#hug a veteran

[country-n-sassy]

Just because....

I hope everyone has a great weekend. Don't forget to hug a veteran 🇺🇲 I know there's a couple I wish I could hug 💋

[demigods-posts]

currently obsessed with the idea of everyone viewing percy as a forced to never be messed with. for the sea is unpredictable and does not like to be restrained and all that jazz. except, frank and hazel. who only see him as just a little guy. a soldier left to his own devices out on the streets with nothing to comfort him but a panda pillow pet and a lingering memory of a girl he loves. he's just a little guy you guys.

[some1s-sista]

Couple of my Dad's pictures at the 38th parallel during the Korean War. He said they were there blowing up bridges that day, protecting the border between North and South Korea.

He turned 89 this year.

[blossysartgobrr]

Happy 10th Amourshipping day to me

I literally told myself that I wasn't going to make any fan art for today but I guess the spirit of 11 year old me compelled me 🤷‍♀️

I did not draw the background 🫶 and more under the cut!

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 23

anakin x reader

A/N: So ani is a lil uncharacteristically emotional in this one, but it's because he’s going through withdrawal which takes a heavy toll not only physically but emotionally too. Also this chapter mentions the fourth of July (sorry to my readers who don’t live in the USA) . I just thought the holiday would be a good plot point for this specific iderration of Anakin, I do not mean to use the holiday politically AT ALL!!! Anyways, with all of that out of the way- I hope you all enjoy it!!

The fourth of july came at a bad time

warnings: cursing, alcohol abuse, alcohol withdrawal , self hatred, depressive thoughts, throw up, basically ani is just miserable, ptsd

______________________________

Things had been going as well as they could regarding his liver- but the biggest problem at the moment was the withdrawal of alcohol.

Last time he subsided with his drinking, he had time to wean himself off slowly- but now he couldn’t because any amount of alcohol could be fatal to his condition. 

The past few nights had been restless for him- cold sweats, headaches, nausea, and he was just generally miserable. 

Last night wasn't much different, he was pretty miserable, curled up on his side trying to ignore the pains in his stomach- it took him forever to get comfortable and when he finally did, he only got about an hour of sleep before he woke up shaking and disoriented. 

You rushed to his bedside to find he was running a fever (a normal symptom of alcohol withdrawal); instead of freaking out you sat by him trying your best to soothe him while also bringing down his temperature. 

Later on he emptied the contents of his stomach into a trash bin you brought for him and finally fell asleep.

You weren’t so sure tonight would be any better, he had been acting squirrely all day and seemed kind of in a haze. 

He skipped dinner because he felt like if he ate anything it would just come back up. So the two of you sat on the couch with a program about different species of the Amazon playing in the background; not that either of you were actually paying attention to that. 

You were worried about Anakin, how much longer was this routine going to be sustainable for him?

Outside the distinct pew of a firework being sent up into the night sky could be heard before it made a “bang”.

You Jumped at the loud noise, you never were really a fan of fireworks. But why were they going off tonight…?

Oh fuck. Today was the 4th- there would be fireworks going on all night. 

You looked over your phone to see Anakin’s wide blue eyes and distant stare. Another one went off and you observed as he flinched at the initial ascent and closed his eyes and tensed as it exploded. 

You didn’t need to ask why he was so jumpy… the fireworks sounded eerily reminiscent of the explosives he was accustomed to hearing on the battlefield. 

Anakin’s PTSD was not something that came up often- he didn’t really like to talk about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have it. 

“Ani, do you wanna change the channel to something a little louder? It might drown out the sounds outside” you offered after you noticed him shaking under his blanket.

Half of you expected him to be peeved that you insinuated he wasn't ok, but to your surprise he looked towards you with wide eyes, 

“Could you come sit with me?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Of course” 

His blue eyes watched as you took a seat beside him; as soon as you were sat, one of his bionic arms pulled you gently in by the waist. Once you were close enough you leaned over to peck him on the cheek before turning the volume on the TV on.

Anxiously you watched the clock, it was nearing midnight and you knew that would be the worst.

A sharp inhale diverted your attention from the screen in front of you to the man beside you. His eyes were clenched shut and he gripped his side. 

“Anakin, what’s wrong?” you asked anxiously. 

“Nothing, it’s just…my side hurts” he groaned.

The doctor said that was normal for someone with liver issues but it still hurt to see him struggling. 

“Would you like me to hold-”

He nodded his head and you scooted closer to him; as of now it wasn’t clear what the two of you were in your relationship, but you did want to be there for him.

Soon he was lying across your lap and held tightly onto your hand that draped over his side. Your free hand was gently running over his side and occasionally brushing against the side of his face. 

It was evident that he was shaking in your hold; unfortunately there wasn’t much you could do to aid his condition, so you offered all you could.

The clock in the corner chimed and your eyes widened, it was 12- well, almost; the clock was about two minutes fast, but that just meant the majority of the fireworks would be going off in no time. 

“Ani, do you wanna sit up for me?” you asked, lightly patting his side. 

“S-sure”

Now the two of you were sitting face to face, holding hands. The first of many colorful explosives fired into the night sky- the initial ascent made Anakin flinch in your arms, but he still tried to focus on you; your soft skin, the faint blush on your cheeks, the growing bump of your stomach…

Another twinge of pain plagued his side at the same moment a loud bang interrupted his internal commentary and he yelped. You quickly drew him into a tight embrace and rubbed his strong back.

His cries had subsided but he was still quivering a little; it was painful to see him in such a state. 

At first you said nothing then you soon subconsciously began humming a soft tune; a song your mother used to sing to comfort you when you were distressed.

You hadn’t heard that song in ages, but here you were- doing your best to comfort a man in need. 

____________

Anakin was still trying to drown out the noises outside with thoughts of his own, but no matter how hard he tried- his mind kept teleporting him to the fucking battlefield he left so many years ago.

The cacophony of bullets and choppers slicing through the sky. The melody of screaming and detonated bombs... The symphony of war. 

He hated it there.

Usually he was able to stay far far away from that place, but sometimes he just couldn’t fight the darkness cruelly pulling him back in. 

But this time he heard something else, a new chord to the song.

It was nothing harsh or dangerous, instead it was soft and smooth- it felt safe. 

His eyes moved rapidly under his closed lids, searching for the origin of the sound, until he was pulled from his personal hell and opened his eyes again.

With a deep breath he took in his surroundings; he was on his couch (ok, it was still the 4th). He registered that you were hugging him tightly and…

Singing.

