#but it was hurting so much to not hear anything ever and i have to hold out i have to

[mionemymind]

Don't Say Something Stupid

Summary: Wanda is unable to commit yet unable to admit she's wrong. (Part Two of Don't Ask Stupid Questions)

Warnings: Pure Angst, No Happy Ending, Maybe Part Three?

A/n: Wanted to hurt y'all more, so here y'all go :) Gif credits go to @thedorkphoenix

Word Count: 662

Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

“Y/n, your new partner is Emma.” Wanda turned her attention from Vision to Steve at the mention of Emma. Trying to hold back her offense, Wanda commented, “Y/n is my partner.”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, but their eyes hadn’t met as Y/n continued to stare at Emma’s file. “We believe their powers work better together, Wanda. Plus, your new assigned partner is Vision as your mind stones should help with increased efficiency and communication.”

Wanda held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t appropriate to say stupid things like, “But she’s always been my partner.”

“You dumped Vision?” Natasha asked surprisingly. Wanda looked away as she could tell Y/n had heard the comment with the way her shoulders tensed. 

“He kept wanting more and honeslty…” Wanda sighed, feeling more guilty of the additional person she led on, “…and I couldn’t give him that.”

Natasha nodded in understatement as she squeezed Wanda’s shoulder. “Was it because y’all didn’t have the connection?” Wanda shook her head, feeling lost as to why she even did it in the first place. 

“Honestly, I’m not too sure…I rather admit that before saying something stupid.” Wanda tried her best not to look at Y/n’s slumped shoulders as she proceeded to get up from the coach and walk to her room. 

And as Natasha continued to talk, Wanda didn’t dare to remember how much Y/n hated feeling stupid. 

“Why did you get in my way?” Emma was held back by Y/n as she aggressively questioned Wanda. “You almost got Y/n and I hurt with that stunt you pulled.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Had it not been for my quick thinking, Y/n would’ve got hurt and you would’ve been swarmed.” 

“We had it handled,” Emma bit back. And before Wanda could get another word, Y/n locked eyes with her, and silently pleaded to stop. Seeing Wanda’s stance falter, Y/n pulled Emma back and mumbled, “Let’s not fight anymore. We’ll figure it out a different day so come on.”

While Y/n tugged on Emma’s hand, Wanda mind couldn’t stop thinking of stupid things. The main one being, “Were you even on my side?” 

“Are you ignoring me?” Wanda caught Y/n in the hallway, almost close to the spot where they used to secretly make out. The red head could tell that Y/n had wanted to be anywhere else but there with her. Although it stung, Wanda wanted answers.

“Wanda - I - let’s just be cordial.” Feeling even more confused, Wanda backed Y/n into the wall with her arms crossed. 

“Cordial? You don’t even speak to me anymore.” Y/n still didn’t look at Wanda’s eyes. The girl was absolutely frustrated at how dense Wanda could be as if she couldn’t read the room.

“Well…” Y/n swallowed her anxiety and pain and finally looked into Wanda’s eyes, “…rules are rules. I broke them so this is me moving on from it.”

Wanda stepped back, feeling slapped and shocked at the confession. “Moving on? Are you seriously unable to continue without having feelings involved?” The red head didn’t know where this fierceness came from. It certainly didn’t explain what she truly meant. But she was always too stubborn to think it through. 

Y/n scoffed, not surprised that Wanda could barely understand her place. “You ‘re right, I seriously don’t know why I ever fell for you.” The smug look on Wanda’s face fell. She’s had many people admit their feelings for her but none have ever admitted to regretting them.

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda’s response and started to walk away but Wanda’s hand stopped her from going. Not wanting to hear anything more, Y/n blurted, “Don’t say anything stupid now, Wanda.”

Snatching her hand out of Wanda’s grip, Y/n declared, “You might get your heart broken if you do.”

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me 

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha 

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl  @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff 

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy​@olsensnpm​ @psychadelichues​ @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa

@msmothermaximoff @unicorniusfallapatorius @cakechan123 @anniedanvers @oh-thats-cute @ielliesitcheyereposts @how-to-disappearrr @justyourwritter69 @canvascoloredin (Wanted to tag y'all because I think y'all wanted a part two, but I won't add y'all to future taglists unless you want me to)

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #angst #wanda maximoff #Don't Say Something Stupid #Don't Ask Stupid Questions #friends with benefits trope #mionemymind

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

warning: canon typical violence || vomit

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”

You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease. 

It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye. 

You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt. 

But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask? 

No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you. 

As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.

You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”

She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”

Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?” 

You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem. 

“How does your tummy hurt?”

She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate. 

Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her. 

Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can. 

You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.

You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS. 

It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too. 

A lesson for the future.

Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”

She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse. 

In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes. 

Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing. 

“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life. 

Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room. 

“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there. 

Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”

“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”

“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped. 

“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”

“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply. 

You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte. 

But you don’t. 

You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.

She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”

“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”

To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”

You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”

She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.

“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid. 

“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”

You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.

You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”

----

You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake.  The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted.  So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers. 

There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are. 

Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring. 

You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”

“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”

Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.

As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?” 

Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”

Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”

“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.

Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”

You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”

Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.” 

That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”

Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more. 

“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.” 

“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night. 

As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.” 

“Okay, okay.”

You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips. 

“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response. 

“Not icky.”

“How is your tummy?”

Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse. 

“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”

You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning. 

Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.

So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy’s hand?”

Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way. 

Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.

You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it. 

It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.

Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.

You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it. 

You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all. 

You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down. 

Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you. 

You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now. 

“What is it, sweetie?” 

“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile. 

Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”

She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck. 

You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you. 

All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.

You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.

There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.

“Mommy!”

The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you. 

You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek. 

Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can. 

There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.

You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.

You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.

You can’t get up. 

You can’t get to Minnie. 

You can’t save your daughter.

There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.  

You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts. 

“DADDY!” 

Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter. 

“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.

“Mommy!”

The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!!”

---

:3C

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium

@anehkael

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Um sorry uf this is a weird one but could the reader be shy and mattheo uses bdsm on her for the first time and she likes it

Yes!!!! Love this idea!

Do You Trust Me

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Bondage, cussing, unprotected sex, creampie, blindfold, fingering.

18+ Minors DNI!

You and Mattheo had been dating for a while now. You obviously have had sex many times, you were just always shy about it. Embarrassed about the topic. You loved having sex with him, but if he tried talking about it, you always shied away, always wormed your way out of the conversation. Mattheo found it funny and cute, but really wanted to talk to you about something that he’d been wanting to try with you for the past week. But you kept managing to get out of the conversations.

Finally, he had enough and had you under him as he was kissing you, he had you pinned to his bed, no way you could get out of this now.

He pulled back from the kiss and smiled down at you. “Princess, you know I’ve been trying to talk to you about something for a week now.”

“I think I prefer the kissing.” You said with a blush.

“You know I love how shy and cute you get.” He teased. “I wanna try something.”

“What?” You asked quietly.

“Do you trust me?” He asked back, not answering your question.

“I do.” You said, but with a bit of caution.

“Would you trust me to take care of you if you were tied up or blindfolded or anything like that?” He rubbed at your sides soothingly, not wanting to scare you off.

You stared up at him, face red in embarrassment at the conversation. But you also couldn’t deny that what he was saying intrigued you. So after a short pause, you finally spoke up. “Yeah.” Your voice was quiet and he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t so close to you.

“Would you be willing to try that with me?” His hands stopped and squeezed your sides slightly in a reassuring way.

“Yeah.” You said with a small nod.

He smiled again, giving you a sweet kiss before helping you out of your clothes. He might’ve been going a little faster than usual, eager to try this out with you. He figured you’d say yes and already got what he’d need, so once he had you undressed, he quickly grabbed the soft ribbon he bought to tie you up. He didn’t want it to hurt you, so he opted for that instead of rope.

“Hands up for me, sweetheart.” He said as he came back to the bed, sitting beside you. You lifted your hands up and he tied them to the headboard before checking to make sure they aren’t too tight and aren’t digging into your skin too hard. “This makes you look like a present.” He smiled, trying to ease your nerves. “How’s that feel?” He rubbed along your stomach gently.

“It feels fine.” You said quietly, gently tugging at the ribbon to see if it’ll come undone. It won’t. Mattheo had done his research on how to keep it from untying.

“Good.” He said, bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing it softly. “If you ever wanna stop, if it gets too much or anything at all, just say ‘pomegranate’ and I’ll stop everything, okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch.

“What’s the word?” He asked.

“Pomegranate.”

“Good girl.” He said. “I’m gonna blindfold you, too. Just focus on how I’m making you feel instead of worrying about things, yeah?”

You nodded in response again and he smiled.

He placed the blindfold on you, leaving you in darkness and unsure of what he was planning. You could hear some shuffling before he settled between your legs, rubbing them gently. He slipped his fingers between your folds.

“You’re fucking soaked, princess. It seems you’re into this stuff, huh?” You could practically hear the smile.

He pushed two fingers in you, thrusting them in and out quickly as you moaned and whined. His thumb found your clit and you were trying to close your legs on him.

“You’re doing so good for me.” He said, using his free hand to push your legs back open. “So beautiful.”

“Matty, please.” You whined.

