to ask from him, you realized that. But you wanted him to know that you had no intention of leaving him, even now.

Suguru found himself doing just that, your visits to the cabin becoming more and more frequent. Well, as frequent as they could get without any of the higher ups getting suspicious. They started off as friendly visits, quickly evolving into evenings spent with the girls. Whether it be playing some board game that just came out or watching a movie on the old TV mounted on the wall. Featherlight kisses turned into heated make out sessions after the girls fell asleep. He knew he loved you, even before he left.

But now, he was finding it extremely difficult to think of the future without including you. You got along with the girls fairly well after passing the initial awkwardness, introducing them to new shops that quickly became their favorites. It was endearing the way you took the time to memorize what they'd liked and indulge them in what they asked from you. "She makes you happy and she's nice to you, we wouldn't oppose to it," Nanako had told him when he brought up the idea of marriage to the two of them.

You'd come home from a shopping trip with the girls, finding their behavior to be a bit too suspicious for it to be normal. They'd pushed you to get your nails done and get some new clothes- a semi-formal dress and a rather expensive pair of heels that made you grimace when paying for them at the register. Every time that you'd try to coax them for an answer though, they'd usually end up bursting into little giggles and completely diverting you from the question.

"Thank you girls," you recognized Suguru's voice from the distance, your ears pricking up when you heard the subtle scuffling of shoes. "You can take off the blindfold now," you started taking the cloth off at his command, blinking a couple times to get adjusted to the atmosphere around you. The overgrown weeds that'd been growing out of control for the last couple months were trimmed down to a respectable height and fairy lights hung up from a couple tree branches.

"What's the occasion?" You inquired, stepping closer to him to make out his figure a bit more clearly. In the distance, you could see a small table set up for two at the edge of a small stream. "Can't I just treat you to some dinner?" You raised a brow at his question, taking a seat at the table when he pulled the chair back. "Well yes, but it just seems very impromptu."

By the time dessert had rolled around, you'd forgotten about the initial suspicion that had been lingering in the back of your head. He came out with a plate of cake, putting his slice down on the table before placing yours down in front of you. "Before you start eating the cake, please read the frosting," he told you before he went to take a seat. You complied with his request, reading in the girls' sloppy handwriting- Will you marry me?

"Wait what?" You asked, looking up from the cake to where Suguru was supposed to be sitting. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of him on one knee, holding out a ring. "It's not much.. but I promise to love you and cherish you. To continue to fulfill my promise of staying by your side."

You didn't trust the words to come out of your mouth without the syllables coming out all broken, simply nodding. Of course, that wouldn't do for Suguru. "C'mon baby, let me hear it. Let me hear that you agree to be my wife," he tried to coax out a verbal response out of you, relishing in seeing you in such a state. "Yes, I'll marry you," you responded after a couple seconds, willing the excitement to die down. He placed the ring on your finger, placing a kiss on your hand when he went to stand up.

Enchanting.

That was the only word Suguru had in mind when it came to you, the sight of you almost too much to bear at times. It wasn't just you, no. It was all the little parts of yourself that he loved, even those parts of yourself that you hated. He'd never thought of himself as a loving person but you just made him want to cherish you as long as he possibly could. He was stupid enough to think that he could've ever gotten over you. No matter how many years passed by, he was certain that the love he felt for you would never dim.

The sight of Mimiko and Nanako tossing flowers down the altar had almost been too much for his heart to bear, especially with the grin that the girls carried on their face. It truly melted his heart that they were so accepting to include you in their small family. Everything about this wedding was almost like a fairytale brought to life. He'd almost expected to wake up from this dream, yet the moment never came. You were truly a vision brought to life and now you were doing him the honor of being his wife. His.

You stepped onto the altar next to him, the moment seeming all too real when you stepped up. He could hear his heartbeat ringing through his ears, the anticipation of having the honor to call himself your husband seeping through. "Don't cry," Suguru could almost hear Satoru's retort, the thought fleeting as he rolled his eyes. Though Imaginary Satoru did hold a valid point, just seeing you was too much to bear. The dress fit you like a glove, accentuating every curve and contour of your body.

Despite having the area sanitized thoroughly before the ceremony, to the point where the smell of Lysol was starting to get intoxicating, he still couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance running through him. He almost felt offended by all the humans peering up at you, though he knew that inviting them was something done more than obligation than out of his good graces. They needed to know that your command meant just as much as his did now. He'd have you all to himself after this ceremony was over, at least.

"Do you take Geto Suguru as your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest's voice bellowed through the quiet church, so quiet you thought he could hear your heartbeat. You glanced over at your soon-to-be husband, noting the way he anxiously waited for your response. He looked normal to the rest of the crowd, but you caught the way his teeth dug into his bottom lip in anticipation.

You took a pause for dramatic effect, having already planned out this moment in your head a few years back. "I do," your voice echoed through the church, cheers coming from the crowd. Though most of them were dramatized out of fear of getting reprimanded by Suguru, you could tell that at least. Still, you found yourself unable to stop smiling the second his fingers traced your own as he slid the gold band onto your ring finger. "Had me worried there for a second, sweetheart."

"Have to keep you on your toes even now," you teased him, letting out a small yelp when he pinched your side. He could hardly wait to kiss you, barely hanging onto the priest's words before leaning in and swiftly pressing his lips against yours. He wrapped his hands around your waist, keeping you steady while he kissed you with so much desperation. It was a miracle how he managed to last this long without doing so. It was like you were begging to be kissed with the little glances you gave at him throughout the ceremony.

Gojo couldn't bring himself to go to the wedding, instead choosing to look through the windows outside while the ceremony came to a close. He'd had to face some of the dirty looks from some of the guests, though he assured them that he was just gardening. Not completely sure if they believed him though, since he hadn't met a gardener who did their job in a ¥250,000 shirt. Even if they didn't believe him, they at least managed to leave him alone to his peering.

Truth was, Gojo missed him. More than he was willing to admit to himself and anybody around him. He missed the meaningless conversations that they'd have, talking about whatever stupid thing they had to deal with. He longed just to have one of those conversations again, to just ask how his day had been without the awkward pause that reminded the both of them of the difference between the two of them. That Gojo would inevitably have to be the one to carry out his death sentence.

The title hung on him heavy, the thought of having to kill his best friend one that he couldn't even fathom. It made him sick to his stomach every time he pondered on it too long, though his excuses to the higher ups were starting to run out. "I don't have a trace of him." or "I wasn't able to find him." All excuses to prolong the sentence. They'd even started to question his ability with the six eyes if he couldn't even find out where his best friend was.

He wasn't aware of the tear drop running down his cheek, quickly wiping it away before anyone who might've been lingering around caught a glimpse. Nobody needed to know that the strongest had a weakness when it came to Suguru, he was supposed to be indestructible. Untouchable. Every single part of that facade crumbled away the second that Suguru left, leaving simply the shell of the strongest sorcerer alive. No one else would perceive quite as well, he knew that much.

Suguru intertwined his hand with yours, the two of you walking out of the church in perfect synchrony. That was, until the two of you got outside. It was subtle, something that he shouldn't have even captured. But in the distance, he got a whiff of Satoru's residuals. He knew the scent just as much as he knew his own, unable to forget about it no matter how much he wanted to. "You okay?" you asked, waiting for him by edge of the car the two of you would take to the hotel.

He'd felt Satoru's presence throughout the last decade, never as overwhelming as this time though. It always felt like he caught a whiff of him too late, like he was just out of reach. He glanced around at the areas surrounding the church, wanting to see if he could catch up to Satoru before he'd left. All he saw were the photographers that you'd hired swarming around the two of you to catch your photos. He wondered if the photographers had even managed to capture any candid photos.

Either way, he'd find out soon enough.

"All good," he responded, walking over to you and taking your hand. Though he couldn't put his finger on why exactly Satoru had bothered to show up, he knew that he wouldn't face him alone. He opened the car door for you, making sure that every last bit of your dress had bunched up on the carpet before closing the door. The driver took off as soon as Suguru got in the car, heading to the hotel he'd been instructed to go.

The atmosphere of the room changed immediately when you and Suguru stepped into the room, his lips immediately claiming yours in a fervor. He kissed so desperately, like he needed to consume every last bit of you. It was more a clash of tongue and teeth, though it conveyed clearly what he'd been waiting for since the start of this ceremony. Even with the wedding band around your finger, he was determined to mark you up as his.

His teeth sunk into the skin of your neck just hard enough to leave a mark, his tongue following suit as a way to ease the sting. His hands rubbed small circles on your hips as he held you into place, his lips moving further down. He nipped at your collarbone, pressing a couple kisses here and there before moving onto your chest. The access was somewhat restricted due to the heavy material of your dress, but oddly enough, he managed to make it work.

Well that was, until he got tired of waiting. Part of him just wanted to go out and rip that wedding dress off but he knew that he'd be risking getting you mad within a couple hours of just being married to him. "I love you so so much," he sounded so utterly devoted, standing back up on his feet. He tilted your chin to face him, dipping his head down to give you a kiss. It was much less rushed than the previous ones you'd exchanged, yet just as needy. He probably wouldn't be able to last long like this.

Your wedding dress pooled at your feet when you got down on your knees, your hand sliding up to his crotch. The material of the dress pants he had on did little to conceal the bulge he was sporting. He let out a small hiss upon feeling you palm him, precum leaking onto the material of his boxers. You hadn't done much yet his cock was already begging for some type of release. "Already this hard?" Your voice came out almost like a purr, your touch barely there as you rubbed him through his pants.

"Don't tease me," he meant for his voice to come out more authoritative, though you could hear the subtle whine. You unzipped his pants, a wet spot in the middle of his boxers. It was surprising to see how much you still managed to affect him, even throughout all these years. You slid his boxers down, collecting the precum with your pointer finger before sticking it in your mouth. All whilst maintaining eye contact with him. If he thought he'd gone to heaven before, he was sorely mistaken.

This was his perfect version of heaven. There wasn't anything else that he needed at this moment, nothing more that he could ever ask for. He let out a groan when you finally took him in your mouth, your saliva coating the tip of his cock. "Oh fuck, don't stop," he was already a mess and you'd barely swirled your tongue around it. As much as you wanted to prolong this, your patience was wearing just as thin as his was. You bobbed your head on his cock, hollowing your cheeks out to get more of it in there.

Your tongue slid down to his frenulum, a shiver running down his spine at the sensation. "That's it, don't stop," his hand came to the back of your head, simply as a means of support. Your hands were smaller than his, but the way that they felt wrapped around his cock was angelic. You were jerking him off with one hand, the other fondling his balls as you sucked on the tip. The small moans you let out vibrated throughout his being, making it harder and harder to keep his composure.

He was willing himself to think about anything else other than just how good your mouth felt, think about the disgusting taste of curses. But your tongue always found a way to bring him back into the moment. "Don't go zoning out on me," you spoke up, your tongue running down a couple prominent veins before you went back to sucking him off. Hearing you gag around his cock, spit drooling down the corners of your mouth while your eyes teared up. "Would never oh shit do that."

He pulled your head to the side when he felt too close to cumming, his cheeks flushed. He felt a small shiver run up his spine when you licked a stripe up his shaft before you got up, his cock practically twitching with anticipation. "Can you help me take my dress off? Preferably without snapping all the buttons of," you asked him, turning around to give him access. "Sounds easy enough," he muttered as he stepped closer to you, his dick hitting his stomach when he moved.

How he wanted to swallow those words instantly. "Just give me a second to unbutton all this shit," he grumbled, his fingers starting to hurt after what seemed to be the twentieth button. He could've sworn more of them seemed to appear with each one that he unbuttoned, the task almost endless. "I'm not one to question your decisions but was there not one with less buttons?" he inquired, small crescents forming on his fingers by the time he got to the bottom.

"Well, yes. But I'd say the anticipation was worth it, was it not?" You looked over your shoulder, a teasing smile on your face. "My dick's about to fall off from how hard it is," he muttered, letting out a small sigh of relief when the dress slid down to pool around your feet. You were about to step away from it, instead getting lifted onto Suguru's arms in record time. He laid you down on the bed, spreading your legs open like you were a first course meal.

He slid down the white stockings with more care than you would've thought, you'd been expecting him to just rip them to shreds. He tossed them to the side, his lips returning back to your legs instantaneously. He began pressing small kisses against your shins, moving his way up to your inner thigh before doing the same with your other leg. "Don't tease me," you grumbled, feeling yourself leak down onto the expensive hotel bedsheets. "But you had fun teasing me, hm?"

"That's diff-oh mgh shit!" Your hands instantly flew to his hair as he licked a stripe up your cunt, your slick overwhelming every single one of his senses. Your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, his tongue messily swirling against your folds before he stuck it inside of you. Hushed moans escaped from your lips, your nails surely digging into his scalp by now. "Hey, look at me," he stopped with his actions, waiting for you to follow his instructions before he continued once more. He looked up at you as he went to swirl his tongue against your clit, the sudden stimulation making you jerk up.

He was quick to push you back down, not willing to have anything disrupt him from his meal. His nose bumped your clit as he buried his tongue to the hilt inside of you, tasting every last drop that you had to give. He raised his head slightly, spitting down on your cunt before going back to sloppily making out with once more. "So fucking good, should just spend the honeymoon here," he groaned against your pussy, his tongue leaving your cunt. You wanted to complain about the sudden loss of contact but the words died out when you felt one of his fingers inside of you.

His tongue swirled around your clit, sucking and licking on the nub as it throbbed underneath his ministrations. His finger was busy on working you open, your slick coating it every time he pushed it back in. "Oh fuck," Your fingers dug in deeper into his hair as you moaned, the way that he'd curled his finger hitting your g-spot. He pushed in another finger, working them both at the same time in a scissoring motion to open you up. It'd take more than just that to get you to stretch enough for his cock though.

Your grip on his hair intensified and yet, he looked like he was almost relishing in the sting. He continued sucking on your clit with as much fervor as before, if not even more. "That's it, use my face," he managed to get out, moving his tongue at the same rhythm you were starting to move your hips. You could feel that orgasm building up rapidly, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. "Fuck fuck fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Your moans sounded like the prettiest melody he's heard, so close to orgasming.

Your release coated his chin and mouth, his eyes gleaming as his tongue darted out to lick it away. His mouth licked at your folds and slit, eager to get any last drop that he might've missed. He licked away at the two fingers that had been inside of you, never quite getting enough of you. His hand wrapped around his cock once he'd stood up, slowly guiding himself to your pussy. "It'll fit, it always does," it was like he'd read your thoughts, assuring you before you even had to ask.

Suguru rubbed his cock through your folds, a thin sheen coat of your wetness illuminated by the dim hotel lights visible. His hand went over to yours, holding it as a form to anchor you. He wanted you to feel every sensation of the moments with him, rather than letting your mind run loose. His hips thrust forward, the tip in itself already causing a stretch. He leaned in, holding your hand as he used the other to guide himself further. While he was lengthy, the majority of his cock was just the width.

He had to will himself to maintain the last semblance of his self control while he waited for you to adjust, waiting for the furrow of your brows to disappear. He pulled out when he saw your expression relax, gently pushing in deeper this time around. "There you go, you got it," his tone was so much more different than the sting in between your legs. His thumb reached out, wiping away at the tear that'd made itself apparent. He started off slowly, trying to get you adjusted to the stretch before he developed an even pace.

Your walls clenched tightly around his cock, your slick coating his shaft every time he pushed back inside of you. The sound of your skin slapping together and your slick was enough to let anyone know what was happening in the room. Not that it mattered, though. You were too focused on the man hovering above you. "Kiss me please," you pleaded, his compliance almost immediate. His hips never faltered when he leaned in, capturing your lips in a desperate, messy kiss.

"Faster," your voice came out in a breathy moan, the wind getting knocked out of your lungs when his hips snapped against yours. Your pussy enveloped his cock so well, the tip managing to hit your g-spot with every thrust that he made. "Perfect pussy made just for me," he sounded just as needy as you, if not more. His hands came to your waist, his hips moving rapidly. His head leaned back, too overwhelmed in the way that your cunt was stretching around him just perfectly. "Just for you, Sugu! Just you!"

One of his hands went down to the bulge in your lower abdomen, pressing down on it. "Feel just how fucking deep I am?" he groaned, looking over at your frazzled state. You'd be lucky enough to have any coherent thoughts right now. "S-So deep!" you managed to get out, your voice uncharacteristically whiny. Then again, he was the only one that could reduce you into a puddle with only so much as a touch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every thrust, so ready to fill you up with his cum at any minute.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your ankle digging into his ass to push him all the much closer to you. (As if he weren't nearly balls deep.) His thrusts got sloppier, solely focused on the mission of getting to his own orgasm. His hand came down to your clit, his thumb rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves just to get you as close as he was. Though by the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and the way you were gripping the bedsheets, he knew it wasn't much longer. "Fuck, right there!"

Your vision turned white as you came, your release leaking out of your cunt onto the bedsheets. He only managed to get one more thrust in before he was leaking inside of you, his cum painting your walls white. It twitched inside of you, his breath heavy as he tried to regain whatever bits of his composure he had left to maintain. He pushed any drops that were threatening to slip out with his cock before pulling out of you, careful not to stimulate you any further. "I'll be right back, hold on."

He went over to the bathroom, grabbing a fluffy white towel before slowly starting to clean you up. "You okay? You need a shower or anything?" He'd just come back with a water bottle, setting it down on the nightstand next to you. "Can you just hold me for a while?" You hadn't even finished speaking when he was already getting into bed with you, his arms wrapping around you. He held you tightly against his chest, kissing the top of your head. "I love you. Thank you for agreeing to be my wife."

Those moments of bliss were simply temporary. While Suguru had managed to clear up his schedule for the duration of your honeymoon with him, it was full the minute the two of you landed back in Tokyo. Of non sorcerers that needed curses to be absorbed, of payment plans that weren't being met. All tasks that kept you away from your husband. "After I'm finished with this last mission, you'll have me all to yourself again," he assured you all whilst pushing Playful Cloud into the worm he'd managed to tame.

"Please take care of yourself," was the last thing you'd told him before he went off on his mission, a chaste kiss placed on his lips. "I promise I'll be back before you know it," he whispered back to you, kissing you like it was the last time he'd get the chance to. Maybe if you would've known, you would've savored the feeling of lips against yours a little bit longer. Relished in just the warmth that his skin exuded against yours. Though you guessed that was the certain beauty of those moments, not knowing how many of them there would be exactly.

At least Gojo had been courteous enough to let you tag along to where he was planning on burying Suguru. It wasn't much, a sparse area covered in a heavy layer of snow but it would have to do. It was almost painful looking at him in this way, of knowing that he wouldn't be coming back home after this. You stayed by Suguru's side while Gojo dug up a whole, grunting to himself about how hard snow was to dig up throughout the process. "You idiot," you found yourself whispering to Suguru, unable to think of anything else to stay.

Though, in a way, it was somewhat befitting.

"Just give me a few more minutes please," you didn't need to look up to know that Gojo was behind you, waiting to honor Suguru in the same manner you were doing. Your hand held his tightly, the reflection of the sun peeking down on the golden band around his finger. You didn't have the heart to take it off, not that you'd know what to do with it regardless. You wanted to hold his corpse close to your body but you settled for just holding his hand throughout this process. So many unsaid things you had to say to him.

You just wanted to tell him that you loved him one last time. Forgive him for all the fights that the two of you had throughout the years, over silly stuff. You were starting to regret ever having gone silent after said arguments, wishing that you would've savored his presence instead. You weren't sure how long you were holding his hand for, but you moved away once you felt ready to. Satoru took your place on the floor, looking over at Suguru with the dullest expression you'd ever seen from him.

"You don't have to pretend in front of me. But if it makes you feel better, I can step away."

"Please."

You walked through the thick layer of snow to form a distance between you and Satoru, watching over as the two interacted. Satoru's head hung low, hushed whispers that you couldn't quite make out escaping from his lips. He got up after a couple minutes, wiping away any stray tears that leaked out. Even if he wouldn't acknowledge them, you could still see the streak marks on his face.

You were pretty certain that you'd never love anyone the same way that you loved Suguru. No one else would be able to compare to him. To how it felt to wake up to him in the mornings, your body intertwined with his to the point where you couldn't tell where yours started and his ended. Of finding simple joy in waking up, knowing that he’d be right beside you or humming a quiet tune in the kitchen while he cooked breakfast for the two of you. Nothing else would ever compare to those moments.

So how exactly did you find yourself in Gojo Satoru's bedroom?