The voice, the light at the end of the tunnel, his safe place- was you. 

He closed his eyes once more but this time was not in anguish, rather in pure adoration. He wanted to focus solely on your voice and forget everything else- in this moment you were the only thing that mattered. 

_____________

Before you knew it the familiar melody came to an end and you finished your song; it felt so natural you barely realized you had started singing. 

You smiled as you felt Anakin relax in your arms; the worst was finally over.

He nuzzled further into your embrace and you felt the motion of his brows furrowing against your chest. You brushed his locks and wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead. 

Another straggler firework went off and he cringed once more; you continued to softly comfort him.

Though, as much as he loved your embrace, he wanted to see your face. So he raised himself up to gazed upon you; on your messy hair, your eye bags, your endearing smile…

You were radiant. 

“Thank you, y/n” he said.

You smiled and peppered his flushed face with kisses, “of course, Ani”.

After you pulled away, his blue eyes still lingered on you.

“You are so beautiful”.

You smiled; no matter the state he was in, Anakin would be there to remind you of your beauty. Even if you woke up feeling like you looked terrible, he would quell your worries. 

“Thank you Ani, so are you” you delivered another soft kiss to his temple before straightening your back against the couch. 

It seemed that the majority of the fireworks were done (finally). Anakin was able to relax his muscles and sit comfortably beside you. 

The TV was still playing the nature channel; the show changed to one about baby animals in different habitats. Instead of going back to your phone, you watched as the screen flashed clips of fluffy seal pups and tiny polar bear cubs. 

“You like polar bears, right?” Anakin asked.

“Yea, I think they’re pretty cool. They’re Apex predators yet so cute” you smiled.

He smiled at your response.

“Do you like ‘em?” you returned his question.

“Mhmm, I was stationed in Alaska for a few months when I first joined the military and I became friends with this guy who ran a bear sanctuary. He had one polar bear and she was an absolute sweetheart” Anakin reminisced. 

Your eyes lit up; Anakin had so many great memories and experiences.

“That’s amazing! I would love to see one in real life. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance though, because we’re driving them to extinction.” you frowned.

“If we had the time, I would’ve taken you up there to see her. My friend still runs the sanctuary” Anakin replied.

If we had time…

Another disappointing reminder that no time was guaranteed; you would have loved to do that with Anakin….You would have loved to do a lot of things with Anakin…

With a sad smile, you responded, “That’s very sweet Ani… but who’s to say we won't go someday?”.

His cerulean blue eyes gave you a knowing look before responding, “I guess you’re right”.

You were about to respond to him when you felt an odd sensation in your lower abdomen;

“Oh!” you exclaimed and you grabbed onto the arm of the couch to steady yourself. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Anakin asked without hesitation. 

The sensation came again and you placed a hand on your stomach, “Yea, I’m ok Ani”.

“Is it the baby?” he asked worriedly. 

“I think so; it’s kicking” you said, calming his already high strung nerves. 

You turned towards him with an endearing look, “Would you like to feel?”.

His eyes lit up when he processed your question and he sat up straight; he looked as excited as a kid who just got told they would be going to disney world. 

“Please?” he asked.

“Of course,” you smiled. 

You turned your body towards him so he could have a better angle to feel.

“Could you help me-” he asked as he offered one of his arms. 

How could you forget?

With his arms on he wouldn’t be able to directly feel the baby; gently you took the bionic arm in your hands and broke the suction seal, allowing him to pull his stump out. 

You placed the arm beside you on the couch and turned towards Anakin once more. 

He was examining his arm (just a small habit he had) and you laid back into the cushions. He gazed upon you with such adoration. You could tell how much he loved you- how much he meant his apologies…

“Ani, give me your arm” you asked, to which he darted his eyes towards yours. 

“It’s alright, I can just-”

“Please?” you asked. 

Even after all of your time together he still got self conscious sometimes- honesty his insecurities came in random waves and apparently, now, was just one of those times. 

He sighed and offered you his arm; you wrapped your hand around his tender skin, eliciting a small gasp from him (your touch still gave him butterflies).

You slowly guided him to your stomach and pulled up your shirt; the bump was very noticeable now. 

You placed his soft stump against your belly and laid your hands on top of him. You sighed at his touch, you hadn’t felt him so intimately in a long time. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he had his eyes closed; his brows were drawn in concentration and his plump lips were slightly parted. 

Once the baby kicked again his eyes shot open, he leaned forward and placed his prosthetic hand against your stomach too. 

“It’s amazing”

You giggled at his wonder. 

“That’s…” he began.

“Our baby” you finished; gazing into his water eyes as he turned towards you. 

Today had already been an emotionally draining day, but he still had a few tears left to shed.

“Oh, Ani. It’s alright” you sighed when you saw trails down his cheeks. 

Before you could sit all the way up, he gathered you into a warm embrace and laid gently atop of your chest (careful not to bump your belly). 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to hold you as tightly as he could. 

You knew he wasn’t the best with words, but his actions were telling you everything you needed to know. 

“Thank you” he said against your neck.

You drew your brows together, you didn't expect him to say anything. 

“Thank you for staying”

“I know I’m far from perfect and I got shit I gotta sort out… but it means so much to me that you believed in me enough to stay… and to sharing our baby with me” his voice began to waver. 

“...just thank you for everything”

Anakin didn’t need to thank you, his actions were enough to tell you how grateful he was, but the fact that he did vocalize his feelings just meant the world to you. 

He was trying.

You held his head closer to you and kissed his hair.

“I love you” he whispered softly. 

Your heart fluttered because deep inside you knew you still did too. 

***

a/n: getting out of angst??? also i added the polar bear hit cause i was just thinking abt them and was like- “ig i’ll put it in the fic” lmfaooo

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

[wiredalienvampire]

a quick drawing of an old comfort character from an old obsession I had

[wildsaltair]

STOP IT he doesn't deserve to be sad and haunted by the past

[oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh]

[update: i feel guilty for blowing this off, lol]

hello!

i finally managed to gather the courage to post this! it’s still in the works, and it’s nowhere near finished, but i’ve kinda been putting this whole casino au thing off? the fact that it started out as a hyperfixation that lasted for around two weeks and i’ve managed to get this far, i feel kinda proud of myself!

this is left on a cliff-hanger as a result of me going into writer’s block, but i found it to be a great way to experiment nonetheless. anyway, i hope you enjoy what i have for the fic so far! any advice or constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

to be completely honest, part of me wants to continue this; part of me wants to leave it alone as is. please let me know what you think and i’d be happy to respond whenever i can!

thank you! :))

[trigger warning: mentions of mental health struggles and potential trauma]

not me posting this without an official title or name for the au yet- i also added some concept renders and edits for charlie because why not? lmao, hope you enjoy!

