⌗drunkinlove — soobin comes home drunk and needy …
( c. soobin x fem!reader ) • warnings. drunk soobin, face sitting, language, lowkey sub!soobin 𓄵 word count. 682 { back to library }
( yeni’s notes ). when is talking about drunk soobin im always talking about the picture about 😭
the sounds of the continuous banging on your door ripped you completely from your slumber; getting up , barely putting your slippers on before making your way to the door.
“baby!”
you could hear your boyfriend through the door. “baby open up!” he was drunk. you opened the door , the taller boy flew into your arms. “no!” he yelled out , probably waking up a few neighbors in the passing. “no don’t look at her.” he stared down at you. “why are you in your underwear baby?”
“well i was sleep before you started banging on my door , waking up the building”
his friends looked confused; “he’s been drinking all night.” taehyun said. “we told him to calm down , but obviously he doesn’t listen.”
he started mumbling incoherently ; swaying your bodies back and forth. “yeah i can see that.” they scratched the back of their necks awkwardly. they said their goodbyes and you dragged you boyfriend to bed.
“baby , baby i missed you.” his words slurred , you stood in between his legs , taking his flannel off. “i missed you all day.”
his face was red; his cheek pressed against your bare stomach as he pushed your shirt up under your boobs. “soobin you’re drunk , you’re crazy if you think we’re having sex tonight.”
“why?” he kissed your stomach. “don’t you want me to eat your pussy?” he licked your stomach , you felt a tingle , lightly tugging on his hair , pulling him back to look at you — his eyes blown out.
“behave.”
“please.” he whined , pulling you down on top of him , you straddled his waist. “i’ve been thinking about you sitting on my face all night.” he left sloppy kisses along your collarbone. “i could practically taste you all over the soju baby.”
you bit down in your lip to not fuel him anymore , but he wasn’t letting up ; he wasn’t even looking you in your eyes anymore ; zoned in on your covered pussy — you could’ve sworn you saw him drooling before you lightly slapped his face. “come on let’s get you to bed.”
“not until you sit on my face.”
“soobin.” he pulled you on his chest , he could practically taste your cunt. “you’re unbelievable when you’re drunk.” your protest slowly stopping though , soobin taking notice of that , pulling you even further , his mouth so close you can feel him breathing on your pussy.
“fu-fuck soobin,” his stuck his tongue on slightly , teasingly licking your cunt through your panties. “shit.” getting a little taste , setting him off , pulling you fully on top of him , opening his mouth and engulfing your clothed cunt.
he held you down on his face , suffocating himself as he messily ate you through your panties , like the barrier didn’t matter to him , he was getting his fill regardless. “fuck bin i’m gonna cum.”
your body folded over , holding yourself up as you came , moaning his name loudly; but that didn’t stop him , he kept going , still hungry for more. “fuck so-soobin i came.”
he moaned , finally pulling away. “i’m sorry i got carried away.” he sounded even drunker than before. “you just taste so sweet i cant help myself.”
soobin was hard as a rock; palming his cock through his jeans , moaning shamelessly. “i’m so hard , i need you.” he whimpered pathetically. “please can i put in?”
knowing he’d just fall asleep , you came up with a different solution , helping him take off his shoes and pants. you laid down on your back; taking your panties off, inviting him into your arms. “good boy.” whispering in his ear.
“please.” he whimpered , you pulled his cock out from his boxers , jerking him off , feeling him rut into your hand. “please just let me put it in.”
you guided his cock into your hole; he let out a loud whimper; pushing himself all the way inside. “fu-fuck , don’t move.” you moaned , he obeyed. “good boy”
you ran your fingers through his hair softly; he sighed , his eyes fluttering closed , his red drunken face falling still. “i-i love you.” his words slurred , you kissed his forehead.
synopsis: after appearing on a reality tv show where txt took care of a child for a hundred days, choi yeonjun starts wondering what it would be like to have his own.
› pairings & contents: choi yeonjun of txt x fem!reader
✧ warnings: smut with plot, both hard & soft dom yeonjun, HUGE breeding kink!!!! unprotected sex, creampie(s).
FIRST EVER MUSIC CORE WIN.
• the "txt parenting diary" series was a trap. a cute, giggling, 15-month-old trap named yoojun. yeonjun walked in thinking it'd be wholesome content. he walked out filming all the episodes, a changed man.
• anyone who's watched the show could tell yeonjun LOVES yoojun. the way he learned to warm the bottle perfectly on his inner wrist. the way he whispered silly stories while feeding him. the absolute focus when trying to get his clothes on. the members had never seen him so soft, so domestic. well, except for maybe when he was drunk.
• txt's first win on music core nearly right yess after debut was nothing short of euphoric. but the real highlight for him? when the staff brought yoojun out for the encore stage. holding that baby in his arms, bouncing him gently to the celebratory music, seeing yoojun bow to the crowd, yeonjun's heart did something terrifying and permanent. he looked out at the sea of moas, felt the weight of the child in his arms, and thought: i want this. for real. with her.
• he doesn't say anything that evening. he's buzzing, but he hugs the members, thanks the staff, goes through the motions. but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd backstage, and there's a new, profound heat in his gaze.
TENSION SO THICK, YOU COULD CUT THROUGH IT.
• it starts subtle. i mean, he’s always been touchy, but now his hands linger on your hips, your lower back, with a different kind of purpose. when you’re cooking in his dorm, he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and just rest his chin on your shoulder, his palms spread wide over your stomach. he doesn’t say a word. he just… holds. like he’s imagining it rounded with his child.
• he starts buying things. not baby things—that would be insane—but family things. a ridiculously soft, large blanket "for movie nights." two matching, sturdy coffee mugs. he looks at apartments with an extra room, "for an office or something."
• the dirty talk shifts. it used to be about how good you felt, how pretty you looked. now, it’s laced with something deeper, more primal. "you take me so well, fuck, you feel like home." "i could stay inside you forever." once, in a haze of pleasure, he groaned, "you'd be so beautiful pregnant," and immediately clammed up, as if he’d revealed a state secret.
• watching and taking care of yoojun for a hundred days unlocked a specific, visceral kink: breeding. he never expected himself to be into something like that. he thought of finishing inside you is a sacred, claiming act of creation. the risk, the potential, is the biggest turn-on of his life.
• he becomes obsessed with your cycle. he’d never ask, but he notices the subtle signs. he even downloaded a tracker app. when you’re tired and crampy, he’s unbearably tender, massaging your belly with a warm palm. when he suspects you’re ovulating, or the app tells him so, he’s a different being—possessive, insatiable, his touches loaded with a desperate, hungry intent.
• he stops pulling out. it happens the first time after the music core win. he holds you down through his climax, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, and stays there, panting against your neck. the silence afterwards is thick with what he’s just done. the unspoken question hangs in the air: was that okay? the answer is in the way you cling to him, in the lack of protest.
IS THIS A DREAM?
• it’s a quiet night at his place. you’re curled up watching the parenting diary episode on his laptop. he’s pretending not to watch you watch it.
• on screen, he’s making yoojun laugh, tossing him gently in the air. you let out a soft, "aww, he’s so cute with you."
• that’s the trigger. he quietly takes the laptop, closes it, and sets it aside. his movements are deliberate. he turns to you, cups your face, and kisses you. it’s not hungry at first. it’s devastatingly sweet, full of the emotion he saw on screen.
• "i want that," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick. "ours. i want to see you holding our baby after a win. i want to come home to you both."
the confession hangs there. it’s huge. it’s terrifying. it’s the hottest thing he’s ever said.
• the sex that follows is slow, deep, and unbearably intentional. every kiss, every touch, every thrust is infused with that yearning. he makes love to you with his eyes open, watching every flicker of emotion on your face.
• he guides your legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle, going deeper. "right here," he breathes, his rhythm becoming focused, potent. "this is where i’d put my baby in you."
• when he gets close, his composure cracks. the sweet, yearning boy is swallowed by the primal man. his thrusts become urgent, erratic. his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise.
• "gonna put a baby in you," he chokes out, a ragged, desperate promise. "gonna see your belly swell with me. please. let me. i need to." it’s half plea, half vow.
• he comes with a broken sob, collapsing over you, his body trembling not just from release, but from the sheer magnitude of his want. he doesn’t move, keeping you pinned, filled, as if willing his desire into reality.
• later, wrapped around you in the dark, his hand splayed possessively over your lower stomach, he whispers the most vulnerable thing of all: "would you? someday? with me?" it’s no longer just a kink. it’s a dream, and he’s handing you his heart, hoping you’ll choose to build it with him.
💌 viv's note: literally nobody asked but here's a little something before i go back to writing anton and sunghoon again lol
RAIN'S MIC IS ON hehehe choi soobin the man you are.
The air in the small room was unbearably still, broken only by the sharp slap of skin meeting skin and the ragged sound of your breathing as it tangled with his. Your chest rose and fell with frantic rhythm, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs as if desperate to break free. Your palms roamed the broad stretch of your husband’s back, sliding over the taut muscles of his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping you tethered to earth.
His weight pressed firmly into you, his chest hot against your own, the heat of his bare skin searing into you until there was no space left between your bodies, only breathless clinging and slick flesh. “Soobin—” your voice cracked on his name, your lips brushing against his ear in a trembling whisper, raw with desperation. “Harder.”
His response was a low, amused sound, the kind of cruel tenderness that made your stomach twist. “Harder?” he echoed softly, almost sweetly, though his hips answered first, snapping forward with a sharp, punishing thrust that had you gasping. His hands bracketed your head against the pillow, caging you in as his dark gaze pinned you beneath him. “My baby wants it harder, hmm?” His tone was dripping with mockery, with delight, as he slowed suddenly, rolling his hips in deliberate, languid circles, each drag torturous. He was teasing you, denying you, reveling in the way your body trembled and your voice broke as you tried to chase more.
Tears burned your eyes as you pleaded, your voice fraying with helpless need. “Please…” your whisper came out hoarse, barely more than a broken exhale. “Please fuck me harder.” That earned you a chuckle, low and wicked, vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t kind, no, it was the sound of a man savoring every ounce of your begging. His large hands slid down, fingers digging into your hips with bruising force before he shifted you, angling your body just so, and then drove into you with a merciless rhythm. The first thrust stole the air from your lungs in a single jagged gasp, a squeak tumbling out of your lips as your back arched off the bed. He gave you no reprieve. His pace was brutal, unrelenting, each stroke sending waves of heat crashing through you until your voice dissolved into broken cries. His breathing grew ragged to match yours, his jaw tight, his muscles straining with the sheer intensity of it.
“My pretty baby,” Soobin hissed between clenched teeth, the words tumbling out like a growl. His hips never faltered, his relentless pace only making the bed groan beneath you. “So small, so perfect. I can’t wait until you’re swollen and round with my baby—fuck, you’ll look so beautiful like that.” The words slammed into you as hard as his thrusts, pulling a ragged moan from deep within your chest. Your body arched again, surrendering to him completely, offering yourself up to be filled, to be broken apart beneath the sheer weight of his desire. You couldn’t stop the sounds falling from your lips, couldn’t stop the way your body clung desperately to his, every part of you unraveling as you let him take what he wanted, however he wanted.
His hands clamped back onto your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force before he yanked himself out in one rough, dizzying motion. You barely had time to gasp, let alone comprehend, before he was flipping you onto your stomach, your body jolting with the suddenness of it all. A sharp cry left your throat, but the sound was cut off as he shoved back into you with unyielding force, burying himself to the hilt as if he had never left. There was no moment to breathe, no chance to adjust, just the relentless fullness of him stretching you again, driving you into the mattress until your lungs burned. “Oh—fuck!” The word tore from your lips, ragged and loud, only to be muffled when his hand pressed firmly against the back of your head, forcing your face into the pillow. You clawed at the sheets, the pressure, the rhythm, everything overwhelming as he drove forward with merciless strength.
“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Soobin panted against the curve of your spine, his voice low and ragged, dripping with a promise that made your insides clench. His palm cracked sharply against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made you whimper, your body jolting with the impact. He watched the recoil with a wicked grin tugging at his lips, the sight alone stoking his hunger. “Do you want that, baby? Do you want me to fill you up and put my kids inside you, mama?”
