#he's so proud of his handiwork! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bolithesenate · 3 months

Text

fun fact of the morning is that to me Tarre Vizsla was a cringefail jedi twink so horribly bad at jedi-ing that he did an accidental 180 and became Mand'alor

man's could not find a lightsaber crystal for his goddamn life, so much so that a mandalorian deity had to come and help out

then he crashed in someones backyard destroying half their tuber harvest when he took a wrong turn after going home from a bandomeer agricorps summit

the shame is too big so he ditches everything and becomes a weaver for a like year

only after that year does he even realize he landed himself in karking mandalorian space (the weaver he holes up at is an old lady and doesn't wear armor so he just never noticed)

meanwhile everyone back at the temple just assumed he died

over his year as weaver-apprenticing he also did odd little jobs here and there around the village. mostly helping people with paperwork and taxes and how to price grain to sell the next city over

which gets him implicitly elected like mayor of that village (mostly because no one else wants to do the paperwork)

which is how he, a failed jedi that crashed in someones backyard and just wallowed in shame ever since somehow is made to attend a city/region council as representative of that village (it is there that he realizes that wtf that's too many mandalorians for this to just be coincidence. those CANNOT all be bodyguards) (yes he had stereotypes)

still, apparently he is one of them now

(he is standing there like 🧍🏻 the only one in the room without any armor to speak)

but also definitely the only one with a single political bone in him (it was forcibly installed in him by the temple's teachers). and also the knowledge of How To Do Taxes (that and he weaves a mean rug)

which once again gets him elected representative of that council as well

so now he has to go to a House meeting in a month

(which is bad, he has a deadline on a new tapestry that needs to be done by then can't they just postpone? also what is a House and why do they have meetings)

the lady weaver who kinda just is his adoptive mom now just laughs and pats him on the head and tells him he'll figure it out. but oh maybe he should wear some armor for that one, House meetings have a tendency to get wild and many things are settled over honor duels. and the city/region he's representing sure would like for their needs to be defended.

meanwhile Tarre is panicking because the one thing he was worse at at Jedi School than actually being a jedi was lightsabering

he's decent at hand-to-hand but that was NOT worth any points in the eyes of the Battlemaster

(turns out he shouldn't have worried. 'decent at hand-to-hand' for an old republic jedi still meant 'kriffing lethal' in comparison to everyone else.)

his region's demands have never been represented better

especially since he also does know the maths to make it work in the long run.

that gets him noticed by the like son or heir or whatever of the Head of the House, who promptly makes Tarre his right hand (Tarre agreed to it either while drunk -- he is a sad drunk and JEdi aRE SupPOseD To hELP aaaaaaaa -- and was guilttripped into it OR he misunderstood the assignment to be a weaving commission)

(because, in Tarre's mind, that IS still his day job)

and so on and so forth it spirals out of control farther and farther until one day he is there helping represent the mandalorian side in a trade dispute with the republic and the other side have jedi with them (ofc) and he is one again just doing his best statue impression trying not to be noticed only he forgot that mandalorians announce themselves and their whole allegiance and lineage in front of everyone so he gets first-name-last-named by his new boss in front of his old boss and it does horrors to his nerves that much is certain

only the jedi just kinda squint and then leave it uncommented so he thinks he's safe until HIS OLD MASTER JUST TELEPORTS STRAIGHT INTO THE DINNER ROOM DEMANDING TO KNOW WHY HE WASN'T THERE FOR THE LAST TWELVE LINEAGE DINNERS

#is this about one of my many wips? yes it is #cringefail jedi tarre for thw win #i have had enough of all those edgy and cool and imposing and competent tarres out tgere #this one gets called 'my little creature' by his master and he thinks its the best nickname ever #fay calls him that because by god his genetic makeup is an affront to every biologist #they just put a good dozen species in a blender for that one and called it a day #he has so many eye problems (being part chiss part miraluka part keshian and part whatever else will do that to you)#the reason there is no surviving moniker for him is because everyone later on assumed 'Mand'alor the Weaver' was a mistranslation #and just scratched it out #but he was a weaver! it was the handiwork he learned!! he was proud of it #(his jedi master standing in the corner shaking her head like)#anyways yeah thats this #me writing #random boli thoughts #star wars #tarre vizsla

27 notes · View notes

the-kipsabian · 8 months

Text

#kip sabian #aew #all elite wrestling #aewedit #wrestlingedit #wrestling #night gifs #so proud of his handiworks. also i think hes proud of oc kicking out and winning the match? its so hard to say #that subtle change of expression in the second one tho? my everything ough #my beloved #kip in a box #(rp blogs dont reblog; saving and other personal use with tag credits is fine)#kip v oc

18 notes · View notes

sh1-n0bu · 7 months

Text

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 1: bondage/shibari with blade from hsr!

warnings: shibari/bondage obv, subspace, affirmation of consent, cockstepping, forced self praise, nipple stimulation, masochist blade, slight feminization, praise

notes: oh shit, here we go

being in a relationship with blade comes with many surprises and way too many heart attacks. no, really, the amount of times you almost had a heart attack because of this man is insane.

coming back home injured and on the brink of death. sudden reopening of his wounds and stitches because he was so used to pain. or the fact that he literally fell unconscious on your lap because he forgot to eat anything for the last who knows what long?

or even now, when he holds out a red rope, asking you to tie him up like a helpless prey.

it took a lot of tries and failures. wrapping the pretty red rope around the bare skin of your masochistic lover is quite hard when you have zero experience on full body bondage. if it were just hands and legs, you were a master at it. but not when it comes to shibari.

“color?” your voice comes out soft and gentle, tightening the last part of the red rope behind his back. all you got in response was a quiet shuddered breath.

“bladie, color?” fastening the end of the rope behind his back — not too tight, not too loose — your hand comes up to rest atop his head before slowly stroking his hair. that snapped him out of his current thoughts real fast as his hazy ruby eyes shift up to look at you.

“g-green… green” blade nods, gulping down what saliva was being collected in his mouth.

looking down at your handiwork, the stellaron hunter almost lets out a loud moan at the sight. red rope, one that is the same color of his eyes, fastened around his body so prettily. his chest, breasts you like to call whenever you squeeze them, looked bigger than usual. a part of the red rope going down and around his pecs, digging into his skin just enough to remind him of the current action you two were about to do. and his cock, standing angry red and proud.

he was hard. embarrassingly so.

you haven’t done anything but tie him up to his request and oh gods, he was already so embarrassingly hard.

if you were to see his arousal and the slight pre already on his tip, what would you do? would you scold him? call him mean and degrading names? would you leave him untouched and desperate for hours? would you slap his cock and make him cry and sob in a twisted sense of pleasure and pain?

a hand comes to rest on his chest, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. oh, what would you do? what would you do to him? your poor, pathetic, helpless lover.

“my sweet bladie. look at you, staying there all tied up like a little prey” he briefly hears your voice call out, hands starting to fondle and squeeze his pecks. unconsciously, he pushed his chest further into your hand, wanting more of your sweet touches. it felt like his entire body was on fire and only your hand could soothe him. or even make it worse.

“do you like it, dear? does my pretty boy like it when i fondle his tits like that?” he lets out an embarrassingly loud noise at your words. a pathetic sound that’s akin to a mewl that a cat in heat makes. without even noticing, his hips stutter in his position on the rug covered floor as well.

“such a cute and round breasts you have, my love. so full. they fit in my hand so prettily. do you think if i suck on your pretty nipples for long enough, you would start lactating?”

oh. oh no. just that mental image or the thought of having your mouth wrapped around his areola had him whining out loudly. rutting his hips on the material of the soft rug desperately as he tries to make your words a reality. oh, would you help him out if that actually does end up becoming real? would you suck and stimulate his nerves so often and too much to the point that he would actually start lactating just like a woman would? would you suck on his leaking milk?

such vile thoughts that made him squirm on his place on the floor with a long, drawn-out whine. who would have ever thought your stoic looking lover would be such a weak little thing.

not that you minded it. you loved it actually. all the more reasons to circle a thumb around his hardened bud, making him twitch and buck his hips, searching for the tiniest bits of friction to his poor leaking cock.

"ah right. how mean of me. i forgot about your little problem" you let out a soft coo, deciding to try out a new thing as well. no point in backing out now. your sweet boy was already a mess on the floor with just a few touches and caresses. might as well help him out and fulfill his fantasies.

"color?" you ask again, one of your feet lightly resting on his stomach, pressing lightly, just enough pressure to cause blade to gain his words again from wherever his pretty mushy brain is swimming in once he gets to this state.

understanding the implications of your words and what you were asking affirmation for, blade couldn't help but nod his head a little too eagerly. the dirty and vile side of him wanting what exactly it was you were offering. the dark and more twisted part of him just wanted you to do that already. to take what you wanted without asking, make him scream, jolt, sob from the suddenness of it all.

but of course, you would never do that. you were so caring of him. makes him wonder how he even was lucky enough to have you as his own lover.

"my love, i need to hear you use your words" your voice sounded a bit harsher than he remembered. did he made you mad? disappointed? sad? he didn't meant to! poor little blade was just too damn lost in his own little space. all thanks to the rope and the suffocating amount of trust he blindly puts in you.

"green... please? aeons, please just touch me" his response was sluggish. slow. slurred. drunken and lost in the hazy grips of pleasure and anticipation. that was all you needed.

with a comforting headpat, the feet that you had placed on his stomach slowly trailing down before coming to rest over his hard on. just a simple buck of his hips and he can get to feel you step down on his cock. the thought had blade already panting and drooling. but you haven’t even touched him yet. what a perverted boy, he was.

slowly but gently, you pressed down on his arousal before putting just enough pressure to cause him to let out gasps and loud whines. it felt good. you felt good. you were making him feel so good and blade? oh, he could never be happier nor could he ever thank you enough for it.

“t-thank you…! gunhhg thankyou thankyo—oounpp!!! gccck♡︎!” the man blabbers on drunkenly, his hips twitching as he tries to rut up into your feet further to make you just stomp on his pathetic cock. he would love that so much. the disgusting, masochist part of him would love that so fucking much.

“you’re my pretty boy, right? my sweet toy. my cute prey. my darling blade, right? you’re still my good bladie, right?” he could briefly hear you hum so sweetly. voice like a honey on his fried brain. in response, all blade could do was nod and nod eagerly like a pup. hands straining against the pretty red ropes that you tied around him.

“words, blade” the hand that was still playing and squeezing at him breast — god he completely forgot about your hand there — squeezes at his hardened nipple before pulling on it slightly. that was a warning for him to use his words. to repeat back what you said to him like a broken record. or else, you would probably deny touching him all-together and your sweet boy would hate that.

“guuh— i am! i am i am! ‘m your good boy. y-your sweet boy! ‘m still your cute bladie nyaah♥︎!” that last part slipped out unconsciously. he could barely even form any words now. just pathetically humping the rug and your feet that’s pressed down on his leaking cock, face pressed against the side of your thigh as his noises become more loud and debouched.

all he knew was to keep repeating the words you said. there was no need for him to think. why would he have the need to think when you were right there in front of him, helping him and being so cruel yet so sweet to him? blade didn’t needed to use his head when with you.

so, he just simply kept parroting your words through jumbled heap of mess. how he was your toy. your cute prey. your good boy. your love, blade. yours, yours, yours, yours—!

