#and call it commanders meetings

[justapotatoesack]

Fox's revenge! (don't worry, everyone else got their turn too)

Also for those who don't know! Left is commander Fox, middle is commander Thire, and on the right is commander Thorn

[fyllophobia]

[d8tl55c]

[cerucerus-main]

Okay wait I desperately need a qui-gon lives AU where he's sent on a secret undercover mission to the midrim for a year and or two that his lineage knows but kept quiet about because confidentiality, and when he came back the Clone Wars was already ongoing. Imagine Obi-wan and Anakin delightedly going "Master Jinn!" when he returns, completely disregarding the utter confusion of the clones and because they have never ever seen this man man before.

[franciscrozierofficial]

Hello, Captain, it's @nedwardsmol. I was informed that you needed me?

Yes.

@nedwardsmol, @ltgeorgehodgson, @lieutenantjirv You are all to report to the wardroom. We Terrors are long overdue for a meeting of command.

Leave your personals at the door, gentlemen. We have work to do. 😠.

[borealing]

anyone else have a bit of a moment when he said 大哥. had to pause it to breathe for a second.

[luxu-loveskh]

i need to strangle him

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

4/10 Coda "Rex" Morelli

He let them sleep in the morning.

Didn’t wake them up at some ungodly hour, didn’t even shake them awake like they had gotten used to — he gently nudged them until they came to.

“Coda,” He spoke softly. “Get up, darlin’.”

They stirred in the sheets, not quite even awake when they hummed in reply. Their eyes fluttered open and their gaze landed on Graves, a soft sigh escaping them. Why was he so fucking close? Coda sat up slowly, pulling the blankets up to their chest as they observed him sitting on the edge of their bed.

“C’mon. Bones said she’s got time for you.”

Coda peeled out of bed and pulled their boots on, feeling much less dizzy than the night before. Once they were up they reluctantly followed him to the medical bay, immediately distrusting of the bubbly and kind woman who approached them about redressing and stitching the wound up.

He leaned in the doorway, watching as Bones numbed and began stitching the wound shut, much to Coda’s seeming disgust with watching themself get sutured. It would take a while, and he didn’t plan on walking away until the medic was done.

Not because he cared. Not at all.

“All done, sweetheart, you did great.” Bones cooed to Coda, earning a scoff.

“Don’t call me that.” Coda cursed softly as they went to get up from the cot, only to be stopped by Graves.

“You’re stayin’ here for now. You look exhausted, you’re…probably dehydrated, just — let her take care of you. I’m not tryin’ to kill you.”

What did he just say?

“Really?” Coda raised a brow. “No training?”

“No training. Get some rest, you’ll do better when you’re not half dead.” Graves patted them on the shoulder before leaving, a foreign sight to Coda after so many times they had been denied to walk away from him. He kept them close out of distrust, maybe this was some strange way of him telling them that he was starting to trust them.

Maybe. Maybe he just didn’t want to bury a body.

They hated the way that they almost missed him.

It’d been nearly four months of being at his side day in and day out, save for sleeping. Graves still didn’t let them shower alone — on the other hand, he didn’t let other Shadows in while they were showering, so they sort of appreciated it. Still, she was thrown off by this sudden lack of his presence. Coda was almost too anxious about it to carry on a healthy, normal conversation with Bones, their eyes always ending up fixed on the doorway, waiting for him to show up.

He was a permanent fixture in their thoughts, now, and there was nothing they could do but let it happen.

Bones was kind enough, providing something in the way of conversation that Graves usually didn’t, even sneaking them some sweets from the mess hall from time to time on top of normal meals. It was honestly the most peaceful few days they had since before even arriving here in this hellhole, just laying around, sleeping and healing.

A few days later, and one much less swollen arm, Graves rolled around again. He was silent in the doorway, watching Coda and Bones interact, the casual conversation carrying on until he made his presence known.

“You feelin’ better?” He asked, something genuine in his tone.

“Yeah, much.”

“Good, good…listen, I — I don’t want you to mistake this for weakness.” Graves, for the first time since they met him, stumbled through a sentence. He looked genuinely apologetic, like he meant every word that followed. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard that you weren’t thinkin’ straight — coulda killed you if you misstepped.”

“It’s…okay.” Coda replied, not sure what to make of his words. It was odd, that was for sure, but they were open to receiving an apology for what happened. He was right, really, it could’ve been much worse than it was, but that didn’t make it okay by any measure.

“It’s not.” He was firm, looking away for a moment before coming back to them. “C’mon, I got somethin’ t’show you.”

