#I feel like I draw them all the time 🫣

[badlydrawnbeastwars]

Beast Wars but it’s Breaking Bad

[beebundt]

i have. 35 attacks left. to revenge. ive gotten like. 15 out of 45 or smth i dont remembor the number

i naur realistically i dont have to revenge them all but also. i really really do love and appreciate the arts wahhhh. i want to hang all of them on my wall to look at forever. and i def want everyone to know i appreciate and that every art is rlly meaningful to me 🥺

[moonstruckme]

bodyguard!james when you have a panic attack 🫣

Ty for requesting!

cw: panic attack

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James draws closer to you. The older, stern-looking woman you’re talking to glances at him. It’s James’ job to blend in with the wallpaper, but he’s shirking those duties now for one more important. 

You follow the woman’s gaze, noticing him behind you. “Oh, hi.” You smile at him. It’s convincing, a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James knows you well. “I’m sorry, this is James. James, Linda.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.” James gives Linda a smile of his own. He knows who she is of course, everyone here tonight was pre-vetted by his team and he’s memorized her face as one of the safe ones. He shakes her hand, settling the other lightly on your back. “Sorry to steal her away, but” —James looks to you— “could I talk to you for a minute?” 

You give Linda an anxious glance, and he presses his hand more firmly to your back. A cue.

“Of course.” Your smile blooms again, this one apologetic. They’re all lovely, but James prefers the genuine ones. You say to Linda, “I’ll find you later, okay?” 

“Yes, please.” Linda gives your shoulder a fond squeeze, departing the conversation politely as James starts to guide you away. 

There’s a smaller room not far from you, usually connected to this main one but curtained off for the event. No one notices you slip through the curtain. Your quickening breaths are ten times more obvious in the quieter space. 

“It’s okay.” James supports you the rest of the way to the couch on the other side of the room. You sink down onto it on shaky legs. “You’re fine, angel.” 

You don’t move once you’re sitting, so he maneuvers your body for you, turning you sideways and bringing your feet up onto the couch so you can hug your knees the way you like to. Taking care of you is James’ job, but he thinks he would do it either way. He can’t imagine a life in which he isn’t looking after you. He unzips the back of your dress and starts taking off your shoes. These straps always give him trouble; he doesn’t know how you manage them.

You make a low, pained sound. James feels it in the back of his throat. “James—" 

“I’m not undressing you for everyone to see,” he says lightly. “Only loosening things so you can breathe. It’s just us here, yeah?” 

You nod, closing your eyes. Your breaths sound like they hurt. James doesn’t know what set you off, but these attacks are something you’ve dealt with before. He has a sense of what you need. 

“Sweetheart.” James finally succeeds in getting your shoes off. He clasps his hands over yours firmly, all piled atop your knees. “Just take a breath. One good breath.” 

You try, he sees you trying. But it seems like the air won’t settle in your lungs. Your eyes dip just south of his chin, as though you can’t stand to look at him while they grow distant and shimmery. 

“Good,” James praises you anyway. “You’ve got it, lovely, you’re okay. I know it’s hard right now, but can you do something for me? Tell me five things you can see.” 

You don’t want to. You never do, it’s clearly a lot of work to focus in this state, but eventually James coaxes you into identifying five things in the room. One of them is the earpiece he uses to communicate with the rest of the security team, which makes him smile. 

“I don’t usually call it my spiral cord thing,” he jokes, “but good job. Let’s do four things you can hear, yeah?” 

You get to three before you start crying. James’ heart aches. He hates to see you cry, but sometimes it does help you. You’re going to be upset about your makeup after, though. You fold your face into your knees, and he reaches over you to rub your back. 

“I know.” Your skin is warm beneath his touch, the whole of you shaking. “I know it doesn’t feel like it’s getting better, but it is. You’re doing a great job.” 

“I can’t—“

“Hey, you can. You can, sweetheart. You’re doing it already, you just can’t tell yet. Here, I have something for you.” James changes tactics, fishing in his pocket. He holds a bottle of lavender oil near your face. “Smell this.” 

You pick your head up, looking at the bottle before sniffing tentatively. 

“More than that,” he encourages. “Breathe it in. It’ll help.” 

You take the best inhale you can. Your nose runs and sweat glistens at your hairline, but you try for him. James praises you amply, taking deep breaths for you to copy. He isn’t sure if you notice him doing it, but eventually yours start to match his, slowing and lengthening until you’re getting true lungfuls of the lavender scent. 

James keeps it by your nose. With his other hand, he rubs your calf. 

“You’re okay,” he sighs. “How do you feel now, lovely?” 

“Okay.” Your voice still shakes, but now more with aftershocks than true adrenaline. “Sorry, I don’t know why that happened.” 

“You don’t have to know.” James pinches your nose clean, something in his stomach tightening when you shy. “I’m sorry it happened, too, but it’s not your fault.” 

“I should…” You take a big breath. James frowns and rubs your calf again. “I should go back out.” 

He makes a soft, reprimanding sound. “Not yet. Give yourself a few minutes. You need a break. They’ll all be okay without you for a bit.” 

Your eyes go to the curtain separating you from the main room. You look at it as though you can see right through and every guest at this event is standing on the other side, tapping their feet and muttering about where you’ve gone. 

“Take a break,” James says again. “You thought you were dying a minute ago.” 

“I really did,” you admit. “I thought it wouldn’t feel so much like that after the first time.” 

James hates to see you upset. He presses a kiss to the center of your forehead and puts the oil away. Squeezes your knees in his hands. “Are you going to be okay if I go out there for a minute? I just need to grab a couple of things.” 

You nod but watch his hands ruefully as he stands and they fall away from you. “What do you need?”

“Napkins, mostly.” He gives you a sorry smile. “Obviously you look beautiful no matter what, but I think you’re going to want to clean your face up.” 

“Oh, god.” You touch your fingers underneath your eye, feeling the tackiness of smudged makeup. “Thank you.” 

“Stay right there,” James warns. “If you’re doing anything other than breathing when I get back here, we’re going straight home.” 

You roll your eyes good naturedly. James feels relieved you’re feeling well enough to do it. “You’re the boss.”  

“I’m in charge of your safety,” he says. “So, yeah, I am the boss right now. Stay right there.” 

You hold your palms up in a show of surrender. James is happy to report that as he goes out the curtain, there’s a smile teasing your lips.

[zae-heeyyy]

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

[leovenuslatina]

AFTERCARE⭒ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

!!!!THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI!!!!!!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

HOW YOUR FS TAKES CARE OF YOU AFTER SEX?

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

pile one - king of cups , the hanged man

🌧️

shower you with love and affection they’ll be so in love with you afterwards you know post nut clarity? yeah they are the exact opposite after they nut they’re gonna be like so hazy and like so highly in love with you like covering you in kisses worshipping your body and telling you sweet nothings about how pretty you are and much they think you’re beautiful and goddess like. it’s like every time you two make love they fall more and more in love with you if that’s even possible. your FS is extremely helpful they’ll wanna get you snack and drinks i see them even ordering food and just like being super useful and attentive to anything you need. depending on what y’all did 🫣 they’ll be very quick to clean up any mess like deadass it might get wicked in the bedroom for y’all 😈 i’m seeing the two of you guys are definitely kinky. they’ll want you to literally do NOTHING ! immediately after sex they treat you like you’re literally made of glass or like you’re their delicate little flower 🌸🥹 they’re soooooooo helpful pile 1 omgz like if you have to pee they’ll lit carry you to the bathroom. if you want to clean yourself up they’ll literally draw you a bath like they loves to being so sweet to you. i’m getting they kiss you all over they really want to make sure you are always safe and comfortable your happiness is always their biggest priority !! i cannot stress enough how much your happiness makes them happy :)

extra messages- king, satisfaction, clean girl vibes, cookies, desserts 🍮, soft pink , 333

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

pile two - ace of pentacles, six of swords

🗡️

right off the bat y’all be i’m the bedroom going games asfff. either one or both of you really likes it rough i mean there’s no holding back for the two of you i’m talking degradation kinks spankings idk y’all might even do some wax play ! after your wild ass sex sessions their after care for you is top tier their main focus and goal is to just calm you and make sure you’re hearts not beating so fast lol. afterward they’re so thankful 🥲 they think they won the lottery with a lover like you you’re hands down so beautiful to them and the two of you are so compatible when it comes to kinks and your sexual desires they know how lucky they are to have you in there mind you’re the best sex they’ve ever had !! they may have a little of experience under their belt so they know what they’re talking about and you’re the most incredible person they’ve been with. they get this giddy excitement when the two of you are finished he feels like he’s winning for life because you’re such an angel. after having sex with you your FS is just so stuck in his mind about how lucky they are to see you naked and how much they hope they hope they made you feel as good as you make them feel. i’m seeing them mainly bringing you water applying any creams and immediately just falling asleep dreaming about you 💤.

