#will shoot you on sight boy 💕

[rafesteddy]

Can we get dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Max lets it slip to rafe that his buddies ogle and find milf!reader so hot when they saw her pick up Max and Winnie from school a few times? You can choose how it goes afterwards!! I love your writing of their fam saurrrrr much

awe thank you bb 💕 I'm so glad you like it 🤭🤭🤭 sorry this one got a little long—but I hope you enjoy 😋💕 This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au.

+18 -> smut

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: teenage boys being gross, jealous rafe, swearing, ownership kink, possessive rafe, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstim., squirting, fingering, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, dirty talk, spanking, lots of cum, female oral (post-shared climax)

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You lean into the counter, absentmindedly squeezing lemon after lemon into the glass pitcher. Cold juices run down your fingers, sticky as it slips into the creases of your palms and drips to your wrists. The whole kitchen smells like sugar and citrus, with that warm, buttery hint of cookies still cooling behind you.

The plate’s already half gone, devoured by teenage boys lounging in the common space: tall, tan, loud, sprawled across your furniture like they own the place.

“Sugar, please?” You ask, gesturing toward Kelce’s son, perched in front of the one cabinet you need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, flashing you a grin as he hops down to grab it.

His hand brushes yours as he passes it off. You smile, polite and sweet as ever, returning to stir the mix.

“Fuck, she wants me,” he mutters to Max—just out of earshot.

Your son groans, tipping his head back against the cabinet. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Why else would she be in here squeezin’ her lemons?” Tripp groans, dragging the sentence out like it’s a double entendre.

“You’re still goin’, huh? Not scared?”

“M’not scared of shit—”

Before Max can answer, the door opens with a thud.

“Hi, Mom!” Winnie calls, sandals slapping the marble as she breezes in. Her boyfriend Jackson’s behind her, arms full, carrying the twins, still damp from the sprinkler, dressed like they’re headed out.

“Is it cool if we take the twins out for ice cream?” Winnie asks. Her tone’s breezy, but she looks sharply toward one of Max’s friends eyeing her up.

That same boy yelps when Max nails him in the arm. “M’gonna fuckin’ kill you,” he mutters, while the kid doubles down, clearly unbothered, shooting his shot at your daughter like it’s all just part of the game.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say, crossing the counter for your purse.

“Mrs. Cameron, really—I’ve got it,” Jackson says, voice firm.

“That’s very sweet. But not necessary… Thanks for taking them off my hands.” You kneel in front of the twins gently brushing back your daughter’s curls; cupping your son’s cheek lovingly. “You two be good for your sister and Jackson, okay?”

You lean in to kiss their cheeks, and without realizing it, your sundress shifts. The neckline dips, your breasts press softly together, the hem lifts just enough to tease. You linger, whispering something about sprinkles and chocolate.

Behind you, the room goes silent.

One boy swallows hard. Another just stares—slack-jawed—like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Max… Dude. This is your life?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Max mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’d move in tomorrow,” Tripp grins. “Be your stepdad today.”

“Bet she tastes like sugar—”

“I said shut up,” Max snaps, louder this time.

Just then, another boy walks in from the hallway, Trevor. He catches sight of you, still bent low in front of the twins, and freezes. Smiling like the goddamn Cheshire Cat, he lifts both hands like he’s gripping your hips and starts thrusting the air behind you in slow-motion silence.

The other boys lose it—coughing, choking on laughter, trying and failing to keep it together.

You straighten up, sundress swaying back into place as you smooth it down with both hands, blissfully unaware.

“All right, go have fun,” you sing out, waving them toward the door.

You turn back to the pitcher, lift it to the sink, and flip the tap without thinking.

Water churns—lemon juice and sugar swirling, rising to the rim—as your gaze drifts out the kitchen window. And then you see him. Rafe…

His white t-shirt’s soaked through, hose in hand as he rinses down the G-Wagon. Sunlight turns the spray to glitter. Water drips down his arms, soaking the cotton clinging to every curve and cut of his chest and abs.

He turns, flipping his hat backward with one hand, jaw flexing as he wipes his brow.

Your thighs press together. Grip tightening on the pitcher just as the lemonade spills over, cold and sticky down your wrist. You fumble the tap, blinking fast, but your eyes don’t leave him.

His shirt clings to his back, practically painted on, while his blue swim trunks ride low on his hips and high on his thighs.

One hand coils the hose, and the other grabs the wash bucket. His chest flexes with every move, muscles rolling under wet cotton like sin in motion.

“Have fun, boys,” you call out, pouring lemonade into a glass, still watching him.

The front door clicks shut as you step outside barefoot. The grass is crisp beneath your feet; sun shining hot on your shoulders.

Rafe looks up the second he hears you. His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh shit, pretty,” he drawls, eyes dragging down your body. “That for me?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, offering him the glass—but he doesn’t take it. He steps closer, warm, wet arm curling around your waist, pulling you flush to him like he can’t help it. His mouth finds yours instantly—hot and slow. Your fingers hook behind his neck, greedy for more.

You giggle into the kiss, breathless. “How much longer?”

Rafe pulls back just enough to smirk, water dripping down his temple “What? You want somethin’, baby?”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ 15 minutes earlier…

The garage is quiet at first—just the clatter of golf clubs and the squeak of a sponge as Rafe scrubs the green off his chipping wedge. The radio hums softly from the corner, low and easy. But that peace doesn’t last.

Beer bottles clink inside the fridge; ice rattles in the machine. And just around the corner from where Rafe sits, the boys start talking their shit like they don’t have a care in the world.

“I’m done,” your son mutters—tone flat and fed up like he’s been saying all day.

“Not my fault your mom’s hot as fuck, Maxi.” One of the boys fires back, voice deep and smug. “M’just waitin’ for the day she gets stuck in the washer. I’ll pound her shit right there—”

“Fuck you,” Max hisses. There’s a sharp thud and a groan; Max hits his friend hard enough to give him a moment's peace from him, but it doesn’t stop the rest of them.

“Did you see her in that swimsuit the other day? Playing with the twins? That bikini? She’s still got an ass on her. Those tits too?” Trevor chimes in, practically drooling. “I wanna play with her twins. Slide my dick right between ‘em—”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Max growls.

“Hey, you fucked my sister, Max. Both of ‘em. Think I get to tug one to your mom… every night—”

“She’s so hot, bro. Like stupid hot,” another pipes up. “Your dad doesn’t deserve that. He can’t keep up. Can’t handle all that. His stamina’s gotta be shot.”

“She made me cookies like it was foreplay,” one of them says, breathy and laughing. “You think she ever looks at us and wonders…”

“She made cookies for my dad,” Max mutters.

“Yeah. That’s what I said—”

And then Rafe clears his throat, loud and measured. The sound slices through the room like a blade. So quiet you could hear the soft clink of a stolen beer cap hitting the concrete.

The boys scatter like mice out the side door and back into the house. Their smug laughter from moments before dies on their lips, replaced by frantic whispers of “do you think he heard” and the squeak of boat shoes skidding across the floor.

“Come here,” Rafe says, low and calm.

Max exhales hard, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. His shoulders drawn up to his ears as he drags himself across the garage floor.

“You wanna explain what that was?” Rafe asks without looking at him, voice steady as he cleans his club.

Max shrugs, sullen. “I mean, you heard it.”

“Yeah… I heard everything—”

“Every fuckin’ day,” Max mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anytime we’re at the house. I try shutting it down—it’s impossible.”

“They were talking about your mother,” Rafe says. “You just gonna let that fly?”

“They’re fuckin’ idiots,” Max scoffs. “Just givin’ me shit. They’re not gonna do anything. And what am I supposed to do, huh? Beat the shit out of every guy who opens his mouth about mom?”

“Nah,” Rafe says, smiling without humor. “They’ll get the hint some way or another.”

“Well that’s not horrifying,” Max mumbles, giving him a side-eye—because he knows damn well Rafe might handle this himself.

“She’s not just your mom, you know. She’s my wife,” Rafe says, nodding toward the garage door. “So yeah. I know exactly how hot she is.”

“Ew.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rafe grins. “I just had to listen to that perverted pissin’ contest over your mother. And Trevor’s sister? Really?”

“…Sisters,” Max murmurs, not meeting Rafe’s eye.

He cringes, face twisting in the exact same way his son’s had moments earlier. “Aren’t you dating Top’s daughter?”

“They’re Trevor’s sisters,” Max repeats. “Doesn’t count.”

Rafe stares at him. “And what’s the math on that? It doesn’t count? You serious?”

Max shrugs, then deflects. “Hey—remember who the enemy is here, alright? He was talkin’ about Mom.”

That earns a dry laugh. Rafe crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, still giving Max a look like this conversation’s not over.

“I like that excuse better,” he breathes. “Y’all headin’ out?”

“Mhmm,” Max hums, already inching toward the door like he’s trying to disappear. “Just gonna grab some snacks.”

“Yacht Club?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, eyes on the exit.

“Be safe,” Rafe says, a little quieter now.

Max mumbles something back as he pushes into the house, and the door shuts behind him with a soft thud.

Rafe doesn’t move. He just stands there for a second, staring at nothing, letting the quiet settle. He knows what he feels. Always has. He just doesn’t always want to name it.

He used to love the attention. The looks. The envy. Part of him still does. When you were younger, his friends couldn’t keep their eyes off you. Couldn’t help the comments, the sideways glances. And he loved it—loved knowing that no matter how many mouths whispered your name, it was his bed you came home to.

You were his. All his. Always. But this? This was different. Hearing that kind of shit from teenagers—his son’s idiot friends, their mouths full of his food, beers stolen from his fridge, spending long, lazy days on his boat—no. It didn’t feel flattering. It felt like a fucking insult.

The way they talked about you was like you were some option. Like if given half a chance, they’d step right into his role. As if they could touch you. As if they could handle a woman like you. His wife. It pissed him off. And he knew it shouldn’t—not like this.

It wasn’t new. It wasn’t shocking. But today? It got under his skin in a different way. Raw and hot and fucking personal.

He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. This is what happens when your wife is you. People want you. They always have.

He laughs under his breath—half at himself, half at the absurdity of it all—and reaches for the sponge and bucket again. He wasn’t gonna fight them. He didn’t need to. There were better ways to remind them where they stood.

They wanted to act grown? Act like they could love you, care for you, fuck you like a man? Fine. Let them watch. Let them see what a real man does.

Rafe lets the door swing shut behind him and strolls across the drive, relaxed, deliberate. His gaze lifts straight to the window above the sink—and there you are, stepping into frame like you were waiting for your cue.

Rafe squeezes the hose handle, blasting water against the side of the G-Wagon. He shifts a little closer, just enough to let the spray bounce back misting his skin, ricocheting off the glossy paint.

The sun is hot, but the water is cool against his skin. The soaked fabric clings to the muscles of his chest and abs. He tugs his shorts a little higher on his thighs, watching the droplets slide down his body.

Then he smiles again—cocky and quiet—as he pulls the oldest trick in the book: flipping his cap from front to back like he’s not thinking about it at all.

Next, his shirt. He peels it off slowly and casually and tosses it aside, revealing his tan, chiseled frame. The gold chain with your initial catches the light.

“Five… four… three…” Bang. The door claps shut. He chuckles to himself, smug, reading you like a favorite book. He doesn’t even have to look to know it’s you. But he does.

Rafe glances over his shoulder as he hears your bare feet brushing through the grass; sundress swaying in the summer breeze. And then he sees you, glass of lemonade in hand, eyes already locked on him like he’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

“Look at you,” he mutters, watching you float closer. You took the bait. You always do. And he lives for it.

He spots movement through the glass, Max’s friends still inside, lingering, pretending not to watch.

Rafe praises you as he always does, a breathy “mhmm” buzzing past your lips is the only thing passing before he’s kissing you deep, hot, and possessive—right there in the driveway, letting them see. Letting them know who you belong to. How good you fit in his arms. How easily he could take you wherever and whenever he wanted.

He pulls back just enough to breathe you in; Rafe brushing his lips across yours like he can’t stop touching you. His big hand drifts lower, sliding over the slight curve of your back before grabbing a handful of ass—firm, slow, and so intentional it makes your breath catch.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You laugh quietly, barely holding it in. His shirt’s been tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm and bare against yours, that heavy gold chain glinting faintly against his chest.

The teenage boys barrel out of the house, faster than usual. Lugging the cooler through the grass as they look anywhere but at you.

“Where are you headed?” Rafe calls out, still holding your waist.

“Told you—yacht club,” Max grits, like a chore.

“Yacht club, huh?” Rafe echoes. “Sounds real productive. Why don’t y’all finish cleanin’ the car before you go burnin’ my gas?”

“Dad, seriously?” Max groans, letting the cooler drop to the grass with a thud.

“You’re about to torch another five hundred dollars of fuel,” Rafe says, grinning as he jams the sponge into one of the boys’ chests hard. “Don’t even get me started on yesterday. Three-fifty in food, six bottles of cheap-ass liquor—none of which I’d let past my lips or hers… It’s the least you can do.”

“Pretty sure that was all Winnie—”

“Spare me the bullshit,” Rafe drawls, his Southern accent soaked in judgment, cutting like his smirk.

“Since when are you washin’ cars anyway?” Max mutters, dunking a sponge into the soapy bucket. You try not to giggle but you can’t help it. Rafe’s flair for the dramatics is so visible in Max it’s like looking in a mirror.

Rafe laughs as well, already turning back to you. He reaches up, wiping a drop of water from your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips—gentler this time, like he’s taking back the moment before their arrival.

“Now what did you need, baby?” Rafe murmurs as the boys start scrubbing the truck. You glance up at him, feeling nothing but butterflies. Rafe bites his lip slightly, head tilted slightly, making your brain short-circuit. “Name it, princess,” he mumbles, thumb tracing slow, possessive circles on the small of your back.

“You.”

That one word has him grinning, dark and knowing. “You want me, huh?” He mutters, voice dropping an octave. “Alright. Do somethin’ for me.”

“Anything…”

“Go on back inside. Head to the guest room. Get on the bed, just like this. Don’t take a single thing off,” he adds. “I wanna take it off you. You think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah… yeah, baby,” you murmur, lifting up just enough to press your mouth to his.

He leans in, lips lingering like he’s already counting down the seconds. “Beautiful,” he mutters, voice low, that crooked grin spreading as his hand lands on your ass with a lazy smack. “I’ll be right behind you— ”

“Love you, Max! Have fun, boys. Be safe,” you call out, voice bright and sweet as you disappear toward the house.

The driveway shifts the second the door closes, all the sunshine snuffed out the second you’re gone. The boys go silent, scrubbing like their lives depend on it.

Rafe’s shadow stretches long across the driveway. He folds his arms over his broad chest as he surveys the group, his gaze unreadable—far colder than anger.

“Yacht club, huh?” He says, nodding toward the cooler. “Gonna load up the boat? Burn my gas, drink my liquor, make some memories? I hope y’all have fun,” Rafe adds, and if they didn’t know any better, they might think he means it.

“Thanks, Mr. Camer—”

“Maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Rafe cuts in, clean and easy. “Pick up a few country club girls: pearls, spray tans; the kind who won’t notice your hands shakin’ while you fumble with their bras.”

A nervous chuckle slips out, quickly catching Rafe’s glare, his lips curling into a fake smile.

“You’ve seen my wife, yeah?” He asks casually. “Beautiful. Fuckin’ stunning actually. Prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

He looks back at the house giving the boys a moment to breathe before shifting his sights to them again.

“I’ve been working since I was eighteen. Built this house. That boat. Everything you boys use like it’s yours.” He leans in slightly, voice tightening. “And even after all that—I don’t deserve her.”

That hits. You can see it land—all of them blinking like they’ve just been slapped across the face.