Coda followed without hesitation, giving Bones a quick goodbye as they met Graves in the hallway, taking up their position at his side. He looked down at them with something that could easily be seen as admiration as they walked, his thumbs hooked in the edge of his vest to keep his hands busy. They walked for a while in silence before he stepped in front of them, opening a door they had yet to see in their time walking around the base. It was labeled Armory but it contained much more than just weaponry. All sorts of gear, ghillie suits, sentries, drones — the whole nine.

“Oh, wow.” Coda said softly, looking around the room, taking in the sight. Who they could only assume to be Shadow Company’s gunsmith sat at a table in the room, fiddling with a rather large and in charge shotgun, his gaze only flickering up for a moment when the pair sauntered in. “What’d you wanna show me?”

“I gotta grab it. Wasp, keep an eye on him.” Graves was gone as quickly as they had gotten used to his presence again, leaving them in the care of the gunsmith. Wasp. He looked up once again, setting the shotgun down on his work station.

“You must be the problem he keeps goin’ on about.”

“I—“

“A lot shorter than I thought you’d be, given that he says you got the personality of a rottweiler.”

“You’re a ray of fuckin’ sunshine, aren’t you?” Coda crossed their arms, earning them a little chuckle from the gunsmith. He stood up and approached them, large figure practically looming over them, engulfing him in his shadow.

“You have a name, or..?”

“Coda.” He answered, and he stuck his hand out for a handshake.

“Good t’see a new face around here keepin’ him busy. Bastard needed some new blood to chase around.” Wasp took his hand and shook it, surprised by the firm grip he held despite the wound on his forearm. Graves returned moments later, a cardboard box in hand. Coda went to peek, but he stopped them, holding the box above where he was able to look into it.

“Impatient, much?”

“I’m just curious.”

“You can be curious forever, I don’t care. Patience will getcha a long way, darlin’.” Graves replied smugly, setting the box down on one of the tables in the room before he pulled something out of it. A plate carrier, with a couple of patches stuck to the chest. An american flag, blood type OPOS, a Shadow Company insignia, and…

His last name?

Morelli.

“Got your first mission comin’ up, n’I don’t want you stickin’ out. You’ll get caught if you’re the only one not in black.” Coda’s eyes were wide, fixed on the vest as they took it in hand, overlooking it like it were a precious artifact. It was strange. Before recently, he didn’t care about being a Shadow. They just wanted to live long enough to stand a chance at escaping Graves’ grasp, but for some reason it fulfilled him to see his name next to the insignia. “You’ll have to earn a rank, this is just…a start.”

There weren't any words.

He was a Shadow now.

“Well? You just gonna stare at it or are you gonna try it on?” He held out the box to them as well, a full uniform of clothing inside, including a new pair of boots. He wasn’t sure whether to be scared or not, because it honestly felt too kind to be true, to be Graves. This was an imposter, surely. Coda hesitantly took the box from his hands and he swore he saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. “Go ‘head.” He gestured toward the back room that he had come from with the box, and they slunk through the door into the room.

After getting changed into the sleek black uniform they felt like maybe things wouldn’t be so terrible here. Like, maybe the literal blood, sweat and tears paid off into making a life out of a fuckup. That one simple mission had become much more, and truthfully, they liked it. He liked that he had become a sort of staple in his day to day, that he was willing to challenge them and let them challenge him right back. For as much as he hated their smart comments, he never retaliated. If anything, they would not know this of course, he liked it just as much as they did.

There was something to be said for their unbreakable spirit, though it comes from a place of pain and suffering, they are tougher for it.

When they stepped back out they placed the box down, now holding the comfortable clothes they’d been living in for a handful of days at that point. Graves’ eyes settled on them all decked out in Shadow Company standards, a wicked spark of something they couldn’t place in them.

“Looks good on you, Coda.” He spoke after a moment, giving them a little nod of approval.

“I make it look good.” He was just being snarky, of course, but what else was to be expected? Coda looked down at himself and smoothed out any wrinkles in the fabric, seemingly comfortable in the new attire, feeling like part of the dynamic here now. As strange as their beginnings here had been, they wanted to be happy here, even though it was probably the most wrong thing to do. He had taken them captive, which they could not forget.

“We’re headin’ out tomorrow, it’s a an easy one t’start. We’re providin’ a security detail for a shipment.” Graves explained to them, averting his gaze from them to Wasp. He didn’t want to stare, but god did they look good in black.

“You’re comin’ with?”

“I’ve only been around s’much because I’ve been stuck with your ass — m’not the type’a person to lead from distance if I can help it, like to be with my boys one way or another.” They were surprised, to say the least. They’d seen so much of him these past few months that they’d assumed he was more of a paperwork type guy at this point in his career, but it would seem they were wrong. The idea of him being out there in the dirt with the Shadows, working the jobs all the same, was oddly comforting. It was more like a big family than it was a mercenary group.