“Yes—yes,” the word broke from you in a desperate slur, muffled by the pillow beneath your mouth. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes.” Your hips weakly rolled back against him, searching for more, some shred of control, some fragment of dignity, but he denied you even that. His hand shoved your hips back down with ruthless force, pinning you to the mattress, holding you exactly where he wanted. His thrusts only grew harsher, faster, each one pounding the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but sob brokenly into the sheets.
“Oh my god—” you cried out, your voice high, trembling, caught somewhere between a plea and a scream.
“Not god, sweetheart.” His laugh was cruel, rough in your ear, full of dark satisfaction. “Me.” His free hand tangled into your hair, yanking your head back until your mouth opened in a helpless gasp, his breath scorching the shell of your ear. “I’m the one making you feel like this.” He hissed, his voice low and commanding, his hips never faltering as they pounded into you with merciless precision. “Say it.” The demand seared against your skin as his grip tightened in your hair. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”
“Y-you—” The words broke in pieces from your throat, tears streaking hot down your cheeks in helpless streams. Your fists twisted the sheets beneath you, knuckles white with strain as your body trembled under the weight of his rhythm. “You—”
“What’s my fucking name?” Soobin snarled, the sound sharp as his hand cracked against your ass again, the sting blossoming through your skin.
“S-Soobin—” you gasped, choking on his name, your voice raw with need. “Soobin.” Your chest heaved, your face flushed deep crimson as your core clenched tight around him. He pulled out only to slam back into you with brutal force, the impact stealing the air from your lungs all over again, leaving you whimpering and broken.
“Soobin?” His tone was mocking, cruel in its playfulness, each syllable dragged out like a taunt. His hips slowed just enough to make you shiver with frustration. “Not daddy?”
“Daddy!” The word spilled from you in a desperate sob, your head dropping against the mattress as your body bucked beneath him. “Oh my—daddy.” The title left your lips like a prayer, shaky, needy, unrestrained.
“That’s right, sweetheart…” His voice dropped, softer now, though the fire beneath it still burned. His palms smoothed down your trembling back, drawing lazy, soothing circles against your skin as if he could calm what he had set ablaze. “And soon—” his voice dipped lower, rough with promise, “I’m going to make you a mommy. You hear me? My pretty little mommy.”
Your breath hitched, your body tightening around him as the words pushed you closer to the edge, so close it was unbearable. “Mhm…” you whimpered, your voice breaking apart. “Gonna be… a-a mommy…” Soobin’s breathing grew heavier, each exhale harsher against the back of your neck as his grip on your hips turned vice-like. He drove into you with unrelenting force, dragging you with him toward the precipice, his body claiming yours with every merciless thrust.
Your words were nearly lost beneath the steady rhythm of his thrusts, each one jarring you further, unraveling you more and more until you were nothing but whimpers and broken syllables beneath him. The coil deep inside you wound tighter, unbearably taut, each drag of his cock pulling you closer to the inevitable. Soobin’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers sinking into your skin hard enough to bruise, his panting hot and ragged as it fell over the shell of your ear. “That’s it, baby. Say it again,” he hissed, his voice fraying with need. “Tell me what you’re gonna be for me.”
“A-a mommy—” you cried, the words spilling from you helplessly, muffled by the pillow you buried your face into. “Gonna be a mommy, daddy—” That was all it took. A guttural growl tore from his throat as he fucked into you harder, deeper, with an intensity that left you clawing at the sheets, your nails tearing into the fabric. The air left your lungs in broken gasps as every stroke dragged your body closer to the edge, your vision blurring with tears as pleasure clawed through you.
Your climax hit you like a wave crashing against rock, shattering through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your voice cracking, your body convulsing beneath him as your walls fluttered and clenched desperately around his cock. Your vision went white-hot, your mind blank but for the sensation of him, stretching you, filling you, consuming you. “So fucking tight—” Soobin snarled, his thrusts growing reckless as he chased his own release, your spasming body only spurring him on. “Take it, baby. Take it all.” His voice dropped to a broken groan, his pace frantic as he buried himself deep one final time.
You felt it then, his release flooding into you, hot and overwhelming, spilling deep inside until it was all you could feel. His hips stuttered against you as his body trembled with the force of it, his chest pressing hard against your back, his breath ragged and harsh in your ear. “Mine,” he groaned, his teeth grazing your skin as he held you flush against him, refusing to let you go. “My baby, my sweet fucking girl, gonna make you round and full of me.”
Your body trembled violently, still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your walls fluttering weakly around him as you gasped for air. You collapsed into the mattress, boneless and shaking, his weight a heavy, grounding presence on top of you. And still, even as the haze of release lingered, he soothed his palms along your trembling spine, slow circles pressed into your damp skin, whispering low promises into your ear. “So good for me, sweetheart… so perfect. You’re mine. Always mine.”
“pay her fee, she perform for me.. say she a good girl, she do p*rn for me..”
warnings: 18+ content (MNI), collegiate school settings, athlete x faculty, secret relationships, insinuations of sexual activity/ relations, dark! Cameron Cade, use of the n word, manipulation, threats of revenge prn, coercion (dubious consent), threats, non consensual recording, smut, choking, spitting, biting, dirty talk, cussing/swearing, creampie.
a.n: heyyy stinks! don’t jump me, I’m sorry for being inactive with posting 😭 my writing juices kinda went dry and despite having ideas, I didn’t have any motivation. but I’m back! I hope y’all like this one 🤭 heed those warnings & enjoyy!
on the jukebox: ‘boys n the hood’ by smerfbeats ft babyface ray, GT, and Peezy 🎀
“I think this season is going to be my last season”
Cameron Cade blanched, looking at you like you grew three heads and spoke in a tongue that he’s never heard before.
“Your last season— your last season doing what?” His tone was defensive and cautionary but in a bolder font, almost like he was daring you to say it.
Because if so, he wasn’t having any of it.
“Assisting”
“Why?” Cameron immediately shot back, his eyebrows raised.
Cameron Cade caught you on the tail end of the moving team line off of the bus, having just arrived to the rival team’s hometown and practice center. The many of away games and travel was familiar to you, the structure wasn’t different.
You’d actually been wanting to talk to Cameron and break the news but you dreaded having to do it, so him stopping you to “talk”, made for the perfect time.
You sighed, trying not to meet his judgmental eyes. “I just think it’s time for me to branch out and try other things in my life. I had my fun here—“
“You mean you had your fun with me—“
His combat made you hiss out in embarrassment, your pretty face flushing something red.
Thankfully, the bus driver followed the crowd out of the vehicle, opting to fuel up with food and drinks. It was just you and Cameron in the first row of seats behind the drivers seat.
“Cameron—“
“Nah, nah, it’s the truth so don’t act brand new. We didn’t start fuckin’ last night. We’ve been sneakin’ around since you took this position those two years ago and it sounds like you’re tryna leave me. Don’t bullshit me, (Y/N)”
Finally, you met his fiery, greenish hazel eyes, he was on a roll. Your irises swirled in soft defeat, trying to hold your ground. How well was that working?
“Is that what it is? You’re not leavin’ because some new opportunity just came up or whatever the fuck. And even if it is some new opportunity, you’re not just getting away from the team, you’re tryna get away from me. I-Is that what I’m hearing? Did I understand that right?”
Cameron Cade’s tone was that of a warning. It was easy for him to use it towards you if you tried to challenge him or push back on something he didn’t want. It was easy to make you feel small and make you crumble. Any oppositional thought you had in those previous moments were quickly diminished.
Despite the breath you took being shaky, you had to mean it.
“Some things just go the way that they go. I can’t control this, Cameron, I’m sorry”
He didn’t need to know that there was no real job opportunity making you leave the collegiate football team.
He didn’t need to know that you’d planned on leaving the state as soon as the game was over and you traveled back home. You’d already bought your plane ticket to move across the country.
When Cameron didn’t speak for a moment and only looked at you, something in you jumped to want to recant your statement, urging to please him. But that couldn’t be anymore. His jaw ticked.
“Just be straight up with me, baby, you know that’s all I be askin’ of you” Cameron began, his tone a bit more softer. “Are you quitting because of me?”
Yes.
“Cameron, no” you met him at his soft tone, hoping it distracted him from your untrue words. You even went as far as laying your hand over his that rested on his knee, “It’s just.. I’m always going to want better for myself. I know that you know that”
Cameron stared at you, truly analyzing the woman he was falling madly in love with. He nodded after a minute of silence and stood up, with his hand outstretched to you, you followed suit.
“O-okay.. okay, well, we’re gonna miss you.. I’m gonna miss you”
You gulped and nodded, putting on your best sorrow filled smile. “Me too”
With his hand still in yours, Cameron pulled you into a hug, his long and lanky arms wrapped around your waist, his head resting on top of your head. You wrapped your arms timidly around his torso, Cameron felt your nerves.
You two stood there for what felt like hours, you prayed for an intervention that pulled you back before your superiors started asking questions.
“But um, before you go back, I wanna show you somethin’, ok?”
Still in his arms, Cameron reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and revealed his phone. With a few taps and a sigh of approval, he was showing you his screen.
All of the color drained from your face and you felt you wanted to vomit.
Cameron let the screen play and clicked the side button on his phone, turning up the volume to full blast. Immediately the sound of your wanton, pornographic moans filled the space.
Loud, desperate, high pitched, and needy. You cried out for the man below you, who you could see watching you in awe.
You watched on in horror as you rode Cameron Cade in his off campus dorm bed. Your back was naked and exposed, your back tattoo let you know it was you.
Duvet covers around your hips, Cameron’s knees bent and forming in the covers, his hands reached up groping at your breasts as your lower half ground. You watched yourself toss your head back, another shrill moan emitting.
“Ridin’ this dick real good, baby girl.. c’mon, gon’ get that nut, you deserve it..”
“Yes, please” you whined before lying on top of the man, your face in his neck. His arms around your waist, hands groping your ass, Cameron Cade on camera began fucking up into you.
“Cameron, ‘m gonna—“
The obscene noises and video suddenly shut off. Your jaw slack and light tears in your eyes as you looked up at Cameron who wore the softest, shit eating smirk.
“You recorded me?” You just barely squeaked out.
“Us, baby. Just a little something to keep on me on those days and nights that I can’t have you”
You watched his gaze suddenly get darker and scarier. His once warm eyes looked at you in pure intimidation and seriousness.
“I uh, just wanted to see how long you were gonna continue to lie to my face just now. I know where you’re going, I know when you’re going, I know how you’re getting there. Now what I don’t know is what you got going on out there but I can find that out too. If I find out you got another nigga out there that’s not me, he’s as good as dead”
Immediately you shook your head. “It’s not”.
With a hand cupping your face, Cameron thumbed away the tear that slipped down your cheek. The tear you didn’t even know was falling.
“Bottom line is: you’re not going anywhere and should you feel compelled to go against me, you can expect for every corner of the university to see that video. All I gotta do is press a button”
More tears slipped out of your eyes, you couldn’t believe this was real. You were actively being blackmailed. Cameron continued thumbing away at your cheeks.
“I’m giving you until the end of the day to gon’ ahead and shut all of that shit down. Cancel that flight— don’t even worry about a refund, y’know I can give that back to you. Unpack those bags, cancel that hotel, all of that. You don’t get to try to restart your life if I’m not in it, you understand me?”
His hand on your face began to tighten, Cameron Cade frowning just a little when you didn’t answer right away. But immediately, you nodded. Cameron Cade smiled and placed a quick kiss to your lips.
“Good girl.. you always know how to make daddy happy. As long as you keep doing that, we’ll be good. Now let’s go before they start askin’ questions”
Cameron’s hand connected with your denim jean clad ass cheek, making you jump.
How fucked were you?
.
You tried your best to focus throughout the rest of the drills and training with the boys.
Your role was to help their coaches run plays along with kinesiology, physical therapy like responsibilities. You helped the boys stretch, iced after their games and during halftime, and other skills to help them perform their best.
Cameron Cade found a deep attraction to you as soon as you were announced with your role. Your physique was impressive, hair down your back, a smile that had his heart racing, and knowledge that said you weren’t unqualified. You were his kind of woman. Being only 3 years older than him, your soul felt beyond that, and Cameron loved it.
