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bi-writes · 2 months

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hmm im thinking about it being the first night simon stays over, and you show him how to take off his makeup. (18+)

he looks tired. you stand in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with the remnants from dinner. you don't want to spend time washing the full sink, you just want to sit next to him and soak up the warmth of him--you had missed him, and all you want to do is curl up next to him and nuzzle your face into his mask and finally get him into your bed, under your covers.

he's never slept over. he's always been adamant about that. always lacing up his boots after the movie, kissing you through the mask after a warm date, tucking you in when you get too tipsy and leaving water by the bedside table. he always goes, and even if he comes back in the morning, he always makes sure he does not stay over.

even when he fucked you the first time--he waited until you fell asleep, and then he left, and he came back in the morning with breakfast, but you knew he went home because he smelled fresh and he was wearing different clothes.

but tonight, he's staying. because you finally asked, and how could he say no to those pretty eyes? to that sweet little pout?

the distance, he was always trying to maintain it. but it was useless. you are not temporary. there is no end date. he can't keep letting you linger at arm's length.

you're soft and sweet, and your cunt is the same, and when he isn't thinking about being cock-deep in you, he's dreaming of your soft voice and your pretty smile and the tender way you kiss him and the way you hug. the all-encompassing, enveloping way you put him at ease. his rage builds, and one look at you, and it is gone.

as if it never mattered in the first place. as if it was never there at all.

so he agreed to stay. his bag sits heavy in your bedroom, clean clothes inside, and his toothbrush is in the same holder as yours in the bathroom. he lingered on it when he had put it there; two versus one. he never wants to see his toothbrush alone ever again.

he blinks awake when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. he's still wearing his army fatigues, black cargo pants and his windbreaker, the skull balaclava tucked under his long sleeve to hide any skin. his holsters are still around his thighs, but they are empty, and his vest is on the floor by the door, where his boots are. he feels your warmth even through the layers, and he leans towards it without thinking.

you kiss the side of his head, cupping under his chin gently.

"tired, simon?" you coo softly. "'s alright. we should get you in bed. been a long day."

"mm...olright," he murmurs, and you look up at him as he stands, and he towers over you, making you feel small, but safe. he's a bear, and he's yours, and he's staying.

you take his hand gently, and he follows you. you stand side-by-side in the bathroom, and you smile at him in the mirror as he unzips his windbreaker, revealing the hoodie underneath. his eyes meet yours, and he winks, and you smile wider, especially when his hand falls, smacking your ass nice and firm.

"wot, luv? somethin' funny, yeah?"

you shake your head and laugh, and then you reach for the headband in the drawer, slipping it over you as you prepare to wash your face. you slip a few products out onto the counter, and your mouth goes dry when simon grips his mask from the back of his head and pulls it completely off.

he is so handsome. his nose is crooked; he's broken it a few times, that's for sure. there's a scar deep across his face, jagged over his lips, and you've felt it when you've kissed him before, but it's jarring to see it. there's a few more across his other cheek, along his forehead, and you break out into nervous giggles as you meet his dark eyes. the eye-black around his eyes has shifted with the fabric of the mask and with sweat, but he still looks hot.

really hot.

you swallow hard and turn the sink on, wetting your hands. simon reaches to do the same, and you watch as he brings his wet hands up and starts to wash his face. immediately, the eye-black just smears, and he has to move more over the sink as he continues to wash.

"simon?"

"'s olright. just takes a few minutes for it to come off."

you smile, "here, i...let me help."

he turns the water off, wiping his face on his sleeve, and you giggle when he looks into the mirror and realizes all he's done is smear the black across his cheeks. he laughs with you, deep and gravelly, and you reach into the drawer and pull out two bracelets made of absorbent fabric.

"give me your hands," you say softly, and he does, and you slip the bracelets over his wrists. "keeps the water from running down your arms."

"fuckin' annoyin' when it does that," he grumbles, and you smile. you reach across the counter, opening a small jar.

"it's called double cleansing. you take this balm--" you get a dime-sized amount onto your finger and you put it into his hand, "--and then you rub it into your hands until it becomes...kinda oily. it'll take off all of...that--" you motion to the black streaks along his face.

"oi, are y'on the piss?" he laughs, "it'll take it oll'off?"

you giggle and nod, "yeah. try it."

he rubs his hands together, warming up the balm, and then he reaches up and massages it into his face. you watch, biting back more laughs, when he realizes how much easier the eye-black moves, coming off onto his hands. when he washes it off, it's nearly gone, and then you give him a dollop of face wash to help rinse the rest away. he dries his face on a towel, grinning in the mirror, and you hug his arm gently as he takes the bracelets off.

your eyes meet again in the mirror, and he smooths his hands down your waist, moving you in front of him, leaning over your and putting his face into your neck. he warms the skin there with soft kisses, and you laugh, buzzing with delight.

"you're so beautiful, luv," he growls in your ear, and you close your eyes.

"you're...y-you're beautiful, too, simon."

"yeah? come off it."

never. you'll never come off whatever high you're on now. you reach up and hold onto him, as much as you can grab, and you close your eyes as you kiss, his lips on yours, something hot in your chest and something soft in your insides.

you hold onto him tighter. you will not let go.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts

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brandyschillace · 2 months

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The Forgotten History of the World’s First Transgender Clinic

I finished the first round of edits on my nonfiction history of trans rights today. It will publish with Norton in 2025, but I decided, because I feel so much of my community is here, to provide a bit of the introduction.

[begin sample]

The Institute for Sexual Sciences had offered safe haven to homosexuals and those we today consider transgender for nearly two decades. It had been built on scientific and humanitarian principles established at the end of the 19th century and which blossomed into the sexology of the early 20th. Founded by Magnus Hirschfeld, a Jewish homosexual, the Institute supported tolerance, feminism, diversity, and science. As a result, it became a chief target for Nazi destruction: “It is our pride,” they declared, to strike a blow against the Institute. As for Magnus Hirschfeld, Hitler would label him the “most dangerous Jew in Germany.”6 It was his face Hitler put on his antisemitic propaganda; his likeness that became a target; his bust committed to the flames on the Opernplatz. You have seen the images. You have watched the towering inferno that roared into the night. The burning of Hirschfeld’s library has been immortalized on film reels and in photographs, representative of the Nazi imperative, symbolic of all they would destroy. Yet few remember what they were burning—or why.

Magnus Hirschfeld had built his Institute on powerful ideas, yet in their infancy: that sex and gender characteristics existed upon a vast spectrum, that people could be born this way, and that, as with any other diversity of nature, these identities should be accepted. He would call them Intermediaries.

Intermediaries carried no stigma and no shame; these sexual and Gender nonconformists had a right to live, a right to thrive. They also had a right to joy. Science would lead the way, but this history unfolds as an interwar thriller—patients and physicians risking their lives to be seen and heard even as Hitler began his rise to power. Many weren’t famous; their lives haven’t been celebrated in fiction or film. Born into a late-nineteenth-century world steeped in the “deep anxieties of men about the shifting work, social roles, and power of men over women,” they came into her own just as sexual science entered the crosshairs of prejudice and hate. The Institute’s own community faced abuse, blackmail, and political machinations; they responded with secret publishing campaigns, leaflet drops, pro-homosexual propaganda, and alignments with rebel factions of Berlin’s literati. They also developed groundbreaking gender affirmation surgeries and the first hormone cocktail for supportive gender therapy.

Nothing like the Institute for Sexual Sciences had ever existed before it opened its doors—and despite a hundred years of progress, there has been nothing like it since. Retrieving this tale has been an exercise in pursuing history at its edges and fringes, in ephemera and letters, in medal texts, in translations. Understanding why it became such a target for hatred tells us everything about our present moment, about a world that has not made peace with difference, that still refuses the light of scientific evidence most especially as it concerns sexual and reproductive rights.

[end sample]

I wanted to add a note here: so many people have come together to make this possible. Like Ralf Dose of the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft (Magnus Hirschfeld Archive), Berlin, and Erin Reed, American journalist and transgender rights activist—Katie Sutton, Heike Bauer. I am also deeply indebted to historian, filmmaker and formative theorist Susan Stryker for her feedback, scholarship, and encouragement all along the way. And Laura Helmuth, editor of Scientific American, whose enthusiasm for a short article helped bring the book into being. So many LGBTQ+ historians, archivists, librarians, and activists made the work possible, that its publication testifies to the power of the queer community and its dedication to preserving and celebrating history. But I ALSO want to mention you, folks here on tumblr who have watched and encouraged and supported over the 18 months it took to write it (among other books and projects). @neil-gaiman has been especially wonderful, and @always-coffee too: thank you.

The support of this community has been important as I’ve faced backlash in other quarters. Thank you, all.

NOTE: they are attempting to rebuild the lost library, and you can help: https://magnus-hirschfeld.de/archivzentrum/archive-center/

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tojisun · 7 months

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currently obsessed with biker!simon!!!! how do you think he and reader met? i think, whatever the situation was, he was the one that couldn't get his eyes off her and started to bluntly stare??? maybe soap was with him and laughed bc he had never saw him get this serious about any girl he had laid his eyes on 😫😫😫😫

BAE I WENT FERAL WHEN I READ THIS BECAUSE YEAH!!! YEAH

ok so this is gonna be ridiculous but bear with me because im actually so obsessed with biker!simon im unwell

simon prefers using his bike whenever he’s out with his friends. there’s no use taking his car, anyway. not with kyle hitching a ride with john, and johnny taking his own car on the few occasions that he does bring someone home with him.

simon’s never had to take those things into account because he preferred a quiet end to his nights, anyway. just a shot of bourbon and a short dinner with his friends, and then he’s back on the road and on his way home.

so he’s never had regrets with taking his bike. until today, of course.

he’s noticed you since you walked into the bar with your friends, your arm hooked around one of them and your head tilted to hear them better. the others who are not engaged in a discussion with you whipped their heads around to find an empty booth and simon almost crushed his glass at the way his heart leapt when he realized that the closest empty booth in the place was the one directly beside his group’s.

simon watched as your group moved closer, the chatter finally piercing his ears and, unconsciously, his body turned to hear you better. from in front of him, johnny’s pinched lips finally wobbled as he wheezed out a laugh, breaking simon’s focus.

“what?” simon barked out, feeling warmth creep up from his neck to his ears, half of his mind focused on the group settling behind him.

“holy shit,” johnny said mid-laughter. “you don’t know anythin’ about subtlety.”

simon grumbled then, in denial, but now he just fully stopped caring.

somehow, as the night progressed, simon gravitated towards the seat facing yours, a spot where he had a clear vantage view of you. he’s taken advantage of the change in seating, devouring the sight you make as you giggled with your friends. devouring the change in atmosphere, now that you’ve begun to return his heated looks.

it started with curious looks, born from your friend whispering to you how simon was staring; how, throughout the night, he did not entertain all those who went up beside him and focused only on you. then your gaze shifted into something scalding. something that sent liquid fire warming simon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his spine.

mactavish sighs beside him. “just buy the lass a drink already.”

simon peels his eyes away from you to look at johnny, mulling over the suggestion before grunting out a thanks. he stands up and walks to the bar, calling out to get the bartender’s attention.

remembering the bellini that you’ve been nursing since you got here, simon asks for another flute of the cocktail and requests that it be served to you. he turns when he says this, hoping to give the bartender a clear view of who the bellini is for only to blink in surprise when he sees you standing just a few feet away from him.