“Close air, or..?”

“Close air overwatch will be present, yes. But I want you in the convoy, so I’ll be in it too. Still ain’t lettin’ you run off on your own, darlin’.”

“I expected as much.”

“Don’t let me down, a’right?”

—

meant to fucking queue this FOR LATER but HERE WE ARE!!!!!!! FAT FUCKING THUMBS

tags

@simonrriley

[iorekbyrinson]

thoughts on bcs characters and their pullman-universe daemons

James McGill - Weasel or stoat family. The long sleek shape of the mustelid can squirm through any hole after its quarry, taking down prey several times its size. Folklore associations with being untrustworthy, unscrupulous, despite its diminutive size. Also known as the family from which Pantalaimon, daemon of Lyra Silvertongue, heralds from - associations of the protagonist.

Kim Wexler - Jackal. A desert animal with associations of the howling prairies, independence, a looming threat in a familiar canid form. However, jackals have a little known quality of centring the majority of their social behaviour around a monogamous relationship; marking out territory together, forsaking packs mostly for the pair bond. Cunning, determined, opportunistic.

Chuck McGill - Porcupine. Like all Rodentia, porcupines are intelligent and frugal, not carnivorous by nature but certainly with enough natural advantages. Unusual tree-dwellers that live far above the rest of the creatures on the forest floor, the porcupine's most notorious trait are its barbs, shaped so that they stick in the skin and cannot be pulled out.

Howard Hamlin - Golden retriever. Exactly what it appears to be to a fault, the ubiquitously loved animal has a few significant traits; it is above all a retriever, an animal that works in tandem with a master to seek out prey and skilfully return the prize, and any attempts to isolate this intensely social breed go awry - the animal withers away.

Nacho Varga - Rusty-spotted cat. The smallest wildcat in the world, to mistake this feline for its domesticated counterpart is a mistake; it is a predator of its lands, feeding on rodents and any creature beneath it, and has the hallmark of being one of the most successful predators relative to its size in the world. However, this elusive, nocturnal little wildcat has its weaknesses as a daemon; it will not stop until it is at the top of its food chain, even if it exists in an ecosystem where it will be swallowed alive. It has the typical feline traits of aloofness, independence, and particularly beautiful eyes.

Lalo Salamanca - Vampire bat. Largely associated with the handsome, deadly supernatural creatures of mythology, vampire bats do, in truth, hold blood as the superior tonic above all, and are also vastly social creatures; grooming, feeding, and raising families within a group that has strong ties to family members, but also makes room for non-relatives too. They hunt entirely in the dark. Like most of the bat family, their need to communicate means their high pitched chirps are constant when flying through the night sky. An unusual daemon for an unusual man; be watchful of his reflection in mirrors. It may not always be there.

Gus Fring - Coati. A daemon can sometimes settle in the appearance of an animal of meaning to an individual; and the mercurial and mysterious Gustavo Fring has inferred the coati's importance as much in his fateful recollection. However, the coati is also no insignificant animal; it is preyed upon by nearly every major predator in the Americas, but the coati has a tough hide attached to its underlying muscles, making it extremely difficult for teeth to get a hold. It is a contained and somewhat elegant looking small mammal with a handsome pair of spectacles around its dark, round eyes, and a reputation for intelligence rivalling that of its opportunistic cousin, the raccoon.

Mike Ehrmantraut - Badger. Whether of the European badger flavour; forest-bears of quiet and solitary pursuits, devoted to the burrows of their families, or of the American type, the fearsome ratel or honey badgers that face down mountain lions without a second look, badger daemons carry the traits of strength, perseverance, and an undeniable aggression that make them the animal that never backs down. Badgers construct setts that go deep below the earth, a vast underground system of resources that belies the staid, unemotional appearance of these creatures. Man + mountain indeed.

[kiwikipedia]

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’, Assassin?”

“I mean what I said.”

Kirei should be mad. Should feel ire, should feel slighted at the fact that his Servant, a mass of mana who donned flesh and blood like a costume and was bound to him, was defying him. And yet, he feels nothing. Not even exasperation as the red-haired man before him flipped through a magecraft text sitting on the table before them.

When Kirei summoned Assassin as his Servant, he would be lying if he stated he hadn't been he had been expecting dark cloaks and a masked face, like every other Assassin from the Grail Wars recorded before. Instead, he got something… loud and garish.

Something red.

Assassin was not a typical assassin and refused to give his name.

Red clothes, red hair, red makeup, and Chinese in origin… he couldn’t place them— but he knew he was not one of the many hashashin who had come before him.