You'd gone over to his penthouse after you went off to get the girls some snacks, not willing yourself to be at home just yet though. It all just felt too empty. Like you didn't really belong there without Suguru. Gojo had welcomed you into his abode, letting you stay there as much as you needed to. "I have this bottle of some expensive wine Yaga gave me," was the last thing you remembered from the night before you ended up blacking out.

The mattress you found yourself waking up in was like a slice of heaven, your body just melting down onto the plushness of it. As nice as the bed you had with Suguru was, you didn't remember it ever being this soft. Your eyes fluttered as you opened them, a steady pounding throbbing behind your skull. Not only did you wake up with a splitting headache but you woke up in a different room than your own. Wearing someone else's clothes apparently.

Surely, you couldn't have slept with someone else? You were certain that you would've probably burst out into tears before any action happened. Still, your judgement was severely faulty when alcohol was involved.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, we didn't do anything," Gojo's voice broke you out of the idea, a small sigh of relief escaping from your lips. While you still had no idea why you were wearing just his shirt, at least you hadn't slept with him. "So then what exactly did we do?" You decided it'd be the appropriate question to ask, still left wondering why exactly you'd been changed out of your clothing. Though the subtle pounding that seemed to rattle your skull was a good indicator.

"You got too drunk off some wine last night, spent half the night babbling and crying about how you missed Suguru. Spent the other half of the night dancing on my very expensive coffee table until you broke it. Then you wanted to be a cowg-"

"Okay, I think I got it, thanks." Just the recollection of those events was starting to make you debate never having another drop of alcohol again.

"You don't have to go home just yet," he spoke up before you had a chance to get up from his bed, turning to face you. "I don't want to overstay my welcome, plus I'm sure you have business trips to attend to and whatnot," you tried to dismiss his concerns, getting up from his bed. You quickly pushed the shirt down before it ended up exposing you. Just the thing you'd need to make this situation all the much better.

"I wouldn't be asking if I planned on leaving you alone. Stay a while," he reiterated, making it hard for you to find an excuse to leave even if you wanted to. Well that, and the sheer softness of the mattress underneath you. It truly did feel like you were floating on a cloud. "That's if you want to, of course. But we could spend a couple more minutes in bed, share some breakfast when you get up," he added, surely in a last minute attempt to not come off as too desperate.

You pulled the blanket back over yourself, letting out a small sigh when you sunk back into the mattress. "I'm saying yes solely because of the breakfast and the bed," you muttered, looking up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. You weren't sure if you could ever face him normally after what happened. "Well that and the excellent company you have," he responded, letting out a yawn as he got comfortable too. "Debatable."

"I know you're lonely without Suguru. And it's a lot to raise two kids by yourself, so I'm asking if you want a companionship," you raised a brow, turning to look over at him just to make sure you weren't getting the wrong implication. Even if that was the least romantic way to ask someone for a relationship. "We don't have to do anything intimate if you don't want to. It'd be just for the title," he added, turning his head in your direction.

Even considering the idea seemed like a betrayal to Suguru.

"What do you mean by companionship exactly?"

"You'd be able to live here with the girls and you'd be appearing to events as my date. I won't coerce you into anything you're not comfortable doing. Just two people living in a home together."

"Why?" It was just the tip of the iceberg of the multitude of questions that you had for him. But it was the one that seemed the more reasonable to ask right now.

He twirled a snowy strand around his pointer finger, looking up at the ceiling before glancing over at you. "Well, I imagine Suguru would want you to be taken care of. Something that I could accomplish. And I need something to get the higher ups off my back."

"And no romance involved?"

"Absolutely none, nope."

"Alright, sure."

The relationship that you established with Gojo felt more like an agreement rather than the culmination of shared feelings towards each other. While the two of you tolerated each other enough to be friends, you didn't feel any connection towards him. Not much more than simply laughing at a couple jokes or tolerating his existence better than most, anyways. Though you weren't exactly sure if the other members from jujutsu society really cared about all that. To them, marriage was simply just a matter of status and power.

You weren't sure what he was looking for in this arrangement, if he just wanted some solace from the pressures set on him or he wanted some kind of an actual relationship. Every time the question was on the tip of your tongue, you couldn't bring yourself to ask it. A part of you wanted to ask why confine himself to a relationship with you when there were plenty of women who'd be willing to throw themselves at his feet.

So many questions that you couldn't bring yourself to ask him. So many questions that would remain unanswered.

You slept in the room furthest to his, next to a stuffed bear that Suguru had gotten for you at a fair along with one of his shirts that still managed to smell like a mixture of his cologne and fabric softener. A shirt that you refused to wash, needing his scent around you just a bit longer. Just until you were ready to let go. The girls slept in the room next to you, each carrying a little memento from the cabin. Something to make the desolate space feel more like home. Even if what made a house a home wasn't present anymore.

Satoru kicked a rock as he walked out of the meeting with the elders, his hands in his pockets. The elders had caught whiff of his new relationship (not that he'd ever call it that) and started prodding into the themes of marriage and of an heir. All the topics that he would've liked to avoid for as long as possible. All the topics that made him nauseous whenever he thought of pursuing them with you. Of having to run his hands through your body, pretending to enjoy the sensation just to give the clan what they need.

He could go along with a wedding, right? Right. Well, it didn't exactly matter if he could. He knew that he needed to. He needed something that would make the higher ups stop condemning him, stop condemning his choices. He'd make a big show out of it, invite all the different members of jujutsu society just to have them all shut up. First, he had to figure out a way to prompt the question though. Something that would get people to talk. Maybe he could do it tonight while the two of you were out at dinner.

"You look lovely tonight," the words felt less forced the more that he said them, extending his hand out to help you in the car. "Thank you," you responded, giving him a smile as you stepped foot out of the car. You took his hand, a featherlight grip on it as he led you inside of the restaurant. The whole thing just screamed expensive, from the chandeliers on the ceiling to just the food items on the menu. About 30 different ways to cook a piece of meat and caviar. Just a subtle reminder of how much Satoru differed from you.

"How was work?" You decided to ask after a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, hoping that it'd be an easy enough topic. "Went to fourteen different funerals," he deadpanned, your eyes widening a little in surprise before he burst out laughing. "Sorry, just had to tease. We don't even get funerals, really. But work was alright," Gojo shrugged, taking a sip from the bright pink juice he'd ordered. You weren't even sure what that concoction was- a mix of dragonfruit and melon?

One thing did stand out to you though. The mention of no funerals. That'd been one of the things Suguru had said to you in passing before, making you wonder if they shared the same views or if he'd just heard it in passing. "And that doesn't bother you?" you decided to ask, waiting for him to finish taking a sip of his drink. "The funeral thing? I mean, it really bothers me when it's about people I care about. But for me, personally, no. I'm in people's minds either way," he responded, a cocky grin on his face afterwards.

"Ah, of course. The everlasting legacy of Satoru Gojo will outlive even the end of sorcery." You could hardly resist rolling your eyes as you spoke.

"Exactly."

You'd been busy biting into your food, almost missing when Satoru spoke up. He rolled his eyes before repeating himself. "Do you want to get married?" He popped the question in the middle of dinner, his slender fingers holding a black velvet box. He popped it open, exposing one of the biggest diamonds that you ever had the pleasure of seeing. The light above the two of you casted down on the ring, a flurry of rainbow colors surrounding the two of you. And even so, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you felt the same excitement as you did when Suguru proposed.

"Sure, why not," you responded, extending your hand out to Gojo. He brought the ring up to your finger, sliding it on carefully. Maybe he should've asked for your ring size first. And maybe he shouldn't have thought about how he didn't have to ask Suguru for his. "Sorry," he muttered, noticing that the ring wouldn't exactly go past your knuckle. He had half the mind to force it in there, but he decided to just slide back off and put it down on the table.

"Don't worry about it. I'll just wear it as a necklace," you couldn't help but feel a bit tacky as you put the ring in your pocket, the atmosphere in the restaurant tense. "Should we clap?" You heard in the background, amongst a couple of other chatters who were debating if this was a joyous moment. You wished they'd decided on the latter, uncomfortable by the sounds of clapping and hoots ringing in your ears.

You looked over at Gojo, noticing some of the same discomfort on his face though he was able to hide it with much ease. You couldn't miss the way that his lips twitched, almost contorting into a frown before he pushed way to force it into a smile. Always the entertainer, he gave out his thanks and a small bow. "Oh, thank you," he smiled at the waitress when she set down a slice of congratulatory cake, a small candle sparkling in front of it. He blew out the candle, setting it to the side before starting to eat the cake.

While you'd been responsible for making plans of what venue to use and the color scheme of the decorations, all Gojo had done was simply pass his card whenever you brought up one of the costs. At least he did it without batting an eye though. "Is that supposed to be expensive?" he asked with a teasing grin when you'd pointed out that the venue had run you no less than fifty grand. Even when the dress you originally picked out was a hundred grand, he convinced you to pick a more expensive one. To paint the picture of happiness.

The only thing that he brought himself to actually participate in was the day of the cake tasting, practically engulfing the samples in record time. "The red velvet one's pretty good, pretty sweet too," you pointed out, waiting to hear Gojo's opinion on the cakes. He turned towards the register, wiping any spare cake crumbs from the corners of his mouth. "We'll take them all, actually," he told the baker, getting up to go fill out the rest of the order.

You could see the panic on the baker's eyes as the order went through, surely wondering how they'd be able to bake some many pastries with such a time constraint. "Are you sure we need all these cakes?" you asked him pointedly, noticing that most of them were ordered to be made for ten people or more. Though you held no doubt that Gojo was more than capable of eating them all in one sitting. At one point, you just had to wonder what this man's blood sugar was.

"Yes, we do. I'm willing to pay you extra for any troubles this may cause," he turned to look at the baker when he said the last part, taking his wallet from his pocket. You were willing to bet that half the guests wouldn't even eat a slice of cake, leaving most of the latter towards the two of you. Well, mostly towards Gojo if you had to bet. He finished up a negotiation with the woman, giving her the details to the venue before making his way out with you. "I'd say that went fairly well, no?"

Gojo could feel himself getting anxious towards the date of the wedding, though he did his best to conceal it. He couldn't go through with this, could he? Well, maybe it could be an arranged marriage of sorts. Even that wasn't a reassuring thought, knowing how he had to fight tooth and nail with the higher ups to prevent that situation from even happening. But maybe he could force himself into enjoying the idea of romance with you. He'd forced himself out of worse situations anyways.

After all, it'd been proven time and time again that the longer he pretended to do something, the less it'd feel like he was pretending in the end.

He tried. He really did.

He forced himself to enjoy every caress of your fingers, the ghosting feeling of your lips when you kissed him, those intimate moments that never escalated into something more. But he failed. The feeling wasn't one that he savored at all, it was one that haunted him even through the darkness of the night. Every 'I love you' he'd told you had been a complete lie. He didn't love you.

He loved Suguru. The only person that was able to reach the depths of his soul and understand him, the only person that his heart yearned to be next to. If Suguru loved you, then why couldn't he bring himself to share the same sentiment with you? He yearned to be so badly with Suguru that he willed himself into getting married just because you got to experience that love. He’d lied to himself for years by saying he was happy Suguru found happiness with you, what’s a couple more years of lying?

In a way, he thought it would be like Suguru loving him. But he was so mistaken. He knew it wouldn't be the same, no matter how many times he tried to get you to act like him. You just.. didn't understand him at the same level Suguru did. It just felt like more of a disrespect now than anything. He only wished he'd had this realization before standing at the altar next to you.

He could practically hear the conversations that would follow, criticizing his ability as heir and ability to be able to lead the Gojo clan. It was what they'd done when news of Suguru broke out, anyways. And yet.. he couldn't bring himself to do this to please the clan. He just couldn't.

"Do you take her as your spouse?" The father prodded after receiving no response the first time, expectant eyes landing on him. Hushed whispers were heard throughout the pews, questioning the whole validity of the situation. If only the bastards knew. He glanced over at you, an expectant gaze on your face as you waited for his answer. After all, it'd been his idea in the first place. Yes. Yes. Just say yes already.

"I'd like to object," his voice echoed through the empty church, unable to meet your gaze. If he had, he would've been able to see the way your shoulders slumped down a little in relief. Truth was, if he wouldn't have done it, then maybe you would've. Just the idea of living a lie to be rid of your solitude didn't seem too pleasing anymore, even if you were surrounded by grand quantities of money. He calmly walked down from the podium, making his way of the church and letting the doors slam on the way out.

Your feet felt stuck to the ground as you tried to urge yourself to move, wanting to run after him. What would you even say, though? Demand him for some kind of answer? Demand him for an answer that you already knew at the back of your head? That he was doing this for the same reason that you were? You knew that you were in position to demand anything from him, just as much as he couldn’t demand anything from you.

You could feel the pity emanating from the people at the stands, pity that you weren't exactly sure you even deserved. This would surely be the talk between sorcerers for days to come if their gazes are anything to go by. They all looked like they were begging for this to escalate into something further even if their visible faux pout tried to imply otherwise.

They waited for a scandal, a show, a spectacle, anything that would be worth talking about.

But no.

"Sorry for wasting your time father," was all that you said before making your way down the altar, walking through the aisle. You imagined this moment would've been with Satoru at your side, congratulating cheers following the two of you out of the church. Instead, all you were received by was an overwhelming silence. The photographers that were placed outside had already left the venue, surely by Gojo's order. Well, at least it was one less thing to handle.

You looked around for any spots that stood out to you, noticing a bar across the street. A little ironic that a bar was right in front of a church but you weren't up to question it now. Though Gojo had expressed how much he disliked the taste of alcohol on various different occasions, you figured that was the first place he thought to hide in. You crossed the street, stepping in front of the entrance.

You hoped that the patrons couldn't see you from the inside, that they were blissfully unaware to the way that you paced around near the entrance as you willed yourself to go inside. It's not like you and Gojo were on bad terms either way, right? You wiped your sweaty palms on the material of your poofy dress (courtesy of Gojo: "The bigger the dress, the bigger the love." Whatever that means) before stepping inside of the bar.

At the end of the counter, Gojo idly messed around with the straw of his club soda. The scent of piss and beer made its way up your nose, reminding you that you were terribly out of place. You pulled your dress up to where it wouldn't drag on the floor, some jeers about being a Disney princess shot your way by some of the other patrons. You sat down next to Gojo, handing the ring necklace back to him. It took him a couple seconds to pick it up, shoving it into one of his pockets.

"I think we were getting married for the wrong reason completely. I'm sorry I didn't realize it before making you look like a fool," he told you, unable to maintain eye contact. He was waiting for some kind of reaction, but instead all he got was your silence. At least your stiletto didn't end up lodged in any part of his body. (He was silently praying it wouldn't resort to that.) Yeah, you definitely understood him on this matter. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorry too, I should've said something before we got here."

"To not getting married," he spoke up, passing you a glass of whiskey. There was no need for words, no need for him to elaborate why he'd done why he'd done. The two of you sought out solitude in each other's loneliness, not exactly the best starting point for a loving relationship.

"To not getting married," you clinked your glass against him before downing the liquor, reveling in the way your throat burned when it went down. The two of you shared a couple rounds, cracking a few jokes when the bartender came over to ask why the two of you were in here instead of getting married.

#muchosbesitos #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x fem!reader #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru smut #suguru geto angst #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fanfiction #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk satoru

[tropes-and-tales]

My Best Friend’s Girl, Part Seven

Characters:  Santiago “Pope” Garcia and F!Reader

WC:  4302

Other Pieces:  This is part of a series, which can be found here.

CW:  Angst (oblique talk of addiction).  Smut (PiV, protected; implied oral, m!receiving; light roleplay).  18+ only.

AN:  As proofed as anything I publish here, which is to say:  this is full of typos.

Six months. That’s how long you have to wait for Santiago to come home.  He has to run out his contract, wrap up his loose ends in Colombia while you wait for him in Florida.

You’re busy, of course.  You fill your hours – you work on the edits for your second book, you consult on the script based on your memoir.  You hang out with friends.  You work on your house, stripping paint and refinishing the built-in wood features of your home.  Slowly, the glory of the original home emerges, and you start to get furniture, start to decorate.

There’s a big fireplace in the living room, and you set framed pictures along the mantel. A picture of you and your father. One of you on the Appalachian Trail, a nice selfie you managed to take as you summitted Mount Greylock.

The latest photo is one of you and Santiago – he had asked a passerby to take it on one of your weekends out in Medellín, in one of the city squares bursting with color. At the last second, right before the photo was snapped, Santi had turned to kiss your cheek, and the captured moment is beautiful:  his head turned, his lovely profile, and you facing the camera with a look of pleased surprise.

You know you’re in the honeymoon period.  You’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, so you’re a little apprehensive about what will happen when he finally moves back to the U.S.  Maybe he’ll get bored of you.  Maybe he’ll find someone better.  He’s never been in a long-term relationship either, and you worry that he’s too used to being a tomcat to settle down. 

It’s a million little doubts circling your mind each night, and sometimes you struggle to fall asleep, worry gnawing at you.

But if your traitorous brain keeps telling you that it won’t work out, it’s your gut – which has never led you astray – that reminds you how solid Santiago is. How perfect for you.  He’s not perfect, of course, and neither are you – you both have dark pasts, and insecurities – but when you really think about your time with him, you feel nothing but a steady, solid sort of love.

So all you have to do is wait.  It’s the longest six months of your life.

-----

Sara gives birth in September.  She and Frankie – they have a daughter now.  Amelia is a scowling, red-faced little thing, and when you go to visit with Benny and Will, it’s curious how little you feel.  Newborns, in general, make you nervous.  They are such soft creatures, seem so easily breakable.  But when you stand there and gaze down into the bassinet, you feel…nothing.

If someone would have told you that you’d be here, gazing down at Frankie’s baby that he had with another woman and feeling not an iota of angst, you wouldn’t have believed them.  You can still remember the pain of when Frankie started dating Sara, when they got engaged…and now your heart is made of tougher stuff.

Things are still a little tense between you and Frankie.  You have spoken here and there, after that ugly showing when you told him about you and Santi.  There’s a reserve.  The air gets chilly when the two of you speak to each other.  Another worry, that:  Frankie and Santi are best friends, and even though Frankie is married with a kid now, you still remain a shadow between them.  

You try to send out opening salvos to healing the rift between you.  You try to laugh off the awkward silences when you go to visit them with their new baby.  You ask a million questions about Amelia, show more interest than you really have. You tacitly ignore Frankie when he makes little jabbing comments meant to needle you, and you study him on the sly.

You think Santi is right.  There is something wrong with Frankie.  It’s more than marital stress or the stress of being a new parent.  It’s more than sleepless nights due to every-other-hour feedings.

You are naïve in many ways, but you know a bit about addicts.  At the center for troubled teens, there were plenty of addicts:  every shade and variety, from casual weed-smokers to full-on meth or crack addicts.  You’ve seen people in active withdrawal, and you’ve seen people with some sobriety, and you’ve seen people currently using, those able to smuggle in their drug of choice. 

You can’t say quite what you think Frankie is on, but you are certain he’s on something.  Something that keys him up, makes him buoyant and fun for a moment, then turns him sulky and irritable.  Some stimulant.  Meth? Coke? 

Maybe there’s no room left in your heart to love Frankie, but you still feel other things for him.  Concern. Pity.  Fear that he may die or lose his family.  Fear that he’s so far gone that he may be beyond help.

When you go to leave after your visit with the new baby, Frankie walks you to your car. He’s twitchy; he keeps removing his ball cap and running his hands through his curls, then resettling his hat no his head. 

“You know I’m always here if you need me,” you say, and you look at him until he finally meets your gaze with his own.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’re still friends, right?”

At that, Frankie glances away, and you notice the way he shifts back and forth on his feet, like he’s itching to be somewhere else.

“Sure,” he replies, and there’s no warmth or conviction in his tone at all.

*****

Santiago sets the date of his return with you:  the second week of November.  Right before Thanksgiving.  You light up at the news over your video call with him.  You shift straight into planning mode; a Friends-giving type feast paired with a welcome home party and a house-warming party.

Santi doesn’t miss how it makes him feel, the thought of coming home to you and building a home with you.  A cozy domestic life he used to scoff at, but now that it’s within reach, he wants nothing more.

He works so damned hard to wrap up all his loose ends, he finishes his contract two weeks early.

What better surprise than to turn up at your doorstep early?

The timing is a few days off from Halloween, but Santi turns up the evening when your neighborhood is doing trick-or-treating.  The taxi crawls down your street because of how many groups of children and parents are milling around, going from house to house, but when the taxi stops and the driver pops the trunk so he can get his luggage, Santi has a moment of confusion.

