#first thought when they said he breathes through his skin

[eu-nicola]

best secret

summary: while the Pogues are searching for the gold, you're left behind, trapped with your abusive father. when Rafe discovers what's going on, he steps in to save you. when the Pogues return and discover your relationship with Rafe, tensions boil over

warnings: violence, confrontation

word counter: 4384

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @tracymbcm

The lights of Tannyhill shone brightly in the distance, like a beacon illuminating everything perfectly.

You were in the backyard of Tannyhill, sitting on a stone table that probably cost more than your entire house. The night was warm, but you still felt a slight chill running through your skin. It could be from the air or from the presence of Rafe Cameron, leaning against a column, looking at you with that smile that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to admit.

“If JJ knew about this, he would kill me.” Your voice broke the silence, a mix of nerves and sincerity in your words.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smile widening, but his eyes never left yours.

“If JJ knew about this, he would have been dead for months.” His tone was light, as if he said it in jest, but you knew that look. He wasn’t joking.

You should have laughed, maybe even responded with a scathing comment, but the truth was that the idea of ​​JJ finding out what you were doing terrified you. How could you explain to him that after years of swearing that you hated Rafe Cameron as much as he did, you had ended up here, seeing him in secret?

“Why are you doing this, Rafe?” you asked, abruptly changing the subject. You had thought about that question many times, but you had never dared say it out loud.

Rafe stopped smiling, slowly pushing himself off the column as he made his way towards you. Each step he took seemed to charge the air around you. When he reached your side, he leaned in slightly, just enough for his intense, direct blue eyes to catch yours.

“Because with you I don’t have to pretend.”

The words hit something deep inside you, leaving a crack in your carefully constructed defenses. You looked at him, searching for any trace of lying or manipulation, but all you found was honesty, raw and unvarnished.

“That doesn’t make it any less complicated.” You tried to make your voice sound firm, but there was a slight tremor that betrayed everything.

He tilted his head, his expression softening a little.

“And that’s why you’re still here? Despite everything.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to get away, you always ended up coming back. Something about Rafe dragged you along, like a current you couldn’t avoid.

He moved closer, his hand finding your waist with an ease that made you catch your breath.

“Look at me.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but charged with intensity.

You obeyed, even though every part of you screamed not to. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, seeing parts of you no one else had noticed.

“Do you know what happens to me when you’re not around?” he asked, his tone so serious that you felt a lump forming in your throat. “It’s like everything is… empty again. You make it all make sense.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly the space between you felt nonexistent.

“Rafe…” you started, but he cut you off, shaking his head as his forehead brushed yours.

“Don’t say you don’t feel it too.”

And you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because you did. You had felt it from the first moment his lips touched yours weeks ago, from the instant he looked at you as if you were more than just a Pogue.

This time, you were the one who closed the distance. The kiss started slow, as if you were both afraid of breaking something fragile, but soon it became more urgent, more desperate. Your hands found his neck as he pulled you closer, as if he feared you might disappear at any moment.

In that instant, everything disappeared: the Pogues, JJ, the Kooks, the consequences you knew would fall upon you. Nothing else mattered. Just Rafe and you.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe leaned against your forehead, his hands still firm on your waist.

“Regretful?” he asked with that lopsided smile that always disarmed you.

“Not yet.” Your voice was more confident than you expected, though deep down you knew that answer could change.

Rafe let out a soft laugh, running a finger through a loose strand of your hair.

“You’re braver than you think, Pogue.”

“And you’re more of an idiot than you let on.”

Rafe was still so close that you could feel the heat of his body as he pulled away slightly, his fingers still absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. His smile grew softer, less teasing, and for a moment it seemed like there was something else on his mind.

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, his voice low, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

“What kind of idea?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a mix of expectation and excitement.

Rafe stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a mix of anticipation and excitement.

“Tomorrow. You and me. A real date.”

That took you by surprise. Even though you’d been seeing each other on the sly for weeks, the thought of something as formal as a date hadn’t crossed your mind. Was it even possible? Your lips curved into a small smile.

“And how do you propose we do that without JJ or the guys deciding to kill you?”

Rafe shrugged, his expression confident as ever.

“You’re running away. You’ve done it before.”

“Rafe…” you started, even though you already knew you’d end up agreeing.

“Trust me. It’ll be perfect.” His eyes were shining, as if he was already imagining what it would be like. He took another step towards you and placed his hands on your hips, leaning in just enough so that his lips were just a few inches from yours. “Just you and me. No one else.”

You sighed, as if you were considering your options, but in reality your decision was made from the moment you looked into his eyes.

“Okay,” you finally relented, your voice laced with a mix of excitement and resignation.

Rafe’s smile widened.

“Meet me at Figure Eight Harbor, just before sunset. Bring something comfortable.”

“Any other directions, Mr. Cameron?” you asked, arching an eyebrow in a sarcastic tone.

Rafe leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, barely a brush, before pulling away.

“Just don’t be late.”

You watched him walk away toward the house, his steps confident and relaxed. When he turned around for the last time, he gave you a look and a smile that made your stomach turn.

That night, as you made your way back to your house, you couldn’t help but imagine what the date would be like. With Rafe, nothing was ever easy, but there was something about the way he looked at you, how he seemed to want to show you a different world, that made it worth the risk.

The next morning the morning sun streamed through the windows of your room, bathing the walls in a warmth that would normally have comforted you. But this time, you were too excited to pay attention to the small details. Today was the day. A date with Rafe Cameron.

You had woken up early, your heart racing and a smile that seemed impossible to erase. The pogues were away, completely absorbed in their quest for gold. With them gone, sneaking off to meet up with Rafe seemed easier than ever. Without JJ hovering like a hawk and Sarah suspecting a thing, you could finally relax and enjoy some alone time with him without the constant fear of being discovered.

You spent the day getting everything ready. You picked out comfortable clothes, like Rafe had suggested, but also something you knew he would appreciate: a light, simple dress that fell softly over your legs and sandals that would allow you to move around without any problems. You had tied your hair up in a carefree way, leaving a few strands loose to frame your face. You didn’t want to look overdressed, but you also couldn’t help but want to impress him. 

By the time it was time to leave, the plan seemed perfect. You just had to avoid your father, something you usually managed with ease when he was deep in his own problems. With the guys gone and his attention divided between the television and the empty beers piling up on the table, there was no reason for this time to be any different. 

Or so you thought. 

As you walked down the stairs, holding a small bag in your hand, Luke’s raspy voice echoed from the living room. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” “I’m just going for a walk,” he asked, his bloodshot eyes fixed on you.

You froze on the spot, your fingers clenching your bag tightly. You knew you couldn’t tell him the truth, but you hadn’t prepared an excuse either.

“I’m just going for a walk,” you said, trying to sound casual as you avoided his gaze.

Luke stood up from the couch with a jerk, his body swaying slightly, and you realized immediately that he was drunk. Again.

“Going for a walk?” he repeated, his tone full of mockery. “You’re not as smart as you think, kid. Do you really think you can get away without me knowing?”

Your heart began to beat faster. You tried to stay calm, but you knew how these things ended.

“It’s no big deal, Dad. I’m just going for a walk, that’s all.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” His voice rose a pitch, and the thud of a bottle falling to the floor made you take a step back. His eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down. “Why are you all dressed up? Huh? Who are you going to see?”

“No one,” you lied quickly, but your voice shook, and that only seemed to make him angrier.

Luke took a step towards you, and the air in the room became heavy, suffocating.

“You’ve always been a liar, just like your mother.” His words were venom, and the contempt in his voice made you clench your fists at your sides. “What? You think you can just walk away and leave me here like I don’t exist?”

Fear began to creep its way into your chest, but you didn’t let it show on your face. You had learned to hide it well, to survive moments like this.

“I’m not leaving anyone, Dad. I just want to get out for a bit.”

“DON’T MOVE!” he suddenly shouted, slamming the table so hard that the noise echoed throughout the house.

Your body tensed, your feet rooted to the ground. You stared at the door for a moment, calculating if you could escape, but you knew he would reach you before you could even turn the knob.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled as he approached, his steps firm and heavy. “Always doing whatever you want, always thinking you’re better than me.”

Every word out of his mouth was like a blow, but the real blows began soon after. He threw a glass against the wall, just inches from where you stood, and the sound of glass breaking made you instinctively step back.

“Dad, stop.” Your voice was low, but firm, even though inside you were shaking.

“STOP?” He laughed bitterly. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re nobody to give me orders!”

You felt a lump in your throat, helplessness mixing with the pain of knowing there was no way to reason with him in this state. All you wanted was to get out of that house, get to the port, and be with Rafe, away from all of this. But with every passing second, it seemed more impossible.

Finally, you took advantage of a moment when he was distracted looking for another bottle to try and move towards the door. But when Luke noticed, his face twisted into a mix of fury and contempt.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled as he blocked your way.

You were trapped. And as time continued to tick, you felt the chance to see Rafe slip through your fingers.

Away from you, as time passed, and there was no sign of you. Rafe first thought maybe you were late, but as the sun began to set completely, worry began to settle in his chest.

“Where are you?” he murmured, looking at his phone. He had texted twenty minutes ago, but you hadn’t responded. You hadn’t read the text either. 

Rafe knew something was wrong. Even though your relationship was a secret, you had never missed a date without notice, and the thought of something stopping you made him more uneasy than he was willing to admit. His jaw tightened as he climbed into his truck. No matter what the reason was, he was going to find you. 

He drove straight to your house, or as he silently called it, “Pougeland.” The Maybank home wasn’t in the best condition, and Rafe hated every second you spent there, especially because of Luke. He had heard enough about the man to know he wasn’t someone to be trusted, and the thought of you being alone with him infuriated him. 

As he approached the entrance, the sound of shouting from inside the house made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t need to confirm who they were; He recognized your voice, full of fear, and Luke's, in an angry and aggressive tone. He quickened his pace towards the door, and just as he was about to enter, he heard the sound of something breaking.

“Dad, stop!” Your voice came through clearly, desperate and scared.

That was enough for Rafe to act. He pushed the door open, the frame creaking from the force, and what he saw filled him with anger. Luke was on top of you, holding your arm as you tried to free yourself. Your face was marked, with the trace of a recent blow, and your eyes reflected both pain and terror.

“Let go of my girlfriend right now, motherfucker!” Rafe roared as he launched himself at Luke without a second thought.

Rafe’s presence startled Luke enough for him to loosen his grip for a moment, and you managed to stagger back to the side. Rafe didn’t give you time to react. He landed a punch straight to the jaw that sent him tumbling backwards, but Luke quickly recovered, attempting to strike back. 

“What the hell are you doing here, brat? It’s none of your business!” Luke shouted, furious as he tried to grab Rafe. 

“It is when you’re hurting her!” Rafe shoved him hard against the wall, his rage igniting like an uncontrollable fire. 

The two men grappled, but Rafe had the upper hand. Though Luke tried to punch him, he was too drunk to be effective. Rafe eventually tackled him to the ground, pinning him down with one knee as he gasped for air. 

“If you touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Rafe snapped in a cold, deadly voice. 

Luke let out a bitter laugh, but didn’t get a chance to respond. Rafe dropped him on the ground, unconscious from one last blow, and turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice much softer now, though his eyes still glittered with fury.

You were shaking, leaning against the wall, tears rolling down your cheeks. You nodded weakly, but Rafe saw clearly that you weren’t okay. Without another word, he picked you up, ignoring your weak protests, and carried you to his truck.

“Rafe, you don’t have to do this…” you murmured, but your voice cracked.

“Yes, I do have to,” he replied, his jaw set as he carefully placed you in the passenger seat.

He drove straight to the hospital, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. When they arrived, Rafe insisted that you be checked out, and while the doctors made sure you had no serious injuries, Sheriff Shoupe arrived to take a report.

At first, you were reluctant to speak, but Rafe stayed by your side, holding your hand as you recounted what had happened. It was difficult, but every time you hesitated, Rafe looked at you with that mix of determination and tenderness that made you feel stronger.

Finally, Shoupe nodded, closing his notebook.

“We’ll do whatever it takes to keep Luke from bothering you again. I’ll send a team to arrest him right now.”

Rafe let out a sigh of relief, though he still seemed tense. He helped you out of the hospital, and when you finally climbed back into his truck, the silence between you was charged but comforting.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you murmured, barely audibly.

He turned his head toward you, his expression softening for the first time all night.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

The days following the incident at your house were a whirlwind. After Rafe’s intervention, you’d spent more time with him than ever before. Though you’d tried to reach out to the guys, you knew they were too busy with their obsession with gold to really pay attention. On the one hand, you felt guilty for keeping secrets from them, but on the other, it hurt that they weren’t there when you needed them most.

Rafe, on the other hand, wouldn’t leave your side. After what had happened with Luke, he’d insisted that you stay at one of the Cameron properties, a place where he knew you’d be safe. Though it was strange to depend on him, you also felt more protected than ever.