“uuunghh! mmpf-fuck! fuckfuckfuck! n-nnyaaghh♡︎♡︎!” twitching violently on his place on the floor, the immortal tries to break free from the ropes keeping his hands tied tightly to his sides. blade had always been a touchy guy, wanting to scratch your back, sides, hips, wherever his hands could reach. and yet he couldn’t. not this time and it’s all because of what he said and his own wishes.

so, he simply settles on mewling embarrassingly loud as his hips stutter in place, cock cumming untouched as he tries to hide his drooling face into the soft flesh of your thighs, soiling your feet with his own cum.

“g-gcckk.. m-more… unngh need you t-to fill me up” blade mumbles, voice muffled as he rubs his cock against your feet. he was already hard again and the skin on skin contact stung whenever he slowly humped your leg. oh but he loved it.

the red ropes matched his flushed cheeks and bleary eyes perfectly. so, who are you to stop now and deny your sweet boy?

2K notes · View notes

feirceangel · 7 months

Text

Imagine | Protect (Luffy)

Imagine guarding Luffy’s hat.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,224

(Not my gif)

There is something you are one hundred percent certain of. In a life plagued with precariousness and anxiety, there is one truth you can always cling to.

And that is the fact that your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, always has your back.

No matter what situation you find yourself in, he never fails to brighten your day with a smile and defeat whatever foe you're facing.

Whether you're homesick, bored, or literally having your life threatened, he's always right by your side.

He guards each of his crew with a vigour that only he can. His warm smile brighter than a thousand suns as he celebrates yet another victory.

There is another thing you're certain of.

That your captain has one treasure more precious than any of his other objects.

His straw hat.

Given to him by the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, Luffy values that hat above all else.

Even at the cost of his own safety.

There's been countless times where you've watched in horror as Luffy was struck but managed to keep one hand firmly atop his hat.

It never got easier seeing him battle men quadruple his size and strength. Your stomach would clench with worry and you'd do your best to help battle the other opponents, but you always felt so helpless.

Watching him take on such intense foes made you feel proud of him and also concerned for his well being.

Although now that you've been sailing as a Straw Hat Crew member for months, you've come to realize that your captain can take on anything.

His hat, less so.

So, here you sit, quietly mending his hat as Luffy gapes at your handiwork.

"Awesome!" He grins, face alight with joy, "You're good at this, Y/n!"

"I'm just glad you're okay," you confess, carefully stitching away.

It's no secret how you feel about Luffy: everyone on the crew knows about your crush. And you have confidence that Luffy feels the same way.

It's in the little things he does. Always finding an excuse to hug you, explore new islands with you, and even share his food with you. And he never shares his food with anyone else.

So, it's safe to say he at least likes you.

He laughs, "You need to stop worrying so much!"

"You need to stop getting beat up!" You fire back, finishing your stitch. "Seriously, I'm starting to think you like pain."

He laughs, "I don't! But I got him in the end, Y/n! That's all that matters."

You sigh and motion for him to bow his head. He does and you gently set his hat back in its rightful place.

He grins up at you, "Thanks, Y/n! Let's go see if Sanji's done making supper!"

Luffy snatches your hand in his as soon as you drop your needle into your sewing kit. He drags you into the kitchen, using his devil fruit power to snatch up an apple.

"Sanji," he mumbles around a mouthful of fruit, "When's food gonna be ready? I'm hungry."

"Not yet," the cook shakes his head. "I need thirty more minutes."

Luffy groans loudly, leaning his head on your shoulder, "That's too long!"

"You have to wait!"

Luffy scrunches his nose in annoyance before dragging you outside again. Once there, he shoves the apple near your mouth, "Have a bite!"

You're surprised he hasn't eaten it all already. Opening your mouth, you take a large bite of the tangy goodness, humming your approval.

"Thanks," you start to mumble but he stops you mid sentence by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

A furious heat flushes your face at his abrupt actions.

"W-what was that for?"

He grins and swipes his tongue over his mouth, "You had juice on your lips."

You're floored, unable to respond as the kiss replays in your head. Meanwhile, he's already walking away with a giddy giggle.

You watch with bated breath as Luffy's hat goes flying.

He's fighting a particularly strong foe, having to use all his focus on the battle.

Without a second thought, you race after his treasure, determined to keep it safe for him. He's always doing so much for you, so you want to return the favour.

The other Straw Hats are occupied, no one noticing as you slip away to chase after the stray hat. A strong wind has blown it quite the distance, and you find it stuck on a tree branch.

You grab it, turning on your heel to trudge back to the main fight. But there's a problem.

A large group of marines stand in front of you, each one wearing a menacing grin.

"Look who we have here," the supposed leader comments, stepping forwards.

You instinctively hide Luffy's hat behind your back, grinning back ferociously.

"Gentlemen, what are you doing so far from the real fight?"

"Could ask you the same," he sneers. "What's that behind your back? Is it the infamous Straw Hat Luffy's straw hat?"

Your grip on the straw tightens.

"You're in charge of safeguarding it huh? Is that all you're good for?"

They laugh amongst themselves.

"I wonder if they'd kick you out if you failed the one task they gave you," he steps forward again.

"Over my dead body," you hiss, taking out your weapon after securing the hat to your belt. "If this hat is destroyed, then I have no reason to go on."

Before they can make the first move, you've taken down two of them, angered at their words and fuelled with the desire to protect Luffy's treasure.

The fight goes on too long.

Outnumbered, you take hits that knock you down and leave you bloodied and bruised. Maybe even with a few broken bones.

By now, you're on the ground, clutching the hat in your bloodied hands as a torrent of kicks fall on your back.

You took down well over half the marines but the few remaining are mad as hell and taking it out on you.

You barely register the outraged cry of your captain as he shouts, "Gum-Gum Gatling!"

The kicks stop as your attackers go flying, landing with dull thuds. They don’t get back up again.

Luffy is quick to rush to your side, “Y/n! Are you alright?!”

“Luffy,” you manage a small smile, shakily handing him his hat. “I protected your treasure.”

He doesn’t smile, in fact he looks angry.

“Idiot! You’re my treasure,” he shouts, gripping onto your shoulders, “And now you’re hurt!”

Confused, you stare up into his eyes, “But you love this hat.”

“But I love you more,” he shakes you again before screaming for Chopper to come and assess the damage done to you.

After you’re back on the ship, nicely bandaged and safe in bed, Luffy approaches you again. He seems less energetic than normal, dragging his feet as he comes to the bed.

“Thank you for protecting my hat. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“Luffy,” you gently clasp his hand, “You’ve always protected me.”

His eyes are wet with tears, “But-“

“I couldn’t ask for a better captain,” you reiterate, pulling him closer. “You’re all I could hope for.”

“Really?”

“Honest,” you smile, “Now come here.”

You drag him into your arms, wincing slightly. He is cautious of your injuries, gently returning your hug.

“Thank you.”

#female reader #imagine #reader insert #one piece imagine #op x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #Luffy op #one shot #fanfic

2K notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 21 days

Text

Unforgiven at Lotus Junction (NSFW) Ft Chaewon

Author's Note: Cowgirl Chaewon…cowgirl Chaewon

A young man awakens with his left eye bandaged among other dressings. Fragments and flashes of memory course through his mind as he tries to orient himself, sitting up abruptly. The attending doctor notices him squirming and rushes back in.

“Sit down, don't squirm too much, or those stitches won't heal properly,” the doctor responds, and the young man complies as she finishes her work. He looks at her; she is a young woman with flawless skin and a focused demeanor. She returns his gaze with a bright smile, proud of her handiwork.

“There you go, all patched up,” she says as she tidies her tools. Turning back to him, she eyes him warily as he rises again, patting himself as if searching for something. In the young man’s mind, echoes of the ether call to him: “War, victory, win, murder, kill,” repeating in a haunting whisper. The doctor observes the young man, noting the asymmetric runes glowing on his arms. She has encountered magic before, but nothing as raw and untamed as this. It unsettles her.

“What are you looking for?” she asks suspiciously, calmly reaching for her nearby rifle.

“My tools and weapons,” the young man replies, trying to focus amidst the pain and the inexorable surge of fury flooding his thoughts. The doctor watches as he takes a few steps before collapsing once more.

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. The young man rises slowly before she can assist him.

“Easy there, partner. I don't think you're ready for that much physical activity,” the doctor cautions. He breathes heavily, attempting to steady himself and suppress the pain, but it proves challenging. The doctor meets his gaze, awestruck as his body begins to miraculously mend itself.

“How?” she asks as his brown eyes shift to a deep, eldritch green.

“Long story,” he replies.

The doctor narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Well, excuse me. Do you have somewhere to be?” she quips. He looks around and then sighs before answering, “No.”

“Good. Then tell me your story because all I know is that a tornado threw you to me,” she teases. He chuckles as his eyes revert to their brown hue.

“Okay,” he agrees, getting up. He staggers, and the doctor steadies him.

“Ugh, you're so heavy,” she jokes.

He looks down at her, and for the first time, the ether’s calling changes:

“Protect, Preserve, Endure, Revel,” chanted at intervals until his mind fell silent."Wait, tell me your name!" the doctor replied.

"What?" the young man scoffed, and the doctor rolled her eyes.

The doctor huffed. "Your name, what is it? I need to refer to you as something."

The young man looked at the doctor, confused. "I don't have one."

"So, what do people call you when they refer to you?" the doctor asked.

"They don't," the young man replied, his voice dipped in venomous rage.

The doctor sensed the sorrow and anger emanating from the young man, then smiled before saying, “Well then, I'll give you a name. From now on, I'll call you… Roland the Rebel."

The young man tried to hide his smile but couldn't. He finally had something that was his, something personal. "Roland the Rebel. I like it. I am keeping this," Roland said.

The doctor smiled. "Chaewon, nice to meet you, Roland," she said as she shook Roland’s hand.

Roland smiled and replied, “Nice to meet you, Chaewon.”

4 years later

The rebel walked into the home he shared with the doctor. He shook off the dust after riding back home from a long and arduous day working as a ranch hand for the nearby rancher. The Rebel was excited to

“Hey Puppy I'm home.” the rebel said as he opened the door to their shared abode. He took his bandana off and took two steps in. When he realized she wasn't in. he moved around their shared home and then decided to check the

He walked into seeing The doctor caring for a young boy who was recently feeling under the weather. He had a simple cold which meant she would have to give him one of her remedies. The doctor heard the door open and turned to see her “roommate” waving at her. She turned and smiled

“Hey Roly how was the ranch?” she asked curious

“Oh, you know same old same old. Mrs. Ware is still flirting with me but she knows I only have one love.” the rebel replies. The Doctor laughs as she finishes up with the boy named Thomas’ medicine. She hands it to Thomas who nods then goes over to the Rebel.

“Um excuse me, Mr Roland Sir can you take me home?” Thomas asks innocently.

