#I'm just looking for the right fabric to make it from

[bbina]

notes. smut practice for me basically so expect that this would be terrible. not proofread at all. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT cw. semi public(?) oral and hj (m. receiving)

wonbin found it cute and endearing that you found comfort in laying your head on his lap to rest a little bit after having a couple of drinks

as of the moment shotaro was driving everyone home after catching up with each other after a while. just your typical late night sessions with your friends

wonbin strokes your hair as you make yourself comfortable at the farthest seats in shotaro's suv.

at first, he initially thought of it as nothing. you did always sleep right after drinking with the guys so to him, this was just a typical aftermath of a night out

what he didn't expect was your hand to slowly creep up his pants, slowly palming him through the fabric. wonbin's breath hitches at the contact of your hand to his clothed crotch

you blindly try to find the waistband of his pants. you thanked whatever deity was watching over you when you realize that wonbin was in sweatpants

tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants, you dip your hand inside and free his cock out. as if on instinct, wonbin bucks his hips up the moment you wrapped your hands around the base of his cock.

he was lucky that shotaro's suv was heavily tinted. not much light can penetrate through the windows and illuminate whatever the fuck you two were doing at the back. his friends, shotaro most especially can't know that he's getting a handjob at the back of his suv. wonbin will never hear the end of it

still half asleep, you slowly pump his cock. it was practically second nature to you to skillfully collect his leaking precum just from the tip to spread it around his shaft.

wonbin, still unsure if you were really asleep or not, pats your head lightly. trying to make sure if you were even aware of your own actions

"y/n.. stop that" wonbin leans down, trying to stifle in his moan when you jerk his cock faster

instead of answering, you let out a hum, pretending to stir awake

"are we there yet, binnie?" you ask in a daze, loud enough so the others who were still awake could hear you

wonbin lets out a loud cough when shotaro suddenly looks at the rear view mirror to answer your question.

"not yet, y/n! we're dropping off seunghan first- woah, wonbin, you okay?" shotaro cuts himself off when his friend at the back was having a coughing fit

you halt your actions at the exact moment wonbin was questioned. again, wonbin bucks his hips up at the sudden stop. he feels a little annoyed that you'd actually play dirty with him, leaving him to fend for himself in this awkward situation

"y-yeah man, i'm g-good" wonbin stammers, his voice quivering when you resume jerking him off mid sentence

shotaro nods and diverts his eyes to the main road again. when wonbin notices that the attention wasn't on him, he suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair, slowly yanking your head up from his lap

"behave." wonbin quietly says through gritted teeth. now you got him all worked up. your response was simply tightening your grip on his dick. wonbin takes another sharp inhale when you let go and removed your hand from sweatpants

suddenly, you sit up from wonbin's lap. he stares at you with wide eyes, dumbfounded that you'd get up like you just didn't work him up back there

noticing that it was only shotaro and eunseok, who was on the passenger seat awake, you lie back down on wonbin's lap.

wonbin sighs when you lie back down. you're gonna finish what you started when you two get back home. what wonbin didn't expect was for you to tug on his sweatpants again.

you have once again freed his now hard cock out. wonbin was about to protest but he was met with you kissing the tip.

wonbin purses his lips shut as you do your magic on him. he honestly cannot believe that he's really getting head at the backseat of his best friend's car

he bites his lip to prevent any moan that could come out as you hollow your cheeks, slowly bobbing your head up and down on his cock, careful to not make any noise that could alert your awake friends.

wonbin squirms under you. he's not sure if he can take it much longer. his initial annoyance with you slowly turns to arousal at the mere fact that his friends can catch the two of you doing the dirty.

why was this so hot for him all of a sudden?

and as good things come to an end, you accidentally choke on your spit, causing you to gag on his cock.

wonbin closes his eyes shut as he waits for the reactions of his two friends. he's praying that nobody heard anything since there was still music playing on aux

you stay incredibly still, wonbin's cock still on your mouth as you wait for a moment til the coast was clear.

without warning, wonbin pushes your head back down, ushering you to finish what you started. you happily hum against him, sending vibrations through his body

you can feel wonbin slowly getting close with the way his cock was twitching inside your mouth. this gave you the green light to go faster and even wrapped your free hand around his shaft, simultaneously jerking and sucking him off

wonbin hisses, eyes rolling to the back of his head. just the mere sight alone of you taking all of him with just with your mouth is sending him to euphoria. he feels himself about to let loose til eunseok breaks the silence

"let's know our time and place, lovebirds. time and place"

eunseok speaks up, having enough of hearing wonbin's low grunts and groans.

"what?" shotaro asks, eyeing eunseok before looking at the rear view mirror again to look at wonbin

"your car is now the bang bus bro" eunseok erupts into laughter after catching you and wonbin in the act, "wonbin's getting head back there"

"what did you say?!" shotaro slams on the breaks, causing everyone to jolt forward.

"what the fuck shotaro hyung!" seunghan complains

"what happened?!" sungchan exclaims, in high alert

"ouch!" sohee rubs his temple

"are we home already?" anton asks quietly, rubbing his eyes

with all the commotion going on now that everyone is awake and shotaro and eunseok are fully aware of what you two just did, wonbin quite literally pulls you off of him.

"the fuck? who said i'm getting head back here when y/n's just fast asleep on my lap?" wonbin tries to defend himself but ultimately fails when eunseok points out his flushed cheeks

"your face speaks for itself, bin" eunseok cackles

"you're gonna have to turn this car inside out tomorrow morning" shotaro chimes in, only fueling eunseok's laughter.

the rest of the guys just give each other questionable looks but decides not to speak on it

you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. maybe it is fun to tease wonbin in front of the guys. the way wonbin was now too stunned and embarrassed beyond measure to even speak

thankfully though the rest of the guys drop it and continue on driving. you all were nearing the first apartment complex anyway. wonbin suddenly leans down and whispers something in your ear

"two can play this game"

#riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize smut #wonbin imagines #wonbin x reader #wonbin scenarios #wonbin smut #park wonbin imagines #park wonbin x reader #park wonbin scenarios #park wonbin smut #darkbbin #had to add my trademark of making shit funny on purpose towards the end #its not a bbina fic if they aren't doing anything goofy

[letsgetrowdy43]

Home Sweet Home—

Nico Hischier x reader

I'm slowly starting to get through my requests from that Blurb Celly I did but couldn't finish!!

Request from @whenmypartysover “Can you pretty please do the prompt "I love you, I swear I do, but if you buy one more cushion for the sofa I'm moving out." with Nico or Luke”

Nico had been trying to get the house as ready as possible for the arrival of her mother, the woman who had single-handedly raised his wife, and this was the first time she was going to see the couple forever home.

The man had been running around the streets of Jersey for weeks searching for all the best for his mother-in-law, buying new duvets and hand towels for her bathroom.

His wife was beginning to worry with the stress he seemed to be manifesting within the preparation of their house.

“Babe,” she whispered as she watched his eyes wander over to the home decor aisle, she said softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm, drawing his attention away from the display of home decor items and to her. "Do you think this pillow would look good with the other ones on the couch?" he asked, attention still fully not on her as her brows furrowed. “You’ve been working hard to make everything perfect for my mom’s visit. I appreciate it, but is everything okay?” As he ran his thumb over the cushion fabric, Nico hummed, "So was that a yes or no to this design?"

His wife laughed at how distracted he seemed to be, her hand squeezing his as she pushed the pillow down so he could look at her, "what's going on?" Nico cleared his throat as he looked down at his feet and then into his wife's eyes “I guess I just want everything to be perfect for her, you know? She’s done so much for us, for you. I want her to feel welcomed and comfortable here.”

His wife smiled, her heart melting as her thumb swiped over the soft skin of his forearm as she squeezed him reassuringly, eyes full of understanding as Nico grew shy under her stare. “I promise you she’ll appreciate everything you’ve done. But remember, she’s coming here to see us, not to inspect the house. She’ll be happy just to spend time with her family.”

He nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek before pursing his lips and pressing a kiss to her cheek, "you're right," he mumbled against her skin as she nodded. "I know," she patted him on the chest as she ripped the cushion out of his grasp, "and I love you, I swear I do, but if you buy one more cushion for the sofa I'm moving out," she threw the pillow back onto the pile of others before standing on her tiptoes to press a short peck on his lips.

Nico nodded, a hint of relief washing over his features as he let out a laugh at the way her hand grabbed him and she pulled him out of the aisle, "Our house is perfect already, now get me out of this Homesense, I'm starting to get Stockholm syndrome," she announced as she turned back to see his face flush from the attention her announcement gained.

He pulled her closer to his chest as they got out into the street, "thanks for keeping me grounded," he mumbled into her hair as he let go of her hand and wrapped it around her to rest on her hip. "That’s what I’m here for, babe" Nico nodded, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her words. The house might not be 'perfect', but it was theirs, filled with love and laughter, and that was all that truly mattered.

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This is not my best work… sorry :)

#rowan’s blurb event #nico hischier fluff #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick." 

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly. 

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

--------------------------

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy. 

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget." 

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him. 

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much." 

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

-------------------------

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday. 

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything." 

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end. 

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch." 

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm." 

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

-------------------------

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her." 

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions. 

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you." 

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

----------------------------

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #aim for the sky

[blixssily]

"i love you, it's ruining my life."

| being bailed out by your ex is sure to bring back lingering feelings, no?

| dazai osamu x reader

˓ ꒱ notes and disclaimers: pm!reader and ada!dazai. dazai is reader's ex lover from the port mafia. gn reader. reader and dazai are both in their 20s. incorrect jail description. not proof read, apologies for any grammatical mistakes! might be incredibly ooc and might contain wrong information about the port mafia, apologies for both.