extra messages - white sheets, late nights, travel, hotels, luxurious, mental clarity

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

pile three - King of wands , knight of pentacles

🧁

you’re just so so spoiled rotten by your FS i’m getting they give hippie vibes like i’m seeing you have hella candles lit and there might even be soft music playing. after they’re all about deep breathing and they might even ask to meditate with you 🥺. this is another pile that gets really rough and crzy so he spends lots of time being so sweet and affectionate with you. their the type of person that may be dominant so taking control is their strong suit and whatever you need they’re there to fulfill your every one. they’re very good and attentive when it come to caring for you at the end of your wild night i think the two of you might even have a specific set schedule for every time he’s such a huge softy for you you don’t even have to ask for things they already know what exactly you need they’ll rub you down with oil or bring you tea or wash you down in the shower anything to relax you more for sleeping. they will be extremely patient with you afterwards because he know how much he puts you through 😉 i think they’re just a gentle genius when it comes to your body and you pleasure they have taken their time to get to know exactly how to take care of you and they live for it 💖.

extra messages- lenny kravitsz, long hair , reds and orange, grunge aesthetic, boho vibes

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

pile four - four of wands, seven of cups

👼🏾

you’re princess you’re an angel i know this is a future spouse reading but after y’all fuck they be ready to marry your ass AGAIN !! there’s literally no words for this pile they are so enamored with you. aftercare for the two of you is filled with cuddling and kisses and smiles and hugs and laughs i love this couples energy so much 🥺 the two of you are literally love bugs fr. aftercare is also filled with lots of questions about how they did? and how you felt ? and how they can make you feel even better next time ? i’m seeing your FS is a little insecure about their performance they are just sooo eager to please you because you are their god/goddess. pile 4 your FS LOVES YOU so so much they literally can’t contain themselves asking questions giving you kissing questioning if they did a good enough job or not. everything about you is perfect to them and they genuinely appreciate you so much. aftercare 4 the two of you is so dreamy ☁️ and romantic 💘 i’m also getting the two of you are like very horny even after sex so the two of you might even go for another round 🤩🤩

extra- clouds , green light, sweating, soft kisses, pillow talking , in love , they like you more

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

[luvsupa]

PRINCE GOJO LOVES WHO?!

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), NEW MALE CHARACTER!, bully!gojo, gojo gets so jealous, love (ish)-hate relationship, gojos so confusing, ANGST, royalty, arranged marriage, forbidden love, lots of tension, smut-ish (intense kissing + grinding), cheating (guys don’t ever cheat) mdni.

w.c: 2.7k

a/n: sorry for the late update 😥 got lazy 🫣 but thank u guys so much for the support! It means a lot! + likes/ reblogs are very appreciative 💆🏽‍♀️

read part 2 here!

you wake up in an unfamiliar room, the soft mattress beneath you swallowing you deeper as you open your eyes. your body aches, you look under the cover to see the formal gown from last night’s dinner.

oh. the dinner.

your heart sinks as you recall the events. ayana had set you up, and gojo... he had brought you to his room and kissed you.

how could gojo treat me like this for years, kiss me, and then continue to torment me? you shift on the king-sized bed, relieved to find you’re alone.

you wince as you get up, the tight corset beneath your gown causing discomfort. you walk to the balcony, the view similar to yours but from many floors above.

opening the double balcony doors, you step closer to the railing and look down. you recognize your parents and gojo's among the guests. there are a few others, can’t seem to recognize their faces. who could they be? did my father invite them?

“how did you sleep?”

you close your eyes in annoyance, he’s the last person you want to see right now.

“i slept fine,” you say, not turning around to look at him. he can sense your irritation. “i shouldn’t overstay my time here, so i will go back to my room.” you turn around to finally face him. his eyes soften as he sees your puffy eyes from last night.

“no, please stay. i-i don’t mind how long,” he says, his voice with desperation, reaching to grab your hand to reassure you.

“i’m not sure ayana would appreciate me staying in the room she shares with her partner,” you say, hinting at her words from last night. gojo seems taken aback by your words and lets go of your hand, his expression faltering.

“so you think she’d appreciate us kissing?” he retorts, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“i- no. but she is someone you will potentially wed. out of respect for the future princess, we must stop.” with that, gojo’s entire aura shifts. his eyes darken with anger at the mention of marriage. without waiting for his response, you exit the balcony and head towards the front door.

“i explained everything to your parents,” he blurts out, desperation seeping into his tone.

“thank you,” you say softly, a mix of gratitude and sorrow in your voice, as you leave his room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you make yourself look more presentable than you did in gojo’s room, you’re too scared to face your family. you don’t know what gojo said to them, but you assume it’s good.

“hi, dear, we have an important meeting you must attend,” you hear your mother's soft voice from your doorway.

“mother, if this is about last night, i will explain—”

“it is not. satoru enlightened us all, it was just a mere childhood feeling,” she reassures as she walks closer to you. “I deeply regret not hearing your side, but the past is behind us. We must discuss more relevant matters. join me in the drawing room when you're ready.”

tears almost fill your eyes as relief washes over you. finally, your family is hearing you out. you nod as she embraces you with a warm hug before exiting the room, giving you more time to prepare yourself.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you make your way toward the drawing room, your nerves intensify. your mother hadn’t given you any details about the meeting, and the presence of more guards than usual, dressed in different-colored uniforms, only heightens your anxiety.

standing close to the drawing room doors, the guards open them to reveal a room filled with your parents, gojo’s parents, and a few unfamiliar faces you noticed at the balcony. the mothers and other women sit on the couches, while the men stand on the other side, deep in discussion.

abruptly, your mother and the queen stand up, acknowledging your presence. “perfect! dear, we have someone who would like to meet you!” your mother says, her voice brimming with excitement. your nerves spike as an unfamiliar woman calls over someone to meet you.

too nervous to turn around, you hear footsteps approaching behind you.

“hello, my beautiful,” a voice says, making time feel as if it has stopped. you turn around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back blonde hair and a single curled strand. his hazel eyes gaze down at you, and you are in complete shock, struggling to respond.

“i- hi,” you manage to say, shamelessly checking him out. he chuckles at your response.

“i’m kento nanami. i’ve heard a lot about you,” he says smoothly. you’re starstruck by his beauty, still struggling to find words. your mother stands beside you, her hands on your shoulders, urging you to act proper.

“he is also a prince—soon to be king,” your mother whispers in your ear, but nanami definitely hears.

“i hope you don’t see me merely as a king. i’m here to leave the weight of royalty and simply be myself,” he says, as your mother apologizes for her rudeness. if anything, his humility makes you more attracted to him.

“well, we shall leave you two alone to get to know each other on a deeper level,” the queen says, and everyone quickly exits. your mother gives you one last look before leaving, reminding you to be on your best behaviour. for what, though?

“ugh, finally the parents have left. i was getting bored of hearing about royal duties and nonsense,” nanami says, exhaling a long-held breath as you both settle on the couches. his boldness stuns you. he doesn’t want to be bombarded with royal duties... hot.

“i wouldn’t know much about royal duties the way you do, kento. i bet our fathers chatted you into boredom,” you say, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

“my father? no, that was my mother’s brother. my father passed years ago from an illness.”

great. he hates me.

“oh my—I-I’m so sorry, your majesty. i truly didn’t know,” you quickly say, but he gives you a warm smile, reassuring you that you simply didn’t know.

“i would also hope that you would address me without honorifics. i’d hope for my soon-to-be wife to call me by my first name.”

what?

“sorry what? wife? no offense, but i don’t know you or anything about any marriage!” you say, heart racing, realizing you were kept out of the loop.

“your parents haven’t told you? they’ve been stressing my family for years that you were waiting to meet me,” he says, very confused. you shift your position on the couch, fully facing him.

“i’ve had a few conversations about marriage but nothing about us... i-i mean i’m definitely not ready,” you say, starting to freak out. he notices and holds your hand, his much larger and radiating warmth.

“i may not understand being left out of important conversations—especially regarding your future,” he says, drawing circles on your hand. “if you are not ready to marry, i will use my royal duties and call it off.” his warm smile makes your heart feel whole. maybe he’s the one for you; he’s patient, kind, and handsome.