Sleeping with him that first go around had you both on two different wavelengths after the fact. You vowed you wouldn’t make it back in his bed and Cameron Cade was ready to put a ring on it.
You hated how good he made you feel. Call it a weak moment of desperation and loneliness as to why you succumbed and melted into his advances.
He’d called you saying he had some cramp in his leg and needing the limb properly stretched and cared for. Had you knew what you’d be getting yourself into, you would’ve told Cameron Cade to call 911 instead of you.
With your assistance, his smooth words and soft urges kept you conversing and spilling some guts. He’d found out that you were single, hard working, and happily celibate.. happily?
Conversations turned into conversations with drinks, then turned into Cameron sitting a bit too close to you on his couch. He was on you soon after that. Seductive whispers with the promise to make this moment worth your while, his eyes clouding in lust and determination to have you.
“Let it all go, mama, I gotchu’” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as he fucked you in missionary. “Know you been pent up and needin’ in.. give it to me, baby, show me sumn’”
You shivered at the memory. Cameron Cade knew how to get what he wanted. Every single time. Your push back meant nothing to him, he always won. Always succeeded, it was in his nature.
But his advances didn’t stop after the sex.
He found your number and saved it in his phone. He found your socials and followed immediately. Cameron Cade successfully snuck an AirTag in your car to monitor you. He called a lot, texted even more. He sent photos— regular and explicit, full on nudes and audios of him touching himself, your name on his tongue as he came loudly.
What felt like a harmless crush you thought that he had on you spiraled into so much more. He anonymously sent flowers to your office at the university and bought you gifts. Then came the pet names— baby, babe, my love. As if you were dating.
You remembered him dropping in on you at your office with food like a husband would. Then bending you over your desk and fucking you before he left.. like a husband would.
The scariest part of all of his delusions was a raging temper paired with it. Cameron Cade reeked of jealousy and insecurity. He could tell the rest of his teammates grew fond of you, you were his before he got inside of you.
He picked out the teammate that maybe eyed you too long, made you laugh too hard and took his anger out on them during drills. A hard push, an even harder tackle, and a sack that had one of them almost breaking his ankle clean off of the bone.
“Oh shit, you good? Fuck, I’m sorry dawg, that was an accident, I swear to God. C’mon, let me help you up”
Cameron Cade didn’t mean that shit.
The shrill sound of a whistle took you from your thoughts and from the sidelines of the expansive practice field. Coach was calling a huddle. You honestly tuned out the typical pep talk on game days. But with Coach’s hand on your shoulder, it brought you back to reality.
“And while I have y’all here, somebody on the team needs to make an announcement” Coach turned towards you with a solemn smile, immediately your sunken heart began to race up. “(Y/N), go ahead and break these boys hearts, get it over with”
You didn’t tell Cameron that you’d already informed your respective colleagues that you were quitting. When you looked at him, his face wore a deep frown. You gulped, the sex tape in the back of your mind and the threat that hung in the air.
“I-I.. it’s—“
Saved by the bell.. or rather the sound of the building’s doors opening. It turned everyone’s attention that way. A group of the rival teams’ players and their coaches walked in but halted at the sight of you all.
Coach cut in. “Sorry, Terry, we were all just heading out for you and your boys” Coach turned towards his crowd, “let’s hold that thought y’all. Let’s get outta here so they can practice”
Cameron Cade eyed you with a look of budding anger that you were familiar with. You didn’t stick around for him, instead you were the first person out of the door and out of the building.
.
Fear coursed your veins as you continued running. Fear and adrenaline.
“(Y/N)! I’m not fuckin’ playing, get the fuck back here with my phone!”
Tears blurred your eyes but you kept running. It was halftime when you decided to make your move. It was the perfect opportunity to delete that video and drive back home on your own.
You didn’t care anymore.
With Cameron Cade’s phone in your hands, you zipped through the stadium, no idea where you were going. You just knew you had to get away from him.
Somehow you managed to outrun Cameron and find a secluded, empty office room. It was dark and quiet, scattered chairs everywhere. You hid yourself under the desk and immediately unlocked Cameron’s phone.
His passcode was your birthday.
Finding the camera roll, you found more than just the sextape.. but instead, multiple recorded sessions of you and Cameron having sex. You found your own nudes and hidden camera footage from your house. From your bedroom and when you were showering.
Mortified was an understatement. Selecting the files, you deleted them before going into the ‘recently deleted’ and deleting them for real.
In the same breath, a harsh pounding of the door and wiggling of the door knob had you holding your breath. All the noise suddenly stopped but before you could blink, the metal door harshly broke off of its hinges and loudly clanked to the floor.
Footsteps creeped about the room. You knew it was Cameron, you didn’t have to guess.
“Y’know.. I recognize the smell of that Donna Karen perfume I bought you. The same perfume that had me wanting to fuck you just because you smelled that damn good..”
His footsteps continued, you stayed put under the desk, silently praying.
“I know you’re in here, (Y/N), a-and baby, I promise I’m not even mad anymore. Y’know how I feel about my phone and you just caught me off guard, that’s all. But I’m not upset, I just wanna talk to you”
Fear paralyzed you largely. Despite the softness of his voice, you knew his front would be short lived. He continued walking closer and closer to where you were hiding.
Your heart sank at the view of his football cleats from the opening of under the desk. His sigh was loud and dramatic.
“You should’ve came out when I said.. and now I’m pissed again”
Suddenly you were being pulled— yanked rather. His hands grabbed your ankles and forced you out of hiding before harshly taking you by the arms and hoisting you up. Cameron Cade shook you angrily, forcing the tears down your cheeks.
Cameron put you back on your feet just to suddenly take you by the throat. His fingers squeezed the side of your neck and pulled you to him. His greenish hazels were dark and felt soulless.
“Nah don’t cry now. Why’re you always playin’ with me, huh?!” Cameron yelled, “do you know how good things can be for you if you just listened to me? Let me call the shots, let me make the decisions. Y’know I loved that independent shit aboutchu’ but I thought I made it perfectly clear that it stops with me. But you love makin’ me angry, don’t you?”
You couldn’t speak, your breath slipping out by the seconds. Your hands clawed at his hand on your throat, teary eyes boring into his, you shook your head no.
Cameron pulled you even closer, lips brushing against yours. He whispered.
“No, I think you do, baby..” he softly pecked your dry lips, “I think you do. I think you love riling me up and makin’ me vulnerable”
You only shook your head no once again, somehow trying to convince him otherwise if it meant freeing you.
Air felt precious when Cameron finally dropped you, your body slumping against the metal desk, barely supporting yourself on your feet. His hand snatched his phone out of your grip and began searching.
You heard him chuckle but it was terrifying. “So you deleted everything? All of my shit?”
His questions were rhetorical but you still tried to plead with him. You shakily grabbed for his free hand and pressed pathetic kisses to the front of it. His gaze met yours.
“C-Cameron, I-I’m sorry, I’m r-really sorry, baby” you brokenly tried to say, “are you going to k-kill me?”
Suddenly like a switch, Cameron Cade was a new man. Placing his phone on the desk, he kneeled down to your level, his greenish hazels now soft and full of concern. He shook his head.
“No, baby, not at all” His lips found yours, “i would never.. you just know how short my fuse is but I’ll never hurt you” He kissed you again. “You just made a mistake and that’s okay.. now you gotta make it up to me”
He kissed you once again and with each time, you felt yourself melting into him. You had no energy to try to fight Cameron.
“I want a new video and you’re gonna make it for me, okay?”
You didn’t have a choice at all. You didn’t have a choice when Cameron Cade was propping his phone up and stripping you naked. You didn’t have a choice when Cameron Cade was splaying you on the desk, legs spread and thighs in his strong hold. You didn’t have a choice when Cameron Cade was pressing the head of his dick at your entrance and surging forward.
His pace was teasingly slow, his eyes transfixed between you two and watching his length slide in and out of you.
“Damn, I wish you could see this.. you’re so wet and so fuckin’ tight.. pussy squeezin’ the fuck outta me”
You mewled pathetically, tossing your head back. Cameron reached for his propped phone with the displayed flash and set his sights on where you two were connected. He groaned lowly at the sight.
The flash enhanced what Cameron Cade already saw: your wetness. Your juices were shining a coated trail on his bare cock, a now off white cream color appearing with the more he continued pushing and pulling.
With his phone in his dominant hand, Cameron grabbed your throat once more to anchor himself. His thrusts began picking up: sharper, harder, rougher, faster. Your body jolting, titties jutting up your chest.
You nodded eagerly, a whimper escaping past your lips with what you could since Cameron was choking you again.
“Mhm. Tell the camera, daddy wanna hear you say it”
The flash on his phone had you squinting, it was so fucking bright. Cameron pistoned his hips and fucked you harder.
“Gon’ ahead and say it, baby. You like when I’m deep inside of this pussy like this? Feelin’ me all in your stomach? Talk to the camera”
You bit your lip at the budding, intense pleasure coursing through your veins. It was making your brain short circuit, Cameron huffed when you didn’t respond.
His grip on your neck tightened, his thrusts now slowing. He made out your choked out whine, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“For an independent woman that you try to portray yourself as, you love to act real stupid. I asked you a fucking question. You must want for me to ruin your life and everything you have”
You shook your head vigorously, “n-no—“
“Then you better listen to me, girl, I’m not playin’ with you” Cameron huffed out once again, “talk to me, baby, let me hear somethin’.. I know you want to. You’re creamin’ on me somethin’ serious, this shit gotta feel good, don’t it?”
Somehow pushing your pride to the side, you nodded. “Yes, i-it feels so good, Cam”
Cameron smirked, now upping his pace. “Yeah? Where you feel me at?”
“My s-stomach.. you’re so deep.. you always are..” you moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Cameron let out a groan of approval, the smirk on his face never leaving.
“There we go, that’s my baby” He pulled you closer by your throat and kissed you, his tongue slipping past your lips and dancing with yours.
It was filthy and erotic.
“My own lil porn star” he pecked your lips, “be walkin’ around like you’re untouched and shit.. like niggas can’t look at you.. whole time, I’m the one knockin’ this pussy out the frame every night. Whole time, you’re lettin’ me do whatever I want to you. Ain’t that right?”
Feeling your orgasm impending, your legs circled his waist to keep him going. You needed it badly. Nodding your head, you cried out.
“Yes!”
“And who can touch you when I’m not touchin’ you?”
“Nobody!”
Cameron licked his lips, “yeah? This pussy mine?”
You nodded vigorously, eyes squeezing shut as the intense build of your orgasm was just on the brink. You prayed Cameron wouldn’t stop.
“You better fuckin’ know it, girl. You can let go, cum for me”
He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your throat burned from your scream, a white heat crawling up your spine, walls around Cameron’s length snapping and milking him.
It didn’t take long for Cameron’s release to show its face. He was right behind you, tipping the edge and spilling deep inside of you with a guttural groan.
He stayed seated in you for another minute before positioning his phone in between you again. The flash showed him slowly pulling out, his seed following suit out and pouring out of your canal. Cameron groaned in approval.
“Look at that.. you always take me so well, that’s all for me” His smile was sick once it met your eyes. What was even sicker was his fingers scooping the spend and pushing it back inside of you, you whimpered at the sensitive feeling.
Once the post orgasmic haze wore off, the tears were back in your eyes again. You watched Cameron get himself situated and slip his phone in his pocket. When he glanced at you, you couldn’t describe the look in his eyes.
He instead moved in closer and took your face in his hands. “Y’know ‘m gonna get my way with you every time. You’re not leaving me, you and I both know that”
All you could do was sob because he was right.
“And should I find out otherwise, you already know what’s happening with this video.. and the other ones..”
You felt yourself freeze, staring up at Cameron in mild shock. “Other ones?”
Cameron Cade chuckled. “You think the ones you deleted were all I had? You gotta be smarter than that, sweetheart. I record every moment we have, I can’t afford not to”
He sickly kissed you on the lips again.