“How about we try ‘sir’ instead?” He said and you were too worked up already to overthink anything.

“Please, sir.” You begged.

“That’s much better. Please what, angel?” His fingers were relentless, just working on trying to make you cum.

“I’m gonna cum, please.” Your hips were trying to move to meet with his fingers.

“Beg for it then, princess. Use your words.”

“Please, let me cum, sir. Please.” You begged, pulling at the ribbon as your legs shook.

“I’m not convinced yet. Keep going.”

“Please, sir. I need to cum. Please. It feels so good. Please.” You were nearly crying at this point.

“Good girl. Cum on my fingers.” He said, his free hand coming up to play with your nipples.

You came on his fingers with a cry of his name along with some profanity, body trembling beneath him.He helped ride out your orgasm before pulling out his fingers.

“Open.” He said and you opened your mouth. He pushed his fingers in. “Clean them.” You followed the order and sucked and licked his fingers clean, tasting yourself from them. “You’re so obedient.” 

He pulled his fingers out and pushed your legs up to your chest. You could feel him starting to tease his cock along your pussy, coating it in your arousal. You whined and hissed at the contact, still sensitive from the orgasm.

“Please, sir, I need you.” You begged, wiggling your hips a little to get a little more friction.

“Yeah? Need me to fuck your sweet little pussy?” He teased, just wanting to hear you beg more.

“Yes! Please!” 

“Always so shy, but act like such a slut for my cock, huh?” He started easing his cock in, wanting to go slow to make you feel everything. You both were moaning, panting with every inch that he pushed into you. 

He bottomed out and groaned before starting to thrust in and out of you, setting a brutal pace. With how he had you folded, you were feeling him so deep in you, feeling like he was in your stomach. He moved a hand to rub at your clit, the other wrapping around your neck, lightly squeezing the sides. It had you getting lightheaded and making everything feel much more intense.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me, baby. You like this? You like me fucking you like a slut?” He asked and all you could do was moan in response, too fucked out to think of anything else. “Got you all dumb on my cock now too? My sweet, shy girl, all fucked out on my cock. You look fucking perfect, princess.” He was rambling, but it only made you wetter, building your orgasm much quicker. “Gonna cum on my dick, angel? I can feel you fucking clenching me.”

You were moaning and crying out as best as you could with his hand around your throat, pulling on the restraint. Your orgasm tore through you and cried out his name again, tears spilling down your cheeks in pleasure. He helped ride it out before untying you and flipping you over, getting you onto your knees and pushing your chest and head down onto the bed before pushing back into you.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me, princess.” He said, grabbing your hands to hold them behind your back with one hand as he pounded into you from behind. His other hand landed a spank on your ass, causing a yelp to escape your lips followed by a moan. “My princess likes that, huh?” He said and spanked you again, rubbing the area softly. “Fucking slut. You’re so fucking dirty. Just hiding behind all that shyness.”

He ripped another orgasm from you before finally cumming himself, filling your warm cunt with his cum as he helped ride out both of your orgasms.

He helped you back onto your back, gently taking off the blindfold. You had to blink a few times to adjust to the light before seeing his face, softly smiling down at you as he rubbed at your side soothingly again.

“How was that?” He asked gently, brushing your hair from your face. “Good?”

You nodded, catching your breath. “Good.”

“I got other things we can try later, too.”

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

[wrr000]

"Can you be quiet for five minutes?"

AN: hello! i wrote this for fun, it's nothing serious or special, i just needed to do something with myself. hope y'all will enjoy it anyway lol (also, i had that one scene from shrek 2 in mind)

»»————-　♡　————-««

Summary: the night wasn't peaceful for the ghoul because reader talks too much

Warnings: english is not my first language; reader is female; it was supposed to be more of a comedic oneshot; a lot of inner thoughts

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

The night was getting cold. Chilly air mixed with the pleasant warmth emanating from the fire, touching your red cheeks. It was a nice feeling, especially after a whole day of walking in the brutal heat. The sun was killing you and the night was a nice change.

'I fucking hate wasteland', you thought to yourself every day.

Burning sun, disgusting monsters, crazy raiders or even that ghoul, literally everything could kill you any minute. It was hard to survive out there alone ans you knew that. Maybe that was a reason why you didn't ran away from him yet.

"So...", you couldn't stand the silnce anymore, "are you gonna finally untie me?"

You sat by the bonfire with your legs pressed to your chest, staring into the sparkling flames. Hands still tightly tied, of course. The other end of the lasso held the ghoul whom you met a few days ago.

He was sitting on the other side of the fire, leaning against a huge piece of something wooden. He looked like he was sleeping with a cowboy hat covering his face. The ghoul wasn't like anyone you've met before, but you weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. He did tied you up after all and have gave you no choice, but to travel with him to God-knows-where. On the positive side - he didn't killed you. And that was something unexpected.

"Hellooo..? Did you hear me, Mr. Ghoul?", you never called him like that before, but you wanted any interaction.

No response. Was he really sleeping or just pretending that he didn't hear you?

It was in his style, to be honest. Ever since you met him, he seemed cold, selfish, like he doesn't care about anything else in the world but him. Sometimes straight up annoying, sometimes kinda funny and nice in a twisted way. These mixed feelings made you somewhat intrigued.

"Listen lady" , he didn't looked at you. "I need some peace and quiet so no stupid questions or talkin', got it?"

"Oh, come on! We have been travelling for days! I'm not gonna do anything stupid", it was this time when he was just annoying as hell.

"I bet you won't, sweetheart", you knew he smirked under that stupid hat.

"So what, are you gonna keep me like this to what? Sell me for chems? Or eat me one day?", you spoke once again. "You know, both options are pretty problematic for you because, I mean, you are really planning to sell skinny, dehydrated girl and hoping for decent payment?", fake scoff escaped your mouth. "Keep dreaming. I am way more useful as a compa-"

By anything stupid you meant something like killing him or running away. First of all, he was very skilled and you knew that attacking him was suicidal mission. Second of all, you could try to escape, but you didn't know if it was even possible with this man and did you really wanted to?

On one hand, there were plenty ways for him to hurt you. Shooting, beating, selling, starving you to death or worse - eating you alive. It was something... common on the wasteland. People were doing everything to survive and as crazy as it sounded, you understood it, the ghoul knew it as well. But on the other hand, after raiders killed your parents, life became harder than before. You hated it and what you hated more was loneliness. You had none, no friend and no family left. Maybe it was delusional, but you hoped for befriending the ghoul and travel with him for a little longer. Or maybe he could help you made it to town where you could stay. In that situation you didn't have many options (it didn't work by force anyway) to consider or anything to lose, to be honest.

"Oh, for fu-", he straightened up, finally looking at you.

You didn't have many opportunities to meet him face to face and take a closer look. Beautiful eyes spoke more than thousand words, that's for sure. The most noticeable thing was the lack of a nose, but aside that the face was handsome. You could imagine how he looked like before the ghoulification. In fact, you always thought that people were exaggerating with their disgust towards non-feral ghouls. They were still humans, right?

"You asked me a milion questions already, while I couldn't ask you one", you heard the irritation in his voice. "You better don't cross the line"

That silence was overhelming. Sure, the sound of camfire was nice, but your thoughts were getting weirder and weirder. You needed something to occupy your mind and because you weren't the best at small talk (or starting a conversation at all) you came up with the stupidest idea.

Classic threating. You rised your tided hands, palms facing him in surrender. It wasn't the right time to ask about the future and you didn't wanna cross the line, at least not that night. He was looking at you for a moment, making sure you wouldn't ask anything else and returned to his previous position.

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking about and you couldn't read him. Not before, not now and probably not in the near future. He seemed like he could always read your mind while being completely unpredictable to you. What he thought about you? What was his plan? You should be very scared or just scared? Many questions were running in your head, but you couldn't find answer for none.

"What it's like to be a ghoul?", you mentally slapped yourself, but there was no turning back now. "I mean, how did you become a ghoul? It was quick or it was a long process? My parents never told me much about ghouls"

Deep, long sigh escaped his mouth. He looked at you again, not bothering to move his body. Even someone like him lacked words and strength for you.

"Did someone ever told that you talk so much?", a ghost of a smile crept across his face.

"Actually, yes, my father told me that once", you smiled proudly.

"No lesson learned", you quite enjoyed his harsh voice with strange accent. He definitely didn't talk enough. "Can you be quiet for five minutes?"

"Hm, I'm afriad no, Mister", then it striked you. "I don't know your name! I won't shut up until you will told me your name. Wait, you do have a name, right?"

"Yes", you felt annoyed again by his lack of cooperation.

"Well..? You know my name, even you don't use it, may I know yours?"

"Cooper", the ghoul hide his face under the hat again. "Now, let me rest for a while, will ya?"

Bright smile appeared on your face. That was what you called a progress. It was genuinely a cool name and suddenly you started to wonder if he liked yours.

"But...", you heard a growl from under the hat, "we will talk about what to do next? I know how things works out here, but... We don't have to be enemies. I know you want to survive and I don't wanna be your prisoner forever"

You were on thin ice and for the first (and not last) time in your life you couldn't gather your thoughts. You wanted to tell him a lot of things in one go.