@n64gamepak @multicolour-ink @everythingtoonypart2

The Emerald Oasis bathed in warm hues of golden light, the air sustained with peppermint opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ornately decorated ceiling, casting a soft glow over the room. Elegant tapestries adorned the walls with scenes of revelry and triumph, and plush velvet curtains framed large windows leading to bustling city nightlife stretched effortlessly beyond.

Luigi Segale glanced around, capturing the expressions of his patrons. The gamblers wore faces of anticipation, hope, and occasional despair. The glow of slot machines and card tables revealed many emotions — euphoria, frustration, and fleeting moments of victory. Laughter and hushed conversations intertwined with tinkling glasses and occasionally clinking poker chips. The room hummed with excitement and tension, constructing a vibrant backdrop for stories within its walls.

Luigi himself was a study in contrasts. His attire reflected his playfully enigmatic nature. An impeccably pressed green shirt accentuated his lean frame, while stylish suspenders added a touch of old-world charm. His eyes danced with a mischievous glint — an irresistible sense drawing people near like moths to a flame.

The countertop served as his command center, polished to a reflective sheen. It showcased an array of gleaming glasses, each filled with liquid to transform moods and momentarily whisk away troubles. The shelves from behind displayed rows upon rows of bottles carefully arranged. Their vibrant labels were a testament to the many flavors and stories they held within. Luigi stood as a stalwart guardian in this realm of chance, offering respite and adventure to those in need.

With a swift and practiced motion, he polished glasses to perfection, a gesture mirroring dedication to his craft. His keen gaze never faltered from those filling the area. He understood the allure of the unknown, the thrill of taking risks, and the catharsis that affected stepping into such a domain. To him, however, this casino was more than a mere establishment. It was a gateway to possibilities and a vessel for dreams awaiting realization.

Luigi caught sight of a figure emerging from the shadows, and the dimly lit atmosphere seemed to hold its breath as a weary man approached a vacant seat. Despite visible fatigue etched upon his face, there was a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of affinity that stirred something within some forgotten memory. Responding to unspoken awareness, Luigi extended a friendly smile, a silent invitation to join the realm of possibility that thrived within his pub.

"Hello, sir! Welcome. Can I assist you in any way? Perhaps a drink to quench your thirst?" he chuckled. "First round is on the house."

The weariness in the ongoing countenance eased in the respectful company. A once fatigued expression softened; anonymous lips curled into a tired yet appreciative smile. It was like the person found a momentary respite amid a tumultuous journey. Though burdened with many unseen troubles, the stranger met the caretaker with quiet recognition. The feelings were palpable yet obscured with a fleeting grin.

The questioned newcomer was Black, his appearance commanding yet comforting. This guest carried himself with quiet strength and a natural assurance that vowed respect. His uniform, adorned with military insignia, bore signatures of wear and tear. Yet despite incised resilience, a trace of hopelessness marked strange lethargy from within.

"Evening, sir. A whiskey, please, if you don't mind."

In an instant, as if expecting his request, a diligent red Toad emerged from the bustling crowd, balancing a distillery glass and a shot of amber liquid on a metallic tray. The new arrival accepted the offering, his weathered hands cradling the container with reverence.

He took a moment to savor its zesty aroma before setting the drink down and meeting the host with a silent understanding. Triteness in his expression lightened somewhat as he admired this warmth and hospitality, and with a sigh of gratitude, the two exchanged pleasantries.

"Here you are. Anything else for you, Mister--?"

Luigi paused, searching inquisitively for a name.

"Charlie, if you're alright with calling me that." the unco replied.

His voice carried a slight gravel alongside a musical cadence. It bespoke the weight of experience and yearned for attention when called upon by name.

"Charlie? I'm Luigi. Nice to meet you!"

The Segale man extended his hand for a shake — a camaraderie born from shared journeys, though distinct. The men's gaze lingered on the contrasting indicators — one elegantly white-gloved while the other was tense and calloused.

The so-called wanderer found it strange: Luigi's hand reflected steadfast durability and confidence when his own intermingled potency with a gentle touch. The power of a mere gesture to communicate nonverbally, to elicit a firm yet tender understanding, was unique to them both.

"My pleasure."

Bringing the beverage he politely asked for to his lips, Charlie took a measured sip, feeling the fiery liquid temporarily soothe his exhaustion. The server observed his reaction and noted its subtle shifts. While occupied as a grand proprietor, Luigi was also a listener, an observer attuned to anecdotes from spoken word intricate actions.

Amidst the mystery infusing the air, Charlie's wearied gaze fell upon Luigi. Something sparked within the traveler briefly, and he couldn't help but voice curiosity.

"Excuse me, sir, but you look familiar. Have — Have we met before?"

Luigi laughed, amused.

"Hmm? Oh no. I don't think so, but you? You don't look like the others we have here, huh?" he teased.

The former plumber's outfit enticed Charlie — a jade-colored shirt mirroring the lush hue of the surrounding decor. His attire was a vibrant reminder of the beauty that persisted against such hardship. Charlie nodded slowly, captivated by the distinct contrast between exuberance and battle-worn fatigue.

Interest weaved with admiration as the caretaker gazed at monograms and garnishes hinting at a life of sacrifice. The verdant gentleman held an unspoken respect for those who conducted as such and conceded upon tracing the details. This wanderer's frayed edges and faded colors showed countless trials endured, and behind each crease was a tale of resilience. It was a narrative that told much more than stitched fibers and fabric.

Please forgive me for my question if it stirs up anything, but..." Luigi began, his tonnage tinged with vulnerability. "Are you in the army, by chance?"

"Yes, I am—or rather, was. I'm coming home, and—"

Charlie's voice faltered, his gaze momentarily drifting around the bustling casino. He took a steadying breath and another drink of his whiskey, its taste reminiscent of caramel, vanilla, and toffee.

"I expected nothing like this, not really, you know?"

Luigi's expression softened as he had witnessed the toll war exacted on individuals — scars both overt and disregarded. He looked Charlie in the eyes with a slight heartache, reminiscing the inner battles fought long after their external counterparts.