“Like I said.. my own personal porn star.. just how I like it”
pairing: boyfriend!cameron cade x black!fem!reader
synopsis: after Cameron Cade returns from a week of “training” with Isaiah White, you immediately sense something is wrong as he steps through the door.
warnings MDNI: smut, some angst, psychological distress, trauma implications, aligns with the plot of ‘HIM (2025)’, dark romance undertones, possessiveness, swearing, dom!cam, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f!receiving), he be talking you through ittt 😛
a/n: hi babies!! this is my first time writing smut on tumblr so im def open for some constructive criticism. hope you all enjoy it!
you hear the door unlock before you see him.
for seven days straight, you’ve been checking your phone constantly — waiting for even one text. Cameron swore he’d call after his first night at Isaiah White’s training camp (or whatever the fuck it was), but the only updates you saw were those sterile team posts:
“CAMERON CADE — LOCKED IN WITH HIS EYES ON THE PRIZE.”
there was nothing from him. not even a “good morning.”
part of you wanted to be upset, but all of it vanished when he finally steps inside; you freeze.
he looks bigger. shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes sharp like he hadn’t slept and had been running on nothing but fumes and discipline alone.
he sets his bag down.
doesn’t say your name.
doesn’t greet you at the door.
he just stands there, his gaze stuck to his shoes meeting the familiar ‘Welcome’ mat.
“Cam?” you whisper.
his head snaps up — too fast, his gaze hitting you like a spotlight. And for a second, he looks like he’s trying to place you. not because he’s forgotten who you were, but because of the realization of his forgotten softness.
he exhales — long and heavy — before stepping inside.
“…hey,” he mutters, voice low, almost unrecognizable. “I’m home.”
the tone is… off. cold and guarded, it startles you.
you move to hug him, and he freezes, but as your arms wrap around his torso, it hits him.
you hit him. and everything inside him unravels all at once.
he doesn’t need to be on guard anymore. he doesn’t need to have the weight of violence and death on his shoulders. he just needs you.
“damn. I missed you.” he mumbles, taking in your scent, his hold on you comforting, yet possessive; almost predatory.
you frown at his confession as you feel the tension coil through him. “baby.. what happened?”
his grip hardens instantly. “don’t,” he says, not raised, but final. “I’m not talking about that.”
“Cameron, you were gone—”
“you think I don’t know that?” his jaw flexes, eyes flashing with something dark. “I don’t wanna talk about that shit.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you — eyes shadowed, unreadable, something sharp flickering behind them. not at you, but at the memory. at the week he refuses to drag into the room with you.
then his hand slides to your waist, fingers curling in a way that’s both tender and possessive.
“I’m home,” he says quietly. “so stop askin’ me about someplace I’m done with.”
you swallow. “so you really not gon’ tell me anything?”
“no.” his voice is a low promise. “what happened there ain’t for you to carry.”
the way he says it makes your skin prickle — protective, yet territorial; guarding you from something he doesn’t trust himself to explain.
and for some odd reason, it turns you on.
“Cam—”
he steps forward, forcing your back gently against the wall, crowding your space, eyes locked on yours.
“I’m serious,” he whispers. “let it go.”
his thumb traces your jaw, slow, almost reverent.
“but you?” he breathes with a smirk, leaning in until his lips brush the curve of your cheek, “I’m glad you’re mine to come back to. I’m not lettin’ you go.”
“…I missed you,” he continues, voice dipping darker, “in ways I ain’t even proud of.”
his forehead rests against yours, heavy with need. “whole damn week, you were the only thing keepin’ me from losin’ it.”
his finger trails down your throat possessively as he wraps his fingers around your neck.
“you wanna know the truth?” he murmurs, mouth dangerously close, “if they kept me one more day, I would’ve killed everyone and walked away from all of it. for you.”
his lips hover over yours, breath slow, controlled… barely.
“you’re not going anywhere,” his voice a gravelly order. “not tonight. not after the week I’ve had.”
his lips crash into yours, immediately stealing your breath and making your knees soften, making him smirk against your lips.
he groans into the kiss and presses his body against yours. “you missed me, baby?” he whispers, breaking the kiss.
his thumb drags slowly across your lower lip, tracing it like he’s memorizing the shape all over again. the touch is gentle, but the look in his eyes isn’t. it’s focused, hungry, reverent in a way that borders on obsession.
you open your mouth to respond, but his thumb stills on your lips.
“nah, I don’t wanna hear it. I wanna see it.”
his hand slides from your throat to your hip, his grip firm, anchoring you.
“did you even think about touching yourself while i was gone? or did you wait for me?”
you gasp as his fingers push against your entrance. his hand deep in your panties.
his voice drops to a whisper, almost reverent. “fuck…look at how wet you are.” his fingers press deeper, a reward and a punishment. “my good girl.”
his lips on your neck match the pace of his fingers moving inside of you — hot, slow, purposeful — his other hand reaching for one of your thighs and pulling it up to his waist, his fingers curling impossibly deeper inside of you.
his breath hitches against your neck, his rhythm faltering for just a second as he feels how perfectly you take him in.
“every time I thought about you this week, I imagined this. how you feel. how you sound.”
his thumb finds your clit, applying a slow deliberate pressure that makes you arch against the wall. “tell me you imagined this too. my fingers fucking you like this, hm? not yours. never yours.”
he increased the pace of his fingers, a sharp contrast to his soft words. and while the curl of his fingers was enough to make you see stars, the low familiar voice in your ear sent you over the edge.
his voice is a low murmur right against your ear, the words vibrating through you.
“cmon on, baby. come for me. only for me.”
the world narrows to the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, the relentless pressure of his fingers. every coherent thought shatters.
it’s too much and not enough all at once, a dizzying spiral that starts deep in your core and threatens to pull you completely apart.
the only thing holding you together is the sound of his voice, a familiar anchor in the overwhelming sensation.
his name is a broken prayer on your lips as you come, your body convulsing against his hand.
he doesn't stop, drawing out your climax until you're trembling and oversensitive, his touch becoming almost cruel in its gentleness.
“yeahhh, that right there, baby. that shit is mine.”
as the aftershocks still ripple through you, he slowly withdraws his fingers. his touch is almost clinical now, a stark contrast to the intimacy of a moment ago.
he brings his wet fingers to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he tastes you. “ ‘s pussy tastes so good… I want some more. you gon give it to me?”
you nod, your voice catching in your throat. “mhm..” it’s all you can manage. the word feels too small for the surrender he's asking for.
then he smiles, nice and slow. his hands slide from your hips to the backs of your thighs, pushing them apart with an unnerving calm. “now keep still for me.”
he doesn't wait for another response. his mouth is on you, and it's not gentle. it’s claiming, desperate, like he's trying to consume the very memory of the week apart.
the sensation is immediate and overwhelming — a sharp, wet heat that makes you gasp and your fingers scramble against the wall for purchase.
he groans against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core, and you realize this isn't just about pleasure. It's an inspection. a reconfirmation of his ownership.
his tongue is relentless, a flat, wet pressure that circles your clit with a precision that feels like it was practiced in his mind all week. it’s too much, too soon after your first climax, a fresh wave of sensation that borders on pain.
you should push him away. this isn’t the Cam who used to worship you slowly, who’d check in with whispered “you okay?”s and sweet nothings to coax you towards your orgasm. but your hands just fist in his hair, holding him closer.
the contradiction is terrifying. Your body arches off the wall, a silent plea for more even as your mind screams a warning. this is different. he’s different.
and as you look down at him, you see the difference.
‘You don’t look like Him.’ you thought.
he’s an entirely different person right now, and the worst part? you like it. you like the sharp edge in his devotion, the way his possessiveness feels less like a cage and more like a claim.
a broken sob escapes you, part pleasure, part fear, wholly his.
he pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, his breathing ragged.
“see? I knew it. you don’t need that gentle shit. was worried you wouldn’t fuck with it...”
he presses a sloppy kiss on your clit.
“but I should’ve known better. you’ll take anything I give you.”
his words hit you with the force of a physical blow, confirming your deepest fear and your darkest desire in one breath.
you can't form words, only a high, thin whine that seems to encourage him once his mouth latches onto you again. his hands dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open, ensuring you can't escape as he swallows every drop of your orgasm.
he rises to his feet, his chest still heaving and looks down at you, slumped and trembling against the wall, and something in his expression softens for a fraction of a second.
his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek.
“a week.” his voice is hoarse. “a whole fucking week without hearing you.”
he leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as if the memory is physically painful.
“do you have any idea what that did to me?”
He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “they took my phone. I almost lost my damn mind.”
you waste no time pulling him into another hug, the embrace full of vulnerability and honesty. your voice barely a whisper.
“I’m right here, Cameron. I’m not going anywhere.”
Cameron isn't the type of guy to control how you dress/present yourself. He expects the people around you to act accordingly in order for you to feel safe enough to dress the way you want. He truly doesn't mind if you're wearing a mini skirt or a short dress, he's walking in the room with his arm looped around yours and that's enough of a sign to make the other men around him back off.
Before the two of you even started dating, he basically interviewed your friends to learn even more about you. He wanted to gauge what you'd want as a first date, how your relationship was with your family, your likes and dislikes, etc.
Your relationship is a lot more fast paced than the average relationship, and he loves it (it's because of his own doing anyway). He said I love you a month into your relationship, and this concerned your friends as they believed he might've been love bombing you. You met his family a week after that and to say you were scared was an understatement.
what would his family think of you meeting them so early on? Would they see you as another temporary thing? Thousands upon thousands of worrisome thoughts invaded your mind, but Cameron quickly silenced them. It was almost as if you were dating a 6 ft bottle of Valium just from how quickly he could calm your anxieties.
"They'll love you, baby, jus' look at me", he said as he kept a large hand on your thigh, gently stroking the skin peeking from underneath your skirt. "I've never done this with another girl before, I promise you that. They'll know you're special. My special girl" he murmured as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his other hand cupping the supple flesh of your cheek.
He trusts you around other men because he knows you're all about him, he's incredibly confident. However, he's had his moments where he couldn't be more annoyed at the sight of another man simply looking at you. His mentor, Isaiah, definitely doesn't make his flashes any better. Cameron confides in him about feeling unnecessarily angry when he sees other men look at you, because to him, they're planning on taking you away from him. The mere thought of other men thinking of or god help them treating you as if you're nothing but a piece of meat meant to be played with, makes his blood boil.
Instead of simply putting an end to Cameron's insecurities, Isaiah decides to add fuel to the fire.
"Oh no, man. no no no there's nothing wrong with wanting to...protect her. Because this right here? The thing you want so badly comes with people, men, trying to take away what you have. Whether that be your rank, your jersey, or your family. Don't let them. I know I wouldn't." He then punctuates his monologue with a strong pat on Cameron's back, knowing he just made things a bit worse.
Even though it isn't unusual for people in relationships to have each others locations, it's a non negotiable for him. He starts panicking when your location disappears for even a second. He's not worried about you cheating but just wants to make sure he has your location just in case there's an emergency. He wants to be able to get to you in time.
He needs you at all of his games. He swears his performance improves when he knows you're there, when he feels your presence in the stands. If he's ever asked a stupid question during a press conference, he keeps a level head knowing that you're watching. He knows that you'll be there to comfort him and make everything feel better again.
After a lengthy day of training, he wants nothing more than to lay his head on your lap and circle his arms around your waist. The feeling of your fingers stroking his hair lulling him into a much deserved slumber.
spends nearly an hour stroking your hair out of your face, cupping your cheeks and cooing sweet words at your flushed face. "you're so beautiful baby, yeah you are. Can't believe you're mine sometimes" he says with a small smile, a sigh leaving his lips before he continues, "You-you're it for me. You're everything to me, baby. Everything."
Summary: You hit your head in the kitchen, and Bucky immediately goes into full protective mode: carrying you, demanding a full checkup, and refusing to leave your side. Even after the doctor clears you for rest, he stays close, quietly shaken and fiercely attentive, as if he’s guarding something irreplaceable. (Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Sweetheart!reader)
Word Count: 1.3k+
A/N: I’m doing short fluff or hurt/comfort stuff because the next request is a bit heavier. And what’s better than showing the protective (and vulnerable) side of our favorite mafia boss. Happy reading!!!
Main Masterlist | His Sweetheart Masterlist
You don’t even realize how hard you hit your head at first.
It happens in the dumbest way, trying to reach the tea canister at the very top of the cabinet because you didn’t want to bother anyone. You step up on the stool, stretch a little too far, and when the wooden leg slips out from beneath you, you go down with a thud. Your elbow smacks the floor, and your head catches the edge of the lower cabinet on the way down.
