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[nauticonfashionstore9]

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[majnundrawings]

go check out the berghain t-shirt, 10% off + free shipping.

[jargon-official]

Triveni Family Fashion!!!

Buy Now

**Family Fashion on T-Shirt Print**T-shirts are a versatile and stylish piece of clothing that can be enjoyed by people of all ages. They are also a great way to show off your family's unique personality and style.

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[3mozombi3]

Shop Here:

[hairmetal666]

Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.

But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.

The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.

He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--

What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.

There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.

He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.

Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.

The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.

He's beautiful.

The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.

Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--

He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.

---

Steve goes back the next night.

He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.

It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--

Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.

There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.

Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.

He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."

The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"

Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"

"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"

"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."

"Is that right? Surely not this much."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."

Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.

"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.

"To Chicago or to this club?"

"Don't be cute."

"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."

Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."

He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."

"And one of the things was that you like dick?"

"Looks like it."

'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."

"Impressed?"

Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."

"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.

"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.

They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.

"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"

"Weird?"

"Fucking hot, dude."

"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.

"Course,"

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"You could do something about it."

Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.

"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.

"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.

He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.

It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.

They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.

Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.

Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"

"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."

Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."

[virtualidoll]

i realized at some point that my style in practice is really preppy when i actually try to dress up so that's kinda how i draw myself now too

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[nauticonfashionstore9]

Men's T-Shirt Collection for Active Lifestyles

Men's Summer Bliss T-Shirt – the perfect blend of style and comfort for the warm days ahead. Crafted from high-quality polyester fabric, this t-shirt is designed to keep you cool and stylish throughout the summer season.

[luvvictoria]

Fav Nanny - Poly!TF141

+ pairings. poly!tf141 x f!reader

+ tags. Mom Friend!Reader, Reader Loves Kids, TF141 Malfunctioning Over Reader, “Good Boy” Kink (Unintentional?), Size Difference Kink (You vs. The Massive TF141 Men), "Sweetheart, I Hope You're Not Too Tired" (THE LINE THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING), Slow Burn to Absolute Filth, HEADCANONS !!

+ a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance!!

+ summary. Lethal on the battlefield, soft as silk off-duty—Reader is TF141’s deadliest soldier and the sweetest nanny. The contrast wrecks them. One minute, she’s snapping necks; the next, she’s rocking a baby to sleep. Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price are obsessed—hopeless, hungry, and ready to ruin her.

+ support me ✰ .ᐟ buy me a coffee I Instagram

Ohhh, I love this concept! A TF141!Fem!Reader who’s a badass soldier on the battlefield but in her spare time, she’s the ultimate sweetheart, taking care of kids as a nanny? Adorable.

Now, if we’re turning this into poly!TF141, that means Soap, Ghost, Gaz, and Price all got their eyes on her. And the spice? Oh, I can see it now—

The Duality That Drives Them Crazy

Soap: “How the fuck do you go from making men piss themselves in fear to cooing at a baby like an angel?”

Gaz: “It’s actually terrifying. Do it again.”

Ghost: Quietly obsessed, silently suffering.

Price: Takes a long, long drag of his cigar and looks away before his thoughts get inappropriate.

On the field? She’s a force of nature, ruthless and efficient. Precision shots, quick thinking, and absolutely fearless.

Off the field? She’s all gentle smiles, soothing words, and warm hugs—the kind of woman who rocks a baby to sleep after a mission like she didn’t just take down a whole enemy squad.

The 141 boys are obsessed with this contrast. It borders on worship.

Moments That Would Make Them Weak

💥 Soap: Watching her discipline a kid—firm but loving—and he suddenly wonders how she’d be if he was being bratty. (He definitely tests that later.) 💥 Ghost: Sees her gently humming a lullaby to a crying child. That soft voice, that warmth… He’s never been jealous of a kid before, but damn. 💥 Gaz: Catches her casually lifting a toddler up with one arm and then later that day, flipping a full-grown man over her shoulder. He is down bad. 💥 Price: Has a very inappropriate thought when she presses a baby to her chest, bouncing them gently, and he has to physically leave the room.

