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sl-ut · 17 days ago

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princess of the north

in case i dont end up posting again over the holidays, i just wanna say i hope everyone has a great holiday season and a very very happy new year!!!!

pairing: cregan stark x fem!targtower!pregnant!reader

description: cregan has grown older and happier throughout his years as warden of the north with his beautiful new wife at his side. however, when he married into the royal family, he had not considered how frequently he would need to interact with his in-laws.

warnings: NO DANCE AU!!! (rhaenyra ascends the throne peacefully), weird blend of book and show timeline, slight description of character (silver hair, purple eyes, that’s it!!!), smut, reader gets pregnant like halfway through, pregnancy sex, oral, piv, SEX IN FRONT OF A FIREPLACE ON A BEARSKIN RUGGGG oml

words: 9.7K

date posted: 10/12/24

The winter had been very forgiving, thank the gods. It had been remarkably short, just under eight years in total, meaning that it had come to a close with plenty of food still in storage and northerners who were more than willing and able to transition into the oncoming summer with ease.

Winterfell was left in a generally stable state, aside from the fact that there was a greater need for livestock now that they not only had an additional mouth to feed, but also a fully grown dragon who resided in a make-shift dragonpit only a few minutes ride beyond the walls of the castle–a wedding gift that the Lord of Winterfell had prepared in anticipation of his new wife’s arrival. Otherwise, the North seemed to be in greater shape upon the dawn of this new summer than it had in all of Cregan’s years.

The greatest of Cregan’s accomplishments, of course, was his new wife. At the beginning of the winter, he had not expected that he would be married by the end of it, but with the arrival of Prince Jaeaerys on his official tour of the realm also came his proposal of marriage between Lord Cregan and his own aunt, the youngest daughter of the late King Viserys I and his second wife, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower. He had been hesitant to consider this offer–he’d never met the woman, which was not uncommon for marriages of such high status, but he’d been fortunate enough to have been able to form some sort of friendship with his late wife prior to their union. Jace had brought along with him the terms offered by his mother, in her own hand, of course, as well as a portrait of the woman in question.

Cregan was not above admitting how taken he’d been with the sight of the princess, even if it were only a recreation of her beauty on canvas. He’d heard of her beauty before, it was rumoured around the realm, but seeing it was entirely different, a sort of beauty he could not have imagined on his own.

“Tell me, my prince,” Cregan asked him, hardly drawing his crystal blue gaze away from the portrait, “you are her blood and have grown up with the princess, is this painting to her likeness?”

Jacaerys smirked, “Of course, Lord Stark. My aunt is known to be one of the most beautiful women ever to live.”

Cregan pursed his lips. He was aware of the strange customs of the Targaryens, having married brother to sister and uncle to niece for generations. Jacaerys could be speaking the truth, for he himself could hold some sort of affection for his aunt, but Cregan did not suspect as such. Intead, his greater question was whether Jacaerys could be lying to him out of political gain; as his mother’s envoy, it would do him no good to suggest that the artist had not accurately painted her. Her looks were of no concern to him, but he valued honour and truth over all else. If they were attempting to attract him to the deal by portraying the princess as such a beauty over anything else, he would be personally insulted to discover that he’d been lied to, a snub from the royal family would not be taken kindly by House Stark.

“What say you?” Cregan turned to the group of men standing just to the left of the prince, all who seemed alarmed at Lord Stark’s attention being turned to them, “How do each of you vouch for the princess?”

The men, one at a time, attested to the princess’s beauty until he stood before the smallest and visibly youngest of the men.

“And you, lad?”

“I’m afraid the portrait fails to depict the princess, milord,” The boy grew rosy in the cheeks as he imagined the princess in his mind, eyes drawing towards the portrait, “That is her, yes, but only as close as the Master Holbein could have made it, for I do not think it possible to recreate such beauty. She is gifted by the gods, surely, milord, both in beauty and manner. She is kind, brings food and toys to orphans in Flea Bottom and ev’rything, milord.”

Cregan, taken aback by the answer from the youngest boy, turned back to Prince Jacaerys, who seemed equally as surprised as he did pleased with the answers of his men.

“This is true, milord,” Jace said, “the princess is known among the people for her generosity, among her other talents and traits. It cannot be denied that her mother, the Queen Dowager, was not fond of my family, nor us of her, but the princess was raised better than any of us, I would say. Take the night to think on it, I would hope to send word to the queen before I leave Winterfell at noon.”

Cregan did as instructed, thinking on it long and hard. Her beauty had been their main selling point, something that could not be denied from the portrait sent of her. Lord Stark had half a mind to hang it upon the mantle in his bedchambers whether he takes her to wife or not, but it was not her beauty that had truly swayed his decision. Instead, he thought over the young lad’s words; a southern lady scarcely thrives in the North, a nation nearly as large on its own as all of the remaining six kingdoms put together. The weather was harsh, and the people were harsher, something he could not imagine a Targaryen princess handling well. However, he’d heard of Alicent Hightower’s assertiveness and ability to lead while her husband was incapable and Rhaenyra was in Dragonstone. If what Jacaerys had told him was true, the princess would be dutiful and loyal, and according to the prince’s men, kind beyond words. Beauty may have factored into his decision on a personal level, but he also met the prince the next morning with his acceptance mostly on the basis that he believed that the princess would be wholly capable of helping him rule the North.

He wrote to her a week after Jacaerys departed from Winterfell, certain that the news would have already arrived in the capitol and she would already be aware of their arrangement. He would have little time between her arrival in the north and their wedding to meet with her in private, so this was his best hope. He was pleased to receive a raven in return only three days later, neat handwriting befitting a princess scrawled across the parchment. It was not much, but Cregan was able to learn some things about her through the letters, making it seem like he was less-so marrying a stranger and more as if she were a distant friend.

The month following, the princess would depart from King’s Landing in a procession he was told seemed a mile long. He waited with anticipation, Winterfell in a flurry of servants and guards to prepare the castle to house the royal family and their household, as well as for the wedding itself, and only one more month would pass before his bride had arrived within the walls of Winterfell.

Cregan had bowed respectfully to the Queen Dowager as she stepped out of her wheelhouse, then to the two silver-haired princes who arrived on their steeds. His eyes scanned the growing crowd for any sight of his betrothed, finally catching sight of her as she took the hand of a Dornish white cloak to balance herself as she exited the wheelhouse, a pretty white fur-lined cloak wrapped around her shoulders, almost blending into the pale blonde of her hair. She was, indeed, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had traditional Valyrian looks, but also held an aura of softness.

She was nervous as she curtsied before her, but seemed happy enough with his appearance and manners as he greeted her with a kiss to her leather-gloved knuckle. The moment was broken apart by her mother’s level tone, requesting to be brought to her chambers for some rest before supper. That evening Cregan found the portrait of the princess that he’d received months earlier and personally hung it above the mantle in his bedchambers. He thought it was safe to say he was smitten.

The princess appeared bashful in his presence, though he was partially certain that her discomfort was brought on by her ever-present family, each looming nearby as if waiting to intercept his attempts of conversation with his betrothed. He could not decide who he had grown to loathe the most; Aegon had already drank a generous portion of Winterfell’s wine cellars even before the wedding, and often joined the conversation with the goal to tease his sister and see her shrink in embarrassment; Aemond was constantly looking to best anyone in his path, and seemed almost possessive over his sister’s attention; her mother had hardly allowed them a moment alone, constantly insisting on supervising any time that he would invite her for any sort of activity, or set one of her brothers after them instead. Alicent had a habit of speaking for her daughter, meaning that Cregan had no opportunity to truly know her while her mother was present, while her brothers made it impossible to even speak to one another at all.

He was finally glad on their wedding night, when he’d arranged the head table to be broken into three, leaving the happy couple to sit above the rest and finally receive some alone time. She had been radiant in her gown of white furs and fleeces, meeting him beneath the weirwood tree with her eldest brother at her side to give her away. He’d been glad to tear away the cloak of red and black, intricately interwoven into a field of green and gold at the bottom–it would be unlike Alicent Hightower to allow her children to wear the Rhaenyra’s colours without her own as well. It would be hard to tell whether she looked prettier in the harsh colours of her maiden cloak or in the dull ones of his own, but he couldn’t help but note how greys and blues suited her better than he could have imagined.

He could tell her family was less than pleased with this arrangement, making an effort to step in for every miniscule matter that caught their attention. Cregan watched her from the corner of her eye as she shakily took a long drink from her cup. He finally found time to chat with his wife, slowly watching in awe as her walls slowly began to come down as she found herself giggling along with him and whispering into his ear.

“What of the leftovers?” She’d asked, breaking their previous conversation topic.

“Leftovers?” Cregan repeated.

She nodded, staring at him with wide eyes expectantly, “The food. There will be plenty of leftovers–they should be brought to the nearest towns.”

“Is that a command, princess?”

She appeared bashful at his response, walls slowly building back up around her, “I-I- My apologies, Lord Stark, I–”

He grinned at her playfully, his large palm cupping her cheek affectionately, “If you wish it, you shall have it. I intend to make you very happy, my love.”

She smiled, her beauty shining through even stronger as she became more and more comfortable around him, “Thank you, husband.”

Cregan pushed himself to stand, the sound of his chair pushing back cutting through the chatter and music and laughter filling his hall, all eyes turning to him expectantly.

“My lady wife has made her first official command as Lady of Winterfell,” his voice carried through the hall with stern ease, and the attention of the crows quickly turned to her, “Lady Stark has decided that all leftovers from our wedding feast will be donated to the people of Winterstown.”

The crowd had been quick to applaud, deafening cheers throughout the great hall, northerners seemingly pleased with her decision or, at the very least, just excited to have another reason to be celebrating. He caught the glance she sent to her mother, and the happy grin that covered her face as the Dowager Queen sent her a sign of approval. His lady wife was kind, and sweet, and he was certain that, once she gained her footing in the North, would serve as a strong and dutiful Lady of Winterfell, all of which he muttered into her ear as he had her for the very first time that night.

Three years would pass, he’d been right to assume such things of his wife. He’d quickly discovered that she was able to thrive without the looming shadow of her mother and brothers. She had been slow to find her footing in the beginning, some of his bannermen even questioning his choice in wife, but she was determined to prove them wrong, and in doing so, warmed Cregan’s heart even more.

They’d discussed children in the past, and both had decided that they were happy enough with Cregan’s son from his previous marriage for the time being. They were not trying, but they were also not not trying, which is how she found herself swelling with her first child just as winter came to an end. Her husband had been insatiable in their first year of marriage, but once he knew that she carried his child in her belly, there was scarcely anything that could stop him from having her each and every night.

Summer brought a homier feeling to Winterfell. People were not quite so afraid or negative as the desolate conditions faded away. Summer in the North was nothing compared to the many summers she had spent in King’s Landing, where she had once enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her skin, exposed beneath her more revealing gowns than those she was able to wear in the North; the lords of the North had criticised her choice in dresses early on in her marriage, and she had no doubt that their wives spoke harshly about her in her absence. She was by far the youngest of them, and was also the only one who could afford to wear such fine silks layered over her thick fleece and fur underdresses. Cregan knew better than to try and argue against his wife’s will–Lady Stark or not, she was a Targaryen princess through and through, and now that he had helped her build up her confidence, there was no way he was about to take that away from her (especially when she looked so so beautiful). She was thankful that she was able to cut down on the layers she needed now that the weather had transitioned from inhospitable to frigid, though she knew it was coming time to transition her wardrobe as well now that her breasts and belly were beginning to swell.

The change in season also brought a wave of new duties. Winter was undoubtedly the most difficult and busy season for the lord and lady of Winterfell, but the transition to summer also brought the beginning of the agricultural season. Farmers and fishermen alike flocked to Winterfell to speak their needs and wants to their liege lord and lady, and Cregan found himself busy with attending to the replenishment of all of the North’s resources for Winterfell, all of his bannermen, the Wall, and all of the towns in the North. He’d made his wife agree to take a lesser load of duties now that she was expecting, dealing with issues within their own household so he could instead focus on bearing the burdens of the North all on his own, though this meant there was less and less time that they were able to spend together.

Each morning, Lady Stark was awake and on the move early enough to meet with the maester and stewards and advisors, sharing no more than a few sweet words and touches with her husband as he watched her dress before she was out the door. They would see each other in passing throughout the day, sharing loving glances across the courtyard as they attended their duties and occasionally catching each other in the corridors, and she was normally in a deep slumber by the time he came to her chambers every night. Both of them were growing restless in their time apart, especially with her ladyship’s heightened emotions and hormones.

She had just finished speaking with the mistress of the orphanage in Winterstown when the maester came to her, a neatly folded piece of parchment in hand that bore her mother’s seal. She smiled to herself as she brushed her thumb over the thick spot of green wax, glad to have a response for her most recent letter to her mother to deliver the news of her pregnancy, along with a request for some new silks to be sent in order to accommodate her changing body. Breaking the seal, she scanned over the letter with her eyes, a small gasp leaving her mouth as she read over her mother’s words.

“My lady?” Maester Elryn asked, concern evident on his wrinkled features, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she smiled tightly at him, “My apologies for my reaction. Could you ask Lord Stark to come to me when he is free?”

“Of course, my lady. Anything else?”

“That is all, thank you, Maester Elryn.”

Cregan came to her two hours later, finding her seated at the small desk in the corner of her chambers. He paused to drink in the way she looked, having scarcely seen his wife for more than a moment all day. Her body was changing in the most glorious ways possible, and the bodices of her gowns were growing even tighter than before, her breasts threatening to spill over the neckline with every breath, and her belly growing firmer and rounder to accommodate his child. His smile widened as she turned to glance over her shoulder, her eyes softening as she finally took note of her husband’s figure in the doorway.

“You called, wife?”

“My love,” she greeted, pushing herself to stand with a gentle hand cradling her barely-there bump, “It seems it has been forever.”

His heart thumped against his ribcage at her action, chest growing warm at the sight of her maternal instincts already kicking in before she had even passed through her first few months

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room to meet her before she was able to move too far. His palm cupped her cheek, the other finding its place over her own against her belly, “Longer than forever to me.”

She grinned, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips, giggling to herself as he chased after her and grunted as she pulled away. He pressed small kisses to her cheeks, across the curve of her jaw, and down the column of her neck, leaving small nips in his wake. His wife pushed at his chest helplessly as she continued to laugh, the soft growth of hair along his own jaw tickling her with every brush of his lips on her skin.

“I called you up here because I needed to speak with you,” she whispered to him, body slowly relaxing against him as she sank into his embrace.

“Speak, then,” he ordered, thick fingers tugging at the laces of her dress.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at his antics, “I wrote to my mother a few nights ago, I need silk for new dresses. I’m sure you’ve noticed that my own are growing rather…tight.”

His mouth dropped to nip at the bulging flesh of her breast peeking over the neckline of her gown, “I certainly have.”

Her head tilted back, letting both a laugh and a breathy moan at her husband’s attack on her chest as he quickly laid her back on the bed, “She has written back to me. She says I shall have as much silk in as many colours as I wish.”

Cregan hummed in response, quickly peeling the layers of her gown away until she was left in only her thin white shift, her words going ignored as he tugged and pulled at her clothing until she was bare before him. He stared down at her, running his hand over his jaw as his eyes trailed over her breasts, heaving and swelling with milk, then down over her small bump, and finally to the place where her thighs clenched together.

She pushed herself up to sit before him, her own hands reaching out to tug at his clothing. He was quick to help her, shucking off his layers and boots until he stood before her in only his heavy leather breeches. His wife grinned up at him, pressing a gentle kiss against his own belly, a layer of soft flesh over his firm, almost inconspicuous muscle.

He pushed at her shoulder, chuckling as the mattress bounced beneath her as she was laid back again. He crawled over her, returning to mouthing over her neck, over her shoulders, and finally coming across her breasts.

“She says she will deliver them personally,” she uttered, whining in protest as he paused, pulling back to focus directly at her face.

“Personally,” He repeated, more for his own sake than a question of clarification, “your mother intends to come to Winterfell.”

She pouted at him, fingers carding through his long hair as she attempted to soften him to the news, “She wishes to be here for the birth. I know she can be…difficult, but it would bring me comfort to have her with me as I bring our firstborn into the world.”

He sighed, his head falling into her shoulder, “If this is what you wish, then this is what you shall have.

She smiled, remembering when he spoke the same words to her on their wedding night. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, winding her legs around his hips and hugging her tightly to her chest.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him as he finally pushed himself up to gaze down at her once again, “my mother can be difficult, as I said, but I wish for her to know her grandchildren, as she does my niece and nephews. I promise you, she will be on her best behaviour.”

“I believe you,” He pressed a kiss to her lips, mumbling against her, “but I must ask that we do not speak any more of your mother at the present. I do not think she would appreciate what I plan to do to you.”

Cregan did not allow her another moment of peace before his kisses grew in intensity, tongue intertwining with her own while his meaty palms pulled her legs further apart and began to rock his hips into hers. He smirked at the whine that escaped her throat, pressing himself further into her.

“Cregan–”

“I have missed you, my love,” he moaned against her lips, “you cannot possibly believe how much I have been longing for you.”

She chuckled, “I think I can. The maester told me pregnancy can bring on many side effects; discomfort, fatigue, desire…”

Cregan pulled back for a moment, “Should I be concerned about these conversations you have been having with Maester Elryn?”

She scoffed, “You are far too jealous for your own good, my love.”

“You might be too, if you were married to the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms–nay, the world.”

“Flatterer.”

“Can it be called flattery if it is the truth?” Cregan pushed himself to kneel between her legs, palms continuing to push her thighs upward to bare her completely to him. He let out a desperate groan as his eyes settled on her core, barely hidden beneath a neat patch of silver hair, “gods, have you ever been this wet?”

She snorted, raising her leg to press her foot flat to his chest, “It is the pregnancy, as I said.”

His long fingers wrapped around her foot, tugging it up to press his lips against the slope of her ankle, “Then perhaps I should keep you like this, eh? Would you like for your lord husband to fill you with his child, again and again?”

“I am already with child, my love,” she smiled at him, drawing a deep breath from his throat, “I’m afraid you will have to wait a few moons longer.”

“And I will spend every second I have with you perfecting the craft then.”

She sighed in relief as he finally reached between her thighs, fingers catching against her slick hole.

“Cregan, please,” she whimpered, “do something, anything.”

“Anything?” He asked, breathlessly, his own chest heaving in anticipation as she nodded excitedly.

A loud gasp tore from her lips as he finally sunk his fingers into her, her wetness audible to them both as he began moving with slow but purposeful thrusts. His thumb settled on her sensitive bud, making slow, tight circles over the swollen bud, his free hand gliding up from her thigh to tug at her breasts. Her hips rocked in sync with his every movement of his thick fingers, stilling as another one easily slipped inside.

“My love,” she panted, “e-enough, I need you.”

He quirked one of his thick brows at her words, “Should I not prepare you, my heart?”

“I am pregnant with your child, and as we can both tell, I am more than prepared.”

Cregan snorted out a laugh, withdrawing his fingers with a small whine from his wife, “How should you have me then, wife?”

Lady Stark smirked to herself, legs wrapping around his back and forcing him to fold over her, “Take me as you did on our wedding night, only you do not need to be so gentle with me.”

He slipped inside of her easily, a strained hiss sliding between his teeth while her own teeth sunk into his shoulder. Cregan did indeed take her like he had on their wedding night, but against her wishes, was almost as gentle as he had been, out of respect for his child’s personal space, as he had muttered to her. In truth, he simply wanted to take his time with her as he pulled her apart bit by bit, not wanting to rush their first time lying together in the few weeks since summer had come.

When they were finished, he remained inside of her for as long as he could, but the warmth of her and the air around them was far too much. His wife, despite the progress she’d made in the years of their marriage, was a southern woman and despised how frigid the castle could be, earning herself the warmest room in Winterfell and a required constant upkeep of her hearth. Cregan did not mind coming to his wife’s chamber when she needed him throughout the day or early evening, but there was a reason that they’d made a habit of sleeping in his personal chambers each night, where the air was cooler but he was able to keep her warm at night. He carefully pulled away, meeting her for a final kiss before he peeled himself off of the bed, slowly strutting across the room to haul the window open and feel the cool summer air against his burning flesh.

She watched him through hooded eyes, gaze raking down his muscular back, over his plump ass, and down his thick legs. She pursed her lips, pulling one of the heavy furs around her shoulders as she padded across the stone floor to wrap herself around him from behind, fingers hooking together around his belly as her bare chest pressed to his back. After a moment, one of his hands came over to cover her own as she pressed her lips to his shoulder blade.

“My mother wrote that she expects to be here in two moons,” she murmured against his warm skin, “I should begin preparations for them on the morrow.”

Cregan hummed, eyes scanning over the horizon for a moment before he comprehended her words, “Them. How many attendants does she plan to bring with her?”

He felt his wife tense behind him, “About that…”

Two moons later Cregan found himself standing tall in his own courtyard, jaw set as a procession of horses and wheelhouses began to file through the front gate of his ancestral home. He’d been a touch angry with his wife when she had finally revealed to him that it was not only her mother coming, but rather the entire royal family; the queen, her king consort, and all of their children; the dowager queen, the remaining four of her children, as well as Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena’s three children. Winterfell was about to be overrun with heads of silver hair, something Cregan had hoped would only happen as a result of his wife’s genes overcoming his own among their children.

At his side, his wife nervously chewed her bottom lip–a nasty habit he’d grown to detest after she’d drawn blood one night. He knew exactly how her family could be from their short stay during their wedding festivities, and the way that her mother and two older brothers alone were able to affect her, let alone the entire living Targaryen dynasty.

On her other side stood young Rickon, gripping her hand tightly as he struggled to compose himself. The boy was only six years old, but he already seemed to understand the importance of his role as the heir to Winterfell. He’d taken to his stepmother rather quickly, having been an infant when the fever took his own mother. He’d been in need of a maternal figure in his life, and her presence in Winterfell had done nothing but draw father and son closer together with every family supper and breakfast she had insisted on over the years. Seeing her welcome his son into her heart so openly only further pressed Cregan’s instincts to bring their own children into the world, wishing for nothing more than to give his boy dozens of siblings for him to play with.

The procession finally came to a halt just as two large, intricately carved wheelhouses entered the gates, flanked by the king consort and all of the elder princes on their horses. Lady Stark’s nerves only heightened at the sight of the silver-haired men, particularly her elder brothers who almost immediately turned their gaze her way. The queen soon climbed out of her wheelhouse, followed by her own litter of children, Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya. The second wheelhouse opened, producing Dowager Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena and her own children Jahaera, Jahaerys, and Maegor.

The queen came before them, regal as ever in her red cloak lined with black fur. She watched stoically as the three bowed before her.

“The North is yours, Your Grace,” Cregan spoke loud and true, “my family and I are honoured to host you and your family in Winterfell.”

“Many thanks, Lord Stark. I commend you on leading the North through yet another winter,” a smirk tugged at her lips as her eyes turned to his wife, who lowered into another curtsy under her stare, “I hear that Lady Stark has taken to her role quite well. I believe motherhood suits you, sister.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Stark nodded in thanks.

The next line of Targaryens filtered through the short lineup of Starks, first Daemon, who scarcely offered any of them a second glance (aside from his niece, who he stared at for a moment too long in Cregan’s opinion). Prince Jacaerys greeted Cregan like an old friend, clapping him on the shoulder heartily while he offered his aunt a polite hug, his younger brothers following, though with less familiarity.

Then came her mother, who hardly offered Lord Stark a moment of her time before she began fawning over her daughter, hugging her tightly before pulling away and pawing at her swollen belly through her layers of fur. A tear escaped the red-haired woman’s eye as she pressed a sweet kiss to Lady Stark’s cheek, then offered a greeting to sweet Rickon, who had shuffled closer to his stepmother in his nervousness. Aegon skipped over Lord Stark altogether, though he certainly was not complaining as he could smell the stench of wine radiating from the eldest prince even before noon, throwing himself onto his sister. She’d stumbled in her attempt to catch him, sending her husband a warning glance as he moved to rip him away from her. Aemond, at least, was more courteous, offering Cregan a polite greeting and kissing his sister gently on the forehead. Helaena was soon to follow, her greeting to Cregan leaving him with a puzzled look as she moved on to place her palm to her sister’s cheek.

