#like who you like and don’t who you don’t

[unrepentantly-weird]

as somebody who was a teenager when it was happening, it’s downright astonishing to hear “nobody knows why we did that.”

it was a colossally unpopular war even at the time, because everyone knew why we did that. it was for the same reason we always invade a less developed country on imaginary charges: we wanted their natural resources.

it was right after 9/11, people wanted action, and it looked like a great excuse. but as it dragged on, it started to become obvious to most americans that there were no weapons of mass destruction, and there were no secret Al-Qaeda military complexes, and the war in Iraq was just throwing people’s lives away on both sides for no actual reason other than going after the oil.

while protests were still happening about the war itself, then there were leaks about the human rights abuses at guantanamo bay prison: indefinite detention without trial, torture, humiliation, and suspicious deaths. the patriot act was introduced to justify government surveillance of emails and phone conversations without a warrant.

lots of people were pissed off, and loud about it. there were still plenty of “real american patriots” eating “freedom fries” this week because the french criticized the war, or whatever, but at the time there was a massive cultural backlash. this is the atmosphere where green day released american idiot and 21 guns, and there was an entire nine inch nails album (that i was really really into, in the way an 18 year old gets into nin for the first time).

W was already polarizing: some people found him “folksy” while others just thought he was a idiot, and unpresidential. whole books were published compiling the times he misspoke in embarrassing ways: “is your children learning?” “as a single mother, i know how hard it is to put food on your family,” “they misunderestimated me,” and other slips of the tongue. a president was supposed to have dignity, dammit!

not to put too fine a point on it, but i think everything i just described actually is why we aren’t talking about it all the time, to refer back to the op. looking back at it now, it’s easy for it to seem almost nostalgic: really? we were worried about that? a little routine middle eastern destabilization and unauthorized surveillance, conducted by a guy who wanted to call himself “the decider” and have a big Mission Accomplished banner for his aircraft carrier? that’s it?

that would be a mistake, though. we should be talking about it. this is already long-winded enough and i don’t think i need to overexplain. suffice it to say that if the pot started bubbling when reagan was elected, W is when we should have known to jump out.

I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time

[i1k]

gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because why would you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promises to pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

[frownyalfred]

imagine you’re a young woman in Gotham set on revenge against your cheating ex boyfriend so you track down his expensive, souped up car to some club downtown and start beating the shit out of it with a baseball bat in the back alley. mid-process some guy comes up behind you and is like “nah don’t hit the windows, bodywork is way more expensive to repair” and starts giving you tips on how to destroy this man’s car in a way that will defy even the best insurance adjuster and luxury parts repair shop and when it’s all said and done and the stupid, expensive car is a broken piece of shit (just like the ex) you turn around. the man who’s been giving you advice is standing there, smoking, eyebrows slightly raised, very impressed. he’s kinda handsome, dressed up like he was in the club actually. you ask him if he works there. he snorts and says “something like that,” and heads back inside with a snarky two-fingered salute to you.

it turns out that man was Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, current owner of the Iceberg Lounge.

[girl-lostconnection]

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

[cosmiic-world]

sylus when he takes you on joyrides in the N109 Zone, he absolutely loves when you dress in bike leathers and he loves when you’re matching him.

sylus who loves how your smaller frame hugs his from behind, the side of your helmet flush against his back as you giggle from the speeds and scenery you’re zooming past.

sylus who loves teasing you at red lights, reaching back and gently squeezing your thighs. “are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, chuckling when he’s met with an ecstatic nod and a thumbs up. he loves to catch you off guard with suddenly taking off, relishing in how you squeal and scramble to hold onto him, laughing as you whine.

sylus who stares at you as you get off the bike, setting your helmet down right beside him. he watches as you rummage through your purse with a small frustrated pout. “what’s wrong sweetie?”

“i don’t have my mirror.” you said, huffing as you held your lipstick in your hand.

sylus who turns and right as he’s about to offer one of the mirrors from his bike, you grab his helmet and turn his head toward you. “hold still for one second.” he thinks he hears but all he can focus on is that vibrant red lipstick in your hand and that look in your eyes.

your eyes turned sharp as you focused intently on the reflection in sylus’s helmet, ignoring his ruby eyes staring at yours. you focused as you applied your lipstick nice and slow, so you wouldn’t mess up. somehow, your bottom lip was smudged a bit and you hadn’t noticed until sylus grabbed your arm as you were turning away from him.

“just a second, kitten.” he said gruffly, pulling you closer to him, his thighs caging you in as he brought up his hand to gently wipe away the smudged lipstick from your lip. “this shade looks magnificent on you.” he said softly, his eyes filled with lust. “put your helmet back on.” he said, handing you your helmet.

“what, why?” you said as you grabbed it, tilting your head confused.

“sweetie, surely that wasn’t just for fixing your lipstick. i have a problem now that only you can fix. we’re going to the parking lot.” he said, slinging his leg back over the motorcycle and turning the engine back on.

you couldn’t help but giggle as you put your helmet back on and sat right behind him. your touch felt like fire blazing against his skin, turning him on even more as your hands teasingly found their way down his pants.

sylus, who loves how scandalous his girlfriend can be.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: another kofi commission!

Your naga lover was in rut, and you had been avoiding his den for the past few days per his request. He was hesitant to allow you in, since nagas had the tendency to squeeze their lovers tightly during passionate mating, and he really didn’t want to hurt you!

But 4 days in while you delivered food, you heard his whimpers and cries from deeper in the cave. It hurt your heart to know he was suffering all on his own.

You carried the basket full of eggs and meat, your footsteps echoing lightly along the cave walls. You didn’t really like visiting your lover here and much preferred when he came to your home instead, but right now he couldn’t leave his den.

While in rut, nagas were vulnerable to predators and could be killed due to how sensitive and weak they were at the time. It worried you, how could he even think you’d be able to stay away when your precious lover was in possible danger and pain!?

“B-baby, I’m coming!”

