#not that It's All Over But The Crying is bad

[sageshouldknowbetter]

I feel for Gemma so, SO much after this episode.

She wakes up and her husband is there. The same man whose name she cried in the elevator. The man she’s missed for two years. And his hair is longer and his beard is gone but he’s smiling, and she’s smiling, and they fall into each other and the blood on his face mixes with the tears in her eyes and it doesn’t even matter.

She drags him through the scarlet, screaming halls — she’s fast from whatever she does on the days she wears a tracksuit, he’s slow from sitting on the couch and crying/drinking until he falls asleep — stepping over a dead man and into the elevator and treasuring the warmth of his hand. That sick, perverted doctor runs to get her back, but her husband steps between them and closes those doors.

And it is then Gemma knows. She doesn’t need to be afraid anymore.

But then she blinks and everything she’s wanted, everything she’s dreamed about for two years is staring her right in the face, an inch of glass between them — and no matter how hard she bangs on the door, all he does is stare at her like a bad dream he’s already forgetting.

She sobs for him. She screams his name. And all he can do is back away and take another woman’s hand.

Gemma’s dreams come true for a few, wonderful seconds. But that just makes it all the worse. Like loosening the grip around the head of a drowning man to let him come up for air — all her temporary relief did is remind her how much she is suffering and plunge her deeper into the pit of her grief.

This is the testing floor elevator all over again. Except this time, everything she wanted is not only taken from her.

It gives her a long, sorrowful look. Turns around. And walks away.

[absfemme]

https://www.tumblr.com/absfemme/778302249262891008/anyway-send-me-more-fic-reqs-please-im-so-bored?source=share

ANYTHING ABT ABBY DICKING U DOWN PLEASEEEEEEE

cw ; meandomabby subreader. daddy kink. strap use. slight overstim. pussy slapping. face slapping. spanking.

“why you runnin', huh? take it. take this shit.”

a heavy slap lands on your thigh, the sting blooming into a red, abby-shaped handprint. not that you care—your poor hole is too full, too stretched and messy to give a shit. the sharp bite of pain only makes you shudder, you twitch in response.

she’s been at this for what feels like forever, keeping you spread out over her lap, making you take every inch of her. every time you try to squirm away (when did you start moving so much?), she yanks you right back in like it’s nothing.

"stay fucking still," she growls, delivering another sharp smack—this time against your dripping cunt. you jolt, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as heat floods your body. your clit throbs at the impact, sending another wave of slick dripping down the length of her as well as new fresh, hot tears down your face.

she rolls her eyes at your persistent cries, scoffing. you’re so fucking soft. it’s almost sad.

maybe you shouldn’t have begged for this—shouldn’t have pulled at her shirt, shouldn’t have whined in that needy little voice about how badly you wanted to be fucked while she was busy. please, abby. need your cock. please, daddy, please.

yeah, you asked for this.

"aw, you crying? is it too much?"

you nod, hoping for mercy, for even a little relief. but all that does is make her go harder. of course she does. fucking bully.

“but you were just begging for this dick a second ago, weren’t you?"

your nodding is frantic, desperate—like it’ll change anything, like she’ll ease up. but abby only snickers, fingers digging into your cheeks as she tilts your face up to hers. her thumb drags through the wet mess on your skin, not to wipe it away, but to spread it, smearing your own ruin across your cheek. a silent reminder of just how far gone you already are.

“nah,” she mutters, voice dropping lower, rougher. “quit with the tears. you wanted this, remember?”

her hips snap forward, forcing a choked gasp from you. your hands scramble against her arms, not to push her away—just to hold onto something. she’s so deep it’s close to unbearable, and yet your cunt takes it—likes it—clenching down like you don’t know whether to run or keep her right there.

abby laughs again, a low, mean thing. she leans in, pressing her lips to your ear, breath hot and warming.

“still wanna act like it’s too much?” she punctuates the question with another sharp thrust, dragging a broken sob from your throat. “c’mon, use your words, baby. tell me how bad you need it.”

but you can’t—you can barely even think, and she knows it. knows she’s got you exactly where she wants you.

her hand slides down, fingers wrapping around your throat—not tight enough to cut off your air, but just enough to make you feel it, to remind you who’s in control. her grip is steady, unshakable, even as your body jerks with every brutal thrust.

“thaaaaat’s it,” she grits out, watching the way your face twists. “take it. just like that.”

your nails dig into her forearm, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure builds. she knows exactly what she’s doing, keeping you trapped between the deep drag of her cock and the bruising grip on your neck.

"gonna cum?" her voice is a pitch higher now, mocking you, teasing you, but there’s something hungrier underneath it. she wants you to. needs you to.

you nod again, gasping out something that might be her name, might just be a broken mess of syllables.

abby glances down, groaning at the mess between your thighs—the way your cunt drools around her cock, thick and sticky, leaving a filthy trail of grool smeared along her skin.

"fuckin’ do it," she growls, slamming into you harder, deeper. "cum all over this dick."

the last bit of restraint snaps, and your body obeys instantly, back arching as the pleasure crashes over you, raw and overwhelming. you swear you black out for a second, the sensation so sharp it’s almost too much.

abby groans at the way you squeeze around her, her pace turning sloppy, desperate, like she’s chasing her own high through the mess of you. she fucks you through it, dragging it out, making sure you feel all of it.

even as your body trembles from the aftershocks, she doesn’t slow, her grip unrelenting as she ruts into you with that same hungry intensity.

"can’t do it?" she mocks, dragging her lips along your jaw, breath hot against your sweat-slick skin. "you asked for this.”

⤷ tags ; @blackdykegirlblogger @caninecutiez @graciedollie

[nightcoffee365]

The vast majority of world problems are solved, but the solutions are simply not implemented.

99% of the bad you experience is because someone else is fine with it.

Humans are the problem.

Every single theoretical socioeconomic and political system works perfectly when everyone follows the rules.

This planet is just the tragedy of the commons on a grand scale.

It’s nice to be smart, prescient, informed, clever. It’s great to know the arguments and analyses that bubble up from the great cauldron of history, but that the *same things* simply remain *pertinent* without any further result beyond all the sounding clever is simply sad.

No bad thing should need to happen twice, let alone over and over and over.

Nothing is unprecedented, everything is solved, nothing is irreparable, except the people who keep the solutions at bay.

Some new brilliant regime won’t do anything either. The new boss becomes the old boss. This is demonstrated most clearly in tech. Most readers will be too young to remember when Google and Facebook were these tiny revolutionary startups. Can you imagine either being an underdog anymore? Of course not. They became what they claimed was troublesome, and changed lanes without a thought. It lets me know it was a play from the start.

If I principle is so easily dropped, it was never a principal at all.

Even all of this is known. I am not saying anything new. I’m simply joining a proud tradition of crying my screed into the void, more for me than you. I can imagine thoughts like this emerging from every society in its time.

Have fun with whatever fight you’re fighting. My job is to be good to individuals, help where I can, and not sow discord.

In a world where most suffering is consensual and the decision is in the hands of narcissists, I choose the tiny effect of one person to another person as my battle.

It’s the only one that makes sense.

[issues4him]

i just know Bluecollar! rafe has a breeding kink, ugh. Like before you got pregnant with your second he tried every second he could to get his rough hands on you🙂‍↕️he would be so rough hitting it from the back while you have to force yourself to be quiet 😩 okay please help me

YOU GET ME. he LOVES being a dad(dy)

like, the second you even hinted at wanting another baby? it was game over. this man took it as a challenge.

"yeah? you wanna give me another one, sweetheart?" he muttered against your ear one night, palming your stomach, pressing his boner against your ass. "you sayin' you wanna be full of me again? walk around all cute, carryin’ my baby?"

from that moment on, every chance he got—every stolen moment, every night emmett fell asleep early, every time he caught you bent over the kitchen counter, every time you so much as sighed his way—he was on you. and he was ruthless about it, too.

you’d be folding laundry, minding your damn business, and suddenly—rafe was there. pressing his already hard cock up against your back, his big hands sliding around your waist, his lips hot against your neck. "baby," he’d murmur, already tugging down your pants. "right here on the dryer, yeah? let me put another one in you."

and at night? when emmett was fast asleep and the house was quiet? forget it. one second you’d be climbing into bed, expecting a good night’s sleep—and the next? rafe had you on your knees, bent over the mattress, ass in the air, his belt hanging loose around his waist.

“you want it, baby? you want me to give it to you?” and before you could even answer—he was slamming into you, deep and rough, making you bite into the pillow to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. "shhh, baby," he cooed, mocking, teasing, completely wrecked. "you don't want emmett hearin’ how bad his mama wants another one of my babies in her, do ya?"

this man couldn't make up his mind for the life of him. because if you were too quiet? if you buried your face too deep in the pillow, trying to hold back your moans? rafe would grab your hair, tilt your head back, force you to look at him. "nuh-uh, baby. i wanna hear you--wanna hear how bad you need me to knock you up."

and when he gets close to filling you up, he’d grab your waist, slam you back onto him, his voice low and wrecked against your ear—"take it, baby. take all of it...shit--gonna pump you so fuckin' full, you won’t even have to take a test—you’ll just know."

and if you somehow didn't end up pregnant after that? he'd double down next time.

"this one’s stickin’, baby," he’d growl, holding your legs open, using his fingers to shove any of his cum that threatened to spill back into your pussy "gonna make sure of it."