“sir?” the man behind the counter asks.

“sorry. just serve it here,” simon replies, his eyes still on you. there is shuffling behind him, the bartender probably leaving to whip up his order, but simon honestly doesn’t care anymore.

not when you finally shuffle close, a shy smile dancing on your lips.

“hello,” you greet, voice a hesitant whisper, and simon feels like he’s been gutted.

you’re so goddamn beautiful, it’s catastrophic.

simon thinks of how short you are, something he’s first noticed the moment you walked into the bar. it’s not like he’s surprised by the realization given that he tends to tower over anyone ever since he hit his growth spurt, but there is something unfurling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes how perfectly you fit in his arms. how easy it would be to just tuck you underneath his chin and slot himself around you.

“hey,” he finally replies, his eyes roving along your features, trying to memorize the shimmer of your lips. the long wisps of your lashes. “‘m simon.”

you giggle, introducing yourself shyly, and the sound of your laughter tickles his ears, making him weak to his knees. he mouths your name, testing it out for himself and preening when it rolls off his tongue with ease. like your name is something simon is supposed to always call.

his new favourite word.

“sorry,” you say, lifting your hand like you want to reach out and touch him, only for you to snuff out the action in your anxiousness. “i don’t, uh, come up to people i find attractive so this is really making me nervous.”

simon is aware of how good he looks – he’s proud of it even – but there is something about a pretty darling like you admitting how his looks make you nervous that sparks the desire in him to transform into something more carnal.

something more visceral.

he reaches his hand out toward you, inviting you to finally close the remaining distance between you two, and smiles when you take the offer, placing your hand on top of his palm, sending goosebumps to rise across his skin. you step into his space and simon has to stop himself from breathing you in, afraid how he’ll end up reacting when he’s taken a whiff of your intoxicating scent.

“i’ve ordered you a drink,” simon whispers, his voice a hoarse croak.

“oh,” you mumble. “thank you...”

he notes the hesitation in your words, the bubble in his chest popping as his worry extinguishes his burning desire. “you don’t have to drink it.”

“no!”

he startles at your reaction, his wide eyes staring back at your equally shocked ones.

it takes a heartbeat before the two of you are breaking off into choked laughter, your body angled to muffle your giggles on the sleeves of his sweater. simon’s heart clenches at the cute display and he curls his arms around you, pulling you close until your head is pressed on his chest.

he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

it takes a while for the laughter to fizzle out, leaving you putty in his arms, your chin digging into his chest as you gaze up at him. simon eagerly returns your stare, his lips stretched into the softest of smiles now that he has you in his arms. he brushes your hair away from your face, warmth exploding in his chest at your happy little sigh.

“wanna leave this place with you,” you tell him and simon trembles with need.

because he wants you to come home with him too. wants to show you how a sweetheart like you deserves to be treated. how you deserve to be cherished and pampered and revered.

then, he remembers his goddamn harley.

fuck.

wait. now that he thinks about it-

“is there something wrong?” you ask, face creasing in worry at seeing his frown.

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” simon replies, his mind already mapping out the roads to his place. “lemme just grab my keys while you drink up, yeah?”

you nod softly, eyes fluttering close when simon leans forward to press his lips on the top of your head, before stepping away from your warmth. he watches the way you ambled towards the bar counter, carefully picking up your new flute of bellini before turning to show him that adorable little smile that simon’s starting to be addicted to and taking a small sip of your cocktail.

the wrap of your pretty lips around the straw shouldn’t stir something so carnal in him but it does and simon gulps, well aware of the sudden thirst that sucked the moisture from his throat, before turning to march towards his table.

johnny whistles out loud when simon reaches them, tipping his new glass of beer and whooping even when kyle growls how he’s being too loud. simon would’ve sided with garrick, but his patience is running thin and the need that is raging within him is gaining strength so he ignores them both to stand beside johnny.

“keys.”

“what?”

“mactavish, give me your keys.”

“...why?”

simon holds in a sigh as he watches kyle reach over to smack johnny on the back of his head. “what the hell do you think?”

john continues to ignore the group, his eyes trained somewhere on the dance floor. traitor, simon thinks.

“oh,” johnny whispers. “oh!”

he tries not to tap his foot as johnny grapples with his trousers, hitting his elbows on the edge of the table and angrily cursing in scottish, before finally fishing them out of the depths of his pockets and presenting them to simon. simon takes them with urgency, almost ripping them from johnny’s fingers, before throwing the keys of his harley to johnny and barking out his thanks.

“use protection!” johnny screams because of course he would. he’s a fucking bastard.

simon flips him off as he marches back towards you.

you look up at hearing him call your name, your beautiful face glowing as you smile at him again.

god, he’ll never tire of seeing your pretty smile.

“ready?” he asks, masking the excitable tremble of his voice with a quick cough.

“mhmm!” you reply, putting down your half-empty cocktail and clambering beside simon’s side. he presses another kiss on the top of your head, this time no longer holding back as he breathes you in, and leads you out towards johnny’s car.

next time, he’ll take you out for a bike ride.

because simon promises that there will be a next time.

starting to think if i might need a masterlist for biker!simon atp // edit: mlist!

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ask #dragonstoneshortcake #suns

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devotedlystrangewizard · 1 year

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sometimes you just gotta play a game for 750 hours only to then realize the reason a plotline seemed to be cut off weirdly (a plotline you ended around the 100hour mark) was because it was continued in a side questline that you began, only to not continue because you thought it was just to unlock the extreme versions of instances in the main story questline, and not to unlock more instances and the conclusion of that plotline

#in other words i.. finally found the warring triad quests #i found the first one & did it but obviously that quest also unlocks the extreme versions of two hw trials #which. i dont really care about unlocking those. i dont have friends. im probably never doing them #so after doing that one (MONTHS AGO) i just forgot about the kid in the rising stones #& then i replayed heavensward on ng+#and was like 'hey the garlean part of this was ended pretty weirdly wasnt it'#am i stupid. maybe a little #i was actually replaying hw on one of my alts when i remembered #and then did the questline in one evening (last night)#my inability to take anything seriously out of fear of growing so attached i respond the way i did when haurche died showed up again #regula buddy i am so sorry for calling u reggie the entire time it was a joke i swear #also just the seventh dawn adoption service striking again...#i should probably go unlock all the side instances but im so. lazy #ive been doing it! very slowly!#isnt that right nier raids that i have unlocked the first of and still havent continued #ive done syrcus tower... so many times.....#hello gamers unlock ur alliance raids please im so sick of syrcus...#dun scaith is really fun guys i prommy #honestly i think bc of the treasure trove ive actually had dun scaith on roulette a few times #like i can live with msq trials in roulette only bc there are SO MANY (got chrysalis not that long ago i was so lost)#but we only have 3 alliance raids that are mandatory :(#i like wod but only if im in alliance B bc being eaten by the dog is fun #anyway back to triad right i was so lost #for a while #bc i knew it existed #but obviously. the first quest starts in ishgard #the second one in the rising stones #i hadnt been in the rising stones since the last time the msq dragged me there at the end of endwalker #which. i started unlocking stuff AFTER that

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 2 months

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title: just a hug?

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

genre: Could be read as platonic or romantic. Angst with fluff

pairing: Alastor x reader

summary: You were warned on the first night at the hotel, Alastor has a bubble. A space bubble and it was best you respect that. What happens when Alastor wants you to invade his space?

this is a request from lovely anon:

When you arrived to the hotel, on the very first night, Charlie warned you that while everyone was friendly, Alastor definitely respected his space and wanted others to do the same. Vaggie had added on that Alastor doesn’t respect others space though and warned you. You understood though and promised them both that you would respect his boundary, as you really didn’t mind physical touch, really. It was just a bit jarring, nothing you couldn’t deal with!

The whole hotel came to realize that you were extremely touch starved, so even casual touches ended with you flinching or freezing, almost like you had no idea how to react to a kind gentle touch at first. The first time Angel came up to you and put his arm around you, you physically jumped off your seat and ended up on the floor. Angel had apologized and you explained it just shocked you. You weren’t used to those casual touches, but you liked them, they were fine. As you got to know the patrons and considered them friends you weren’t as touch adverse.

Finally after a few months, Charlie would run up and hug you in greeting, you squeezing her back so tightly. Angel and you often sat next to each other, his legs draped on your lap or vice versa. Or for movie night, one of you was cuddled into the other, laughing at the funny moments or you hiding in Angel’s chest if it was a scary movie. You even would hug Vaggie, and she would awkwardly pat your back. Even Husk had gotten used to your casual touches, like when you would thank him by patting his arm, or when the loan sharks showed up for Mimzy and you grabbed on to his bicep in fear. Just casual little touches that no one noticed or thought about, except Alastor. Alastor noticed it all.

He saw how you interacted with each of the patrons but how when he was around and would even just go to pat your head, you reacted as if you had been burned. It angered him to no end. He thought it was funny at first, how you were seemingly scared of him. Jumping and avoiding him. But now seeing how you were around everyone else? What had he done?

Was this on purpose? Did you hate him? More importantly, why did he care? Alastor realized sitting in his radio tower that was why he was so affected by this. He cared. He growled at the realization, disgusted. He cared that you, a sinner, wasn’t giving him… a hug? He was disappointed in himself. Ridiculous. Bury it. Bury it. Bury it.

———————————————

This lasted for two days. And Alastor’s final breaking point was when the whole group had been told they had to participate in a trust fall exercise. While you were up there, he prepared himself. He would be the one to catch you. Couldn’t escape then, not like he cared of course. And he did, catch you. You landed straight in his arms securely and he looked down at you with a softer smile than he had given anyone in Hell.

And then you yiped like a dog and some how jumped out of his arms. He was too shocked to even react. Angel caught you and Alastor watched as you stayed in Angel’s arms for a bit and then casually got down, going up to him and murmuring that you were ‘so so sorry’.

“It’s… fine, my dear.” He said as he walked away seething. Charlie called after him saying they weren’t done but Alastor ignored them all as he rounded the corner and disappeared. You looked after him concerned and quickly excused yourself, trying to follow him.

“Where could he have gone?” You ask yourself, going toward the only logical place which was his room and radio room. You knocked on his room door and waited. He opened it and looked down, a foul expression casting over his face as he saw you, the smile never leaving though.

“Yes?” He asks, no pleasantries added. He wanted-needed you gone.

“I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay. And apologize again. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you when we did the trust falls.” You explained, sincerely thinking he was upset because you had broken the one rule you were told about your first night.

“Check on me? I’m fine.” He ground out and turned around going deeper into his room. You took this as an invitation, following him and he shut the door behind you, thinking you were gone.