For a brief few seconds, Santi feels off-kilter.  This isn’t your house.  He peers closer in the late twilight and studies the lines of the house, and it takes him a moment before he realizes that it is your house and that you’ve worked far harder to get it ready for him than he had thought.

The peeling paint is gone.  The sagging window sashes have been replaced by flower boxes filled with bright flowers and lush greenery.  The shrubs and trees have been trimmed back into neatness, and the entire air of dereliction has been replaced by a warm hominess. 

The lights by the front door are on, chasing away the twilight shadows with warm yellow light, and in the center of it, there’s you.

You don’t notice the taxi.  You don’t notice him as he approaches.  You’re engrossed with a trio of children in front of you, smiling and chatting with them as you dole out candy from the giant bowl in your arms.

You’re dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood, he guesses:  a Bavarian-type dirndl, white knee socks, and a scarlet cloak, and it makes a flurry of feeling rocket through him.  Lust, obviously—he has a sudden, powerful image of bending you over some surface, flipping that skirt up and taking you from behind, of hauling you off your hands so he can turn your head and kiss you while he fucks you…

And love, too.  Obviously love.  Santi has never really been in love before, and now that he has you, he’s learning that love can feel a hundred different ways.  It can be a gentle groundswell, like sitting in a boat on a calm ocean, being softly rocked, like waking up beside you in Medellin before dawn.  It can be a warmth, like sitting beside you in your mother’s gazebo and teasing each other.

Right now? Right now, love feels like a knife in his heart, a sharp, piercing pain as he looks his fill of you.  As he realizes that he’ll never have it with anyone else, and the realization makes a thread of fear run alongside the love. What if he messes this up somehow?

The fear gets swept away the moment you notice him.  Santi has the distinct impression that you’d plow through the kids standing on your porch to get to him; he watches as you start to drop the bowl of candy and take a step towards him, then stop.  And he watches as your eyes fill with tears, but then he’s moving towards you, skirting around the gaggle of kids with their parents, and then he hears something fall but doesn’t look because he has his arms around you, he’s kissing you, and you’re struggling to kiss him back because you’re crying.  You’re crying and touching him—his face, his arms, his neck, his hair—to prove that he’s really there, and his feet crush the candy scattered along the porch because you’ve dropped the bowl so you can hug him.

“He didn’t say trick or treat,” one kid says in a voice that’s laced with indignation.

-----

The parents can guess what’s up.  They exchange sly, knowing smiles as Santi hauls his luggage inside, and as you basically dump your reserve of candy onto the porch, then give a half-assed apology to the kids before you shut the front door and lock it.

“Santiago Garcia,” you say in mock-anger, wagging your forefinger at him.  “You’re early.”

“I think I’m right on time.”  He reaches out, tugs lightly against the hem of your cloak.  “Got to see this.”

You give a twirl, just like you did the night of Frankie engagement.  Your skirt bells out, and you give a shy smile.  “You like it?”

“Mmm.” He reaches out again, tugs against your cloak again.  “Very much.”

“I’m supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“If I knew you were coming early, I would have gotten you something to wear.  A wolf costume or something.”

Santi snorts. He moves closer to you, the would-be Big Bad Wolf.  “How much candy do you think I could hand out with you looking like this?”

You roll your eyes.  You never quite believe him when he expresses how beautiful he thinks you are.  How sexy.  It’s a side effect of your trauma, he thinks.  Low self-esteem.  He promises himself to say it more.  He’ll say it all the time until you start to believe him.

He takes your hand in his and draws it down to himself until your palm is cupping where he’s hard and straining for you.  He watches your eyes go wide, your lips part as you take a deep breath.

“Told you I like this outfit of yours,” he grumbles near your ear. 

“Guess so.” You work your hand against him, cupping him, squeezing him gently through his jeans.

“Doesn’t Little Red Riding Hood get eaten?”  He drives the point home by biting you lightly against your neck, and he expects you to squeal and push him away, but your moan at the sensation and lean into him more.  So he bites you harder—he pushes the neckline of your cloak and dress aside to reveal the sensitive bit where your shoulder meets your neck.  He sinks his teeth into you.  Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave indents, his teeth dimpling your flesh.  He runs the tip of his tongue over those little divots, and you moan again, so he sucks against you there, tastes you.

“God, Santi—”

“I’m the Big Bad Wolf,” he mutters against your skin.

“San—”

“Gonna eat you up.”  He nips at you again, a line of light bites that end with him nipping your earlobe.  “Fucking starving for you, querida.”

Your free hand finds the back of his head, and he feels your fingers push through his curls and grip him.  You hold him against you—you don’t push him away.  Your other hand shifts from stroking him through his jeans to undoing his pants.  You fumble at the button and zipper, but then your hand slips through the waistband of his boxers and you grip him.  You stroke him as he pushes his hips against your hold.

He leans into the game and growls at your touch.  “Want you,” he manages to get out before his mouth finds the other side of your neck, nips and sucks against your soft skin there, raises matching marks.

“You have me. Please, Santi.”

“Wolf,” he corrects, and you laugh at that, but he snakes a hand down to your skirt. He slips under the layers of skirt and petticoat, he slips under your panties, and he finds you slick and ready for him.  He pushes a thick finger into your tight heat, and it makes you groan out his name, but then you amend it and call him ‘Wolf,’ and it turns him fully feral and you his willing victim.

He pulls his finger from you, and he pulls away from your stroking hand.  He gets himself under you at the right angle and lifts you up in a fireman’s carry, your body slung across his shoulders like a downed soldier as he carries you upstairs while your laughter fills the house.

Later, he’ll marvel on how much you’ve gotten done in the home.  Right now, he’s got tunnel vision.  He only feels the weight of you on his back, and he only focuses on getting you to the bedroom so he can fuck you senseless.

*****

Until Santiago came into your life, you hated the position of doggy style.

You had a brief boyfriend in college who only liked to fuck you from behind—an obvious red flag you were too naïve to notice back then—and he had always been rough about it.  Made it degrading.  Called you a slut for taking him like that, said only whores took it from behind. You always felt bad afterwards, but you were too insecure to speak up or break it off.

Santi changed your mind about it, back in Colombia.  He always was gentle about it, never degrading.  You wondered at his ability to rewrite parts of your unhappy past. It was like magic.

Now, he’s less gentle.  He’s leaning into some Wolf persona, a dominant side you’ve never seen in him, but it makes a painful throb of desire rocket through you.  He’s still gentle, just less gentle than before.  He drops his voice down a half-octave, and his calloused hands are firm as they undo your cloak, making it pool at your feet like a scarlet puddle.  As he reaches under your skirt and tugs your panties down your legs until you step out of them.

As he pushes you gently onto the bed and tells you in his low, graveled voice to get on all fours.

Santi gets it perfect.  How does he always manage it, being so perfectly in tune with you in bed?  He’s playing at some dominant, growling wolf-Santi, and he’s ordering you around, but he’s careful too—when he reaches into the bedside stand for a condom, he whispers in your ear, asks if this is okay, tells you to talk to him if you need something different.

You repeat what you said downstairs.  “You have me.”  You wriggle a little from where you are perched on all fours on the bed and add, “I’m all yours.”

He hums at that.  You hear the rustle of clothing, the soft whump as his jeans hit the floor.  You hear the tearing of the foil condom packet, then Santi’s heavy breathing as he rolls it onto himself.  Then nothing, and the moment of nothing seems to stretch an eternity, so you wriggle again like a dog wagging its tail.  The full skirt of your costume flounces, but Santi flips it up over your hips and delivers a light smack to your ass.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he asks.  “Gonna be good for me?”

Oh, that’s new too.  You bite down against your lower lip, but the phrase good girl makes your pussy clench down on nothing, and you wonder if he can see.  The thought makes your face heat up.

“Y-y-yes. I’ll be good.”

“Not a very good girl, walking through the woods alone.”

Oh, this is new too.  A full-on roleplay.  You’ve never done it before; you always assumed you’d be too self-conscious to layer in acting to your sex life.  But you aren’t facing him, and it’s Santi anyway, so it feels easy to fall into the game.

“I am a good girl,” you pretend-pout.

Another swat to your ass, but Santi keeps his hand on you.  Cups your hip with it, and his other hand lightly strokes you between your legs.  You bite your lip again, swallow down the moan that wants to tear out of your throat.

“I think you wanted to get caught.”  He parts your folds, pushes his finger into you again.  He moves slowly so you feel every centimeter of his digit.  Every knuckle.  He pushes himself in, pulls himself out, and then he adds a second finger. You can feel him carefully scissoring his fingers, stretching you out.

“Think you wanted this,” he adds.  “Sweet little thing, tempting all the scary beasts in the forest to come take you.”

“Just trying to tempt one beast.”  Your voice is tight, strained.  You’re trying to be patient but he’s driving you mad with his slow, careful fingering, and you have missed him for months.  “One, specifically.”

“You have him.”

You open your mouth to snark that you don’t really have him, not yet, but he beats you to the punchline.  He pulls his fingers from you and settles that hand along your hip, the wetness on his fingers smearing along your skin.  Then you feel him, the blunt, heavy weight of his cock as he notches it at your entrance.

“Please.” Your hands twist in the comforter as you brace yourself.  “Please, Santi—”

“Be patient. I like seeing you like this.”

“Please.”  You grip the comforter harder, drop your head as you huff out a heavy breath of frustration.

He chuckles behind you, and his hands rest lightly on your hips.  “If you want it, you can take it anytime, querida.  It’s yours.”

You don’t know where this falls in the game of pretend, but you don’t care anymore.  You’ve missed him for so long.  You’ve waited even longer to have what you have with Santi. You searched for it in the wrong place, with Frankie, but it was Frankie who led you to his best friend, so you can’t be mad about it.  But for now, your entire life collapses into this single moment, and Santi is here with you again after so long apart, so you push back against him, you push yourself onto his thick cock, and it toes the delicate line between pleasure and pain to have him inside you again.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”  His words are breathless, and his hands spasm tighter on your hips.  He pulls you back the last inch, seats himself deep inside you until you feel him flush against you.

He sets a slow, deep rhythm to his thrusts.  He doesn’t jar you; he keeps a firm grip on you and fucks you carefully as you reorient yourselves to each other.  You warm up to the feeling of his invading length, and you arch your back when he delivers a particularly deep thrust.  The tip of him brushes over that spot inside you, and your vision wavers each time he does.  Little yellow sparks light up at the edges of your vision.

How could you have ever guessed, all those years ago at the airport when you met him, that this would be the man who made you see stars in the bedroom?

“So fucking gorgeous,” he mutters behind you, low, like he’s talking to himself.  “Taking me like such a good girl.”

His praise makes another hot pulse of desire course through you, and you drop your head against the comforter and push back against him. 

“Missed you,” he adds, and before you can reply—yes, you’ve missed him too, so fucking much—his hands move from your hips up to your shoulders, and he’s suddenly hauling you off of your hands until you’re kneeling in front of him.  He wraps his arms around you, presses your back to his chest, and his thrusting turns sloppy. 

“Kiss me,” he demands.  You turn your head as much as you can, and the kiss is sloppy too because you can’t quite reach completely, but his mouth slides against yours.  His tongue finds yours, and it’s messy—his ravenous mouth seeking yours, his cock thrusting erratically against you as you lean back against him.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he pants between kisses.

“Missed you more.”  You reach an arm back and hook it behind his head.  You tug against his curls and try to direct his mouth back to yours.  “Missed you the most.”

“Wanted to romance this.”  He sounds slightly ashamed.  “Wanted to make it sweet for you, querida.  I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” You pull his hair harder.  Hard enough to make him groan, and he drops his head to rest in the crook of your neck.  He kisses you there softer, but there’s a faint ache when he brushes his lips against the places he’s marked you.  In the morning, you’ll see the carnage:  the handful of hickies, the visible teeth marks that have bruised you. 

In the morning, the sight of those marks will make you so suddenly and inexplicably turned on that you’ll seek him out in the kitchen and sink to your knees then and there.

“Don’t apologize to me,” you add.  “Don’t you dare.  You’re—”  You gasp at the sudden hard thrust he gives you, cuts you off for a moment.  “You’re here weeks early.  Best surprise ever.”

His arms tighten around you.  He holds you so tight it steals your breath away.  He holds you like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he doesn’t anchor you to him.  You take your free hand and grip his wrist, and you can feel his fast pulse under your fingers.

“I’m not gonna last much longer.  Sweetheart, I’m not—”

“Don’t hold back.”

“Baby, I can’t—”

“Go ahead and come for me.”  Your own orgasm is too far away.  Your thoughts are too scattered to focus on your pleasure; Santi feels amazing, but you’re still stunned by his unexpected arrival, and the roleplay that came out of nowhere, and you haven’t even really gotten to look at him very closely—

You tug on his hair again, steer his head back to yours.  You turn to kiss him, and you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, “wanna feel you come, Santi.”

“Baby—”

“Please.” Another kiss, another tug on his curls. “Come inside me.”

Maybe he forgets the fact of the condom, but your words make him shudder—and then his orgasm breaks around him.  He thrusts hard into you and stills, and his arms tighten around you even more, and he buries his face in your neck and groans out your name.

“Sorry.” It comes out muffled, and his frame slumps over you a bit as he loosens his hold on you.

“Don’t apologize.”  You loosen your grip on him too and run your fingertips through his hair. 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You laugh. “Now that you’re here, you have plenty of time to make it up to me.”

And he does, a few hours later.  After you clean up and after he showers.  After he drags his luggage out of your entryway, and after you make him a snack in your renovated kitchen because his schedule is all out of sync.  When the two of you finally turn in late at night, he makes it up to you:  he takes you gently, slowly.  He seems to savor every moment, and he touches every part of you like he’s reacquainting himself to you.

Afterwards, as you drowse in his arms, sated and so full of love that your chest feels tight, Santiago traces his fingers along your spine until you squirm a bit.

“Think I finally found a good nickname for you,” he tells you.  “Better than ‘Bean.’”

You tilt your head and try to peer at him in the darkness of the room.  “You already picked one.”

“’Querida.’”

“Yeah. I like that.”  You settle against him again, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Might start calling you ‘Red.’”

You laugh, and he chuckles underneath you, a pleasant rumble.  “You’re trouble, Santiago Garcia.”

“And you love it.”

“I absolutely do.”  You let a moment pass, then you turn your head again and press a gentle kiss on his bare chest, right where his heart lies.

“Welcome home, Trouble,” you whisper.

“Happy to be here, Red,” he replies.

#Santiago Garcia #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #Triple Frontier #tropes and tales

[lewiscarrolatemybrain]

Morgan Davies’s accent has me imagining Luffy “capturing” a navy captain to “hold him hostage” and while Luffy is whisking him away to go pester Sanji for snacks or something Koby is just deadpanning “Oh naur. Whatever will I do?”

#one piece #opla #op koby #koby the hero #monkey d. luffy #this can be #kobylu #if you want it to be #helmeppo watches them leave like #can you at least try to pretend you aren’t consorting with the enemy #and Koby is like consorting? me? never. I’m clearly being taken against my will #and helmeppos like yeah whatever bring me back something to eat #they take turns capturing each other for hang outs #slumber parties #Straw Hat Blunt Rotation #you get the idea

[ghostfacd]

SASSY MEN DO IT BETTER! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. in which yours and tom’s behind the scenes gossip session goes viral and everyone’s dying to know who’s it about

AUTHOR’S NOTE. thank you to whomever requested this, nonnie i love you! this was so much fun to write and instead of Instagram posts, I decided to do tweets this time! enjoy as always and thank you for the overwhelming support on my au, it means so so much

installment of this au (recommend reading for context)

It started off innocent.

Just you and Tom in the background of a Behind The Scenes video where Rachel was currently talking about her character, Lucy Gray Baird.

You and Tom were fairly close in proximity—as you always were anyway—and you two were scrolling through your phones, showing each other funny videos or pictures of beautiful places that showed up on your feed.

That was until a message popped up from your ex, some jerk who had somehow gained a role in a movie and thought he was now some hotshot in the film industry.

“Oh seriously,” Tom mutters, watching as you tapped on the messages your ex had sent you. “He’s got to be kidding.”

Your ex had apparently “missed you greatly” and wanted to hang out so you two could catch up. He said he watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and was in awe of how well you acted. If he wasn’t such a toxic asshole when you two were dating, you would take it as a compliment.

“I don’t know where he has the nerve.” Tom says, giving you a disgusted look. “Like girl, please.”

“Girl please?” You say, giggling as your head fell back into his chest. “Baby, I didn’t know you said things like that.”

“There’s plenty of more where that came from,” he says, “Okay, I need to stop. What if someone on set thinks I’m crazy?”

“They already think you’re crazy.”

Tom rolls his eyes, shoving your shoulder back slightly. “You’re lucky you’re my girlfriend.”

“I think you’re more of the girlfriend in the relationship Tom,” you say, shrugging. You fail to hold in your laugh as you watch Tom’s expression turn into shock. “I’m kidding, thank you for being the best boyfriend I can ask for.”

He grumbles a sure whatever under his breath when you engulf him in a tight hug.

“You’re practically crushing my lungs.” He says a minute in, only to be responded with a roll of your eye. “But hey, I’m much better than that newbie actor ex of yours, right?”

“Is that even a question?” You say, pulling away. “He was just nonchalant and mean to me half of the time. Don’t know why I even dated him.”

Your phone goes off, another message coming from your ex. “Oh, he called you knock off Draco Malfoy, which by the way, isn’t even an insult because he doesn’t even come close to you or Draco Malfoy in terms of looks.”

Tom lets out an honest to God laugh at your commentary, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah, but didn’t you have a huge crush on Malfoy as a kid?”

You pretend to think for a minute before nodding your head teasingly, “yeah, I guess things never change huh?”

“Okay stop, you know I’m a fake blonde.”

And the entire moment between you and Tom is captured on camera, sending your fans into a frenzy as they watched how cute you two were with each other.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

[bby-deerling]

zoro + taking care of each other

this is so self indulgent, shoutout to all my tmj disorder girliepops <3

masterlist || commissions

"what are they doing?" law asks robin, bewildered as he stares at you and zoro from across the deck. he had seen quite a lot of strange behavior since he had allied with the straw hat pirates, but you and the swordsman rubbing circles into each other's jaws might just take the cake.

robin covers her mouth as she giggles—she's about to answer his question, but franky responds before she gets a chance to.

"they've both got that temper... temporo... chopper, what's it called again?" he says, losing enough confidence reaching for the right words to make him defer to the little reindeer sitting in robin's lap.

"temporomandibular joint dysfunction!" chopper exclaims, stars in his eyes as he looks to law for approval, only to hang his head in a little bit of dismay as he receives none.

law simply rolls his eyes. "that'll happen when you're biting a sword hilt all day." he grumbles, crossing his arms as he continues to stare at the two of you, still perplexed.

feeling the heat of a few sets of eyes on you, your head snaps back to glance at your crewmates and ally watching the two of you carefully. "what's wrong, why'd you stop?" zoro mumbles as the motions of your thumbs on his jaw crawl to a halt.

"they're all looking at us weird." you whisper, a bit flushed that something that was a routine, somewhat intimate moment hidden in plain sight had captured the attention of nearly half the crew.

"oi, what are you all staring at!" zoro shouts, glaring at the group with his good eye. the swordsman's chastising successfully turns away the probing gazes, save for chopper, who comes running over to the two of you to settle in your lap, rambling about a special rare plant with medicinal properties he had read about in one of robin's books. the two of you listen intently as you continue to ease each other's pain, tracing pads of fingers along aching joints and bones.

"i still don't get why they have to do it to each other." law mumbles, turning his attention back to the book he had previously been poring over.

"things always feel a touch better when someone else does them for you." robin replies with a cheeky smile, sipping on her cup of tea as law's grits his teeth and lets out an annoyed sigh. robin's sentiment was touching, but all of you straw hats were still weird as far as he was concerned.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece scenario #one piece drabble

[ilovepedro]

the water’s warm | abby anderson x f!reader

Valentine’s Masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine link. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: You and Abby enjoy a bubble bath together on Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, established relationship, fingering (r!receiving), finger sucking, needy!reader, bit of needy!Abby, pulling Abby’s hair, fluff, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), bit of praise kink, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: this is my first ever Abby fic, my first ever wlw fic actually. Abby is one of my favorite characters, so i thought i’d try my hand at some Abby fic. i’m nervous… anyway, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @hitobaby

She sighs deeply as she unlocks the door to your shared apartment. Work sucked as usual and she’d called you telling you she’d be off late this evening - Valentine’s Day. You hadn’t been upset, you’d been more than understanding. Making her all the more frustrated as you’d patiently waited for her.