[zorosangell]

HII! I have zero clue if your requests are open if they're not ignore this ask. but let's pretend it's totally summer time and it's vacation to a 5 star resort time ok? ok!!!!! i just had this random thought of the strawhats going to an extremely luxurious resort w/ a shit ton of pools and the reader ending up losing their top of their bikini while hanging out in a shallow pool with her girl bffs n having to call for bf zoro to be her savior.. sorry. i miss zoro he needs to be disturbed with every miss inconvenience ever

⛥ﾟ・。 hibiscus

synopsis: after a wardrobe malfunction at the pool, you're left soaked and topless... luckily, you have a hot boyfriend to come to your rescue.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a bit emotionally constipated, reader's better than me, girl talk, the bikini top isn't specified so imagine whatever you want.

a/n: look at my man's abs <3 oml

"No way!" you gasped, eyes wide as they flicked over each boy, completely taken aback by the similar look of them.

The little girl—who you learned to be Pasha—nodded, letting out another sigh as she grabbed another wildflower from her stockpile, tucking it into your hair.

"You have so many brothers! How big is your family?"

"Really big," her twin sister, Iza, answered, tying off another small braid she'd made. "There's twelve of us all together."

"Twelve?!"

Just the thought made you lightheaded, your mind somehow unable to comprehend one woman doing all that.

'Big Mom oughta watch out...'

"Wait 'til you learn most of us are twins..." Mila—another sister—chuckled, tossing some grapes into her mouth.

"Twins?!" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Don't scare her off, Mila! It's not that bad," Pasha assured, carefully placing another peony in another section.

After getting cornered by the Navy, and nearly capsizing while trying to escape, Nami decided the crew was well overdue for some rest and relaxation.

Luckily, the executives at nearby Elysia Resort were more than eager to welcome you into their facilities—on the consensus that nothing would be stolen and no fights would be started.

So, while the others fooled around on the beach, or did some daytime reading, or made their fifteenth pass at the buffet, you hung out at the resort's impossibly large, impossibly luxurious pool.

Where you seemed to have attracted the local population of tween girls.

"Wait, but I thought pirates with braids were cliché?" you asked, confused, as you skimmed through the magazines some of the new girls brought over.

"Cli-what?" Maya cocked her head to the side, scrunching her nose as she adjusted her floaties.

"Old news," Leona clarified before turning to you, pulling a few of the braids Iza had finished toward your cheekbones. "And they're making a comeback. Like feather earrings."

"Please," Pasha scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Feather earrings are not making a comeback."

"Tell that to Kaizoku Style," Iza grinned, holding up a magazine that read LOOTING CHIC in bold letters right above a head-shot of a woman wearing feather earrings.

"They don't look too bad," you nodded, gliding your feet through the crystal blue water of the shallow end.

"See," Leona smirked, crossing her arms in triumph. "If they're not the new thing, then what is?"

"Bangles," Pasha answered, matter-of-factly.

"They've been in fashion!"

"You were the one that stole them out of momma's jewelry box, weren't you?" Mila teased.

"I did not!"

"There," Iza smiled, tying off the very last braid before giving your shoulder a soft pat. "All done."

Carefully, you leaned forward, taking a peek at your reflection through the clear water and smiling brightly at what you saw.

Your hair was adorned with all different flavors of bloom, the vibrant colors only enhancing your natural beauty.

And the braids added depth to your curls, giving it a majestic and earth-woven look.

"Oh, girls, I—"

"DOG PILE!" a random boy exclaimed, an army of them seeming to follow as they all let out a unanimous battle cry, quite literally canon-balling right on top of you.

A chorus of screaming young girls echoed throughout the pool as boys of varying ages rained from the sky—one in particular jumping on top of your head and shoving you underwater.

"NO, WAIT MY—!"

Shhrip!

Your eye twitched, and underwater you let out a sigh of frustration as your hands snapped up to cover your chest.

'You've gotta be kidding me...'

Once the assault was over, you stood from the pool floor, glancing at the ripped bikini top floating on the chlorinated surface as you turned to the girls—most of which too busy chasing down their brothers for ruining their hair.

"You all okay?" you asked, suddenly incredibly tired.

"We're fine," Pasha sighed, shaking the water out her ear. "They always do stuff like this."

"All right, then. I'm gonna go find something to cover... this..."

Turning around, you stepped out the pool and started the trek back to the cabana, moving at a brisk pace as you kept your hands firmly pressed against your bare chest.

Even though you loved children, you had to admit that you were less than pleased to see a bunch of teens had broken your top.

And even less so that they had failed to apologize.

But, if the boyish cries of "Uncle! Uncle!" from the far end of the pool were anything to go off of, then you were sure the girls had fought to avenge and defend your honor.

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eye dragged over your body, almost analytically, gauging your situation and gathering his response.

"The kids broke your top, didn't they?" Zoro asked, his hand sliding down into his pocket.

"How'd you guess?" you sighed, slightly hanging your head, now thoroughly regretting you didn't wear a one piece.

"Was doin' some strength workouts on the beach when I heard a bunch of kids screamin'. Remembered you were hangin' out over here and decided to check it out to make sure you were all right."

"Well—"

But before you could even say anything, he tugged his haramaki over your head, carefully securing it over your chest before scooping you up in his arms.

"Zoro!" you flushed, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, managing to brush past his strong deltoids in the process.

"M'tired. You're comin' to nap with me," he stated, completely serious and leaving no room for argument as he started the trek back up to your room.

In the moment, he didn't mean to be so curt.

It wasn't you he was upset at, but rather all the creepy, on-leave marines he'd snapped at on his way, who were laughing and leering at your body like what happened to you was funny.

Pinnacles of Justice?

Pinnacles of Justice, his ass.

You'd think the defenders of the people would show a little common decency and look away when a woman's trying to cover herself.

"You have fun?" he asked, gruffly, wanting to switch the subject before he got mad all over again.

"The girls did my hair," you reported, resting your head on his chest. "Braided it and decorated it with flowers while they asked me questions about being a pirate... and fashion."

A sheepish smile crept onto your lips, excitement and worry spreading through your chest as you fiddled with a curl.

"How's it look?"

The adorable expression stretched across your face sent a sharp pang of warmth straight through the swordsman's heart.

Of course it looked good.

It was on you.

With the dewy droplets of water in your hair, along with the array of flora, you looked like some sort of sea nymph.

Discreetly, his eyes flicked down to your chest, his dick stirring slightly in his trunks at the sharp contrast of green against your tanned skin.

His haramaki was stuck to your wet body like a second skin, your pebbling nipples making it abundantly clear that it was the only thing keeping him from you.

The real you.

The bare you.

'Fuck.'

Giving your thigh a soft squeeze, he nodded with approval, a small smile settling on his lips.

"You look beautiful... you always do," he stated, as if it was a fact. "Don't need flowers to see that."

Freeing one of his hands, he fixed a particularly large hibiscus, tucking it behind your ear along with a flyaway.

"I—"

He was interrupted by the sounds of your soft snores, looking down to see you were already out like a light, cheek smushed against his pec and hand resting softly over his heart.

Like boyfriend, like girlfriend.

His chest roared with admiration at the sight, along with the sudden, violent urge to protect.

The swordsman wasn't one for beating up children, but if he ever ran into the little hoodlums that snapped your top...

Let's just say he'd have a few choice words.

[azonewithu]

I girss with your city in ruins snd everyone defeated by me youre the mediocre people you found out in the end. But i dont relate well to your movie that guy seems reas snd acts likr a punk. It coukd never be me because i dont take shit fton people. Ill kill snyone who gets on ny nerves Jenna. But its a cuye movie in enjoying it anyway its fun. Uour southern accent vanishes and reaapears its cute but kibd of smsteur hour. Didnt the firector notice that. Ha ha ga or say snything. It fiesnt take away from the story which idnt bad. An ambitious dtory but my msin pronlem with stories like this is some old guy wrote it or something. High school girls ate never this complex or interesting but i suspend my disbelief. Oh now its over. You werent bad in it. I cant relate though ive always stood out snd above all other artists Jenna. You know the best of your idiot i dustry cant hold a candke to me right. All the odlscars all thst time and none of you can write as well as me with as much power and prophecy. All the prizes you give im still deadlier snd better. You try abd gight me your whole ciry slmost burned. Emma asked me not finish uou off or Jenna your city would be gone too. Remember thst that girls saved your cute lil ass. Fucking with me can mean a bulket in the head you fint knjw snyoneceith sny power lije me.ill backhand snyone in your idusyrybi made you all look kinf if weak now. None of uou movies or stories are as vompelling as what i can write. You should slmist just give up but i know yiu wont. Whats the medium suzed word. Incorrigible. Yeah thats it. Its almost like you should taje a brrak but you never will. Thats your worst americsn fault. But you know what. Youre really great Jenba i live you andxwant you to do well anyway. I fint know why its not ir acting movues thats only the second one i saw. You pop off the screen and are sexy snd fun to watch. You want to kill everyone in your industry in a few sentences. None of your movies are as great as you say they are Hollywood or snywhete in earth. Oyher yhsn rate exception any time an ape tells me donethings so great i just say back, yeah its almost like they had a team of monkeys working on the script all week. Ha ha ha and check and mate. Its too mych youre too much period Jenna its too much making all your art shit. Even if it is good. You americans are loke that in msny ways. Trying living a little instead of expressing yourself or keeping track of everything. Tske a chance that youre not the greatest i am by far. Ive embarassed all you smericans msking you look weak. Im Azriel i kivked you ass eith the weather. Youre kind of a joke a lot of people are yhinking now. Ha ha ha im so fuckn right so i dont knlw go fuckn cry. The eorkd figured you put that youre kind of fucked. And you are plagiarists. Gid hates those people. You kind of maje me sick and i feel youre pathetic but i like art. Il not mad at my lik girls i live them. Its slways some asshole thats more got my ire. Im gonna hurt you all sone more you know tgstvright. Im hapoy the weathers crushing you. Your voubtry deserves ehat it gets good snd bad more bad than good thesecdays.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

𑄻 tws : fem!mydei x bunny fem!reader. scissoring, dumbfication, clit grinding, bimbofication, slight over simulation, mild-melting pleasure, messy s*x, mommy kink, breeding talk (light) & praise.