"I'm not your enemy, sweetheart, you don't have to worry. Now sleep or I'll have to shoot that pretty face"

You noded quietly. You knew that tomorrow you would try to talk to him again, still hoping for some sort of cooperation or agreement. Your life was on the line, after all. Not to mention that he called you pretty and even another threat couldn't take it away from you. Maybe that was the sign that he doesn't mean no harm to you, there was a hope, at least.

#fallout #fallout tv show #fallout series #fallout x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout the ghoul #fallout cooper howard

[miveras]

Drabble: Silent Treatment | JJK

Pairing: jungkook x reader Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff Word count: 1.6k Warnings: none

masterlist

---

“You’re so fucking lazy,” you scream, “Do you ever just look around and think to clean up after yourself once in a while?”

You pick up his worn, mahogany sweater off the floor and into the bucket you struggle to carry with only one hand. You resist the urge to chuck it at him, ignoring you with a scoff. 

You weren’t this angry to begin with, but you couldn’t help it after seeing his reaction to you. This was the second fight you’d had, and this has been the worst so far. He wasn’t listening to you at all, and you didn’t know what would make him finally cooperate. 

Though you shouldn’t fuel the flame, you keep nagging at him to get up and pointing out every one of his wrongdoings in the past few weeks. 

“Just give me a few days. You know I always clean on weekends since I don’t have time on weekdays,” Jungkook replies with a serious tone. You can see it in his eyes, his anger building up by the second.

“Well if you don’t have time, then why are you on your phone? Why aren’t you doing anything then?” you rambled.

He groans in response, obviously annoyed that you keep going back and forth with harsh blows.

After you guys dated for a year, you thought it’d be a good idea to start discussing the living situations. When he told you that his landlord was raising their prices, it posed the perfect scenario for you to invite him in.

Jungkook moved in just past a month, and sure, he was fine the first two weeks. He cooked for you, cleaned after himself, and tried his best not to make a mess. But recently, you’ve caught him being such a horrible roommate that now, you couldn’t stop the hurtful words coming out of your mouth. 

“Shut up…” he mutters in a quiet voice, avoiding your confrontation. He wished you hadn’t heard it but when he hears your feet dragging against the floor, he knew you did. 

But you didn’t choose to answer him and instead, you gave him the silent treatment. 

He enjoyed the short while that you left and came back with a vacuum. For the rest of the week, you guys cut off contact with each other, living in the same house but not saying anything. You even went as far as to eat at a different time than usual, just to avoid him. You weren’t giving this up easily– you wanted him to care, needed him to. You wished he found this just as important as you did.

Over the past week, all you focused on was your job. At work, all you thought about was him– it got so bad to the point where your work friends started questioning you about your sanity. You were constantly zoning out and the lack of sleep didn’t help at all. 

You asked for help from one of your friends: Ara. While writing a paper about the company’s statistical reports, you had a welcome visitor come in– just who you were looking for.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a bit,” she whines, “I literally missed you so much.” She almost leaps into your arms as soon as she sees you. At least someone was happy to see you. She hugs you so tight you had to push her away for a bit, trying not to pass out from the lack of air.

“Ara, I missed you…” you pout. She notices the sadness behind your eyes, knowing that you’re not usually this affectionate unless you need it. Ara immediately knew something was wrong from the way you were reacting to her presence– though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

You fess up to her about everything, including the words you and Jungkook exchanged. It was pretty harsh, to say the least. Ara understood you, more than anyone else could (except Jungkook of course). 

Her advice to you was to communicate, but it was way harder than it sounded. You couldn’t do it, not now at least.

You tried your best to avoid him by doing literally anything else: going out to work, cleaning, anything. It was pathetic to anyone who wasn't either of you– everyone knew how much both of you guys loved each other, and everyone knows you guys belong to each other. 

You were too stubborn to admit defeat so you waited for Jungkook– who was probably the only person just as stubborn as you, to apologize first. Predictably, it’s been an ongoing problem for more than just a few days.

Whenever it was time to sleep, your heart raced faster than normal beside him. You had already promised yourself not to lean over and kiss him, admire him, or do anything with him as a form of his punishment. But now, it started to feel like your’s. 

Did he even care about you? Did he even miss you?

You hated the way your body couldn’t relax, feeling every nerve pulse throughout your body. You swallow, wondering how long it’ll take you to fall asleep considering your inability to when you’re not embracing something. 

You shifted slightly, missing the way he looked over to you with a worried expression but not having enough courage to do something about it. 

He sighs, turning the other way as well. He decided not to do anything– he was way too exhausted and stubborn to even face you. He wouldn’t know what to say.

---

The next morning, you wake up with the house all tidy– clothes in their right place, no food in sight, all the dishes clean, but you can’t seem to find the one who did it. He must’ve gone to school already.

The following days were all the same. He goes to school, then you, then avoids each other all day, then comes home just to sleep facing opposite each other. I was tired, no doubt. 

He’s stubborn and you’re stubborn. You’d think you were a perfect match until something like this comes along. It’s funny, you think. 

At some point, all you wanted to do was be in his embrace. To feel his warmth all over you. Oh, how you wanted to just kiss him all over and play with his hair until he falls asleep.

As you think about how much you miss him, you wonder how much or if he even missed you at all. You look beside you– suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness. You almost forgot how much you missed him. 

Unintentionally, your shoulders shake as you try your best to keep in your weeps quiet and breaths steady. Streaks of tears drop to your cheeks, entangling with your hair. You struggle to stop your sobs from coming out, covering your mouth and wiping your eyes to make sure Jungkook doesn’t wake up because of you.

It was truly your last straw. You couldn’t handle being away from him anymore. 

“Y/N…” he whispers, concern written all over his face. You freeze, not being able to comprehend anything at that moment. 

Still feeling groggy and dazed from his sleep, he rubs his eyes to see you clearer. Once his eyes set on you, a small rush of panic goes through his veins, worriedness taking over his body. He parts his lips in shock and slowly wraps his arms around you– not quite sure what to do. 

You feel his arms snake to your waist, kissing your head and muttering soft phrases to calm you down. You wallow in his embrace, slightly embarrassed about your outburst that had him waking up late at night. In a way, you felt ashamed of yourself and your feelings, suddenly feeling more insecure about yourself as Jungkook continues to hold you in silence. 

He felt wrong reaching for you when it was obvious he was who you were upset about. He had a clue on what was happening to you– what you were worried about, but he decided to stay quiet and bring it up later when you don’t look as hurt. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I love you so much..,” his voice trails off as he starts peppering kisses all over your face. You can tell that he felt extremely guilty just by his voice, and his expression sends confirmation of that. 

At this point, you had already stopped crying out of embarrassment, shame, and even comfort from Jungkook.

“I-I’m sorry too,” you sniffle, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

“I didn’t get the chance to apologize sooner. I..I was just scared that you’d stay mad at me– then I wouldn’t know what to do” he explains nervously. Rubbing your arm comfortingly, he asks you to stay with him. “I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“Jungkook, I love you too. I hate fighting with you,” you confess. He only smiles in response, though you can’t see his face when yours is buried in his chest. You hug him back in return– both of you exchanging loving glances at each other. 

Jungkook kisses you in the temple one last time before closing his eyes and relaxing his body.

In a few minutes, you both fall asleep in each other’s comfort. You missed him so much even though you’ve barely been apart and he feels the same exact way. That definitely wasn’t the last argument you’d have, but it’d be the last one where he’d make you cry. 

Ara was right– all it took was a bit of communication.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #bts jimin #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #kook.ver

[harkonnin]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Resurrection Current Chapter - Never lose me

***

It had been a few days after Feyd left to go back to Giedi Prime, wedding preparations he said. He didn’t leave you much time to bond after the kiss, nor did he have need for a conversation about feelings. You attribute it to his upbringing, assuming Harkonnen don’t talk about their feelings at all. So, you stow away yours for now.

*

Feyd wanted to make haste, he wanted nothing more than to stay on Caladan and ravish you before the wedding, but he also respected his duty and the rules involved with an arranged marriage. Should he break those rules, he wouldn’t be able to marry you. Intercourse before marriage wasn’t frowned upon, it was downright illegal. He had to put a distance between the both of you before his feelings could settle in the pit of his stomach and he lost all control.

*

A few weeks pass while Feyd is busy sorting out all the legal business, talking to servants to import certain items from Caladan, and even requesting an answer from you concerning your wedding dress and the sort. You receive the message during a sparring match with Duncan, who has been training you extra hard upon hearing the news that you were going through with the marriage.

He sees your face contort after a member of the staff gives you the message and asks what you want to respond with. It felt so, indifferent and impersonal, a message as black and white coming from Feyd, no love to be found, no greetings, just a demand. You frown as you respond to the messenger and turn back to Duncan, sighing.

He stays silent for a few moments, until the messenger leaves.

“I know it is not my place Lady, but do you mind if I give you any advice?” he sounded sincere and worried.

You nod at him, curious.

“Please don’t marry Feyd. I know it might seem like a good idea, if we’re speaking about bloodlines and dukes and barons, but… you should be with someone who loves and respects you.”

He got closer to you as he spoke those last words, his hair partially stuck to his face because of the sweat of battle. He extended his hand for you to take, and you did. Feeling anything at all was better than the dryness that got stuck in your throat when you received Feyd’s ‘demand’.