˓ ꒱ authors notes: in light of taylor swift's new album coming out, i'm trying my hand at writing for dazai!! i'm bad at writing angst so please bare with me. :(

the cold metal confinements are tight around wrists, the officers must've cuffed you a tiny bit too tightly you think. the blank grey walls of your prison are as uninspiring as your thoughts, you can't even find it in yourself to even try to escape from jail. to the majority of the members in the Port Mafia, crime was almost always a guarantee during missions. treading the lines of the law was a common thing, most missions included breaking those precious regulations. it was almost like the law had just become mere suggestions, guidance that you could choose to follow or not.

and sadly for you, the hands of the law had finally caught up with you this time, confining you into a bland concrete box. you were currently sitting on the bed that came with every little cell. not even sitting on it was comfortable, much less laying down on it. despite how uncomfortable the bed was, it would be quiet a pathetic sight for a Port Mafia executive to be sitting on the floor and just staring at the wall so you decided against it.

normally whenever you were unlucky enough to have been caught by the law, someone from the Port Mafia would bail you out, namely Mori or maybe some other executive. you weren't too surprised when an officer informed you that you had been bailed out, preparing your usual apology and to listen through a few lectures from whoever bailed you out on to be more careful during missions.

you're escorted out of your little concrete box, you wonder if the officer is going to remove the hand cuffs around your wrists. you follow the officer down the prison hallway, thankful to not be sitting on that god awful bed that you could've sworn was just a rock with a blanket draped over it. you're expecting to be met with a very displeased boss, preparing your apology for your clumsiness in being caught when.. you don't see him at all. in fact, you see someone you thought you'd never see again.

he looks.. different. he's grown taller, you're sure of it. he's been ridden of his usual black trench coat you always saw him in, his right eye and cheek no longer being covered by the fabric of gauze. instead, he's wearing a tan trench coat now, a bolo tie replacing his usual tie when he was in the Port Mafia. his hair messy and curly, not that it was ever neat, god no. you stare at the absence of bandages around his right eye and cheek, revealing his complete face and you can't help but mentally kick yourself for staring a little longer than necessary.

and suddenly, you become hyper aware of the sinking feeling in your stomach. it makes you sick to look at him, sick that your brain subconsciously forces you to relive your shared memories together. you avert your gaze down to the grey grounds of the prison lobby, unable to meet his gaze without glaring bitterly at him. your ex had apparently bailed you out of jail. your ex boyfriend from years ago when you both were in the Port Mafia. a cocky little smirk adorned his features, maybe he hasn't changed that much in some ways.

you find it in yourself to look up at him, emotions brewing behind your eyes. anger, confusion.. mostly anger, and yet you find it in your heart to feel relief at that fact that he's alright. that's he's not harmed. he had up and left without a word, not even a goodbye to you. you worried for him days on end, calling and texting but to no avail which ended up in you just calling it a breakup, calling him your ex boyfriend. despite the relief, it's minuscule in terms of your anger towards the man you once loved. you glare at him, glare at his stupid cocky smirk and how he seems like he doesn't even care about the history between you two. it's like nothing ever happened between the both of you.

"you're the one who bailed me out? what is this, some sick game you've decided to play?" you scoff at him, there was no way he just.. decided to bail out a Port Mafia executive out of the goodness of his heart, no.. no no no. that couldn't be true. "shame, not even a thank you?" you roll your eyes at his feigned sigh of disappointment. an officer releases your wrists from the metal confinements, red mark were already formed on your wrist. you bring your hands to your wrists, trying to soothe your irritated skin from how tight the hand cuffs were. you don't realise the look in his eyes, the slight change in his expression when he noticed the marks on your wrists. he doesn't like seeing you hurt, he absolutely hates seeing you in pain even if it's a mere scratch or.. in this situation, marks from a police officer's hand cuffs.

"come on now, the least you could do is thank me." he says with another cocky smile, you wish you could just slap it off his face but something tells you that he wouldn't exactly be ecstatic with you slapping his face in a police station.

"what do you want?" you snapped, not in any mood to be dealing with his teasing words accompanied by his usual shit-eating grin. he couldn't have bailed you out for fun, or for some sentimental reason. he wanted something, there was also a price when it came to him. "ah, how harsh! you're breaking my heart here.." the asshole has the gull to even jokingly suggest something like that.

"nothing much, really. just thought i'd help out an old friend." he hums, and you don't know if his words only spark a new flame of anger inside of you or if it wrenches your heart. the fact that he would consider you an "old friend", when you were his literal partner when you both were teenagers.

"an old friend? be a man you asshole, own up to who you broke up with." he doesn't answer, as expected. you're not sure whether you'd even prefer a response from him or just silence.

"let's talk, hm? maybe somewhere else?" he suggests after some time, calmly putting his hands into the pockets of his tan coat. you notice the slight change in expression in his face, you've spent years trying to practically decode this man and it only added to his amusement when you both were teenagers. now, you're thankful you took the time to observe him. you don't know exactly what he wants to talk about but, you know it's something serious.

"fine." you begrudgingly agree to him, sighing as you notice him leaving without another word and you know that's your queue to follow him. you don't know what you were expecting from the bandaged man, but he leads you to a little café. you raise an eyebrow at him when you two reach the front door, not exactly expecting him to take you to a cute little café that sells pastries and drinks. he meets your suspicions gaze with an innocent smile, urging you to step inside before him. what a gentleman. you step inside the humble establishment, greeted with a friendly smile by the cashier before settling into a seat near the back. he sits opposite you, it's almost as if he's treating this like you're his friend and you both are just going for lunch.

"so? you never answered my question." you reminded him, crossing your arms as you lean back on the plush backing of the seats. "what do you want, dazai." it hurts him the way you say his name, his surname. you never did that when you both were together, he liked being addressed as 'osamu' or 'samu' by you, it feels like salt being rubbed into the wound when you call him by his surname.

"oh? i'm deciding whether to get the latte or..." he trails off, noticing the most unamused expression ever on your face. he chuckles at the sight, shaking his head. "i'm only joking." he hums, stopping his little act at looking at the menu on the table. "i.. wanted to see how you were doing, is all." he shrugs, not really having a good explanation for bringing you to this cafe or hell, even bailing you out of jail. "i mean no harm by doing any of this, truly." he adds on before you get to question him, knowing what you were just about to ask him.

did he really mean that? that he wanted to just.. talk? you don't know what you should reply with, as a Port Mafia executive you should've killed him by now for being a traitor, but as his ex.. you're not sure what to feel. truthfully, sure you were pissed off at him for leaving without a word but you just couldn't find it in yourself to hate the man.

"fine, one hour."

"oh come on, two?" he pouts childishly, a sight you hadn't seen for awhile.

"one hour and a half. make it quick." you relent once again, it seemed like he still had the ability to make you soften up to him.

and so with that, you two proceed to awkwardly choose out your drinks for the time being while at the café and try your hands at small talk. it was.. incredibly awkward between the both of you, undoubtedly it was a little weird to even talk about work since well.. him being a Detective at the ADA and with you being a Port Mafia executive, what was there to talk about? it's weird to be so stiff with someone you used to be so comfortable with, you used to be able to talk about anything when you were younger but now it's just.. not the same.

while you two were talking, your phone screen lit up. some message from another Port Mafia member came up, said something about it being urgent. "i.. have to go, it's important." you looked up from your phone to face him, rolling your eyes at the tiny little pout that graced his lips. "a shame, maybe next time?" he suggests, hoping to have another time to talk with you again. you get the feel he misses you dearly.

"maybe." you shrug, standing up from your seat. you slid a napkin over to him, pointing to the corner of your mouth to signal to him that he had something on his. he mutters a small 'thank you', a tiny bit embarrassed that he might indeed have something on the corner of his mouth. as you leave, he uses his phone to check his appearance and.. there wasn't anything there? he thinks it might just be a silly little prank on your end to tease him after so long, he mindlessly flips the napkin in his hands as he puts his phone down.

in the corner of his eye, he noticed some.. writing on the napkin. your... number? you had changed your phone number some time after he left and now, you had given him your current one! it meant that you at least weren't that mad at him after so long, and that you at least wanted to stay in contact with him.

he decides to text you, just in case you decide to change your mind in the mean time of your separation.

your phone lights up as you made your way down the street.

[unknown number, 3:46 p.m ➜ you] "same place, friday?"

#bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai x reader

[xzhdjsj]

Sakuverse Characters Walking in on You Watching a ✨️Spicy Film✨️

Warning: NSFW!!!

Includes: Andrew, Isaac, Xanthus, Elias

Sooooo this is an idea I got from a recent ask I saw from @ilovegureshin (I hope you don't mind me tagging you). Since there's only 4 chars, I may do a pt. 2 in the future🦦

This is warm up for pt. 2 of that Zaros fic CUZ I'VE NEVER WRITTEN FULL SMUT BEFORE AND IDK WTF I'M DOING YALL

Anways as always, I hope you enjoy😌🫶

‼️ Repost cuz my dumbass deleted the original while editing🙄 We back to being hrny on main tho!

-

Andrew

Andrew is late today, maybe it's traffic, maybe he's just working a bit overtime but in the end you were the one being subjected to torture.

It's been a rough day, and you couldn't wait to get home to him. A bad day is always mendable when your boyfriend knows how to make you feel good. But given he's not home before you today, your next best option was your own hands and something to get your imagination going.