“I am so happy to see you, sister,” Lady Stark’s eyes welled with tears. Cregan had been aware of how disappointed his wife had been when her sister had not been able to travel with her for their wedding, but she had not blamed her for choosing to stay behind while she was in her sixth moon of pregnancy, not to mention the poor state of her mind.

Daeron was the most reserved of his good-siblings, showing both Lord and Lady Stark his respect, though he had no personal relation with either. He’d spent most of his childhood in Oldtown under the care of his grandsire’s brother, the Lord of Oldtown, and his own uncle Gwayne. He’d been rather hesitant to even return to King’s Landing after being away for so long; his own mother was a mere stranger, and his siblings had gone on to marry and produce their own children without even a second thought of their youngest brother.

Winterfell’s hall was overflowing with Targaryens and those who served them. Cregan could hardly recognize any of the faces at the tables nearest to his own, his men being pushed farther back into the hall to accommodate the royal family. He, himself, had even been pushed one seat to the right to offer the queen the highest seat in the hall. He was not pleased to be doing this, far too used to southerners coming to the North with such entitlement, but he would take the treatment silently for the sake of his dear wife, who had been so excited for the arrival of her family and had been overtaken by anxiety of ensuring the visit went well.

She sat next to him, dressed in a fine silk gown (new, a design brought by her mother), a deep emerald with golden stitching across the bodice and around the cuffs. Cregan hissed through his teeth when his wife entered the hall, a happy grin on her lips as she cradled her round belly over the dress of her mother’s house rather than her own, though he was eager to greet her and accept her gleeful kiss on the cheek, and he was glad enough to see that her hair had been braided among the stems of various flowers, all of which being indigenous only to the North. Her mother could try with all of her might to try and hold tight to her daughter’s familial tether to the South, but Cregan knew his wife had transformed into a woman of the North–she was no longer simply a Targaryen princess, a dragonrider, she was also his wife, Lady of Winterfell, and mother of his children.

It never escaped Cregan’s watchful stare everytime the Dowager Queen gripped her daughter’s arm when her attention was not focused solely on her, or how she forced a smile each time he joined their conversation at all. If the woman had not been his wife’s mother, he would have gladly warded her away from his wife’s personal space. He understood well enough that his wife was bound to miss her family, especially her mother and sister, but he was afraid to see her begin to slip back into her shell, which had taken him a considerable amount of effort and care to bring her out from in the first place.

He was quickly tiring from the responsibility of hosting an entire flock of Targaryen princes, all of whom considered themselves above the northerners and their laws, customs, and expectations. They most often gathered in the training yards, each more eager to prove themselves over the northerners and each other than the last, except for Aegon, of course, who would rather spend the mornings in his chambers before he would disappear into Wintertown, most likely gone to spend the rest of the afternoon in the only brothel within twenty miles of Winterfell.

Throughout the two weeks to follow, they had barely found a moment to themselves that was not in the early hours of the morn or when the castle is alight with only the light emitted from torches and the moon itself, where Lady Stark was usually so worn out that she had barely enough energy to cuddle into her husband’s side and share a handful of words before her snoring would reach his ears. He made an effort to seek her out when he was granted a brief moment away from his duties, but there was hardly a moment when she could be found without at least one member of her kin at her side; in the nursery with her mother and sister, discussing her duties with the queen, reading with Aemond in the library, or comforting Aegon amidst another bout of alcohol-induced sickness.

The one moment he did find her alone in her personal study, not wasting a single moment before he was hoisting her into his arms and kissing her breathless. He’d been pleased to find that she had no fight in her, easily melting into his embrace and winding her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as small mewls of pleasure vibrated against his mouth. He’d almost forgotten that the door to the study had been left ajar, making his good-mother’s entrance even more silent, though he likely wouldn’t have noticed even if she had knocked, fully taken with his wife’s affection.

“Ehem.”

“Mother,” Lady Stark pushed away from her husband, face still with shock and, quite evidently, embarrassment, “I, we did not hear you come in.”

“Yes, as I could see.”

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Cregan nodded to the woman, though his tone was laced with his annoyance, “I’m afraid you’ve been subjected to a moment of weakness.”

“Nonsense,” Alicent’s lips tightened into a strained smile, a touch of tenderness on her face, “it comforts me to know that my daughter is cherished and loved, even so far away. We are not all so lucky to find love in these circumstances.”

His wife rounded the desk, meeting her mother with a tight embrace. For a moment, he felt a pang of sympathy for the red haired woman–it was true, most marriages of such caliber did not afford the couple any form of affection, and he was more than aware of the fortune that had fallen into his lap that day that Prince Jacaerys landed at his gate. The moment came to a crashing end all-too-soon as his good-mother once again dragged his wife away from him, not to be seen again until she was deep asleep in their shared bed.

He’d arranged for a hunt during the visit of the royal family, where he was forced to play the peacekeeper between the queen’s sons and their uncles, all while keeping his eyes peeled for the prize he’d been hoping for; his wife had mentioned more than once that she wanted to find the perfect blanket to gift to their first child, one that can be used again and again with each babe they brought into the world, so it seemed only fitting to him that he be the one to bring her the pelt.

It would be weeks before the warmth in his chest subsided after witnessing her grin and laughter as he presented it to her, two rabbits of a similar white and brown pattern, drawing her away from the large elk that had been brought in for their supper that night. It was a brief moment of privacy amongst the crowd, where she curled her fingers beneath the neckline of his leather doublet and dragged him down to her height, pushing a soft kiss to his wind-bitten cheek, though he was thankful for every moment of it. Her mother stepped in a moment later, grasping her daughter’s hand and willing her to join her in the nursery, where she could continue to preach her wisdom and advice for the soon-to-be mother, though Cregan hoped his wife was smart enough to take it with a grain of salt.

He’d spent the rest of the day both tending to his duties, which have seemingly doubled since the arrival of his wife’s kin, and also offering a hand in preparing the elk when he had a chance; his cooks could do wonders with elk meat, but the kitchen maids often made a fuss when such large animals were brought to whole or at least without being skinned first. He had barely even spared a moment to clean himself and change clothes before supper.

When he arrived in the dining hall, a smaller yet more formal area where he hoped he, his wife, and their many children would all dine together whenever they could. He was, however, miffed to discover the dining hall filled with princes and princesses and queens alike, only two seats left empty–his own, and his wife’s.

His immediate thought was that perhaps she was still readying herself, perhaps she had gotten carried away in the nursery with her mother, and she would be there soon enough. Then, his eyes fell upon the red-haired woman a few seats from his own.

He cleared his throat, drawing silence across his hall, “My apologies, I expect Lady Stark in only a moment.”

Alicent furrowed her brow, directing her words to the rest of the royal family rather than to Lord Stark, “I’m afraid she will not be joining us tonight.”

Cregan raised his own brow, “Why not?”

Alicent’s gaze flickered to his own, “She was unwell this evening–a pain many women know while carrying their children, all she needs is rest.”

“And why was I not made aware of this at once?” Lord Stark felt his blood beginning to boil.

She looked somewhat taken aback, “These pains are normal, they are expected for how far along she is. My daughter–”

Cregan’s heavy palm landed flat on the wooden tabletop, “My wife is my main concern. Any news concerning her or my children should and will be brought to me at once.”

Alicent pursed her lips, appearing to have a few words of choice for her daughter’s husband, though he turned his attention to the queen opposite him on the other end of the long table and looked equally as surprised and amused at the altercation as she sipped her wine.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” he pushed himself up to his full height, “forgive my absence this evening, but if my wife is unwell I would prefer to be at her side.”

Rhaenyra smirked at him, nodding her head at him, “But of course, Lord Stark. I am honoured that you take such care of my sister. After all, family is everything, is it not?”

He ignored the way that her words seemed to have been aimed at the red-haired woman, who had slouched back into her own seat as a soft pink tinged at the apples of her cheeks, instead nodding at the queen and fleeing the room at once, his hurried and heavy footfalls carrying him through the castle and up to his wife’s personal chambers. He was disgruntled to find that they were empty, save for a servant girl who had been tending to the hearth and directed him to his own chambers.

The hinges creaked as he pushed his way inside, finding two handmaidens hovering worriedly over his wife as she hunched over on her hands and knees atop the plush bear-skin rug, back arched upwards like he’d only seen done by a cat. The two servants froze at the sight of the broad figure crossing the threshold.

“Lord Stark,” one of them rushed to him, “Lady Stark, she is alright, but–”

“Alright?” He scoffed, “She is on the floor in pain, she does not look alright.”

“Cregan,” Lady Stark glared up at him, voice strained with discomfort, “do not speak to my ladies like that.”

He let out a deep sigh, offering the servant a quiet but genuine apology, “Now please, just tell me what is wrong with her, and what I can do to help. Should I call a maester?”

The servant fought a soft smile, touched at the lord’s concern for his wife and child, “Lady Stark is experiencing little more than body aches. Normal for women carrying a child, especially their first. I’m afraid all the maester could do is offer milk of the poppy for discomfort, which could potentially do more harm to the child than good to the mother,” Cregan swallowed at the thought, “We’ve allowed the princess to soak in warm water, and the stretching helps while we prepare a hot pack over the fire.”

His gaze flickered to the small grate across the embers of the fireplace, holding three large black stones over them. He nodded, turning back to his wife, who had turned her face back into the rug while the other servant girl carefully massaged gentle circles into her lower back.

“What can I do?”

“The hot pack should help with the aches, but I’m afraid the best thing may be to keep Lady Stark as comfortable as possible, anything to keep her mind away from the pains.”

He nodded, “Leave us, I should care for my wife on my own.”

The door closed behind the two women as they hesitantly left their mistress’s side, loyal to the very end. Cregan wasted little time in removing his leather doublet and abandoning it on the plush bed, leaving him in only his breeches and thin linen shirt. He crossed the room, kneeling beside his wife and carefully laying his palm flat to her lower back, a small smirk appearing on his lips as she sighed from the relief brought by his large, warm hand.

“If you were not so obviously in pain, I would guess that you were enjoying this, my love,” he chuckled as his hand copied the same circular pattern that the servant girl had applied.

“Shut up,” she turned her head to the side so she could glance up at him, “this is your fault.”

“My fault?” He scoffed, “As I recall, your current condition is the result of your uncontrollable desires.”

She pushed herself up onto her hands, “My what? It was you who was gone to the Wall for more than a moon!”

“And it was you who kept me from my duties until midday on the day after I returned.”

She pursed her lips, “Alright, next time I will allow you to go about your duties without a word. Then we will see which one of us is so insatiable.”

“Be that the case, I’m afraid you may be with child for the next decade or more, my love.”

“Just get the hot pack,” Lady Stark rolled her eyes, lowering her head back down to the plush rug, muttering to herself with a small grin, “a decade or more…”

He obliged, wrapping the stones in a thick woolen cloth before pressing them against the small of her back, a dusting of pink coating his cheeks at the sound she released, back curving inwards as relief overtook her body.

They remained there for a long while, one of his hands holding the hot pack while the other smoothed over her silver hair, braided and still damp from her bath. The stones began to cool against his palm until they were no warmer than her own body heat, finally being tossed to the side.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, hands cradling her head and hip as he helped her roll onto her side.

“Better. Still plagued with discomfort, but better nonetheless,” She smiled softly at him, “I only wish someone may have warned me of the unpleasantness of pregnancy before I agreed to it.”

He barked out a laugh, remembering the many times she had pointed out the many ways pregnancy could ruin any romance in their marriage before it even began, hence their decision to wait before finally trying to conceive.

“If only, eh?” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

A twinkle appeared in her eye, “Well Maryssa did say that you should be doing anything to keep me comfortable…”

Lord Stark raised his brow at her words, “And what was it you only just said about me being insatiable? How have you gone from crippling pain to reaching for my breeches in such a hurry?”

She gasped, faux offense in her eyes, “I am not reaching for you breeches! What do you take me for?”

He quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, leaning down to press a slow yet meaningful kiss to her lips, “My very pregnant, very beautiful, and very impatient wife.”

She whined against his mouth, “I think impatience is quite appropriate given the circumstances. Your child has brought me the greatest joy and greatest pain of my life, and yet I constantly yearn for you, my love.”

“Constant?” He laughed.

“The maester warned me of it,” she kissed him again, “all a part of my hysteria, he called it.”

He hummed, “Which brings me to wonder why I was not made aware of this. I could have…relieved you of this suffering.”

She snorted a laugh, a sound he knew he could never grow tired of, “Cregan, if you do not take my clothes off now I would like to go to bed.”

“And what was it I said about your impatience?”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully, gasping as he grasped her wrist in his large hand and pulled her to sit up, moving to lift her and carry her to the bed when she pushed at his shoulder, shaking her head with a sly grin.

“Here,” she insisted, “it is so warm, and this fur is so soft.”

He shook his head at her, rolling his eyes. Only his wife would be demanding enough as to where he had his way with her and choose anywhere except their marital bed. Only he would be so foolishly in love as to oblige her every whim and allow her to make such demands.

Growing impatient, she began tugging at her own shift, struggling to lift her hips just enough to slide it over her hips and off completely, leaving her bare before her husband while the firelight flickered off of her soft, freshly oiled skin. His eyes fell from her own to her breasts, which had seemingly doubled in size through her pregnancy, then to her rounded belly; only a few moons would pass before she brought their first child into the world, and he could not be any more in love with her. He knew how excited she’d been over the last few weeks as her body developed with their growing child, spending much of her time with little Rickon, who was just as excited to become an older brother as she was to become a mother.

“I am not simply here for decoration,” she growled, reaching up to begin tearing the linen shirt from her husband’s body, ignoring his laughter as she struggling to pull the fabric over his wide shoulders and causing his head to get stuck for a moment, “As I said, fuck me or let me sleep.”

His booming laugh echoed through the chamber, scarcely hearing his wife, a Targaryen princess and Lady of Winterfell, use such coarse language. It was the northerner growing within her, he decided as he obliged, kissing her with every ounce of desire he’d been forced to swallow throughout the duration of her family’s stay, pressing her back to lay flat against the dark brown fur.

Cregan made quick work of kissing down her body, taking a few moments to kiss and suckle and squeeze at her swollen breasts, encouraged by her response to his touch on her sensitive skin as he continued further down. He pressed several playful kisses over her belly, whispering to their child to go to sleep so he could take care of his wife guilt-free. She giggled at this, causing a flood of heat to spread across his chest as he finally crested over the underside of her belly, coming face-to-face with the silver curls safeguarding her womanhood.

Her legs fell apart easily, and he found no resistance as he eagerly began to feast upon her most intimate place. Her fingers curled into the fur beneath her as her whines and whimpers filled the room, unable to reach for his long dark hair with her belly in the way. He was pleasantly surprised to discover how much of her arousal had pooled between her thighs, two of his thick fingers easily slipping into her heat with practiced precision while his tongue massaged her sensitive pearl.

Her body seemed more responsive than ever, thighs quivering against his shoulders as her peak crashed over her once, and then moments later, once more.

He pulled away, noting how her hips had begun to pull away from him, her womanhood more sensitive than ever. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, watching through lustful eyes as his wife grabbed hold of his other wrist, taking the fingers that had brought her to bliss twice only moments before between her lips and sucking them clean. She stared up at him through her lashes, leaning up on her elbow to reach down and paw at the tent that had formed in his breeches, tugging at the laces until they fell open and allowed her to reach inside.

He let out a low growl at the sensation of her hand taking hold of his member, head falling back in relief. Cregan was quick to pull her hand away, shedding his trousers and boots as efficiently as possible so he could lay her flat on her back once more and finally press himself inside of her.

They both let out long, breathy sounds at the stretch; no matter how many times they would lay together, she never quit got used to the intrusion of his thick cock inside of her, He remained still for a moment, regaining his wits as he willed himself not to finish far too early, though he could not guarantee that he would be able to fight his peak for very long after weeks without his wife’s intimate touch.

“Cregan, please,” she whimpered, nails scratching down his arm as she planted his fist next to her head, bracing himself as he began to work slow, deep thrusts into her warmth, his own grunts and gasps of pleasure falling from his lips while her lips fell open to allow wails of her enjoyment fall from them with every punch of his tip against her most sensitive place deep within her.

“My love,” he panted, “For-forgive me…I do not think–”

“Give yourself to me, my love,” she whined, “I need to feel you.”

He nodded, eyes tightening shut as he quickened his pace, chasing his release with grunts and growls and groans until his hips began to stutter, his release pumping deep inside of her until he was shaking. His release triggered her own, pleasure crashing over her for the third time that evening, soaking his length in both of their releases as she clung to his broad frame for dear life.

She whined when he pulled out of her, sensitive from her three climaxes. He took a moment to stare down at her, stormy gaze trailing from her cunt, where their mix juices had begun seeping from her warmth, to her belly, where their child grew. His eyes then moved to her breasts, which heaved with every deep breath the escaped her parted lips, and finally to her face, which shone with a layer of perspiration as she pulled him down to lay next to her on the fur, turning to press her back against his chest and settling into his embrace as he trailed sweet kisses over her cheek, jaw, and neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sleep threatening to overtake her at any moment.

“Thank you,” Cregan responded. “I love you.”

“I love you too, husband.”

Silence overtook the room for a moment, only the sound of their slowing breaths and the crackling fire in the hearth could be heard before he finally shared his final thoughts of the night.

“I cannot bear to not have you all to myself for even a moment ever again,” he mumbled into her flesh, “we are never hosting your family again.”

A small chuckle vibrated through her chest.

“I could not agree more.”

#x reader #reader insert #imagines #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan smut #smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine

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shaisuki · 7 months ago

Text

❝ A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS bullying + university au + heavy bullying + degradation + humiliation + threats + blackmails + she/her pronouns + sabotage + bribes + blow jobs + cunnilingus + name calling (slut, whore, being called pig related names) + noncon + dubcon + dacryphilia + penetrative sex + implied spanking + anal sex + double penetration + nonconsensual recording + DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

NOTES. it's been long since i've paid attention on this one and for @bimbosandbubbles, vanny. thank you for inspiring me to finish this one. semi part 2 here. part 3.

SYNOPSIS. evading your bullies isn't a good idea so they take you to learn your lesson.

at the start of your uni days, you expected life would open a new path for you. meeting new people from different cities or in the international, new experiences and a way for you to start a new life with a degree after college but you shouldn't have planned anything for yourself as life had different plans for you. to mock you and spat at your face for being naive.

stuck in the endless game of cat and mouse with the university's golden duo.

his bright blue eyes peering behind his dark glasses while he watch the busybodies of students walks through the busy hallways of the university. searching for a certain someone that has been the sole enjoyment of his for the last few months. the only one who have lasted them for so long.

spreading his long arms at the back of the bench. legs spread in an inviting manner as he leans back, head thrown back. looking at the person sitting besides him.

“suguru, are you sure she'll show up?” gojo whines, asking the dark-haired male with the same footing as his in the university. looks and popularity-wise.

taking a puff from his cigarette, geto turns his eyes to him before looking at the students coming out for their next classes. blowing out the smoke before replying to him. his purple eyes glints.

“patience, satoru. she will show up.” anticipating the return of their favorite plaything. you could such be a tease at time like this.

it was time. your eyes rapidly searching for them. hoping to avoid the duo that everybody have singing their names. you don't want to deal another humiliation nor degrading remarks coming from them. you prayed. prayed and prayed, hoping someone will hear your pleas. clutching the straps of your bag tighter as you step outside of your class.

you began to made your way to your next class. you were glad many students were still present and crowding the hallways but you could never be so sure. passing the crowd with an apology to your lips as you occasionally bump into them but you keep your guard up, avoiding to look in the courtyard. you keep your sight straight ahead but you could feel your eyes tear up when a sudden shove from a busy student hit you. the collision making you look in the direction where the duo was waiting for you.

even at the distance, you can see geto's eyes fixated on you. a smirk curls in his lips. shooting you a playful smile at your direction.

your prayer wasn't heard that day.

scrambling into your feet and pretends you didn't see him. making yourself blend in the crowd and disappeared into the place where you only know. your heart beating a mile per minute, running away from them.

“there she is, satoru.” geto called out to his friend. making gojo straighten himself up and looks where geto is looking at. you're running away from them. how sad. how stupid.

thinking you could easily escape them and blending in the crowd. clever girl. they thought but they couldn't miss you. like predators marking their prey to be devoured. they know you more than you know yourself. exchanging looks and geto smirks while gojo chuckles. fuck, you interest them more.

two cats letting the mouse escape and corner it again before they can fully escape in their grasp.

looking around, you made sure there's no one following you. no signs of the white hair and dark long hair best friends lurking around. taking the more quiet place that students use as shortcut when in a rush.

you just wanted a peaceful college life. not being a playtoy for the duo who passed you around like you were some cheap whore. you want to ask someone to help you but how could they help you. some attempts were made and the good souls who believes in you where blacklisted from the university for some unknown reasons.

you didn't know how much power gojo held and the words coming from geto's mouth enticing people who hang from his every word and realizing it only at the end.

gojo satoru is the only son and the heir of a multi-million company. who made a name for himself in the campus. the pretty boy who have different arm candies hanging in his arms weekly.

geto suguru who you doesn't know much but made himself popular along with gojo in the campus. charming he is and had a fan club made for him and to his best friend. they're the best if people were asked about them.

and you. you were just nothing but a toy to them. a past time when they're bored and you're left like nothing when they're done with you.

they won't follow you, do they? looking behind you to check and you almost let out a breath of relief. you barely escaped geto earlier. your nerves still working you up.

“i didn't take you the type to ditch us, (y/n).”

you almost jump, making you stop in your tracks as you look up in front of you. hand in his pockets while waving the phone in his other hand. a grin in his face while stepping closer to you.

with every step he take, you took backwards. not wanting to face him or geto. you don't want anything from them. tentatively taking your steps backwards. you just could blend again with the crowd. your mind formulating a thousand escape plans. you only look at him in contempt. a last chance of bravery against him.

spinning your heel and you made a run for a life. you could taste the escape in your lips. away from him. away from the people who made your life hell.

flashes of light blinded you for a second before realizing you were stopped. the tight grip in your arm, the smell of cigarette clinging into his shirt. it almost made you gag.

“nice one, suguru. (n/n) thinks she can escape us.”

there was a stinging sensation behind your eyes. the hope you're once clinging ripping into shreds. falling once again to the madness this two seeks for the pleasure of their own entertainment.

geto pulls you closer to his. wrapping his arm in your shoulder. your back against his chest while his hand went to cup your jaw. raising your head to meet his smile. you sure could punch him if you have the guts but looking at his face, you couldn't deny that geto suguru is attractive. maybe it's the lightning or how his hair is elaborately tied in a bun where the other locks of his hair is loose underneath and the single strand of his hair falling down. acting like bangs in his face. the warm light of the sun illuminating his face like halo. it's almost— godly.

you felt stupid for admiring one of the people in your life who made it hell. it's a realization how small you felt, how powerless you are with this two and they remind you of it every single time of your life.

your lips is curled up in a frown and gojo take notice of it. the latter grinning and walking forward where his friend got you trapped.

grasping your chin in his slender fingers, blue eyes inspecting your face behind his dark glasses. leaning closer to brush his lips to yours and the immediate reaction earns a laugh of amusement to his. tucking back your lips and moving your head to the side. blinking back the tears and he'd be lying if he didn't like the tears on you.

you weren't special. you're nothing worthy of praise nor attention but you do give them a hell of a time. you didn't even look or close to the numerous bitches they had fucked. they were naturally submissive which they like and the worst is they got clingy which is incredibly annoying for them. skanky bitches like them think they can have a piece of them. thinking they're now hotshots for sleeping with them when they're just holes for them to fill and to leave.

you — you got a fight in you. they wouldn't tell you that aloud. they didn't need to shape a bitch for them. bitches are made for them and you, even a dozen times they break you, you're still standing up and perhaps they could keep you longer until you submit to them and throw you away like a trash. follow them like a lost puppy that is still coming back even kicked and worship them at their feet. they needed you to break.

your eyes betrayed you, no. it wasn't tears instead it was the impalpable glare you have given to someone and not just to someone. it was one of your bullies.

his shit eating grin turning into one of a coldest lines forming in his lips before turning into one of a condescending smile. an immediate silence taking over and geto didn't missed that despise being behind you. harshly yanking your arms he was holding and earning a whimper from you.

