#and it’s not like i want to die i just want to stop feeling like this

[ln4swiftie]

Die with a smile - ln4

lando gets kicked off his spotify, but he’s happy about it.

warnings - just fluff bc i was bored !!

Lando was sitting in the lounge of the MTC, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. He had an early morning meeting with Zac and Andrea, resulting in him having to leave you home asleep in your warm bed.

He had his headphones on, opting to listen to music while he waited. watching the sun start to peak over the horizon, making its way into the sky.

Suddenly his music stopped.

He furrowed his brows checking his phone, thinking he accidentally paused it. He's even more confused to see that the device connected to his spotify account had been changed.

His music was now playing through…. an alexa…

Your alexa.

the alexa back home in your shared apartment.

Suddenly it clicks in his mind.

You were playing music at home, through the alexa while you were getting ready, completely unaware that you’ve interrupted his music.

He chuckled to himself as he watched the songs play through, becoming a spectator on his own spotify that he's been momentarily kicked off while he assumes you get ready for the brunch you mentioned to him the evening prior.

He decides to wait until you’re done with the alexa to play his music again. Not wanting to disturb your morning concert. Images of you dancing around the apartment while rushing your daily routine play through his mind.

He opens a note in his phone, jotting down all the songs you play, wanting to make them into playlists to play for you, specifically in the car.

The next song you play causes him to smile down at his phone like a lovestruck idiot.

“Die with a smile - Bruno Mars & Lady Gaga”

He imagines you singing your heart out to what's been your new favorite song recently (he's heard you talk about how good it is for days now, how you're certain it's going to win song of the year at the grammys next year.) He feels (semi) bad for the sweet elderly couple who lives next door to you two. Hoping the sound of your voice at 8am wasn't the worst alarm clock in the world.

In his humble opinion, he’d choose your voice over an alarm clock any day. to him you have the voice of an angel and adored hearing you sing your heart out like you were the next best contestant on The Voice.

When the song ended he waited a minute to make sure another wasn't queued. When no song began to play, he made sure to change the output device back to his headphones, returning back to his series of songs.

opening your messages, he sends you a quick text

morning pretty girl! hope you slept well and enjoy your brunch with the girls, i’ll see you when i get home.. i love you!!

he quickly hit sent and shoves his phone into his pocket perfectly timing Zac’s entrance into the room. standing up he follows Zac into the conference room, putting his headphones back into their respective case. excited to see what songs you choose to listen to tomorrow.

——

a/n - lmao i wrote this in like 10 mins but i saw it on tiktok and i was like “awwwh lets make this lando”

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror movie-DC x DP prompt

Based on my favorite book series "tales from the gas station"

Its not everyday a mission requires the league to travel to middle America in to obtain a highly cursed artifact but it certainly today.

Locating the Seal of Silent Ashes was a task usually given to Justice League Dark but Constantine was currently busy. So that meant it was left to the poster boys to get this done. They dressed in civilian attire to investigate the last location of the seal starting with the first building on the edge of town. A small dusty gas station near the wood.

The inside had an awful smell, like death and cleaning fluid. The lights gave off a greenish-blue tint. Rats could be seen out of the corner of your eyes. Most of the chip were offbrand and crappy.

Behind the counter was the teenage boy chewing gum. He looked up at the group before going back to reading his book. He had clearly seen better days but didn't show signs of caring about the state of his hair or bags under his eyes. He drank coffee.

The air felt off.

"Hey kiddo, do you mind giving us directions?" Clark started.

The kid narrowed his eyes as he popped his gum.

"You're not from here. That or you're from that cult in the woods. Listen I'm not joining. Seriously cosmic nihilism and fatalism sounds doomed. Hey wait-" the teen checked his notes " No, the cult killed themselves in that mass suicide 2 weeks ago. I forgot."

The teen didn't say anything else as he went back to his book.

The horrified look of the adults shared was almost hilarious. At least to the teen if he looked up.

"Oh, and stay out of the woods. I don't want the police to come back and ask about who saw you last. Seriously if whatever is in there tears you apart I won't feel bad. I put those signs out forever ago and if I get one more girl covered in blood running in here screaming about her dead friends I'll get a headache." The teen shrugged turning the page.

"What do you mean?! Why would-?! Who's killing people?!" Barry asked frantically as Bruce serched for more reports of missing people in the area.

"I don't know. Why would I know? If you want to go in the cursed forest go ahead. I mean that's how they all die. It isn't my job to stop you. My job is to sit here and watch this store." The teen huffed in annoyance.

Before anymore questions were asked the signal of the radio was disrupted and a demonic howl screeched through the radio.

"God damnit. That cunt is back. Stay here." The teen growled as he grabbed his bat from under the counter and walked out the back door. "String bean! Get off the fucking roof you bastard! You know that radio is all I have here!"

A chattering laugh like a death rattle was heard and the sound of 2 sets of feet was heard on the roof then they lept down.

"Come here so I can beat you to death!" The teen ran around the building towards the front of the gas station chasing-what the fuck is that!

It was like a human that was twisted to crabwalk on all fours backwards. Its face was contorted into a black stretched out smile with no teeth. It had no eyes just black sockets. All its limbs were stretched out to an extra meter in length. It was a skinwalker of some kind with chalk-white skin. It was skittering away from the teen who was swinging his batat its head.

"Stop running! I told you before what would happen if I found you fucking with me again!" The boy meant it as he finally landed a hit and began wacking it over and over it.

The skin walker screeched and tried to run for its life but couldn't.

After reducing the monster into a black puddle the black-stained teen came back inside to sit back down not paying anymore to the monster blood he was covered in.

"Sorry about that. Most of the freaks around here have learned to stay away from this place. That one is new and he doesn't listen. You'd think they'd learn but Sting Bean thinks he can torment me. Petty bastard." The teen sighed "anyways are going to buy anything or are you going to waste what oxygen we get in here with this shitty ventilation.

Diana couldn't help but admire the boldness of the boy. He had no hesitation or fear against the beasts of this area even if was crude.

"Does Constantine have a cousin or something? Just a more angry one" Hall whispered to Hal.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Heart-Stopping

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Surgeon!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After a ten-hour surgery, all you want to do is go home and be with your husband. When he comes into the ER needing surgery, your entire world is turned upside down.

Square Filled: "Oh, don't worry, this blood isn't mine." (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You trudge out of the OR into the scrub room to clean your hands and arms. The surgery you were just in lasted an atrocious ten hours. You’ve gone for more, but this was so tough since the patient’s heart kept arresting and her blood vessels were so friable that it was hard to do any kind of stitches. Still, you managed to get her fixed and stable enough to be transferred to the ICU.

All you want to do is go home to your husband and cuddle until you fall asleep in his arms. He understands your job and how you can’t always be home with him. He’s in the FBI so he has the same demand even if he’s doing work that’s completely different. The reason your marriage works is that you two make it a point to call each other every day, plan an at-home date every week, a date anywhere that’s not your house every month, and have a small vacation every six months.

He’s your rock and you don’t know what you’d do without him in your life. He’s your biggest supporter and the love of your life.

You’re scrubbing away the sweat and grime from your hands when your pager goes off. You grab a microfiber towel and dry your hands before checking the pager. 911 ER. You toss the towel away and run out of the room hoping you can get to the ER in time. There is a patient who needs your attention and might die if you’re not there. It amazes you that you have so much energy after a surgery like that and maybe it’s because of the silent promise of saving as many people as you can.

You push the double doors open that lead into the ER and look around to see if you can spot the patient that needs you.

“Dr. Y/N! I need you to know that everything is okay…”

You can’t hear anything your resident says because all you’re focused on is your husband lying on a stretcher covered in blood. Your entire world comes crashing to a stop. You’re a very skilled heart doctor but it feels like your own heart is going to stop at the thought of your life without Spencer in it. His coworkers, Derek and Emily, are by his side without blood on their clothes.

“Y/N!” Derek grabs your shoulders and snaps you out of the silent panic you’re in. “He’s okay, I promise he’ll be fine.”

“What happened? Spencer!”

You rush over to him, and he grabs your hand gently.

“Oh, don’t worry, this blood isn’t mine,” he mumbles.

“What happened?” you ask Derek and Emily.

“There was an accident. He tried to save our victim and got caught in the crossfire. She’s right behind him.”

“Y/N, we’ll take care of him.”

You turn to see your chief of surgery and your best friend who has a determined yet empathetic look on his face. You can’t take care of your husband because he’s your husband so the only person you trust to take care of him is the chief.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Don’t let him die, please.”

“We go it. Go to Trauma One!”

Spencer is wheeled to the first trauma room just as the victim comes in right behind him. She, you can help. Spencer is wheeled into surgery to fix an injury on his leg while the general surgeon and neurosurgeon take the victim to surgery. If there is anything to be done on her heart, they’ll call you in. You’re stuck thinking about Spencer instead of being in surgery to take your mind off it. You leave Trauma Two and walk over to Emily and Derek who are talking to each other.

“What happened to him?”

“There was a car accident, the car the victim was in. They skidded on a patch of ice and the car slammed into a tree, ejecting the victim out of the windshield. Spencer was the first to her which is how he got all of her blood on him. Another car came around the corner and didn’t see the crashed vehicle, and they collided with it, sending shrapnel into Spencer’s leg. He lost a lot of blood on the way over here.”

“Shit,” you whisper with tears in your eyes.

“He’s going to be okay. You have a talented team of doctors here.”

“I know,” you nod.

There is no choice but to wait for Spencer to get out of surgery. When he is, they take him to a private room where you can sit with him. It takes twenty minutes for him to come out of the anesthesia, but he’s still pretty loopy from it.

“Hey, baby, how are you doing?”