You're sitting on your knees, legs spread apart just a bit and your headphones comfortably shielding you from the noises outside. Your laptop is placed infront of you, theres two character on the screen a blonde and a brunette with a similar body type as Andrew's. You don't reach for these kinds of vides often, more like you don't need to, but sometimes the wait is too much. As the couple in your screen get more and more handsy with each other, you can't help but imagine the way Andrew touches you, the way his hand would ghosts over your thighs, or just gently touch your sides all in his attempts to rile you up. You miss him so much right now but the show must go on.

Your hands move from caressing your skin, making its way between your legs, slowly palming yourself through your undergarments.

You lost track of time, forgetting that soon your boyfriend would be home. Though it was too late for that.

Andrew knew something was up when you didn't greet him at the door like you usually do, and when the calls for your name went unanswered. What he didn't expect was to be greeted by such a... surprise.

Your back is facing the door, and you couldn't hear him through your headphones. He takes a quick glimse at the screen and grins, making his way over to the bed. He, very casually, walked up behind you and turns your face to the side so he can kiss you. You're quickly knocked out of your daze and slam the laptop shut as you scramble at the sheets.

"Andrew!"

"No 'Welcome home' hugs for me today? Although I must say this might be a better welcome after a long day."

Isaac

Sometimes when Isaac works really late you "go to bed early because you're tired", he doesn't come out of his office for hours so you have adequate time to relief yourself without disturbing Isaac. Tonight in particular, you felt completely disoriented. You couldn't get any work done and it was hard to focus. So when you couldn't take it anymore, you faked a yawn and excused yourself for the night. Isaac promised he'd be in bed with you soon, but knowing him "soon" meant at least another hour or two.

So you take advantage of the time, setting up your laptop next to you, and stripping away your clothes. Even though the volume of the video was lowered, your voice was not. Not that Isaac can hear you all the way in his office anyways. Your laboured breaths and soft moans echo the room. You take your time to rid the stress from your body, and your once soft moans increasing in volume as you get closer and closer.

Only for your body to stiffen at the three curt knocks on the door. You close the laptop quickly and pull your blanket over your body. He opens the door slowly, moving just a single step inside.

"Sorry, I uhm... I heard you through the door and- and I was going to leave, I promise! But you sounded so... good."

He's looking down at the floor, a hand on the back of his neck as he explains himself. The way the fabric of his pants stretched to accommodate his erection was obvious and maybe you didn't need your laptop anymore for tonight.

You drop the blanket from your body, crawling to the edge of the bed.

"Come here with me Isaac."

Xanthus

It was no accident. Not when you knew he could hear the video playing in your screen and the way your heart rate quickens.

You're spread out on your and Xanthus' bed, with a random video playing in the background. You didn't really care for the video, it was just there to hold your plan together and make your actions as obvious as you can. It was all just a ploy to get his attention. You knew that he knew that too, and at some point he'd give in and come find you.

You started off discreet, faintly running your hands up and down your body. It got your blood pumping as your heart rate increased, but when that didn't draw him to you, caution was thrown right out the window and you fully indulged yourself in what you could be feeling. Your voice bounced off the walls and he could definitely hear you loud and clear now. Your eyes are squeezed shut, one hand supporting your weight behind your back, the other between your legs.

Your eyes flicker open at the sound of your laptop being slammed shut.

Your pulled at the blanket, barely covering your body at all as you feigned shame.

"Xanthus, I didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah I'm sure the door being open was also part of your plan wasn't it?" He's standing at the end of the bed, eyes completely shadowed over with lust.

"I don't know what you mean." You lie.

"Don't play dumb with me, you love testing my patience don't you?"

"Perhaps"

"Brazen, but you might just regret starting this."

He crawls onto the bed towards you, clawing at the bottom of the blanket ripping it from your grasp and exposing your body.

Elias

There isn't much to do in the safe house, especially when you're alone. Being with Elias all the time is great and you love it, but having some time apart to be by yourselves was also nice. What you planned to do with your time today was one you definitely wanted to be alone for.

You lifted your laptop from the nightstand, placing it infront of you and scrolling to find the videos you favourited. There was a select few that you enjoyed, especially because you could imagine yourself in those scenarios, only now you could also picture someone as the other person in the videos.

Elias was all the way in his room, probably playing games or sleeping, whatever it was you hope it kept him in there for as long as possible. Once you're all prepared, you set the laptop down and kicked off your pants, leaving only your shirt and underwear on. Your eyes are set on the screen, watching and replicating the way the character's hand moved on the other. Your shirt is hiked all the way up, caught between your teeth so you hands could freely access your chest. All you could think of is Elias and if he'd also touch you this way. Surely if you asked, he wouldn't say no to you right?

Your other hand reaches down to the fabrics hugging your pelvis, fingers slipping inside to touch yourself.

But you're pulled to reality when the door knob creaks and Elias comes into view.

"Hey babe, do you wanna- Shit!"

You immediately tug your shirt down and make a high pitched sound and Elias quickly rushes right back out the door.

"I'm sorry!" He yells from outside. "I didn't know and your door was unlocked- Jeez I really am sorry!"

You body drops onto the bed, silently cursing yourself for not locking the door.

"It's okay." You tell him. "Did you need something?"

He's quiet for a moment before speaking again.

"Can I come back inside?"

You swallow hard at his request, pulling your blanket over your lower body.

"Yeah, sure"

The door slowly opens and Elias steps inside.

"Sorry, you look really fucking hot right now and I can't get it out of my head." He confesses and you're dumbstruck.

"Elias I uhm-"

"If this is too much for you, tell me to leave now, else I don't plan to." He cuts you off.

"Don't. I don't want you to leave"

"Good."

Before you knew it, his shirt is on the foor and your arms are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you.

"Were you thinking of me?" He asks.

"....yeah"

-

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #andrew marston #isaac rhoades #xanthus claiborne #elias #zsakuva andrew #zsakuva isaac #zsakuva xanthus #zsakuva elias

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

You're right, that does sound bad.

Absolutely fascinating that the powers of the feathers collecting together is making Sakura glow like that, like she's evolving or transforming. Except she's not even in there really, which is still awful.

OHO HERE WE GO.

Honestly the tension behind all this is pulled off REALLY well. They really make it LOOK like there IS enough power built up here in Sakura to pull that off. Especially when it essentially comes down to a power that relies upon the cumulative experiences of everything the readers have gone through to get to this point, which is a lot, and means that it's the reader's memories themselves that make this all the more powerful of a moment.

IT'S NEAT.

AND ALSO - ELDRITCH HORROR SAKURA? THE WINGS UNFOLDING WITH SO MUCH POWER THAT SAKURA IS A FORCE WITH ENOUGH SHEER POWER TO RIP APART THE FABRIC OF THE UNIVERSE?

PEAK.

And all in the service of wanting to bring people back to life.

Which, in hindsight, makes it really really funny that the Beetrain anime did their own plot so badly that it broke the purpose of the entire story to begin with, but oh well!

ALSO I'M HAVING A MOMENT OF SUDDEN CLARITY. In the cover for Chapitre 212 I was talking about how there were 14 little water droplets causing ripples that we could see, and how that was kind of the same number of worlds we visited. I never thought about it before but SAKURA'S WINGS ALSO HAVE 14 STRANDS IN THEM.

AND LIKE it's not about the number of physical feathers, because there were a bunch more of those, but Evil Wolverine's plan hinges on travelling to a number of Worlds specifically - and we went to 14 of them. And there are 14 parts to Sakura's wings. So it was always 14! They showed it to us all along! It was a concrete plan!

At least from a planning perspective anyway! I don't think it's a solid RULE that there were only 14 worlds they went to, since it's left pretty open for them to have visited other worlds inbetween and off screen and even some of the canonical worlds we went to were 2 worlds in one, but still! I just think it's neat! 14 clear arcs, 14 main worlds, and 14 pieces of the wings that will destroy the universe as we know it.

#Me like 'I wonder how many worlds we will go to!' #and like. 14. #It was always 14. #WILD #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 213 #Sakura #Evil Wolverine #Mokona #Fai #Kurogane #Lava Lamp Guy

[0bianidalas]

“𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞”

2.8K, explicit, post China Sprint

Read on AO3 or bellow the cut

He’s still fuming even when the roar of all engines has shut off. Absurd move, and for what? Fucking out of the podium and pole again. He yanks the balaclava as he seizes the ‘55’ of the garage, each step he’s taken has slowly made the anger subside but still sits in his gut like lava.

Everyone turns to him with their eyes wide and unblinking and Charles breathes. So, they’re waiting for a scene. A screaming match or maybe blows but it’s not the stuff he and Carlos are made of— apparently. He bites his tongue in his mouth when Carlos comes, eyes deep and gone.

“What the fuck was that?” Charles repeats himself, but his tone is far lighter than he intended it.

“Not right now, okay?”

And just like that, he flips the switch. Just like that, Charles’ fire dies and he thinks anyway. He thinks whatever. He thinks good riddance.

Because it’s always been like this with Carlos. Always half-measures and stolen glances and mixed messages and never enough. He should’ve known better than to hope their last year would’ve been different.

If anything, this might just prove to be the worst one yet.