"I understand more than you might think," he said, "the scars may not always be there, but they shape who we are and what we carry."

A wearied stare met with sincerity, a flicker of gratitude shining through.

"It's hard coming back."

Luigi's response carried a profound conviction, much to Charlie's surprise.

"Your wars on the battlefield may be over, but the ones within can stay for a lifetime. The world may move on, but the memories -- the nightmares, the pain -- can't disappear overnight, not for me or my brother, Mario. Mio Fratello, he served four years."

Charlie's eyes widened, his curiosity piqued by the mention of another troubled soul. The name Mario struck a chord. It lingered with profound familiarity.

"Your brother?"

Luigi's profile shifted, and for a moment, the bustling room around him faded into a muted spectacle as if time had agreed to his silent plea for introspection. His eyes, previously equipped with laughter and playfulness, now glistened with sorrow and remembrance. A veil of melancholy settled upon his features. His thoughts carried him back to a time long gone -- an era stained with bitter recollections.

"Charlie,"

Luigi had often listened to his brother's tales, spoken in hushed whispers during the quiet hours of the night. Mario's voiced anguish and resilience painted vivid landscapes of despair and heroism. Through his brother's words, Luigi had glimpsed the horrors of battle, the brotherhood forged in the crucible of adversity, and the scars engraved upon those who returned.

"Mario fought in Vietnam. He carried the burdens of war upon his shoulders, and they never truly left."

[anto-pops]

I wish I could write like you!! It takes me forever to write down a simple sentence. 😭😭😭 I love all your work and your passion for it 🥰

You're so sweet oh my god THANK YOU SO MUCH !! 💗

Don't be fooled by what you see ! I swear I still struggle with writing, it's a constant uphill battle and I'm still learning new skills and all that good stuff. It's so cliche to say but for real– practice as much as you can ! Even if you don't end up posting your work, it's realistically the only way you can improve. My DM's are always open in the event you want pointers or advice of any kind, I absolutely love seeing everyone branch out of their comfort zones and take a stab at creating fics/artwork/etc !!

[idyllcy]

thinkin' abt Girl Dad!Simon bc 'm UNORIGINAL n WANT HIM SO BAD

girl dad!Simon who LOVES your daughter. Never brings her up for her privacy, but if someone from the task asks he will not hesitate to talk

girl dad!Simon who always comes back from deployment with a little something for her and you. She gets a stuffie, you get a little gift

girl dad!Simon who eventually retires when he comes back one particularly long deployment and your daughter forgets who he is (he's mortified and swears he's never leaving again)

girl dad!Simon who takes her to ALL the daddy-daughter dances, parent conferences, and bring your parent to school days. He hasn't missed a single one, and you have the photos to prove it

girl dad!Simon who gets any and everything your little girl wants. she needs to understand that mommy and daddy have the ability to give her what she wants, so she should aim for it too

girl dad!Simon who preps his baby with everything she needs to know about staying safe — and to call daddy if she ever needs help

girl dad!Simon who hopes that by taking care of you, she'll understand not to settle for a boy who expects her to take care of him

"Mommy's not feeling well, baby." He takes your daughter into his arms, the girl pouting as you sit on the couch and stare at the TV.

"She's watching TV."

"Mommy's thinking." He points at your eyes gently, letting her gaze follow his hand. "Do you see how her eyes are unfocused?"

Your daughter frowns as she notices, pouting. "oh."

"Wanna give mommy a kiss from the other side? Daddy can give her on on this one. She'll feel better."

Your daughter nods, and Simon lets her down n tells her to stay quiet.

She sneaks up behind you as she counts to three, pressing her lips to your cheek as Simon kisses the other, her giggles inconsolable as you grab her to pepper her face. She laughs as she rests on your chest, and you reach up to give Simon a gentle kiss on the chin as he hums.

"Feel okay?"

"Better." You hum. "Will you take her to bed for me? We can talk out here in a bit."

"Just an ear or some help?" He raises a brow.

"Just an ear for now." You pat his hand, turning to your daughter. "Baby, will you go with daddy to bed? Mommy wants to think a little more."

"Good thinking?"

"Yes. Daddy will chase the bad ones away." You give a kiss to the corner of her eye, and she gives you one final hug before letting Simon lift her into his arms.

"Wanna say goodnight to mommy?"

"Night night." She mumbles, pouting. "Will mommy be okay tomorrow?"

"Mommy will." You give her little fist a tap, humming. "Mommy'll make you toast tomorrow, hm?"

"Daddy can." She mumbles. "Mommy's sad. Daddy should take care of her."

"I will. Once you're in bed, squeaks." Simon hums, kissing her cheek as she holds onto him. "Wan' me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Not today..." She lays in bed, blinking as her eyes flutter.

"Of course." He hums. "If you need us just call, alright? Mommy 'n I will be in the living room."

"Yes, daddy." She mumbles. "night night."

"G'night, baby. You're just as important, alright?"

She nods, eyes closing as she falls asleep.

"She alright?"

"Fell asleep." He hums, closing the door behind him. "You alright?"

"Better now." You rest your head on his chest as he scratches at your scalp, humming. "Let's get to bed. You're so wonderful, Si. Such a wonderful husband."

"Hope none of her future partners treat worse than this." He mumbles. "Or else I really ought to show them what a veteran is."

You laugh, patting his chest as he leads you off.

As long as you both are alright.

[cerebraldischarge]

I'm a bit drunk and I just wanted to say happy pride to all the LGBTQ+ vets and fuckin thank you ❤️

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him. 

[rafecameronssl4t]

Thunderstruck || NFL Player!Rafe Cameron X DCC!fem!reader

Summary: As a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, fraternizing with the players was strictly off-limits. However, being the team’s coach’s daughter afforded you certain privileges, and you were able to pull a few strings for Rafe.

Warnings: nothing really

Word count: 1,599

A/n: if this does well, might do more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader :) send me any requests!!!

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @yoonitos

As the music blared through the stadium, you stood front and center, commanding the field with every precise movement of your iconic routine to AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

The crowd’s energy was palpable, a roar of excitement that matched the electric rhythm of the song. Dressed in the iconic blue and white uniform of a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, you knew all eyes were on you the second you all moved into formation.

As a four-year veteran of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, the dance felt like second nature to you. Your smile never faltered as you executed the routine flawlessly. The first game of the year was always memorable, with the excitement in the stadium buzzing through the air.

