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astraystayyh · 4 months

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Israel doesn't want to repopulate Gaza, you loveable dummy

Seriously, find one Israeli on this site who'll say otherwise. And no, quoting Ben Gvir doesn't count (assuming you even know who that is) anymore than quoting, say, Rudy Giuliani would count for anything, even though he supposedly spoke for the president of the USA for a time.

Hamas has 136 hostages. Including women, and actual literal babies, assuming they're still alive, that is. This could all have ended weeks ago if they'd fucking returned them. Israeli society would physically march on Benjamin Netanyahu's home and remove him in a coup if the hostages were returned tonight. But as long as they have Israeli people, and are unwilling to negotiate their return, that's an ongoing war crime. Is Israel evil for being a bull in a China shop trying to get back a "mere" 136 innocent civilians? Maybe. But Hamas started this and they can end it, they just don't want to. Please, justify that.

Hello, since you asked for one Israeli, here, I'll give you multiple statements:

Hundreds of activists at an Ashdod gathering in late November called for the reestablishing of Jewish settlements. “Let it be known that you support the appeal to renew Jewish settlement throughout all of the Gaza Strip. The nation is waiting for you”— Yossi Dagan, head of the Samaria Regional Council.

Israel “should fully occupy the Gaza Strip”— Heritage Minister Amichai Eliyahu, of the far-right Otzma Yehudit party.

An Israeli real estate firm pushes to build settlements for Israelis in Gaza. “Wake up, a beach house is not a dream” reads the ad.

Israeli Knesset member Limor Son Har Melech posted a video of herself in a boat with other settlers off the coast of Gaza. “Settlement in every part of the Gaza Strip … A large, extensive settlement without fear, without hesitation, without humiliation. This land is the land that the creator of the world gave to us.”

Israeli Settler, Daniella Weiss says Palestinians who live in Gaza, have no right to stay in Gaza.

An Israeli soldier saying that Israelis should start “investing” in Khan Younis.

Also why would the words of Ben Gvir not count? He is an elected minister, his words hold weight and they expose Israel’s clear intent to make Gaza inhabitable for Palestinians so that Israelis could settle in there— by destroying the infrastructures, making the health system collapse entirely, bombing entire residential neighborhood, Israel is trying to ensure that Palestinians wouldn't be able to return back to their land, because there is nothing livable left there.

And I'm glad you bring up all of this ending if the hostages were returned— Hamas tried to strike up a deal for the return of ALL the hostages, in exchange of the release of all Palestinian prisoners. Israel refused. You know why? Because this has never been about hostages and their safety for Israel.

There is a reason why Israel shot its own hostages when it mistook them for Palestinian civilians, waving a white cloth. There is a reason why the IDF called to shoot indiscriminately on Oct. 7, knowing that it could kill some of the hostages too. Because Israel wants to kill Palestinians, to "thin out its population" (or maybe we shouldn't take into account the says and actions of Netanyahu too ://). This is why it targets schools and mosques and hospitals and ambulances and refugee camps. Israel knows that if it does get all its hostages back, then there would be nothing to “justify” its genocide in Gaza (although, as UN Secretary-General said : "Nothing can justify the collective punishment of the Palestinian people. The humanitarian situation in Gaza is beyond words")

Israel is the only reason why the hostages aren't fred yet. THEY are unwilling to negotiate the return because they don't want to stop this genocide. What good is a five days ceasefire only for the bombings to return? Do you even realize how psychologically traumatizing it is to have a countdown of when your massacre would resume? The only acceptable deal is for Israel to establish a permanent ceasefire, something that it refuses to do. The only one to blame is Israel.

And you say Israelis would instigate a coup to oust Netanyahu, that's nice, then what? Will you return the land to its rightful people? Will you give back Palestinians their rights unequivocally? Will you call for the dismantlement of Israel that was built on massacres? The reason why Israelis are angry at Netanyahu is rooted in the unresolved hostage situation. Just because you don't support Netanyahu doesn't mean that you aren't a zionist who finds the murder of more than twenty thousands Palestinians justifiable. A young girl had her leg amputated with no anesthesia on the kitchen counter of her home and you talk about “Israel being a bull in a China shop”? You consider the targeted attacks on civilians as careless actions by Israel? It actually astonishes me how inhumane some of you can be.

And here is what Dr. Refaat, who was targeted and murdered by the IDF btw, had to say about this matter:

Whether it's Netanyahu or someone else, it does not matter because Israel as a whole is an occupation, one built on the bloodshed of palestinians.

And it is funny how you choose to distort history whichever way you like it, to regard October 7th as an isolated instance that happened out of the blue. Hamas didn't start anything, Hamas was created in response to the indiscriminate and careless shooting of palestinian civilians in the first Intifada, that was decades ago. October 7th was a resistance to an ongoing colonization, Israel started this when it displaced and murdered palestinians on 1948. None of this would've happened if Israel did not colonize Palestine. It has been 100 days of this ongoing genocide, wake up and stop deluding yourself into a reality where Israel is the victim.

#dismissing Ben Gvir's statements #(yes i know who it is thank you for your concern)#then diluting this genocide into a mere matter of “hamas should return the hostages”#it must feel nice to change up the narrative so you'd be able to sleep nicely at night #and not take into account the statements that disturb you #but thanks for thinking im loveable! you are right on that point #maybe there is still hope left for you then #free palestine #palestine #gaza #free gaza

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lovemomhatepolice · 15 days

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a tiny accident(s) - lando norris

navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: nose injury, blood, established relationship, drinking alcohol (lando), suggestive talks, nothing more, just lando being stupidly drunk lover, English is my second language!

type: fluff (a little bit suggestive)

word count: 2k

summary: when you feel unwell, but let your boyfriend alone at a party in Amsterdam, you definitely don’t think about what the consequences might be…

This wasn't the first time you've had a headache this week. It definitely wasn't. You had been plagued by terrible migraines for a long time, caused by stress and long-term travel from country to country. It was hard to switch from the Chinese air to that of the Netherlands, and you still had to travel to Miami, Italy and back to Monaco. All this in the span of one month. But what can you do? You were well aware of this when you met him and entered into a relationship with Lando. Travel, travel and more travel.

And so it was today, too. You and Lando arrived moments earlier in Amsterdam after racing in China and immediately got an invitation to a party. Oh, you knew very well how much Lando wanted to go there, so from the beginning you both assumed you were going and would have a great time. Well, unfortunately, fate willed that just today, an hour before the party you were attacked by a severe migraine relapse. Of course Lando wanted to stay with you - he always offers to do so, but you didn't have the heart to stop him and not let him go to the party, especially since you knew very well what helps you best with such ailments. Silence - and it definitely wouldn't have been there if the boy had stayed with you.

It wasn't long after he left that you totally drifted off and fell asleep on your apartment bed, wrapped in every possible layer with a cold cloth on your head. It wasn't long until you were roused from your slumber by the sound of the phone, which, despite your fondest dreams, didn't stop ringing after one time. “Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath, averting your eyes. You took the wet cloth off your forehead and put it down on the nightstand so as not to get the bed wet. You stretched slightly and grabbed your phone, which was vibrating on the nightstand. You unplugged it from the charger and, without even checking who was calling, you put it to your ear, waiting for the voice of the caller. “Hello?” You heard on the other end. It didn't take you long to figure out who the person banging on your phone was. “[Y.N], do you, do you hear me?”

“Um, yeah, yeah. Lando, is something wrong?” You asked slightly worried, recognizing well that the boy was already quite drunk.

You glanced at watch, which hung on the wall in front of you, and could see that it had been more than four hours since he had left, and it was beginning to get dark outside.

“I think I broke my nose.” He said, and you heard him snort softly through his nose. “Baby, what?” You asked, lifting yourself up on your shoulders.

You freed yourself from the quilt that enveloped you and got up on your feet. Now you didn't feel the earlier headache at all, only worry about the boy, who was somewhere in the middle of the Netherlands, drunk and with a supposedly broken nose.

“I think I broke my nose. I smashed it against broken glass.” He exclaimed in pain, and you could already imagine his glazed eyes.

“And do you know where you are now?” You asked, grabbing his car keys and jacket, which you quickly put on and left the room.