The sound of distressed whines and whimpers increased as you made your way further into the cave. A trail of a white, slimy substance led you to your poor, exhausted lover.

“I told you… not to come…”

His two cocks were poked out of his slit, his fist moving up and down the lengths as he panted and moaned. Precum gathered at the tip, his face flushed with embarrassment and need.

“How could I stay away when you’re suffering like this? Please… let me help you.”

You approached slowly, and he made no moves to stop you. Picking up your scent seemed to only worsen his current state. His cock twitched, and he was quick to pull you onto his lap.

“Fuck… you smell so good…”

His hands roamed your body, soft kisses being left along your neck and chest. Never before had he been so needy and affectionate.

Fangs brushed up against your skin with each lick and kiss. Every touch was gentle, he needed your body but he was also desperate for comfort and affection.

“It’s alright… I’m here for you, no more going through this alone…”

You guided his cocks towards your wet cunt, letting him rub his lengths between your fat pussy lips before sinking inside of you.

He had been inside of you many times before, but today it felt… different. His thrusts were quick and each movement of his hips caused him to cry out in bliss. It took very little to make your lover cum, and it was adorable to you.

“My sweetheart…” you murmured, your tongue dancing with his. Just a simple French kiss made him groan into your mouth, his hands gripping the fat of your hips.

“I l-love you…” he blubbered, crying tears of pleasure. Your chubby tummy was slightly bloated with his cum, and he couldn’t help but hold his hand over it as if hoping you’d become pregnant.

“I love you too…”

All through his rut, you were by his side. Every time he started to get needy, you’d sit on his cock and let him use you to get off.

It wasn’t all about sex, though. Sometimes all he wanted was for you to kiss his face and massage his lower half. His snake tail was in the middle of a shed, and your gentle hands helped his sensitive body feel less sore and sensitive.

You laid on a nest of furs, his head buried in your chest. His entire lower half was wrapped around you, using your body to keep himself warm as you sat on his cocks.

“Sorry… you must be tired. I’ve never taken on a mate… this is my first time going through a rut with someone who wanted to help.”

A giggle left your lips, and you played with his hair lazily. “Don’t worry about me, if I was tired I’d be sleeping. This is nice… I get to snuggle with you all I want.”

When his rut ended, your naga lover followed you home. In all honesty, he had gotten embarrassingly used to your presence and couldn’t sleep when he was all alone now.

As you got ready for bed, he soaked himself in your tub, watching you do your nighttime routine. “You humans do so much before you go to bed… can you hurry? I want to hold you…”

After brushing your teeth, you made your bed after being gone for an entire week. With a glance at your phone, you knew you’d be spending the next day or two returning missed call from worried loved ones.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get to bed.”

He cooked around you, his head nuzzling into your neck as you rubbed his back. After such an intense week, you were both ready to sleep without needing to wake up every hour so he could bury his cock inside of you.

The two of you snuggled up together, letting out content sounds in your sleep.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx

[pacofprunes]

(reaction) unintentionally riding the squid game characters, let’s mingle ! 둥글게 둥글게 !

contains — myungi x reader, thanos x reader, namgyu x reader, daeho x reader, gihun x reader, ali x reader, junho x reader. smut , 18+ !

summary — going on the disco pang pang ride with the squid game characters and you end up on top of them (you gotta look up the ride to understand lol)

a/n — this prompt was firstly done by luvyeni with this fic here! i wanted to do this with squid game so this wasn’t my idea, all credits to them.

masterlist

KANG DAEHO / PLAYER 388

he is absolutely embarrassed and feels like a total perv. he was blushing so hard that he looked like he had a fever. he spews out apologies the whole time and is totally ashamed of himself as he uses his hand to cover his face once he felt his dick getting harder and harder, and when he could tell that you could feel him too, the shame he felt was too much. his precum starts seeping through his pants and he swears he’s about to actually cum if this ride doesn’t end soon and you don’t get off of him. he has to bite his lip back to stop any moans from slipping and he is absolutely not looking forward to speaking to you once this ride is over and he for sure isn’t looking forward to getting the pictures of this event back from the ride operator. this will be a moment that he thinks about daily. please don’t mention this to him ever again.

“god, i’m s’sorry…can this ride be over please?”

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI SU-BONG

he’s a shameless fuck, okay? he’s going to smirk up at you while he watches the blush paint all over your cheeks as you try to move off of him. “wow, you’re so thirsty for cock you gotta ride me in public?” all you can do is tell him to shut up. but as the goofiness wares off and the situation settles a little more on him and he can actually feel the tent in his pants, he starts grinding up against you and thrusting up a little, fucking you through your pants. bits of precum start leaking out when he can actually feel his dick hitting your tiny hole, and as soon as you two get off this ride, you both are going home.

“fuck, look what you did. you gonna help me out?”

SEONG GIHUN

he didn’t want to get on this ride in the first place, claiming he was too old but you had forced him onto it and right now he hates himself. he feels like a teenage boy getting hard at the sight of the slightest bit of skin showing on a girl. he refuses to look up at you and tries to push you off of him, but when you plop right back down on him, he swears he just came in his pants. “gihun—”, but he stops you from speaking anymore. “don’t! i— i don’t think i can do this much longer, i’m sorry—” he throws his head up towards the sky and then towards the ride operator thinking ‘why me?’. once you two get off of the ride and he can feel something dripping down his leg, he swears he’s gonna kill himself once you two get home. he can’t bare to look at you and he refuses to ask you to help him out with his ‘problem’.

“gihun, come out of your room! it’s okay, i understand!”

“please just let me wallow in shame…”

MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★

he doesn’t give a fuck. sits there like it’s completely normal. you’ll feel him hard, but it won’t be crazy noticeable. he’s not some horny teenager who just learned that girls don’t piss out of their ass, you won’t catch him cumming in his pants. but once you two get somewhere more private, he’s going to claim that he’s finishing what you started. but don’t think the situation isn’t turning him on completely. every chance you had to get off of him, he doesn’t let you. he holds you down on his dick by your waist and he smirks at the blush slowly spreading on your cheeks as you look at him with wide eyes. the way he speaks to you makes it seem like he’s claiming that you fell onto him on purpose.