“Are you sure because you don’t look fine?” You asked and he spun around.

“Who let you in?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“Um, you walked away, which I thought was inviting me in so we could hash this out?” You said, a bit confused.

“Hash this out?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Yeah, like work this out?” You said.

“There’s nothing to work out.” Alastor shot back. “You may go.”

“No, you’re upset. And I know it’s because of me and I want to help fix it.” You said adamantly.

“You don’t even want to be near me. Why do you care?” He snarled, getting into your face. You jump a bit back shocked at the sudden movement.

“What? Alastor, you’re the one who doesn’t want to be touched. I was told that the first night I came here. It’s why I’ve kept my distance so that you weren’t uncomfortable. I tend to be a bit clingy.” You explained, a bit angry at how he was reacting. And then suddenly, everything clicked into place. How he was more frequently trying to create those casual touches. Even today, you knew he was at the far back of the group for trust falls and he still had caught you. Meaning he made his way to the front to specifically catch you. And each time he tried to do that you freaked out, shied away, ran away… when you were so affectionate with the others. “Oh.” You said quietly and Alastor just looked at you. Anger still in his eyes but there was something else.

“Do you want a hug?” You ask.

“What?” Alastor said, bewildered.

“A hug. I would like to hug you. Can I hug you?” You ask crossing over to him and opening your arms slightly.

“If that’s what you want.” He said still trying to save his reputation. You smile and wrap your arms around his middle drawing him to you, your head resting on his lower chest. He blinked slowly and wrapped his arms around you. Leaning down and resting his head on top of yours. You both stayed there like that for a bit, you hugging until Alastor pulled away. His cheeks were red and his ears were back and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hand going up to his cheek and bringing him down closer to you so you could gently kiss his other cheek.

“I apologize, I didn’t realize that you wouldn’t have a conniption if I touched you. Just let me know next time, hmmm?” You ask as he blinks at you. You smile and then head to the door. “I’m going back down stairs, but thank you for letting me know how you feel Alastor. I’ll be sure to be as clingy with you as I am with everyone else.” You joke a bit and he smiles.

“Thank you, darling.” He murmurs quietly.

“Of course!” You say immediately and shut his door behind you. You walk down the hall a bit and stop off at room and wash your face with some cold water trying to get the blush that you had been fighting off your cheeks.

#queue my love #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel angst #alastor altruist #alastor angst #alastor/reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor

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parkerpeter24 · 11 months

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HIII i am begging can you write a Peter Parker x reader one shot where peter and reader are married and have a toddler and maybe the avengers team find out PLISSSS ANS TYYYY 🫶🫶🫶

baby 🥺

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open (but i barely write stuff)

masterlist

“what is he doing on the ceiling?!” kate yelled as soon as you entered the lobby, searching for your little toddler ben. you rubbed your eyes as you approached a very baffled kate, “your child is on the ceiling! how are you so calm?!”

“it’s 7 in the morning.” you winced as you looked at ben, him giving you an excited look and extended his arm towards you, making you do the same, “come on, benny, come to mama.”

and he did so as, un-sticking himself from the wall as he perfectly landed in your arms.

your two year old was way better at this than peter when he had started out as spider-man. his hand kept getting stuck to different places and after a bunch of ripped t-shirts and a couple of haircuts, you bought him rubber gloves. however, that didn’t work either.

as your little boy nestled against your chest, you looked over to kate who still had surprise written all over her face, “he’s spider-man’s child.” you explained simply.

“but- what if he fell down?”

“oh, he wouldn’t. he’s way too smart for that, aren’t you, benny?” you booped his nose and he gave you a grin.

“yes, mommy.”

you and peter had kept your relationship secret for a couple of years, at least from peter’s superhero gang. so it didn’t come off as a surprise when the avengers found out that you two had a one year old. they were very disappointed in you two for not telling this big a thing but the second they saw ben’s cute little face and his smile, you were forgiven and everyone was happy.

when you agreed to move into the avenger’s tower, tony was more than excited. he added a bunch of toys to the huge playroom that was originally built for morgan.

you were surprised to see that thor was the most attached to your baby. he spent time with him and thursdays were reserved to thor and ben taking a tour of the city. you trusted thor, however you had only allowed this after ben turned two, which was only a few weeks ago.

whenever natasha was around, she would tell ben all kinds of stories about how she kicked bad people’s butts so that little kids could sleep peacefully at night and ben would adore those “tales” even though they were real.

“next time you find him on a ceiling, just show him a cookie, he’ll come right down.” you told kate as you patted ben’s back, gently lulling him back to sleep.

“if you say so.” kate replied, chuckling as she watched you for a minute, “you should get some more sleep too, you look tired.”

“he refused to sleep last night because tony let him have extra ice-cream.” you rolled your eyes.

you noticed ben had fallen asleep, already drooling over the material of your t-shirt as you carried him back to his crib, placing him securely under his blanket before you made your way to your own bed. your husband, peter was still fast asleep. you laid down on the bed, peter already pulling you closer as if it was a reflex. you felt his arm relax against you, his head resting close to your shoulder and soon you felt the soft caress of sleep take over.

the bedside clock showed 10:34 as time when your eyes opened again. the room was empty, peter and ben both gone. you quickly freshened up before making your way out of the room and into the main gathering area once again.

only this time you were greeted with everyone sitting around and laughing as steve held his shield on his lap with ben sitting on top of it.

“hey, babe.” peter was the first one they greeted you as he placed a kiss on your cheek and dragged you in the middle of whatever was happening.

“uh, what’s happening?” you asked, looking around.

“your child is stuck to cap’s shield.” tony said, an almost proud smile spread over his face to which steve gave him a glare.

“guess who inspired it.” natasha rolled her eyes at her two friends, however a small smile remained on her face at the little banter going on.

just then kate ran into the room, holding a cookie in her hand as she handed it to steve, “got it!”

“come on, kid.” steve said, waving around the cookie in the air in front of him. ben’s eyes lit up and steve smiled, “it’s yours if you leave the shield.”

however, cap’s efforts failed as ben reached out one hand to grab the sweet but didn’t move a bit to release his shield.

“i bribed him good.” tony shrugged as he sipped on his black coffee.

you watched the whole scene unfold, amused to say the least. you noticed peter snickering as he stood beside you. you smacked his chest lightly, “you think this is funny? go get your child.”

“and forget the spider-bike mr stark promised me? never.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #dad!peter parker #mcu peter parker #peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader

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theragethatisdesire · 11 months

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aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

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theemporium · 7 months

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Despite the fact drivers were meant to be cautious of their size and weight, Carlos Sainz was an absolute beast of a man.

Everything about him was big and you loved it, far more than you cared to admit. You loved the way he towered over you. You loved the way his thick arms would wrap around you. You loved his broad shoulders and thigh thighs and big hands and just every single damn thing about your boyfriend. Every single aspect of him lived in your head on a loop, not a passing moment in your life where you weren’t thinking about some part of him.

And his personality only matched. Carlos Sainz was never one to half-ass something, regardless if it was a race or a date night—or in the most recent case, a honeymoon.

He knew from the first day he met you that he was going to marry you. He knew that the day he found the perfect ring, that would be his sign that he was ready to propose and that day came around two years later.

The ring was beautiful and large and encaptured everything beautiful about Carlos. The wedding felt like something out of a fairytale. The reception had felt like the best day of your life and you swore nothing would ever top it.

And then Carlos whisked you away on your dream vacation, starting off with a massive villa on the Amalfi Coast. It was huge, far too big for the two of you but Carlos had insisted that it was what you deserved.

Though, you should have known his real reason was so that he could fuck you in every single one of those rooms in the villa, with the sight of his wife and the Italian coast as his perfect view.

“Carlos—fuck!”

“Go on, baby, scream for me.”

“It’s too much!”

“Shhh, you’re taking it so well,” Carlos praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he gripped your thighs even tighter. “Don’t even need to do anything, just look pretty for me.”

You let out a choked noise, your lips parting as your husband continued to bounce you up and down on his cock. The last few days since you landed had been similar. Whichever room you were in, whatever you were wearing, whatever you were doing never mattered to Carlos. He just needed to have his hands on you. He just needed to have his cock inside you.

He just needed you.

And it was hard to forget how big and strong your husband was when he did everything in his power to remind you.

Whether it was engulfing you as he fucked you from behind, keeping you trapped between his body and the wall as he slid inside you, or even pressing down on the bulge in your stomach when he fucks you on the bed, cooing at the reminder that even his cock was too big—Carlos was big and everything reminded you of that fact.

“Hmm, just like that, amor,” Carlos groaned as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Just hold onto me. Let me do the work, mi hermosa esposa.”

“S’too much, Carlos,” you whined as he stood by the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the setting sun. You had been admiring the oranges and pinks and purples in the sky when Carlos had settled in beside you, lasting all of three minutes before he was all over you—despite the fact you were still leaking from his last load.

“Never get enough of you, mi amor,” Carlos gritted through clenched teeth as he continued to move you up and down his cock, as his arms flexed with every move, as he fucked you like you were just a toy rather than his wife. And yet, he was barely breaking a sweat as he kept going and going and going and—

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as you clenched around his cock, nuzzling your face into his warm chest as you felt your body shake with the intensity of your orgasm but Carlos held you close. He let you wrap your legs around him as he held you to him, as he guided you through your orgasm until you were clinging onto him.

“Perfect for me,” Carlos hummed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Every part of you was made for me, made for my cock.”

You snorted. “I still think it’s too big for me.”

You could feel his smile against your temple. “And yet, I make it fit every single time.”

“You’re doing God’s work, Mr Sainz,” you teased playfully as he huffed out a laugh.

“Anything for you, Mrs Sainz.”

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storiesforallfandoms · 5 months

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height advantage ~ jacob elordi

word count: 2857

request?: yes!

“Can you write how a 5’2 photographer was having trouble getting good shots at the Met Gala because people kept pushing in front of her so Jacob Elordi held her hand and helped her get to the front so she could get some good shots and then she gave him her business card to hook up in the future please and thank you”

description: in which the tall actor helps the short photographer to get good shots

pairing: jacob elordi x short!female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

Being short as a photographer was a major disadvantage. Sure, sometimes you were able to get to the front of the pack at events, but most times the other photographers were too hungry for the money shots to remember common decency. You were shoved and stood in front of and completely ignored on more than one occasion. Most nights, you were lucky to get some good pictures of the first few people to arrive at the red carpet. You were terrified that your agency was going to can you soon.

You were given the opportunity to photograph the next MET Gala. It would be huge for your career, if you could get any pictures. You were determined not to let anyone shove in front of you tonight. You were going to get good pictures tonight. You were determined.

There was a dull chatter among the photographers as they waited for the event to start. It all went away basically immediately when the first vehicle pulled up. The interviewers got into place as every camera was immediately raised. The dull chatter became yells and camera flashes as the first celebrity stepped onto the carpet. You had been holding onto the barrier to really make sure no one stood in front of you, but now there were enough bodies pressing you against the barrier that you felt confident that you wouldn’t be moved. You got a lot of good snaps as more guests began to arrive. You were feeling almost giddy.