“My poor dumb bunny,” Mydei purrs, her hands gripping your plush thighs as she presses her dripping pussy against yours. “Already shaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”

Your fluffy ears twitch, and a whimper escapes your glossy lips, your mind already hazy from the overwhelming heat between your legs. “‘S—feels s’good, Mydei,” you babble, hips rolling up desperately to meet hers, your little cotton tail twitching with every needy grind.

She smirks, amused by how easily you fall apart. “Of course it does, princess. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

The slick slide of her pussy against yours is intoxicating, clits rubbing together in slow, deliberate strokes that have you arching off the sheets. Your juices mix, dripping down your thighs as she picks up the pace, her toned body working against yours with ease.

“A-ah—ahh! Mommy—” Your voice comes out high and breathy, fingers gripping onto her arms for support as your mind turns into mush. The friction against your swollen clit is too much, too good, making your entire body tremble.

Mydei watches you with dark amusement, her movements turning rougher as she pins you down, her grip firm on your hips. “C’mon, my pretty little bunny,” she coaxes, voice husky. “Let me see you make a mess.”

A sudden roll of her hips has your back arching, eyes rolling back as the pressure bursts inside you. A broken cry leaves your lips as your cunt gushes, squirting all over Mydei’s thighs.

She laughs, wicked and pleased, dragging her soaked pussy against yours, making you jolt from the overstimulation. “That’s my good girl,” she murmurs, licking her lips as she watches your fluffy ears droop, your body twitching beneath her. “So cute when you lose yourself like this.”

But from the way she’s still grinding against you, her eyes full of hunger, it’s clear she’s nowhere near done with you yet.

“My poor dumb thing,” Mydei coos, her voice thick with amusement as she towers over you, toned thighs caging you in. Her hands squeeze at the plush of your hips before trailing up to grab a fistful of your soft, fluffy ears, tugging them just enough to make you whimper. “Already fucked stupid, and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You blink up at her, teary and dazed, your breath coming out in soft little pants. Your body feels hot—too hot—and the slick, sticky mess between your thighs only grows worse as Mydei spreads your legs wider, pressing her soaked cunt flush against yours.

“Mommy—” Your voice is high and airy, mind already floating away as your fluffy tail twitches, pressing into the sheets beneath you. “W-wan’ you, need you so bad, ‘s too much—”

She laughs, rolling her hips forward, making sure her clit drags against yours in slow, teasing strokes. The pressure is enough to make you jolt, back arching as your hands grip at the sheets, thighs shaking from the overwhelming sensation.

“Too much?” she mocks, tilting her head as she watches your face twist in pleasure. “Or not enough?”

Then she grinds down harder, the wet, obscene sounds of your pussies meeting filling the room, your juices mixing into a messy, dripping puddle beneath you. Mydei keeps her pace slow at first, dragging the pleasure out, her sharp eyes drinking in every little tremble, every hiccupped moan that slips past your parted lips.

“My dumb little thing,” she murmurs, her grip on your ears tightening before she leans down, nipping at your throat. “Can’t even think, can you? Just laying there and taking it like a stupid girl.”

Your mind barely registers her words, everything going fuzzy as her clit keeps rubbing against yours, the swollen little nub throbbing from the stimulation. The heat between your legs grows unbearable, your pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Say it,” Mydei orders, her voice dripping with dominance. “Tell me what you are.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, your head rolling to the side as drool pools at the corner of your mouth. “‘M dumb,” you whimper, your hips jerking up to meet hers in desperate little bounces. “Jus’ a dumb—ngh—dumb thing f’you.”

“Good girl.”

She speeds up, rolling her hips with practiced precision, her clit grinding against yours just right, pulling the sweetest sounds from your lips. Your cunt is gushing, slick pouring out of you in messy, wet strings that make it easier for her to fuck against you.

“Bet you’d let anyone use you like this, huh?” Mydei sneers, but her grip on your hips is possessive, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. “But you’re mine. My dumb little thing to ruin.”

Your eyes roll back, and then it happens—your back arches, thighs trembling violently as your pussy gushes, squirting all over Mydei’s toned stomach and thighs. The pleasure rips through you so hard you go completely limp, your ears drooping as your tail twitches.

But Mydei doesn’t stop.

Your pussy is still spasming, still pulsing with oversensitivity, but she keeps grinding against you, her clit throbbing as she chases her own high.

“You can take it,” she murmurs, licking her lips as she watches you writhe. “Just lay there and be good for me, princess.”

Your body jerks, overstimulated, tears leaking from your dazed eyes as Mydei’s movements grow erratic. A few more grinds, a sharp gasp, and then she’s cumming—her toned stomach tightening as her pussy gushes, mixing with the mess you already made beneath her.

She collapses forward, her weight pressing into you as she catches her breath, her fingers stroking along your fluffy ears as if to soothe you. You’re still twitching, still too dumb to speak, only soft whimpers leaving your lips.

A smirk curls on Mydei’s face as she presses a slow, lazy kiss to your neck. “You’re mine, princess,” she murmurs, possessiveness lacing every word. “I think I’ll keep you.”

And from the way her fingers start tracing down between your thighs again, it’s clear she isn’t done with you just yet.

Mydei’s fingers trail lazily between your trembling thighs, dipping into the slick mess pooling beneath you. She hums, swirling the wetness around before pressing her fingers against your swollen, overstimulated clit, making your whole body jolt.

“Still twitching, huh?” she coos, watching as your plush thighs try to squeeze shut. “That’s cute, princess. You think we’re done?”

You let out a broken whimper, tears slipping down your cheeks, your fluffy ears drooping as your body trembles under her. “C-can’t—too much—”

Mydei clicks her tongue, pressing her fingers down harder, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your aching clit. “Shh, you can take it,” she murmurs, her other hand sliding down to grope at your lower stomach. “Bet I could fuck you full, ruin you, and you’d still be begging for more.”

Her voice lowers, turning huskier as she presses down where your womb would be, making your sensitive pussy flutter. “Bet if I bred you, stuffed you so full you couldn’t even think, you’d love it. Wouldn’t you?”

Your mind barely processes the words, too foggy, too dumb to do anything but whine, hips jerking up into her touch.

“Yeah,” Mydei chuckles, watching the way your tail twitches, the way your slick just keeps dripping out of you. “Yeah that’ll be hot.”

Your breath hitches, lips wobbling as your body melts further into the sheets, your cunt pulsing desperately at her words. Mydei smirks, leaning down to bite at your ear, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp.

“Maybe I should just keep you like this,” she murmurs, her fingers slipping lower, teasing at your entrance. “Keep you dumb and fucked-out all the time, so you never have to think about anything else.”

She slides two fingers inside with ease, your pussy clamping down immediately, sucking her in with wet, obscene noises. You’re so tight, so warm, so utterly ruined from her touch that she groans, curling her fingers just right to make you cry out.

“There we go,” she purrs, her other hand gripping your hip as she starts fucking her fingers into you. “That’s it, bunny. Make a mess for me again.”

Your body obeys before your brain can even catch up, the pressure building too fast, too much. Your stomach clenches, your back arching, and then—

You break.

Your cunt gushes around her fingers, soaking her hand, your body jerking uncontrollably as the pleasure rips through you. Your ears twitch wildly, your tail curling tight as another choked sob leaves your lips.

Mydei lets out a sharp breath, watching you convulse beneath her, completely wrecked, completely hers.

She pulls her fingers out slowly, watching as your pussy clenches around nothing, still twitching, still leaking. She smirks, bringing her soaked fingers to your lips, tapping them against your tongue until you obediently open up.

“Good girl,” she murmurs as you suck her fingers clean, your glassy eyes barely able to focus on her. She ruffled your hair and pressed a wet kiss on your cheek.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[mina-org]

part one - part two - part three - part four - you're reading part five!!

You were being such a bitch.

simon had called endlessly, do you know how annoying getting a new number is? sent texts, sent emails and what did he get back? fuck all.

He knew he was in the dog house but you got a new phone so you couldnt dwell on past text messages anymore but simon knows he was shitty so he starts sending gifts. he can't really remember what you liked, he knows you wanted a fancy baking thing and he couldn't go couldn't go wrong with cash!

Too bad you already brought the thing, at least you something to sell.

Thanks to the the cameras simon also got a front row seat to see as you stuffed his letters into the bin, not even opening them, bit cold love:(

You sigh, closing your eyes as you take a sip of your drink. You've been feeling so bright lately, the last month was fucked, all the stuff with simon and his mohawk maned sidekick, followed by minor stalking and than losing your fuck. it all worked out though.

now you were here! so all that stuff was behind you, now you were focusing on your self, hitting the gym and eating good, deleting social media and focusing on your education, you were even looking forward to go for a food shop, maybe you'd treat your self to a pack of cookies from m&s. While you were with he who shall not be named you felt so insecure, simon had a comment for all it from mocking your avocados and bringing up your failed stint a veganism. just couldn't breathe properly around him.

you're so glad he's gone.

now? peace. bliss.

You knew better now, casual was something you couldn't do. At least simon taught you that.

now your sat in a cafe typing away, sipping on a drink you thought was pretty, everything so perfect!

Until the new barista taps on your shoulder, he explains that your card payments be declined, which is fine! you just got paid, you have money!

your heart beat spikes as it declines, and then again. all you can do is excuse yourself as you check your banking app.

it's all gone. All your wages just disappear.