“what? you came onto me. so help me fix my problem since you’re so needy.”

HAWNG JUNHO

not utterly embarrassed but he’s not too calm about it either. you certainly catch the blush on his cheeks, but with one hand he holds your hip down with a grip that falters from tight to light, as if he doesn’t know weather he wants to get you off of him or if he wants you to stay. but once he realizes that he doesn’t want the people around him to see how hard he is, he grips you close to him with both of his hands. you can feel his fingernails digging into you every now and then when there’s a particularly rough bounce and he has to squeeze his eyes shut. you could tell he was fighting demons in him, the sweat that was dripping down his forehead was concerning. when the rides over he makes you stand closely in front of him to keep his boner hidden, and you can feel it pressing right smack against your ass. when you turn around to face him, he has a small shy smile on his face, the light pink still dusting over his cheeks.

“sorry…do you think we could take care of this maybe and finish this trip another day?”

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124

he tries to play it off and teases you while laughing. “couldn’t go without my cock for two hours?” he even thrusts up a couple of times to tease you, but after awhile he realizes it’s not a joke anymore and when he can feel the precum threatening to leak, he realizes he’s just been teasing himself and he quickly snaps his head to the side and pushes a hand against your chest. what were you trying to do here? if you go to tease him back and grind on him as revenge he’s going to give you the absolute fattest glare.

“what? i thought it was a joke, right?”

“i swear i’ll push you into the center right now if you don’t stop.” (he’s not joking)

ALI ABDUL

he was super excited to go to the amusement park and try out this ride for the first time, but he certainly didn’t expect this to happen. everytime he goes to move you and you somehow wound up back on top of him, he honestly wants to cry from the shame. at first it was funny, but now it was clearly starting to get him excited. yeah it felt good but, “stop it ali, get yourself together…” he just felt way too bad and he ends up giving up on the whole situation and just has to cover his whole face with both of his palms. everytime that you laugh and say that it’s okay, he thinks it’s getting better, but then you bounce right back down and he can’t take it. he’s holding his precum back (i don’t know how at this point) and it’s making tears sting and prick his eyes. he knew he was gonna have to jerk off to fix this and when he was, he was totally going to imagine this, he knew it, and it made him so ashamed. he definitely mumbles some things in urdu that you don’t understand at all, but just know he’s shaming himself and throwing a few curses at himself.

“i’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i swear. what is wrong with you ali?”

[tariah23]

@taashyvashedan

Noticed this right away!!! It’s weird but not surprising at all! Antiblackness and a general lack of respect for black ppl, our culture, and our messages goes hand in hand. The performer had nothing to do with Kendrick’s performance but it didn’t make the things that Kendrick was speaking on any LESS important, especially considering the history revolving around black Americans, our plight, and continued fighting. You can tell that these losers couldn’t wait to use this as an opportunity to make him out to be a Zionist or some shit. It’s nasty. Ppl do stuff like this whenever they feel like black folks (black Americans in particular) are getting too “uppity,” whenever we talk about our experiences in any shape or form. Regardless, I am so proud of that performer for using such a major platform to stand in solidarity with Sudan and Gaza. That was amazing!!! I pray so much for his safety, especially since the government will now have eyes on him…

The performer who waved the Sudan/Palestine flag was released without charges apparently!

[flowercrowncrip]

It’s really hard sometimes to get people to understand that using a powerchair can be utterly exhausting.

I get how it can be tempted to look at someone like me strapped into a reclined powerchair and think something along the lines of “if I had a chair like that, I’d basically just be sat there using no energy” but you really need to take into consideration the kinds of disabilities people have that make a fancy powerchair necessary.

They’re the kinds of conditions that make holding a joystick (or using alternative controls like sip and puff) hard work. The kinds of conditions where being shaken when going over pavements is completely exhausting. Where being seated at all is a battle even with extensive postural supports.

People will often see me with my friends who use manual chair and think that I’m basically doing nothing while they’re getting a work out. They don’t see that the next day I’ll need to rest in bed while my manual chair using friend will be at their 9-5 job without too much trouble.

Obviously everyone is different – I have seen at least one popular TikToker say that they use their electric wheelchair on longer days because it “doesn’t take any energy”, and there will of course be many manual chair users who need longer to recover from a day out than my friend does. My point is simply that you cannot tell how much someone is exerting themselves just by looking at whether they’re using a powerchair or a manual chair.

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw content minors dni, pregnant sex, size/strength kink, daddy kink, cheol calls reader ‘mama’ once, breeding kink, choking, light degradation, creampie. sequel to put a baby in me.

There’s something different about Seungcheol since he got you pregnant.

It’s not the increased attentiveness to you, or the more frequent spoiling and doting on you, or how extra protective and touchy he’d become. These things you saw coming.

It’s something physical. His aura had changed. Something about him is more… virile. Even more than before.

It’s hard not to notice it as he steps out of your en-suite bathroom with a towel around his hips, hair damp as he pushes it back out of his face, stray droplets of water dripping down his gleaming skin here and there over rippling, veiny muscles and full pecs.

“When did you get so big?” you say to your husband, hoping he doesn’t notice the way you’re squeezing your thighs together.

Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into something smug. He brings his arms forward and flexes them so that the muscles in his biceps pop. “You finally noticed.”

Normally you would consider throwing something at him for acting so cocky, but frankly your second trimester hormones have turned you into a wild animal. Unfortunately, his stupid display makes your entire body swelter.

“I’m bulking up so that I can be big and strong for you and the baby,” he continues, and for a second your entire vision flashes white.

Between your legs you’re throbbing so hard it hurts, and in your brain there is only Seungcheol’s shoulders, his pecs, his arms, his cock. You need it in you. You’ll die if you don’t get it.