“kento I—”

“i will not let you marry her!” you hear as the doors burst open.

this cannot be happening.

you and nanami quickly stand up, startled by gojo’s sudden interruption.

“satoru, you cannot be—”

“get your guards and get the hell out of my estate. you are not welcome here—nor are you welcome to marry her!” gojo yells, angrily walking towards you both. nanami looks at you, just as confused as you are by gojo’s crazed state.

“excuse us, kento. i need to have a talk with him,” you say sternly, grabbing gojo’s arm and leading him out of the drawing room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

after what felt like an eternity dragging gojo to the library, he stubbornly refused to move. finally, you arrive and shut the door behind you, locking it firmly to ensure privacy.

“what the hell is wrong with you? you can’t act like a child and barge in like that!” you say angrily, turning to face him.

“what is wrong with me? how dare you marry someone you don’t even know!” his glare intensifies, his bright blue eyes darkening with rage. “whoever i choose to wed is not your decision—nor shall it be your problem!” you retort, matching his tone.

“it is my problem—especially if you’re making reckless decisions without my presence,” he yells, causing you to scrunch your face in utter confusion. “you’re seriously unbelievable! i can’t believe it,” you say, slowly putting pieces together.

“why are you so against me being married? it shouldn’t matter to—“

��i cannot bear to lose the one person i’m deathly in love with to another man!”

what?

you look at him, wishing he had never said those words. if anything, you wished for him to torment you than confess his love for you.

“that is not fair—it is not fair and you know that,” you say, walking away from him breathing heavily as you go deeper into the library, with him following you.

“i am madly in love with you—since our childhood—“

“satoru, stop. you do not love me. you’ve been making my life a living hell. my stay here—is beyond hell,” you say as you turn and look at him with teary eyes. “the one time i have a chance at life with a loving man and you—you try to ruin it,” you say.

“would he ever love you the depths that i love you?” he questions, and you're taken aback from his words. “love? do you consider ruining my life, my reputation, humiliating me as ‘love’?”

“that was the only way i could block you out of my head—my feelings, my thoughts. i hated the fact your own parents planned to wed you off during our teenage years! i love you so much i pushed you away!” gojo confesses as you watch him pour out his deep feelings.

“so you simply ignored my feelings all those years? all the torment i endured? you only cared about yourself?”

“do you love me?” he says, ignoring what you said. you stammer at your words as he continues to repeat his words, walking closer to you as you slowly walk backwards.

“you were my first love,” you quietly say as you shake your head, your mind all jumbled up. he smiles at your words that he’s been dying to hear. “but you have proved to me over and over that i am not yours. you cannot say you love someone then treat them like shit!” you say as his smile slowly fades.

“i will marry kento and that is the end,” you say. he looks at you angrily.

“is that really what you want? to be with someone who won’t drive you wild like i do? to live a dull life, lacking the connection we have?” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“you know, i could show you just how much i love you. how every night, it’s your face i see, your name i whisper. just one touch, one kiss, and you’d remember why you were mine first.”

you feel your breath hitch as he leans in, his lips almost dangerously close to yours. “i bet he would never know how to make you tremble with a single look, how to make you ache with a single touch.”

before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a desperate and passionate hunger. his hands find your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens, his mouth relentless and demanding.

lust once again takes over your body, igniting a fire as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss more. moans escape into each other’s mouths as you both lose yourselves in the moment. his tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part willingly, tasting the sweetness of desire.

as you two are mindlessly kissing, you stumble backward, gojo’s strong arms steadying you both until you collapse onto a nearby couch. your gown drapes around you, the fabric crumpling as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. his hands remain on your waist, gripping possessively, refusing to release you from his embrace.

heat radiates between you, his body pressed against yours, a desperate ache building in the pit of your stomach. the intensity of the moment fuels your movements, his hands are guiding you as you’re shamelessly grinding on his bulge. feeling him throb beneath you.

moans and gasps escape into each other’s mouths, the air thick with tension and desire. your bodies move together instinctively, as if trying to merge into one. 

you break the kiss, your lips parting from his with a soft, lingering resistance. his darkened eyes plead for more, hunger burning in their depths as he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a silent plea. but you resist, causing him to whine and pout at your refusal. what a baby.

“i-i will marry kento,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with the intensity of your emotions. it’s a final decision made in the heat of the moment.

gojo leans his head back with a frustrated groan from hearing another man’s name. he releases his hold on your waist as you rise from his lap, smoothing out your gown to look more presentable. his whine of protest goes unheard as you walk away, the sound of your heels against the wooden floor echoing as you walk away.

the tension hangs heavy in the library as you leave him behind—your heart racing, your mind reeling, and the taste of him lingering on your lips.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you walk through the grand halls, your footsteps echoing softly as you make your way to the garden, seeking a moment to clear your mind from what happened in the library.

as you step into the garden, you notice two figures standing near a fountain. it’s ayana and nanami. ayana is giggling, her hand rubbing against nanami’s arm as she leans in closer to him. she looks up at him with adoring eyes, her laughter bright and flirtatious.

you stop in your tracks, feeling a jealous at the sight. she always finds a way to ruin something.

nanami notices you walking in and turns to gesture you to join them. ayana looks over to see you and scoffs, wrapping her arm possessively around nanami’s as you approach.

“i see you’ve already met ayana,” you say bitterly, shooting a disdainful glance at her.

“met? oh, kenny! you haven’t told her about us!” ayana fake pouts, her tone dripping with insincerity. you look at them in confusion. “who do you think was his stress reliever, hmm?” she confesses, and a pang of jealousy courses through you.

“i’ve told you many times that whatever happened in the past stays in the past, ayana,” nanami says firmly, removing her arms from around him and creating space between them.

“but of course, that was before i met ruru! we’re now happily in love—expecting to be engaged soon,” ayana chirps cheerfully, her words stoking your anger. little does she know what happened a few minutes ago…

“but poor you, would any man truly desire a future with you?” she taunts, walking closer to you, her hand brushing your cheek. you shove her hand away, infuriated by her audacity.

“i intended to announce our engagement at the gala, but we are also planning our marriage,” nanami declares calmly, causing ayana to whirl around in horror. for once, she is speechless, no vile words escaping her lips.

nothing.

“so instead of belittling my wife and your future queen, i’d advise you to show her the respect she deserves,” nanami says in a low, threatening voice. you’re shocked at his words, feeling his soft touch as he takes your hand to lead you out of the garden. not waiting for one of her snarky response.

turning back, you see tears filling ayana’s eyes as she remains frozen in place. seeing her like this brings a small, satisfied smile to your face. but as nanami guides you back into the castle, you notice gojo rushing out of the library towards ayana, her sobs echoing loudly.

you watch as gojo softly comforts her, his actions mirroring those he once showed you. you start to feel enraged at the sight, but your view is cut off as nanami turns a corner, and they disappear from sight.

why am I feeling this way?

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination. 

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age. 

Initially, there was clearly tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash. 

In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets.

Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the frustration growing in your chest.

He was so fucking insufferable. 

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?"

He shot you a glare, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, "C'mon,” he scoffed, "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness.

On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause.

There was no third chance. 

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

“I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom. 

As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards.

Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back.

Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat. 

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously.

Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a little hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within your reach.

As he guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

“See? I told you it’d be fine,��� Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving.”

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave hiding a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but still edged with that irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him.

“No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints.”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching again as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger you could feel radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency.

The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize?

There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words.

It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past not letting you calm down the way you really wanted to. It was done.

And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t. 

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like it was never ending, you hated every minute of it.

After what felt like an eternity, light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike.

He was all focus still, that calculating side that had always unnerved you. 

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, dulled by the exhaustion.

"We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end.

Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death. 

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of guilt from what you’d almost said before.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you continued, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead.  

You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water lapped gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness.

In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps. Traitor.

You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had expected, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps.

As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island.

The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what?

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly hid your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a talent for getting what he wanted.

To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks. 

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed, resting the mattress. “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised. We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization click on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously? You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that.

Instead, you only stared at him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none.

Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind.

As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't ignore the possibility that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. 

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. The sight of him trapped in a nightmare weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear nearly knocked you out instantly but your body instinctively started against his hold as you struggled to break free.

Muscle memory and all.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for him to let go. But he was so lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world started to blur around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him again, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp.

“Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat disappeared, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed.

Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling, "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

It was a startling thing to witness , seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

But then, instinct kicked in again,and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline. 

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead.

“I know," you whispered softly, “It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You didn’t know why you offered him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light. 