Granted, Kirie's… grasp on Chinese Assassins was lacking. He could name a few who were important to history, but there was no way this one was any of them. Too flashy, too comfortable in a modern atmosphere, and he had laughed when Kirei asked if he was the famed Jing Ke or Yan Qing.

And rather loudly at that.

Assassin was something of a mystery, despite his loud appearance and actions. The Servant was much bolder than one would think an Assassin would be, actively moving about the Tohsaka house before Tokiomi summoned the Archer Gilgamesh. So much so that Rin had asked Kirei about the “Redheaded Mister” more than once because he would help Aoi with cooking and she liked his cooking.

Again, another weird point that tied back to that ease of comfort in a more modern world. Assassin easily navigated the kitchen stove and radio— and while he knew that Servants were granted knowledge of the Modern world from the Grail, it was still odd. The familiarity wasn't that of a man who knew in the sense of having been told, but one who moved with the sense of having used one before.

Nonetheless, the fact remained that Assassin was a mystery despite how much he interacted with ease and talked to the Tohsaka family and him. Kirei would've assumed that, because of that, the Servant would have no qualms, however. It wasn't as if the man got attached— had he?

“What you’re asking of me is something that is… distasteful,” Assassin continued, seemingly unaware or perhaps uncaring that Kirei was at a loss. “I may be an Assassin but I am no idiot, though you might be."

Dark eyes met his own, reflecting the candles that adorned the walls. He was deadly serious, Kirei realized. And again, he was startled at the sheer amount of nothing he felt. He should feel annoyed, at least a little bit.

Tokiomi’s plan was already falling apart.

“Are you not my Servant?” He found himself asking and Assassin snorted, closing the book with a snap.

“You might be my Master, Kotomine Kirei, but that’s in name only. I will consider your orders, and ruminate on them, but that is all. If I act or not is my choice and mine alone,” Assassin said simply, not looking at Kirei again as he set the book down. “Feel free to use your command seals, though I can assure you, there’s only so far that will take you in this war."

[theitalianscribe]

Thinking about how Carlos's wife is named Lucy, which sounds like Luz, which means Light and also I think might have biblical origins, but I need to double check.

And then Wiatt loves Lewis Bright, which is a first name that also starts with L, makes a "Lu" sound and then Bright is another word that could be associated with Light.

Conclusion: the Nicholson boys, much like crows, have poor eyesight and attracted to bright, shiny things.

[andi-o-geyser]

Every day I wake up and want to cry because there is something so comforting yet so unbelievably terrifying about a prequel series that includes characters we have seen in the future because we know that those characters will certainly survive, or at least survive the events we are witnessing in this context, but everybody else has their fate completely up in the air. Will they live? Will they die? Is their absence in the future timeline and inherent confirmation of their death, or will they be fine and is there a perfectly reasonable explanation for why they do not appear with the characters who we know will survive? And that constant hope, that persisting anxiety about their fate holds for their entire time onscreen because we know, we know that their future is not set in stone. So we're fighting against our better nature as the audience to convince ourselves that somehow the characters will survive even when it feels like we should already be grieving their loss. Anyways I'm doing fine mentally and have consumed a perfectly healthy amount of media why are you asking

[partiallysame]

Ghost Gets No Bitches Part 2:

second part to THIS

Word count 1400

Content warning: suggestive, alcohol

When ghost finally texted you the message was something along the lines of: 

Hello. This is the man from (insert specific grocery store name followed by the exact address of said grocery store). 

You: Do I get to know your name or am I just supposed to call you Man From Grocery Store?

Ghost: Simon

Wow ok not a talker but we can work through that. Simon knew he should take you to a proper dinner but you made him so anxious he needed somewhere safe. Comfortable. Ah yes the closest bar to his base that he goes to almost daily. When you agreed to the date the panic really set in. He’s gonna be alone with you again (he ran to Price to ask for help on what to do. “You can’t wear the fucking mask” “but why?”)

The second Ghost got out of his car he noticed Soap had followed him to the bar (how could he not, Ghost had been sweating all day about meeting his lil lass again) “you walk in that bar and I’ll put a bullet in you, Mohawk”

“Aye come on. Jus wanna see a little more of the pretty bird that’s got ya all nervous”

 Soap knew he was bluffing about shooting him until Ghost pulled up his shirt enough to show his gun and the silencer attached to it. Yup ok he really would shoot him. Suddenly Soap is back in his car.