When the Pogues finally returned, they were quick to notice your absence. JJ was the first to raise his voice.

“Where’s my sister?” “He asked, his tone tense as he walked down the dock.

Sarah, who had spent the last few weeks feeling guilty for leaving you behind, tried to calm him down.

“Maybe she’s at home, JJ. We can’t assume the worst.”

“Oh no? What if something happened to her while we were away looking for useless treasure?” he snapped, pointing at her.

“Easy there, buddy,” John B chimed in. “Let’s go find her and see what’s going on.”

Without wasting any more time, the Pogues hopped in the Twinkie and headed straight to your house. But when they arrived, they found the front door taped shut and the place completely empty. The sight stunned them.

“What the hell happened here?” Kiara muttered, crossing her arms as she looked at the mess.

JJ, furious, started pounding on the door with his fist.

“This doesn’t make sense!”

Sarah was the first to notice that something was out of place. From her perspective, something about the mess and the police tapes seemed familiar.

“I think this has to do with Luke,” she said quietly, looking around.

“My father?” JJ turned to her. “If that bastard did anything to him, I’ll kill him with my own hands!”

John B tried to calm him down, but it was clear that everyone was just as worried. They didn’t know where you were, and uncertainty was eating away at them.

Hours later, it was Sarah who finally found you. You were with Rafe, on a remote beach, leaning against his chest as he held you protectively. The rest of the guys arrived shortly after, stopping dead in their tracks at the sight.

“What…?” JJ was the first to react, his shocked expression giving way to uncontrollable fury. “What the hell are you doing with him?”

You pulled away from Rafe quickly, but he stayed by your side, his gaze fixed on JJ with a mix of defiance and warning.

“JJ, I can explain,” you said, but your voice was shaking.

“Explain it?” Kiara interjected, her face a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “We’re looking for you everywhere and you just happen to be here, cuddling with him!”

“How could you betray us like that?” JJ snapped, taking a step towards you. “He’s a fucking bully, a psychopath!”

“Stop it!” Rafe raised his voice, and everyone glared at him with hatred. His jaw was set, his eyes shining with suppressed fury. “While you guys were too busy on your fucking treasure hunt, I was here saving your sister from your fucking father!”

The silence that followed was deafening. The Pogues stared at him as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“What?” JJ asked, his tone lower, but still filled with distrust.

“Luke,” you finally said, your voice cracking as you tried to find the words. Luke… he attacked me.

“If I hadn’t gotten there in time,” Rafe continued, his voice sharp. “If I hadn’t been there, your father would have killed her.”

JJ’s expression changed drastically. It went from anger to fear, and then to pain as he processed what Rafe had just said.

“That can’t be true,” he muttered.

“It’s true, JJ,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Rafe saved me.”

The rest of the Pogues fell silent, processing the truth. Kiara looked down, while John B placed a hand on JJ’s shoulder. Sarah, who already suspected as much, simply nodded regretfully.

Rafe looked at you for a moment before turning his attention back to them.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” he said firmly. “But I’m not going to apologize for protecting her.”

The air between you was thick with tension, but this time, it wasn’t hatred that filled the silence. The Pogues didn’t say anything else, but the glances they exchanged confirmed that, as much as they hated to admit it, Rafe was right.

In the days that followed, although no one said anything directly, you could feel their gazes shifting away whenever Rafe accompanied you or when they mentioned something that might have to do with you. There were no more accusations or confrontations, but there was no open acceptance either. It was as if they had decided to ignore the subject entirely, something you were grateful for even though it hurt a little.

Rafe, for his part, remained unwavering. Despite the judgment he knew he was receiving, he never let it push him away from you. If anything, he seemed more determined than ever to prove to you that you could fully trust him.

One afternoon, as you sat on the porch of the house where you were now staying, Rafe drove up in his truck. He got out with a paper bag in his hand and that crooked smile you knew all too well.

“What do you have there?” “You asked, putting aside the book you had been pretending to read.

“Surprise,” he replied, walking over to you with an air of mystery.

Rafe sat down next to you and pulled out two wrapped burgers and a box of fries from the bag.

“I thought you might want something other than canned food,” he joked as he handed you one of the burgers.

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a small gesture, but after everything that had happened, it meant a lot.

“You’re a hero,” you said with a smile before taking a bite of the burger.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking about anything but the Pogues or Luke. Rafe seemed determined to keep you away from any topic that might make you uncomfortable, and you appreciated that more than you could put into words.

A few days later, as you walked with Rafe along the beach, you unexpectedly ran into Sarah. She was alone, sitting on the sand with her gaze lost in the horizon. Seeing you, she raised her hand in a shy greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Rafe braced himself beside you, clearly prepared for an argument, but Sarah didn’t seem interested in fighting.

“I just wanted to tell you that…” he paused, looking first at you and then at his brother. “Thank you. For being there for her.”

Rafe looked taken aback for a moment, but then nodded.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied in a neutral tone.

Sarah looked at you, and for the first time in days, you thought there was some warmth in her eyes.

“We… the guys and I… shouldn’t have judged you. It’s just that…” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “We didn’t expect something like this to be happening while we were gone.”

“I understand,” you said, though there was still a small wound in your chest from how you had been treated at first.

“But if you’re happy with him… then it’s okay,” Sarah continued, looking at Rafe with a mix of wariness and resignation. “Just… take care of her, okay?”

Rafe smirked. “I plan to do that.”

After that encounter, things began to change. The Pogues didn’t mention your relationship with Rafe anymore, and while not everyone was completely comfortable with the situation, they realized it wasn’t something they could control.

JJ was still the most distant, though he avoided any sarcastic comments when you were with Rafe. John B and Kiara seemed more neutral, and Sarah, though torn, slowly began to accept that Rafe was an important part of your life now.

Even though you knew there were still tensions with the Pogues and that life on the Outer Banks would always be complicated, at that moment, you felt like everything was where it needed to be. With Rafe by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[natalievoncatte]

“What if we don’t go back yet?”

It was a peculiar question that Lena asked, but a compelling one. She was currently lying with Kara, or rather *on* Kara, after the Kryptonian caught her once again. Kara had slipped under as she fell and cushioned the fall with her invulnerable body, and they currently lay in the wreckage of a sailboat along the docks, the ruined and smashed vessel bobbing gently in the ocean.

“What do you mean?”

“Alex and the crew can get the guy,” said Lena.

She was referring to the second-rate wannabe villain that had tossed Lena off the roof as a ploy to distract Supergirl and cover his escape. It had worked, of course, with Kara abandoning her manhunt to catch Lena. As she always did. That was apparently why he kidnapped her in the first place instead of, who knows, maybe robbing banks in a town without a superhero.

It didn’t seem to matter much now. Kara was warm and had wrapped them both up in her cape, and Lena’s head lay pillowed on her shoulder. Kara curled around her, breathing gently into the crown of her head.

“Why wouldn’t we go back?”

“I’m tired,” Lena murmured, giving the words more truth than she meant to. She was tired, so tired. She could sleep for a thousand years here, lying with Kara.

This always went the same way. Kara would bear her to safety like a knight in shining armor and set her down and then she’d step back.

The contact would end.

It’s not like they never touched- they hugged and kissed each other on the cheek even, and Lena secretly treasured that, but it wasn’t enough. It was different when Kara rescued her.

If physical touch was Kara’s love language, the way she held Lena after a rescue was a kind of Freudian slip. These embraces were more, just more in a profound, indescribable way.

She was always so tender, after. She would sweep the hair from Lena’s eyes and just touch her for the sake of it, running the pad of her thumb along Lena’s jawline or hugging her extra tight, extra close, fearful and yet utterly fearless.

Much as she was holding Lena now.

“I know,” Kara whispered.

She did know. If there was anyone truly in tune with her needs, it was Kara. Kara cared, so fully, so deeply, so recklessly that Lena could barely understand it, and scarcely believe it.

“I want to stay here with you.”

Kara tensed slightly, throat bobbing as she swallows and her breath caught.

“What I want more than anything is just time to be us,” Lena said, very softly. “You and me. No company, no DEO, no adventures, no crises. I could just lay with you here forever.”

Kara was quiet, gently working her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“I’ve thought about things like that.”

“What sort of things?”

She was quiet for too long a beat, then said, “just us being us, alone. No game night, no movie night, no brunch, no Noonan’s, just this. Just you and me and… and relaxing.”

“Cuddling, you mean.”

Kara shifted herself, gave Lena a little squeeze.

“I don’t want to go either. I don’t want to let go of you.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked at Kara, at her golden hair fanned out around her head and her questioning blue eyes.

“So don’t.”

Gently, carefully, Lena freed an arm and rested a palm against Kara’s cheek. Her skin was always so warm, so lusciously soft. Kara was watching her intently, eyes searching.

“I think it’s customary, after the brave her saves the girl, that the hero gets a kiss.”

Kara tensed, clearly nervous. It was the most adorable thing Lena had ever seen.

She kissed her.

Kara was stone still at first, barely responding, then something seemed to awaken in her and she kissed Lena back, intensely. Lena was a little shocked at the sudden way Kara almost seemed to lunge into her, how her hands suddenly moved and she took Lena by the hips.

It was amazing. Her heart fluttered and her head was swinging and she felt a cold shock-

“Kara! The boat is sinking!”

With the most annoyed sigh, Kara stood and lifted Lena into a bridal carry. Water was gurgling up around them.

“Alex is going to kill me,” said Kara.

“Alex can wait,” said Lena. “Take me home.”

[iichfilwypj]

loved | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of ares! reader ღ warnings: hurt/comfort! (for the ones that are so so angry) ღ wc: 720 this is clearly about me guys

“Percy, you don’t understand!” 

Her shouts shattered the silence of the forest; the birds seemed to have fled the moment they arrived, and the forest nymphs hid within their trees, unwilling to get involved.

“You’re right!” His voice was edged with frustration and anger as he followed her, but instead of looking threatening, he looked almost pitiable. "I don’t!"

There was a raw, painful gleam in his eyes, one she chose to ignore -although it proved her point.

“Why can’t you talk to me? Tell me what is wrong, please.” He begged. “I love you.”

No. 

Not those words. 

They were precisely the ones she didn’t want to hear. 

The weight they pressed onto her chest was overwhelming, and she didn’t think she could bear it any longer. 

He was the sweetest and kindest boy in camp, effortlessly funny and charming with everyone –how could someone like him love someone like her?

“That’s the thing.” Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, crescent-shaped marks forming in her palms. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stopped to turn toward him. “You can’t love me!” 

And he flinched. He fucking flinched at her.

But she didn’t care.

“I’m mean! I’m mean, and violent, and aggressive. I’m insecure, quiet, narcissistic. I have anger issues, stupids outbursts, I curse all the fucking the time! I’m not-” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger boiling inside her.

She was unlovable.

“Percy, I can’t make you happy. I don’t know how you expect this-” She gestured toward the space between them, which seemed to close with each tentative step he took. “-to work, I am not good for y-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” 

Now it was her turn to flinch as he stepped closer, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly. 

He was staring into her eyes as if he could see right through her, peeling back her defenses to uncover the truth she kept hidden –something she sensed he had been doing for far too long. 

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me or not.”

She could only stay silent.

What else could she do with that sight in front of her? A sight that wasn’t made for her, that felt so foreign for her.  

Those green eyes looked at her with a love she was sure she didn’t deserve, and those hands brushed against her skin as if they could see something good within her that she had buried.

“I know you, and I know how you feel. Like you don’t deserve the good things that happen to you, like you’re not good enough, like you’re a burden in everyone else’s life." One of his hands moved to cup her cheek. "Like you are a bad person.” 

She almost laughed; well, he was really laying bare her entire life with his words. 

“I don’t know who made you think all of that, but please, I’m begging you, don’t believe them.”

“That's the thing,” Percy leaned closer to her to show he was paying attention, but it was almost impossible to get any closer. “No one said anything; I just know it.”

As she closed her eyes, he observed her. Before him stood his favorite person in the world, unraveling before his eyes.

And he couldn’t stand to see it happen.

“You are the purest person in the whole world. From the first moment I saw you, I was wrapped around your finger. My mother is tired of hearing your name, my room is fed up with me sprawled out, holding your photo, and my mind is consumed by thoughts of you –there is no space for anything else. ” 

The words flowed from his lips as if they were the most natural thing in the world, and the effect they had on her was overwhelming.

She felt the boy’s hands on her face, gently wiping away the tears she didn't know were there –he knew how much she hated being seen while crying.

When she finally dared to open her eyes, something clicked inside her as she was met with the prettiest shade of green.

She had never felt this way in her life, so free, so safe.

And despite the fear swirling within her, she wanted to try –to try with him.

“You are not mean, you are not a bad person, you are not something that is wrong."