"Yeah," you admitted, "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside.

Then, Rafe spoke again, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression told you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once,

“Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing.

He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily.

With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. 

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you.

“Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt bearable.

When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you.

Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

You got up from the bed and stretched. You needed a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed yourself properly, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl.

You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a dream, washing away the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness.

Another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence. 

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood there, leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction.

His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall.

There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room.

The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast.

As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing him talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to go through life on his family’s wealth and influence.

But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan. Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?” 

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant. 

You leaned forward as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catched you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness.

You straightened up as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his. 

"It’s not important," he snapped,"Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled at his harsh tone, the way he spoke down at you making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this.

But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration taking over your mouth.

You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted,"I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

The words stung like a slap to the face.

You felt the color drain from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, “You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face.

"You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door.  “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wanted to say.

“Right,” You swallowed, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch seemed to tingle between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely.

You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. Like he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it. 

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t keep kissing me to avoid questions.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips,"But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come. 

[xo-codbby]

werewolf!simon x reader 🖤

18+, mdni, sex n the whole lot lolz. first time writing werewolf smut, forgive any mistakes 🫡🫣

"you touch yourself while i was gone, bunny?"

the question had been innocent enough but the way he had you under him in the bed made you shiver in anticipation, body trembling in pure pleasure. deft fingers pry your thighs open, two thick fingers dragging along your slick slit, collecting the honeyed essence on the tips of his fingers. a dark chuckle rolling off his tongue as his hums softly in satisfaction, dark brown eyes burning into yours before your taste dance along his tongue. he lets out a satisfied groan, a thick sound erupting deep from his chest as you watch his face darken in pure lust and love.

his broad frame shivers in delight but this time he has to restrain himself, its already so hard when his cock is aching for some relief. he bends slightly, his tongue trailing up the hollow of your neck as he growls softly collecting your taste to hold close.

"needy for me already, hm? didn't do a thing yet" he blows softly across your waiting cunt, his smile peeking through when he sees your poor neglected pussy twitch just for him. you don't even get to answer before you feel his thick finger slip deep inside you, slowly working and stretching you open. he's absolutely mesmerised by the sight, intently watching how your greedy pussy swallows his finger, revelling in the soft whimper you let out as he goes deeper.

"so tight for me, love. bet your little fingers couldn't stretch you out the way i can, huh?" he slides in another, soaking up the way you cried softly clenching desperately around his thick digits already so overstimulated from not being able to have any relief

"none of tears now, quit that crying baby" he coos softly, his face bending slightly as his nose brushes against your clit making you buck your hips

"feels s'good si" you murmur breathlessly trying to rock your hips against his hand only causing him to chuckle, gently tutting his tongue. he only lets his fingers do the work, curling upwards making you groan softly. you knew he was still pissed from earlier, back when he saw a recruit around you. it was bad enough he agitated from the loss of the mission but seeing you give a hug to the other man had set him off and you found yourself in his barracks with him reminding you just who owned you like this

"wonder if that bastard thinks he could get you like this" simon hissed out softly, retracting his fingers looking at your flushed face. the sight makes him so possessive, he's half determined just to fuck you in front of the recruit so he knows not to mess with his woman. but the other half is too selfish, not wanting to share with another man just how pretty you sound.

"si pleas-" your sentence gets cut off with a moan as he finally gives in, big hands wrapped around your thighs his thick tongue lapping against your opening before splitting you open drinking up your slick. it's all too much and not enough, he's mindful not to hurt you but the urge to claim you only grows higher. his hips rut against the mattress desperately, grunting into your cunt as he sucks on your clit

he doesn't let up his assault between your legs, the beast in him not satisfied even as his teeth scraped your skin gently leaving soft bruises against your skin. he usually would've let you cum a few times on his hands before he works you on his knot but tonight he feels needy, feels agitated still at the other man who had his filthy hands all over you

you were right on the edge, every nerve in your body set ablaze by the man between your legs. your body curls as he draws out your orgasm but he doesn't let you cum, not just yet anyway. he manhandles your body, pulling you up against his chest as the other shreds his trousers off shrugging them somewhere in the depths of the room

"mine. you're fucking mine, you understand that don't you?" every word is enunciated with a soft kiss as you nod quickly hands grasping on his chest feeling the muscles twitch under your touch eliciting a soft growl from his throat. you feel the head of his cock against your entrance as you gasp softly, legs shaking slightly as you breathe shakily

"it won't fit-" "i'll make it fucking fit, love"

the last bit of his resolve shatters, completely driven by his innate instinct to satisfy you. to mate you, to claim you. he roughly grabs you by your hips, lining himself up before pushing deep inside you, stretching you open and laying you bare. your walls hugged around his weeping cock, aching with pure need as he pulls you further on him.

his calloused hands smooth over your body, across your skin reverently for his own peace of mind that you really were in his arms. he adores how easily you seem to fall apart in his grasp, his thumb grazing over your nipples enjoying how you pressed up against him

he thrusts back into your needy cunt, feeling him twitch and pulse inside you as you moaned softly in his arms. barely able to support yourself as he holds you caging you between his muscles and the bed. desperately rutting himself into you to prove to you how devoted he was, how he was yours just as much as you were his.

"look how pretty y'look sucking up my cock, lovie. s'fuckin gorgeous" he pants, words slurred completely drunk on your taste and feel of you. completely lost in the way your warm walls flutter around him, coaxing him to drive further into you. it had been days since he wwas able to have you and now that he was nearing the months where he'd go into heat, he found it hard to compose himself like he usually could

"m'gonna cum baby" he moans causing you to cling onto him, both of you lost in ecstasy. his senses are in overdrive, hips sloppily moving as he captures your lips against his groaning at the taste of you. you can feel him grow needy, stretching you over his thick knot that was already swelling. his release on the cusp but he refused to let go until you were with him, until you were properly claimed

"need to cum" you whimper back and it's only when your ankles loop around his back that he loses his composure, rutting into you like the depraved animal he was. he drives you closer, deeper, your senses completely overpowered just as his were

with one last deep thrust, ghost pushes his knot burying it deep inside you both as he sends the pair of you over the edge. it's thicker than you remember, bigger than you thought but somehow he managed to make it fit like he promised. he spills into you, not willing to let you come down from your high as he humps into you. a soft groan as his face settles in the crook of your neck, stroking your back softly his hands steadying your waist his cock trying to bury deep inside your willing hole.

"y'did so good f'me lovie" he kisses your skin, gazing down at you with pure adoration you've never been loved so tenderly like this before. there you were sprawled out on his knot, in his arms, against him safe and sound. he might've been a beast to others, untamed and unrule but to you he was your simon. your sweet man who'd maim and kill for you

"i love you" your voice is so soft, you both weren't going anywhere tonight. he needed this just as much as you did, your body against his as he lazily tugs the covers around you both pressing soft kisses up your neck and cheek.

"i love you" he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, settling down once more as he pulled you close to his chest. the soft beat of his heart lulling you asleep, his warmth better than any blanket could provide you with. you know deep down its only a matter of time before you both go af it again but until then you rest up, cuddling close to the man you loved deeply more than anything.

i kinda gave up halfway through this LMAO my bad hope you enjoyed !

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 14

Finally! You and Bucky getting some sexy time. 🫣

Bucky brings you back to his residence at "The Tower." The ride over is quiet. You both are a little nervous. Entering the elevator to the residence, you whisper, "This is weird."

He calmly looks at you, "Have you changed your mind?"

"No!" You feel your cheeks warm after your outburst. "I...I just meant I've never planned a sex date."

He smiles at you, "It's a first for me, too. But there's really no other way."

You laugh thinking of all the ways Abby ruined every romantic moment you tried to have with Bucky. Hearing your laughter and seeing your smile, Bucky is blown away by the feelings he has for you. It's like a vise squeezing his heart. He'd do anything for you.

Grabbing your hand, he leads you down the corridor to his place. As soon as you step through the door, Bucky's hands are cradling your face and angling it up for a kiss. What started off sweet and gentle quickly escalates.

You were getting frantic with need as his warm body pressed against yours, surrounded by the smell of him. Wet lips. Twisting tongues. His hands on your body. The soft sounds coming from you excited Bucky.

Lifting you, you wrap your legs around his trim waist & he carries you to his bed. Falling back onto his bed, has you straddling him. Leaning over him for his kisses, his hands travel your body. His grip on your hips have you pressed down against his hardening cock. His moan fills you with excitement from the power you have over him. This strong and amazing man is all yours.