Fans were filled with anticipation for the Cowboys’ upcoming season. As you executed each precise kick, turn, and cheer, you felt the collective heartbeat of the stadium pulsing in time with your own.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as the spotlight followed your every move. The crowd’s roar echoed in your ears, a testament to the excitement of the first game of the season.

Rafe had just joined the Dallas Cowboys after being offered the spot, and tonight was he debut with the team. As he jogged onto the field, the energy of the stadium washed over him. Amidst the chaos, his eyes were drawn to you.

It wasn’t just your position at the front and center of the formation that caught his attention, but the confidence and skill you radiated. Intrigued, he turned to one of his teammates. “Who’s that?” Rafe asked, nodding in your direction.

Chris, his teammate, followed his gaze and smirked. “That’s Y/n. Coach Johnson’s daughter.” Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The coach’s daughter?” Chris chuckled, giving Rafe a friendly slap on the back. “How haven’t you seen her around, dude? She’s one of the hottest girls on the cheer team.”

Rafe’s eyes remained fixed on you as you executed flawless high kicks and sharp turns. There was something about you that captivated him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. You moved with a grace and precision that spoke of both natural talent and relentless hard work.

As the routine built to its climax, you prepared for the iconic jump-split. The crowd held its breath, and then erupted in cheers as you all landed perfectly. Chris leaned in, shouting in Rafe’s ear over the deafening applause. “Remember, you can’t be seeing any of them, right? Especially Y/n. It’s part of the contract.” Rafe chuckled, giving a resigned nod. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

But as he watched you take your final bow, the applause still ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were someone worth breaking the rules for.

~

After the game, you and your teammates strolled through the bustling hallway, still basking in the post-performance adrenaline. You and the other cheerleaders were busy toweling off the sweat from the night’s game, the familiar routine a comforting end to a high-energy evening.

Spotting your dad leading the Cowboys team towards you, you waved excitedly and jogged over to him. His face lit up with pride as he greeted you with a side hug, his voice filled with warmth. “Hey, kiddo! You were amazing out there, as always.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you couldn’t suppress a delighted giggle.

“Thanks, Dad,” you replied, your smile mirroring his. As you walked alongside him, discussing the game and upcoming plans, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A subtle sense of curiosity drew your gaze over your shoulder, where you locked eyes with an unfamiliar guy.

Your dad noticed your glance and affectionately patted your side. “That’s Rafe. You know, the really talented guy I offered the spot to from the Outer Banks?” Around him, the other players playfully slapped Rafe on the back and teased him with knowing grins.

Rafe grinned sheepishly, accepting the good-natured ribbing from his teammates. Turning back to face your dad, you hummed in response.

~

“Where is Y/N?” Kelli’s voice echoed through the pre-game excitement backstage, cutting through the chatter and preparation of the cheerleaders lined up, ready to go onto the field. Panic surged through you as you hurriedly made your way over, adjusting your hair and straightening your top.

“I’m here! I’m here,” you called out, slipping into position just in time. Kelli, raised an eyebrow, her keen eyes taking in your slightly disheveled appearance. Kelli stepped closer, her demeanor stern. “Sweetie,” her hand reaching up to gently touch your face. You looked at her in confusion as she rubbed your chin, then showed you her thumb smeared with your lipstick.

“I—” you began to explain, but she shook her head, “Not right now,” she hushed firmly as she brushed away stray strands of hair that had fallen across your face. “Have fun out there, ladies!” Kellie called out, her voice projecting over the backstage buzz.

With a deep breath, you led the charge onto the field, the exhilarating pulse of Thunderstruck fueling your every move. The routine flowed flawlessly, each kick and turn executed with precision. The cheers of the crowd blended with the music, creating an electrifying atmosphere that drove you to perform at your best.

Later that night, after another Cowboys victory, you found yourself in the locker room, wiping off your makeup. One of your teammates, Kelcey, approached you with a curious expression.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as you returned the gesture, glancing at her through the reflection in the mirror. “Did you hear what happened after tonight’s game?” she asked, sitting on the bench and swinging her legs.

You paused, turning to face her. “No? What happened?” you asked, intrigued. Kelcey looked around briefly before leaning closer. “Y’know that new player? Rafe Cameron. Well, he showed up late on the field and Coach Johnson was furious,” she explained.

Your mind raced. One thing your dad valued the most was punctuality. “I think Coach was even threatening his spot! What was he thinking, he’s only been on the team for a week!” Kelcey shook her head in disbelief.

~

As you stretched in the locker room, your dad walked in, his authoritative presence immediately commanding attention. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, pulling up a chair to sit facing you, his expression a mix of warmth and concern.

“Hi, Dad,” you replied with a smile, continuing your stretches, hoping to appear nonchalant. His gaze lingered on you, scrutinizing every detail, his face unreadable.

“Everything all good?” you asked, sensing his unease and hoping to dispel it. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, everything’s fine, sweetie,” he said, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Listen, Kelli mentioned you were running late before the game. You’re never late, Y/N.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension with a light laugh. “Dad, I scuffed up my boots, so I had to fix them,” you lied smoothly, hoping your tone was convincing enough. He nodded slowly, though skepticism lingered in his eyes. “Really? Because you know what’s funny? Rafe was late to arrive on the field too.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back in the chair, studying your reaction.

You threw him a look, feigning innocence. “What are you trying to say?” “That’s just a coincidence, right? I don’t need to be worrying about my daughter and one of my best players, do I?” He raised an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that made your heart skip a beat.

You forced yourself to maintain your composure. “No, Dad, you don’t need to worry,” you assured him, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade you were putting up. Your dad sighed and gave you a look you knew too well, a mixture of concern and fatherly protectiveness. “Sweetheart, I’m not stupid.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words, feeling a pang of guilt. “Dad, I never said you were—” But he cut you off, leaning forward slightly. “Rafe is a good-looking guy, I get it. And well, of course, you’re a stunning girl who happens to be a cheerleader for his team, so naturally—”

“He’s a really nice guy, Dad. And he cares for me, I know he does,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, your eyes fixed on the ground to avoid his piercing gaze. Your dad watched you in silence for a moment before sighing deeply. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice softening as he looked at you intently.

You looked up at him and nodded your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, it is.” Your dad stood up and walked over to you, his demeanor shifting to one of tender support. “Well, I want you to be happy, okay?” He smiled at you warmly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, feeling a wave of relief.

