And What If I Cried

mr. fucking you with your ankles at your ears.

mr. “oh you’re crying? what is my dick too good baby? is it driving you crazy baby?”

EREN, BAKUGOU, TSUKISHIMA, ATSUMU, DABI, GOJO, SAKUNA, ISSAC F. SHUJI, OIKAWA, RIN, (SHIGARAKI)

Sluttiest thing a man can do is say “Wed her to me. When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Rhaenyra, I’ll take her as she is and wed her in the traditions of our house. Give me Rhaenyra to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory.” while lying on the floor like a sad wet cat

if you want to help palestine and Gaza, please do this everyday.

this way, you will help everyone in palestine, with food, hygiene products, shelters and more.

you don't have to donate anything, you just have to click this and share it.

don't be ignorant and don't ignore how devastating this is to the whole world and help those people to survive.

https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

more links that aim to educate people on what is actually going on and links to help:

https://twitter.com/thatcooolartist/status/1715090851817198022?t=W8mKPfIT--KWTmhehGvgKQ&s=19

feel free to add more links if you have any, pr any confirmed sources.

please don't remain silent. not now, not ever.

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

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me when I write

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Reblog my pinned post from my blog or donate 5$?

By helping to reblog my story, you could

save a family from death and war.🌹

Thank you very much🌸

🕊️❤️🌹🙏🏻

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✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #329 )✅️

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸I am

ahmad from Gaza. I am 26 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve his family. 🇵🇸💔💔

We try to live under miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis, south of Gaza. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza. No food, no medicine, no clean drinking water, oppression, helplessness, psychological pressures, doubts, and daily trauma due to the loss of loved ones. In Gaza, it's not just hunger, disease and fear; Rather, it means actual death.

With a heart weighed down by sorrow, I reach out to you, hoping that kindness and humanity still shine in this world. My family and I have lost everything—the home that once sheltered us, the walls that echoed with laughter, the warmth and security that every human deserves. The relentless attacks on Gaza have turned our lives into a daily fight for survival. What was once a place of comfort and love is now nothing but rubble, and we are left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a fragile tent that barely stands against the bitter cold.

Now, our days and nights are consumed by hardship. The icy wind pierces through the thin fabric of our tent, leaving us shivering, with no escape from the freezing temperatures. Food is scarce, clean water is hard to find, and the most basic necessities have become luxuries beyond our reach. Every day, we struggle—not just to live, but to preserve the dignity that war tries to strip away.

Amid this suffering, a new life was brought into the world—my brother’s daughter, an innocent soul who took her first breath in a tent instead of a warm home, her tiny body wrapped in whatever scraps of fabric we could find. She was born not into joy, but into loss, into hunger, into the unforgiving reality of war. And as we watch her, so fragile and pure, our hearts break knowing that we cannot give her the comfort and security she deserves and we cannot provide enough milk, diapers, medicines, and vitamins for her😭😭😭😭💔💔💔

I do not ask for much—just a little help to keep us going through these unimaginable times. A warm blanket to protect us from the cold, food to fill our empty stomachs, or even simply sharing our story so that others may hear our cries for help. Every small act of kindness can make a difference. 💔🍉🇵🇸😭

Your generosity has the power to bring warmth to our freezing nights, hope to our despair, and life to those struggling to survive. May the kindness you extend be returned to you a hundredfold.

.ttps://www.gofundme.com/f/help-ahmed-and-his-family-survive-in-gaza-crisis

WHY EVERY NEGLECTED READER/YANDERE BATFAM SERIES I LIKE ALWAYS SUDDENLY ENDED UP IN HIATUS?!?!?!

Me rn:

💗🎀

papa!simon hc's cause I want to.

He sniffs the baby so much, to the point it makes Babygirl cry of discomfort. He loves the newborn smell, especially after a bath.

He will not co-sleep!!! Very anxious first time parent, he believes one of you will crush the baby, so he has a bassinet in your guy's room. No naps together, nothing.

Is a baby talker.

Don't hold his baby. (he's a baby hog)

Makes people wash their hands. all. the. time.

Simon being a parent to a toddler is so hectic because he will argue with a two year old.

Hates to see his daughter cry and will buy her anything she wants, and will do anything, because he hates to see her sad.

Simon loves to watch tv, and he makes the baby watch tv with him, she always falls asleep but he doesn't care.

Always hugging his babies, giving them kisses, patting their heads, he just loves his kids so much i'm gonna cry rn WAHHHHHHHHH

When you have your twin boys, Simon decides maybe he shouldn't be in the SAS anymore, he has babies he needs to come home to.

Twins look exactly like Simon it's creepy. Simon thinks it's hilarious, and tells the boys he made them in a military lab using his blood. He went too far one time and made them both cry because he said the government was looking for them.

His eldest is favorite, if he could shrink her and put her in his pocket and protect her from everything.. he would.

Will wrestle with his children, doesn't matter the age.

After the first, he wants at least five kids. You always say no.

When you were pregnant Simon always rubbed your belly at home, in public, where ever, the man loves a bump.

HOME VIDEOOOOSSS, birthdays, births, holidays, school plays, recitals, award ceremonies, sports. whatever it is he's there with a camera.

Takes little league football very seriously, and is having a deep ass conversation with the coach and assistant coach. This is children's football we're talking about, lay off the 4 year olds.

lol I know it sucks but this is my first try! (kinda cute though...)

Just wanna see him smile🫡