His kisses trail along your jaw to your ear, pulling your lobe between his teeth. His husky voice in your ear, "I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you."

Placing your hands on his chest, you push yourself up, looking down at him. "I'm all yours, Sergeant." Bucky quickly sits up, knocking you off balance, but his Vibranium arm slips around your waist securing you to him. His mouth continues to devours yours as his other hand palms your breast. At your little gasp, he quickly removed your shirt and unclasps your bra, freeing your breasts to his eager hands. The feel of his rough hand and his cool metal one against your soft skin has you squirming in his lap, nipples pebbling to hard points that Bucky can't resist. Drawing your nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard on it, making your empty pussy clench on nothing. You whimper as he lavishes attention on each breast. His warm mouth, and cool metal fingers keep you off kilter, but in the best possible way.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pull his head back, "Please. I need you."

He gives you his cocky grin cradling your face, "So eager, Doll?"

You slip your hand underneath you to palm his cock, squeezing him, eliciting a groaned "fuck" from his lips. Continuing to massage him you give him your own cocky smile.

His blue eyes darken with lust and he quickly rolls you off him. He sits up to unbutton your jeans, taking your jeans and panty off in one smooth motion, throwing them across the room. You giggle at his efficiency. He pulls his Henley over his head as you unbutton his pants. He gets rid of his pants and boxers while grabbing a condom from his nightstand. He stretches out beside you, his hardened cock pressing against your hip. He kisses you while his hand travels down your body cupping your core. You push up against his hand already wet for him. He eases a finger inside you while his thumb circles your clit. He thrusts in and out of you. His kisses become bruising as he presses a second finger inside you; stretching you for him. He crooks his fingers brushing against your g-spot which gets you gasping and arching off his bed.

You reach down to stroke his cock. Pumping him. Making him moan your name. "Bucky, I'm so close." You bury your face into his neck. It only makes him work your clit harder. You smear the drops of precum over the smooth head of his cock & he bites his lip, stifling a groan. You fuck yourself against his fingers until he gives you permission to cum.

"Beautiful," catching your mouth in a kiss that starts off all teeth and tongue & gentles as your heart stops racing. Bucky kneels up to roll on the condom and settling himself between your thighs. His cock slides through your slick pussy, "Beautiful."

You feel the pressure of him slowly entering you, "Oh yesss," voice trembling. You feel yourself stretched wide around Bucky. He fills you with long slow strokes. "Don't stop," you whisper, "please…please don't stop."

Bucky pulls his length all the way out of you & you want to cry. Only to thrust back into you, delving even deeper. Pleasure and a pinch of pain. The sensation is phenomenal. You throw your head back with a dazed smile on your face. Bucky chuckles, leaning down to suck at your exposed throat. He fucks you, keeping you just on the edge of release time and time again. He can't get enough of the little pants and sobs coming from you.

He gathers your wrists in his metal hand & pins it above your head. He thrusts harder and faster angling his cock upwards to knock against that spot that makes you cry out. Sweat dripping from Bucky lands between your breast. You nod frantically.

He moves his other hand between your legs to your neglected clit, desperate for attention. His cock is still pummeling that sweet spot inside you, while he applies more direct pressure to your clit. You gasp and shudder, your body tensing up. You clench down on Bucky's cock making him curse, squeezing his eyes shut & burying his face against your neck, nipping at your throat. You cry out as you convulse on his cock, bringing on Bucky's orgasm. Releasing your wrists, he brings his hands down to squeeze at your hips as he pours himself into you. His stuttered thrusts wringing out every last shudder from your body. You're finally able to wrap your arms around him as he collapses on you.

After a few minutes, Bucky eased his weight off you, kissing your brow, "I'll be right back." He goes to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and brings back a washcloth to clean you up. You haven't said a word, or even opened your eyes yet. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" The concern in Bucky's voice made you giggle.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

"I'm fine. I'm better than fine." You give a weak laugh. "That was...amazing." Bucky grabs your jaw and turns your face to him. You finally open your eyes and Bucky is staring down at you with the sweetest smile. If you weren't so scared to think it or say it, he could be looking down at you, with love.

Next Chapter

[guiltyasdave]

jana hi me again 🫣 could i have the prompt 28 "No one ever cared about me like you."

with either javi p or joel 🫠❤️🤎

take my hand, wreck my plans

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 557

summary: Javi seeks out your company after a rough day.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, mention of food, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, idiots in love because of who i am as a person (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: i have once again been possessed by angsty thoughts and somehow, this came out of it. i hope you like this eden @reddedmiller and i’m sorry that it took three months lol. thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics as always because they’re the best <3

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates :)

He knocks on your door at 2 in the morning, all but collapses into your arms as soon as you swing it open, tired eyes and heavy limbs that melt into your embrace.

Your colleagues had warned you when he started coming over to your desk, inviting you out for lunch, about how he would chew you up and spit you out, like he did with half of the female staff at the embassy. You hadn’t listened, waving them off and going out with him anyway. First for a quick lunch break, then for after work drinks, then for dinner.

It was fun, a distraction, something to do and someone to know in this city where everything was foreign to you and where you felt more alone than ever before in your life.

It’s more, now. It doesn’t have a definition exactly, but you both know it. You’re the person he turns to when he needs somebody, and you’ll gladly be that for him.

“Do you have something to drink?” His face is sullen as he slumps down on your couch, like the weight of the world crushed him today. You furrow your brow.

“When was the last time you ate something, Javi?”

“‘M not hungry,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicion that he most likely survived the day solely on cigarettes and coffee.

You lean over the couch, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. His head falls back against you like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna make you a sandwich and get you some whiskey, okay?” Inching closer, you press a gentle kiss against his neck, just below his ear.

He sits up a little straighter and turns to you, reluctance in his eyes.

“Querida, it’s the middle of the night, you don’t have to-”

You shake your head and kiss him again, on his cheek this time. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He leans back hesitantly but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight you on it, so your lips find his face once more before you head for the kitchen.

Watching him all but devour the food has you hiding your smile behind your own glass of whiskey. He already looks a little better.

“Not hungry, huh?” you tease, your voice light.

“Shut up,” comes his short reply, but his lips are twitching.

He has half a mind to stumble out of your flat again afterwards, but you convince him to stay, that it’s really no problem.

He takes a quick shower, mumbling about washing the day away, and you wait in bed, the warm light from your bedside lamp illuminating the room, until he slips under the covers beside you.

You wrap your arms around him again and hold him close, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest. He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles, his voice low in the darkness.

“Of course, Javi.” He tends to get like that, struggling to receive any kind of affection or care when he feels like he has nothing to give back.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, seriously. No one ever cared about me like you. I- thank you.”

You sigh and pull him tighter into you, your face buried in his hair. You’ll care for him as long as he lets you.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make me really happy 🤍

[tradgedyinwaves]

angst of having to find out Soap your husband died while pregnant with you twins who he didn’t know about before he went on deployment

🫣

Oh god, mah heart! I'm going to let you know, I sobbed writing this. how dare you suggest something to break my heart? i love the suggestions. they make me write outside of my comfort zone.

Johnny had deployed six weeks ago. It wasn't uncommon for him to be gone for months at a time. Usually, he was able to check in here and there, but long stretches of silence weren't out of the norm either.

You had put together a little basket of goodies to surprise your husband, Johnny, with the fact that he was going to be a father of not one, but two bairns. The basket sat prettily on the counter in your home, making you smile as you rubbed your belly. You weren't showing yet, but it wouldn't take long with twins.

It was late at night when there was a knock at the door. You knew it wasn't Johnny. He wouldn't bother with knocking on his own front door. Shuffling over to the door with your robe wrapped tightly around you, you cracked it open to see the other three members of Johnny's team.

"No." The word was out of your mouth faster than you could comprehend. They were there without your Johnny which could only mean one thing.

Your legs wobbled and your hand shot to your belly, covering the space where your babes were growing. Your eyes stared wide and watery at Price who stood there clutching his boonie hat in his hands as if it was the only thing holding him together.

Your vision was starting to darken, the edges blackening as you fainted.

Price caught you before you hit the ground, bringing you into living room where all of you had watched a rugby match or two with the jovial Scot who was no longer with them.

When you woke, you were laying on your couch with a bottle of water across from you on the coffee table. Price was sitting next to it while Kyle sat at the kitchen table. Simon...Simon was staring at the basket on the counter like he was willing it to not exist, to not be true.

Sitting up, you grabbed the water bottle and chugged half of it before holding it in your hands as you rested your elbows on your knees.