The rebel turns to The doctor who nods and responds, “Yes! Please do! His mom made us pies and buns for us.” the doctor said excitedly. The rebel smiles in agreement Mrs. Hernandez (Thomas's mother) adores baking almost as much as she loves her husband (father Gabriel the priest of the town) and so she is sinfully good at it. So any chance to snag some of them is a chance well spent. So Roland puts on his gloves and his bandanna and gestures for Thomas to follow him.

As he walks out Chaewon takes off all of her Doctors gear and washes her hands. After she does so she blows Roland a kiss before saying, “Get back home safely Roly.”Roland nods as he leads young Thomas outside to his mount. When the two get on Roland’s mount Thomas asks about the weird “red things” in front of the clinic as they begin their journey.

“Oh, you don't need to worry about those. Just relics of a past time.” Roland answers

“Okay” Thomas replied and the two began their ride. For the most part, it was silent. Although Roland was well-liked in the town and considered as insensible as Chaewon due to his handiness and willingness to help anyone; the town was still wary of him. Arriving with no name out of a tornado is still arriving with no name out of a tornado. He was also spurned by the fact that he was an adrift. So all suspicions were considered admissions of guilt. However, the youngsters didn't see it that way. They just saw Roland as the friendly old guy who helped their parents and was living with the town doctor. So they were always more open to him, not by much though. Roland despite his openness tended to be reserved and very cagey with his answers especially about his past. He was a gentleman but had firm boundaries regardless.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Are you going to marry Mrs. Chaewon?"

Roland turned to the young boy, surprised but smiling. "I'd like to. I am working hard to get her a ring. I just can't afford one right now, but I'm 9/10 of the way there," Roland explained. Thomas nodded then chuckled.

"She likes you," Thomas said. "While she was patching me up, she was frustrated that you weren't here helping."

"Oh really?" Roland asked.

"Yeah, she said how you're always within arm's reach and can help her get exactly what she needs. She is appreciative that you’re doing more, but she says she misses you during the day," Little Thomas said. Roland smiled, and then Thomas asked the million-dollar question.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Why is your skin purple?"

Roland looked at the child and then said, "Well, my skin contains more of the chemical Antenalin. It's the reason why your school teacher’s skin is also pink."

"Oh, that’s why Mrs. Merryweather’s looks so sparkly?" Thomas asked, and Roland nodded. Thomas smiled and then said, “I am going to tell her when I get back to school." Roland smiled at the young boy before arriving at his home. The priest Gabriel was standing outside the door. Thomas giddily ran to his dad who lifted him.

“Dad, dad guess what Mr. Roland taught me?"

"What is it, son? (He eyes Roland) it better not have been curse words," he admonished.

"No, Dad, he taught me the reason his skin is purple."

Gabriel was taken aback by his son’s candid and excited response. "Oh, okay. What did he say?"

“He said it was a chemical called Antenalin," Thomas said with a smile.

Gabriel smiled and set Thomas down before sending him in with his mom. He faced Roland and chuckled.

“You know, for a simple ranch hand, you know quite a lot,” Gabriel said to Roland.

Roland shrugged as he responded, “Well, my parents told me knowledge is power, so I took it to heart when I had ‘higher ambitions,’ but now I’m happy I’m at peace.” As he finished, he dusted himself off before following Gabriel into his home.

Gabriel noticed Roland’s gait and affectation. “You look it. I remember when Chaewon and you first arrived together. I could see your emotions as if they were etched on your skin,” Gabriel said.

Feeling relaxed, Roland laughed before revealing, “I mean, technically they are.”

Gabriel’s eyes almost popped out at hearing that. “Wait? But that would make you a...” Gabriel responded, and Roland nodded.

“I was that, but I put that behind me, and hopefully it stays there,” Roland addressed.

Gabriel, still reeling from the revelation, said, “No wonder you know so much.” Gabriel smiled and hugged Roland. A gesture that, while appreciated in sentiment, always made Roland uncomfortable. After Mrs. Hernandez walked in and said, “Hey, Roly, I got food for you and your darling Chaewon.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hernandez.”

“Oh, always so polite. You know, to call me Izzy, Roland.” Roland apologized and graciously took the food. After that, Roland headed back to his new 'home.' When he arrived, Chaewon smiled upon seeing the food in his sack.

"Did she make the rolls?" Chaewon asked impatiently. Roland nodded and handed her one. Chaewon greedily scarfed it down and looked back at Roland with content and happy eyes. Roland smiles as he unpacks everything and has dinner with your favorite Doctor.

During the meal, Chaewon looks at Roland longingly. Roland catches glimpses of this and remembers what Thomas said. Roland looks at her and smiles graciously.

"Something the matter Chae," Roland asks hiding his knowledge.

Chaewon responds with an adorable pout, "Yeah you weren't here today. I couldn't cuddle you or use you to fetch me things,"

Roland squints hiding his intent he asks, "But Chae I thought you wanted me to help around with the bills?"

Chaewon squints back as she says, "I thought I did, but I'd much rather have my big burly nurse around."

"Okay. Well lucky for you I will be available tomorrow as Rancher Isiah is busy tomorrow," Roland Explains.

"Oh really? well, then how about we enjoy each other's company tonight," Chaewon suggests. Her implication sends a violent shiver through Roland's back. Chaewon finished her dinner and moved on to her favorite dessert Roland. Before Roland could take a breath Chaewon was already at his crotch unbuckling his pants. She smiled when his cock sprang free. Knowing all of Roland’s weak spots she blew a cold breath on his surging rod. She watched with erotic euphoria as he squirmed under.

“Come on Darling. You're this hard and I haven't even touched you yet,” Chaewon sticks her tongue out and wraps it around the tip and head of Roland’s cock. Roland groans as he spreads his legs further allowing Chaewon to explore his cock with her tongue. Precum begins to build at his tip.

Her grand finale of getting him ready for her. She wrapped her tongue around the tip before diving into his slit and lapping up his precum with an intense fervor that only separation could provide. Rolan groans as Chaewon engorged herself. He watched as she began to gag on his rod. Chaewon felt her arousal rising with each passing moment. It built making her light-headed as she stopped long enough to get oxygen to breathe before going back. She knew she had to stop herself otherwise she wouldn't be able to due to her love for Roland’s cock being down her throat. "Fuck Chae, How do you take me so well," Rolan questioned.

Chaewon knew Roland was ready for her when his eyes shifted to an intense crimson. He gets up and lifts the petite doctor to the table. She smiles knowing he is about to give her everything she's been wanting. As Roland urgently strips her Chaewon moans into his ear before nibbling on his cartilage. “Please be wild with me,” Roland nods as he pierces Chaewon. She moans uncontrollably as her pussy reflexively welcomes its favorite resident with a tight hug. He began to thrust as Chaewon enticed him to be rougher with her. She wasn't fragile after all. As Roland pumped in and out of Chaewon she brought herself up to kiss him. In between the fervent kisses she would moan.

"Ah fuck me. Fuck me harder Rebel." Hoping to satisfy her ventripotent lust for the adrift, and to his credit, Rolan would always try his hardest. As he fucked with more vigor Chaewon moaned harder as she neared her high. Roland smiled at his paramour as her moans filled their little love nest. when her eyes rolled back into her head he knew she was close.

"Cum for me Chae," Roland said and Chaewon obliged her lover. Her body tensed before her orgasm sent her spiraling into intense spasms and sensitivities. As she tried to calm herself through her high she watched helplessly as Roland kept fucking her.

"Yes, Yes, Yes Chaewon moaned as she flexed and tensed hoping to coax Roland to cum. before she could however she saw her seraph sheriff badge glow. She immediately pushed Roland off her and got serious.

"Wait Chae is everything okay," Roland asked.

Chaewon turned to her lover and nodded sweetly, "Yes I just have some business to take care of." she said. Roland nodded and said

"Well, then I am coming with you,"

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #le sserafim fanfic #lesserafim smut #le sserafim chaewon #chaewon smut

432 notes · View notes

moonbeamwritings · 3 months

Text

"I have a surprise for you."

Shinsuke, despite his excitement and ever the gentleman, helps you out of your coat before his hand settles on the small of your back, ushering you into the living room.

"For me?" You tease as you take a seat on the couch.

"Of course," he says gently, a boyish grin starting to form on his lips. "It's Valentine's Day, isn't it?"

He's gone before you can pull him in and kiss that stupid smile off his face, disappearing down the hall to no doubt retrieve this mysterious surprise.

You bounce your leg as you wait, nervous for no good reason. You trust Shinsuke, trust him enough to know he isn't going to come back down the hall and fling a creepy-crawly into your lap. Tender love and care seeps into his every action, his every word, like sunlight washes over the rice paddies, and you know on a day like today it'll be no different.

When he returns, his hands are behind his back and his grin has spread into something proud. Lovesick. Excitement sets his features alight and it stirs a swarm of butterflies in your belly. He's so handsome like this, warm with affection and happy.

"It was hard to wrap, so I'm sorry there's nothing to open," Shinsuke warns, standing to one side, arms locked behind him. He catches your body shifting to steal a peek, and counters it, moving left and right so you can't catch a good glimpse. He knows you too well. You share a giggle. "Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."

The reveal is nothing grand, no wild flourishes or confetti explosions, just you and Shinsuke and his pretty smile and rosy cheeks. It's perfect. A delicate bouquet of crocheted forget-me-nots and daisies, dotted with tulips and lilies, all perfectly arranged in a pretty crystal vase settles into your lap.

Your mouth drops open as you start to blink back tears. "And you-"

You can't even get the words out, but Shinsuke sits beside you, leg pressing against yours, and finds them for you. "I crocheted them and tried to arrange them so they looked pretty, but 'm a farmer not a florist." His fingers brush yours as he reaches to stroke a leaf. "Obviously."

Suddenly the last few weeks click into place. His more frequent trips to his grandma's, the disappearance of his basket of crochet supplies from the space beside his couch. All an effort to hide this little project from you.

He watches your eyes travel from flower to flower, fingers tracing gently over the petals, reverent in your appreciation of his handiwork. "Gram helped with the patterns, kept me sane. Never done anything quite this intricate, so I needed all the help I could get."

"Shinsuke, I-" You set the the vase on the table and shift to take his cheeks in your palms. "They're beautiful." Your thumb sweeps across the apple of his cheek. "Thank you."

He beams, pleased with himself. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love you." You pull him in for a kiss laced with adoration, fingers finding the nape of his neck as his hands curl around your waist. When you pull away, you bump your nose into his. You press a smile into his cheek.

"I love you too."

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke imagine #kita imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #hq x reader #hq imagine #haikyuu fluff

473 notes · View notes

sunkissed-zegras · 7 days

Note

fluffy blurb with luke hughes !!!

─ warnings | fluffy af! just lukey being pookie (as always), luke trying to learn how to braid hair is such a funny concept HAHAH

"wait, wait. i don't get it, this doesn't make any sense." luke's voice came out frustrated as you let out a soft laugh at your boyfriend. luke's hands were in your hair as you explained to him how to braid hair.

since he doesn't have any sisters, the whole "braiding hair" thing was a mystery to him until he started dating you. and now, he was completely dead-set on learning how to braid hair so that on days when you felt tired, he could do it for you.