Spicing It Up

One night, after a mission, they find her half-asleep on the couch, a baby monitor in her lap, dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. The urge to ruin her is strong.

She’s scolding Soap and Gaz after a reckless mission, and Ghost and Price exchange a look because that stern voice? That commanding presence? … Yeah, they feel things.

Imagine her in a sundress, barefoot, holding a baby on her hip, and one of the guys just loses his self-control completely.

How spicy are we talking? Because this could go so many directions.

Spicy Headcanons 🔥

The First Time They See Her in Full Nanny Mode

They come back from a mission, exhausted, ready to crash—only to walk in on her in a sundress, barefoot, holding a baby on her hip.

Soap fucking CHOKES on his drink.

Gaz deadass forgets how to breathe.

Ghost freezes mid-step, completely malfunctioning.

Price? That man has to take a SEAT.

She’s just rocking the baby gently, humming a lullaby, and then she looks up and goes: “Oh! You’re back! Want some tea?” …They want something else.

The First Time They Hear Her Scold a Kid

They always assumed she was soft, but then they see her disciplining a kid—

Voice stern, eyes sharp, arms crossed.

Soap is suddenly wondering how she’d sound scolding him.

Gaz is sweating.

Ghost is dangerously quiet.

Price is reevaluating his entire life.

Soap leans over to Gaz and whispers: “Imagine her saying ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’” Gaz: “I’d fucking CRY.”

When She Calls Them “Good Boys” Without Realizing It

She’s used to praising kids, so it just slips out.

Soap helps her with groceries? “Thanks, Johnny, you’re such a good boy.”

Gaz fixes her car? “Aw, Kyle, good boy!”

Ghost carries something heavy for her? “You’re so strong, Si, good boy.”

Price pays for their food? “Such a gentleman, good boy.”

IMMEDIATE MALFUNCTION. 🛑

Soap drops the bag and stares at her like she just committed a war crime.

Gaz literally turns red. Neck, ears, everything.

Ghost? You cannot tell me that man doesn’t shudder just a little.

Price fucking growls.

The Sundress Incident™

Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price are chilling outside when you walk in wearing a tiny, flowy sundress.

You don’t realize you're basically tempting fate itself.

Bending over to pick something up? That dress lifts just a little too much.

Soap makes a noise. A deep, feral noise.

Gaz has to grip his beer like a lifeline.

Ghost literally stops breathing.

Price is white-knuckling his glass.

“What?” you ask, oblivious. Soap, voice rough: “…Nothing, lass. Absolutely fuckin’ nothing.”

The Night They All Lose Their Self-Control

It happens after a mission. You're tired, in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, curled up on the couch.

You're watching TV, hair messy, half-asleep.

The boys come in, sweaty, exhausted, ready to shower—and they see you like that.

Legs bare. Shirt slipping off one shoulder.

Thighs pressing together absentmindedly.

Soft, sleepy voice: “Mmm… you boys okay?”

🛑 IT’S OVER. 🛑

Soap sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch. Gaz leans against the couch, watching her with dark eyes. Ghost doesn’t sit. He stands, watching. Staring.

Price exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw, because he knows EXACTLY where this is going.

She looks at them—blinking, confused.

Soap smirks.

Gaz’s lips twitch.

Ghost’s fingers flex at his sides.

Price simply says, “Sweetheart, I hope you’re not too tired.”

[timmydraker]

Tim who’s a femme boy but not in a ‘skater skirt and thigh high socks’ kind of way.

No, he was raised by two people who value tradition and fashion, teaching him the ways of old money.

He watched his mother, who worked with woman who married into families and worse low cut dresses and diamond necklaces, hold the same power over men with only her wrist and head bare. He learnt that modesty was as equally powerful as nudity, that a woman could be devastating in any fabric if she out in the work.

Tim has always known he isn’t a woman, is comfortable being a man, but by all that’s natural does he not look at the way they dress and feel longing.