“Duncan, I-…” you trailed off.

You didn’t want to admit that you liked Feyd, it wasn’t love yet, but there was a certain attraction between the both of you. You wanted to explore this, even if it meant being married for a different cause. You just felt insecure after he left so fast, seemingly taking all the sweetness away from the moment you shared before.

Duncan pulled you into a hug, somehow knowing exactly what would help at this point. You felt his heart beat fast, faster than usual. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and continued to talk.

“Feyd has no idea how lucky he is. Should he ever try to hurt you again, I will intervene.”

He lets you out of the hug and takes your hands in his and goes onto one knee.

“If you ever feel doubt know that I’ll be here for you. I love you, Lady Atreides.”

He says as he kisses your hand. The confession feels heavy but sincere. You had no idea Duncan felt like this, you had always just assumed he was a man with his heart on his sleeve, loving all the Atreides family, because he had just always been there for you all. But a proposal?

“Oh, Duncan, I-“ you say as you feel a tear starting to roll over your cheek.

He comes back up and cups your face in his hands, wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead, and returns to hugging you. You softly sob as the heat of the older man gives you the comfort that you needed.

“I know.”

*

Feyd is struggling to get everything sorted, there’s a lot more shouting and killing of servants going on right now. He wants the wedding to be utter perfection, no place for errors, this includes everything you should bring or prepare. He shouts at a servant to ask about your wedding dress, and to make it quick. This explains why the message sounded so cold and demanding when you received it. The Harkonnen were anything but subtle with words.

He had been in and out of meetings concerning the festivities and he was about one more question away of killing another servant. He hated this, hated that he had to do everything, make all the choices, he should’ve just asked you to come along, but rules forbid. Curse the rules, he thought.

For an arranged marriage the people involved wouldn’t be allowed to see each other for a month before the marriage, this is to allow both families to prepare everything and make sure that the couple still wanted to get married. Also to get all the political things in order, most of all.

Feyd had 5 minutes of peace before he had a meeting with yet another person involved with the wedding. He was staring out at the arena and somehow missed simpler times like that. His momentarily peace got disrupted, however. A servant asked for his attention, it was Tula. Feyd knew how fond you were of her, so he promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt her. She was however, testing his patience at the moment.

“My Lord Na-Baron, I have a message for you, from Lady Atreides,” she spoke quietly.

Feyd shot up and took the message out of her hands, read it and a frown came over his face. Your reply was very formal, much the same as his question, or demand, felt to you. Yet he didn’t expect it to be so… dry. He looked up at Tula for a second, almost questioning her why your message didn’t sound nicer. He thought he knew you a bit more than that at least.

“My lord? Are you ok?” Tula questioned, seeing his face contort in several ways. “Fine,” his voice all gravely, he even sounded tired.

Tula started to walk away but then suddenly came to a stop. She considered the sentence she had on the tip of her tongue before finally saying it. As she turned back, Feyd looked up at her.

“My lord, … I have also received more information about Lady Atreides.” Her eyes trailed off, suddenly aware of the stare Feyd was giving her. “Speak.” He spit out. “… it appears that Lady Atreides has received a counteroffer for marriage, from Duncan Idaho.”

Feyd’s eyes narrowed into slits. Unaware of his next action, Tula wanted to make sure she would live after giving him the bad news, so she continued.

“Lady Atreides has declined his offer however,” she had no proof, but she also felt like you wouldn’t just bail on everything that had happened between you and Feyd.

She assumed you would say no to Duncan, considering the position you were in. A wild bet, to save her own life.

“Is that so…” he trailed off, started to stalk around Tula.

He took out his dagger and started to play with it, she feared for her life.

“It seems like I will have to teach Duncan some manners in the future.” He looked at Tula and then his dagger.

He reminded himself that the time would come where he got his revenge on Duncan and sheathed his dagger again. Tula almost sighed in relief.

“Send a message to Lady Atreides, tell her I look forward to making her mine soon.”

The implications where there, both innuendo and not, and Tula made sure she left as soon as she could.

*

When you receive the message, you’ve just finished bathing and are in a comfortable robe, hanging out on your bed. The staff member leaves the message in your hands and lets you be for the night. As you start to read the message you realise it’s from Tula. She tells you Feyd found out about the proposal from Duncan and wasn’t happy about it. She also conveys his own personal message to you.

“Make me his? Who does he think he is!”, you talk to yourself.

The way he talks to you ever since he left was very different from how he was on Caladan. No softness anymore, the Harkonnen in him had returned. You were sure that planet had something to do with it, Caladan was far more relaxed than Giedi Prime was. You decide not to answer him, it was only a few more days before you travelled to the planet yourself, so a response could wait.

You wonder if Duncan’s proposal had something to do with how cold he sounded in the message. You assumed it did, you didn’t see Feyd as an insecure person, but knowing how close you and Duncan were, anything could happen. You just hope Feyd doesn’t go ham on him and kill him. You fear that will be the only outcome, however.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you missed Feyd. It made you insecure to not have him around you. What was he doing right now? Did he also miss you? All these questions came floating to the surface as you kept thinking about him, and his hands, and his lips. And how strong he felt when he was holding you close, how his hands moved to your lower back and your legs, how his hot breath felt on you in the damp wet grass.

You instinctively open your robe thinking about him and start to touch yourself. You wanted nothing more but to feel him all over you, feel his hot mouth on your entrance. You imagine that your hands, are his, as you circle your clit. You insert two fingers and start to pump, cupping your breast in the other hand. You felt his erection as you sat on top of him, panting, and you think about how big he was, how he would stretch you, how he would make you his.

His cold words from the message now circle in your head, as you imagine him saying them out loud, whispering them in your ear from behind you, as he’s taking you. You come hard, thinking about him enveloping you, not stopping until you’re completely ripped at the seams. You imagine him holding you after, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, as you drift to sleep.

*

Feyd is having another night, however. His insecurity takes hold of him the night before your arrival. You hadn’t replied to his last message from a few days ago and he imagines you might just give up on the entire wedding, and so, give up on him. He keeps thinking about how he can convince you to marry him, what he would do to Duncan should he ever see the man again, and his anger boils inside of him.

He has thrashed his room already, broke a few chairs and killed a few servants, but nothing seems to help. A servant reminds him of the box they took with them from Caladan and he remembers the rose oil he took from his chambers. The servants draw a bath for him, with water, and put the rose oil in it. As soon as he enters the bathing area he relaxes. It feels like you are in there with him, soothing his fears and feelings, and calming him down.

He's not one to let his guard fall, but he drifts off into a soft sleep while he lay there. He dreams of you, in the damp grass, on top of him, under him, in any way he wants because it’s his imagination. He reassures himself that all will be fine once you’re here. He wakes and gets himself cleaned off. Before he goes to bed, he sprinkles some oil on his bed sheets, so that he would at least feel as if you were with him that night.

*

You travel to Giedi Prime on the day before your wedding. The rest of house Atreides would arrive later today. As you arrive you are greeted by a few servants, and you react with glee once you see Tula. You hug her and forget the differences in culture for a while before letting her go and straightening yourself. She has a soft smile on her face, however.

“Let me show you to your chambers, Lady Atreides.”

She walks in front of you as the other servants with your bags follow suit. As she ushers you into the room and your bags are in it, she closes the door and turns herself to you.

“My Lady Atreides, I fear I have a confession to make.” She looks strained.

You take her hands in yours, and you ushed her to sit down on the bed. “What is it, Tula?”

She shifts her eyes up at you, guilty for some reason.

“I was the one who told Feyd about the proposal from Duncan. I wanted him to hear from me, because I was afraid he might hurt you, should you have told him. I’d rather he hurt me, than you.”

You’re somewhat shocked but not for the reason Tula might think. She risked her life for you, knowing Feyd, he probably did end up hurting her.

“Did he hurt you?” you look at her, worried. “N-No, he did not actually. He only mentioned that he would have to punish Duncan, that’s it.”

You sigh, happy. But you’re also surprised he didn’t lash out at her. A mere servant in his eyes, what would be one more or less. Maybe Feyd was more perceptive than you thought.

“Tula, you did nothing wrong. You were loyal to your Na-Baron. I understand. I think Feyd will notice that I declined the offer if he sees me in a wedding dress tomorrow, we’ll be fine.”

You notice she had some tears forming in her eyes, so you decide to hug her, and she lets it all out.

“I hope he deserves you, Lady Atreides.” She tells you in between sobs.

It was the sweetest thing any servant had ever told you. You hope he still wants you as something more than a political pawn. Insecurity creeps back in as you prepare to go to bed before the big day. You wonder if he has any interest in you anymore as you drift off to sleep, worried and anxious.

#feyd #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd smut #house harkonnen #dune #dune fanfiction #dune part 2 #dune 2 #dune part two #dune movie #the heart is not meant to rule

[decolonize-the-left]

If Americans shouldn't vote for Biden what should they do instead? Vote for trump? Vote third party? Not vote?

(I know most people would probably ask you this in bad faith but I'm just really distraught at the state of politics and keep hearing people say "don't say he's the only option and don't support him" but there's never alternatives given and I don't know what an effective alternative could even be)

I think a good place to start that a lot of people are comfortable with is probably volunteering and petitioning for 3rd parties to make sure they Do have ballot access next year. So that ppl Can vote for someone else next year.