For a few seconds, the kitchen spins. And for some reason, you feel a sense of déjà vu.
You sit there on the tiled floor, blinking, palms flat on the cool ground, trying to piece together what the hell just happened. One of the staff, a young guy named Elio, rushes in from the hallway after hearing the noise.
“Miss! Oh my god, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” You mumble, even though there’s a slow throb blooming at your temple. “Just… slipped.”
Elio doesn’t believe you for a second. Neither does the maid who comes in next, or the two guards who suddenly appear, looking like they expect an intruder. In five minutes flat, most of the mansion is humming with low-level panic.
You beg them not to call Bucky.
They call Bucky.
Not even ten minutes later, you hear the heavy stomp of his boots down the hallway, faster than usual, sharper. He appears in the kitchen doorway with his shoulders tense, hair a little messy like he ran his hands through it on the way. When he sees the scene before him, you still on the ground, his expression hardens.
“What happened?”
His voice is quiet and dangerous. Everyone goes dead still.
Elio speaks up, hesitant. “She fell. It looked like her head… hit the cabinet.”
That’s all it takes.
Bucky’s beside you in two seconds flat, kneeling with one hand ghosting over the side of your face without touching just yet. You smile, trying to downplay it, even though there’s a small knot forming at your hairline.
“It’s not that bad–”
“You’re bleeding.”
You blink. You hadn’t realized there was a little cut. It must’ve scraped on the corner.
“I’m calling the doctor.”
“James–“
He doesn’t listen. He’s already pulling his phone out with a hand that’s too steady to be calm. A private physician is summoned to the mansion. You swear he’s speaking in code when he tells the guards to “adjust protocols” and check for loose fixtures. You feel like you just started a small war because of a stupid canister of tea.
But when the others leave the room, and it’s just the two of you on the floor, his walls drop.
His hand finally cups your cheek, thumb brushing along your jaw, careful not to touch the spot that’s swelling. He’s still breathing heavy like he hasn’t calmed down.
“You scared the hell out of me,” He says quietly, almost angry. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”
“I didn’t mean to. It was just a dumb little fall.”
“You’re not allowed dumb little falls,” He mutters. “Not in this house, not on my watch.”
You reach and hold onto his wrist gently.
“I’m okay, really.”
He sighs hard then shifts, sitting beside you and tugging you into his lap with a kind of possessive protectiveness that says you’re staying here, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, the world won’t knock you around anymore.
“Next time you want tea,” He grumbles into your hair, “You ask someone or I’ll have the whole kitchen redone with everything at your height.”
You laugh softly, even with the ache in your head. “That’s extreme.”
He kisses your temple, just beside the bump. “Get used to it, sweetheart. You’re worth everything and more.”
You try to convince him twice that you can walk out on your own but Bucky doesn’t budge. He scoops you up off the kitchen floor like you weigh nothing, one arm under your knees and the other cradling your back as he carries you down the hallway without saying a word.
You're used to his strength, but something about his grip today feels tighter. Possessive, like you might vanish if he puts you down for even a second.
The private physician, a quiet woman named Dr. Laurent, is already waiting in the drawing room. She’s efficient and calm, accustomed to treating men who wear blood like cufflinks, but the moment she sees you, her tone softens.
“Head injury?” She asks Bucky.
He nods stiffly and lowers you to the couch like you’re made of glass.
“She hit the cabinet edge. I want a full check. CT, whatever it takes.”
Dr. Laurent gives you a warm smile. “We’ll start with vitals. Let’s see how you’re feeling first.”
You don’t even get to answer for yourself. Bucky speaks for you by telling her the exact time it happened, what you hit, and what you were doing. His jaw clenches every time he has to say the word fall or injury, like he’s furious at gravity itself.
When Dr. Laurent gently presses around the swelling on your temple, you wince.
Instantly, Bucky shifts forward from the armchair beside you.
“Too much?”
“I’m fine,” You mumble. But he’s already leaning in, staring at your face like the bruise personally insulted him.
“You’re not fine. You’re bruised, bleeding, and concussed.”
“She’s showing mild signs,” Dr. Laurent corrects, patient. “But she’s coherent. Pupils are equal, no vomiting. I’ll run a few more tests, but she doesn’t need a hospital.”
That’s supposed to be good news yet Bucky doesn’t relax.
He sits through every test like a shadow on high alert. Even when Dr. Laurent suggests some quiet rest, he follows you upstairs. He doesn’t let anyone else help you there, not even the staff who normally handle these things. He gets you into one of his oversized hoodies and helps you into bed like he’s tucking in something fragile.
When you reach for the blanket, he beats you to it and gently pulls it up to your chest.
“You gonna pace outside the door all night too?” You ask, teasing softly.
Bucky doesn’t even pretend to deny it.
“You could’ve cracked your skull,” He murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face. “Don’t joke.”
“That couldn’t have happened with something like that.” You take his hand, squeezing it lightly. “But I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know,” He says, voice low and rough around the edges. “But I didn’t know where the blood was coming from when I saw it. I just… saw red.”
He doesn’t say I thought you were dying, but it’s in the way his jaw locks and his throat works hard around the silence. His fingers curl tighter around yours for a beat before he eases his grip, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he’s grounding himself with the simple proof that you’re still warm, still here.
“I’ve seen blood like that too many times,” He murmurs after a pause. “But never yours.”
You try to sit up a little, but he’s already there, smoothing your hair back and gently coaxing you to stay still. He doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything more, but the haunted look in his eyes tells you he’s back in some memory he wishes he could tear apart with his hands.
You squeeze his fingers, pulling him back to you.
“I’m okay, James.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He says it again like he’s trying to believe it. Then, softer: “Just… let me stay tonight. I need to.”
Your expression softens as you nod. And so, he stays.
He tucks the blanket tighter around your shoulders, careful not to jostle you too much, then lowers himself into the chair beside your bed. At some point, he slips off his boots and leans back, your hand still cradled in his like a lifeline. He watches your chest rise and fall with every breath.
And even when your eyes finally drift shut, lulled by his presence and the gentle weight of the hoodie he lent you, he doesn’t move. He stays there with you throughout the night.
Like if he stepped away for even a second, the world might try to take you from him again.
- Cameron can get overwhelmed quite easily, and it’s nothing you don’t understand. He loves his family but their constant reminders of “your dad would’ve wanted this” never fails to irritate him. Because it was never just his dream, was it? It was something his father always pushed onto him when all he wanted was a proper childhood.
- but that’s where you come in. You’re his ultimate comfort, his weakness, and everyone around him knows that.
- he sinks down to his knees before winding his burly arms around your waist, planting his head onto your belly. You run your fingers through his hair while listening to him murmur, worry swimming in your eyes, “jus’ wouldn’t know what to do without you, baby. Dont wanna think about that.” “Just need you. That’s it. Just us.”
- he needs you at all of his games and gets deeply upset if you can’t make it because of school or work. He doesn’t hesitate in coming to you with this issue. Why do you even need to work? You know he can take care of you and that he wants to. There’s no chance you actually enjoy working there.
- Cameron really wants to have kids with you one day, but he’s not exactly careful about it either. The amount of times he’s had his cum dripping out of you, your cheeks flushed and forehead slick with sweat is enough for him to be considered irresponsible but he doesn’t care.
- you not wanting kids would definitely be a deal breaker for him, but he’d talk it out with you first. If you don’t want kids because you’re scared of the pain, then the two of you can adopt! He’ll offer thousands of solutions to your worries. He really wants this.
- he has outbursts during training due to the immense pressure he’s getting from all angles of his life. His brother constantly nagging him and the commentators doubting his performance. This results in his agent calling you to come and calm him down. Cameron feels really remorseful about the fact that you always have to come and “save” him but he can’t help that he immediately calms down at the sight of you.
- he can’t stay mad at you for more than a minute. The two of you could be arguing over him wanting you to quit your job again, but he’d take one glance at your wobbly lips and teary eyes and immediately get his act together.
- “oh baby, cmon I’m sorry. C’mere, shh y’know I’m sorry. We’ll take about it later”. This is basically him.
- Cameron wants to be as close as possible when he’s fucking you. It doesn’t matter if he’s got you in doggy, he’ll lean down and press his chest flush against your back. Sometimes you feel like he’s trying to find a way to get into your skin and sleep there from how clingy he can get. The only time he’ll give you space to breathe is when he’s looking down at your pussy swallowing his fat cock, a creamy ring of cum coating him. Your legs are slung over his broad shoulders, his fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs and he’s giving you short, deep strokes, making you keep eye contact w him through it all.
- “cmon baby look at me. Yeahhh just like that, jus. like. fuckin’. that.” His sharp thrusts punctuating his words.
- He definitely talks you through it I mean cmon now.
- “is that it baby? Yeah, right there? I know whatchu need, baby. Daddy knows what you need.”
a few clingybf!rafe headcannons but i fear they're lowk canon...
contents: s1 rafe sooo, yearner!rafe
wc: 316
let's begin with the obvious, clingybf!rafe cannot keep his hands off of you. if he's not getting withdrawal symptoms from the coke, it's definitely from not being able to touch you. at first, it would be small touches, hands shyly brushing against each other. once he understands you won't leave him, he's engulfing you from behind, burying his head in the crook of your neck. doesn't matter whether it's just you or around others.
clingybf!rafe will 100% blow your phone up. he doesn't care if you're just at home or out with friends. one text message would turn into twenty. he's already called you and facetimed you multiple times before. he needs you to answer. needs to know that you're not done with him. needs to know that you still love him.
don't even think about pranking clingybf!rafe. current boyfriend trend? not happening. fake breakup prank? now tears are brimming in his eyes. he's taking that one seriously. his brain couldn't even comprehend the thought of you leaving him.
say you had an argument that caused you to split up, clingybf!rafe is at your front door, fist pounding, shouting for you. he doesn't care that your parents are home or that your neighbors are peeking outside of their windows. rafe needs you to come down and let him make things right.
to expand on the previous thought, he's already woken your whole cul-de-sac, and ignored your parents telling him to go home, yet clingybf!rafe still calls for you. why? 'cause he knows you'll come outside. when you do, he's immediately grasping onto you, hands shakily cupping your cheeks. dilated pupils flickering around your face, like you were a figment of his imagination. his thumb would massage the wrinkle that formed between your frowning eyebrows. he would mumble apologies, promising to fix his mistakes as long as you stay with him.
a/n: hitting flow state when i write w early season rafe in mind (merry late xmas!!)
Praise, orgasm denial, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls!), porn with small plot
Edward Cullen could fawn over you every minute of every day. Some would say he has a staring problem, he just likes to think his time is better spent admiring what's most precious to him. He loves to watch you, whether you're reading a book, watching a show, or picking which socks you'd rather wear for the day.
But what he loves most is when your eyes hold his. When he can reach into the depths of your soul just by looking into your eyes. Especially when you're under him, when he can watch the way you lose yourself, lust filling your eyes, and all the thoughts drifting from your head. When you look at him through wet lashes, needy just for him, your gaze drives him wild.
Sometimes though, he won't let you cum unless your eyes are looking into his. Every flutter of your lashes earns you denial from your high. Slowing or stopping his ministrations completely until he gets what he wants. Earning him your whines of disapproval, and needy whimpers filled with begs and pleads.
A strong hand grips your jaw, just rough enough to command, never to hurt. He turns your head so you're looking solely at him, "Eyes on me love," His voice low and gentle in a hushed growl, a stark contrast to the strength of his hold on you, "you can do that for me, I know you can."
Finally your eyes flutter open, lashes wet with tears of pleasure as you gaze up at him. "Thats my girl." He presses a kiss to your plush lips before he's rolling his hips into you once again in deep languid strokes. Your head went fuzzy, stretched open around him, the headboard slamming brutally with every snap of Edward's hips. He was restless, the heavy weight of him pressing you down, cock drilling so deep it made your toes curl.
You couldn't help the way your moans grew louder and the whimpers of his name became broken syllables. His pace grew quicker, hips slamming into you with a roughness you could barely comprehend, deep strokes that hit the perfect spot. "Just like that, don't look away." His thumb stroked your cheek, gentler this time as he watched you fall apart. Your orgasm forcing you into a hazy white bliss, star play in your vision as your eyes roll back. Your body alight with pleasure, legs twitching around Edwards hips, gasping moans coming in short spurts as you try to catch your breath. Your nails dig into his skin, hands gripping wherever they could find purchase to ground yourself.