He’s twelve when he tries one of his mother’s dresses on for the first time.

It’s far too long, puddling at his feet, but he feels so beautiful in the mossy green fabric. The elbow length sleeves go to his wrist, but it still feels almost scandalous in a way that isn’t about the dress being on a boy.

He puts the dress away and begins to buy his own.

Naturally, he doesn’t risk his parents ire and keeps them hidden, but with them being gone so long it’s easy for him to spend some time by himself to dress up all he likes.

By the time he’s fourteen and has been around in for a while, he’s managed to go through a few different styles and find what truely feels like him.

He still wears his stupid science shirts and baggy hoodies over his formal dress shirts, it’s just that now he might add a simple long skirt instead of his dirty jeans. He won’t skate in a skirt, only because he doesn’t want to damage them and jeans are safer, but he also doesn’t leave the house in them for a while.

It’s not long after he’s recovered from Jason’s attack, his former idol still having trouble coming to terms with the lies he was told by the LOA, that he decides to see what Bruce thinks.

Ironically, it’s Jason that gave him the confidence.

Jason had made a comment when he was going on his rant to Tim about how Robin shouldn’t exist and he should get out, that he was warning the boy he should cut and run from Bruce. All he had said was that he was cutting his life short by being Robin and Tim felt that comment hit him harder than the bullet to his leg.

His time was short, most likely he would die before he got to marry or maybe even graduate (though he was considering dropping out anyway), so why hide?

Tim had been just about to get changed before he left to go see Bruce for a checkup on his mostly healed injuries when he caught his reflection and stopped.

The white shirt he wore was long sleeved and covered his neck, the buttons going up the front made of wood and shaped like hearts. His skirt, a dark brown flannel pattern prove that went just above his ankles, had a corset like fitting at the top that hugged his waist carefully. While he would prefer a more womanly figure, he wasn’t going to implement old Victorian body horror to get that.

Tim did go back to his room, but only to put on some simple heeled shoes of brown leather with a gold buckle on the side.

He put on a big shall over his shoulders, picking up his phone and putting on his headphones before he made the walk to Wayne Manor.

As usual, he didn’t need to knock as Alfred opened the door.

The man didn’t give any inkling as to surprise or shock at Tim’s outfit and simple said, “Glad to see you putting some effort into your appearance, Master Timothy.”

The snide comment made Tim relax greatly, quipping back about him being able to wear more than just jeans and t-shirts to the older man. The two talked normally and that made everything feel so much better than some grand speech on Tim accepted who he is.

Dick and Bruce are talking to each other in polite voices, both still a little awkward with each other even if they have gotten better, and both turn to great Tim as he enters the dining room for dinner.

Bruce looks shocked, showing he isn’t feeling too much like Batman at the moment, but he covers it up and says nothing and lets Dick speak.

Tim immediately feels stupid as Dick walks up to him with a big smile and opens arms, because Dick Grayson was raised in a circus! If anyone was going to accept ‘oddities’ in the family it would be him, “Timmy! Oh my little baby, you look so good! What’s the occasion? Oh! Do you have a date?”

His brothers teasing mg tone at the end makes him smile and shove him gently. “Not a date or anything else, I just�� thought I’d wear something more my style out for once.”

Dick beamed, hearing the unspoken confession of trust and picking his brother up and spinning him around, “Oh, Timmyyyy! My baby, you look so beautiful! You can wear whatever you want, all the time, anywhere! I’ll will straight up eat anyone who has a problem, I swear I will do it, just say the word-“

Bruce finally talks just to cut Dick off, “Dick, no ‘eating’ anyone who hurts your bother. A lawsuit will surfice.”

Tim can’t help but beam at Bruce, knowing full well that those words are his weird way of showing his approval and acceptance. Him being more forward with it would have been nicer, but he was the most fluent in the language of Bruce Wayne outside of Alfred and so he was okay with it.