“So what makes you think you do?”

“We were just joking, Mr. Cameron. I swear—”

“That’s my wife,” Rafe snaps. The words hit like thunder in their chests. “Mine. Always has been. Always will be. And I don’t give a shit if you go home and jerk off thinkin’ about her—hell, that fantasy’s older than any of you.”

His smile returns, slow and razor-sharp. “But if you say another word—if you breathe another comment about something you’ll never fuckin’ touch…”

He steps forward, and they shrink; stepping toward Max is self-preservation. His eyes zero in on Trevor. The kid nods before Rafe says another word, like he’s praying it’s enough to stay alive. “I’ll make sure the only thing you’re sliding into is a fuckin’ ditch. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Trevor stammers.

Rafe claps a hand on his back hard. The slap echoed through the grounds, making the boy stumble forward with a wheezing gasp.

Then, just like that, Rafe turns and walks away. Calm and steady, like it didn’t happen. He passes Max on the way back to the house, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Love you, kid.”

“L-Love you too,” Max mutters, the lot of them holding their breath until he’s gone for good.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴

You shift on the bed the second he walks in, soft and shy, biting your lip as your eyes meet his. His gaze darkens instantly, heat rolling off him like a wave.

“I know I changed…” You murmur, voice gentle as a pout tugs at your lips.

The robe’s already falling off your shoulders. Just hanging there. Lace underneath—barely visible, but that’s the point. One leg crossed, stockings tight on your thighs, garters showing just enough to make him stop breathing.

Rafe’s tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip as his eyes roam over you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

He’s already hard, straining against the front of his swim trunks, jaw tight as his fists curl at his sides—like it’s taking everything in him not to rip that robe off you.

“Baby… Don’t apologize. Not when you look that fuckin’ good for me.”

Rafe steps closer, making your thighs part without thinking, giving him room, inviting him in. His hands slide up your legs—rough palms dragging higher—his thumbs hooking under the garter straps, snapping them against your skin.

“You bought this for me, didn’t you? Knew I’d lose my mind over this. Fuck, you know me too well…”

Your pussy clenches at the raw need in his tone. You toy with the satin belt at your waist, slowly teasingly letting the knot fall loose. The robe slips open completely as you lean back, arching your back, tits round in the pretty lingerie.

“Fuck... You don’t even realize what you do to me. The way you picked this out thinkin’ of me? Wantin’ me to see you like this?”

He kisses you, soft and slow, then starts to trail lower—his mouth brushing along your jaw, every touch unhurried, deliberate. His hand glides up your thigh and grips tight, spreading you open. His eyes are sharp, blue, and hungry—fixed on yours.

“Rafe…” You whine, already feeling your thoughts blur.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you for them,” he groans, hardly holding himself together. “Make sure they never look at you the same. Make sure they know it’s me in your head when you close your eyes. You know what they’ll never have?” He whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“This. This soft little mouth. These legs wrapped around them. This sweet pussy drippin’ for them.” His voice drops even lower. “All mine.”

You blink up at him, a little crease forming between your brows like you’re trying to figure him out

He lets out this low breath, almost a laugh, but not really. “Fuck, you’re perfect… You don’t even see anyone else, do you?”

“Who, baby?” You whisper.

He scoffs, low and humorless as he tugs down his trunks, tossing them to the floor. “You should’ve heard what they were sayin’ about you.”

“Rafe…” You blink. “Is everything okay?”

Your words tip up into a gasp as he pushes you back suddenly, one knee sinking into the bed, his body climbing over yours. “Those boys,” he mumbles. “They want you.”

“Max’s friends?” You gasp as your face twists in disgust; eyes flicking toward the door.

Rafe grabs your cheeks, forcing your focus back to him. His fingers slip under the lace and he groans—low and guttural—when he feels how wet you are.

“Already soaked,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’ve been sittin’ here all sweet and innocent, like nothin’s goin’ on—when your pussy’s this fuckin’ desperate for me. Say you're mine… Who do you belong to?”

You whimper, breath hitching as he slips your panties to the side and drags two fingers through your slick slowly, savoring every second.

“Say it,” he demands, his forehead pressing to yours; hand working you open.

“You,” you whisper. “I belong to you—”

“That’s right… Mine to spoil. Mine to love. Mine to fuck.”

You go to touch him, but he grabs your wrists before you get the chance. Forces them up over your head, holding you there. His body presses into yours and when his hand slides down your thigh, it pulls a shiver straight out of you. “Uh-uh, angel. Not yet.”

His fingers curl just right, pressing into that spot that makes your hips jolt off the sheets. He keeps it slow, steady—watching your face with quiet adoration. He’s memorized every flutter of your lashes, every soft gasp that slips from your swollen lips. He knows what it takes… what you crave. And he knows you’re close.

“You’re gonna come for me, pretty,” he murmurs. “Just like this—”

You nod rapidly, falling apart not a moment later. “Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, trembling as your pussy clenches around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps working you through it, fucking you with his fingers until you’re gasping into his mouth, thighs twitching, hips jerking away from the overstimulation. You reach for his wrist, gripping tight, trying to slow him down—but he groans against your lips, loving how little it takes for him to unravel you.

He catches the lace of your panties and rips them clean off, the tear sharp and sudden. The sound snaps through the room, and your legs twitch from the jolt.

Rafe pulls you off the bed, guiding you right where he wants you, not wasting a moment. “Hands on the glass,” he says, voice rough as he unhooks your bra with one practiced flick. His other hand clamps around your waist, steadying you.

You press your palms to the glass, cool beneath you. Your reflection stares back: hair a mess, lips wet, chest rising fast—tits bare as you beg for more, fighting to keep your eyes open already as they flutter shut.

“Eyes on me,” Rafe whispers roughly, his chest pressed to your back now; hips flush against your ass.

He pushes into you slowly, giving you every delicious inch, your greedy pussy pulling him in. “Shit, baby… You’re tight.” Rafe grinds in deeper, hand splayed across your stomach as he holds you there, impaled on his thick cock. “This,” he pants, dragging back and slamming in again. “This is my pussy. My house. My fuckin’ wife.”

Rafe sets a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, lewd and filthy. He spanks your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward into the glass.

“Let ‘em hear it,” he growls. “Let those little bastards outside hear what I do to you.”

Your body trembles with every ruthless thrust; the mirror rattles under your grip, the sharp slaps of skin echoing round the room.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Rafe grits out, voice rough and hoarse.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice breaking as the knot in your belly coils tight, ready to snap.

“Yeah?” He growls, dragging you closer, rough hands holding you right where he wants you. “Then fuckin’ give it to me.”

One arm binds around your waist while the other slips down, fingers working your clit in rough, relentless circles that make your legs shake. “Show me what I do to you.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your body jerks—cunt clamping down around him. You peel your eyes open, desperate to see him. And there he is in the mirror behind you: jaw tight, lip caught between his teeth as his hips slam into you again and again.

“Good girl,” he snarls, not letting up for a second. “You ain’t done yet.”

Rafe yanks you upright, chest to back, one big hand wrapping gently around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw as he fucks you deep and hard—so deep it’s almost too much.

You break with a choked sob, another orgasm tearing through you so hard your vision blurs. You go limp in his arms, legs shaking, body spent. He doesn’t let go. Just grunts out a rough “Fuck, baby,” right against your neck as his hips pump forward. One last thrust and he’s coming, cock throbbing inside you, breath hot on your skin.

You feel every pulse of it, thick and messy, spilling deep as he holds you there, buried and shaking, not ready to move.

Rafe nuzzles into your cheek, soft kisses dusting your jaw as your breath comes out in shattered little gasps. He listens to every sound. “You still with me, baby?” He murmurs, peeking over your shoulder with a teasing smirk.

“Barely,” you whisper, still catching your breath as you slump into his chest.

He lets out a soft laugh, mouth skimming the edge of your lips. “That smile,” he mutters, voice thick. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let your eyes fall shut, head resting against him.

He slips out of you slow, gentle to the last second, then gathers you up without a word. Carries you back to the bed like you weigh nothing, sets you down easy, and smooths your hair from your face with the back of his hand. Just stands there for a beat, staring like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Rafe…” you breathe, voice soft and pathetic, so sweet it nearly breaks him. He smiles, crawling between your thighs. “You gonna tell me you can’t take another?” He whispers, hands sliding under your knees, pushing your thighs open wide. “Yes, you can… You always do.”

Rafe kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, mouth warm against your sex. His stubble drags across your skin, rough enough to make your lip tremble.

Your hands shoot to his hair the second he dives between your thighs. His tongue works you over, lips locking around your clit as he sucks hard. You cry out, fingers gripping his hair, and he groans into you, the sound vibrating so deep it makes your legs shake.

Rafe’s fingers slide inside without warning, drilling his cum back into you until your back bows and your eyes blur with tears.

You sob, thighs quivering as your heels dig into the mattress, your body barely able to take it anymore; your brain not able to think of a single coherent thought.

“Give it to me. Let ‘em know who owns this fuckin’ bed, aight. You and me… You. And. Me.” A scream rips from your throat, so cock-drunk you cum without warning, soaking his hand, his face, the sheets beneath you, everything drenched in the proof of your pleasure.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Rafe sighs in relief, licking and kissing through the mess, savoring every drop. He slaps your pussy once, firm and wet, just to hear the sound of it. “Atta baby. That’s what I fuckin’ needed… So damn good to me.”

He drags his mouth up your body. Every touch lingers, every breath shared. He settles over you, wrapping you up in him.

You reach for his face, thumb stroking along his slick jaw. He leans into your touch, his mouth just a breath from yours.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Rafe’s leans in, resting his forehead against yours. A quiet smile breaks across his face.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he says, low and steady. “Always have. Always will.”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ the next morning

“I warned you,” Max mutters.

Tripp doesn’t reply—just stares into the void like something sacred was taken from him last night. Trevor’s slumped next to him, hoodie up, eyes hollow, chewing his thumbnail.

“Warned us?” Tripp breathes, voice shot. “About the wet bed? The screaming? The headboard hitting the wall like a metronome set to ‘destroy pussy’ all night long?”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bauer adds, thumping his fist against the kitchen table. “All damn night.”

Max shrugs, calm as ever. “I told you not to talk about my mom.”

“…She was crying about it,” Bauer mutters. “Crying about dick—”

“Enough,” Max snaps.

Tripp rubs both hands over his face. “I’ve got PTSD. Did you sleep?”

“You think I slept?” Trevor huffs.

“You could’ve knocked,” Max says casually, sipping his orange juice.

All heads turn to him fast. “Knocked?” They spat in unison.

Max shrugs again, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “Could’ve asked to crash in my room. I slept great.”

You walk in like it’s any other morning—light on your feet, humming under your breath, dressed in a tiny pajama set that has no business existing in a house full of teenage boys. Your tank’s stretched snug across your chest, love bites just barely visible where your robe slips open at the collar.

You pull the cinnamon rolls out, set them on the counter, steam rising fast. Without thinking, you grab the icing, swipe some with your finger, and lick it clean. You smile, small and sleepy, still feeling kind of floaty from the night before.

And for the first time in god knows how long they sat there in silence.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Tripp whispers as heavy footsteps echo down the hall.

And then—Rafe.

No shirt, just his signature gold chain catching the light as it rested against his chest. His skin was tanned, muscles cut sharp, and those sweats hung low on his hips like he’d just rolled out of bed—or hadn’t bothered to pull them up all the way.

“Mornin’, baby,” He murmurs, already reaching for your waist.

“Good morning,” you hum, letting him pull you into him—cinnamon roll tray still in your hands—as he kisses your skin; fingers curling around the handle of the fresh cup of coffee you poured him, steam rolling over the rim of the handmade Daddy mug from a Father’s Day past.

“For me?” He asks softly, like the entire house isn’t holding its breath.

You giggle, warm and syrupy. “Made your favorite.”

“Already had my favorite last night.” It’s a whisper meant just for you, but every boy hears it.

Rafe grabs a roll, swipes his thumb through the icing, and licks it clean like he’s still tasting you. He sips his coffee slowly, his focus unwavering.

“Breakfast on the porch, baby?”

“Yeah,” you smile like he asked you on a date.

Then finally, with one last glance at his house, his wife, and the group of broken boys who will never forget last night, he mumbles, smug as ever…

“Ya’ll have a great day. ”

[irachki]

cuetes

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x latina!reader warnings: canon compliant violence. no beta so whatev a/n: i wrote this for @hahaifolded after we were talking about the lack of good latino representation in the fandom. hope you like it folded 🥺💕

There is something to be said about how easily Simon Riley can be bribed. Off the field, of course. He’d never put his team at risk on the field.

But with his third tamal in hand and the half drunk jarrito next to his elbow, Rudy can see how little it takes to sway him. He doesn’t get to sit with the realization too long before another body steps into the doorway.

“Who brought the ghost?” You lean your shoulder against the doorframe as you survey the stranger that’s sat in the midst of all your family members.

Rudy snorts, the unintentional pun missed on your part, while he shrugs. “You know me, always catching strays.”

Your gaze shoots over to Rudy and you raise an eyebrow, “Stray?” The incredulous tone of your voice is amplified by the once over you give Simon. “Aren’t strays supposed to be scrawny? Hanging on by a thread, pure skin and bone? He seems to be real well fed.”

Rudy shakes his head, laughter carries in his voice, “Well SAS does a pretty good job of keeping their boys working at full throttle.”

You shift, slightly, but enough for your uncle to see the way your body loses some of it’s ease.

“SAS? What are the brits doing on Mexican soil? They never venture this deep into latam.”

He grimaces, one of his hands sliding out of his pocket to rub across the face, “You know I can’t tell you that Mechas.”

You roll your eyes before turning from the party and trudging further into the orange colored kitchen, “And when the hell has that stopped you from telling me about what’s happening.”

“It’s different this time mija. We’re dealing with unprecedented  circumstances.”

“Unprecedented?” Your hands grip the edge of the ceramic tile, white and blue cover the kitchen island that separate you and your uncle, “You had no problem telling me about the routes the mareros setup but you have a problem with this?”

“Mechas.”

Whatever Rudy is looking to say next is left unsaid as the pale stranger ducks into your grandmother’s kitchen. Despite the doorframe being a bit too small for him he has no problem standing at full height in the room. The home fitted with raised ceilings to allow for hotter air to rise and helping with the circulation of air during the heat waves.

He looks out of place in the room. In this whole ordeal, really. Family had travelled from all corners of the continent to gather at the matriarchal home, bringing with them the different flavors of Spanish. It made the English speakers scarce, and those who were there were easier to spot, especially with an accent that’s not heard around Las Almas often.

Your eyes narrow, eyebrows drawing together, “What are you doing here?”

Simon’s eyes meet Rudy’s before they’re on you again, “Eating.”

If it’s an attempt at a joke it falls flat, annoying you further.

“If this is what the SAS considers their best I worry for the state of that island.” You scoff and turn around towards the pot holding the warm atole.

You focus on pouring yourself a cup of the warm liquid, missing the look exchanged between the two men. The creases around Rudy’s eyes deepen as his worrisome gaze settles on you.

Simon can’t help the clench he feels in his gut at the sight. He’s thankful there’s no one to worry for him the way you worry for your uncle. He wonders for a split second if Rudy can feel the weight of your worries on the field. A constant weight and anchor pulling him back to this house. To his family.

“Does Yaya know?”

“She doesn’t need to know my every move Mechas.”

Your back is still turned to him but he can still see you shaking your head, “Foreigners mean trouble. Yaya knows that better than anyone. So either you told her outright or you let her connect the dots himself by bringing him here.”

You turn, not bothering to look at either of them as you cross the kitchen in search of a spoon. Simon follows your movements across the kitchen, keeping Rudy in his peripheral as he observes the tightness in your shoulders.