And yes, vote 3rd party this election. Or don't vote at all.

Besides that? Learn some basic defense and join protests. Support encampments and do things leftists say like join a union and organize your own community whether it be your schoolmates, coworkers, or all your friends and their friends.

Y'all see the news right?

Censorship and propaganda are rampant right now, along with transphobia and racism and even Nazis are back. Tensions are high to say the least and everyone is worked up about the election and Israel.

Figure out what you wish someone else would do and then do it. Is that de-arresting protesters? Organizing a bail fund, fighting cops and throwing tear gas back at them when they make things violent?

There's a lot to fight against and even more to fight for. Find what's worth fighting for (to you) and actually start fighting for it. Don't let cops or your principal or boss or anyone else stop you.

I think one of the most important things we can do right now is remind the government and those that serve the government that they won't take our rights so easily. That if they want to silence us then we're gonna make sure it'll hurt more than it'll help. That we can and will fight back.

And that's why it's so vital that we show them we won't settle either. We won't vote for Biden.

We settled for Clinton and look where that got us.

Does it feel like voting for more and more conservative blue candidates actually helped prevent harm? Or does it feel like you were manipulated and lied to?

Gonna be real, it feels like the government is a manipulative abuser and we're all it's gaslit victims who don't want to believe things are that bad just cuz he killed someone else instead of us.

Which is like...it doesn't mean good things for us that our government could do that and we'd rationalize it, you know?

How we want to get out of this fucked up dynamic is up to us. We work, we pay taxes, we listen to the governments rule of law, and still our government won't codify rights, our trans friends are being abused by the government, or it's banning apps with censorship. And the whole time it's telling us to shut up and be grateful it isn't worse.

Abusers never ever tell you that it could be better too. And they don't want you to know that. Cuz then you leave. And if you leave then they can't manipulate and abuse you.

So yeah. They'll shit on us for doing Anything that doesn't result in us staying, for doing anything that results in us choosing our own well being instead of theirs.

But that's what we need to do.

And you need support before you do that. That's what organizing is. It's like calling the besties who hype you up to leave your shitty ex. Except it's a bunch of people agreeing to support each other when they choose to stand up for something. Organizing is making sure there are people watching back and making sure if one of you is harmed or arrested that there'll be someone there to help bail you out.

The more people you have to bail you out, the less you have to worry about being outnumbered, spoken over, or physically stopped with force.

So yeah. Do that.

Organize. I hope I stressed that enough. The people on our front lines need us to be there for them as much we need Them to keep fighting for us.

Also since I'm here: make sure you and your friends don't talk shit about protesters even when they get violent and break shit. It's not abuse when the victim finally hits back at their abuser, it's self defense.

#asked #answered #idk #kinda just want politicians to start dying tbh

[hemmingshouse]

a long forever / chris sturniolo

summary: chris tries to make things right with you after he fucked up big time.

warnings: swearing, mentions of prior cheating, angst (but semi happy ending!!)

let me know if yall want a part twoooo x

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“if you truly don’t give a shit about me and fuck me over in the first place, then why the fuck are you here?” you asked him sternly, sighing deeply before rubbing your eyes - the crying you had done prior had irritated them massively. “please enlighten me christopher, because i have no. fucking. clue.”

the brunette sighed softly, letting his hands roam through his hair. he had messed up so bad this time and he wasn’t sure how to fix it - if that was even possible to begin with.

you and chris had been keeping it on the down low with each other for a while now. you went on silly little dates, got to know his best friends and brothers and loved to spend most of the week at his apartment; lounging around the place and exploring every inch of each other’s bodies for around five months now.

it all went so well. slowly you started to appear more on his tiktoks and the sturniolo channel, making the fans think you two at least spent time together because of the massive tension between the two of you. you met his family, had even stayed in boston for the holiday season and went on a little getaway together for your birthday.

“i care so fucking much about you! i- just- please listen to me,” chris pleaded as he stood in your kitchen, hands running over his face in pure desperation, “i have never felt this way before. about anyone. i swear.”

you scoffed at his words, shaking your head in disbelief, “remember when we said we’d at least be honest if we felt this wouldn’t work out so the friendship we had wouldn’t go to waste?” you motioned between the two of you, “you lied to me. god, you’re the biggest motherfucker i have ever met, christopher. i wasted my time on you. on us. on whatever the fuck we were.”

ouch, full government name - for the second time. he knew you weren’t fucking around.

he deserved all of that. every curse word you spat at him, every raise of your voice. it pained and sickened matt to see you go from adoring him so much till it hurt to now hating every inch of his fiber. to see you hurt because of his actions made him sick to his stomach. he had never meant to kiss the girl back after she tried to force herself onto him, but he knew there was no fair explanation towards you to begin with.

“babe,” he spoke up, voice trembling as you held your hand up to silently stop him from speaking up more. he noticed how your lower lip quivered and how salty tears were pricking your eyes, the fatigue taking over your body after fighting for three and a half hours.

“you kissed her back,” you spoke, a shiver running down your spine. “and i know we were never official to begin with,” you acknowledged, “but you truly made it feel that fucking way.”

it happened when he was in downtown la, where he and his brothers joined sam and colby as they were filming a brand new series about the cecil hotel whilst you were busy finishing your last year of marketing. they got drunk, went out to meet up at one of sam’s friends and one thing lead to another.

his confession back then was enough for you to silence him with a nod, grab the duffel bag he brought on his trip and push him out of your apartment. his pleas came from the other side of the door, hoping you’d let him explain what exactly happened during that night.

you didn’t wanna hear it. you didn’t wanna hear anything about chris and another girl, not when you thought he was done with fucking around when he started dating you. you figured that meeting his family, spending time with his friends and appear on his channel actually meant he wanted to be serious with you too.

“you don’t deserve any of this bullshit i put you through,” chris told you sincerely as he watched you calm down a bit, anger replacing itself with a self conscious mindset. “i’m so fucking sorry y/n, there’s no explanation for any of this. i know you don’t wanna hear it but i wanna show you what you truly mean to me. promise i’ll make it right.”

“you do know your promises currently mean nothing to me after everything, right?” you asked him while pouring yourself a glass of wine, “you could be begging on your bare knees for me and i still wouldn’t believe a single word you say.”

“i know,” chris sighed softly, running his hands across his face. “i wanna be better for you. for us. you deserve so much better- i just want you to know it didn’t mean anything to me, alright? i- you- fuck, i love y-”

“do not finish that sentence,” you warned him before taking a sip of your wine, “i don’t wanna hear it if you’re not sure.”

“who says i’m not sure?” he asked you sincerely, “and what do you want to hear?” chris asked you seriously, arms crossing in front of his chest. “i’ll literally do anything if it proofs i’m only into you. i wouldn’t have let matt drive me here trying to make you forgive me if i didn’t care about you. i fucking miss you,” he breathed out, shaking his head slowly, “i don’t have the words to say how sorry i am i messed it up. how i messed us up. and i’ll do anything to gain your trust, let you know how much you mean to me, okay?”

his words caused your heart to flutter slightly, palms a bit sweaty as you were starting to fall back into old habits. chris had a way with words and the way he sounded so sincere made you think that maybe - after all - he was speaking the truth about the entire fiasco.

you shrugged your shoulders, sighing softly, “i just hope you know you’re a fucking asshole and i hate you,” you cleared your throat, your voice coming out soft and quiet, “but i appreciate the fact you got me flowers and tried to calm me down with some wine.”

chris couldn’t help but grin at your statement as he noticed you turned your body away from him whilst sitting on the high barstool at your kitchen island. it was something you usually did when you two had an argument because you knew if you looked into his beautiful blue eyes - you’d be a goner and would forget what you guys even fought about in the beginning.

“yeah?” he asked you, the smirk clearly tinting his voice as he stepped closer to where you were sitting on the barstool, “look at me, please?”

you let out a sigh once again after taking a large sip of your wine, placing the glass back onto the marble kitchen counter. your eyes darted upwards a little, noticing how close chris had gotten in the meantime. his unruly hair, sleepy eyes and curious gaze had you hooked - you knew you were fucked and putty in his hands once again.

“i’m supposed to be so mad at you,” you mumbled as chris placed his hands onto your clothed thighs, spreading them apart so he was able to stand in between your legs.

“you’re still allowed to be,” he admitted, one hand raising upwards to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand cup your jaw afterwards. “as long as you know i’ll forever try to make it up to you. in every single way possible.”

“forever’s a long time y’know,” you spoke softly, playing with the hem of his oversized t-shirt as you gazed into his eyes.

he chuckled, “as long as i can spend it with you, i truly do not mind.”

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

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 01. Whitney Worship

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,652 Warnings: OOC, body worship, general worship, older whitney, fingering, established relationship, consent checks, praise kink Prompt(s): 05 — worship Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: YAYYYY thank you so much bby for being my first event request eee!!! my biggest fan MWAH smooching u sm right now. so happy i get to start this event off with something soft and loving <3 sending u so much love, thank u sm for your kind words and for always supporting me!!