Dick went to whine, acting like a spoilt child while he secretly raged inside that he was being told not to commit a violent act. Honestly, Tim wasn’t sure if it was because it was in defence of his brother or because Dick was always secretly searching for something to get aggressive with.

Tim smiled happily, taking off his shawl and thanking Alfred when he swooped in to take it away for him.

As Tim sat at the table, he felt a peace build in his heart that he hadn’t felt… well, ever.

[starkeysbunny]

buy me presents [rafe cameron]

pairing - boxer!rafe x bambi!reader

summary - christmas has never been much of rafe’s thing. but lucky for him, it’s his hyperfeminine gf’s favorite holiday. this comes with decorating their shared apartment in a pink winter wonderland, and baked goods almost every night.

warnings - quite literally pure fluff

rafe let out a huff, stepping into his apartment with sweat dripping down his forehead. he just got back from the gym, and his face contorted into confusion when he crossed the threshold of the front door and was met with his apartment that felt like a sauna. he sets his bag down by the door and walks further inside, and spots her in the kitchen.

“baby? the hell are you doin’? it’s like a hundred degrees in here.” rafe sighs, sitting at the counter as he watches her.

she looks up, flour dusting her pink cheeks. she smiles and he takes in the mess that has become their kitchen. baking pans, whisks, and bowls litter the counter, along with numerous ingredients that he wasn’t even aware were in their pantry.

“baking!” she responds with that sweet honey-dipped voice, a smile on her lips.

“baking, huh?” he says, resting his chin in his palm. his other hand reaches up and shoves the hood off his head, which was only making the rising temperature of their apartment worse for him.

“yeah, sorry it’s so hot. the oven’s been on sooo…” she shrugs with a smile, continuing what she was doing. he watches as he tongue pokes out of her lips in concentration. she leans all her weight onto the counter as she presses a cookie cutter into the dough she has rolled out on the counter.

“mhm. that’s alright. what’re you baking?” he press his arms into the counter, lifting his body slightly to peek over at her work on the other side of the counter.

“gingerbread cookies! wanna help?” she looks up at him with big doe eyes.

he chuckles, brushing his thumb over his nose. “yeah, i’m good baby. trust me, you don’t want me in there. i’ll burn our apartment down.”

she giggles, shaking her head. “c’mon it’s not that hard.”

he shakes his head. “christmas isn’t really my thing, baby. i’ll leave the baking to you.”

it was the day after thanksgiving and he had woken up this morning to sounds of cluttering in the living room. when he got up to see what it was, he saw his girlfriend sitting criss cross by the coffee table, sorting through boxes. she pulled out pink bows and snowy decor. and now, his apartment was a pink winter wonderland.

it was their first christmas together as a couple, and he was a bit confused. and disoriented with the fact that he had to live in the north pole for the next month. but, anything y/n wanted, she got. rafe made sure of that.

she pouts her lips slightly. “please? just help me make the gingerbread men shapes?”

he sighs, becomes he knows when she gives that pout with her big eyes, he’ll never relent. he does anything she wants.

“alright, alright.” he pulls his zip up off his arms and tosses it onto the couch, leaving him in a black t-shirt. he rounds the counter to stand next to her, looking at the counter covered in flour and dough. “what do i have to do?”

she reaches over to her container of cookie cutters and palms two shapes of gingerbread men into his hands. “use those.” she instructs. “like this.”

she demonstrates, pushing her weight into the counter as she presses the cookie cutter into the dough, making the shape of a gingerbread man. “see!” she peels back the excess dough and carefully picks up the gingerbread shape and lays it on the baking sheet with the others she made.

he nods firmly, his tongue pressing out of his lips in concentration, the same way hers does. he presses the cookie cutter into the dough, his bicep muscles flexing under the material of his shirt.

he hums in content as he lifts the cutter, revealing the shape he made. she smiles, clapping her hands together. “see! you did it!” she wraps her arms around him and nudges herself into his side with a sequal.

he rolls his eyes playfully and chuckles. “baby, i’m barely doing anything—“

“shut up.” she nudges his side playfully, picking up the gingerbread he made and gingerly placing it on the baking sheet. once they made a few more, all the dough shapes lined up, she places the baking sheet in the oven.

she sets the timer, and rafe’s arms snuggly find their home around her waist from behind. she grins, leaning back into him. she presses her lips together, something on her mind.