Definitely Simon's fault, not sure how but you're sure Simon or Johnny will come in and save the day, playing knight. You watch the door but Simon's behemoth form never shows and johnny's jackal like laugh never cuts through the tense silence.

no, they watch from a van outside. both pushing each other to get a better a view, but their effects are fruitless, they can see the outline of you, they're pretty sure it's you anyway. It's not enough to satisfy them.

you stew in panic a little while longer until the barista interrupts you once again. "my mistake love, looks like ya had a free drink on the app." you blink up at him, did this place even have an app? you wanna question but he's already retreated to the counter.

you begin to pack up your shit, you to get this shit sorted. You're grabbed, it's the new barista. at least he's friendly usually the workers are so cool here, it makes you stumble.

"can't forget breakfast love, most important meal 'nd that." you nod, force a smile it doesn't cover the anxiousness and thank him, you're on auto-drive. You wished you be more, you, but can't. you need to figure this shit out.

Soon enough you're on the phone to the bank and they're just saying its been frozen. for fucking fraud.

you cant spend money, withdraw money. literally your money locked away and your bank is useless.

what are you supposed to do?

you were fucked. Up shits creek and fasting being pulled under

they watch as your hands run over your face, you're crying.

Kyle is uncomfortable at the sight, the others are indifferent, Kyle knows it apart of the greater goal but you were glowing this morning, now you were sobbing on your couch, on the verge of having a panic attack.

you scroll through your phone, but theres no one you can call, your closest friend had just stopped talking to you all together and your parents weren't gonna help you, barely being able to afford their mortgage, never mind whatever you were being charged in London, calling them would also just allow them to use it against you in the future.

they watch as you finally open the take out box, hunger and anxiety screaming at you to eat, what the barista had slipped you?, a pastry! score, and a number signed sabre.

sabre. you read it aloud

that a cool name you think to yourself before texting him, you need to thank him for saving your ass earlier and it'll be nice to talk to someone.

simon can't help the jealously that bubbles up. as a phone pings and he knows its not here

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457 @gh0st-spid3r @sweetlittleblackrose @aceywaycy @mooievis @theadultoedge @cheese-pull @imtherain@h0e-02 @misscaller06 @lucilleifer @cherryflavoredguts @junitries @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @drewsphswife @just-lilita @bvrnxy @crempuffie @erintaro @skyfire93 @my-little-evil-blog @alexalix-z @littlemiss-it-girl

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mdni][mlw][slight humiliation][praise][implied age gap][fingering][squirt mention][porn][clit play][drool][petnames][mdom][female orgasm]

"Ooh, what movie are we watching?"

Nolan watches as you glance towards the TV screen, cotton nightie brushing along your thighs, manicured feet padding across the carpeted floor and you crawl onto the bed, creeping beneath the covers.

Muscular thighs rest on either side of you, his chin resting on the crown of your head before Nolan presses a kiss to your tresses, a muscular arm wrapping around your midsection and pulling you closer. You're snugly pressed against his chest, your eyes trained on the screen of the TV and Nolan hums.

"It's called 'my wife's search history'."

He responds with a hum, lips brushing against the hollow of your temple and you're trying to wriggle free. But it's damn near impossible.

His bicep bulges, and Nolan's free hand continues to push at the buttons of the remote, your search history displayed on a 70 inch screen.

"Baby, no. This is—" You're interrupted when Nolan tuts you, the corners of his brilliant blue eyes crinkling with amusement at the way your cheeks begin to flush.

"I wanna know what kind of things you're into, sweetheart." He coos, before clearing his throat.

"Okay, first one, 'how to fold an origami chihuahua'." Nolan snorts. "Did you learn how to do it?"

He glances down at you, your lips pursed before you nod your head. Almost reluctantly and he hums, a low rumble of approvement in his broad, burly chest.

"My nimble fingered girl."

And he diverts his attention back to the screen. You're not even sure what to be more embarassed about.

Your trips to Oxford dictionary, your dawdling spent on Urban Dictionary or the stupid things you look up for on WikiHow.

"Ohhh... A Cosmo article." Nolan hums. "You wanna learn how to squirt?"

And your cheeks flare up, and you try to slide lower, but he's got one of those stupidly muscular arms tucked beneath your arms, and he's keeping you anchored.

"You know, everytime you come close, you start crying and make me feel bad." Nolan hums, mocking you and you let out a disgruntled whine.

"Literally, what's the point of you doing this?" You complain. "It's embarassing."

"Is it so wrong of me to wanna learn about my wife and her interests?" Nolan huffs, almost dramatic as he stares down at you, inky moustache raising with his grin as he spots the way your eyes narrow.

"Especially since, you know, I'm never really at home and you feel all," he lets out a heavy sigh, "neglected and all."

And your eyes widen.

"Were— were you eavesdropping on my conversation?" You question, brows scrunching into a frown and Nolan leans down, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head once again.

"Focus on the part that I'm improving my schedule." Nolan chides you gently and he gently uses the hand that's not wrapped around you, to guide your face back towards the TV.

You'd complain and gripe, if you weren't so acutely intune to the way he touches you. Almost reverently.

His hand splayed across the expanse of your belly, his thumb swiping gently at the soft skin just below your breast, tracing the flesh through the fabric of your nightie. And he's just so warm and burly. It feels like you're curled up against a furnace and you're not even mad about that.

"You looked at our house eighteen times on Google Earth."

The laughter in his voice isn't hidden, dimples appearing in his sculpted cheeks and full, dark brows raise in surprise at your next search.

"Omni-Man... Up cape?" He reads, mulling the words over before letting out a breath. "You are shameless."

"I'm plenty ashamed now." You argue and he snorts.

"You weren't ashamed when you were trying to find pictures of my ass on the internet."

The glow of the TV is the only light in the room, the door shut and the light of the ensuite is dimmed, the door slightly ajar. The covers are heavy, weighted blankets that make you feel just a bit more secure in Nolan's arms and his head dips occasionally, pressing ticklish kisses to the curve of your neck.

And he hums. Low and rumbly.

"What's this?" He muses, before scrolling further.

"You watch a lot of porn." He comments. "Like... A lot."

"I'm very particular." You defend, eyes downcast to where his muscular thighs press against yours on either side, bracketing you against his body and your chest heaves as you let out a breath.

"I'll bet." He mumbles. "Guess that's why you went to page 113."

And you press your face against Nolan's bicep, your cheeks burning and your ears tinge red when the screen goes down, a little arrow forming a circle appears for a brief moment before one of the videos show.

Showcasing the exact timestamp where you stopped.

"Hm..." He hums softly. "S'that where you came?"

His voice is so quiet, a husky sound that sends chills up your spine and you weakly nod your head, peeking at the screen and you're watching a girl get her back blown out. Eyes shut, brows furrowed and mouth parted to let out pitchy moans that seemed a bit too loud for your comfort right now.

Especially since it's on a huge ass TV.

Nolan's hand moves between your thighs and you open them willingly, shifting your legs until they're spread salaciously, suspended over his own, thickly corded legs. And he lets out an amused huff of laughter, fingers sliding over the swell of your folds, pressed so snugly against the cotton of your panties. You bite your bottom lip, tilting your head back enough to peer at Nolan through your lashes.

"Keep your eyes on the screen." He instructs you so gently, guiding your head back to focus on the screen of the TV, and he hums softly, dragging a calloused digit along your soaked gusset, tracing your slit. He narrowly dips his fingers into you, just to feel the way your panties cling to your slick, before they move back into place.

Before you breath can stutter, Nolan's ripping your panties at the sides with ease, pulling the fabric out from beneath you and discarding it to God knows where.

And he glances back towards the screen. Tight circles being rubbed around your clit, his blunt digit nestled between velvety folds and he listens to the way your heart pounds in your chest. Breathy sighs slipping past your lips and your brows scrunch in that way that makes his heart sputter just a bit, and he brushes his tongue along his bottom lip.

"That's it..." He whispers softly. "Just keep watching TV."

You keep your eyes glued on the screen. Not because you necessarily want to, but because you know Nolan's spiteful enough to pull away and ruin the orgasm that's creeping up your legs in that steady rhythm.

And you swallow.

"Does it feel good?" He coos softly and you nod weakly, muttering the sweetest 'uh-huh' as your eyes don't even move from the TV screen, lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing.

You look like the cutest thing right now.

A little doll in his lap.

You're just so pretty. Big, blown out eyes, plump lips that are parted to let out the sluttiest sighs and he feels the way your clit throbs beneath the pressure of his finger.

"You almost there, sweet girl?" He hums softly and you nod your head.

Biting down on your bottom lip and your brows scrunch.

Your belly dips inward and that tightly wound cord in your belly snaps.

You're coming at the soft, gentle stimulation so easily, your toes curling against the sheets and your legs attempting to close but his infallible thighs keep them from doing so.

Slick coats Nolan's fingers but he's not really paying too much attention to that, focused more on the way you shift and wriggle in his grasp, and the arm around you tightens it's grip.

One meaty finger pushes into your cunt, the squelch is lewd and your lips are parting in an 'o' shape that makes him dizzy.

Your head lolls and you feel like a whore when drool trickles down your bottom lip, swiped away by Nolan's thumb as his finger curls, pressing against that sweet, spongy spot that makes your vision dot.

Nolan feels the way your nails dig into his forearm, watches the way your brows knit and his head dips, tongue dragging along your pulse. Lingering just long enough to feel the thrumming hidden beneath the curve of your jaw, and he laps up the perspiration speckled across your skin.

"You gonna start clearing your cookies, sweetheart?" He teases you, slowly pushing another thick finger into your drooling pussy and your eyes nearly cross, head tipping back and you can feel the way your brain melts with each pump of his thick fingers.

You feel each callous, each knuckle, you feel the cool band of his wedding ring kissing your plump pussy with each pump.

And you nod weakly.

"Uh huh..." You're lying.

You both know you are and a large, powerful hand grasps your jaw, tilting your head to meet his gaze and Nolan presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is desperate, needy, his tongue dragging against yours, claiming each inch of your soft mouth, your lips slick with your drool and he swallows each of your moans. Each whine you let into his mouth, is an unforgiving thrust of his fingers.