“ah, ah. what's that? acting brave now are we? who taught you that or perhaps we didn't teach you enough what happens to fat slut like you acting up? mmm?” he hums. closing his eyes as his lips crooks into a smile. his bangs covering one side of his eye and the other opens or both. you couldn't tell when his bangs is covering the other.

“suguru, don't be like that. we've been just too lenient at her and now — acting too brash. we don't want this for our pet suguru, do we?” gojo tuts. tapping his fingers to your cheek, eyes locking to geto. the eye contact generating the sickest of punishments they can sentence you to.

“please — i-i need to go....” your voice stumbling at the words and your false courage starting to crumble. you couldn't think how stupid you were for glaring at gojo. he deserves it and it's not enough. you thought. bitter memories starting to surface while you think of all the humiliations you had to endure by his hands and if you were getting punished which was already placed into you, you should have glared at his friend too.

gojo tuts.“nuh uh, where do you think you're going? this is what you get for avoiding us. you need to learn your place.” the snow white haired boy jeers at you.

suguru only smirks, grabbing your arm to drag you from wherever they wished to punish you. gojo following suit whilst humming a tone from a random song.

you ended up in a vacant classroom in where the area is currently renovated and staff and students alike are forbidden to enter minus the construction workers who were taking a lunch break. giving the duo the time to punish you in their own ways. you can feel the bile rising in your throat and the familiar sparks of tears stinging behind your eyelids. your heart quickening its beats from the nervousness and the shame you have to face on or it will never end. it never ends.

“strip.” the black haired male ordered you. seated in one of the chairs in the vacant room. his friend is also comfortably seated too. a huge smirk plastered on his face, resting his head in his palm while those blues in his eyes glints in anticipation.

“n-no.” you stammer out. your hands trembling. clenched in fists in your back.

geto fakes a frown. twirling his phone in his hand while he types the password in his phone.

“no? such a shame if the whole uni would see what kind of a slut you are. you look good in this one, pretty i might say. taking satoru's cock so well. hm?” tapping the phone in his fingers while showing you a clip of a video they had previously filmed from the past sessions. both had a copy in their own phones. they may never say it but it's a video they treasured whenever they misses you. “poor mommy and daddy. they will know how much of a slut a daughter they had raised.”

“you can't do that. you have no right.” there's a sound similar to a whisper in your voice. a cruel smirk etched in his face, looking at your helpless state. they know the power they hold. what would you do report? ask the others? too bad, they'll never believe you as long they're around. people worship them. what's the power of a peasant against them? nothing.

“he can, (y/n)-chan. just one tap away and the whole world will see you for who you really are. a slut who's desperate of attention. now, follow suguru's order or we'll post it.” satoru warns. playing with the arms of his dark glasses. the action making you see a peek of what's under them.

and just like that, like a puppet you obey them. your hands trembling along with your vision blurring from the tears that started to spill from your eyes. forced to follow what they ordered to you. you couldn't risk to be find out. knowing full well that you would just be shamed even it's not your fault. who would believe you after all? you were an unfortunate being that got thrown in a tiger's den. you think of your parents — who worked so hard for your education. if hardwork and determination would reward you along with their sacrifices. you will be the first one to graduate in your family. you just have to endure it. give in to their demands and maybe — just maybe. it will end faster and you could wallow in shame on your own.

retracting your arms and you unhooked your bag slinging in your back. placing it on the nearest table. there's a soft thud along with the taps of their shoes in the wooden floor. impatiently waiting for you to completely strip of your garments.

your head hung know as you hesitate to reach out for the lower buttons of your blouse. your fingers wobbles as the buttons enter the holes of your blouse. one by one. the buttons coming undone and you blinked back the tears again but no matter how many times you blinked the tears came running down your cheeks.

you couldn't run. not when the fate of your education and dignity are stored in their phones — or maybe. you'll let them and disappear forever — away from their hungry gazes and hands that turns filth whatever they touches.

a pair of blue and purple dances at your snivelling form. that look suits you better than being a stubborn bitch you are. all bark and no bite. who's the the loser now?

it's getting quite annoying how you slowly take your clothes off and the modesty of it. a red long sleeved blouse and underneath it a black tank top paired with a long black denim skirt that preserves and gives you the impression of being a modest and goody two shoes person. boring. they make sure to put in mind what clothes you are allowed to wear for immediate contact.

satoru sighs but it's closer to belching. growing impatient as he taps his shoes in the floor before standing up and walks towards you.

he holds the tops of your shirt before tearing it up. the last buttons flying away as they got ripped. you panicked and grasping his hands to stop it but he's stronger than you. easily pulling your arms away as he yank your shirt. the action resulting in your skin burning and welts starting to form where the cloth had touched your skin.

“no! no — please! i—i'll do anything you want but not this!” you cried, hands squirming to take it away from his tight grasp. “tsk. too late.” gojo taunts. turning his head to look at geto who was enjoying the view. “suguru~, lend a hand will you? little mousy-chan is real stubborn today” asking his friend nonchalantly.

geto shakes his head, cupping your jaw harshly that it started to hurt and leaves bruises to the skin. forcing you to raise your head to look at him. “this wouldn't happen if you were obedient. we could have shown you mercy and instead what did you do? running away from us like a squealing pig. accept your punishment.” his pupils darkening and you watch it through your glossy eyes.

“a bad, bad — bad girl, you are. who taught you this? ahh, maybe it's mommy or daddy. run away from the big bad wolf eh. it's that what they taught you. they're wrong. you're a swine who lures men at your undesirable self.” he continues to sneer at you.

you didn't know what's hurting at this point. your body or your soul. you didn't know. you couldn't even shield yourself from the spite of their hatred and disgust for you. if you were really this ugly and undesirable for them. why would they bother for it. you know it wouldn't be difficult for them to get their dick wet. girls swoon and was more than willing to give their body for them and if they want another to give the same treatment you receive, they can. a much more appealing person for their taste. a far cry from what you are.

he lets go of your jaw, the sound of your tank top being ripped from the back resonating in the room. geto grabs your head, your face pressing on his chest while he holds you to avoid interrupting his friend who was having the time of his life tearing your clothes off. your bra following suit. your denim skirt being tugged away and that made you cry even more, leaving you only in your panties.

gojo continues his torment at you. slapping and pinching the muffin top in your waistline. chuckling while his fingers digs marks into the skin. amused from the fat of your body jiggling and swaying with the assault it was taking.

his eyes twinkling in pure glee and it returns to normal meeting geto's gaze at him. looks are exchanged, a quiet agreement that they both fully understand what it meant coming for you.

geto places his hands into your shoulders before pushing it down, forcing you to kneel with no consideration for the bruises that will later bloom. gojo watches in pure amusement while his friend manipulates you into his will. this is what suguru is. his true colors in full display.

geto is not the person you want to be messed up with. striking in the place where you don't expect it. nothing can hinder suguru when getting what he desires and a shame for those fuckers who tried to help you. what they did get? blacklisted from the university with a anomaly he conjured up.

flickers of sunlight and dust mingles in the room. gojo shakes his head watching as his friend switched his charismatic demeanor into one of a sadistic. “suguru, don't get too hasty. i thought you were the cool one here.” he said nonchalantly, eyes hungry with desire and need from raking through your half naked figure. kicking your torn clothes strewn in the floor.

“i don't tolerate defiant bitches who can't follow rules and begs for mercy from their mistake.” his voice cool with hint of malice behind them. “i should put you in your place, (n/n). ” he smirks, relishing on how hope simply vanishes into your eyes.

“now don't be like that to me, (y/n). please me and maybe i'll change my mind.” his eyes narrows down at you while you're in the verge of tears. your lips are wobbling. faced with suguru's crotch and you regret looking in his eyes. a silent plea for him to change his mind. a condescending smile only and you received your answer.

you blink back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes while you reach for his belt loops. shaky hands unbuckled his belt and you were shook that you were fumbling and when geto took a breath, you quickly managed to unhook the loops and pulling the zipper of his pants down.

you never wanted to make it worse than it was when geto would show his impatience towards you and in your situation you can only obey.

he's huge. always was. the outline of his cock is pressed against his boxers. “i presume you won't be needing my help to get it out, princess.” his tone velvet smooth with a hint of impatience dripping in it. you accepted your fate when you tug his boxers down. his cock springing free and it slaps to his abdomen. “suck.” he orders you with no hesitation and you think you could cry at this moment and then you remembered how cruel the two are when disobeyed especially the male above.

you take a experimental lick in the tip of his cock before enveloping it with your tongue. you feel him shiver. a grunt can be heard next as you swallow half of his cock. bobbing your head in a slow motion while you stroke the other half of his cock.

suguru stare at the scene below him. his cute piggy taking his cock in your mouth. he places his hand behind your head. forcing you to look at him and it makes his cock throb more at your mouth. your round cheeks in display and your lips wrapped around his cock and that teary gaze of yours meeting his own. “take more of this cock, princess.” tapping your cheek and you obediently followed. he let out a curse as you take him deeper. closing his eyes for a brief moment and he returned to watch you take more of him. “you can only follow an order if you're being threatened. might do more of this—shit—haaah.” grunting as you fondle his balls.

satoru watch in pure amusement as you take his friend's cock. slobbering all over it as you suck him deeper and he's a little jealous. not used in his spotlight being taken by someone and suguru was no exception and your attention should be also on him. his blue eyes peering through his glasses. he watch as your round face struggled to swallow more of his friend's girthy cock. drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as you bob your head back and forth.

gojo shudders at the blood rushing in his cock. he began to palm his cock through his pants. groaning and the little puffs of breath he was taking. unable to contain his excitement he pulled out his cock. stroking his veiny cock in a slow torturous manner as his cum dribbles down from the tip of his cock.

“suguruuu~” geto winces at the call of his name. eyes half-glaring at his friend for interrupting the haze he was in of your mouth sucking him. “you're not the only one allowed to fuck (y/n)-chan's mouth. sooo let me have her mouth.” gojo smiles at him and suguru scowls for a moment before giving your mouth to suck satoru's cock.

gojo grins. “f-fuck... suck me more...” the white haired boy stutters. burrowing his dick deeper in your mouth making you gag but he didn't care. feels too good to notice that you're almost choking on his cock as tears appeared in the corner of your eyes. your other hand still occupied jerking suguru's length.

the duo loves nothing more than this. their cute, little toy being used by them. you spent the last minutes alternating between their cocks, both covered by your spit. you were currently sucking him off and suguru groans at his impending orgasm and satoru isn't doing good either but before their orgasm bursts. they made you stop.

“open wide baby.” gojo pants. both of them pumping their cocks in unison before shooting their load in your mouth. spurts of their cum dropping in your tongue and some landing in your face. “what do we say after giving you our cum?” his face remaining passive as he reminds you and if you answer it wrong, this will last longer.

“t-thank you.” you shyly mutters. voice low and sounding so obedient. that seems to satisfy suguru as he replied with a hum. holding your jaw between his thumb and index finger. swiping the sticky cum glazed in your face with his thumb, he smeared it in your face and without further adieu you swiped the cum in your lips with your tongue. the bitter taste of their cum coating your taste buds and it would linger for days to come.

“you could be such a good girl, you know that, sweets.” satoru commented. admiring your face covered in cum. “even you could be such a bitch sometimes and you choose today to act up and we know what happens when you break a rule, you get punished.” squishing your round cheeks before staring at you dead in the eye with his blue eyes glimmering more than ever. “and punishment starts now.”

breathing is not the same as it was anymore. you sat in suguru's lap uncomfortably. your ass stinging, covered with handprints as it starts to form welts. air became lacking as suguru continues to kiss you.

“mmm...” the small sounds is all you can manage while suguru shoves his tongue deep inside. it's been minutes and this punishment gets worst as the clock ticks.

suguru can be gentle as he is rough. the dried tears sticking in your cheeks are the evidence of it and your much demure attitude after a spanking does the trick of it so he's rewarding you of kissing you until you're breathless. your soft lips perfectly melding in his and suguru enjoys every minute of it. you taste of the sea and something sweet or it just could be him. licking your tears before this. it was humiliating to you while he savors every minute for it.

geto smirks in the kiss when he hears gojo speak. “she's so fucking wet, suguru.” gojo laughs. watching as slick flows in your dripping hole. your thighs are spreaded by him and preventing you to close your legs away from his gaze. “all that spanking got you, hah. i barely touched you.” mocking you as he laughs. your body tensed and geto noticing the change in your body chuckles. “getting shy, are we? let satoru do what he wants and maybe we're going to be gentle to you this time.” it wasn't much of a request but an order. you simply nodded. “good girl.” suguru mutters before dipping again for a another kiss. holding you closer to him while his hand in your back gripping the rolls on it and the other hand in your breast. his finger brushing to your stiff buds.

satoru let suguru have his fun and so is he. what's in front of him is going to tastier and he can't wait to dig. parting your thighs wider, satoru first bestowed a chaste kiss to your doughy thighs. making sure they are given equally the amount of being worshipped by him. he won't say it aloud but your thighs are his favorite. smooching the expanse of your thighs and sometimes resting his cheek to your thigh just to feel that softness over it. he will get both of them to squish his cheeks or crush his head. he doesn't care.

a smack sound can be heard as satoru took his first lick to your fat pussy. humming in delight for diving back in. his tongue lapping in your sweet heat and more obscene noises grew from his desperate feats of licking your slit with his tongue. alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue to get more of that goodness.

your plush body jerks involuntarily. all the places with the extra bits jiggling at the sudden intrusion of his tongue. moaning in the kiss where suguru had you locked. “mmm...hah—mmm...” is the only sound you can produce as suguru licks your tongue and going back again to take your lips in his. drool covering both of your mouths. eyes half-lidded and you're drunk in this haze and you take a peek of satoru in between your legs. his white hair moving so gracefully as he slurps loudly the juices spilling in your cunt. his large hands holding firmly your thighs. sinking in the softness of it as your thighs gets bigger at being squish. the flesh spilling in his thick fingers.

satoru let goes on your clit with a loud pop before you can cum. your whines muffled by suguru's lips on your own and satoru chuckles. wiping the juices covering his mouth. “i got on her pussy first, suguru.” satoru reminded him and the man in front of you smiles. “no need to remind me, satoru. i'll take her ass.” he nonchalantly commented and your widens. squirming in his lap to get off but suguru clutches your flabby arms in his hands. “don't be scared. it will feel good like your pussy does.” he convinces you but you don't want it. “who cares about that, it's part of the punishment.” suguru growls and that puts you in your place. accepting what they decided for you.

“hey, suguru. frightening our dear (y/n)-chan will get her holes tight. you might want to loosen her.” gojo commentated whilst rubbing your slit with his fingers.

geto tsk. visibly annoyed, a rare occurrence for gojo to see his friend like this. “satoru, punishment is punishment.” the purples in his eyes darkening and gojo shrugs. “whatever. i still get to fuck her fat pussy.” sticking out his tongue towards suguru.

it was painful to swallow the lump in your throat that never existed again and again. your hands are clammy while the duo began to position themselves to you. satoru slapping your ass before hooking his arms behind your knees and his hands holding the back of your thighs hoisting you up. wrapping your arms in his and the other in suguru.

the black haired beauty holds your ass. suguru spreading your ass cheeks and the tip of his cock prodding at your tight hole. “please, geto. not in there please. i—i'll do any—mmph” the sharp thrust of his cock interrupted your plea. making you cry at the burning sensation in your hole. clenching your fist in a tight manner. your eyes hot and warm tears came rolling down your cheeks from the pain like rivulets. “and what? you'll do anything. too late now, sweetheart.” suguru examines your face as it twist again in the thrust of satoru's cock in your cunt.

“fuck!” satoru curses out. chuckling at himself. “the only good thing in you is tight pussy of yours.” your velvety walls clenching around his cock. “are you crying?” satoru teases taking a mental note of your tears.

both of them adjusts their hold on you. beginning to move their hips in an upward motion to thrust their aching cock in your warm holes.

it burns. everything stings with every move. your muscles begging to rest as it tears from how they stretched your muscles and your limbs put in a uncomfortable manner. this is how your day supposed to go on. why you must be in this position. unwilling and unlucky to escape this kind of situation. you're always in trouble with this two and maybe if you weren't so fat for this two to mock and make fun of you wouldn't be here.

mistaking the tears in your eyes as being overstimulated which is true but you're troubled with the inner turmoil of yourself so you get lost and the two began to harshly pound their lengths deep inside you. groaning and throwing at curses.

satoru rests his forehead in your shoulder and behind his glasses, his eyes, the prettiest shade of blue seems to shine in astonishing sight of your pudgy belly. squished together and like dough being stacked together. jiggling at the impact of their thrusts in you and his sight lowers. his cock disappearing inside your pussy as it glistens and the wet squelch it was making, it was simply music to his ears. biting the junction of your neck. he stare at suguru who's smirking at the sensation of your tight hole gripping his cock. “she feels so good, suguru—ahh.. this pussy's trying to choke my cock.” satoru commented.

“you hear that, you feel so good.” suguru holds your jaw forcing you to look at him. “open your mouth, baby.” parting your lips at his order, suguru spits on your mouth. a glob of his spit hitting your tongue in which you didn't hesitate to swallow and suguru smiles. “good girl.” he praises.

hard muscles are a contrast to your soft body. sandwiched between their bodies while they keep their pace steady in bullying your holes with their cocks. a moan is ripped from your throat when satoru hits the spongy spot in your cunt. knowing what he had done, satoru grips your thighs firmly as he angles his cock inside. hitting that spot repeatedly until you can't stifle the sounds coming from you. involuntary moans come spilling from your mouth and gojo swells with pride that only him, well both of them. he and suguru could make you moan like that. how did he know? silly to ask that. they're the only ones who had fucked you since you started college and the first to take your virginity. they didn't even allow men to approach you.

suguru wanting you to make you feel good like satoru does have to speed up his thrusts usually than what he always do. it's not even a work up from him. his desire for your asshole to only know the shape of his cock and he's the only one who can fuck this ass of yours.

“'too much. too much.” you babbled. the pleasure and pain is getting overwhelming for you to take. instead in pitying you it earned a chuckle from the two. “since when did it became too much for you, huh? you're a slut. sluts don't go to tell that it's too much. all they can do is shut up and take it.” satoru taunts you.

gojo hisses when your cunt squeezes around him. the creamy white ring forming in the base of his cock as you came. “shit! she came suguru.” satoru said in amusement and even he's like that he's getting close too and so is suguru. they exchange looks briefly before putting their strength in reaching their end.

you can't speak. they've taken your ability to speak. you can only moan in silence as you feel another orgasm bubbling in your abdomen again. you're going to cum and it's going to be more intense than the last one. you feel them both. hot and throbbing. the veins in their cocks making ridges in your soft walls. taking and molding their very shape.

harsh thrusts are back to back being blown to you. the tips of their cocks hits deeply as they can before releasing their loads. both groaning as spurts after spurts of their cum are being loaded inside of you. never did you felt to be so full and warm until they've released their loads inside of you. hot and sticky.

it took a few more thrusts before the both of them had ridden their high. handsome as they are and wicked even after fucking their favorite plaything. removing your arms around their shoulder. you slowly descended on the floor. both of their cum escaping your holes. dripping and staining the cold hard floor where you sat. you ignore them and you know the drill after being fucked by them. it's time to leave and slowly, you began to gather your clothes. your blouse are useless. tattered and shredded and it won't cover you. you're lucky your denim skirt are still intact.

reaching out for your bag to get the spare clothing you packed for when it happens. you grabbed the wet wipes. patting where their release had stained you, mostly in your face. a stream of tears you didn't even notice falling from your eyes got you wondering why the floor below you is getting wet. the realization dawning into you and you can only cry silently. dressing yourself and trying to be more decent.

satoru and suguru busied themselves fixing their clothing. not leaving the sight of their toy cleaning their self. suguru crouches down to meet your position. “crying after what you've put yourself into.” he commented. “pathetic.” satoru mutters as he watch you beneath him. “try not to defy us again, okay? it would be much worst than this one.” there's a hint of softness in his voice and maybe you could convince yourself that he wasn't a jerk from the way he spoke but you know better. they had humiliated you until you hated yourself. degrading you like you were nothing a dirt and not a human being.

“i understand. i'm sorry.” you say. bowing your head in shame for being disobedient at them. for not following simple orders. “good.” his only response to you.

“can i please go now?”

suguru hums and with that, you slowly made your way outside. your bag tightly secured in your back with your ripped clothes, you left without saying a word again with tears streaming down your face.

when you disappeared from that door, the duo both left at the building. going on with their lives again as the golden boys of the university and you were left with nothing, not even a shred of your dignity.

satoru reviews the newly recorded of you being impaled by their cocks. feeling hard again from the way your pussy wrapped around him along with your soft body pressed against him. “the best, satoru.” suguru commented after seeing what his friend is watching in his phone. “send it to me.” whipping his phone in a second and quickly typing.

your phone buzzes. alerting you with a message. you were wiping your tears after you nearly trip. absentmindedly wandering in the campus and if it wasn't for you almost tumbling you wouldn't break out from your stupor. more tears rolled in your cheeks, dripping down in the screen of your phone after you've read the message.

suguru: see you later.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #plus size reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru #gojo x chubby reader #gojo x reader x geto #satosugu

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axstoria · 30 days ago

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Got this idea from another post that I CANNOT for the life of me find.

AU where Clark comes to Earth as an adult, and has to blend into normal human society.

He knows his name is Kal-El, but he also knows that humans don't have names like that. He sees a couple of celebrities and mashes their names together, hoping that it would make him a bit more likable in the eyes of humans.

He hides sharp-tipped ears behind black curls and ball caps, wears glasses so people won't notice his abnormally deep blue eyes, and is constantly in sweaters despite the weather to conceal muscles that shouldn't exist on a "normal human".

When he gets his job at the Daily Planet and has to interview Bruce Wayne, he's scared. This is his first time being near a real human celebrity, and he's mortified that he'll blow his cover.

He sits and stares at the billionaire for several minutes. This human is gorgeous in all the ways a being can be. His eyes are blue like Earth's oceans, his hair falls in perfect wisps against his forehead, and his outfit is perfectly crisp against his body, perfectly tailored to every small curve.

"Uhm... Mr. Kent?" Bruce bats his eyelashes at him, smiling expectantly.

Clark snaps out of it, his pupils dilating ever so slightly. "You're beautiful. Can I court you? What's your favorite planet?— I'll bring you rocks!"

The man is stunned, watching the reporter for some time before replying, "I... suppose Venus is nice."

Bruce is fully convinced that this reporter is autistic. Makes his life easier. They could connect in that way.

Clark flushes, realizing what he's done. He's very happy the interview wasn't recorded in any way.

Bruce shows up to work the next day and there is a box with his name on it in sloppy handwriting sitting on his desk.

He opens it, and to his amusement—and shock— , there is a piece of rock inside with a note that says one word: Venus.

That night, Bruce takes the rock home to the Batcave and analyzes it for its composition. When it is a match for Venus, he immediately connects the dots that Clark Kent is the new meta being that had been parading around Metropolis and surrounding cities as of late. After all, not even the greatest scientists have yet to reach Venus, so how else would this reporter get a rock from the planet unless he could survive the expanse of space and fly there?

He is dumbfounded. And maybe a little in love.