He leans down to pull you into a soft kiss, a stark difference from the roughness of his thrusts. "So beautiful when you cum for me," A groan rumbled through his chest as he muttered against your lips, his body pressing down further against yours. His thrusts faltered, hips stuttering as he chased his own release. He moaned low into your mouth, his cock throbbing, driving deep inside you. Soon his pace slowed, rough strokes became slow and gentle rolls of hips until you had milked him dry.
When your eyes met again he was still holding your cheek, his hand still framing your face, thumb brushing your cheek. And this is how you spend some of your most quiet evenings, gazing longingly into one another's eyes, enjoying the comfortable silence thats falls between.
I took some creative liberty! Kinda got the idea from a movie I watched, hope you like it 🎀
asking your sweet boyfriend to be rough with you in bed for the first time ㅤ♡
he’s so careful with you. always has been. always will be, probably. he cups your cheek when you kiss, laces your fingers together during sex like he needs the anchor. never gets too loud, never gets too greedy. and you love that about him, you do, but it’s been rattling in your brain for weeks now, something a little dirtier, something a little rougher. so you asked. quiet, a little embarrassed after a sleepy morning fuck when he’d held your thighs wide and buried his face between them like a man possessed. “can you… maybe be a little meaner next time?”
he’d pulled back instantly, eyes soft but curious. “meaner?” and you’d nodded, blinking up at him with warm cheeks and slick still running down the inside of your thighs. he didn’t laugh or tease you, just tucked the blanket back around you and said, “okay,” in that same low voice he uses when he tells you he loves you.
you didn’t think he’d actually do it. not like this. your face is pressed into the pillow, arms pinned under your chest, hips pulled back until you’re arching for him completely at his mercy. and the sound of him behind you, panting, groaning, mumbling little curses under his breath every time he fucks back in—it’s almost too much.
you’ve never felt him like this before. not this deep. not this rough or passionate. his hands are so tight on your hips you swear there’ll be bruises, but he hasn’t stopped checking in, not once. “you okay, baby?” he breathes into your spine, lips brushing between your shoulder blades. “tell me if it’s too much. you say stop, i stop.”
you just whimper. nod. grind your ass back against him because you don’t want him to stop. you want more. you want to be ruined by the boy who holds your umbrella in the rain and texts you to eat lunch and kisses your ankle just because it’s close.
he groans low, hand trailing down to press your lower back and keep you in place. “fuckin’ filthy,” he mutters, like he doesn’t believe this is happening. like he’s surprised by the way you keep clenching around him, sweet and tight, like your body was made to take everything he gives. “you like this? bein’ handled like this?”
you nod, face shoved against the sheets now, back arching for him again. your thighs tremble when he thrusts deep and doesn’t pull out, just grinds slow in that spot that makes your stomach flip. “oh my god—”
“yeah?” he pants, hands gripping the meat of your ass and spreading you open like it’s the only thing in the world he wants to see. “you’re takin’ me so well, baby. so perfect for me. look at this fuckin’ pussy—drippin’ all over me. shit.”
you reach back blindly, needing to touch something, anything, but he grabs your wrist and pins it to your lower back, groaning through his teeth like the contact made something snap. he’s fucking you rough now, real rough—each thrust punching little sounds out of your throat as your hips jolt forward, mouth open and drooling against the sheets.
“fuckin’ love you,” he growls suddenly, voice cracking, hips still slamming into you, “love you so much, baby—fuck—i’ll give you whatever you want.”
your orgasm catches you off guard. white hot and full-bodied, legs shaking, your voice cracking into a sob as your pussy clamps down around him, fluttering, slick, and wet. he chokes out a curse, pulls you tight against his chest, and fucks you through it—never once letting you fall.
and then his thrusts slow, stutter, stop. you feel him cum in deep, hands still cradling your hips like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. he’s breathless. sweaty. and he collapses with you still on your side, dragging you onto the pillows with him, your leg thrown over his hip, his arm pulling you in like you’ll float away otherwise.
your heartbeat’s in your ears. your body’s wrecked. your voice is barely a whisper. but he kisses your jaw and murmurs: “…you really wanted me to fuck you like that?”
you nod against his neck, your laugh hoarse and small, fingers curling weakly against his chest. he exhales hard and cups your jaw, thumb dragging gently along your cheekbone. “baby,” he says. “next time, you better tell me if you wanna ruin me too.”
can you please make a military!rafe x reader where somebody tries to hit on reader infront of rafe? Thankyouuu. 👅🫶🏻
-🥥
hi!! thank you for the request. when writing this, i realized how much i love to write a more possessive side of rafe 😄.
main masterlist
military!rafe masterlist
it was date night, a rare commodity now that rafe was home.
you’d chosen a trendy gastropub downtown, a place where you could pretend for a few hours that you were just a boring couple, not two parents or two people separated by more than a thousand miles with his departures.
rafe looked good. really good.
he’d traded his camo and combat boots for a pair of dark, well-fitting jeans and a simple black henley that clung to the broad, sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders.
his hair was slightly longer than regulation, a sandy blonde that fell over his forehead, and his jaw was dusted with scruff.
he was relaxed in a way he rarely was, the hard edge he carried softened by the cold beer in his hand and the warmth of your body pressed against his in the curved vinyl booth.
“you’re staring,” he murmured, a low, amused sound but he didn’t look at you, his gaze sweeping the crowded room with an instinctual, practiced scan.
it was a habit, one born from years of being hyper-aware of his surroundings. he was always watching.
“can’t help it,” you replied, tracing the condensation on your own glass. “you’re the best-looking man in here. by a long shot.”
a slow, satisfied grin spread across his lips.
he finally turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours.
the noise of the bar faded away, leaving just the charged space between you.
he leaned in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you closer until his lips were brushing against your ear.
“and you’re the only woman i see,” he whispered, his voice was intimate and sent a shiver down your spine.
he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the spot just below your ear. “now behave yourself while i go grab us another round.”
he slid out of the booth, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment before he disappeared into the crowd that filled the bar.
you watched him go, admiring the way he moved, the easy power in his stride. he was a predator in his natural habitat, even here, surrounded by civilians and craft beer.
you turned your attention back to the table, only to find that you were no longer alone.
a man was standing by your booth, leaning against the partition with an air of practiced nonchalance. he was handsome in a generic, coastal-wealth kind of way with an expensive watch, perfectly styled hair, a blazer over a designer t-shirt.
he looked like he’d just stepped out of a catalog.
“hi there,” he said, his smile a little too bright, a little too practiced. “i was just wondering if you were waiting for someone, or if you’d mind if i joined you for a minute.”
you offered him a polite, dismissive smile. “i’m actually waiting for my husband.”
“your husband?” he repeated, his eyes flicking over you, completely undeterred. “well, he’s a lucky man. but he’s also a fool for leaving a woman who looks like you sitting all by herself.”
your polite smile froze. this was the part you hated, the part where men refused to hear the word ‘no’ as anything other than a challenge. “he’s just at the bar,” you said, your tone a little colder now.
“even better,” he said, sliding into the booth opposite you.
he completely ignored the clear boundary you’d set up. “i can keep you company until he gets back. i’m mark, by the way.”
you didn’t offer your name. you just stared at him, your jaw tight, wishing rafe would hurry back.
you could feel the prickle of unease on the back of your neck. this man didn’t respect your space or your words.
“so, what do you do for fun, beautiful?” he pressed on, leaning forward, his invasive cologne washing over you. “aside from waiting for mysterious husbands at bars, of course.”
“i think you should go,” you said, your voice low and firm.
“aw, don’t be like that,” he said, his smile finally slipping to reveal something harder underneath. “i’m just trying to be friendly. no need to be a bitch about it.”
that was the word. the switch flipped. the air grew charged and you didn’t have to look up to know rafe was back. you could feel him.
he didn’t say anything at first. he just stood at the end of the table, two cold beers in his hands, his presence filling the small space until it felt like it was suffocating.
his gaze wasn’t on you. it was on mark, and it was the most terrifying look you had ever seen.
mark, finally sensing the shift in atmosphere, turned. his eyes widened as he took in rafe’s size.
“oh, hey, man. didn’t see you there,” mark said, attempting a breezy, dismissive tone that fell horribly flat. “was just keeping your wife company.”
rafe slowly, deliberately, set the beers down on the table.
the clink of glass against wood was unnaturally loud. he didn’t even glance at you. his entire focus was on the man in your booth.
“she said she wanted you to leave,” rafe stated. his voice was quiet, a low, calm rumble that was infinitely more menacing than a shout would have been.
“right, right. well, my mistake,” mark said, scrambling to slide out of the booth. “just a misunderstanding.”
he stood up, brushing off his jacket, trying to salvage some shred of his dignity.
he made the mistake of meeting rafe’s eyes one last time. rafe’s smile was a slow, predatory slash.
“you know,” rafe said, his voice dropping even lower.“when a woman says ‘no,’ a real man respects that. he doesn’t call her a bitch. he doesn’t invade her space. he backs the fuck off.”
mark’s face paled. he opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“you see, i spend my days dealing with men who don’t understand boundaries,” rafe continued, taking a step forward, crowding him. “men who think they can take whatever they want. it’s my job to teach them a lesson. i’m very, very good at my job.”
he was close now, in mark’s personal space, and you could see the fine sheen of sweat on the other man’s forehead.
rafe wasn’t touching him, but he might as well have been. the threat was palpable, a physical force in the air between them.
“now, i’m on leave,” rafe said, his tone almost conversational. “and i really don’t want to spend my night with my wife cleaning your blood off my knuckles. so i’m going to give you one chance to walk away. you’re going to turn around, you’re going to go back to whatever sad little hole you crawled out of, and you are never going to look at my wife again. are we clear?”
mark was nodding frantically, his eyes wide with terror. he didn’t say another word. he just turned and fled, practically running through the crowd to get away.
the bar was still noisy, but the bubble around your table was silent. rafe stood there for a long moment, his back to you, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, controlled breath.
finally, he turned and sat back down beside you. he didn’t speak. he just reached for your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss there. his eyes were still dark but the coldness was gone, replaced by protectiveness.
“are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough.
“i’m fine,” you said, your own voice a little shaky. “he was just an asshole.”
“he was more than an asshole,” rafe corrected, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “he was a man who doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. that’s a dangerous kind of stupid.”
he let go of your hand, only to cup your jaw, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. his gaze was intense, searching yours for any sign of distress. “did he touch you?”
“no,” you whispered. “i handled it.”
a flicker of pride crossed his features, softening his expression. “i know you did. you’re the toughest woman i know.”
he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. he closed his eyes, and you felt the last of the tension leave his body.
“i hate leaving you alone,” he murmured. “i hate thinking about shit like this happening when i’m not here.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. “but you are here,” you whispered against him. “and you always will be when it matters.“
he held you for a moment, his face buried in your neck, just breathing you in.
finally, he pulled back, his hands moving to frame your face. he looked at you, really looked at you, his blue eyes soft and clear. “i love you,” he said. “you know that, right? more than anything. more than this whole damn world.”
“i know,” you breathed. “i love you too.”
he leaned in and gave you a peck.
“so,” he said, his voice returning to its normal, low cadence. “where were we?”
you managed a small smile, the lingering tension finally breaking. “i believe you were telling me i was the only woman you see.”
he grinned, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that reached his eyes. “that’s right.” he set his beer down and slid his arm back around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side. he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.
“let’s get out of here,” he said, his eyes scanning the room one last time.
this place, this moment, was tainted now. all he wanted was you, alone, where no one else could look.
“what about our drinks?” you asked.
“fuck ‘em,” he said, standing up and pulling you with him. he tossed some cash on the table, more than enough to cover the tab. “i’ve got better things to do at home.”
Pairing: Jasper Hale x Reader
Summary: Jasper is a southern gentleman. He hates showing any sort of aggression around you, flashing teeth or using his strength. But you're human and you're fragile -- and not everyone acknowledges it. Some people (or wolves), he just has to correct.