"H-How?" you asked, voice cracking as you crinkled the water bottle between your hands.

"Dove, you know we can't tell yo-" Price began, swallowing hard as he mirrored your position.

Standing from your seat, you slammed down the water bottle on the floor, anger presiding over your sadness as you stood in front of Price and interrupted his sentence.

"Bullshit! Jonathan Price, you tell me exactly how my husband died! You owe me that much." Your voice shook with your rage, the outburst drawing Kyle's attention while Simon flinched. Tears burned down your cheeks as you held Price's gaze.

With a sigh, Price recounted their mission with as little detail as he could get away with while you retook your seat on the couch. "He saved my life. I-I owe him and you everything. I will do whatever I can to help you."

"Oh, so you're going to help me take care of two mini Johnny's when you couldn't bring the original home safe?" you're voice sounded dead and you knew your words were unfair. Price stared at you, never hearing such awful things come from Johnny's sweet wife.

"We all will." Simon finally spoke, coming into the kitchen. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes and you nodded, feeling the true weight of the situation.

You were shattered and had about eight months to piece yourself back together. When they left, swearing to come back in the morning, you stayed in the living room, unable to face the bed you shared with the love of your life. You were essentially a zombie as you moved throughout your apartment.

You almost threw the pretty basket away before you saw a glint of something metal laying over the edge.

Johnny's tags.

[gamesetart]

In the Open relationship au at one point maybe Art actually asks her to help him out, he’s been aching so much since the talk with Patrick and seeing reader with Tashi didn’t help at all, so she gives him a hand (literally 🫣) and as he is close to reaching his high she makes him pray to god for forgiveness for that sinful act or else there’s no release 😩

ohhh wait yes

because art's been like this for a couple weeks now. needier than before, even after his composure started to slip. genuinely needy. waking up to his hard-on pressing into you, he's half-asleep and he's still needy, still gagging for it, because he just wants you so, so bad. and eventually, he caves. reasons it away to himself, thinks that it'll be alright if it's just your hand, that much he and his god can forgive him of.

you play off your immediate excitement. act concerned - is he sure? you don't want to take advantage of him, is he sure he really wants this? - and when he finally "persuades" you that yes, this is what he wants, you finally get to see his cock for the first time.

and it's pretty, a nice girth, long and very quickly going red at the tip. you were right, you think, he does flush all over. and you kneel in front of him, tell him he needs to spit on your hand so you can stroke him.

"you want me to... spit on you?"

"just on my hand, artie, right here."

he won't admit he enjoyed it, likes the idea of you so sweet and pliant he could spit on you and you'd take it - want it. but you feel his cock throb nonetheless.

he doesn't last very long, but you don't expect him to. you're on your knees, revert, beautiful, and he thinks for a moment about how much like prayer this is, how much like your god this would make him. it's a sinful, prideful thought, and he pushes it away in favour of bucking up into the warm, slick grip of your hand. he's never realised how wet things could be before, his cock rapidly leaking precum, leading to a mess of wet shlick, shlick sounds as you fuck him with your fist.

"fuck, fuck, oh god, baby, 'm close," he whines, "please--"

"don't ask me," you say, slowing your hand, drawing it out. "ask him."

you jerk your head up to the ceiling. he stares at you, eyes wide, cheeks flush, pupils blown, cock throbbing in your hand. even his balls twitch, as if to win your sympathies.

"you're being so bad, after all," you continue in a low voice, giving him a rough stroke, root to tip. your thumb swipes over his slit and he whines. "you should ask for a bit of forgiveness. tell him you're sorry, and ill let you cum."

like art isnt sorry every damn day. like he isn't plagued by sin every time he looks at you. he doesn't have to try to come up with the right words.

"f-forgive me, heav-- ah -- heavenly f-father," he chokes. "for i ha-ah-ve sin-sinned."

you resume your torturously slow hand job. all the breath leaves arts lungs in a single, shaking breath.

"i- i've had lustful feelings and--" his voice breaks. "god, oh, god-- ive been bad, ive been so bad, im so sorry, 'm sorry, im sorry, oh god, please, please, 'm sorry--"

it's like his brain is broken. he knows the words, but his mouth can't form them. he knows this prayer back to front. this very confession. but his tongue is tied, everything lost somewhere on the path from his head to his lips. it's exactly what you were looking for.

"that's a good boy. cum for me, artie."

and he does. all over your hand. his stomach. it's sort of beautiful. take that, you think vindictively. i made him like this. he's mine, now. im his fucking god.

[eepwriting]

hi eep!!!

i adored your subby ves headcannons and would like to ask for a subby ves fic!

maybe he was flirting with girls in the crowd and reader decides to punish him by edging him or something🫣, whatever you come up with will be amazing i’m sure

thx for reading eep ❤️

Jealous, are we? ✶ Vessel x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, handjob (m receiving), edging, masturbation

ANONNNN I love you!! I’m eating this up with a fork and knife 👌 thank you for your request!! 🤍 also this is kinda long. I just had a lot of thoughts.

!! mdni !!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

You were no stranger to standing side stage watching Vessel and and the rest of the group perform. Rocking on your heels and quietly singing the lyrics to yourself, a proud smile on your face every time Vessel sounded particularly good.

Although tonight, you couldn’t push down the ever creeping jealousy that filled your chest. The group of girls front and center seemed to be getting all of Vessel’s attention. He’d been pointing to them, reaching his hands out, even gave them a cheeky smile when one of them yelled out to him. You knew he was only acting this way to elicit a reaction. He had told you countless times how amusing it was to get such visceral reactions from simply standing on the stage. To say he knew the power he had was an understatement.

Yes, you had Vessel wrapped around your finger and absolutely got every ounce of his attention whether you wanted it or not, but that looming pang of envy still hung in the back of your mind. You could excuse it as pent up frustration from traveling, not getting much alone time with him or you could just accept the fact that your attention was being handed out to someone else, and you did not like it.

When the last note rang out, ii, iii, and iv having already exited, you watch Vessel bow and clasp his hands out to the crowd. The small group you had been watching the whole night had tears streaming down their faces, all reaching out as if they were having some sort of spiritual release. His final move was the last thing you expected, made your ears ring with pure loathing for the girls in the crowd. Vessel’s black paint was nearly washed away with sweat, but there was just the right amount for him to draw a sloppy heart over his stomach with the tip of his finger. You’d think he just did the impossible with the way the pit cheered as he pointed out at them, staying still on the front row for a second too long.

You felt bad. It wasn’t the crowds fault. You’d act the same way if you were in their position. They didn’t even know you existed, let alone that you were in a relationship with Vessel.

You try to laugh at his little antics but your jaw clenches hard as Vessel strides off stage to you. You give him the biggest smile you can muster and reach out to pull him into a hug. He practically wraps his whole self around you, squeezing tight. Your shirt sticks to his chest and you can already feel the moisture from him seeping through. “What a great crowd!” He says excitedly, pulling away from you with a goofy smile on his face.

“I know, you did great, baby!” You want to add a snide comment at the end but hold your tongue instead. Of course he compliments the crowd.

You barely register what’s happening when he drags you back in for a messy but clearly excited kiss. His hands hold the sides of your face and the same wide smile returns when he pulls away from you. “C’mon, we have to celebrate with everyone.”

You didn’t want to celebrate. You wanted to drag Vessel away and have him all to yourself.

You oblige and have some drinks with the rest of the crew. The energy from everyone is high and makes your skin buzz but you’re just waiting for Vessel to walk up to you with a yawn and extra grabby hands, begging you to leave with him.

Luckily it doesn’t take long before you’re pushing open the door to your hotel room, Vessel wrapped around you from behind you, tired groans coming from him every so often. He only lets go of you to step into the shower you start for him, nestling back into position once you join him. Now that he’s being all sweet and needy you almost feel guilty for the hell you’re about to put him through.

You’re not surprised when you feel him slowly start to grind against your ass. He always got this way when he was tired and relaxed. His head is still buried into the side of your neck, his long arms wrapped around your middle. You let him move against you for a while, long enough that you start to hear quiet hums and feel small puffs of air on your skin. Eventually you’re able to pry him off your back, spinning around to grab your bottle of body wash. He pouts at you, hands grabbing at your sides in an effort to bring you back to him, but you stand your ground, scrubbing the soap over yourself as if he wasn’t even there.