His hands were so, so soft on her cheeks that she could've died.

But she didn't; she felt more alive than ever.

"You live, you act and you feel so, so much. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved, you have to be you. That would be enough for me.” She smiled at him, momentarily at a loss for words.

In response, she leaned in closer, pressing a soft, salty kiss to his lips. 

And she felt like she deserved it, like it was meant to happen. And maybe it was.

She felt so, so loved.

hi!! this is how i feel daily lately and i am so scared of telling someone! but i hope you like it!

[diamonddaze01]

hi tara! if the prompt already hasnt been asked for, can i request 86 "Please just leave." with mingyu? thank you <3333 reading all the drabbles now hahahah

silence, at its loudest

pairing: mingyu x reader | wc: 1.1k prompt: "Please just leave." au: chef!mingyu | warnings: angst! and tears a/n: TIYA HELLO! thank you for this req it was so sad to write but i hope you love <3

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet for a fight. No music playing in the background, no rain against the windows to soften the edges of your words—just silence, heavy and dense, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Mingyu stood in the center of the living room, his coat still damp from the storm outside, water dripping from the fabric, leaving a faint puddle at his feet. His tall frame seemed out of place here, as if it didn’t belong in this small space, weighed down by the tension between you both.

You were perched on the couch, arms crossed tightly, a defensive shield you knew wouldn’t protect you from the pain of this conversation. You wanted to retreat into the softness of the cushions, to sink away from him, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t look away, even as your chest tightened and the cold of the room seeped deeper into your skin.

“I don’t even understand what I did wrong!” His voice cracked, frustration and confusion lacing his words. He ran a hand through his damp hair, as if trying to shake the tension out of his mind. “I—I’m here, aren’t I? Why is that never enough for you?”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your throat, but you didn’t back down. You couldn’t. The words you’d been holding back for so long finally broke free, raw and cutting. “It’s not just about you being here, Mingyu. It’s when you decide to show up. You don’t get to keep ignoring me until I’ve hit my limit, then think you can fix everything by standing in my living room and saying you care.”

He took a step forward, but his eyes were desperate, pleading for some sign that you still cared, that there was something left of the person he used to know. “I don’t understand. I’ve been working—working to build something, something for us! And when I’m finally here, you still—”

“You’re always working, Mingyu!” Your voice cracked under the weight of the frustration that had been building for months, maybe longer. “When was the last time you didn’t have your phone on you? When was the last time you didn’t cancel on me because ‘the restaurant’s short-staffed,’ or you just need to finish one last thing?” Your breath came out in short, shaky bursts. “You didn’t even call me back when you knew it was my birthday. That’s what hurts the most.”

The words hit him like a blow, a quick intake of air following the realization. His expression faltered, the first cracks appearing in his armor. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you didn’t mean to,” you interrupted, voice soft but heavy with disappointment. “But it keeps happening, Mingyu. You keep doing it. You keep saying it’s not intentional, and then you walk through the door like everything’s fine, like you haven’t been neglecting me for weeks.”

He froze. The tension between you thickened, hanging in the air like smoke that wouldn’t dissipate. “I wasn’t ignoring you, okay? I was just trying to... I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d—”

“No, you didn’t think, Mingyu. You assumed,” you said, bitterness seeping into every syllable. “You assumed I’d be fine with it. You assumed I’d be okay with the empty promises, the unreturned messages, the way you disappear whenever things get hard. But I’m not fine. And I’m so tired of pretending that I am.”

His hands shook as he stepped toward you again, his voice breaking with a softness you hadn’t heard in months. “I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. But I’m here now. Let me make it right. I’ll... I’ll stay. I’ll be here for you. I’ll make things better.”

You shook your head, stepping back, distancing yourself both physically and emotionally. “That’s the problem, Mingyu. You think that just showing up, just being here in front of me, is enough to make everything better. But it’s not. It’s too late for that. I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the boy you fell for peeked through the cracks. The one who used to wait outside your office just to walk you home, who stayed up late to hear every mundane detail of your day, who never left you wondering where he was or if he cared. That version of him felt like a distant memory now, buried beneath layers of missed calls, broken promises, and unspoken words.

You could see it in his face—the hurt, the regret—but the distance between you both felt too wide to cross anymore. “Please... Don’t do this,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice raw with emotion. “I need you. I need us.”

You swallowed, your throat tight with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. “I can’t keep waiting for you to care when you decide it’s convenient for you, Mingyu. I can’t keep putting myself through this. I can’t keep pretending that it’s enough just because you’re here when it suits you.”

The silence stretched between you both, suffocating and heavy. His hand reached out, fingers trembling as if he wanted to hold you, to make things right, but he stopped himself. He knew, deep down, that it was too late. That the bridge between you had already collapsed, one small misstep at a time, until there was nothing left to salvage.

“Please just leave,” you said quietly, the words slipping from your lips like they didn’t even belong to you. They were heavy, final, like the last breath of something you once held dear.

His breath hitched, his chest tightening, but you didn’t look away. You couldn’t look away from the wreckage that was left between you both, and you knew that leaving now was the only way to preserve whatever was left of yourself.

He stood frozen, his hand still on the doorknob, his body shaking like he was fighting to say something, anything, to change the course of what was happening. But the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing left to say. The silence stretched until it became deafening.

With one last look, he stepped out, the door closing softly behind him. You stood there, motionless, listening to the sound of his footsteps fade away into the distance, swallowed by the rain and the night.

The apartment was cold now, emptier than it had ever been, the silence louder than any argument. And when you finally exhaled, it was like the breath you’d been holding for so long had escaped—too late, but finally out.

But the ache in your chest remained.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[m4rv3l-girl]

Could you do a request based off this song

https://youtu.be/8ofCZObsnOo?si=yGD6SMOL25REbasf

Like it's bucky pov about finding the reader hiding a serious injury after a mission and passing out in the bathroom with the door locked

I need major angst then super fluffy Ending🙏

Hold On

Bucky x Y/N

Warnings: Angst. Injury. Mentions of violence. Blood. Super fluffy ending. 😉

The quinjet’s hum was steady, almost comforting, as Bucky slumped into the seat across from Y/N. His eyes were drawn to her like a magnet. She sat stiffly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring blankly at the wall as if lost in thought. Normally, she’d be cracking jokes with Sam or recounting some detail of the mission. Tonight, though, she was silent.

Bucky frowned.

“You okay, Doll?” he asked softly, keeping his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N blinked, startled by his voice. For a second, her expression softened, the corners of her lips tugging upward in a weak smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but it wasn’t the truth either.

Bucky’s frown deepened. He studied her face—the way her skin seemed paler than usual, the tightness around her eyes. His gaze dropped to her hands, noticing how her fingers twitched slightly, almost like she was fighting to keep them steady.

“You sure?” he pressed. “You don’t look—”

“I said I’m fine, Bucky.” Her tone wasn’t sharp, but it was firm enough to make him pause.

Bucky leaned back, his jaw tightening as he nodded. “Alright. If you say so.”

The rest of the ride passed in tense silence.

By the time the quinjet touched down, Y/N was the first to unbuckle and make a beeline for the exit. Bucky followed, watching her retreating figure with growing unease.

She was limping—subtle, but there. His enhanced senses caught the slight drag of her right foot, the tension in her posture as though she was bracing against pain.

Still, she didn’t say a word.

“Y/N, wait up,” he called, his long strides easily catching up with her.

She stopped but didn’t turn to face him. “I just need a shower and some sleep, Buck. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The words felt final, a wall thrown up between them. Before he could argue, she slipped inside her room and closed the door softly behind her.

Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. A knot of worry twisted in his chest, but he forced himself to respect her space. If she wanted to talk, she’d come to him—right?

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Inside her room, Y/N leaned heavily against the door, her breaths shallow and uneven. The adrenaline that had kept her upright on the mission was gone now, leaving behind searing pain radiating from her side.

When she reached the mirror, she caught sight of herself—pale, gaunt, and shaking. Her hand trembled as she gripped the hem of her shirt, pulling it up just enough to expose the wound.

The gash was deep, running diagonally across her right side. The edges of the cut were jagged, torn by shrapnel rather than a clean blade, and blood oozed steadily from the open flesh. A makeshift bandage she'd tied during the mission was soaked through, crimson seeping into the fabric and dripping sluggishly down her side to pool on the tiled floor.

“Shit,” she hissed through clenched teeth, her head spinning. The room seemed to tilt and blur as she fumbled for the first aid kit.

She tore open a packet of antiseptic wipes, her fingers clumsy and slick with blood. When she pressed the wipe to the wound, a whimper escaped her lips, the searing pain like fire licking at her nerves.

“I can do this,” she muttered, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet.

Blood continued to flow, the bright red mingling with the darker, dried streaks on her skin. The sight made her stomach churn, but she bit down on her lip, determined to clean and close the wound herself.

But her body had other plans. As she reached for the bandages, her vision tunneled, black spots dancing before her eyes. The world spun violently, and her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the floor.

Her head struck the cold tiles, and for a brief moment, everything went still. Blood seeped from the wound in a slow, relentless trickle, pooling around her as her body lay limp and unmoving.

She knew she should have told Bucky, or at least let the medics on the jet take a look. But the thought of admitting she couldn’t handle it, of being a burden, made her stomach churn.

She didn’t want him to hear.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He paced his own room, running a hand through his hair as his mind replayed every moment of the mission. Y/N had been reckless—throwing herself into the thick of the fight, taking risks she normally wouldn’t.

And now, the way she’d brushed him off...

He stopped, listening carefully. His enhanced hearing picked up faint sounds coming from her room—a muffled groan, the clatter of something hitting the floor.

His stomach dropped.

“Y/N?” He was at her door in seconds, knocking firmly. “Y/N, you okay in there?”

No response.

“Doll, open the door.” His voice was sharper now, edged with fear.

Still nothing.

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor was the last straw. Bucky’s heart pounded as he threw his weight against the door, the lock giving way under his strength.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Y/N was crumpled on the bathroom floor, her shirt stained red with blood. The first aid kit lay scattered around her, its contents unused. Blood was everywhere—on her shirt, smeared across her fingers, and pooling around her side where the wound continued to bleed. It wasn’t a slow trickle anymore but a steady, terrifying flow that made his heart stop beating.

“Y/N!”

Bucky dropped to his knees beside her, his metal hand gently brushing her hair away from her face. She was pale, her breathing shallow, her lips tinged blue.

“No, no, no. Come on, Doll, keep your eyes open for me.” His voice cracked as he pressed his Vibranium hand against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

Her eyelids fluttered, a weak groan escaping her lips.

“Buck... don’t...,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t what? Save you?” His laugh was bitter, panicked. “You’re bleeding out, and you want me to not help? What the hell were you thinking?”

Tears blurred his vision as he worked, his hands trembling. He couldn’t lose her.

“Hold on for me, okay? Just hold on.”

He grabbed his phone with his free hand, calling Sam.

“I need help. Now,” he barked into the phone, rattling off their location.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as Bucky carried Y/N from her room to the medical wing. His steps were quick but measured, careful not to jostle her more than necessary. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and her breathing was so faint it was barely perceptible.

“Stay with me, Doll,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with fear. “You don’t get to do this to me. You hear me?”

He reached the med bay just as Sam burst through the door, his expression shifting from confusion to horror in an instant.

“What happened?” Sam demanded, rushing to help as Bucky laid Y/N gently on the exam table.

“She hid it,” Bucky growled, his jaw clenched. “She got hurt on the mission and didn’t say a damn thing.”

Sam swore under his breath, grabbing gloves and supplies. “Alright, let’s stop the bleeding first. Get me that gauze!”

Bucky moved without thinking, his hands steady even though his mind was a storm of panic. He handed Sam what he needed, stepping back only when absolutely necessary.

As Sam worked, Bucky’s eyes never left Y/N’s face. Her lips moved weakly, forming words he couldn’t quite hear.

“Doll?” He leaned closer, his metal hand brushing against hers. “I’m right here.”

Her eyelids fluttered open just a fraction, and she looked at him through the haze of pain. “Bucky... I’m sorry.”

His chest tightened painfully. “No, don’t you dare apologize. Just focus on staying awake, okay? You can yell at me later if you want, but you’re not leaving me. Not like this.”

Hours passed before Sam finally turned to him with a relieved sigh. “She’ll be okay,” he said, clapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She lost a lot of blood, but we got it under control. She just needs rest.”

Bucky nodded, the tension in his body easing only slightly. He sank into the chair beside Y/N’s bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he dropped his head into his hands.

Guilt gnawed at him like a living thing. How hadn’t he noticed sooner? He’d seen the way she limped, the way she avoided his gaze. He should have pushed harder, should have made her tell him the truth.

“Bucky.”

Her voice was hoarse, but it snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see her eyes open, glassy but focused on him.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his relief palpable. He reached for her hand, holding it gently between his own.