“Mechas,” Rudy starts but he doesn’t get far before your glare cuts him off.

“Stop.” You place your cup down on the island with force. The liquid sloshes around the cup, circling the edge of the cup as if deciding if it wishes to spill. In the end it doesn’t, settling into itself again as the energy disperses.

“Don’t give me some bullshit promise you’re not even sure you can keep. Don’t tell me you’re coming back if there’s even a possibility you won’t.”

Simon’s been in Las Almas for a short amount of time, but he knows Rudy. Trusts this man with his life, he’s saved it a few times already. So it’s easy to follow the minuscule reactions of hurt at your words. He knows empty promises are one of the only things that keeps a soldier going. The belief that they’ll be able to make good on those promises.

No matter how many times others aren’t able to.

“I’ll bring him back.” The words slip out before he understands what he’s telling you. An idiotic thing to promise someone who he just now met.

You’re thinking much of the same if the way you glare at him is anything to go by.

“And who are you to promise anything to me?” The softness of your face is deceptive to the bite of your tongue. Simon has heard worse from men bigger than him, meaner, and yet your words slice at him the way a blade slices at skin. Quick, deep.

There’s molasses dripping down his throat, choking him, his words stick to it.

You scoff, “Your words are no good to me.”

Rudy leaves him no room to respond, stepping in and attempting to mitigate your concern. None of the words Rudy says tamp the fury in your eyes or the strange tight sensation Simon feels between his ribs.

Bringing Rudy back to you seems like the only solution for both.

—

The stranger brings Rudy back. Bruised, battered, and bloodied but alive. And in the end that’s all that matters.

There’s no words spoken between the three of you, a heavy silence fills the kitchen as you get to work on cleaning up your uncle. You pull rags from cabinets and fill shallow pails with cool water to tend to wounds. It’s a silent endeavor, only the straining of the rags filling the room with sound. You don’t know how long you tend to your uncle for, but by the time you turn to face his strange companion his water is murky too.

Rudy must have told him the rules of Yaya’s home because there’s no trace of military gear on him. The only evidence of the violence he’s experienced is the dark stain on his shirt. Whatever liquid soaked into the shirt darkens the black cotton even more. His jeans are caked in the familiar light brown color of the soil around Las Almas.

You stop the analysis as soon as you feel the bile rise in the back of your throat.

Instead, you busy yourself with grabbing both batches of murky water to drain out in the pila outside. You don’t have the energy to talk to your uncle right now, much less deal with the look he reserves for you when he comes back from missions. You just lather up the rags with zote and scrub them against the ribbed cement.

The water runs red for sometime before it slowly morphs to pink and then a slight cloudy view, until finally it’s clear. The hens cluck around you, Chancho also waddles nearby to investigate your movements as you wash.

You’re too focused on washing and not trying to think that you miss the stranger stepping out into the backyard with you. The hens don’t scare off, instead they cluck at him, winding themselves between his legs as they inspect him. Chancho does the same, slowly approaching him and sniffing around before the spotted pig decides there’s nothing important for him there.

“Questioning is the family trait then, yeah?” His voice is low, raspy, like he hasn’t spoken in days. Hasn’t had a drop of water in weeks.

You spare him a glance, not wanting to look at him for long, when his face catches your attention.

No new wounds, plenty of old ones, but the area around his eyes is covered in black. Giving him the look of a child with face paint on him. Instinctually, you wring the rag before stepping to him and starting to blot away at the black.

Whatever he’d come out to do is put on the back burner as he freezes at your movements. He barely breathes, eyes focusing on the focused look on your face as you drag the multicolored towel across his cheekbones. You don’t ask for permission as you gingerly take his jaw into your hand, moving his head every which way to get the eyeblack off of him.

“Is being pushy a family trait too?”

You scowl at him, the grip on his jaw tightening, “Is that what this is to you Europeans? We call it hospitality out here.”

“Invading someone’s personal space?”

“Taking care of someone’s son.”

He knows you don’t know anything about him, let alone the tragedy that was Manchester, but the words still manage to dislodge something in him. The idea that kind hands and homes are offered to children, no matter who they are.

He tucks that away to sit with in the future. Not now.

Now he focuses on the feel of your hands against the scruff on his jaw.

–

You’re on the outskirts of the room watching the conversation that swirls around the big wooden table. The extended that was local had gathered at Yaya’s to discuss El Sin Nombre’s capture.

It was a pointless conversation that you had no interest participating in. Win or not, the work was pointless. One narco falls, a vacuum opens up, another takes their place. Tale as old as time, something the Mexican government surely wont fix with this singular capture.

Simon is next to you, sitting silently as the low conversation fills the rest of the room. He’s watching the table while you stare out the window at the stray dogs circling the street. It takes them a minute to find the food you’ve left for them but when they finally do you make a happy noise.

“Not interested in the familial debrief?”

You snort at his question, not even bothering to look at him directly, “This family has lived through the capture of dozens of narcos. I already know how this conversation goes.”

Simon doesn’t respond, just shifts his attention to you while you continue to pay him no mind.

“Honestly would be cheaper if you would stay longer to come and catch the next one. Saves you a flight.”

“This your way of asking me to stick around?”

You can’t help the noise you make at that, “If you stick around here longer than you need to I don’t think you’ll be of any good service to the force. I hear men incapacitated by the heat don’t do well.”

He huffs out a laugh, bringing the Modelo up to his lips for a swig. The cool malty liquid cuts through the heat that seems to have invaded his mouth, much like the rest of the city. He glances around the quaint family home, heat pressing into him in a way that never has before, and realizes just how deep Las Almas has sunk it’s claws into him.

He spares you a glance, still engrossed in the activities of the strays, and studies you for a second. Your body rests against the cushions, not at ease but not tense. Always alert, he thinks to himself. The same way he is back home. Never letting his guard down, assured in his own abilities, but never wanting to get caught off guard. It’s how he’s been living his whole life.

You let out a small sigh, cheek pressing into the cushion, the pressure of your cheek pushing out your lips just a bit.

He takes another drink.

Yeah. He can stick around for a little more

[cas-backwards-tie]

The 141 Men and Butt Grabbing

Request: How the boys react to getting their butts grabbed? 🍑

Warnings: Allusions to Sex, Spanking, Groping, Exhibitionism, Predator-Prey-Play, PDA, Established Relationships.

A/N: this is for @vikki-tikki-tavii 💕🙏🏻 thanks for your requests and ideas! I really appreciate them and this one definitely made me laugh to do 🥰 also credit to @bettybrenders on tiktok 🙈 for the lovely photos/renders of the guys 🧎‍♀️ I was just hoping to give you guys a visual. divider by @cafekitsune

Price: John is someone who has a sense of humor, okay? He has a sense of humor and he’ll prove it to you if you argue with him about it… that being said, however, if you spank or grab his butt in front of his friends (or god forbid—coworkers—but let’s face it, they’re usually one in the same) he’ll absolutely find himself flustered with his cheeks flushing a degree of red. You’ll be in serious trouble, no doubt, and he’ll make sure to repay the gesture tenfold when you two are alone again. Now if he’s in a position where he’s out and about and you do so, and he finds a quick moment where he won’t get caught returning the favor, he most definitely will swat one on you. However, if you’re alone and you decide to grab a handful, you’re either starting something he isn’t sure you can finish, or he’s laughing at the boldness of you. This usually winds up with you being chased throughout the house for revenge.

Ghost: Simon is more deadly in his reaction. Like his superior, if you happen to catch him in a vulnerable position out with friends in public, he’ll shoot you a look. You know how he feels about PDA, and if you’re caught red handed by the lot of bastards he calls friends, they’ll give him shit to no end. He doesn’t mind that, so much, as not feeling like he can return the favor within the company of others. What happens between the two of you should be reserved for the bedroom. Though what starts as a look, quickly turns into bedroom eyes and usually winds up with one of you dragging the other off to a secluded spot to continue things. When you’re alone, he’s more than glad to return the favor if you’d like, but when it comes to spanks, it’s not typically his style. He’ll slide his arms around your waist while you’re kissing and scoop up a handful, making sure to give you a nice squeeze in return. Overall, he finds it funny and cute how much joy you take in his caboose, and it’ll almost always garner an amused smile or a chuckle from the Giant.

Gaz: When it comes to Kyle, I fear it depends on his mood. Whether you give him a sneaky spank, or decide to just tease him with a nice squeeze of his cheeks, he’ll usually turn around and engulf you in a series of pecks and kisses all over your face. He knows how much you love to play, and he’s more than ready and able to return the mischievousness right back! With that said, if it’s a serious moment, or he’s not in the best mood, there’s a fifty-fifty chance of it lifting his mood. Sometimes he likes to be more intimate and sensual, wanting less of a silly vibe between the two of you. His work is hard, and it definitely takes a toll at times. But more often than not it draws a goofy smile onto his face and he’ll gladly return the favor if he’s in what he deems ‘the right company’… aka his friends or strangers. Really, it becomes something to get each other’s attention and bring a smile to their face. After all, he’s well aware of the effect he has on you, and vice versa.

Soap: Johnny has a hard time not giving into his impulses when it comes to you. If he can lighten the mood with a little practical fun and the excitement of his inner-child, he’s bound to do so. Between the two of you, it’s more of a game. He gets you, and you get him back. But be careful, because he’s also somewhat of a ravenous man and once he’s got a taste of you, it won’t be easy for him to back down or let go. You’re in his sights, you’ve got his attention, and boy… does he want yours back. Playing this game can either be something that’s long and drawn out, or quick and short considering you’ll eventually wind up in the bedroom (or bathroom, alley, etc) at some point down the line. Doing this will always distract him and take his mind off things, consequently turning him on, so you better be prepared for the consequences of your actions if you’re going around with grabby hands. Because he’s more than eager to return the favor!

[gtgbabie0]

heyy!! i saw that your reqs are open ans i was wondering if i could ask for an "cregan stark x fem reader" in which the reader is giving birth but she ends up having complications during the birth (blood loss or the baby simply taking too long to come out) and she ends up being unconscious for a while... if that's not ok please ignore it, thank you!! <3

Cregan Stark x reader

Synopsis: {The birth of your son Brandon Stark was nothing but stressful, and it makes Cregan face some horrible realisations} CW: descriptions of blood/ reader is giving birth

Hope you enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

It was early in the morning when it began. You were eating breakfast with Cregan when the sharp shooting pain erupted through your lower stomach, it took your breath away and you couldn’t help but reach over to clutch onto his arm with a gasp.

He stops mid-sentence as he watches your face contort with an awful look of discomfort, panic rising in his chest when your eyes meet his.

“My love? What is it?- what happened?” He asks, standing up from his chair. He helps you up, wincing as you scream out in pain. Cregan guides you to the bed his hand soothing your lower back in hopes it’ll relieve your discomfort, but his attempts are fruitless when he notices the tears that fall from your eyes and his heart drops.

You shake your head, squeezing your husband's hands as you try your best to ignore the blood that pools between your legs, “The maesters- please” You gasp between breaths and Cregan doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes out the door.

It isn’t long before people start to barge into the room, orders being thrown around as the midwives lay you down on the bed pressing a cold wet towel on your forehead.

Your body aches as a hot flush wash over you, and every sensation is far too overwhelming, it certainly doesn’t help that your skin is sticky with sweat. You can hear Cregan outside your shared bedchambers before walking through the wooden door, much to the dismay of the nurses.

“What is happening?- please” his voice is strained and he can’t bear to look down at you, the sound of you hyperventilating is enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

The maester looks up at him, “She has started her labour early lord Stark” he takes a deep breath, watching the worry that deepens within Cregan’s eyes, “You must let us work”

Hours have passed since then, the late afternoon sun is peaking behind the curtains and Cregan hasn’t left your side as your clammy hands squeeze his. He chokes back a sob every time you let out an agonising cry, your face pressed into the sweat-soaked pillow as you grit your teeth.

The nurses tell you when to breathe then push, breathe then push and you know for a fact that your body cannot handle much more pain, exhaustion is creeping through your already weak body.

“Almost there lady Stark, almost there” one of the nurses promises, as she switches your cold rag for a new one, and Cregan doesn’t miss the worry in her eyes as she glances down to the blood-soaked sheets beneath you.

“You hear that my love? Almost there” He leans down to press a kiss to your damp hairline, pushing back the wet strands.

His thumb caresses the space under your eye, wiping your tears away as he holds your cheek. “I can’t- Cregan I can’t” you sigh, trying your best to smile up at him.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours “Yes you can. You are the strongest woman I know” he whispers.

You nod, taking a deep breath before squeezing your eyes shut, pushing one last time as the nurses and maesters all shout praises. “A boy!” You hear someone gasp but they seem miles away, and then you hear your baby cry as the midwives move quickly to clean him, wrapping him up in a clean blanket.

The noise of the room seems to bleed together, muffled as if you were underwater and with it goes your sight, then everything seems to stop and for a moment, for the first time in the last seven hours, there is clarity and the ache in your body ebbs away as your eyes flutter close.

The moment your grip on Cregan's hand loosens his heart stops, and the sight of your limp body covered in sweat makes his whole world come crashing down. He can’t think straight and the feeling only grows stronger as his eyes drift to the blood-stains all over your legs and bedsheets.

There’s a lump in the back of his throat that chokes him, and all the words he wants to say, needs to say, die on his tongue.

“My wife- is-” he isn’t able to finish the sentence as the Maester hands him his son, his cries hit Cregan's ears, a painful reminder that no matter what happens to you he has to carry on, a harsh reality that he can’t bare to face.

Before he has time to even look down at his child he’s already being whisked away from his arms, wet nurses attending to him. It’s almost as if the world has slowed down, and he can’t breathe.

“She has lost a lot of blood, my lord,” The maester says, his tone soft and gentle as he cleans up, taking out some strong-smelling herbs. “The best we can do is let her rest, if she doesn’t wake within the hour hold this under her nose” he nods about to leave the room.

“She’ll live?” Cregan's voice is weak as he gently holds your hand.

“Of course my lord, as you said, she is a strong woman” he smiles before leaving the room, and it’s only when the door closes that his tears fall so effortlessly from his eyes, and he pleads to any Gods who are willing to listen to him that you’ll be okay.

Cregan doesn’t leave your side once as the hours pass by. His hand gently lays over the top of your heart. The feeling of it beating beneath his palm gives him hope. He gently pushes your hair back, tucking the strands behind your ear as he waits on bated breath for you to wake up.

He watches your eyes flutter and immediately sits up, shuffling to sit closer to you. You groan something incoherent, but he can tell from the way you sound it’s out of nothing but pain. He’s quick to hush you, guiding you to lay back down, to your dismay.

“Y/n, please- relax, my love” he pleads with you as you grab ahold of his hand.

“Our son? Is he-?” You panic, voice hoarse as you try to sit up, ignoring the pain that seizes your body.

“He’s fine, I promise-” He whispers, watching your panicked eyes flicker frantically around the room, "But you, my love- please you need to rest” The way his voice trembles with worry makes you listen, that and the unbearable ache in your bones.

You look up at him, tears in your eyes as the heaviness of the situation finally weighs upon you. “I want to see him, please?” You whisper, and the hoarseness in your voice makes his heartbreak.

He wipes away the tears that fall from your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You will, I promise.” His voice calms your nerves. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? He’s not going anywhere” Cregan smiles as you nod.

“Okay. I do need a bath” You let out a raspy giggle, relief washing over you as Cregan chuckles beside you.

“Of course, my sweet wife” he smiles, his hand gently caressing your cheek before disappearing off, but not without looking back at you, a sad look clouded over his tired eyes.