And then there you were, picture of perfection walking towards him. Big smile and small dress oh he was fucked. He opened the door for you and you let out a “good boy” as you walked through, an audible gulp came from him. Making your way to the bar to order, you told the bartender your drink, turning to ask Simon what he wanted only to find him standing 4 feet from you, scared to get too close. “Come here.” A command. One giant step and he was by your side. You moved closer until your shoulder was touching him. Control your breathing Ghost. “What do you want big boy?” You looked up at him and he should be embarrassed that you just called him that in front of his favorite bartender but he is definitely not. He said the beer he wanted and you added “two please. He’s nervous” the bartender was trying not to laugh.

“Tab Open or closed?” The bartender asked to which you quickly said open and began sliding your card over. 

“No.” Simon’s voice was deep and gravely and his sudden outburst caught you off guard. He may let you walk all over him but there was no way he, a gentleman would let you pay. 

You turned to him, eyebrows raised, “did you just tell me no?” Voice laced with genuine surprise and his eyes got wide, fuck was he in trouble? He nodded too afraid of how to properly respond but he continued to hand his card over and return yours to you. 

“You only get to tell me that once and that was it.” You scolded him as the barkeep slid the drinks over to you. You grabbed his two beers, one in each hand to hand to your date. He nodded again in response but did not miss the way your eyes were glued to his giant hands when he easily held the two bottles in one hand. 

Making your way over to a booth to sit, someone bumped into you, slightly spilling your drink down your hand. The man kept walking until a large (big sexy) hand grabbed his shoulder. Terrified apologies stumbled from his lips at the sight of Simon. But your hand quickly found its way onto Simon’s chest. 

“It’s not a big deal. Right Simon?” He looked down at you just in time to see you put your fingers in your mouth sucking the spilled drink from them. Christ’s sake woman. Your hand on his chest could feel his racing heart beat. 

“Not a big deal mate.” He let go of (pushed) the man as he watched you finish the walk to the table you wanted. He followed but when he got to the table he just stood there so awkwardly. 

“Simon, sit down. This is a date you know.” He’s sat. You decided that if he wasn’t going to talk then you wouldn’t either. You just sat there watching this giant muscle man fidget in his seat, emotional support beer being held so tightly in front of him. Your eyes taking in all of his features, pretty brown eyes and chiseled facial features. After however many minutes of silence (Simon squirming) you decided it was time for billiards. This is a bar after all. 

“Let’s go play” your head nodding to the empty pool table. The sudden sound of your voice made him jump. For goodness sakes man chill. He downed his second beer as he stood beginning to relax slightly. The bar was starting to get crowded so you reached for his hand before making your way to the table, pulling him behind you. You’re touching him. Fuck your hands are so soft, small compared to his. How would they look holding his…  A small and disappointed “oh” came from your lips as you neared the table. A group of men had gotten to it first but with a quick clear of his throat and deadly stare from Simon they gently handed you the cue ball. You turned to face him and god you were so close to him. He thought you holding his hand was bad? Now your chest is touching his. 

“Ready to lose?” You questioned batting your lashes at him, watching his pupils dilate. 

“I was gonna ask you the same.” You bit your lip at his response, excited to finally get somewhere with this man. There was a stare down for a few moments before you turned to begin the game. 

Were you bad at pool? No. Were you good? Also no. But Simon? Never missed a shot. No no this won’t do. Quickly realizing that you are losing (you only got one turn) you changed the game. Now you’re just standing at the edge of the table, looking pretty, moving the balls around with your hands, demanding trick shots. 

“Orange here to here then this pocket.” Hands pointing around before being placed palms down on the table, cleavage exposed and Simon can’t breathe. He does it and you praise him with another “good boy.” Two more planned shots and now you’re curling your finger, beckoning him closer. 

“8 ball. Corner pocket.” Simon begins to bend to line up his shot when you move so you are sandwiched between him and the table. Breathe Simon breathe. “Go on handsome.” Fuck ok he can do this. His large body easily envelopes yours, slowly bending at the waist and you are pushed down slightly, his chest pressed against your back. Your ass pressed exactly where you want it. Simon’s arms wrap around you to place his hand under the stick to steady it. You wiggled your ass back against his crotch and you could hear him stifle a groan. You can tell he’s trying to focus on the task at hand, but let's make it more fun. You turn your head until your lips are brushing against his jaw, sliding their way up to his ear and the whine that escapes this man at the contact. His hands glued to where they were placed on the table, too scared to move them where he actually wanted them.

“If you make this, you’ll get a reward.” You pressed your body into him more, feeling what was starting to form in his pants and you could feel the vibrations in his chest from a suppressed growl. “But.” you paused for a moment and he thought he was going to break the pool stick from holding on so hard. “But if you miss, your friend from the parking lot is allowed to come play too next time. So whats it gonna be?” You removed your lips from his ear, signalling him to take the shot. A breathy and accidental “fuck me” came from him as he lined up his shot. There was no way he was going to miss this, but when you added “thats the plan” after his last comment he missed the ball all together, pool cue scratching the green fabric on the table. He stood quickly cursing every god there ever was as you spun in his arms now face to face. Your arms reached up to wrap themselves around his neck. “What was his name again?”