You take out your stethoscope and check his heart and lungs, relief clouding your head when you don’t hear anything bad about it.

“Doctor… I need… I need some… some flowers.”

“Flowers? For what?”

“My wife. Her birthday is this weekend, and I want to get her flowers.”

Your heart swells happily at his little confession. He knows how much you love getting flowers. They brighten up even the darkest of places.

“It’s very important, please.” He rolls his head to the side and looks at you through hooded eyes. He doesn’t seem to recognize it’s his wife right in front of him. “I need you… Can you write her a card for me?”

“What do you want it to say?”

“I love her. Her eyes are pretty. She makes me so happy. Just say that.”

“Okay,” you grin with tears in your eyes.

Spencer’s eyes close and you sit next to his bed. You grab his hand and kiss the back of it, content with staying just like this until he wakes up.

x

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[wearethecyclones]

Tbh having BuckTommy thoughts on this Tuesday morning.

Imagine if their first fight comes about because Tommy gets hurt, or is presumed hurt for a bit. (Helicopter accident, Tommy ends up fine etc whatever.) Buck fusses over him a lot because he was so worried and he’s so relieved but he’s also being hypervigilant. Making sure he takes his pain killers with food, making sure he’s icing his shoulder, meal prepping for him so he can just warm stuff up, etc.

And Tommy just isn’t used to that. Tommy is used to deflecting with humor and being flippant. So we see a little of that vibe you get from him in s7. The “we’re all gonna die” and the “your dad’s alive” and the making a joke about needing a wing at the hospital for the 118 energy. (To be clear, I don’t think any of that is problematic or unkind.)

So he kinda hits Buck with a flippant comment like “maybe I should get hurt more often” or “I didn’t lose a leg this time” or whatever. And after a few of those, Buck loses his patience and is like “this is serious to me. I was scared I was going to lose you. I was scared you were going to be really hurt.” And Tommy tries to assure him like “yeah I get that, Evan, but I’m fine. You don’t have to baby me.”

And that turns into a little bit of a back and forth kinda argument. Buck saying he understands the risks of the job, he knows he’s fine this time, and this is how he’s coping with the fear and relief. Tommy saying that he understands that but he doesn’t NEED it. Buck frustrated and asking him why he’s resisting this, do they have a bigger problem here? Why are you being so flippant about this?

And finally, Tommy is just frustrated and resigned and says, “I’m not being flippant. I’m not used to this. I’ve never had this before. I don’t know what to do with it.”

Because he hasn’t really had someone to nurse him back to health since his mom or grandma when he was real tiny. And he’s always just had to shake things off and take care of himself. He didn’t even MIND that, he’s self-sufficient and tough.

Buck has always had Maddie or he’s had the 118. He’s always been hungry for the love and care and accepts it when it comes. After the lightning strike he was overwhelmed by it, sure, so he hid from it but he sought out the kind of care he actually needed and wanted instead. So he doesn’t get that.

Buck just tells Tommy, “You don’t have to do anything with it, just accept it. Or tell me to fuck off if that’s what you want.”

“It feels like it costs something.”

“With me, it doesn’t.”

“I don’t want to tell you to fuck off.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Then please let me deflect a little, I don’t know how to do this yet.”

And it’s suuuch a promise that he’ll try and that he wants to get used to Buck’s attention and care. And Buck is so sad that Tommy doesn’t know what to do with it but he’s also soooo into this guy.

End scene. I gotta stop avoiding my job now bye besties

[idyllcy]

you make me wanna make ya fall in love

word count: 1.97k || EMT Leon || slightly ooc + flirting (HIPAA violation)

summary: the 2000s called, they want their romcom plot back

"I'm actually gonna pass out." You sit on the couch, blinking rapidly as your head goes light.

"I called 911 already, so hang in there, alright?!" Ashley stays connected to the call, holding you up as you groan, stomach caving in on itself and your eyes giving out. Oh, god, is this how you die? You focus on breathing through your mouth, ignoring the way Ashley's voice is reduced to ringing and the way you're sweating buckets. Ew. Maybe you should've— oh. this is because you didn't eat, huh? It is 8pm. Yeah, this one's on you. Maybe the heavens will be nice and let a nice hot EMT show up to your door and save your ass— yeah, tough luck.

You can't believe you're about to pass out and all you can think about is men. You're literally failing the Bechdel test. What are you? Some poor girl in a teenage romcom? You're not even a teenager.

You close your eyes for some shut-eye, disrupted when you're shaken awake, blinking slowly as you catch sight of Ashley first, holding her chest in relief when you stare at her.

Then, you notice him—

Beautiful blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, arms hard as a rock, you might've just died and landed in heaven. Are you in heaven? Surely you must be. This man looks so gorgeous it's incredible. You have to be in heaven right now. You blink at him with doe-eyes, confusion visible on your face. Ashley's here, so you're not in heaven. Did you just happen to have a super hot EMT show up to your door like you had been imagining? Oh, god, are you... psychic? This is a revelation! This is insane! You have to—

No, seriously. You're not in a romcom. Can the narrator stop describing it like it's some sort of a romcom? The 2000s called, they want their cheesy romcom plotline back.

"Fucking hell." You groan, shifting against the wall. "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." The man reads. "You're just low in blood sugar. We have some orange juice, would you like that?"

"Yeah. Sure." You furrow your brows. "God, wow, count on my body to shut down without sugar."

"It happens." He thanks his coworker for the glass, holding it to your lips. "Tilt, please."

You tilt your head back slightly to press your lips to the glass, drinking it as you lean back to lick your lips, offering to take the glass from him as your arms start cooperating. "I can do it."

"Best not to." He nods. "Just finish the glass. We'll stay until your blood sugar rises."

"Isn't it almost immediate?"

"Takes around 15 minutes."

You raise a brow at Ashley, who shakes her head, and you finish the rest of the glass, watching as Leon checks your stats.

"How often does this happen..." You glance at his nameplate. "Leon?"

"More often than you'd think." He hums, tilting his head at you as Ashley talks to the other worker about your insurance. "Let me guess, you forgot to eat?"

"Yeah. My body stops feeling hunger after a certain point." You hum. "It's not super good, huh?"

"Yeah. Try to have some candy or juice throughout the day. It helps." He nods. "College student life, huh?"

You tilt your head. "How old are you?"

"Been a few years since school." He nods. "Your blood sugar's back to normal, sugar."

You hold your hand over your mouth, raising a brow at him. "That definitely breaks some sort of work protocol."

He smiles, sneaking you a candy from his pocket with a wink.

Huh. Hard caramel.

"Are you alright?" Ashley rests a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a thumbs up.

"All good." You lean against the wall to get up. "I should eat, though."

Leon grabs your arm, helping you up. "Definitely. Have something high in sugar or carbs."

"Will do, Leon." You nod. "Wishing you an uneventful work day. May no emergency be absolutely awful."

"Thank you. Those days are the best."

You send them off as Ashley starts nagging about not eating, and you pout as you lock eyes with her, door locked, ambulance gone.

"Yeah, he was hot."

"YEAH, HE WAS."

You forget about him, though. You start popping candy throughout the day, same brand as the one Leon had given you, your lips curled upwards sweetly when it hits your tongue. It's not food, but at least you won't be passing out because your blood sugar's low again.

You're also never going to see him again, so it's fine if you carry a piece of him around with you.

Except you do. You see him at the EMT booth at a local concert, Ashley in your arms because there's something wrong with her this time. (You really ought to start taking care of yourselves, huh?)

"Ah, sugar." Leon smiles. "Friend this time?"

"Yes." You set her down as he checks up on her. "Is she okay?"

"Seems fine. Just needs some water. Dehydration. How long you been out there?"

"Since morning." You glance at the venue. "Didn't eat either, though I've been having candy."

"That's not good for you, sugar." He hands Ashley a bottle of water, sending her off with you. "Go grab some food."

You watch as he fishes out a twenty from his pocket, blinking as he holds it out to you.

"I can't take that from you, sir."

"Nonsense. Concert food is expensive. It's on me." He smiles.

"You're still breaking workplace rules, I see." You rummage through your pockets, taking Leon's hand as you place a caramel in his hand. "As a thank you."

"I'm sure it'll be delicious later." He smiles. "Now, off you go. We've got quite a line."

"Wouldn't dream of holding you up, Leon." You lead Ashley to the side by the crowds, waiting for her to grab a drink before pulling her to grab something to eat. You pay for her food first, setting Ashley with the rest of your friends before waving to get something of your own.

"Get his number!" She manages to yell as you disappear into the crowd.

Now that's breaking protocol.

Yet, you use the remainder of Leon's money to get him something to eat, waiting for the line to dissipate slightly before handing him a drink.

"For me?"

"It's got... liquid IV in it." You scrunch your nose. "Hopefully that's not a scam."

"Not completely." He takes it from you, pinching at the straw to mix it. "Did you eat?"

"I was about to."

He glances at his coworker and then the intermission.

"That'd be bad, Kennedy." The woman next to him warns.

Leon sighs. "Have fun eating."

"Thank you again." You grin.

"Ah, and for dessert." He reaches for your hand, placing another candy in it. "A hard caramel."

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for caramels, Leon." You raise a brow, taking two steps back before throwing a wave his way. "I'll pay you back later!"

You grab dinner with the rest of your friends, waving bye to them when they leave to continue, Ashley making sure that you've got candy on you before she's gone. You have one final singer that you'd like to see before you leave the event. You're glad you live close to the venue. You could probably walk back or uber if you were really desperate. Though, you wonder just how long the EMT are staying.

You find yourself mixed into the crowd as you wait, jumping when your favorite artist finally appears, cheering with everyone else. You don't blame the rest of them for retiring early. You're the only one who listens to this artist anyway. The setlist has you jumping, cheering at the live vocals, yelling your heart out with the lyrics, and when the set finishes, the sun's almost down. It'd be smart of you to head out at this point.