The water is pleasantly warm against your skin, your hands grasping onto your husband’s shoulders as he helps you into the wooden tub. There’s a thick layer of silence that falls upon you both, it almost feels suffocating.

Cregan doesn’t mutter a word as he washes you. The water sloshing around, and the harsh wind is the only thing you can hear. It’s you who breaks the silence, catching his hands within your own.

You bring his hands to cup your face, “I’m okay. Cregan? Look at me, please?” You plead, noticing how he hasn’t been able to keep eye contact since you woke up.

There are tears that build up in his eyes, a dam of emotions that burst out of him. “I thought I lost you” he whispers, voice strained as he breaks down completely, the last hour finally catching up to him.

“But you didn’t Cregan, I’m right here” You don’t bother trying to hide your own tears, and he’s quick to wipe them away.

He leans to rest his forehead against your own, “I know” his voice is so quiet that if he were sitting any further, you wouldn’t be able to hear him, “But you almost weren’t, and I can’t live without you” he presses his lips against yours in a gentle, loving kiss.

“You don’t have to, I am right here, my love,” you tell him, kissing him once more before he pulls away. “I love you” you smile, as he goes to start washing your hair.

“I love you more… more than words could ever express” he finishes washing you. His touch is overwhelmingly gentle, so full of love that it makes your chest bloom with warmth.

The way his fingertips graze along your arms, how his lips feel as they press kisses along your shoulders. Small whispers of sweet nothings shared between you both in the candle-lit bathroom only ever to be heard by the pair of you.

You lean on Cregan like a crutch as he helps you from the bath, drying you off and changing you into fresh clean sleep clothes. Your bedchambers have been aired out by herbs and incense, and the bed sheets have been changed.

It feels so heavenly as you climb into bed. The sun was well and truly set. “I have a visitor for you” Cregan smiles, walking into the room with your son in his arms, wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp as he hands him to you. He stirs from his sleep with the movement. His tiny fingers wrap around your own as you admire him. “He’s perfect” You press a kiss to his forehead. Cregan sits beside you on the bed, the back of his fingers caressing his son's cheek.

“Brandon Stark” you whisper, looking over to your husband as he glances over at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

You lean your head against his shoulder, smiling when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer, before pulling the sheets over your legs. “Brandon Stark” he repeats with approval, and you both chuckle as your son gurgles up at you with wide eyes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

[bttrflybb]

haiii hope u r allright !!! i was wondering if you could write dry humping with iruka *evil smile* and how desperately crazy he gets from all the overstimulation ! tyy i love ur blog 💕

cw: dry humping, 'pup', begging, sub!iruka, softdom!reader 18+

am oki! lots of work and school but i passed the test i've been studying for :3 tysm ! hope this is oki <3

sweet iruka who can't help it with you, too addicted to your pussy to do anything without paying attention to her too. your slick is narcotic to him, the way it feels around his cock or stuck to his fingers- the way you taste. he could eat you out for hours- and definitely will at some point. rarely do you ever give him head, poor boy gets too frustrated with all the attention on him, desperate to get his hands on you.

he just needs you. so when you toy with him by dragging your clothed sex along his for too long, his polite pleas turns sloppy. hands grasp at the flesh of your hips, waist, and chest- weakly raking his nails as the teasing is just getting to be too much.

"p-please, fuck- c'n feel you," he huffs, bucking up and making you yip through the cotton as his tip rubs against your sensitive nub. the slick grind of your sexes barred by ruined underwear is intoxicating to you. torturous to the pussy-addicted boy trembling beneath you.

"be patient, 'ruka." you hum, a sadistic smile gracing your sweet face. he sees no malice behind you, innocently devoted to you and whatever you say. "hahh- mhm- okay," he nods, knitting his eyes together and breathing through each agonizing grind and bump. so sweet, you think. the way the scar over his nose contorts as his expression settles into a strained, focused one. fickle pads press into your hips, loosely holding onto them as you hump against him and occasionally digging into them each time you slide right over the sensitive seam beneath his tip. he's trying so hard to stay still- to be good for you- but fuck, your noises and movements are driving him crazy. the powdery scent emanating from the front of your neck wafts into him each time you lean into him. it's intoxicating, the combination of your heat, your scent, the brush of your chest against him each time you hump- he can't.

pitiful whines spill from his mouth and he weakly humps in reflex to your stimulation. "ahn, s-so good, feel so good," he fusses, practically panting. he's desperate to stabilize his voice- trying so hard to maintain some sort of composure. after all, he hadn't even gotten a proper fix of you yet, and he was already getting close to just your outline.

he can't help the stutter of his hips. the way his grip tightens around yours. he can't help needing more of you. you're just too good. each drag of his bulge against your defined slit has you grinning more and more at the erosion of his self-control. his hands sculpt up your torso, pulling you closer to him in a lust-driven hunger. his brain is fuzzy from the torture and all he knows he wants is more of you.

in a beat, his pace is increasing and the distance between the two of you is closed with his mouth as he takes a chilled nipple into his warm mouth, moaning at the feeling of it. his teeth gently roll against it before he alternates between pressing against it with the flat of his tongue and sucking- hard. you lick the front of your teeth and sigh at the feeling, arousal shooting through your nerves at the sudden display of depraved affection. poor pup is so starved he's taking anything he can.

he's drunk on your body, eyes rolling back at the taste of your flesh and fluttering closed as he fucks you through cotton. pride and lust pool in your gut at the sight of his desperation, so fucking cute.

"ah- jus' like that, pretty boy, fuck." you huff, tugging a moan from him that vibrates through your chest. his arms snake around your torso, pulling you closer to him- desperate for your warmth. no solace is found in his attempts- only making him more n' more frustrated at the simultaneous flood of his senses and lack of you.

his mouth detaches from you with a drawn-out whine, head falling back to try and catch your eyes with his. "i caaan't- i can't, please." he cries, hands traveling down your back and pausing once the tips of his fingers meet your panties. "please-" "hah, please what, baby? you purr, dusk eyes meeting his glossed-over ones, fatigue evident on his face.

he takes a shaky breath, carefully holding eye contact with you.

"please let me fuck you."

[dumbseee]

rumours, part two.

part one.

jude bellingham x influencer!reader.

fc: nailea devora.

_

groupchat: it girls 💕

larray:

ain’t no way you’re dating jude fucking bellingham and haven’t told us

y/n:

larry istg i’ll cut your hair in your sleep if you keep believing those DUMB rumours

oliviarodrigo:

girl

he’s hot asf why don’t you shoot your shot?

y/n:

with a footballer?

hell fucking no

these guys don’t know what being faithful to one person means

and i’ve heard plenty of shit about this jude guy

larray:

yeah me too tbh

y/n:

i’m not getting involved with him, period.

larray:

okay but what about his teammates?

y/n:

larry.

larray:

DO IT FOR ME

_

liked by judebellingham, yourbestie, larray and 789 928 others.

y/n: girls night 🥂

_

fan1: JUDE LIKED???

fan2: is she lying to us?? bc why would he like her posts now?

fan3: I JUST CHECKED AND HE’S FOLLOWING HER NOW TOO

fan4: maybe she lied to protect their privacy?? that would make sense tbh

fan5: you look so good 😍

fan6: she’s such a baddie omg, jude i get it now

fan7: didn’t know who she was before the whole jude drama but omg i love her

fan8: LEAVE JUDE ALONE YOU FREAK

fan9: petition for jude’s groupies to leave y/n alone

fan10: MOTHER

fan11: y/n please do another grwm i’m obsessed with your videos

fan12: how to be like her, she’s hot asf and has THEE jude bellingham at her feet

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

wtf is wrong with you?

i told you to tell your fangirls to leave me alone and what are you doing? you LIKE my posts and you follow me now?

leave me alone, jude.

judebellingham:

you looked good

you always look good*

are you free, tomorrow night?

y/n:

can’t you READ?

LEAVE. ME. ALONEEEEE.

or i’m pressing charges on you hoe.

judebellingham:

so it’s a yes?

i’ll send you the tickets and my jersey, someone will come pick you up, what’s your address?

y/n:

wtf

what do you mean?

judebellingham:

we’re playing against sevilla and i want you to come

y/n:

we don’t even know each other tf??

is that how you get all those girls to get obsessed with you?

that ain’t gonna work with me, boy.

judebellingham:

hm, i like you already.

y/n:

well, i hate you.

judebellingham:

haha

turns me on, love it.

y/n:

i am BLOCKING you

_

i hate him. i fucking hate him. who does he think he is? making me come see him to his stupid game, what am i, his mother? seriously i could’ve stayed at home, binge-watching the twilight movies like i do every year. now i have to go to his fucking football game, it’s going to be so nosy, damn it. and before you ask me, YES i am getting ready and i am wearing his jersey. not because i want to, but i know that i won’t hear the end of it if i don’t do it. yeah, i’m doing it because he’s forcing me, no other reason.

like jude said, someone did pick me up to take me to the bernabeu stadium, and i can’t believe i’m doing this. the venue is full of fans wearing either their real madrid jerseys or their sevilla jerseys. i can see men, women, kids, elderly people, they’re all here to have fun and support their favourite team and i have to admit that it’s a cute sight. let’s just hope that they don’t kill each other’s at the end of the match. i’m quickly escorted to the vip section, where friends, family and important people would seat for the game.

"oh my god, is that y/n?" a voice called from behind, i closed my eyes shut, fuck, and walked faster, i should’ve wore a mask to hide my face. if anyone picture me in this stadium with that motherfucker’s jersey on, it would end my career and i’m half exaggerating.

thank god, the vip section was secluded from the other people. the game started and i had to admit that it was fun to watch when you weren’t really supporting anyone. no stress, just having fun watching men run after a ball, just like dogs. jude was actually good, i never looked him up on the internet to watch his performances, i just knew he was the internet’s favourite whore and girls were thirsting over him. he was good looking, of course, no one could deny that, but more than anything he was annoying as fuck. i surprised myself, cheering for him when he scored a goal, what was wrong with me.

real madrid was actually leading the game with two goals against one. jude’s teammate passed the ball to him and he scored his third goal of the match. okay now, why did this motherfucker just point at the crowd, more specifically towards me? people turned around to see where he was pointing at, but thankfully they couldn’t see me. my heart definitely sank when he did that though, seriously what is wrong with this guy! it was a cute gesture, yes, but we weren’t dating and i promised myself to never date an athlete, tried it once and promised to never doing it again. jude was everything i hated in a man, he was reckless, cocky, full of himself and he knew he was hot. nothing worse than a guy who knows he’s handsome.

_

"how was i?" he asked, this big smile plastered on his face, i wish i could tear it off his face. "fine, i guess." jude made a weird face and put his hands on his hips. "fine? y/n, i was more than fine and you know it, scored three goals and they were all for you." he blew me a kiss and i swore i was about to knock him out. "yeah about that, someone could’ve seen me!" i said, slapping his arm, making him laugh. "darling, that’s what i wanted." okay, the way he was looking at me may or may have not made my heart skip a beat. "jude, i’m starting to believe that the fans gaslighted you into thinking we’re already dating." he laughed, making my cheeks heat up just a bit. "i just want to give the fans what they want to see." he shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders to start walking out of the changing room. i imediatly pushed his arm away and speed walked in front of him to hide my red cheeks. of course, the bitch was laughing at me, running to catch me and poking my cheeks to mock me. "aww, you’re blushing? i thought you hated me, darling." i put my hands on my cheek. "fuck you! it’s just hot in here!" "it’s literally minus two degrees, y/n."

_

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, oliviarodrigo and 890 918 others.

y/n: maybe football isn’t so bad 🙄

_

judebellingham: like the view? 👀

y/n: shut up.

fan1: SHE POSTED JUDE???

fan2: Y/N DID YOU LIE TO US???

y/n: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS GUYS OMG

judebellingham: for now* 🫢

y/n: jude istg…

fan3: OMGBSJSOSLSLMDMSLZ WTF

fan4: i am literally shitting bricks what the FUCK

fan5: i love the banter lmao they’re fun

fan6: i ship it tbh

fan7: y/n being a wag for 2024 omg

fan8: i love how she’s fighting it but we all know how it’s going to end

fan9: Y/N NOOOOOO NOT A FOOTBALLER

oliviarodrigo: well, well, well 👀

y/n: please not you too

larray: will you look at THAT

y/n: LARRY SHUT UP IM BEGGING

fan10: lmaoo even her friends are ratting her out

fan11: #savey/n

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID YOU REALLY DM POP BASE TO TALK ABOUT US???

judebellingham:

mmh, i don’t know what you’re talking about

y/n:

jude bellingham.

judebellingham:

okay maybe i did

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THEY’D RAT ME OUT LIKE THAT

y/n:

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

judebellingham:

anyways it’s not a big deal tbh

are you free tonight?

y/n:

no.

judebellingham:

nice, i’ll come pick you up at 9 <3

y/n:

are you BLIND?

i said no bitch

judebellingham:

suddenly i can’t read.

_

liked by judebellingham, larray, sabrinacarpenter and 901 927 others.

y/n: get you a man who eats his spaghettis with his hands 😍

_

judebellingham: i wonder who is this gentleman 🫢

y/n: yeah i wonder too 🙄

fan1: pls not jude carrying y/n’s purse

fan2: they’re so cute stop

fan3: my favourite couple

fan4: PARENTS

fan5: lmao i bet jude is the one who begged her to be his gf

y/n: yes.

fan6: JAISOSPXLD’´S

view all comments.

[celandeline]

I had an idea for a Farleigh one shot where you’re kind of a “friends with benefits” type situation. You certainly aren’t “dating” but it’s very clear you’re together type thing. He ends up getting with someone else, you obviously aren’t happy, so you bring a different guy to a Halloween party at Saltburn after ignoring Farleigh for a bit. I’d love for you to write it if you’d want to!! I absolutely LOVE your writing!! 💕🫶🏻

anything for you baby <3

i did take some creative liberties, since Halloween is during the fall semester i set it at Oxford, but i hope you still like it!

Together-Together

For two months now, you’ve considered Farleigh ‘yours’, in a sense. 

It’s an unspoken ownership that goes two ways - you spend most of your time together after all, given that you’re in most of the same classes and are both members of Felix’s little circle. It’s only natural that you’ve grown to like him, underneath the bitchy persona he puts on for Felix’s entertainment - and, based on the fact that he holds your hand when he fucks you, you assume that he likes you too. You’re not together - you’ve never discussed being together - but at the same time, you are. 

So when you watch him press some guy dressed as a sexy Dracula up against the wall like he’s going to kiss him, you get a little mad. Rightfully so, in your opinion. 

“What the fuck.” You say, louder than you intend to. Next to you, Annabel turns away from the makeshift bar (two folding tables manned by some guys you recognize from the rowing team), and follows your line of sight, zeroing in on Farleigh and his guy on the other side of the common room. 

“What the fuck.” Annabel agrees with you, pulling you closer to her so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music. “I thought you guys were fucking?”

“We are.” You say, still watching Farleigh over her shoulder. It’s like watching a car wreck - you can’t look away as he leans down to whisper in his ear, a flirtatious grin on his face. You can’t hear what he says - of course not, the music is loud enough to shake the walls of the dorm - but your stomach sinks anyway. “I mean, I thought we were.”

“Then what the fuck is he doing?” Annabel sounds more pissed than you feel, which almost makes you laugh - until you watch that boy nip at Farleigh’s earlobe and another rush of anger shoots through you.

“I don’t know.” You say. It’s the first time - you think, at least - that this has happened since the first time you fucked. Technically, he’s not doing anything wrong, you’re decidedly not together, but it still feels like he’s cheating. He was the one who extended you an invite to this party, anyway - you picked out costumes together. Granted, they aren’t matching, but the principle still stands. 