"okay, okay, slow down," he muttered, his brows furrowed in concentration. "explain it again. slower, this time."

"okay, so, you take this strand over here and cross it over the middle one," you explained patiently, feeling his fingers fumbling slightly. "then, you take the other one and do the same thing. like you know, a rope!"

after a few more attempts, luke finally managed to weave a somewhat passable braid, albeit with a few loose strands sticking out here and there. he grinned triumphantly, looking at his handiwork with pride. "hey, not bad for a first-timer, right?" he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

you looked in the mirror behind you and grinned at the curly-head. "wait, why is it so cute. do i look like katniss everdeen?"

"hell yeah you do!" luke grinned excitedly as you examined the braid. "whoa, i am such a fast learner. sit down, baby i gotta take a picture and send it to quinn and jack."

"why?" you laughed as luke practically pushed you back on to the bed.

"because they were convinced that braiding was too hard for me to learn," luke took out his phone and snapped a picture, his proud grin still evident on his face.

you chuckled at Luke's eagerness, shaking your head in amusement as he snapped away with his phone. "alright, alright, send it to them then,"

luke quickly typed out a message to his brothers, attaching the photo of your braided hair. as he hit send, he couldn't contain his excitement, practically bouncing with joy. "they're gonna be so surprised but i proved them wrong,"

you couldn't help but laugh, luke was such so adorable. "yeah you did," you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

luke gripped your wrists playfully and pushed you back, "not the curls! anything but the curls!"

you let out a playful gasp as luke defended his precious curls, pretending to shield them from harm. "okay, okay, i'll leave the curls alone," you teased, raising your hands in surrender.

luke grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "that's what i thought," he said, releasing your wrists and pulling you into a tight embrace instead.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

351 notes · View notes

lazypanartist · 11 months

Text

"Sit Still"

Artistic! Earth 42 Miles x Reader

Based off This Post I Just Made.

Mildly suggestive themes, maybe don't read if you're <15? Idk. Don't be gross or weird or whatever.

I'm also, like, STUPID tired rn, so. Sorry. No beta. And it's short.

-----

"Sit still, cariño."

The words were barely breathed across your shoulder as he worked behind you, and you couldn't tell for sure what caused you to shiver; his voice, his words, the breath.. or the paintbrush dancing across your spine as Miles flicked his wrist, finishing the stroke he had been working to perfect.

He sat back to admire his handiwork, and you snuggled deeper into the pillows you were in, face down on his bed.

It had been a small struggle for him, completing.. whatever he had been working on for the last hour or so. Only a small struggle.

Still..

Smoothing his hands along your sides, he breathed a laugh as you tensed.

"Miles!"

"¿Que? I'm thinking!" He patted your side gently, pulling another laugh. "I can't help if you're ticklish, mi vida."

Still, he stopped his roaming hands, settling one at the base of your spine to keep you still. You tensed again as he started drumming his fingers - a small habit he had when thinking.

"'S it okay?" You mumbled up in question. He hummed quietly.

"'Course it is. Can't believe it either.. all the moving you did."

You offered a halfhearted argument into the pillow, and he patted your lower back. "Si, I know. Let me just get a picture, 'kay? Then we can get you cleaned up."

You nodded, earning another drum of his fingers before he was standing up. The mattress shifted with his absence, an emptiness filling the space behind you while he moved silently. You only knew he was back for sure with the presence of a warm cloth against your back, tracing a gentle path up the curve of your spine.

"See?" He set his phone in front of you, holding your shoulders gently to keep you up and steady.

A beautiful flower bush decorated your back, pink and purple five-petaled flowers standing out against the green and brown.. bush, maybe.

"A hibiscus." He sounded proud of himself as he helped you further upright, pressing your still-bare back gently to his chest. "Means la felicidad. Happiness. Or, for me at least, luck."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder before his cheek was to yours, his small smile noticable in the tug of his face against your own.

"Because I have good luck?"

He chuckled quietly, smile growing. "Nah. Not necessarily, mi amor.."

He turned his head enough to settle another small kiss before finishing his thought.

"Eso es porque you're my lucky charm."

2K notes · View notes

thebearer · 5 months

Note

blurb ideaaaaa

mom reader and dad carmy moving the elf’s of the shelf of teddy and willow and seeing their reactions :))

"Stupidest fuckin' thing..." Carmen mutters, sprinkling the flour along the floor in a trail to the counter. "This just makes more of a mess for us to clean up."

"Yeah, but the girls love it." You give him a pointed look, holding Jingles- your elf- in your hand.

The Elf on the Shelf was Pete's fault. One off handed brag about how their children loved the elf, and Teddy was freaking out about why she didn't have an elf. Thus, Jingles was brought into the Berzatto household. You knew Carmen hated the elf, there were days you forgot to move him, didn't do super extravagant things, times you fucked up and felt bad about it. The elf was added stress, but it was also so fun for the girls, so you did it.

Carmen's lips pursed, in a tight line. "Yeah, well they better like this." He huffed, flicking the flour on the pasta. "Go do the feet marks. make it look like he ran through it."

You grinned, poking his side lightly, before bending down, plopping Jingle's feet through the flour to make it look like he'd been running.

Carmen snorted in laughter, grinning at your animated running. "What?" You frowned playfully.

"Nothin'." Carmen shook his head, eyes beaming with joy when they met yours. "'s cute that you do this. You're a good mom."

"You help me." You bumped your hip with his affectionately, laying Jingles in the flour gently. "Pretty good dad, if you ask me."

Carmen blushed, moving the arms and legs of the elf to make it look like snow angels. "Hold on, I gotta take a picture of this." You grinned, pulling out your phone. "Sugar will like this idea. I'll send it to her."

"Hope Anchovy doesn't fuckin' snatch this thing again." Carmen muttered, looking around the kitchen for the cat.

Last year, Anchovy had mistaken the elf for one of his toys, knocking it off the shelf with his paw, which sent Teddy and Willow both over the edge. Sobbing and screaming, you and Carmen though they'd been hurt when you came in the room. Their horrified faces and Anchovy skittering out of the room, Jingles in the middle of the floor. Carmen had grabbed tongs, thankfully, thinking quick on his feet so he didn't 'touch' the elf. He'd nearly sent Jingles back to the North Pole- the garbage- that night.

"I think he's traumatized by it." You giggled. "He won't go near it, I swear. He just looks at it like he looks at Richie."

Carmen grinned, hand sliding down your waist, squeezing your hip as you propped up your little note from Jingles, proud of your handiwork.

The girls woke you up early, excited to tell you all about what Jingles had done. Carmen even feigned shock at the mess, sending them into a fit of giggles, beaming at their elf. He hated to admit it, but it was a great start to the morning, seeing his girls so happy, even if he was cleaning up flour for a good twenty minutes. He looked forward to starting the day, and ending the night with you- and Jingles.

477 notes · View notes

roseglazedlens · 9 months

Note

Okay let's forget about all the agents Kennedy, alcohol and trauma in RC, Ada...ect,and turn to Leon s Kennedy as Your husband's policeman 36years is receiving a promotion to Chief Police Officer cuz I can't see my bbguy suffer more :(,you can add some nsfw if you want to

thank you for requesting lovely! i'm sorry i write so much angst hahhaha, but here is a change of pace! i've never written anything purely fluff (lol) and so many characters, so this is a challenge! i hope you enjoy!

⦑ take me home ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: you throw a surprise party for your boyfriend's last day at work after his job promotion. content: pure fluff, established relationship, flirting, alcohol, leon is tipsy, but he's cute & not depressed ab it. claire, rebecca, jill & chris works in RPD. « 1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Today is an unusual sight for the usually hectic police department in Raccoon City. The office is adorned with balloons, garlands, and laughter, celebrating not just the promotion of a well-loved officer, Leon S. Kennedy, but also his farewell as he relocates to a new precinct.

You should be happy for your boyfriend – and you are – but part of you will miss watching over his figure from your desk, casting flirtatious grins back and forth in attempts to distract each other from the rigorous paperwork.

A banner suspends between the light fixtures, observing the lopsided words ‘CONGRATULATIONS’, strings twisted into the knot. The culprit of this handiwork, Chris, puffs out his chest proudly, while Rebecca looks at him in disbelief.

“Chris, leave the decorations to Rebecca, please.” You break apart the squabble forming between them. Rebecca smirks as Chris descends the ladder, defeated. “Don’t forget everyone, this is supposed to be a surprise.”

“Claire, where is the card?” You interrogate the next person in your line of sight, who happens to be Claire. All whilst you signal Rebecca to tilt the banner slightly upwards. “Has everyone signed?”

“Yep. It’s just you left.” She hands over the card, before resuming to the case files on her computer.

The card scrawls with heartfelt blessings from your team, a lot of ‘good lucks’, ‘we’ll miss you’, and nostalgia when he was just a rookie. He worked hard for ten years to be a sergeant, and you know he deserves this.

You pick up your pen – contemplating the words to express how amazing he is, how you will love him forever, how you will miss the sneaky make-out sessions in the work janitor’s closet.

…Marvin will be so proud of you. Yours, ....

The vibration in your pocket cuts you off mid-sentence – Jill. She is supposed to be on the case with Leon for another thirty minutes. You read the text out loud.

“I can't hold him back much longer, we're on our way. ETA in five minutes!!”

The floor scrambles in panic to finalise their positions. Rebecca quickly secures the banner with some tape. Claire is passing party poppers. Chris is putting away the ladder to the storeroom.

As Jill enters the space with Leon following behind, all the confetti releases at once.

The rainbow plastic ribbons catching in his hair like stardust in sand. You catch a glimpse of surprise in his reaction, following with a light on the corner of his lips.

“To Leon!” your team lifts their glasses high in the air, sipping beers and cocktails all night. Leon is the star tonight – you can barely talk to him without two other people buying him drinks all night along.

You catch him a whole two hours later in the circle booth, after some of the crowd has dispersed, his cheeks redden from the many drinks consumed all in a few hours. You squeeze yourself through three different people to sit yourself next to Leon.

“Having fun?” You try to get his attention by nudging at his forearm. “Don’t get too drunk though, I have to take you home.”

Leon lifts his gaze, when he sees you right by him, a grin tug at his face almost immediately. His cerulean eyes somehow more glazy than usual.

“Thank you for doing all of this. You are so good for me.” Despite the scent of beer merging with his breath, the grin on his face remains childlike. One that you only see in his drunkenness, which he lets down his guard to show more of his emotional side.

“Everyone helped. Not just me.” You are thinking how cute Leon looks when he’s drunk. “You are well-loved in here. I’m just the facilitator.”

“How about you work for me?” Leon brings the back of your palm to his lips. “I can pull some strings, now that I’m sergeant.”

“Sergeant Kennedy, using your influence for personal goals? It’s not even your first day.” You quip with a slight chuckle.