“Fuck me?”

Seungcheol laughs, but he can’t conceal the gleam of arousal in his eyes as he watches you crawl across the bed and tug at the towel that’s covering what you crave.

“I just showered, my love,” he says without a single ounce of actual sincerity. He doesn’t even flinch when you unwrap the towel, let it drop to the floor, and take his cock in your hand as you stroke him to full hardness.

“And you have a pregnant wife who needs to get fucked or she’ll die, so what are you gonna do about it, daddy?”

He bites his lip for a split second, then he’s scooping you up in his thick arms and laying you against the heap of pillows at the headboard, slotting himself between your legs. His mouth is hot on yours, his tongue licking into you, while his hand sneaks its way between your legs and presses at your crotch.

“Do you want my mouth or my fingers first? Or both?” he quips, gazing at you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes.

“Neither. Just want your cock in me, daddy,” you whine, reaching for his dick again.

“You know the drill, my love, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Cheol, I’m soaking wet twenty-four-seven because of the hormones. I’ll be fine,” you say, tugging at his cock like a minx.

Your husband is torn. One part of him wants to treat you with care; against your own judgement, he wants to open you up slowly for him like he always does, like the routine you both know. The other part, the part that is the reason you are as spoiled and adored by him as you are, sees no joy, no point, in not giving you exactly what you want.

The latter part also happens to be more animalistic, clawing its way to the forefront of his mind.

“If you insist,” he grins, tugging your shorts down your legs, spreading you apart for him, but not before he swipes a pillow from beside your head and tucks it underneath your lower back like you’re weightless. The action alone sends arousal flooding out of you.

He wastes no time then, prodding at your dripping cunt with his tip before he lines himself up with your hole. You gasp when he pushes in, slides every last inch into your heat without any resistance until he’s balls deep, until you’re stuffed full of him. While you’re you moaning from the mind-numbing stretch of his cock, his hips fall into a steady rhythm of rutting in and out of you.

His hands find themselves at the hem of your t-shirt, pushing it up over your swollen belly and over your tits too, bunching it up just under your neck.

“So beautiful, god,” he muses, drinking in the sight of you, his pretty wife, full of his child, while his warm hands dance all over your skin. “And all mine.”

He thinks you want to be coddled and pampered and made love to.

“Fuck me hard, daddy,” you whine, clawing up his biceps with your nails. It’s not enough to have him inside you, fucking you lazily like this. You’re greedy, hungry, for more.

There’s reluctance in his eyes as he stares at you, as he gives a glance at your belly. Usually it makes you swoon, how considerate he is of you, but right now it’s pissing you off.

“Ah, but, honey-” he starts, only to be cut off by you.

“I’m not made of glass, Cheol, so use those big muscles of yours and fucking pound me.”

He hisses at the way you clench your pussy around him, taunting him, his hand flying to the base of your neck. “Fuck. You’re being awfully demanding.”

“I think it’s only fair considering you knocked me up,” you grin, watching as he reels his hips back just to slam back into you.

“And who was begging me to a put a baby in her?” he teases, punctuates it with another harsh thrust that makes your mouth drop in a pathetic whimper.

He watches how your eyes roll back finally, feels the way your cunt clamps down on him again, and realises you weren’t being dramatic at all. You were craving a good, hard dicking down from him, and he sees that now, and he knows your cunt can take anything he gives you, so he leaves behind any hesitation, any mercy, and he starts to fuck you hard.

The switch is almost immediate. The tenderness leaves his eyes, replaced with something much darker, and all of a sudden Seungcheol is grunting as he pounds into your sopping hole, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to keep you pinned to the bed. His hips move fast, meeting yours with wet claps of skin against skin, and hard—so hard that the bed frame starts to squeak.

“Ah, f-fuck, Cheol!” you cry, clawing at the sheets beneath you as he hooks your legs over his arms and grabs at your hips, fucking your entire body along his length. His arms bulge as he manoeuvres you as he pleases, his shoulders so broad. The sight makes you hot, makes you gush even more of your juices until the sheets are a mess.

“Huh? Too much, baby? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growls. “Wanted to get fucked like a slut.”

“S-so big, daddy- ah!” you squeal, your nerves on fire with overstimulation as his cock carves open your walls, punches at your sweet spot again and again. The thing about pregnancy is it’s made you a hundred times more sensitive—everything he does, every touch, sends floods of hot, sparking pleasure through you and straight to your core.

You’re also warmer inside, and, like you said, wetter. Tighter, somehow, too. Seungcheol has to use twenty years of the mental discipline he’d learned from his training to not bust then and there from the way your pussy clings to him, tries to pull him inside and keep him locked there.

And he wants so badly to let you. Fuck, how he wishes he could stay inside your heat forever. He curses the Korean entertainment industry and he curses capitalism. He wasn’t born to be an idol, nor to work. He was born to stay buried in your sweet cunt, to keep you filled forever, to put baby after baby inside you.

Something compels him to bend over you, though he’s cognisant of your bump, and to catch your lips in a deep, heated kiss that makes your brain short-circuit. His cock is enough to make you go dumb, but his kisses are what kill every last thought in your brain, until all that’s left there is how good your husband’s dick is.

“My pretty mama,” he coos, hovering against your lips. His frame covers you entirely. “You take me so good, don’t you?”

“Yeah, f-fucking love your cock,” you sigh, grasping at his shoulders only for him to straighten up again a second later, back to letting you admire his figure.

He angles your hips up a little, hitting even deeper now with every stroke, his cock jumping as you reach for his abdomen so you can rake your nails along his soft tummy, behind which is a set of hard, toned muscles. You’ve always loved that he’s not just sharp, hard lines like stone, that when you cling to him, your fingertips sink into thick skin that’s only tough when he flexes.

