Bf!rafe X Thick!reader.

Not pleased with the lack of new fics for my fav characters (hyper fixations) lately. The withdrawals are eating me alive

his little "no no no" I'm gonna be sick this man cannot keep doing this to me 😣 MY BABYYYY

I love dad bods 🥰

do you see of the Rafe’s in your AU’s having dad bods?

okay okay okay

blue!collar!rafe scc!rafe boxer!rafe

sexist!rafe ex!husband!rafe military!rafe

Catch me riding his dick like I’m a professional

Bro…I’m dead

Sweet Dreams

daryl x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, sleepy/subby reader, thigh riding, overstimulation, crying (from pleasure), soft dom Daryl, lots of praise, aftercare, tenderness, use of pet names (good girl, baby, i think sweet girl i forgot)

⸻

The night was quiet. Crickets chirped low outside, and the wind creaked against the windows. Daryl lay still in bed, one arm slung across your waist, the slow rhythm of your breathing brushing over his bare chest. You were warm, curled up next to him, dead asleep… or so he thought.

Until he felt it.

A tiny shift at first. Then again. The slide of your hips against his thigh.

His eyes shot open.

“…Baby?”

He whispered it low, voice still thick with sleep. He felt your body shudder faintly in his arms—your breathing shaky now, your forehead pressed into his shoulder, your fingers gripping at his side.

He blinked a few times, brain struggling to register what the hell was going on.

And then it hit him.

You were riding his thigh. In your sleep. Little, slow, desperate rolls of your hips, your panties damp against his bare skin. Fuck. His whole body tensed, but not in shock. He had to grit his teeth to keep himself still, watching your face crumple into the softest pout.

You were whimpering. Not sad. Needy.

His poor girl, dreaming about him and chasing it in your sleep.

Daryl’s hand trailed slowly up your back, petting gently, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Sweetheart… that what you need, huh?”

You didn’t wake. Just kept going, a little faster now, your thighs trembling from the effort. He could feel the heat soaking through his thigh and it made his cock twitch in his boxers.

He couldn’t help it, he lifted his leg just a little, angling it right where you needed, guiding your hips with one hand.

“There ya go baby… that better?” he whispered, pressing kisses into your hair. “Get yourself off, darlin’. Use me however you want…”

You whimpered again, one broken little sob of need, and your fingers clawed into his chest.

Then you gasped.

Eyes fluttered open—wide and glossy—and you froze. Cheeks burning. You were mortified.

“D-Daryl—wait, I—I didn’t mean to—” You were panting, dazed and shaky, but too close now to stop. “I—fuck—I was so close—”

Daryl cut you off with a soft hush, cupping your cheek.

“I know, baby. S’okay. You ain’t gotta stop now.” He sat up just enough to hold you better, dragging your hips forward. “Let me help you finish, yeah? You were doin’ so good without me, but I gotcha now…”

You whined at the contact, body jerking forward as his hands gripped your hips and started rocking you against his thigh again, this time rougher—deeper.

“Daryl—please,” you choked, tears welling in your eyes from how fucking close you were again already.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Rub that needy little pussy all over me,” he muttered, nose buried in your neck. “Take what you need. Make a mess on me.”

That was it.

You shattered.

Your whole body locked up, back arching as the orgasm hit, soaking through your panties, your cries muffled into his shoulder while your thighs shook around him.

“There ya go, baby,” he praised, holding you through it. “Such a good girl… makin’ a mess for me, just like that…”

You sobbed softly, overwhelmed, heart racing.

Daryl held you close, gently easing your spent body down into the sheets. He kissed your face, your cheeks, your lips, every tear. His fingers brushed your hair back.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, sniffling. “Mhm… sorry…”

“Nah,” he whispered. “Don’t be. You can use me anytime you want, baby. I’ll always take care’a ya.”

He tucked you into his chest, thigh still slick where you’d ridden it, and hummed against your forehead.

Within seconds, you were already asleep again.

And Daryl just smiled.

“Goodnight,” he muttered, pulling the blanket up around you both.

⸻

a/n i have two more daryl smuts sitting in my drafts should i post them guys erm

I just loveeeee the sincerity of conversations after sex or during the sex

like after sex you are lying there trying to breathe properly and he comes out of the bathroom with a towel in hand and casually goes just as he wipes the cum off your ass

"did ya see the video?"

"what video?"

"two muppets got caught sneaking up a phone in base. price got 'em real good. smashed their head into each otha when they were broadcasting. i don't know-it's instagram or somthin'."

you nod enthusiastically and snort "soap sent to me. was too violent for me to watch. he thinks it was funny though."

he chuckles just as he strokes the redness on your ass. "you handle violent just fine"

or like you are in the middle of it, bouncing on him with all you've got and he says

"i don't like it when you don't call."

and you just freeze because what the hell he could have had this conversation around the time when he decided to watch football. so you ask, trying to comprehend.

"what?"

he simply shrugs and tightens his arms around you.

"makes me sad when you don't call."

"i-i don't know what to say."