“And what if I am?” He peppers kisses from your palm to your fingers, the faint heat from his lips sizzle through your nerves. “Sure you’ll enjoy less time on the field, and more time in my office.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” You decide to let this banter go on a little further. “I expect to be well-compensated for my extra duties.”

“That will depend on your performance.” He raises a sassy eyebrow, pulling you closer until your noses touch.

“Good thing I always hit my KPI’s.”

“I do like a hardworking employee…”

Eyes fluttering shut slowly, you smile into the kiss. His lips lay gently on yours, sucking slightly at your cupid’s bow. Your bodies move closer, so close that you rests your hand on Leon’s thigh for support. The kiss deepens further, sloppier, tongues intertwined until…

“Ahem.” Chris clears his throat loudly, snapping you back to the present.

You open your eyes to find the whole table staring at the two of you. Your gaze finds its way to Jill, which she immediately, most awkwardly, rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if there is something to see there. Claire is nonchalant, sipping her beer and simply enjoying the scene.

You retract the tongue that is still shoved in Leon’s mouth. A hint of pink is running up your cheeks, you don’t need to see it to feel it. Leon, however, is unphased by the attention from his coworkers. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s knowing that he won’t be seeing these guys next Monday.

“So… next rounds on me. Who’s in?” Chris attempts to diffuse the awkwardness, which earns a few curt nods from the table.

Leon holds you by the hand, picking you up from the seat. “Sorry Chris, we’re gonna call it. It’s been a long night. Thanks for the party, everyone.”

You two shuffle past Chris and Jill out of the booth, after a round of hugs with everyone, you can practically feel Leon sprinting out the bar.

“How ‘bout we continue where we left off at my place?”

Your cheeks turn a deeper red. It seems like he will be the one to take you home tonight instead.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fluff #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #꒰✏️ rose requests ♡.*꒱#chris redfield #rebecca chambers #claire redfield #jill valentine

825 notes · View notes

gh0stswh0re · 1 year

Text

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY NSFW ALPHABET

warnings: pretty basic, f! reader, oral (m! and f! receiving), voyeurism, edging, masturbation (m!), restraints, in front of a mirror, body worship, cum eating, pet names, lots of praise, ghost being a simp, some fluff, writing time: 3hrs, words: 3,6k

A = aftercare

he's sweet, simply just sweet.

he slowly drags his hands all over your body, fingertips carefully brushing against your skin.

lots of quick, messy kisses – on your forehead, the corners of your mouth, your jaw, … he doesn't know why, but he adores kisses on the cheek – loves wrapping his arms around you from either side, pressing his nose into the side of your face, his lips leaving tender kisses on your cheek.

he tries to hold eye contact with you, he really does, but his eyes roam – admiring the lovebites neatly placed just underneath your jaw; the redish, barely visible handprint on your neck; your chest covered in hickeys – some are fading, others are freshly new … he could never get tired of this, of you – your cheeks flushed red, eyes glossy, lips swollen, chest rising with every breath … to see you in such state is the most intimate thing for him.

after a while he gets up, pulling his hand from your grasp – you let out an overly dramatic whine, to which he replies "gotta clean you up, sweet thing"

he will, absolutely, run you a bath. guaranteed he's gonna get you a glass of water. "you feeling cold, sweetheart?" he yells from another room, picking up a neatly folded blanket.

+ lots, lots of praise:

"you felt amazing, angel"

"so proud of you"

''the fuck i ever did to deserve this?'' he will turn around, dropping his gaze to the ground, quietly whispering "to deserve you?", as if he fears you will disappear from right under his touch if he dares say it too loudly.

B = body part

his hands - it's muscle memory at this point – getting you all hot and bothered with just his hands, overstimulated in no fucking time. he loves the way his hands fit perfectly around your neck, how his palms cup your breasts, and he simply adores the red marks his spanks leave on your ass.

being honest here – he thinks you are a fucking piece of art, the best there is, but your lips simply mesmerize him.

tracing kisses all the way from his chin down to his stomach and then wrapping your lips around his dick as you look up at him all lovingly? that's the type of stuff he thought only happens in those cheap movies he jerked off to when he was younger.

he loves how you don't hold back the eagerness when you kiss him all worked up, dirty words spilling from your pretty lips when you beg him to just fuck you already.

C = cum

this man has zero fucking shame – likes to come in you, as much as he likes seeing his cum smeared on your skin.

sometimes he just dips his head between your legs, fucking his cum back into you with his fingers, while his filthy mouth sucks off any excess.

if you just sucked him off, he will pull you up onto his lap, forcing his tongue inside your mouth – groaning as he tastes himself, his salty semen mixed with your saliva.

D = dirty secret

all though it took some convincing from your side, he allowed you to tie him up.

he obediently sat down on a chair; his hips resting slightly forward keeping his legs comfortably apart – he was fully relaxed.

you, on the other hand, realized the task turned out to be harder than initially expected – the rope felt rough against your fingers and some knots just kept untying.

at some point, he smirks obnoxiously loudly – he finds your lack of skill amusing.

"got you now, bastard" you sneered through your teeth as you completed your handiwork and proudly walked in front of him. his steady, unforgiving gaze was piercing through you, studying your every movement, but you knew better than to be intimidated, right?

the truth is – not only do you lack the skill, you also lack control – you lost it all as soon as your hips sank down onto him, as he fully filled you up, stretched you open. your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you tried building up some rhythm, as you tried keeping up a pace but you were simply far too impatient.

he knew you wanted more, needed more, but he was too numbed by the awe of watching you fucking yourself on his cock, in pitiful attempts to relieve yourself.

he wanted to snap his arms forward, break free of the poorly tied restraints, to just grab you by your hips and help you ride out your orgasm … but he just couldn't do it, not when you tried so, so hard for it all.

instead, he leans his head back, lazy eyes idly following you as you grind against him for some extra friction.

E = experience

not insanely experienced, but learns quickly. isn't afraid of playing around – sucking, grabbing, licking, biting, … anything to make you beg and plead for more.

F = favourite position

he likes studying your facial expressions – how your brows furrow and your eyes shut as you arch your back each time he slams his hips into you. he loves watching you as you try to hide your moans – biting the inside of your mouth or biting down on your lip until it's all bloody and bruised.

all of your attempts are doomed to fail though – the searing heat pooling in your abdomen reduces you to a whiny, tainted mess.

that being said – good old missionary suits him just fine. gives him easy access to kiss you, to drown out your whimpers, or just bury his face in your neck.

likes fully holding you in his arms too. if he notices you grow nervous, he will simply reassure you "not a chance i'm dropping you, darling, relax"

G = goofy

takes too much pride in himself to make jokes, but he will laugh at any joke you make. seeing you smile/laugh sparks a contagious reaction in his brain – he just can't help himself.

he loves seeing how relaxed you are with him – a soft smile against his skin or a light laughter will melt his heart completely.

H = hair

he's shaved, but couldn't care less about his partner – it's just body hair.

I = intimacy

he used to fuck just to get it out of his system. no need to be head over heels in love with someone for that, or even that attracted to them. besides, everyone does it, right?

at least that's what he thought until he felt your hands ghosting over his back, nails digging into the back of his neck, your lips barely touching his as you repeated quiet "i love you"s.

when he heard his name repeated like a mantra as you came closer and closer to your climax.

when he stared into your eyes, full of love and adoration, holding his hand in yours, feeling like his soul spilled from his body and combined with yours – forming you into one shared being.

it was then that he realized just what true intimacy is – nothing the regular fucking could ever compare to.

J = jack off

sleepless nights are nothing new to him – sometimes he's on guard duty, but mostly he just prefers keeping himself awake to enjoy the peace only night-time brings.

other times though, he turns and tosses his body from side to side, eyes shot open, a heartbeat that just can't be slowed down causing him to become dizzy, slight ringing in both of his ears, and the feeling of pure need spreading throughout his body.

it's just the effect you have on him – physically, mentally, religiously even. he's got himself badly addicted without the possibility of recovery. so, on nights like this, what other choice is he left with?

...

other times he uses it to taunt you. makes you watch him as he sits down in front of you and runs his hand over the painfully obvious bulge in his pants, stroking over the fabric to relieve the pressure building up in his body – some of it, anyway.

he's got you sat down, fully naked with legs spread wide open, hands by your sides with one clear order – you don't get to touch yourself or him.

"you been too much of a brat today, princess" he opens his zipper, freeing his cock, taking it in his left hand.

"spoiled fucking rotten, aren't you?" he taunts you, as he runs his thumb over his tip, smearing the precum all over his dick, all fucking over it.

"it's all my fault though", you hear a sharp inhale right after the last syllable, and, fuck, it makes you clench.

he watches you, trying not to lose his composure, but seeing you dripping and clenching over nothingness … it takes some self-control to not fasten up his movement, finishing right then and there.

he clears his mind of those thoughts – those delicious, haunting thoughts.

"look at yourself, all needy" he's given up on the slow, sensual strokes. "where has your determination gone to?" his breath catches in his throat, his hips slightly bucking forward each time he brushes his fingers over his sensitive, leaking tip.

"when i ask you a question, darling" a soft groan under his breath "i expect to hear an answer", a low, breathy moan. "understood?"

you were far too lost in it all, watching him, your cunt physically aching from the arousal – all you managed was a pathetic, small nod, your eyes never moving away from his lap.

suddenly, he stops, his hand shaking and trembling, his head falling back for a split second, his lungs burning as he quietly gasps for air.

"understood?" he repeated the question again, in a cruel, demanding tone that you knew not to joke with.

"yes, understood" his eyes, cloudy with pleasure, found yours and he slightly lifted his eyebrows, to tell you he expected something more.

"yes sir, lieutenant-"

"good girl" he dragged out the two words in a low, raspy tone.

"tell you what" lifting his right hand up to his face, his fingers toying with the lower corners of his mask, pulling up the fabric just enough to wet three of his fingers with warm spit, lazily pulling it back down with his ring finger. "maybe i will let you clean up the mess i will make" he was already back to stroking himself. "you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you nodded comically fast, eyes all lit up, lips curled in a smile. he saw your expression clearly - you didn't even bother to hide your excitement. all because of a promise of letting you lick his hands and dick clean? fuck he loved how eager you were for him – eager to give, to please.

his eyes wandered down your naked body, your perfect fucking body –

down your collarbone, and he had to fight the urge to get up and to just dip his tongue into it -

down your chest and fuck how could he not remember how perfectly your breasts bounce when you ride him, chasing your pleasure like a sick, depraved animal.

his stare falls down your stomach, and fuck, how good it feels when he presses his hand against it to feel the movement of pushing himself in you-

and finally, all the way down to your pussy – your perfect little cunt. just the thought of your sweetness makes his mouth water, and the thought of your tightness his dick twitch.

fucking hell, he's close.

K = kink

ever made a negative comment about your appearance in front of him? better bet he has you all wrapped up in his touch, holding you tightly against his body, your back pressed against his chest, his curious hands toying with the lacy edge of your panties, making you watch the entire damn thing in a body-length mirror.