“Not very, but I'd like to eat cookies.” He cried out, speaking to you in a pleading voice.

“Excuse me?” You asked, placing the phone on your shoulder and putting your ear to it.

“Cookies. Please,” he muttered, at which you took a deep breath.

“Okay, we'll buy cookies, but tell me where you are.” You replied, shaking your head as you entered the elevator and chose the lowest floor, where the garages were.

“No, we won't buy. We'll make them” He replied, and you could imagine the grimace on his face. “Okay, we'll make them. Will you give me someone on the phone to tell me where you are?” You asked, and didn't have to wait long for an answer.

A good friend of Lando's, who seemed much more sober than your boyfriend, spoke into the phone and gave you the right location to come to. You quickly got into his car and merged into Amsterdam's traffic. It wasn't the first time you had driven his car, but you were definitely not a fan of being a driver. Mostly it was Lando who drove you everywhere and you felt damn safe with him in those cars. On your own, however, you preferred your calmer and rather larger car, which stayed in Monaco.

The road to the place where the party ship Lando was on was not very long. Especially since the navigation guided you with avoiding all the traffic jams that were associated with King's Day. As soon as you got there, you parked the car in a safe place and got out, searching with your eyes for your injured boyfriend.

Minutes later, you couldn't stand to laugh when you saw Lando sitting on the curb, half of his face wrapped in some kind of bandage, and there was an unnecessary crowd around him, through which you quickly made your way.

“Baby!” He muttered, rising abruptly to his feet, which made him wobble and catch the brick wall behind him.

“Lando, sunshine, what happened to you?” You asked, giggling under your breath, because his condition was pretty funny after all.

“I broke my nose!” He replied, stamping his foot. “Well, look.”

You heard, and just a second later the boy was in front of you, grabbing you firmly around the waist and directing your hand to his bandage. You carefully touched the material and twisted it to the side, being careful not to injure the boy.

“Lando silly, you don't have a broken nose. You scared me.” You replied, covering back his nose, which was not broken at all, but only slightly cut.

“Oh, but you don't know how it hurts me!” He howled, hugging your body to his. “Your hair smells nice.”

You laughed under your breath and, after extricating yourself from his grasp, grabbed his hand and led him out of the crowd. After all, he wasn't as drunk as you thought, so the way to the car wasn't long. Worse was convincing him to sit in the seat and not move too much so you could buckle him in.

“Lando, damn it, can you stop squirming like that? You're not going to drive without a seat belt!” You said, slightly resigned, when once again the boy evaded your touch.

“I like the way your hands go down there…” He muttered, guiding your hands closer to his crotch.

“Idiot,” you muttered, giggling under your breath, to which he also giggled and finally let himself be clasped.

The road to the apartment was quite quiet. You were stuck in traffic for a while, because this time it was not possible to get around them so agile. Lando, meanwhile, turned on the music on his radio and the two of you played a song together.

"You know what?" You heard it out of his mouth, and you gently nodded your head, not taking your eyes off the road.

"I'm listening to you," you asked.

"You're pretty sweet," he said, giggling under his nose.

"Well, thank you?" You asked, smiling at yourself.

"But you're also fucking sexy, my God! If you're driving my car, it's in my pants." he said giggling under his nose again.

Whoever knew Lando knew his giggle. At every possible opportunity, Norris giggled like teenage girls who were excited or ashamed. And no matter how long it's been since you two met, Lando still blushed and giggled a lot whenever he got the chance. So he did it all the time.

Of course, the boy did not miss the topic of cookies, for which he had fought so hard before, so your journey to the mixing room was lengthened by a twenty-minute stop in the store, even though you needed a maximum of seven ingredients for your joint baking. Lando could not pass indifferently by the cookie decorations zone (although you did not need them at all) or by the liquor shelf (although he constantly assured that he did not drink anything).

And finally, after all the pain you went through together (or rather you went through), you reached the apartment you had rented for this stay. Both of you laughing, and Lando also, still covered in blood, you headed to the toilet to clean yourself up. There were some splashes of water and quick kisses, which now seemed quite difficult due to his wound.

You quickly went to the closet to take out some looser pants for the boy and returned to the toilet, where he was sitting on the bathtub, waiting for you to fix him better than they did on the ship.

“Oh, my poor little boy,” you muttered, laughing to yourself as you stood between his legs and grabbed some hydrogen peroxide from the medicine cabinet.

“It's not funny [Y/N]” he said, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"Of course it is. How the hell could you smash your nose on a glass bottle?" You asked in disbelief, shaking your head, although after so many years with your boyfriend, this question should have been rather redundant.

"You're laughing at me. And I'm suffering here." He muttered, hissing under his breath when the wound was already quite disinfected and you put a small plaster on it so that he wouldn't touch it.

Sometimes he was worse than a child, but that was what you loved about him the most. You were both still young after all, why would you mature and become serious so quickly?

Soon you started making chocolate cookies. You knew very well that when Lando made something up, there was no way you could just ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. Oh no. Even if it was the middle of the night, you both would have to jump to your feet and run to the store to get something ready. Or suddenly get up and go out of town to watch the stars at night. That was Lando. And so were you. Damn stupid, head over heels in love with each other.

Baking with Lando was always fun. And baking cookies with Lando after midnight when he was drunk? Even funnier. You spilled the flour here, half a pack of cookie chocolates suddenly disappeared - Lando promised on his life that he didn't eat them - and somewhere in between you almost broke the blender. But in the end, you both looked with a smile at the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, maybe not perfect, but with some heart in them.

"I can't wait to try them!" the boy said excitedly as you took them out of the oven.

Without waiting for you, Lando put them on a plate and carried them to the table in the living room. Sam sat down on the couch and waited until you joined him.

"Lando, be careful, they're hot-" you started to say, but you were interrupted by the boy's loud hissing, which made you burst into laughter. "Oh my god, you're going to kill yourself."

You hugged him your body, and the boy quickly placed his head in the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses on it. He lifted his head up and stuck out his tongue at you, which he had burned himself on a moment earlier.

"Oh my god, did you burn yourself? Should I kiss you there?" You asked, laughing to yourself again at the boy's eager nod. "Oh, Lando..."

A/N: quiet short, but I hope that for the first time you will like it and accept it well :) i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 200 followers! maybe I can get in by the end of the week?

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

lando nswf alphabet the latest one-shot about lando

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norizz #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris

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sharlsworld · 11 days

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lando smau where theyre lowkey but he’ll find a way to slip small crumbs of her in every post somehow

⋆⭒˚.⋆ private not secret - ʟɴ4 ☆

✿ lando norris x reader

✿ a few of the times lando norris managed to sneak his girlfriend into his posts and the time he won his first formula 1 race

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ my brain is fried so i’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted 💀

🝮

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1 and 752,014 others

landonorris see you next time china 🇨🇳

hearts4lando bro thought he could slip a flick of y/n and we wouldn’t say anything

carlando everyone say thank you for the crumbs

⤷ danielricciardo Thank you king! 🤴

alexandrasaintmleux Missing my girl 😞 bring her back to me

⤷ landonorris how about no 😊

⤷ landonorris i’m coming baby - alex’s girl

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux I’ll be waiting 😉

⤷ charles_leclerc So I guess I’m stuck third wheeling my girlfriend and my girlfriend’s girlfriend when I come back

⤷ landonorris always 😇 - alex’s girl

landolovesyn i love y/n so much 🥹

georgerussell63 Y/n is my idol I wanna be like her when I grow up

⤷ landonorris your 5 years older then her??

⤷ georgerussell63 Well then I wanna be like her in my next life damn.

⤷ landonorris you are my hero george russell you’re such a icon - alex’s girl

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh we’re still doing this?