Annabel scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sips at her drink. “He’s such a bitch sometimes.” She says. “I can’t understand why you hang out with him so much.”

Because you like him. The words dance on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t say them, too busy watching Farleigh mouth at the boy's neck, his arm that isn’t leaning up against the wall sliding around the guys waist. Bile rises in your throat. “I’ve gotta use the loo.”

You don’t hear what Annabel says as you pull away, pushing through the crowds of your peers until you reach the communal bathrooms and shoulder the door open, darting into the nearest stall and locking the door behind you. You sit down on the toilet seat, staring ahead at the inoffensive gray of the stall door, the image of Farleigh feeling up someone else replaying in your head. 

Fuck. 

You shouldn't feel as upset as you do. You’re not together. You just spend most of your day with him and hang out with all the same people and fuck on the regular. And sometimes he tells you that he loves you when he’s drunk. But you’re not together. So, technically, he can do whatever - whoever - he wants. 

And that means you can too, if you want. 

You don’t really want to - you’d thought, since Farleigh asked you to come to this party, you’d get drunk together and leave early to share a joint and fuck like you normally do - but obviously, he’s not an option anymore, at least for tonight. It’s whatever - if he’s going to fuck someone else, so will you. You don’t care. 

New resolve built, you rise from the toilet seat and walk out of the stall, fluffing your hair in the mirror before heading back into the fray of the common room. With new vigor, you dive into the crowd of dancing Oxford students, passing a sexy Marie Antoinette and a poor attempt at a fireman making out to get truly into the throng. With only the makeshift neon lights scattered about the common room as lighting, it’s hard to see anyone’s faces, so you don’t bother, grinning up at the first guy who saunters up to you.

“Hi.” You say, looking up at what you think is supposed to be Magic Mike. Or maybe one of the men in black gone sexy?

“Hey.” Your guy grins down at you. “Nice costume.”

You glance down at the half decent princess costume you’d gone out shopping with Farleigh for yesterday. “Thanks, you too.” You say. “Wanna dance?”

-

You wake up to the sound of someone banging on your dorm room door. 

The sharp pounding reverberates through your skull, and you groan, lifting your head off your pillow and forcing your eyes open. Your eyelashes, stuck together with last night's mascara, have to be pried apart with your fingers. You trip out of the sheets, and the guy from last night - Evan, you think his name was - grumbles in his sleep. Dressed only in one of Farleigh’s tee shirts he left here who knows when, you pull open the door.

“What the hell do you-” You start, only to have the anger die in your throat when you see exactly who is standing in front of you. Farleigh, looking like he also just rolled out of bed, brushes past you into your room, his eyes set on the guy sleeping in your bed. “Farleigh?”

Farleigh pays you no mind, ripping the sheet from Evan in one motion. Evan squawks, eyes shooting open to see Farleigh looking down at him. Evan just blinks up at him for a moment, before, “Who the hell are you-?”

At the same time, you round on Farleigh, yanking your bedsheets out of his grip. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hiss. “We were asleep-”

Farleigh’s gaze is still locked on Evan. “Get the fuck out.”

You laugh, mean and loud. “Oh, that’s rich.” You say. “You’ve got no fucking right, Start.”

Evan scrambles out of bed, gathering the few belongings he’d had with him when you’d tumbled into bed with him last night and dashing out the door, muttering, “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend…” as he passes you. Farleigh slams the door shut behind him, and for a moment the room is quiet. 

You toss your balled-up bedsheets back onto the mattress, and tip your chin up to look him in the eye, the image of him feeling up some guy replaying in your mind. “Well?”

“Well what?” He snaps back, tilting his head to the side. “Since when do you just bring random guys home?”

“Since when do you?” I turn it back around on him. “You’re a massive fucking hypocrite-”

He rolls his eyes, smiling in that way that tells you he’s really pissed off. “Maybe I just wanted some dick.”

“Maybe I did too.” You say. 

“Then why-” He starts, and then stops himself. “I thought that’s what I was for.”

“Well, you seemed like you were busy.” You snark. “What’s it matter anyway? It’s not like we’re together or anything, you’ve got no grounds to be jealous.”

“Neither do you.” He says, leaning down to get in your face. The smell of cigarettes is heavy on his breath as his eyes bore into yours. “It’s not like you to bring home some other guy, and Annabel told me you made yourself scarce after you guys saw me and Kieran. Sounds to me like blondie was a revenge fuck.” 

You have to stop yourself from bristling when he says the guy's name. Kieran. You’re not together. You have no right to be as possessive as your heart is telling you to be, but at the same time, he had no right to barge into your room and kick Evan out. 

“Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't.” You say, unwavering despite how close he is to you. “You still didn’t have any right to kick him out. We’re not together.”

You can see the wheels turning in his head as he bites into the side of his cheek. You’ve never seen him this angry, ever - not even at Felix. It’s a little vindicating, watching him get so worked up by something that was really his fault to begin with, and you have to stop yourself from grinning as he opens and closes his mouth. 

“Well.” He says. “Maybe we should be. Together.”

The words are sharp, and pierce through you one after another like bullets. “What, that’s how you’re going to ask?” You snap back. 

He rolls his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line before he’s pulling you to him and kissing you like he’s hungry for it, all teeth and tongue. You pour yourself into him, grabbing at his shoulders and sweeping your tongue over any part of his mouth you can reach, your teeth finding purchase in his bottom lip. You bite down hard, and he groans, fingers digging into your hips. 

He pulls back, brow drawn. “Ow.”

“You are such a dick.” You say, tugging on his shirt until he pulls it off. You back him towards your bed, pulling your own shirt off and tossing it to the floor beside his. 

Farleigh drops onto your mattress, making himself comfortable amongst the pillows. “What else do you want me to say?” He asks. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, maybe!” You kick off your underwear, and pull the drawstring of his sweatpants loose so that he can kick them off. His boxers go with him, and you take your place on top of him, straddling him so that your hips slide together.

“Oh fuck - I’m sorry.” He says, eyelids dropping to half-mast as he watches you grind on him. “I didn’t think you would have cared-”

“Why wouldn’t I care?” You say, bringing a hand up to his face to tilt his head up, eyes narrowing at the hickey under his jaw that you didn’t leave. Still grinding, you dip your head into his neck, biting and sucking a line of marks. 

“Because - mm - we weren’t - ah - together.” He chokes out, hips canting up into yours as you bite harshly into the tender skin. 

“Just because we weren’t together doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have cared if you were fucking other people.” You say, sitting back on your heels to look down at him. “Obviously I cared.”

“I know that now.” He says, watching you rise up onto your knees, lining him up. His eyes find yours. “Did you let him hit without a condom?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course fucking not.” You say, sinking down on him in one smooth thrust. Even though you’re on the pill, you wouldn’t just let some dude hit raw - especially someone you’d just met. The way you trust Farleigh doesn’t extend to other men generally. “And don’t act like you didn’t storm in here all jealous too. You obviously cared if I was fucking someone else, why wouldn’t I have-?”

“Yes, okay, I was being stupid.” He says, panting as you begin to bounce, planting your hands on his chest for leverage. “I’m sorry.”

“And?” You prompt, watching his eyes flutter as you ride him. 

“And?” He whimpers, breathy and confused. 

“For waking me up…” You say, slowing down slightly. 

“And I’m sorry for waking you up, please just fuck me.” He whines, pushing his hips up to meet yours. With a grin, you resume your galloping pace, watching him pant and keen underneath you. It’s as good as it is every time - you know his body well enough to know that if you run your nails down his chest he’ll moan, and he knows you in the same way, so he grabs your hips to force you up and down his cock faster, and throws his head back against the pillows so you can lick a stripe up along the side, sucking the lobe of his ear into your mouth. 

He moans, loud and unabashed, and if this wasn’t a regular occurrence you would be embarrassed because there's no way your neighbors didn’t hear that. But, used to it as you are, you just roll your eyes, and slap your palm over his mouth, muffling his whining. “You are so loud.”

Whatever he says is swallowed up by your hand, but the look on his face sums it up for you. You laugh, and bring your other hand up to rest at the base of his throat. You don’t squeeze, but the simple feeling of the weight there is enough to have his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. 

Hands still covering his mouth and throat, your attention shifts to your own pleasure. You didn’t get to cum last night - it took Evan all of three thrusts before he was grunting and shuddering on top of you, and it made you miss Farleigh more than anything else. It makes the sweetness of knowing he was jealous too all the more potent as you're riding him like a prized stallion and he's looking like he’s about to ascend to the heavens with your hand over his mouth. It’s good. It’s always so good with him, even when you’re just hanging out - even when you’re just together in the same room. There’s not many people in the world you can say that honestly about, but Farleigh is one of them. 

The coil in your gut tightening, you lean back down to nip at the side of his neck, and whisper, “I love you.”

His responding groan is loud enough that your hand barely does anything to quiet it, and before you know it, Farleigh’s prying you away from his mouth and throat, pinning you to his chest and rolling so that he’s on top, never pulling out. Tucking his head into the crook of your neck, he resumes fucking into you, hips knocking against each other as he pants into your ear. 

“Mm, fuck, love you too.” He keens. “Love you so much I got - ah - scared. I’m so sorry about last night, please forgive me, please please-”

“Oh, fuck, yes I forgive you, I already did-” You gasp as he ruts against you. It’s delicious, the way your bodies slide together. There’s something about the way that his chest lays over yours that makes your heart swell, and the feeling of his curls tickling the side of your face is like a thousand butterfly kisses. With how keyed up you already are, it doesn’t take much. “Ah- Farleigh-!”

He lets out a long string of tiny moans as he follows you over the white hot edge, punctuating each thrust with a raspy grunt until he stills, slumping down against you. For a moment, the room is quiet. You wrap an arm around Farleigh’s shoulders, hugging him to you. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles into your neck.

“It’s cool.” You say. “We’re cool. I’m sorry too.”

“Cool.” He says. “Will you be my-?”

He doesn’t even get the full question out before you’re answering. “Yes. Duh.”

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hello again I thought of a request

How about the scene in the Baratie Arc

So mihawk attacked Don Krieg because he kidnapped winged reader (wr)

But wr managed to escape and steals a small boat

he's starving and finds the Baratie but he doesn't have money and we see his interaction with Sanji

And at the end he goes with his dad

This going to be a long one 😂

🐼💕~

Escape, Friend, Return ( Zoro,x male!child!reader x Sanji)

A/N: You were not wrong this was long 😳, at least compared to what im used to. When I was writing I was like this wont be so long, and then I was oh…

Dividers by @/saradika

Reader squeaks, avoiding another cannonball heading his way as he flies away

Finally, he managed to reach his destination, an emergency boat intended for use if the main ship sank.

Reader, however, had a much different intention for said boat, intending to escape his captivity at the hands of Captain Krieg.

Don Krieg's face drops as he watches the ship take off.

"Shoot the little rat down!"

Another shriek escapes him as he raises the sails, giving the small boat speed and creating distance from Krieg and the incoming cannonballs

'Shoot for the sails!'.

Don-Kreich and the rest of his crew frantically fire their remaining cannons.

He flinches as one of the cannonballs lands dangerously close, the small boat shaken by the force of the waves created in turn

He sighs with relief as he makes enough distance from the main boat to be out of range of the canon

“I did it…” he mutters, the reality of what just happened to him hitting the young boy as they slowly sink down, rogue tears gradually increasing until a river of tears fell from his eyes, sobbing for his father and the safety on his embrace, exhaustion catching up to him as sleep enveloped him.

Reader was woken up by the ship impacting with a much bigger boat

“Ow,” he whines, rubbing his head, looking up and awing; he had stumbled upon a giant ship if one could call it that, a fish making the underside with a building in the middle.

“B..?” he squints at the words in front of the weird shape, unable to make out what the collection of letters read; he flutters up and into the vast ship.

He sneaks all the way towards where he sees bustling of people, hiding behind a pillar and peeking out, spotting a blond man smoking on the railings of the ship

He squeaks as the man turns his head his way, and he quickly dart back behind the pillar

“Hmm?” Sanji watches the strange sight, tilting his head

Reader peeks his head out again, taking a glimpse at the man, darting back once they see the man staring at him

Sanji watches the child curiously before heading over to the person of interest

He squeals as he peeks out again, only to see the man right before him, slowly backing away, tears welling in his eyes

Sanji looks at the child, his expression softening

“Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?”

“I-I I “

Sanji kneels down in front of the boy.

“Are you alright?” he asks

“I -I want my daddy.”

Sanji looks concerned. “Do you know where he is?” he asks

He shakes their head

“Oh…how about you just come with me to my kitchen then…we can get something to eat at least,” Sanji says

He stares at his hand hesitantly

“Hey, I won’t hurt you, alright? You look like you could use a nice meal. C’mon,” he says, offering his hand

He slowly puts his hands over his

Sanji gently takes the little hand as he starts walking, headed to the kitchen

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks

“Reader”

“And where are you from, Reader?”

“Ummm, im from Papa’s island!”

“Hmm…and how did you end up all alone out here?”

“A bad guy took me,” he said, stretching his wings out

“I see…let’s see if we can find you some food then, ok?” Sanji takes the boy to the kitchen

“Okay!”

Sanji puts the little one on a chair before making them some food

“Here…” Sanji gives him a warm bowl of soup

“Thank you, Mister!”

“You’re welcome…” Sanji says kindly

“That was really yummy, Mister.” he smiles, kicking his feet and lightly flapping his wings in content

“Umm, what's your name, Mister?”

“My name is Sanji…nice to meet you, Reader.”

“Hi, Hi, Sanji!”

“Oi Assitant Headchef Sanji! We need you on the floor! We don’t have any waiters! They ran off yesterday!”

Sanji looks up from his workstation and then turns back to the child; he sighs

“I gotta help these idiots out there. Could you wait for me on the platform? You have a nice view from there; once im done, I‘ll help you find your father; does that sound good?”

“Okay! But you have to promise to come back and help me find Daddy!”

Sanji smiles.

“Do not worry, im a man of my word. Go on now and wait for me there; I’ll be there shortly.”

"Okay." he smiles flying toward the upper balcony

The next hour was a blur to the small child, from meeting the future King of the pirates on the balcony to seeing him comedically try to convince Sanji to join his crew to laughing joyously as Luffy and Zoro quarrel to a feeling of fear and dread enveloped him as the familiar gold armored man came barging in, carried by the hungry man, asking for food and pummeling Sanji to the ground and shooting all the chefs when he received the food but did received refusal to his demand of handing the restaurant To him.

He now found themselves crying in the hands of the blond cook as he soothed down his loud sobs and cries.

Sanji sighs softly as he takes a handkerchief and gently wipes his tears

"Hey, Hey, it's okay; he's not gonna touch you again, darling."

"H-H-he came back, he came back, and Mister Sanji and the others got hurt!"

"Hey now, I will never let anyone hurt you, alright?" Sanji pulls the child close to him

He grunts as Don Krieg starts demanding food for his crew; needing food to feed a hundred people, he gently passes over the kid over to Zoro, who happens to be the closest to him; once they had managed to calm down the child, their sobs now simply reduced to heavy breathing.

"Stay here, Darling, i'll be right back

"Where are you going?" a chef questions

"Im going to the kitchen to prepare enough food for a hundred people," he mutters, taking a drag from his cigarette as chaos erupted in the restaurant once again, punches being delivered until Zeff walked out and handed a bag full of food for Krieg's crew

Zoro rolls his eyes, glancing down at the child. In his arms

"Oi, where are your parents?" he questions

"I don't know where Daddy is."

"Who is your dad?"

"Umm, Daddy!

"Of course," He grunts

"....That hawk-eyed man whose glare is sharp enough to kill a man," the hungry man mutters as they both tune in back to the conversation

"That's Daddy!"