By the time he’s done with the media circus, smiling in the absurdity of his frustrations, he’s ran out of fuel to keep him fired up, and when Carlos approaches him –fucking finally– he’s only greeted with a tired, heavy sigh. “I have to speak to the stewards because of the shit with Alonso, listen—if I was too aggressive—”

Charles taps his chest and through the layers of fabric, he can still feel the heat coming off Carlos, the steady pumping of his heart and the hard carcass that surrounds it. “It doesn't matter. I've been there, too, haven't I?” he relents and it's pathetic. He knows.

But Carlos squeezes his fingers and looks at him puzzled, as he's often done lately. Half-here, half-somewhere else. One foot out, Charles remembers.

And he doesn't say anything else before he disappears from his grip again, Charles also doesn't stick around to listen.

Instead, he replays the sprint idly in his mind after he's showered, revisiting all the missed twists and turns and convincing himself that his fight with Carlos didn't fuck up his chances for a podium. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. What counts is tomorrow, anyway.

But then a flash and he's pushed out of the track like nothing but a bug and his head is spinning and it's a hundred degrees but his gut is boiling with more than just that. His heart is racing for more than just racing. Fucking see me, I'm right here.

I'm yours to push and shove.

He doesn't have to open his eyes and look down to know what he knows already. His shaft's hardening as he lies and overthinks, great. It's not the first time he's gotten hard after a fight on track, it's not even the first time he's gotten hard after a fight on track with Carlos. But it'd been a while, and it'd been a while since the race, too.

He bites his lower lip and eyes his problem. His cock is nestled only somewhat uncomfortably inside his briefs. He could leave it there, he's only halfway into hardness. But then it's also just 10 p.m. in Shanghai so he's got a few more hours to kill before he's ready to rest. Social media seems like a good idea for a minute until he watches one too many videos of the race and his minor issue goes right to considerable.

It's starting to itch, the fabric. But when he moves his hips a little bit the constriction provides friction and Charles' interest is piqued, then. Fine, he'll stoop lower. It's one sprint video that leads to interviews with bullshit excuses that make Charles lose himself in brown eyes like he's done for the last three and some years that then lead him to a myriad of Sainz footage and he's gone.

And Charles could call him up, could get the whole actual show. But Charles was weak enough already to turn down his apologies when Charles very much deserved them, Charles was weak enough already to just let him fucking push him over, he'd been weak enough lately.

This was still weak, of course. But it was at least between him and God. Did he mention he was the bigger man earlier already?

He throws the phone to his side when Carlos' smile begins spinning in his head after three or so photos. It always took so much of his face, but Charles noted that it didn't matter because his laugh was contagious. A lot of aspects of Carlos were like that, could make you feel whatever he wanted in just a flick.

Charles palms himself, just a press of the heel of his hand to his bulge and he breathes heavily. Inhaling deep as his teeth trap his lower lip. He turns over and pushes a pillow between his legs, just to keep the pressure subsided.

Except that Carlos' fingers earlier linger on his, in his mind, and Charles eyes his hand like it's foreign to his body. He's washed off, it's been hours already; there's no trace of Carlos' smell or his heat at Charles' fingertips but it doesn't hurt to imagine. It doesn't hurt to rub himself softly, index finger moving from his clavicle to his chest to his navel until Charles breathes heavily again before he pushes down the briefs and ends the charade that he's wishing this away. He squeezes the pillow harder between his legs to keep his cock from flinching at the cold of the dead darkness of his room. The nearly dead emptiness of the life he carries. And his finger draws faint circles on his body again. Aimless, odd-shaped figures across his arm and his torso and his shoulder just like Carlos would. Touch and graze him like Charles was made of the most precious marble.

And kiss him. Carlos would kiss him breathless. Would kiss him like his life depended on it, would kiss him like he'd fight him on track. Like he did today.

This is all that I've got— can you take it?

Charles bucks into the messy lump he'd already made of the pillow as a yes echoes in his head, chanting, nearly. Yes, I can fucking take it. You want to fight me harder than the rest? I'll meet you halfway there. I'm no coward. Crash into me if that's how bad you want it. We'll give them a bloody show.

He grunts when his tip grazes the silky fabric of the pillow just slightly enough to sting and he comes to think that maybe he ought to just get on with it and use his hand, instead, but the rough friction is good. The rough friction reminds him of calloused, big hands, tanner than his. Musky smells and hairy wrists that always manage to twist right how Charles needs. It's unbearable, really. How perfectly they piece together.

And now Carlos wants to fight me.

All because they have left us in these ruins.

It's not my fault they didn't pick him.

He whimpers as his rhythm picks up, back arched as he's shifted to topple the pillow that's now under his belly. He no longer worries about the cold because his many efforts now got him glistening in sweat and panting, just like he was inside the car earlier.

Riled up because of Carlos fucking Sainz, albeit in two entirely different ways. Or were they? Wasn't their predicament the entire cornerstone of Charles' current frustrations?

They couldn't love each other, they could never love each other. They couldn't even have each other, because they didn't have a say in that.

And they couldn't hate each other, either. They couldn't go at each other's throats.

Well, at least that's what I thought. But he didn't give a shit about that, did he? Maybe that could mean…

“Merde,” he moans when he starts rocking his hips easier because he's started leaking. The moist spot he's made gets slicker with each roll of his hips and soon he just thrusting wantonly into the misshapen lump.

He supports himself a little on his elbows on the mattress, back arched just enough to make room for him to thrust back in, and so he repeats in a frenzy dance. He imagines himself squeezed into nothingness like the pillow, and bucks harder, relentless. Carlos wouldn't lose the pace, not at least until the very– very end. But he wasn't Carlos. He was only the mess Carlos had made of him, whimpering and moaning into his mattress and about to come untouched like a fucking teenager.

I bet he's smiling. I bet this is what he's wanted all along. To see me lose my damn mind like this.

He curses and he can nearly taste the bleach they used to clean the sheets; his tongue dries in the cotton as he lets go of the fabric, and adjusts himself a little. Legs a little spread, this time just pressing on his knees and he moves his hips in circles. Charles breathes at the slight change of pace but his mind provides more reasons to keep him going. Flashes of Carlos meaty lips dropping wet kisses all over his back before he claimed him, the way his bushy eyelashes would flicker before he came, mouth slacking in a soundless ‘o’ that Charles always needed to stick his tongue into.

Carlos' breathy laugh and silly jokes and big hands, crowding all of him both in public and private. Did he even know? How easily can I be undone under his fingers? He picked up his pace again as frustration started filling him once more.

“Charles?”

Yes, he'd fucking say. Sharl all soft like nothing's ever been wrong in the world. Like they're not caught up in the shittiest situation. Like Charles isn't absolutely dreading the end of the season. Like Charles doesn't lo–

He freezes when a hand wraps around his nape and Charles feels like an exposed wire, ready to electrocute. But the hand holding him knows him all too well, and it is as firm as it is tender. So Charles breathes and leans back into it.

“Vai avanti,” Carlos whispers in his ear and Charles wants to kick him out, kind of. He also wants to turn around and kiss the living daylights out of him.

It's always a bit complicated after a race, anyway. Carlos is the one he has to beat all the time, no matter what, but he also needs to have Carlos do good.

And they can't fight, so they don't fight. They make love instead, which is its own kind of fight, if you ask Charles.

He moves slowly — slower than he was a second ago— and the hand at his neck is so hot suddenly the pillow is too cold and rigid and Charles is no longer interested in it. He twists his face to see him, but the room is pitch black and the angle isn't right anyway.

“Carlos…” he whispers. It's not a plea, he wouldn't call it that. He's still got some dignity left in him.

But Carlos answers like he's made to answer, and Charles reflects on how bad he's been to him for the last two or so hours, until he reflects that he's in fact been soft. They both have.

“Shh, keep going. I got you,” Carlos says, and the hand around his neck rolls down his spine slowly to sneak under and wrap around him and Charles moans louder this time because it's what he's wanted the whole fucking day, since that stupid stunt he pulled.

Touch me the way it fucking matters.

“Venga, amore,” he prompts again, in the weird mix of Spanish and Italian he can muster, just towering over Charles somehow. Here and there and all around and Charles is dizzy in lust and something as intoxicating. He pushes himself up, pressed fleshed against Carlos, who's still gripping him loose and Charles knows this is what he'll give him this time. Just this, not more.

You get one piece of me this time. You'll never have me whole.

Charles loves a good challenge.

But he wasn't aiming to win this particular battle, so Charles just moves against the hand holding him firmly, Carlos rubbing his thumb on his tip so the precum would make the grip pleasant while Charles lost himself to the sensations and soon he was bucking erratically into Carlos' fist before spilling his release all over it.

Carlos supports him through the wakes of his climax, holding him to his chest as he stands just right near the edge of the bed, dropping soundful kisses on Charles' shoulders that make him shudder while he's still coming down from his high, Carlos still milking him through.

After the lights have stopped sparkling, Charles finally looks up at him. “I’ve been texting you,” Carlos says at the side of his face, but he sounds amused.

Charles half shrugs, before turning around fully, arms thrown over Carlos' shoulders. “I've been busy.”

“Clearly.” Carlos' right hand is sticky on his hip.

“How did you get in here?” Charles inquires, after he finally gains some clarity.

“Asked Nicolas for a spare key. Told him that if he's gonna tell the media you and I kiss then he might as well help me give it a shot,” Carlos says but there's a trace of amusement in his tone.

Charles still frowns. “Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’ did I ask him for the key or ‘seriously’ did he tell the press we kiss on the mouth?”

Charles rolls his eyes because he didn't really care that much about the answer. The world wasn't burning, so, who cared if his manager joked on international TV about something that may not be a joke? Who cared if Carlos outed them to his manager in response?