Themes & Warnings: fluff, protective!Jasper, Eclipse era, slight violence, Jasper is such a sweetheart i love him <3
When you said you had the sweetest, most trusting husband in the world, it wasn't just a lie like other women told. You were serious. Jasper Hale was seriously the softest, cuddliest, most gentlemanly killing machine on earth.
Being the most protected woman in Washington or even in the world was a wonderful feeling. You never had any doubts in your husband, despite the horrible things you'd been through with him and his family. He treasured you, respected you, catered to all of your needs, and really was a perfect Southern gentleman, just like he'd told you he was the day you met him.
You'd just been married after being together for years. In fact, the plan was to turn you as soon as a solid window of time allowed. But, of course, danger and turbulence with Bella had disturbed your plans. You were still human and still fragile. You would've thought he was going to hover over you at all times, like Edward did Bella. But it was different. It helped that he could feel when you were scared or uncomfortable, but Jazz was comfortable at a distance, trusting you in your ability to identify a dangerous situation and be smart about needing help. And when you did need him, he eliminated the threat swiftly and effectively, reminding you and everyone else just how deadly he was.
The current threat was the newborn army. Most definitely organized by Victoria, it held a certain amount of weight, a palpable danger. Jasper had been tense lately -- he could feel the unease of everyone around him. And you, his human mate, were directly in danger, at risk of bloodthirsty newborns every time you were alone.
He'd recently decided that now, while things were so risky, you'd be by his side under constant protection. Knowing the threat and knowing Jasper's story, his experience with newborns, you didn't complain. You just followed your Major's orders.
Today, you were in the clearing, listening to your husband teach the family and the Pack about how to defense and offense. You couldn't lie, Jazz was dangerously hot like this.
Jasper Hale was never louder than necessary. He didn’t bark orders or boast about his skills. He simply moved and spoke with such controlled confidence that the entire clearing naturally stilled around him.
He stood at the center of the field, broad shoulders squared, golden eyes scanning everyone like a quiet commander taking stock. The tension in his jaw only made him look more dangerous. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing pale, scar-marked skin that shimmered faintly in the weak light -- reminders that he'd lived through so much violence and survived.
His hair was windswept, messy from combat demos, strands falling over his forehead. Somehow, that only made him hotter.
When he moved, he was all precision: a blur of muscle and reflex, striking with the speed of someone who didn’t hesitate. He never wasted energy. Every movement was elegant, efficient.
There was something deeply attractive about the way he balanced that lethal force with his gentlemanly calm. He wasn’t showing off, he was teaching. Guiding. Protecting.
“Newborns don’t think. They react. You use that. Wait for them to lunge -- then redirect their momentum.”
“Don’t aim for the head first. You want the arms, the legs. Disable them. Then finish it.”
“Stay low, keep your center of gravity under control. Don’t rely on brute force if you don’t have to.”
“Speed isn't enough. You gotta predict. Anticipate. That’s how you outlast ‘em.”
“Rosalie, you’re telegraphing. I could see that from a mile off.”
(a soft smirk, drawing a glare from Rosalie)
“Don’t swing wide, Emmett. This isn’t a bar fight. That move would’ve gotten you killed a hundred years ago.”
He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. That Southern drawl carried low and smooth, just loud enough to demand attention. You could tell he was holding back, like every part of him was wired to snap, but he was too controlled, too good, to let it show.
Watching Jasper fight was like watching a storm gather in the distance: quiet, beautiful, and inevitable.
Could be anyone. Wolf or vampire. They were quickly and strategically disarmed, usually with one move. It was like Jasper could tell exactly what they were going to do before they did it -- because likely, he could. He could feel whether they were cool headed, overconfident, agitated, restless. He was truly formidable. It was incredibly sexy to you.
Every once in a while, Jasper could feel your stares. He could feel your feelings of.. affection.. too. He tried to stay focused, his eyes locked onto whoever he was speaking to or whoever was swinging at him, but you could tell he knew. A crooked lift of his lip in a slight smirk would expose him.
Now, he stood facing off with Paul.
You'd never liked Paul. He was temperamental, cocky, arrogant and out of line any time you'd talked to him or been around him. But he was part of the pack and needed to be trained, so he was here.
Jasper could immediately feel your discomfort. His golden eyes met yours knowingly, reassuringly, in an attempt to soothe you. You felt yourself calm down considerably before you leaned back against the log, sighing.
He turned back. Paul was already snarling, fur prickling up in confidence and aggression. He hated vampires, whether they were fighting for the same cause or not. He wouldn't take it easy on Jasper, not that it mattered. Jasper never needed anyone to be careful, never needed to take it easily. He was almost sure that if Paul could, he'd go for the kill.
You swooned at Jazz. His face was still calm, staring down at the beast with anticipating eyes. Relaxed stance. He nodded, curving a hand to show Paul that it was time.
“Give it your best.” He said, one final statement, before Paul growled.
Paul lunged, massive wolf body coiled with muscle and teeth.
Jasper shifted just enough to the side, one pale hand shooting out to catch Paul by the ruff of his neck. He used the wolf’s own momentum to slam him to the ground, pinning him with one knee between his shoulders.
His voice was low, unbothered:
“Far too predictable. A newborn would've snapped your neck,” he said. “You need to think it through before making an attempt. You have to be better than them -- more patient, more measured.”
Paul snarled and bucked under him, forcing Jasper to release him. The wolf twisted, hackles raised, and launched again with a furious roar.
Jasper didn’t flinch. He waited, eyes cool, then sidestepped at the last second, hand flashing out to catch Paul’s foreleg mid-swipe. With a sharp jerk and a twist of his hips, he threw the massive wolf onto his back, sending him sliding into the treeline.
Jasper leaned in slightly, voice calm but firm.
“Again. But try learning this time.”
With a furious roar, Paul gave it one more shot.
He jumped into the air, not taking Jasper's advice, not thinking, but heading for the southern man full force. With an audible and disappointed "tsk," Jazz landed another blow, a final push, intended for teaching. The blow made contact, once again sending Paul towards the trees. He barreled into them, knocking two over.
Jasper turned around to the group, using it as a teaching example.
“That's why you have to think. Control yourself,” he explained, gesturing towards the direction he'd flung Paul. “They're stronger than you and far more excited to fight. Even more excited to kill. You can't be sloppy.”
While Jasper was explaining, Paul got angrier and angrier.
He hated being beaten. Hated being embarrassed. Hated being talked back to. And hated vampires.
You sat across the clearing, watching him get up from the trees. His teeth dripped with spit, a permanent snarl etched onto his glaring face. His paws were heavy in the dirt.
And the direction he stalked? It wasn't towards Jasper.
It was towards you.
He was angry, embarrassed, and wanted to teach Jasper a lesson by terrifying you. Of course, by pack law, he wasn't allowed to touch you. But scaring a vampire's mate seemed to be equal punishment for the embarrassment.
Your eyes widened as you straightened off the log. Paul got closer and closer, drool dribbling off his teeth and lips, looking positively murderous. He was now within five feet of you, paws crossing the grass in enormous strides.
Jasper’s voice faltered for half a second as he felt the shift in you -- the jolt of fear, sharp and cold.
His golden eyes flicked immediately to you, then the aggressive, snarling wolf right in front of your face. Less than five feet now, pushing you back, making you cower against the wood log.
Jacob spoke from behind Jasper first.
“Paul! Stop!”
It was too late. The damage had already been done. Jasper was angry now.
Jasper didn’t explode.
He didn’t shout, didn’t bare his teeth or make a scene.
He simply went silent.
So silent that even the wind seemed to still in the trees.
And in that breathless, deathly quiet, he moved.
One blink and he was no longer in front of the pack or your family. He was between you and Paul, standing nose-to-snout with the enormous wolf, whose growling abruptly cut short at the sudden presence of something far, far more dangerous.
Jasper’s hand shot out, not to strike, but to press, flat and firm, against Paul’s fur covered shoulder, holding him back like he weighed nothing at all. His voice came low and dark, quieter than anyone had ever heard it.
“Foolish dog.”
Paul snarled, tried to shove forward -- instinct, fury, shame. He didn’t make it an inch.
With one hand still on Paul’s shoulder, Jasper’s other came up in a blur -- grabbing the wolf by the scruff of the neck and slamming him into the earth with a crack of force that shook the ground.
Gasps, footsteps, and whining from the pack echoed behind you.
Jasper didn't look at anyone else.
“I gave you every chance,” he said, voice thick with venom now, words curling with Southern fire. “I trained you. I warned you.”
He leaned into the wolf's snarling face again, letting him snap and growl at him, unfazed. His eyes were deadly, but his face was relatively relaxed.
“You won't make it on the field if this is how you present yourself,” he hummed, squeezing tighter onto Paul's body. “I cared at first. But now?”
Paul growled and twisted. Jasper slammed him down.
“I'm almost certain this world could use one less insolent mutt.”
The threat in his words wasn’t shouted. It was drawled, cold and certain, landing heavier than any yell could have. Paul let out a strangled, furious snarl, thrashing harder beneath Jasper’s unyielding grip. Dirt and grass tore up under his claws.
Jasper didn’t even blink. His golden eyes stayed locked on the wolf’s, steady and unflinching.
“You think you’re ready to fight newborns?” he asked, tone dipping almost to pity -- almost. His fingers tightened just enough to make Paul yelp. “You can’t even manage your temper.”
He waited for the next lunge. When Paul tried to twist again, Jasper slammed him down harder, making the ground quake.
“You’re sloppy. Predictable. And worst of all?” Jasper dropped his voice to a harsh whisper.
“You’re willing to threaten something of mine to save your own pride.”
Paul went still beneath him at that. Breathing hard. Growling, but with a tremor that wasn’t all rage.
Behind them, the clearing had gone silent. The pack frozen. Cullens unmoving. Even the wind felt like it held its breath.
Jasper’s lip curled faintly, not quite a smile.
“Consider this your only warning.”
He held Paul down one second longer, driving the point home. Then he stood smoothly, brushing the dirt from his hands like he hadn’t just manhandled a half-ton predator into submission.
“If you ever step foot near her again,” he drawled, Southern lilt dark as pitch, “I’ll put you down myself.”
He let that promise hang in the frozen air.
Then he turned, utterly calm, and walked back toward you without another glance at the wolf.
His cold hands met your skin immediately, gently nudging you into a standing position and smoothing your clothes out. He searched you silently for injuries -- you prayed he didn't find a single scratch. Even if Paul hadn't done it, he'd still pay the price for it.
Jasper’s touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he feared he might hurt you just by being too rough. His cold fingers brushed along your arms, checking for any sign of bruising. He smoothed your hair back from your face, golden eyes scanning you with laser focus.
“Hold still for me, darlin',” he murmured, voice lower now -- gentler, but still taut with restrained fury.
You swallowed hard, letting him fuss over you. His thumb grazed your jaw, tilting your face toward the light to check for any marks.
Nothing. Not a scratch.
He exhaled, slow and shaky despite the careful control on his face.
“Good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.
His hands lingered at your waist, gripping you just enough to anchor himself. He didn’t look back at the pack, didn’t even acknowledge the others. For Jasper, in that moment, there was no one else but you.
As he felt you relax against him, Jasper’s hold softened even more. His thumbs brushed soothing circles at your waist, the cold of his skin forgotten in the warm hush between you.
“That’s it,” he murmured, southern lilt a low rumble only for your ears. “Easy now, sugar. I’ve got you.”
He dipped his head just low enough to press his lips gently to your forehead, leaving his lips there for a few seconds and letting his eyes flutter shut. Grounding himself. The tension bled out of him by slow degrees, like smothered coals on a fire being put out.
One of his hands drifted up to cup your cheek, wiping the startled tears from under your eyes.
“No more cryin’, sweet angel. He’s never gonna come near you again.”
Once you were sufficiently comforted, Jasper returned to the training session, but decided that he wasn’t going to do any demonstrations. For the rest of the day, you’d be by his side where he could focus on you.
However, Jasper was a practical and respectful man. A warning always came before he broke loose.
Jasper didn’t raise his voice or even turn fully away from you. He just lifted his head enough to look past you, eyes finding the pack’s leader with that glint of cold command still in them.
“Sam,” he called evenly.