“Baby?” Abby calls out, hanging her keys on the hook beside the door and kicking off her shoes before entering the hall. Soft music blooms from your shared bedroom, your humming accompanying the sound. She pushes the door open, walking inside the bedroom. Steam seeps from the slightly ajar bathroom door. The sound of running water and the scent of lavender permeating the air. Abby opens the door, revealing you digging for something in the cabinets in that black silk little robe that drives Abby fucking crazy. Your ass teasingly on display.

“Hi, baby,” Abby says gently, careful not to scare you. You startle, whipping around, clutching some towels. Fear vanishes and transforms into excitement, relieved to see your girlfriend.

“You’re home. I didn’t even hear you come in,” you mumble, setting the towels down on the sink counter before bounding to her. Smiling softly at you, she envelopes you in her strong embrace, her t-shirt snug against her taut biceps. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you crash your lips onto hers. Her hands resting on your waist, rubbing small circles onto your silk-covered skin. Sighing into each other, one of her hands glides to rest on your cheek as she deepens the kiss.

It’s a lazy kiss, languid and heady. She savors the taste of you on her tongue, the sweetness from the wine you had before she got home intoxicating her senses.

You always taste so sweet.

She pulls back, both of you breathless, before she dives into your neck. Littering kisses on the column of your throat, giggles bubbling from you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” you say through your laughter, her kisses tickling your skin. She snaps her head up, a gentle grin gracing her features. “Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl,” she says before capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Disconnecting from your lips, she resumes her feast, pressing kisses all along your chest.

“How was work?” You choke out, gasping softly as she bites that spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna talk about work,” she grunts, soothing the sore spot with her tongue. Your eyes flutter shut, sighing as slick starts to pool in between your bare thighs. “A-Abby. Gotta turn off the w-water, baby,” you pant as she sucks on your neck. She reluctantly releases you from her grip, letting you shut the water off.

She groans when you bend over to switch the faucet off, your ass just barely poking out beneath your robe. You chuckle softly, teasingly wiggling your ass a bit before you gasp. Her strong hands cup the globes of your ass.

“You teasing me, pretty girl?” She rasps huskily, lips brushing against your earlobe. Arching your back, you press your ass against her mound as your hands flit to the silk tie around your waist.

“Maybe,” you giggle, untying your robe and wriggling out her grasp. You slide the black silk down your body, letting it hit the floor and climb into the tub before Abby can grab you again. Sinking into the bubble filled tub, you settle in with a sigh. Lavender infiltrating your senses, the warm water soothing all tension in your body.

You gaze up at your girlfriend - her eyes turning blacker with hunger by the second. A smile splays on your face, eyes crinkling with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“Care to join me? The water’s warm,” you taunt. Abby does not need to be asked twice. She hastily strips off her clothes, tossing them on the floor next to your robe. Clambering into the water, you scoot forward allowing her room to settle in behind you.

Abby lets out a satisfied hum as you settle against her, your back flushed against her chest. Her nipples pebbled from the draft in the air. The suds coating both of your bodies, Abby runs a callused hand along your arm as she litters gentle kisses on your neck.

“Missed you today, pretty girl,” she rasps against the shell of your ear. Her hand skates down your body, resting atop your navel, lips attached to your neck. Your skin clammy and coated in lavender as the steam rises in the bath.

“Missed you too, Abs,” you whisper softly as her fingers tauntingly hover above your core. She abruptly skates her hands to your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between her rough fingertips. A breathy moan shudders from your chest, back slightly arching into her. Her teeth nipping at your jaw before a rough hand cups the side of your face, forcing your gaze onto hers. She slams her lips against yours, kissing you ferociously, mercilessly. Teeth gnashing and tongues tangling together, Abby groans as she swallows your moans.

“Look at you. All fucking needy, and I’ve barely even touched you,” she teases, her swollen lips ghosting over yours, glimmering with saliva. You writhe in her hold, letting out a soft moan. “Need you, Abby. Been w-waiting for you all day,” you whine.

“Shhh, shh shh shh. All day huh, baby?”

All you can do is nod, intoxicated on her touch alone. She presses a soft kiss to your jaw, her hand swiftly slithering to your aching clit. Her fingers hovering around where you need her most. “Gonna give you what you want, baby,” she whispers, lips brushing yours and her nose pressed against yours.

She slowly draws circles on your throbbing clit. You throw your head back against her shoulder, moaning in relief. “That better, baby?” She taunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan. Her fingers move faster against your clit, slick pooling at your entrance.

“Tell me how it feels, baby. This what you wanted? Waiting for me to come home and play with this pretty pussy, baby?”

Her words have you clenching around nothing. The pressure in your belly builds as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“Y-yes, baby. F-feels so good, ahh,” you whimper, hips bucking up into her fingers. Her free hand pinning you down.

“So greedy, baby. What else do you need, pretty girl, huh?” She asks, no, mocks. Teasing you as she slows her pace on your clit, eliciting a cry from you.

“No, no! Don’t stop, please, Abby!” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Abby smirks. “Not gonna stop, baby. Wanna hear you say it. What do you want, baby? Tell me,” she says, nipping at your neck.

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Fuck me with your fingers, please. Need you inside, Abby, inside, please,” you nearly wail, babbling breathlessly. With no preamble, she shoves two fingers inside your aching cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Her thick fingers immediately hitting that spongy spot. 

“Fuck, baby. Always so fucking tight for me,” she groans. She pumps her fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your warm slick gather in between your thighs under the now-cool water. You moan uncontrollably, babbling nonsense as she fucks you with her fingers. A gasp cuts off your moans as she roughly cups your jaw once more, turning you to face her again as she shoves her thumb into your mouth. Moaning around her, you reach behind Abby’s neck and harshly tug her braid. Abby can’t help but moan at the sight and feel of you. 

Your slick collecting on her fingers, your ass rutting against her clit, your back writhing against her nipples, your tongue swirling around her thumb, the forceful pull of her hair.

She nearly comes right then and there.

Abby messily ruts her hips against your ass, humping you as she seeks relief for her aching clit. Moaning in tandem, she picks up the pace, fucking her fingers into you harder and harder. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers. You’re so close, baby, I can feel it. Squeezing my fingers so fucking tight,” she grits, her thumb swirling circles on your clit as her fingers punch your g-spot.

Her words snap the coil in your belly, your orgasm blinding your vision as your slick coats her fingers. Stars bursting behind your eyes as they roll to the back of your head. Your body on fire contrasting the rapidly cooling bath, bubbles dissolving as you ride out your orgasm.

“There ya go. That’s it. Good fucking girl, coming all over my fingers. So good for me, pretty girl,” she praises, groaning as you clench her fingers so tightly they nearly slip out. Wailing in her grasp as she holds you closer to her, if that’s possible.

An endless stream of moans floods the air. Abby, Abby, Abby the only thing you’re able to articulate as you scream her name.

Abby fucks you through your high, slowly returning back down to Earth. Panting as you catch your breath from your mind-blowing orgasm, Abby’s muffled, distorted voice grounds you back in reality.

“Hmmm?” You hum, feeling a tender kiss on your temple.

“Said you did so good for me,” Abby says softly, placing a kiss in your hair. You giggle, always bashful when she praises you. Settling back onto her strong chest, you contentedly hum while lazily closing your eyes. Her kisses a balm for your being.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, pretty girl. It’s still Valentine’s Day and I’m not done with you just yet.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #wlw #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

[danytar]

Hii sweetie your writings is amazing! I want to request young aegon X sister reader who were having sex from behind and they captured by their nephew... something like Jaime and Cersei in ep1 🥵!

love you XD

“Wrestling?” [Young!Aegon!Targaryen X Twin!Sister!Reader X Young!Jacaerys ] REQ#2

Warnings: Incest, cussing, vulgarity, expletives, sex,doggy style, aegon and the reader are having an affair, sexual intercourse, mention of oral sex.

a/n: Thank you for your sweet words! I really Love it hope you enjoy it as well <3,the pictures from the wonderful

The princess y/n and the price aegon were always together they drink together, they hang out together, they ride their dragons together they are always spotted together..

They grew up together as troublemaker twins they are always causing trouble and pranks. Aegon was older than his sister in ten minutes but he always calls her 'little sister' because she was smaller and softer than him.

Aegon was very jealous and possessive towards his sister he didn't like how their nephews were close to her even if they don't have a romantic feelings towards their aunt.

Anyway, it all started at the age of thirteen with a drunken kiss but over time, their feelings for each other developed a year has passed since their suspicious relationship, and the two were able to successfully to hide it. They of course shared many nights together y/n couldn't bleed yet, so the two took advantage of the opportunity and started doing it like rabbits.

aegon and the princess were sneaking into brothels together to learn how to please each other they spent many nights exploring each other's bodies.

This did not change the fact that they were risking their reputation and position without realizing the consequences of thier act.

“Ah- fuck.. yes.. this is my princess” aegon groaned as he squeezed the soft flesh of her ass and continued his thrusts the prince was partially naked he was just in his green shirt.

While the princess was still in her dress, only the skirt was partially pulled up to expose her buttocks and thighs. she was kneeling on all fours and her ass was directed towards her brother's cock.

Aegon was behind her putting his cock into her vagina. She moaned with every thrust he made the air around them was filled with excitement.

“A- a- aeg- f- fas-ster ”The words came out of her mouth with great difficulty the pleasure was coursing through her veins. it was very good feeling Aegon's sexual skills are developing more and more.

“Feeling good sweet sister?”. he chuckled and pinched her ass. She closed her eyes and groaned “Aah- y-yes i did.. yes”.

Aegon chuckles, as he continues to move his fingers in her back now. His breathing seemed to become slightly quicker now, as he smiled down at her with lust and desire in his eyes.

His fingers were moving faster, and lower now.

she could feel his fingers moving to her hips, right where her rear end would be. His fingers kept moving lower on her lower back, and he was almost right where he wanted them to be.. and he was enjoying every minute of this dominance over her.

He was almost right where he wanted to touch and grab her, as his one finger started to touch the bottom part of her ass. she could feel him rubbing his finger there, as he was testing her to see his dominance over her. He was slowly turning her into his submissive, and he had her right where he wants her to be.

“F- fuck you take me so good”. He groaned hard.

“My l-l-love p-please be q-quick”.

“No one will see us my sweetest love don't worry.. ” he muttered.

“Aeg-” she moaned.

Aegon holds her by the waist, pulling her closer to him. He moves her slowly up, so she's now sitting on his thighs. He grins as he holds her, as she's on his thighs now.

Aegon grins as he holds her in his lap by her waist. His hands are on her legs now, as he smiles with his teasing tone and the lustful look in his eyes.

His breath touched her neck, as he gently nibbled and licked her ear now. His grip on her had never been so tight before now, as his breathing was quicker and heavier now.

His hands grabbed the side of her head to hold her in place “Be ready for me, my love, you're going to use that pretty mouth of yours on me”.

Aegon’s grin grew even wider as she moaned. He was enjoying the fact that she was already begging for more, and he was enjoying every single moment of this.

Her head arched against his chest, her eyes closed, her hands guiding his to her breasts his mouth was caressing her neck and his hands were wondering and rubbing her breasts and his cock still inside her. her mouth was open, her moans getting louder and louder, all this pleasure accumulating at the same time.

She froze as she opened her eyes to see her nephew Jacaerys watching them in shock. She immediately alerted her brother “A- aeg.. aegon! stop! stop.”. she replied While he was still kissing her neck.

aegon paused for a moment and opened his eyes to see Jace.

"He saw us! ” she replied in softly low tone. Aegon immediately got up and took his dick out of her. Then he approached to be in front of him.Jace tried to get out quickly when he saw his uncle approaching..“Not so fast”. aegon replied and grabbed Jace by his clothes and held him in place.

“HE SAW US!”. she spoke again in a slightly higher tone.

“I heard the first time”. aegon replied. Jace tries his best to get free, as she can hear him panicking and struggling. Aegon grabs him tightly, and holds him in place.

Jace was scared and horrified. Not only because he saw his uncle and his aunt in that position, but because of Aegon’s grip on him. He was struggling and resisting, as he desperately wanted to escape away from his uncle. Aegon continues his grip, as he whispers once more.

“Don’t move… just keep your damn mouth shut, and say nothing…” He whispers loudly towards Jace.

Aegon keeps a tight grip, but he doesn’t want his nephew to be harmed or hurt. Instead, he just wants Jace to stay silent.

“W- what you two were doing?”The boy stuttered...surely he saw something a child his age should not see.

Aegon tightens his grip on Jace slightly, as he tries to remain calm and speak in a calm tone. He doesn’t want Jace to see just how furious he really is, as he whispers again.

“Just shut your damn mouth… and don’t tell anyone what you saw… do you understand?”

The boy nodded he is still terrified. “Good.” Aegon replies, as he slowly lets Jace go. He now stares at Jace, looking him in the eyes as he was breathing a bit heavier than normal now.

when the boy was gone now he turns to face her, as she was now nervous as well. He sighs as he speaks, his words coming out a bit differently this time. He was still breathing heavily, as she could tell the situation really had him furious.

Y/n looks at him “He will tell them.. he will tell our father”.

He sighs once more as he looks at her, as he knows she's right… Jace had seen and heard the both of them. And now, he was going to go around spilling all the information about what had happened…

“Clam down! ” he replied.

“ he saw us how you want me to calm down?”

“So? let him know I don't care! let the whole world know that my sister's pussy belongs to me”

She slaps him for his rude words. Aegon chuckles at her act he grabs her arms and brings her close to his chest he puts his mouth near her ear and whispers:

“So? Are you afraid that our father will strip our titles or deprive our inheritance?”.

“I did not mean that-

“He won't do it, our mother won't let him, He cannot punish us because we love each other, what a crime this is?It's a crime that I love you? ”.

“Aegon-

“I will not allow them to separate us from each other, Is it permissible for his daughter to go out and have fun and brag about her illegitimate children, and is it forbidden for us to love each other?”.

“You belong to me, I will do anything to keep you by my side I won't let them.. I won't.. ”. He whispers and kisses below her ear.

“I will go insane if they take me away from you”. she whisper.

“So do I”. he replied and nibbled her earlobe.

She closed her eyes for a moment and calmed down a little.. “I love you Aegon”.

“I love you too”.

– Taglist ♡ : @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #aegon headcanons #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #aegon fanfic #ty tennant #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen ii x you #danytar

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 2022 #call of duty mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw ghost #cod smut #call of duty smut #x reader smut #x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader #mw x reader #cod mwii

[coreytaylr]

100% legit totally real facts about the historical stede bonnet

no the title is not a lie these are really REAL bc believe it or not, somehow the show made our stede MORE competent than the real one

sources: Real Pirates podcast (ep1, ep2, ep3, ep4, ep5), Dirty Sexy History podcast (with jeremy moss, bonnet's biographer, who LOVES the show, and said it changed his perspective on bonnet's and blackbeard's relationship PLUS he has the stedesrevenge handle on twt)

the library on the revenge was a real thing. the man really did that.

running away from his family to be a pirate

paying a salary to his crew

SHOWING UP IN NASSAU IN FRILLY GENTLEMANLY CLOTHES AND A POWDERED WIG

before bonnet's capture, he ran his ship aground and that's how the english caught up with him BUT the two english ships also ran aground (😭), so they fought each other with their flintlock pistols from behind their ships (until the tides turned and dislodged the english ships first. rip)

adopted an alias when he started pirating so people wouldn't know it was him but he raided ships near Barbados (where he's from), so that didnt turn out well. his solution? burning every ship from Barbados

he only succeeded in his early days bc merchant ships knew they would get off easier if they surrendered

ATTACKED A WARSHIP that whooped his ass so bad he almost died. the remaining crew steered the ship to Nassau where he met blackbeard

blackbeard stole the revenge from him but "allowed" him to stay on BB's ship (either as a guest or as a prisoner, it's not clear, but he def wasn't a crew member bc he didn't have any chores)

he was seen on deck running around in his gowns 😭😭

BB eventually reinstated him as the captain of the revenge and they sailed together for a while

"there is a 4 month period where stede and blackbeard kind of disappeared and no one really knows what they were doing" 👀

BB allowed bonnet to raid on his own which lead to him getting his ass beat by the Protestant Caesar. BB then proceeded to HUNT DOWN THE PROTESTANT CAESAR while flying the RED FLAG (which meant no mercy to anyone on board)

bonnet would raid ships and take what provisions he needed and give the other ship what he didn't need (essentially the library raiding scene lmaoo)

BB betrayed bonnet by raiding his ship and marooning his crew while bonnet was off getting a pardon

SO BONNET SWORE REVENGE AGAINST BB who was at the time, the most feared pirate

this led to him adopting another alias - "he also changes his name, at the time he goes by captain edward's. which is really interesting, I don't know if that's an homage to, you know, edward teach, but.. captain edward's with an "s", that's as if he's.. a possession of captain edward" ONCE AGAIN 👀👀👀👀

HE ESCAPED PRISON BY DRESSING AS A WOMAN

after escaping, he was promised a sloop by some rando. when the rando didnt deliver, bonnet "WROTE HIM A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER REPRIMANDING THE MAN"

that letter led to him being recaptured 😭😭

he was hanged while holding a bouquet of wilted flowers

#stede bonnet #our flag means death #ofmd #real pirates #dirty sexy history #kriss.exe #I WENT DOWN A RABBITHOLE IM SORRY #all of these are so fucking funny how was this man REAL #btw BB only became the legend AFTER he met bonnet #anyways the twt crew loved these so thats why i decided to compile them in one post #hope you all enjoy it too <3 #blackbeard #edward teach

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・792 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・felix x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, lots of kissing (again), a lil suggestive towards the end, inspired by his pictures from paris, which i am just. SOOOOOO normal about

“Careful, my love,” Felix murmurs, his huff of laughter tickling the side of your neck when he loops a wary arm around your waist. You first feel your weight lifting off the metal railing of the double-decker bus, then the taut warmth of your boyfriend’s chest as you’re pulled against it.

When you lift your eyes to look at Felix, you have to squint against the sun—or maybe it’s him that’s making it so hard to see, wisps of blonde hair framing his face like freshly spun gold, flawless features illuminated so gloriously that he looks like an exhibit in the Louvre come alive.

“What was that for?” You ask with a furrowed brow, and Felix doesn’t reply right away, suddenly captivated by your newfound proximity.

His gaze darts to your lips; the rest of him follows. You perceive a delicate finger under your chin, a deliberate angle of his head, a tensing of his hand where it slides over your hip. And then he’s kissing you, so sweetly that you’re reminded of whipped cream, his mouth melting your pout to a defenseless smile. 

“You looked like—you were gonna—drop your phone.” These words are woven between three last pecks, the first placed to your lips, the second and third to each of your cheeks. Then Felix pulls away, only far enough for you to spot the teasing smile on his face. “Or fall off the bus. Neither outcome would’ve been ideal.”

“Did I really?” You giggle. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Yes. Or, I think so. I can’t remember anymore.” The tip of his nose bumps against yours lightly, affectionately, and you think your knees would’ve given at his next words if you weren’t literally wrapped in his arms. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

As you lift a hand to trace the contours of his jaw, to bring your fingers around the curve of his nape, you’re beginning to think they had a point, dubbing Paris the City of Love. You swear that his eyes have never been browner; that his freckles have never been so numerous; that you’ve never been as utterly and hopelessly beguiled with Lee Felix as you are right here, right now.

An idea surfaces—suddenly, surely. “Let me take pictures of you.”

A surprised chuckle rises to his throat. “Why?”

“Just trust me, baby.” And he does, with everything in him.

You untangle yourself from his embrace and settle into a seat on the other side of the bus. The next minutes are spent with him adopting various poses and postures before your lens, your fingers toying with the different lighting and focus settings as you attempt to capture him within the world of your screen—ironic, considering he’s a world in himself. The only one that matters; the only one that ever will.

When you’re finally finished, Felix is already motioning for you to return to his side, not wanting you out of his reach for a second longer than you absolutely need to be. You settle in Felix’s lap once you’re close enough—your legs hanging off the side of his seat, your temple leaning against his forehead—and the way his arms circle so readily and securely around your stomach feels like a cushioned fall.

“Tell me now?” He hums, planting a soft kiss to your cheek.

You heartbeat is in your ears as you start to flip through your camera roll. The pictures are perfect. He’s perfect. The princely man in the foreground of each puts even the stunning Parisian weather to shame.

“I wanted you to see yourself the way I do,” you whisper. “And only then would you really understand the meaning of that word, in its purest and brightest form.”

Felix feels his eyes widen; his breath catch in his throat. You hear the scratch of his interrupted inhale, and you're almost nervous when you turn to meet his eyes, despite your love feeling like it’s spanned lifetimes by now. And you know by his darkened gaze and flushed cheeks that he knows just which word you’re referring to.