She smiled weakly. “You look terrible.”

A choked laugh escaped him, half amusement, half tears. “You’re one to talk, Doll. Scared the hell out of me.”

Her smile faded as her gaze dropped to their intertwined hands. “I didn’t want to worry you. Or the team.”

“Worry me?” His voice rose, but he quickly softened it when she flinched. “Y/N, you almost died. Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to me?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned her head away. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Bucky’s heart broke at the words. He cupped her face gently, turning her to look at him.

“You could never be a burden,” he said firmly. “You’re my world, Doll. I need you to promise me something—no more hiding. No matter how bad it is, you tell me. Okay?”

Her tears spilled over as she nodded. “Okay.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The following days were a blur of soft words and quiet moments. Bucky barely left Y/N’s side, fussing over her despite her protests.

“Bucky, I’m fine,” she insisted as he hovered, adjusting the pillows around her for the third time that day.

“Humor me,” he said with a small smile, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Y/N sighed, but the soft smile tugging at her lips betrayed her protests. “You’re hovering, you know that?” she teased, though her voice was still a little raspy.

“Damn right I’m hovering,” he shot back, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “I almost lost you, Doll. I’m entitled to a little hovering.”

She tilted her head, her eyes softening as she studied him. The crease between his brows hadn’t quite smoothed out, and there was still a flicker of worry in his blue eyes. “You look more stressed than I do,” she murmured.

“Well, you gave me a few new gray hairs,” he quipped, though his smile widened.

Y/N reached up, resting her hand against his cheek. “I’m okay, Buck. You don’t have to keep treating me like I’m made of glass.”

His gaze softened, and he leaned into her touch. “You’re not made of glass, but you’re my Doll. And I don’t care how strong you are—I’m always gonna take care of you.”

The words hung between them, warm and reassuring. Y/N chuckled, her voice light but affectionate. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

“That’s right,” he said, his tone mock-stern. “Now, lay back and let me spoil you a little. I’ll even make you soup later—though I make no promises it’ll taste like Sam’s.”

She laughed, a sound that made his chest ache in the best way. “If it’s terrible, I’ll let you know,” she teased.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a grin as he leaned down to kiss her forehead again, lingering just a moment longer this time. “You’d better,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t want you hiding anything from me ever again.”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “No more hiding. I promise.”

“Good,” he said, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. “Now, get some rest, Kitten. You’ve got a whole lot of recovery ahead, and I’m not letting you skip a single step.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, a contented sigh escaping her lips. For the first time in days, the weight of guilt and worry lifted, replaced by a warm, comforting certainty. With Bucky beside her, she knew she’d be 

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

As she recovered, the weight of what happened began to lift, replaced by something lighter, something hopeful.

One evening, as they sat curled up on the couch, Y/N rested her head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her voice tinged with emotion.

Bucky wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. “You deserve the world, Doll. And I’m gonna spend all of my life proving it to you.”

——————————————————————————————————

Hi anonymous reader! I found this really interesting to write because I have a Bucky playlist (Yes, I’m that obsessed) and this song is on it! So, I hope you think this captured the vibe like I thought it did, and enjoy. 🫶

Requests Open!

[cmdrfupa]

Season of the Harvest

Toji Fushiguro

Old man Toji. My favorite seasons. I am letting the Toeji sentimentals flow. Thank you for reading 🫶🏾💞

The sun was still bright, but it hung lower now, its warmth fleeting like a hand slipping away in a crowd. The air had changed—subtle at first, just a crispness that crept into the evenings. By midday, it was still warm, almost deceptive, but the body knew.

Toji’s body prepared in ways too quiet to notice: a tensing of muscles, instinctively eating more to prepare for the impending change of weather. A slower stretch in the morning, a craving for heavier fabrics and sturdier boots. Summer tried its lingering act, stubborn and golden, but autumn had already staked its claim.

Always standing tall, unyielding, even as the inevitable loomed. His strength was palpable, the kind that made you think of high noon in July, where nothing dared to challenge the heat. But like the seasons, strength wasn’t eternal. It ebbed, shifted, dissolved into something else.

Toji didn’t fear the cold, not in the way others did. He welcomed it. The ache in his bones after a fight was a quiet kind of proof. A not so gentle reminder that he had lived through more storms than most.

Like the turning leaves, his body betrayed him in flashes: bruises that lingered longer than they should, the sharp tug of scar tissue when he moved too quickly. He carried the cold within him, even when the air still smelled like sunburnt grass.

The first real bite of autumn came late in the day. The sun had dipped beneath the rooftops, leaving behind only a smudge of orange on the horizon. Toji let out a breath, watching as it curled into the air, faint but visible now. The chill seeped into his jacket and pressed against his skin. He stood there for a moment, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze tracing the line of the trees—half-bare now, leaves scattered like forgotten promises across the pavement.

He wasn’t sentimental about the change. Nature didn’t waste time mourning what it lost, and neither did he.

You lived, you endured, and when the frost came, you kept moving. But there was something in the stillness of it all that caught him off guard. It wasn’t the cold itself, but the way it settled into him, deeper than any fight or scar ever had.

By the time he stepped through the door, the warmth of your home wrapped around him like a second skin. It smelled of tea, faintly sweet and spiced, and something else—something you’d made earlier, though the scent was faint now. He stopped in the doorway for a moment, letting the quiet fill the space between breaths.

You looked up from the couch, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and smiled. “Cold out there?”

He nodded, setting his boots neatly by the door. His movements were slower now, not from weariness but from the kind of ease that only came with being home.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low but without the rough edge it usually carried. “But it’s not bad. Not really.”

You tilted your head, watching him as he crossed the room. He rubbed his hands together absently, as if chasing the last bit of cold from his skin.

“I thought you hated winter,” you muttered, teasing.

He smirked, sinking onto the couch beside you. The cushion dipped slightly under his weight, and when you shifted to make room, his arm moved easily around your shoulders, drawing you closer. His lips cold, leaving a soft peck on your temple.

“It’s not winter yet,” he replied. “And even if it was... it’s not all bad now.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Really?”

He shrugged, his gaze distant for a moment. “The cold’s... honest, I guess. Doesn’t hide what it is. Makes you pay attention to the small things. Like this,” He gestured faintly at the blanket, the warmth between you growing as he settled under the worn quilt. “You feel it more when it’s cold.”

Toji leaned back into the couch, letting out a soft sigh as you pulled the blanket over both of you. The weight of the day seemed to settle into him, his body naturally finding the rhythm of home—slow, steady, unguarded. You nestled closer, your fingers absently tracing the edge of his sleeve, enjoying the quiet between you.

But then he shifted, almost uncomfortably, his hand brushing over the hem of his sweater. His movements weren’t the usual lazy kind he’d make when settling in, and you noticed the furrow in his brow as he tugged at the fabric around his torso.

“Something wrong?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, his fingers still resting on the hem. “Feels tighter,” he muttered, his tone low and almost begrudging.

“What does?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely at himself. He pulled at his sweater again, frowning. “Sweaters didn’t fit like this last year.”

There it was. The quiet admission. You tilted your head, studying him as he sank deeper into the cushions, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. Toji wasn’t a man who often cared about appearances—at least, not outwardly. But the way he avoided your touch now, his usual confidence slipping just a bit, told you this was bothering him more than he’d admit.

You suppressed a smile, knowing better than to tease outright. “Oh, so you’re bulking up for the winter?” you asked lightly, your tone warm and teasing but far from mocking.

His jaw tightened, and he gave a small shrug. “It’s not intentional. Just happens, I guess. Fewer jobs that keep me moving, more food... and running the butcher shop keeps me busy but not enough.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Not really ideal.”

“Not ideal?” you repeated, your voice softening. “Why not?”

He shot you a quick glance, his expression carefully neutral, but you could see the faint frustration behind it. “Feels different. Like I’m slowing down.”

You reached up, placing a hand on his chest. “And here I thought you were just getting extra insulated for me,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

His eyes narrowed slightly, though the twitch of a smile betrayed him. “Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, you’re still ridiculously strong. I can’t even open half the jars you close, so I think we’re fine.”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Okay, fine,” you said, grinning. “Intimidatingly strong. Like a bear preparing for hibernation. So cozy, but still oh so terrifying if you cross him.”

This time, the laugh that escaped him was louder, a low rumble that sent warmth blooming in your chest. He leaned his head back against the couch, a hand coming up to cover his face for a moment. “A bear,” he repeated, shaking his head again.

“Exactly,” you said, scooting closer. “I mean, it’s practical. You’re preparing for the cold. Plus, you look good.”

He dropped his hand, his gaze flicking to yours. “Yeah?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” you said, your expression softening. “You’ve got that rugged, ‘I can chop wood and build a fire with my bare hands’ kind of look. Winter suits you.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a quiet chuckle, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You’re full of it,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward again.

You leaned forward too, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing against your hair. “Doesn’t bother you? That I’m...” He paused, searching for the word. “Bigger?”

You looked down at yourself, laughing then looking at him. “Not even a little,” you said without hesitation. “If anything, I think it suits you. And, let’s be real, you’re basically my personal heater right now. I’m not complaining.”

Toji let out another soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch, taking you with him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as the blanket shifted to cover you both.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost shy.

“And you’re perfect,” you replied easily, resting a hand against his chest again. “Winter bulk and all.”

Outside, the wind rattled the windows, but neither of you noticed. Wrapped in warmth, humor, and each other, the encroaching winter didn’t seem so daunting after all.

His movements were becoming slower now, deliberate. You could see it in the way he shifted his weight, how he flexed his fingers like he was trying to wake them up before his workouts.

But summers’ past and winters creeping in. More years behind than ahead.

So for now he enjoys the warmth you share. His body thankful for the slow pace he finally gave himself with you at his side.

[greengoblinswifey]

we desperately need more sub!nicholas please like not even inexperienced just maybe you punishing him (sexually) for staying out late or flirting with another girl in front of you 😁

summary— you punish nicholas for coming home late in the best way possible.

warnings— pure smut, sub!nicholas, bondage, hand job, degradation, praise kink, edging, overstimulation, face sitting, gagging, use of sex toys, protected sex.

a/n— i love dom!nicholas but sub!nicholas awakens something in me🤭

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It had started earlier in the day, when he mentioned he had an interview scheduled with his female co-star for GQ. Of course, you’d played it cool, brushing off that familiar pang of irritation you always felt when he worked closely with women in the industry. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, you trusted him. Nicholas had never given you a reason not to. He was as sweet as they came, always coming home to you with stories of his day, his eyes lighting up like a kid showing off a drawing they made. He adored you, and you knew that.

But you also knew how these things could go. The media was relentless, pairing him with every beautiful actress he worked with, spinning stories of secret romances and undeniable chemistry. You’d roll your eyes when you saw the headlines, but deep down, it always left a bitter taste. You hated how they tried to chip away at the image of your Nicholas, the loyal, goofy, golden boy who brought you coffee in bed and left love notes on the bathroom mirror.

Still, you’d let it go this morning. It was part of the job, you reminded yourself. Nicholas had kissed you on the forehead before he left, promising he’d be back by evening. “I’ll order you take out and we can watch a movie,” grinning like the whole world started and ended with you.

But evening came and went, and your sweet Nicholas was nowhere to be found.

At first, you’d been concerned. This wasn’t like him, he always checked in, even if he was running late. But as the hours ticked by with no texts or calls, concern gave way to frustration. You checked your phone repeatedly, half-expecting it to buzz with an explanation, but it remained silent.

By the time the clock struck midnight, your patience had worn thin. He’d better have a damn good excuse, you thought, sitting on the bed in nothing but your lingerie. You weren’t usually one to go full dominatrix, to an extent, yes, but tonight? Oh, tonight Nicholas was going to learn that you weren’t someone to take lightly.

Nicholas knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the house. The stillness in the air was off, almost as if it had been waiting for him to walk through the door. He dropped his bag near the entrance and hesitated before heading toward the bedroom, his heart hammering. He already knew you’d be upset—of course, you would. He’d said he’d be home hours ago, and not even a text had been sent to you. That wasn’t like him, and he knew better than to leave you hanging.

As he pushed the bedroom door open, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but a black lace set of lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated your skin, and his eyes darted to the items laid beside you—a roll of tape and a pair of handcuffs. Nicholas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he realized just how much trouble he was in.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice dripping with controlled irritation.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and then at you. “Uh, it’s—“

You cut him off sharply. “I didn’t ask what time it was. What time you were supposed to be home?”

“Seven,” he mumbled, his voice sheepish. He looked like a boy caught sneaking out past curfew.

“And what time is it now?” you asked, tilting your head as if daring him to lie.

“M- midnight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He already knew where this was headed.

“And why the fuck,” you began, your tone firm and unyielding, "are you just now walking through the door?"