When you're coming around his fingers, you melt into a pliable puddle in his grasp, and you feel the way he presses kisses to the side of your face, gently bringing you down from your high. He pushes your cum back into you, slick fingers dragging against your walls and he lets out a soft breath.

Handing you the remote.

"Pick the next video."

Taglist:

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@radriiot 🌋

[therealpie02]

Caleb as dad and lovely husband ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡⋆

my headcanons//fluff, pregnancy, slight smut

Caleb was waiting and afraid of your pregnancy, but hugging you after the positive test, he promised himself and you that he would never leave you.

It was hard for Caleb to watch you suffer from hourly toxicosis. When you were feeling a little better for a couple of minutes, he would bare your stomach and talk to the baby, asking him to be gentle with you.

He realized with renewed vigor that he was going to become a father when you put on a black fitted dress that accentuated your rounded tummy. You didn't go anywhere that night. From then on, Caleb kissed your tummy whenever he could.

Oh yeah, he went out at three o'clock in the morning to the store for pickles, ice cream, hot sauce, chocolate and others just because you wanted to eat it all together. Caleb watched how delicious you were eating a pickle dipped in ice cream and smiled.

Caleb was almost late for your son's birth because of his job. He came running to you and apologized many times, stroking your head with his hand, pressing his forehead against yours.

He tried to ease your pain by kissing your hand, cheek, forehead, nose, but he was ready to cry from how much you were in pain.

Caleb didn't want to leave your side, even when the midwives asked him to take the baby. He took his son only after your request and felt like the happiest man in the world.

When the baby was sleeping in his room, Caleb thanked you for your efforts while he was deep inside you. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want more children.

So you were arguing in the kitchen about how many children you were going to have. You fed Arthur yogurt and insisted that you have one child, to which Caleb grinned and held up five fingers. You agreed with him in your heart, but a spoonful of yogurt landed on his face faster than you thought. And you didn't expect that you were already pregnant.

When you found out, you were 3 months pregnant. Caleb was standing next to you with son in his arms, hugging you tightly. He didn't say a word, it was written all over his face how grateful he was to you.

Arthur was a real mom's boy. And it was ironic, he was a replica of Caleb and apparently loved you as much as his father did. Sometimes the son attacked Caleb with his small hands and toothless mouth. Okay, he almost always did that. Caleb just smiled and said, "It's all the genes. And he doesn't get the urge to fight from me."

During your second pregnancy, you could eat anything and not feel sick. You started worrying about your body, but Caleb pushed all these bad thoughts away. His passion for you was still the same, even more so. Sometimes you had to drive him away from your breast when lactation started again.

"Stop it, or my son will have nothing left!" you begged him as he sucked on your sensitive nipple while his fingers teased the other. Caleb was thrilled to see the plaid ruined by your juices between your legs and your milk. "Good girl, you fed me well, please do it again when you cum on my face.”

When you went into labor, Caleb had the day off. He was almost not nervous, collecting your bags and Arthur. "Go, go, go, hurry up, you'll get in the car, I'll get in the car.. Arthur, don't bite daddy, you're getting in the car too, despite the second degree bite."

Asher was also born a copy of his father. Caleb once joked that you give birth to children like a printer.

You've been a great team, and Caleb has been a wonderful father. However, sometimes you would come into the room and watch Caleb fall asleep before the children. You laughed a lot about how he fell asleep with Arthur's favorite teddy bear in his arms, and Arthur tried his best to take the toy back.

You liked watching Asher, having learned to walk, rush to meet his dad. It was a touching moment when Caleb squatted down and opened his arms for him, hugging him tightly afterwards. Arthur usually stood next to you and continued to eat his apple.

You rarely spent nights together without the whims of the children. When the nights were calm, Caleb let you rest and sleep without insisting on sex. One day you really wanted to feel his warmth, his scent, his length inside you. He was playing a console game when you approached him in just your bathrobe.

You opened your robe and said, "I'm tired, let's go to bed." Without looking at you, he replied: "Sure, pipsqueak, I'll look after the ki-" At that moment, he saw you naked and, throwing the remote aside, jumped up to you.

You weren't surprised by the third pregnancy, you were surprised by the ultrasound result. The twins. Boys. You slowly turned your head towards Caleb, on whose lap your sons were sitting. He dared to look at you with apologetic eyes.

During this pregnancy, you didn't want to hear logical solutions to problems from him, you just wanted to cry into his chest a lot, and it was better for him to keep quiet.

Arthur came up to you and asked, "Mommy, why do you have such a huge belly?" You glared at Caleb, who was playing dice with Asher, and replied, "He fed me a double portion of dumplings." Caleb, hearing your answer, giggled, but stopped when he saw Arthur running at him with a toy gun, who shouted "Dad, why did you feed mommy?!"

Of course, you later explained to Arthur that there are two more brothers inside his Mom.

Daniel and David were like you. Caleb, picking them up for the first time, was glad to notice your hair color on their little heads.

You've been watching the twins on a video camera mounted above their crib. One night, you noticed Daniel climbing over the side of the crib and playing with David. Caleb gently ruffled your hair and said that he climbed over to you in much the same way to be near and protect you. You hugged him back and didn't let go for a very long time.

That night, everyone except the twins lay down on your huge bed. Arthur fell asleep, hugging Caleb and snoring into his chest. Caleb pointed at him with his eyes, saying, "Look, we have a truce." You giggled, stroking Asher's head. Then you touched Caleb's cheek and said, "I love you." He took your hand in his and replied, "I love you." A small tear flowed down your cheek from happiness that he and your children are all together. That you're alive and in love with each other.

The time came when all the children went to kindergarten. It was the first time you returned to an empty apartment, and it was unusual for both of you to be in complete silence. "I miss them," Caleb blurted out. You turned to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a long kiss. "Is this a hint that it's time for us to start making a daughter?" Caleb asked with a sly grin, after which you began to undress.

You were sitting on the couch and stroking your pregnant tummy. You were eating ice cream and watching Caleb, who was sincerely trying to calm the fighting twins. "Oh, you know what, whatever you want, one two three fight," he raised his hand and stood up, leaving the twins. The twins did not fight among themselves, they went to fight with their older brothers.

Caleb settled himself comfortably next to you, his nose nuzzling your neck. "How are my girls?" his hand stroked your stomach. "Your daughter wants another ice cream," Caleb sighed heavily, but obeyed your order and pulled out a 10 pack of ice cream from the freezer.

Caleb fell in love with Iris at first sight. She had his hair, your eyes, your nose, and his ears. He couldn't get enough of his long-awaited daughter and even cried when he picked her up in his arms.

Caleb was sitting on the floor, his legs were numb, glitter was getting into his eyes, and lipstick was sticking to his lips, but he continued to smile at his two-year-old daughter, who was pouring him an impromptu cup of tea. He heard Arthur's laughter and looked in his direction. Arthur stood with his phone and said, "This will become the main meme." However, it wasn't just Caleb who noticed Arthur.

Arthur, with pink lips and flower-shaped hairpins, sat next to his father and asked for more tea from Iris. Then Asher and the twins joined in, and they were also unlucky enough to catch their sister's eye. You stood in the back and giggled, taking pictures of them. Definitely, Iris was the leader of your family.

[notsodelirious]

everyone seems to think jason is this big bad dom who's kinky and teasing and all that shit

NO??? PLEASE??????

let me tell you, jason as big as he is, he's just as soft and WILL melt the moment your fingers graze him ANYWHERE

bro starts whimpering even at the mere THOUGHT you touching his dick, but would never bring it up cause he's scared you'll reject him and be disgusted

so he puts on his mask, kisses you, teases a bit, and then backs off as if nothing happened

but the moment you do initiate anything with him? he's gone, left, away

he can't help but pour all his love into you, it's almost emotional

he's so touch deprived and needy for any kind of positive attention and affirmation that he has to will himself to not cry when you look at him with so much love in your eyes, much less when you want to show him just how much you love him

AND GOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE KISS THAT MANS SCARS

HE MIGHT ACTUALLY START CRYING

he has always been so ashamed of them, so scared you'll run off the moment you see him, all of him (especially about the autopsy scar)

so the moment you stay instead? the moment you stare at him with adoration and litter him with kisses, saying how beautiful he looks? IM SORRY, HES GONE

him and the puddle on the floor? same thing

yearning is this mans first language and I stand by it

I've been seeing so much of dom Jay so please let my boy be soft😭

(tim, on the other hand, is exactly what people think jason is, mans a little snarky piece of shit everywhere and always, and i love him as he is)

(also sorry for the rant, got carried away a bit 😅)

absolutely no worries about the rant Anon, I love your way of thinking <3 sorry this took so long but I hope this answers your prompt

Look at me — Jason Todd

synopsis — you love Jason, even if he doesn’t believe you’ll love every part of him

notes — NSFW MDNI pretty please, also so long and so not edited, so apologies (edit — has been proofread, somewhat, but still not edited)

tags — established relationship, mentions of canon death, mild blood and injury, smut as mentioned above, 2.5k words, no use of y/n, gn!reader, Jason calls the reader “baby” and “babe”

The first time you see his scars, it’s completely unintentional. You run cold so you’re constantly turning the heat up in your apartment, far beyond what Jason thinks is reasonable. He complains, but you can’t help but note he’s a big guy, ‘obviously he’s not going to feel as cold as you do’.

His complaints continue, even after you’ve settled down to watch a movie, moaning about how ‘it’s so damn hot in here, it feels like a sauna’, and then proceeds to pull his hoodie off. You didn’t mean to stare as he tugs the offending piece of clothing over his head, but his shirt rids up just the slightest bit. Just enough to reveal a gnarled pink scar across his hip bone and a sharp, clean but raised scar right down his lower abdomen.