(also i really want some more soft whitney content... u cant convince me that this man wouldn't absolutely dote on you the older he gets </3)

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he's always felt this way about you. A bit difficult not to, his heart stuttering from the first moment he met you, blindsided by how much he wanted to be yours— enough that his need remained buried under layers of dominance and control for years to come. But the stubborn little boy you learned to love was incapable of expressing his emotions correctly, in a way that could ever truly be understood; and yet you loved him anyway. Even through all the harsh words, the endless name calling, and the straight up abuse he had you suffer through, you loved him. How you're still by his side is beyond him, a twinge of hurt in his chest burrowing down to his tummy, soothed only by the cute little mewl you instinctively know to let out in encouragement. Describing himself as thankful doesn't even do his emotions justice, and words of praise even less so— though still he tries.

This is the least he could do in return for all those awful years he subjected you to. A gentle promise spread across the pad of his thumb, rubbing tenderly up and down your hip for you to giggle at. And God, what a pretty sound that is. You can hear how it tugs at his heart, can't you? Surely, because he can barely hear himself think over the loud thump in his chest. How even the comparatively innocent touch of his free hand squeezing at your waist is charged with intent, the way your pretty lashes flutter under him as his nails drag up and down your exposed skin so lightly that it must tickle causing his breath to hitch. He can't help but mumble a pitiful pretty, and pitiful is correct, because he's so fucking down bad for you that it's insane. Should be illegal, if he had anything to say about it. Pouting down at you when you whisper his name, followed by a sweet thanks that God he just wants to drink up, biting down on his bottom lip to try and hide the wide smile your dulcet tones bring out of him— but it's no use. Of course you can see right through him. Always have, only now he's not so afraid to hide his true nature.

That being his complete and utter adoration for you and your pretty little body, soft skin hot under his rough hands; it's nice, yknow. To just touch you like this, ignoring the underlying hint of greed shown in the tent in his underwear in favour of rewarding you simply for existing. Because you deserve to be treated like the best thing that's ever happened to him; because you are. And he needs to do right by you now, make up for his past mistakes with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in faux playful annoyance over your holier than thou position beneath him. The bottom truly holds all the power, don't you, love?

"I meant it. Too fuckin' pretty, s'annoying." He smiles, toothy and genuine when you smile back up at him. And he does mean it, fuck does he mean it. Leaning down a little to give your forehead a little kiss, trailing his lips down to your cheek only to place another, smiling against your skin when you giggle at his barely there touch grabbing at your waist to keep you in place for him to press a few more kisses at the corner of your lips in a teasing manner— a hoarse be patient crawling up his throat when you try to wiggle free to give him a proper kiss, but he soon gives in to your cuteness anyway. Letting his tongue poke out just a little against your lips, chest vibrating with a satisfied hum he moans down your mouth when you reciprocate the lewd action. But still, he'd like to take his time. Making out with you so slowly, still letting his hands roam up and down your naked body with purpose, as if mapping every possible inch of you in the event that you were to ever leave him— the thought of which has him kissing you deeper in a silent beg for you to stay. See, I love you.

Running his wide open palms up to your tits, letting himself cup them as delicately as possible as if he were afraid that anything stronger would have you shattering beneath him; a far cry from his younger self, he internally cringes at the memory. But in his kiss there lies hope. Hope for a better future, to become a better man for you. And that starts here, with every suck of your tongue inside his wanting mouth, every drop of shared saliva down each others throats, and every grope of his big hand against your tits. The other rests idly at your waist, dipping down just to playfully pinch at the fat of your thighs; one of his favourite places to be between.

He pulls away from your lips when he feels you do the same, enamoured by the string of saliva still stretched between his lips and your own as if it were an extension of you, and by that he means deserving of all the love he can muster. When you simply stare up at him with those big puppy eyes he has to bury his face against your chest just to hide the creeping heat on his cheeks, content enough to turn his attention to your tits with one getting palmed by his hand, and the other receiving his mouths tender treatment. Surely you won't complain about his cowardly hiding if he were to devote more time to pleasing you, right? Lapping at your nipple like a kitten, savouring every sigh, hiccup, and moan you make while he busies himself with indulging in your taste. Worshipping every inch of you as he shuffles his body closer between your legs, gasping into the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against his underwear which rests heavy at your cunt. Not that he has any intention of doing anything about it, because loving and doting on you is pleasurable enough for him, slurping and sucking and pinching as a means to communicate: I'm sorry, let me make it up to you.

Because he's never really been the best with words, opting instead to pop off of your pretty tits with a loud smack! only so that he can see how cute your expression gets when you feel his hand travel further south, ghosting over your skin just to have you shiver into him, make you feel as good as you've treated him, yeah?

"Dunno what I'd do without you," He sighs, almost whispering from how sincere his words are. "Wanna show you how much y'mean to me. S'at okay?"

Instinct begs him to attach slut on the end of his question, but your wide eyes and rushed gasp in shock of how soft he's being convinces him not to.

You take a moment to reply, and in the meantime he takes to running a single finger up and down your already sopping slit. Proof enough of how much you love him, and yet still he feels the need to earn your affections again and again, sorry remaining at the tip of his tongue regardless of how often you remind him it's okay.

But when you give him a sure nod he's immediately filled with boyish confidence, determined to prove his worth for as long as he needs to in order to properly apologise to you, and then to revere you as you rightfully deserve. He knows he's got his work cut out for him, but he's nothing if not stubborn when it comes to you, for better or for worse.

"Thank you." He whispers this time, finally allowing his fingers to stretch your folds open for him to gawk at. Hearts in his eyes and all, fuuuuck, he has to fight with himself not to tug his boxers down and just shove his cock in right there and then— because he's meant to be worshipping you. But you make it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything other than how fraught with sheer desperation he is for you, distracting himself from his more indulgent thoughts by thumbing at your clit, clenching his teeth at the sweet little sounds his fingers touch out of you. Reaaaally taking his time, perhaps a bit too much so when your lower half wiggles under his thumb. Inwardly, he laughs at his previous words of patience; don't you know that he's trying to love on you?

"Need it that much, huh?" He gently taunts, though there's no malice in his words. Just amused domesticity, a certain warmth to his tone borne out of complete admiration for how... Well, if he's honest with himself, how perfect you are— in every respect! Every fibre of his being just begging to be allowed to worship you for the rest of his life, to have you see yourself the way he sees you.

You once again nod up at him, pretty pleading eyes coaxing him to fall further into you, to rub meaner circles against your puffy little clit like he's done plenty times before; except you're asking for it now. And there's no greater feeling in the world than to have his prayers answered as your slick coats his fingers in anticipation for his praises.

"All right then, pretty girl. Ask and you shall receive."

And true to his words, he slides his fingers down your slit and dips into your cunt. Just a little, and only one finger. The lazy pace of his actions frustrating even him, but he knows it'll all be worth it. Has to be, especially when you're huffing so cutely back at him given all his teasing thus far, jus' a little more he promises you, unsure if he's even telling the truth when you mewl all pretty and shit— God you're gonna be the death of him. Torn between teasing you all night, prolonging his prayers until the sun comes up, or giving you the release you're so desperately seeking, every squeak of the bed below your movements hypnotising him further. All he wants to do is make you feel good, praise your body to the high heavens, kiss every single inch of your skin and whisper sweet nothings against your cunt. A simple ask, really, considering you're more than wanting him to do exactly that.

So he follows through, lazily pushing a single finger inside of your warm little hole and he practically melts himself from the heat wrapped around his digit. How soft and fuckin' tight your little cunt is around him, the slow nature of his loving tonight allowing him to experience you in a whole new way; something more akin to appreciation, rather than the days of greed in the past.

"Feel okay?" He checks in with you, though there's really no need. He can tell from a mile away that your scrunched up little nose means you're having fun, but it's nice to ask anyway. If only to boost his own ego, or to show that he's serious about changing for you. "You feel— I mean, fuck. Always feel amazing," He swiftly corrects himself, chewing on his bottom lip out of habit while curling his finger inside of you, gently pulling it out and pushing back in— a slow enough pace to give you a little relief whilst also keeping you on that edge he'd like you to be at. "Always have, best cunt I've ever fucked." He's being sincere, but he cringes at the crass way his praise comes out anyway. That is until he takes a look at your face, peeling his gaze off of your finger swallowing hole for just a moment, and he bares witness to the lewd look you've now adopted.

Fuckin' praise slut, he should have known it all along, but having confirmation in the form of your rolled back eyes from a single fucking finger was worth the wait. You're worth the wait, and he can only hope that he is too when he picks up the pace. Just a little, encouraging you to writhe around a bit more, cooing down at you so sweetly in stark contrast to his usual self.

"Look so pretty like that," the finger inside of you buries deeper, curling consistently against your sweet spot until you're practically clawing at his wrist for some respite— but it doesn't come. Not out of spite, but out of love for you, he continues crooking his fingers against your squishy insides because he knows what that whine means. Gushy little cunt wrapped so tight around his finger, sucking him further in despite your desperate whines for a break. All he does is hush you tenderly, tongue between his teeth in fear of snapping and reverting back to his old manners when you look so fucking perfect with his finger inside of you, his eyes flickering between your pretty face, heaving tits, and your shiny with slick cunt.