Seungcheol nearly draws blood from how hard he bites his bottom lip, watching you writhe and whine and moan from the way he jostles you, as your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts. His handsome features are twisted into pure concentration and utter bliss as he pounds away at you, determined to make you come undone while simultaneously holding off his own release.

“Wanna cum, daddy,” you keen, tears brimming your eyes. “Want your cum, too. Wanna be full of you.”

“You’re already full of me,” he laughs, full of mischief. “What, my baby in you isn’t enough? Greedy little cumslut.”

“Cheollie, please! Right there.” You’re whining, your hand dipping between your legs to rub at your swollen clit, and you see stars starting to form.

“Cum on my cock for me, baby, and I’ll give you my cum,” he moans, gritting his teeth as your walls tighten around him and your soul starts to leave your body before he can even finish his sentence. His heart leaps and twists with adoration and love as your tears finally spill over, as you tremble and shake in his hold, rapt with unimaginable bliss.

Your orgasm makes him let go, too, and finally he gives in to the hot, velvety chokehold of your pussy. He cums with what’s almost a whimper, lurching forward so that he can burrow into you impossibly deep and empty every last drop of his seed into you.

Even though he knows he gave you exactly what you asked for, Seungcheol can’t help the post-nut guilt that creeps up on him about the way he’d handled you—so vulgar. It’s even worse now that you’re carrying his baby. He’d fucked you like a toy, not the mother of his child. He’s a disgrace of a man.

Then there’s you, blissed out, skin glowing from being well fucked. You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Twenty minutes is enough for you to recover, right? Because I’m riding you next.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Emotional Support Omega getting scented by an unknown alpha?

Using this also as an oppertunity to just write the part three in too 🙂‍↕️

Part One | Part Two

The barracks were busy, a hum of conversation and the smell of warm, albeit unappealing, food filling the space. You had just returned from a supply run with Soap and Gaz, the three of you still dusted with the frost of the outside world, the winter season felt acutely in this weather.

Though missions continued as they were, you still weren’t a part of them. Not really.

But you were part of the base now.

The rookies adored you, the medical staff always had a cup of tea ready when you wandered into the infirmary, and even the grizzled veterans had started seeking you out when the weight of war grew too heavy on their shoulders.

You weren’t unwanted.

Just… unwanted by them- even if now, they lingered in your space, hanging to your pesence yet unwilling to bring you into theirs. It was a strange balance, and one you desperately wanted them to break.

But maybe… they didn’t want to?

At least, that’s what you had come to believe- until the moment a stranger dared to touch you.

A hand, large and firm, settled suddenly on your wrist as you made your way to the mess hall. The scent that curled toward you was strong, pungent in a way that sent an immediate alarm through your mind- thick with musk, uninvited and cloying. New to the base, though you couldn’t be too sure.

An Alpha.

But not one of yours- not that you had Alphas.

But this wasn’t right.

“You smell too neutral, Omega,” he rumbled, his grip firm but not bruising- yet. He leaned in, voice dropping into something that was likely meant to be coaxing, but it came across as just sleazy. “Scenting you would help. You should-“

“No.”

It was firm, immediate. You tried to pull back, but he didn’t let go, and a flash of irritation sparked in his eyes.

You had spent months on this base without anyone pushing your boundaries like this. Sure, there had been some flirtations, a few playful, harmless offers from Betas and Omegas looking for warmth- but nothing like this. Nothing so entitled.

The Alpha frowned, his grip tightening just slightly. “Come on, now, there’s no need to be difficult. It’s unnatural, the way you smell-”

He didn’t get to finish, and you didn’t get the chance to knee him like you’d been intending.

Because the moment he pulled at your wrist again, another hand caught his and twisted it away from you.

A deep, warning growl filled the space, thick with rage- Ghost.

And he was furious.

The room stilled, the air heavy with the presence of three more Alphas who had materialized so quickly, so silently, that it felt like the whole world had stopped breathing.

John was at your side in an instant, broad frame half between you and the offending Alpha, while Soap and Gaz flanked you like silent shadows, eyes dark with something unrecognizably vicious.

“You don’t touch who’s ours.” Ghost’s voice was quiet- so quiet that it sent a chill down your spine. His grip on the Alpha’s wrist was vice-like, and from the way the man winced, you knew it was taking everything in Ghost not to break bone.

The Alpha scoffed, though he was clearly unnerved. “Didn’t realize she was yours. She doesn’t-“

“She is.” It was Price this time, voice low, commanding, absolute. He took a slow, measured step closer, shoulders squared and stance firm. “Let go and walk away.”

A tense beat.

Then the Alpha, wisely, did as he was told. He stepped back, rubbing his wrist, eyes darting between the four l who had suddenly made it very clear where they stood.

Where you stood.

“I didn’t mean any offense.” The Alpha muttered at last, but he didn’t wait for a response before retreating. You knew that come tomorrow, he would not remain in the military any longer.

Silence stretched in his wake.

Your wrist still tingled where he had grabbed you, but you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on them.

On what they’d said.

Ghost’s hand was still hovering near yours, gloved fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to pull you close- and then he simply gave up and held your hand tenderly. Price’s jaw was tight, eyes scanning you as if checking for any sign of harm. Soap and Gaz weren’t touching you, but their presence was solid, grounding.

And then, the weight of their words settled in.

“She is.”

Not she might be.

Not she could be.

She is.

Your breath hitched slightly. “I…” You swallowed, unsure how to process what had just happened.

Soap was the first to break the silence. “Took us too damn long to figure it out,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual, but still thick with something unyielding. He ran a hand through his mohawl, exhaling sharply, and giving you a weak smile. “Should’ve done this ages ago. Sorry, lass. This is our fault.”

Gaz nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed and nudged your shoulder lightly. “You alright?”

You blinked at him, at all of them, before nodding. “Yeah,” you murmured, voice a little breathless. “Just… confused.”

“We were idiots, ‘mega,” Price said, his gaze holding yours firmly- it reminded you of that snowy mission once more, when they gave in and accepted your offered warmth. “We kept you at arm’s length when we shouldn’t have. We didn’t want to admit what was obvious.”