You paused long enough to check a photo you had just taken, but that was enough for a photographer next to you to start elbowing you to get in front of you.

“Hey, watch it!” you snapped.

“You snooze, you lose, kid,” he said before stepping on front of you.

You tried to step around him, but the space around him was quickly filled in. You sighed and got onto the tips of your toes, raising you camera over your head and hoping the shots you were getting were good ones.

Someone hit your arm and snapped, “Move, you’re blocking my shot!”

You almost dropped your camera and turned to curse out the person who hit you proved to be a mistake when you were just shoved further. You started to panic. You couldn’t see the red carpet anymore, so you certainly weren’t going to get any good pictures. Your boss was going to kill you if you came back with a small handful of pictures again.

“Hey! Is she okay there?”

An accented voice cut through the commotion around you. You tried to get a look at what was going on, but your efforts were for naught. You were starting to wonder if you should just leave and take whatever verbal lashing you were going to get from your boss.

Until the sea of photographers suddenly parted and a towering figure was looking down at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You were so taken by him that you couldn’t form a single sentence. He was so handsome, and so goddamn tall. Not just tall by your standards; everyone normally towered over you, but he towered over everyone. And he was looking - talking - directly at you. The photographers around you weren’t sure if they should be taking pictures or not, so they just kept looking between the two of you in shock.

You remembered he had asked you a question and finally managed to snap out of your trance. “Oh, you, I’m okay. Just being shoved around a bit. That’s par for the course with this profession.”

He extended a hand to you. You took it and gasped when he pulled you forward towards the barrier again. To those around you he said, “She stands here and she stays here. I get that you all have a job to do, but there’s no reason you need to trample one of your own for a good stop. Especially when she’s the smallest one among you all. No offense.”

You shook your head, once again unable to speak.

He smiled and winked at you before stepping back. “Here, get a shot of my good side.”

It took you a moment to remember what you were even supposed to be doing, and quickly fumbled with your camera to start taking pictures again.

Your fellow photographers were quick to move on from the encounter when a new celebrity arrived to the red carpet, but your gaze lingered on him as he started to walk away. You were almost embarrassed to say you had no idea who he was. He was obviously someone famous, but you didn’t recognize him. Either way, he was your savior tonight and you didn’t get the chance to thank him for helping you.

The rest of the night passed quickly after that. No one else shoved or trampled you, so you managed to get a lot of good photos. Once the last celebrity had arrived and entered the building, the reporters and photographers began to disperse. Some went into the building to photograph the events of the night, but you weren’t one of those so you were able to get ready to leave. You started texting your boss to let her know you’d scan the pictures onto your laptop when you got home and send them along right away when you heard someone behind you say, “Hey, was everything alright after?”

You turned to see the tall guy from earlier coming up to you.

“Oh...hi,” you said. “Yes, everything was fine. Thank you for your help there, by the way. I thought for sure I was going to be leaving another event with more pictures of the back of people’s heads than the actual event.”

“Does that happen often?”

“I mean...look at me.” You gestured to your small stature.

He chuckled. “Okay, point taken.”

“My name is (Y/N), by the way.”

“Jacob.”

You shook his hand. “Shouldn’t you be inside, by the way? The event is just starting.”

“I stepped out for some air. I come to these things for the charity aspect, but they’re not really my thing. I plan to eat and slip out immediately afterwards.”

Before I could respond, my Uber pulled up.

“I won’t keep you from getting home,” Jacob said. “I saw you out here and just wanted to check in.”

“I appreciate it, and I appreciate you helping me out back there.”

“Hey, I had to use my height advantage for good eventually. In this case, it helped me to spot a cute photographer before she was turned into a pancake.”

You felt your face heating up at his compliment. Suddenly you were tongue tied again and didn’t have enough time to try and figure out a response because your Uber driver was impatiently waiting for you.

You suddenly remembered the business cards you kept with you in case you ever got to talking with event organizers or celebrities looking for photographers for their photoshoots (or agencies with better pay and benefits, but you’d never say that out lout). You dug one out of your purse and passed it to Jacob. “In case you ever need a cute photographer for a shoot. Or...I don’t know, if you just want to talk.”

He looked down at your business card before smiling at you. “Is this your personal number or a business one?”

“Personal. It’s easier to reach me on my cell than to try and call my workplace.”

“I’ll remember that, then.”