⤷ landonorris we never stopped?? 🤣 - alex’s girl

beloved.hamilton no it’s the fact y/n has her own account but always takes lando’s phone and replies on his account 💖💓💝

🝮

landonorris

liked by mcarlen and 3,227,986 others

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

yn so proud of you 💗

⤷ landonorris i couldn’t have done without you and all you do for me baby ❤️

oscarpiastri Well done man 👏👏👏

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

lando_luvr4 him running to y/n before anyone else got me in tears 🥹🥹

maxverstappen1 🥳🥳🥳

carlossainz55 Well deserved ❤️

mclaren We made it boys! 🧡👏🏆

chilipowder55 i took a nap and got woken up to be told LANDO WON HIS FIRST EVER F1 RACE???

maxfewtrell So proud brother 🧡

landowantsrizz ok but what does WWE have to do with this?

landolovesyn YOU DID IT LANDO IM CRYING HAPPY TEARS RN

all4lando i already know what him and y/n are doing tonight 😭

lnfour LFGGGGGG

estiebestie everyone shut up i’m so happy right now

charles_leclerc Lando we can be world champion!

team_quadrant *SCREAMING*

🝮

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo and 1,953,017 others

landonorris a night of celebration 🥳

charles_leclerc “alex wants to know the next time her and y/n can have a sleepover”

⤷ landonorris it’s like we’re just their side hoes or something 😞

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Or something? you are - alex’s girl

⤷ landonorris babe come back i miss you where did you two go

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux You’ll never find us

⤷ charles_leclerc They just took the bowl of pasta and ran 💔

pierregasly the clam before the storm

maxfewtrell Come back soon I miss you 😘

sharls_lerklerk y/n and alex stealing the pasta and hiding with each other 😭

alex_albon it was amazing seeing lando going feral when y/n wouldn’t come out of hiding 😭

⤷ carlossainz55 Truly a sight for sore eyes

georgerussell63 I wish someone was as down bad for me as lando is for y/n

⤷ carmenmmundt Girl. Don’t even.

danielricciardo Crazy crazy night 😂

⤷ flowers444yn i need to know what happen now

🝮

landonorris

liked by judebellingham and 1,082,439 others

landonorris feels good to be back 🤍

landolovesyn y/n appearance!! 🥰

landonowins i’m only here for y/n tbh

⤷ lilymhe me 2

⤷ francisca.cgomes me 3

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Me 4

⤷ carmenmmundt Me 5

⤷ lilyzneimer Me 6

⤷ landonorizz everyone loves y/n

carlando lando nowins & lando norizz are retired. lando norris has won in life.

carlito55sainz if you look very closely you can see me jumping off the balcony 😂😂

operationsainz55 this love is the typa love you find in movies & books

lewistearmeup the dark aesthetic then the light pictures of y/n 😭🥹🥰💘💖💗

lovely_leclerc my heart can’t take all this love and cuteness anymore stop

ynstan4lyfe awhh so cute i’m sleeping on the highway tonight 🥰🥰

🝮

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ i just took a nap and when i woke up i opened instagram AND THE FIRST POST I SAW WAS LANDOS?? i had to finish this and him winning was my motivation 😭

#lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #f1 smau #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #formula 1

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 4 months

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Baby Blues || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: motherhood has not been kind to you, neither has Coriolanus.

Warnings: r is implied to be young, toxic, mean Coryo, r experiencing post-partum depression,

Wc: 794

A/n: I’m always gravitating to write these type of coryo fics for some reason…. I hope you like them! Apologies for lack of Tom Blyth/Coryo content, I promise I have some coming!!

You sat in the sunroom, the weight of your 5 month old daughter on your hip, while Coriolanus read his newspaper, seemingly unfazed by his daughter’s cries that filled the room.

Your hands shakily pick up the delicate china tea cup, bringing it to your lips and taking few sips.

You stared at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of both youth and motherhood. You subconsciously start to bounce your leg, all while your daughter wails in your arm, begging for attention from her own mother.

Coriolanus sips at his black coffee, trying his best to drown out the cries as he tried to focus his attention back on his newspaper. Your concerned servant in the room exchanged worried glances with Coriolanus, and finally, he glances at you, frustration etched on his face.

“Y/n, tend to her,” he instructed, irritation evident in his voice. “Don’t just sit there like a mad woman, do something,” He hissed as your gaze moved to him. Your eyes seemingly empty as you stare at his icy blue ones.

At an attempt to soothe her down, you stand up to bounce her on your hip, hushing her. Your daughter’s cries only intensified, drawing Coriolanus to his feet.

The rustle of the newspaper ceased as he took his daughter into his arms. Almost magically, her cries subsided in the secure embrace of her father. A wave of inadequacy washed over you as you witnessed his effortless ability to calm her.

You stand infront of the large floor to ceiling window that overlooked your courtyard, gazing blankly at the last few socialites leaving the presidential mansion after a soirée that Coriolanus hosted.

Your once vibrant, youthful eyes now dull, overshadowed by the weight of motherhood. Coriolanus, sat on one of the chairs, watches you from where he was. “You’ve been standing there for about 20 minutes, sit,” He says, gesturing to the seat beside him as you turn your head, lightly biting your lips before moving.

“It’s like you were in another world tonight, what ever is the matter with you now?” Coriolanus remarks, frustration edging his tone.” You feign a smile, “I’m just tired, Coryo. That’s all,” but your eyes betray the facade, revealing a profound weariness that transcends mere fatigue.

“You always seem tired,” Coryo scoffs. Your gaze flickers towards the nanny, cradling your daughter in her arms. Your heart aches with a mixture of guilt and relief as you observe the bond forming between them.

Coriolanus’s gaze follows your eye line, “Perhaps you’ve been focusing too much on your duties and not enough on our daughter,” He suggests, unaware of the storm raging within you.

“I’m doing my best, Coryo,” you respond, voice barely audible as Coriolanus lets out a tired sigh, massaging his forehead.

The baby’s cries cut through the air, and you flinch as if struck—something Coriolanus observed. He glances at you, a mixture of annoyance and concern etched across his features.

“Can’t you tend to our daughter? You’re her mother, after all.” You nod absentmindedly, standing up and making your way toward the source of the cries.

The nanny, a woman just a couple years younger than yourself, hands over your daughter, a look of sympathy etched on her face.

You clear your throat, feeling Coriolanus’ eyes on you. You cradle her awkwardly, attempting to soothe her, but your efforts were feeble. Coriolanus observes, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“You’re always like this. Will you always treat our child as if she’s a stranger?” He spat, and you bit your lip, glancing down at your daughter whose features closely mirrored yours, except for her eyes and blonde hair.

Your eyes well up with unshed tears, swiftly wiped away. “I just… just need time, Coriolanus. I’ll adjust,” you stammer, seeking to reassure your husband and, more importantly, convincing yourself that you will.

Nearly half a year has passed since you gave birth to her. Skillfully, you’ve evaded numerous public appearances with your daughter, fully aware of the pervasive curiosity surrounding your role as a mother.

You were aware of their judgments. The notion that you were too young to be a mother echoed in your mind, a sentiment you shared as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, your stomach swollen with the imminent arrival of a child into the world.

Coriolanus sighs, a blend of disappointment and impatience coloring his tone. “Pull yourself together, for both our sakes. The people want to see their First Lady and my heir. You can’t keep hiding away. There are already whispers going around,” he admonishes sharply, and you gulp, your baby cradled in your arms as you turn to face him.

Coriolanus couldn’t deny the noticeable change in you since giving birth. When he married you, the youthful aura enveloped you, a stark contrast to the transformation he now witnessed.

The aura had dissipated entirely. Despite your youth, you appeared to have weathered a lifetime. Fatigue etched into your eyes, weariness evident in your mental state.

“It’s wise for you to step back from the public eye for a while, away from your duties. You need to rest,” Coriolanus states firmly, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the window.

Your gaze shifts to your baby in your arms, her doe-blue eyes locking onto yours. Unaware, Coriolanus discreetly signals the nanny to take your daughter.

Caught off guard, you hesitated when she reached for your child, desiring to hold her longer. Reluctantly, you allowed her to take the little one. With a heavy heart, you observed the nanny exit the room, and Coriolanus broke the silence, reassuring you, “Don’t worry about her; go rest.” Slowly, you nodded in agreement.

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small.

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone.

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit.

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.”

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you.

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?”

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile.

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches.

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back.

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.”

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again.

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely.

“I can take her, if you want to-“

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again.

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty.

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled.

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control.

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.”

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself.

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside.

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod.

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth.

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley

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netherfeildren · 6 months

Text

Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him.

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter.

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?”

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother.

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done.

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers.

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine.

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.”