#Clark tried his best to write English #Bruce thinks it's sweet #They kiss the next time they see each other 🥰#bruce wayne #batman #clark kent #kal-el #superman #superbat #superman x batman #batman x superman #dc comics #dc headcannon #drabble #axstoria

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v6quewrlds · 1 month ago

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❝ love language, j. burrow. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe burrow was made to be a husband. your honeymoon is proof enough that loving you is his love language.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: inspired by a couple of anon requests! another addition to the joe can't shut up when he's in love agenda. no real plot, no real substance. took me a solid month to write this so i tried to incorporate as many reqs as i could <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, excessive usage of husband and wife/mr. and mrs., breeding kink, reader mentions ovulating, massage, cheesy dialogue, oral sex (fem receiving), mention of butt stuff but no actual butt stuff, backshots!!, mirror sex, praise kink if you squint.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x wife!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 8k.

In the bustling backroom of the grand ballroom, you stood tall and radiant, your brown eyes sparkling with a blend of excitement and exhaustion. The scent of your bouquet of baby breaths filled the small space, mingling with the faint aroma of Joe's cologne. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the wedding gown you had spent months choosing.

Joe, dressed sharply in his tuxedo, leaned against the wall with his arms folded, his blue eyes dancing with amusement as he watched you fidget with your dress. "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin," he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. "You have no idea," you replied, your voice filled with energy. "I've been holding it together for hours, and now all I want to do is kick off these heels and dance like a lunatic."

Joe chuckled, his sarcasm giving way to affection as he stepped closer to you. He reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle caress. "Well, Mrs. Burrow," he began, his voice low and teasing, "once we make our grand entrance, the dance floor is all yours."

Your eyes lit up at the sound of your new title, a grin spreading across your face. "And what will Mr. Burrow be doing?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Joe shrugged, his own smile growing. "Probably tripping over my own two feet. You know I'm more of a 'sway and hope nobody notices' kind of dancer."

"Not tonight, Joey." You said with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Tonight, you're dancing with me like you mean it."

Joe feigned a dramatic sigh, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. "Fine," he drew out the vowels, rolling his eyes playfully despite the unmistakable grin that was spreading across his face. "But only if you promise not to laugh when I get a few drinks in me."

Your laugh was music to Joe's ears, and he felt his own tension start to unwind. "Deal," you said, leaning in to kiss him lightly. The kiss was chaste, but it carried the promise of a million more to come, each one more passionate than the last.

The door to the room swung open and in barged a rush of laughter and chatter as your wedding party piled in. "Alright, Mr. & Mrs. Burrow," your wedding planner called out, her voice a mix of hurry and delight. "It's showtime!"

"You're up to something," Joe murmured, catching the mischievous glint in your eyes as you sauntered into the hotel room. The evening air clung to your skin, carrying the faint scent of your wedding flowers with you. He was lounging on the plush bed, scrolling through his phone, his muscular form stretched out in the white cotton pajamas that matched your own.

"Me? I'm not up to anything," you retorted, your laughter twinkling in the quiet space. The sight of you made Joe's heart stumble, the way you filled out those pajamas like they were tailored just for you—they were. He knew that look, though. The way you bit your lower lip and your hips swayed just so. You had something on your mind, and it sure as hell wasn't sleep.

Joe set his phone aside, settling deeper into the pillows. "You're smiling too hard for it to be nothing," he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You prowled closer, your smile deepening with the grin that spread across your face. "Maybe I'm just happy to see my husband," you said, your voice a purr that sent a shiver down Joe's spine. "My shiny, new husband."

He knew better.

That glint in your eye was the same one you had before you tackled him into bed back home. Before he could say anything else, you straddled him, your thighs pressing into his hips, palms pressing him into the hotel bedsheets eagerly.

"Your wife is ovulating, Mr. Burrow," you whispered into his ear, your hot breath tickling his neck. Joe couldn't help but laugh, his hands instinctively reaching to grip your waist.

"And that means?" Joe replied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your body. Despite his amusement, there was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

"It means I want you to do something about it," you said, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. You began to rock your hips against him, the friction making you wetter by the second. Joe's laughter died in his throat, and he stared up at you, his eyes darkening.

"I know how much you love it when I'm like this," you cooed, your hands sliding under his shirt to trace the contours of his solid upper body.

"Is that so?" Joe said, his voice thick with amusement. He couldn't deny that there was something about you at your most aroused that made his heart skip a beat. It had become a secret little card between the two of you, one that you loved to play when you knew he was at his most susceptible.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Remember that time you said I smell like heaven when I'm ovulating?"

Joe couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips. "I might have said something like that," he admitted, his voice a low, playful rumble.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. "Well, heaven's calling," you said, your hips moving in a slow, deliberate circle that made Joe's eyes roll back in his head.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," he groaned, his hands tightening around your waist as you continued her delicate torture.

Your grin grew wider, your brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Is that a 'yes'? You’re not too tired?" you asked, your voice dripping with sweet seduction.

"It's definitely a 'yes', sweetheart. I could never be too tired for you," Joe managed, his breath hitching as your hips continued their mesmerizing dance. He pushed your pajama shorts aside, the gold wedding band glittering against his skin as his fingers moved to reveal your slick folds.

"But you better be quiet," he warned, glancing over at the walls that separated them from your parents' rooms on either side. "I don't think they need to know what we're up to over here."

“It’s our wedding night, baby. I think our parents would hope we'd be having dirty marital sex on our wedding night,” you giggled, the sound light and airy, as you leaned down to kiss him. "They want grandbabies and this is how it happens."

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting like mint and a hint of the champagne you had picked out for the reception. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, until Joe couldn't take it anymore. He flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours, his cock pressing against your heat.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and lust.

"Told you," you said, your voice a smug whisper. You reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling him twitch against your palm. "You always get me like this."

Joe chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with desire. "So it’s not just the multi-million dollar fortune now in your name?" he murmured, kissing you deeply.

"We can't have you waking up the whole floor." He pulled your pajama shorts down before throwing them over his shoulder to discard them. Your laughter was muffled against his neck as he positioned himself between your legs.

He slid into you with a groan, the feeling of your tight warmth around him making him forget about the walls that were a little too thin. Your nails dug into his back as he began to move, slow at first, savoring every inch of you.

"Fuck," you breathed, your eyes squeezed shut. "You feel so good."

Joe's teeth sank into your shoulder to keep his own moans quiet. "You're so wet, baby," he murmured, his voice strained. "So, so wet."

"I can't help it," you panted, your legs wrapping around him. "You looked so good out there, all husband-y and...fuck, Joe, right there."

Joe chuckled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he hit your sweet spot with precision. He knew exactly how to make you squirm. He loved it when you lost control, when you forgot about the world around you and just focused on the pleasure he was giving you.

"I’m so thankful you’re mine," he whispered, his hips driving into you with increasing force. The headboard hit the wall with a muffled thump that made you both giggle, despite the intensity of the moment. You wrapped your arms around Joe's neck, your nails lightly raking his scalp as you pulled him closer, silently begging for more.

Joe's breath was hot against your neck as he murmured, "You're so fucking tight."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but moan a little louder. "Shh," Joe said, a hint of laughter in his voice as he pressed a finger to your lips. "These walls are so thin."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your breath hitched when Joe reached over to grab a pillow. He slammed it over your face, muffling your laughter. "Not helping," you mumbled into the softness.

He threw the pillow aside with a laugh and slid his thumb into your mouth instead, your teeth grazing the pad as you tried to keep your noises down. It was a struggle, especially as he found his rhythm and your moans grew more insistent. The scent of your arousal filled the air, and Joe couldn't resist the urge to bury his nose in your neck, inhaling deeply. It was like a drug, making his cock throb even more.

"So good. My wife’s so tight, squeezing her husband’s cock so well, like she was fuckin' made for it," he groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as he held you in place. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your body arching up to meet his every thrust. The quiet room was filled with the slick sounds of skin on skin, your harsh breathing, and the occasional muffled curse.

"You're so...so...oh, fuck, Joey," you managed, your words barely audible around his fingers. Your legs trembled, your body poised on the edge of release.

Joe couldn't hold back his own groans any longer. He knew he was pushing your buttons, and the way you squirmed beneath him was all the encouragement he needed. "I know, baby," he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and lust. "You're close, aren't you?"

You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as Joe picked up the pace. You were close, so close, but he wasn't done with you yet. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slammed into you harshly, his balls slapping against your ass. The sound was obscene, but Joe couldn't bring himself to care. All he could focus on was the feel of your tight pussy clamping down around him, your walls pulsing with each thrust.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked up at Joe with a mix of love and pure desire. "Don't stop," you begged, your voice a breathy whisper. "Please, Joe, don't stop."

"Never," Joe promised, his voice a gruff growl. He thrust deeper, feeling your muscles tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the thought of you coming apart under him was all he needed to fall over the edge. He reached down to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers slipping and sliding in your wetness. "I'm gonna fill this sweet pussy up. Make my wife happy like I vowed. Might even make you a mama." he murmured, his voice low and guttural.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your breath coming in short gasps. The pressure was building, coiling in your stomach, threatening to break free. You nodded, your hips bucking up to meet his. "Please, Joe," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need it."

With a powerful thrust, Joe gave you what you craved. Your eyes snapped open, and you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming. He didn't stop, though, his strokes growing faster and more erratic.

"That's it, baby. Keep squeezing me, just like that. Gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart. Get you all nice and warm with my cum, huh?" Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as you rode the waves of pleasure.

“Is that what you want?” His words were like gasoline on a fire, sending sparks of arousal through your body. You could feel him thicken inside you, his breaths growing harsher with each thrust. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, your hips moving in time with Joe's. The room was a whirlwind of sensations, the scent of your sex mingling with the faint ocean breeze that slipped through the open balcony doors. The sound of the waves outside seemed to echo the rhythm of your lovemaking, a steady movement building up to a crescendo.

"Oh, Joe," you breathed, your voice strained. "Fuck, yes. Yes."

Your eyes met, and Joe saw the desperation in them, the need for release that mirrored his own. He leaned down, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce kiss as he slammed into you, giving you everything he had. Your nails dug into his back, your body writhing beneath his. And then you were there, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your inner muscles clenching down around his cock in a spasm of pleasure. He spilled over the edge at the same time, filling you with his hot, thick spend. You both froze for a moment, the room silent except for the harsh sounds of your panting.

"Holy shit," Joe breathed, collapsing onto you with a satisfied groan. His chest heaved with each breath, his heart racing in his ears. The feel of you, warm and wet around him, was heavenly. He kissed your neck, your skin salty with a sheen of sweat.

You chuckled, the vibrations traveling through Joe's body. "You're such a romantic," you teased. "Now get off, you're 20 pounds heavier than normal."

"Nah, gotta make sure it all stays inside, you know?" Joe quipped, his voice muffled by your shoulder. He didn't move, enjoying the feeling of your body still quivering with the aftershocks of your climax. You giggled, your breath warm against his neck.

"You're ridiculous," you murmured, your voice still shaky with pleasure. Joe's laughter rumbled against your skin, his body a delicious weight that you didn't want to shift just yet. The two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets, your hearts racing in sync.

"There's no way they didn't hear something," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. You could feel Joe's cock still twitching inside you, the evidence of his release seeping out to wet the bed between your legs.

"Your mom's been talking nonstop about a grandchild. I think she'll appreciate the knowledge that we're working on it right away," Joe replied with a lazy grin, not bothering to move. You playfully slapped his ass, making him yelp.

"Get off, you're crushing me," you giggled, pushing at Joe's shoulder. He chuckled, rolling off you and flopping onto his back. His cock slipped out with a wet sound, and you couldn't help but stare at the mess you had made. You felt a warm trickle of his cum slide out of you and trickle down your thigh.

Joe glanced over and grinned. "Looks like we've got a little cleanup on aisle five," he said, gesturing to the wet spot on the bed.

You threw a pillow at him, which he caught with ease. "You're so annoying," you said, your voice filled with affection. "If you're gonna be into this breeding kink thing, you're gonna have to help clean me up after."

Joe sat up, his chest heaving from the exertion. "Fair enough," he said, tossing the pillow back at you. "Can I lick you clean?" he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows, his voice filled with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your gaze betrayed your arousal. "Perv," you murmured, a smirk playing on your lips.

Joe shrugged, unabashed. "What? Is that a yes?" He leaned over to nip at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the teasing, there was a genuine question in his voice, his breath hot against your skin.

"Not today, playboy," you said, swatting Joe's hand away as he reached for your still-sensitive folds. "But I'll keep it in mind for later."

You slithered out of bed, the dampness between your legs leaving a stain on the sheet. "For now, I'm going to take a shower before your mom starts knocking on the door wondering if we're okay."

Joe watched your retreating form with a lazy smile, his eyes lingering on your round, firm ass as you disappeared into the en suite bathroom. "Without me?" he called after you, pouting as he feigned disappointment in his voice.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, a smile pulling at your lips, he leaped out of bed. His cock was still half-hard as he chased after you, his playfulness evident in every step.

You stretched your limbs against the crisp, white villa sheets. You blinked your brown eyes open to the early morning sun peeking through the luxurious curtains, hinting at the promise of a new day. Next to you, Joe lay still, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. His dirty blonde hair was a mess, a heartwarming contrast to his usually meticulous grooming.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of the man who was now your husband. Your first days as a married couple had been filled with passion and laughter, and you were eager to start this new chapter of your life together.

Your private plane ride had been nothing short of a dream. The thrilling rush of flying high above the clouds, sipping champagne, and even sneaking away to join the mile-high club in the spacious bathroom.

As you slipped out of bed, the soft carpet whispered a greeting beneath your bare feet. You padded over to the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the breathtaking view of the tropical paradise that stretched out before you. The sea was a canvas of azure, blending into the horizon where the sun had just begun to paint streaks of gold and pink. It was the perfect setting for a honeymoon, and you couldn't have been more grateful for Joe's thoughtful surprise.

As you continued to gaze at the view, you felt Joe's arms snake around your waist from behind. He pulled you into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. "Good morning, Mrs. Burrow," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and a hint of pride. You giggled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"Good morning, Mr. Burrow," you replied, leaning into his touch. "I can't believe we're actually here." You twisted around in his arms, your smile widening as you met his gaze. Joe's blue eyes sparkled with love as he said, "I know what you mean. I had to pinch myself during the flight to make sure it wasn't just a dream."

"Was that before or after we christened the plane's bathroom?" You quipped, your eyes dancing with mischief. Joe chuckled, his arms tightening around you as you shared the intimate memory.

"Before," he said, his voice low and playful. "But I'm sure we can make some more memories today if you're up for it."

You decided to shower together, the warm water cascading over your bodies as you soaped each other up. The sensual act of washing each other had become a morning ritual for you, a gentle reminder of your love and devotion. As you stepped out, Joe couldn't resist smacking your ass playfully, making you yelp in surprise. You shot him a mock glare, which quickly melted into a grin as you grabbed a towel and dried off.

Dressing in your swimwear, you headed down to breakfast. The hotel had laid out a spread that could feed a small army, but you kept it simple: avocado eggs benedict for you and an omelet for him, a side of crispy bacon for you both. You sat by the pool, sipping on tropical smoothies, the gentle sound of the waves in the distance setting the mood for the day ahead. You felt your excitement build as you listened to Joe recount the plans he had made for your day.

Your midday snorkeling adventure was nothing short of magical. The crystal-clear waters revealed a vibrant underwater world of coral reefs and a rainbow of fish. You couldn't help but cling to Joe's arm in amazement as you floated above the aquatic wonderland. His constant, nerdy stream of ocean facts kept you laughing. You held hands underwater, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight that pierced through the surface, a symbolic declaration of your commitment to each other.

"You're so sunburnt," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mirth as you traced your finger across Joe's pink shoulder. Your own skin, kissed by the sun, had a warm glow that contrasted with the vibrant, floral-printed sundress that clung deliciously to your curves like a second skin.

Joe groaned dramatically, his fair complexion suffering from the tropical heat more than your naturally darker skin. "You think that's funny?" he shot back, though his smile gave away his playful annoyance.

You had spent the entire day snorkeling in the crystal waters and lounging under the palm trees, and Joe in all his stubbornness had decided against sunscreen, claiming it would be nice to get a "tan" in. Needless to say, the Caribbean sun had been less than kind to his poor, Midwestern pale skin. You had been more fortunate, your skin a beautiful canvas of brown with the hint of a shimmer from your coconut-scented sunscreen.

"It's hilarious, actually," you said, leaning in to kiss his burnt nose. "Come on. We can grab some aloe from the gift shop for your poor, crispy skin."

Joe rolled his eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Oh, the joys of being married to a smartass," he murmured, pulling you closer to his side. Your hand splayed across his chest, ring catching the golden sunlight as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple.

"You love this smart ass," you quipped back, gasping with surprise as Joe's left hand reached down to smooth over the fabric covering your ass.

"I do love this ass," Joe murmured lowly, delivering a full-handed squeeze to each of your cheeks. "No lie."

After retrieving the aloe from the gift shop, you retreated to your luxurious villa. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm, romantic light over the plush California king-sized bed and the floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the stunning view of the ocean. You carefully applied the cool aloe vera gel to Joe's sun-bitten skin, your gentle touch offering a sweet respite from the sting.

Joe's eyes fluttered shut as you worked your way down his back, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, which had been honed from countless hours in the gym and on the field. He could feel the tension of the day melting away under your touch.

"I'm sorry, baby," you hummed softly as Joe hissed when you reached a particularly tender spot. "I know it stings."

"It's okay," Joe managed through gritted teeth, his eyes still closed. "Guess I'll have to stay out of the sun tomorrow."

You chuckled, your hands continuing their soothing dance across his skin. "I can't imagine that happening. It's so beautiful out there," you said, glancing out at the horizon where the sun was dipping below the waves.

"Just means I get to stay in bed with you all day," Joe murmured, his voice thick with innuendo. He turned his head from his spot on his stomach, looking at you over his shoulder with a smoldering gaze.

Your laughter turned into a knowing smile, and you leaned in to kiss the back of his neck. "Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

Joe's gaze met yours in the reflection of the large, ornate mirror on the opposite wall. "I'm a man who takes his vows seriously," he replied, his voice low and gruff with desire. Your eyes darkened with anticipation as you set the aloe aside, replacing it with a bottle of massage oil. You climbed back onto the bed, straddling his back with the bottle balanced delicately in your hand.

"Let's see if we can make this feel a little better," you said, your tone a mix of sweetness and conspiracy. You began to work the oil into his shoulders, your soft, skilled hands kneading out the knots that had formed from a full day of swimming and sun.

Joe groaned in pleasure, his eyes still locked on yours in the mirror. "You're a miracle worker," he murmured, feeling the heat of the oil and your touch seep into his sore muscles.

You grinned, your eyes glued to his baby blues. "Just doing my wifey duties," you said, your voice dripping with sweetness. You continued to massage him, your hands moving in slow, firm circles that grew increasingly sensual as you worked your way down his back.

Joe felt his body responding to your touch, his muscles relaxing and his skin prickling with goosebumps. "Is this part of the standard honeymoon package?" he managed to ask, his voice strained.

You giggled, your hands sliding lower, dangerously close to the waistband of his swim trunks. "Oh, this is a special upgrade," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear as you leaned forward to press your chest to his back. "Just for my favorite man."

Your thumbs dipped beneath the fabric, tracing the waistline of his trunks and sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He bit his lip, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "What else does this upgrade include?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Well," you began, your hands moving to the back of his trunks, "It's a full-service deal. I'll take care of every inch of you." You tugged the material down, exposing his firm, sun-neglected ass. His skin was tight and pale, practically begging for the warmth of your palms.

With a devilish smirk, you started to massage the oil into his ass, your touch feather-light at first, teasing him with the promise of more. Joe's breath hitched, his body tensing under your touch. You leaned down, your chest brushing against his back as you kissed the top of his shoulder. "Do you like that?" you whispered, your breath hot on his skin.

Joe's only response was a nod, his eyes squeezed shut in focus. You chuckled, your hands growing bolder, kneading his cheeks with a firmness that made him moan. Your fingers danced closer to his crack, and you could feel his arousal growing against your thigh.

"Just keep that finger to yourself, missy," Joe warned playfully, his voice strained with pleasure. Your disappointed groan was like music to his ears, and he felt his cock twitch against the mattress at the sound.

Your response was to give his right cheek a gentle smack, the sound echoing through the room. "One of these days, I'll get what I want," you teased, your hands leaving their spot on his ass to work at his shoulders once more. The warmth from your touch seeped into Joe's bones, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan.

"One of these days," he echoed, his voice thick with desire, "but not today." You knew he was enjoying the anticipation, the buildup of pleasure that you so skillfully crafted. You leaned in closer, your breasts pressing into his back again as you whispered a command into his ear to flip over.

With a groan, Joe obeyed, his cock standing at full attention underneath his swim trunks as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling fan that lazily spun above you. You took in the sight of your husband, your eyes lingering on the trail of hair that led from his navel to his groin, the faintest dusting of sun freckles across his shoulders, and the way his chest stood proud and firm. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that this man, this powerful, successful man, was all yours.

Straddling his hips, you leaned over to kiss him, your oiled hands sliding over his chest. Your kisses grew more heated, Joe's hands coming up to grip your ass firmly, now his turn to kneed your flesh. You felt his cock throb against your inner thigh and you broke away, breathless. "Someone's eager," you teased, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You have no idea," Joe murmured, his voice breaking with surprise as you playfully pinched his nipples. You straightened your back as you sat up, your crotch slotted perfectly over his erection. Your manicured nails trailed down his stomach, the cool metal of your wedding ring sending goosebumps skittering across his skin. Joe's hands moved to your waist, his thumbs playing with the soft material of your dress. His blue eyes blazed with need as he took in your beauty, the way your tits strained against the fabric, the curve of your hips, the shadow between your thighs that promised heaven.

"You should wear these dresses more often," Joe said, his voice strained as you ground your hips against his. The dresses in question had been a staple to your honeymoon wardrobe, all thin straps and flowing in every color under the rainbow. You leaned back, arching your spine, giving him a better view of your body.

"You like them? Maybe I'll start wearing them to your games," you quipped, your eyes dancing with mischief. Joe's grip tightened on your waist, his mind racing with the thought of you in this dress, teasing him in front of the cameras. He could picture your figure amplified on national television as the color commentators declared you as his wife, your new last name rolling off their tongues easily.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Joe chuckled, his thumbs stroking your hips as he fought to keep his cool. "No way are you distracting my focus like that."

You giggled, your hands sliding down to grip the bulge of his dick through the fabric of his trunks. "But you'd love it," you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Imagine every time you looked over at the sidelines and saw me sitting there, you'd know exactly what's waiting for you after the game."

Joe's eyes rolled back in his head as you squeezed him lightly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I don't think I'd be able to play," he managed to murmur, his voice tight with need. "I'd spend the whole game thinking about tearing that dress off you. And I don't think I'd be the only one thinking that."

You laughed, your grip tightening on Joe's cock. "We wouldn't want that," you said, your voice a sweet purr. You sat up straight, your oiled hands sliding down your thighs to rest on Joe's. "But you can take it off me now."

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with lust as he sat up and reached for the hem of the sundress. His eyes were trained on your exposed skin as he tugged the dress up over your head. He threw the thin fabric to the side, leaving you perched pretty on his lap. The ruched, bridal white string bikini you had been wearing underneath the dress contrasted beautifully against your shimmering skin.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice filled with awe. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in the fullness of your breasts, and the way your stomach dipped before flaring out into your hips. You leaned into him, your heart racing as his hands found the strings of your bikini top.

With a swift pull, the fabric gave way and your breasts spilled out, bouncing slightly with the movement. Joe's mouth watered as he reached out, cupping one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened nipple. You gasped, arching into his touch. The coolness of the room washed over your bare skin, making you feel even more exposed and alive.