You make a turn to head back, popping the caramel in your mouth, stopping in your tracks when a man blocks your way.

"Where ya off to, sweetheart?"

"...Oh, you know." You smile, nodding to excuse yourself.

"Need a ride home?"

"Truly, it's alright—"

"I insist."

You wrack your brain for a solution, yelping when you feel hands on your waist instead, pulling you backwards. Your back is flush against someone's chest, smile on his lips as you blink. Sure hope it's not some other creep.

"Hey, you good bro? Had one too many to drink? I suggest the EMT tent."

You let out a sigh in relief, watching as the guy notices the uniform and scrambles.

"Thank you." You turn around, smile on your lips as Leon nods.

"You're just too lovely, sugar. Gotta keep those flies off of ya." He nods. "You feeling alright?"

You nod.

"Gone all quiet on me?" He tilts his head. "Alright, up you go."

You yelp as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the crowd. He presses his forehead to yours to check your temperature, looking to the side when you don't react at all.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Leon. You didn't need to." You let him take your vitals, the tent practically empty now that the concert was finishing up. His coworker nods at him and heads out, and leaves you with Leon. That's gotta be illegal in some way. There is no way a law is not being broken right there. Aren't they both supposed to get off at the same time? Is that?? legal? Is their shift over?

"You seem fine." He kneels at your chair, fingers on your wrist as he takes your heartbeat. "Heart's a little fast, though."

"Yeah?" You mumble. You're sure you look embarrassed beyond belief right now, so you opt for sucking on the caramel in your mouth.

You're not surprised he takes notice. "Actually, I think my head's spinning just a little. Must be the lack of sugar. You got any on you?"

"Well, I kind of ate my last one..." You mumble, sticking your tongue out with the candy.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah?" You suck on the candy.

"Of course not, sugar." He leans in, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, who am I to say no?"

You let him kiss you, tongue with the caramel offered to him, sugar on your lips and his from it, though you would argue that the only reason the candy seemed to taste so good was because of him. You tilt your head to angle better, Leon's hands finding yours on the chair, pushing himself to you with a hum in his throat, tongue in your mouth as he steals the caramel from you. You don't mind. You might've just tasted a slice of heaven of your own.

You pant, tongue stuck out and mouth open as Leon shows you the candy on his tongue, smiling.

"You got a ride home, sugar?"

"You gonna kidnap me?" You raise a brow, licking your lips for whatever remnant of him is left on you.

"Not with this pretty lady, no." He smiles.

"Breaking work protocol again, I see."

"I'm off duty." He glances to the side as the new shift arrives, and Leon offers a hand to help you up. "Don't worry, sugar, you can pass out on my car. I've got all the candy you could want."

"Hm..." You tap your chin, taking his hand as he pulls you with him, not letting go.

"Hm what?"

"How about we grab brunch sometimes nearby? Just to make sure my sugar levels don't drop from forgetting to eat?" You tilt your head, watching as Leon tilts his head back to you.

"Oh, sugar. You don't even need to ask."

[violetlichen]

nobody puts my bald baby in a corner

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen / Named Atreides wife A little nsfw but that's not the point. Domestic family life. They have five kids and Feyd desperately wants another. Wifey won't oblige. Don't pay attention to the other characters and Houses I included, I don't know anything about Dune and I just pulled from the fandom wiki or made them up. Their son is not the Kwisatz Haderach either!

It has been five years since Feyd-Rautha last saw his wife swell with his child.

It is entirely by her design, and certainly not for lack of trying. He ravages her senseless almost every night, but after five children, the ever infuriating Diana Atreides refuses to give him another. As a Bene Gesserit, it is within her power to do so; the witches are able to bend their own reproduction to their will, and Feyd-Rautha believes she likes his methods of convincing her too much to give him what he wants.

Tonight, he almost has her hooked. He kisses her knee and up her bare thigh, licking and sucking the plush skin there. She barely acknowledges him and lets him fondle her as he pleases, lost in her own thoughts. 

“She’s too old for him. He’s just a boy.”

They are currently hosting several of the Great Houses. Earlier at dinner, he and Diana were approached by the Duke of Ginaz, who suggested they betroth his daughter to their oldest son, Aleksei. Diana had hidden her frown behind her glass of wine, but Feyd-Rautha had seen it and filed it away for later, thanking the Duke for his time.

He hums against her thigh, tongueing over the faint bruise he made. He can use this.

“He will be a man soon,” he reminds her. He pulls her leg over his shoulder as he shifts up the bed, now eye level with her weeping cunt. His mouth waters. “Even if we refuse this proposal, there will be others.”

He knows his wife wants to say more, but the words die in her throat when he shoves his nose against her, inhaling her scent and releasing a shaky breath. He pretends it is for her benefit, but really, this is all for him. With his fingers pulling apart the seam of her, his tongue lolls out, and Feyd-Rautha feasts. 

When he has had his fill of her pleasure, he crawls up the length of her body. She pants underneath him, back arching and eyes squeezing shut like a satisfied cat, her neck exposed and vulnerable. He licks off the sweat there.

“It will not stop with Aleksei,” he says, leaning over her.

Diana scowls. She shoves him, but he does not yield. He grasps her hand, pulling it away from his chest and up to his mouth, where he kisses her fingers.

He knows he is being cruel, rubbing salt in her wound. Her children are growing. At twelve years old, Aleksei is admittedly still too young to seriously consider for marriage, but the coming years will go by in a blink. First it will be Aleksei, then Nikita shortly after, and then Maxim – although their youngest and most unstable son will be difficult to pawn off, Feyd-Rautha thinks. 

His girls are another story. Sasha and Grisha were both gifted their mother’s beauty, but it is Grisha, their youngest, who takes after Feyd-Rautha the most. She is the only one of his children who did not inherit those dark Atreides curls. She is perfect; wholly Harkonnen, like her father. He knows he will feel how Diana does now when it is time for Grisha to leave his side.

It is why he fucks into his wife now, flexing his hips slowly and purposefully, so she feels every inch of his longing. He staves off the urge to empty himself inside of her prematurely, already aching to see her breasts swollen and leaking. 

He stops, trying to catch his breath. He pulls back from Diana to thumb over her pearl, grinding his length into her. “Shall I leave you like this, wife?” he asks her.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her hips chasing his fingers.

“I can give you what you want,” he taunts. “I will pump you full of my children happily. What is one more?”

Diana does not answer, but he sees her breaking, just as he is. He holds her legs open, jutting into the apex of them, growling as he stares her down, willing her to change her mind. She hides her fears behind her pleasure, hides the tear sliding down her cheek by turning her face into the pillow, taking what he gives her.

What is one more child? Certainly not the solution to her problem. It is only a delay of the inevitable, that one day they will all grow up and no longer need her. Feyd-Rautha knows this. But he hopes to delay his wife’s suffering, just as he will delay her gratification if she does not give him what he wants.

When he pumps his load into her, he knows she is not satisfied. He breathes through his own satisfaction, nose flaring like a bull, but she does not complain like he expected her to. She does not roll him over to claim him, or bring her fingers to her cunt to finish what he started, his eyes on her hole, full of his spend.

Instead she buries her face in her hands. Feyd-Rautha leans his weight onto her and pulls her hands away, revealing her face to him. She blinks at him, her lashes wet and clumping together.

He knows what she is feeling. “I feel it, too,” he says. “Let me give you another, my darling.”

Diana nods and looks away, breathing out a held breath. “Alright,” she says. Her eyes soften fondly when they focus on him again. “Alright.”

They lay together for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Feyd-Rautha does not know if tonight will be the night, but he hopes. He hopes she sees it the way he does -- a continuation of their happiness, not the eventual ending of it. He kisses every part of Diana he can reach, and she cuddles into him, their limbs a tangled mess. 

A little later into the night, a knock on the door breaks their comfortable silence. Feyd-Rautha grunts, already irritated, and removes himself from her, slipping on a robe and his pants.

When he opens the door, he finds a wide-eyed servant. “It is the children, Baron Harkonnen.”

Feyd-Rautha frowns and widens the door, panic souring him. “Where are they?”

“They are safe, Baron Harkonnen, but there has been a bit of trouble.”

Diana appears behind him, wrapping her robe around her waist. "What sort of trouble?" she asks, brow furrowed.

“It will be best if you follow me to the drawing room within the guest wing, Baroness.”

Diana whips past Feyd-Rautha and the servant, not waiting for either of them to lead her to the guest wing. Feyd-Rautha follows after her, and he knows to expect his boys. It is not the first time he was awoken by something they have done when they should have been sleeping, but it does concern him that they were found in the guest wing.

Although he is the youngest son, Maxim is the instigator of all things. Not as bright as the others, he is aggressive and impulsive, often letting his hands speak for him. He acts before he thinks, and it frustrates Diana greatly. Many nights Feyd-Rautha has been brought before Maxim in the kitchens, where he sticks his grubby hands into pies and picks at berries meant for the morning’s breakfast. The guards know not to let him out of his room at night without their explicit permission.

But as explosive as Maxim is, it is Aleksei who reminds Feyd-Rautha the most of his own brother, Beast Rabban. His oldest son is proud and quick to anger, easily riled by Maxim and his sisters who poke and prod at him in the ways only younger siblings can. Feyd-Rautha does his best to temper Aleksei, to show him the value in patience, in choosing his battles.

Nikita, self-sufficient boy that he is, waits until the battles are over and won to pick at what remains. He watches. Feyd-Rautha suspects Diana favors him over the others, though she will never admit it. 

All of them dote on their sisters. Sasha has them carry her around on their backs, even when they are tired and sore and agitated from their training. They still treat Grisha like she is their baby, although she is almost six years old now and loathes the comparison. 