Part 2.5 Part 3

[valalice]

BLINDS WIDE OPEN .ᐟ ft. stalker!caitvi

ꮼ summary. you've unknowingly attracted the attention of piltover's finest, and now they'll do anything to make sure you're theirs. ( inspired by 'she' by tyler, the created ft. frank ocean )

warnings. dark content. fem!reader. reader isn't specified to be from piltover or zaun. stalking. slightly nsfw. established caitvi. allusions to murder but could also be just them scaring off said person. possessive!caitvi. abuse of power (on cait's part). commander!cait. unsolicited note & gift sending. staged meeting/slight savior complexes. pet names (r!receiving : darling, pretty girl, little bird, dear). reader is painfully oblivious. vouyerism. vi takes pictures of reader without her consent. pantie stealing & sniffing & alluded usage of stolen panties. wc. 2.3k

m.list. | arcane m.list.

‣ their little obsession starts out innocent. you're just a civilian, blending into the crowd around you, just another person going about their routine. but to caitlyn and vi you stood out. they didn't actively seek you out, you just happened to also be in the same places as they were at times, and they couldn't complain about that. often moving or forgetting what they were doing to see (follow) you a little longer.

‣ they agree that they've never been so sure about something before. you allure them in, like a flower temping a honey bee. someone so sweet, with such beauty that want, need you. they begin calling your theirs from then on.

‣ it turned sour when once again, out of coincidence you were in the same vicinity as vi, the pink haired woman quickly taking notice of you, her fingers hooking into her hood to pull it over and cover herself as she keeps a sweet distance behind you. not too far and not too close. the bustling streets get rowdier and vi gets thrown around a bit, picking up her pace and ramming her shoulder into who gets close to her, so she doesn't get whisked off into the frown and loses you. she groans when out of nowhere a brutish man blocks her view, putting her scuffed hand on his arm, mumbling something out about needing somewhere to be (a lie), and just within those few moments of vi’s watchful eye on you you've presumably arrived at your destination, a restaurant. she sighs and takes post near by, but as quickly as she was resting, slumped against some wall, her posture straightens out. fist fighting at her side, her teeth begging to grind, hard enough she'd snap her jaw off. you've met up with a woman, and said woman has her hands on you, pulling you into a hug. a glare bores into the mystery woman's head. if vi had glared any harder she's sure beams would've shot out her eyes and straight into her head.

‣ since then, the couple had made sure to purposely watch you. no more coincidences or hopeful wishes that they'd see you a few times out of their week. now they see you every chance they can get. and at this point they're getting bolder, more risky with how they watch you. inching closer and closer into your space as they follow you just to get a whiff of your shampoo, or perfume. going into the same places as you instead of watching from outside. frequenting the same places you frequent and learning your favorites, caitlyn has gone as far, as asking for the same drink as you one time when she was standing behind you in a small cafe. they're even begin starting to work out your relationships with people, keeping tabs on them too. and oh, you haven't seen that one friend in awhile.

‣ caitlyn begins to abuse her power as commander to find and dig through your findings. memorizing your stats; height, weight, hair color, eye color, blood type, ect. she got caught once snooping through your files by a subordinate and quickly sorted herself out, clearing her throat out and making up some lie about needing a file on a stillwater escapee. waving your file at them and briskly walking past them saying that she’ll be in her office, when she's really taking that file home with her.

‣ they’d even begin sending you notes and gifts. notes that read along the lines as “you look beautiful today.” “loved the new hairstyle, did it just for us?” “one day you'll see that you were made for us.” and the gifts are usually items they'd watch you eye in shops or things they'd think you'd like based off of your other preferences, like clothing, books, a new bag, that expensive new technology device you've been saving up for since your old one broke, and of course the classic flowers and chocolate. and they can't lie when they're hurt whenever you come home or open your door to one of their notes or gifts that you have a horrified look on your face, frantically looking around to see you could've given it to you, and vi in particular is hurt whenever she watches you throw out the chocolates she picked for you.