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad.

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has.

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside.

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there.

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust.

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot.

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it.

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass.

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough.

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him.

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him.

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go.

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately.

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this.

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him.

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that.

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.”

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby.

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you.

New Year’s Eve follow up

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#vic fic #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/ you #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller fic #the last of us au #Joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal characters

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vivwritesfics · 27 days

Text

Bad Luck Charm

Every race she had been to had been a shitshow. The sprint in China was no exception.

Lol I missed the quali for the sprint bc sleep and wrote this (bc the one time I don't watch lando is in first)

Lando wanted her at every single race she could attend. Now, these were few and far between, but he was happy to pay to get her to him if he needed to.

It was rare for her to attend the Friday practice sessions. She still had work and couldn't jet off to the other side of the world at a moments notice. But still, she promised to be there for the Saturday race.

The last race she'd managed to attend was Las Vegas, so it was understandable that she was on edge. But once she had landed in China and found out that Lando was starting in pole position for the sprint race, her worries eased.

Still, there was a race to get through.

She hadn't thought of being Lando's bad luck charm before. No, not until she read something that Max Verstappen had said, something about him winning so Penelope didn't think she was bad luck.

She didn't mean to think about every race she had been to and had Lando had either missed out on a win he was so closed to or didn't finish the Grand Prix.

But that was what had happened. Every win he'd been certain to win, he'd missed out when she was there. And now he was started on pole fir the sprint, dominating in a qualifying session that she hadn't been able to watch.

She seemed to be the only person that had figured it out, though. When she arrived at the track to watch Lando in the sprint, he immediately wrapped his arms around her.

His lips found the top of her head and he couldn't keep himself from grinning at her. He was just so fucking happy to have her there.

As with every race she attended, she kissed him, waited for him to put his helmet on and kissed that also. 'For good luck,' Lando said every time. (Oh the irony).

But then the sprint began. Lando didn't make it around the first corner still in the lead. Her heart sank as she watched him drop back into seventh.

It had to be her presence. What other reason was there? For some inexplicable reason the universe wanted to punish her and it was doing it through Lando.

As soon as she could, after nineteen laps of waiting and after watching her boyfriend finish sixth, she was in his arms. Lando wasn't happy with himself, ready to beat himself up, but having her there made it just a little bit better.

For the life of him, he couldn't work out why she was apologising. "Eh?" He asked as he gently moved her away from his chest to meet her gaze. "What're you on about?"

She looked damn near ready to cry as Lando looked at her. Whoever had made his girl cry, well, they had another thing coming.

But then she sniffled and wiped at the non-existent tears beneath her eyes. "Every race weekend I've gone to has gone to shit, Lan," she mumbled. "I'm your bad luck charm and I should fly back home before I make things worse."

Lando knew he shouldn't have laughed. But he couldn't help himself. It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Baby, you can't be serious," he said. When she didn't react he pulled her in again. "You're not my bad luck charm, you numpty. Plus, if you stop coming to race weekends I'll have to take time out of my practice sessions to drag you here myself. And then, boom, my racing gets worse."

"You're an ass," she said as she buried her face in his chest. He was an ass, but she loved him.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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m00nchildthings · 8 months

Text

ALUCARD X PREGNANT!READER

This story was based off of this one right here: https://www.tumblr.com/m00nchildthings/703854020457021440/mating-press-and-breeding-kink-with-alucard

if anything this can be read as a sequel where he managed to get you knocked up cw for pregnant reader, oral sex one sparing use of the reader being called mama, and alucard being a hovering creep towards you for carrying his child also slight pregnancy kink if you squint not even read over once bone apple teeth🧑‍🍳😙🤌

p.s. @yazzzmints @ch3rryistheg you asked and i delivered

“You’re hovering Adrian”.

“I do not hover,”

You sighed, closing the large ornate tome you had been reading and setting it on the small wooden table beside your chair. He was hovering and whether he was oblivious to it or simply choosing to be obtuse, he was doing it a hell of a lot more recently. You knew why though, you thought as you brought your hand over your swollen stomach. Seven months into your pregnancy and through every step Alucard had treated you and your unborn child like fine china perpetually teetering over a precocious edge.

“You are aware we won’t turn to ash the moment we leave your vision,” you said cheekily staring up at your dhampir lover. His eyes narrowed before he swept past you, moving to sit in the armchair beside your own. He sat there, for a moment beautiful like marble with his eyes closed, before turning to face you.

“I am very well aware of that,” he said, placing his chin in his hand as he peered at you. You hummed, turning away from him, instead choosing to focus on the crackling fireplace in front of you, pretending the warm embers floating around the wood were far more interesting than the golden haired man sitting next to you.

“Then I hope that you are also aware,” you began pausing to take a sip of the tea still hot on your side table “that fathers who hover around the pregnant wives are bound to produce children that do not enjoy their company,”

“That isn’t true,” you could see his brows furrow from your peripheral view, hiding your chuckle behind another sip of tea, you continued.

“It very well might be an old wives tale, but I have heard of children coming out fussy towards their fathers fresh out of the womb-,” you were cut off with a loud swoosh as Alucard gracefully stepped towards you settling down at his knees, hands placed on your stomach.

“You won’t dislike me right?” he directed at your stomach, brow even more wrinkled with worry “Surely they understand I am just so, eager, to meet them right darling?,”

He stared up at you now, golden eyes tense with worry, your lip wobbled as you held back your smile. Here before you on his knees was Alucard Tepes; one of the slayers of Dracula, the feared prince of the night that cut down his enemies like knives through butter- reduced to a simpering thing at the fear your child might come straight from you hating him. You relented not having the heart to tease him any longer you cradled his jaw in your hand.

“I was just teasing my love, surely our child will love you just as much as I,” immediately he relaxed, melting into the palm of your hand. His golden eyes cut up at you a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“You are cruel to do such a thing to your doting lover,” his alabaster hand gripped your wrist as he turned to lay a kiss in the fleshy part of your palm. “I treat you so sweetly and you insist on giving me heart palpitations.

“Consider it payback for what your hellspawn is doing to my body, I can barely make it from here to the door without my swollen ankles and aching spine objecting,” you said, bringing your hand away from him to stretch the intense cracking of your back emphasizing your point.

Alucard stood, staring down at you, he adored your changing body evidence of the growth of his child in you. You’d always been beautiful in his eyes, but something about knowing the swell of your stomach was from your baby growing inside of you, surely you were a goddess gifting him with the gifts of gifts. Bending down he looped his arms around your waist ignoring your grumbles of objection when he picked you up hoisting you into his arms until your knees hung over his elbows.

“Then allow me to be your legs,” you huffed rolling your eyes as Alucard toted you out of your rather comfortable reading room, you knew where he was taking you of course. The looming large ornate doors of your bedroom came into view as Alucard steadily carried you to them.

“Our bedroom,” you said flatly “I wonder what reason you could have for bringing me here Adrian,”

“I have no idea what you are implying deer,” he said, turning to press his back to the door, opening it with your combined weights. Barely holding back his impish grin (a look a great number of others refused to believe existed when you said he did so on the regular) he rushed you to your bed gently placing you on the downy mattress.

“Your feet must be killing you,” he said, gracefully moving to sit beside you and patting his lap. Begrudgingly you laid back against the comforter swinging your aching feet to his lap. He gently massaged your foot pressing his fingers into the soles of your feet soothing the pain that afflicted you. His talented hands seemed to pull all the aches from them knowing how to just work your body from months of repeated practice. A particularly forceful push into your left heel and you couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled from your throat. Alucard smiled at you gently placing your feet on the bed beside him.

“See? So sweetly,” he said, placing his now free hand on your stomach.

“My body still aches,” you grumbled, still feeling the tension in your back

“I can help with that,”

“Your version of help is what got me into this predicament,” chuckling Alucard slowly spread your legs apart hiking your dress to just under your belly. There laid out before him nestled in a thatch of curls your cunt shined for him, already glistening with arousal. His slender fingers traced up the warm slit of your puffy lips noticing the audible hitch in your breaths

“If you don’t like my version of help then where are your undergarments,” he questioned, knuckles grazing up and down your quivering pussy

“They no longer -mmph- fit,” you moa, turning around to bury your head into the pillow.