"can't say hi?"

and it makes you wonder what happened to the man you fucked in the early days of your not-a-relationship-just-fucking thing because ghost didn't even moan let alone talking.

this one is simon you suppose.

sorry, wish my english was better and i knew anything about english accent. 😭

”I never see you in the club” I never see you having violent meltdowns alone in your room and hitting yourself but ok

AGAHGDHHSB

Hi girly pop absolute love blue collar!rafe I was wondering if you could write about wren/emmett throwing a tantrum about not having something then saying I hate my mum then rafes reaction

emmett being mean to his mommy & blue collar!rafe shuts that shit down real quick !!

cw: cussing, rafe being stern with emmett

it all happened in a flash. one second, the house was calm—just the quiet hum of the afternoon, dishes clinking softly in the sink, wren babbling from her playmat in the living room. you were wiping the counter down, calling emmett’s name gently from across the room.

“hey, em, pick up your toys, please.” you didn’t expect a tantrum. you didn’t expect the shift in his little body—the frustration that had been bubbling up all day to suddenly spill over.

“no! i hate you, mommy!” the words slammed into the air like a door slamming shut.

CLUNK.

the toy truck in his hands whipped through the air before you could even blink, bouncing hard off the far wall and skidding across the floor. your mouth fell open, your breath caught in your chest. you stood frozen, not from fear—but heartbreak. the sharpness of his words cut deeper than anything, but what stunned you most… was the look in his face. angry. frustrated. lost. like his little chest just couldn’t hold it all anymore.

“emmett—” you barely started. but you didn’t have to finish. because the front door opened with a slow creak, and heavy bootsteps echoed against the wood. rafe had just gotten home.

and he heard everything.

the toy being thrown against the wall.

the yelling.

the silence that followed.

you turned just as he stepped into the room—sunlight casting a halo behind his dirty neon orange work shirt, arms tan and tense from work, his hat pulled low, eyes immediately scanning the scene. he saw the toy across the room. he saw your face—shocked, wide-eyed, hurt. and then he saw emmett.

rafe’s jaw clenched, hard. he turned his gaze back to emmett, his shoulders squared as he stepped in with purpose, calm but with thunder in his veins. he spoke, voice even. “the hell’s goin’ on in here?”

emmett stiffened. his little face was red, blotchy, guilt already blooming in his chest. when he didn’t answer, rafe stepped closer, his voice low. “i asked you a question, son.”

emmett glanced up, then down again, “i was mad,” he mumbled.

rafe crossed the room in three long strides, reached down and lifted emmett gently—but firmly—under the arms, setting him on the couch. not rough, not loud—just serious enough to shake the air. “scoot back,” rafe ordered. emmett scrambled back, breathing hard. his small hands curled into fists against his jeans.

rafe crouched down in front of him, one hand braced on his knee, the other resting on the couch beside emmett’s leg. his eyes were locked on his son’s, blue and blazing. “you wanna be mad?” he said, voice low and controlled. “that’s fine. we all get mad. but you do not talk to your mama like that. not ever.” emmett blinked fast, his lower lip wobbling. “do you understand me?”

he nodded. “i didn’t hear you,” rafe said, sharper now. “do you understand me?”

emmett sniffled. “yes, daddy.”

rafe pointed toward you without turning his head. “that woman over there—have you ever heard me speak to her like that?”

“no, sir.”

“have you seen me throw things at her? raise my voice like that? make her cry?”

emmett’s face crumpled. “no.”

rafe leaned in a little closer, his voice quieter now, but firm as ever. “you know why?” emmett nodded. “tell me.”

“because… she’s your wife.”

“uh huh. she’s my wife,” rafe muttered. “and you know damn well no one talks to my wife like that. not only that, but she’s also your mama. she’s the one who loves you more than anything on this earth. she takes care of you when you’re sick, when you’re scared, when you can’t sleep at night. she makes your breakfast, folds your clothes, kisses you goodnight even when you’ve been awful. and today?” he shook his head. “you looked at her and told her you hated her.”

a tear rolled down emmett’s red cheek. his chest heaved with a shaky breath. “i didn’t mean it,” he whispered.

rafe stood, slow and heavy, like the weight of the whole conversation was on his back. he looked down at his son for a long moment, then nodded toward you.

“then i think you know what you need to do.”

emmett didn’t hesitate. he slid off the couch and ran straight into your arms, his little face already damp with tears. “i”m sorry, mama,” he sobbed, burying himself in your shirt. “i didn’t mean it—i don’t hate you—i love you, i’m so sorry!”

you knelt down, cupping his flushed cheeks, brushing his bangs from his wet forehead. “i know, baby,” you whispered. “i know. i love you too.”

rafe stood back quietly, his hand on his hip, watching the two of you with tight eyes and a chest that rose and fell like he was finally letting go of something heavy. you looked over at him, silently thanking him. he gave a quiet nod. that was all he needed to say. he had your back. always.

your camera roll if you were dating simon

simon riley x fem reader

thinking about…

rafe cameron buying you a fancy diamond necklace with an R emblem dangling from it. you’re so happy as he clasps the chain around your neck. it looks perfect as it balanced right above your breasts.

rafe cameron who also only bought you that expensive jewlery so everyone would know who you belong to. when a guy tried to look at your cleavage in a low top, he would also notice the letter dangling from your neck. now, if someone flirted with you, he had an excuse to beat them shitless. “no. see, i don’t think you didn’t know because you saw the necklace she was wearing.” he tisked and unleashed yet another punch, knocking the pathetic boy out cold.

rafe cameron who gets hard even seeing the gold chain around your neck. he’ll notice it dangling around over your perky tits and will shuffle in his seat, adjusting his pants. he makes you ride him, the chain dangling in his face as you bounce up and down on him. he groans, taking the chain between his teeth before releasing his load up into you.