He leans forward slowly and drops a kiss on Carlos' lips only to realize he still smells like gas and sweat and tastes like their energy drinks. “Are you still dirty from the race?” Charles blurts, almost absentmindedly.

Carlos slaps his cheek in response and it makes a slick sound cause it's still covered in cum. “You're one to talk about being dirty.”

He chuckles, head falling on Carlos shoulder and trying not to giggle too much but the embarrassment is slowly getting to him. When he stretches his neck again, big brown eyes are looking up to him like he hangs the moon every night.

It's hard to imagine this is the same Carlos that would force him out of the track. The same Carlos that will fight tooth and nails this year to prove Ferrari that they should've chosen him instead of Charles. But, then again, they were all different people once the lights went off.

Charles could never begrudge him.

“Wanna take a bath with me?” he offers. “You can do your hair routine on me so I can have amazing hair after a race like you do,” Charles adds, playfully.

“Anything for Lord Perceval,” Carlos jokes in the same nature.

“You know it isn't personal, right?” Carlos asks after they sit in the tub for a while. His fingertips are drawing circles on his scalp and Charles lives, however long this moment lasts, in a world where none of that matters.

For this fleeting, miniscule moment, he's just having a bubble bath with the most beautiful man he's ever been near.

“I know.” Does he wish it was? Does he wish Carlos wasn't lying?

“It's not easy, though. It's not what you and I are used to,” Charles says, honest, too. Carlos is the longest teammate he's ever had so comparisons are dull. But, still…

Carlos stares at him unblinking as he does, and his eyes sparkle with sadness and wonder alike. It's a weird mixture that only Carlos can pull off, Charles reckons. “I'm afraid we're heading into territory that's gonna have us outside of what we're used to, amor.”

Was it a threat or just a bad omen?

“I can't say I won't be aggressive again for the rest of the season. You know why this one is more important than most to me, Charles— but… but I can promise that I'll come back to you still after. And we'll sort it out.”

The corner of Charles' mouth draws up as he looks at him. Yes, he knows. Ever since Carlos joined him, three years and so ago, Charles has known.

The only place Carlos would ever serve him is the bedroom and the only way Carlos would ever be gentle with him is like this.

#charlos #f1 rpf #my shitty writing #anyway. im sorry for my transgressions its Charles' fault for leaving his radio on

[coleskingdom]

Lost in Translation

Will Ospreay x F Reader

Minors DNI 18+

@midwestmade29 @madhatterbri thanks for putting up with my Will fixation.

“Thank God that’s over” Will relief showing in his tone. “However love what was that look you were giving me from behind the camera.” legs still spread in the chair, where they’d just finished filming. “ Did I say something wrong? “ his words held doubt and anxiety. “This is your dressing room for the day right?” as I walked towards the door. “ Yeah, but tell me what I did.” his voice slightly pleading. “ You only sat there looking like gods gift to women, talking about stroking a goat. It’s petting here in the states, stroking means something entirely different here.” Locking the door smiling as I walked back to him. “Christ, first my meme face and now this. At least it wasn’t something like the battle I started when I said grind.” his laughter filling the room he stood as I walked back to him.

The mischievous look in his eyes as he focuses on me. The scruff tickles my face as he leans in and kisses like he's intent on conquest, and I'm already claimed in one sweeping kiss. His kiss makes me feel painfully empty with a desire to be filled, hyper-aware of every inch of my body. Every part of me he isn't touching. Until his hands are on me, dragging me down on to the chair with him as if I weigh nothing, pulling me into his lap.

Until my ass is against his thighs and there's something hard and hungry and oh-so-thick pressing up against me, hot even through the fabric of his athletic pants , burning against the naked backs of my thighs. Until his arm is hard around my waist, caging me against the hardness of his body, giving me everything I need with the pleasure of his touch crushing against me. Until everywhere he touches me, pressed chest to chest, stomach to stomach, makes me aware of my senses, when he touches me my body comes alive under his hand.

He bites at my mouth, stinging and bruising and all delicious heat.

I bite right back. Fighting him, giving back need for need, kiss for kiss, lick for lick, nip for nip until we're a tangled mess of rushed breaths and grasping hands.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I stroke back through his dirty blonde hair. He lets out a thrumming, feral growl against my lips before burying his face against my throat.He sensitizes my skin with the rasp of his beard, then ignites me again with kisses and gentle, slow bites trailing at my throat, following my pulse.

My gasps come low, at first, turning into startled cries as he lifts me, shifts me, his possessive, rough hands on my thighs.

Making them shake as he pulls them apart, repositions me, settles me down on his lap again until I'm straddling him.

Suddenly, this is so much more intimate.I'm wide open, my panties drenched and pushing up against sensitive, needy, wet-slicked flesh.

His hands dig into my ass, making that empty clutch in me, that need to be filled, pulse ten times harder.

He grabs at my shorts, handfuls of my flesh, and brings me down against him.

The pressure of his cock against his pants is almost fucking me, sliding and rubbing between my thighs, scorching my own wetness into me with heat and friction, and there's no escaping it when his body is so large between my legs that my inner thighs ache. It's the effort to span him, to straddle him, bared in all but name.

“Will we can’t here. We can go back to the hotel.” my words barely recognizable.

His answer cuts off my words burying his face against the low neckline of my tank top, dragging the delicious friction of his stubble over the upper curves of my breasts. He only pauses to dip his head, captures my nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling and teasing through my top and bra.

It's molten, the fabric trapping the wetness and heat of his mouth, slicking it against my skin.

His tongue that leave me writhing against him, rocking my hips, grinding myself against him greedily until I'm all, desperate need, completely stripped of my senses.

He makes a deep, satisfying sound with one last little lick, then lets go, looking up at me with those blue eyes smoldering.

"You were saying?" he growls. “Here, here is good.” I pant. He kisses me again - softer this time, a gentle thing that ends in a taunting nip, a promise. "Feel like being bad maybe breaking a few rules?"

I bite my lip, tasting him on it, then curl my fingers against his sweatshirt, gripping at the hem and tugging upward. His eyes brighten, then darken, and he leans back from me enough to grasp his shirt and pull it up over his head.

Every time my fingertips skim his shoulders, his chest, the ripples of his abdo-men, a shudder rolls tensely over his body. He's barely holding himself in check, breathing harder and harder, while every part of him I take in makes my body ache deeper and deeper.

Until my fingers stray down to his navel, that trail of tempting blonde hair, and lower. Will’s control snaps.

Suddenly, I'm tumbling on my back, spilled across the locker room floor. I almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation as he pins me.It’s the warmth and need and softness in those vivid blue eyes that cause me to shiver. His splayed fingers skim up my body, pushing the hem of my shirt up, taunting me with the his calloused fingers.

I suck in a breath as his hands rove higher, as he lifts the tank top over my breasts, baring me save for the barely-there bra cups that are no protection at all.

Not from his gaze. And not from the heavy, touch of a possessive hand curling against my breast, cupping and kneading my flesh against him, until I feel like putty in his hands.

A whimper slips out of me. I can't help but writhe, lifting myself up, eyes slipping half-closed as I bite my tongue on pleasure.

His knee braces against the floor between my thighs. Every time I move, I'm grinding myself against the hardness of his thigh.Struggling not to completely lose myself with every touch, every kiss, every heated glance.

I'm so weak for him. So shamefully weak, he strips what last strength I have as he lowers his body over me, licks his way up my stomach in sizzling trails, catches my bra cup in his teeth, and drags the lace down to bare me to him.

And to the kiss of his lips, as his mouth teases me once again with no buffering layer between us, pulling my hardened, tightening, tingling nipple into his mouth.

Desire shoots through me.

I'm so lost, such a mess, digging my fingers into his back, as I move against him. I don't even realize what he's doing until my shorts are open and suddenly there's the heat of hard, thick knuckles against tender skin, slipping down, exploring and brushing over my folds.

I can't stop my moan this time. It rips out of me, a sweet hot tremor as everything inside me clenches. His fingers well practiced as they glide down slow, knowing to find where I'm already wet. He has me in the palm of his hand.

He knows how to make me writhe. Knows how to make me spread my straining thighs and lift myself desperately toward his stroking fingers. Knows how to make me lose my breath when he teases one greedy point and then the next.

And he knows how to completely break any last resistance I had when he lets go of my nipple with one last loving lick, swirls his fingers through my dripping wetness, and growls huskily against my ear, "..always so ready for me." Oh, God. Just two fingertips, sliding inside me, slow and testing - but they're enough to set me off.

"Will!" | gasp, arching hard against the floor. Only the thick, pinning of his body holds me in place.

His fingers respond, surging slowly deeper, anchoring me with a rough confidence and certainty that twists me up and leaves me feeling so deliciously his.

He conquers my whole world, in this moment; there's nothing but the heavy rasp of his breaths in my ear, the heat and pressure of his body, the unyielding planes of hard muscle beneath my digging fingers, the movement of his fingers coming deeper and deeper.

Twisting. Pumping. Taking. Pushing me higher and higher each time he strokes, quickening his delicious pressure against my inner walls. I turn my head, lips against his ear. "Will," | whisper. He stops, gently slipping his fingers from my body. That raspy, commanding voice murmurs against my ear, my jaw, my throat.

"What about the hotel? You want me here, now?”

I nod, struggling to catch my breath as my entire body vibrates . “Please." He's already dragging my shorts, my panties away - peeling them down my legs, stroking over my thighs with his fingertips in the process.