Sam’s ears flicked forward in wolf form, body tense, watching every move. No one had much to say, just stared. Emmett and Edward watched cautiously, awaiting a fight to break out.
Jasper’s jaw flexed once before he spoke, his tone unyielding.
“You’ll be down a pup if you ever let one of yours so much as growl at her again,” he asserted, tone cutting through the air like a knife. “She’s human. If you’ve forgotten your rules, if you’ve forgotten the treaty, I can be your reminder.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t need one.
His gaze lingered on Sam another beat, making sure the threat was received in full, before he lowered his eyes back to you, all that deadly fire softening in an instant.
Hi! I was wondering if you could write a one shot where rafe and y/n are a couple and y/n gets hurt or something and rafe becomes super protective over her?
Sure thing! I tried, I hope this is ok x
Freak Accident
Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader
Warnings - Fluff, angst. Hospital, mentions of injuries. No use of Y/N
When Rafe gets the call that you are in the hospital, his heart drops to his stomach
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Rafe's heart dropped to his stomach when he received the call from Sarah that you were in the hospital.
At first, he thought it was a joke, some sick prank to get him annoyed. But when the reality of her voice sunk in, he had never driven a golf cart faster in his life, and he was pretty sure he broke the speed limit the whole way in Topper's Jeep.
He had been golfing at the club with Topper while you spent the day with Sarah. You wanted to learn to surf, and as much as he hated the idea, he knew he couldn't stop you. Once your mind was set on something, there was no stopping you.
Sarah had promised you would be safe. Kie and the other pogues would be there, all experienced surfers.
Once, he made sure you were ok. He was certain he was going to kill them all.
"Rafe!" Topper called out as he fumbled to catch the keys after Rafe dumped the jeep outside the hospital, leaving the engine running as he hurried inside. It was a miracle he was thinking straight enough to put the car in park.
He quickly found the front desk and asked where you were after cutting in front of a elderly woman. He ran for the elevators, mashing the botton, and when they took too long, he cursed before running up the stairs.
Sarah stood in the hall outside your room, wrapped in John B's arms when he finally made it.
"What the fuck, happened?" He breathed out, cheeks red.
"She's fine, dude," JJ spoke up after they all looked at each other. He sat with Kie, relaxing in the hard plastic chair and arm over her shoulders.
"I wasn't fucking talking to you" Rafe spat, pointing at him while still staring at Sarah.
"There was a huge wave, and she hit the rocks," Sarah said quietly. "But she's ok"
"How the fuck is she ok? She's in the hospital and it's your fault!" He snapped, running a hand through his hair.
"Whoa, it's no one's fault," John B stepped in front of Sarah. "It was a freak accident, man,"
Rafe nodded a little too frantically before scoffing and lunging for John B. "I'll show you a freak accident, man."
"Hey, Rafe. Not here." Topper held him back, having stepped out the elevator and found the scene before him.
They struggled for a moment before Topper snapped him out of it. "Go see your girl," He said softly, holding his shoulders as Rafe nodded slowly.
"He can't. The nurse is in with her, " Kie said quietly. "They said family only."
Rafe shook his head and closed his eyes. "Nah, fuck that" He broke away from Topper's hold before barging into your hospital room.
You jumped a little as the door flew open while the nurse was taking your blood pressure. You were sure it suddenly spiked as your very flustered boyfriend stood in the doorway.
His ocean eyes scanning over you, focusing on the bruise on your cheek, to the cast on your left arm and down to the cut on your right leg.
"Hi, gorgeous." You smiled gently at him, hoping he would calm down at the sound of your voice.
The nurse looked between the pair of you as Rafe breathed out a small 'Hi'. His eyes were still checking your injuries.
"Your boyfriend?" She asked. "You know it's really only meant to be family allowed"
"Husband," Rafe blurted out. "I'm her, husband. No way am I leaving now. "
Your eyes went wide as the nurse shook her head before smiling knowingly, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. It wasn't on the charts."
She obviously knew Rafe was lying but humoured it. She was very sweet. "Take a seat, I'm just finishing obs, and our girl here should be good to go."
Rafe didn't need to be told twice as he took a seat beside the bed, desperately wanting to hold you, but let the nurse finish.
"I'm a little worried about the concussion, but other than that. You should be fine for discharge." She smiled. "I'm sure with this guy around, I don't have to worry about someone to look after you once you go home"
"Damn right, she's not leaving my sight." He was deathly serious even though the nurse laughed at the charm to his tone.
"Alrighty then. I'll go get the papers." She left, leaving you and Rafe in silence while you could hear Sarah and the others asking about you.
"Come here, baby." You held out your uninjured hand to him, which he took quickly but carefully. He seemed nervous to touch you, like you would break.
"You scared the shit out of me," He sighed, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.
"I know. I'm sorry." You sighed, hating the idea of him being so worried as you knew you'd be the same if the roles were reversed.
He sat down beside you, and you pulled him into your arms, ignoring the pain into your side as he held his weight off you. You ran your hand through his hair. "I'm ok, I'm just a little bruised"
He scoffed and pulled away, "and broken. You broke your arm, baby"
You hummed. "Oh yeah, would you look at that?" You were sarcastic as you looked down at your cast arm. "I wondered why it was heavy"
He rolled his eyes and smiled, aleast you were well enough to still be yourself. He chose that moment to gently cup your cheek. He was careful of the bruise as he kissed you.
You melted into him, thankful Sarah had called him. He was the best pain relief.
"I meant it, I'm not letting you out of my sight," He whispered against your lips.
"Husband, huh?" You whispered back, teasing as your foreheads rested together.
He blushed and smiled. "I would love to be"
"I like the sound of that. Wife sounds like a good word, too. "
"I would love you to be," He breathed, making you pull back in shock.
"Rafe Cameron, if that was a proposal, you can -"
He cut you off with the kiss. "Baby, the day I propose it will be a day you never forget. That was not a proposal." He chuckled.
Honestly, if he was asking there and then, you would have said yes. But knowing Rafe, it would be something involving fireworks and champagne.
blue collar! johnb works with his hands — contractor, mechanic, welder — something that leaves him sweaty and tired, but satisfied
blue collar! johnb keeps a photo of you in his toolbox. the guys tease him. he doesn’t care. “that’s my girl. look all you want — but you won’t touch.”
blue collar! johnb always has a hand on you — thigh, waist, back of your neck. always grounding, never possessive
blue collar! johnb first thing he does when he walks in the door? drops his tool belt and wraps his arms around you, presses his face to your neck. “missed you all damn day.”
blue collar! johnb slow, deep strokes. always watching your face. saying things like “that’s it, baby. takin’ me so good.” while brushing your hair out of your eyes.
blue collar! johnb physical touch is constant. even when he’s dead tired, he’ll pull you into his lap, lay his head on your chest, mumbling about how your heartbeat calms him
blue collar! johnb big into acts of service too. he doesn’t just say he loves you — he fills your car with gas, changes the bulbs, replaces the batteries in your remote before you notice they’re low
blue collar! johnb his hands are always rough, knuckles nicked — but he never touches you without gentleness. always makes sure to wash up before laying them on you
blue collar! johnb who's protective to the point of ridiculousness when you finally get pregnant. you’re not lifting a single grocery bag. he gets pissed if you try
blue collar! johnb talks to your bump in his softest voice. “you be good to mama in there, alright? she’s everything to me.”
blue collar! johnb some nights he’s so desperate he doesn’t even undress you — just pulls your panties to the side, mouth hot against your neck, breath ragged
blue collar! johnb wants to fill you up— not just sexually, but emotionally. always asking if you feel good. if you feel safe. if you know he adores you
blue collar! johnb aftercare king. wraps you up in his arms, murmurs “you did so good for me.” kisses your temple over and over until you fall asleep on his chest.
PAIRING. carpenter!rafe x reader
CONTENT. fluff. carpenter!rafe being cocky and obsessed w his girl. ring flexing. a little suggestive teasing. domestic romance. carpenter!rafe working class king behaviour. suggestive content at the end.
it catches the light every time you move. the ring. his ring. that stupidly oversized, sparking thing on your finger that feels heavier than it should— but only because of how much it means.
you’re at the bar with a couple of your friends, just chatting, sipping drinks, when rafe walks in covered in sawdust and plaster dust, his shirt slightly damp around the collar, the sleeves around his biceps looking like they might tear any minute.
he sees you instantly. of course he does. and he grins— that grin. the one that says ‘mine’, without saying a single word.
“god, he’s obsessed with you,” your best friend whispers with a giggle as he makes his way over, while you try to hold yourself together and not melt under his gaze.
“she’s got my whole fuckin’ paycheck on her finger,” rafe says, loud enough for your entire table to hear as he slides in behind you, his arms looking around your waist. “damn right i’m obsessed.”
you roll your eyes.”you picked this bar just so you could show it off again, didn’t you?”
“maybe.” he smirks against your cheek. “not my fault everyone in this town needs to see who you belong to.”
and yeah, people notice. they always do. you’ve caught the stares when you walk by, the curious looks at your hand, the murmurs like; is that rafe cameron’s girl? is that thing real?
he lives for it.
he brags about how he built your ring box himself. custom cut the slot. velvet lined. engraved the inside. he proposed in the workshop, sawdust still on his palms and his whole body trembling, like she might actually say yes.
and now?
now he taps your hand every time someone new walks up. holds it when your out in public. turns your palm up and presses a kiss to your knuckles, then to the diamond.
“just makin’ sure it’s still there,” he’ll say. “can’t have my fiancee walkin’ around lookin’ like she’s single.”
tonight’s no different.
you’re talking to some guy you used to know from school— harmless, friendly —when rafe reappears behind you, his beer and your vodka soda in hand and a stare that could level a building.
“hey,” he says cooly, handing you your drink. then his hand slides to your hip. then lower. “you show him your ring yet?”
your jaw nearly hits the floor. “rafe.”
he shrugs. “what? just bein’ friendly.”
you glance at the guy, who suddenly has somewhere else to be, and turn back to glare at your fiance. “you’re insane.”
“insanely in love with my wife-to-be.” he kisses your shoulder, smug as hell. “and what’s the point of workin sixteen hour days, building half this damn town with my own hands, if i can’t put a big ‘fuck you’ rock on your finger.
you try not to smile. you fail.
later, when you’re home— when his shirt’s off, and yours is gone too, and your ring catches the light again while your nails scratch down his back —he says it again, breath hot against your skin.
“you think i’m done showin’ you off?” he growls. “nah, baby. i’m just gettin’ started.”
𓆉 MDNI older bf!toji x f!reader (toji is 40+ and reader is 20+)
older bf!toji shaking his head when you ask for a sip of his beer, lecturing you on the harmful effects of drinking alcohol, liver cirrhosis, brain damage blah blah blah while he’s full-on chugging down bottles of beers.
older bf!toji who stops you halfway when you’re sinking down onto his cock, worried that he’d be too big for you, the what-ifs roaming freely in his mind if you actually took him whole. What if you split into half? What if he ruptures your cervix when he goes too deep? What if your vagina tears?
older bf!toji who would just play with your clit, hands tucked in your underwear when you’re feeling horny and whiny for him because he’s just too cowardly to fuck you, petrified he’d hurt you.
older bf!toji whom you just trust so much to buy your lingeries, undergarment and feminine products due to his myriad of experience and knowledge. He knows your flow intensity and which pad lengths to buy. He also buys the undergarments with non-toxic fabrics that support your vaginal health. Cuz he knows better than to neglect this pussy that he adores so much.
older bf!toji who is just too old for this shit, he has no more energy to argue and bicker with you so he lets you do whatever the fuck you want with him. Wear matching thongs with you…whatever. Give him a buzz cut…bleh okay. Act as your personal armchair…no problem. Act as your personal loofah??? Say less.
older bf!toji who sits back and let you treat his cock like a fidget toy. Manspreading on the couch as you juggle his balls, fling his cock around however you want, pull on the foreskin and suck on it however you want.
older bf!toji who would grip the back of your head, tugging your hair up as you tried to take on his full length. Glancing down at your watery eyes, slick and swollen lips and the drool dripping down your chin, “nuh uh pretty girl, you know you’ll gag and choke trying to take it whole.”
older bf!toji in the end still trusts your judgement and your ability to take care of yourself, although he’d feel better if you let him treat you like his princess when you were together.