Each of them, in their own ways, bring honor to their House. It is not something he had ever imagined for himself when thinking about his future. Feyd-Rautha is proud of his children, and he would not be disinclined to have another.

The chaos they find upon entering the drawing room is enough for him to change his mind.

The lord and lady from Zanbar, whose names Feyd-Rautha has forgotten, fawn over their young daughter, who sits upon an ottoman in front of the fireplace, her face red and streaked with tears. She cries as she pulls at what remains of her blonde hair. It has been crudely chopped off, the ends blunt and jagged like it had been sawed with a knife.

Their boys stand sullenly in front of the governess, disheveled in her bathrobe and still flustered from being awoken in the middle of the night to collect them. Aleksei folds his arms over his chest, his head full of curly dark hair held high. Next to him, Nikita remains calm in the face of their impending scolding. He very likely had done nothing wrong but bear witness to the antics of his rowdy brothers. Meanwhile, Maxim openly glares at the small weeping girl. She deserved what she got, and he is waiting for a reason to give her more to cry over.

“What happened?” Diana asks, dismayed.

“Your sons snuck into my daughter’s bedchamber and cut her hair off while she slept!” the lord’s wife snaps, borderline hysterical. “Where were her guards? How was this allowed to happen?”

She is reaching an unnatural decibel, but withers under the glare Feyd-Rautha shoots her. They were pulled from their bed for this? His darkening expression does not fully quell the lady's anger, and she gawks at her husband, willing him to say something.

"I'm sure there's an explanation," the lord offers unhelpfully, averting his timid gaze.

Diana stills, taking in the sight of the poor girl’s hacked hair. With a deep inhale, she turns to the boys, her hand finding her hip. “Explain yourselves.”

“She was mocking Grisha, mother,” Maxim says, scowling. “We heard her at dinner.”

Aleksei nods, more self-righteous and refined in his anger. “She laughed at Grisha and made her cry because she doesn’t have hair.” He sneers when the lord’s daughter wails a little louder at this, because she, too, does not have hair now. “She called her ugly.”

Diana looks heartbroken over this, but her Bene Gesserit training helps to quickly neutralize her face. She looks to Nikita. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I told them not to.”

Feyd-Rautha believes him. Nikita is no less ruthless, but he is also a diplomat by nature, preferring more uninvolved methods of justice or revenge. This boldness is certainly the work of his brothers.

Feyd-Rautha cannot wait to reward them handsomely for it.

Diana believes Nikita as well, for she turns back to the other two. “Apologize to Lady Rosalind.”

“But mother, she–”

“Enough,” Feyd-Rautha rasps, growing tired of the spectacle. “Do as your mother says, so we may all retire to our beds.” He shoots another glare at the lord and lady, who bluster under his attention, too afraid of him to protest again.

Aleksei and Maxim step forward and bow to the young girl. “We’re sorry,” they echo, not meaning it at all.

Knowing that is the best she will get from them, Diana exhales deeply and dismisses them back to their rooms, escorted by their governess to make sure they get there and do not take any more detours. Nikita follows, ever their solemn shadow. 

Diana kneels down beside Lady Rosalind. “Don’t fret. Hair grows back,” she soothes. The girl hiccups, and Diana gently brushes the hair out of her eyes before standing up to face her parents again. “I apologize on behalf of my sons. As you can see, they love their sister very much and do not take kindly to those who upset her.”

The lord and lady of Zanbar try to hide their grimaces. They know their indignancy is unfounded now that they know their daughter had started this. “Baroness, I must apologize–” the lord starts.

“That won’t be necessary,” Diana interrupts, putting a graceful hand up to stop him. “Let’s put this unpleasantness behind us. My husband and I will question our guards to understand how this was allowed to happen. Those responsible will be thoroughly punished.” She looks at Feyd-Rautha. “That includes our sons.”

This seems to satisfy the lord and lady enough to gather up their snot nosed daughter and leave, perhaps vowing to never step foot on Giedi Prime again. Feyd-Rautha will not miss them.

He and Diana walk back to their bedchamber in an agitated silence, until she breaks it.

“Still want another?” she asks him, deadpan.

“Not particularly. Would you still like me to thoroughly punish them?”

“Not particularly.”

Feyd-Rautha hums, and he reaches for her hand. 

The next morning, Feyd-Rautha walks over to Grisha where she sits on the wide stone fence, her little legs dangling over the side. The boys train in the yard, and she watches with her dolls, acting out the sparring techniques she sees with them. He kisses her head, smooth like his. She ignores him, too caught up in supervising the training of her dolls.

Feyd-Rautha smiles. “Who is winning?” he asks.

One of the dolls headbutts the other. Their yarn-like hair swings around violently. It is hard to tell under the light of the black sun, but he thinks one of them is blonde. That one plops to the ground, landing in the sand.

Grisha raises the hand of the victorious doll the way she sees her father raise his in the arena. “This one,” she tells him.

“Well fought,” Feyd-Rautha says proudly. He bends down to pick up the doll and hands it to her. He watches her run her fingers through the doll’s hair, brushing the sand out of it with great care.

One day, his daughter will train alongside her brothers. She will have no need for hair then. It would just get in her way, and make her easier to grab by her opponents. She will see the use in this, and appreciate what makes her Harkonnen.

For now, Feyd-Rautha cups her head and kisses her again. He calls her his beautiful girl, and returns to the yard, picking up where he and the boys left off.

[andcars]

# 𝗙𝟭-𝗕𝗙 ─── GETTING CAUGHT STREET-RACING MASTERLIST . . . REQUEST ME . . . TAGLIST . . . AO3

IT'S NOT LIKE YOU to back down from your boyfriend's talents. you go ahead and start street-racing—you never promised to be good at it. but it is just embarassing for your boyfriend to find you in a police station. ───── MV33 LH44 DR3 GR63

TAGS . . . # gender neutral reader, street-racing, light angst, light couple arguments, all happy and sweet ending TYPE OF FIC . . . # headcanons, imagine LENGTH . . . # 1.4k words (around 300w each driver)

MAX VERSTAPPEN should be mad, he really should be, but somehow he isn't. He gets the call in the middle of the night and is half-awake as he listens to an officer rattle on how you got arrested—he listened to an officer rattle in italian in the early morning. whatever it is that he just said went one ear and to another.

"i'm sorry?" he sat up, rubbing at his eyes and hear how the officer changed to English. okay, you got arrested for street racing in italy. in fucking italy. he's being asked to go in person to bail you out. in italy. at 3am. okay. fuck.

as much as he doesn’t want someone to wake up to drive the jet, he isn’t so much keen on driving either. max pays the pilot early and double the moment he sees him, feeling really bad.

he should be totally pissed, he should be. but you’re leaning against the bars pouting as you see him. he doesn’t want to be upset at you, but he feels like he should be.

he sighs and pays your bail. you’re still pouting when you see him, not saying a single word. “will you at least tell me you’re sorry?” he asks, trying to get something out of you. it doesn’t work. “schatje (sweetheart), i had to wake up our pilot for this. at least say sorry to him.”

poor guy. when you get let out, the first thing you do is apologize to monsieur garnier. he’s very kind about it. though, max was right, he did have to wake up early. you're not about to be much of a burden to a man like him.

max doesn't stay mad at you either. it's like he's incapable of it off-track. when both of you are dead tired on the bed, he just pets you asleep. “if you want to race, don’t get caught,” he said, only half awake. “and maybe don’t do it too much like me.”

LEWIS HAMILTON is embarrassed to have gotten the news from social media. it was no more than an hour ago when he checked twitter (he would never call it x) to your arrest. headlines: ‘LEWIS HAMILTON’S LOVER ARRESTED FOR STREET RACING’. the media didn’t even bother to mention your own name.

you bail yourself on your own and come home to an upset lewis. it’s the race weekend, he should be focusing on the race. instead, he can’t stop thinking about your race. one that, of course, you never told him about.

“how long has this been going on?” he asks first.

you shrug, collapsing on the hotel couch. “a few months now.”

“months—“ he gasps into his hands, running them over his head. “and i only found out now?”

you shrug and turn away from him. “it’s my life,” you argue, “and it’s not like i’m the only one with a dirty history in racing.”

you’re bringing up spygate, he knows that. he calms himself before he could say anything hurtful towards you. “i do it in a safe environment—“

“people die during races, lewis”

“—and i play it safe!” lewis has to walk away from this building argument. “baby, i love you, but i don’t think you can compare formula one racing to street-racing. i need you to promise you won’t do this again.”

sure, street-racing is a fun hobby. and you’re still right about formula one racing being just as dangerous. but there’s some things you have to work on in a relationship. finding a middle ground. you sigh, turning to him, “i’ll only race if you can come then.”

he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack.

DANIEL RICCIARDO wouldn’t say he’s a bad influence. however, it’s not like he’s innocent when it comes to this new hobby of yours either. yeah, he never told you to go ahead and start racing like a madman like he was with max on a redbull. but the message was still the same.

the message, of course, simply being: ‘i always wanted to try street-racing. i bet you’d look good doing it.’

it’s on your third race that you got arrested. you phone him yourself and he arrives in the police station with a worried face. he’s not upset, he’s fucking relieved you’re alive.

he asks the officer what happened and is hit in the gut with the fact that you went street-racing. you don’t even look at him to see the disappointed look on his face. it’s embarrassing. you did this just to look cool in your boyfriend’s eyes and it failed. you thought you had more time to improve.

you’re bailed and you and him walk out. “so…” he trails, voice surprisingly calm, “why’d you get arrested?”

weird question. “street-racing?”

he laughs and you finally look at him. he’s just got this stupid smile on his face as he looks at you. “no, i know you got arrested for street-racing, baby. i just wanna know what did you do to get caught?”

a grunt left you as you remember how it went. “one of those fuckers i race with fucking drove me to the side of the road. almost crashed into the river, but i didn’t. the cops manage to arrest only me.”