“How lucky for me,” he murmured, just barely above a whisper as he sank down till his face was level with your heat “that my favorite snack is but a silk slip away from tongue,”

With one scathing breath his mouth was on you, pink lips pressing toward your own. His tongue wickedly lapped at you running wet circles around your throbbing clit before slipping its way into your clenching cunt. He couldn’t help the vibrating moans, near purrs that reverberated into you, as your juices flooded his taste buds. He couldn't help the way he ate at you ravaging your quim with every fiery stroke through your quivering lips. Your hands tugged at his golden locks pulling him closer and closer to your weeping cunt. How foolish, he thought as he drank up all you had to offer, why pull him close when you both know the last thought on his mind was pulling away?

Your orgasm crested, creeping up on you with each lascivious lick that toyed with your throbbing clit. It was with one particularly harsh suck that had you falling apart, melting apart like butter on warm toast your cunt creamed over your lover's tongue. Undeterred Alucard continued to viciously feast on your juices, moaning as they glossed his face. Clawed hands though gentle, held your hips in place as they began to buck so he could wrap his lips around your clit sucking on the shiny pearl undisturbed.

“A-Adrian please, s’too much I need-,” interrupting you Alucard sighed loudly, releasing your clit with an audible pop.

“You never let me have my fill,” he complained peering up at you over your swollen belly “but I know what you need,”

Rising Alucard reached for his trousers tugging the strings till his cock, heavy with a bead of precum pooling at the tip, fell free. Smiling and flashing those fangs of his wide he pulled your legs to wrap around his waist. Grabbing at his cock he lined the drooling pink head with your equally wet cunt, rubbing it between your lips and nudging at your clit. Gently he pushed inside of you, hissing as your heat slowly enveloped him till the hilt. The two of you rested there for a moment panting as your limbs tangled about each other. You whined under him, arms reaching towards him, hands making grabby motions for him. Alucard reached underneath you pulling you towards him. You both sat there, connected at your most intimate of places, your sweaty forehead resting on his cool one.

“Adrian,”

“Yes my love?”

“Fuck me.”

“Yes my love”

With a low chuffing noise, Alucard thrust up into you once, twice, three times, every one seeming to be deeper than the last. Your mouth hung agape as your lover continuously fucked up into you carving the shape of him deep into your cunt. Moans barely escaped you as every thrust seemed to steal your breath, your eyes stared into the golden ones of your lover unable to look away. Before you could process Alucard's hand gripped your ass holding you towards him as he stood on the bed, steadying his feet in the cushion and using his grip to lift you fast up and down his cock.

“Do you feel me sweet, deep, in here,” he rasped as he bounced you on his cock balls slapping on your ass. His hot breath fanned your face as he used your own weight to fuck you, one particular hard thrust had your eyes rolling back into your skull, and with a rush words escaped you.

“Fuck Adein yes! Fuck me please, I- oh god don’t stop!” you screamed nails clawing into the rolling muscles of his back.

“That’s it mama,” he hissed somehow managing to grip you closer, shifting to the balls of his feet he began to roll his hips up into you to match every bounce of your ass against his thighs “Take it, cum for me, let me feel your silk grip me,”

You don’t know whether it was his words that got you there so quickly or the orgasm he gave you prior, but with a barely audible cry you came walls gripping him tightly as you gushed around him. Alucard grit his teeth at the grip your cunt had him in, thrusting a few times before spilling inside you with a strangled cry. Alucard fell to his knees holding you close as you both bounced on the mattress. He pulled you off him holding back chuckles when you grumbled from the over sensitivity. Gently he laid you down before getting off the bed and leaving towards your bedroom bath chamber. He returned with a warm bowl of water and two warm cotton cloths.

Sitting beside you Alucard dipped the washcloth into the water wringing it before bringing it to your heaving body. Carefully he cleaned you off, wiping the spunk he left at your center. You groaned, pushing at his hands, still feeling far too sensitive. With a chuckle he dropped the now sullied rag once you were clean of him, reaching to prepare the second one he had brought and pressed the soothing cotton to your sweaty brow. Your eyes closed as you let your dhampir lover continue with his aftercare.

“Am I forgiven yet, for breeding you with my -what did you call our child- hellspawn?” he asked golden eyes trained onto your face. With a sigh you looked up at him already having forgotten the remark you had made earlier. A sly smirk tugged at your tired face.

“For the time being leonito,”

#ughhh i am so rusty writing smut #but alucards return had me feeling sentimental #alucard tepes x reader #alucard x reader #alucard smut #alucard tepes #adrian tepes x reader #adrian x reader #adrian tepes #castlevania smut

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nininikki · 4 months

Text

divorced-ish — n. kento

content warnings: ex-husband!nanami, delusional!nanami (he’s cute tho)

author’s note: sigh i need him

ex-husband!nanami who just couldn’t stay away from you if he tried

ex-husband!nanami who you’d originally separated from on account of his work seeming to hold more priority over you, and then your newborn daughter.

ex-husband!nanami who still keeps a photo of you and the baby on his desk at his job (which, ironically, was the thing that ultimately led to his marriage failing). when asked by his nosey secretary why he still kept the photo, he only responded, “it’s my family. why wouldn’t i?”

ex-husband!nanami who had yet to actually finalize the divorce. but really, it wasn’t his fault. he just hadn’t gotten around to sending the papers over (or having them printed up at all), what with all those crazy shifts at work. oh, well, it didn’t matter. he would do it at some point.

ex-husband!nanami who had left you virtually everything in the not-so-finalized-divorce. the four bedroom, four bathroom house, your diamond 6 carat engagement ring, your wedding china, the aston martin db9 he had gifted you for your birthday, the park avenue apartment, the country house in monaco—all of it.

ex-husband!nanami who you had never been able to turn down whenever he stayed over just a little later after dropping the baby back off with you. the two of you would sit on the couch and catch up over a glass of wine. then one glass turned to two, then two to three. and for a minute it would almost feel as if you were still married.

nanami never ended up leaving until the late hours of the night. by which point you began to wonder where he’d gotten all the free time he couldn’t seem to find when you were actually married.

ex-husband!nanami who internally scoffed whenever you mentioned going on a date with another man.

“do you think you could watch her on saturday? i’ve got a date i really don’t wanna miss.” you’d asked at the tail end of an already too long (thirty minute) phone call.

nanami breathed a recognizable, pensive sigh on the other end, chewing through what he’d earlier told you was tempura, but considering how long it was taking him to answer, it may as well have been your nerves.

“you know i will, but, uh,” you heard him swallow. “a date?”

although your ex-husband didn’t exactly sound like he was joking, you couldn’t help the giggle that vibrated through your body. glancing at the clock on your nightstand that read eight-thirty and the baby sleeping soundly in the crib next to your bed, you propped the house phone between your ear and shoulder. what was the harm in killing another thirty minutes?

“yes, kento, a date. his name is scott. he’s an art dealer. i think you’d like him.”

“does scott know you’re still married?”

“separated,” you corrected him. “and no, he doesn’t. do you tell every woman who asks you out that you’re married?”

nanami hesitated for a second before answering, “yes, i do.”

ex-husband!nanami who came to your house with flowers and a store bought pumpkin pie for thanksgiving. more than you’d like to admit, you liked having him around for the holidays. he was so good with the baby, and so attentive to everything else. cleaning up all the leftovers and stray baby toys as the night came to an end.

it was nearing ten o’clock when he had successfully put the baby to sleep, and then came down to help you tidy up the downstairs. “y’know you didn’t have to buy a pie, right?” you told him after you’d discovered it hidden amongst the array of leftover pots and aluminum pans. “i know it’s your favorite. i’d have made you some.”

nanami brought his task at hand (loading the dishwasher) to a stiff halt and joined you at the island countertop. “but hey,” you added, tearing the lid off the pie. “we could see if it’s as good as the real thing.”

your ex-husband, usually the most well-spoken man you knew, could only stiffly nod in your direction while you retrieved a pair of shiny silver forks, still in the drawer they’d always been in. “and i got some whipped cream if you want.” you added as you gave him a fork, now taken aback by his sudden lack of speech. seriously, he hadn’t spoken this little since the year leading up to your separation.

what you didn’t know was that nanami couldn’t speak if he wanted to. he needed this. the three of you hadn’t had a real holiday together since last halloween, and even that was admittedly very bleak. “i miss you,” nanami blurted.

and he did. he missed your desserts for every holiday—savory pumpkin pie for thanksgiving, sweet apple pie for christmas, strawberry eclairs for valentine’s day. he missed opening his eyes every morning to the sight of your face smushed into a pillow, or a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth. he missed coming home from work to the sight of you and the baby sound asleep on the couch. he missed being your husband, and even more knowing you were his wife.

ex-husband!nanami who spent the night fucking his ex-wife into the couch as though they were still married. wrapping you in his strong arms, while murmuring promises of change and betterment. “i’ll never go to work again, swear,” he said, shuddering between deep thrusts. “please just take me back, baby.”