"C'mon—" He seethes, brows furrowed in concentration of praising you, getting you off on his hand would be the highest compliment, he thinks. "Let me make you feel good, jus' give in, 'kay? He encourages, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips when your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Got you, he thinks to himself. Cock twitching merely from getting you off, from making you moan his name all high pitched and pretty like that while you gush around his finger, soaking through to the bed sheets below when he starts finger fucking you again to help you ride your orgasm out nicely. And the whole time he's thanking you. Softly rubbing up and down your side, occasionally groping at your tits, tugging at your ass while your insides convulse around him. Thank you, he sighs. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for sticking with me."

"Thank you for letting me see you like this."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for cumming on my hand."

And even as he removes himself from you he's still worshipping you, practically eye fucking you as he shifts his weight down, ending up half laying on the edge of the bed to tug you closer, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs so he can sniff up and down your slick soaked slit. Vulgar as always, but it doesn't matter when he's so pussy whipped it's almost laughable, right? Maybe he should feel ashamed about how much he wants you, embarrassingly acting like a dumb dog when faces with your cunt like this— salivating from your scent alone. But upon sticking his tongue out flat against your slit to lap up all your sweet juices he figures it doesn't really matter. It couldn't matter when you taste this fucking good, cock leaking fat globs of precum from just a single suck of your clit. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, flipping his fringe up and out of the way for easier access to your sweet soaked cunt, he's serious about this, don't you know?

"Jus' cleanin' y'up." He slurs against your hole, wincing with you when you complain about how sensitive you are.

But that's okay, because if you cum on his tongue (which he's hoping for, fuck he wants you to gush in his mouth please—) then he'll just help you clean up again. And again. And again. As many times as he needs to until you instinctively know how worthy you are of worship, and how he loves you just oh so much.

#500 event! #i hate that this is technically an “aged up” writing but yknow #HES ALREADY AN ADULT ITS OK #dol smut #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People (Platonic)

Summary: While in the Wasteland, running on nothing but fumes and even less hope, you meet someone. Someone who might just be the one thing you need in a place like this: a friend.

Note: This is shorter than my usual stuff (both in terms of words, probably, and also just in terms of content - more so a scene than anything else; maybe a series of short scenes showing Lucy's arc if you guys want and how her friendship with Y/N develops?) Let me know in an ask!

You were a survivor. You had been since the moment you were born, but you weren't sure how much longer that was going to last.

Your day hadn't started off good, you see. You were running out of water and had passed out earlier due to some kind of infection - no idea what it was or who/what it was from, you had come across a lot of beings and things in your travels - and some guy had thought you were dead and even pissed on you just in case. Was not refreshing, or nice.

You had fought him off, tackling him to the floor and punching him quite a few times. You didn't kill him, however. You just left him be after that.

An odd fellow with a briefcase who promise you everything you could ever want passed you by. He gave you something that gave you a boost. You had no caps, so the only piece of fluid you had left on you - your water container - was given to him in exchange for this item.

So, now you were even more screwed then before.

The man even seemed to somewhat pity you, but he still left.

You find an abandoned bus. It's been picked, recently or otherwise doesn't really matter, picked clean is picked clean. Or, well, as clean as you can get within the apocalypse.

"Hello?" a voice says. You spin around, reaching for a weapon you don't have as you lost it in the scuffle before, and so instead duck down - hitting your head on one of the seats.

You hear the person outside cringe.

"Sorry," she says, earnestly to your shock, "that sounded like it hurt."

"...It did," you find yourself saying in reply, but still keep your head done.

"Sorry," she says, again, "it's ok," she assures you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You peak your head up. The first thing you notice, is how clean she looks. She gives you a bright smile.

"Hi," she says, enthusiastically.

You just blink at her.

"It's ok," she assures again, "my weapon is away. I just - I just wanna talk. I'm a bit lost out here give, you know, everything is mainly just sand."

You guess that's fair. So, against your better judgment, you make your way to the stairs at the bus, and sit down. The woman sits down, letting out a sigh, glad to be able to rest for a moment.

She stretches. You adjust your neck. You must've slept funny.

"I'm Lucy," she says, holding out a hand to you.

"Y/N," you say, shaking her hand. Feels weird, being this open with someone.

"Y/N," she says, "that's a nice name. I never knew someone called Y/N before."

You're about to ask her why, when you see what she's wearing.

You whistle, or as best you can with a dry throat, it's croaky but the idea comes through, "you one of them Vault Dwellers?"

"I am," she says, and you're unsure if it's a proud statement or not, "but, I do also recognise my privilege for being one."

You hum, "how you finding up here?"

"Hot," she says, "we have air conditioning in the vaults. So, it's weird not being able to just turn down the temperature."

You chuckle. She smiles.

"Thank you for not trying to kill me."

You gesture to yourself, "don't exactly have anything to do that with, you know? Besides, you're not a bad person. I've met some bad people, you ain't one of them."

"Thank you. I knew there were good people out here."

You shrug, "I don't think I'm exactly 'good', but I've known worse."

"Well, I'm glad I've run into you. You're alot nicer than the previous man I met."

"Yeah, there'll be people like that..." you pause, then ask the question on your mind, "what brings you top side, Lucy?"

"Oh," there's a hint of hope, mixed with sadness in her eyes while she answers, "I'm looking for my dad. Some horrible woman called Moldaver took him. She steals dads."

You may internally find that last part funny, but you find yourself saying 'I'm sorry' to her about her plight. She thanks you once again.

"You're not crazy like that other man."

She's blunt, you'll give her that.

"I can be," you don't quite know why you're insulted by it.

She cocks her head to the side, "I'm good at reading people," you aren’t sure on that one, but you don't say anything, "and you're not like that previous man."

"What'd he do?"

"Drank most of my water. You ever met anyone like that?"

"Guy pissed on me this morning. Another stole my canteen."

"Oh..." Lucy says. You nod, expecting this to be the end of your conversion, but then she reaches behind herself for something. Instinct makes you freeze, but she just gives you a reassuring smile once again, and holds something out to you.

Her own canteen.

You look at her, doubt, confusion, and thanks all in your eyes at once.

"Take it," she insists, shaking it a little to tell you that there is still water inside it, "I mean it."

"But, that other man --"

"He's greedy. You aren't. And, judging by your lips, rough voice, inability to whistle, and slight grovel to your voice, and the way you hold yourself," perceptive too, "you need this more than I do."

"You sure?" she nods. Hesitantly, looking from her to the canteen as you reach out - her leaning forward to help you with your lack of energy due to dehydration and all - you grab it. It's not harsh, you don't rip it out of her grasp. Your actions are slow, deliberate.

You open it, and lift it up to your mouth, letting a few water droplets hit it.

You close it and give it back to her. But she pushes it to you again. This goes on a few more times.

"I meant what I said," she says, "take it."

You look around at the desert, "next water well won't be for a while."

She shrugs, "there's a town nearby. There should be some there. But, either way, you need this a lot more than I do."

You drink the rest of it. And, you feel ok. Not great, but better.

You cough a bit. Both due to whatever illness you have, and just from the water and how fast you drank it.

"That's a bad cough," she notes, taking the canteen back.

"Ah, it's nothing," you say, waving her off. Had worse infections.

You stand up, and she holds her hands out in case you fall. You put a hand up, telling her you're ok.

"Well," you say, "thank you for that, and the talk. Good people are few and far between. Best of luck --"

"Hey, wait!" she calls out as you start to walk away, "wait, please. Maybe - maybe you can help me."

"I ain't exactly much help given the lack of weapons, strength, and my illness."

She frowns, "well, once we find my dad, we can go back to my vault, we have doctors there who can help you and give you a good meal!"

She's preppy, but soon that softens in her eyes, "please...I can stop people from...urinating on you."

You snort at her disgust of the language. She has a lot to learn. Social ettiquite may exist in some places in the wasteland, but not everywhere.

"Well, when you put it like that..." you say, before smiling. She beams at you.

"Okey Dokey!" she exclaims.

"Okey Dokey!" you find yourself saying in kind, not mocking for once - you and your mouth had gotten you into trouble before, it was nice to not have some agenda with it this time. To let your guard down.

"Have you ever been to Filly before?" she asks you as you walk side by side. Though, she slows up a bit as you try and both get your strength back and keep your remaining bit.

"Once or twice when passing through," you say.

"Alrighty then," she says, glad to not be going in completely blind, "'this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" she says to you, clearly quoting something, based on her voice. You look at her confused.

"I'll show you the film when we're back at the vault," she says, before you continue on your way.

It's good to meet someone who didn't want to kill you on sight or extort you or something.

It was nice to not be alone anymore.

Lucy feels the same way. She has a sort of guide now. A friend.

An actual friend from the outside.

She's glad.

And, little did she know how right she'd be. It would be a friendship that would stand the test of time and everything in between.

Lucy had just met her best friend.

You had met yours.

Even if you both didn't know just how dark and dangerous the road ahead would get...