“aw,” he places an arm around your shoulder and pats your head. “you think they’ll be scared if an f1 driver were to race with them? i gotta make sure you’re protected somehow.”

there’s really just so many things daniel can surprise you with. you don’t know how he managed to surprise you with this too. “you do know we’re like couple of steps away from a police station, right?”

he shrugs. “it’s unfair if only you can be the one to brag that your lover races.”

“i don’t think you can actually brag to anyone that i illegally race, daniel.” he laughs and already is planning how to keep you safe while you enjoy your dangerous little hobby.

GEORGE RUSSEL got the news from a fan. a fan. he can't name a more embarassing moment than someone asking him if he approves of his partner's street-racing. you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to the race because you were with your family. you were not, in fact, with your family.

he arrives at the police station and you're walking back and forth in a cell with some of your buddies. he's red faced as he talks to the police officers and pays for your bail. his heart churns a little when he hears that you're also being fined for destruction of public property. holy shit.

"george—" you try to talk to him but he continues to walk in front of you. a sigh leaves you. "come on, george, i'm really sorry."

he doesn't say anything. however, he does open the door for you to get in. you're not one to turn down the littlest bit of mercy from your boyfriend.

it's unclear to you how you're supposed to fix all of this. you didn't think it was that big of a deal! it's that you made a small mistake, and one of the guys got a little bit too competitive. of course, it was never in the plan to make george find out about this little hobby of yours.

it's at home when he finally talks to you. he asks you, "are you okay?"

"yes," you don't pick a fight with him about how he only asks that now. "i'm okay."

"good," he drops his anger quickly as he embraces you. "why didn't you tell me?"

burying your face in his shoulder, you're hesitating to tell him. "i don't know..."

he calls your name and you give in. "it's just that i wanted to be like you, in a way. but i'm too fucking old for karting now, i doubt anyone would take me in."

gently, he pulls you away to caress your face. he looks at you like you've done no wrong, like an utter angel in his eyes. he tells you, "baby, if you wanted to go racing then we could go racing. hell, maybe i could pay someone to give us a circuit for a while and we can go karting ourselves."

"it's not the same—"

"of course it's not the same," he cuts you off. "because it's gonna be you and me. not you and some random people that are probably out for blood. it's you, who loves me. and me, who loves you. we'll both be safe and i can be there to watch you win."

your heart hurts from how much george loves you. a smile comes to you and he immediately kisses your forehead. you tell him, "you'll never let me win."

he laughs, "yeah, i won't."

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . i am alive ~ anyways. here's a funky little thing. i love the idea of street-racing so bad even though i have no knowledge about it other than drive fast recklessly. also ! i'm opening up a prompt list soon for requests so if you have any ideas for prompts (dialogues and tags), feel free to send it over to my inbox or comment ! ˎˊ˗ ᝰ.

──── 📨 @delululeclerc @coconut-dreamz

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

[kick-a-long]

i find it so desperately sad that goyim generally would be so much less antisemitic if jews started physically fighting back with guns or sticks in every country. calling for the murder of muslims all over the world, if the jewish population was big enough to have large scary groups of crazy fringe fundamentalist synagogues all over the world, a billion strong, that preached murder and hate so goyim could look down on jews like some noble savage in need of assistance and western education and protection. so we could be reformed in obvious patronizing ways because there were so many of us that we had militant violent fringe extremists, like christians and muslims have, mixed in with the normal jews.

if jews didn't have such a reputation for success and intelligence maybe conspiracy theories would stop blaming us for controlling the world. if we felt less in danger maybe we wouldn't be so obsessed with long term survival.

is antisemitism some warped form of envy? maybe. what sucks is that jews are no better or worse than anyone else. some jews are brutes and some are the most wonderful people imaginable, just like any other group. what sucks is we don't all live up to the reputation of tactical geniuses and wizards with mind control magic. all of us jews are just tired and abused humans who have lived with 2000+ years of generational trauma and the endless fall out from a popular jewish book written 3000+ years ago describing the best practices of jewish culture. It has some great stories, histories, life advice, diet recommendations, hygiene, and rules about how to treat others.

is that such a crime?

trying to show a path forward? not demanding anyone else follow those rules but wanting to do our best to follow them anyway? how to live a good life that makes the world better and makes you proud to have been on earth for the time you were there? jews fail to do this all the time, just like everyone else. I fail all the time. why are people so obsessed with that? people say shylock is a stereotyped antisemitic character but,

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

so why do jews always have to be the better man? why do we have to apologize for being angry and sad and hating the people that attack us? that was written by Shakespeare, a christian in the 1600s who often was in debt to jewish money lenders, the only profession left to jews at that time. even he saw the double standard. it makes a good point.

now, i don't want vengeance, i don't want violence, but i feel vengeful. i feel angry that i am unsafe because of play actors and terrorist supporters who want revenge for jews existing but scream bloody murder when jews refuse to dig their own graves, beg forgiveness for ever being born, and lay down in them to be mocked and pissed on and abused in the worst ways imaginable for the entertainment and conquest of it. i want peace with them. they are as human as i am, full of foibles and anger. i want nothing to do with them. i want them to never come near a jew again for the rest of time.

i am sad. all i want is to feel my feelings and advocate for what is the most ethical and practical work around to a world filled with unending suffering while i am still alive. i want them on thier side to live in the world they want and me on my side to live in the world i want. why don't these children of all ages, lost in delusions of fantastical battles and ultimate good and evil, see that? why can't I be a human first as well as a jew first? why do they ask me to pick? why am i not allowed to pick?

it's been almost a year. we're all so tired.

I'm going to a music festival. I'm trying to decide whether to wear a star. why is it dangerous to wear a star around my neck?

[stormyelliotwritez]

do u think that like dating poolverine would you meet one over the other first or both at the same time and like how would that happen like omg the thoughts in my brain are thinking so hard rn. like. who falls first. how do yall get tgt. that kinda stuff.

i feel like theres so many ways this could go but i wanna hear your opinions… c:

okay okay okay, i have thoughts and thanks for this!!!

so if you’re a merc/hero like them and you meet after dp&w:

you meet deadpool first and you guys playfully flirt and you against your better judgement find yourself falling for him

hes oblivious af coz he can’t stop thinking about wolvie

he invites you over for like dinner and some drinks coz he wants wolvie to make friends

logan can smell the want and the affection on you and he can hear your heartbeat racing when you talk to them

he tells wade and it clicks for him and he realizes wait he can like you too so he falls for you and then logan does too

you get together by play flirting and then it becoming real flirting and then they’re inviting you to stay the night and soon enough you’re moving in and being cuddled all the time

if you’re in the void and you’re like a hero ig

they meet you in the building with elektra and gambit and blade and laura

you’ve been there so long that you don’t even care about romance and all that coz who has the time when smoke tries to eat you

wades so taken in by everything that he doesn’t really notice you but logan does and hes like damn that guys hot and emotionally dead so just his type

he starts initiating conversations and flirting with you like an old man by offering you a beer and teasing you

if you die at cassandra’s, he asks b-15 to bring you back and them wade falls for you when he sees how you and logan are so good for each other

if you go with them to go to wades home, wade falls for you when you help them fight the other hims (totally not mostly coz you’re hot when you fight)

you three get together after the events of the movie when you and logan have moved in with wade and it just kinda happens

If you’re their neighbor:

wade sees you around and mentions you to logan every so often

they kinda stalk you, well normal people would call it stalking but they just make sure you get home safe and nobody annoys you

after a while, you start noticing them around and you end up with a crush on them

so if you make it look like someones scaring you, then that’s your own business

they save you and then Wade immediately starts flirting with you and logans just like wanna have a beer and like any slightly not sane person, you say yes to the two men who’ve technically been stalking you

you guys get together by just the normal way of talking, then going on dates and then dating

those are what i can think of at the moment but if anyone wants to know my opinion of how you’d get with them in other scenarios, please ask me!!!!

[temmtamm]

I need you to write SOMETHING about yan Ford locking up (gn) reader slskxlflwld please I need him,,,,,,,, ogh

It wasn’t an easy feat to do this, y’know??

Really, he’d expect more appreciation on your part. Don’t you see all that he is putting on the line just for you? But, no. He supposes it is to hasty for a wild animal to suddenly get used to being loved and having a home.

And trust, that IS what you are. A wild, stray dog. One he intends on domesticating.

After all, it would do you no good to live on your own in a town like Gravity Falls. Too many creatures who would tear you limb from limb if given the chance.

Really, it’s much more preferable that he found you than the others.

…

Now, suuure, he may have found you through unconventional ways—But, hey!! Every Romcom starts with miscommunication!!

…His just happened to be him tracking you down after seeing you at the Mystery Shack, finding your home, your family, your first pets name.

It was all in the name of research, however!! Research is what he does best!! He can pick apart and dissect any topic of interest with enough time.

You just so happened to be his latest topic of interest.

—

“You have to eat, y’know?” Ford knelt down next to your curled in form laying weak on the ground, malnourished, sick, with sweat clinging to your skin and hair that hasn’t been washed in days. No matter, he’s seen worse. He’s lived through worse. They don’t exactly have showers in every single dimension, so a couple months is nothing compared to his nearly 30 years without a shower.

You didn’t respond. That has been your new gimmick lately, he noticed. You’re newest stage of grief.

You’ve already went through anger, bargaining, denial—Now, he just had to deal with your depression before he could get to the sweet ivory bliss that was acceptance.