He stuttered, fumbling for an explanation. “I—I lost track of time. There was an after-party, and, uh”

“I don’t give a fuck about your after-party,” you snapped, rising from the bed. Your presence was commanding, and Nicholas froze as you walked toward him. “You think you can just waltz in here hours late without a text or a call and everything will be fine? Do you know how worried I was? And did you forget my rules?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in desperation. “I really didn’t mean to—“

“Save it,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t get to apologize and think that fixes it. You’re getting punished tonight.”

Nicholas’ eyes widened, flicking nervously to the handcuffs on the bed. He wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified—or maybe both. “Punished?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you said simply, stepping closer until you were inches away from him. “You need to learn to respect my time. Do you understand me?”

He nodded quickly, his golden retriever-like obedience shining through even now. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” you said, your lips curving into a wicked smile. You reached for the tape and handcuffs, holding them up for emphasis. “Now, be a good boy and do exactly as I say.”

Nicholas’ breath hitched, and he gave a slight, nervous chuckle. “You’re really mad, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He immediately shook his head. “No ma’am. No, you don’t.”

“Then shut up and get on the bed,” you commanded, your voice firm but teasing. He obeyed without hesitation, stripping himself of his clothes, knowing full well he’d walked right into this.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m all yours.”

And tonight, you intended to make sure he remembered that.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking nervously between the handcuffs in your hand and your face, which held an expression he couldn’t quite read. You didn’t give him much time to think about it, though, you pushed him back, flat against the mattress, and before he could say a word, his wrists were locked in place, cuffed to the headboard.

He tugged at the restraints instinctively, testing their strength, but it was no use. His hands were pinned, leaving him completely at your mercy. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling as he looked up at you, his eyes momentarily replaced with something more vulnerable.

“You look scared, Nicholas,” you teased, leaning down just enough to let your hair brush against his flushed face. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little punishment.”

“I— I’m not,” he stammered, though the way his Adam's apple bobbed suggested otherwise.

“Good,” you said, straightening up. “Because the least you can do is make me feel good after keeping me waiting all night. And don’t even think about touching me. You’ve lost that privilege.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he nodded. “Of course. Anything for you.”

You climbed onto the bed, your knees straddling his chest as you moved up, slowly and deliberately. His eyes tracked your every movement, dark with anticipation. By the time you hovered over him, his breaths were coming out in short, uneven bursts.

“Don’t disappoint me, Nicholas,” you said, gripping the headboard for balance as you lowered yourself onto his mouth. His reaction was immediate, a muffled groan that sent a shiver up your spine as his tongue began to work.

He didn’t hesitate, his mouth moving against you like a man starved. The way he devoured you was almost frantic, his tongue lapping and flicking as though he were trying to prove himself worthy of redemption.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding. “You’d better make me cum, or you’re really not going to like what happens next.”

He whimpered in response, a muffled sound that only spurred you on. His efforts grew more fervent, his tongue moving in rhythm as you tightened your grip on the headboard, your knuckles turning white.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice sharp. “You’re supposed to be my good boy, but you’re making me wait to cum.”

His muffled protests only made you smirk, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Finally, the pressure built to a breaking point, and your orgasm overtook you, leaving you breathless as your body trembled. Nicholas slowed down but didn’t stop, his tongue gentle now, coaxing every last ounce of satisfaction from you.

When you finally pulled away, his face was flushed, his lips parted and glistening as he looked up at you. “Was I—was I your good boy?” he asked, his voice hoarse, almost pleading.

You laughed, a short, sharp sound that made him flinch. “You think one good deed is enough to make up for tonight?”

He blinked up at you, unsure whether to answer.

“Nice try,” you said, leaning down to press a finger to his lips.

You moved down his body slowly, watching as his chest rose and fell, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. His arousal was painfully obvious, cock hard, standing at attention, twitching with need. It almost looked unbearable, and the sight made you smirk.

Your fingers grazed the tip, soft and teasing, and he flinched, his whole body tensing as he let out a shaky exhale. His hands strained against the handcuffs, the metal clinking against the bedpost.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice tight, almost breaking. “Please, just—just put it in your mouth.”

You laughed, a low, mocking sound that made his face flush deeper. “Put it in my mouth?” you repeated, tilting your head as though the suggestion was absurd. “You don’t get to demand anything, Nicholas. Have you forgotten where you are right now?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t demanding,” he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in his desperation.

“You’re talking too much,” you said, reaching for the roll of tape on the bed. His eyes widened as he realized your intention, but he didn’t dare protest. The second you placed the tape over his mouth, his muffled whimper made your smile widen. “That’s better.”

You let your fingers trail back down, brushing over his dick with deliberate slowness. His hips jerked involuntarily, a muffled groan escaping through the tape. You wrapped your hand around him, squeezing just enough to make him shiver, and started moving—slow, teasing strokes that barely gave him relief.

It didn’t take long for him to unravel. His breathing hitched, his head pressed back into the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut. His thighs trembled under your touch, and his muffled sounds became more frantic as you worked your hand on his thick cock.

“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” you said, your tone dripping with amusement as you let your thumb brush over the sensitive tip. He twitched under your touch, leaking and red, his body betraying just how badly he needed release.

Nicholas whimpered, his hands thrashing against the restraints, his whole body straining. His muffled noises were growing louder, more desperate, and you could tell he was close. His legs were trembling, his hips lifting slightly as though chasing your hand, and then, you stopped.

His muffled groan was almost a scream as his hips fell back against the bed. His protests were incoherent, his head turning to look at you with wide, pleading eyes. His face was flushed, a deep red spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, and he looked so utterly wrecked that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, sitting back on your heels as he writhed beneath you. “Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?”

He groaned again, his frustration clear even through the tape, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Don’t worry,” you murmured. “We’ve got all night.”

Leaning over to the side table, you retrieved a small vibrator, holding it up for him to see. His eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly, his muffled protests intensifying. You chuckled, running your fingers lightly over the toy, switching it on so it buzzed softly in your hand.

“Oh, don’t act so scared, baby,” you teased, trailing the buzzing tip along his inner thigh. His body jolted at the sensation, a strangled whimper escaping him. “You wanted this. Didn’t you just beg me to make you feel good?”

He shook his head furiously, his muffled words barely audible, and you laughed at his pitiful attempt to escape. “No? Then what’s this?” You let the vibrator skim over his shaft, just for a second, and he groaned loudly, his hips bucking toward the sensation before you pulled it away.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice soft but taunting. “So needy. So desperate. I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already falling apart.”

Nicholas’ legs shook as you teased him, running the vibrator up and down his shaft in the lightest, most maddening touches. His head thrashed against the pillow, muffled groans and high-pitched whimpers spilling out of him. His whole body trembled, his hips involuntarily jerking toward you, but you didn’t give him what he wanted.

“Stay still,” you ordered sharply, and he froze, his body tense as though trying to obey. You rewarded him by pressing the vibrator against the sensitive tip, holding it there for just a moment. His muffled cry was loud, his back arching as his hands clenched into fists above his head.

“You’re such a mess,” you murmured, dragging the toy down to the base and back up again, keeping the pressure light. “So greedy for it. You’d do anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded desperately, his eyes locking onto yours as if begging for mercy. But you weren’t done. Switching the vibrator to a higher setting, you pressed it against him again, keeping your hand steady as he thrashed beneath you.

“Ah, ah,” you cooed, placing a hand on his stomach to hold him down. “No running from me, baby. You wanted this, remember?”

Nicholas’ muffled cries grew louder, his hips grinding helplessly against the toy as you worked him over. His entire body was trembling, his legs shaking violently as he edged closer and closer to release.

And then, just as his body tensed and his muffled whimpers turned to desperate pleas, you pulled the toy away.

The sound he made was almost heartbreaking, a loud, frustrated cry muffled by the tape. His head turned toward you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his expression pure desperation.

“Poor thing,” you said mockingly, trailing your fingers down his thigh as he quivered under your touch. “Did you really think I’d let you finish? You haven’t earned it yet.”

Nicholas let out another muffled groan, his body writhing against the bed as he tugged weakly at the restraints. His voice cracked as he tried to plead, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his jaw. “And you’re going to thank me for it when I’m done.”

Switching the vibrator back on, you pressed it to him again, starting the cycle all over. This time, you added your free hand to the mix, stroking him lightly, alternating between teasing and stopping entirely. His muffled cries turned into broken whimpers, his body trembling violently as you pushed him to the edge again and again, only to deny him every single time.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you murmured, watching as his face flushed a deep red. “Completely at my mercy. Just the way I like you.”

By the time you finally stopped, he was a wreck. His chest heaved, his body glistening with sweat, his eyes glassy and unfocused. You smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tape over his mouth.

Reaching over to the nightstand again, you retrieved another toy, a sleek, silver vibrating wand. His eyes widened at the sight and you switched it on, the low buzz filling the room as you trailed it slowly down his chest, letting it rest against his hip bone before dragging it even lower.

“Look at you,” you teased, holding the wand just above where he wanted it most, his cock. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Is this what you want, baby? Is this what you need?”

He nodded frantically, his hips jerking up in an attempt to get some friction, but you quickly pressed him back down with your hand. “No, stop,” you scolded, a grin spreading across your face. “I’m in control here.”

You moved the wand closer, letting the vibrations graze the sensitive base of his cock. He let out a muffled cry, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body tensed. His hips bucked again, but you kept your hand firm on his stomach, holding him in place as he writhed beneath you.

“You’re so desperate. You wish I’d let you cum, right?”

He nodded again, his eyes glossy with tears as he met your gaze. His muffled pleas were incoherent, but you could feel the desperation radiating from him. You chuckled, dragging the wand back and forth in agonizingly slow motions, keeping him on the edge without letting him cum.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, pressing the wand harder against him for just a moment. His muffled moan was loud, his body arching off the bed as he was on edge. But before he could finish, you pulled it away entirely, laughing softly as he let out a frustrated cry.

“Not yet,” you said sweetly, brushing a strand of hair from his damp forehead.

Tears slipped down his flushed cheeks, his hands pulling uselessly against the cuffs as he begged through the tape. You tilted your head, pretending to consider before reaching for a condom from the nightstand.

“Don’t look so hopeful,” you teased, tearing the foil open. “You’re not getting everything you want. You don’t deserve that.”

His eyes widened as you rolled the condom down over him, and you grinned at his pitiful expression. Usually, you didn’t bother with condoms, letting him feel all of you, but tonight was about punishment.

You climbed onto him, straddling his hips, and his muffled whimper sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you sank down onto him, taking his hard and leaking cock inch by inch. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back as a deep moan rumbled in his chest.

“Eyes on me,” you ordered sharply, and his gaze snapped back to yours, wide and desperate. “I want you to watch. Watch what you can’t touch.”

You set a brutal pace, riding him hard and fast, your hands gripping his chest for balance. His muffled cries grew louder, his body trembling beneath you as he struggled to keep up. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Don’t you fucking dare cum.”

He whimpered, his eyes glistening as he nodded quickly, his entire body shaking with the effort to hold himself back. “Good boy,” you said mockingly, sitting back up and continuing your relentless movements. “I bet you wish you could feel my pussy raw. Don’t you, baby? I bet you wish you could touch me, squeeze me, hold me.”

Nicholas nodded frantically, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as his muffled sobs filled the room. “Pathetic,” you muttered, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder. “You’re so needy. So desperate. It’s almost cute.”

You felt your orgasm building, your movements growing erratic as you chased your own pleasure. When it finally hit, you cried out, your body shaking as you collapsed forward onto his chest. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back as he stared up at you with a mix of awe and desperation.

“You’re so beautiful,” you heard him mumble faintly through the tape, his voice trembling. You laughed softly, brushing his damp hair back as you caught your breath.

“That’s right,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “And you’re lucky I let you have any of me at all.”

Catching your breath, you turned around to face the opposite direction, giving Nicholas a perfect view of your ass. His muffled whimpers grew louder when you started bouncing on him again, the sound of your ass meeting him filling the room. His body was trembling beneath you, his hands pulling helplessly at the handcuffs, and you could hear the muffled desperation in his voice.

“You sound so pathetic,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I bet you wish you could touch me right now. Squeeze my ass the way you love to and slap it. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his eyes wide and filled with tears as you wiggled your hips, grinding down on him just enough to make him cry out behind the tape. “Please!” he begged, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and it only made you grin wider.

“Poor thing,” you mocked, riding him harder now, your nails digging into the bed as you steadied yourself. “You can’t even handle me, can you?”

His muffled groans turned into full-blown sobs as you felt the pressure building inside you. You arched your back, your own moans spilling from your lips as the intensity became too much to hold back. With a sharp cry, you came, your body shuddering violently as you squirted, the sensation leaving you breathless. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body trembled.