"What?!" he said, ruffling through his pockets and pulling out a wrinkled old paper with a familiar face on it

"Is this your father?"

"That's Daddy!"

"You're the child of H-

His discovery Is cut short as a tremendous force cuts the huge galleon in half, making the baratie sway violently.

"Look out!" He growls, moving reader out of the way as the swaying throws the chairs and tables around, almost taking with it Reader.

He squeals at the sudden collision and movement; they look up a Zoro

"Are you okay?"

He, however, does not respond, eyes glued in front of him, staring at the ship that was slowly sinking to the sea, and in front of it floated a raft with a familiar man sitting on it.

"DADDY!" he cheers, wriggling out of Zoro's grasp to fly towards their father, barreling right into him

Mihawk catches the young child, gently holding him in one arm.

"There, there..."

"You're here," he mutters

Mihawk nods, gently running his fingers through his hair

"I am," he says, looking down at him

"Are you unharmed? Did they hurt you?" he said, gesturing to Zoro and their aquentainces.

He shakes his head

"They helped me, they gave me food, and they took care of me."

He hums at their answer

"Damn you, what did we do to you?! Why the hell did you have to follow us all the way out here!" a crewmate of Krieg sneered, pulling out two guns and shooing the swordsman

"Why? What impertinence to ask such a question; I came because you had the nerve to take something from me," he said, deflecting the bullets from him and his child with ease.

"You really are the strongest... I set sail to meet you," Zoro says, slowly stepping closer

Mihawk glances at him and then down at Reader.

"Stay here; I will return shortly," he said, placing him down in the raft and stepping into what remained of Krieg's ship towards the ex-pirate hunter

They engaged in a few words and then engaged in the one-way battle, Mihawk not moving from his spot as he easily bested the green head with his tiny dagger; impressed with his ambition, ferocity, and conviction, he asked for his name, and gave him his respect and honor of bringing him down with all of his force, using Yoru.

"Stand Strong, Roronoa; I will wait for you at the top. No matter how many months or years pass, I will wait for you to surpass my sword."

He smiles as he watches as Zoro raises his sword and promises Luffy never to lose again

"You make a good team; I'd like to see you in the future. You have my thanks and respect for taking care of Reader while I was gone," He says, walking away to his raft and scooping said child, smiling again as they giggle and nuzzle into them.

"Farewell

Okay, y’all im not used to something this long especially for it to be following canon so closedly so idk I feel like its a flop, I don’t feel that usual 🥰 vibe, ya know? I did have to start skipping and resuming some parts, cause well I don’t want ya to read a manuscript of the manga…

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hii I just discovered your blog through your Sleep Token writings and I just have to say they’re really good!!! I love the way you write the boys especially iv in His Mark. I love when boys are like ‘quietly possessive’ I think it’s cute af.

Sooo which got me thinking about how the other 3 would mark the person they’re interested in/have a crush on..?

Their necklaces? Gift one of their Rings? Secret little gifts? Go slightly stalker mode? Idk but anyway would love to hear and read your writings and thoughts💕

Thank you for reading and being so sweet. I loved writing this🤍✨

Vessel

As I said, he is a quiet type of possessive in my eyes. His whole persona screams that he doesn’t need words if he wants to be intimidating. And while he’s calm about you interacting with other people for the most part, the moment he changes his mind or has enough with someone trying to shoot their shot with you, he is up and slowly walking your way.

His claim on you is in form of lovebites. Try to convince me that the boy is not into biting. That’s part of his love language. So a bruise on your neck or collarbones keeps all the lurkers away. He gets more creative in places that others might not get to see. But I wholeheartedly believe that he’s out there creating love hearts from his kisses on your thighs. Your skin is a canvas for him.

But he’s also pretty touch-starved so if there’s only the closest people on the team there he is holding your hand. Through it all. No matter what he is doing his palm is extended towards you and he won’t be settling until you either wrap your hand around his finger - that would make the wires in his brain spark - or just feel your much smaller hand pressed against his palm. So by all means most people would be more than aware that you’re his and his only.

III

Our little firecracker. He is a lot more expressive with his emotions so if this man feels like someone is getting a bit too close to ya, I would suggest that person looks over his shoulder for a day or two. All 6’4 of him that’s my lucky guess on his height would love it when you wore his clothes and found ways to incorporate something that is his into your outfit

A shirt of his you liked when you were on a date? Say no more. You would find it casually left in a place you would no doubt see it. Still smelling of him. A new hoodie the band was working on putting out? “Model it, baby, it looks better on you regardless”.

And now I imagine how he would halt when he saw you in his clothes for the very first time and how this need to see you in them was fueled. He’s trying to make breakfast. Simple pancakes that he had googled a recipe for. Part of him wants to make it special somehow cause it’s the first night that you have stayed over. He doesn’t hear you walking downstairs because he’s too focused on the amount of flowers he needs to use and the chunks that are forming. It is the light chuckle that slips past your lips that has him nearly throwing the spatula your way.

And then his whole body freezes, face going blank as he drinks in the sight of you. “I can change, I just didn’t find any of my clothes”, a light panic sets into you, not wanting to cross boundaries there might be. But III is quick to put everything that he’s holding and within a heartbeat, one of his arms is sneaking over your middle as he swiftly lifts you. You let out a surprised scream as he effortlessly places you on the counter. The biggest grin on his face.

“Do you know how good you look?”, his arms are on either side of you as he leans forward. “iii, I just woke up… my hair…”, you giggle but he cuts you off with a shake of his head, “Is perfect, you are perfect”, he leans in brushing his lips over yours, “Especially in my clothes, fuck me”, his hands move to run beneath the hem of the shirt, massaging your hips with slow circles.

II

He will forever be a secret to me. There’s something so mysterious about him. At times I feel like my INFJ ass can see right through him but then I’m like maybe I am so wrong. 😂

I feel like in a similar way to Vess, he doesn’t go around throwing punches if someone is standing too close to you for his liking. Cause similar to Vess there’s that sense of threat in someone’s silence. He’s a lot more private about his personal life even with people he loves and his affectionate side only comes out behind closed doors.

So if he wanted to mark you it would probably be something small. He wouldn’t go all flashy. Maybe a necklace he wears for most of the shows. Or a little II pendant on a chain. *cue TS I want to wear his initials on the chain around my neck* type of shit. He would love it too. Pulling at the chain ever so slightly when he wants to kiss you. Or simply when he needs a distraction. Slowly calming his racing mind.

I think it’s with quality time and gestures of love that he would show just how much he cares. So if you need a way to calm yourself his shirt is off, he’s laying on his stomach and you sit there, straddling his lower back as you color in his tattoos. He doesn’t let anyone touch them except you. And even if the pattern stays the same he still enjoys seeing the different color combinations you come up with. His little artist.

[cailinsblog]

If you are willing to can you do a Ethan Edwards x Y/N Hughes story. The plot line (which you can totally change) can be that it is the first time Y/N Hughes brought a boy home and none of her family was expecting it to be Ethen. And also if you are comfortable you can also add in How Ellen and Jim approve of Ethen for their daughter. Thank You

Omg I love this thank you for the request please keep sending requests thank you💕

The Right Choice: A Hughes Family Welcome for Ethan Edwards

Ethan Edward’s x reader hughes

It was a cold Saturday morning, and Y/N was buzzing with nerves as she drove with Ethan toward her family’s lake house. She’d been dating Ethan for a few months now, but between his commitments with the University of Michigan and her own busy schedule, she hadn’t had the chance to introduce him to her family yet. This was the first time she’d ever brought a boyfriend home, and there was a certain pressure that came with dating someone who was, first and foremost, her older brothers’ teammate.

As they pulled into the long, winding driveway, Ethan took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re quiet,” he murmured, glancing at her with a reassuring smile.

She sighed, her mind racing. “It’s just… they’re protective, you know? Especially Quinn and Jack. I’ve never done this before, and I just don’t know how they’ll react.” Her hands felt clammy, and she could feel her heart racing, but Ethan’s calm presence helped her breathe just a little easier.

The front door flew open as soon as they parked, and Jack, her ever-energetic middle brother, jogged down the steps. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight of Ethan stepping out of the car and walking around to Y/N’s side.

“Ethan?” Jack asked, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, you’re Y/N’s boyfriend?” He looked almost comically stunned as his eyes flicked between the two of them.

Ethan’s calm smile didn’t waver. “Hey, Jack. Surprise?”

“You’re… Ethan Edwards?” Jack echoed, shaking his head as if to clear it. Y/N laughed, grabbing Ethan’s hand and giving it a little squeeze. “Yeah, he is,” she confirmed, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She was about to add something when Quinn appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He approached them slowly, eyes fixed on Ethan with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness.

After a beat, Quinn broke into a grin. “Alright, Ethan. Guess I don’t have to worry about you on the ice anymore—you’ll be too busy looking out for my sister.” He offered a hand, which Ethan shook firmly. “But really, man,” Quinn added with a warm smile, “it’s good to have you here.”

They all walked up the stairs to find Ellen and Jim waiting inside. Y/N’s mom looked surprised, eyebrows raised as her eyes swept over Ethan. “Ethan Edwards?” she asked, looking at her daughter with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, Mom,” Y/N replied, almost shyly. She didn’t quite know what to expect, but her mother’s approving smile put her at ease.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Ethan. Heard a lot about you,” Ellen said, pulling him into a warm hug. Jim came up next, his smile as genuine as ever. “He’s got my seal of approval,” he said with a nod and a firm handshake. “Not just anyone can keep up with these Hughes boys. But I’ll be watching you,” he teased with a wink, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

The weekend went by like a blur. The family quickly warmed up to Ethan, charmed by his humility, genuine kindness, and the way he clearly adored Y/N. There was something about the way he looked at her, the way he instinctively reached for her hand or brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, that left no doubt he was completely smitten.

On their last night at the lake house, they all gathered around a fire pit, with the stars twinkling above them. Ethan had his arm around Y/N, keeping her close as she nestled against him, soaking in the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace. Jack, who had been skeptical at first, finally relaxed and admitted he was glad Ethan was the one Y/N had brought home.

“So, does this mean you’ll play nicer with him on the ice?” Y/N teased Jack with a grin.

Jack scoffed, “He’ll still have to earn every goal against me. But I’ll go easy on him—sometimes.”

The night wound down, and as Y/N and Ethan found themselves alone on the back deck, overlooking the lake, she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Not only did her family accept Ethan, but they genuinely liked him. And it was clear he felt the same. He gazed down at her, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You really do have an incredible family,” he murmured.

“They’re your family too, now,” she whispered back, and he leaned in, brushing his lips gently against hers.

In that quiet moment, with her family inside and the lake stretching out beneath a blanket of stars, Y/N knew she had made the right choice. Ethan was the perfect fit—not just for her, but for the whole Hughes family.

Please request and reblog

[sansaorgana]

I’m not quite sure if your requests are open or not so if they aren’t just ignore this!♥️ but if they are, hi!!! I was wondering if you could do an Austin Butler/Buck Cleven x Reader who plays hard to get with him. She is like head nurse or something, a badass who was trained by her daddy in the arts of war, like I’m talking knowing how to throw hand grenades, shooting rifles or knowing how to work a plane despite her role in modern day 1940s society. I don’t like reading abt Y/N being naive yk?

hello! 💕 this story takes place when the boys are still in the USA and training. I believe I've read somewhere they actually spent two years in Texas so... the Reader is a girl from Texas and a daughter of one of the badass Colonels at the base who is training Buck and others. she is also a head nurse at that base (I assume they also had sickbays even though those were training bases...? I literally know nothing about the military lmao). I hope she will be strong enough for you 😌 I personally don't find every sweet and more period-accurate female character to be weak or naive but it was still nice to write a different type of character for once 😅

I might post less frequently in the upcoming days because I am catching up with my uni work finally after a few weeks of abandoning it to write fics lol

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Bucky laughed at the sight of his friend going inside the sickbay after a training flight. He was going there for the fifth time this week and it was all because his friend had a crush on the head nurse, young (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

Miss (Y/L/N) was a daughter of Colonel (Y/L/N) – the Colonel (Y/L/N) – the scariest and the roughest man around. He had a scar right across his face and he was known for being so strong he could rip the tree out of the ground with his bare hands… or so the legend said.

His daughter was just like her father. She was feminine of course in her nurse’s apron and her hair done up neatly so it wouldn’t interrupt her work. Her hands were soft and her lips covered with red lipstick. But she was a tough girl who didn’t mind swearing a little and scolding all the boys at the base for their irresponsible behaviour. She probably didn’t know that they all acted this way just so they could get to the sickbay and be treated by her.

At least that was the case for Buck.

She sighed at the sight of him and rolled her eyes as she approached him when he entered the room.

“Major Cleven… Again?” She raised her eyebrows at him and he blushed. “What is it this time?”

“I am… I am dizzy,” he made up a pathetic lie and she huffed at that as she pointed at the chair for him to sit down on.

“I will give you something for that but if you keep having troubles of this sort, I’m gonna tell my daddy to not send you to Europe, you know?” She teased and he swallowed thickly at that comment.

“Please, don’t, Miss (Y/L/N),” he pleaded, his eyes carefully following her every movement as she looked at him with a smirk.

“Well, we don’t want weak pilots like you to defend our country, do we?” She teased.

“It’s not because of flying… It’s… I don’t know, it’s something else,” Buck hated himself for the way he acted around her. She was so intimidating but so tempting at the same time. The fragile part of his masculinity was simply scared of her but his other, brave side wanted to be around her all the time. And he was very well aware how many other men wanted her, too. But his feelings were real. It had very little to do with desire. He was serious about her.

She approached him and handed him a pill and a glass of water. He swallowed it and she squinted her eyes at him.

“I swear to God, you boys are the worst bunch I’ve ever dealt with,” she shook her head. “I hope in Europe I will handle real men,” she rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to Europe, too?” Buck asked as he widened his eyes.

“Of course, Major. It brings me no pleasure to be here and help buffoons like you,” she chuckled. “I signed up already and my daddy wants me to be assigned to the 100th.”

“That’s where I will go, too,” Buck’s eyes sparkled as he realised that she wouldn’t get rid of him so easily.

“Oh God…” (Y/N) sighed. “I hope you’ll be long gone by the time I get there.”

“I hope not,” he blurted out and she froze for a second before laughing.

“Oh, you’re cute, Major,” she admitted before walking away to deal with the next man entering the sickbay, coming up with some fake injury just to feel her hands examining him and hear her mocking tone scolding him for his irresponsibility.

You liked Bucky Egan because he was funny and he didn’t care about you. He could have any woman he wanted so he wasn’t showing off when you were around – or playing a victim like so many “injured” Majors, Captains and Lieutenants. You were growing sick of all of them, coming to you with every single papercut and making puppy eyes at you.

You were having a beer with Bucky behind one of the buildings in the evening. Consuming alcohol was forbidden but who would fire you? You were a daughter of the roughest Colonel in that base. And Bucky was under your protection – and one of the best pilots around.

“Alright, but if you had to go out with any of them, who would that be?” Bucky asked, teasingly.

“For fuck’s sake, John,” you rolled your eyes and leaned your head back to rest it on the wall. “It would be you.”

“But I don’t want you,” he laughed.

“You…,” you hissed at him and you both giggled. “That’s why I would go out with you.”

“Oh, you like the ones who don’t want you?”

“No, I like real men,” you told him. “Like my daddy is.”

“You know that my best friend is madly in love with you, right?” Bucky pushed your arm playfully.

“Curt Biddick?” You asked. God, that one was insufferable.

“Yeah, him too. But I mean the other one.”

“Buck Cleven?” You asked as you felt your cheeks heating up for some mysterious reason.