“Thank you, Dad,” you smiled gratefully at him. You pulled him into a hug, and he kissed the top of your head, his embrace comforting and familiar. “You’re looking more and more like your mother every day, y’know,” he whispered, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Whenever I see you out there on the field in your uniform, I have to double-look because I think it’s your mom.”

You both chuckled softly, a stray tear escaping and running down your face. Your dad pulled back slightly, using his thumb to gently wipe away the tear. “Try not to be late next time, yeah? Don’t want Kelli on my back.” You chuckled and nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Got it, Dad.”

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ oh captain, my captain ] q. hughes

day 2 of kinktober (captain kink w/ quinn hughes)

➾ paring : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

➾ summary : Quinn’s girlfriend calls him "Cap" after hearing the nickname come from his teammates, and Quinn reacts totally normally

➾ warning(s) : smut !! captain kink, light dom!quinn, nicknames during sex, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), very slight hair pulling (blink and you'll miss it)

➾ author’s note : i am Not gonna lie … this has been living in a word doc unfilnished for months so i thought that this would be the perfect time to finish it and let it out to see the light of day. enjoy :)))

kinktober schedule

༺──────────────༻

When her boyfriend asked her a few weeks ago to accompany him to an event that the Canucks were holding, she was not looking forward to it at all. It's a very private event that the Canucks hold at the start of every season for new Canucks to get to know their new teammates and for returning Canucks to catch up. She's managed to be busy on this day for the past two years of their relationship so she didn't have to go, but she can't dodge the event any longer. Especially now that Quinn is captain.

The dress she bought for this event is stunning and she couldn't wait to wear it to the event. It's a sparkly navy blue number that hugs her curves. The thin straps hold up a plunging v-neckline that shows off her cleavage in a way that Quinn loves. There's a high slit in the skirt that goes about halfway up her thigh.

She feels like she could've dressed a little more modestly when she walks into the ballroom and finds that a lot of the women dressed in more high cut and full length gowns. She crosses her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover her exposed cleavage.

A couple of Quinn's teammates greet their captain as soon as the two of them walk into the large room decorated in blue, green, and white. She hears the nickname "Cap" thrown around as a few of the veteran Canucks greet him. That's a new nickname that catches her attention immediately.

The significant others of the teammates that greet Quinn greet her. She does her best to hold a conversation with the group of women but her eyes continue to shift toward her boyfriend in his suit. He has on one of his game day suits from last season that doesn't really fit him anymore so it hugs his arms and thighs nicely.

"Your dress is beautiful, by the way," Lexie Demko compliments. She turns her attention to Thatcher's wife. "I mean it. It's stunning. I guess it's to be expected for the captain's girlfriend to sparkle." The group of women laugh and she forces a smile.

Sometimes she questions if she should be the one leading this group of women because she's only 23 and still kind of young. It's one thing for Quinn to lead the Canucks because he's a natural leader and knew he was probably going captain this team one day. He's had a lifetime of experience because he's the oldest of three brothers.

She was kind of thrust into the role of lead WAG with his captaincy appointment last season. Her version of being a leader means being the one that plans the parties and plans the playoff attire. Making sure all the other wives and girlfriends are okay, making sure they catch their flights to make it to whatever city they're following their boyfriend or husband to so she can watch him play. It's no NHL team, but it takes up a lot of her time. Especially party and playoff jacket planning.

Quinn looks over at her and her brain immediately goes blank. He's still surrounded by his teammates, but he's looking at her like that. It should be illegal to look like that.

She excuses herself from the group of wives and girlfriends to approach her boyfriend. She tries not to feel tiny among a group of hockey players, but she is.

"Cap," she teases with a smile. "I'm kinda hungry so can we go grab something to eat?" Quinn's cheeks turn bright red at the use of his new nickname. His teammates snicker around him at his reaction.

All he can do is nod in response to her and grab her hand. He guides her away without a single word, but his cheeks remain tomato red.

She's rendered him speechless. All by calling him "Cap." Maybe she'll have to start doing that more often if this is how he reacts.

They grab a plate of food and head to their table. No one else is sitting at the table but she knows that it's her, Quinn, JT, JT's wife, Brock, Thatcher, and Lexie at the table. Their tablemates are still mingling amongst the players and coaches in the room while they sit and eat.

Quinn leans over to her and says softly in her ear, "I'm going to need you to not call me 'Cap' again while we're here."

"Oh," she breathes out. "So your teammates can call you Cap, but I can't?"

He presses his lips in a line and meets her eyes. "It doesn't sound sexy coming out of their mouths like it does yours," he mumbles. "So, please don't call me Cap or Captain while we're here or you'll find yourself on your knees in the bathroom helping me with my little problem."

A small smirk forms on her lips as she takes a bite of pasta. "It's not a 'little' problem, Quinn," she tells him. "It's a pretty big problem."

Quinn groans and rubs his hands over his face. "You're killing me," he groans. "Oh my God."

She giggles and takes another bite of pasta like the conversation isn't ruining the panties she has on under the dress. Quinn follows suit and begins to eat his plate of food.

Their tablemates join them a few minutes later with their own plates. She converses with Lexie and Natalie Miller while their husbands talk with Quinn and Brock. She laughs with them, but the entire time, she thinks about the little conversation she and Quinn had about calling him Cap or Captain.

She's absolutely trying it when they get home to see what kind of reaction she gets out of him when he isn't surrounded by his friends.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

They leave the event once Quinn gives a little speech to hype up his teammates. Tocchet also gives a speech once Quinn was done, but he needed to stay until he was done talking. He orders an Uber back to their Vancouver apartment before Tocchet is even done his speech so they can leave as soon as he's done.

The Canucks applaud their head coach for his speech and they make a break for the door before anyone can stop them. Quinn has her hand in his as they make their way outside. Their Uber is waiting for them when they exit the building.

Quinn slides in first and she follows him. One of her hands rests on his knee and she leans over to say, "You looked good while you were giving your little speech." She pauses for a beat. "Captain Quinn."

His head snaps in her direction. "What did I tell you-"

"Just wanted to see something," she giggles as she glances down at the growing bulge in his already tight pants. "And I see what I wanted to see." Her voice drops a couple of octaves so only he can hear. "Do you like when I call you Captain, Quinn?"

He gnaws on his bottom lip. "You're playing a very dangerous game right now," he warns her. "I'm not trying to ruin these pants."