“You’ve been such a good little fuck toy for me,” you said, your voice still breathless as you turned to look at him. His cheeks were damp with tears, his eyes pleading as he stared up at you. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

He nodded rapidly, his muffled voice frantic as he tried to answer. Reaching back, you peeled the tape off his mouth, and he gasped for air before the words started spilling out in a rush. “Yes! Yes, please, I’ve learned my lesson! I’ll never be late again, I swear! Please, please, I need to—“

“Shhh,” you interrupted, running your hand over his chest to quiet him. "You’re talking too much again. Beg for it. Show me how much you want it.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he looked up at you with desperation in his eyes. “Please, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll never be late again. I’ll do anything—anything you want. Please let me cum. I need it so bad, please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his words as you kept moving your hips, the pace slow and deliberate now. “Hmm. I guess you’ve been good enough," you said, leaning down just slightly. “You can cum now, baby.”

The moment the words left your mouth, his entire body tensed, and a strangled moan ripped from his throat as he finally let go. He practically exploded into the condom, his orgasm hitting him so hard that tears spilled from his eyes. His head tipped back, his mouth open as he whimpered loudly, his voice breaking as he cried out, “I’m your good boy! Yes, I’m your good boy! Always for you!”

You smiled, brushing your hand over his chest as you eased off of him. “That’s right,” you murmured, watching him tremble beneath you. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. His chest was still heaving, his hair sticking to his damp forehead as he blinked up at you.

“Are you— are you gonna take the handcuffs off now?” he asked, his voice hoarse and trembling.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you stood and stretched. “Oh, I don’t think so,” you said, your tone light and teasing. "You’re staying just like that for a while.”

Before he could protest, you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him cuffed, breathless, and utterly wrecked as he stared at the ceiling, the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Just My Type

A/N: next installment for my song prompt challenge

If I'm just being honest I'd rather be alone with you tonight You're just my type Yeah you play nice But you've got a little bit of death in your eyes

Warnings: none

Characters: Ace x GnReader

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that only the sea could hold. Soft waves lapped at the side of the ship, and the gentle sway felt like a lullaby for everyone else who was asleep below deck. But not you. Not Ace.

You leaned against the railing, letting the wind play with your hair as you stared into the black horizon. You didn’t need to look over to know he was there, leaning back on his arms a few feet away, his expression somewhere between guarded and curious. Even when he was smiling, you had noticed that Ace had a certain darkness in his eyes, a little flicker of something lost, something hidden. It was like a part of him was forever out of reach — but damn if it didn’t make you want to try.

Eventually, he looked over, catching your gaze, and there it was again, that glint in his eyes — intense and wild, yet somehow quiet, like a storm just waiting to break. You should’ve been wary. You knew he was dangerous in his own way, not just because he was a pirate, but because he could make you forget all the reasons you shouldn’t let yourself get close.

“You’ve got that look again,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing drawl.

“Oh?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips as you turned to him, feigning innocence. “And what look would that be?”

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Like you’re trying to figure me out.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the railing.

“Maybe I am. You’re a mystery, Portgas D. Ace,” you said, your tone light but truthful. “You’ve got this… spark, but there’s something darker too. Something that keeps you holding back.”

Ace looked away, his jaw tightening slightly, and for a second, you thought you might have pushed him too far. But then he let out a soft breath, his shoulders relaxing as he looked back at you, that faint, almost challenging smirk returning.

“And what if I said the same about you? I see it in your eyes too, you know. You play nice, but there’s something… dangerous about you. You've got a little bit of death in your eyes”

The air between you seemed to thicken, and you felt a rush of heat, but not from the cool night air. His words, the way he looked at you, as if he saw right through all your defenses — it left you feeling exposed, caught.

“So what if there is?” you challenged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, close enough that you could see every detail of his face, the faint lines of his freckles, the intensity in his gaze.

“I like it,” he said simply, his voice low, rough. “I’m not looking for easy or safe.”

You felt a thrill run down your spine, a nervous, electric thrill that only he could stir in you. It would be so easy to step back, to keep your guard up — but then, here in the dark, with him looking at you like that, you didn’t want to.

“And if I’m being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, “I’d rather be alone with you tonight.”

His smirk softened into something more genuine, almost vulnerable, and he reached up to brush a strand over hair behind your ear, his hand lingering, his touch warm against your skin.

“Then stay,” he whispered, his voice carrying a rawness that left you breathless.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned in, letting your lips brush against his in a kiss that was slow, hesitant at first, but then grew deeper, more intense. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, it was like nothing else in the world existed — just you, Ace, and the unspoken promises held in the way he touched you.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. His eyes were dark, intense, but softened by something vulnerable, something he usually kept buried.

“You’re just my type,” he whispered, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “A little dangerous, a little wild. And maybe, just maybe, exactly what I need.”

You let out a soft laugh, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining.

“Then let’s see where this goes,” you replied, your heart pounding in your chest.

And as you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you knew that this was the beginning of something beautifully reckless, a dangerous pull that neither of you could resist — even if it meant a little bit of death in your eyes.

[fanbasetwo]

Hii love! I couldn’t tell if your asks are open or not but I wanted to request reader having their first kiss with hao </3☹️

I love your writing so much btw! 🤍

NOTE : my asks are always open but you can still check it out on the pinned post where I do mention the ask status (if it's closed or not) this is my first hao ask btw + tysm for the compliment, I'm glad you enjoy my works 💕 MASTERLIST!!

You and Zhang Hao had been together since high school. When it was time to grow up and explore job opportunities, the two of you managed to make long-distance work, though you’d always joked about who’d be the one to kiss first once you reunited. When Hao finally moved back to your city after landing a job, things shifted—not in a bad way, but definitely in a new direction. You both decided to live together because, honestly, after five years of dating, it didn’t feel like a big leap.

Still, there were moments of awkwardness, like when you’d share the same bed at night. Sure, you’d cuddle, but neither of you ever took it further—not because you didn’t want to, but because you were both too shy to take the first step. Every touch felt hesitant, every glance carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Hao?” you whispered, nudging him gently. He was sprawled on the bed after a long day at work, clearly exhausted. You both split rent evenly, and lately, you’d noticed how much effort he put into his job. He hummed softly, his body shifting as he turned on his side to face you. Without a word, he pulled you closer, his arm draped around your waist.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” you asked, your voice barely above a murmur as your sleepy eyes met his. He blinked at you, his gaze warm yet hesitant, before one hand reached up to cup your cheek.

“It’s not work,” he said quietly, shaking his head slightly.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, your curiosity piqued.

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. “It’s about us,” he admitted, his voice soft but tinged with uncertainty. “Are you... not attracted to me anymore?” The question caught you off guard, and you frowned, trying to piece together why he’d think that. “Of course I’m attracted to you,” you replied quickly, your tone laced with confusion. “Why would you feel otherwise?”

He let out a small sigh, looking almost embarrassed. “Because... you never, you know... take any hints. And you don’t really drop any hints either. About wanting... my kisses.”

His words trailed off, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink as he avoided your gaze. You stared at him for a moment before giggling softly, the nervousness between you both dissolving just a little. “Is it because I smell?” he asked suddenly, his tone half-serious, making you laugh even harder.

“Hao, no!” you managed to say through your giggles, shaking your head. “I’m just... nervous.”

“Then... can we do it now?” Hao's voice was barely a whisper, his nose brushing against yours as his hand rested gently on your cheek.

“Right now?” you echoed, your heart racing at his sudden question. His shy yet eager nod made your cheeks flush, and though you wanted to take the lead, the thought itself made you feel timid.

“Okay,” you murmured, giving a small nod of your own.

Neither of you moved at first, the shyness between you lingering in the space where your breaths mingled. It was as though a silent agreement passed between you: close your eyes and let it happen naturally. You squeezed your eyes shut, nerves buzzing through your entire body. And then, it happened—a soft, fleeting brush of his lips against yours. The touch sent a jolt down your spine, warm and electric, leaving you breathless even in its gentleness.

Both of you were lying on your sides, facing each other, and though the moment was slightly awkward, it was perfect in its own way. You tried to remember the romantic scenes you'd seen in dramas and movies, hesitantly capturing his upper lip between your own. Hao followed suit, tentatively suckling on your bottom lip, his movements clumsy yet tender. The kiss was inexperienced, both of you unsure of what to do next, but that only made it more endearing.

Your lips moved together in a rhythm that was anything but polished, yet the emotions behind it made your chest feel tight in the best way. With every soft press, every subtle tilt of your heads, you felt your connection deepen.

It wasn’t perfect or seamless, but it was real, filled with the quiet love and nervous excitement you’d built over the years.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, faces mere inches apart as you opened your eyes. Hao’s lips were slightly parted, his cheeks glowing with a faint blush as he grinned at you.

“That was...” he began, trailing off as he searched for the right word.

You giggled, touching your lips lightly. “Messy?”

“Perfect,” he corrected, his gaze soft and adoring.

[mae-lou-ron]

More Than That

Pairing: Captain Rex x reader

Summary: Something has been on your mind, but you should have known your lover Rex would see right through you.

WC: 1,150

CW: A little angsty (secret relationship, anger over the tragedy of the clones, pining) with a happier ending, hurt/comfort, a side of fluff, sweetheart Rex, mando’a phrase / pet names.

A/N: here’s 1,100+ words that literally fell out of my brain after I got out of work tonight. Lately I’ve been thinking too much about the clones creation (as one does) and I guess this is where it decided to come out 🤷🏼‍♀️ Barely proofread. Also don’t come at me if I got the mando’a sentence structure wrong kthnx.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = 93.5% sure that means I love you. source

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Meshla?” Rex's gloved fingertips brushed the inside of your arm, pulling you from your distant thoughts and into the familiar whirlwind of sensations his touch always ignited in you. Not just his touch, everything about him from his warmth to his scent to the sound of his voice had a magnetic effect on you.

Instead, you stiffened and gently pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Rex... sometimes I just can't think straight when you're touching me," you murmured, regret coloring your voice. "I'm sorry." You stepped back, and he let his hand fall to his side.

His eyes softened, concern in his gaze. "Hey," he said in a low voice. "It's okay." He removed his gloves and extended his hand, leaving the choice to touch him up to you. "Talk to me?" he encouraged softly. You took several steadying breaths before sliding your hand into his, his touch now grounding you as he guided you to the stack of crates in the corner.

Rex waited for you to sit before settling next to you, the small space seeing you pressed together from shoulder to knee. He then sat stoically at your side as you sorted through your thoughts.

Anger bubbled into your throat at your own selfish feelings—the fear of losing Rex suddenly in battle, and the anguish in knowing that if he survived to the end of the war, the cruel reality was that the Kaminoans had engineered the clones with a half life. It wasn't fair. Yet, you refused to say anything that might make Rex feel compelled to console you about the tragedy of the clone's existence—one he was already well aware of.

“It’s something I need to make peace with myself, Rex.” You smiled softly up at him. “I know you’d swoop in with a daring rescue if you could, but you already have to bear so many burdens…let me keep this one for you.”

Rex regarded you carefully, his golden eyes searching your face. You loved how his eyebrows furrowed so deeply when he was trying to sort you out.

He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing his thumb across your cheek. The tender gesture made your heart ache, knowing that even these small moments of affection were stolen between duties and battles. His touch lingered, as if memorizing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips.

“There’s something else.” he said in a low voice. It wasn’t a question.

You chuckled a little at how intensely perceptive your sweet Captain was becoming lately. He was spending too much time with Ahsoka. You sighed, steeling yourself for what you were about to say.

"You've always meant more to me than those moments we were able to steal away. I know we agreed it was best to keep that way but…Rex I…I can't pretend anymore," you said softly before locking eyes with him, chest tightening, knowing that opening this conversation would likely prompt him to end things—he was far too honorable to drag you through whatever anguish he thought might lay ahead.

Rex's eyes fluttered closed, a flicker of what looked like pain crossing his features before he schooled his expression. He took a deep breath, his hand tightening around yours. "I understand," he said softly, his deep voice thick with emotion. "But I need you to know something first."

“That it’s over?” you quipped, voice cracking. Kriff. You swore you wouldn’t shed tears in front of him. He’d just want to try to fix something that neither of you had the power to change.

Rex's eyes softened. "No, cyar'ika. He sighed and you felt his hand squeeze yours gently. “That I love you." His voice was low, earnest, filled with an emotion that made your heart pound.

Your head snapped up to regard him as you processed his words. Love? That ember for him that you'd been so carefully guarding, afraid to even name, was suddenly thrust out in the open. Your eyes searched his face, looking for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but you found only sincerity and a rare flicker of fear in his gaze.

"I know our situation is… complicated, but how I feel about you isn’t."

"Rex, I..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. The words you'd been holding back for so long threatened to spill out all at once. "Stars, we've kriffed up," you burst into a fit of watery laughter, your deep anxiety finally bubbling over now that he'd confessed what you'd been so afraid to.