Joe's eyes never left yours as he leaned in to capture your nipple between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your breath hitched, your hands tangling in his hair as you held him to your skin. He kissed and nipped at one peak before moving on to the other, his mouth and teeth teasing you until you were squirming in his lap.

Your hips rocked against him, your pussy slick and hot through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. Joe's cock strained against the confines of his trunks, desperate for release. He reached up, his fingers undoing the strings of your bottoms, and with a firm tug, they too gave way. Your body was laid bare before him, your skin glistening with tanning oil and the light sheen of arousal.

"Your turn," you murmured, your voice thick with desire. You pushed at Joe's shoulders, urging him to lie back on the bed. He did so willingly, his cock bobbing free as you slid his trunks down his legs. Your eyes were glued to his cock, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick, veined shaft.

Without a word, Joe lay back on the bed, his cock standing proud and eager against his stomach. You took a moment to appreciate the view, your eyes drinking in every inch of him. He was perfection personified, and you felt a thrill knowing you were the one who got to claim him.

"Let me taste you, sweetheart," Joe whispered, his voice husky with need as he maneuvered your back to fall against the crisp, white sheets. Your eyes widened in surprise but you didn't resist, your legs falling open to give him access to your slick folds. He kissed and nibbled at your inner thighs, his tongue tracing the path to your core as you squirmed with anticipation. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs, gently caressing the skin before moving them to rest on his shoulders, giving him the perfect angle to dive in.

Your breath caught in your throat as his tongue parted you, tasting your sweetness. You could feel his breath hot against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. Joe took his time, savoring your flavor, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that made your toes curl. Your grip on the sheets tightened as Joe's tongue swirled around your clit and flattened against your folds, the pressure building until you could hardly stand it.

He knew exactly how to drive you wild. With each flick of his tongue, you felt yourself inch closer to the precipice of ecstasy. "Joe," you breathed weakly, your voice trembling with desire. "I'm gonna come."

He chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your core. "That's the plan, babe," he murmured, his voice muffled by the wetness of your pussy. He picked up the pace, his tongue dancing and flicking in a way that made your hips buck and your breath hitch. You threw your head back, short, strangled breaths leaving your mouth as your eyes squeezed shut, Joe's mouth worked you into a frenzy.

The room filled with the sound of your moans and the wet, sloppy noises of Joe's enthusiastic indulgence mixing in with your glistening arousal. He was relentless, his tongue probing and lapping until you were sure you couldn't take anymore. You felt your orgasm building, a coil of tension in your belly that grew tighter and tighter with each pass of his tongue.

"Oh god, Joe," you panted, your hips rising to meet his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your pussy against his face. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted on your sweetness. You could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in your core, ready to explode.

And then it did. With a moan that echoed through the villa, your body convulsed as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your muscles tightened around Joe's tongue, your juices flooding his mouth as you came harder than you ever had before. Joe groaned in satisfaction, his own arousal reaching new heights as he drank you in. He didn't stop until you were trembling and panting, your body a puddle of boneless bliss beneath him.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you looked down at Joe, your face warm and your chest heaving. "Damn, baby," you breathed, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "I knew you were a munch but that was… wow."

Joe looked up at you with a grin, his face shiny with her arousal. "I was face first in my wife's pussy, couldn't help it," he said, his voice filled with a cocky confidence that made your heart race even faster. He kissed his way back up your body, leaving a trail of heat and wetness in his wake. When he reached your mouth, you tasted yourself on his lips, a heady mix of salt and sweet that only heightened your desire.

Your kiss grew more intense, your tongues dancing together in a rhythm that mirrored the pulsing need between your legs. Joe reached up, cupping your breasts in his hands, his thumbs playing with your still-sensitive nipples. You moaned into his mouth, your hips lifting to meet his.

"Face the mirror, gonna take you from the back," Joe murmured against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. You eagerly complied, turning to face the mirror and scooting closer to the edge of the bed. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched Joe's reflection, his muscles rippling as he moved behind you.

He slid his hand down your spine, sending shivers through your body, and gripped your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, and you couldn't help but whimper with anticipation. The position was rare for you two, usually reserved for moments when Joe was feeling particularly possessive. Your eyes locked onto his in the mirror, and you watched as he lined himself up, his hand guiding his shaft to your awaiting heat.

With one smooth, powerful thrust, he filled you, making you moan out with a mix of pleasure and surprise. The angle was new, and it hit you in just the right way, making your pussy clench around him. Joe groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he took in the sight of his cock disappearing into your wetness. Your body was a work of art, and he couldn't get enough of watching you react to his touch.

He began to move, his hips sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that grew more intense with each stroke. Your breasts bounced with the motion, your hands straining to grip the sheets as you watched Joe's reflection in the mirror. His eyes were hooded with desire, his teeth bared in a feral grimace as he claimed your body.

Your walls stretched around him, your body adjusting to the new sensation of being taken from behind. Your breaths grew shorter, your moans growing louder with each thrust. Joe's grip on your waist tightened, his strokes deep and demanding as he watched you in the mirror. The sight of your face contorted in pleasure, your dark hair splayed across the pillows, and your body writhing under his, only spurred him on.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice low and possessive. You could only nod, your mouth forming silent words as you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations. Joe's hand reached around to find your clit, his thumb pressing down in a steady, insistent rhythm that matched his thrusts.

"Yes, Joey, I fucking love it," you gasped, your eyes watching him move in the mirror. Your voice was a mix of desperation and pleasure, the words barely recognizable through your moans. His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of sensation through your body.

"I'm so lucky to have you," Joe murmured, your eyes glazed with pleasure as Joe's cock filled you completely. His hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingers digging in as he pulled you back into each thrust. The angle was exquisite, hitting all the right spots, and you knew this was going to be one of those moments that would be forever etched into your mind.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," you managed to pant, your body jolting with each impact of his hips slamming into you. Your inner walls quivered around him, your pussy greedily sucking him in deeper.

"I promise I'll spend every day of the rest of our lives making you feel like this," Joe groaned, his words punctuated by his relentless pounding. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the promise of another earth-shattering orgasm just out of reach.

Your eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the connection between you two more intense than ever. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing off the walls as Joe picked up his pace. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more demanding, and you could feel yourself climbing toward the peak.

Suddenly, Joe leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against him. The other arm fell forward, caging your body in as his hand settled over yours, fingers intertwined, rings nudging against each other. Your chest collapsed, your nipples tightening as you grazed the coolness of the mattress. He whispered sweet, dirty nothings into your ear, his breath hot and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want to see you come, baby," Joe panted, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Go ahead, baby. Let go for me."

You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core growing stronger with each word. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to hold back the inevitable. But Joe's touch was too much. He knew just what you needed, and as his thumb circled your clit faster and his cock pounded into you harder, you couldn't resist anymore.

Your body tightened around him, your muscles clenching as you came, your walls pulsing with pleasure. You whimpered his name weakly, your body bucking wildly under his. Joe's eyes watched as you lost control, feeling your pussy grip him as you spilled over the edge. His own orgasm followed close behind, his cum spurting into you with a force that made you both groan.

Your bodies remained connected for a moment, both panting heavily, the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the quiet room. You felt Joe's cock soften inside you, and you leaned back into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity of your lovemaking.

"I don't know if I can move," you murmured, your voice shaky with the aftermath of pleasure. Joe chuckled, kissing your shoulder before gently withdrawing and rolling over to your side. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both stared at your reflections in the mirror.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Joe murmured into your ear, his breath still coming in pants as he held you close. Your head rested on his chest, your breathing finally starting to even out. You nodded, a content smile playing on your lips.

"I would hope so, you married me last week. You better love me," you replied, your voice teasing but filled with affection as you cuddled closer to Joe, your hand resting on his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart, a reminder of the passion you just shared.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, the sweat cooling on your bodies as the tropical breeze gently caressed your skin. You turned your head, your eyes meeting Joe's in the mirror. His gaze was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stroked your hair.

"I think that's only the second time we've had sex in this bed," Joe said, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You chuckled, your eyes fluttering shut as you nestled into his warmth. "It's not my fault you can't keep it in your pants long enough to make it to the bed, Burrow," you teased, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek.

"What's the point of a villa on a quiet island if we're not going to use every surface?" Joe replied with a smirk, his fingers tracing lazy circles into the skin of your lower back. You laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest as you rolled over to face him fully. His cock twitched helplessly as he watched you, the sight of your sated smile and glowing skin making him want you all over again.

But he knew you needed a break. And so, you lay together, your bodies entwined in a mess of limbs and damp sheets. Your hand found its way to his chest, playing with the light dusting of hair that trailed down to his stomach. You traced the path with your fingertip, watching his abs contract with each breath he took.

"What do you think your love language is?" you asked, your voice lazy and content. You traced the contours of Joe's chest with your finger, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Joe smiled, his hand moving downward to squeeze your ass playfully. "I'd say my love language is definitely making you happy, especially when it involves me fucking you just the way you like it," he said, his voice filled with pride. You snorted, swatting his chest lightly. "Okay, in all seriousness, I think it's quality time. Nothing makes me happier than being close to you."

Your expression softened, your eyes shining with affection. "Mine's definitely words of affirmation," you murmured, your hand sliding up to caress his cheek. "I love it when you tell me how much you love me, how beautiful I am, how you chose me."

Joe leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll never run out of ways to tell you that," he promised, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I guess I like that too. Hearing that I'm doing right by you. That you're happy. That I'm enough."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his vulnerable admission. "You are," you said, your voice firm. "More than enough. And I'll never get tired of telling you that." You leaned in to kiss him softly, the sweetness of the moment lingering between the two of you as your bodies settled.

"You wanna know something cool?" Joe hummed, pulling away from the kiss with a playful grin. You hummed in question, your eyes beginning to hood from the sleepiness that was slowly creeping in. "I'm your husband," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief.

"I'm aware," you said with a roll of your eyes, though the smile on your face gave away the joy you felt at the reminder. "But you know what's even cooler than that?"

"What's cooler than being your husband?" Joe asked, his grin widening as he propped himself up on an elbow. His eyes searched yours, eager to hear your response.

"Cooler than that?" you teased, your voice playful. "I'm your wife. That's pretty cool."

Joe chuckled, his hand sliding up to squeeze your hand. "I guess it's a tie then," he conceded. Your smile grew as you watched the love dance in Joe's eyes, feeling it deep in your soul. You were married, and it was still so surreal. The last week had been a whirlwind of emotions, but this moment right here, with Joe's arms around you and the sound of your mingled breaths, was pure bliss.

The room was quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. Your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you. You snuggled impossibly closer to Joe, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. He was your home, your sanctuary, and you never wanted to leave this tropical paradise.

#&. cassie writes.#joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow bengals #x black reader #black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #black reader #bengals #joeyb

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brailsthesmolgurl · 3 months ago

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"Pretty thing, isn't she?"

Preview: LnDs boys reacting to other guys hitting on you.

SYLUS

You stood in front of the heavy wooden doors covered in gilt, a gateway exuberating luxury and inviting only the top 1% of the N109's population, which of course, includes Sylus. You had yet to be used to attending such fancy events but Sylus had managed to convince you by being apart of such events, you would be able to establish your name within the N109 zone quicker and that people would learn not to mess with you as much anymore. Perhaps you were not having a clear mind during then but here you stood now, in the middle of a huge banquet hall, in a maroon red dress that makes you feel naked due to how cocooned you feel within the fit.

"Breathe, then maybe you may not feel so nervous." Sylus slipped an arm around you and started to lead you into the highly ornated hall. You could tell that nobody here belonged to the 'average' class as their manners, demeanours and even body languages rotated around the word demure. Escorted to a standing bar table, your partner leaned down just enough for his lips to hover over the side of your ear and you could feel his hot breath tickled against your lobes. "Stay here, I will get us some drinks." And off he went, his tall figure blending into the crowds of dancing participants.

Sylus strutted over towards the bar and casually leaned against it. One good thing about events as such is other than the free flow of alcohol, waiters are built to be more attentive and aware of their surroundings as they do hold a split image of the host of the event. "One whiskey and a glass of lemon soda." The waiter nodded and immediately started to get to work. Sylus then turned around, his eyes scanning the crowds of people and landing on you, the lady in red still standing at the table alone, awaiting for him.

"Eyeing the bird I see?" A voice chimed out of the blue, laced with a thick British accent that any lady would have been charmed over. Sylus's crimson eyes glanced over and caught sight of a man in a tailored suit, brunette hair slicked back and eyes the shade of ocean. "I wonder if she would be pleased to have company for the night." The hint of tease in his voice got the lover of yours quirking an eyebrow, expressing amusement at the man's confidence.

"You can give it a shot." He snarked, one side of his lips tilted upwards to form a smirk. "She does not seem to be the type to let in so easily." The clink of glass onto the table top got Sylus to turn over, grabbing his glass smoothly and tasting the whiskey. "How does a bet sound?"

"Whoever gets her by the end of the night shall be crowned winner then?" The young man downed his vodka shot in one go and he stood straight, adjusting his outfit and shooting his head back to Sylus, who is still smirking in his direction. "It's on, then."

Watching the man walking over to you, each step radiating manly confidence nearly got Sylus laughing, if only the man knew how hard it was for Sylus to get you to just stay with him. "She may be pretty, but she ain't stupid that's for sure." Picking up her glass of lemon soda, he too, started walking towards the table. Seeing you talking to the British man, slightly chuckling got Sylus feeling an ick at the back of his throat and it did not taste good. He made his presence known by loudly clinking the glass of lemon soda onto the table.

You gulped when you saw Sylus had returned, and accepted the glass of lemon soda he had gotten for you. You boyfriend turned over to the British lad and smiled a bit too politely for his usual manners before he spoke. "The moment you had picked her to be your target, is the moment I already knew I won the bet." His eyes gleamed murder under the shine of the crystal chandeliers. "If I were you, I would scamper off immediately before I hunt you down."

XAVIER

It has been a while since you had been on a hotpot date with your lover. Ever since Captain Jenna had assigned him on a mission, it has been hard to match up both of your timings to plan for a date. Hence, once you received the text from your boyfriend stating that his mission had finally met the end of it's trail, you could not hide your excitement and went ahead to book for a hotpot store that had recently opened up just a few streets down. Your sole motivation of booking the store was hearing Tara's praises over the services offered there. She claimed that anyone who goes in would surely come out feeling refreshed and that was what got you sold on making a reservation.

Perhaps, just maybe, the way Tara had phrased that got you picturing a whole different scenario; where an otherworldly hotpot experience was what you were anticipating, with fastidious services and amazing food and offers you a new kind of service. Yet, here you sat, in the middle of a table with tons of half naked men walking around you, serving hotpot dishes. So this was Tara's definition of feeling refreshed. Palming yourself on the forehead, you were figuring why did you bother asking for a hotpot recommendation from one of your girl friends who happens to be single.

"May I help you with something?" A young man, wrapped in biker shorts and an apron approached you and you gulped, eyes immediately avoiding whatever skin he has to show. Seeing your reaction, a chuckled rolled out of his lips and he took a seat beside you, unaware that you already have a boyfriend as Xavier would be slightly late due to an unexpected traffic jam. "Would you like me to give you a massage to ease your tension hmm?"

You gave an awkward chuckle, hands waving back and forth while rejecting his oncoming offer. "I have a boyfriend and I am not interested. I would like to get a menu please." Just by talking to the guy, it left a bitter taste in your mouth, it felt like you were cheating on Xavier although you were barely doing anything. The weight on the couch shifted and you heard a soft thud, seeing the shadow beside you disappearing out of the corner of your eye.

The waiter that had initially served you headed back towards the counter, his other colleagues wriggling their eyebrows at him. "How's it going with that chick, Ken? You manage to ask for her wechat yet?" One of the guys asked, his pearly whites flashing. But Ken shrugged and muttered something about her having a boyfriend. "Well adding her on wechat is not exactly a crime. No harm in storing a cute girl's number in your phone anyways."

A figure walked past them, stopped mid way and approached them. This figure was leaner, taller, and looked more elegant than the other men adorning aprons and biker shorts within the restaurant. "Which girl?" His voice chimed in and Ken responded without much thought, thinking it was one of his colleagues asking for the target. He pointed exactly at you and the stranger's cerulean blue orbs caught yours and his lips pulled into a warm smile. Seeing you being so uneasy within a crowd of half-naked men amuses him. "Easy. If I get her number, does this mean I get to keep her?"

Ken then noticed the source of the voice, a man dressed up in a wool hoodie, with sandy blond hair and dreamy blue eyes and an innocent smile. He holds very effiminate features for a man. Given that the store was not opened for that long, Ken thought he may be one of the newcomers coming for an interview. "Sure buddy, if you get it, I guess you can keep it. But she does have a boyfriend, she said it herself." Xavier chuckled and casually shrugged his shoulders and sauntered over to you. The men stood by the counter and watched intently.

Watching Xavier talking to you and getting you to smile got the men to exchange glances at one another. Maybe they are missing something, or maybe it did hurt their small ego a little. But the moment Xavier got you by the hand and started to lead you out of the restaurant, the men were shocked, eyes widened and jaws slacked at how Xavier could easily get you to comply. Walking past Ken, Xavier stopped to say. "Next time, if you want to lay a bet, don't be such an airhead and at least lay it with someone who does not have a boyfriend already."

RAFAYEL

Getting stuck in a foreign city with little to no guidance is not that rare of an occurrence as Rafayel does enjoy being 'lost' with you. "That is how you can truly get to enjoy a city." Is what he would usually use to comfort you. However, that sentence of his may only work if the both of you are not entirely soaked under the heavy rain. Shivering, hungry and worn out. "Shall we head in there for some shelter?" Rafayel suggested, slender index finger pointed towards the building ahead of the both of you.

With a slight nod, he led you towards the building. It turned out to be a bustling bar within the small town. Locals filled to the brim, chattering in their own mothertongue while enjoying each other's company. "Stay here, I will get us some drinks." Rafayel informed you and headed off after pressing a small kiss onto your left cheek. The both of your arrival certainly did alerted a couple of the locals. Seeing a drenched couple within a bar is a good sign for them to know that you guys are far from home.

Perched against a standing bar table, you studied the crowd that were occupying the dance floor. The crowd are drenched in the bask of neon glow emitted by the LED lights that hung high above the ceilings. Some of them had drinks in their hand as they swayed to the beat while some others were clearly in their own world, striking dance moves that are attracting a spectacle. "Hey!" A voice called out to you and you turned your head, landing your sight on a tall male figure, with hair that are akin to the sunset and with milky pale skin. Upon approaching you, you caught sight of his emerald eyes that sparkled like eccentric jewels under the dim lights. "You dropped this?!"

Looking down at his palm, he held out your phone to you. The music is probably too loud for you to even notice that your phone had fell out of your pocket and landed onto the floor with a thud. "Yeah!" You responded with the volume that hopefully reaches his ears. The ginger haired man smiled and stood next to you and he started striking a conversation with you, asking if you were alone and if you happen to be a local as well. "Oh, I am from Linkon City and I am not here alone!" You smiled awkwardly but also responded out of a polite manner.

A hand that landed at your back made you jumped slightly and you retreated from the guy's vicinity when you realised he was trying to get close to you. "What's wrong?" Feigning shock, he only closed in on you, a smirk creeping its way onto his face. He looked nothing different than a wolf that is ready to pounce whenever he finds the chance to. "Whatever happens in here, stays in here." His statement got your voice stuck in your throat, your chest tightening when you realised that you are about to get jumped by a 'kind' stranger.

"You have to try so hard to get her to pay attention to you?" A mocking voice came from behind you and your heart sighed in relief when Rafayel towered behind you, two glasses in hand and a genuine amused smile stamped onto his features. "I didn't even have to try to get her to come on this trip with me." Rafayel casually handed you your drink and he took up the space in front of you, his height on par with the guy whom had tried to hit on you. Rafayel's eyes gleamed a shade of striking electric blue when he leaned in towards the guy, his demeanour taking a turn towards being protective and establishinig dominance.

This side of Rafayel got your heart lurching for a moment. Seeing such a nonchalant and charming individual taking a turn towards being protective over you got the butterflies in your stomach blindly colliding with the walls of your insides. "Touch her one more time, I dare you." Snapping his finger, the flames of his evol came alive and the guy muttered curses, stepping aback. "I might not be able to guarantee you would be able to leave here in one piece."

ZAYNE

The cardiac surgeon's off day is spent on paying you a surprise visit during your demonstration day. This day in specific is held annually at the Linkon City Hall, where the public are informed about the roles of a deepspace hunter and it is also a day for the organisation to recruit potential new hunters for their task forces. He remembered that day as you stood in front of him, with a brochure shoved into his arms before you sprinted off like a whimpering fox. The piece of paper featured your face on it, posing with your guns, with a huge title pasted above your head that is promoting 'Hunter's Showdown Performance'. Zayne could not help his lips from tugging into a small smile as he stared blankly at your wannabe serious face on the piece of paper.

You stood at the back of the stage, isolating yourself from the rest of the crew as you quietly rehearsed your steps. You were only given a month to prepare for this demonstration and knowing that you are not able to strike to wanderer actors makes it all the more tedious for you to rehearse your steps. Every movement, every swing of the guns and every shot has to be precise and realistic, minus the actual damage to be taken by the other actors. Executing a full 360 turn, you came to a halt when your name was hollered out by someone in the background. "Y/n!" You turned your head and your partner came up to you, his smile wide. "Hey, you rehearsing for your part?"

Upon nodding your head, he proceeded to ask if it would be alright for him to rehearse his part with you. On usual notes, hunters are usually dispatched in pairs and since Tara is not around, hence Captain Jenna decided to pair you up with Christopher. The rehearse took around 15 minutes till he paused, patting you on your shoulder encouragingly. "You got anyone coming over to watch you?" You opened your mouth to speak but a voice chimed in before you could even say anything else.

"Yes." Zayne stood behind you, his features darkened at the sight of the hand of a stranger's on your shoulder. Christopher coughed slightly and retreated his touch, feeling guilty instantly. You were of course, shocked, that Zayne had managed to make time to come and see this silly demonstration of yours. When you gave him the brochure, you were certainly not expecting him to appear in person. You figured he might just watch it via the online link from his office if he happened to not any surgeries scheduled for the day. You were totally wronged.

"You...uhm...never told me you had a boyfriend." Christopher chuckled awkwardly, his hand lightly tapping and rubbing the back of his neck to somewhat soothe himself from the tense stare he was getting from a pair of unfamiliar emerald orbs.

Zayne took this chance to stand beside you and he extended a hand towards the guy, expression still indifferent. "I am Zayne, y/n's boyfriend, it is nice to meet you." Christopher did shook his hand out of respect but did not took long to stay, muttering that he has to get his makeup done and off he went. You could somehow feel dark clouds crowding in above your head, a storm lingering in the back of Zayne's gaze. "Was that the guy that you were supposed to perform with?" His voice was gentle, but he awaits for your answer.

"Yeah...Tara could not make it during this event, hence Captain Jenna got him to pair up with me for the demonstration." Your voice was slightly quivering, thinking that Zayne might be upset with you not openly telling your colleagues that you are already in a relationship. But you came from his standpoint, as Zayne is someone who cares about his privacy, you figured he might not appreciate you going on yapping about you being in a relationship and would much rather keep it low-key and only between the two of you. "I'm sorry I never mentioned about you to any of my colleagues as I thought you would like to keep our relationship private and confidential."

Zayne's eyes caught yours and he smiled warmly, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead. You froze, knowing that at this point you would be receiving tons of stares from your surrounding colleagues. "Y/n, as much as I would like to keep our relationship private, I would not like it if someone were to try to take advantage on you just because they think they could." His palm smoothed the baby hairs atop of your head, his smile still evident as he continued speaking softly to you. "If you find it hard to tell your colleagues about us because of me, I will just let my actions show them what we are."

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus

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whoreforsexymen · 1 month ago

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Vander 🫗 | SMUT Headcanons

Pairings: Vander x Reader, Dom!Vander x Reader

Rating: NSFW!! 18+, MDNI ! You WILL be blocked.