Then I'm bared before him, the last scraps of cloth clinging to me, he slides down his pants. I bury my face against his shoulder, feeling hard heat pressing against me, thick and teasing against me until my stomach clenches and my breaths hitch. He rolls his hips against mine, a hard surge of muscle bunching under my fingertips, plunging his cock into my trembling, clenching depths.

The feeling of every inch of him gliding inside me, moving with such perfectly controlled strength and giving me that feeling of fullness.

One rough hand pins me to the floor , his fingers digging tight into my hip, having me to take him at his pace. l’m a whimpering mess just craving more. Then I feel it that moment when our hips crash together, when we lock so perfectly, when he fits inside me just right.

That moment when he's touching all those places that turn me into fireworks and stars. My clit throbs, buried under his pubic bone, gently grinding against me each time we collide. I'm gone. Bonelessly limp with pleasure, melted underneath him while he kisses me fiercely, delving into me until there's no part of me he hasn't touched. His hips crash harder. Faster. His thrusts come insanely deep, driving into parts of me that have only been touched by him. A feral growl pouring out his lips every time he makes me gasp a little louder.

He pushes his forehead against mine, and we're eye-to-eye when our O comes together. That moment when his whole body goes rigid and he growls my name. His dick swelling while my pussy pulls at every inch, and then I feel his release.

“Love , are you okay?” as he pulls me into him. “I think I’m going to need a shower and a massage after that.” grinning at him. The concern on his face eases, “Shower here, then a massage at the hotel.” his voice flirting the line between mischievous and loving.

#will ospreay x you #will ospreay x y/n #will ospreay smut #aew smut #will ospreay x reader #will ospreay fanfic #will ospreay imagine #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic

[emeraldborealis]

Comfort

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!reader

TW//CW: Hurt/comfort, mention of nightmares, established relationship, soft Simon, no use of y/n.

Words: 1,593

You woke with a start, a clawing tingling sensation building under your skin, a spike in your breathing. Your heart racing like a derby horse, let loose with a jolt of adrenaline. Refusing to slow until falling or passing an imaginary finish line. There would never be an end to this. 

It was dark in the room, fear and panic growing even after the nightmare had ended, the memory of what it was about was quickly fading, the fear was not. 

It had all felt so real, so vivid, the touches and pain still felt like they were there, you could almost feel them searing under your skin. Wanting to burst out, become something real, something that could hurt you more than just in your mind.

"You alright, love?" The soft voice of Simon beside you helped calm your racing heart, taking a deep breath you sighed, realizing you'd woken him up with your nightmare, turning to face him you found him already looking at you, his face hard to make out in the dark, but his eyes were on you.

"I'm alright." Your voice was a little weak when you spoke. Reaching out to him in your nearly blacked out room, his familiar shape was visible to you only by the soft moonglow from a crack in the curtains. He was here, you were alright. You'd be alright. Simon was here. He wasn't going to let anything happen to you.

When your hand connected with the worn fabric of his sleep shirt he pulled you closer, holding you comfortably to him. "Another nightmare?" Gently he cradled your head in his hand, bringing it to rest under his chin, you felt his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath.

You'll be okay. You'll be alright. 

"Yeah." Closing your eyes you pressed further into him, breathing him in, drinking down his natural scent, it was soothing. Simon was a man you could trust, one who would never hurt you. He was a man who would part oceans of people for you, a man who would scare away the fear constantly bubbling inside of you without complaint. "How'd you know?"

"The shift in your breathin' woke me up." Gently his fingers started massaging into the nape of your neck, keeping you close and comfortable. He was an enigma to you, someone so hurt yet still so gentle. Not with everyone, but with you he was.

"You sleep that light?" You knew he was a light sleeper, but you didn't know it was to that extreme. A pebble of guilt began to build inside of you. He must never sleep when he sleeps with you. 

"Unfortunately." His hand traveled down your neck, trailing up and down your spine, his fingers pressing firm enough to feel the notches of each vertebra as he went. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I don't remember most of it, just the general feeling it gave me. It was a bad one." You moved more into him, you wanted to cry, wanted to scream. You were so sick and tired of these nightmares, never ending, never relenting. There was something fundamentally wrong with you, there must be, for rest to be more tiring than not sleeping at all. 

You hadn't been through what Simon's been through, haven't seen the same brand of hell he has. You didn't have the right to complain to him, not when he's objectively been through worse. You weren't loved right, you saw things, went through things, but those weren't comparable to him. 

"That's alright." He brought you ever closer, letting you move on top of him. If you could fall and sink into him you would in a heartbeat. Settle inside his bones, let them be a protective cage, keep everything else away from you. "So long as you don't want to talk about it because you think my nightmares are worse or some shite like that."

He's chastised you more times than you can count about not wanting to talk to him about your problems, told you just because things could be worse doesn't mean they're not hard.

"No, well, yes yours are probably worse. But I really don't remember this one, still wouldn't want to talk about it if I did. I just like to try and forget them." Laying your head over his heart you let his steady heartbeat stabilize you, gravity taking the few tears from your eyes and making them fall onto the fabric of his shirt. 

Your hand laid on the other side of his chest, fingers rubbing small circles, your pointer and thumb pinching his shirt. You hated this, hated when you'd wake him up with your nightmares, hated having them at all. Simon needed someone better than you, someone who wasn't damaged, someone who wasn't just as scared as he was to go to sleep at night.

"I understand." Simon laid his hand over yours on his chest, holding it gently. "Just because the water could be deeper doesn't mean you can't be drownin' where you are. Trauma isn't a competition, I know you've been made to feel it is your whole life because people want to silence you. But talk to me, I'm 'ere for you, darlin'."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just hard, I'm trying." Turning your head you rested your chin on him, looking up at his face, his beautiful face. The first time you saw it you couldn't even speak, it was the face of the man you love. There was nothing else you needed to say about it. There was nothing else anyone needed to say about it. If people didn't see it for the beauty you did, then that was their loss. "They just- never stop."

"I know. I know. I understand." The pad of his thumb gently swiped under your eye, a frown coming to his face when he felt it was wet with tears. 

Scooting up his body you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. "Don't frown, they're just dreams. Hurts for a while, but I'll be alright, you're here. I'm okay. I'm okay." You repeated it just as much for yourself as him. 

"I wish you could sleep peacefully through the night, I wish you didn't have bags under your eyes from exhaustion. I wish I could keep the nightmares at bay. I wish you wouldn't have to understand this pain like I do." His hands moved to rest on your back, rubbing up and down.

"Life is pain, isn't it? Everyday we can go through hell, and we just keep living, just keep going. Isn't that persistence what life is? What makes us human?" Gently you moved your fingers over his face, trailing the bridge of his nose and shape of his eyebrows. "My dreams are not something that are allowed to define me, that hell is not going to be who I am. But I'd be alright if when all was said and done I was known for loving you." 

"Known for lovin' me? It is a 'eavy task." Simon chuckled, kissing your nose.

"That's not what I was saying and you know it." Pushing on his chest you sat up, half straddling him. "And it's not a 'task', loving you comes as naturally as breathing, so don't give me that crock of shit." 

"Alright, I stand corrected." His hand moved to rest comfortably on your hip, softly squeezing it. "I'd like to be known for lovin' you, above all else. I'd like for my time spent with you to be the thing my life is associated with."

"It's a 'heavy task'." You mocked his words, mimicking his voice in an obnoxious manner. 

"Alright enough of that." Sitting up Simon wrapped his arms around you, falling backwards he pulled you back down to lay with him, ignoring your noise of surprise he kept a tight hold on you, preventing you from being able to move. "You're perfect." The playfulness was gone, replaced with a soft tenderness. 

"But I wish I was flawless, I wish I knew what it was like to live a life without this burden. I wish I could just be like everyone else. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I don't know what's causing these dreams. I just want them to go away." Your voice wavered as a lump formed in your throat, a burning coal. Sniffing you tried to hold back your emotions.

"We'll get you to the point you can sleep through the night without bad dreams soon, I promise. I'll find a way to turn those restless dreams into somethin' peaceful. Soon you'll feel fine, no more eyebags, no more nightmares." It wasn't something he could guarantee, but the conviction in his voice silenced all of the doubts in your mind. 

"You make things better, when I wake up to you I remember I'm alright. I don't know what I'd do without you." Taking a deep breath you relaxed yourself, settling yourself so you can start trying to go back to sleep.

"I'll always be 'ere, love. Get some rest. I'm 'ere." The feeling of him kissing your temple furthered you into calming down. Closing your eyes you nuzzled into him. 

"Let's have something good for breakfast, but you make it, and you clean it up, and I just partake." You mumbled sleepily into him.

"Fuckin' 'ell you're a twerp. We'll see." His comfort was all surrounding, holding you safely, it kept you warm and calm. He was all you needed, all you wanted. Waking up to him would always be the reason for you to fall asleep again. 

#x reader #oneshot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #cod fandom #cod #angst #cod fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley call of duty #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #ghost cod #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader

[littlemarianah]

Now after this post you have to write a smut of Peeta and Katniss fucking in nature.

in response to this post.

Alright then, we all know that everlark is wild and raw! So I'll do it.

I lay down on the sand listening to the sound of lake water in my ear. On this sunny summer afternoon, after eating all those wild fruits we found on the way here. Everything seemed perfect. I spread my body on the warm sand and relax.

I hear Peeta start to draw on the paper, those rough chalks on the smooth sheet of paper. He puts the picnic blanket on the floor and sat down next to me. He doesn't like lying in the ground with nothing in between his butt from the dirt. It's silly, I laugh.