Rex chuckled softly, and you loved how the sound rumbled deep within his chest, how his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Maybe just a little," he admitted, bringing your hand to his lips. Ever the gentleman. "But I wouldn't change anything." His eyes slid over to yours, vulnerability and hope shining in them. "So, what now?"

“I wish I knew…” you wiped at your damp cheeks with your free hand.

A sly look crossed his features, “Well…usually when someone tells you they love you…”

“You usually say it back," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tears still glistening in your eyes. Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, gathering your resolve.

“Ner cyare…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his face. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…”

Rex's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and joy flickering across his face as he recognized the Mando'a phrase tumbling from your lips. His grip on you tightened, and he pulled you closer to press his forehead against yours. His voice a low rumble as he responded, "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika."

Lost in the warmth of him, the weight of your shared confession settled over you like a comforting blanket. This moment eclipsed all your previous encounters in this room. Even if just for a moment, you glimpsed a future where you could truly cherish every precious moment with Rex, even knowing how short your time together might be.

"May I kiss you now, meshla?" Rex murmured, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“Please…” you breathed.

His lips met yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as if you were something precious. The kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with all the still unspoken words you’d both been harboring. When you finally parted, Rex rested his forehead against yours once again, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on your cheek.

“Be mine,” he whispered against your lips. “Ner cyare…”

You smiled against him, your heart overflowing with love and hope despite the uncertainty that lay ahead. "I've always been yours," you whispered back, sealing your words with another tender kiss. The galaxy might be at war, but in this moment, wrapped in Rex's arms, you found your home.

[ilyrafe]

𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒆𝒕 ✧ 𝒅. 𝒔.

pairing: drew starkey x f!reader

warnings: miscarriage but its so fluffy yall :((

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is so shitty y’all i’m sorry djfjdk

pls he looks so cute here

when you said you wanted him to enjoy the moment with his family, he thought it was strange, but he didn’t argue. you’ve always understood how close he is to his family, and this moment in his career is important, you want him to celebrate with his parents, siblings, and closest friends.

you’ve only been together for a short time, and you’re not close enough to his family to be at family gatherings, you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

“we can celebrate later, just you and me.” you said, sealing your promise with a kiss, before you left his apartment, three days ago.

drew found it strange, but he thought you were just giving him space, which he appreciated. after a lot of family celebration, he went to your place, ready to spend at least a whole weekend, which you loved. there’s so much to talk about.

when you think about it, you didn’t think this thing with drew would go as far as it has been, because his schedule is chaotic and so is yours. when you first met, he was about to go to morocco to shoot outer banks, but he kept texting, calling.

“i know this is kinda all over the place right now, but i wanna see where this is going. do you?”

“i do.”

and that was it. you knew then and there, with only three weeks of dating (online dating for the most part), that you were in love. he’s so sweet, and so silly, too. somehow, you trust him. after being let down so many times, he’s made you feel safe from day one.

you’re not scared to tell him.

you’re on your bed, just waiting for him to get out of the shower. you’re barely paying attention to the tv, you’re just mindlessly scrolling through reels on your instagram, just waiting.

he comes out, shirtless, with damp hair and wearing the sluttiest thing a man can wear - black boxers that fit him just right. he’s such a beautiful man.

“d’you wanna take a picture?” he jokes when he catches you staring.

“you do it on purpose, don’t you?”

“of course i do.”

he gets under the covers and immediately latches onto you, resting his head on your chest. all he really wants is to feel you near him. it turns out, he wanted you with his family. he wanted you there, he wanted to properly introduce you to his loved ones, but maybe you’re not ready and he’ll give you all the time you need.

“i’ve missed you so much,” he says, his voice muffled by your skin.

you smell like french vanilla, and he loves that scent on you. he delights himself in your touch, when your nails lightly scratch his scalp and the nape of his neck.

“i’ve missed you, too. very much.”

he smiles against your skin and takes a long, deep breath, finally allowing his body to relax.

“um… so, i was kind of wanting to talk to you.” you say, trying to sound calm. well, you are calm, but you are also just a tad nervous.

he sits up, no longer relaxed.

“what is it?”

you sigh, look down and extend your hands, as a silent request for his. drew understands and places his hands on yours. your face is serene, but he can tell something is wrong.

“babe, tell me. i knew something was wrong, you were too distant these last couple of weeks.”

you chuckle - you can’t hide anything from this man.

“i’m gonna preface it by saying that i am okay, i am fine, but something did happen, and i’ve debated whether or not i should tell you, and i thought that you deserve to know.”

“you’re scaring me.”

“no, please, it’s… it’s okay. just let me say it all first and then you can speak, okay?” drew doesn’t respond, but you take his silence as a nod. “so, a few weeks ago, i was taking a shower and felt a weird abdominal pain, and then there was blood. i wasn’t on my period, so i got a bit scared and went to the hospital. i had a few tests done and found out… um…” you trail off, because this is surprisingly hard to talk about. he lightly squeezes your hands, encouraging you to keep going. “i had a miscarriage.”

oh.

wait.

what?

“a miscarriage?”

“i didn’t know. the doctor explained that it was common for women to have a miscarriage before even knowing they were pregnant.”

drew is quiet, absorbing the whole information. you were pregnant, and didn’t even know it. you had a miscarriage and he wasn’t there for you.

“why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve taken the first flight back to be here with you.”

“i know you would, that’s why i didn’t.” you explain, kissing the back of his hand right after. “also, i needed to figure it out by myself first. i was shocked to learn through a miscarriage that i was pregnant. it was a lot to process.”

“i can’t even imagine. but… how are you now?”

“i’m okay, i promise. i have one last appointment next week.”

“i’ll go with you.”

“okay. that’d be great, actually.”

he sighs, a bit relieved. at least you’re okay.

“i thought you should know because, well, i was pregnant. and if nothing had happened, i would still be pregnant, and i know it’s early, we haven’t talked about these things and i’m not pressuring you to do or say anything, but i still wanted you to know. felt really wrong to keep this from you.”

“no, you did the right thing.” he says, kissing the back of your hand. “i’m just sorry you went through all of this alone.”

“it’s okay, though. i wanted you to be the first person to know. and maybe the only one. i don’t think we should tell anyone else about this. like, it’d be just… pointless.”

“right. but, uh, if you do want to talk about kids, we can.”

“oh?”

“i mean… i’ve thought about it.” he admits. “i’m the eldest of the family, my mom has already started asking me for grandbabies, she says liliana needs a cousin.” you giggle. “but at the same time, the life i live today wouldn’t be possible with a kid, if i’m honest. i barely have time to sleep, let alone raise a child, and if i’m meant to have kids, i want to be there.”

“when i would think about children, i thought about pregnancy and how i needed to avoid it like the plague during my teenage years,” you laugh. “even when some of my friends got pregnant, i never really saw myself in their position, you know? i guess it wasn’t a priority for me, and still isn’t, but… i’m not ruling it out.”

“i’m not either.”

“so… there’s that.” you shrug, relieved that it all went well. “thank you for listening, i was a bit nervous.”

he nods, completely enchanted by you. he wishes he could navigate difficult topics the way you do. so natural, so easy. you seem to have your shit together and he’s so jealous of that.

“you can always tell me anything.”

“i know.”

“if something like this happens again, tell me. i don’t want you to go through anything bad alone ever again, okay?”

you nod, letting him hug you. oh, you love him.

“we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it and other stuff, too.”

i love feedback! let me know what you think!

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks and welcome to all the new people!

This is "5 times Colin was Pen's first + 1 she was his", third episode.

Today episode features Pen without words, Colin having the time of his life, and another first (of course). Have fun!!

---

Pen was used to be a fairly sexual active person (for as much as she could do on her own) but since she and Colin got together it was like she was burning with desire. And the more they were in each other presence, the more it grew under her skin, like a itch. She could not stand anyone beside Colin touching her, she felt like paper thin, lust right below the surface.

They passed a couple of night together at that point, and as much as they want to savour every first, she wanted more.

So, with that goal in mind, she kissed her boyfriend (she was getting used to this insanity) and she set up the most obvious trap for him. She got him in her apartment (luckily free of housemates) with food, and hopefully he would get an orgasm too, by the end of the night.

To be fair, it's not like Colin could stop touching her either. She decided to order from their favorite Chinese, because there was no way she could stand up long enough to cook.

Not when Colin's lips were just there for her to kiss. They passed the time before dinner slowly making out ( her new favorite past time) and then they ate a bit.

Pen was starting to get nervous, though. A mix of arousal and nervousness that left her with little appetite... At least for the food.

Colin seemed voracious as always, and she took a bit of time to observe him (like when she thought their relationship would remain friendly, except now she could look).

They moved from the dinner to her room, and when her nervousness was starting to take over, Colin simply put a hand on her back, spin her towards him and kissed her. She want so sure she could resist a relationship with him when he continued to stuff like that so easily.

"Talk to me," and she wasn't sure she could speak, so instead her hand sneak up to touch the skin just above his pants.

"Pen!"

"I want to, would you show me how?"

Another kiss. Sweeter this time, somehow.

He nodded, unclasping his belt and going to sit on the bed, Pen next to him.

He let her take the lead, so she touched him lightly through the underwear, feeling it getting fuller and harder under her fingers.

She asked him to remove his underwear too and Colin complied.

Pen was staring. She knew she was.

"Everything good?"

She nodded. She knew she would like doing this because it was Colin.

What she realized in that moment that she probably would love that just because she loved the act in itself.

She started touching Colin, eager to know this part of him too.

Pen looked at him when her hand was on his naked length and she saw him breathing rapidly, it was addicting.

"Teach me," she murmured and Colin chuckled "you don't seem to need directions," as still he took her hand and showed her the right pressure and movements.

She wanted to do this as many times as possible until she knew his expressions and she knew how to move her hand without looking at it. In time, that would arrive. For now, she compromised on watching him every minute or so. She could not believe how wet this was making her feel. Colin noticed her predicament and helped her disrobe quickly.

"Lie down next to me," he said, as she laid on her bed Colin roughly to the end, she was on her knees so he could sneak up a hand and help her as well.

A kiss and then a wicked tought. She looked at him, and swiftly she lowered her head down, until she could kiss the tip and move her tongue around it.

Colin moved his hips, "Penelope," he moaned as she explored further. Colin was now with two fingers inside her again, and she could not think of nothing like taking him in her mouth. So she did.

Her first thought was that it was not as easy as she thought. Her second thought was that she didn't care. It was amazing.

She took her time, waiting a bit until Colin made her come again, before swallowing him deep, "Pen, Pen, Pen,"Colin was bubbling now, and when he tried to move her away she didn't let him.

She was going to experience this fully.

"Ahh," Colin moaned as his release hit and she coughed a bit but managed to catch it the most.

He urged her to look at him again.

"A marvel and a minx. I could not ask for a more perfect girlfriend," he whispered, kissing her.

Love was good, decided Pen in that moment.

[dissapointu]

babes, hi I just discovered your blog! I have this idea- what if you know when they kidnap Isha- they also kidnap reader- Isha is waiting for her other mama to save her while the reader is waiting for her mommy lol

(I would prefer female reader but gender neutral is good if needed)

Hey Mamas, Here’s my take on your request, I'm hope this is what you were looking for!

_________________________________________

The dank, cold air of the warehouse scraped against your skin like sandpaper, the rough burlap sack they’d used to blindfold you discarded in a corner. Your wrists throbbed from the tight bindings. Across from you, Isha sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, her wide eyes scanning the room.

She’d been brave—braver than you, honestly. The way she’d squared her shoulders and looked her captors in the eye before they shoved the both of you into the dark room was nothing short of impressive. But now, in the silence, her small hands were trembling.

“They’ll come,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, not sure if she was trying to convince herself or you. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “They’ll come.”

Whoever “they” were for her. You hadn’t even known the kid until today. You’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A trip to the market turned into a nightmare the second Silco’s thugs stormed through, grabbing Isha first and you only because you’d tried to intervene. Now you were here, bound and helpless, waiting for… for who?

Your chest tightened. Caitlyn had always said she’d protect you, but this wasn’t her usual league of criminals. This was Silco. He was dangerous, unpredictable, and—

“Mama’s strong,” Isha said, cutting through your spiral of panic. She looked up at you, her eyes bright with determination. “She’s gonna come get us.”

You stared at her for a moment. “Yeah?” you asked, trying to latch onto her confidence.

She nodded firmly. “Other Mama’s strong too. No one messes with them. You’ll see.”

Her faith was so absolute, so steady, that you almost believed her. But all you could think about was Caitlyn’s face, the fear and fury that must be running through her when she realized you were gone.

Footsteps echoed outside the door. Isha’s head snapped up, her body rigid. “See? That’s them!”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t have the heart to tell her it could just as easily be more of Silco’s men.

The door slammed open, and chaos erupted.