"love seeing you like this, baby", his hand wanders further down. "my darling's the prettiest there is", one of his fingers drags alongside your slit, teasing the opening of your cunt.

you just don't know what to concentrate on – his hot breath against your ear, the wet kisses he leaves down your neck, one of his hands grabbing at your waist, the other messaging one of your breasts – two fingers teasing the sensitive nipple … or the reflection in the mirror, showing a wrecked mess that you are becoming.

...

besides body worship, he loves praise and degradation - most often at the same time, edging, slight authority kink, maybe a size kink.

L = location

doesn't particularly care, as long as it's not a life-threatening situation.

he'd never mention this out loud, but he wouldn't mind somebody hearing you or maybe catching a glimpse of him having you bend over a counter, one hand holding you in place, as the other draws small circles on your clit, all while he fucks into you at a deliciously brutal pace.

you'd try to keep quiet, knowing the door is unlocked and just about anyone could walk in, but it's hard when he's possessing you entirely – making your body weak and trembling with excitement, stomach tingling with anticipation, cunt filled completely each time he slams himself inside you … and then a loud smash forcefully pushing you back into reality – it sounds as if someone dropped a bottle, a glass maybe?

"simon, they ar-"

he isn't even slightly phased by it

"simon, they will hear us"

"then let them hear us, sweetheart"

M = motivation

it's cliche, but what gets him going is you – just about everything and anything about you.

talking specifics? there's something about you doing your makeup that simply fascinates him. the concentration? the skill? the way your hands move so fast, yet you never make a mistake? maybe it's just the fact that his ethereal, divine, already perfect angel somehow looks even prettier? it's bloody sorcery, if you ask him.

that and seeing you in matching lingerie, preferably black with lace – it's like downing a shot of whiskey – pure fucking intoxication.

N = no

would not touch a drunk person. you could be begging in that pretty little voice of yours that drives him crazy, getting all handsy and pleading with your entire soul – all you had was a few drinks, you were practically sober, right? you'd laugh/giggle while playing with the zipper of his jacket. his answer would remain the same. if you looked at him real sweet and nice though, he'd give you a pinky promise he's gonna touch you fuck your brains out tomorrow.

O = oral

it's cliche, but if he died between your legs, he'd die happy.

it drives him rabid – pinning you down, grabbing your hips, spreading your wetness all over his lips and letting it drip down his chin, while he eats you out like a starved man.

when you struggle keeping your legs apart, even when he specifically ordered you to, your body ultimately betraying you – when it all becomes too much and you close your legs around his head … it clears his mind up, in a way. it feels like he was just given the most important task of his life and he has no intention to disappoint.

...

the first time he was eating you out, he came on the spot.

the warmth of your body, the scent of your arousal, the sweet wetness dripping from your folds, the unholy moans echoing in the room … it all became too much too quickly – his head started spinning, muscles tensing up, hips involuntarily grinding forward, as his lungs begged for oxygen, every nerve in his body being set on fire … he just couldn't control it, not anymore. his fingers gripped harder on your shirt, stretching it, but fuck he'd give you a new one, he'd give you anything, his wicked, filthy mouth sucking even harder and he cried out – like an injured animal on the verge of death, he whimpered. after regaining his senses, his face burned red with embarrassment as he felt the warm wetness in his pants.

...

though he could never refuse you - when you sink down to your knees, your hands greedily grabbing at his clothes, droopy eyes practically begging, red lips swollen and wet with saliva.

one of his hands always ends up on the back of your head, gently petting you as he drowns you in praise.

the way your eyes tear up, when you take him all the way down your throat, swallowing around him, careful not to gag as he stretches your throat open? that shit's to die for.

P = pace

he has a habit of pretending things don't affect him, but you always notice it – some days, after a few people have pissed him off and nothing's been going right, his hands will feel heavier, but he just can't keep them off you - he will tear your clothes off if he feels like taking them off would take too long.

on other days, he just wants to sit down, lean back, and watch you as you touch yourself – giving you a few short instructions every now and then.

if you ask him to be softer/gentler, he will stop altogether, pulling you closer to him, apologizing "fuck, did i hurt you?" / "sorry, darling, got carried away"

but who is he to say no to you, if you ask him to go rougher though? "wanna be even more cockdumb?" / "how could i ever say no to you, angel?"

Q = quickie

not the biggest fan of them, but if the situation calls for it and his pretty girl wants him that bad, he's not gonna turn the offer down. will always help you get dressed up afterwards, and will always find the time to hold his forehead against you, while cupping your face in his hands – even if just for a minute.

R = risk

safety is always important – in every aspect of his life. he will always prioritize consent, but he's willing, excited even, to try out new things and experiment.

if you aren't completely sure about something/something turned out differently than expected? he will stop immediately and start caressing your arms, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he holds you close to him. no need to rush anything.

S = stamina

anyone who thinks sex is all about penetration is fucking boring in his mind.

he thinks such opinions result from a lack of talent and skills – something that simply couldn't apply to him.

therefore, he can go as many rounds as you want him to – all night, morning, or afternoon long. whether it's with his fingers or mouth, it's your call.

T = toys

isn't afraid to use them or have them used on his body.

he'd go crazy over something remote controlled. watching you across the room, full of people, as you move and squirm around in your seat as he tries out different settings and speeds.

U = unfair

he likes to tease just as much as he likes to be teased.

he puts up (his best) act of annoyance, but it doesn't take too much to reveal just how much he enjoys the masochistic nature of it. when he's all tired, and his body is begging for the release of the tension that's been building up all day long, when his hips jerk into your touch the moment you put your hands on his dick, when his abs flex and his breath grows heavy. and then, when he's so, so close, you take it all away from him, and he lets out the most pathetic whimper.

he doesn't particularly enjoy depriving you of pleasure, but he will gladly return the favor – breaking you down entirely, leaving you throbbing, dripping, and pleading for the release – which hits you all at once, as you sink into absolute delirium. that's the type of shit he dreams about.

V = volume

mostly soft grunts, raspy moans, quiet whimpers and literally does not shut up with praise, ever.

"fuck, baby, you're soaked"

"you feel amazing"

"love hearing you scream for me, darling"

"not gonna fuck you, not until i've already kissed every inch of your skin"

"use me as you please, sweetheart"

"all yours, y'know?"

W = wild card

you-can-wear-whatever-i-know-how-to-fight energy. he loves showing you off.

X = x-ray

has insane big-dick energy, so that's what we are gonna run with. he never actually thought about it before, but he sure is letting all that praise from you to get into his head.

Y = yearning

he yearns for your touch, craves your company – to hear your voice, to have you near him.

if it was up to him, some days he'd be around you all the fucking time. just enjoying the silence together, all cuddled up, or maybe you'd be reading to him while he lays his head in your lap, your fingers running through his hair, occasionally brushing against his cheek.

sex? that's just a bonus.

Z = Zzz

when you are all cuddled up to him, pressing yourself against his chest, your legs entangled with his, one of his arms holding you across your back, you will start rambling about the most random things.

and it's not that he doesn't find it interesting – he just feels so at peace he could immediately fall asleep.

he tries at the beginning, making up somewhat thoughtful answers but then it gradually progresses to random nods, hums of acknowledgment alongside an occasional ''oh yeah?''

he was never particularly excited about the feeling of domesticity, but falling asleep with you is something his heart aches for every night.

#simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #ghost #ghost smut #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #cod #cod ghost #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #smut

3K notes · View notes

nanamis-baker · 9 days

Text

You just loved leaving your marks on Satoru's soft, pale skin.

One thing about him? It's just so easy to mark him, to make people know he is taken - that he is yours.

And he loves it too when you leave your marks on him, titling his neck back to give you better access - his girl could have anything and everything she wanted, after all.

He would happily show it off, not even bothering to cover it up, because he is so proud of his girl's handiwork.

In fact, he would intentionally take off his shirt at the gym, showing off those scratches you left on his back- let the women stare at him all they wanted; he didn't care - he was taken, after all.

But it doesn't stop there, of course. For every mark you left, he leaves twice as many marks on you. And they aren't just love bites, you know. There are scratch marks on you too, along with crescent indentation of his nails on the taunt skin of your waist, as well as the bruises from his grip while you were riding him like your life depends on it.

Your body was lovely as it was, but when it is covered in his marks, you become sinfully irresistible.

Oh, you become the loveliest map with all those marks adorning your body. A map Satoru loves to explore, get lost in, and never find his way back.

169 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 5 months

Text

Jersey Leeds: Little Dev

Summary: Part of the Jersey Leeds storyline; reader takes baby Jersey to her dads first game of the new season

Warnings: none

“Neeks you don’t have to do that.”

He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he continues to twist the Allen wrench, shaking his head softly. His hair hangs over his forehead, concealing most of his gaze but under the tips of the dark strands you can see his dimples sink into his cheeks.

“Been sitting over here too long,” he calls back “need to get it out of the way. And tire myself out for my nap.”

Accepting his answer, you turn back to the counter to finish Nico’s pregame snack. The new house in Jersey was slowly coming together, slower than either of you expected but life’s sort of been like that lately. The playoff birth of Jersey and then the team’s quick exit in Carolina, followed by a flight to Switzerland with a newborn was hectic. You made it work though, at least while Nico was competing at worlds but both of you were almost thankful for the loss.

Being parents was hard. Being parents while moving, hockey-ing, and not sleeping was even harder. Luckily the summer calmed down and Nico had more time with you and Jersey, showing her around Bern and introducing her to her Swiss family. He had a lot of things to be proud of that month, but none of it sparkled in his eyes like sharing his life with his daughter did.

You think of that look on his face as Jersey begins to fuss from her play mat, the borderline cries already making your temple throb. Plating Nico’s two peanut butter and banana sandwiches, you dust your hands off on your pants before moving into the living room.

Nico is still sitting on the living room floor, legs splayed out in front of him as he attaches the final leg to the new coffee table, but his eyes are watching Jersey intently. Her little arms and legs wiggle, kicking and reaching upwards as she softly cries.

“I could’ve got her babe,” Nico says as you walk over, his fingers wrapping around the leg he just attached and wiggling it. “She’s just right there.”

Satisfied with his work, Nico flips the table over so it’s standing over his lap. Jersey is still fussing, angry little hiccups as she waves her fists in the air and you can’t help but laugh quietly as you bend down to scoop her up.

“It’s ok,” you reply, dabbing the sleeves of your sweater over her wet cheeks. Big brown eyes peer up at you, framed by the same impossibly thick, dark eyelashes Nico has. “I was done anyway.”

Testing his handiwork again, Nico presses his palms into the top of the table and lays all his weight on it as he gets up. You hold your breath, waiting for the screws and legs to give out and your husband to go tumbling to the living room floor.

But the table is solid and sturdy. Nico smirks proudly, rapping his knuckles on the wood before turning to you. “1 down,” he sighs “a lot more to go.” You shake your head as he eyes the rest of the boxed furniture scattered around the room.

“Do it later, you need to eat.”

Nico’s hands find your hips, holding you gently as he buts his head into yours to look down at his daughter. “Let me see my baby.” He requests instead, and the sound of his voice has Jersey kicking her legs in excitement. Her tiny mouth stretches into a toothless smile, pink tongue flopping out against her chin.