Then, Felix closes the distance between the two of you again, but this kiss is completely devoid of the last one’s gentleness, open-mouthed, positively scalding, and intensely loving. Your lips sting a bit where his crash; your scalp tingles where he rakes a hand through your hair; your back shivers where the vibrations of his voice travel, his words nearly growled against your mouth.

“I love you,” he breathes.

Your palm comes to rest upon his chest, and the way his every heartbeat moulds to your touch is nothing short of classical.

“I love you more, beautiful.”

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 (open): @astraystayyh @like-a-diamondinthesky @fire-08

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

#felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #k-labels #lee felix #stray kids #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff #felix imagines #felix fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #felix scenarios #lee felix scenarios #*writing #*drabble #*d: felix

[pockettwinzz]

7 Minutes In Heaven - S.JK

౨ৎsynopsis౨ৎ : Seven minutes in heaven with your annoying enemy; how would it go...

౨ৎwarnings౨ৎ : MDNI, Smut, blowjob, oral[m!receiving], unprotected sex[naurr],

౨ৎauthor's Note౨ৎ : So this was supposed to be released after my Heeseung fic but dumbass mfing tumblr didn't save my draft so i'm gonna have to re-write some scenes :( will be uploading it asap!!!! dividers by @dollywons

౨ৎwc౨ৎ : 1.6k

Jake and I had never really talked much since freshman year. Anytime we'd try to talk we'd end up arguing about something. Everyone in college knows about it by now.

Tonight, we're at a camping trip with some of our mutual friends. As the night progresses, they drag us into playing truth or dare. When it's my turn, the idiot who's supposed to be my friend dares me to do something insane. "Y/N, you have to spend seven minutes in heaven with Jake."

I groan, not wanting to do this at all. But I have to, or I'll look like a chicken. So, with a sigh, I agree to it. I close my eyes and feel Jake's warm breath on my neck as we're led into the room. I can't help but feel a little bit nervous.

I said to Jake, my voice shaking slightly. "So umm what are we supposed to do?I mean, we could just… talk, I guess?"

Jake scoffs. "I don't want to talk to you. But if you insist…" He pulls me closer, his body pressed against mine. His hands slide up my shirt, sending shivers down my spine. "We could do other things," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.

My heart skips a beat. I'm not sure if I should be angry or aroused by this. Jake's touch feels so good, so foreign. He reaches around, unhooking my bra with ease, before tossing it aside. His fingers trace circles around my nipple, making me gasp.

I want to hate this, but my body betrays me. It wants more.

I arch my back, pressing myself against his touch. "Jake…," I breathe out, my voice husky. He smirks, leaning in to capture my lips in a heated kiss. His tongue dances with mine, sending a jolt of desire through my entire body. His hand finds its way down my shorts, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, teasing.

I moan into his kiss, feeling myself grow wetter by the second. I want him to touch me there, to make me feel good. I break away from the kiss, gasping for air, and reach down to unfasten his pants. My fingers brush against his hardness, and I'm taken aback by how big he is. I've never been with anyone this big before.

Jake helps me pull his pants down, revealing his boxer briefs. I reach for the waistband, but he stops me, pushing my hand aside. "Let me take care of that," he says, his voice husky. With practiced movements, he pulls down his underwear, freeing his erection.

He steps back, giving me a moment to take in his fully exposed body. I'm mesmerized by the sight of him, hard and ready for me. He's so confident, so sure of himself. It's almost intimidating. But at the same time, it's incredibly arousing.

I reach out, tentatively touching the tip of his cock. He lets out a shuddering breath, and I feel the heat emanating from his body. His eyes are locked on mine as I stroke him, slowly at first, but then faster, matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat.

He grabs my hand, guiding it, showing me how he likes it. I can feel the veins pulsing beneath his skin, the taut muscles quivering with each touch. His hips begin to move in time with my strokes.

"That's it, baby," he groans. "You're doing so good."

I lean forward, taking him into my mouth. His tip presses against the back of my throat, and I gag a little. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around my hair, guiding me. "Just take it slow, sweetheart. Let me feel you around me."

I obey, sucking gently at first and then harder as I get the hang of it. His hips buck against my face, and I can taste the precum on my tongue. It's salty and sweet, and I can't help but want more. I stroke him with my tongue, feeling the veins pulsing beneath his skin. He moans, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine.

His hand tangles in my hair, holding me in place as he thrusts deeper. "Fuck, that's it," he groans. "You're so good at that." His cock twitches in my mouth, and a warm, thick fluid fills my mouth. I swallow quickly, feeling it trickle down my throat.

He pulls me up, grabbing my ass in his hands, and pushes me back against the wall. His hips begin to move, his cock thrusting against my lips. I open wider, taking him deeper, feeling the head of his cock brush against my entrance. He growls, his hips stuttering, and then he's inside me.

I let out a moan as he fills me, feeling him stretch me, claim me. He begins to move, his hips slamming into mine in a furious rhythm. I can feel the strength in him, the power that he has over me. He grips my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin as he takes control of our encounter.

My head falls back against the wall, and I let out a gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside me. His thrusts grow deeper, harder, and I can feel myself beginning to lose control. I reach up, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a bruising kiss.

He groans into the kiss, his hips stuttering against mine as he tries to maintain his rhythm. I can feel the strength in his arms, the way they hold me up, the way they keep me close. He's so big, so powerful, and yet he's gentle with me, almost tender.

His thrusts become more erratic, more urgent. I can feel the tension building in him, the way his breath comes in ragged gasps. I want to make him feel good, want him to let go, so I arch my back, pressing myself deeper against his hips. His cock hits my sweet spot, and he cries out, his body tense as he comes inside me.

He holds me close, his strength steadying me as I feel the aftershocks of his release. His hips slow, but he doesn't pull out. He leans in, kissing my neck, my jaw, my lips. His skin is warm against mine, and I can feel the softness of his hair against my cheek.

"You feel so good," he murmurs, his voice raspy with desire. "So tight, so hot." His hips begin to move again, the friction between us growing more intense with each thrust. He groans, the vibrations traveling up my spine and making my toes curl.

His fingers dance over my skin, tracing patterns that send shivers through my body. He finds my sensitive bundle of nerves, and his touch is electric. "God, I love how you respond to me," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.

I lean into his touch, my hips meeting his rhythm. The friction between us grows more intense, more demanding. I can feel myself growing wetter, hotter. His cock strokes my inner walls, finding that perfect spot that drives me wild.

He groans, his breath hot against my neck. "You're so fucking amazing," he whispers, his fingers digging into my hips. "I could feel you tighten around me, feel you get wetter." His hips thrust harder, faster, his cock hitting deep inside me with each thrust.

I was crying out his name as a shudder runs through me. His touch is so gentle, so tender, it's almost too much to bear. He finds my clit with his thumb, circling it expertly, driving me wild. I grip his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin as I feel the pressure building, the need growing more urgent.

"J-jake….. I'm close.." I manage to choke out, my body trembling under his touch. His thrusts grow faster, harder, each one pushing me closer to the edge. He leans down, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue thrusting deep inside. I can taste myself on him, feel the heat of our bodies as we move together.

He pulls back, watching me intently as his fingers continue to work their magic on my sensitive skin. His touch is so gentle, so knowing, and it sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. "Come for me, baby," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

That was my last straw. I came with a scream, my body arching off the bed as my orgasm took me, waves of pleasure rolling through me. Jake's name was torn from my lips as I convulsed around him, my muscles gripping his cock in time with my spasms.

He followed me over the edge, his body tensing as he cried out, his hips bucking wildly. His hot cum spilled inside me, filling me up as he came, his grip on my hips unyielding. For a moment, we were both suspended in time, our bodies still joined as we caught our breath.

The room was hazy with the scent of our sweat and the lingering traces of our pleasure. Jake rolled off me, collapsing onto his back beside me, his chest heaving. I traced a finger along the line of his jaw, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. "You're amazing," I whispered, kissing his neck.

He laughed, the sound husky and satisfied. "You're not so bad yourself." He propped himself up on one elbow, gazing down at me. "Now think of an excuse baby. What are you gonna tell 'em we were doing cause it's been more than 7 minutes."

"We were just… talking. Getting to know each other a little better."

Jake chuckled, "Do you wanna talk some more?"

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[starsinthesky5]

down bad || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe go to your best friend’s wedding and it’s very clear that you both are soo down bad for each other ;)

a/n: bye i cannot believe i wrote this in 3.5 days because I was SO excited to write it. it’s just so 🤭 it’s definitely somethingggg 🤭🤭 also am i like one of the only people who thinks headband joe is peak joe. like his hair right now is amazing, but headband joe just makes me melt.

warnings: smut, language, and more smut, you both are perpetually horny

word count: 8.5 k

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“Joe!” You moaned as you felt the hot shower water dripping down your body. Joe’s head fell to the crook of your neck, sucking the soft skin which would be sure to leave a purple mark. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you cried as he pounded into you, your body starting to feel sore since you have had your arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist for a good half hour. He was helping you out by holding you up, but everything about what was happening in the shower made you feel sore, in a good way of course. 

“Y/N…” he groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good,”. 

You felt a familiar sensation in your stomach as he continued to thrust into you, his grip on your waist tightening.“I’m close,” you whisper as you throw your head back against the shower wall.

“Shit, hang on for me baby,” Joe said as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, pushing you up against the wall each time. You whined at the feeling of him pushing himself deeper inside of you, which you thought was impossible. 

“Joe,” you whimpered again. “Right there,”. Joe’s rapid pace and deep thrusts were pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm, his cock grazing your g-spot. 

You move one of your hands into his wet curls and push him closer to your face, capturing him in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you. One particularly rough thrust causes you to break away. You felt the rubber band in your core snap as were clenching around his cock, “Joe,” you moaned into his ear as you came. 

“Y/N,” he moaned as he felt himself reaching his own pleasure. A few more thrusts later, you felt hot spurts of his cum fill your slick core as his head dropped down to your shoulder again, pressing soft kisses on your collarbone. 

As the water continued to rain down on you both, Joe and You stood in each other's arms, your bodies entwined in the lingering heat of your love. You knew that in that moment, there was no place you would rather be than together, lost in the blissful embrace of the shower.

“I love you,” he pants while pressing a few more kisses on your lips.

“I love you too,” you say back with a smile.

A little while later, you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror in your pink robe as you inspect the new purple marks littered around your neck. 

Joe walks up behind you, cupping the nape of your neck with his hand and rubbing it. “Sorry about that,” he softly says. 

You look back at him and smile, “It’s Okay, I’m used to it by now,”. 

What was supposed to be a quick shared shower before packing for your best friend's wedding in New York this weekend had turned into another one of your many unplanned romps. 

“I should’ve known this would’ve happened if we showered together. Every damn time we say we’ll take a quick shower, I end up with a limp,” you giggle while leaning back into his warm body. 

“Can’t keep my hands off of you. You know that,” he whispers into your ear lightly before lightly kissing the marks on your neck. 

You playfully roll your eyes as you move forward and walk into Joe’s closet. You weren’t living with him just yet, but by the looks of his closet, you basically were. 

You were bringing Joe as your plus 1 to your bestie’s wedding this weekend during the Bengals Bye Week and came over to Joe’s house to pack since he hated packing and needed you to keep him company. You had only been dating for 4 months but were already acting like a married couple according to your friend, and you were starting to see why she said so. 

Flashback to a few weeks ago

“So, you’re bringing Joe?” she asked, a little surprised since you’d only been dating for a few months and you never brought a guy to your friends this early, especially since you lived a little far away from them. 

“Mhm,” you responded while putting the phone on speaker as you were attempting to find your keys to Joe’s house in his driveway while he was away at practice. 

“Already the plus 1? Damn, he has you whipped,” she giggles. 

You roll your eyes and say, “Really funny Sophia,”. 

“Am I on speaker? Your voice is echoing,” she questions.

“Yeah, I'm trying to find my keys,”.

She stays silent for a second before saying “You’re in his driveway aren’t you,” with a big smile she wished you could see. 

“Maaaybee,” you trail. 

“God, get married already. You’re always over at his place, just move in Mrs. Burrow,” she teases. 

You laugh and say, “That’s because it’s most convenient. You know my apartment is a good half hour away from him. Besides, I thought you liked Joe,”

“Oh, I do, even though I've only met him a few times. I’ve never seen you happier, I'm just surprised you’re actually bringing him,” Sophia says. 

“Honestly, me too. But it feels right. And he’s very excited to go with me which makes it even better,” you say as you finally find the keys. 

End of flashback 

Joe joins you in the closet and watches you pack your stuff for this weekend in your suitcase. Along with your basic necessities, you pack several party dresses, heels, your wedding day look, and a bunch of accessories. 

“Damn, I never knew girls needed so much stuff for 3 days,” he laughed. 

You turned around and gave him a look that had him immediately retreating.“Not that it’s a bad thing,” he says while raising his hands to soften the blow. 

You break out into a laugh and say, “Calm down Joey, I’m jussst kidding,” as you walk over to him and kiss him before moving behind him to grab his suitcase. 

“You’re turn,” you say as you drop the bag at his feet. 

“I hate packing,” he frowns.

“That’s why I’m here baby. Here to keep ya company,” you smile before sitting in the comfy armchair in the corner. 

He lets out a defeated sigh as he begins packing his things and you watch him the entire time. He was doing something so simple as packing but looked incredibly delicious while doing so. His wet hair flopping around, his bare chest on display, and his shorts hanging low on his waist and showing off his blonde treasure trail. 

He catches you staring deeply at him and smirks. “Like what you see?”.

“You know I do,” you say as you cross your legs in the chair. 

“You know, we coulddd go back to bed,” he offers.

“Nice try Burrow. Packing comes first.”

“Damn,” he whispers. He finishes packing all of his things for the weekend, similar to you. Basic necessities, some nice shirts, pants, and jackets; also packing his wedding day outfit and a few of his favorite shades. 

“Always with the shades huh?” You tease. 

“If you can bring 20 different kinds of earrings, I can bring my shades,” he deadpans. 

“Alright alright, that’s fair,” you say as you get up and walk over to him to inspect his packing, making sure it’s not a complete mess. Satisfied with the way he packed his things, you move your face closer to his ear and whisper, “Now, if you’re done, is that ‘back to bed’ offer still on the table?”.

Joe immediately puts down his bag and reaches for your legs, picking you up bridal style, and rushes you to his bed. He softly drops you against the silk sheets before untying your robe and moving in between your legs. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” you giggle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to your lips for a sweet kiss. 

“We can’t be too rough though, I’m still a little sore from the shower and we have an early flight to New York tomorrow,”. 

He plants another soft kiss on your lips, “No worries babe, soft and gentle is one of my specialties,”. You watch as he kisses down to your core, closing your eyes in anticipation of what is to come. 

The next day

The ring of your alarm wakes you up early the next morning. You reach over and turn it off before turning to face Joe, who looks incredibly adorable and still asleep. His head was angled towards you, his messy bedhead hair was sprawled out against the pillow, his soft golden skin looked flawless, his lips curled up in a smile, and his bare chest was littered with a few purple marks from last night on display. He looked absolutely gorgeous at 6:00 am and you were jealous since you probably looked like a hot mess. 

You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, hoping to wake him up. Lucky for you, it worked.

“Morning sunshine,” you whispered.

He groans, barely opens his eyes, and mumbles “Morning Baby,”. 

You felt your core throb at the sound of his morning voice but immediately gave yourself a mental lashing since you were sore from last night and you guys have a flight at 8:00 to NYC. His morning voice and bare chest combo made you weak in the knees so early in the morning. 

After laying in bed for 10 minutes to give Joe a chance to fully wake up, you both hit the shower again. This time, actually showering with no funny business. Joe loads up the car to head to the airport but makes a quick pit stop at your favorite coffee shop to grab you both some breakfast. 

You guys were on the way to the airport as you were reading off the events and itinerary for the weekend. “Okay, tonight we have the rehearsal dinner and then the party at the club after,” you say as you feel Joe’s hand migrate to your thigh, a familiar spot for it. 

“Sounds like fun,” he says while giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Then tomorrow we have the wedding and reception. And then the next day she said she planned a brunch for close friends so it’ll just be a small group of people,” you conclude.

He nods his head as he continues to caress your thigh. “So what do you think of Steven?” You ask Joe. Steven is Sophia’s fiancée and Joe has only met him a handful of times. 

“He’s a good guy,” he says. “We actually have a good bit in common and he’s a big football guy,” Joe says, turning the car into the airport entrance. 

“He likes the Eagles right?” You question.

“Yup,” he says.

“That tracks, you know Sophia’s a big Eagles fan,”.

“Oh I know, so are you,” Joe says giving you a look.

You look back at him, a little offended, and say, “Aye, slow down buddy. Were. Were an Eagles fan. My loyalty has changed, and I look better in orange anyway,”

“Oh I know,” he smirks, his mind flashing back to all the times he’s seen you in your adorable little gameday outfits. You and Joe had been dating since a bit before the season started and had been getting to know each other throughout the summer. When the first game of the season rolled around, Joe insisted that you come and watch him play. You were a little hesitant at first since you knew that a lot of people would be there, many of whom would notice a random girl in Joe Burrow’s suite, but ultimately said yes because you wanted to support your boyfriend in any way possible. 

Your first gameday outfit consisted of a black Bengals-themed baseball jersey which had ‘Burrow’ and ‘9’ on the back and ‘Bengals’ on the front. You left the buttons open and had a white crop top on underneath, with your favorite jean shorts. He loved your first gameday outfit, but the accessories made it even better. You had gotten an iced-out ‘9’ necklace and a vintage Bengals baseball cap you had on backward to pull the look together. You had him drooling the entire day and he couldn’t wait to get you alone, and when he did, you could hardly think or walk straight after. 

Flashback to Week 1

You were sitting inside the Burrow suite while the boys were warming up on the field before changing into uniforms. You were scanning the field to hopefully get a glimpse of your boyfriend but couldn’t find him. It's been about an hour since you drove over with his parents and hadn’t gotten a chance to see Joe yet, and you were feeling a little sad because you thought you’d have to wait till the end of the game. 

You heard the suite door open as you were trying to find your lipgloss in your bag and thought it was just his parents coming back from their tailgate. You felt a big pair of hands wrap around your waist and a warm mouth press a kiss on your cheek. 

You let out a shriek and immediately turned around, panicking because you thought it was some random creep, but it was in fact just your boyfriend.

“Woah Y/N. Calm down, it’s just me,” Joe soothes.  

You relax your muscles and let out a sigh, “Whew, I thought some rando creep found their way into the suite,”. 

“Nah, just me,” he laughs. 

You furrow your brows, slightly confused at what he is doing up here, “Wait, why aren’t you down there?” you say as you point to the field.

“I just had to make sure you were doing okay. I know this is all new for you and I want you to feel as safe and relaxed as possible,”. 

Your eyes soften at his response, “Awww that’s so sweet,” you say while wrapping your arms around his neck, a whiff of sweat making you grimace. “Ohhh that lovely football smell,”.

“Sorry about that,” he says while pulling you in for a kiss. 

He pulls away after a few seconds, observing your adorable gameday outfit that he was seeing for the first time. His eyes got stuck on the ‘9’ necklace. “And that is how people will know you’re my girl,” he says while touching the necklace. 

“Glad you like the fit,” you smile. 

“Oh, I love the fit. I could get used to this,” he winks. 

“Me too,” you say as your eyes travel around the room, taking in the feeling that this could very well be a constant thing in your life from now on. 

Joe looks at the time and his face drops, “I gotta go get ready now,”.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine Joe,” you say while rubbing the back of his neck. 

He lets out a sigh, “Okay, but if you need anything, and I mean anything, ask my parents or come sit down by the locker room if things get overwhelming,”. 

“Okayy,”. “Now go back down there before they accuse me of hogging their star QB,” you tease. 

“Really funny babe,” he says while pulling you in for a hug. He pulls away before giving your forehead a sweet kiss and walking towards the door to head back to the field. “Knock ‘em dead shiesty,” you yell as he gives you a smile before leaving the suite. 

Although you were anxious about being noticed by thousands of people, you were having the time of your life. As time passed, you became more and more engaged in the game, screaming and shouting whenever Joe would throw a dime or a big-time play would happen. You didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought anymore and were not afraid to show people that you were his girl. And Joe noticed. Each time he would look up at the suite, he would see you jumping up and down with his family and looking incredibly focused on him; this was the ultimate motivator for him because he knew his girl was watching. 