"What is it?" he asks, looking at me with his blond eyelashes shining in the sunlight. He looks so handsome today, his forehead is sweaty from the summer heat. There's only one thing that can make this afternoon better.

"I want you to kiss me." I say.

"Okay then." Peeta puts down the sheets of paper and leans over my body, giving me a peck on the lips, still tasting like wild strawberries.

"No, Peet. Give me a real kiss." I beg. He smiles, pleased to see me beg, but I don't care. He kisses me again, with a soft mouth this time, letting me use my tongue. When his hands touch my neck and his fingers tangle in my hair I feel such a strong heat in my stomach that I lose my breath. The feeling grows and spreads throughout my body making my face burn. My hands cup his cheeks and I bring him closer, if that's even possible. I want him with everything in my body. I want to devour him. I want more.

My hands go up to his hair, the more his lips move on mine, the more I feel like it's impossible not to have him for me right now. I lift my sundress up to the middle of my stomach, Peeta glances over and looks surprised. "Oh, love." he says breathlessly. "Do you really want to do this in the sand?”

"Please, Peeta." I say sighing.

He purses his lips, taking courage and wipes his hand on his shirt for a considerable time. He touches me through the fabric of my panties. It's enough to make my eyes soften and my head fall back. His eyes shine on mine and he kisses me again. This time, fiercely. With his hands running circles over my clitoris. It's not wonderful, but it's the spark I need to go crazy. I suck his lips with mine, I let my voice come out without any shame. We are in the middle of the forest, who could hear us?

My feet sink into the sand the more my body moves in pleasure. I take my hands to the hem of Peeta's pants and try undo his belt. I'm a little too dizzy to do this alone, so he helps me. It seems to me that he is also eager to have me because it takes him a little too long to get his pants down.

"You always catch me off guard." he says. I dig my fingers into the sand as he drags my underwear out. I open my legs and he lies between them. My lips tremble in anticipation of what is to come. I can't look away from his blue eyes.

He slides inside me and he lets out a moan so deep that it makes my belly burn. His voice sounds so good in my ears. I feel the difference there is when he doesn't put his fingers in first. He opens me up and I tighten around him. It's maddening. My body is so weak, that my arms can barely wrap around his neck. My eyes close. I lose my breath, my chest starts rises and falls so fast it feels like I'm hyperventilating.

I open my eyes again, and see him looking at me, just as stun as I am. His eyes don't leave mine for a second, blue and bright, wanting me so fiercely that it sends a shiver down my spine. Peeta pushes my leg open, being able to go a little deeper. I don't want to look into his eyes anymore, my moans are louder and more acute than I would like them to be, following my trembling breath.

“Katniss... is it good like that? ." Peeta whispers, I give an angry growl at his question. As if I wasn't already acting completely crazy under him. I refuse to answer. His lips come and touch mine, they crush each other. Gasps come out of his mouth and his tongue vibrates with his moans. "Tell me if it's good." he repeats the question.

I take a deep breath and hug his neck. "Obviously it's good." I moan.

That's it, guys. I let your imagination flow now. 🫣🤧 I'm tired lol Maybe one day I'll finish it and put it on Ao3

#tw: suggestive #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #thanks for the ask! #everlark smut

[noacfapologyst]

telltale heart — matty healy. part 2

´part 1´

summary: you and matty have a pending meeting at some awards where you promised to go as a couple. but something goes wrong.

wc: 2,5k

a/n: hey! i'm so sorry for the lateness. a lot has just happened these days but here is the second part. thanks for the love, x.

The weeks between the awards and the proposal to take Matty as your date have been from the moment he left the studio, the only thing you've ever seen going on in your mind.

You haven't been able to sit down and compose peacefully, or be able to just have a conversation without mentioning him without you slipping through your cheeks. Or that he appears in stains on your writing, the references may be exhaustive at some point, but your brain is about to explode just to think that he'll be there for you, and just for you. You wish his hand would occasionally slip into the waist of the dress you will wear and you would use that touch to keep it forever in your memory.

Even in your best dreams you wouldn't have had the courage to ask him to accompany you to prizes like your date, you can actually stand near him without trembling about it by mere chance.

Two weeks before, you go back to the conversation that tortured you several days ago with your team.

"Matty Healy, are you really sure?" Your manager inquires again, you cross your legs again. It's a sequence you've been living since Friday. "It dissolves your image too much in front of his. I don't know if it fits."

"Really, I don't care." You shrug your shoulders with heaviness. Your image is ruined anyway, but you're not going to let them take this off your hands. "Whether i go with someone or not, there is a stir. I was cheated, remember." You point again and you look at your fingernails, you need to finish defining everything now. "I don't care if it ruins my reputation. Matty is my friend, end of discussion, Helen."

Maybe it's the tone of voice or maybe you've just fed everyone up with it but Helen, your manager for years, sighs and nods with discontent. A winning smile sits on your face. You understand the worry in that office really, but you have one more card to play. You don't really care what his image is from doors to the outside because with everyone around him he's never been more than a gentleman and that's the only thing you really stick with when you have to talk about him.

"Plus, we give the media what they want. The antithesis of Sam." Helen decides it's time to let the argument go and even though her face is a weak grin they decide to move on to the other agenda items.

"Have you decided the dress, at least?" Your innocent smile betrays you and you're nowhere near getting a blow to your head.

You run into a bubble of teenage foolishness, she should understand that. But you won't discuss that either because deep down you've let him look distracted.

"I'll see the dress later, I'll let you know which one I choose." You inform her at the end by taking a sip in the cup of coffee. Helen doesn't make any sound anymore, and you know you've officially won.

--

Stylists really only want to kill you now or throw some fabric over your head. But they are right in their anger, you shouldn't have waited until the last week to choose the dress or gather too many designers in one place without having a very clear idea of fabrics, cuts and necklines. All you know is it has to be red, it can't be any other color under any forecast.

But it's not that you didn't want to choose it, you just couldn't find the right one. Which is kind of a lie.

No one can deny that there is an attraction in you posturally just by seeing you from afar, there is some light in you that stands out without you trying. You know that you're actually beautiful and that you're lucky enough to fit in dresses and that anything would be fine to show off on you. Your face has small freckles and you have good proportions between your nose, your eyes moderately green and almond, and your round lips. Your hips and abdomen are fine although you've never paid too much attention to them, or at least lately. But you know that your figure is imposing and immutable when the line is drawn between your low back and your high back and everything stands out there.

But this is different, it's a dress for and by Matty. It has to be perfect, not close to it. It may be one of the few opportunities you have in your life to receive his look on your body and make you tremble even just by looking at your cheeks. And that's also why the red dress has to be camouflaged on your cheeks.

In the end you find it and you couldn't be happier with the result. Red satin, straps around the back and neckline. When you test it automatically your body functions like a teenager and you start spinning around it without even finishing tying your high heels properly. But as you see yourself spinning in the mirror a smile sits on your face from ear to ear.

"It honestly feels like it was designed for you." After everyone in the room approves it by nodding as they take the measurements for the final adjustments, your image advisor shows up at the door and his confirmation lets you see that you're going to be relevant at the awards and with several glances on it overshadowing several more artists. "You look like the fucking winner."

And that confirms that you've finally found it. And it's perfect.

---

"Hey." Matty's face appears on your computer screen when he calls you on FaceTime. They haven't seen each other in person since the night at the studio, but their contact has been maintained anyway. "How do you feel about the awards?"

"Why the question?" You better place the device on the table and rest the guitar on your legs. You take the opportunity to spend some time watching how the hair on his front move each time he accommodates the camera.

"I wanted to make sure you remembered that we will be the best couple at the awards." Your heart stops for a second. "Believe me when I tell you that Sam is going to vomit with resentment when he sees us." The archness in his voice, the change of tone, the punctuation of the latter. The silly smile and the wink he makes. Too much for three o'clock in the afternoon.

That's when you realize something else. Ever since Matty became your supposed date, you haven't spent a second thinking about your breakup or your ex or who she's going to take. Just now you're rethinking it.

"You still there?" Matty claps his palms and looks at you from the screen with a frown. He doesn't mean it in a blunt way, but he knows how your brain works and he knows you've frozen to yourself.

"Yes, I don't know, I had forgotten he was going to be there." In fact it's a confession would be because it's realistic. You've been in your pink bubble about Matty that you forgot your ex would be there. "I don't wanna see him. I would like he stop exists sometimes." You laugh silly and he gives it back to you with a supportive look.

"It won't bother you, darling. I'll protect you." You feel like you're gonna throw up rainbows for the next five minutes and you don't know exactly what the trigger is. But luckily you can hear George's voice in the background and you know Matty's going to say goodbye. "See you on Friday. I'll get a red bow for the suit."

"That would be fantastic." You wink at him revealing the color of your dress and he smiles waving his hand around the camera as if he were a small child. "Bye bye, Matty."

When you cut off the call you have your head burning up from the amount of information you're processing right now, and then you go back to the first point you noticed today, the initial cause you owe to being able to go with Matty to the awards has stopped crossing your mind the moment this whole plan happened. It's also when you realize how self-destructive it is to have portal notifications on your computer just to keep abreast of public opinion about you.

You shouldn't let it get to you so much, but it actually does. Sam and her, the girl the rumors of your infidelity fed on and then confirmed, holding hands in front of the last bar you and he went to as a couple, two days before the breakup. His hands on his waist, he looks happier than he ever was with you. Smile more, he has a genuine expression in it. She's cute and it hurts you because you thought you were her ideal type and she, ironically, is completely different from you.