She leans into him and says against his ear, "Then maybe you shouldn't like to be called 'captain' by your girlfriend." Her lips touch the swell of his ear as she talks. Quinn shivers under her lips before she pulls back to meet his eyes. She finds his usually bright eyes dark with lust.

She's not sure she's going to make it into the apartment if she keeps playing this game with him.

"You are ..." Quinn trails off with a smile and a shake of his head. She grins while he tries to find the words to say. "Something else." His fingers trace the slit in her dress, leaving goosebumps behind where he touches her skin.

The Uber comes to a stop two minutes later. She doesn't risk saying another word until they're in the building. The elevator is probably not the best place to say anything either.

Still, it doesn't stop her from poking the bear though.

"Captain Quinn Hughes," she pretends to think out loud. "Even after a year, it still roles off the tongue. Don't you think, Cap?"

"Oh my fucking God," Quinn groans as he turns to face his girlfriend.

Before she can react, Quinn cups her cheeks and pulls her into a hot kiss. He steps so her back is pressed against the wall of the elevator. She grips his jacket as he presses his chest completely against hers. Quinn shoves a thigh between her legs, moving the dress to the side so his thigh presses against her already damp core.

This is a side of Quinn she's pretty sure she hasn't seen in their two and a half years together. He's very particular about his touches and his movements. Slightly rougher with them as well. She might like this side of Quinn.

The elevator dings once it arrives at their floor. Quinn pulls back and grabs her hand as the doors slide open. "Let's go, pretty girl," he says to her, voice soft. "You need to help me with my not-so-little problem before it ruins these pants."

She giggles as Quinn leads her out of the elevator and down the hall to their apartment. It's a moment before Quinn gets the door open but once he does, he pulls her inside and pins her against the door to shut it.

Quinn holds her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "I hope this dress didn't cost a lot," he says. "Because it might end up torn and on the floor tonight.”

“Quinn Hughes, you better not rip this dress because if you do, you’re buying me a new one,” she warns him. “I mean it too. You better not.”

He grins and hooks his fingers around the spaghetti straps that sits on her shoulders. “I guess I’ll be nice,” he sighs as he pulls the strap off her shoulders. Quinn's eyes fall to the fabric that he pulls down to expose her breasts.

There's about one second between when the fabric pools around her waist and when Quinn crashes his lips to hers in a heated kiss. Their lips mold against each other and his hands cup her breasts. She groans into the kiss and he takes full advantage to explore her mouth with his tongue.

She pulls his suit jacket off his body and it falls to the floor with a light thud. She pushes him toward their bedroom without breaking the kiss.

In the very short trip from their front door to their bedroom, she loses her heels and dress in the hallway while Quinn's tie ends up on the living room floor and his button up gets unbuttoned and untucked as they enter their bedroom. She jumps and wraps her legs around his waist. He kicks the door shut and walks toward their bed.

"What do you want me to do, Cap?" she questions between kisses.

"You know, every time one of my teammates calls me Cap, I'm going to think of you and it's going to end in endless teasing for me," Quinn points out as he sits on the mattress. He pulls back to look at her. "If my teammates mess with me because I get hard after one of them refers to me as Cap, it won't end well for you since it'll be your fault."

She feigns being hurt. "Ouch, Quinn," she says. "I guess I'll never call you Cap ever again."

"I didn't say that," Quinn very quickly replies. "Just letting you know what will happen."

“I’m so scared,” she teases.

“Shut up and get on your knees, pretty girl.”

His stern voice when he says that shoots straight down to her core. She bites her bottom lip as she slides off of Quinn’s lap and to her knees on the carpeted floor below her.

Her fingers work at unbuttoning his dress pants. She pulls them down along with his boxers. His hard dick stands up against his stomach when it’s free from the confines of his underwear. She takes him in her hand and looks up at him. She gnaws on her lip before she says, “Whatever you say, Cap.”

Quinn groans at the same time she wraps her lips around the fiery red tip. She tastes some precome that has leaked as she takes more of his dick in her mouth. His fingers curl in her wavy locks as she hollows her cheeks and sucks. She looks up at him as he throws his head back in pleasure.

"Fuck," Quinn breathes out. The reaction she gets out of him causes her to speed up her actions. Her hands are splayed over his thighs so she has something to hold on to. Not to mention that she just loves his thighs.

She manages to take all of him in her mouth without choking, and Quinn loves every second of it. He gnaws on his bottom lip and soft sounds rise from his throat. It's music to her ears as she takers him completely in her mouth and hums around him.

Quinn can't seem to get enough.

When her knees start screaming at her from being on the carpet for too long, she ignores it. What Quinn wants, Quinn gets. She's done this so many times that the pain doesn't get to her like it used to, but sometimes it .

She hollows out her cheeks and Quinn hums before he pulls her off his dick by her hair. She hums and looks up at her. His thumbs brush her probably swollen lips and she kisses the pads of his thumbs.

"Was that okay?" she questions like she always does after she sucks him off. Quinn raises his eyebrows at her and she grins. "Cap."

He nods and leans down to kiss her. His kiss is softer this time as he helps her back up so she's straddling his thighs. She runs her fingers through his styled hair and Quinn falls so he's lying on his back. His dick pokes her thigh and she wiggles her hips to tease him.

"These need to come off, pretty girl," he mumbles against her lips at the same time he taps the waistband of her panties. "I'm sure they're ruined at this point anyway."

She stands up to push the ruined fabric off her body. Quinn moves back so his head rests on the pillows. She presses her lips together in a line as she crawls back onto the mattress. She straddles his waist and leans over to press a long, deep kiss to his lips. Quinn hums and cups her jaw with his hands so she can't go anywhere.

Without breaking the kiss, she lifts her hips and rests the tip of his dick at her entrance. He slips right in because of how wet she is. A grin forms on her lips as she says, "Wanna ride you, Cap. Please."

"You don't need my permission, pretty girl," Quinn replies between hot kisses.

She hums as she lowers herself onto him. The familiar and welcomed stretch greets her. Quinn's hands land on her waist so she doesn't lose her balance. He bottoms out in her and she allows herself a few seconds to adjust before moving her hips.

The room is quickly filled with her soft moans as she rolls her hips. He helps her keep a steady pace that works for both of them. The kiss breaks but she doesn't go very far. Her forehead rests on his and her lips ghost his every time she moves.

Despite how they got here, she loves when she falls into bed with her boyfriend. No matter the reason, Quinn always focuses on both their pleasure. He makes sure that both of them feel good for however long they go.