End of flashback 

Joe parked the car in the lot while you got all your stuff together before boarding his private jet to New York. 

“Ahh, I can never get tired of this,” you sigh as you slip off your Uggs and lay back onto the cushioned chair. Joe drops down onto the seat across from you and immediately pulls your legs into his lap, massaging your feet. 

“You’re so cute,” he mumbles while giving you a warm smile. 

You brush your hair out of your face before sending him a flying kiss, “You are even cuter,”. 

You both ended up taking a power nap during the short flight to New York and woke up about an hour before you landed. Since you had some time to kill, Joe pulled out his Nintendo Switch and convinced you to play a round of smash-bros with him. 

“Noooo,” you whined as you just lost for the 2nd time in a row. Joe let out another laugh as he watched you struggle to digest that you sucked at Smash-Bros. 

“You’re laughing now, but once it’s time for Mario Kart, it is game over Burrow,” you growl. 

“Maybe, but at least I put up a fight in Mario Kart. You basically gave up halfway,” he laughed as he placed the controller down and grabbed his phone, opening his notes app to add to the win-loss ratio list you had going. You and Joe both had somewhat competitive natures and loved to play silly little games whenever you could, so you suggested you keep a tally of how many times each of you won or lost a game of anything. At the end of the year, the loser has to do whatever the winner wants them to do for a whole day. 

“What’s the tally right now?” You asked.

“34-45. I’m winning,” he smirks. 

“Damn,” you whisper. “It’s okay. I still have all of this month to get myself back on top,”.

“You can be on top whenever you want, just say the word,” he teases while motioning to his dick. 

Your eyes widen at his words as you grab a pillow from behind you and chuck it at his face. “Are you always horny?”.

“Well, when I'm with my drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, I can’t help it,” he shrugs. 

Drop dead gorgeous? You looked like a sack of potatoes right now, wearing one of his old LSU sweatshirts that was too big on you, black sweats, messy hair in a claw clip, and your glasses on. “Joe, I look like a mess right now,” you say as you pull the hood of his sweatshirt over your head. 

“Well if you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,” his face immediately scrunching up. “I don’t think that came out the way I thought it would,”.

You smiled, got up from your chair, and moved over to his lap, pressing a soft kiss on his smooth cheek. “I know what you mean,”. 

A few hours later 

After your plane lands, you both head over to Joe’s New York penthouse you’ll be staying for the weekend. You both unpack all your things and start to get ready for the night. 

You’re finishing up your makeup as you watch Joe walk into the bathroom, seemingly looking for his hairbrush. You look at him up and down in the mirror and he looks incredible. He’s wearing his black jeans, a plain white short-sleeve tee which showed off his bulging muscles, and his navy blue jacket in hand. He walks over to the sink and runs his hands through his hair, like usual, to perfect it. 

“Can’t find your brush?” You question while fixing your hair. 

“Nah, but it’s fine. This should do it,” he says as he pushes a few stray strands back. He turns around and feels slightly flushed as he looks you up and down. You were wearing a short baby pink dress that hugged your body in all the right places, strappy white heels, and an ensemble of jewelry which was all gifted to you by Joe. 

“Baby..” he breathes out, struggling to move from where he was standing. You looked absolutely sexy and he felt like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, much like how he’d feel when that happened out on the field. 

You do a little twirl to show off your outfit, “You think it looks good?”. 

“Good?” He says as he walks over to you. “Looks fucking amazing,” he mumbles as he pulls you in for a kiss, one hand cradling your head and the other migrating to your ass. He gives it a delicate squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

You pull away and press your forehead against his, “We gotta behave tonight Joe,” you giggle. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says before giving you another kiss. 

You both finish up and then head out to the wedding venue just outside of the city for the dinner. You and Joe walk into the venue, hand in hand, and you’re in awe of how beautifully everything is decorated. The warm fairy lights that were all around the room made everything glow and highlighted the most captivating elements. 

You looked ahead and caught a glimpse of Sophia and released yourself from Joe’s grasp, immediately running over to her. 

“There’s the bride!” You yell. 

Her face instantly lights up as she sees you. She runs to meet you halfway, tackling you in a tight hug. “I misseddd youuu! Cincy stole you away,” she squeals as she sways you back and forth. 

Joe walks over behind you both, smiling at the cute interaction. 

Sophia opens her eyes and sees Joe standing behind you and lets go of you. “And here is the reason why Cincinnati stole you away,” she teases. 

“Guilty,” Joe says while giving her a salute. 

“Hey Joe,” she says while giving him a friendly hug. 

“Hey Sophia,” he smiles, hugging her back. You have a huge grin on your face as you watch your two favorite people get along, it’s the best feeling in the entire world. 

“What are you smiling at?” Sophia questions as she pulls away to wrap her arm around your shoulder. 

“Just happy that my favorite people get along,” you sing song. 

“Remember, she was mine first Burrow,” Sophia giggles, causing Joe to scoff and gently pull you into him as Sophia’s fiancée walks in behind her. 

“Well, I’m incredibly lucky to have her now, and hopefully forever,” he says as he stares lovingly into your eyes. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst at his words, add to the fact that his strong grip on your waist was making you feel butterflies in all the right places. You felt yourself getting lost in his deep blue eyes as you both were just stuck staring at each other. 

Sophia smiles at the sweet words that came out of Joe’s mouth for you and notices the way he’s looking at you and holding you. It’s like you were the only person in the room, like you were a diamond. “Aye, snap out of it love-birds,” Sophia claps as her fiancée joins you all. 

“Whoops, Sorry about that,” you blush. “Hey Steven!,”. 

“Sup, Steven,” Joe says as he lets go of you to greet your friend's Fiancée. 

You all have a small reunion and spend a few minutes catching up and talking about wedding details before the other guests start to arrive. The rehearsal dinner was great as you got to catch up with your old friends from home and got the chance to finally introduce Joe formally to some of them. 

Currently, You and Joe were sitting together in your own little corner at the table as a few speeches were being delivered, his hand once again on your thigh, and your hands wrapped around his, softly caressing his golden skin. You leaned your head onto his shoulder as you melted into his touch. 

“You alright?” He whispers, noticing the change in your body language. 

“I’m amazing,” you whisper back. 

“Good, we still have a long night ahead of us,” he laughs before planting a few kisses on your forehead. 

About an hour later, the wedding party makes its way back into the city to a club in the Upper East Side. 

Loud music and bright strobe lights fill the room as you take another shot of tequila at the bar with your friends. Joe was across the room with Steven and the rest of the boys, also taking shots but less frequently than you and the girls. You’re slightly buzzed, maybe a little more than slightly actually. 

“Come on, let’s go dance,” Sophia yells as she pulls you into the dance floor. 

You and the girls start dancing in the crowd, having the most fun when you hear the song change, which immediately causes you and Sophia to scream. 

“This is our song!” She screams. The song had just changed to ‘Blow’ by Kesha, a song that you had very fond memories of in high school. 

“Oh yeah,” you yell as you throw your head back and hands in the air. 

Joe watches you carefully from across the room as you dance with your friends, looking incredibly stunning and sexy while doing so. The tent in his pants was a sure sign that he was going to struggle for a few minutes. His eyes never leave you as he sips his drink while still talking to the boys. 

You keep dancing around with your girls as you feel a pair of eyes watching you. You turn around to where Joe was and obviously, it was him. You give him a playful nod and stare right back at him, still dancing like nothing mattered. 

“Damn, Y'all can’t be away from each other even for a little,” Sophia laughs. 

“I think I’m torturing him by being out here, especially dressed like this,” you giggle. 

“Y’all are soo Down bad,” she yells but you barely notice what she said as you hear the song change again. This time, to one of your and Joe’s favorite songs, ‘Feel So Close’ by Calvin Harris. 

You immediately look back at him, motioning him to come over with just a simple look. He smiles at the song change and doesn’t hesitate to get off the barstool, places his drink on the counter, and walks over to the dance floor. You turn around and keep dancing as you suddenly feel a familiar warmth behind you. Joe presses himself into your back as you dance back into him, making his boner even worse than before. 

You both were caught up in the moment as the loud music and flashing lights created a special scene around you both. Although you were in a room filled with people, right now it just felt like you two out there, dancing the night away. Joe placed his hands on you and slid them down your waist as you threw your head back into his chest. 

You felt the tent in his pants on your ass, causing you to let out a giggle, “Got you worked up, didn’t I?”

“You look amazing,” he whispers into your ear before fully wrapping his arms around your waist, turning you so you could face him. You were a little breathless as you closed the space between you both, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss while your hands wrapped around his neck. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away. You nod your head as he lets go of you. You walk over to where Sophia is and let her know that you’re heading out and that you’ll see her tomorrow.

“Me and Joe are going to head out,” you pant. She gives you a smirk and says, “Mhm, called it,”. You’re confused by her words, “Called what?”.

“You both couldn’t even last 2 hours in the club before getting so worked up over each other that you’d have to leave before the party was over,” she giggled. 

You felt a little red as she said that. Damn, she was right. You don’t know what it was about Joe that made you act like this or what about you that made him act like this, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“If you want me to stay, I can,” you say as you brush a few stray pieces of hair out of your face. 

“No, it’s alright,” she smiles. “It’s getting pretty late anyways, you guys should go rest,” she says.

“Are you sure?”.

“Positive. He makes you happy Y/N, I can see it. Go have fun, but not too much fun,” she winks.

You pull her in for a hug and tell her that you’d absolutely help her get ready for the big day tomorrow morning. 

You make your way back over to Joe, who has moved closer to the exit. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his, “I called Uber, you ready?”. 

“Yup,” you say while giving him a kiss. 

Both of you were wrapped up together in the backseat of the Uber. Your head once again on his shoulder, and his resting on top of your head. His arm was wrapped around you, and his hand was absentmindedly softly rubbing your arm. Your right leg was wedged in between his as his free hand was rubbing up and down your lower leg. Everything about this was comforting for you both. It felt so peaceful and natural.

Once you’ve arrived at the apartment, Joe helped you out of the Uber since you were a bit too drunk and were wobbling around; he was terrified that you’d fall in the heels you were wearing. 

He slowly helped you into the elevator and you moved to stand behind him. He pressed the number of the floor you were supposed to be on and immediately turned back around to face you as the door closed.

He looks into your eyes for a few heartbeats before leaning in and capturing your lips in a delicate kiss which you both grin into. Once again, your hands find their home wrapped around his neck, and you stay like this until the door opens again. 

A few minutes later, you both are back inside the apartment and are in the process of getting unready. You feel a gush of wetness pool your core as you catch a glimpse of Joe’s bare chest as he just got out of the shower. He looked so desirable and his bare chest always got you worked up.  

You walk over to him, take his hand, and lead him back to the bed. “What are you doing?” He questions.

“What I’ve been wanting to do all night,” you say as you push him back onto the bed, straddling his waist. You capture his lips in a fiery kiss as his hands grip your waist again. You slowly grind on his shorts, making him way more horny than he was before. You push your hand down to his dick and start palming him through his shorts when he suddenly flips you both over so that he’s on top, leaving you a little dizzy. 

“Hm?” You question his sudden change of mind.

“You can do that another time, I wanna make you feel good tonight,” he says. 

You don’t have a chance to argue with him since he starts to peel off your tank top; his lips finding the sweet spot on your neck, making you flutter your eyes as you let out a whimper. 

He moves down and presses a few wet kisses on your belly before getting right to business, sliding off your shorts and underwear. 

“Oh,” you moan as you feel him blow on your core which was already wet from earlier. 

He lets out a laugh before he moves closer to your core, attacking your folds with sloppy kisses. Your hands find themselves in his hair again as you pull on the strands. “Joe,” you whimper. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers as he goes back to lapping at your slick core. He takes one of his fingers and pushes them inside your heat which makes you let out another moan. The combination of his mouth and fingers, along with the alcohol in your system was making you feel like you were levitating. “Fuck,” you whined. 

He continued to pump his finger into your core as his mouth attached itself to your clit, rhythmically sucking on it. He inserts another finger, stretching you out even more which causes you to arch your back. His free hand pushes your belly back down to the bed as he continues to attack your core. 

“Baby,” you moaned while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt a familiar warmth in your lower belly, signaling that you were very close. 

“I’m close,” you whispered, pushing your head further back into the pillow. You continue to pull on his hair which causes him to groan against your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

His fingers pick up the pace as his mouth is replaced by his thumb. He rubs circles around your clit while continuing to pump into you, which intensifies the entire experience. A few seconds later, you’re cumming hard and fast. “Joe,” you loudly moaned. He removed his fingers from your core and his mouth begins lapping up your juices.

He helps you come down from your high by pressing delicate kisses around your core and inner thighs. After a few minutes, he walks into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean you up. Also, bringing you Advil and water to get ahead of the morning hangover. You’re too drained to move so he cleans you up and wraps a blanket around you while he makes sure everything is locked up. He joins you back in bed and pulls you closer to him, “You comfy?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say sleepily. He presses one final kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

You stay awake for a few moments, thinking about how lucky you were to have someone who cared so much about you and always made sure that you were comfortable. He was perfect for you, and you couldn’t get enough of him. Sure, you two were absolutely insatiable for each other, but you also had a healthy balance between lust and love that kept your relationship steady, strong, and tender. 

The next day

The next morning rolls by fairly quickly. You get up early to go over to Sophia’s hotel to help her get ready for the ceremony and leave Joe to get a few more hours of sleep, assuring him that you’ll be back in time to get ready with him. 

“Babe, have you seen my watch?” Joe asks as he walks into the bathroom, his mouth agape as he sees your completed wedding look. His eyes travel down your body, the slit in the dress showing off your bare leg; the black material of the dress hugged your body in all the right spots, especially your ass. He felt particularly weak when he saw the v-cut neckline which highlighted your perfectly round breasts. 

“I think it was on the entry table,” you say turning to face him as you get your last earring on. Your eyes widen at his completed wedding look; black pants and a silk maroon shirt with his signature shades. 

“You look stunning,” he says while keeping absolutely still. His heart was racing at how gorgeous you looked. Even though he got to see your beauty every day, he would still lose his mind every time. 

“Right back at ya,” you wink causing him to let out a chuckle. 

After putting the finishing touches on your look, you both head over to the venue for the ceremony. 

It was a wonderful ceremony. You and Joe were seated towards the front so you had an amazing view of the whole thing. You both were sitting close to each other, his hand in yours. You were struggling to hold back your tears the entire time since you were watching your best friend since elementary school get married, and when Joe looked over and saw, he melted. You were also tearing up at the thought of imagining yourself getting married. You would have all of this one day and you wondered if it would be with the man sitting next to you, you were praying that it would be with the man next to you.

He raised your hands to his lips, pressing a few soft kisses to them to make sure you were okay. 

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. 

“I love you more,” he mouthed back, not knowing why you were feeling extra emotional all of a sudden.

A few hours later the wedding reception had begun, and you both had found yourself in your own little corner once again. You were absentmindedly rubbing Joe’s thigh while you both were focused on all the wedding speeches, and it was getting him worked up. Once it was time for your speech, Joe had lost it. He watched as you swayed your perfect hips, hips that he loved to grab onto, over to the stage. Your soft skin was glistening in the spotlight and your perfect breasts were mocking him. 

“Now’s not the time,” Joe thought to himself as he felt himself getting hard. 

You wrapped up your special speech for your bestie with a toast to the newlyweds and made your way back to your boyfriend, who looked like he was struggling to sit comfortably. 

“Are you okay?” you giggle. All you get in response is a blank stare.

“What?” you question. 

He lets out a sigh and fixes his posture, “You in this damn dress, is driving me fucking insane,” he blurts out. 

You stare at him for a few moments, thinking about how funny it was that he was going gaga over you right now, just like how you were drooling at his sexy self. “Well, you in this whole look is making me insanely horny,” you whisper into his ear. 

He clears his throat as a way to compose himself. He thinks about if anyone would notice if you both stepped away for a few minutes. “There’s a bathroom around the corner,” he whispers. 

Your eyes widen at his offer. You both rarely had sex in public places like this, usually finding pleasure in your home, car, or anywhere private. But right now, you honestly could care less.

As the wedding reception raged on outside, You and Joe sneaked away to the bathroom for a moment alone. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the candles casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Your eyes locked, filled with desire and longing. Without saying a word, Joe closed the distance between your lips, capturing them in a hungry kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his hands roaming freely over your plush skin.

You moaned softly as Joe lifted you up onto the countertop, his hands sliding up your dress to caress the smooth skin of your thighs. You push your hands into his curls as his lips travel down your neck, causing you to let out a moan. “Yeah,” you whimper. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded, leaving you both naked and exposed to each other. You push your lips against him again as you reach down and slide your hand up and down his dick. You guide it to your core and leave the rest to him. You moaned in ecstasy as he buried himself deep inside you. 

Your head falls back against the mirror as your legs hook around his waist. “Shit,” you moan as Joe moves his face into the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses along your collarbone. His steady pace was doing wonders but you needed him to go deeper and faster. 

“Joe,” you whimpered, causing him to move his face back into your view. “Fuck me harder,”. 

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah,” you moaned. 

He smiles and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he quickens his pace, rapidly thrusting into your slick core. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom as you were drowning in pleasure. “Harder,” you whimpered. The sounds coming out of your mouth were driving Joe insane as he thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy, completely forgetting you were in a public bathroom. 

“Y/N,” he groaned as he gripped your waist tighter, surely leaving a few bruises. 

“Fuck Joe,” you moaned, this time a little louder. Each thrust sends you further back into the mirror and your lower half becomes slicker and slicker by the second. “You feel so good,” you whisper. 

Joe smiles as he plunges into you harder and harder each time. You felt a familiar sensation build in your belly as he pounded into your heat, “I’m so close,” you whispered. 

“Fuck, me too,” he moans as he reaches down and starts to rub circles around your wet clit. You whimper at the sudden contact, eventually setting off your release. Your walls clench around his cock as you let out a series of pornographic moans into his ear. 

He continues to pound into you, harder than before, trying to reach his own pleasure. You whimper at his movements and your hands start to scratch up and down his bare back. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

“Mm,” you whined. A few seconds later, you felt his release coat your walls. You both were trying to catch your breaths and regain your senses for a few moments before Joe slid out of you. He cleans you up first and helps you put your clothes back on. Then, you clean him up and help him fix his outfit just like he did for you. You look into the mirror while fixing your hair and smile at how well fucked-out you look, and look back over to your boyfriend, also looking well fucked. 

Before leaving the bathroom, he pulls you in for a hug, whispering a few sweet nothings into your ear and telling you how amazing you were. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, causing you to smile against his chest and hug him tighter. 

You walk back into the reception with a slight limp, pretending as nothing happened, and tell Joe you are going over to Sophia for a bit. Joe nodded and said he’d be grabbing you both something to eat. 

You walk over to her table and slide into the chair next to her, flashing her a giddy smile. 

“How does it feel to be a Wifey,” you questioned. 

She laughs, “Very Fun,” while looking over at you. She looks carefully at you, noticing your smudged lipgloss and slightly messy hair. Your radiant smile and limp told her everything she needed to know.

“Looks like you had a little bit of your own fun,” she winks. “I saw that limp,”. Your face immediately turns red at the fact that she figured it out. How could she not? This girl has known you longer than anyone, of course she could tell when something was up, good or bad. 

You heave a sigh, “I don’t know what about him makes me so-,” you pause as you can’t find the right word to finish the sentence. 

“Down Bad?” Your friend says. 

You stay silent for a few seconds, “Yeah. Down Bad.” You smile as you look over at your boyfriend who was currently balancing two plates of food in his hand for you both.

“I see the way he looks at you, you know. It’s like you’re the only person in the room for him,” she says. “He looks at you like you are the most valuable diamond,”. 

You blush while you think about the countless times you’d find Joe deeply staring at you whenever you were talking. “Yeah, he does do that doesn’t he,”. 

“And I also see the way you look at him,” she adds.

“What do you mean, how do I look at him?”.

“Well other than looking like you want to pounce on him every 5 minutes,” she giggles. “You look at him like he’s the one,”.

You are surprised by what she says. The one? You’d only been officially dating for 4 months, was he really the one? He made you feel things that you haven’t felt in forever and even things you’d never felt before. He made you feel seen and he made you feel loved. You were so lucky to have found something special with him, but was he going to be the one? Did he even want you to be the one?

“Sophia, we’ve been dating for 4 months,” you nervously laugh. 

“And?” She questions. “I know it’s early, but I’ve seen you look happier with Joe in the past few months than I saw you with your ex who you were with for 3 years. He really really really loves you and I can tell that you feel the same way”. 