‣ despite all of this, they still have yet to formally meet you, although they're sure you know of them. but they can't simply introduce themselves, they have to make it look natural. accidental and like you needed them. they've learned your entire routine just for a moment like this.

you had just finished up grocery shopping. the sun was just finishing up with rising fully within the sky. you enjoyed going first thing when the store opens to dismiss the morning rush that happens by the time you're bagging your items and leaving. as you're making your way home, your head peeks from over the brown paper bags in your arms to watch where you're walking.

it's quick and sudden, the catch of something on your foot. knowing what's next, so you close your eyes preparing for impact against the ground. at least your groceries will cushion your fall, but not without ruining them underneath your weight.

except you don't and your body stays slanted still at a degree. peeking an eye open you're met with a pink haired woman, she looks familiar, but you can't put your finger on her name. you're reminded of the groceries in your arms from the crinkle of the bags, and they feel lighter in your arms. her hands are placed over your groceries, and there's also a pair of hands on you, but on your waist? who's the person behind you?

“are you alright?” the woman in front of you asks, her voice is low and comforting.

it happens swifty, the woman in front and the person behind you working to place you back upright on your feet. and you're dazed when she also takes most of the bags from your arms.

“she asked you a question, darling.” you twist around at the sound of a new voice, the person from behind you presume, and it's. . . british? upon turning around you're met with the fall figure of commander kiramman, and on instinct you're standing a little straighter.

“c—commander kiramman,” you splutter out. “i’m, uh, i’m okay.” looking down you adjust the bags in your arms, just for caitlyn to swoop down and take them in her arms, and within them, the bags no longer look as big as they did in your arms. “thank you, for, em, catching me from falling to my doom.” you let out a light laugh at the end, trying to make light of your embarrassing situation and to ignore that you're flushed, thankful for the cool morning air against the warmth of your sizzling body.

“it's no problem, really. we hate to see a pretty girl get hurt.” the pink woman smiles. oh! that's when it clicks.

“you're vi!” you enthuse, feeling a sense of pride that you were able to remember her name, you knew she seemed familiar. feeling a little silly it didn't click sooner since she's so recognizable.

“i am,” her smile grows. “and you already know caitlyn.”

it feels like a game as you bounce your head from one woman to the other, but now your attention lies on caitlyn. “no more calling me commander kiramman. no need for formalities, you can just call me caitlyn.” she hums, correcting her name for you.

yet your wide eyes stay strained up at her, “but would it not be respectful to call you commander?”

caitlyn’s exterior remains collected, only vi catching the way cait’s eye slightly twitches, your worries for calling her by her correct title is cute and sends a jolt straight to her cunt.

“like i said, no need for that. calling me caitlyn is perfectly respectful. alright, little bird?”

they both refrain from voicing their distaste of your nod at cait’s words.

it's quiet for a moment, the three of you just looking between each other and you realize both of them still have your groceries in their arms. “oh! i can take my groceries now.”

they both look at you like you'd just grown another head from your neck.

“don't be silly. you should've seen how looked trying to carry all of these bags—”

cait cuts vi off, “you looked comically cute.”

a part of you doesn't really know how to take that they thought you looked funny trying to carry your groceries, but at least they thought you were cute. “i normally don't have that many bags,” that was something they already knew. “but today they had some great deals i couldn't pass up on.” oh, gee, they wonder who tipped off the owner to have such deals.

“well that's great, dear. but what we're trying to get at is that, we want to assist you with your groceries.” caitlyn clarifies, eyes flickering down to her girlfriend.

“so, we’ll carry them. keeping you from stumbling by trying to balance it all in your arms. and you show us the way to your place.” vi finishes, although they already knew the route to your home with their eyes closed.

this isn't something that you'd agree to, but it's vi and commander kiramman, or caitlyn, and that automatically makes you trust them. agreeing to their offering and placing yourself ahead, beginning to walk your way home, and they follow, missing the way they wickedly smile at each as they just perfectly wormed their way into your life.

‣ since meeting you they've become even further unhinged. while caitlyn has duties that distract her from her habits of watching you, vi has complete free will to watch you whenever she'd like. her favorite is when cait is working late, instead of being alone at the estate, she’ll take post at a spot close to you place, to her it's the perfect spot, having a view into your home, able to see as you go from room to room, even your bedroom. both you and her are thankful that your windows don't really point anywhere, so you're comfortable enough to keep you blinds open most of the time and vi is able to watch as you leisure around, cook, clean, when you're fresh from a shower, still damp and drying off your body with your towel. she's seen it all, she's seen you all, in your most vulnerable state when you touch yourself, fingers trailing between your pretty thighs to play with your cunt. vi wishes she could hear the gasp, whines, and moans of pleasure that fall from your lips, but right now the best she can do is capture pictures.