Pronouns: She/Her + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Word Count: 898

Tags: DaddyDom!Vander, Spit play, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Crawling, Thigh Riding, Rough Sex, Dacryphilia, Size Difference, Etc.

Notes: Just some spicy Headcanons for our big, old, husky, bearded barman 🤍 as well as some for a darker version of our big teddy bear dad 🤍

- Vander is completely enchanted by your lips. Every chance he gets, especially when he cradles your face in his hands, he can’t resist the urge to brush his thumb over them, savoring their softness. It’s also no wonder how primal it makes him feel considering how your own natural instinct is to suck the skin of his thumb gently. Every. Single. Time.

- He can’t help but prod at them until you let him breach the surface. You’re always so hungry for a taste of him, no matter if it’s his cock or his fingers. Always so insatiable, and deeply unsatisfied until moments like these when you’re greedily swirling your tongue around his finger.

- He never wastes time in hooking his thumb into your mouth, toying with making you and your tongue slave to find it. The slickness of your saliva and the sounds that follow are nothing short of immaculate, a perfect blend of neediness and yearning that leave him desperately smitten.

- The way you whimper, and the way your thighs grind together to ease the tension and aching in your clit drives him to the brink—the sounds unraveling him, each one igniting the flames of his own aches.

- He wants nothing more than to switch his fingers out for his cock— but unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to hear you as well. His fingers are slim enough to let the noise pass over them, but his cock would be a different story.

- Vander is a gentle lover by nature, but— like any part of nature, he has his more unpredictable moments. His ‘natural disasters’ or sorts. Though—you wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘disasters’.

- Just as easily as it is for him to spend hours tenderly ramming his cock into you, during more ferocious, needy moments, he’ll waste no time in fucking you senseless. Despite it mainly happening every blue moon, he knew when you needed it like this, and he knew that you’d be willing to take it on the days he needed it like this.

- You both have happily accepted that he’s a man with a wild side to be nurtured every now and then. And you’re so good at nurturing it for him. When laying in bed, he’s started fucking you from behind, quickly losing his patience for tenderness. He’s sat upright against the headboard, and pulled you on top of him, all without ever disconnecting from you for even a moment.

- With your back pressed to his chest, he cups under your knees, almost folding you in half from the way he gripped and pulled them back- as he started slamming his hips at a merciless pace. The angle had you practically foaming at the mouth, considering—with his given strength—he uses minimal effort to bounce you up and down to meet the way he was snapping his hips up into you. The way your ass bounced on his legs is a sight that constantly makes his dick twitch when he thinks back to it.

- The screams you could never bother to try stifling almost kept him up at night sometimes. Too many times have the recollections made him overfill a pint or two behind the bar counter, earning questioning glances from bar patrons. He can’t always help the way his mind wanders when he has you to ravish every night.

- Vander often says things like:

“C’mon Angel— Look at me while you suck my cock dry. I wanna see those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“That’s it— Attagirl. Atta-fuckin’-girl.”

Dom!Vander HC’s

- Will make you kneel on the ground, mouth wide open, pussy dripping, and leave you like that. He’d tell you that you weren’t allowed to swallow your spit. He’d then pull up a chair and sit in front of you, despicably far, and just watch you. He’d wait until your shirt became transparent from how much drool had fallen on it. Then—only then, would he speak.

- “Crawl…” he commands.

- You obey. You crawl to him, almost desperately quick, until you stop at his boots. He’d be tempted to make you grind on them, but he prefers his thighs for that.

- You crawl onto him, straddling one of his massive thighs.

- Just a few minutes into him making you grind yourself down on it, his blue jeans are just as soaked as your shirt.

- “Attagirl.” He’d coo as he’d start guiding your hips for you with his hands. It’s your fault if you think he’s going to let you cum anytime soon, though.

- When he halts all movement once you’re practically falling off the edge of your orgasm, he’d tut at you when you keep trying to desperately find the friction again.

- “Don’t you fight me.” He’d snap as you greedily tried to chase your orgasm, thrashing your hips around against his grip.

- He’d pull your hair and make you look at him, his other hand holding your jaw with contempt.

- Denial was his virtue. He won’t let you cum until you’re crying and begging for mercy.

- “Cry for me, Angel.” He’d command, needing to see the tears in your eyes while you begged for release.

- When you’d get too embarrassed to do so, he’d grip your face tighter.

- “Let. Me. Hear. You.” So you do. You let it out.

- And then—only then, will he slip his thick fingers in you.

- “Excellent. Such a good girl. Now. Get yourself off on daddy’s fingers, yeah?” He’d purr.

#smut #Vander smut #Vander x reader smut #Vander x reader #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #Vander x female reader #Vander x female reader smut #Vander arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x reader imagine #Vander imagine #Vander Headcanons #Vander smut Headcanons #Vander smut imagine #Vander smut Drabble

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choerypetal · 6 months ago

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Meet and Greet / Homelander

summary: Homelander had never experienced an obsession before, nor was he even familiar with the term until he met you at the meet and greet, where you were dressed in a recognizable blue costume.

*Pt-2!! read after this one— *

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors, xo"

Everyone knew that Homelander wouldn't hesitate to admit his obsession with you. His drive to be the best was deeply ingrained in his mind, and during a meeting with the Seven, your image lingered in his thoughts. Fortunately, he managed to hide these distractions before Ashley could express her concerns about the upcoming show—a significant one, especially since Homelander knew you would be attending with your family. He always knows.

And he was right. Your parents, being big fans of the Seven, never wanted to miss a single annual show. This meant you had to tag along. "Come on, you have to wear it! Make Homelander proud," your mother insisted, holding up a superhero costume made in your exact size. Make Homelander proud. You sighed, wanting to object, but your attempt to call your mother's name was drowned out by the loud music in the store and an overly enthusiastic clerk who repeatedly asked if you were satisfied with your find. She was also wearing a costume, though not Homelander's, which made you suspect there would be more than just Homelander present that day.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one wearing the costume you had put on for your mother, making it easier to blend into the crowd. However, this also made it easier for Homelander to spot you as soon as he stepped on stage. With Ashley having access to the ticket records, finding your last name had been a simple task. His eyes remained fixed on the screen the moment your name appeared, and he mouthed your entire name just as Ashley's voice startled him, reminding him it was time to go on stage.

“Welcome! How lovely you all are!” he announced in his typical rehearsed tone. He was growing increasingly annoyed; the whole theatrical aspect bored him. Why couldn't the Deep handle it today? Or even someone new, while he sat in the back, scrutinizing every silhouette to find yours. It wasn’t difficult either, given that your parents had ensured you got the best seats. His lips curled into a sly smirk. Bingo, he thought. It still surprised him that, even without knowing your face, the name matched his expectations perfectly. He had to know. He was the Homelander after all. He knew everything.

Luckily he managed to let out of his usual monologue, with the new recruits being presented today, it let him more time in his hands. And that also meant, seeking out for you when he had the chance.

The show concluded as expected, with your mother delighted to see her favorite hero on stage and your dad eager to meet Starlight again. During the ongoing meet-and-greet, Homelander couldn’t help but observe your every move. Despite your apparent boredom, the fact that you were wearing a costume identical to his caught his attention. He couldn't deny that you looked incredibly sexy, and he fantasized about having his hands around your waist, hearing your moans, and you begging for more.

“Sir,” Ashley’s voice broke through his thoughts, catching him off guard and irritating him since it meant he couldn't keep watching you. After all, as Homelander, he was doing the city justice by ensuring your safety. Right? “It’s time for your meet-and-greet,” she reminded him. With a knowing nod, he indicated he would be right there. Little did you know, you were one of the few fans waiting in line to meet him.

He wasn't entirely wrong. Once again, your mother had requested you to take a picture with him. You always wondered why she couldn't do it herself, citing being 'just shy,' but deep down you knew the real reason was that she wanted to see her own daughter with the man she fantasized about. Unlike her, you weren't a fan of superheroes and their inflated egos. Yet, here you were, waiting in line between a family and two fangirling girls.

“Thank you, and have a wonderful day. God Bless you!” he said, flashing a wide grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair after taking pictures. In just a few minutes, you would be up next, and you were acutely aware of it. He, too, was counting the people in line, noting your silhouette emerging behind a tall man. The way the outfit hugged your curves and the cape flowed on your back caught his eye. Oh how he wanted to fuck you right there. He wanted to have you all wrapped around his finger. And he knew exactly how to get you, if only Ashley was there.

As you neared the photo booth, you reluctantly acknowledged that despite your aversion to heroes, Homelander possessed an undeniable allure. Whether it was his striking blue eyes or his impeccably groomed hair, you couldn't quite determine. “Next,” the disinterested employee called out, mirroring the lack of enthusiasm you had felt upon arriving at the show. Barely glancing at you, they scratched the bottom of your ticket and directed you toward Homelander. It was then that you made eye contact with him for the first time, and he couldn't look away.

"Hello, dear," he greeted you formally, like everyone else, but his tone made him stand out. His fingers gently rested on your waist, pulling you close until there was no space between you. "Say cheese!" the photographer prompted, but Homelander, true to form, knew more than just posing for a picture. "Nah, let me get my best side, will you?" he interjected, subtly extending your time together. The photographer hesitated, eyeing the remaining fans in line, but Homelander paid no attention. With a soft scoff, he leaned closer and murmured in your ear, his voice almost a whisper of a threat, yet his lips curved into a smile when he glanced down at you. "Loving the costume," he added with a quick smile for the camera. His charisma left you breathless, and he noticed you weren't ready for the picture.

His comment caught you off guard, and the way he leaned closer only added to your unease. Sensing your muscles tense at his touch, he directed the photographer to take another shot. The photographer, aware of the waiting line, was hesitant, but Homelander insisted. "We don’t want this beautiful lady to go home with a bad photo now, do we?" That damn bastard, the photographer likely thought, as you glanced at him hesitantly. He glanced at the line, sighed deeply, and the resignation in his eyes mirrored your own thoughts.

Homelander, on the other hand, relished the opportunity to keep you wrapped around his finger for as long as he desired. If he had the courage, or if your parents weren’t around, he might have invited you to join the Seven. But he knew better than anyone that he had to make a good impression. "Say cheese," the photographer repeated, his voice now tinged with boredom. You noticed the tension in Homelander’s jaw as he clenched it. He glanced at you, a smile playing on his lips, before glaring at the photographer, which was enough to make the poor man gulp silently and mirror the same grin.

And that's where his obsession took hold completely. The scent of your perfume, the way your hair was immaculately styled into a neat ponytail, and your lightly applied blush with rosy plum lips—all were irresistible to him. He couldn't deny that your lips were the most enticing he'd ever seen. His fingers now traced the leather of your Homelander costume, appreciating how it hugged your curves perfectly. Oh, how he...

“Done!” The photographer's almost relieved voice snapped John back to reality. Despite maintaining his composure during the photo session, his thoughts had wandered to fantasies of you. He imagined you beneath him, taking his cock so well, one hand firmly massaging your breast, his lips eagerly seeking the fresh milk oozing from your nipples. And you... so vulnerable, so petite around him, begging for more...

From that day on, Homelander never missed an opportunity to see your face again. It seemed almost too good to be true when he later had the chance to meet your mother and requested that you accompany her more often to their annual shows. He promised to show his appreciation, hinting that he would return the favor very soon.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander the boys #homelander imagine #homelander smut #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz x y/n #the boys #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys s4 #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader

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soaps-mohawk · 10 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 11: It's Coming

Summary: Things have begun to shift in your developing relationship with your pack. Unfortunately, nature has the worst timing in the world.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, medical stuff, plenty of fluff.

A/N: I wrote like 90% of this chapter on my phone so please forgive any weird typos. I'm super excited for this one and this whole part really. Lots of good stuff coming up!!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

At first you’re not quite sure what pulled you from sleep. You’re warm and more comfortable than you have been in a long time, despite the dull throbbing between your thighs. The pillow against your back shifts, a chill settling in as some of the warmth disappears.

You blink your eyes open, squinting against the harsh blue light of a phone screen. Price lets out a quiet groan, swiping at something before settling his phone back on the nightstand in front of you. His arms wrap back around your middle, his face pressing into the back of your neck as he settles against you again.

It was his phone vibrating that had woken you, pulling you from the gentle arms of sleep. It’s still dark out, far too early to be up and getting phone calls, especially on a Sunday morning. You wonder how often John actually gets to sleep, between his job and everything he does when he’s not away. You’re understanding the couch in his office more and more now.

“Go back to sleep.” He murmurs, a quiet rumbling vibrating against your back as he purrs.

You don’t need to be told twice, snuggling down under the covers again, letting your eyes close.

You wake a while later alone. It’s daylight finally, the sunlight coming through the window lighting the room. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling Price’s scent. It still smells a bit like arousal and sex in the room, both of your scents heavy in the air. They blend together surprisingly well, Price’s musky woody scent mixing with the sweetness of your own scent. It makes an intoxicating aroma of alpha and omega.

Price comes out of the bathroom, slipping back under the covers. You curl up against his side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Morning.” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep still.

You hum in response, resting your head over his heart.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his fingers trailing your bare back.

“A bit sore.” You say, acknowledging the throbbing between your legs. “Not as bad as I thought I might.”

Price huffs out a laugh. “It shouldn’t hurt, not if you know what you’re doing.”

You hum again, the knowledge that he’s very experienced coming to the forefront of your mind. Even if it has been two years, you can imagine him when he was younger, the kind of experiences he must have had. Omegas and barrack bunnies and all sorts of women probably fawned over him.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says quietly, eyes closed as he lays there with you.

You’re starting to think he might be able to read your mind.

“Can I ask you something? Something...personal?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

He cracks an eye open to stare down at you. “Don’t think you can get much more personal than we already are.” His lips twitch up in a smile. “‘Course, you can ask me anything.”

“When was the last time you helped an omega through a heat?” You ask, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear.

“Years ago. Well over a decade ago.” He says, voice still thick and raspy with sleep. He clears his throat, a hand settling on your waist. “Back when I was still a Sergeant. I had the idea back then of settling down, finding an omega and having my own pack. Had a few on and off relationships. Then I started getting sent off on more and more dangerous missions. I realized my skill set and my purpose, and gave up the idea of having an omega. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting them through that, if something happened to me. I’ve seen what losing an alpha does to an omega firsthand too many times.”

A frown tugs at your brows as you lay there against his chest. You know the risk of them dying is high. The CIA had spent ample time warning you of that risk, telling you about how dangerous their lives are and how every assignment, every deployment, could be their last. They could be gone for weeks at a time, months at a time, and they could go and not come back. They know that every time they leave for an assignment it could be their last, and now you’ll be stuck behind knowing they might not be coming back.

You’ve heard about omegas that have lost their alphas, how damaging it can be. It’s not something you’re taught at the institute. That’s not something you’re supposed to think about, something you shouldn’t have to think about.

“What’s eating you?” Price asks softly, his finger stroking the pinched skin between your brows.

You shift against his side, leaning more on his chest as you look up at him. “What if you don’t come back?”

His smile is a bit grim as he stares up at you, his fingers trailing across your face. “I won’t lie and say that’s not a risk. There’s always a chance.” His fingers trail down your arm to rest on your hand where it’s pressed flat against his chest. “We’re here for a reason. We are the best at what we do.”

He pauses as your hand moves, your gaze lowering from his as you trace one of the scars on his clavicle. You can only imagine what caused it. A knife? Shrapnel? Where was he and what was he doing when he got it? You might never be able to know all the details. So many secrets, so much you can’t know.

John wraps his arms around you, easing you off his chest as he rolls you onto your back. You stare up at him as he hovers over you, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face. “Don’t worry too much.” He says, his finger trailing the line of your nose. “We always try our best to make it home. Now we just have an even greater reason to.”

Your hand cups his cheek as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You hum against his mouth, pressing your body closer against his. You can’t help but smile against his lips as his cock hardens against your thigh.

“Again?” You murmur against his lips, making him chuckle.

“Can’t blame me when there’s a beautiful omega naked in my bed.”

Your face burns as he leans back down to kiss you, his hips moving against your thigh. Warmth spreads through your whole body from his scent thickening in the air, his arousal prevalent as he twitches against your leg.

“John.” You moan softly, hands grasping at his back.

You both pause as a door shuts in the hallway, the reminder that the others are just a thin wall away coming back to you. The moment is over as your stomach growls, also reminding you that you’ll need to eat eventually.

John chuckles quietly, leaning up to press a kiss against your forehead. “Come on, let’s get the day started and get some food into you.”

You frown a bit as he pulls away, cock still hard and angry looking as he stands from the bed. “John?” You call out, scrambling off the bed after him. “You’re just gonna...”

“Give it a minute and I’ll be fine.” He says, moving to his closet. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your frown only deepens and you step closer to him, catching him as he turns around. You stare up at him through your lashes, wrapping your hand around his cock. He pauses, letting out a little groan as you squeeze him gently.

“Let me help you.” You say, dragging your hand along his length.

His eyes darken as he stares down at you, the pants in his hand dropping to the floor.

Your face is still a bit flushed as you make your way to the mess. You’re hand in hand with John, dressed comfortably in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings. You can’t help but feel a bit bashful, as if they’re all going to know what you did, as if every soldier in the mess knows you and Price slept together last night.

They’ve probably been thinking that since you arrived.

Price leads you through the line, making your tray for you. You nearly beam with pride at him taking care of you, your omega preening with happiness as he carries your tray and his to the table. You take the spot next to Gaz as usual, still practically beaming.

“Have a good night, love?” Gaz asks, smirking a bit at your pleased state.

“Yeah.” You say, your face getting warm again at their stares.

“Practically glowing, kitten.” Johnny says, winking at you from across the table.

Your face flushes hotter and you quickly bury yourself in your porridge to avoid exploding at the breakfast table.

“Sounded like ye had a great time.” Johnny continues.

Christ, they probably heard the whole thing. You halfway want to sink down beneath the table to hide from their knowing stares. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not really. They’re your pack, and eventually you’ll be in the same position with them too.

“Didnae know ye had it in ye, kitten.” Johnny continues. “We certainly enjoyed the show.”

You do start to sink down in your seat a bit, surprised steam isn’t rising off your skin from how warm you feel. Gaz’s hand on your leg stops you, his fingers squeezing your thigh gently.

“Don’t pay too much attention to him, love.” Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get to go first.”

“Am not.” Johnny whines, practically pouting.

You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics. You know from how much he bragged about getting to be your first kiss that he probably was rather put out that John got to be your first. It would have been that way regardless, but you know you asking John before your heat changed things a bit. It would have always been John, though.

It would have always been your alpha first.

Gaz’s hand doesn't move from your thigh, holding its place there as you all eat, Johnny still pouting a bit. You know they’ll want to pursue that sort of relationship with you after your heat, but now that John’s removed the barrier of the first time as well, you can only expect them to up the teasing tenfold. A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of Gaz sliding his hand slightly higher, fingers slipping between your legs.

You’re certain there has to be steam coming off of you now.

Your thighs squeeze together, trapping Gaz's fingers between them as you continue to try and act normally. Gaz turns his head just slightly, side eyeing you as you continue to try and eat your breakfast as normally as possible. Gaz's grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your skin. You fight the noise threatening to come up as he holds his hand there, continuing to eat his breakfast as if nothing is happening.

You hold Gaz's hand as he walks you back towards the barracks, leaning against his side. His grip around your fingers is tight, not even the rain dampening the heaviness of his scent. It's deeper than usual, the musk of arousal tinging the edges.

Your back meets your door as soon as you're back in the barracks, Gaz pinning you against the wood. Your own breathing is heavy as you stare up at him, his eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He groans, leaning down to kiss you. It's far more passionate than you've ever kissed him before, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your waist. “Making all those sweet noises last night.” He breathes against your lips. “Haven't seen Price that relaxed in a long time.”

Your face warms at his words, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He presses harder against you, pinning you against the door as his tongue prods at your lips. He tastes like the tea he drank with breakfast, herby and earthy.

“Has us all worked up last night.” He groans against your lips. “Hearing you, knowing our alpha was treating you nice.”

He presses his forehead against yours, staring down at you. You meet his gaze, shivering under the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

“Johnny bout cried he was so worked up.” Gaz's lips twitch in a smile. “Simon left for the gym bout halfway through, had to work out his tension.”

Your brows raise at the news about what Ghost had been up to last night. You figured he might join Johnny in his room, or perhaps head somewhere so he didn't have to hear you. Not that he would leave because he was being affected by you.

“Johnny was being such a whiny little bastard. Had no choice but to take pity on him.” Gaz nips at your jawline playfully. “I fear he's going to be unbearable until he gets his chance.”

“Well, he'll just have to wait his turn.” You say.

Gaz laughs, kissing you again before he takes half a step back, leaning his arm on the door above you. “Any plans today?”

You shrug, still leaning against your door. “Might read, or nap. Maybe both.” You sink your teeth into your lip, reaching back to put your hand on the door handle. “You wanna come in?”

Gaz's grin widens into a smile, his eyes practically sparkling. “Sure.”

You open the door, stepping into your room. It's a bit of a mess from you preparing for your date last night. You toss the clothes from your bed onto the floor haphazardly before pushing Gaz onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes before making himself comfortable. You toe off your slippers, grabbing your book before joining him on the bed. He pulls you against his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket as you settle against his chest. A quiet content purr begins rumbling in his chest, easing the tension in your body as you relax against him.

You stay like that, reading while cuddling Gaz, for quite a while. Your door is wide open still, the others coming and going as they do on the weekends. Gaz keeps your back to his chest, arm wrapped around his middle as he scrolls on his phone while you read.

Slowly his head starts to droop until it's resting against the top of yours. You can feel the content sleepiness settling into your bones as well, the words on the pages starting to swim a bit. You mark your place, moving just enough to set your book on your nightstand before you curl up against him, letting his even breaths lull you to sleep.

You jolt awake suddenly as Gaz's arms tighten around you, keeping you from flying off the bed. You blink open your bleary eyes, squinting at Johnny's grinning face inches from yours. His body is draped over both yours and Gaz's, a solid weight against you both.

“C'mon ye lazies. Gotta eat lunch eventually.” He says, sounding far too chipper for a Sunday afternoon.

“Fuck off mate.” Gaz says, shoving at Johnny's shoulder. “Was comfy.”

“Yer hogging the omega!” Johnny says, poking Gaz's side. He pushes himself up, scooping you into his arms and lifting you. “Some of us would like tae spend time with ‘er too.”

You yelp at being lifted suddenly, wrapping your arms around Johnny's neck to hold on for dear life.

“Well, maybe you just need to be a little bit faster.” Gaz says, standing from the bed.

“I'm plenty fast.” Johnny almost whines. “Close to beating your time on the course.”

Gaz smirks. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

You look back and forth between them as Gaz steps closer to Johnny, caging you between them.

“And ye will see it.” Johnny says.

“Cheeky.” Gaz murmurs, closing the distance between them.

You stare wide eyed as they kiss just inches in front of your face. It's all tongues and teeth, Soap's chest rumbling against your side as he purrs. A quiet whimper leaves your lips as you watch them, your body starting to get warm again.

They break apart, both turning to look at you. Gaz's lips turn up in a smirk, Johnny's eyes sparkling.

“Look at you, kitten.” Johnny smirks. “Ye like watching us?”

You make another quiet noise, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Johnny slowly lowers you until you're standing between them, Gaz not moving an inch as they trap you in a beta sandwich. Their bodies are warm and solid as you stand there, back to Johnny's chest. You can feel the bulge in his jeans pushing against your ass, Gaz's body a solid weight against your front.

You can imagine it, naked between them, skin against skin with hands everywhere. A quiet purr begins in your chest, eyes dilating as you stare up at Gaz. He smirks down at you, leaning down towards you. He skirts to the side at the last minute though, kissing Johnny behind you.

You can't see them this time but lord can you hear it. Johnny is still purring, the sound vibrating against your back. Gaz let's out a quiet sound, his hand dropping to squeeze your waist.