He’d be waiting with bated breath for when you accepted him and how good this truly was for you, when you’d lean into his touch rather than jerk away.

Maybe then you can finally see more of the house than the basement—So long as you don’t snitch to the others why you’re here.

First things first, however, he needed to make sure you were healthy.

“I said eat.” He huffed, thick bushy brows knitting together as his tone grew more stern. That’s how he usually got his way, he noticed. He had to intimidate you. That’s what he had to do to stop you from stabbing him with his pens, to stop you from using any broken shards of glass to cut yourself, and to stop your from telling him how much you hated him.

Strangely enough, however, it didn’t work this time. If he had to guess, this was your new way of getting back at him, of not giving him the satisfaction of taking care of you. You’d sooner die from starvation than eat anything he cooked.

Too bad he wasn’t letting you. “They always want it the hard way..” Ford sighed, shaking his head before one of his hands jutted out, grabbing at your jaw, already so sore and bruised from the other times when he was…less than kind when handling you. It’d stop if you stopped biting, y’know.

“Glk—“ A choked gag left your lips, your nose wrinkling as your eyes grew misty from the pain. You tried to stay strong, to fight against him, though, inevitably, your mouth parted to let out a cry of pain. “Stop—“

You barely had time before a metal spoon was forced down your gullet, burning hot chili following it. You weren’t allowed solids yet.

Your eyes watered further, feeling it burn at your tender flesh and gums, making you swish it around, desperate to alleviate some of the pain before giving up, swallowing to make the pain, and food go away.

You hated that defeat tasted so good, especially with how you had been neglecting yourself lately.

“There we go,” You hated how Ford cooed even more. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

A pathetic groan left your lips, with your head ducking back in to hide in your curled up form as he reached out, a rough, calloused six-fingers palm petting and playing with your hair as you laid like a old, tired dog.

…The feeling was soft and sweet, contrasting how tired and sore your bones were.

“There we go…Good dog.”

[eccentricallygothic]

| Just A Little Bit Colder |

You are having a Sunday BBQ with your Bf's family but his Dad!Captain Price and you…

Warning(s): Infidelity with Bf's Dad, rough unprotected p-in-v, doggy style, feeling of guilt, spanking, manhandling, age gap, hair pulling, he is lowkey bossy, m!dom, f!sub, sir kink, mild dacryphilia bc the D is so good, Price's BDE, pinching, brat taming, Daddy kink, light overstimulation, creampie. MDNI.

Part of the Older verse, apparently.

Your eyes are glazed and widened as you watch your boyfriend who, while tending to the grill on the patio, laughs along to something his mother says from where you can see him through the window of the wine cellar. If it weren't for how dazed your mind is, you would have felt the tense knot that you can only identify as guilt form in the base of your chest. 

But as the older man behind you grunts and curses under his breath before landing a smack on your blushing ass from behind, your eyes cannot help but roll to the top of your head, making you nearly drop one of the wine bottles that you are hugging tightly to your chest.

Bottles that the two of you are supposed to be fetching…

“W- We— hnng!” You nearly double over when Captain Price steers you around and towards the wine racks again by rough handfuls of your hips, his hot and hard cock pistoning in and out of your noisy cunt whilst his tip abuses your sensitive spot with each thrust. “Someone w- will hear—!” You nearly go head first into the bottles that neatly line the rows due to how the cruel man forces you to walk on your wobbling knees whilst he blows into you from behind. “We'll get caugh— auggh— awt!” 

Captain Price has to reach out to grip your hair to stop you from falling down, his nose flared from how hard and fast his fucking of your youthful little pussy is. “Then I suppose we should be quiet and not make noise, eh, babygirl?” His accent gets so thick during these moments that you barely understand him sometimes. And it only makes you clench harder. “Come on, now” you shake your head no as a snot bubble bursts from the mess he has made of you. He always does. “Grab that one from the fourth row, fifth bottle from the left.” Amidst your turbulent fuck, you had somehow managed to place the bottles that you were previously holding in the padded basket that the man had brought.

You weakly shake your head as you bite back a sob and sway towards the rack before holding it for support when he lets go of your hair. “I can't! I can't, sir,” he likes you to call him that sometimes. “I am sorry!” The smell of sex permeates the air and the only sound you can hear over the thumps of your heart is that of his skin clapping against yours. 

“But you can” you feel his rough hand smack your ass again. “And you will” the next hit sends you spasming and shuddering as you begin to cum hard. “Get to it” but he pulls you backwards into his chest by a handful of one of your boobs so he can dip his hands between your clammy petals to rub at your cunt. 

“No! No! Oh, God! YES!” It feels good but to such an intense extent that you cannot decide whether you want it or not. Your body tries to curl in on itself so he hooks one arm under your armpits to lift you off the ground to prevent your violent flailing from interfering with his own orgasm that now shadows over his edge due to how hot and tight yours feels around his cock. “Gggg! Hhggg!” Your body collapses on his as you literally dangle from his cock, the jabs bouncing you upwards with each thrust like you're no heavier than a cock sleeve. “Ohmigoshhhh!” Your hiss runs into eventual silence but doesn't die out because of his treatment of your pussy and you tremble pathetically. 

“Are we ’aving fun yet?” His voice is so firm that it makes you clench around him from the sensitivity. “Was that silly little antic of ours worth it, then?” The pinch he administers to one of your pussy lips is mean and you quickly shudder out the well due apology. 

“S- Sorry, sir… So sorry, sir…” His fingers feel raw against your cunt and you're on the brink of the post cum half orgasm this always brings you to. 

“Should I expect a repeat of that, or?” His mustache tickles the skin of your soft cheek as he grips your jaw with his cum covered hand now, pressing your faces together so you can hear his menacing whispers in their full intensity. 

“N- No, sir… No, sorry…” Your broken words tip him over the edge and he begins to paint your overstimulated walls with his cum, still stubbornly moving his fingers over your sensitive folds. “Oh!” The barrage of your tears finally breaks loose and you begin to cum again, feeling his hot cum deep up your cervix. 

Making you cum has never been a problem for your boyfriend's father Captain John Price.

“Tha’s fuckin' right” he urgently lowers you both until he's on his knees, your flushed cheek touches the cool ground and Captain Price holds the lower part of your body up and spreads it out so he can properly fuck out his orgasm until your puffy cunt is stuffed full of his creamy cum and your walls are raw from the friction. “So don't fuckin' try your Daddy again.”

Okay, so.

You had, during a particularly cheeky moment, teased him about being old and challenged him that he did not have the courage or stamina to take you and finish in time without getting caught when you were helping with the moving of the BBQ contents to the patio. Before your boyfriend's dad could have had the chance to answer safely, you were already walking out the kitchen backdoor with his son, a devilish sway to your hips and a teasing smirk on your face. 

The man had just watched you then, silent and unreadable as his own wife had approached him. 

And then he had requested you to help him with fetching the wine after he had rejoined the party with his own share of the ‘carry out’ items.

As your cheek rubs against the floor and your drool forms a little puddle next to your mouth, you reckon it is safe to say that you are not going to be challenging your boyfriend's dad anytime soon.

Or…

Are you?

MASTERLIST

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

AAAAA OH MY GOD<3333333 Please do a part 2 to hold me, console me, im eating it up

The angst is delicious, thank you<333333

Hold me, console me (part 2)

Theworst!logan x reader (part 1)

A/N: I know this goes without saying but I am a WHORE for broke men and the “I can fix him trope”, Logan fits just that. LEMME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!! (not proofread btw)

You find yourself standing in front of a familiar door that morning—Wade's door. He had been the one to play matchmaker between you and Logan, always eager to meddle in his own chaotic way.

‘Sweet and sour, just how I like my cu-‘ he used to tease about your dynamic, though he never meant harm. How could he, when all you did was bring him and Al delicious dinners and baked goods? Wade would’ve married you himself if Vanessa weren’t in the picture. ‘You’re my twin flame,’ he’d often joke, even though you were nothing like him. You were quiet, reserved, and detested socializing unless it was within the comfort of either your or Wade’s apartment.

Now, here you are, on the morning of your worst heartbreak, clutching a tub of ice cream and a bag of microwavable popcorn outside his door.

Three sharp knocks echo in the hallway. You hear a clatter from inside, followed by a string of muffled curses, until the door swings open to reveal a face that knocks the air right out of you.

Logan.

“Oh...” Your eyes widen as you freeze, a storm of emotions brewing within you.

Before you can stop yourself, you push past him, setting down the ice cream and popcorn on a nearby table. When you turn around, your face is met with the solid wall of his chest. He looks down at you, sorrow etched deep into his features. And suddenly, everything boils over.

“You,” you spit, fire blazing in your eyes. You strike his chest, again and again, and he lets you—lets you unleash your frustration, your anger, because he knows he deserves it.

“You left. No warning, no note. You were just... gone! Clothes packed, phone off! What were you thinking? I begged you to stay, Logan. I begged.” Your voice cracks, and the tears come, burning hot down your cheeks. But all you notice is the tears in his eyes, and the soft rustle of movement from the kitchen where Wade is likely listening.

You try to ignore the thought of Al and Wade overhearing your heartbreak, keeping your tear-blurred gaze fixed on Logan.

“Bub—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “I know it’s hard, Logan. I do. I was there when Wade went through his worst. I’ve stood by friends in their darkest days. I want to be there for you, through everything. But you shut me out.”

Your voice trembles, betraying you, and you see him instinctively move to hold you, but you step back, wiping at your tears. The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable, but you continue.

“I’m sorry if you think I’m pushing you too hard. I’m sorry if I ask for too much. But I love you, Logan. And no matter how much you run, I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

The silence between you lingers, thick with unsaid words, before it’s broken by slow clapping from the kitchen.