“Yeah, that one,” Bucky nodded. “He’s a good guy and a hell of a pilot. He’s tough, too, just in a different way.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, bless his heart,” you admitted.

“So, you’d go out with him?” Bucky raised his eyebrow at you.

“Stop playing matchmaker, it’s not gonna happen. I ain’t dating any man from this base,” you took a sip of your beer as you shook your head.

“Why not, though? You don’t want to marry a man like your daddy? I thought you wanted to,” Bucky asked.

“Y’all would be scared of a gal like me, let me tell you,” you giggled. “I can shoot a rifle and throw a grenade. My daddy wanted a son, you see. But my momma gave him only girls so he raised us like boys,” you told him. “All that discipline, I ain’t joking, Bucky,” you pushed him because he was laughing. “We had to get up at 5am, make our bed, do morning gymnastics,” you teased.

“Really?” His face became more serious.

“Nah,” you shook your head. “Only sometimes. But he took the whole business of teaching us self-defence very seriously. I remember asking him, where the hell would I even get a grenade from in case some boy was following me home, daddy? And he said: easy, sugar, they’re in my drawer next to the gun,” you laughed and so did Bucky.

“You know what I think?” Bucky put his bottle of beer down and shot you an odd glance you did not like at all.

“What, Egan?”

“You’re gonna get angry when I tell you.”

“Just tell me,” you rolled your eyes.

“I think you need a man who’s gonna see a woman in you. Like yeah, we all know you’re tough and shit. And all these boys want to be around you because you’re like a mother that they have left back home in the way you scold them and take care of them. But I think you just need someone to see a woman in you. Has anyone ever…?”

“You asshole,” you indeed got angry. You didn’t want him to be right and react in such a predictable way but you did.

You stood up and went back to the building to go to sleep, leaving Bucky Egan without a word.

You didn’t know what Bucky had said to Buck but Major Cleven hadn’t visited the sickbay in a week now and you hated to admit but you missed it. In fact, you were the most excited when it was him coming inside with some adorable injury or illness. There was something about him that was making you swoon even though you would never ever admit that. 

On that weekend most boys had a night out and you stayed inside the sickbay to deal with the paperwork. One of the head nurse’s duties sadly required filling some papers, too.

After a while, you heard a light knocking upon the front door and you sighed before standing up and opening them, shocked to see Major Cleven.

“Major?” You asked. “What is it again? The mysterious dizziness has had its comeback?”

“N-no,” he shook his head.

“Why aren’t you out with all the boys?”

“I didn’t want to go,” he admitted and you squinted your eyes at him.

“So you decided to catch me in an empty room instead? I have a gun here and I know how to use it,” you threatened although it was hard to believe that a man like Major Cleven would ever hurt any woman.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d go out on a walk with me, Miss (Y/L/N),” he widened his eyes at your threats. “It’s a warm and nice night.”

“Ugh, fine,” you shrugged your arms and grabbed a cardigan to put over your nurse’s outfit. He waited for you outside nervously with his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t want to be a bother, we don’t have to…” Buck told you as you were locking the door behind you.

“You’re lucky, Major, I needed a distraction from the papers,” you told him and joined him.

“Yeah, the paperwork. I don’t like it either,” he looked down and you two began to walk slowly towards the gates leading out of the base.

“And who does?” You chuckled and looked at him as you bit on your lip. He was adorable; something about him was making you feel protective. But on the other hand you knew from your father he was one of the best pilots and he was a man of honour. Your father was usually rolling his eyes at the mention of most men at the base. But never about Major Cleven. Your father rarely respected the young and new ones but something about that Major was making your daddy go easy on him.

“I wanted to apologise, actually,” Buck told you when you two finally left the base and began to walk alongside its fence.

“Hm? About what?” You asked.

“Bothering you five times a week with made up dizziness or papercuts,” he laughed nervously.

“And what made you apologise? You’re not the only one who’s been doing that, Major, but you’re surely the first actually saying he’s sorry,” you raised an eyebrow.

“Bucky told me it’s annoying you and that it’s not really a way to get to you,” he admitted as he looked up at your face.

“Why the hell would you want to get to me? You’re a sweet man,” you snorted at him. In the dim light of the moon and the base’s lights from afar you could see him blushing.

“What does it have to do with it, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Buck asked.

“I’m not sweet, Major Cleven. A guy like you… You should be out there in town with them boys and look for a sweet little naive doll for yourself,” you teased him. But deep down it hurt you that it was true – you were raised for a tough girl but sometimes… Sometimes you wished you were softer.

“You think so low of me, Miss?” He only shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “That type of woman you’ve mentioned… They’re nice and kind, I don’t mind them, they’re sweet, yeah. And they make good wives to lots of men but you… You’re the first one who actually impressed me,” he confessed.

You went silent for a moment. You liked that he wasn’t complimenting you while saying mean things about others.

“You’re a real gentleman, Cleven,” you pointed out. “And so smooth. You’d be a sensation if you stayed here in Texas.”

“Would I?” He stopped his walk and so did you as he turned around to face you better.

“Yeah. But if you stayed here, you’d soon realise there are more gals like me ‘round here. And I’d lose all the charm,” you teased.

“Then maybe I’d finally leave you alone, which I assume is your wish.”

“Oh, far from that,” you risked as you raised your eyebrows, waiting for his next move.

He hesitated for a while and then he smiled smugly and joined his lips with yours in a sweet but passionate kiss that took your breath away.

Bucky had been right – it was nice to be treated like a woman.

“Will your daddy shoot me for that?” Major Cleven asked with a chuckle after finally breaking the kiss.

“It’s not him you should be worried about. I can shoot, too, Major, and my daddy wouldn’t get rid of the best pilot,” you teased.

“But you would?” He grabbed your chin gently.

“The best pilot? Surely. But would I get rid of Major Cleven? Never,” you chuckled. “God, I’ve missed your made up migraines,” you confessed.

“I can fake more of them,” he smirked.

“Yes, please,” you chuckled and leaned in to kiss him again. “But let’s keep it a secret for now.”

“Why?”

“Because if my daddy finds out about us, he’ll make sure we won’t be sent to the same base in Europe and we don’t want that, do we…?” You looked up at him, your heart pounding so fast in your chest as it had never done before for any man.

“Oh, no, no, we don’t want that at all,” Major Cleven bopped you on the nose. “Who will deal with my headaches there otherwise?”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟐

the mcflurry is 2 miles back that way

tags/warnings: game designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || just fluff in this one || best boyfriend jungkook trying his best || very lightly implied staining of car seats due to bodily fluids

word count: 1.1k

notes: no taglist >:)

☆ collaboration with @bonny-kookoo 💕 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

Your foot taps against the ground, eyes trained on the back of Jungkook’s head as he hunches over the counter of the car rental place.

The noise of the airport is starting to grate at your brain, mood already sour from the flight. You hated travel, and as much as you loved Jungkook your patience was slowly wearing thin, entirely ready for the silence of your own space, and your boyfriend all to yourself.

Your eyes narrow in the slightest at the flirty little smile the car rental woman tries to shoot your boyfriend, entirely unprofessional in your opinion. Though you suppose you don’t blame her, he is good looking, probably comes off as some bad boy player if you don’t know him. A fact you’d laughed about to your friends when they’d worried over him cheating on you at the start of your relationship.

You tug your carry-on bag on bag towards your boyfriend, hand slipping over his back as you peer over at what he was writing. You feel some of the tension leave his body, his hand pausing for a moment to glance over at you with a smile.

“Do you want some help?” you ask, leaning a little closer into his side when you catch sight of the rental woman staring between the both of you, chaste kiss pressed to the warm skin of his cheek. You didn’t need to read her mind to know of the jealousy that seeped from her body, miniscule chance of her having anything with Jungkook immediately crushed as you look over at her with a daunting smile. Silent warning that you’d seen what she’d try to pull.

Any other day, you’d be all for the girls… just not when it came to Jungkook. He was yours. Forever. And that was final.

Said man shakes his head, “I’m meant to be doing all the work this holiday” he reminds you, a fact he’d brough up over and over again on the plane. Making it a point to carry your bag for you, plethora of all the snacks you liked tucked away in his bag just in case. He’d made sure you were comfortable, his own blanket sacrificed as a pillow to soften the bone of his shoulder as you slept, your own blanket tucked neatly around you, courtesy of Jungkook.

“This is barely work, give me your passport and I’ll read the stuff out for you” your hand slips from his back, reaching over the counter.

He frowns over at you, “I was serious when I said I was doing everything this trip”

“Stop being silly” you nudge your shoulder against his arm, patting the paper in front of him, “Now hurry up, it’s too noisy. I’m almost at my limit”

His bottom lip juts out slightly, back bending to press a kiss to your lips, “Sorry”

“For what?” you hum, eyes scanning over the document.

“Making you wait” he murmurs.

You wave him off, “You know I’d wait forever for you, it’s no big deal”

“But it is—” he starts. You turn towards him, finger pressed over his lips.

“Not right now, there’s a line behind us and you’re almost done filling this out”

He nods, lips puckering for one last kiss before he finished signing for the car.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“I want something sweet…” you murmur, eyes trained on the road ahead. Jungkook turns to you when the traffic light turn red, hand grasping onto your jaw as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss, strawberry sweet lip balm coating your own lips.

“Was thinking a Mcflurry, but that was nice too” you say, eyes flickering between his own. Heat rising to your cheeks as he stares at you, eyes glazed over with adoration, so much love filling his eyes you’re unsure what to do with it all as you drink it in.

“Eyes on the road, Kook” you remind him, green light caught in your peripherals.

He etches you into his mind for a second longer. A second too long for the driver behind you as they honk their horn for Jungkook to hurry up.

He simply huffs, perfect moment shattered by an impatient driver. This trip was meant to be dreamy, and naughty and so many perfect things. And loud car horns were never meant to be in that equation, nor noisy airports, and slow receptionists. He was half convinced your bags weren’t coming off the plane as the two of you sat there for over an hour waiting for them to come out. He couldn’t get the car he wanted (specifically choosing the leather seated one for easy cleaning just in case), he was hungry, and stressed. Not exactly the immensely over romanticised get away he was imagining.

“Jungkook?” you ask when he misses the exit the satnav had told him to drive down, half expecting him to just go around one more time to get to the right road. However, he starts driving back down towards the airport.

“Jungkook what are you doing?” you turn to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“You said you wanted a Mcflurry” he quickly glances over at you before his eyes are back on the road, “I saw an exit a little while earlier for a gas station”

Your mouth falls open a little, “Huh?”

“If you’re craving it now… then you might not want it later, so I’d rather get it when I know you want it”

“Jungkook” you shake your head, “We’re meant to be meeting Maria”

He shrugs, “I told her we might be a little late. Nothing ever goes right on our holidays, so I made sure to add extra time just in case”

You blink over at him, utterly baffled that he had even thought to think that far ahead. He was usually very involved in your holiday planning, though it had been a thing you’d always done together, two brain always better than one.

“Oh” you say, falling back into the car seat, “Maybe you should start planning our holidays alone more often”

His fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

“Nope” he starts, “I like doing it together, this is a one off”

“And you doing everything during the holiday? Is that only a one off too?”

A smile curls onto his lips, “I always take care of you on holiday, baby. I’d do everything for you all the time, but you’re such a strong independent wom—”

“Okay that’s enough” you stop him, eyes catching onto the gas station from your side of the car.

“Can we get fries too?” you ask, watching as he pulls into car park.

“Of course, I’m spoiling you this holiday. Order whatever you want” he rummages through his pockets for his card, handing it to you.

“You still have to order when we get inside, okay?” you call over your shoulder as you get out the car, not catching the happiest little grin on Jungkook’s face.

[lvndrfucks]

Hiiiii I love your writing smm and you’re one of the only people writing for the wallows 😭😭 Do you think you could do a Braeden or Cole fic where the reader’s the new photographer for the band and one of them starts having feelings for her? Thank you!!!💕

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ you’ve been hiding in plain sight｡˚📹 ࣪𖤐💋

You’ve only had one job in your life and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You were lucky to get an opportunity like this, knowing how many would kill to be in your position. But it was also the fact you were doing what you loved with the people you loved supporting you.

You were first introduced to the Wallows members during a photoshoot. Nothing crazy, just a basic background and the boys being themselves. Despite the seriousness of the photos, they were always cracking jokes. You couldn’t help but laugh a few times with them.

“I feel like I’m doing those Kohl’s family photo shoots,” Braeden said. “Can we pose like that?”

You chuckled a bit. “Go for it.”

They lined up close together, putting their hands on each other’s waists and stared into the distance. You laughed while getting the shot.

“Okay. Why don’t we take a break and then we’ll bring in the bench prop for the next portion.” They nodded at your instruction.

While you were reviewing some of the photos on your laptop, you noticed one of the boys approaching.

“Hey. I was just wondering if I could look at how the pictures came out so far.”

“Yeah, of course.” You moved over to let Braeden view the screen.

“These are amazing,” he spoke after a moment of silence. “The lighting and everything is like perfect. How long have you been doing photography?”

“Well, I started in high school. Just taking photos for yearbook and stuff. Then, in collage, I got my Bachelor’s in Fine Arts. I didn’t get hired until two years ago,” you explained. “I’ve also done a few concerts and events.”

“Wow. Thats impressive,” he complimented. “Do you mind if I see your other work?”

You nodded. You decided to show him the photos you took from a festival at the start of your career. It was the first time you’d ever been to an event so wild and full of energy. You felt lucky to had been given the opportunity.

“Wait, is this Lollapalooza,” Braeden questioned.

“Um, I think so. I don’t actually remember.”

The further he scrolled, the more excited he became. “Oh, my God, it is! Look, there I am!” He clicked on one of the photos that showcased him singing on stage with the rest of the band.

You laughed slightly. “It was so long ago, I didn’t recognize you guys. What a crazy coincidence.”

He smiled, agreeing with you. “These photos are sick, though. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks.” You looked down after feeling your face start to warm.

“I don’t know if this seems appropriate or not, but we’re going on tour soon and we could really use a photographer. I don’t want to steal you away from your job or whatever, I just think you’re the perfect person we’re looking for.”

You must’ve heard between the lines because all you could pay attention to was the fact he called you the perfect person.

You were speechless at the offer and told him you’d have to think about it. It sounded like a dream, but you didn’t want it to backfire in the future and ruin what you’d built up so far. It took a lot of time to think over and you consulting your friends about it. In the end, you were sure you made the right choice.

The concert had just ended. Everyone was still high on adrenaline and congratulating each other on another successful show. You were packing up all your belongings when Braeden walked towards you.

“Hey, did you make sure to get my good side?” He made a model-like face that made you laugh.

“All your sides are good,” you replied playfully.

He grinned. “We were thinking of going out for some drinks. You should come with.” You hummed unsurely. “Come on,” he urged. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fine. But I’m gonna change really quick.”

“That’s fine. I can wait and we can ride together.”

As much as you got along with Dylan and Cole, you and Braeden seemed to have a different relationship. You two often complimented each other so much that it was borderline flirting at this point. On plane and car rides, you both always sat next to each other and have shared hotel rooms before. There was one incident of having to share a bed because all the other rooms were booked. Neither of you complained.

You enjoyed the company of Braeden and how you felt around him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was more than friendly behavior.

Back on the tour bus, you put your camera equipment away and changed. Braeden was waiting in the small living room area when you stepped out. He looked up from his phone when he heard you.

“Uh, you look great. Very, very pretty.” He let out a small nervous laugh.

“Thanks, handsome.” You smiled and patted his chest. “Come on. Let’s get drunk.”

The music was loud inside. There were flashing lights on the dance floor and bodies everywhere. You and Braeden held hands while maneuvering around to find the others. For safety reasons, of course.