Ghost finally moved then, his fingers tightening around your wrist in silent apology, silent claim, still so gentle. “You’re ours.” The words were raw, gruff, like they had been carved out of him. But he didn’t take them back.

Ours. Yours.

The warmth that bloomed in your chest was overwhelming.

It had taken months. It had taken nearly losing the chance entirely.

But finally- finally-

You were theirs.

cod omegaverse masterlist

[purifiedclitoris69]

Statements

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Shield agent!reader

Summary: Assumptions are made about the relationship you have with Natasha, so you took it upon yourself to make a statement :)

Your relationship with Natasha is built on years of trust, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding that comes from living in the shadows of espionage. You met when she first joined SHIELD, and while she was still finding her footing within the organization, you were already established as a specialist sniper—someone who worked alone, took the impossible shots, and disappeared before anyone even knew you were there.

At first, your relationship was purely professional. You recognized each other as dangerous and highly capable, but there was always a quiet pull between you. Over time, through shared missions, late-night debriefs, and the rare moments of quiet in a world full of chaos, that pull became something more. It wasn’t dramatic or rushed—it was a slow burn, a natural evolution of two people who understood each other better than most and yearned to show one another a genuine love.

Now, after almost 3 years together, your bond is unshakable. While the Avengers see you around the compound, they don’t truly know the depth of what you and Natasha have. They assume your relationship is casual, just a convenience in a life full of uncertainty. But in reality, Natasha loves you fiercely, and you love her just as much. You’re her safe place, the person she trusts with the parts of herself she doesn’t show anyone else. When the world feels too heavy, she turns to you—not for protection, because she doesn’t need it, but for the rare comfort of knowing she’s not alone.

You don’t need grand gestures or constant declarations. Your love is in the quiet moments—the way she always finds her way to you after a mission, the way you instinctively reach for her hand under the table, the way she relaxes against you when no one is watching. To the outside world, you might just be another agent who occasionally lingers at the compound. But to Natasha, you’re home.

—————————-———

Wanda was the first to recognize the depth of your relationship.

It was early—early enough that most of the team was still asleep or barely functioning. The compound was quiet, save for the soft hum of the coffee machine in the kitchen. You stood by the counter, leaning against it, eyes still heavy with sleep as you waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

Natasha, still in her sleep shorts and one of your old SHIELD t-shirts, wandered in with a yawn, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She didn’t say anything as she approached—you felt her presence before you saw her. Without hesitation, she walked straight into your space, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face into your chest.

"Mm. Too early," she mumbled against you.

You huffed a quiet laugh, your hand instinctively coming up to rub slow, soothing circles on her back. "You say that every morning, but you’re always up before me."

She hummed but didn’t respond, just tightening her grip around you as if she could steal some of your warmth. You didn’t mind. In fact, moments like this were your favorite—the ones where she let her guard down, where she wasn’t the Black Widow or an Avenger, just Natasha, just yours.

Neither of you noticed Wanda standing by the doorway, frozen mid-step. She had come in for coffee but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Natasha—fierce, guarded Natasha—melted completely against you.

Wanda had always assumed your relationship was casual. Everyone had. You weren’t around often, and Natasha never entertained deep conversations about her personal life. But standing there, watching the way she clung to you, the way your hand moved over her back with the kind of practiced ease that spoke of years of familiarity, Wanda realized they had all been wrong.

This wasn’t casual. This was love—deep, unwavering, and so achingly real.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but eventually, Natasha stirred, tilting her head up to look at you. "Coffee ready?"

"Almost," you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so natural, that Wanda almost felt like she was intruding.

Before Natasha could move away, you leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Go sit. I’ll bring you a cup."

Natasha didn’t argue, just gave you a sleepy, content smile before releasing you and making her way to the kitchen table.

Wanda finally decided to make her presence known, clearing her throat as she stepped fully into the kitchen. "Morning," she greeted, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she grabbed a mug and you unpromptedly filled it for her greeting her with a kind smile and filling Nat’s next, starting another pot for anyone else who might want it.

Natasha, already seated, just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Wanda glanced between the two of you, then just shook her head, her smirk widening. "Nothing. Just... you two are cute," she blew on her coffee.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. Meanwhile, you simply handed Natasha her coffee before grabbing your own along with d the morning crossword, completely unfazed.

Wanda took a sip of her drink, still smiling to herself. Maybe the rest of the team had been blind to it, but now she knew the truth—Natasha Romanoff was hopelessly, completely in love.

—————————-———

The next person was Steve. You had gone on another lengthy mission; it had kept you away for weeks longer than either of you liked. You had kept in touch when you could, brief calls and cryptic messages, but it wasn’t the same. And now, finally, you were back.

Steve wasn’t looking for either of you when he entered the common room. He had just been passing through, planning to grab something from the kitchen before heading to the gym. But as soon as he stepped in, he stopped in his tracks.

The lights were dim, the soft crackle of the old record player filling the space. An oldie—something slow, something familiar. And in the center of the room, barely swaying to the rhythm, was you and Natasha.

She was pressed against you, arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers idly playing with the hairs at the back of your neck. Your hands rested on her waist, holding her close as if you needed to feel her warmth to believe this moment had finally come after weeks of waiting.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need. The way Natasha clung to you, the way you held her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, it said everything.

Steve had never seen her like this. Sure, he had seen her care about people, had seen her protect and fight for those she loved. But this? This was different. This was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, completely at peace. Safe. Home.

He felt like he was intruding on something sacred, so he took a quiet step back, turning to leave—only to nearly bump into Bucky.

“what’s with the face?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at the look on Steve’s face.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “Nothing, just—” He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Bucky. “You and Sam better stop checking Nat out so much.”

Bucky scoffed. “What? We don’t—”

Steve gave him a knowing look.