“do you like all the decorations? i know it’s not your thing, and it’s really girly and all.. but i just like christmas a lot. and i’m excited to spend it with you.” her words come out in a sporadic burst, shaken nervousness bubbling past her lips.

he grins, pressing a kiss to her temple from behind, his hands splaying across her stomach as he holds her close. “baby, i love anything you love, okay? yeah, i’ve never really done anything for christmas before, but if it makes you happy, you can make the apartment a pink winter wonderland and bake all you want. whatever makes my girl happy, yeah?”

she grins, turning in his arms to face him, a blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. she buries her face in his chest, a giggle falling past her lips as she does.

rafe did anything for his girl.

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — best friends to lovers, riki’s experienced, he’s sweet but still a tease by heart, some begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), pet names, squirting.

WORDCOUNT — 1.2K

NOTE — my riks pussy eater agenda never ends . . sorry for leaving this on a slight cliffhanger >< perhaps i can make a part two if any of you are interested, lmk your thoughts thru my inbox or what not <3

“Ki, would it be weird for a girl not to squirt?” you asked suddenly, catching Riki completely off guard. He choked on his drink, coughing uncontrollably at your unexpected question. “SORRY!” you exclaimed, hurriedly patting his back as he tried to recover.

“You could’ve given me some warning,” he said, wiping his mouth as you sat on the bed, lips pouting.

“Why’d you ask?” he questioned, his brow raised, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely surprised by your curiosity.

“I mean… you’ve had experience with girls, right? Have you made them cum or, I don’t know, squirt before?” you asked hesitantly, your pout deepening as your cheeks flushed. Riki fought back the urge to lean in and kiss you right then but managed to keep his composure.

“Well,” he started, leaning back casually on his hands, “I have sex to enjoy myself and to give pleasure. So yeah, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the person.”

You muttered under your breath, “Man, am I weird,” not realizing he heard you.

“Why would you be weird?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, making you squeak as your face burned with embarrassment.

“N-nothing! It’s just a random thought,” you stammered, laughing nervously, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t buying it. Finally, you sighed in defeat.

“Okay, fine. All the times I’ve had sex with men, I’ve never cum… or squirted. Ever,” you admitted, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “And now, my friends keep talking about how amazing their sex lives are, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I’ve always had to fake it.”

Riki was silent for a moment before speaking bluntly. “That just means those men suck at pleasing women.”

Your eyes widened as he suddenly leaned closer, his hand gently holding your chin, tilting your face toward his. His dark eyes locked with yours.

“Want me to show you how it’s really done?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though the strain in his sweats betrayed how much he was holding back. The room grew quiet, the air charged with tension as you blinked at him, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to whisper, “P-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, Riki closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours as he pulled you into his arms.

He pushed you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body before slipping beneath your shirt. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, giving it a light tug. Riki smirked at your reaction, his lips trailing down your skin before settling near your bottom half. Pausing, he looked up at you, silently seeking permission. You couldn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded. With one smooth motion, he slid your pants and panties off, exposing you to his gaze. His hands spread your legs gently as he adjusted his position.

“Don’t think about me too much tonight, princess. This is all about you, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as his hands caressed your thighs. “Can I?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, a strangled moan escaping as his fingers finally explored your wet folds. He began rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, coaxing more of your arousal to pool between your thighs.

“T-there’s lube in the drawer,” you whispered shakily.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me prep you a bit, yeah?” he replied sweetly, leaning over to grab the bottle. After squirting some onto his fingers, he returned to you, his touch warm and careful.