Adding a little spice in the bedroom, like this captain thing that Quinn has going on right now, is one of her favorite things too. She's never against trying new things. She's not against this captain thing that he has going on.

Quinn starts moving his hips to match her pace. She groans and pushes herself up so she's sitting on his waist. She keeps her pace though. Her head is thrown back in pleasure and Quinn's hands roam her body.

"Fuck, baby," he breathes out. "You look so good riding my dick, pretty girl."

He moves one of his hands until he's rubbing her clit. She cries out his name and rests her hands on his torso. "Quinn," she gasps. "Oh my God." He stops. "Cap. Captain. Captain Quinn. Don't stop. Please." Those words pass her lips before her brain processes what she wants to say, but her end goal remained the same. Quinn continues rubbing her clit and she hums.

Her movements get frantic and inconsistent as she gets closer to her orgasm. Quinn wraps his arms around her waist and rolls them over so her head is on the pillow. He throws her legs over his shoulders and begins moving his hips.

The new angle has her legs shaking because his dick hits her favorite spot. She grabs his arms and cries out his name. "Oh my- fuck," she gasps. "Quinn, Quinn Quinn. Oh my God." He doesn't stop this time, but he slows down. "Cap, I'm so close. Please."

"Come for me, pretty girl," Quinn pants. "Want you to make a mess on my dick."

It's not very long after that when she comes. Her entire body clenches and she cries out Quinn's name so loud that their neighbors absolutely heard her. Her vision whitens and she's in cloud 9 from how hard she comes.

She's so out of it that she doesn't realize that Quinn pulls out and comes on her thighs. She has no idea that he cleans her up, only that he touches her sensitive core with a wet cloth. Her body melts into the mattress as she recovers.

When she comes to, Quinn is crawling back into bed. She musters up enough strength to turn her head and look at him.

"You okay?" he asks with a smile on his swollen lips. "Lost you for a moment."

She nods and rolls so she's curled up next to Quinn. "You really like when I call you Cap," she teases him. His cheeks turn red. "It's fine, Quinn. You don't need to get all flustered about it. If it's your thing, then it's my thing too. I wouldn't mind doing that again. It showed me a whole new side of you that I think I like."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Then we might have to do that again," Quinn tells her. "But please. For the love of everything, do not call me Cap or Captain around the team. It's going to take me a second to get over tonight, or get used to those words leaving your mouth."

She giggles and throws her leg over his waist so she's laying on his chest. "You say the word and I'll start using your nickname," she tells him. "Cap."

Quinn rolls his eyes, but she knows he loves it.

༺──────────────༻

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[caralara]

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am V

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: You want your wife happy

"I'm not going to yell," Aitana said as she came home," I'm not going to yell."

You raised a brow. "You already said that."

Aitana looked at you, the rage in her chest simmering down slightly.

You're lounging on the bed, head propped up on your fist as you wore the most form fitting lingerie you had in your wardrobe.

"What?" You said," Can't a wife want to dress up for her wife?"

Aitana tore her gaze away, affixing her eyes to the headboard and very stubbornly not looking at you. "I'm meant to be angry at you."

"You can still be angry and look. I've dressed up just for you."

Aitana pursed her lips. "You only did that because you know I'm angry at you."

You scoffed in faux offence. "I am offended," You said," To think, my own wife thinks I'd stoop that low..." You winked, a grin spreading across your face. "Is it working?"

A pillow soared across the room, smacking you right in the nose.

"You bought the RFEF?!"

You scrubbed a hand over your face. "From your tone of voice...I'm guessing that you aren't impressed."

"You bought the RFEF?!"

"Are you okay, Tana? You've been repeating yourself an awful lot today."

"You bought the RFEF?!"

You sighed, pulling on one of your dressing gowns. "I wanted to do something nice for you. You were complaining about the management. I'm going to replace them. It's simple."

"Simple? Do you understand how this looks? My wife buying the RFEF? It's...It's unsportsmanlike!"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not an athlete."

Aitana looked like she was about to start arguing again so you pulled her into a hug, hooking your chin over her shoulder.

"You come home after every camp complaining. You talk about how corrupt they are." You shrugged, pulling back to look her in the eyes. "I'm doing you a favour."

"You don't know how to run the RFEF!"

"I'm good at starting foundations," You said," Do you know all royals have to have a cause?"

You relaxed back against the bed, undoing the belt of your dressing gown and allowing the bare hints of your gorgeous lingerie to be shown again.

"Will does wildlife stuff and homelessness and conservation. Harry had the veterans and the Invictus Games and climate change. Mine's been women's sports for a while now."

"Women's sports in a country that isn't your own?" Aitana resolutely didn't look at the lingerie you'd picked just for you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you exposed more of your body, looking up at your wife through your lashes. You flashed her a smile. "It's a nice start. Combatting misogyny at its source." You adjusted your position, widening your stance. "Making sports a safe place for women. You'll find I'm quite a charitable person."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Trying to seduce me!" Aitana looked away from you. Or, at least, she made the action of looking away, turning her chin so you couldn't meet her eyes comfortably. But you could see her gaze darting back towards you, could see the way she had to tighten her hands into fists so she didn't touch you.

"Baby," You drawled," My love. My darling wife, do you think so low of me?"

"Yes."

"Come to bed."

Aitana pursed her lips and turned back to you, her voice soft and quiet. "You bought the RFEF for me?"

"I want you to be happy and going to camp doesn't make you happy. You love football and you should love playing football for your country. I promise I won't interfere much. I'm going to set up a foundation to run it. Just you wait. I'm going to change it for the better."

You looked up at her earnestly, eyes a little wide as you tried to seek her approval.

Aitana stepped closer, until her knees were pressed up against the bed and her body was between your legs.

"You really bought the RFEF to make me happy?"

"Of course," You scoffed," Why else would I want that shitty organisation? I love you. I want you happy. And seeing as you've rejected all my offers to join the Lionesses-"

Aitana rolled her eyes, swatting at your shoulder as she laughed. "I'm Spanish."

"You've got an English citizenship. You're a Princesse of England. I think you should be able to play for Eng-"

You didn't get to finish your thought.

Mainly because Aitana crashed her lips against yours and you melted into it like every time she kissed you.

"What are you laughing about now?" She asked as she pulled away.

You grinned. "You still angry at me?"

"Furious," Aitana said with a grin.

"I can take my bra off, if that helps."

Aitana pushed you flat on your back, settled as she straddled your hips.

"That's a good start."