Bucky shifted. “Alright, maybe Sam does. I just—y’know, appreciate a good—”

Steve cut him off. “Don’t.”

Bucky smirked. “Okay, but why the sudden warning?”

Steve shook his head again, that small smile still lingering. “Because they’re in love. Like, really in love.”

Bucky frowned. “I mean, yeah, I figured they were serious, but—”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “Not just serious. Not just together. In love.”

Bucky studied him for a second, something unreadable passing over his expression before he nodded. “Alright,” he said simply.

Steve gave him a final glance before clapping him on the shoulder and walking off, leaving Bucky standing there, a little quieter than usual.

Because if what Steve was saying was true, then it wasn’t just Natasha they had underestimated. It was you.

—————————-———

The true statement was made in the compound gym.

The gym was alive with movement—punching bags swinging, the clatter of weights, and the rhythmic sound of fists meeting training dummies. You had just finished some shooting drills when you decided to swing by, knowing exactly where Natasha would be.

Sure enough, there she was, moving like a force of nature. Every strike was precise, every kick sharp. She was a sight to behold—dangerous, powerful, and effortlessly graceful.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.

You noticed Sam and Bucky standing off to the side, arms crossed, observing her with a little too much focus. Eyes tracked her every movement, and while you weren’t necessarily the jealous type, and were well aware how gorgeous Natasha is; people couldn't help but be enamoured by her, however weren’t about to let this slide.

You strolled up beside them, tilting your head. "Enjoying the view?"

Bucky, to his credit, immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. I was admiring the technique, alright?" He nodded toward Natasha. "She’s one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen."

You eyed him for a second before nodding, accepting the explanation. Bucky was a lot of things, but he wasn’t dumb enough to cross that line.

Sam, however—

"Look, I’m just saying," Sam started, his eyes still trailing Natasha as she wiped sweat off her forehead. "It’s not my fault she moves like that. That’s a distraction."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sam glanced at you, then seemed to realize way too late that he had just said that to the one person who could make him regret it. "Uh—"

"You know what?" You rolled your shoulders, tossing your towel aside. "I feel like I haven’t sparred in a while. What do you say, Wilson? A little one-on-one?"

Sam hesitated, looking between you and Bucky, who just took a step back, clearly enjoying the fact that he wasn’t involved.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "I mean, no offense, but I’ve got wings, I’ve fought aliens—"

"You’re standing here watching my girlfriend train. I just want to see how you train too." you cut in, smirking.

The room went silent for half a beat before Bucky let out a low chuckle. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Clint grinned, nudging Wanda. "Five bucks says Sam regrets this immediately."

Natasha, who had been too focused on training to notice the exchange earlier, finally turned toward the group, eyebrow raised. "What’s going on?"

Wanda smirked. "Your sniper just challenged Sam to a sparring match because he got caught staring at you."

Natasha let out a small laugh, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she walked closer. "Oh, I have to see this."

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. "Y’all are ridiculous. But fine. Let’s do this."

You stepped onto the mat, rolling your shoulders as Sam joined you. He gave a cocky smirk. "You sure you wanna do this? I am pretty fast, you know."

You just smirked back. "We’ll see."

Steve, ever the responsible one, clapped his hands. "Alright, keep it clean."

The second Steve gave the go-ahead, you moved—fast.

Sam barely had time to react before you were already in his space, effortlessly dodging his first strike. You didn’t just block—you controlled. Every punch he threw was sidestepped. Every kick, redirected. You weren’t just fighting Sam. You were toying with him.

The smirk on his face started fading as frustration crept in. "Damn," he muttered, throwing another punch. You caught his wrist, twisting him off-balance before sweeping his legs out from under him.

Sam hit the mat with a grunt.

From the sidelines, Bucky let out a whistle. "That looked like it hurt."

Clint was grinning beside Nat.

Wanda shook her head in amusement. "He walked right into that one."

Sam groaned but pushed himself back up. "Alright, alright—lucky shot."

You didn’t respond. You just motioned for him to try again.

This time, he put more effort into his attacks, but it didn’t make a difference. Every move he made, you were already three steps ahead. You parried, countered, redirected—all with ease.

After a few more humiliating takedowns, Sam finally dropped to the mat, breathing hard, lying flat on his back. "Damn. Alright. Message received."

You crouched down beside him, grinning. "Good. Maybe next time, you’ll keep your eyes to yourself playboy"

Sam exhaled, closing his eyes. "Noted."

You stood up, offering him a hand. He took it, groaning as he got to his feet. "You really don’t like people looking at her, huh?"

You shrugged, "I know she can handle herself, I just felt like making a statement today," you smiled stepping off the mat and walking to Nat

"Possessive looks good on you," Natasha said with her signature smirk

Without a second thought, you grabbed her by the waist and kissed her—really kissed her—right in front of everyone. It was slow, deep, and left no room for doubt. Natasha, normally composed, melted into you, gripping your bicep to steady herself.

When you pulled back, she was a little breathless, a rare blush dusting her cheeks.

You smirked. "See you at dinner, love."

And with that, you walked off, leaving Natasha still catching her breath.

Clint let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Wanda smirked. "That was a statement,” Natasha throwing a towel at her, mumbling out a whatever and heading to the lockers

Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder. "So, you still gonna stare?"

Sam rolled his eyes taking a tired seat on the bench "I hate you all."

[keferon]

Please tell me Swindle is an actual Gnome in your Spellbound AU

There’s two types of Anons out there

One wants Swindle to be a dragon. Because. gold and greed.

Other wants him to be a gnome. Because. Well. Lmao

I offer you this secret third option where he gets to be a hybrid of both.

Because of his dragon half he is very fucking hard to kill and can breathe fire although he doesn’t have wings.

And then because of his gnome half he’s small OH AND turns into stone under the sun?

[hamilando]

Could you do a Lando x reader SMAU where he has been soft-launching a relationship for months, and one day when a normal photo is uploaded on Instagram, the fans see that he's not wearing his "regular" watch. Still, the watch he's wearing looks like the one his friend regularly wears daily, and that's how their relationship gets discovered.