#nikki writes ✶#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst

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boorines · 7 months

Text

as sweet as peaches | jeon wonwoo

wonwoo sits cross-legged on the floor, ikea manual laying open on his lap. the half built coffee table sits upside down in front of him, loose screws and nails scattered around the piece of furniture.

“did you find the piece that goes in this corner?”, you ask in confusion from your spot on the floor opposite wonwoo, one hand holding what you think is one of the legs of the table. “is it this one?”

your boyfriend looks up at you and breathes out an amused laugh, cheeks puffing up. “that’s the spare piece, gorgeous”.

you look at him, cocking an eyebrow, “you sure, wonu? because the last time you said something was a spare”, you point at the singular leg attached to the table, “that fell off”.

he grins sheepishly, “well… uh, maybe it could come in handy”. you shoot him a fond smile.

you both work on the piece of furniture for a while, sneaking glances at each other and giggling at lame jokes, before you stand up and wordlessly walk over to the kitchen. wonwoo follows your movement with his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose as he does so.

you disappear behind the kitchen counter before re-emerging with a plate of sliced peaches and tangerines. setting it on the floor beside wonwoo you mumble, “odd combination, but it’s all i could find”. you peer at him and the softness you see in his eyes makes heat crawl up your neck.

“i love you”, he whispers.

“because of peaches?”, you ask shyly, taking a seat beside him.

“nope”, he breathes out, “peaches are just a bonus”. he picks up a fuzzy slice and holds it up to your lips. you accept the bite gratefully.

“the tangerines, then”, you mumble around a mouthful of fruit.

wonwoo laughs, it’s a very pretty sound, you think. low and deep, yet airy and relaxed. your giggles join his, the room filling with innocent laughter.

the two of you continue to tinker with the coffee table, occasionally nibbling on pieces of fruit. with the build almost complete, you lean back on the heels of your palms, surveying your work.

“not bad for two amateurs”, you declare with a grin. “i think we could build all of ikea if we wanted to”.

wonwoo chuckles, “we’ll have many days of building furniture in our future”. you look at him in question. “dressers, bookshelves, cribs”, he elaborates.

your eyes widen and you feel your cheeks burn fiery red. cribs… baby cribs? did you hear him wrong? did he say it on purpose?

he turns to you, eyes dancing and cheeks slightly pink. oh. definitely on purpose.

you look at him, lips parted ever-so-slightly.

“one day, i mean… if you want to”. he whispers.

you don’t have a response. you’re breathless and giddy and so in love.

leaning forward, you press your lips against wonwoo’s. soft and careful. he hums in contentment against your mouth, kissing you back with fervour.

his hand trails up your arm to your cheek, cupping your face like you’re as delicate as fine china. his other hand snakes around your waist, resting against the small of your back. he kisses you slowly, and when he feels you smile against his lips he melts. to him, this is bliss.

you pull away, breathless and heart racing. and suddenly, you’re 16 again. too shy to meet wonwoo’s eyes, a soft blush colouring your cheeks when he squeezes your hand with a hum.

“baby?”, he peers at you, trying to catch your attention.

when you finally look up at him, he’s dazzled by the stars in your eyes. the very same ones he thinks you hung up in the sky.

“you’re too much”, you mumble, just above a whisper. the chuckle it coaxes out of him drives the feeling deeper.

he drops a quick kiss to your cheek, his eyes dripping honey.

you point to the unfinished coffee table in front of you with furrowed brows, “we’ve been neglecting our magnum opus”.

his bright laughter booms throughout the room. “i don’t think an ikea coffee table is our magnum opus, baby”. he thinks he knows what will be, but he doesn’t say it. he’s hinted at it enough today. instead, he picks up a handful of screws and the last remaining leg of the table.

you take up a purely supportive role. handing him missing screws or nails you see him hunting for. you lean against the couch behind you, silently watching your boyfriend finish the rest of the build. you admire the way his hands move deftly to hammer in nails, the way he pushes the sleeves of his sweater further up his arms, the way he adjusts his glasses on his nose when they start to slip.

you’re happy, you think. just silently being in his company.

“finished”, he declares, pushing himself off the floor and offering you a hand to pull you to your feet. you stand beside him and look down at your work.

“not bad, jeon wonwoo”, you praise.

“not bad yourself”, he responds with a squeeze of your hand. he smiles fondly when he feels you squeeze back.

he looks at you, eyes warm, and drops a chaste kiss to you lips.

warmth floods your body. he’s just so sweet, you think.

“you taste like peaches”, he mumbles.

he’s as sweet as peaches.

—

ahh wonwoo…

writing this was really fun!! sweet wonu thinking about how urs and his masterpiece will be ur baby…omg

i hope u enjoy this one! as always, my requests and asks are open <3

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inkdrinkerworld · 13 days

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Post!prision!Reid seeing his daughter for the first time after he gets out 🥹 he gets so emotional because he can finally hold his baby again!

OMG OMG OMG!!!! can you imagine how teary he'd be!! post!prison dad!spencer x mom!reader, I hope you enjoy <3

You wish you could’ve been with the team at the prison, see him come out there in person, but you’re still on bedrest with your baby girl. Georgia is only a couple weeks old, but she’s so much Spencer’s twin- the same unruly curls, the same nose and the same want of you.

You’d written all about her in your letters to Spencer, describing every feature he’s going to see today in so much detail you were sure he would see her clearly in his mind.

“Honey?” He doesn’t shout lest he wake his daughter as he walks in, his fingers twitching with the need to see both of you.

“I’m on the sofa baby,” it’s almost as if he was never gone. You lean over the sofa to see him pass through the kitchen, his hands holding a small bag. “I’m sorry I can’t stand to kiss you, Spence.”

He tuts, leaning down over you, “Nonsense, how’re you feeling?” His eyes flit over to the cot beside you, roving over your daughter before settling back on you.

“Like I missed you longer than you’ve been gone.” You’re waterlogged immediately and Spencer rounds the sofa to pull you into him.

“I missed you too,” his lips press into your temple, “God I missed you both so much.” Tears wet your hairline but you can’t seem to care, Spencer’s home and he’s able to see your baby girl together. What more could you want?

“I brought you some snacks, I figured you hadn’t been able to get any of your cravings.” He says gently, opening a bag to show you all the chocolate malt balls, the yoghurt raisins and the nuts you’d just run out of. “I got something for Georgia too.”

“Spence,” you gasp when you see the orange stuffed octopus that he pulls out, it’s just as big as Georgia is now. He wipes the tears that fall on your cheeks, kissing your nose before opening the tub of nuts for you. “Seventh smartest animal in the world.” you recall softly.

“Can I hold her?” He asks finally and you nod, watching him stand and hover over the bassinet.

“Just scoop her up Spence, she’s going to be so happy you’re home.”

Spencer doesn’t say a word, practically holding his breath as he does as you say- scooping Georgia up in record time and holding her close to his chest. There’s a moment right after she wriggles a bit when she settles and Spencer feels an ungodly wave of emotion crash into him.

Of course, he’d read that men only feel like fathers the moment they hold their babies, and everyone had told him (everyone being Derek and JJ) that you can’t control the way your heart kind of cracks open to make room for this new love, but he still hadn’t expected it to be so immediate and visceral.

“Hi Georgia,” he whispers, his tears rolling down the bridge of his nose as he strokes her cheek. “Hi sweet girl.” You’re enamoured already, looking at Spencer holding your daughter like she’s made of fine China. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were born, baby. But I promise I’m not missing anything else where you’re concerned.”