Your breath is cut short and you force yourself not to blink so fast and control the splash in your eyes. Yeah, maybe it's been a few months, but you're back in front of that studio and you're back in front of the words that stuck like a dagger in you when he said he didn't really love you and you just bored him. That feeling makes you get carried away and after weeks of holding back you get carried away and you just cry liberating yourself. At some point you let go of a drowned cry when you think about how you imagined a life full of it or at least imagined it would last more than a few months.

In the epitome of your catharsis you stretch between the guitar and the notebook and reveal that not letting yourself feel in its totality is what has not allowed you to put words in a line. And that is now broken from the moment your fingers prick the guitar in a melancholy and sad way, your thoughts fly and stay on the page when you denote the betrayal in your story, the lie and the reality of the facts. As your facet of strength and pretending smile and well-being collapse and leave you reduced to your tear-filled role, your knees on your head and the floor next to the gray armchair.

Maybe one of the best songs of your career. How you died waiting for a sign that never came even if they had sworn you everlasting love. Like you would actually have given up everything to keep it.

Suddenly you calm down just as quickly as you have acquired the previous state, when you manage to breathe properly thinking that Matty said he would be there and accompany you in front of Sam. That he has used the word protect gushes warmth within you, and you know that you can rejoice in the feeling of affection that he inevitably gives you. Therein lies the essence and effect Matty has on you and how important his friendship is to every aspect of your life. He's been there in every stage of your life and he's never stopped accompanying you even when he wasn't at his best.

Then you relax thinking about how lucky you are to be able to take him to those awards regardless of the terms agreed between the two and what the media put on. At the end of the day you'll be going to the awards that you and him have been talked about for thousands of nights being the best choice of both because understanding was never faked and that chemistry is always instantaneous.

When you realize you're tapping the guitar without a predetermined note, it's glimpsed between scratches of melancholy and a pink bubble. But now you're back to your usual thoughts and now you can't stop thinking about Matty dressed in a suit (and looking awesome, by the way) with him basically matching you in his tie.

--

Since you open your eyes on Friday, the day becomes chaos. Dress test, hair test and make-up test. The walk in heels, the review of the speech. Thinking about what to say about the breakup, that your figure remains dazzling no matter if the person able to disarm you is the one standing next to you. Both for your ex-partner and your date. Then they'll come and tell you about your nomination and how some song will be better than yours. The vicious circle of being an artist.

You wish it was a quick day, but it becomes extremely heavy. You hardly have time to stop for a drink of water and when you realize you are already changed for the event.

You look in the mirror with your stylist and then he starts to take shots while he changes between different angles to have the best pictures. Your hair is semi collected in a braid from behind and only a few waves break off on the wind but it gives the feeling that you have a princess collection and is not in danger of collapse.

Your dress gets all the attention, you look taken off the cover of a magazine. The red satin falls on you adjusting your curves and marking your figure in a rather attractive way to see, the cut on the leg does not take out the dainty of the dress. Your neckline falls on a beak held by a very thin thick straps that connect the dress with the neckline at the back, leaving your back open only with a few straps crossing to your low back.

You're perfect but you can't help but want to bite your nails because you feel there's something still missing even though you're being manic checking your makeup all the time. And if it wasn't because you don't have a second for your stylist to talk to you about important things, you'd have tried to touch up your makeup many more times.

When you get in the limo, you breathe until you calm down, and then you have a millisecond to talk to Matty.

see you, x

hey

we're coming for you soon

You turn off the phone and leave it on the seat when you feel your manager's gaze pointing at you.

"Where's Matty?" You ask after a while starting to listen to your senses that tells you something is wrong. They should have passed Matty's house a few miles ago, and your heart speeds up when you know you are entering the freeway.

Your phone vibrates and lets you see the Brit's messages making you form a thick grimace between your lips. Your brow automatically frowns and you feel your makeup heavy as you read each word carefully and feel like someone is playing a heavy joke on you.

only a thing

if you promise someone a date you have to keep it or at least warn that it's a fucking joke

Your vision becomes blurry for a few moments and you feel your world just stop in front of a polarized window and the body of the seat. You don't want to believe that what your head is thinking is actually what's going on, you can't just go overboard like that. The chances were very slim.

And then, come the words that confirm how you dug your own grave without it being your fault. You feel like someone's slapping you right where it hurts the most.

"Oh yes, about that. Matty isn't a good look for you, so we just got you someone else. You'll thank me later."

actually i think it sucks but will be rewarded in the next part? anyway let me know what you think <333

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty fic #matty healy blurb #telltale heart au

[antisocialxconstruct]

.

#I have.... a Vision for my next puppy surprise customization #basically I want to take the two with the most obnoxious color schemes (one is marbled pink/blue/yellow/purple with pink/white hair) #(the other is like pink and purple confetti with purple/pink/teal hair) split them both down the middle and swap halves #and then sew them back together so they're like inverse of each other #and then turn them into little clown dogs with like neck ruffles and bells and face paint etc #idk where the idea came from. I'm usually not into clowncore but I keep looking at them and just thinking 'these are destined to be clowns' #and now that I have a pattern for the babies based on the kittens... I could grab some puppy heads from the puppy pile #and make them some little clownlets #the only problem is like........ I need fabric and trinkets and such 😭 #the downside of being brand new to a crafty hobby is that you don't have a stockpile of supplies. you just have to keep spending money #and I don't have money right now!! I was supposed to get a raise this month but it only JUST got approved #so I won't be seeing any increase until next month #but anyway... I can still start..... I can disassemble things.......

[proteuus]

notebook I made for my friend jack :-)

#my posts #youll notice it has a Fabric cover #I'm 'doing a series of notebooks in fabric to practice the techniques' #but actually i just wanted to make cute little notebooks for my friends and they have to be fabric bc its more durable #fabric is easier to work with in the sense that it's more forgiving than paper #but more difficult in the sense that it's less versatile #there really isnt much to be done to the outside covers except if it's a light fabric i can stamp stuff into it #so all the usual stuff i would do to the cover has to be done on the inside cover #the inside cover follows slightly different design rules than the outside bc it has to balance those two panels right next to each other #but tbh its the same i just like my notebooks to have more wow factor from the outside #let me put it this way: #fabric covers are way better if youre trying to make a practical notebook for the sake of having something to write in #paper covers are better if youre trying to make like. a piece of art in the form of a notebook #^^ not pictured but if i also stitched all the way through the spine so you can see the stitches on the side #i dont like to do this for my personal notebooks i just dont love the look but i am for this '''' series '''' #just to add another texture to the outside bc otherwise it is just a block lmao #(its also slightly better practice in terms of making notebooks to write in but the way i usually do it is fine)

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

#riki babbles #I had this in my drafts for ages and I was like 'not the time' but a friend encouraged me to share so here it is #palestine

[hecateslore]

💗🎀

papa!simon is on my mind, so ask about olderbf!simon and papa!simon cause my asks are open and I'm being super generous--okay bye!

“My boobs hurt,” You whine, rubbing them over the fabric of your t-shirt. Simon watches you from the dining chair, Sitting with your daughter, trying to get her to finish her food. You were making yourself a mineral water mocktail while Simon drank his beer.

“I’ll massage them later,” He offers, which comes out more like a statement. “Eat,” he points to his daughter's half empty plate. She shakes her head, “No tv.” He raises a brow, “Don’t,” you chuckle. “Go babe,” You say, grabbing her plate and letting her run off to do god knows what in the living room. 

“She’s never gonna learn,” Simon sighs, watching his baby run around throwing her toys in the air, causing destruction. “That’s your fault.” you laugh. Simon gets up, clearing his plate, “I know,” he admits, rubbing your very swollen belly. 

“They’re gonna be worse!” he dips down to peck your stomach, “I’m gonna go change.” He says stretching. 

When he comes out to the living room, You on the couch and your Simon duplicate rolling around on the floor while her cartoons play in the background. “What are you doing, bug?” He gets on the floor also, laying on his back, letting his daughter roll around him, occasionally kicking his side or slapping him in the face accidentally. 

You were on your phone not paying attention to the two on the floor, Until it got quiet, Your daughter sitting on Simon's stomach while he laid on the floor, both of them staring at the tv. 

“You okay?” you say looking up from your phone. 

Simon looks at you, “Tv.” he mumbles and gets right back to it. You tap him with your foot, “Since she’s down, get her pigtails out.” He nods, swatting your foot away from his shoulder. 

He lifts her with so much ease, and takes the rubber bands from her out so easily and quickly, Playing with the warm honey curls that sit on top of her head, massaging her scalp a little. 

Simon sat on the floor with his back on the couch and your guy's daughter between his legs, he played with her hair, her big brown eyes getting droopy with sleep. 

“I need to give her a bath,” You whisper to Simon who was too invested in Mulan. “C’mon buggie, Bath and then we go to sleep.” You say reaching for her, She nods.

You bathe her, and get her under the covers in no less than 45 minutes. 

Simon holding her in his arms, rocking her back and forth just like he did when she was a newborn, “You sleepy buggie?” he mumbles to her, she nods her eyes closed and head on his shoulder, “Me too.” he sighs, placing his hand on top of her head, “Let’s make night-night.” He places her on her toddler bed, under five minutes she’s out, small snores leave her mouth. 

You stand at the edge of your bed rubbing your big belly while you watch Simon kiss her cheek and tuck the cover around her for the millionth time. 

RAHHHHH I NEED TO GIVE HIM A SOCCER TEAM----

#papa!Simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley cod #ghost mw2