You’ve always assumed he has scars—he’s a vigilante; you’ve seen him come home limping more times than you’ve seen him get a full 8 hours of sleep.

Besides, it isn’t as if you’ve never seen any scars on him. He exists in t-shirt and the skin there is littered with scars of all shapes and sizes, from gunshot wounds to knives to mosquito bites. You’ve treated the occasional surface wound on his face or leg from time to time. You had seen his skin and he’s shown himself to you.

But that doesn’t stop you from staring.

This is different.

Only as the realisation that you’ve never seen him shirtless dawns on you, that you start to consider why that is.

You almost reach out to brush your fingers against the raised skin but he manages to dislodge himself from his jumper before then.

He tosses it onto the floor, kicks it out of the way just enough so neither of you will trip on it. He pauses briefly when he notices you, your stare. You tug his shirt down before he can even consider the movement himself, covering the sliver of skin that had been exposed to you.

You sit, in complete silence. You aren’t waiting for anything, you simply have nothing to say as you continue to watch the movie. A shaky hand reaches for yours and you can’t help the warmth in your heart when you feel his lips rest against the back of your hand.

The second time, you don’t even see anything at all. Another movie, a little less attention paid to it, as Jason kisses on you, your cheeks, neck, lips. You laugh softly as you let him, gently running your fingers through his hair, smiling at him as he comes up for air.

“What are you smiling like that for?”

“I just happen to have the prettiest boyfriend.”

You almost miss how his cheeks flush softly in the dark room and you laugh a little louder, pulling him down for a kiss as you straddle his lap. You let your hands roam, feeling his broad shoulders, arms and back as he dissolves beneath your touch, like sugar in warm water. You smile against his lips as he sinks into the sofa, soft panting a little too frantic for the slow-paced make-out session.

“Is somebody flustered?” you joke kindly as you tilt your head to lean against his cheek, hands on his hips and tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Don’t know what to do with yourself?”

“Please…”

You pull back just enough to see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his eyes practically crossing all to look up at you, and watch your face.

“Please?” you repeat softly, as your fingertips brush against his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense and twitch at the featherlight touch. “What are you asking for, baby?”

Your fingers creep higher, following the raised bumps and lines you can feel on his skin, under his shirt. He shivers, a soft moan slipping past his lips as you reach his pecs. You lay your palms flat against them, taking great joy in squeezing them gently and making Jason’s heart pound faster beneath your hand.

“Enjoying yourself?” you said, sly as you kiss his jaw, down his neck to press your lips to his pulsing jugular.

“I- please, I-“ You can’t help the breathy laugh as you move downwards, leaving tender, open mouth kisses along his throat, sucking his skin here and there, revelling in the soft moans and whimpers that slip from the back of his throat. Almost instinctually, his hips buck against yours—you hum, amused, before grinding back against him, feeling him tremble beneath your ministrations.

“I-“

Your hands continue to feel under his shirt, around his ribs, down his waist, down his sternum-

“Stop.”

You freeze, pull back and look at him.

“Jay?”

“I just-“ he swallows as he looks at himself, then at you, as if debating whether or not he should finish the thought and explain. Eventually, he just wordlessly shakes his head, pulling your hands out from beneath his shirt, “No.”

“Okay,” you kiss his cheek before sliding off his lap to settle beside him. You don’t understand what’s wrong, and as curious as you are, it’s not like you’re going to push him for an answer.

Jason is many things: loyal, kind, loving, a dickhead—but emotionally vulnerable and open is not part of that list. Pushing him to do or say anything leads to a quick dismissal at best. And an outburst at worst.

Jason would come to you in his own time.

That time happened to be a week later.

It’s a long night, he forgets himself. He climbs in through your window, tries to be as quiet as possible. But tonight, he forgets himself, shuts the window behind himself just a little too hard and the frame rattles softly. He doesn’t notice you stir or the soft mumble as you roll onto your side, too focused on trying to shed his leather jacket. Through bleary eyes, you can just about see him move about the room, hearing him curse silently.

The bathroom door closes before the lights flick on. Cupboards open and close, more cursing. You slip out of bed, recoiling a little at the cold floorboards beneath your feet, and pad towards the bathroom, knocking softly before pushing the door open.

“Jay?-“

“Shit-“

You freeze at the sight of each other. His bloody shirt is on the floor, staining a couple of your white tiles a vibrant red. Medical supplies are strewn across the counter, medical gauze packs ripped open and a suture needle halfway set up.

And Jason was…

A large gash spanned from his ribs to his hips—at least from what you could from beneath the bloodied towel he was holding his wound.

“Jesus, don’t you knock-“

“What happened?” you ask instead, rushing forward to help him staunch the bleeding. He groans as you apply pressure but doesn’t push you away, letting you come up close to him. You chance a peek beneath the make shift compress, trying to not pull a face as you convince yourself it’s not as bad as it looks.

“I’ll stitch you up,” you say softly as you look around the bathroom—the suture kit that he had already pulled out isn’t sterile anymore, you’ll have to take out a new one… “Go lie down, I’ll…” You trail off as you look up at him, meet his distant gaze as he stares down at you, almost unseeing. “Jay?”

He blinks and the afterimage of fear you saw flicker across his face is gone, face falling back into something more impassive.

“Lie down,” he mumbles, “Yeah… yeah, sure.”

He slips away from you, most likely a little dazed from the bloodloss. You’re itching to now how he got to that point, who could have gotten close enough to slice him like that but you shelve all those questions for later and begin to prep from wound care instead to go make sure your boyfriend doesn’t bleed.

You return to him minutes later, with an unopened first aids kit and clean hands and kneel beside him, from where he was sat on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to…”

“Horizontal, babe,” you say softly as you nudge him. He settles as you flip open the kit and start cleaning his wound, apologising quietly for every wince and sharp breath.

Stitching him up is simple enough—his pain tolerance terrifies you but you don’t utter a word, just make sure to get the job done as swiftly and painlessly as possible.

You cut the last stitch, roll off your gloves, dump the whole thing on the bedside table—unsanitary and dangerous but your hands are trembling a little too much and your nerves a little too frayed from worry to truly care.

“Okay,” you swallow as you press a piece of clean gauze against his fresh stitches, “Sit up, lemme bandage you up.” Jason complies as best he can, muscles flexing under his skin as he sits up for you and you shuffle closer to wrap clean bandages around his midriff. You try to solely pay attention to the task at hand but now that nobody is in danger of bleeding out, you can’t help but let your eyes wonder across his bare torso. They trace the scars that litter his chest, linger on the large Y, carved from beneath his collarbones, joining at his sternum before disappearing beneath my bandaging.

“Sorry,” he says in a small voice. You tuck the end of the wrap into itself before you look up at him. He doesn’t look back, expression almost sheepish as if he were embarrassed. “I’ll put a shirt on-“

“Don’t.” You climb up onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you cup his face, “You’re gorgeous.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“You told me you didn’t finish the ice cream last week.”

Your laugh rings clear in the still bedroom as you lean forward to kiss him.

“Well I’m not lying now,” you whisper against his lips. The kiss is slow, tender, as you both pour your souls into each other. “You scared me shitless.”

“Sorry-“

Your fingertips graze along the large scar on his chest.

“I’d ask you not to do it again but you probably will, won’t you?” He nods as he follows your hand, breathing deepening ever so slightly as you feel him. “Guess I’ll just have to enjoy you while I have you here.”

“Babe…”

“Shh,” you push him down carefully, avoiding his injury. “Just let me take care of you.”

His sighs are soft as he follows your lead, letting himself be pushed and pulled around. You kiss him, in a way only a devotee can worship their deity, lavishing him and devouring him.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

You move down his body, from his jaw to his neck. Your tongue runs along the straight scar there—you wonder what happened. You always wonder. But some stories were better kept for quieter nights.

Your lips and tongue brush along his skin, tracing every jagged scar you come across.

“Babe…” he moans breathily as he squirms ever so slightly beneath you, resisting the urge to buck his hips against your body.

“Is there something you’d like, handsome?” You smile as you thumb his nipples, your glee only growing as he whimpers, arching his back into your touch. You pinch them, tug them, make him squirm and pant harder. “You’re so needy, aren’t you?”

“Baby, please-“

You leave hickeys on his chest, following the large scar down between his pecs.

“So desperate.”

“Babe-“

You bite his pec, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make him keen and buck his hips against yours, making you groan in turn. He grinds his covered hard-on against your crotch, seeking any friction he can.

“You need it, don’t you?”

His nodding is furtive and eager and your heart sores while your hand creeps downwards, following down his happy trail and dipping past his waistband.

“What do we say when we want something?”

“Please,” he whimpers as he looks up at you, adoration and desperation pooling in his deep green eyes. Tears brim along his waterline when you finally wrap your hand around his cock, warm and heavy against your palm. “Please. Please, please, baby, please-“

You tug him out of his underwear before you slowly start to pump, running your thumb along the head of his cock, teasing his leaking slit with the pad of your thumb.

“Such a polite boy,” you purr just as you sink lowered, kissing the scar on his hip before nuzzling your cheek against his cock. “Stay still for me, okay baby?”

You don’t give him any more warning before you’re sinking down on him, taking him into your mouth, wrapping your hand around what you can’t reach. You hollow your cheeks as you pull back up, bobbing your head on his dick as he moans and whimpers above you.

“Baby, baby, fuck-“

You hum in response, vibrations running through him making him shudder. His fingers tangle in your hair as suck his dick, gripping you like he’s unsure whether he wants you to stay or go.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, babe-“

You look up at him from beneath teary eyelashes, blinking up at him as if you aren’t choking on his dick. You pull away, making him whine in protest but you don’t cave, continuing to jerk him off.