Laughing, Nico sticks his tongue out just the same, right hand coming up to tickle at her cheeks. You give them their moment, your heart warming at the weird but affectionate encounter. You’re unsure of how it came about, how Jersey picked up the habit but one day you had come home from a girls day with Nico’s family to find them sticking their tongues out at each other for entertainment. It’s since become their thing and Nico will take any chance he can get to see Jersey do it.

Nico pecks a kiss to her forehead before straightening out, pressing a similar kiss to your forehead as well.

“All right, snack time for my babies.” You instruct, pressing your palm into Nico’s stomach to nudge him towards the kitchen. He follows compliantly, moving into the kitchen and digging through the cabinets for something. You fetch a bottle out of the fridge, popping it into the warmer as Nico finds the container of honey he was looking for.

Smiling, he holds it out towards you.

“What?” You laugh, adjusting Jersey on your hip.

His voice drips with sweetness when he asks, “Will you put it on my sandwich for me?” It’s an odd request considering your currently holding a baby and attempting to get her meal ready but Nico’s already reaching out for his daughter with his free hand so you obediently switch him.

“You’re being weird,” you comment, popping open the container as you peer up at your husband through your lashes. He’s mumbling sweet nothings under his breath, nose pressed into Jersey’s temple because he likes the smell of her baby wash.

If your words bothered him, it doesn’t show. “I like the way you do it.” He explains simply, turning to grab Jersey’s now warm bottle. Going back to work on his snack, you drizzle honey across the banana slices before putting them back together and quickly slicing each sandwich into two. Nico fishes out Jersey's bottle, not sparing you a glance as he plops down at the dining room table. Plate in hand, you watch him settle Jersey into the crook of his arm, her little body so small against his bicep and forearm.

He coaxes the nipple of the bottle into her mouth, waiting a moment for her to latch before shooting you an expectant look, eyebrow raised and unimpressed.

"My bad," you laugh, "I didn't realize I had two babies to feed."

Settling into the chair next to him, you set his plate in front of him. Which was apparently not the right thing to do because Nico sighs, still eyeballing you incredulously. You roll your eyes, annoyed but so utterly in love with the man in front of you that you can't help but smile as you pick up a half of a sandwich, lifting it to his awaiting mouth.

It makes you laugh, him munching on the snack with honey smeared on his lips, bobbing his head to entertain Jersey while she eats. She watches him with curious eyes, blinking sluggishly. By the time you've finished feeding Nico, she's finished most of her bottle and is sinking further into Nico's arm as sleep pulls her under. He slip the bottle from her, and you take that and the empty plate to the sink while Nico props her up on his shoulder to be burped.

"All right," you sigh after cleaning everything up, "nap time for you two." Nico smiles lazily as you lead him and Jersey down the hall with a tender hand on his lower back. Jersey has already begun to drool into his chest, and he's careful to lay her in the middle of your king size mattress.