“You really hit him with that one, sweets,” Wade’s voice calls out. “No, seriously, I was just telling him he should’ve dealt with his frustration by boning you—”

But Wade’s words are cut short. Before you know it, Logan’s grabbed your wrist and is pulling you toward the door, past Wade’s crude commentary. He leads you out of Wade's apartment, two doors down to your own, ignoring the continued yells from Wade behind you.

“Logan, what—?” you barely get the words out before his arms are around you, lifting you from the waist until your face is nestled against the crook of his neck. You feel the warmth of his tears against your skin, his body trembling with quiet sobs.

You hold him, your hands moving to comfort him, running through his hair, soothing his ragged breathing.

“You—” he starts, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “In my world... you died. I killed you. I let you die.” His voice shakes as the sobs take over. “I never meant to... I didn’t mean to let them die, bub.”

You feel his knees give way, and the two of you sink to the cold hallway floor. He’s crying harder now, his grip tightening around you as if letting go might make you disappear too.

“I’m sorry, I’m so—”

“Shhh,” you whisper, cutting him off softly. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

He clings to you, his desperation palpable. You pull away just enough to cup his face in your hands. “Look at me, Logan. I’m alive. You didn’t lose me—not here.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, feeling his breath begin to slow, then to his tear-soaked eyelids. You kiss him softly, murmuring gentle reassurances between each touch.

“I’m here. I’ll hold you. I’ll love you. Forever. Does that sound like a deal?”

As you cradle Logan’s face in your hands, his breathing starts to slow. The raw emotion in his eyes begins to soften, though the weight of everything still lingers in the air between you. He looks at you, truly seeing you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, a small, shaky smile begins to form on his lips. It’s brief, but it’s there. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t say that,” you reply softly. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the cold floor grounding you both in the present. His arms are still tight around your waist, as though letting go might shatter the fragile peace you’ve found. You stay like that, the world outside your apartment and Wade’s chaotic energy fading into the background.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your hands sliding from his face to his shoulders.

“Come on,” you say gently. “Let’s get up. You’re going to catch a cold sitting here, even if it’s for a little bit.” You say, aware of his super healing.

Logan hesitates, as if reluctant to let go of the closeness, but then he nods. You both stand slowly, your legs shaky from the emotional intensity. Without a word, you lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

Inside, the dim lighting casts a soft glow over the room. It’s quiet, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that just unraveled in the hallway. You sit on the couch, and Logan follows, sitting beside you. There’s still a heaviness in his movements, a man weighed down by too many ghosts from his past, but he’s here. He’s with you.

For a few minutes, the silence is comfortable. You lean against him, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is a soothing reminder that despite everything, you’re both still here—alive, together.

“You don’t have to talk,” you say softly, sensing the turmoil still swirling inside him. “Not now. Not until you’re ready.”

Logan’s thumb traces slow circles on your shoulder, a sign that he’s listening. After a moment, he speaks, his voice quiet but steady.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he admits. “But... I want to try.”

You turn to face him, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and sadness. “That’s all I need to hear.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sorry for leaving,” he whispers. “For everything.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. But you’re here now. And we’ll figure it out. Together.” You reach for his hand, giving it three squeezes before reaching up to give him a peck, one of reassurance.

For the first time in a long while, you both let the quiet settle, not out of avoidance, but out of mutual understanding. The journey ahead might not be easy, but it’s a path you’ll walk side by side. As the minutes tick by, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. You’re not alone in this—neither of you are. And for now, that’s enough.

Suddenly, a loud knock on your door breaks the silence that makes you jump, followed by Wade’s unmistakable voice shouting through the wood.

“Hey! Are you two done with the emotional stuff yet? I’ve got pancakes in here, and they’re getting cold!”

You exchange a glance with Logan, both of you barely suppressing a laugh. The tension in the room eases just a bit, the smallest sliver of normalcy creeping back in.

“We should probably go before he kicks the door down,” you say with a smirk.

Logan stands and offers you a hand, his expression a little lighter now. “Yeah,” he agrees, a small but genuine smile finally reaching his eyes.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both walk back toward the world—not broken, but healing, one step at a time.

[rekino2114]

Yello! Fem Gojo X male reader forbidden love. What I mean is like Fem Gojo is a clan heiress of the gojo clan and male reader is a normal person, and they have been friends since childhood. But her status of the strongest and reader status as a normal human is keeping them from each other.

Forbidden love with fem.gojo

A/n:in this au the rest of the gojo clan is still around (do we even know what happened to them?)

You and satori gojo had always been best friends ever since you were small children, playing together in the courtyard of the gojo mansion. even when her parents told her not to, she still hung out with you. Around you, she didn't feel the pressure of being the heir of one of the big three clans, she was just a normal girl, not the strongest.

As she grew up and went to jujutsu High, you two could see each other less and less, which was a shame since you both realized you actually wanted to be more than friends but both of you were too scared to ruin your friendship so you didn't act on your feelings.

That was until after a conversation with geto and shoko she decided to confess, the strongest sorcerer shouldn't be afraid of a simple confession after all(she really really was actually) she teleported to your house with a bouquet of flowers and said she wanted to talk to you.

Before confessing, she decided she should reveal to you the existence of curses and sorcerery. She brought you cursed energy infused glasses so you could see the curses outside and killed them easily to demonstrate her powers and revealing to you that she's the strongest.

After you took all of that in, satori dropped another bombshell telling you that she loved you, and to her surprise, you confessed that you loved her too so you started your relationship.

Unfortunately, this wasn't easy as gojo's family still didn't want her interacting with you, so you had to keep your relationship a secret, only hanging out when gojo wasn't at school or didn't have to train which really wasn't that much time.

You comforted her when geto left her, and when she became an adult you were practically the only person she could truly rely on, and even then, her family considered you lesser than her. She wanted to yell at them every time they said something like this and even considered killing them, especially after the incident with geto, but she stopped herself from doing so to not reveal your relationship.

Gojo couldn't care less that you're not a sorcerer. You're her boyfriend, the only person she can truly be herself around. She loves you, and the rest of the gojo clan can die for all she cares. She only wants to have you forever.

"Satori, don't you have to go teach now?"

"It's fiiiiiine I wanted to make out with you a bit more, I can literally teleport anyway"

"*sighs* alright, just make sure no one sees us"

[welcometomytrashcan]

Before the Dawn: Chapter III // Logan Howlett

Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader Chapter 3/4 Read Chapter 2 here Word Count: 1369

Background: You are a mutant with hydrokinetic abilities (think Percy Jackson meets the mermaids from H2O), and arrived at the X-Mansion 4 months before Logan. You started dating Logan after the events of X-Men but before he left for Alkali Lake. You are both in love with each other but have yet to confess it. Takes place within the events of X2, Canon violence, pre-established relationship

With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you and Logan sprinted through the collapsing base. The roar of the dam’s crumbling structure echoed through the metal corridors, water already starting to flood certain sections. But that wasn’t your focus. Right now, you had to find Stryker and stop him—once and for all.

As you stepped outside, you spotted Stryker near a helicopter, preparing for takeoff. Logan moved fast, grabbing Stryker by the throat and slamming him against the helicopter, driving his claws into his sides.

Stryker screamed in agony.

"How does it feel, bub?" Logan growled.

Stryker gasped, "Why did you come back?"

"You cut me open. Took my life. You tried to take Y/N's too," Logan snarled.

Stryker managed a twisted smile. "You make it sound like I stole something. You volunteered for the procedure. As for Y/N... I wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity."

Logan's claws dug in deeper, and Stryker winced.

"Who am I?" Logan demanded.

Stryker smirked. "You're a failed experiment. If you knew your past—the kind of person you were, the work we did—you’d know people don’t change. You were an animal then, Wolverine. You still are."

Stryker glanced at you with a cold grin. "He’s still an animal now."

He turned back to Logan. "I just gave you claws."

Suddenly, an alarm blared from the distance. The ground trembled as the sound of metal screeching and concrete cracking filled the air.

"What the hell is that?" you asked, alarmed.

Logan pressed his claws deeper into Stryker, demanding, "What is it?!"

"The dam’s ruptured," Stryker said through clenched teeth. "It’s going to flood the spillway. It’s too late. In a few minutes, we’ll all be underwater."

You and Logan exchanged a tense look. Stryker glanced between you both, sneering. "You can’t save your friends. They’re as good as dead."

He turned back to Logan. "You’re a survivor. Always have been."

Logan’s face hardened. "I thought I was just an animal—with claws. If we die, you die."

Without hesitation, Logan ripped his claws out of Stryker and shoved him against the helicopter’s wheel, securing him with a chain. You stepped forward, melting the snow beneath him and freezing it again, pinning him to the ground.

"We have to find the others," you said urgently, pulling Logan’s attention back to the base. The rumble of the dam breaking grew louder.

As you started to walk away, Stryker shouted after you both. "There are no answers that way!"

Ignoring him, the two of you raced back toward the base. Jean, Scott, Storm, the students—they all needed to get out before the dam collapsed completely.

The base was shaking violently by the time you reached the others. They were about to head down a pathway that would’ve led them to certain death. Logan thrust his claws into a control panel, slamming a door shut.

"You don’t want to go that way," you called out. "Follow us!"

You helped guide the group back outside, everyone moving as quickly as they could through the snow. But when you reached the spot where the helicopter had been, it was gone.

"Damn it," Logan muttered, scanning the horizon. Panic started to creep in, but then, through the clouds, you saw it—the jet. Rogue was at the controls, with Bobby helping her.

The jet descended, wobbling dangerously as Rogue struggled to keep it steady.

"She’s not going to make it," you said, fear creeping into your voice.

Rogue managed to land the jet roughly onto the ground.

"Go help them onto the jet!" Logan ordered, his tone sharp but firm. "I’ll catch up."