“You wanna cum, handsome.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I’m- please.”

You lick the precum pearling from his tip before you swallow him down again, grinning at the soft wail and tightening grip. You feel more than hear the moment he tumbles over edge, thick cum shooting down your throat. You swallow before you can choke, but tears gather in your eyes, leaving you sputtering and coughing slightly when you come up for air.

“Good?” you ask softly as you wipe your face. He mumbles unintelligibly as he nods, strong arms finding your shoulders to drag you closer.

He mumbles something about returning the favour later, but you just laugh quietly as you pull him against you, resting his head against your shoulder, so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say as you run a hand through his hair. Only to pause as you bring a hand up to your mouth, pulling a hair out of your mouth.

Jason freezes before chuckling softly, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind hair in my food,” you quip back cheekily, which only makes him blush.

“Jesus.”

You kiss the crown of his head as you snicker.

“Go to sleep, handsome.” You run your hands along his back, tracing idle patterns against his skin, on his collarbones and shoulders.

“They’re from my autopsy,” he mumbles softly as he tucks himself against you. “From when I died…”

You hum, but don’t speak.

Afraid that maybe you’ll uncover the dread blooming in your gut.

You’ll ask later, is what you tell yourself as you watch Jason yawn, and promptly slip in a heavy, restful slumber.

(holy shit was this a doozy to write; I usually never write 2k words in less than 48 hours but I hope your enjoyed <3)

[acosmicbee]

Stranger Danger

(A little short but one of my favorite one shots from my Wattpad!)

As the lights of the bus were swallowed up by the fog you started to realize how screwed you were. Your phone was dead from the biting cold and your wallet was still in your bag which was in Amy's car. You flopped down onto the bench at an empty bus stop and silently wondered when Amy would realize you never made it home.

Then again Amy was the one who'd kicked you out of her car. She'd dropped you down the road a bit and told you to walk before driving away. It was pure luck that there was a bus stop, but misfortune that the bus had left just as you'd approached and you had no way of paying for a ticket.

The bus stop's light flickered, dimming and brightening with no certain pattern. Staring down the road into the dark fog you knew you wouldn't make it home. Your breath hung in the air and the thin sweatshirt you wore wasn't doing much to keep out the chill. You were a second away from just sacrificing dignity and sobbing when you noticed faint lights slowly approaching through the gloom.

They looked misty through the veil of fog but got brighter as the vehicle drove closer. The vehicle in question stopped in front of the bus stop, directly in front of where you sat. It was a worn black pick-up truck with tinted windows.

You shivered, staring as the driver's window rolled down. The inside of the truck was dark but you could vaguely make out a man and woman.

"You okay there honey? It's past dark and the next bus isn't for a while." The woman asked. She had a thick southern accent and sounded to be in her late 20s. You wasn't sure how to answer that. Sure, you could say you were fine and they would probably smile and drive off but you weren't. You didn't know where you were or how you would make your way home or even if anyone would notice you were gone until it was too late.

You shrugged. It was all you could think to do without trauma dumping and/or breaking down crying in front of two strangers.

"We live down the road a bit. How about you come with us and stay until morning? You'll freeze out here and animals like to hide in the fog." The man said. There was a click as the door unlocked.

"Animals?" You asked, wringing your hands as you stood up. The man nodded.

"Panthers. Bears. If you can't see them coming normally you'll never see them now. Until it's too late that is." You nervously approached the car, freezing as you remembered all those school presentations on never getting in a stranger's car. But it was their car or freezing to death or being mauled, so you carefully climbed into the back, shutting the door behind you.

"I'm Willa and this is my husband, Atticus." The woman, Willa, said.

"I'm Y/N." It was silent for a moment. Your fingers started to itch as they warmed up and the circulation improved. You pulled your sweatshirt closer, relishing the heat of their truck.

"How'd you find yourself out here, honey? It's awfully far from the nearest town. Just farmland really." Atticus asked. This was the question you dreaded. Then again it was logical to wonder how a 13 year old had found themself at a bus stop on a foggy cold night.

"My step mom, Amy, and I were driving to meet my dad. We're supposed to be moving soon." You explained, picking at your cuticles. It was a bad habit you'd picked up from your mom before she'd died. "We got into an argument. She had been flirting with a guy at the gas station we stopped at. She got angry. Said I was 'disrespecting her and my father's relationship' by getting mad she was flirting. She kicked me out of the car and told me to walk."

"I'm so sorry hun. That's horrible. Some kinds of people really shouldn't have children." Willa said, her voice growing dark. Atticus reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you like to do, Y/N?" He asked.

"I like to read. I'm fond of cats and other animals." You continued talking, happy to have some kind of conversation to distract yourself with. Willa calmed down as you spoke and both of them seemed to hang onto your every word. Everything from your hatred of gym class to the way you loved the smell of freshly baked bread from this one bakery.

Eventually the truck pulled in beside a large farmhouse, the kind Dorothy lived in in The Wizard of Oz. Atticus helped you jump out of the truck as you internally cursed at the raised truck bed and your lack of a growth spurt. You kept on telling yourself it would come tomorrow and maybe, one day, it actually would.

In the light of the house you finally got your first good look at the both of them. Willa was taller than you by a bit, maybe around 5'7". She had long strawberry blonde hair that was tied back in a bun. Atticus was taller than that, 6'2" at least, and easily towered over you. He had messy brown hair and warm hazel eyes. They almost looked like a picturesque movie couple, the kind that was painfully in love with each other.

Willa pulled you upstairs the second you took your shoes off and led you to a guest bedroom. It was a rather plain room with gray walls and a nicely made bed.

"The bathroom is right over there. Atticus! Can you lend Y/N some clothing? Mine still needs to be dried!" Atticus yelled something back from downstairs but you didn't catch what he said. Instead you were observing every little detail of the room, a pit growing in your stomach. Those kidnapping PSAs were echoing through your head again, constantly murmuring about the ever mysterious 'second location'.

"Wait here for a minute honey." Willa walked into a room down the hall before returning a few minutes later, clothing in hand. She handed you an oversized shirt and sweatpants, which luckily had a drawstring. You got changed in the bathroom, and when you returned to the guest room Willa and Atticus were waiting.

"Night honey! Sleep well." It was a bit weird and put you even more on edge. Without any other option, you climbed into bed only for Willa to insist on tucking you in. There was a soft look on her face, one of pure happiness. It reminded you of those clips of mothers looking at their newborn babies for the first time. Atticus extinguished the oil lamp on the nightstand but you could briefly make out a similar smile on his face as the light went out.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread. Something didn't feel right and you couldn't place it until you went to stand up the world spun. You couldn't even piece together the seconds between stumbling out of bed and suddenly staring up at the ceiling from the floor. Your head throbbed and everything seemed to swirl in nauseating patterns. Willa rushed into the room, quickly helping you back into bed.

"Shush honey. You're alright. Just a bit of a cold from being out there last night, hmm?" Willa asked, running her fingers through your hair. Your head hurt and a wave of dizziness would wash over you any time you moved it. You felt like you were freezing but simultaneously burning. Atticus quietly entered, a plate with a few slices of bread and some water with him.

Willa carefully brought the cup to your lips, not trusting your shaking hands but wanting you to be hydrated. Time felt spotty. One moment Willa and Atticus would be fussing over you and the next you'd be alone. You would close your eyes for a second and suddenly you were opening them hours later.

Willa was by the bed, her gentle hands playing with your hair the next time you surfaced. This time there was a straw in the cup of water and you eagerly drank all of it, feeling so thirsty.

"I always wanted a child." She suddenly said, smiling down at you. Your mind took a minute to process the words and once you did you only blinked. Why would she be telling you, who was basically a stranger something personal like that?

"Then the doctors told me I was infertile. That I would never be able to have a child of my own." Her voice was growing angry. Her fingers tugging at your hair instead of playing with it. A small while involuntarily escaped your lips, the tugging only adding to your throbbing headache. Her grip loosened immediately, her fingers returning to gently running through your hair.

"But that doesn't matter now." Willa said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. She reached over to the nightstand where she grabbed the, now empty, cup.

"It will never matter again. Not when I have you." Your hazy mind finally pieced her statements together, connecting the dots.

"Wait...!" Your voice was scratchy as you tried to sit up, panic filling your body.

"You shouldn't be sitting up yet Y/N. You could fall again." Atticus gently scolded, appearing in the doorway. His arms were crossed but face was gentle, as if he were talking to a child. Not just any child, you realized, as if you was his child.

"You haven't even eaten yet! Your father made some homemade bread, special just for you." Willa smiled, kissing your forehead as she stood from your bedside. "I'll go get you some, okay honey?"

"But...!"

"Hush darling. Just let me and your mother take care of you." Atticus said, approaching you. He kissed your forehead in the same spot, gently tucking you in more. "Won't it be nice to feel loved, sweet pea?"

[bluelizard100]

Short continuation of my poly!141 yummy

First punishment 💔

Warnings: Kidnapping, obsession I think, spanking, forced cuddling

John held you firmly over his thighs, his palm coming down sharply against your bare ass.

Simon caught you escaping on your third day with them, and the boys were not happy at all.

Kyle had to take Johnny to another room. He was livid, but seeing you cry from your punishment would’ve broken his heart worse than the fact that you tried to leave.

John tugged your jeans and your panties down, scolding at you to hush when you shouted at him to stop. It doesn’t mater that you’re shy, that you don’t want them to see these parts of you; they’d see soon enough anyway, and bad girls need to learn somehow.

John was firm and unsympathetic as he spanked you, ignoring your pleas for mercy. You did this to yourself, darling. Breakin’ our hearts trying to leave us… need a proper lesson.

Simon, the bulky, terrifying brute whose face you haven’t even seen, sat crouched in front of yours, wiping the snot and tears from your face with tissues and petting your hair. He was the last person you’d expect to be comforted by, but there he was, drying your tears and cooing at you.