Tears pool in your eyes as your daughter wakes up, no crying or wailing, just small coos and gurgles as she looks at Spencer.

“It’s your daddy, Georgia.” You murmur, sniffling and wiping your eyes as Spencer hiccups as she reaches for his face, her little fist bumping into his jaw.

Her almond eyes stare up at him, blinking all slow as she takes him in. Then she smiles, as if she's put a face to the man who spoke to her every night, telling her all the facts he'd read and learnt about babies, animals and whatever soothing topic he could find to tell her while she lived in your belly.

“Your mom lied to me, you look just like her.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as Spencer gives you a little glare. “Those eyes are all her, Peach. Maybe you won’t get your daddy’s brain either- it’s no fun being smart and getting beat up.” You throw a cashew at Spencer then, making him chuckle and come sit beside you.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You whisper, stroking Georgia’s cheek as you press yours into Spencer’s bicep.

“I’m happy to be back, angel.” his eyes remain transfixed to Georgia all day, holding her and touching her foot when he can’t because you have to feed her. Spencer thinks to himself that he’d live through prison a thousand times over if every time he gets out, he can come back to this moment, to the peace and serenity in your home with you and your little girl and the life you’d made together colouring every wall of the house.

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hannieehaee · 6 months

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hi good morning! (or afternoon or evening)

how about a svt scenario thing where you’re an idol (and dating them) and you get injured by a crazy saesang that’s obsessed with your s/o?

basically, y/n is an idol in a popular group and at a fansign event, a saesang rushes towards her and attacks her, injuring her with smth (there’s blood) and vroom hospital etc etc. how would svt react?

idk this has been my brain-worm for the past few days

thank you 😊 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

a sasaeng attacking their idol!reader gf

content: mentions of stalking, mentions of being attacked, mentions of injuries, mentions of hospitalization, reader is an idol, a lil angsty, etc.

wc: 1559

a/n: thank u so much for ur request! sorry for the delay hehe (these scenarios are assuming ur relationship is public knowledge btw <3)

masterlist

seungcheol -

no one had ever seen him this angry. even his members kept away from him upon noticing his furious demeanor after getting a call from your manager informing him that you had been taken to the hospital to tend to some bruises and scratches you had undergone after one of his stalker fans had quite literally jumped at you from across the table, having made themselves pass as your fan. would not comment on it publicly, simply choosing to cut his promotions short and taking a quick break to tend to you. the only thing to alleviate his anger would be your presence and knowing that you were now safe. would demand both pledis and your own company enforce better security, incredibly frustrated that you even got a single scratch on you due to their negligence.

jeonghan -

not being one to hide his emotions from fans, he would express frustration at it, mentioning it on live when consistently questioned about it. would state his disappointment, but would make it clear this was directed at fans who knew their actions were morally wrong. he would probably not do much about it other than make sure your security amped up, not wanting to get in the way of your own idol career or draw more attention to this, but having your security as top priority. would put extra focus in babying you and tending to you at any and every moment he was off work.

joshua -

he'd be very emotionally affected by it. you'd be able to tell by his quieted down demeanor after the incident that he felt put off by any public appearance, thinking that anyone around him could be a crazed fan who wanted to inflict pain on his loved ones. would continue schedules as normal, but his personality would remain tame for a while, while he recovered emotionally from the guilt he felt at indirectly putting you in danger. he'd feel extremely apologetic towards you, even if you told him you were fine and did not blame him for any of it.

jun -

his lighthearted demeanor would shift immediately. he would take a hiatus, taking you with him to china so he could have you to himself for a month or so. would not care about any repercussions to his idol career, considering your safety the top priority. would become serious for a while, only bringing back his loving and playful personality when interacting with you or any of his other loved ones. would never speak about this publicly once he came back from break, simply acting as if nothing happened. he would've had to demand both your company and pledis amp up any and all security for you the moment you came back from your own hiatus.

soonyoung -

the usually lighthearted and silly boy would turn stoic for a while. he'd never express his frustrations outwardly, but would now feel a constant sense of disappointment at both himself and at any crazed fan who would ever dare even think of putting their hands on you. would be super apologetic to you, begging you to not end it because of this incident. the only thing that would calm him down would be your reassurance that it'd take far more than one obsessed fan to drive you away from him. would dedicate all his free time to you and take on a more protective attitude towards you.

wonwoo -

would probably go on a short hiatus. you were one of the most important people in his life. he had kept the relationship secret as much as he could, but after dispatch outed you two as a couple, you had begun to receive more threats than usual. now not only from your own stalker fans but from his too. would be absolutely devastated he was the cause of your pain. he could never leave you out of his sight again, feeling an innate need to protect you. would stay gone and just be with you for a few months before returning to his idol duties, never speaking publicly about what happened.

jihoon -

pure disgust and annoyance. the same way he calls out sasaengs on live for pestering him with calls, he would bring this up too. saying that he's tried to ignore it but that some things go too far. would feel bad if any other carats felt uncomfortable by his scolding, but would feel so incredibly frustrated the love of his life was put in danger due to someone liking him way too much for safety. scared you might feel like this is too much to deal with, but would respect if you decided the relationship was just not worth the pain. would thank you immensely the moment you told him he's worth all hurdles, that you simply needed better security.

seokmin -

it was rare to see seokmin angry, and he had never been this angry. fans would be able to tell after the incident that his demeanor had shifted completely. would take him about a week or so to go back to his bubbly self while in public, having gotten the scare of his life when he got a call from your manager claiming that an obsessed dk fan had launched at you at a fansign, makeshift weapon in hand as they managed to mangle some of the skin of your arm before being swiftly taken away by security. he wouldn't go on hiatus, but he'd spend every passing minute with you as he apologized and reassured you no one would ever hurt a hair off your head ever again.

mingyu -

would also go on a quick hiatus. he hates calling out crazed fans, knowing it only incites them to do deranged things like this even more, being aware that they'll do anything to get a reaction out of him. so he wouldn't give them one. he would simply step back from idol duties for a while, joining you in your own hiatus as you emotionally (and physically) recovered from the attack. would try and give you an out, telling you that if dating him put you in danger then maybe you should reconsider your options, he would always love you but he would understand. would feel instant relief the moment you cursed him out, telling him a few injuries were not enough to drive you away. he'd swear to never let you out of his sight again.

minghao -

another member who would be extremely angry. would do his best to stand by you and show his support towards you even if it meant putting your relationship even more into the public eye. you would be his one and only priority. he would bring it up at some point in an interview or statement, airing out his frustrations at sasaengs who thought of him as anything more than an idol. would put a brake on fan-idol interactions even more now, now even toning down most of his fanservice to avoid fans getting the wrong idea that he'd ever look their way when he had you.

seungkwan -

just absolutely terrified. he'd never felt more fear in his life than the moment his manager informed him of the news that you were in the hospital due to one of his stalker fans attacking you. would feel incredibly guilty and beg you for forgiveness as he visited you at the hospital. the only relief he felt at the situation would be your insistence in telling him you were fine and that this would not break your relationship. he'd become overly attached and protective of you, demanding his own company to provide security for you, claiming that this was a personal issue and that he would not rest unless you were as protected as possible.

vernon -

would be brooding and cold for a while. he would've dealt with the situation behind the scenes, not wanting anyone to see his reaction, knowing that acknowledging the situation publicly would only cause more crazed fans to try and do the same. he'd back away from the public for a while, only participating in any mandatory schedules and even then he would keep himself hidden in the back as much as possible. would feel a little guilty for technically punishing all fans when it was only a few who acted like this, but would need some time to recover from having put the love of his life in danger.

chan -

this was brand new territory for him, so he would feel absolutely taken by surprise. he never would have imagined someone to try and come after the love of his life, much less under the claim that it was for his own good. no words could describe the guilt he felt at seeing you at the hospital, scratches in your face showing the damage the fan was able to inflict before security pulled them away. would curse at your security team, claiming this couldve been way worse, and that they risked your life. would also apologize for his part in it, knowing that if he was out of the picture this never wouldve happened. would take a short break from idol activities to spend a week with you holed up at a safe location, spending the entire time showing you how much he cared for you and how he would protect you from now on.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt reactions #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #svt angst

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argreion · 2 months

Text

Just a Deal

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — P in V, breeding kink/talk, mating press, cream pies, Leon being old and aching, talks of eating out/cunnilingus, talks of Advil (reader using the deal of Advil jokingly for sex). Leon wondering if he's mid.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.5k

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆❜𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — Well, this is my somewhat proud attempt to come back to writing smut. I want to write more, so... Yeah, there's that! I'd call this a valiant attempt, y'know? Breeding kink is yummy. Don't murder me if there's a mistake, I haven't written actual smut in so long. :')

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“Just an idea.” You said, glancing over at the male with a small smirk. Talk of sex over dinner? Maybe you shouldn't have waited till he got home from a mission. Hearing the pop of his back and the pained groans miles away from the apartment. Yet, you have to make a deal sweeter; Advil. The baby he loved, would sing it to sleep if he could. Pop a few and it worked wonders on him.