Johnny pats your side before pulling away. “Should get ye some lunch.”

Your head is still spinning as Gaz hums his approval, stepping away as well. You stand there blinking for a moment at the sudden loss of contact, the sudden shift in energy.

“C'mon, get yer shoes on, sunshine.” Johnny says.

You move half in a daze still towards your bed, your body tingling a bit still from the many thoughts that had been racing through your mind.

Something in the back of your mind begins to itch as you stare down at your bed. Your brows pinch in a frown as you stare down at the mess of blankets and pillows.

It's not right.

Your fingertips twitch as you stare at the mess in your nest, your mind taking over as you begin to rearrange the blankets and pillows. You forget you're not alone in the room as you fuss with the blankets until the itching begins to lessen a bit. You fiddle with the pillows, moving them around over and over again until you're happy with how they're organized, the quiet humming in the back of your mind fading away to nothing.

You sink down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. You feel tired and almost winded after your effort to make sure your nest is just right.

Nest.

You're nesting.

You blink up at Johnny and Gaz, suddenly aware of their presence in your space again. Johnny is staring at you wide eyed, mouth slightly parted in wonder. Gaz has a sparkle in his eye as he grins at you.

You've just built a nest.

“Feel better, love?” Gaz asks, still almost beaming from witnessing you make your nest.

You nod, a sudden weight lifting from your shoulders. You've nested. You're nesting. Everything is going to be okay.

“C'mon.” Johnny says, slipping your slippers back onto your feet. “Let's get lunch in ye.”

You let him help you up, holding both their hands as you make your way from the barracks, a small, relieved smile on your face.

You wake up nauseous.

There’s a clawing feeling in your stomach and you’re not sure why.

It’s early, too early to be up. The sky outside is still dark, and the barracks are quiet. You get up, heading for the bathroom, the gnawing feeling still plaguing your stomach. Cold water on your face doesn't help the light-headedness or the dizziness you’re beginning to feel.

You can’t possibly be sick. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick. You know heat sickness isn’t a threat right now. There’s no warnings out about possible exposures. It couldn’t be food poisoning. You eat the same things they do.

The gnawing intensifies, your stomach rumbling a bit.

Realization dawns on you suddenly.

You’re hungry.

You’re very hungry.

You check the time on your phone. Three a.m. Still too early for any of the boys to be up, and still a couple hours from when the mess would start serving breakfast. You head for the rec room, hoping there’s at least something in there to tide you over until breakfast.

You dig through the cabinets, plenty of tea and a couple packets of instant coffee you know belong to Johnny. You dig out a couple protein bars, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before taking a seat on the couch.

The protein bars aren’t great. They don’t taste good, but you’re so hungry you don’t care. You down them quickly and the entire bottle of water. For a moment you feel relief, the gnawing in your stomach easing. You head back to bed, slipping back into your room quietly.

You toss and turn, unable to go back to sleep as the gnawing begins in your stomach once more. You let out a quiet sound, muffled by your pillow as you lay there, knowing you still have a long time until they’ll come and get you for breakfast.

The thought makes you almost want to cry.

You’re waiting as soon as they knock, narrowly avoiding Johnny’s hand as you open the door mid-knock. The bright look in his eyes fades as he stares at you. You know you look miserable, maybe a little sick, even. You feel worse, your stomach twisting and gnawing. Those protein bars four hours ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

“Ye alright, kitten?” He asks, a frown marring his face.

“Hungry.” You all but whine, slipping out the door, closing it behind you.

“Ye hungry, kitten? Ye could have said somethin’ sooner. Coulda brought ye somethin’.” Johnny says, following you down the hall.

You’re determined to get real food and you’re not about to let anything get in your way. You feel ravenous, despite the fact you’d had a good dinner the night before.

Maybe it hadn’t been enough.

You make your own tray this time, loading on more than you usually do. You take your normal spot between Price and Gaz, all four of them eyeing your tray as you happily dig in.

“Hungry, love?” Price asks, watching you spoon huge mouthfuls of porridge into your mouth.

You nod, chewing quickly before spooning more in. It tastes delicious, something you never thought you would say about British food.

They all watch in awe as you clear your tray, eating every last crumb, having to refrain from licking it clean. Finally, for the first time since you went to bed last night, you feel full and satisfied.

“Damn. Putting us to shame.” Gaz says, staring at your empty, nearly clean tray.

You grow bashful under their stares, realizing you not only out ate them, you also finished first. “I was hungry.” You say, fiddling with your fork.

“No kidding.” Ghost huffs out, all of them finishing up their trays.

You’re in a far better mood leaving the mess than you were entering it, the sweet relief of being full after hours of gnawing hunger making you feel almost giddy. Ghost walks you back to the barracks, walking slow enough you can easily keep up with him. So slow, your arm brushes his as you walk next to him.

“Sorry.” You say, moving a step away from him. You’re so used to standing directly next to the others, you’ve forgotten Ghost prefers his personal space.

He stares down at you for a moment but doesn’t say anything, holding the door to the barracks open for you. He stands just inside the door, watching you make your way down the hallway to your room. He waits for the click of the lock before he turns, leaving you alone in the barracks again.

You settle into your usual routine of laying in your nest and reading, the giddiness starting to wear off as the time passes. You make it until ten a.m. when the gnawing hunger begins to return. You let out an annoyed whine, dropping your book to the floor as you roll onto your stomach.

You want to cry and scream at the same time, watching the clock tick by on your phone. You’re tired of being so hungry, and what’s worse, you don’t even know why. You’re just ravenous and you can’t think of a reason.

Lunch can’t come soon enough, and you find yourself struggling through the afternoon just as much. It’s almost like your body is on a timer and every two hours you’re suddenly starving, as if you haven’t eaten all day. You eat just as much as you did at breakfast, scarfing down food like you’re a starving animal.

You certainly feel like one.

You head to the rec room after dinner, Ghost and Johnny joining you. Johnny takes the seat next to you on the couch, draping his arm behind you as Ghost takes his usual spot in the chair.

You curl up against Johnny’s side, watching whatever he decides to put on TV half-heartedly. You’re waiting for the inevitable, the gnawing hunger to creep up on you again.

It does, roughly two hours into your time in the rec room.

You shift against Johnny, pressing against his side more as you try to ignore the hunger burning through you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you against him. You breathe in his scent, letting the citrusy scent of him wash over you.

It only serves to make you more hungry.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to get closer to him. Tears prick at your eyes as you know there’s no relief coming. There’s no more meals until tomorrow. You’ll have to go all night before you can eat again, before you can relieve the hunger. You’re not sure you’ll make it that long. You might perish in the middle of the night, or become violently ill. Perhaps both.

You let out another quiet whine, standing from the couch. You can’t take it anymore, both Johnny and Ghost watching you as you head for the cabinets, kneeling on the floor and rummaging through everything, desperate to find another protein bar or anything.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asks, staring at you as you’re halfway in the cabinet, checking every last corner.

“Hungry!” You snap, half considering eating one of the tea bags just for something.

You’ve just closed the cabinet door in irritation when an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the floor. You let out a yelp, Ghost carrying you easily back to the couch.

“Stay.” He says after dropping you back next to Johnny. “I’ll be back.”

Johnny wraps his arms around you as you pout, nearly in tears from how frustrated you are. You’re just so hungry.

“Easy, kitten.” Johnny says, pulling you back against his chest.

You nuzzle into him, curling up into a ball against his side. He starts purring quietly, trying to soothe you while you wait for Ghost to return. You can’t pay attention to the TV, Johnny trying to change the channel every time a food related commercial comes on.

You’re nearly shaking when Ghost returns, arms full of snacks. Your eyes widen as he dumps them on the coffee table, pushing yourself up from Johnny’s chest.

“Where did you get these?” You ask, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Vending machine in the mess.” Ghost answers, sitting back down in his chair.

You stare at him teary eyed, sniffling a little. “Thank you.”

He grunts in response, turning his gaze back to the TV as you reach for a bag of chips.

You can barely even taste it as you kneel there on the floor, basking in the first taste of sweet relief from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. You grab them by the handful, burning through the small, snack sized bag quickly.

You’ve barely finished chewing when you’re reaching for a candybar, a sudden realization striking you as your brain begins to regain the ability to think now that it knows relief is coming. You stare at the purple Cadbury on the front of the packaging, your fingers trembling as you hold the candybar.

You take a deep breath, quickly opening the wrapper before taking a bit, sitting back on your heels as you chew. “Well, shit.”

“I know, I hate the exam rooms too.” Dr. Keller says, flipping through her clipboard. “Too clinical and sterile looking.” She lifts your hand, removing the pulse monitor from your finger. “A little higher than normal.” She says, writing something down on the clipboard.

She takes your blood pressure and temperature, writing both down on the clipboard.

“Temperature is still normal.” She says. “How have you been feeling?”

“Hungry.” You say, picking at the thin fabric of the hospital gown you’ve been forced into. “Ravenously hungry and clingy.” You continue. “A bit more emotional than normal too.”

Dr. Keller nods, writing all of it down. “Normal things for your pre-heat, according to your file. Anything out of the ordinary? Aches and pains? Any nausea or vomiting, not related to hunger?”

You shake your head. “No. Kinda sleepy all the time too, but the hunger makes it hard to sleep.”

Dr. Keller nods. “That’s normal. Your body is preparing for a few days of very little caloric intake and little rest. I’d say you’re exhibiting all the signs of pre-heat. You’re right on time, as expected.” She gives you a little smile. “Judging by your vitals you still have a few days before the full heat symptoms begin. Any questions?”

“What do institutes do for heats?” John asks where he’s sitting to the side of the exam table.

“It depends on the institute.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you.

“FIOT rotated between sedation and isolation.” You say, not really wanting to think back on the heats you had gone through at the institute. “Sedation for the full heat, or shutting us in private rooms for a week to ride out the symptoms alone to avoid triggering heats in the other omegas.”

“Neither are great, but in that sort of environment there’s not a lot that can be done. Sedation is the better of the two, though it can still be disorienting. Isolation is painful and risky, especially if proper care isn’t given.” Dr. Keller says.

“Is sedation an option for the future?” Price asks.

You turn to look at him, before looking back at Dr. Keller.

“It’s something we can explore. I know it can’t be expected of you to be here for every heat. We can start exploring some alternatives after this heat is over and I have a better idea of what they’re going to look like.” Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Now, I’d like to do a little exam just to give me a baseline for after your heat when I check for any abnormalities or injuries.”

She directs you to lay down on the exam table and put your feet in the stirrups. You suddenly feel nervous, her words doing little to calm you. John appears in your peripheral, slipping his hand into yours.

“Is that a risk?” You ask as Dr. Keller pulls a clean pair of gloves on.

“Only a small one.” She says, standing at the end of the table. “I know you’ve probably heard all the horror stories, but those are only really concerns with inexperienced alphas who have never helped an omega through a heat before, especially those who had limited exposure to omegas in general.” She smiles at you. “You’re in good hands, my dear.”

She does her exam, letting you sit up once she’s finished. John helps you up, still holding your hand. Dr. Keller’s words do ease your concerns just a bit, but you can’t help the images flashing through your mind, the horror stories of mutilations and even deaths. You trust Price to take care of you, but at the same time, you won’t know until it’s over.

“Everything looks good.” She says. “The best thing you can do right now is try to satiate the pre-heat symptoms and take this time to make sure everything is ready and in place for when the full heat begins. Don’t worry too much.” She looks pointedly at you. “I’ll be on call and ready should something happen.” Her gaze turns to John. “Your beta knows what to look out for, right?”

John nods. “Kyle has been doing a lot of research. He knows what to do.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, looking back at you. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can go back to my office where it’s more comfortable and talk some more.”

Dr. Keller leaves you alone in the room, Price helping you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the room with you. You turn to look up at him, Dr. Keller waiting for you near her office door.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Price says, leaning down towards you.

“Yeah.” You say, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

You try to ignore the look on Dr. Keller’s face as you walk past her and into her office, your face warming a bit in response. You take your normal seat, trying to get comfortable despite your bashfulness.

“You and Captain Price seem a lot closer.” Dr. Keller says as she sits across from you on the couch.

You nod. “Yeah. We, uh, we have gotten closer.” You chew on your lip. “We slept together...on Saturday night. Had a date, he cooked dinner. Then we...did it.”

Dr. Keller’s brows raise at your words, her face surprised. “Oh? Is that so? Is that something you wanted?”

You nod. “I asked him if he’d do it. I wanted my first time to be when I could remember it...before I would feel like it was something that had to be done.”

Dr. Keller hums, writing something down. “Did you have fun?”

Your face warms at her words, and you halfway wish the chair would swallow you whole. You nod, hiding your fingers beneath your sleeves again. “Yeah. I uh, started nesting too.”

Dr. Keller’s face breaks out into a huge smile. “That’s great! That’s fantastic news! Perfect timing too.”

You nod. “Yeah. Started on Sunday. Been feeling it since.”

“Good. That gives us one less thing to worry about.” She sets her notebook aside, crossing her legs as she stares at you. “How do you feel about your heat coming so soon?”

“Nervous.” You answer honestly.

“It can be a bit daunting, I’d imagine, your first heat with an alpha. Captain Price knows what he’s doing, though. He and Sergeant Garrick will take good care of you.”

“I know.” You say, fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s still scary. A lot of things can happen and...what if one of them does?”

“It’s not very likely.” Dr. Keller reassures you. “Captain Price knows what he’s doing. He’s experienced with omegas and heats and the likelihood of him losing control is small, even after so long without any contact with an omega. It sounds like Sergeant Garrick has educated himself on things to look for, and what to do to help. I’ll be ready and on call the entire time as well. I’ll make regular check-ins with Sergeant Garrick too, to make sure everything is going smoothly. You’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure you’re well taken care of. I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust people that are still somewhat strangers, but we all have your best interests in mind here.”

“I know.” You say quietly. “It’s hard, not knowing much of anything. They tell you everything you should expect at the institute over and over again, then you get in it and everything is different. Nothing is like it should be. Nothing like they said. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You were prepared for one life and got an entirely different one. Lucky for you, though, you’re surrounded by very understanding people who are more than happy to help you. I know this is so far from ideal for you, but I think you’re doing a fantastic job with what you were handed.”

You stare at your hands, thinking over her words. John’s called you a good omega before. He’s called you that a few times. He thinks you’re doing a good job, despite the fact you feel like none of your skills are useful here. Despite the fact you feel like you haven’t been trying.

You think over everything they’ve done for you, how hard they’ve tried to help make you as comfortable as possible. She’s right. They’re all so understanding and you know they like you. You can see it in their reactions to you, you can smell it on them. You know Gaz won’t let anything happen to you, even if something goes wrong.

They have yet to prove themselves untrustworthy, for the most part.

Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about.

“Come on.” Ghost says, standing in your doorway. You almost don't recognize him in a beanie and surgical mask instead of his usual balaclava. “Get shoes on, and let’s go.”

“Go where?” You ask, sitting up on your bed.

“Shopping.” He says, before turning on his heel.

You frown, but do as he says, slipping on comfortable shoes and grabbing your phone. You head down the hall towards the door, a familiar car parked outside. Price and Ghost are waiting next to the car, both dressed in civilian clothes. You approach them hesitantly, suddenly feeling intimidated in the presence of the two alphas. You know you have nothing to worry about, but this is the first time you'll be alone with both of them.

Ghost steps up to you, a bottle in his hand. You barely have time to hold your breath before he sprays you down with scent blocker, the harsh chemicals burning your nose as they settle on your skin and cut off your scent. It's necessary, even with two alphas around you.

“Ready?” John asks, letting his eyes scan over your form for a second. He could probably pick up on your tension and uneasy energy from a mile away.

“Can...Can I ask why?” You ask as John opens the back door for you.

“Well, we can't have you starving to death on us, can we?” John smiles. “And we need to get a few things for your heat.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking up at him.

“Hop in. Hopefully we can get the shopping done before dinner.” John says.

Before you get hungry again.

You climb in the backseat, John closing the door before getting in the driver's side. Ghost is already in the passenger seat, buckled in and ready.

You sit and watch the landscape pass by, the car quiet except for the radio. The contrast between the two betas and the two alphas is almost as distinct as night and day. Johnny and Gaz had talked almost nonstop the entire drive to and back from town. Ghost and Price seem content in their silence, Ghost watching the landscape pass just like you.

It speaks volumes of their trust and ease with each other.

The farmlands turn to city and you find yourself back at Asda again. You hold John's hand as you walk, Ghost taking your other side, sandwiching you between them. People stare as you pass, their eyes on Ghost, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

You stick close to John as you walk through the store, picking up items you'll need for your heat, as well as some other things. Ghost follows like a shadow, people giving you a wide berth when they spot him. You're almost grateful for it. You swear some of them can tell you're about to start your heat, their eyes burning into you as they pass.

You can feel the beginnings of hunger starting to creep in as you walk down the bed liner aisle. You know if you weren't starting to get hungry, you would have been close to combusting from the knowledge of why this aisle was necessary.

You let out a sigh, leaning your head against John's arm as he crosses the bed liner off the list.

“What?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“You know what I miss?” You say, wrapping your arms around one of his. “Good authentic Mexican food.”

The corner of John's lips lift in a smile. “Yeah? You getting hungry again?”

You nod, a subtle whine to your tone. “Yeah.”

John turns to look at Ghost, the two alphas having a seconds long silent conversation before Ghost heads off, disappearing from the aisle.

“Where's he going?” You ask.

“Getting a head start on the other supplies for your heat.” John says. “Just a couple more things, then your snacks and we'll be done and we'll get some dinner.”

You stop as you turn the corner around the end of the aisle, your eyes spotting a giant teddy bear. It looks soft and squishy, your pre-heat addled brain already picturing the perfect spot for it in your nest.

“You want it?” John asks, looking between you and the bear.

You snap back into reality for a moment, glancing up at the price. You nearly die on the spot, shaking your head. “I-I don't...”

John turns you to face him, speaking firmly. “Do you want it?”

You stare up into his eyes, nodding slowly.

His gaze softens just a bit, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then grab it.”

You're moving before you can even have a second thought, wrapping your arms around it and lifting it off the shelf. It's just as soft as you thought it would be, nearly as big as you are too. You can imagine cuddling it in your nest, napping contently, surrounded in soft plushness.

“C'mon pup.” John says, patting your back gently. You're purring, you realize suddenly, the sound leaving you entirely unconsciously. “Let's get you some snacks then we'll get dinner.”

You carry the bear, following John to the grocery section of the store. He takes you to the snack aisle and you pass the bear off to him, grabbing anything and everything that looks good, loading up the cart. You grab a few things from the American section as well, snacks you didn't think you'd miss, but right now they sound like manna straight from heaven.

“Simon's done with his part.” John says, glancing at his phone. “We'll meet back at the car.”

You take the bear back once you're done filling the cart with snacks, heading towards the checkout. You're hesitant to let the bear go long enough to be scanned before you're holding it again, purring quietly and contently.

John keeps his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot towards the car. There's already bags in the trunk from Ghost, the alpha already in the passenger seat. They must have both been carrying keys to the car. Safety precautions. Things most people wouldn't even think about.

“Thank you.” You say as John fills the trunk with the rest of the bags. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Yes we did.” John says, looking down at you. “Not going let you starve like that if we can help it.”

“It's still strange to me, getting taken care of.” You say, squeezing the bear. “Still makes me feel a bit like a sugar baby.”

John chuckles. “Don't worry, I won't make you call me daddy.” He leans in close to your ear. “Unless you want to.”

Your face burns hot, your entire body igniting with heat at his words. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass, directing you to the door of the car before taking the cart back to the store.

Your face is still burning as you attempt to climb into the car with your bear, giving up and stuffing it in first.

“What the hell is that?” Ghosts asks, turning to look at you.

“My new bear.” You respond, arranging the bear so its sitting in the seat beside you.

“Christ.” He breathes, and you can practically hear the eye roll as you buckle the bear in.

You buckle yourself in as John climbs in the driver's seat.

“All set?” He asks, turning to look at you.

You nod, smiling happily despite the hunger eating away at you.

“Let's get some dinner, then we'll head back to base.” John says, turning on the car. “Can't have our omega starving on us, can we?”

Ghost snorts. “Best feed her before she decides we look appetizing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You'd be too gamey, Ghost.” You say, eyeing him before turning your gaze to the seat in front of you. “John, though...” You lick your lips. “I already know you taste good.”

John lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles with the edge of a pleased growl. “Easy, kitten.”

Ghost lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. “Spare me. Now there's two of ‘em.”

John chuckles again, squeezing Ghost's shoulder. “Little did you know, Simon.”

Ghost turns to look at John. “Is it too late to get a refund?”

You stifle a giggle as John smiles. “You'll have to ask Laswell.”

Ghost sighs, turning to look out the window. “No hope for it, then.”

“Hey, at least I'm cute!” You grin. “Don't tell Johnny I said that.”

You practically beam with pride as you see Ghost's shoulders shake with his laughter. Maybe you can get through to him more than you think you can.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get him to like you.

The knock comes at your door unexpectedly. It's late, and you had just begun to feel the pangs of hunger once more. You hate it, but you know it's necessary considering you'll have to go roughly a week getting in nothing but what nutrient bars can offer while exerting insane amounts of energy. Your body needs to store the calories now so that you don't die during your heat.

You're surprised to see Ghost on the other side of the door, back in his balaclava. His shoulders are squared, but you can't scent any anger or hostility on him.

He almost seems...nervous.

“Hungry?” He asks, staring down at you.

“Always.” You answer almost instinctively, staring up into his deep brown eyes.

He motions for you to follow with his head. “C'mon.”

You frown a little, but you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. You follow him towards the rec room, staring at his broad back. His shoulders are still squared, hands in his pockets.

The rec room is set up again not unlike it was for your date with John. The card table is out and there's foil covered dishes on it, along with a couple plates. Your brows raise in surprise as you take it all in.

“I made you something.” Ghost says, moving over to the table, removing the foil from one of the dishes.

You move closer, blinking in surprise. “You made...enchiladas?”

He nods. “As close as I could get with what I could find on short notice. There's rice and beans, too. And salsa.”

Tears blur your vision as you stare down at the food on the table. It smells delicious and that's not just your ravenous pre-heat hunger talking. “You...did this for me?”

“Well, I had help,” He says, looking past you.

You turn, Soap and Gaz standing at the windows that frame the door to the rec room. They smile and wave at you as you turn to look at them. A quiet laugh leaves your mouth as you smile at them.

“Help yourself.” Ghost says as you turn back to the table. “There's plenty.”

You serve yourself a plate, nearly melting off the chair as you take the first bite. It takes you all the way back home, the good years when your father was stationed in Texas.

“Taste okay?” Ghost asks, watching you. “I know it's not authentic, but I did a lot of research.”

“It's amazing, Ghost. Really.” You say. “Tastes just like the ones my mom would make.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs, looking almost bashful. “It's the least I could do. I know how big of a deal heats are to omegas and how nervous you've been. Thought you could use a little comfort.”

You smile softly. “That means a lot.” You can't help but giggle softly. “I knew you liked me deep down.”

He gives you a look, making you giggle even more. “Don't push it.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

Text

tf 141 with a reader who loves jewelry >>

It’s not a particularly visible obsession; all your boys know is that they’ve never seen you without jewelry. Be it pretty, delicate earrings, a lovely necklace that rests in between your cleavage, or a gleaming set of rings and bracelets. They are eye-catching, on occasions, and other times they blend so nicely into whatever outfit you have adorned yourself with.

They don’t realize it, they don’t make the connection until you’ve invited them into your house, and then you are leading them deep, deep into the basement until they are in front of a closed room. The entire thing is suspicious, honestly alarming because Ghost did so much research into you but never knew anything about this- but you look so nervous and hopeful, emotions bared.

They aren’t prepared to enter a room stuffed full of jewelry. A room practically glittering, gleaming like you’ve brought yourself a corner of the starry universe. Rows upon rows, cabinets and closed glass cases. And then you are smiling, stepping into the room and urging them in.