You nodded and finally managed to break yourself from his trance. Your Uber driver was glaring at you through the rearview mirror as you climbed into his car, but you could’ve cared less. You glanced out the window as the car began to pull away. Jacob was still looking down at your business card, a light smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself in return. You hoped it wouldn’t be too long before you heard from Jacob again.

~~~~~~

The next day you were at your desk, going over some of the pictures from the night before to submit to your boss. You had managed to scan the photos onto your laptop when you got home the night before, but it was so late that your boss told you to wait until this morning to submit them. Most publications had their pictures from the Gala posted immediately after they were taken, so your boss said she wasn’t in any rush to have them.

“It gives you more time to pick out the good ones to be submitted,” she had told you.

Your phone vibrated, pulling your attention away from work for just a split second. You looked down to see an unknown number was trying to text me.

“looking for a cute photographer. know anyone who fits the bill? :) - j”

I smiled to myself.

“i may have some ideas. depends on what you’re looking for.”

The response came almost immediately.

“looking for someone to join me for coffee. say in about 15 minutes?”

The urge to shut down your computer and immediately run to meet Jacob was strong. But you knew you had work to do first, even though you would much rather be sitting across from him at some coffee shop than in your cubicle.

“finishing an assignment for work and then i’ll be free for my break. just text me a place and i’ll meet you there :)”

Within 20 minutes, you were approaching the place Jacob had told you to meet him. You didn’t have to look for him as he was stood waiting for you, his tall stature basically sticking out like a sore thumb. You didn’t think you had ever met anyone as tall as him before. It was almost intimidating, if he wasn’t so hot.

He looked up as you approached and smiled. “Hey!”

You were shocked when he pulled you in for a hug, but graciously took the display of affection.

“How was the rest of your night?” you asked as you both stepped into the shop and got into line.

“It was alright. Did as I said and slipped out after eating, but not before hearing a couple of the speeches they do talking about the event’s history and why they choose the yearly trends and stuff.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m lucky I didn’t die of boredom.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“If you really think that, I’ll take you to the next one I get invited to and you can sit through all the speeches. Then you can tell me if it’s not that bad.”

You tried not to dwell on the fact that he was already talking about taking you to an event with him. You knew that it was way too quickly to be thinking about stuff like that - this was literally the second time you had met him and the first time you were actually spending any amount of time together - but there was something about the fact that he was already planning ahead like that that gave you some hope for where this was going.

After ordering your coffees and stepping aside to wait for them, Jacob asked, “How was your night? Surely it was much better than mine.”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. I got home, put on my pajamas, and watched some trashy Netflix reality until I fell asleep.”

“At least trashy reality has some excitement.”

“A lot more than listening to speeches about the history of the MET Gala.”

“I could’ve looked up a Wikipedia article and read the whole thing from start to finish and it would’ve been more exciting than listening to that.”

You giggled. The barista gave you your coffees and you moved to a table by the window to sit down.

“How long do I have you for?” Jacob asked.

“Our breaks can last anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour. Usually if it’s 30 minutes, you get another 30 minute break later on. If it’s the full hour, I only get this one break today.”

“Well, I’ll try not to be stingy with your time, but I think I’m going to have some difficulty in letting you leave.”

“I gotta say, you are quite the flirt.”

“Only when I really like someone.”

We spent most of the time getting to know one another. You admitted that you hadn’t heard of Jacob before, so he told you about some of the movies and shows he had done. You had only heard of Euphoria, but had never watched it nor did you have any desire to. Jacob told you he wouldn’t hold it against you that you hadn’t seen any of his work. You told him about going to college for photography fresh out of high school because you knew that was the one thing you wanted to do more than anything. You were lucky enough that the company you did your work term with wanted to take you in full time after you graduated, and you were still there years later.

“You mentioned that stuff like what happened to you last night is a normal occurrence?” he asked.

You sighed. “Yeah. I mean, in general it is par for the course that photographers at such events can be a little ruthless. We all want the good shots that can and will be used, that’s how we make our money. But it’s especially hard for me because I am a short woman. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of female photographers who get taken just as seriously as the male ones, but there are also plenty of male photographers who aren’t afraid to shove a woman out of their way to get their shot instead of another man. Throw in the fact that I’m usually the shortest one in attendance and I become an easy target. Get me out of the way, get in my space, and then that’s it for me.”

“That’s awful,” Jacob said. “You’d think being shorter than they are would make it easier for them to just shoot around you instead of moving you out of the way.”

“You would think, but that’s not the case.” You shrugged. “It’s nothing new for me. I was always the shortest person in the room, and thus was treated one way or another because of it. It’s just now I’m worried that if I can’t do my job properly I’ll be fired.”

“They can’t fire you for being short.”

“They can if I’m not getting any pictures when I’m sent to red carpet events. Most of the time I only get the first one or two people to arrive and that’s it. My boss is mostly understanding about it, but I know realistically she can’t keep me if I’m not able to do my job. Or at least she won’t send me out to events anymore, which would be just as bad as getting fired honestly. I don’t want to just sit behind a desk all day using photoshop to fix up pictures before they’re published.”

The mention of your job had you glancing down at your watch and realizing how much time had passed. “Shit! I gotta be back to work in 10 minutes.”

“Already?” Jacob had a crestfallen look on his face.

“I know. I would much rather stay with you. I’m enjoying our conversation.”

Jacob stood as you did. “Let me walk you back to work at least. We can prolong the goodbyes that way.”

You accepted and you both headed towards your job. The walk was silent at first. You were trying to find something to ask him so that the time wasn’t wasted in silence, but nothing was coming to your head right now.

Luckily, Jacob broke the silence by asking, “When do you usually get off work?”

“Around 5,” you responded.

“Maybe we could pick this up when you’re off then. If you feel up for it, that is. I get it if you’d rather do nothing after working all day.”

“Well...normally I do prefer to spend my evenings by myself after work. But, if this isn’t too forward to ask, maybe you could come over and we could keep getting to know each other.”

His face lit up. “I’d like that a lot.”

He took you by surprise once more as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. If you weren’t already so enamored by this man, you probably would’ve been thinking about how funny the two of you looked together - the under 5′ photographer and the over 6′ actor. But all I could think about was how Jacob wanted to see me again so soon, and how much I did want to see him too. It was hard to break away and go back to work, but I knew I’d get in trouble if I showed up late from my break.

The only thing that kept me going was the smile on Jacob’s face as I turned back around to look at him, and the thought that it wouldn’t be too much longer until I got to see him again.

#jacob elordi #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

Note

make the versus tour chris thing you posted into a fic i begg

king for a day // chris sturniolo

summary: your boyfriend is feeling extra cocky during sex when he wins a stop on the versus tour. rough oral (male!receiving). praise kink

I watch as Chris’ smile grows as he watches Matt’s final play in Jenga, resulting in the tower to topple over and give Chris his victory.

He runs over to his teammate, who is decked out in orange apparel and gives them a hug as the crowd cheers for them.

I clap my hands, joining in on the cheers as I watch from the side stage. Nick exits the stage momentarily to retrieve the winning garments to place on Chris.

Chris stands victoriously next to his teammate as the crown is placed on his head. He adjusts it a bit so it balances on top of his hat, then takes his microphone to thank his teammate, along with the audience who took the time to attend tonight’s show.

This is the first show of the tour that I was able to make it to. I honestly considered supporting from home. I thought it would a better option so I wasn’t distracting or in anyone’s way before or during the shows, but Chris insisted that I should come to this one. He was currently on a winning streak, and he was convinced that I was his good luck charm that could grant him his third win in a row.

I have a feeling he’s going to demand my attendance every night to continue the streak, but I won’t be able to promise that.

As he exits the stage with his brothers and their teammates, he tosses his arm over my shoulder confidently, placing a kiss on my head. The crowd erupts in applauds and screams, our way of knowing that they saw us and we weren’t as hidden as we thought.

Chris leads me backstage to the green room, inviting me to stay while they wait for fans to come backstage with their passes.

“Good job, baby,” I whisper, keeping a hushed tone in my voice so fans don’t hear me call him by a pet name he swore he hated.

His cheeks blush. PDA isn’t something Chris is afraid of, but it’s different when he’s working and his supporters are right around us. There’s a certain line drawn there, hence why I’m keeping my voice down.

“Thanks for coming,” he replies before placing a kiss on my forehead and greeting the incoming fans.

I sit back on a couch and watch my boyfriend and his brothers interact with some of their die-hard fans. It’s sweet to see the reactions of those who came to see them, but even sweeter to see how the guys I know personally react to that attention. Their faces are coated in pure happiness, and I can’t help but smile just watching them.

There are a few fans that even take their time to say hi to me, which I was not expecting. Chris and I have more of a private but not secret relationship. We rarely post each other, but if we do it’s just subtle reminds that we’re together. There are never any overly publicly loving posts, even if we both know the other is in love. The fact that these attendees are gracious enough to thank me for making Chris happy makes me want to sob. I never imagined my boyfriend would have this sort of effect on people, but it’s no shock that it came true considering his personality.

I watch as the group heads out of the dressing room, shouts of praise and gratitude leaving the fans mouths as they say their last goodbyes. The fans go one way, and the triplets to the other to prepare for the last round of meet and greets before we leave for the night.

I stay back in the green room, scrolling aimlessly on my phone to pass the time. I spend most of it liking fans posts of them in their meet and greet photos and their videos from the show.

About 20 minutes into my time, I get a text from my boyfriend.

Chris💋🦌

You okay by yourself?

I send a quick response before going back to my scrolling.

i’m great. keep doing your thing!!!

Chris💋🦌

You look really fucking hot tonight. Brave of you to wear that when I’m standing on stage in front of hundreds of people.

Oh, he’s gonna do this now?

you look hotter, my crowned winner ;)

Chris💋🦌

Think we have enough room to fuck on my bunk?

even if we did i am not fucking you with six other people around us.

Chris💋🦌

Fine. We’ll make something work.

The boys wrap up the last of the show and head back to the green room to retrieve their things and pack up gifts they received during the night. Chris tosses his bag over his shoulder and grips my hand, leading me outside into the mob of fans that have crowded around the doors. He waves a lazy hand out to the crowd of people before guiding me onto the bus.

“What a fucking show,” Chris says as he tosses his bag into his bunk and kicks his feet up. He taps the space next to him, inviting me to join him. I sit at his side and he quickly tosses an arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.

“Yeah yeah, we get it, three show streak,” Matt rolls his eyes.

Chris shrugs. “Maybe if you had a girl at the show to hype you up you wouldn’t have been the reason I won three times in a row.”

I lightly smack Chris’ chest for his comeback, giving him a stare.

“It’s true!” he defends.

“Whatever,” Nick butts in. “There’s a change of plans. We have a hotel tonight because there’s gonna be bad weather. I assume you two will want to stay together… so I guess it’s me and Matt fending for ourselves in the other room.”

“Oh, lucky me,” Matt groans.

Chris sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, smirking at me as he hints at what we’re going to be getting into tonight.

The ride to the hotel feels like hours passing by slowly. The ache in between my legs is dying to be relieved as Chris traces shapes on my inner thigh, keeping me built with desire throughout the drive so I don’t lose momentum when we arrive. There’s no chance of that happening.

As we all unload our things from the bus, Chris speeds inside with us hand in hand. We get our room key and are miles ahead of everyone else as we head to the elevators.

As soon as the doors shut, my back is pressed against the wall with Chris cornering me. His lips dive for my neck, sucking on my sweet spot as he parts my legs with his knee.

“Are you gonna be ready for me baby?” he asks, his voice low and grovely.

I nod, a weak sound leaving my throat as I try to respond.

The elevator door opens on our floor. He turns around to check of anyone standing there before his head whips back around, his hand gripping my jaw as he places a sloppy kiss on my lips before leading us to our room.

He keeps one hand on me at all times, even when he’s fiddling with the key to open the door. He kicks it open with his foot, pushing me inside before throwing our things on the floor and picking me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Hey!” I exclaim as he kicks the bathroom door shut.

“Hmm?” he hums, his lips too busy finding mine.

He sets me on the bathroom counter, his fingers trailing up my shirt before I have a chance to process anything. I open my legs more for him, earning a cocky grin.

“Needy girl, huh?” he mocks me.

I nod lazily, my mind in a trance as I watch him pull his shirt over his head and discard it on the floor.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you tonight,” he mumbles, unbuckling his jeans and yanking them down, revealing his hardened cock, restrained by his briefs. “Had to talk to everyone tonight like you weren’t the only thing on my mind.” His hand dips into his underwear, slowly exposing his dick, decorated in veins and a red, swollen tip, leaking as it begs for a release. “Why don’t you be a good girl and suck me off for giving you a win tonight?”