Gently fondling your folds, he slid one finger inside, stretching you just enough before adding a second. His pace was slow, deliberate, each motion igniting waves of pleasure as his fingers worked you open. You sighed in relief, soft moans tumbling from your lips as he fucked you with precision.

“Feels nice?” he teased, his thumb now stroking your clit in time with his fingers. A high-pitched moan slipped out as your back arched.

“R-Riki~!” you whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure built.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration and lust. “Gonna give it the love it deserves.”

With that, he leaned down, his lips finding your clit as his tongue replaced his thumb. His warm mouth suckled at the sensitive bud, his fingers never faltering in their steady rhythm.

A needy whimper escaped you at the added sensation, your hips stuttering against his face in an attempt to get more of him. The slow pace felt maddening, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki simply chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins as he focused on drawing every ounce of pleasure from you.

“That’s it, pretty. Let go for me,” Riki murmured, pulling his fingers from your pussy before leaning down to give soft, kitten-like licks to your folds. His tongue teased you mercilessly, his lips suctioning onto your clit for just a moment before pulling away again. He repeated this agonizing rhythm until your impatience boiled over.

“Riki…” you whined, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed, feigning innocence as his slow, gentle touches continued, driving you to the brink.

“P-please,” you pleaded, looking down at him with desperate, glossy eyes. “Need more… just go faster, harder—I don’t care, just please.”

A devilish smirk played on his lips. “As you wish, princess,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. Without hesitation, he slid his fingers back inside you, this time pumping them faster and deeper. He curled them expertly, finding that spot that had your back arching off the bed, all while his tongue worked your clit with unrelenting precision.

High-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips, mingling with the lewd, obscene sounds of his fingers and mouth as they worked in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the slick echoes of your arousal and his focused attention, and it didn’t take long for an unfamiliar knot to tighten in your stomach.

“W-wait, Riki—!” you gasped shakily, the strange sensation growing too intense. But your protest only spurred him on. His fingers curled deeper, his tongue swirling faster as your body trembled beneath him.

And then it hit. The knot unraveled, snapping violently as your release gushed from you, soaking his lips and chin. You cried out, your body spasming uncontrollably as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki drank it up greedily, savoring every drop before planting one last, tender kiss on your folds.

Rising above you, he kissed your trembling lips, his smirk softening as he wiped a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Well, there you have it,” he said with a satisfied grin. “You’re not weird, princess. You just needed the right man to give you the right treatment.”

You blinked up at him, still delirious from your high. “Y-yeah… um,” you mumbled, your mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

He chuckled, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Don’t worry, angel. If you want to return the favor, I’m all for it—but only if you want to. No pressure.”

“Let me help you too, please?” you whispered, your wide, pleading eyes meeting his.

Riki cursed under his breath, his resolve nearly crumbling. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered before pulling off his shirt. He adjusted your position beneath him, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours.

“Just know I won’t be able to stop, princess,” he warned, his voice a low growl as his lips brushed against yours. “Hope you’re ready.”

TAGLIST — @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @aanniikkaa @lilmarsh-t

[jargon-official]

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[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][ex-husband!Roy][missionary][fingering][squirting][don't even asking][oral m! receiving][anal fingering][snowballing][hair pulling][he's a desperate man][look at the the new divider. so demure][breeding][daddy kink?][creampie][msub?][idk she says do it, and he does it][i don't make the rules, i just write them:3]

Roy watches Lian settle into the backseat, her backpack tossed haphazardly in Jason's lap as he rifles through the bag, eagerly searching for snacks that he knows you packed in.

"You ransacking my kid now, Todd?"

Roy questions, muscular arms crossing over his broad chest, the T-shirt he's wearing stretched taut across his muscular torso, vibrant red fabric a contrast to his sunkissed, alabaster flesh. The tattoo on his bicep peeks out, green ink swirled marring his skin.

"When you bring perfectly cut watermelon with no seeds to work, I'll ransack you instead." Jason retorts, opening up the clear Tupperware and setting it down on the centre console, between Lian and himself.