#fallout #lucy fallout #lucy maclean #Lucy Maclean imagine #lucy maclean fallout #lucy maclean x reader

[kaztheghost]

The reason qRoier is so adamant and insistent on the eggs being dead is because of how adamant and insistent he was that Bobby would live; he was so sure and not for a second did he entertain the idea, and when that ended in a goodbye it shifted his outlook and this is such a blatant showcasing of that!!! He doesn't want to get his hopes up because he knows how much it hurts to have them crushed and he cannot take that again

#qsmp #roier #I have been thinking about this for days and I have seen no one mention it #please *squeezing qroier so tightly* #he still hurts despite all the jokes and he still thinks of himself as without a child despite richarlyson very much being his son now #everyone heals differently but did he ever really give himself a chance to heal #Jaiden did and she can discuss it now calmly and she of course still misses Bobby but she's found support outside her once was family #but Roier very much just closed the door to that and moved to the next chapter (not 2 say anything about his bond with Jaiden) #(they r still Absolute ur honor) #BUT JUST DO U HEAR MEEEEE

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

#like. to be clear also: i don't think the fact that amy didn't want kids and really didn't have a choice in giving birth to river #means that she wouldn't love river. i think it would make their relationship Complicated but i do think amy loves her. so much. #that's her daughter but it's also her best friend. #but like. god. to spend your whole childhood hoping you'll hear about some little glimmer of yourself. #a dream. a passing mention. a debate on baby names. anything. and to hear nothing. #and river is. like. she is really really bad at relationships right? we know this. #the person she's closest to is the doctor and she spends most of her life believing *he doesn't even love her*. #we're talking about someone whose base assumption about everyone is that they will try to hurt her at some point so she should always keep #one hand armed. #and her mother. didn't choose to have her. didn't have that choice. that has to fuck her up a little. #(and also serve as proof that river is. so so bad at knowing when she is loved. because maybe amy didn't choose to have her but she named #melody pond after mels her best friend. she has been choosing river every day for the past however many years since mels decided to come #here and be near her mom and dad even if only as kids. but river still can't see it. #and. given the nature of how the ponds disappear from her life. and we never get any closure about them and river. #you have to wonder if she ever did. river song do you know your mother loves you? #having the melody-as-river reveal be so close to the end of the season and then getting rid of amy & rory before they can actually do #anything with the three of them as a messed up little family unit is the show's biggest crime. because i don't know! i don't know if river #knew her parents loved her! i don't know if she *ever* came to terms with how she was born and how they didn't need to choose her then to #choose her now! i don't know if river ever really felt comfortable thinking of them as her parents rather than her friends? #according to the transcripts. river calls amy 'mother' twice. (and 'mummy' once jokingly.) she calls rory 'father' once. and 'dad' in angel #in manhattan. and it just. it drives insane right? it's almost weirdly formal. like the words aren't right but she knows she should say the #and. and. i don't think i'm ever going to get over river song. #i think that's the takeaway here. #ask #doctor who #river song #amy pond #rory williams

[thegreenleavesofspring]

.

#So I'm putting all this in tags because I'd prefer it not get out into wider Tumblr. I pondered even posting it but I think some of y'all #are following the drama and/or praying for my family so I figured I'd post an update. Just pretend there are commas and it's all readable. #Got a hearing date today. February 6th. Now I need to get affidavits and medical records. Not much to do in the way of affidavits because #either he made sure no one saw anything or I made sure. (Shame is a heckuva thing.) I really need the medical records from the assault. #Can't get them because I am currently without ID. I am currently without ID because I have had a beginner's permit for ~10 years now and #those have to be renewed in-person every year. Can't get to DMV to get it renewed because... no car. Can't use Uber because you have to #provide your own car seats and where am I going to put three car seats while I'm at the DMV? Can't use bus because... bus lines. #...it's stressful. #Also I'm still not sure about the theology of all this but it's also impossible not to see the Hand of God in freeing me and the boys from #this man so either God will help me work out the theology of it later or I'll ask Him when I get to Heaven. #Practically speaking I will not ever permit him and the boys unsupervised contact again if I can help it because he WILL neglect them #at best and physically hurt them for his own amusement and/or beat them up because of his temper at worst. #...anyway any and all prayers are appreciated.

[girlcrushau]

#me? about to use tumblr as a diary again? in 2024? unfortunately:/ #but here have a waterfall i saw on a hike last week as payment #i am sO tired and exhausted emotionally after dating #there's this guy that i fr thought was going to last and be around for a long time. we spent like every moment together that we could for 2 #months straight and if we werent physicaly together we were texting or calling or on ft . just every part of our day had the other in it #not once did i ever feel unwanted undesired or uncared for. not once did i feel that i wasnt sure of his intentions. i felt safer with him #in those 2 months than i ever did with any one else i could think to compare to. #until one day he just didnt think it important to communicate any more. after 3 days of nearly nothing .. hardly any talking . i asked if #he was ok if we were ok. what was going on in his head. he said some ive just been with my buddies and family and havent been on my phone #and just. immediately thats heartbreak yanno. thats :// thats what they say when theres a new girl. but there'd never been a reason to think #there was another girl so i was like ok we're gonna trust bc this dude has been So good in every way. so i said imy but i understand. enjoy #your time with your buddies and with your fam -- i cant wait to hear about it (and hold you) #and i havent heard from him in the 3 weeks since. just randomly #so last night #i send the dreaded 'i miss you' text. #i dont expect to hear back and i accept the hurt that will come with that and the confusion that i've felt settles deeper into my heart #until this afternoon i hop on ig and see a hard launch that was posted an hour after my text was sent #that shit kinda hurt different. but also sent me into a bit of a delirious state where all i could do is laugh bc are you for fucking real #did she see my message? i know it. bc i know him and i know that he wouldnt hide anything from the person he's giving his heart #and his softness to. i can almost imagine how he showed her and promised her theres nothing to worry about #and there really isnt anything to worry about because he genuinely is the type to give his all to the relationship he's in #which feels silly to say after what happened w us. like no there wasnt a title ever #it sucks to call it a situationship because a month ago we were laughing in bed together about how we could never bc we were all in. #just the timing of the hard launch makes me giggle. did my text push them to have a conversation about what they are. was she really the #reason that he went away on me. #im trying not to blame myself . trying not to think about the phone calls i didnt answer. about what i could have done differently. trying #not to think about where we would be if i didnt let my anxieties hold me back. if i wasnt scared about what he'd think of the parts of me #that i keep hidden just a little bit longer than the rest. #and at the same time im trying not to put him on a pedestal. but that pedestal is just where i wholeheartedly believe he belongs #he set the bar for me. he set the standard. i was never too much. i was never too little. he made me feel perfect just as i am

[hitmeupaep]

dean 10000% has confessed his love to cas in the shower

#the first day they get into the bunker and dean can fianlly get a nice and warm shower #his shoulders relax and the water feels warm agonist his skin #and he sways there for a moment and before he realizes it his mind drifts to cas #and that thought leads elsewhere #and it ends with him on the floor of the shower #water turned cold #sobbing #johns words still sting all these years later and the heat just reminds him of that #“why did it have to be cas” he cries into his knees knowing more than anything he has ever known that he wouldn’t have it be anyone else #“i love you so much it hurts” #“i wish you would want me. i wish i could have you” #he stays there #dreaming of some world where cas appears in front of him #hearing his confession turned prayer and holds him close #but the water turns off and there is no angel to be found #guess that dream will have to wait #sorry just rambling about them #like the thought of dean writing down all his feelings for cas one drunk night and just burning it or something #idk idk #destiel #dean winchester

[thedevotionaltour]

thinking about daredevil yellow again im not. going to make it Guys.

#static.soundz #crying screaming and hitting the ground. so good. it made me cry really bad #bc whenever i think about jack n matt it always makes me think of me n my dad for various reasons #when matt said i couldnt feel his heartbeat inside me anymore. no words. #i rambled about it on my main but dd is very much intwined in an interesting and special way with my own heavy grief about my dad #and matt was a very important character to me during that time of my life for the exact same reason. #it's why i take a lot of very heavy issue when things try to make it so his dad died in his childhood as opposed to college #bc a) think it takes away a lot of the important nature of their relationship and b) my own personal projection #bc all grief at any stage is highly personal and unique and particular #but it really does feel like. matt is really just starting to become an adult (depending whether he dies when matt's in under or post grad) #(bc i can never remember which) but he's not quite a mega established one. there's still that lingering of childhood #so even though he's grown. it just hurts in a very particular way. they saw you grow up. but they didnt really see you become an adult. #they did not see the person you're going to be. that you are. that you're becoming. it feels like such a bizarre unfair moment in time. #bc why now? why not when i was younger? why not when i was truly an adult adult who is expecting to lose you now? #why at this moment and no other time? #but thinking about matt going i wish i told my dad how much i loved him. #more than anything when he goes 'i love you dad. did you hear? i love you.' #it made me cry like a fucking bitch. honest to god tearing up when i type about it. it wrenches my heart it twists it and it makes me wanna #drop to my knees and just weep and weep and weep. they are everything to me. #i have intertwined a lot of matt's grief with mine in a way that makes him so so so important to me. because as stupid as it fucking sounds #that comic and him as a character are everything to me. so genuinely. they were a lifeline my freshman year #when i was so depressed all i could do was read comics. or listen to music #i could do nothing else. i did. clearly. i did work and assignments. but dd was everything to me alongside dm #im sorry i am being an actual like nutbag in my tags im sorry i just have a lot of feelings. this story is everything to me ever ok? ok.