I'm sorry if this is confusing, but I hope you'll be able to make this. love all of your work. <3<3<3

ੈ✩ black watch (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x reader

tw : fluff

fc : Laufey

a/n : I hope the person who requested this likes it ! I don’t know if the plot was according to your liking but I tried my best!! Hope you like it !

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by lando, user1, user2 and 45,276 others

laufeyn obsessed with 🕰️

view comments

lando that’s why you are broke.

lando I am not paying for your matcha anymore

laufeyn I guess your mum needs the Ibiza trip deets

lando how many match do you want ?

user1 I LOVE HOW LANDO IS THE FIRST ONE TO COMMENT

user2 are we sure they are just besties?

user3 pfft, waiting for the engagement

user4 paragraph guy ?

user5 no paragraph guy, just look at their posts and comments

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 256,376 others

mclaren back for the season 💪🏻

view comments

user1 I have never seen lando without a watch -

user2 atp, he even bathes with one -

user3 he just casually roams around with half a million on his wrist

user4 landoscar are soo cute

user5 we want 2025 to be papaya year as well

user6 ugh, lando wdc

user7 Y/N WE NEED MORE LANDO BITS

user8 I swear yn and lily are so cute together

user9 yn yaps while lily listens

user10 poor lily has no option

liked by lando, user1, user2 and 54,276 others

laufeyn do you even read ?

view comments

user1 HERE BEFORE LANDO

lando no. I was liking

user2 oh god, lando really is jobless

user3 why is he chronically active 24*7

user4 I swear McLaren needs to get lando a social media manager

user5 HE IS STILL WEARING THE WATCH !?

user6 how does he manage to show his watch in every single picture

oscarpiastri kindly tell him to not eat the donuts, he has a race in 2 weeks

Laufeyn dw, he is only here for the wallet purpose

liked by user1, user2 and 732,387 others

lando these two are going to empty my wallet

view comments

laufeyn I have bestie rights

carlossainz I have ex teammate right

lando MATE YOU HAVE ALEX !

carlossainz I have being your husband right

lando MATE YOU HAVE REBECCA !

lando DO YOU EVEN KNOW MATCHA COSTS LIKE 40 POUNDS !?

charlesleclerc you straight up got scammed, Alex drinks it, it’s at most 15 pounds

lando @ laufeyn

laufeyn I NEEDED BOOKS!

lando WHY MY WALLET ! YOU EARN MONEY! YOU LITTLE ROTTEN GREEN SAUSAGE !

maxverstappen1 that’s the most British thing I have heard

georgerussell can confirm, that’s not British, it’s lando

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f1gossipofficial it was noticed by some lando fans that he has not been wearing his infamous black Richard Mille watch but rather a watch which was earlier posted by his close friend, @ laufeyn. Could there by any dating rumours ?

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user1 THE SHIP SAILEEEDDDDD

user2 AHHHHHH

user3 I KNEW IT LIKE YEARS AGO !

user4 I wear like lando ditched his luck charm, for another luck charm

user5 “I would like to win a race for yn”

user6 FRIENDS TO LOVER, THE BEST TROPE

user7 JUST CONFIRM ALREADY !

user8 lando buying books 🤭

user9 atp, lando buys yn everything

user10 girlfriend privileges 😩

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lando what watch? I can’t stop looking at her 😌

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[elodieunderglass]

Sorry if I missed some lore! But is "Killie" pronounced like "Silly", because it's from Cillian? Please say this grumpy delight is generally known as Silly!

No, I’m so sorry, it isn’t! Don’t worry! So many written languages would see “Cill” and go for a “sill” pronunciation, as in Priscilla. His nickname has an anglicised spelling because you couldn’t expect anyone to approach Cilly or Cillie without context and get it right.

However, Cillian is an Irish name, and is pronounced something like KILL-ee-yan.

Calling him Silly Ian causes him to make this face. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s - just Killie, though, if - if you don’t mind.

Edit: I’ve just found this pronunciation guide while googling omg

[starkwlkr]

yap moment | max verstappen

an: finally the long awaited yapper max fic!! so sorry to keep you all waiting <3

As soon as you saw Max, you practically threw yourself on him. Finally he was back home. It felt like forever when in reality it was just a month. A month without Max’s lips on yours, a month without having his hands in your hair or on your body. A month too long.

“You’re so dramatic.” Max chuckled as you continued kissing down his neck. After stumbling through your shared apartment, you finally made it to the bed. You gently threw him onto the soft bed and straddled him.

“Oh! Before I forget . . .” Max spoke as you continue kissing his neck. “I watched that series you told me about. I watched it on the flight home and I can’t believe Beth and Benny don’t end up together! I mean they’re clearly meant for each other! I should be a writer on that series because I would’ve made them be together.”

You sigh deeply then decide to lay down next to Max. It was obviously going to be a long talk because once Max started, he wasn’t going to stop. But you loved listening to the sound of his voice, it was comforting.

“And it made me want to start playing chess. I ordered a chess board and books. I also played those online chess games and I’m getting pretty good,” Max pulled out his phone to show the screenshots he took of his victories. “I think I’m Beth Harmon reincarnated.”

“Wow, impressive.” You reply as Max showed all the screenshots.

“And I remember you telling me the series was based off of the book so I also ordered two copies so you and I can read it together.”

“Aw, Max. Thank you. Now how about—”

Max cut you off. “Did you know the longest game of chess lasted twenty hours? I read that it was played in nineteen eighty nine but I can’t remember who played it. Imagine just playing chess for twenty hours.”

Eventually, the sound of Max’s voice made you fall asleep. It wasn’t that you thought Max’s excitement over chess was boring, no, you loved how happy he sounded over the things he loves. It was that Max had that soft voice that made you fall asleep so easily. Sometimes you were thankful you had a talkative boyfriend.