Her inky strands are tied back into pigtails, a fuzzy red jumper to fight the slight chill in the air and a pair of daisy dukes, with those red Mary Jane's you insist on buying her in every colour.

She looks nothing like you. Her mother's eyes and hair, she doesn't even look like Roy.

But she looks like you. The fond expression as she munches on the watermelon you packed in, the snort that leaves her when Jason swallows the one singular pit that you've managed to miss and his expression screws up in distaste.

"Mommy says if you swallow a seed, a tree's gonna grow in your tummy, Uncle Jay." Lian hums, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a wet wipe, wiping the red and sticky juice from her hands and from Jason's long fingers, the action almost innately.

The action makes the men soften, because they can see just how much you've rubbed off on Lian.

Her sweet nature, the quirky things she randomly spouts.

"Then your mommy should have a bunch of trees in her belly." Jason hums, his fingers spread out for Lian to keep cleaning his hands.

Roy's stature stiffens, green eyes widening to land on Jason and he mouths, 'why would you say that?'

"Because of all the fruit she eats!" Jason defends but Roy knows.

He knows.

When Roy steps over the threshold of your house, the familiar scent of vanilla and coffee hits him like a freight train and he swallows, taking a deep breath to welcome the scent he's known as 'home'.

He can hear the dishes clanging slightly in the kitchen, the soft hum of music to tinkling alongside the splashes of soapy water and Roy remains quiet, grabbing one of the dishcloths and beginning to dry the dishes.

His gaze remains lowered, eyes trained on the way his hands dry porcelain plates and handmade clay bowls, green pools occasionally flitting to where your manicured hands remain submerged in steaming water.

And he clears his throat.

"I—...uh... Are these new curtains?"

Roy's voice is quiet, his head lifting only enough for him to look up at the curtains that cover the kitchen window.

Mostly white. White lace with a dark brown ruffled edge that matches with the teddy bears printed onto the main part of the curtain.

"Yeah." You answer with a hum. "Lian picked those out." The corners of you mouth twitch at the memory, and Roy notices.

He always notices.

"You're a good mom." Roy murmurs softly, continuing to dry off and pack the dishes into the designated spots. "Would you... Want another? Like.... One of your own?"

It's a question you don't want to answer. Especially not when Roy's asking.

Emerald eyes watch you pensively as you move around the kitchen, your attention on everywhere except Roy because you can't look at him.

And you shrug your shoulders.

"Yeah, I would." You hum softly.

"But you wouldn't want your kid's dad's to be different guys?" Roy states and without thinking much of it, you nod your head.

"I'll give you a baby." Roy states. "A healthy baby. A real chubby bastard too."

"Roy...." You sigh softly, "I don't think...—"

"Don't think." Roy interjects. "Let Daddy do the thinking."

Muscular fingers dig into the daisy-printed cushions of the sofa, and Roy lets out a low groan, head tipping back as he watches you slobber around his aching cock. Half-lidded eyes, a hand threading through your hair and gripping the strands as he feels the way your throat tightens around him, his flushed tip nodding against your oesophagus.

"Fuck, baby, just like that. Just like that..."

He whines, muscular thighs tensing and straining against the fabric of his jeans, feeling the way your nails drag against the material, and the way your soft, pouty lips wrap around his veiny shaft.

He watches the way your cheeks hollow when you suck him, your hands moving up his broad thighs and settling on his tightly toned abdomen.

Only to find out that it's... Not as tightly toned.

A slight pudginess has your eyes widening, your head lifting until his cock slips from your lips with a wet 'pop!' and you stare up at Roy.

"Did you gain weight?" You question with a surprised squeak, eyes widened with surprise and he swallows, the blood rushing through his ears making it difficult to hear you properly.

And it takes Roy a second or two to realise what you're asking and his ears tint red.

"Uh.... Just a few pounds but, I'm gonna start cutting next week ag— oh shit."