You stay long enough to watch him crawl into bed and take the time to tuck him in under a throw blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He attempts to lift Jersey onto his chest, wincing when she wakes up with an annoyed screech, but she's soon settling into the softness of his abdomen. Nico coaxes another kiss out of you, sleepy eyes all soft and warm as you leave him and Jersey to nap while you get everything together for dinner later tonight.

~~~~~

The Rock makes you emotional, not only because the last time you stepped foot in the arena you welcomed your baby girl into the world, but because of how much this night means to Nico.

Impatiently waiting for warm-ups to start, you adjust the crocheted ice skate slippers on Jersey’s feet, making sure her ankles are covered. Then you tug down the sleeves of her little jersey, smoothing a finger over the tiny C patch Nico had custom made for it. The sweater had been a gift from the organization, handed to Nico in a little bag before there first game of round two last season. He almost blubbered over the thing when he presented it to you at home, choking back tears as he babbled about the name daddy on it and his number and how it was just like that baby shirt he loves but better.

Knowing how much he loved the jersey, you’d elected to save it for her first game in person. One where he could actually see her in it. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you at the glass.

Jersey wiggles away when you adjust the headphones over her ears, making sure they’re not on too tightly but aren’t slipping off. You’d spent all summer working on them for her, acquiring cute little stickers to put her name on one side and a 13 on the other. But the real kicker had been getting the two little devil horns on top. It took a lot of different emails and calls, even some instagram messaging to find someone who could make them. And even though Nico laughed and teased you about it, you were glad with the outcome.

Jersey looked adorable and passionate, all things the captain’s daughter should be.

She’s kicking her feet at you in annoyance when the first horn goes off and the players start trickling onto the ice. Almost leaping out of your skin, you press up close to the glass, turning Jersey so her back is to your chest and she can look onto the ice.

Almost immediately her little legs start wiggling, big brown eyes watching red jerseys fly by and you laugh, believing that she’s trying to skate with them in her mind.

You know Nico has his warm up routine so you’re not expecting him to bang on the glass as soon as he does. Not that you need the little taps of his stick to know he’s there. Jersey recognizes him immediately, her hands reaching out as she coos excitedly.

Looking up from Jersey’s smiling face, you’re stunned by the look of utter joy on Nico’s face. His eyes crinkled, smile so wide you think it might fall off the sides of his face if it weren’t for dimples keeping it in place. He’s waving at Jersey, hitting his gloved knuckles to the glass.

You nudge Jersey closer, allowing her to press her own hands into Nico’s as she screeches excitedly. Out of the corner of your eye a phone slips into view, capturing the precious moment for you two. You make a mental note to ask the social media admin for the video later, turning a bit so the camera has a better view.

Nico looks up at you, that beautiful smile of his shining. “That’s my baby,” he shouts excitedly, voice muffled by the glass but loud enough to make you laugh. You nod in agreement, picking up Jersey’s arm so you can help her wave to him.

His gaze returns to her, waving once more before he sticks his tongue out. Like routine, Jersey does it back, giggling and bouncing in your arms at her daddy. You can hear him laugh, the sound so full of delight it makes your whole body flush with love.

They’re interaction draws in Jack and Bratter, both boys squishing Nico between them as they stop to say hi. You can’t make out what they’re saying to each other as they wave and tap at Jersey but Bratt motions to Jersey’s headphones before shooting you a thumbs up. You laugh, shrugging in thanks before he’s off to finish warm-ups. Dougie takes his place, shoving Jack back so he can lightly jump into the glass.

Jersey jumps in shock, staring at the large man in stunned silence for just a moment. You since, waiting for her to burst into tears and you can already see Nico about to scold his teammate. But then Jersey is laughing gleefully, those bubbly baby giggles making everyone breathe out a sigh of relief.

You linger a little longer, letting all the boys stop by the stay hi and admire they’re little captain. They’re all enamored with her, eyes going soft just as they did the moment they all met her in the hospital. She has always had this team in the palm of her hand, most of all her daddy who has spent all of warm-ups watching her. He chats with whoever filters in to see her, blushing and smiling when they tap him on the helmet with their sticks.

The time comes to head to your seats, even if Nico is trying to get you to stay by making faces and wiggling his fingers through the glass. You know he’ll never actually warm-up if you don’t leave first so you give him your best demanding wife look.

“Say bye to daddy,” you tell Jersey, making her wave one more time. Then you’re tucking her into your chest and holding your knuckles to the glass. Nico does the same, winking at you just once before he slowly skates backwards.

You blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it and place it over his heart. Finally he joins the team to get some practice shots in, you moving away from the glass where you can still see him but not be a distraction.

For just a moment you admire him, let yourself adore him for all he is. A good person, a talented player, a strong leader, a brave role model, a loving husband, and the best father a child could ever have.

Jersey’s cry of annoyance drags you back into the moment, peering down to see her mouthing at your shoulder as tears well in her eyes. Her father's eyes.

"I know baby," you murmur, "let's go feed you. We'll see daddy again in a bit." You head back through the tunnel towards the family room so you can pick up the baby bag.

"He's gonna win you a game tonight." You promise Jersey, "and if he doesn't, he'll definitely play his heart out for you."

If there's one thing you could be certain about, it's that Nico will always give his all for his babygirl.

#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier blurb #new Jersey devils fic #jack hughes #jesper bratt #dougie hamilton #timo meier

392 notes · View notes

sagesolsticewrites · 2 months

Text

Welcome Home

Rosie finally returns home after his second tour, and you take the opportunity to show him exactly how much you missed him

Special thanks to my bestie @winniemaywebber for making a whole playlist for this fic??? What??? What in the world did I do to deserve such wonderful friends 😭

Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration), some dom/sub dynamics if you squint (Rosie’s switchyyyy in this 🥰), swearing, mentions of scars/wounds, historical inaccuracies (18+! minors begone!)

Word count: 1.8k!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

You wait anxiously on the train platform, amongst a hundred other wives and mothers and friends waiting for their loved ones’ safe return.

When Rosie had told you that he was re-enlisting after his first tour… a thousand emotions had run through you at once. Terror. Disbelief. Pride. Of course your Robert wouldn’t be satisfied until the job was finished.

And now it was. Germany had surrendered, and Rosie was finally coming home to you.

There was a hiss and a squeal as the long-awaited train pulled to a stop, and then a cacophony of shouting and joyous cheers as loved ones called to each other.

You scan the sea of joyful reunions, searching for a familiar head of curls.

A shout of your name makes you turn your head, and there he is.

Eyes sparkling, mustache neatly groomed, looking as handsome as ever in his dress uniform, stood Rosie.

Your feet carry you to him as if they have a mind of their own, and Rosie fights through the crowd to meet you halfway, catching you as you launch yourself into his arms.

You laugh in disbelief— he’s here, holding you, he’s real— as you urgently press your lips to his, the tears you’ve been trying to hold back spilling over your cheeks.

You pull away just enough to catch your breath, noses pressed together, lips brushing as you murmur soft, hurried greetings of “welcome home, baby,” “missed you so much,” “so, so proud of you.”

After what feels like an eternity of being back in his arms, lips locked in a passionate kiss, Rosie pulls away just slightly.

“Take me home, honey pie,” he murmurs, and you nod eagerly.

You let out a yelp of surprise as, rather than setting you down to lead you out to the car, Rosie simply turns and carries you out to the lot with you securely in his arms.

He pulls you in for yet another urgent kiss when he sets you down as you arrive at the car, and the promise of more sparking in his eyes has you speeding to your Brooklyn apartment.

It’s difficult to unlock the door with his lips attacking your neck, never mind his wandering hands, but you manage it, and close it quickly behind you as Rosie wastes no time in leading you to your bedroom.

“I missed you,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling you flush against him, his hands resting low on your waist, “so much, honey.”

“Missed you,” you whimper, fumbling with the buttons as you make quick work of tossing his jacket off to some corner of your room as he does the same to your dress.

He catches on quickly, yanking off his tie and drab olive shirt, leaving him just in his slacks as he walks you backwards, leaving a trail of hot kisses all down your neck.

“Been dreaming about this for so long,” he mumbles against your skin, “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna do to you when I got home.”

You shiver as he lays you down gently on the bed, his fingertips tracing the satin edges of your brassiere.

“Want me to show you?”

His voice is hoarse and raspy against your ear, making goosebumps appear all over you.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands wandering over his exposed skin for the first time in far too long, “Please.”

You feel him grin against your skin as his mouth attacks your neck, making your back arch off the bed.

Once your neck has been thoroughly kissed, sucked, and nipped into submission, he steps back to admire his handiwork.

You let his gaze linger on you until you can’t stand it and lift one leg to nudge him into doing something, your breath hitching when he grabs your ankle, his eyes darkening.

A glint in his eye, he bends down to brush a kiss to your ankle, your calf, your knee… he kisses his way up your leg, making you whine when he avoids your increasingly damp core in favor of continuing his path up to your hipbone. He stops to scatter kisses all along your stomach before mouthing at the valley between your breasts as he makes quick work of your brassiere.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to cup your breast reverently, “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing his lips to wrap around your nipple and suck.

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as he swirls his tongue around your peaked bud, pulling away with a pop to turn his attention to your other breast.

Your hand buries itself in his curls as he pulls away once more, tugging him up for a kiss. His tongue meets yours as you moan into his mouth, grinding up into him with a whine in an attempt to ease the pressure in your core.

“I gotcha, honey, I gotcha,” he breathes against your lips, his searing blue gaze locking on yours as his mouth follows a trail down, down, down to the waistband of your panties.

“Robbie,” you whine, the old nickname tumbling from your lips as he digs his teeth softly into the flesh above your waistband, gently easing your underwear off.

“Oh, honey,” he gasps, taking in your damp core, “When I tell you I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

Before you can grind out an impatient stop talking, his mouth is on you.

You moan, long and loud, as he licks deep through your folds, his nose at the perfect angle to add just the right amount of pressure to your clit.

“Shit, darling,” he groans as he licks and sucks at your core, the vibrations making your toes curl, “Taste even better than I remembered, fuck—”

Unable to keep eye contact, your head falls back against the bed with a choked whine, your hands finding their way down to grip at Robert’s curls.

Each talented movement of his tongue brings you closer to release, that string of tension in your belly growing tighter and tighter.

Robert’s tongue brushes a very particular spot inside you that has you gasping for air, giving his curls a particularly aggressive yank, which in turn causes him to growl against you— and that’s the moment that the string snaps and sends you over the edge.

You feel Robert’s mouth move frantically against you as you ride out your orgasm, his mouth and mustache damp with your release as he pulls away, brushing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about doing that, honey,” he says, kissing his way back up to your mouth, “But none of them came close to the real thing.”

You smile into the kiss before he pulls away, hovering over you.

You take the chance to scan over Rosie’s body, tracing the lines and curves of him with your fingertips, taking in the scars and scrapes and bruises.

He freezes above you, avoiding your eyes as you try to meet his gaze, concerned.

Eventually, you realize what he’s having difficulty with.

“Robbie,” you say softly, cupping his cheek so his eyes meet yours once more, “You’re beautiful. These scars don’t change that. And I know you may not believe me right now—” you begin to brush featherlight kisses to the scrapes and bruises decorating his face and neck, “— but I’ll keep reminding you every day until you do.”

At his unconvinced nod, you take a chance. You leverage your weight and flip so that you’re now the one hovering over him.

“These scars—” you say between gentle kisses to each and every mark decorating his skin, “are a reminder to you and everyone who knows you that you’re a fighter. You— you stayed, honey, you did what you knew was right and saw it through to the end and even though I was absolutely terrified of losing you—” you inhale shakily as some of the fear you’d felt over the past few months seeps into your voice before you collect yourself, “I couldn’t be prouder. My brave, brave boy.”

You capture his lips in a tender yet heated kiss, and he melts against you, one hand moving up to fist into your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer.

You slowly begin to grind against him, your bare skin gliding deliciously against the fabric of his slacks covering the bulge at the apex of his thighs.

“Sweetheart, I—” he gasps desperately into your mouth, “shit, I need to be inside you. Lemme show my girl how much I missed her, please—”

You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth as you fumble with his belt, Rosie wriggling out of his slacks and boxers impatiently.

You can’t resist grinding against him a few times, his breath catching at the feeling of your damp folds gliding against his bare cock.

“Honey,” he whines, burying his face in your neck, “Quit teasing, please, waited so long for this, lemme fuck you, please—”

You relent, nearly as unable to stand your own teasing as he is. Your breaths mingle as he positions himself at your entrance and you slowly, slowly, sink down onto him, biting back a stuttering moan as you stretch around him.

“Oh sweetheart,” Rosie groans, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut, “Fuck— you feel so good, honey, so tight—”

You whine at the praise, slowly rocking in his lap as you adjust to his size, gradually moving up and down his length at a toe-curlingly slow pace.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he gasps into your mouth, gripping at your hips in a futile attempt to speed you up, “Shit, you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

An entirely too innocent giggle escapes you as you continue to ride him agonizingly slowly, teasing yourself as much as him.

After several minutes of teasing, Robert’s soft pleading only adding to the growing tension in your core — “waited so long for this, honey, please, please don’t make me wait any longer,”— your breathing becomes heavy. Robert’s hands wander over every inch of you, leaving trails of fire as you finally, finally, speed up in earnest.

“Robbie,” you gasp, “Missed this so much, baby, missed you—”

“Missed you more, sweet girl,” he breathes, burying his face in your neck to muffle the stuttering moan that escapes him, “F-fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“C’mon, baby, please,” you breathe into his ear, fisting his curls as you feel your orgasm building, “‘M right there, please, Robbie…”

His fingers dig into your skin, groaning your name, hips stuttering as he spills into you, your release following almost immediately after.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, Robert letting out a soft whine as you carefully lift yourself off of him.

“I’m so, so happy you’re home, honey,” you whisper breathlessly as you curl up next to him on the bed, fingertips tracing his jaw, pulling him close so your noses brush, “I love you.”

“I love you more, honey pie,” comes Rosie’s soft reply, grinning against your lips as he pulls you in for a long, sweet kiss.

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #mota #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal x reader #robert rosenthal x reader #masters of the air x reader #rosie rosenthal smut #masters of the air smut #my writing

163 notes · View notes

illyabata · 7 months

Text

scars are A Thing™ with wriothesley and nobody can convince me otherwise, idc if there is zero mention of his scars or their meaning when he comes out idc it’s my permanent headcanon that scars and their stories are simply entangled with his character idc

so now i give you: wriothesley who is fascinated by your scars

tw: discussion of scars lol, but in no way do i indicate their origin unless it’s stretch marks. however if talk of scars at all is triggering to you, dont read!! it’s sweet fluffy stuff, but that doesn’t matter if it will trigger you. please take care :)

sfw, big brainrot under cut

theyre so much smaller than his, more delicate, just like you. doesnt matter if compared to other people you are big or tall, he’s such a big guy that he makes you feel small no matter your size or height. and no matter what your scars look like to you, to him they are beautiful. to him they are delicate.

he’s enamored by all of your scars no matter their origin—stretch marks, however, seem to intrigue him the most of all. he’s absolutely transfixed by them, and you can never understand why. he’s simply mesmerized by the way the blemished skin stretches as he thumbs and presses it, watching the discoloration flatten itself only to bloat back when he leaves it alone. for some reason he just seems so puzzled by the concept of natural scarring of the body; nothing had happened to harm you for these to appear—they’re simply the product of change, your skin either going through rapid periods of expanding or shrinking. he thinks they’re pretty.

he’d spend so long just running his rough fingers over your skin, absorbed in the feeling of the puckered tissue under his own blemished hands. whether the scars are stretch marks or from something else, he loves them, he loves you.

this might sound weird but i just like to imagine you both spend time gently tracing each others’ scars as comfort, like it sounds weird in words but it makes sense i promise. there is something intimate and fascinating about scars, no matter what they’re from; it’s truly like the language of your body’s history, a record of what has occurred. you can resent them or be proud of them, it really depends on the person and situation—but regardless, scars are always a record, and that is a constant no matter the person.

and if you’re not comfortable with that level of touch or that much attention on your scars, that is absolutely okay. he’s not going to make you uncomfortable, he’ll always ask if it’s okay before he looks at or touches them—or touches you at all, really. he never wants to hurt you. and if you say you’d rather he not touch your scars, he’ll understand and just show you he loves you—all of you—in some other way.

like idk about anyone else or if its just me and im fucking insane but sometimes i get lost looking at my own scars; sometimes the human body at work is just kind of fascinating to watch, and even more so in retrospect. it’s like holy fuck you’re looking at its handiwork, you can plainly see how the skin has been so masterfully rebuilt into this little woven bandaid of cells, carefully crafted to not only rebuild but protect. your body has looked after itself, and it will continue to do so. and thats just kind of a fascinating thing to me idk😭

some extra thoughts about scars, not really to do with wrio; red brackets will indicate the end of it if you want to skip: [[ it usually replaces any feeling of disgust i have because instead of focusing on the bad feeling of remembering where they came from or being sad at the way they look im able to think about how cool it is the way my body recovered and made my skin even stronger; it didnt just wipe it all away and give me a clean slate so i could forget, it pieced the cells together again bit by bit until it had not only replaced the wound but enforced it—so instead of forgetting the bad feelings, they were replaced by wonder. sort of like a sign that says “proof that where once there was pain, now there is strength”. it’s kind of like how they say you don’t just try to quit bad habits, you must replace the bad habit with a good one. you can replace the bad feelings associated with your scars with new feelings, whether they are good feelings or neutral feelings or meh feelings. ]]

before you, he understood scars to be an ugly thing—a source of shame, a show for others to marvel at if he left them uncovered, for them to ogle at and whisper about as if trying to guess the origin of the wounds was a sort of entertainment to them. and then in the fortress of meropide, his scars felt much less like a source of shame and more like an intimidation factor (which wasn’t something he necessarily felt good about, but it was something that he benefitted from as the duke). but when you came along and he began to know you, suddenly they were this beautiful, fascinating phenomenon that lead him to view his own scars in a different light.

he’s a powerful, strong man, yes. he’s intimidating and feared, but he is also loved, and all for good reason—he is solid and safe, an image of reliability to others. and sometimes it could weigh him down when he couldn’t seem to let another help carry the burden.

the way you made him feel, though, tracing his big ugly scars like they were rivers, like they weren’t repulsive—it changed him entirely, and it changed the way he saw himself. in the overworld, he was a criminal brute slathered in the proof of his savageness. in the fortress, he was the rock-solid standard for redemption, and he had to uphold his firm reputation. but with you, he was able to be fragile; with you, the walls he had built to protect himself from both sides of fontaine’s society came tumbling down, because he didn’t have to pretend when he was with you.

if such a small, sweet thing like you could see him in such a kind light with so much love in those eyes of yours, perhaps he was not so bad after all.

everyone else in all of teyvat could believe he was truly a bad guy like he sometimes enjoyed playing at—but it wouldn’t matter, because there you were in his bed every night, held fast in his big arms as you mindlessly traced the long, thin writings engraved in his skin, letting the stories they told lull you to sleep.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact #wrio x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin wriothesley #genshin x reader #mbj.write

289 notes · View notes