After enough huffs from Vessel you give in to helping him clean up. Since he clearly could only stand there and pout grumpily at you. “What’s wrong, love? You’ve felt off since the show was over.” His voice is quiet as you scrub over his chest and shoulders. You just shrug, haven’t yet decided on if you should bring up your somewhat selfish thoughts. You peek up at him through your lashes, finding that oh so familiar all knowing smirk plastered across his face. He could always tell when something was up, even if you were a thousand miles away. He wouldn’t push you for answers though. He never did, always letting you initiate conversations about your thoughts and feelings.

“I just noticed how enamored you were with some of the attendees tonight, that’s all.” Your sudsy hands move to his stomach.

Vessel chuckles above you and steps closer towards you. “Oh, I see. I think I know what’s going on.” He tries again to press up against you but you keep your hands on his hips, your eyes study the never ending black streaks running to the drain. “Jealous, are we?” That same smirk evident through his words.

You lightly shrug again and fully look up to him. “I have a right to be. You’d be fuming if you were in my position.” Your fingers dip down and brush against his half hard cock. His hips jut forward just a little. “It wasn’t very kind of you to act that way towards someone else.” You wrap your hand around him fully, your soapy fist making it easy to twist your wrist as you move your hand up and down. Vessel makes no sound but his jaw clenches tight as he looks down at you. “But, I only do that stuff because of the reaction, you know that.” There’s a slight whine behind his words and his fingers flex against your hips. “Still doesn’t make it any easier to watch.” Your voice quiet.

You slow the movement of your hand down to an agonizing pace, giving Vessel full opportunity to fuck up into your fist. You finally allow him to drag you flush against him, his mouth coming down to pepper kisses on your neck and cheek. “I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about how that’d make you feel.” An open mouth kiss is pressed against your jaw and he groans against your skin, thrusting into your fist faster. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.” His hands hold your hips in a vice grip and his mouth moves up to press against your own. He tries desperately to push his tongue past your lips but you wouldn’t let yourself just give in to him. Not after the antics he pulled tonight. He eventually gives up with a frustrated groan before slotting his head against your neck again. You reach a hand up to thread through his hair and help him out slightly by bringing your thumb forward to rub against the head of his cock every time he snaps his hips forward.

It’s not long before his whines get high pitched and breathy against your neck. You let him continue his movements and even squeeze your fist around him before you pull away from him completely. He bucks forward into nothing now and quickly picks his head up to look at you with a whine. “I think I’m done with my shower.” You reach around him to let the water wash away any remaining soap on your hand before spinning around to slip through the shower curtain before Vessel can even register what’s happening. “But…” His voice trails off and you have to stifle a laugh as you wrap a towel around yourself. “Can you please hurry in there, my love, I’m kinda tired.” When you don’t receive an answer you pop your head around the curtain to find Vessel standing there looking like a lost puppy. His chest is heaving slightly and his cock looks painfully hard hanging in the air. “You better not try anything while you’re in here alone.” You give him a knowing nod. “Go lay in bed when you’re done and maybe I’ll give you what you want.” He quickly nods before you close the curtain and move to the bathroom sink.

It’s not even five minutes that he’s in there before the water shuts off and his arm pokes out to fetch a towel. You try not to look at him through the mirror but the way he super speed dries off and practically jogs out the bathroom door has you watching in amusement. “No touching, remember!” You call out.

You knew he wouldn’t. He was always such a good listener.

After taking your sweet time on your night routine, you step out into the adjoining bedroom and find Vessel patiently waiting on the bed. Not even fully dry, hands twitching at his sides, cock standing oh so pretty as he looks at you with pure desperation.

His hands are on you the second you straddle his thighs, raking over your thighs and hips as he holds you tight against himself. “I don’t think you should be able to touch me either. What do think?” He blinks up at you and reluctantly pulls his hands away, tucking them behind his head. “No. Not after what I did.” It’s said just above a whisper. “Good boy, baby. I only have to tell you once, don’t I?” His eyes are wide as he eagerly nods up at you, a low whine slipping past his parted lips. You press your palms flat against his chest and lean down to press a kiss to his mouth. His neediness makes you mewl into his mouth, his head lifting off the pillow to better reach you.

A hand reaches down to shift Vessel’s cock forward so it’s lying against his stomach before you scoot your hips up. He pulls away from your mouth with a breathy moan, clearly grateful to have some sort of contact again after your stunt in the shower. Your hips roll forward and back slowly over his cock, a small bead of his arousal smearing on his stomach. It’s hard not to just give in, reposition and sink down on it but you know that’s all Vessels thinking about right now, and you’re not done with your little game yet.

“M’gonna cum all over myself if you don’t stop, love.” Oh, well how sweet of him to just tell you when he’s close. Makes your job a lot easier. “Oh yeah? We can’t have that happening.” You shift off his cock completely, moving back to your original spot on his thighs. His brows furrow as yet another climax is denied, an almost pathetic whine falls from his mouth as his hips buck up into nothing.

You reach one hand back to rest on Vessel’s knee, your other trails across your throat and chest, stopping to pull at your nipples before crawling between your legs. Your evident arousal under your fingertips makes you moan out, needy to finally give some attention to the ache that had been building. His eyes stay focused on your hand that’s moving quickly between your thighs, snapping up to your face every time you make a sound. His facial expression is blank but you can tell how badly he wants to reach out for you, evident in the way the muscles in his arms flex with how tight he’s gripping the pillow under his head. “This isn’t very fair.” He whimpers out while squirming under you. Your teeth close over your bottom lip as you chase the release that crept closer. “Jealous, are we?” You breathe out with a laugh. His jaw clenches at your words and his eyes bore into yours. You bounce and circle your hips, imagining it was Vessel’s cock working in between your thighs instead of your own hand. Your head rolls back on your shoulders and you lean back heavily on your hand. Vessel’s desperate and needy whines help push you over the edge and your hips still, mouth hung open while you keep up your movements, working yourself through your climax. A long string of moans pouring out. You shudder when it becomes too much and open your heavy lidded eyes.

Vessel’s chest heaves, eyes hungrily raking over your body. You hold out your arousal coated fingers, bringing them up to his mouth, which he gladly opens for you. There’s a deep, grumbling groan from him when he tastes you, closing his eyes as he greedily cleans your fingers. “Fuck, c’mere…please, baby.” You’re surprised he hasn’t reached out to grab you but you give in and scoot up to press your mouth to his. It’s feverish, teeth clashing together, his tongue darting in to lick against your own before his teeth roughly close over your bottom lip. You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. Your hand slips between the two of you to wrap around his cock. It earns you another bite on the lip and a rough bucking of his hips. You swirl your thumb in circles over the tip, collecting the precum that has gathered there before dragging your hand down to the base. You circle your fingers in a squeeze and use your other hand to pump him quickly.

His mouth hangs open against your own, short gasps of air combined with breathy moans are muffled as they flood into your mouth. You move to kiss and nip along his jaw before spending time sucking a pretty mark onto the side of his neck. “My sweet boy gonna cum?” You hover close to his face so you can watch him. It takes him a second to nod and he opens his eyes slightly. “Please…please. Been so good…won’t flirt anymore…wanna cum s’bad.” He sounds drunk and it makes you pump your fist harder. “Don’t pull away, please, baby.” He whines out and his bucking hips falter a bit. “Shh…I won’t, love.” You kiss his cheek before burying your head in his neck. He lets out a grunt before he goes silent, his hips still and you feel the warm ropes coat your hand, fingers and arm. A trapped moan breaks out as he spasms under you.

Vessel hums out a low note and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug as he tries to catch his breath. The two of you lie there for a short while, caught in a lazy but tender kiss. You’re not surprised when you untangle yourself to find Vessel struggling to keep his eyes open. You smooth a hand over his hair before leaving to wash your hands and fetch a washcloth from the bathroom. You clean up yourself as well as the mess on Vessel’s stomach before gently coaxing him under the covers. He wraps around you when you join him, humming against the back of your head while his fingers absentmindedly trace over your palms.

“I was serious about not flirting anymore. I’m sorry, again.”

You just hum out and curl against him more. You knew he’d keep his word.

“But not the guys. I’ll always flirt with the guys.” He lets out a groggy chuckle.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

GUYSSS THIS MAN

Thank you again anon for the request, it was very fun to think about HA

K. Bye bye.

[aurorawritestoescape]

TAKE ME

Joel Miller x f!reader || 900 words

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, fluff, death, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie. I chose not to include all the warnings so as not to spoil the fic. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: yesterday I sat down to work on Bad Blood pt5 but instead wrote this🫣 Hope you’ll enjoy it. Thank you to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing♥️

MASTERLIST

*****

He’s here. You can sense him. Then you can feel him. He’s not cold like you imagined. Like everyone would expect. He’s warm. Hot even. His breath fanning your neck. His lips sliding along your jawline. Scalding hot. Yet they don’t burn you. They caress. Show care. Give hope.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” You hear him ask. Subconsciously you know it’s deadly quiet in the bedroom but his words are clear to you. You’re silent.