“He’s the one, Y/N. Trust me, I can feel it,” she adds as you look back over at Joe, who flashes you a warm smile, setting off butterflies in your stomach. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. Maybe he was the one. God, you wanted him to be the one. 

You hear her let out a loud laugh, “See what I mean! Even across the room, look at you two!”. 

You turn over and playfully push her arm. “Y’all are sooo down bad for each other,” she teases. You break out into a fit of laughter as you spend a few more moments talking to her about the wedding and the brunch tomorrow before getting up and joining your boyfriend once again. 

“What was that about?” He questions. 

“Ohhh nothing,” you say. The playful tone in your voice makes Joe slightly suspicious but he decides not to question it. Festive music fills the room as you both sit and eat your delicious meals while watching all the couples fill the dance floor.

Joe hears the song change from upbeat to slow; “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” playing softly in the background. This song was another song that was special for you both. 

He meets your eyes before standing up. You were confused at why he was getting up since you were both comfy the way you were sitting now, and you both certainly were not about to dance. Joe never danced in public as the only time he would slow-dance with you was in private. You didn’t mind though, it felt more natural and intimate that way. The song currently playing was one of your favorites to dance to.

He extends his hand out and says, “Y/N, would you like to dance with me?”. 

You feel like he’s messing with you so you don’t say anything for a few seconds, but he remains in the same position so he means business. 

“I would love to dance with you,” you say as he grabs his hand and leads you to the dance floor.  

His hands wrap around your waist as yours hang from his neck, and your warm bodies find themselves pressed together once again. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says quietly while swaying you to the beat of the song. 

You blush, “You’ve told me that like 50 times today,”. 

“And I’ll do it 50 more,” he says while raising his brows. 

“Only you could be so romantic not even an hour after rearranging my guts,” you whisper as he pulls you closer, if that was even humanly possible. 

“You just have this effect on me Y/N,” he says. “Got me feeling down bad every minute of every day,”.

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “Have you been talking to Sophia?” you question. 

“I mean, Yeah, it is her wedding,” he says while shrugging his shoulders. 

“No, I mean about us?” you ask.

“A little, but not anything in particular. Is something wrong?” he says, his face turning solemn. 

“No, No. Nothings wrong. It’s just she’s been going on the entire weekend about how down bad we are for each other,” you giggle, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. 

“To be fair, she isn’t wrong. You make me do things and feel things that I never knew I could be capable of,” he says, once again staring deeply into your soft eyes. Your heart beating so incredibly fast as it felt like it was just you two dancing on the floor. 

“Joe,” you whisper, your face moving closer to his.

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N. You have no idea,” he says before pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

Your lips fit perfectly against his as you stay like that for a few seconds before breaking away, “I can’t help falling in love with you,” you say, reciting the lyrics of the song playing while you two are dancing.

“I love you, so fucking much. If this is what they call down bad, then fuck yes I’m down bad for the love of my life,” he says. 

A huge grin appears on your face, “Love of your life?” you question.

“Mhm,” he says as he pushes your head into his chest. “Take this as a preview of what our first dance will be like at our wedding,” he says. “Same song and everything,”.

You feel tears pool in your eyes as you look back up at him, “Really? You wanna marry me?”. 

He smiles and says, “Down the road, absolutely. You are exactly what I’ve been waiting for in my life. If you think I’m gonna let that go, maybe I need to do a better job of showing it”. 

Your heart felt like it was about to explode. He wanted to be the one just as much as you did. 

“If you were to do more to show your love than you already did, I think I would drop dead,” you tease. 

“Hey, that is not funny,” he deadpans. 

“Oops, Sorry Mr. Serious,” you say as you kiss his cheek. 

“Well, for future reference, I like princess cut,” you smile, causing him to break his serious expression and let out a hearty laugh. Your head finding its way back to his chest as you continued dancing. 

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a dance that seemed to last for eternity. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, but to them, it was as if they were the only ones in the world.

As the song came to an end, they held each other closer, never wanting to let go. The warmth of their love enveloped them, filling their hearts with a sense of pure bliss and contentment.

And in that magical moment, as they whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, they knew that their love would always be the music that guided them through life's dance, forever intertwined and inseparable.

–The End–

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

[greatstormcat]

Of Wolf And Man - Part 3

Poly TF141 x f!reader

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, monster fucking, p in v, fingering, knotting, mentions of previous SA, angst

Autumn

The last few weeks of summer bleed in together as you spend more time with, what you now know to be, the Pack. It takes a little bit of getting used to, but not as much as you had first thought. Discovering Werewolves existed outside of fairy tales was a shock, as was watching four huge men turn into wolves at will, but you adapted very easily. Getting used to their habit of walking around totally naked was the hardest thing, and an uneasy truce was found in the form of baggy shorts being kept in the cottage for when they turned up. Simon still groused incessantly about it though, if he even bothered to put them on at all, and you decided it just wasn’t worth the shouting anymore and let him be. You suspected he enjoyed the way you reacted anyway and you were only fueling his stubborn behaviour.

You asked questions, so many questions you were worried you’d piss them off but they were always happy to answer. They told you the differences between the Designations. Apparently Price and Simon were Alphas, the dominant ones, and Johnny and Kyle were Betas, and they told you of the lost Omegas. Hunted by humans over the centuries as trophies and feats of valour, the species has dwindled down to tiny isolated Packs, and the Omegas are almost all gone after being captured as pleasure slaves for human nobility in the past. That thought sickened you to your soul.

What takes you by surprise the most, however, is getting used to constantly having them nearby. You come to discover that they can’t stand you not being in sight of at least one of them, be it night or day. Even when they roamed their territory one of them would hang back with you whilst the others were away, and it turned out this had been going on for longer than you realised. Their protective instincts ran very, very deep. Having you sleep in the den with them seemed to be the best gift you could give them, curled in the middle of them in the huge communal sleeping platform that was built with the cabin they call the den.

The den itself was a beautifully made part stone, part wooden structure hidden up in the hills, with no access by road. The furniture and fixtures have been made by hand and changed over the years to create a comfortable space, and the solar panels on the roof are an addition in recent years along with a CB radio. The truck they use has its own, hidden car port, protecting it from the elements.

Spending time up there becomes second nature, and you quickly memorise the route through the deeper parts of the forest. You feel that they’d have you move up there permanently if they could only convince you, but you couldn’t abandon the cottage, and the thought of letting yourself get so closely entwined with them is… too intense. 

However, this didn’t stop them from lavishing physical attention on you at any chance they could get. Touching was a big thing for them, they slept together and their bonds with each other went deep. You learned that Johnny and Simon were, what you thought of as, a pair, as were Price and Kyle. This didn’t stop them from sharing affections when it felt right though. In the Pack, everyone was loved equally and thoroughly by all.

It was a source of contention, however, that they wouldn’t actually fuck you, no matter how much you wanted them to. You understood that they were worried about hurting you with their knot, which was how their cocks swelled at the base during orgasm, something you’d never experienced of course. Over the course of the last month you’d been treated to insane amounts of being eaten out and taking multiple fingers, all as prep. The fascination still drew you though, how would it feel to have that inside you rather than in your hands.

You continue to clean and explore the various nooks and crannies of the ancient cottage as well, which leads to an unexpected find one morning. A loose panel in the bedroom shifts and you discover a space in the thick stone wall, begging for you to explore it.

Hidden in the depths you see a box in the dark recess, a layer of dust over the lid, and you reach out to tug it closer to the opening. It’s heavy, heavier than you expected, and you spend several sweaty minutes convincing it to shift close enough for you to pull it out. Disgruntled spiders skitter out of the way, and cobwebs cling to your arms as you work. Eventually it hits the floorboards with a heavy thud, dust mushrooming into the air and sending you into a coughing fit as you flap your hands ineffectually to clear the air.

The box is old and skillfully made, but without any fancy decoration, just lovingly sanded and polished wood and dark metal fastenings, which you guess at being iron. After a brief hesitation, imagining all kinds of curses and hexes that could be contained inside, you decide to open it and deal with the consequences. The contents are a massive disappointment after your imagined eldritch horrors, it’s just a collection of bits of paper, some looking old and bound with ribbon.

You leaf through them, and quickly become a lot more interested as you realise what this is. You pick one at random to examine more closely:

…..a lot more active in the evenings and mornings….

Full moon brings the inner beast to the surface…

..incredible sense of smell….even slight changes in hormones….

…John Price leads the pack as Alpha still…

Your eyes scan the hand written notes, the dates going back over hundreds of years with a variety of names at the bottom of each sheet, including Annie’s on the newest ones. What you have discovered is a history of the pack. You lean back against the wall reading for hours, excitedly skimming through what the previous inhabitants of the cottage have recorded about the local Werewolf Pack. The fact the one name is repeated by every different handwriting is almost too much to believe, John Price. It has to be the same Price, there’s no other way of looking at it.

The other names you read include Kyle Garrick who first appears about forty years ago in Annie’s notes, with Simon Riley and Johnny MacTavish joining the pack at the end of the 1800s. Several others are mentioned joining the pack but, sadly, the dates and causes of their deaths are recorded with due care and solemnity. What is quickly made apparent by flicking through each person’s entry in this record is no one ever leaves the cottage once they are here, every person lives out their entire life here once they’ve met the Pack. A tiny niggle of doubt creeps into the back of your mind, and you force yourself to hide the box away again in case one of them finds it, making a mental note to sit down and read everything in the near future.

One thing you hugely enjoyed was cooking and baking for the Pack, their appetites were insane and they ate everything you put in front of them with intense joy. You lean against your kitchen sink after having just given them another filling lunch, watching as they lounge happily around the table. Some items of clothing having been donned, but not much in the unexpected warmth of the day. The back door of the cottage stands open, letting a cooling breeze through the room.

“Quick question,” you call out, “you guys are quite instinct driven, yeah?” You ask with a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah… why?” Johnny asks, narrowing his eyes at you, clearly sensing mischief brewing.

“So you like chasing things?” you continue vaguely, glancing quickly at the open door.

“Yeah… where are you going with this?” Kyle answers, and you see muscles tensing around the room as you take a small sidestep towards the opening. A grin splits your face a fraction of a second before you bolt through it. 

Startled shouts turn into yaps and barks as you sprint as fast as you can out of the cottage and across the meadow. It’s frightening quick how soon they catch up to you, tongues lolling as they run beside you, nipping at your thighs and hands until Johnny sideswipes you and you crumple exhaustedly to the grass.

“What the hell was that?” Price grumbles, the first to change and lean over you possessively.

“Just wanted to see what you’d do,” you laugh.

“For fucks sake,” he growls but you see the humor in his eyes behind his stern voice. “I should strip you and mount you right here to put you in your place.” Heat licks through your core at the thought of him screwing you out in the open.

“You wouldn’t?” You gasp.

“Just try him, it’s the only way you’ll know for sure,” Kyle laughs, laying down beside you with his arm behind his head. It’s ridiculous how close you’ve become with them over the last few months. A peaceful moment unfurls as you lay there in the long grass, sweet smelling flowers still blooming around you under the clear blue sky. The cares of your life far, far away, or so you believed.

“Price, you hear that?” Simon snaps, the four of them suddenly becoming alert. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No, why?” you answer, sitting up in confusion, unable to hear anything unusual over the rustle of leaves and birds calling.

“There’s a car coming,” Price answers, and you feel the tension in the pack at the unexpected intrusion.

“It’s okay, I’ll go and see who it is,” you say, getting up and dusting yourself off. “Maybe you guys should slip away before they get here?”

“I’ll stay, keep an eye on you,” Simon says as the others change one by one and move towards the trees. Price looks back over his shoulder and nods to Simon before running after Johnny and Kyle. You suspect they won’t be going far as the luxury car pulls up outside the cottage. You walk across the meadow with Simon at your side looking like an innocent, if enormous, pet dog.

As you near the silver car the door opens and your heart leaps into your throat as your boss gets out and waves at you. He’s wearing his usual expensive suit, probably a Tom Ford by the look of it, and looks totally out of place in this natural setting.

“Um, what are you doing here?” you ask as you get closer. You notice the way he wrinkles his nose as he looks at the cottage and how you’re dressed. Usually you’d be wearing a smartly tailored outfit, perfectly made up, so seeing you after you just rolled in a meadow was jarring.

“I wanted to check on you, no one has been able to reach you since you came up here,” he answers archly.

“I know,” you say flatly. “Come inside,” you say with little grace, Simon trotting ahead of you through the door and into the kitchen, clearly going to hide the discarded clothes.

You try to play the role of polite hostess and get him a glass of water, and he sits at the table in the middle of the kitchen and looking with distaste at the array of dirty plates and cutlery before him. You stand beside the large stone sink, arms wrapped tight against your middle and with Simon leaning heavily against your thigh, a reassuring presence.

“That's a big dog,” your boss comments, watching Simon warily as he pulls his phone from a pocket inside his jacket. You’d forgotten he hated dogs, so this was an unexpected bonus.

“Yeah he is, his name is,” you pause briefly, trying to think of a scary name for the huge black wolf sat beside you, “Ghost.” 

“Okay, well… just keep him over there please,” he gulps, sweat clearly gathering on his forehead as he stares at Simon and taps his thumb nervously on the sleek case of his phone. “Look, the reason I’ve come all the way up here is to say I need you back. I know we agreed to a twelve month leave of absence but things have changed and I’m going to withdraw the agreement.”

“You can’t! I’ve got it in writing that my job is safe for the year. You owe me as much after what happened,” you explain, your hand drops down to rest on Simon’s head, fingers curling into his thick fur for comfort. You’re aware he is listening intently, getting answers you hadn’t intended to give away just yet, or at all really.

“I know what happened wasn’t ideal…” the man begins toying idly with his phone, and your temper flares.

“Ideal?! You let a client get away scot-free after he groped me!” you exclaim. I low growl rumbles from Simon in response to your words, and your boss’s eyes flick down to the huge wolf briefly. You’re mollified by seeing him swallowing impulsively.

“It was his word against yours, you had no witnesses who came forward to back up your allegation,” he says in a measured tone, absently turning his phone over and over in his hand. The constant fidgeting grates on your nerves.

“And because that client brings you in millions of pounds you sided with him. Yes, I remember. But now you’re telling me you can’t cope without me, right?” You say hotly.

“It’s not quite like that, but it's better for us to have you working than not,” he says stiffly. “It’s your choice, either you come back or we replace you. I will give you a month to decide, just to be fair, but beyond that I will not make you any promises.” He keeps jostling the shiny black device in his hand, knocking at the tabletop now, and you want to snatch it and smash it on the slate floor under your feet.

Simon huffs and trots out the back door of the cottage to your surprise, leaving you alone with your boss who continues to talk to you about projects and clients despite your obvious lack of interest. He begins opening emails and reading them to you from his phone screen, bemoaning the bad signal and lack of WiFi in the cottage.

You catch a glimpse of Simon stalking back in the front door of the cottage and silently coming into the kitchen behind your boss, then standing up in his human form.Your boss has no idea Simon is standing behind him as he flicks through his phone screen, the device directly over the glass of water. The werewolf leans down and whispers one word into his ear which you can’t hear, making him yelp and jump from his seat, the phone slipping from his hand and falling straight into the glass with a loud glug. Simon transforms instantly back into his wolf form and your boss turns to see nothing more than your guard dog looking at him impassively with his head tilted to one side.

“Oh no, your phone!” you shout with feigned concern, pulling his attention back to you. “Oh no it’ll be ruined, how clumsy of you to drop it.”

“What? No! Shit, its not waterproof!” He grabs at the sodden device frantically. You put on a show of helping him dry the damned device before he makes his excuses and heads back out to the car, glancing nervously around the cottage, clearly spooked by the voice in his ear. The car pulls away and vanishes between the trees lining the track, leaving you standing alone on the doorstep. 

“Wanker,” you mutter to yourself as you turn back into the cottage. Simon sits on the sofa, Annie’s blanket draped across his lap, he can clearly see you are rattled already and he makes this small concession for you, his thick arm thrown along the back of the seat.

“I agree,” he nods, beckoning you over to sit beside him. As soon as you do you’re enveloped in him, pulled into his lap and held securely in a comforting embrace. “Is he always like that?”

“What, you mean a selfish prick? Pretty much,” you reply glumly. 

“And he doesn't believe you were assaulted? That’s normal for him too?” You hear the anger in his tone, protectiveness rushing to the surface and you melt against him slightly.

“He believes one thing, and it's whatever makes him rich. He only agreed to the leave of absence to avoid me pressing charges and making a fuss about his favourite client. I really should have seen this coming.”

Simon puts his hands on either side of your face and tilts it up to him.

“Whatever you say happened, I believe you and so will the others. Your boss is a miserable piece of shit for siding with that client. Humans have too much attachment to money and it blinds you,” he says gently with a frown, then lets out a sigh as though deciding something.

“These scars for example,” he says, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his face to run the pad of your thumb over his top lip. “I was held captive for years, used in bear baiting to make evil people rich. Price got me out. Don’t let people use you just to make themselves rich.”

Your breath shudders as you feel the softness of Simon’s lip under your thumb, and you unconsciously part your own lips in response to the intimate gesture. Simon’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and a hot flash courses through you, made worse by the fact you see his pupils dilate when he smells it.

“How much longer before I’m allowed to… you know…” you ask, face warming with embarrassment as you drastically steer the conversation away from you leaving. 

“D’you think you’re ready?” He asks with a cocky little smirk, taking the bait. 

“Of course, but what about the others? Will they be pissed off?”

“It's fine, you’re safer with just an Alpha to start with, we’re better at controlling ourselves. Betas get pussydrunk far too easily and you’re not used to our anatomy,” he pauses. “Yet, anyway.”

“So, I could be with you?” you ask hopefully, gently plucking at the fine hair on his chest in a calculated act of coyness. Thoughts of the uncomfortable encounter dwindle as you feel Simon’s giving in to your desire, and heat pools low in your stomach. There’s an obvious nudge under the blanket against your thighs.

“Yeah, I guess it's about time,” he chuckles, taking your chin and forcing you to look him. His dark eyes draw you in, the comforting smell of him dispelling the tangled worries in your head. “If you trust me and you want this, just tell me.”

“I want this, I want you,” you say clearly.

“Fine, we’ll take it slowly and you tell me if you need to stop or anything doesn’t feel right. A knot is a hell of a thing to take, okay?”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” you tease, but he looks back at you flatly.

“I am,” he states, and shakes his head at the look on your face. “Humans are so complicated, you make rules and draw lines over the most natural of things.”

He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as it has a dozen times before. With great care, he slowly undresses you, soft kisses pressing against your skin until you are bared to him. He takes his time, licking and sucking at your nipples, caressing the soft swells with his large hands. His huge body hovering over yours as he works you up into a needy, molten state of arousal with his thick fingers, until you mewl and beg for him.

Finally he relents, and sitting up Simon pulls your hips over his lap, settling you over his thighs so you hover over his red tipped cock. With great care he pushes you down, spearing you onto the veiny length with a deep, rumbling groan.

“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he hisses, gripping your hips until his claws dig into your skin of your hips. Your breath comes in sharp gasps as your muscles stretch around his girth, stinging slightly as you take him in.

“Just breath,” he whispers, pulling your head against his shoulder and rubbing the back of your neck tenderly. You’d expected him to be rough, to throw you around and fuck you raw, but the level of care and tenderness is unexpected and you find it easy to relax as you sink onto him fully.

“Gods… just breath for a moment,” he whispers against your ear, his thighs trembling under you. You rock your hips experimentally, feeling Simon moving inside you as you set a gentle pace, the sting of the stretch mellowing quickly and becoming a persistent, deep pleasure. His hands snap to your hips again as you cause friction to build.

“That’s it,” he groans breathily, “you’re doing so well. That’s it, just relax.”

You risk lifting your hips slightly, sliding up his length and back down gingerly, the resulting sensation making you clench around him, squeezing him hard and making you both moan. You do it again and feel his wide palms running up and down your back, his head falling backwards as you squeeze and stroke his cock with your wet heat.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, spurring you on as he lets you take the lead, controlling the depth and pace for your pleasure while he holds himself as still as possible and resists the urge to grab you and pound into you. A sheen of sweat coats his skin, and his muscles tighten beneath his skin, trying to change shape but he fights against it. All the time you grind yourself down onto his cock, your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself.

You feel it, the pressure building as the base of his cock swells and your walls pulse in response to the increased thickness. A needy whine bubbles from your throat at the alien sensation, but you don’t stop moving, feeling it pulling as it slips in and out of your drooling heat.