"What about you? What are you—"

"I need to take care of something," he interrupted. "Go."

Reluctantly, you nodded and ran toward the others, helping them board the unstable jet. Despite the chaos, you kept it together, focused on getting everyone to safety.

Once everyone was aboard, you glanced back and saw Logan confronting Stryker again. Stryker was chained up, thanks to Magneto, and Logan stood below him.

"Who has the answers, Wolverine?" Stryker taunted. "Those people? That creature you’re with?"

Logan didn’t reply. He glared up at the man who had ruined his life, the man who had turned the woman he loved into his own weapon. “I’ll take my chances,” Logan spat, tearing off his dog tags and dropping them at Stryker’s feet before turning his back on him.

As Logan walked away, Stryker shouted after him. "One day, someone will finish what I started, Wolverine! One day!"

Logan jogged back to the jet, leaping inside just as the ground shook violently beneath you. The dam was about to burst.

"Are you okay?" you asked as he rejoined you, your hand brushing down his arm in comfort.

Logan gave a small nod. "I am now."

He planted a firm kiss on your forehead.

"Come on, get us out of here!" he called, strapping himself in.

Storm and Scott scrambled to start the jet, but the engines sputtered and failed. The cabin filled with tension as everyone realized that the water was coming fast.

“Why isn’t it working?” you yelled, fear rising in your throat as the water rushed toward the jet.

And then, in the chaos, Charles’ voice softly called out. “Jean?”

You looked around, suddenly realizing Jean was missing. Panic gripped you, and you shot a glance toward Scott, who was frantically looking around as well.

“She’s gone,” Scott muttered, his voice strained. “Jean… where is she?”

You bolted to the back of the jet, searching for any sign of her. Your heart pounded in your chest as you screamed, “Jean! No! You can’t do this!”

But as you reached the door, it slid shut in your face. Through the window, you saw her standing outside, her eyes glowing with power, her face set in grim determination.

“No!” Scott yelled, banging his fists against the glass. “Jean! Don’t do this!”

You felt a pang of guilt slice through your chest. You could’ve helped. You could’ve used your powers to manipulate the water, to do something. But your leg was still weak from the earlier fight, and you weren’t strong enough to control the water currents. You hadn’t been at the school long enough to master your abilities. I could’ve helped her…

Outside, Jean’s powers surged, and she lifted the jet with her telekinesis, guiding it into the air. The water from the dam swirled around her, bending to her will. She was holding back an entire flood.

You pressed your hands against the glass, tears streaming down your face as you tried to reach out with your powers. “Jean!” you called, but your voice was lost in the roar of the flood.

Scott’s voice broke, trembling with anguish. “Jean… please.”

But it was too late. With a final, heartbreaking glance at Scott, Jean guided the water around the jet, holding it at bay just long enough to save you all. The jet soared into the air, leaving Jean behind.

You searched desperately for her in the water, your hydrokinesis pushing you to the limit. But with the blood loss from your leg and the overwhelming force of the current, you couldn’t sense her. You weren’t strong enough.

As the jet ascended higher, the reality of what had just happened sank in. Jean was gone. And it was your fault. You should’ve been able to do something. You could’ve saved her.

The silence in the jet was deafening. Scott collapsed into his seat, his face pale and stricken with grief. You sat down, staring blankly at the floor, guilt clawing at your insides.

“I could’ve helped her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. Tears streamed down your face, and the weight of Jean’s sacrifice pressed heavily on your chest.

Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice low. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was. You’d failed her. You’d failed Logan. And now Jean was gone because of it.

The jet flew through the sky, but the atmosphere inside was heavy with grief and guilt. The battle wasn’t over, but as you sat there, surrounded by your team, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d already lost.

Tag List: @spacemacandcheese @oscarissac2099 

[spacedlexi]

So I was rewatching berleezy's twd s4 and someone in the comments said it was interesting that Clementine (determinately) can believe there's no life inside of walkers when her parents were found together and they were assumably walkers for those 6 months she and lee were together. Meaning they could've wandered off and separated but they were found together after all that time. (It's more than likely for plot but it's still an interesting point) Thoughts on that? Also any headcanons on her parents? (Or art 🥺👉🏾👈🏾) have you watched berleezy's playthrough???

well walker tenn still does the hand thing. and you could apply that idea to clems parents still standing together after all that time. maybe some deep part of them compels them to move that way, to stay close to those people. what made them Them is still in there somewhere even if theyre gone. its something S4 Wants you to think about. is there really Nothing left of who they were once theyve turned? i think there is. on some level. the person may be gone, but some part of them still remains

i like that since they do the "humans are the real monsters" thing that every zombie thing does (which ultimately i feel is what zombie media is About (plus our capacity for love and community. great love and great evil)) they leaned into that idea of well if the zombies arent the real monsters then what are they? theyre just their own thing. any creature just trying to survive, even if theyre dangerous. once they were a person who lived a life and had people who loved them. and now theyre This. i joke when i call james the neighborhood cat lady but like... yeah. S4 is very explicitly about what makes someone a "monster". willing to do evil things (or willing to stop doing them) and at what point there is no return, and when you have to let go of them. but does that not also apply to the walkers? there is no return for them either, and you still have to let go (or die with them), no matter how much of who they were is still in there somewhere

S4 is very philosophical about its themes and wants You to come to a conclusion on the ideas its presenting to you. it Is a choice game after all. i do believe walkers are walkers. but that doesnt mean there isnt still a part of who they were in there somewhere. both can be true

and yes i watched berleezy cuz he was the only one i could find who actually liked vi and her romance 😭 (and who didnt not save her/get her killed). so many people were so apathetic or weird with her while still choosing to romance her i couldnt take it anymore WHERE IS THE ENERGY?? his reaction to vi shooting minnie is the reaction you Should be having in that scene. thats how i get every time i see it 😩

[shy-writer-999]

Something makes either Ace or Sabo (whoever you think fits this more) go, just, completely feral. Maybe some kinda aphrodisiac or they’re just really fucking horny, either way, they’re all over the reader- grinding their leg up against their cunt to make them whine, dry humping, frantically talking about how bad they need to fuck the reader, whatever works. I dunno, I’m just suddenly very horny for these two, lmao.

you said you’re suddenly very horny for these two? that’s crazy bcuz same… *eye twitch* anyhow, here’s what I came up with :3 i read it through a couple times but i'm certain there's many typos and overused words... please turn a blind eye... (*≧ω≦*)

---

His knee grinded on your cunt through your pants. It was harsh. Every time he jerked his knee up it hurt a bit, but the friction also felt good. His breaths were shallow and quick already, and his bulge was huge and visible though his boxer briefs.

“Ace, what’s gotten into you?”

He shifted himself and started rutting his erection into your thigh, humping you like a dog in heat. Each thrust of his hips elicited a groan from him—he was going fucking crazy. “Need you so bad, baby. Wanna put my cock in you.”

He paused to suck on your neck forcefully, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys down to your exposed shoulder. He bit it, the speed of his hips increasing. “I’m gonna stuff you full, sweetheart, gonna fuck you till you can’t talk anymore.”

“Ace,” you whined his name and he brought a hand down to grip your clothed core through your pants.

He must have taken something. Maybe it was an aphrodisiac? Did he go sniffing around the cabinets again when he shouldn’t? Or was he just really horny? You didn’t know what the answer was, but you knew he needed you bad right now.

His eyes were glossy and flooded with lust already. Every word he said burned you like the fire he was made of. “Can’t wait to stretch you out then make you cum on my cock, angel. Want you to take all of me.”

His hand squeezed your core again and you squirmed at the pressure. He started to rub his fingers back and forth on the fabric, stoking the heat that was building between your lips.

Ace resumed grinding his hard cock back and forth on your thigh, dry humping you in a frenzy. “Baby, will you milk my cock like you always do? Will you make those pretty sounds for me?” Moaning and grunting carelessly now, fully lost in pleasure, Ace was barely cognizant of how desperate and needy he was being.

You started to whine. The caresses of his rough fingers through your pants felt great. You wished he’d stop rutting and saying dirty things to you and get to fucking you instead. “Ace, I want it.”

“You want it? Want me to creampie you, gorgeous? Want me to shove my cock inside? Fuck you senseless?”

“Ace, quit teasing and fuck me already.”

He snuck his hand into the front of your pants and played with you for a second, running his middle finger back and forth on your lips and then pushing it in and out of you. You were so wet for him already and it only drove him crazier. You wondered how much he could grind his cock into your thigh before he came all over himself.

His voice was gravelly and husky. “So needy for me baby, you want it so bad. Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Ace, please. I want it.”

He worked your pants and panties off of you then freed his cock and slowly pressed it into your folds with a shudder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me.”

Ace slammed his hips back and forth, rolling and fucking into you. He knew you so well, knew where your g-spot was and how to hit it just right.

Out of breath, he was heaving his words out with his face all scrunched up. Those freckles were to die for—absolutely charming no matter what he was doing. But during sex they looked extra good. The same goes for his long lashes, his dark hair, his muscles… he was perfect.

“Pussy feels so—so good on my cock, baby, I want it, want you to cum for me, love, wanna feel it.”

After a few more blissful thrusts you went over the edge and spasmed around him just how he wanted. He got off on that feeling so much, that throbbing feeling of you under him, convulsing from pleasure because of him.

When he came inside of you it was explosive. The noises and whimpers he made were delicious—you could savor them forever, ruminate on how badly he needed you. When he collapsed on top of you and gave you more kisses, his smile was sweet and a little bit giddy. “You’re the best, baby. Love you so much.”  

You asked later what on earth had gotten into him and his response was at the same time comical and endearing. “Ate a bunch of oysters then got a look at your ass on deck. Couldn’t help myself, sweetheart.”