I look at him in shock, his confidence so evident, it’s making me feel small and innocent. There’s an element in it that I love.

I nod, unable to say anything else.

He cocks his head to the side and says, “Get on your knees and show me how good girls behave.”

My heart plummets to my stomach. This is new. And I fucking love it.

I hop off the counter and lower my knees to the ground. As soon as my legs hit the floor, Chris continues.

“Stick your tongue out for me.”

I do as he says, and he begins slapping his dick on my tongue. The precum leaving him sticks to my mouth, creating a line of spit mixed cum between my tongue and the head of his dick. The both of us groan at the sight.

He rests his dick on my tongue, letting me do the rest of the work. I take my hand to the base of his cock, stroking lightly as I spit on his tip, letting it drip down and lube him up through each stroke. I lick up and down it a few times before jerking him slowly as I swirl my tongue around his tip.

His chest falls forward, his hands gripping the marble counter top for support. “Fuck baby, just like that.”

I nod at him, continue that same rhythm for a minute or two. After some time, I continue stroking around his tip, knowing he’s the most sensitive there. I dip my mouth, dragging my lips lazily across his length until I reach his balls, sucking them into my mouth.

“Fuck!” he yells out, his eyes pinched shut in pleasure as his knees buckle. “Fuck don’t stop doing that. Please don’t stop.”

I suck on him harder, his balls filling my mouth. He drops his head lower, the crown falling off his head and clashing against the sink.

I watch as his dick continues to leak, signaling that he’s getting closer and closer to his high.

I lift back up to his tip, spitting on it again before taking it in my mouth as deep as I can. Chris quickly straightens up, grabbing the back of my head and thrusting into my mouth with force.

“I’m so close baby, please. You got it. Just like this for a little, I promise,” he says, knowing I can only handle so much of this.

I look up at him, my eyes dripping as his thrusts becoming more powerful. Spit begins to dribble down my chin onto my neck, coating the ‘C’ necklace that he got me for our last anniversary.

His moans are the most perfect sound. As his pleasure hits an all time him, he blindly grabs the crown showcasing his victory from tonight and places it on his head without a care in the world. It rests sideways, propped up by his curls.

His arms flex with every thrust, his grip on my head strong and far from letting go. I watch as his stomach tightens, his hips jerking messily before stilling in the back of my throat.

I do my best to hold steady, but I can’t help my fingers digging into his thighs as I struggle to keep myself together.

He groans as he releases his cum into my throat, dripping down without me even having to swallow. When he slowly removes himself from my mouth, I can’t stop myself from coughing, wiping my mouth after it’s been spilling my saliva.

“So perfect, baby,” he says, wiping my chin with his thumb before kissing me softly on my swollen lips. “Let’s get you in the shower and cleaned off, okay?”

I nod as he peels my clothes off, knowing that this is only the start of him tonight.

tag list: @freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl @oliviasturniolo21 @keira324 @sstvrnioloo

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

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renecdote · 1 month

Text

rebirth

Bi Buck cured my writers block, please have this short little episode coda for 7x04. [Read on AO3]

It’s after one a.m. when the light, bubbly excitement in his stomach sours, fear creeping in. Buck’s next breath sticks in his chest, his heart races, his fingers start tingling, and it’s so much like what kissing Tommy did to him, but for all the wrong reasons this time. His phone screen is suddenly too bright in the darkness, his search history a towering mess of questions, and Reddit threads, and quizzes he clicked into then out of before he could finish taking them.

The problem, he thinks, is that it felt so right. Tommy tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together and it felt like—himself, for the first time in… forever, maybe. Buck doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with that. Go out on Saturday night, maybe (hopefully) kiss Tommy again (and again and again and again), but then… But then?

He wants to call Eddie because he always wants to call Eddie. He wants to blurt out all the things he kept under his tongue when he apologised earlier. He wants to hear Eddie say his name, soft and warm and knowing, because if anyone can make him feel seen and heard and at home in his own skin, it’s Eddie. He wants so hard it’s almost painful.

But it’s the middle of the night, he can’t call Eddie.

He can’t call Maddie either. She would answer, he knows, and she’d have just the right words for the spiralling anxiety that’s sucking him in, but he’s not going to scare her with the phone ringing in the middle of the night. There have been too many calls like that that have only been bad news.

He won’t worry Hen or Bobby with a call like that either.

And as much as Buck wants to confide in them, wants to crack his chest open and show his family what has been inside the whole time, there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to share. Not yet. He feels like the newborn calves he saw at the ranch in Montana, young and fragile and unsteady as he tries to find his feet. The world suddenly feels bigger. Brighter. And it’s exciting, it’s freeing, but he can’t help feeling daunted, like he might get lost if he’s not careful.

“Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. He thinks of that first breath of air when his head came above water in the tsunami, he thinks of being struck by lightning, he thinks of stepping into Station 118 for the first time, he thinks of catching the Jeep keys Maddie tossed him in the dark of a Hershey street all those years ago. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

Did the first time you kissed a girl feel like this? he wants to ask Hen. Does it feel like this every time?

Is this the magic you were talking about when you first met Shannon? he wants to ask Eddie.

I figured it out, he wants to tell Bobby. I figured out what being at ease with myself feels like.

He has a shift in six and a half hours, but sleep feels as impossible as it did when he first climbed into bed. Buck lifts a hand to trace his lips in his dark, reliving the memory of Tommy there. He imagines Tommy everywhere else too, trailing his hand down his body, fitting Tommy into all the places a few dozen women have touched before. He feels like a teenager, giddy at just the thought of sex—of everything—and he exhales a laugh in the dark.

Buck opens his phone again and sends a text to the one person he knows is on shift and might already be awake: when you said you’d pick me up on Saturday, you meant in the chopper right?

Tommy replies instantly: those things are a bitch to park

And a second later: maybe on the third date

There it is again: breath stuttering, heart racing, fingers tingling. Buck wonders if this is what it feels like to get behind the controls and fly. He grins at his phone. He can’t wait to find out.

#Evan Buckley #911 abc #911 Spoilers #fic

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zerokaram · 2 days

Text

college basketball!abby x reader

synopsis: you're suddenly seeing abby, your best friend since your childhood, in a new lens. is it her arms? her strength? her drive? or the way she refuses to talk to, or even look at any other girl but you?

a/n: these are formatted like headcannons + scenarios to match them! not necessarily like a fic unfortunately. but if you guys would want that, i'd be glad to write something along those lines. enjoy!

at first, it was just something small. something so, so extremely small. maybe sometimes, she would look a little too good after practice. the way the wisps of her hair would stray out of her braid, her arms glistening in sweat and her shirt practically see-through from how hard she worked in the gym prior to her practice. or maybe it was the way she constantly towered over you, how she looked down at you when you two spoke, or how her arms carried everything and anything effortlessly, toned and muscular.

you don't know if you were just fucking imagining it or what, but holy, fucking, shit.

was it just your brain fucking with you? maybe you were just desperate or something?

you didn't know. but you were embarrassed to admit the fact that you were completely, and utterly infatuated with your 100% platonic best friend that you definitely should not be and definitely aren't swooning over. she was just a friend, and for gods sake, your best friend at that.

she just came home to your dorm, which she's been staying at for a few weeks now, covered in sweat. her arm and leg muscles practically bulging from her jersey, about to burst the fabric at their seams with only that and a compression shirt under it, paired with shorts that you've probably borrowed from her, her hair in a messy braid; stray strands sticking to her face.

anyone would be sensible enough to drool at this shit. it wasn't your fault that you had a hot best friend. right? i mean- what?

okay, but you couldn't help it that she had really nice arms. really defined, muscular, beefy, strong, capable, sporty, hot, sexy arms. it was just a general thing. it definitely couldn't just be you. this is totally fucking normal for a 100% platonic relationship. like, yeah. this is literally just normal. its literally just normal.

soon, your stares burned into her back. she could practically feel the way your eyes lingered from her face, trailing to her arms, and all the way down to her thighs. turning around to face you, she inquires cluelessly as if she didn't plan this whole scenario out on purpose. "baby, you okay? you look...dazed or something." she says, sneaking in a smile once she turns around again to get herself a glass of water.

baby. baby? did you hear that right?

you probably heard it wrong. you snicker, "oh, yeah. yeah i'm..fine."

one of abby's big games were coming up. only one more game, and it would mean that her and her team finally won the whole season. usually, she'd be pumped to finally get to train for the moment she's been dreaming of since the season started, but something's been conflicting her. a certain someone. she's had a crush on you for at least 5 years now, but the crush has been at it's all time high ever since you've started wearing her jerseys, her hoodies, and her clothes this past semester. god, fuck it. why not offer for you to do it again?

lounging on abby's couch in nothing but her hoodie and some boxers of hers that you found lying on your side of the bed from when you slept over, you held your phone in your right hand, scrolling through tiktok, while you held a cup of coffee in the other. abby (very willingly) agreed to let you sleep over at her place for as many nights as you wanted, since your roommates aggravatingly threw parties all day and night long.

you were interrupted by the door abruptly creaking open, abby stepping through the door, still in her basketball gear. she set her things down onto the kitchen counter, taking her hoodie off, revealing a more comfortable shirt under. she joins you on the couch; lying on her stomach, making a groaning noise. "shit..arms fuckin' hurt." she says, muffled whines getting silenced by the pillow she stuffed her head in.

you chuckle at her childishness. she's kinda always been like that, hasn't she? "too bad." you say, to which she frowns with a slight pout, looking up at you, wanting you to change your answer. you have no choice but to oblige. "-whatever. what can i do to help?" you ask in a playful tone, flashing her a smile.

she gets up from her position almost immediately, sprinting to her bedroom and grabbing her jersey before quickly running back to the living room and throwing the jersey in your face as if she planned this. "wear this to my next game." she says in a half-laughing, cocky way. you desperately pry the piece of fabric off of your face, trying to process what just happened. "no fuckin' way abs." you say, teasing her. you take a look at the shirt. it had 22 on the front, with ‘anderson’ printed on the back.

she frowns, sighing as she flops next to you, snaking her arms around you and stuffing her face in your shirt (in a definitely 100% platonic way). "c'mon." she says, "need someone to cheer f'me. js' wanna see my girl cheer for me. it would make me so happy."

you chuckle at 'my girl', "abs. this isn't helping with the rumors about us."

she accidentally blurts out, "don't fuckin' want it to."

...what?

before she knows it, and before you two could even talk about what she just said to you a few days before, it was finally game day. screams and cheers of girls who came just to see abby stretched from one part of the arena to another, echoing in your eardrums. you said you weren’t going to, but of course you wore her fucking jersey anyway.

abby looked into the crowd of people, searching for you desperately. she couldn’t play without you watching :’((.

about to give up on finding you, she feels two hands come around the side of her torso, hugging her from behind. she turns around to see you. wearing her jersey.

“you better win, i’m not parading your name on me for nothing.” you say sarcastically.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou smut #abby anderson smut #abby the last of us #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #abby fanfiction #wlw #wlw yearning #wlw ns/fw #wlw community #lgbtq

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youryanderedaddy · 6 days

Text

tw: female reader, non - con, manhandling, religious subtext (it's sydney)

Sydney has never felt this way before. He doesn't know the name of that feeling, the warmth that fills his chest and tightens his throat and reddens his cheeks as you sit before him at the library counter. He can't explain the pulse in his loins and the sweat that sticks to his back when you lean in to ask him something and your shirt opens up slightly, revealing such soft, mesmerizing skin. His hands start to itch and his mouth waters and he feels almost thirsty - but water never seems to quench whatever it is he's deprived of.

He wants to ask someone - maybe brother Jordan or his father, but something deep within him, some basic instinct, rings a bell, a reminder that there is nothing pure or holy about the feelings he harbors towards you. He knows love. He's read about it - he knows he loves God, he loves his church, his friends, his books. He knows love is gentle. Love is caring and tender and quiet, love is giving.

But when it comes to you, he only wants to take. He wants to bite your cheeks when you smile, to squeeze you in his arms until he hears your fragile bones crack. He wants to rip off your skin and crawl in your shell - to see your insides, to admire every inch of your flesh for his own sick satisfaction. He even keeps a box of everything you've ever lost - small trinkets, cheap bracelets, ripped socks, locks of hair... Anything to feel closer to you.

And yet Sydney tries to fight his urges - he averts eyes when you bend to pick something and pretends not to notice your bare legs in those mini skirts, the way the school swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly, or how your lips part when you bite down on a pencil. Or the marks of you teeth on the yellow wood, your smugded lipstick as you leave the bathroom, your hands on his shoulder with your nails digging in—