A flash of pink hair. A fist colliding with a thug’s face. Vi.

“Hold on, Peanut!” Vi called, her voice rough and loud over the sound of punches landing and bones cracking.

Your heart raced. Isha was on her feet, calling out for her mama, her confidence paying off in full. Then another figure appeared, rifle in hand, precision in every step.

“Caitlyn!” you cried, relief flooding you so hard you thought your knees might give out if you weren’t already on the floor.

Caitlyn’s sharp gaze landed on you, her expression melting from steel into something softer, something fierce in a different way. She crossed the room in a heartbeat, cutting your bindings with a small knife.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, cupping your face and scanning you for injuries.

“I’m okay,” you said, even though your voice cracked.

“Good,” she said, her shoulders sagging slightly in relief. Then she pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if to make sure you were really there.

Isha was in Vi’s arms now, the woman lifting her up effortlessly. “Told you I’d come, didn’t I?” Vi said, a wide grin on her face despite the fresh bruise blooming on her cheek.

Isha giggled, her earlier fear melting away. “Told her you’d come too,” she said, pointing at you.

Vi glanced over, her grin softening into something warmer. “Of course we came. That’s what family does.”

Caitlyn’s arms tightened around you, and you felt the same unshakable love and protection in her embrace.

In that moment, with Isha laughing and Caitlyn’s steady heartbeat in your ear, the cold warehouse didn’t seem so dark anymore.

[djloveyou3000]

Belladonna

Chapter eight

“You know you’re going to tell me everything,” Russell’s rough voice finally broke the silence, deep and commanding. It wasn’t a question or a suggestion—it was a demand.

Bell’s heart sank at his tone. It was the same voice he had used back in West Berlin when they uncovered the horrifying truth of their brainwashing. They’d hoped to never hear that side of him again.

But they weren’t ready to talk. Not now. “No,” Bell muttered, still staring at their lap. “I’m not in the mood. I need time to process.”

The air in the car seemed to grow heavier.

Russell’s jaw ticked, and his patience wore thin. He yanked the car to the side of the road with a sharp turn, the tires screeching as he slammed the brakes. Bell jerked forward, startled, and before they could react, Russell removed his seatbelt and turned toward them.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Bell flinched as his hand shot out, gripping their chin and forcing them to look at him. His eyes were sharp, piercing through them with a mix of anger and frustration, gripping their jaw in a way that made it impossible to turn away. The strength of his hold left Bell’s skin throbbing, and their eyes widened in fear.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he sneered. “Repeat what you just fucking said.”

They tried to pry his hand off, but he only tightened his grip, his other hand pinning their wrists with ease.

“REPEAT. WHAT. YOU. JUST. SAID,” Russell snapped, his voice booming inside the confined space of the car. “I thought I made it perfectly clear—you tell me fucking everything!”

Bell’s wide eyes glistened with fear as they tried to pull away, but Russell’s grip only tightened.

“Bell,” he snapped, his voice growing louder. “I thought I made it perfectly clear—you tell me everything. No exceptions!”

Tears began to blur Bell’s vision, their chest tightening as panic set in.

Seeing their tears, Russell’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Oh, is my baby crying now?” he mocked, his tone cold and taunting. “You should’ve listened to me the first time.”

The tears fell freely now, and Bell struggled to free themselves, but Russell’s otter hand gripped hardder , pinning their wrists in place.

“You think I’m going to let this slide?” he hissed. “Do I need to drill it into your skull, Bell?”

Leaning in closer, he took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke directly into Bell’s face. The unexpected action made them cough, their small, broken voice only fueling his dominance.

“You look so pretty like this,” he said softly, his tone shifting into something unsettlingly smooth. His thumb brushed against their trembling lips. “All teary-eyed and vulnerable. I could just fuck you right here, and you wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

Bell froze, their mind reeling at his words. The Russell they thought they knew—the one who had promised to protect them—was nowhere to be found in this moment.

But just as quickly as the darkness in his voice came, it was replaced with a soothing, almost apologetic tone. His grip loosened, and he cupped their face gently, wiping away their tears with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to their forehead. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Bell blinked up at him, confused and trembling, their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

Russell unbuckled their seatbelt and pulled them into his lap, cradling them as though they were the most fragile thing in the world. His hands stroked their back, his lips brushing over their temple, then trailing down to press lingering kisses along their hairline.

“You just made me so mad,” he whispered against their skin. “It hurts me to see you confused and shutting me out. I just want to help you. Can’t you see that?”

Bell’s throat tightened at his words, but before they could reply, he pulled back just enough to meet their gaze, his own eyes shimmering with feigned pain.

“When you don’t let me in,” he continued, his voice cracking just enough to sound sincere, “it makes me feel like you don’t trust me. Don’t love me. Do you hate me, Bell? Am I really just a monster to you?”

He removed his aviators, letting them see the raw vulnerability he was projecting.

“No,” Bell said quickly, their voice trembling. “No, that’s not it! I trust you—I love you!”

They clung to him desperately, their tears soaking into his shirt as they sobbed into his chest. “I’m sorry,” they whispered over and over again, their hands clutching at him like a lifeline.

Russell’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he stroked their hair, his hand occasionally dipping to brush against their tear-streaked cheeks. “That’s my good little Bell,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride.

His lips found theirs, kissing them deeply and possessively, leaving no room for hesitation. Bell melted into the kiss, their resolve completely shattered as they clung to him.

“Shh, it’s okay now,” he cooed, pulling away just enough to kiss their forehead again. “I forgive you.”

Exhausted and emotionally drained, Bell eventually fell asleep against his chest. Russell looked down at them, brushing a strand of hair from their face as a dark satisfaction flickered in his gaze.

Carefully, he started the car again, driving home with Bell still curled up in his lap. Once they arrived, he slipped out of the car, carrying them bridal-style into the house.

In their shared bedroom, he laid them gently on the bed, undressing them with meticulous care. He replaced their clothes with fresh undergarments and soft pajamas, his hands lingering a little too long as he dressed them.

After tucking them under the covers, he leaned down to press a final kiss to their forehead, brushing his fingers through their hair.

Standing over them, he lit another cigarette, the glow from the embers casting shadows across his face. His thoughts were a swirling mix of darkness and possessiveness, tinged with a twisted sense of love.

“You’ll always be mine, Bell,” he whispered, his voice low and firm. “No matter what.”

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Good Sense

Summary: Hunter gets a migraine in the middle of the night and goes looking for solace.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: None

A/N: So, I haven’t posted anything for like two years but I wanted to write for Hunter because I finally got to sit down and watch the Bad Batch seasons 2 and 3 and I’m currently obsessed! I hope you like it!

Please don't copy my work

***

A thud woke you.

Shooting up, you searched the softening darkness for the source of the dull clunk. Slowly, your eyes moulded a familiar silhouette from the gloom. Familiar, welcome, but worrying all the same.

You swung your legs off of your bunk and whispered, "Hunter?"

He flinched and a pang of anxiety wrung your heart. His frame was hunched, one hand clinging to the wall to steady himself. The lines of his shoulders were tense and trembling like puppet strings pulled taut to breaking point.

The anxious knot in your chest only tightened as you made out his expression. His brow creased, eyes squeezed shut and jaw strained. Every one of his handsome features contorted in pain.

"I'm sorry!" His voice was faint, barely there as he leant his head against the wall. His eyes squinted open and floundered, trying to find you. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm glad you did," you murmured, keeping your tone low. "Migraine?" you asked, moving toward him with arms held out. His trembling fingers dug into your forearms when he found them, an involuntary admission of the agony he was in. You sensed more than saw him nod, then felt his forehead lean against yours.

"It's bad," he conceded, barely concealing a whimper, "I can't see, or think, or-!"

Hushing him, you brushed a feather-light hand across his cheek, wiping a tear and smoothing his hair out of his face. His skin was clammy to the touch. "Come here."

You led him to sit down on your bunk. If it had been light, you might never have dared. You still weren't sure what existed between you and Hunter. He was entrancing, had been since you first encountered the squad. The softspoken soldier had piqued your interest from day one, and sometimes you wondered if he wasn't equally intrigued by you, but war and turmoil had a nasty habit of putting these kinds of things on hold.

Still, sitting here in the night with his head turned to your shoulder, Hunter was a far cry from the exacting sergeant, the authoritative leader you had gotten to know. Tonight, he was more vulnerable and perhaps more honest than you'd ever seen him.

"Drink," you instructed, pressing a canteen into his grasp and easing yourself out. While he complied, you rummaged in the small drawer beneath your bed that the Batch had graciously called yours. "Take," you said, holding out your recovered pain killers.

Hunter shook his head, only slightly but the motion clearly sent an extra spasm of pain through his skull. "They won't do anything."

"You won't know until you take them."

He hesitated, unused to hearing that kind of authority in your tone but he looked away and swallowed the pills without protest. You tucked your legs back up onto the bunk, shifting your pillow onto your knee as Hunter wiped a bead of water from his mouth and clenched his eyes shut again.

"Lay down," you breathed, guiding him with a gentle hand to rest his head in your lap. He was too exhausted to argue. You wondered whether he would have done, but he heaved a sigh and you pulled your blankets over his coiled frame. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when your fingers threaded themselves through his hair and soothed to and fro in tide-like rhythm. Through the gloom, you fancied you saw his features soften and in time, his breaths evened out into slumber.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," you weren't sure if the thought made it past your lips or not but it twisted in your heart. Hunter didn't stir, even when your hands moved to trace the dark curves of his tattoo. For the first time since you’d met, he looked truly at peace; it struck you how much younger he looked.

Too constant was his demeanour, too anxious, too utterly responsible for every detail. Hunter was a good leader, the best. He knew his squad and cared for them more than anything. He knew their skills, their limits, and everything in between. They all knew he would burn himself to keep them warm, and he was doing.

Yes, you were in a tight spot. The Empire’s fist closed rapidly on system after system and it was getting harder and harder to lay low. Yes, you needed to be careful but just today on a simple supply run, you’d seen Hunter drive his senses to their extremities. You’d seen the way his eyes darted like a cornered animal while every sight, smell, sound, and taste bombarded his mind. The was his hands shook and each step betrayed anguish.

There was being cautious, then there was this.

But right now, he was resting. You forced your mind to focus on the weight of his head in your lap and the ebbing rhythm of his breath moving against your thigh. Now he was sleeping with your hand on his cheek and a soft smile gracing his careworn expression. Right now, he was safe and slumbering.

Right now, you could keep him that way.

The darkness weighed heavy on your eyelids and the solid warmth of Hunter’s body next to yours pulled you down to your own drowsy repose. Head resting against the wall of your bunk, the shadows coaxed you back into their nighttime realm. The last thing clinging to your consciousness was Hunter’s soft skin against your palm.

Sleep was warm and dreamless and when you woke to movement, a faint tint of morning lightened the dim space.

Hunter sat on the other end of your bunk, hands gripping the edge and his feet on the ground. His wary gaze flickered over your face. “Sorry for waking you… again.”

You sat up, hugging the pillow where Hunter had lain against your tummy. “It’s okay,” and it was, the veil of fatigue evaporated like dew in the sun. “Are you feeling better?”

He nodded but didn’t look up. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

You narrowed your eyes, tucking your knees up and sitting forward against the pillow. “Why did you?”

A teasing smile played at the corner of your mouth and to your delight, when he caught your eye, a similar one tugged at his.

“I don’t know,” he huffed, your eyes didn’t leave his face, “the boys are great but they’ve never had much control of volume!” At the sound of your laughter, his own smile grew. “I mean can you imagine waking Wrecker in the middle of the night? Or the lecture I’d get from Tech and Echo?”

You fought to suppress mirth, mindful of your aforementioned ship-mates still sound asleep in their own bunks.

“I guess I just needed someone more peaceful.”

That caught you off guard, more so the look in his eyes when he said it, and the way his smile softened. Hunter’s gaze could be piercing, expectant, even threatening to those who posed danger to people he loved, but this was the first time you’d seen it contented. Perhaps before you might have looked away, intimidated by their intensity, but that honey-gold amber had never felt more inviting.

A soft smile graced your lips. “I’m glad you came.”

You murmured the words into the silence that hung between you, both a blanket of comfort and a veil of security.

“Me too.”

For a moment, Hunter looked like he wanted to say something more but good sense won out.

“I should go,” he made to stand. You caught him.

“It’s still early.” Until today there hadn’t existed a world where you could have been this brave yet perhaps this dawn would rise on a new one. You didn’t let go of his hand. “The others won’t be up for hours yet,” you continued, easing him back to sit, “and besides, you could use the rest.”

Hunter smiled, “Wouldn’t want that lecture from Tech, would we?”

You gave your nonchalant assent and Hunter caved.

Good sense couldn’t save him a second time.

***

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please leave a comment and let me know if you’d like to be tagged when/if I write more Hunter stuff.

Love you guys!