Roy gasps, hands gripping the sofa cushion so hard that his knuckles turn white and all he sees are fucking stars. Speckled against his eyelids as an orgasm crashes over him like a fucking tsunami and he gasps, a shaky breath that turns into a high pitched whine when you don't stop sucking.

The taste of cum fills your mouth and you know better than to swallow it immediately, instead milking him with soft, spittle-covered lips before you rise, standing between his thighs.

Your knee digs into the sofa beside his hip, your lips pressed against his and the taste of his own cum filling his mouth nearly has Roy proposing again.

Shaky hands bracket your hips, and he's forcing your skirt towards your waist, fingers pulling your panties to the side as two digits instantly bully their way into your cunt.

Your nails dig into either side of his face, your brows creasing as you struggle to adjust to the intrusion that's been just... Too long.

"Oh, you're so fucking tight." Roy groans, his face moving to nestle in the curve of your neck, inhaling that scent he's missed.

Misses the way it'd cling to his clothes, to his pillows, to his car seat, to his suit.

"You're not fucking anyone, baby?" Roy questions and you meekly shake your head, your hips bucking when he presses his thumb against your clit, and leaves you to your own devices to roll your hips just the way you like to.

"Awh, poor baby." He coos. "Let me take care of that pretty pussy, okay?"

You don't know how long it's been.

Your nails grabbing at the armrests, a heavy hand entangled in your hair and tugging you everytime you lose that arch for even a second.

Roy's beefy hips snap mercilessly, the lewd sound of your squelchy pussy rings out in the quietness of your home, drool dribbling down your cheek and soaking into the throw pillow beneath your head.

"That's it, baby. Fucking take it."

Roy groans, a muscular hand moving to rest on your hip, an iron grip pulling you back against him and with each movement, his cock jams against your cervix in a mixture of painful and pleasurable sensations, and your eyes water.

Your ass is stinging, the sensation only getting worse with each unforgiving thrust of his carved hips, heavy balls slapping against your clit with each movement and it's overstimulating. You don't know how many orgasms you've gotten but goddamn, you're feeling that coiling knot slowly start to build behind your navel.

"Play with your pussy, baby. Play with it." Roy breathes out, his hand leaving your hip and dragging along your plump thigh, giving you a sharp squeeze before guiding the limb to rest on the back of the sofa.

You're not that flexible.

But before you can even object, he's pummeling into you and your vision is getting hazier with each messy circle you make over your clit.

You're uncoordinated, you're sloppy and each time, you feel that thick globs of saliva trickle down the cleft of your ass and trickling down around your stretched out hole.

It's a burning stretch.

The kind that comes after a good workout and your body's bent in almost uncomfortable positions, and you gasp when you come.

Squirting onto the surface of the couch cushions beneath you, gushing so hard that you push Roy out of you but instead of pushing himself back in, his flushed tip swipes across your folds.

And the stimulation is too much, your body going limp and your hips twitch with every weak gush that trickles down your thighs, pooling at the spot where your knees dig into the sofa.

And Roy hums, hips moving to rest, and he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your back just as he pushes back into you, feeling the way your soaked walls attempt to pull him deeper.

To pull him closer.

And he rolls his hips, pressing a sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.

"I'm gonna come back tonight, and give you that baby, okay?" Roy breathes out softly, arms wrapping around your waist and you meekly nod your head, muttering a lazy 'mkay'.

The sound of Roy leaving, and closing the door behind him has you snapping back to reality and you perk up, lashes fluttering and heavy with unshed tears.

—♱—

"What's with the smile?" Jason questions, although, the twinkle in his emerald pools already say he knows.

A drink in his hand as he reclines against the park bench, eyes flitting between Roy's face and where Lian is playing with some lady's chihuahua.

Roy stares at Lian, watching the way her expression lights up when the dog jumps into her lap, tail wagging excitedly.

"I learnt something about myself." Roy answers softly and Jason lets out a hum, silently urging Roy to keep talking.

And a grin creeps onto Roy's face, million dollar smile gleaming in the sunlight.

"I'm not above a good, old fashioned baby trap."