“I… I’ve always loved jewelry,” you clear your throat, voice soft and hushed. You look around, an unmistakable look of fondness and happiness in your eyes. “Necklaces, earrings.. anything that can be put on the body to adorn it more than clothes could. Ever since I was a child, I was, well, obsessed with collecting them. I love collecting them, and every piece here is precious to me.”

Your cheeks turn pink, and you look away from their gazes. “…but you are more precious to me, and I trust all of you. Which is why I feel happy, showing this part of me to you. And…”

You grin now, opening a cabinet with a simple key you put away to pull out four jewelry boxes. “-And that is why I got these!”

You open the first box, showing John a beautiful necklace that holds a single garnet shaped into a delicate teardrop. Garnet, for his birthstone. John, John, John- a man who will always have your heart. John, who treats you like a jewel even more delicate than the one in your hands. You’ve never had anyone hold you quite as he does, so full of love.

The second box is for Soap, for your Johnny. A dangling pair of earrings that would brush across your skin should you wear them, almost as sweetly as his kisses across your body. A stormy blue, much like his eyes.

Third box is bigger- the biggest. This one, you had custom-made. Not cheap at all, but worth every single dollar. Made entirely out of diamonds, the shoulder pieces would drape so elegantly across your shoulders and dangle off your back, like a never-ending embrace. Your most expensive piece to this day, and yet you would so easily swear that it did not compare to Gaz’s beauty anyways. It was based on him, on how you looked at him, on the sheer love you felt for and from him.

The last piece is a necklace. It curls around your neck not like a collar, but like a hissy cat seeking warmth. Three rows of pearls, shiny and pretty, and in the middle sits a round red jasper. You don’t remember when it had been, but you’d read that red jasper meant courage, preseverance, and healing. Perfect for your brave, incredible Si, whom you’ll always admire and adore.

But in your enthusiasm of describing how and why you chose each piece, you are blind to the way they look at you:

In a room full of gems, jewels and stars, you shine the brightest to them.

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estellan0vella · 7 months ago

Text

Shut Up, Mom! ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Toji & Sukuna (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You stand firm in the kitchen, arms crossed, after denying your child's request for more sweets. Gojo lounges casually nearby, a faint smile playing on his lips. Your little one, clearly frustrated, looks up at you and blurts out, "Shut up, Mom!"

The air grows tense instantly. Gojo's blue eyes narrow, the usually playful glint gone in a flash. He straightens, walking over to kneel beside your child, his expression serious yet calm. "Hey, we don't talk to Mom like that," he says, his voice low but firm. He gently cups your child's cheek, his touch a blend of sternness and care. "Mom loves you and makes rules to keep you from getting sick. Apologize to her."

Your child glances between you and Gojo, recognizing the gravity in his usually lighthearted father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom," they mumble, looking down.

Gojo's smile returns, a bit softer now. He ruffles their hair. "Good. Now, how about we find something else fun to do together?"

In the living room, you're putting away toys when your child whines for more TV time. When you deny the request, they stomp their foot and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Geto, who has been quietly reading on the couch, lowers his book, his usually calm demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority. He stands, approaching your child with a measured stride. "We don't speak to Mom like that," he says softly, yet his voice carries a weight that demands respect. He kneels to meet their eye level. "Why did you say that?"

Your child looks guilty, fidgeting under Geto's steady gaze. "I was mad."

Geto nods, his expression softening slightly. "I understand being mad, but words have power. Use them to express your feelings, not to hurt others. Apologize to Mom."

With a small nod, your child turns to you. "Sorry, Mom."

Geto smiles, patting their shoulder. "Good. Now, let's find a way to enjoy the rest of our day without TV."

You're in the study, helping your child with their homework when they throw down their pencil in frustration. "Shut up, Mom!" they snap when you suggest they redo a wrong answer.

Nanami, who had just walked in with a cup of tea for you, freezes. His jaw tightens, and he places the cup on the desk with deliberate calmness. He steps over, placing a hand on your child's shoulder. "We do not speak to Mom that way," he says, his tone firm but not loud. "She is here to help you."

Your child looks up at him, eyes wide. "But it's hard!"

Nanami nods, his expression softening but remaining serious. "I know it's hard, but being disrespectful doesn't make it easier. Apologize to Mom and let's try again together."

Your child sighs, looking down. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Nanami gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning back to your child. "Good. Now, let's tackle this problem together, step by step."

In the middle of a family game night, you deny your child an extra turn, trying to teach fairness. They scowl and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Choso, who has been arranging the next round of pieces, looks up sharply. His eyes, usually so gentle, darken with concern. He sets the pieces down and moves closer, crouching beside your child. "That's not how we talk to Mom," he says, his voice calm but with an edge of disappointment. "Mom is being fair."

Your child pouts, crossing their arms. "It's not fair!"

Choso sighs, placing a hand on their small shoulder. "Life isn't always fair, but respect is important. Apologize to Mom and let's continue our game with kindness."

Your child hesitates, then mumbles, "Sorry, Mom."

Choso smiles softly, nodding. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can make the game more fun for everyone."

During a meal, you tell your child they can't have dessert until they finish their vegetables. They glare at you and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Sukuna, who has been eating quietly, pauses mid-bite. His eyes flash dangerously, and he slowly puts down his utensils. Rising from his seat, he moves with a predatory grace to stand beside your child. "What did you just say?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Your child shrinks back, suddenly aware of the gravity of their outburst. "I... I said shut up..."

Sukuna leans down, his presence overwhelming. "You will not speak to your mother that way," he growls. "She deserves your respect. Apologize. Now."

Trembling, your child looks up at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Sukuna straightens, his intense gaze still fixed on them. "Good. Now, eat your vegetables. Or I eat your toes"

"Ryo!"

You deny your child's request to stay up late, and they respond with a defiant, "Shut up, Mom!"

Toji, who has been leaning against the doorframe, straightens immediately. His expression hardens, and he walks over, his steps heavy with purpose. Kneeling down, he looks your child directly in the eye, his voice a low rumble. "We don't talk to Mom like that. Ever."

Your child squirms under his intense gaze. "But I want to stay up!"

Toji shakes his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That doesn't matter. Respect is non-negotiable. Apologize to Mom right now."

Your child glances at you, then back at Toji, clearly chastened. "Sorry, Mom."

Toji's expression softens slightly, and he ruffles their hair. "Good. Now let's get ready for bed. No arguments."

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nadvs · 6 months ago

Text

sleeping with the enemy (one-shot)

pairing basketballplayer! rafe cameron x cheerleader! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary after getting dumped by the captain of the basketball team you cheer for, you find revenge in the form of rafe cameron, your ex-boyfriend’s worst enemy.

» masterlist

» all blurbs in this au

“How bad is it that I want us to lose?” you mutter, fiddling with your pompoms as you stand courtside.

“Against them?” Your friend looks out at group of athletes in red warming up for the game. “Pretty bad.”

The rivalry between the Hawks and the Wolves is one of the most vicious in college basketball history. You proudly cheered for your team up until a couple of nights ago, when the Hawks power forward dumped you over text.

Your relationship with Max had been relatively new, lasting just over a month. Still, it pissed you off that he didn’t have the respect to break up face-to-face.

The worst part of it was that he was trying to convince you to sleep with him for the first time the night before he ended things. He got frustrated and left your dorm in a huff. Then, he texted you that he isn’t looking for a relationship.

You’re sure it was his plan to get you in bed then bail all along, but he gave up once he got too impatient.

You wanted to take things slow. You thought maybe you could have something real with him. What a waste of time.

Now, as you stand on the sidelines of your college’s basketball court, the tension is palpable as both teams warm up for another game against their worst enemies. The crowds’ conversations loudly blend into a dull murmur in the stands behind you.

“I don’t think it’s bad at all,” the cheerleader on your other side chimes in. “Max is a jerk. He deserves to lose.”

You scowl at your ex as he rushes through a running drill on the other side of the loud gym. You had told your close friends on the squad about what happened. They may hate him even more than you do.

You glance at the opposite side of the court where the visiting team is warming up. You spot player #10, Cameron sprawled over the back of his red jersey, as he runs warm-up passes with one of his teammates.

Max loathes him. And it’s not just because of the college’s long-standing rivalry. Your ex told you countless times what an asshole Rafe is and how much he trash-talks on the court.

Regardless, you could see it for yourself. Rafe taunts his opponents. He laughs in their faces when his team wins. He never shakes hands at the end of a game. He even shoved Max a few times, earning fouls.

You realize you’re staring at Rafe when his teammate misses a pass, sending the ball rolling towards you.

You’re so angry at Max that you almost want to wish Rafe luck when he comes near, picking up the ball off the glossy floor.

His gaze flashes at you as he straightens, and when you notice his blue eyes trail down your body, your skin pricks with heat. You’re sure you see a hint of a smirk on Rafe’s face before he turns around.

You probably shouldn’t be excited that your side of the rivalry’s most hated athlete is looking at you like that. But you’re not feeling particularly loyal to your team right now.

A loud whistle blows through the gym. The game is starting.

In Rafe’s mind, the only bad thing about basketball is that the sport has no tolerance for scrapping. Aggression is part of football. It’s encouraged in hockey. But the foul system in basketball is stupid. He never gave a fuck about sportsmanlike conduct.

He could have considered other sports, but he’s a natural at this. He has the height and agility and confidence for this sport. It’s what made him captain after his first year as a shooting guard.

Rafe paces to the center of the court for the coin toss, staring down at his opponent. Max Hammond’s always been easy to fuck with.

And honestly, it pisses Rafe off that lately, he’s seen the cheerleader on his rivals’ team that he’s been eyeing all season on Max’s arm. All the more reason to fuck with him.

“How’s that knee?” Rafe taunts. Their last game, he dunked over Max hard enough to send him hurling to the floor. Rafe laughed when he saw his opponent clutching his knee.

“Shut up,” Max mutters with a scowl. Rafe smiles pompously. Then, he wins the coin toss.

You halfheartedly chant through the cheers you’ve memorized when the game starts. The players rush up and down the court, shoes squeaking against the floor, sweat sheening their skin.

It feels weird keeping your gaze off of Max. You used to follow him with lovestruck eyes throughout every game. If only you knew what a douche he’d turn out to be.

So, for this game, you watch Rafe. You shouldn’t feel so satisfied every time he pushes past Max and earns a point for the rivals you’re supposed to be booing, but you do.

Shadows move with the edges of Rafe’s muscles under the bright gym lights. His lips are parted as he rushes down the court, feet moving quickly, hands controlling the ball with expert precision.

When the game ends with a loss for the Hawks, you’re not all that upset. Mainly because Max looks so devastated.

Afterwards, you decide to go out to a local bar with a few of your friends. You want to let loose. Maybe you’ll even find a meaningless hook-up. After the mess with Max, you want some fun, and you’re definitely not up for looking for any sort of emotional connection.

Both college campuses aren’t far apart, so the bars and clubs in town often see an overlap of students. Most people don’t care about the rivalry, especially when they��re off-campus.

But the athletes and cheerleaders never allow the tension to dissipate, especially after a game. The winners are always loud and celebratory, while the losers stare daggers at their enemies. Tonight’s no different.

The bar is dark and packed and loud and humid, your fingers wrapped around an emptied glass as you sit at a table with a couple of your friends.

When Max walks into the bar, unease rolls through you. You wonder how long it’ll take for you not to be so frustrated by his presence.

He finds seats across the bar with a few of the other Hawks players. One of your friends notices your discomfort and follows your eye-line.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks.

“No.” You’re determined not to let Max ruin your night. “I’m getting another drink.”

After making sure your friends don’t want a second drink just yet, which only serves as a reminder of how fast you downed yours, you drift over to the bar.

You find an open pocket in the crowd and you squeeze through, your hands resting on the hard edge of the bar top. You watch the bartender take orders, not yet aware of you.

You sigh to yourself, drumming your fingers, hoping you’re just one more drink away from feeling better.

Rafe watches the stranger beside him fidget impatiently. When he looks up from your tapping fingers, he realizes you’re not a stranger at all.

You’re the cheerleader he’s always checking out. The one who’s been on Max’s arm after games. But he usually sees you wearing a big smile, and there’s nothing happy about the way you look right now.

You can see from the corner of your eye that the person beside you is looking at you. You meet Rafe’s gaze, blinking a few times to make sure it’s really him.

You’re a bit embarrassed, considering you’d stared at him through tonight’s game. He’s in a dark t-shirt instead of the jersey you’re used to seeing him in. You can tell that is hair is just a bit damp, surely from the shower he took after the game.

You try not to think about him in the shower.

Rafe takes you in, the way your lips purse before you speak.

“You played well,” you say.

Rafe’s lids lower. You’re wearing a dress even shorter than the little cheerleading skirt he’s used to seeing you in.

“Me?” he drawls, his lips curling up in a surprised smirk.

You meet his eyes for longer this time, nodding at him with an indifferent expression.

“Aren’t you Hammond’s girl?” he says, clearly amused, a contrast from how angry you’ve heard him on the court.

You’re surprised that he knows you were dating Max. Maybe he noticed you more often than you thought.

“Nope,” you mutter. You tell him you have a name, then give him it.

Rafe’s eyes continue to travel over you, his pulse quickening as he takes you in. He knew you were hot, but he never got a chance to really look at you up close.

How the hell did Hammond fuck things up with you? He needs to know so he won’t make the same mistake.

“What happened?” he murmurs.

“With Max?” you ask. “He’s a dick.”

“Could’ve told you that.” You watch Rafe slightly tip his head back as he takes a drag of his beer.

“Really? I’ve heard the same about you,” you say. You realize you might be more tipsy that you thought once your brazen words spill out of your mouth.

“And what, you think it’s true?” Rafe asks with his eyes on your lips.

“I don’t know. You get fouled more than any player I’ve seen.”

Rafe huffs a breathy chuckle, obviously nowhere near offended by your words. He actually seems flattered.

Out of instinct, your eyes dart to the table you saw Max sitting at. His gaze is fixed on you. He’s likely shocked that you’re talking to someone you’re supposed to hate.

Rafe turns to see what you’re looking at. He smirks when he notices just how pissed off Max looks. He turns his attention back at you.

“Your boyfriend’s pissed,” Rafe says, a hint of mocking in his voice.

“I already told you that he’s not my boyfriend. And I couldn’t care less if he’s mad that I’m talking to you,” you answer, crossing your arms. Blue eyes dart down to your cleavage.

“So, you’re not using me to get back at him?” he teases.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” you say. “But it’s not a bad idea.”

Rafe cocks his head, his tongue jutting under his cheek. Getting to flirt with a hot girl and annoying someone he hates at the same time is a win-win situation.

“What can I get you?” you hear. You look over at the bartender and regain your composure to order your drink.

“Put it on my tab,” Rafe tells him. He watches your lashes flutter when you meet his eyes again.

“Thanks,” you say, lips lifting into a smile. You’ve been so deep in your anger that you haven’t realized that Rafe could be the meaningless hook-up you’re looking for tonight.

“That’s the first time you smiled since you came over here,” he notices.

“I’m in a pretty bad mood,” you admit.

“What’d he do?” Rafe asks, tilting his head back to Max.

“Probably something you do to girls all the time,” you say boldly. “He made me think he wanted a relationship, but turns out, he just wanted to get laid.”

Rafe’s eyes glint with something you haven’t seen in him under the muted bar lights. For a split second, his guard goes down.

“You think I do that?”

“Am I wrong?” you challenge. His laugh is dry and humorless. He leans closer to you, his cologne cool and sharp as he towers over you.

“You are,” he says.

The tension between you hardens. You stare up at him.

“Okay,” you say. At this point, you’re jaded and uninterested in dancing around the subject. “So, what do you do?”

You lift your glass to take a sip. Rafe watches the way your lips lock around the straw. He’s entranced by you, by how straightforward you are.

“I’m upfront that I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” he says. “I don’t have to play games.”

You know he’s being honest. Someone that looks as good as he does definitely doesn’t have to manipulate his way into sex.

“What are you looking for, then?” you ask.

“Fun,” Rafe replies. “And I think you need some fun, too.”

You feel your blood go hot. He’s right. This man and the no-strings-attached sex he’s proposing is exactly what you need right now.

You lock eyes with him as you swallow the last sip of your drink and put it on the bar with a clack.

“I do,” you answer.

When Rafe asks you if you want to go over to his place, you don’t need to even think about it.

You let your friends know you’re leaving and you follow Rafe out, his hand finding yours, callouses from his training hard over his palm.

It’s all such a thrill. The way Rafe looks at you. The promise of casual sex with him. The glare of your ex-boyfriend as you leave. And the fact that you completely forgot about how this started as revenge on Max because you’re so tangled up in the feeling Rafe is giving you.

When you step into Rafe’s single dorm, he crosses the small room to switch on the desk lamp, casting a dim glow over the space.

You notice a few toiletries scattered on top of his dresser, his jersey slung over the back of his chair. This is technically enemy territory, but you couldn’t care less.

It’s quite bare and not very lived in, but you didn’t expect him to be the type who cares to decorate.

“I’m guessing you’re not in here all that much,” you say, leaning against the door once it shuts behind you.

“You finally got something right about me,” Rafe replies, earning a giggle from you. He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Come here.”

His dominance, not just through his words but by the way he takes up space so confidently, makes arousal swirl in your stomach. You settle beside him, the mattress shifting with your weight.

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask.

Rafe takes in your pretty features. This might be one of the best nights he’s had. He played a great game, won against the team he hates most, and the girl he’s been eyeing all season is sitting on his bed.

“Right again,” he says. Now that you left the crowds and music back in the bar, his deep voice cutting through silence reverberates through you.

You breathe a quiet laugh. You first approached him feeling so bitter, but just like that, he turned your mood around.

His eyes trail the hemline of your dress. You watch as he places his hand over your thigh, moving slowly, his thumb stroking just below where the fabric of your dress ends.

Rafe’s skin is hot, his hand heavy, and your heart-rate quickens in a second.

“You know how distracting you are?” he rasps, recalling the countless times he saw you by the court as you danced around in your skimpy outfit.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s so fucking hard to focus on playing when you’re there.”

Your breath hitches as he leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. You had no idea you’d caught his attention before tonight, but by the sound of it, this isn’t the first time he’s looked at you through lustful eyes.

When his lips capture yours, he squeezes your thigh, firm fingers sinking into your flesh. He kisses you again and again and again, every time deeper than the last, tongues meeting with heated ardency.

You let out a moan so soft when he bites your bottom lip that he takes your hand from where it’s resting to the bulge in his jeans, showing you how hard he is for you.

Your body flushes even hotter when you feel him, gently starting to stroke him over the denim.

Your phone buzzes loudly in your purse, vibrating in a rhythmic pattern you recognize as a call.

Rafe shifts back, his mouth an inch away from yours.

“You don’t have to get that, do you?” His tone signifies more of a statement than a question.

You pull out your phone, confused over who would call you now. You grimace when you see Max’s photo on your screen.

Rafe notices. You breathe out a quiet laugh of surprise when takes your phone, hitting “Message” and sending She’s busy, then declining the call.

You feel each other’s smiles under your kiss, this time moving even faster. Rafe drags his hand higher under your dress and inhales sharply once you instinctually spread your legs, allowing him to feel you.

The pressure of his fingers rubbing over your panties makes you ache.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he rasps against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He pushes the fabric to the side, feeling how slick and soft you are.

“Goddamn, you’re so wet already,” Rafe groans, enjoying the ego trip from knowing he got you like this so quickly. His lips trail to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin as he glides between your folds, tracing circles.

He shifts, losing contact with you for a moment to pull your dress off. When he sees you in just your bra and underwear, he nearly grunts in frustration from not being inside you already.

His hold on your hips is so firm it hurts as he guides you onto your back. Hovering over you, Rafe pulls his t-shirt off with urgency. Your lips quirk into a smile at how impatient and hungry he is.

You find the button of his jeans, quickly pulling it through the loop. He does the rest, unzipping and throwing his pants onto the floor. He stands to find a condom in his nightstand, tossing it beside you.

You run your hands over the curve of his muscular back when he lowers to grind over you, his cock hard and twitching.

When Rafe feels your thighs squeeze around him, he tells himself to slow his breathing, almost worried he won’t last long. This doesn’t happen to him. Ever.

But then again, he’s never craved a girl this badly, for this long. Having you under him like this, bucking your hips because you want it just as bad, is unreal.

He roughly pulls the cup of your bra down, closing his wet mouth over your nipple, earning a shudder from you. As he flicks his tongue, he shifts to pull down his boxers.

You take off your panties beneath him, squirming out of them, watching him sit up and roll the condom over his length.

“You gonna show me how good you can take it?” he mumbles, leaning over you again. You meet heavy-lidded blue eyes as he holds himself up over you, biting your lip and nodding.

The world stops spinning when he pushes into you, filling you.

“Fuck,” he groans against your cheek as you squeeze him. “Even better than I thought.”

You tilt your head back and moan, taking all of him, stretching as he buries deeper and deeper, dazed at the fact that he feels so good, that he clearly fantasized about this before.

Rafe bottoms out and you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as he pulls back and thrusts into you harder, his breath hot on your skin.

You wrap your limbs around him as tight as you can as he starts to rock his hips at a faster pace. He puts his lips on yours again, your kisses wet and hungry.

The sounds of his skin slamming against yours and your disjointed, shallow breaths fill the room, making you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure.

Your moans get louder as the coil in your stomach begins to tighten. Rafe starts pounding even faster and harder when he feels you fluttering around his cock.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, shifting lower to put more of his weight on you, his fingers finding the roots of your hair. “You gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes.”

You tremble beneath him as you fall into your orgasm, holding your breath for a second before letting go. What finally sends him over the edge is when you moan his name.

Rafe comes with a low, drawn out groan, his thrusts quicker and sloppier, hips stuttering against yours. He stays inside you for a bit, his head buzzing as he comes back down from the high.

You sit up in his bed once he stands, your pulse still fast. You watch him pull his boxers back on, his skin shining with sweat.

You spot your underwear on his crumpled duvet and slide them on after fixing your bra.

You decide not to put your dress back on yet, shifting his pillow to sit back on the headboard, finding where he tossed your phone after he texted your ex for you.

You watch Rafe lean down to open the door of the mini-fridge on the floor. He pulls out a bottle and tilts his head back as he swallows down water.

The image of his tall, muscular, half-naked frame in the middle of his room, his jaw sharp as he tips his head back, his numbered jersey hanging off the back of his chair right next to him, is too nice not to capture.

You take a photo of the sight, the bottom half of your bare legs in the frame. Rafe hands you the cold bottle and as you take it in your hand, you show him your screen.

“Like it?” you say, still dazed.

He grins, dimples dipping into his cheeks, as he sinks onto the bed on his knees to sit beside you.

“You posting that?” he asks. You can tell he’s pleased by the idea, so you share it on your Snap story with the caption Post-workout.

Minutes later, the replies from your friends flood in.

IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

omfg this is WILD

actually diabolical lmaoooo

Max’s message is the most satisfying of the bunch: Are you serious right now?? Call me back.

You shift to grab your dress off the floor. You’re never calling him. He lost his chance.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you say, standing to pull your dress on.

“You know how distracted on the court I’ll be now?” Rafe mumbles, earning a laugh from you. “Let me get your number.”

You enter your number into his phone and smooth down your hair in his mirror.

Casual, easy pleasure. This is just what you needed and you found it in Rafe Cameron of all people. You look back at him as you put your purse over your shoulder.

“We’ll do this again,” Rafe says, drinking you in. That was mind-blowing. It can’t be the only time he does this with you.

“Bossy,” you agree with a smile. You slip out of his room, your legs weak and wobbly.

You’ll be sore tomorrow. And the cheerleaders and athletes who take the rivalry seriously might even give you shit for what you did tonight. But it was all worth it. You’d do it all over again.

(continuation blurbs)

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