“That idea is…” What does he respond with? Makes his dick hard? The idea of folding his lover? Tapping his fork against the ceramic—reminds you to scold him later for that. Fine china was getting harder to get, and you’d rather it not have scratches on it when it’s for sale. “I wouldn't mind doing it if you'd want me to. Sounds interesting, doll. Didn’t know you’d like me to ‘ruin your pussy like it’s your last day alive. To fuck your babies into you’.”

“Never say that out loud ever again, my soul left my body for a few seconds.” You sighed, hand already coming to rub your face. Cheeks were flush from the embarrassment of him being blunt. Someone above, please shut this man up.

“I’ll let you finish up here, ‘kay? Don’t keep me waiting too long, supercop.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Two hours later, dinner finished, and clothes are torn and flung away.

Forced into a mating press against your shared bed. Your legs loosely around his hips, moving with each thrust. Balls slapping against your ass as Leon pressed you deeper into the bed. Soft moans came from your lips at his pace. Curling up to hit your core in just the right places. Leaking more than you should’ve, silly little idea.

His hands came to hold your upper back, making your body flush against his. “What, thought you wanted this, doll? Wanted to be full of babies, right?” He taunted, wanting to rub it in your face. Rub it in your face that you weren't ready for him—weren’t ready for subpar dick. You’d thought he’d be slow, boring, but no, someone liked this idea. The idea of breeding had gotten to him. So much so that he manhandled you and did it himself.

“Mmmm, look at you, already willing to become a mama. Can’t wait to cream this pussy...” Leon leaned in, his lips brushing against your ears. “We aren’t wasting any drop either, doll. You know the rule. Call me a baker for making a cute little cream puff; gotta make sure she’s extra full.”

His chest rumbled as he felt you tighten around him. Attempting to milk him of his worth. He was doing something right. Wringing out moans from your lips left and right. Was doing something right with the way this was going.

“You like that, don't you?” He purred, letting his forehead fall to your shoulder. Sweating at the extortion of his aging body. Nipping at the skin, he quickened his pace. Little red marks litter your upper torso, shoulder-to-shoulder. “Didn’t know I had a whore in my apartment. Should’ve thought of this sooner.”

You moaned in response, the lewdity had you rolling. ‘Call me a baker for making a cute little cream puff; gotta make sure she’s extra full.' It was bad that your baby fever had already made you so… Aroused. Choose a mating press over anything else for merely that—breeding kink on an all-time high from that. Over the kitchen counter, on his motorcycle, in the car, anywhere. The thoughts running through your head made you clench, erupting a groan from Leon's lips.

“Seems my question is already answered—you are a whore. A cute one at that.”

Leon purred in delight, satisfied by your response. Hands moving from behind your back to beside your head. Engaging your head as he maneuvered himself comfortably so that he could get rougher. Force himself deeper, make him feel like he could do something.

Yet, when someone musters up all their strength; means they crash and fall harder—especially on their lover.

With each harsh thrust, Leon could feel himself being drained. His old age was catching up to him, as was the ache in his back. Beginning to bubble up from his lower back to the beginning of his spine. Arched over his love like a cat hissing in old-timey movies. Your fingers grasping at his back and legs tightening around him. Exposing your neck to the open-mouthed kissing he brought on you. Stubble brushing against your delicate skin, vulnerable to a quick hickey.

More moans came from your mouth as he buried himself inside you. Sent you spiraling with each slam of his hips. A cloudy ring started to form and leak down onto the bed. Needed this more often, needed to be manhandled.

“Almost there…” He panted after each word he spoke. You could feel pity in your chest as you watched him struggle. Stamina wasn’t his strong suit anymore, sadly. Reminds you of when he was better in his younger days. Twenty-seven and lasting two to four rounds.

Might buy an extra bottle of Advil, just for him.

In the back of his mind, he was cursing himself out for not being you to a climax. He knew worth wasn't purely based on orgasms or how experienced he was. Gosh darn it, though, made him feel horrible. Useless, or some other word Rebecca used that he couldn't remember.

Being brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of nails piercing his skin would leave a mark he’d have to explain at work. Your back arching into his chest surprised him—he had done it. Blue eyes widened as you seized in his grasp, mouth agape as you gushed around him. If he had only recorded this, he'd love every second of it. Imagining you sucking him in every way he could think possible. Oddly, brought a smile to his face, alongside the ego boost.

“That's it, let it out. I gotcha, pretty girl.” Leon whispered, rubbing your cheek as your eyes fluttered. One second they were squeezed shut, and now it felt like he was looking down at the prettiest girl in the world. That pleased look in your eyes made his balls tighten. His eyes fluttered, as his hips stuttered. Oh, fuck him.

“Go ahead and let that pussy cry more for me… So fuckin' gorgeous. Deserves this so badly.”

He'd already reached his peak, cumming inside your walls, panting heavily. Wish he lasted longer than this. Arms encircling your head as he pressed himself fully into you. The sweat from earlier now oozing from the bedsheets. Squeezing his eyes shut as he slowly emptied himself into you. Counting his blessings as you'd nag him to help change the bedsheets later.

The drive slowly faded into stillness. Finally resting inside you as he seemed to come down from the quick high. In some ways, it felt anticlimactic. An anticlimactic filling that leaked down onto the bedsheets. Cloudy ring, now a creamy white. Fresh new stain to add to the collection.

“I'm getting old, aren't I?” Leon asked himself out loud, trying to break the silence. It felt awkward, impregnated—something he didn't like. Too serious for his brain to handle.

“Maybe.” Was all you said, letting out a heavy sigh. “It's certainly getting old that you're laying on me now.”

“Forgot about that, sorry.”

You could feel the bed dripping beside you as he moved off. Letting himself curl up beside you, not wanting to waste a drop in you. Leon felt fragile for some reason, like a shivering old man in your head. Curled up beside his wife—crying, ‘cause he ain't got no one better. Maybe calling him an old man suited Leon now.

“I mean, that wasn't amazing.”

You paused; maybe you should've chosen your words more carefully. Leon was sensitive. Sex didn't feel amazing like it did in books or movies. Could women get post-nut clarity? Was that even a thing? Were you having that, or were you just not womaning? Maybe you should save yourself thinking for another time.

“But you do better than a lot of guys, at least. For a super awkward man, who crashes almost every vehicle he drives, and can't tie a tie, you did well. Mating press might be your forte in sex positions.”

A smile came to your lips, leaning over to kiss the tip of his nose. Pleasantries aside, he'd take it over you using a vibrator or dildo. Enjoyed watching it, but hated not being the one to do it. Ok, well, he's just picky in that regard. A bit of a bummer, wouldn't you think?

Well, there was something he wouldn't be bummed out about...

Leaning over, your noses barely touching as you asked the one important question on the tip of your tongue, “If I get you an extra bottle of Advil… Will you eat me out?”

The response couldn't get any better, as he smirked.

“If you get me ice cream, I will.”

“You've got cream right here, dumbass.”

The chuckle that left your lips felt sinister. Followed by a smirk as you straddled him. Hands pressed against the sheets as you rested mere inches above his face. Dripping down onto his dumbfounded face.

“Well? Get to it, lover boy.”

Oh, he loved this game again.

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @rigorwhoring

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