bonus

‣ they're both desperate for you, the run ins, pictures, files, watching you isn't getting them what they need. but they both know that it isn't time to act just yet. so, cait request for vi to break into your home one night, a night they know you'll be out with some friends, to steal a few pairs of your panties. something small that'll take the edge off for a little while. luckily it had been a warm few days and a window in your bedroom was cracked, so vi welcomed herself in as she slid the window open wider so she could slip in. already having the layout of your bedroom memorized as she makes her way to your dresser, opening the first drawer to behold where you keep your socks, bras, and panties. she diligently scours through the stacks of panties, making sure to keep them all nice and tidy as you had them, picking out a few pairs that she and cait would like, mostly cotton, until she got to the bottom of the stacks where you kept your lace panties. she can only imagine that you got them for her and cait to look all pretty when they finally take you. there's a pretty lavender pair, it makes her wet thinking about you wearing them. vi brings them up to her nose, eyes rolling back as she sniffs the fabric, you've worn them before she can tell, they smell of you and your detergent. feeling a high, she promptly stuffs the various pairs of panties in her pockets and exits her way from your bedroom, leaving everything as it was when she came in. caitlyn and her will make great use of them.

and just a few days later cait gets a call from you, the exchange of numbers occurring that morning they helped you with your groceries. “what is it, darling. tell me.”

“it’s—” you pause, rethinking if you should've even called. “it's embarrassing, but i’m scared.” you whisper.

“i ensure you i’ve heard my fair share of things while on the job.”

“promise you won't laugh or call me crazy?”

“i promise.”

you sigh, gathering courage. “i have a stalker, or stalkers. i really don't know but they refer to themselves as 'us' and 'we' a lot.”

caitlyn leans back in her office chair, “oh, darling. i’m sorry to hear that.” faux concern is ridden in her tone. “have they been doing anything to you?” she already knows the answer to that, this is normally the time she'd take out her note pad and pen to make note of the report, but there's no need for that.

“yes. i feel foolish to not think much of it at first, i thought it would just fizzle out over time. but the notes, the gifts, they've gotten odder. and now—” you stop yourself.

“and now?”

you bite your lip, your heartbeat beats rapidly in your chest, it's loud bangs rattling throughout your body. “i think they've taken some of my panties.” you whisper that also, embarrassed to have to admit that.

caitlyn smirks against the phone. oh, you have no idea.

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[fear-is-truth]

making bf!rafe wait for the day to properly fuck you

mature content ; mdni ┆smut

the beginning of your relationship had been rafe’s longest celibate streak since he was old enough to chase his vices. alcohol, drugs, pussy, whatever—none of it had ever been out of reach. but you? you made him wait. you made him work for it.

it drove him mad—months of what he grudgingly called “courtship” (the word was ridiculous in his head, like he was some medieval knight or something) just to get to first and second base. then, even when things heated up, you’d stop him with a hand on his chest and that maddeningly calm “not yet.” weeks of dry humping left him wrecked, his patience worn thin every time you pulled back, lips swollen and breathing shallow. rafe swore he was fucking losing it. the softness of your thighs rubbing against his clothed cock sent his head spinning with lust, but no matter how desperate he got, you never wavered.

it was torture, plain and simple. and yet, he stayed. because you were worth it. even when he started to think he might be permanently stuck on third base.

when you finally let him touch you, it was everything he’d imagined and more. rafe cameron wasn’t new to this. far from it. but nothing—no past flings, no meaningless hookups—had ever compared to you. the promise land had never felt this good. especially because he’d worked so damn hard for it. he could’ve sworn he’d forget how to breathe every time you pressed him down, legs locking around his neck like you fucking owned him. like he was your bitch. and maybe you did own him. the heated way you looked down at him—half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted, rafe could’ve gladly stayed in that position forever, could’ve suffocated between your thighs and wouldn’t have cared.

when you finally let him have you, there was no hesitation. you weren’t on that coy, unsure bullshit—you knew exactly what you wanted and made sure he knew it too. you were demanding. bossy, even. but rafe didn’t complain.

it wasn’t that you let him take control—you allowed it. and only because you wanted to. and it wasn’t easy for him, either. you made him work for every arch of your body, every wanton moan. your fingers dug harshly into his shoulders, inhumanly tight cunt hot around his cock, the quiet command in your breathy whisper of his name—it was enough to keep him completely hooked. your steady gaze stayed locked on his, unflinching, as if daring him to do better. and god, he did. every single time you pushed him to the edge of his limits, he rose to meet you.

pupils blown wide with lust, jaws set, but he was chasing your approval with every thrust. the way your lips parted, that faint, smug-ass smirk tugging at the corners as you clenched around him, drove him wild. when he finally hit the right spot, and you let out that soft, satisfied sigh—kiss-bitten lips barely moving as the high crested—he felt it in his chest like a victory. every second of waiting, every ounce of effort, every drop of restraint—it had all been worth it.

rafe had never worked this hard to please someone in bed, but with you? it was never a chore.