Sydney is a man of God, but you make him question his faith. In the sunlight everything is brighter, but when night comes, so do the nightmares. His pillow becomes softer, warmer - it lingers with the scent of your hair and he can't help imagining you laying next to him with an adoring smile on those luscious lips of yours. And as fatigue spreads over his tired body, his prayers long forgotten, the same dream haunts him - the one he's had since the day he first saw you.

You're no longer laying next to him - you're under him instead. Your hair isn't spread out angelically, but twisted and disheveled, wrapped around his fist. He's towering over you, tilting your chin up - holding you so tightly against his body you can't move an inch. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips bruised and bitten bloody - and you're trembling like an injured animal. You look so small, so pathetically adorable, so very naked and afraid, and splayed out like a feast in front of him, and he just devours you like the predator he knows he is.

You whine something incomprehensible along the lines of a plea, begging to be let go - but all your words become white noise to Sydney. His hands circle your throat painfully and only a few broken moans escape before you shut up completely. The man keeps thrusting into you without a sense of shame, egged on by the deep, inaudible sobs that shake your body to its core. The voice inside his head chants "mine, mine, mine" like a spell, like a curse that binds you both for all eternity.

Sydney always wakes up in cold sweat, unable to catch his breath. It's terrifying, seeing his darkest desires play out over and over each night. And as he tries to catch his breath and forget the taste of your neck on his tongue, there is one thought he never seems to fully rid himself of. How long until dreams are not enough to feed the monster inside of him?

How long until it all becomes reality?

#yandere #male yandere #dol sydney #degrees of lewdity #male yandere x reader #yancore #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere smut #yandere dol #yandere degrees of lewdity #yandere sydney #yandere dol sydney

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xannsin · 3 days

Text

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warning: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Hardcore sex, Praise, Creampie

Précis: He’s an overprotective ‘best friend’.

A/N: this is my first write, bare with me lol, also major credits to @cherryredstars for inspiring me, thank u :)

Edits & Look-overs: 2

It’s 3am.

You’re walking back to your college dormitory building, exhausted from a night out. Your feet hurt, you have a slight wobble in your walk, and your lungs feel like they burn with every step you take due to the cold air. A misty cloud fleets from your mouth with every exhale.

You left without Miguel’s knowledge. Which, to him, is a big no-no. He isn’t possessive over you, per se, but he does like to know when you leave the dorm you two share together. That’s all he asks for, and you didn’t even do that. He’s been protective over you your whole friendship with him. It pisses you off sometimes but you can’t help but wonder why he is the way he is with you. You mulled over how he’d always hold you close whenever you two went out, like he was trying to show off this imaginary ownership over you, and when he’d give guys death stares at their attempts to flirt with you. That was the least he did — there was a long list of his overprotective ways with you, but those are just the ones you thought about mostly.

When you finally get to your dorm, you unlock the door with your key before quietly opening the door. Thankfully it wasn’t a squeaky door, the faintest squeak of the door or a creak of a floorboard would probably wake Miguel up. He was a really light sleeper. You close the door behind you and lock it before turning around and seeing Miguel sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, his laptop on his lap as he types away, not even looking at you. You freeze up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Miguel? Why are you up so late?” you ask, holding your breath as you wait for his answer. “I could ask you the same thing.” he replies, his husky voice making you exhale nervously.

“Well… I was out,” you mutter, “I didn’t want to wake you just to tell you so I-”

“Don’t.” he interrupts, “just don’t. You didn’t wake me up and tell me because you didn’t want me to know. Look, you’re my best friend and I worry about you. I worry about what could happen to you when you’re out of my sight. I feel responsible for your well-being, and all I ask of you is to just let me know where you’re going, and you can’t even do that, mm? Do you know how worried I was, huh? Huh?!” he exclaims, his voice getting louder as he spoke. You stay silent for a few minutes before sighing, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry, I just… I-” you’re cut off again by his booming voice, “No, you’re not fucking sorry! Carajo!”

There’s a long pause. You’re a little shaken up, he’s never yelled at you before. “Where were you?” he finally asked, closing his laptop and setting it down before finally looking at you with slightly tired eyes. “I was out clubbing.” you say. He groans at your words, pinching his temple. “With?” he asks shortly after. “I was alone…” you say quietly, causing him to open his eyes. He stands up and walks over to you, his 6’9" frame towering over you. He barely keeps a distance between you and him.

“Listen to me and listen well,” he grunts, grabbing your arm, “I don’t know if you’re too dull to understand this but if something ever happens to you I couldn’t possibly live after that. You may think I’m being overdramatic, and while I’m not disagreeing with you, it’s for a reason, Y/N.” He sighs, staring at you with those piercing crimson red eyes.

“You understand the danger of going out alone, right? I wouldn’t have to be like this if people weren’t horrible, but Y/N, you don’t understand how easily you can get snatched up, hurt, killed, and so on. Especially at night, where sickos like that lurk every street corner and alleyway. I’ve lived through it. You haven’t. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you so unaware when you’re walking home, but whatever it is, it’s pissing me off.”

You pause for a minute as he gives his big spiel. “How’d you know I was drinking?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? You have a wobble in your walk. Either your feet hurt and you’re drunk or it’s a mix of both, your breath reeks of alcohol, and you’re slightly slurring. If you were trying to hide it then that’s… that’s just sad.” Miguel sighs. “I’m glad you’re safe, I really am, but can’t you acknowledge what I’m saying?”

“I… I-I just…” you trail off, sniffling. You try to retract your arm from his grasp but his hand is clenched around your arm. “You just what?” Miguel asks. “I just don’t understand why you care about me so much!” you finally exclaim. After a moment of silence, he’s finally had enough. He tugs you by the arm, “Let’s go.” You’re fucked. Probably in many other ways than metaphorically. He drags you to his room, slamming the door open and pushing you in. He shuts the door behind him and locks it before grabbing you and setting you on the bed, slipping his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be sensual, passionate, gentle sex.

He climbs in bed and gets on top of you, staring at you. Your breath was hitched, your eyes were wide. He rolls his eyes before looking down and beginning to unbutton your shirt. It was agonizingly slow, like he wanted to build up your anticipation. “I guess I have to show you how much I care about you since you can’t understand.” Miguel says, getting to the last few buttons. You squirmed slightly, not saying anything back other than an ‘I’m sorry’ under your breath. Miguel just shook his head gently, unbuttoning the last button.

He slipped your pretty blouse off and tossed it to the side. He leaned down more, his mouth hovering over your lips. He finally leaned in just a bit more, enough for your lips to barely touch. But he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. He just gently grazed his teeth over your lip before trailing his lips down to your neck, where they’d actually settle. His tongue poked out of his lips to graze it over your neck.

He reached his arm up, his large hand going behind your neck and grabbing a fistful of hair to keep you in place as he licked and sucked your neck. He eventually started leaving carmine red hickeys all over your neck. You whined and whimpered under him, all you could really do. He was in tune with your body. Your sensitive spots, what your body responded to, what it didn’t. He knew you.

He pulled back to gauge your expression. You were all hot and bothered, your breaths coming in and out in little huffs. The edges of his lips slightly curled up in a devilish smirk. His thumb rubbed your bottom lip. That ‘tender’ moment didn’t last long until he went back to work. He leaned down and continued kissing and marking you all over, his kisses trailing down your body and leaving spots of saliva in their wake. When he reached the hem of your jeans, he began unbuttoning them.

Once that was done, he pulled them off in one strong tug and tossed them onto the floor behind him. One more obstacle — your panties. He kissed your inner thighs, rubbing your wetness through your panties. He could practically feel your sex pulsing in your panties. He ran his fingers over the black laced hem before slipped them off and tossing them to the side. There it was, what he was looking for. “So wet already.” Miguel mumbled as he began unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them off. He grabs the hem of his boxers and slips those off too, tossing the fabric to the side. Your eyes widen at his length, and you try to push yourself away from him. Miguel tuts in annoyance, grabbing your thigh and roughly pulling you back under him, where you were before. You whine when he slaps his heavy cock against your cunt. You freeze under him, finally learning that squirming gets you nowhere.

He positions himself over you, and you struggled a little bit more. “M-Miguel, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, I’m not-”

“Shh,” Miguel interrupts, patting your cheek a little roughly, “no need to talk. You’ll be fine.” You stay silent but you’re breathing heavily through your nose as you feel Miguel reach down and stroke his tip along your folds. “I’m sure you can take me.” he says, his tone nothing close to passionate. His voice was husky and rough. He stopped teasing you with his tip once he felt your entrance before sinking into you with one push. It was slow and painful, but then it dissipated as he began moving his hips. The pace itself didn’t start off slow or soft, he immediately dove into hammering into you.

You cried out, throwing your head back onto the pillow as his shaft slid in and out of your wet sex. You closed your eyes and panted, but you flinched as you felt Miguel’s hand tightly gripping your chin. “Look at me. Mírame.” he says as he pounds into you. You let out a whine in response as your glassy eyes looked into his. He curses under his breath, holding your waist so you stay in place with one hand, and holding himself up with the other. You never knew dick felt this amazing.

You were feeling this way and he was only a little over halfway in. He was making his way deeper, and you felt it. You went to hold his hand, and he took his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining. Your mouth slightly fell agape and you let out a choked out moan as he bottomed out inside you, his balls nestling tightly against your ass. He fucks the noise out of you, you can’t do anything but let out choked out moans. “Lift your hips for me.” Miguel says, wanting better leverage to your pussy. You weakly lift your hips and he grabs ahold of them, sitting up just a tad to fuck you better. His balls repeatedly slap against your ass with every thrust, fucking a pathetic noise out of you every once in a while. Your boobs moved up and down with the movement, and the headboard squeaked as your body hit it.

“So beautiful…” Miguel murmured, taking one of your boobs in his hand and resting it there, his grip tight on your titty.

You were slightly lightheaded on dick. Creamy little clap noises mixed with Miguel’s grunts and your little noises filled the room. Your seeping juices coat Miguel’s cock with every in-and-out motion his shaft does into you, leaving his cock slicked and with a shiny little coat on it from you.

He was like a machine, his stamina was incredible because he showed no signs of slowing down just yet. “Who’s my good girl, hm? Had a bit of a scare tonight, didn’t we?” he says, hoisting your knees up on his shoulders so he had more leverage. He reaches down and toys with your clit, rubbing his thumb in circular motions on your nub. You whine at the double stimulation. You don’t know if you can take much longer of this before climax slowly comes knocking. Miguel struggled to hold off his climax the more your walls pulsated and tightened around his throbbing cock.

But it didn’t end there. He pulled out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your back roughly and getting behind you. You didn’t even have enough time to react. “Keep that back arched baby.” Miguel says, placing his hand on your back to keep your arch in that position. He uses his other hand to guide himself back in your dripping cunt again, continuing his rough pace. His strokes were deep, fast, and most importantly, calculated. You nuzzled your face in the pillow, and Miguel grinned slightly your muffled screams of pleasure, his lips curving upward.

“Such a good girl… you take me so well…” he breathed out, catching your hand as you swung it back to hold his. “Give me your other hand.” Miguel said, getting both hands and holding them by your wrists as he continued to fuck you roughly. Your upper half bounced slightly upward with every thrust because your arms were being pulled back. “M-Mig.. Mig…” you choke out, whining as his balls smack against your clit. “Qué te pasa, mami? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, his shaft sliding in and out of you with ease. He was getting so close.

He let go of your hands, your hands plopping back at your sides. He had a new fixation — your ass. He grabs both of your ass cheeks in his large hands, groping them and pulling them more towards him, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. With a few more of… doing that, his warm cum eventually shot inside of you.

The two of you moan loudly as you climax at the same time, your juices seeping onto his cock. He pulled out, leaving a trail of warm cum on the sheets, and it seeped out of you. He creampied you. Your best friend gave you a creampie.

“Come here. Fuck, come here.” Miguel pants, pulling you close to him. He wraps his arms around you from behind, both of you collapsing on the sheets.

“So, tell me,” he starts, “still think I don’t care about you?”

You inhaled and exhaled heavily before responding, “I do, I just knew if I said ‘I don’t understand why you care about me so much’ this would be the outcome.” you smirked, rolling over to face him. He froze.

“What?”

#miguel o'hara #astv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #astv #spiderman astv #astv x reader #astv x you #fantasy #fanfic #fandom #18+ blog #blog #first post #miguel 2099 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

Text

kinktober day five

character: multiple (written with some of my fav, big dick slanging demons in mind: tengen, taiju, takita, zoro, draken, gojo, ony, etc.)

kink: size kink

show: multiple (JJK, Demon Slayer, OP, AOT, TR, etc.)

word count: less than 1K idk

content + themes: squirting, heavy drinking, dirty talk, subby reader (described as plus sized), daddy’s used, slaps the reader like once, choking, halloween themed (they’re in costumes), missionary