He senses your hesitation and sighs. His face is hovering over yours. He’s beautiful. His plush lips draw your eye first and you’re staring at them, wishing them on you. He gives you a warm smile and leans down to plant a kiss on your chapped lips.

You become hot all over, when he slightly moans against your lips. You slip your tongue into his mouth to taste him more. He’s saccharine with a hint of bitterness as if you’ve bitten into a rotten fruit. You don’t mind it. You pull him closer and he lets you, answering your passion with a buck of his hips against your cunt.

“Oh my…,” you whimper as your fingers grip at his arms and you feel them strong and huge under your touch. They immediately envelop you, rendering your body motionless in his tight embrace. Yet it’s not suffocating, not scary. You welcome the comfort of them, the warmth he’s giving you despite his whole nature.

“Please,” you whisper against his scruffy cheek, “It’s been so long.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos at you, before you hear the shuffling of his clothes. He positions himself at your entrance and his hot stiffness sends a shiver down your spine.

“Sure?” He pauses, brushing your lips with his, and you breathe out a needy ‘yes’.

He’s inside you in a second. He’s big and it must hurt, burn. But it doesn’t. He fills you up perfectly and you tremble from the sensation. He doesn’t move though. His worried eyes, sad under the furrowed brows, are darting between yours.

“It’s ok. Move, please.”

He gives you a short nod and rolls his hips, sending his cock deeper inside you, making his tip kiss the deepest spot inside your core.

You cry out as the pleasure overwhelms you and you spread your legs wider for him.

“Take me, take me..,” you beg and he stops your pleading with another short kiss.

“Not yet. Let me enjoy you, baby,” he growls after parting from you and his velvet voice booms in the quiet of the room.

His handsome face is so close to yours, your lashes flutter against each other. Your whimpering lips call for his kiss again and again and it seems that he’s drowning in you as much as you’re losing yourself in him.

His thrusts start hitting you faster, harder, making you slide up on the bed. He grips your shoulder to keep you in place and pushes his cock in and out of you with fervor, not tearing his gaze off your face.

You’ve been exhausted for such a long time that without even registering it, sleep creeps up on you and you fall into the darkness for a few moments, minutes, hours. You’re not sure.

When your eyes flutter open he’s still going, still inside you, and his hips are moving languidly as if he’s trying not to disturb you, wants to let you rest. You must have come in your sleep, as your pussy contracts from time to time, wetness coating your folds and thighs, your skin slippery and sticky against his.

He’s not sweaty, not tired, even after having been plunging his cock into your soaked pussy for what feels like hours. Yet you know he’s on the verge of falling apart by the way his teeth are biting his lower lip without mercy. You lift your face to his and kiss him.

Only after tasting your mouth again, he comes with a loud moan, not ashamed of the euphoria that’s coursing through his body.

He’s spilling his load inside you and it’s warm and lavish as it fills you up fast and you sense it seep out from your stretched hole.

The sensation of his come, pressing on your walls, pushes you over the edge and you accompany his sounds with your needy whimpering as your cunt is pulsating and trembling around his cock.

He’s hugging you tight as you both ascend from your high, lips glued together, bodies pressed to each other. He pulls out and you feel the mess between your thighs. You don’t care.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he says softly, “we need to go, sweetheart. I can’t - can’t give you more time.”

“I know. It’s ok,” you whisper back and you mean it. You’re too exhausted and you’ll gladly go with him.

“I’ll be gentle. I love you,” He whispers and he means it. He hates to do it but it’s all he is. All he was and will be. The angel of death.

A flick of his hand, a cold flash of steel and he’s staring at your lifeless body. With a pained sigh he takes you in his big arms and pauses for a second, watching your beautiful face. A part of him is glad that he gave you rest. But deep inside he wants to cry. A lone tear falls on your soft cheek when he plants the last kiss on your still warm lips. He starts his journey, together with you but completely alone. Always alone.

****

Thank you for reading!🌺

Please consider commenting and reblogging if you enjoyed the fic!♥️

Masterlist

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @littlemisspascal @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know! 💕

[moonstruckme]

Omg I have another weird request. So I get really bad gas bubbles in my tummy, like to the point of curling up and crying. So what helps is tummy rubs. Can you do a cute thing with doctor remmy since he would know this and like not even care about the burps or toots 🫣🫣 it’s so embarrassing but it happens all the time mostly after I eat and I just want comforting hands of doctor Remus 🥺💕

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: stomach pains, mention of gas bubbles, and implied belching and passing gas

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 618 words

You hear Remus come home, but you can’t make yourself call out a greeting. You’re curled up on the couch, using the butt of your palm to try and push out the pain and gritting your teeth through the largely unrewarding process. You turned on the TV when you first laid down, but you can’t focus on it enough to distract yourself. 

“Dove?” Remus’ voice moves from the kitchen into the living room, his footfalls quiet. Then he’s towering over the back of the couch, concern a line between his brows. It digs in when he sees you. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“Hi, honey.” His voice stretches with a weighty compassion. He rounds the couch to sit by your feet, hand landing atop your curled legs. “Stomach bothering you again?” 

You hum miserably. This is the worst kind of pain, in your opinion. Not harsh or biting, but buried deep, throbbing and tender like a bruise. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, scooting closer to you and worming his hand in between your stomach and your thighs. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice nearly breaking on a sob. He’s only just gotten home from work, and you’ve already given him a task he didn’t ask for. It’s hardly a sexy thing to come home to.

“Don’t be,” he replies softly, sliding his hand underneath yours on your belly. You slip yours out to let him work. 

Remus’ hands are slightly cold from the chill outside, but they warm quickly, gentle but resolute as he applies a careful pressure to the bubbles inside your stomach. He’s far kinder than you had been, easing the bubbles out rather than punishing them. His slender fingers are deft and skillful. You find yourself relaxing even before the hurt has begun to lessen. 

A belch rises up in your throat before you can warn him. You squeeze your eyes shut in mortification. “Jesus. Sorry.” 

“Quit apologizing,” Remus says, bending over you to kiss the side of your neck lightly. His hand continues to knead at your stomach with a gentle lovingness. “That’s a good thing. Does it feel better?” 

“A little.” You give him a wan smile. You wish you felt well enough to sit up and kiss him back. Your poor boyfriend hasn’t even had time to take off his scrubs; you definitely owe him a cup of tea after this, at the very least. 

“Good.” The word eases off his tongue warm and buttery, and the smile he gives you in return is just as comforting. “I can see you thinking, lovely girl. You’re feeling poorly enough, don’t torment yourself extra.” 

You cringe as another gas bubble escapes you. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” you say guiltily. “If I were you, my appetite would be ruined.” 

Remus hums. “Well then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not me.” He grins, reaching up with his free hand to cup the back of your head. His thumb draws circles into your temple. “My appetite will be fine, dove. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I was squeamish, hm? Anyway, I couldn’t eat if I knew you were hurting. Helping you helps me.”

You burp again, more of the pain tingling out of you as you finally begin to relax. “I’m writing to the Vatican,” you sigh. “You need to be considered for sainthood.” 

Remus laughs. It’s a rare, hearty sound, loud and deep and chest-tightening. You think that you’re lucky it hadn’t happened before he’d set to work on your stomach; you’re not sure your body would have been able to handle it. 

“I’m not sure I’d qualify,” he admits, considering you with his tongue stuck in his cheek, “but I appreciate the thought, dove.”

[missingnightwingsmullet]

top 5 Dan mora nightwing drawings?

hi!! thanks for asking!!!!!

soo first of all i really adore dick as robin in his art style even if it’s not him as nightwing 🫣

just love love love it

i think he captures the essence of dick grayson as batman’s robin really ridiculously well, at least in my opinion

like look at his sassy little face!!

ANYWAYS here’s him as nightwing..

i like this one because it feels very

Wow I Wonder Who His Mentor Was ™️

like he’s embodying the vigilante who goes bump in the night..criminals running at the thought of him busting them..you get it

and then this one is pretty recent

i just find it absolutely so so funny because it’s very teenager learning how to drive with dad and bruce just looks So Unamused while dick is having the absolute time of his life

anyways!!!! thanks for asking anon ❤️❤️

you know me so well

lots of love

missingnightwingsmullet