The others were already occupying a booth in the corner. You and Braeden managed to squeeze in, your bodies pressing close to each other. You could feel his chest against your back and he kept one arm behind you on the back of the booth.

Shots went all around, which you weren’t very fond of. Braeden laughed at your cringed face in disgust as you downed the drink. He left briefly to order something else.

“So,” a smirk painted across Isabella’s lips, “you and Braeden showed up together?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing where the conversation was going. “Yes. Just like you and Dylan and everyone else showed up together.”

She threw her hands up in defense. “I’m not saying anything. Just pointing out a fact.” You nudged her shoulder with a smile.

Braeden returned with two drinks in hand; one for you and one for him. You thanked him and clinked your glasses together.

The next hour or so consisted of laughing and drinking. In that time, your head was already buzzing and you were swaying in your seat. You gasped suddenly hearing the music change.

“I love this song!” You patted Isabella’s arm. “Let’s go dance! Please!” She laughed and nodded.

Braeden moved out of the way to let the both of you out. He wasn’t that drunk, wanting to keep an eye on you. And everyone else. He watched you and Isabella start singing along to the song, jumping around with everyone else. There was a faint smile on his face that he didn’t realize was there.

He felt someone pat his back. Dylan gave him a knowing look.

“Are you gonna make a move or stare like a creep?”

“I don’t know if she likes me like that,” Braeden told. “Yeah, I guess we flirt and stuff, but don’t friends do that?”

The whole table stared at him.

“Dude, no,” Cole said. “Have you heard how she talks to me? One time she yelled at me for drinking her Dr. Pepper. When you did, she said it was fine and bought more.”

“Trust me, she likes you,” Dylan concluded. “Go over there, man.”

Braeden looked down in thought, then nodded to himself. He chugged the rest of his drink and stood up. The boys cheered behind him.

Braeden said something in Isabella’s ear you couldn’t hear. She nodded and walked back to the table. She gave you a thumbs up over her shoulder.

“Is it okay if I cut in?”

You nodded at his question and felt your body draw closer to him. There was small hesitancy in his movements when all of a sudden, his hands gripped your waist. You raised your brow before draping your arms over his shoulders.

“Can I tell you something,” he asked.

You gulped. “Of course.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, like he was trying to find the right words. He looked into your patient eyes and decided: fuck it.

Braeden surged forward, his lips landing on yours. A few seconds later, he pulled away. He awaited your reaction. Your mouth slowly upturned before tugging him towards you.

hera speaks!

tysm for the request and i hope you like it <3 i’m working on a few more and some of my own, but requests are always open !!

[toska-writes]

Welcome back bestie!! *muah muah* 💖💕 A humble request for my weary heart-- Some wholesome language barrier Wolffe X Reader 😔✨️ The 104th is tasked to assist another planet with natives who unfortunately don't speak galactic basic, and the boys are kept entertained watching Wolffe trying to communicate <3

Ahhh thank you lovely! *muah muah*

“What?”

Summary: all the pack could do was smile and nod, and maybe try to figure out what you wanted to tell them

Paring: Wolffe x platonic!reader

Warning: none just some fluff!

Word count: 1336 (Not proofread!)

Notes: I’m such a sucker for platonic Wolffe so I hope you enjoy this moot!

The second day of a recovery missions were normally Wolffe's favorite. If everything went to plan of course.

He could see the tense shoulders and demeanor from his pack, the mission the day before wasn't exactly a walk in the garden as initially planned.

Sinker seemed to be lounged comfortably leaning against Boost, a strange serious look on his face as sleep seemed to run from his grasp.

The rest of the boys were in no better shape since most of them were dragging their feet and moping about while trying to load the ships before departure.

The village that they rescued was still in sight as natives started banning today to remove some rubble that cluttered the streets.

"Get up boys let's go." Wolffe ordered with a gruff attitude marching past the boy searching for a few things along the way.

Boost opened his mouth as if he was about the argue with the commander but quickly decided against it.

Following quickly on their commanders heels, Comet was almost hit in the face with a rubber ball Wolffe through quickly over his shoulder.

"I thought we were packing up Commander?" Comet questioned shooting a quick glance at Sinker.

Wolffe only shook his head as he continued with much more pep in his step compared to his pack.

"We have time" was all the clone said without a glance back towards his battalion which he knew was following him.

The cool breeze with the now setting sun seemed to wash away much of Wolffe's worry, taking a huge breath in after his helmet was removed, Wolffe quickly offered his assistance to a man carrying a heavy looking box.

Young eyes seemed to follow the rest of the men how were now quickly tossing the rubber ball back and forth between ranks.

Comet was the first to try and offer their games to the local kids with an outstretched hand and a kind smile.

The small boy took the toy curious and spoke a very quick sentence the some friends that waited by.

"That was a mouth full huh kid?" Comet spoke watching the kid throw the ball to a friend.

The young lad smiled up at the clone and with another catch said something that was definitely not in galactic basic.

"This is gonna be fun yeah?" Sinker spoke allowed waving Wolffe over now.

An invisible weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders as Wolffe watched his pack start up a few games with the younger natives on the planet.

Groups of about 2 clones and a few kids were seen sitting on the outskirts of the game, the younger looking kids babbling about whatever in the whole galaxy they wanted.

It was until a hand pulled at the kama that hung of wolffes waist. Immediately the clone was hit with a curious look and what seemed to have been a question.

Wolffe stood there looking for a second, not exactly sure what to do since he had no idea what just happened.

The kid continued to talk only this time taping the comm around Wolffes wrist and cocked their head to the side.

Kneeling down Wolffe held his wrist comm out while saying. "Curious in this kid? It's pretty cool I know."

Wolffe didn't know he was doing it subconsciously, but his normally gruff and sarcastic voice sounded lighter now.

You tapped his shoulder plate now looking over his armor. With an idea dawning on you, you tried to speak again to the clone still kneeling.

His eyebrows furrowed as Wolffe tried to watch your body language to get a hint if you were asking, or telling something. But the quickness at which you spoke confused him.

Another tap tap across his armor was accompanied by some more words. "Look kiddo you can understand me yeah?" He asked getting an enthusiastic shake of the head.

Of course you could.

You shook your head quickly as if laughing at him before point to yourself and telling him your name.

Wolffe gave a small smirk before trying to repeat the name in the same accent.

Pointing at Wolffe now he was almost confused if you were asking him if something. The small rise in tone at the end of your sentence suggested that you were asking him a question.

Crossing his legs and sitting with you fully on the ground now he said. "Wolffe, my name is Wolffe."

A giggle escaped your lips as you once again forgot the clone couldn't understand you, but with a quick solution you made the howling sound of a wolf and point back his way.

"Yeah you're right." He said with a smile forming bigger on his lips.

This time your gaze was directed at where the game between the 104th and the native kids was being held.

He was confused for a moment before he looked down at your waiting expression.

Unsure of what you wanted Wolffe said. "Them? Those are my brothers."

The kid face lit up now as what Wolffe could assume the equivalent of 'brother' was in your language.

Testing the foreign word on his tounge a few time, Wolffe found himself sounding it out with the kid in front of him until it was perfect.

Getting the hand signals down now and repeating the word brother your could point to your self and hold up 2 fingers

"Ahh I got that of what you're trying to say." Wolffe laughed ruffling your hair as he continued. "You can take some of mine if you want."

A few sporadic motions later and you got the clone commander understanding a few different words in the planet language.

The clone commander was far from perfect which he wouldn't admit right away, but the joy he saw as you taught him was priceless.

Wolffe was in the middle of repeating the syllables of what he could understand was supposed to mean Sunset when a pair of boots came stomping over.

In the arms of Boost lay a small boy tired from the activities before. With a large gloved hand cupping the boys head Boost said. "Learning some stuff are we commander?"

With a shrug and a playful eye roll Wolffe responded "you could say that.

The comm at each of the men's wrist as the familiar voice of Plo Koon sounded out.

"'My dear men, I'm not sure how thrilled the council will be if we are any more late than we already are. I suggest heading back to the ship now."

Sinker joined his standing brother quickly looking at Wolffe and his companion before both men turned to retrieve the others.

Wolffe glanced back at you as almost a disappointed look crossed your face. "Sorry kid, but thanks for teaching me a few things"

Wolffe stood before quickly helping you to your feet as well. In a moment you were on the larger man in front of you crushing him as hard as you could in the biggest hug.

For a moment more words spilled from your mouth before watery eyes met his own.

"Awe kid it'll be alright. I'll come back and visit you, we all will." He gestured around as the village started to pack up for the night.

With a sniffle you reached out once again and grabbed the wrist of the clone commander. In one swift motion you moved one of the weaved bracelets that adorned your wrist to his own.

He started at it for a moment before you spoke one more word to him. He would always recognize that word now.

Brother, you said.

With one last squeeze and a wave you ran off to join some of the other kids who were preparing to go inside.

The braclet stood out against his white armor, and with a quick pat of it Wolffe turned and headed for his ship home.

Little did he know little eyes continued to watch him, hoping that one day they would see the commander and his men again.

_____________________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[sxcret-garden]

omg I'm so sorry you're feeling sick! sending lots of well wishes and also this particular thought your way:

call me absolutely delusional but I feel like park jisung is definitely the type to get a kick out of seeing you try to cover up the marks he leaves on you. like PLEASE we know the man will put his lips to good use if you let him(especially on your décolletage area), but I feel like he would enjoy watching you wear turtlenecks to try and cover up the reminders of when he had you absolutely melting under him.

better start wearing tights under your miniskirts because his second favorite place to mark up is your inner thighs shoot me

Thank you so much first of all 💕

And oof.... just the thought of this shy boy suddenly turning the tables around and making you be the shy one instead because he knows exactly what's hiding under your clothes 🫣 imagine him teasing you about it too, asking you what you're hiding even though he knows exactly what it is because he's the culprit in the first place.... alsoalso him marking your thighs???? he'd be such a tease with his head buried between your legs, you playing with his hair and tugging at the strands impatiently as he's taking his sweet time marking you up, while you're just begging for him to hurry up and to eat you out already.... and then he'll give you this little smile that has you melting at the sight (you know which one) as he apologizes for messing with you, and next thing you know he's letting his tongue work some magic, quite literally driving you insane.......

[nescaveckwriter]

Wandering Love - Chapter Three❤️💞

A/N: Awww I know it's been awhile, but here's Chapter 3 🐞, hope y'all enjoy this one💞

Side note: Thank you for the love and support 🐞💕

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual content, some scenes may be triggering please read with care.

The glistening moon is high in the sky, no stars in sight, a shotgun, resting against the wooden door, a rocking chair , going back and forth, lean fingers clasping to the handle, the long blond hair, getting tossed around, every now and again as the wind picks up, the brown worn out Stetson boots, tapping to the sounds of the crickets, the cowboy hat, is drawn low, so that you can't make out her face.

 A smile tugging at her rosy plum lips, as she recalls the memories of the man she loves, the deepest blue eyes, you've ever seen, his accent deep Texan, definitely different from the folks she used too know in New York, he was a large big man, towering over her, but she never felt afraid no, she felt safe, thinking back now, she felt home, but she left him there that day on the train station, wanting to explore the world, searching for a adventure around every corner, to learn less privileged kids literature, her parents never quite understood her wild spirit, she was highly educated, but wanted to travel, instead of marry a banker and get a white picket fence, with little ones running around.

Its been almost five years now, that she left him, standing there, she almost didn't leave, her heart was breaking, but she knew if she didn't go, she'd might look back one day and blame him, and no way she'd wanted to do that, she loved him to much to. But, if only she never left, she was always a lover and not a fighter oh no, but that sweet man, of hers told her that, if she's going to leave he will make sure she can protect herself, he taught her how to ride a horse, how to throw a punch, or two, always so careful not to hurt her, he's such a gentle teddy bear, but when the training with the guns, came she didn't want anything to do with it, but he insisted, so the first time, she pulled that trigger of that '45 the kickback was so surprising, that it threw her to the ground, of course he laughed but he helped her up, dusting her off, placing a sweet kiss on her lips, saying "you can do this my sweet little woman-child" and well today, she's got two 45's holstered on her belt, yeah her life, didn't exactly turn out as planned, she went about three towns over, when she got a place to stay by a sweet family of four, growing quite fond off them, two beautiful children and boy who took after his father and a little girl, who reminded her a lot of herself of that age, so she taught them how to read, and write.

 A tear rolling down her cheek, one day when she came in from the fields, bringing some corn and other vegetables, she heard the kids screaming , "Mommy" and as she ran in, she saw the two kids hiding underneath the table, there mother beaten, her dress torn, three men towering over her laughing, she screamed at them "leave her alone" which made one of the pigs turn around, tapping the other men, "aren't she a pretty one, so young, I will have some fun with you," she's not really sure where she got the courage from but she howled back, "you want me come and get me" the big man laughed, walking towards her with big ole steps, he stood a few inches from her and she threw a punch to his face, he didn't even dent backwards, he just laughed and threw her to the ground.

As he wear tearing at her dress, she saw his weapon at his side, and she went and grabbed it, pulling the trigger without any warning, the big guy, fell on her, and it must've been the adrenaline, but she rolled him off of her, getting up and shooting the other man and then the other, she was shaking like crazy, she was forced to take not only one life but three that day, tears was staining her cheeks, but the woman was grateful and the kids still had a mother, as for her , the sheriff of that town wanted to arrest, her, she shot he's brother so that's probably why. And ever since that day she's a renegade that's on the run, standing up for the folks who can't stand up for themselves. That's what brings her too this old town ' Grave Springs'

Sitting on the porch, waiting for other heartless bandits, and bounty hunters to come take this older man Bobby Singer and get the reward, dead or alive, he supposedly murdered his wife, but she knew it was the Jefferson brothers, her good friend she made along the way, he's a sheriff a couple towns over, one if the good one's, Dean Winchester, Bobby is like a father to him and his brother Sam, so when she got the request to come and keep an eye on him, till they can get here, she said she'll do it without hesitation. So while the old man is getting some shut eye for the road ahead, she's out here keeping watch, reminiscing about her life, and every now and again, remembering the love she found in Benny.

Whispering underneath her breath "I still miss someone, I'll never get over those blue eyes, I see them everywhere, I miss those arms that hold me," she heard the song playing in a saloon and it stuck with her, resonating with the words, the only problem is she is the one who left, not him.

 Her eyes wet as she dreams about what could've been, but he's probably gotten a wife by now, no way, he'll wait for her, he has gotten quite a few more years on her. Oh how many times, did she wanted to get on 'Savannah' and ride her up in the mountains, tell him she's there to stay in his arms, till the day she dies, but how could she bring all this to him, not much the people chasing her, but more the person who she is now, she's not the little woman-child he used too know, she's not his Willow now more, nowadays she goes by, CJ, short for her real name, Charlotte June.

She not the lover anymore, but rather a fighter now, fighting in more ways than one, fighting to stay alive, fighting to stay out of jail, fighting to stay the woman she was five years ago, fighting not to give into her hearts request to and get her man, hell all she ever does is fight, and to be honest she's tired of feeling so damn tired.

Taking a sip, of the small bottle of Jack, she can't help but smile, remembering how much Benny liked he's liquid gold, that was until they spend some time together, he didn't drink as much, they were to busy, loving each other.

Glancing over the stretched out darkness she can't help to feel that's the way her soul feels, she hated sitting still, that's when her head is filled with all those memories and thoughts, its exhausting. But it's her fate, and there ain't  a damn thing, she can do about it!

Her head shifting to the left as she hear the rustling of the leaves, already getting up out of the chair, grabbing the shotgun pointing it in the direction of the noise, the moonlight just lining out a figure of a big fella stepping out off the bushes...

Chapter Four Here :)