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･｡ﾟ☆:

“..nngh! Daddy..okayyy, fuck! It hurts..”

“Ah, ah…I don’t wanna here that now. Take it..take this dick like you said you would earlier.”

if there was ever a time in your life that the sentiment of “eating your words” had stood true, then it was this moment right here..somehow, your seemingly normal night of partying and dancing with friends at a fun Halloween party had quickly turned into you being drilled into your plush mattress and your legs pinned back behind your ears! Truthfully, it wasn’t the first time you’d landed yourself in this type of predicament and most certainly wouldn’t be the last but there was a certain intensity about your man that you couldn’t quite pinpoint…perhaps it was your constant misconduct. Being a brat and defying him when he told you you’d had one too many. Insisting you were fine and snatching away. Or maybe even shaking your ass on another man in an attempt to make him jealous. Whatever the root cause, you were certainly regretting your poor decision!

“ ‘S too much…goddamn..so fucking big.”

instead of chopping it up with your girls or taking pictures in those matching Spider-Man and Spider-girl fits, the crotch area had been torn to shreds and his hand was cradling your throat with a vice grip. Your entire lower half was trembling in immense pleasure; sticky from the constant stimulation that tight little pussy being pounded into oblivion. Cream dripping all down the sides of your plush, mocha colored thighs..such a perfect contrast. Clutching your own legs, you’d claw those long acrylics into your skin as those brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull; your body jolted around by those deep, unrelenting strokes. Although you two fucked like animals, it never made it any easier to adjust to how massive he was. Even after trying his damndest to train that body of yours, you could never take him past the halfway point. That thick girth, mushroom tip swollen from the repetitive prodding and those big, round balls smacking against your clit. It felt amazing but it was always a challenge. Releasing a series of whiny and shrill cries, you’d attempt to paw at his shredded six pack but to no avail, you couldn’t keep him out of you. The collision of your flesh filling the room alongside his deep voice, taunting you endlessly..it certainly didn’t help when his larger frame towered over you as well. Regardless of you being a bit bigger than the average woman, he handled you as if you weighed nothing more than that of a feather. Picking you up and thrashing you around at his leisure..it was so hot!

“Talk your shit now, baby. C’mon. Talk that shit with my dick inside of you.”

giving you another reminder not to try him with his thumb circling your clit. His hands soon made place on your pudgy little tummy, which he used to reign you in. His thrusts because faster by the second and you were coming unglued even quicker, quivering and quaking, he’d soon bog all of his weight down on your frame, truly honing in on your sweet spot. He was ensuring you had nowhere to run..it wasn’t long before that tight cunt was squeezing him with all your might and letting those first few inches stretch you open, just enough to get exactly what he wanted. “Come..” his only command and you’d follow shortly thereafter with a giant stream of spraying juices that coated his pecs and abs. A show that didn’t halt for almost an entire minute!…leaving you completely paralyzed with pleasure. Smacking your thigh, your boyfriend cackled in the most maniacal manner as he watched you writhe underneath him. Offering only more snarky remarks rather than solace.

“Next time, don’t get cute and make a scene in front of your little friends..you’re not in charge here, remember that.”

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goldsbitch · 12 days

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Our wedding

Y/N and Lando probably went a little too overboard when planning their wedding. She finally looses it when his friend suggests a product placement bucket hat.

A dream wedding.

Distant palazzo, with acres of private lands to roam around at night. Lavish dress, designed to fit perfectly and re-done three times. Coordinators, who made sure everyone who needed to be invited actually was. And also took care about almost anything one can imagine.

A perfect wedding, that's what they both wanted. Go big or go home. Combining romance, with generously giving everyone they loved, or deemed important, the time of their life. To say that this event was supposed to be extra would be an understatement.

Lando said yes to all of Y/N's wished regarding flower arrangements, menu items and rooming lists. She said yes to all of this ideas about the music, sound systems set up in each part of the venue (because heaven would turn upside down if there had been one quiet spot with no music, according to Lando) and drinks choices. They could not agree on the photographer - so Lando just booked his, and hers option as well. Saving money was not on the table. He knew that the amount of good PR and brand deals the Quadrant team managed to get together was going to pay out in the long run. Everyone loves a wedding.

That's where the first issues started - the amount of people invited grew into higher hundreds. She voiced her point few times, but Lando quickly shut those off with a promise to book a private charter for all friends and family who were coming from her homeland. She caved in and agreed to just few more CEO's she'd never met, as long as they did not share their table.

It was the final two months before the wedding and things could not be more hectic. They had to plan the wedding around Lando's race schedule, so summer break between races it was. Y/N had to juggle her job with all of this planning, so she attended less races than she usually would. Most of the calls she shared with Lando were wedding related and it seemed like his best friend Max took it upon himself to speak on behalf of Lando - so sometimes it felt like she was marrying Max rather than her fiancé. After a total break down she had few days ago, which resulted in her crying on the phone to Lando at 4 am his local time, they agreed she absolutely had to come over to the next race so that they could find some down time.

Having to endure a tiring overnight flight, she finally stepped into the hotel where Lando was staying at. Exhausted, jet-lagged and generally in a bad mood were the main ingredients in the perfect cocktail of "you should just avoid me" Y/N. She finally opened the door to his room and let out a groan. Traveling to see him used to be her favorite thing. A bombastic cherry on top was that she immediately recognized Max's voice coming from the living room. Was this guy staying in the same room as them now?

"Y/N, is that you?" she heard, desperately hoping he hadn't heard her enter in. She felt like a bitch for wishing that, but he was the last person she wanted to see at that point. Her hopes of jumping in the bed and cuddling Lando the first thing coming here dissolved like cotton candy, leaving tooth aches behind.

"Yes, Max, it's me," she said, not even bothering adjusting her tone to something more socially appropriate.

"Great, just on time. Can you come in here? We have some decisions that are becoming pressing matters," he said dryly and added his own frustrated comment quietly "...since someone does not feel like answering emails." She heard that, bit her lip and swallowed all her comments, otherwise she would explode.

"What's up?" she asked, entering the living space. There were dozens of baseball caps and buckets hats laid down on the coffee table with Max and some random young guy towering over them.

"We need you to pick out one of these which you'll be wearing after the reception. I have a great brand deal on the table which I need to close today. So, go ahead - pick one." She could not believe the words coming out of Max's mouth. Was he for real?

"May I ask when did I agree to wearing a baseball cap with my dress right after my wedding?"

Max glanced at her and then rolled his eyes. "Can you just pick one? Lando is on board with this, he'll be wearing this green one," he pointed to objectively very nice stylish item of clothing - but still, it was a bucket hat. Rage levels shot up in Y/N blood steam.

"Max, I'm suppose to be wearing my wedding dress until the evening, that's also in some deal you guys made," she proclaimed, hoping this would finally make him get some sense. "The dress is very classical, I don't think this would fit the vibe."

"Oh, come, we agreed to sticking to the Quadrant Athletes color palette and all of these check that. We want to break the classical vibe up with this."

"I'm sorry, who exactly is we in this scenario? And who the fuck are you?!" she pointed at the guy standing next to Max.

"I'm...I'm the product placement controller," he said in a shy voice.

Her eyes just went wide at that point.

"Y/N, no need to freak out again, you need to create a viral moment to make the brand grow," Max said, as if he was talking about a new merch launch.

And that was the final straw. "I'm getting sick of you guys making my wedding into a Quadrant PR stunt. You need to realize this is my wedding, not yours! The whole event is already dripping with brand deals and promotions, is there nothing out of line to you? Will my mom also have to wear one of these hats? Will force the officiant to wear sneakers? Where will you stop?"

Max stared at her, his own cup finally also full. But unlike her, he spoke calmly - again, giving strong business vibes. "Oh, I'm sorry - I'm sorry I am pulling heaven and Earth to make sure your wedding does not ruin your future husband! I apologize that I seem to be more stressed about this wedding than you are. Sorry for caring and trying to uphold some standard."

"Max, this is all too much! I feel like I'm suffocating," she tried to reason with him once more.

He just had enough at that point. So many little moments of mutual disagreement finally grew on him.

"Yeah, well maybe you're just not suited for this world."

Before she could even take a breath to respond, a familiar voice cut them both off.

"Guys, that's enough I'd say," Lando said as he slowly stepped out the same corridor Y/N had entered moments ago. Both Max and Y/N turned around, knowing they'd have spoken way differently had they known he was there as well.

Max gulped, knowing he stepped over a line and immediately started to apologize. "Mate, I'm sorry, we just sort of lost it. I'm sorry."

Lando glanced at him, his face suddenly hard to read for both his friend and his fiancée. He quickly flashed Y/N a look, seeing the obvious distress finally on his own, in a way the camera on a phone just does not capture. It pained him to see them two fighting, but it pained him more to see her on the verge of crying.

She couldn't find words to apologize to Max. In fact she could barely even see him, as Lando took all of her attention.

"Can you guys leave us for now? I think we need to talk alone," Lando said in a tone so serious that Max hardly remembered last time he'd heard it.

"Yeah, mate. Of course," he said shyly, gesturing to his companion to quickly exit with him.

Once the door finally clicked, Y/N felt like she could get out of her frozen state.

"My god. Lando, I knew it would be a challenge these few months, but I did not expect to grow so far away from you," she said, as the words flew out of her mouth without her being able to control it.

He was more careful with his words, but brave nevertheless. "It's true. I don't think we've even been so distant."

Him acknowledging it just made it real and hurt more.

"Right. At least we have that in common."

There was an awkward silence, something these two hadn't experienced in months.

"Why is Max involved so much?" she asked, hoping that she would not hear anything that would make her biggest fear come true - Lando's lack of desire to marry her.

He took a moment to get his point in the right order. "He's my best friend. This is our wedding. I can't stop focusing on racing, but I want it to be perfect. I'd say not giving him any credit sometimes."

Of course, he was defending him. She wondered if he defended her in front of Max sometimes.

All card on the table. She gulped before uttering the next sentence. "I'm scared that I don't want to go to my own wedding anymore. I feel like an unwanted guest."

They shared a look full of hidden pain. It was impossible to tell, but Lando was scared as never before. "What are you saying...Do you want to call it of??"

She looked back at him, praying that he would understand. "God no, that's the last thing I want to do," she sighed and put her head in her hands. How did it got to a place where he could even assume that? "Marrying you, the love of my life, is my dream. In fact, I'd just like to jump to the moment where I can finally say yes to you."

The air still felt really heavy. "Then let's do just that."

"What do you mean?"

Lando took few steps closer to her, missing her close proximity for the past few weeks. He desperately needed to fix them. "Let's book a wedding for next week in Monaco, just you me and any other people required by the law."

The idea of that seemed silly at first. But the more she thought about it, the more she craved that idea. "So, you want to call the actual wedding off?"

Lando chuckled at the image of them cancelling that at last minute and all the hustle that would bring. "No, silly, not unless you really want to. But who says we can't have a fake ceremony there, celebrate with everyone, while already being married at that point? We don't need to tell anyone, keep the magic for them. We can have two weddings."

It was her time to laugh now. "So because we find organizing one wedding hard, we're going to be doing two now?"

"We are anything but conventional. And if this is news for you then, well...That would mean I'm marrying the queen of delulu. Twice."

The weight of the past weeks was lifted.

"Does this mean I can say "No." at the big wedding?" she teased him, closing the distance between them and holding his hand.

"Not if I'll say "No." first," he winked and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm not wearing a bucket hat. Just stating that now."

"Oh come, at least one of our weddings," he said as he ruffled her hair. "Wow, I think you need a post airport shower, my love."

"Do not try and change the topic - no bucket hats!" she mumbles as she tried to fix her hair.

"Fine, I'll just get you drunk. You'll wear a bucket hat at one of our weddings one way or another."

It felt so good to just banter with him, like they always did before they got caught up in all the stress. A shot of guilt went through her system, as she flashed back at the whole process so far.

"I should probably apologize to Max," she uttered, avoiding his eye contact once again.

He finally hugged her. "Yeah probably. But...let him rot in his feelings for a moment. I hate when someone makes you upset. Apart from me, of course."

"What makes me upset right now is the alarming amount clothes you're wearing."

"That's my girl!"

They got legally married the following weekend, Lando bribing anyone he could in order for them to skip few spots that were unavailable. The first wedding was secret and full of inappropriate, but honest kisses. The second one was fake, but they slayed it together, as newly married couple. Without the stress of actually getting married, they really enjoyed their wedding. The little secret stayed with them - and Max of course, because he just had to get involved with everything.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff #lando norris fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 one shot #f1 one shot

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