“Ya need to let me take over...” he pants and you slowly lift off of him, his cock hitting his stomach with a damp thud as it leaves you, and the emptiness it leaves behind is almost unbearable. You let him reposition you so you're kneeling on the sofa and he slots himself behind you, and carefully slides his thick cock back inside you. A firm hand rests between your shoulder blades, another grasping the meat of your hip, keeping you in position as Simon moves his hips in a sinuous motion. 

“You okay?” he pants and huffs, voice thick and rough as the burgeoning knot settles back inside you.

“Yes, its… big,” you hiss.

“Thank you,” he grunts with a chuckle. “Play with your clit, it’ll help.” You do as he says and you arch your back at the added sparks of electricity that course through your body as a result. He picks up the pace in response, your orgrasm building within you.

“Fuck… fuckfuckfuck…” he lays across your back, kissing the skin and sharp teeth scraping across your shoulder blade. “Its gonna catch soon. Don't worry, okay?” He snaps his hips more sharply, forcing himself deeper and the knot catches, refusing to leave your body again and a tiny moment of panic rears inside of you.

“Simon…!” you whimper, trembling with the need to come and the new sensation.

“Yer okay, yer okay… doing so good… so good so fucking good…” he chants hoarsely, wet kisses trailing along your neck and you feel that calming effect again. His arms wrap around in front of you, caging you against him and you grab at his wrists to anchor yourself. He grinds his knot into you and heat flares inside you, pushing you over the edge into your orgasm. Your back arches and you push back against him, dragging your fingernails against his forearms and leaving red welts in their path. He snarls at the sudden dull pain and snaps his hips sharply against you a few more times, while you squeeze him so tightly he spills himself inside you with a deep growl.

Simon groans into your ear, rocking his hips into you as he comes, mouth sucking at your neck and teeth grazing your skin. You can feel how badly he wants to bite you in the tremble of his jaw, but his iron self control holds him back. 

“Shit… that feels good,” you whisper, sparks of pleasure igniting while you feel his member twitching inside you and the heat of his cum starting to pool behind his knot.

“Good,” he mumbles, holding you tightly beneath him. “Just need a minute or two, you did so well.”

You spend several minutes tied together until the swelling calms, then Simon cleans you up and wraps you up with him to rest and recover.

“I want to do that again,” you murmur, your face buried in the crook of his neck contentedly. He chuckles back at you.

“Yeah, there’s no problem with that.”

The autumn wears on, and you find you’re spending more time in the den as the weather changes. There’s always an excuse for you not to go back to the cottage as the rains fall, and you spend more nights with the Pack. The first night you’d returned with the smell of Simon’s cum in you, you’d almost been tackled to the ground by Johnny and Kyle in their excitement and the Alphas had warned them not to get carried away. 

You’d been exhausted but thoroughly satisfied by the time you’d taken both their knots the following morning after you’d recovered from your experience with Simon. Price was much gentler, as Simon had been, which was good considering his was nearly as big. One thing you knew now was a human man would never measure up after this.

As frost begins to coat the landscape in the early mornings, you stand at the window of the den drinking coffee after another warm and cosy night with them.

“You should stay here for the winter,” Price announces over his mug of coffee, and not for the first time since the weather began to cool down. “It's safer here, especially when the snows come in heavy. You won’t be able to get to town easily, if that shitbox car of yours will even start, which I doubt.”

“I doubt your crappy truck does much better in the snow,” you counter with a smirk.

“We don’t drive in the snow,” Kyle chimes in. “It's much more fun to run in it.”

You chuckle at that, imagining them running through the snow.

“I bet it is,” you agree. “But I’ve got to start thinking about getting ready to go back home. I’ve already risked a lot by not going back early, I don’t want to push my luck.” 

“Piss on that!” Johnny snaps angrily surging up to pace the floor. Any talk of you leaving affects him poorly, his temper wearing thinner every time it comes up. It hadn’t gone down well when Simon had told them about the visit from your boss and the man’s threat.

“Settle down,” Simon warns him, and Johnny obediently sits back down in response to his instruction. Simon grasps the back of his neck and rubs his thumb against it to soothe him.

“So, are you really going back?” Price says once Johnny is quiet again. You look back out the window, guilt gnawing at you and making it hard to look at any of them. Even Kyle has an accusatory look in his soft, dark eyes that you can’t stomach.

“Money over pack?” He pushes you, and it leaves a bitter taste to hear it out loud.

“I’m not Pack though, am I?” You snap back at him, hating how he is making you sound so petty… so human. “I’m not like you.”

“That’s not the point, staying here with us is better than going back to your old life. You know that, don’t be stubborn,” he growls.

“It’s my decision, not yours!” Anger raging inside you at the way another man is trying to control you, to tell you what to do and manipulate you.

“It’s for your own good!” He says firmly. A red mist clouds your thoughts, and you feel torn. Guilt adds an edge to your emotions and you suddenly feel the need to lash out.

“No! It’s not! It's for you! I found a box in the cottage, it’s got notes on your from the last,” you wave your hand in the air trying to pick a number. “I don’t know, several centuries!”

“The box?” He asks.

“Yes! They’ve been keeping notes on you John Price,” You spit his full name in his face, something he’s never given you, then turn to the others one by one and jab a finger at them each. “Simon Riley! Kyle Garrick! Johnny MacTavish! You’ve been keeping people here for all this time, just to be your pet, your… your concubine!”

The moment you stop talking you see the hurt in his face, all their faces, and you know how incredibly out of line you are. Your heart shatters when Price turns away from you, showing you his back.

“Get out,” he growls and the hairs on your neck stand on end at the threat in his tone.

“Wait, she didn’t mean…” Kyle starts to say, getting up from his seat and giving you a cold stare.

“SHE GOES!” Price roars and even you feel the force he puts behind his voice, your brain screaming to get away from the enraged Apex predator before you. The three men flinch, heads bowed in submission and you bolt for the door.

You run, tears streaming down your face as you head for the cottage blindly, and rain begins to fall in icy, sharp bullets. The universe watches as you become soaked in punishment for hurting the kindest four souls you’ve ever known, until you burst, drenched and shivering, back into the cold confines of Annie’s cottage.

No fire burns in the hearth to warm you, the range has blown out and gone cold, so you crumple on the floor pulling the blanket around your shoulders, and weep for what you’ve done. For the first time all year you feel utterly alone.

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

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[awb3r]

WE PROMISED---Luke Castellan

You met Luke Castellan 4 summers ago. You didn't know you were the daughter of a Goddess at that time, nor did you know Luke was on a quest.

Your laying on the grass in your backyard. You look over at Luke, whose pointing out a constelation. "do you have to leave?" Your eyes meeting his, your hands intertwined in the middle. He offers you a sad smile. "We'll see eachother again, i promise" He whispered to you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "pinky promise?" you hold out your pinky, feeling his own lock with yours. A warm feeling spread through you as he placed a kisss on your hands.

Your mother sought you out after that. Aphrodite, Goddess of love and beauty. In contrary to the other Gods, she kept contact with you. Late night talks weren't unusual, when she would tell stories about the Gods and you would tell her yours.

you were in bed, comforted by your duvet. Your mothers voice prominent in your head. "do you think i'll see him again?" you whispered. Aphrodite didn't need to ask who you meant, Luke had made an appearance in your stories more often that not. "You will dove, i promise" Her voice soft as silk in your mind. As the Goddess of love, Aphrodite couldn't bear seeing her daughter longing for the boy any longer. She knew it was time.

Which brought you to the present, standing next to Chiron before the Hermes cabin.

A bright orange T-shirt was hanging over your arm as you took in the scenery around you. breath taking temple like cabins, each representing their own God. Strawberry fields, achery ranges and practice arena's all surrounded you. "You will reside in the Hermes cabin until you are claimed. I am sure they will make you feel at home" Chiron spoke and gave a ressuring pat on your shoulder.

You push against the door, immediately welcomed by loud voices and the smell of a fireplace. Your eyes widen as the familiar smell enters your senses.

You were laying on the couch, head burried in the crook of Luke's neck. The gentle ressurance of his hands tracing shapes on your lower back made you feel at ease. You mutterd something against his skin. He turned his head to meet your gaze. "did you say something love?" His voice soft, not wanting to break the quiet atmosphere. "You smell like a fireplace" you whispered, a small smile present on your face. He smiled back at you. "is that so?" His tone light as he captured your lips in a loving kiss.

You are torn from your thoughts as you step over the threshold. Eyes turn to you as you enter, captivated. It wasn't hard to guess you were aphrodites daugher. As you fully enter the cabin, you search for the pair of eyes you fell in love with. Your eyes lock with his across the room. His eyes wide as they meet yours. He looks almost frozen, muttering your name under his breath in disbelief before making his way to you. As you reach him, he engulfs you in his arms. You feel your feet leave the ground as he spins you around. You laugh as he sets you down and cups your face in his hands. "How are you here?" His smile wide as he asks you. "We promised, right?" You answer and seal it with a loving kiss.

XXX

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #aphrodite #hermes #luke castellan x you

[katsu28]

through the lens

pairing: jamie tartt x reader 

summary: a richmond win, a trip to ola’s, and a camera is all it takes to find out how jamie tartt really feels about you

warnings: swearing ofc, reader is afc richmond's team photographer, 2.5k

a/n: humbly inviting begging anyone and everyone to drop ted lasso requests from this list or this one in my inbox <3 i write for jamie, roy, sam, dani, and isaac! now pls enjoy the result of my jamie tartt brainrot 

The atmosphere in the locker room was positively electric. 

AFC Richmond was fresh off their first win in a very long time, and everyone was beyond ecstatic, buzzing with residual adrenaline and pride on a game well played. All the players were in a huddle in the center of the room, jumping at each other with nothing but pure joy in their eyes. 

All you could do was try your best to capture the moment without getting in the way of the festivities, which you somehow managed by climbing up onto one of the benches in front of the lockers as you snapped picture after picture of the team getting their celebration on. Nobody really paid you any mind throughout, until you turned your camera on one Jamie Tartt, who was already looking right at you the second your viewfinder focused on him. 

He beamed, lifted his hand up in a small wave, and for a split second you thought he might’ve started to make his way over to you, but he was caught on the shoulder and redirected by an overjoyed Dani Rojas. You swiveled away from Jamie and towards where Colin and Isaac had started some sort of chant that you could barely make out over the ruckus. 

Focusing on them gave you the chance to let your heart rate settle back down after sharing that split second moment with Jamie. It was pathetic, really—pining over someone like him.

More of a silly little crush than anything, you knew it would never lead to anything because you’d rather a sinkhole open up in the middle of the road and swallow you up than tell Jamie that you liked him. But that didn’t stop your feelings for him from growing. He’d come back to AFC Richmond someone different—sweet and empathetic and the biggest supporter of his fellow Greyhounds—which made it that much harder to keep your crush under wraps. 

Hell, Keeley had figured it out within weeks of his return and accidentally let it slip to Roy. He’d very gruffly assured you that he hadn’t told a soul, but you were sure that the whole team knew about it by now. Everyone except Jamie. You’d never been so glad for his thick head. 

“Alright, I know y’all are excited about the win, I am too but listen up!” Coach Lasso’s voice cut through the commotion, hands waving over his head to get his players’ attention. At the drop of a hat, every single one of them fell quiet, eagerly awaiting what their beloved coach had to say. 

You were looking forward to it too, not only because a Lasso signature speech was always a great opportunity to get raw, unfiltered photos of the team, but because he always had something positive to say, no matter what the outcome on the pitch had been. The amount of love and care Ted Lasso had for his players was his strong suit, and it showed in everyone’s respect for him. 

“I’m real proud of what all y’all did out there on the pitch tonight. I know I say that after every match and I mean it every time, but this one is just a little bit sweeter. I appreciate every single one of you boys more than you could imagine,” He continued, looking to address each person. They looked like kids again, giddy with glee as they soaked in their coach’s praise. 

You took shot after shot of everyone in the moment, so enveloped in your craft that you didn’t notice someone had come to stand beside you until you let your camera hang. That was when you noticed Jamie, inching closer with an innocent look on his face until he saw you looking down at him. 

“Hiya,” He said, playfully nudging your leg with a cheeky smile. “Gettin’ a good view up there?” 

“Shouldn’t you be listening to your coach?” You shot back, fighting the urge to pick your camera back up and take a shot of his lopsided grin and stupidly endearing twinkle in his eye as he looked up at you. 

“Nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” Jamie shrugged, but he turned back around to look at Ted.

Even though he wasn’t paying attention to you, it was hard not to pay attention to him. That was a problem you’d increasingly been running into, not being able to focus when Jamie was around. You thought you’d had it under wraps, but it seemed like you’d developed a sixth sense for whenever he wandered into your vicinity. And lately, that sense had been pinging a lot more than usual. 

Maybe you were reading too much into things, but it seemed like Jamie had been popping up everywhere you went in the facility. Granted, it was mainly the pitch and the locker room hallways, but it flustered you all the same. One brief conversation about even something mundane like weekend plans or the weather paired with a smile and a cheeky wink before he disappeared around a corner and you were left wondering what you’d been doing in the first place. 

Ted was closing out his speech by the time you’d remembered you were actually supposed to be doing your job right now. You jerked out of your thoughts, snapping a few photos of the coaching staff before he finished up for the night. “Now go ahead and let loose, golden goose!” 

“I’m pretty sure it is geese, Coach,” Sam chimed in, giving him a good natured smile.

“You know what I mean! Go have some fun, celebrate, all that jazz. But not too much fun because I expect to be seein’ y’all bright and early tomorrow morning for practice. Remember, the early bird gets the worm! See, I know I did that one right.” With that, Ted waved the team off, retreating back into the coaches’ office with Coach Beard on his heels and leaving them with all their pent up energy. 

“Sam says we’re all going to Ola’s to celebrate!” Bumbercatch exclaimed, drawing a roar of approval from the rest of the team. 

“You comin’ with us?” Jamie asked you hopefully, tilting his head to the side a bit. Warmth bloomed on your cheeks at the prospect of him wanting you to tag along. “Catch the festivities, give the people what they want?” 

Oh. He was asking because you were their photographer. Not for the other foolishly hopeful reason you were thinking of. Of course. 

“Yeah, I’ll tag along. Gotta catch you boys in your natural habitat, don’t I?” 

Jamie’s mouth lifted into a cool smirk. “‘Course you do. You can catch a ride with me, if you want.” 

“Oh! Um, only if it’s not too much trouble.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt.

He nodded, extending a hand up towards you to help you down from your perch. You accepted it maybe a bit too eagerly, because your step down from the bench put you a little closer to Jamie than you’d planned, barely a few inches between the two of you. You swore you almost stopped breathing when his chest brushed against yours as he inhaled a sharp breath. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and it almost looked like he was as stunned as you. 

You both mumbled an apology, words tumbling over each other messily as you stepped apart. His hand flew up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. Yours went straight for your camera, busying yourself with a few random buttons as if it were a defense mechanism. Neither of you could look at the other for a good while, not until you got into Jamie’s car and were on the way to Ola’s to meet the rest of the team. 

“So. What’d you think of the game?” 

“S’good! You did great, Jamie,” You exclaimed, excited now. It was true, Jamie had been on fire tonight with a goal and two assists. “All of you did great.” 

“Should I pose for ya next time? Give ya a proper action shot?“ He sounded only half joking. “M’trusting you to make me look good, y’know!” 

“Posing is overrated. I like the shots I get when you lot get out there on the pitch. They’re natural.” 

“But what if I make a stupid face when I pass the ball? Those can’t be any good.” 

“They’re called candids, and I happen to think they look better than your promotional shots.” 

“Bullshit! I looked sexy in those shots and you know it.” 

While he wasn’t wrong, you had a point to prove now. Taking a deep breath, you counted to three in your head before picking your camera back up, swiveling in your seat and snapping one, two, three pictures of him. 

Jamie’s brow furrowed at the shutter clicks, giving you a confused glance over in your direction. “Oi! What’s that for?”

“That’s a candid.” You said simply, ignoring your heart pounding a million miles a minute against your ribcage. You flicked through the photos, pleased to see that they’d come out just as you suspected—perfect. 

“Not even getting my good angle, some photographer you are,” He muttered, giving his head an overexaggerated shake. 

“All your angles are good, Jamie,” You scoffed. “And you don’t need me to make you look good, ‘cause you’re doing it just fine on your own.” You didn’t realize what you’d said until a beat later when he looked extremely delighted, but every part of what you said was true. 

Even caught off guard and driving, Jamie Tartt looked unfairly good. The lights off the dashboard washed over his handsome face in a warm light, making him look softer than the harsh lights of Nelson Road did. 

On the football pitch, he was tough and cocky, mouthing off to opposing team with the sole purpose of getting under their skin, and the lighting reflected that. He was Jamie Tartt, a striker with a right foot kissed by God, one of the greatest footballers in Richmond history. In this car, here with just the two of you, he was at ease. His guard was down, his facade gone. He was just Jamie Tartt, a boy from Manchester. That was the Jamie you’d grown some not-so-small feelings for. 

Ola’s was definitely quieter than any pub in Richmond would’ve been, though you suspected that the team rather enjoyed it this way. They loved and appreciated their fans, but it was nice to be surrounded by friends as opposed to being gawked at the whole night. Even so, someone had turned on music with a heavy beat that thumped through the restaurant and everyone was having a good time. 

It was the perfect opportunity to grab a few more quick shots of the team and you took it gratefully, milling around the place for a bit snapping pictures here and there before coming back to your seat to flick through everything. You had to see what you could give the PR team to put on Richmond’s socials. 

A pint of beer slid in front of you drew you away from your camera, but it was mostly the smiling Jamie who’d slid into the chair next to you. He leaned in a little closer to be heard over the chatter of the restaurant, bracing his arm on the back of your chair. 

“D’you ever stop working?” 

“Meaning?” 

“Nothin’ bad! I just mean…every time I see ya you’re nose deep in that camera, barely get t’see your face.” 

“The point of my job is to see your face, not mine,” You joked, growing more nervous at the way he was looking at you, like he meant he actually wanted to see your face more instead. Jamie’s expression softened into something fond, knee bumping against yours gently, fingers brushing against your shoulder. His touch sent a feeling not unlike static shock through you, racing through your veins and sending your heart thundering loudly in your ears. 

You were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you and leaning closer still, so close you could see a smudge of dirt from the pitch on his neck that he’d missed, the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. 

“S’shame. Got a face too pretty to be behind the lens all the time. Prettier than mine, even.” 

“Stop it,” You mumbled, but there was no real force behind your words. Jamie thought you were pretty. It made you feel giddy inside. 

“No, you stop it. You’re stunnin’.” He insisted, looking entirely sincere. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“M’not. I mean it.” Jamie shook his head vehemently. You pressed your lips together, denying it still. “You don’t believe me. Here,” He was quick to grab your camera off the table carefully, leaning back a bit and hitting the shutter button determinedly. You’d barely managed to stretch an arm over your face before the flash went off. He squinted at the tiny screen, studying it for a few seconds before smiling proudly. 

“Think I finally know what’s so good about those candids you keep talkin’ about. That one’s a keeper.” He was firm in his words, turning the camera around to show you the picture he’d taken. Part of your face was obscured by your outstretched hand, but you could see most of your smile and a gleam in your eyes that you didn’t know you had until this very moment. You liked it. 

“D’you wanna go on a date with me sometime?” He asked hopefully, fiddling with the edges of his shirtsleeves. Warmth flooded your cheeks in an instant. “A proper one, where I can come by yours and ring your doorbell and give you flowers and all that shit.”

“Someone give Lust Conquers All a ring, ‘cause Jamie Tartt is a changed man!” You shouldn’t have been cracking jokes right now. It definitely wasn’t the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. It escaped before you could take it back. 

But Jamie just rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, alright, have a laugh. You didn’t say yes.” 

“I also didn’t say no.” You pointed out, scooting a few inches closer to him. He returned the gesture, sliding towards you until your knees pressed together. You were inches away from each other, again, but this time it was different. This time, you knew how he felt about you.

“That’s still not a yes.” He said softly, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been as close to him as you were right now. 

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. “How’s that for a yes?” 

“S’good. Missed the mark though. Should be more like…” He trailed off, sneaking a quick peck to your lips before grinning sheepishly. “That.” 

“Sneaky boy.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was anything but annoyed. “Good thing you’re cute.” 

He preened at your compliment, giving a little self satisfied smile. “And a good photographer?” 

“Decent. If football doesn’t pan out, maybe I could make you my assistant.” 

“That mean I get to spend all day with you?”

“If you can handle it.” 

Jamie’s lips quirked up into a soft smile and he kissed you again, a little longer this time. His hand moved up your shoulder around the back of your neck tenderly, a blooming warmth against your skin. “I’ll manage.” 

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