I know, sweetheart. ‘S a lot, I know. Shhh, I know it hurts… I know you’re scared, know y’r not a bad girl. ‘S okay, doll, me n’ the team’ll take care o’ ya.

John’s palm came down over and over, turning your backside red and hot. He wasn’t gentle, didn’t try to go easy on you even though it was your first offense. He was firm, blocking out your sobs because he knew if he heard your pleas, his resolve would crumble. By the time he decided you had enough, he had you limp over his lap and bawling, unable to control your tears.

“There now,” John hummed, “took your punishment like a good girl. Gonna try that again? Hm?”

A weak shake of your head was all he needed.

They didn’t let you up yet. John held you over his lap so he could soothe the sting while Simon went to retrieve aloe (and the sergeants).

Kyle was very disappointed in you for trying to escape, and he made that clear to you before. Johnny was furious, feeling so betrayed. How could you leave them? It had only been three days, yeah, but they were so good to you those three days. Why would you even want to leave?

Now, though, seeing you laying over John’s thighs like a wet noodle had them softening. Your ass was bright red, and they could make out a few welts raised on your skin.

They could all share a bit of empathy, Johnny specifically; after his brain injury, he’d have these… spells. Nothing made sense, everything was foggy, and he just couldn’t think. He never told anyone about it, just let his anger build up each time, until one day Simon bent him over the arm of their couch and belted him until he was forced to spill his guts, unable to keep to himself anymore.

Johnny couldn’t be mad anymore, not when you looked so worn out and sad.

Kyle wasn’t that upset… you learned your lesson, after all. No reason to beat a dead horse.

Johnny peppered kisses over your tear-streaked face while Simon massaged the cool aloe gel into your burning skin. John rubbed your lower back, traced your spine with the tips of his fingers. Kyle, when he could manage to get Johnny off you, gave you little sips of water and promised you everything would be okay, reassured you they weren’t mad anymore.

Finally, after John had pulled your pants back up and Simon helped you stand up from over John’s knees, the four men watched pityingly as you scurried away to find a place to hide; a scolded puppy with her tail tucked between her legs.

Simon, John, and Kyle all knew you were just embarrassed and needed some time. Johnny, though, couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t try to escape again.

He followed you, found you squished between the bed and the wall in his room. He had given up his room so you’d have your own space until you got used to living with them, and was bunking with Kyle in the meantime.

“C’mere” was all he had said before he dragged you out from your hiding spot, not even acknowledging your frantic kicking and wailing.

He didn’t care that you were scared, didn’t care that you were embarrassed. You were their girl now, their sweet angel, and he couldn’t let you get away from them.

It didn’t matter to him right now that you thought he was trying to hurt you. He’ll show you he’s safe, that they’re all safe.

“Need a good cuddle, aye?”

And then you were squished between the mattress and him. He laid on top of you, used your chest as his pillow.

“I ken it’s embarrassin’, bonnie. Dinnae worry yer pretty head, alright? We know what ya need, and we’ll make sure you get it.”

You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be comforting or not. After just being fucking spanked like a child, it sounded more like a threat than anything.

He was heavy on top of you, kept you from squirming away but made sure you could still breathe. At first it was panic inducing, being trapped underneath one of your kidnappers. Once it was clear he wasn’t going to try anything, though, once you realized you could still take full breaths, he had the same effect as a weighted blanket.

He fell asleep on top of you, and while you tried to fight sleep, you were truly exhausted. For the first time in the three days you had been here, you felt safe enough to get real sleep.

You couldn’t really trust that you wouldn’t be harmed, but Johnny’s weight and body heat comforted the reptilian part of your brain, assured your primordial survival instincts that you were tucked away somewhere safe, hidden from predators.

Exhaustion overtook your body and your eyelids grew too heavy to hold open.

Safe for now.

[hmsdoodlin]

(121) Congrats on winning the poll Supernova!!

Bonus head cannons below since I neglect them so much

- Validation and praises from Soul are like drugs to Mind

- Mind thinks very highly of Soul, even if he doesn’t like his opinions or actions

- Their relationship can be incredibly awkward and even professional at times. Despite being alone together for most of Cacophony they don’t talk often

- They grow closer after the shot. It’s still uncomfortable but Soul dotes over his injury any chance he gets

- Mind is the first one to remind Soul to drink water or anything other than monster

- They both have crazy high expectations of each other that can get in the way of relaxing or bonding together

- Soul is the only one able to make Mind stfu (without violence)

- Mind is incredibly jealous that Heart and Soul spend so much time together. He wants Souls love too (even if he can never say it outright)

- Soul will pull up with the most awkward ‘I still love you’ and Mind stares at him with a straight face but is jumping for joy in his head

- If Soul ever seriously yelled at Mind I think he would cry. He can handle it from Heart, but Soul?? 50/50 chance his little robot heart breaks

- Mind craves Souls approval soooooooo bad it’s not even funny

- Soul ALSO wants Minds approval but only for certain things. He’s struggling so much to be the ‘leader’ that anytime Mind seems to approve of him he feels better. Mind is hard to impress after all

- Soul can be a little overprotective with Mind sometimes. The shot only reminded him of how physically fragile they all are (especially Mind imo, his ass is very weak)

- They really do love and care about each other, even if they don’t often say it or show it

[into-fiction]

i promise i did try and make this more like funny/cute or whatever, but my brain switched fully to angst mode for part two. my bad.

anyway! blame @c-rose2081 for putting the idea in my head. here is gelphie as...tiny gelphie?

///

Glinda can’t breathe. 

Glinda? Ga-linda? Galinda. 

Galinda can’t breathe. 

Her thoughts are muddled, her head pounding with confusion as she tries to sort out what’s real. Her adult memories are fading by the second, starting to turn hazy and disjointed, like a dream she can’t quite remember.

The room she’s in is dark and vast, terrifying to her now much smaller self. Tears are dripping down her cheeks, and for the first time in years- Galinda’s first thought is Momsie hates crying. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice calls out. It startles Galinda so hard she screams, jerking away from a shadow by her shoulder. 

“It’s okay! I’m sorry; it’s okay!” 

Galinda pushes her blonde curls out of her face with a trembling hand and blinks up at a girl a few years older than she is, her deep green eyes full of concern. Actually- all of her is green, and it sends a burst of warmth through Galinda’s chest, a tingling sense of fuzzy, happy, overwhelming joy. 

Whoever this girl is, Galinda thinks she must’ve known her. Back when she was big. 

Her brow scrunches. Back when she was big? Galinda is so confused. 

“Y-you’re gween,” she mumbles, finally getting her feet underneath her enough to stand. The other girl winces, leaning away from her with wary eyes. 

“I am,” she says shortly. “I’ve always been green.” 

She seems to be waiting for something else, so Galinda sends her a wobbly smile. “I like gween.”

It’s…her favorite color? Galinda grips the fabric of her skirt with shaky hands. Isn’t pink her favorite color? Who is this girl? Why does she feel so familiar? So trustworthy? So…right? 

Galinda looks around and realizes that their entire surroundings are green as well. All smooth jade walls and vaulted ceilings.

The Emerald City, a little voice in her head says. But Galinda’s never been to the Emerald City before, has she? Her past memories are hidden, a jumbled mess of incoherent pieces that are locked behind a wall of fog deep within her mind. 

But within them, surely, there is lots of green. She- she knows this. She knows this girl. 

“My name is Galinda Upland,” Galinda introduces. She says is slowly, carefully, just the way momsie has taught her. 

The older girl beams at her, seemingly delighted that Galinda isn’t put off by her green skin. “I’m Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp.” She thrusts her hand out to greet Galinda. “Have we met before?”

Galinda shakes her head. Nods. Frowns. Shakes her head again.

“E-elff-aba,” Galinda tries, but she stumbles over the long name. Her cheeks darken as she tenses, her momsie’s voice whispering through her mind. 

Say it right, Galinda! 

But Elphaba just smiles softly, giving Galinda’s hand a squeeze where she’s still holding it. “You can call me Elphie,” the girl says. “If that’s easier.”

Elphie. The nickname sings in her veins, something pushing through the fog in her brain so forcefully that it makes her place a hand to her temple with a wince. It hurts. She doesn’t remember Elphie, but she knows her. She- she-

She loves Elphie. Even though she’s only just met her. She loves her. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Elphie asks. 

Galinda shakes her head. “D-dunno how I gots hewe,” she says, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks with her fist. 

“Me neither. My brain feels all twisted around. I think I had the strangest dream.”

Galinda nods, agreeing. Something feels wrong. Galinda was sure when she first woke just minutes ago that she knew where she was and why she was there. But it’s gone now- slipped away like smoke. It scares her that she can’t remember. It feels like she’s missing something important. 

Before they can say anything more, there’s a slam of a door opening, startling both girls as they jump and spin around. On the other side of the green room, a woman strides into view, her white hair twisted up on top of her head, her features sharp and cold as she scans the room and settles on the sight of the two girls. 

She freezes, a slight stumble of her steps. She gapes at them both, eyes widening in shock. 

Whatever she’d been expecting to see, it clearly wasn’t them. Galinda feels her stomach twist, a sick, yucky feeling. Something about this woman terrifies her, the sight of her hair and her face and her sharp heeled shoes making Galinda want to scream. 

Galinda doesn’t remember what she did wrong, but this woman is here to punish her, she just knows it. Panic rises, stealing the breath from her lungs as she reaches out and tangles both her hands in the back of Elphie’s shirt, crowding close to the other girl’s back. 

Elphie seems to take it in stride, standing up taller and pulling Galinda behind her. She glares at the woman as she shakes out of her stupor and stalks closer, looming over the pair. 

“What is the meaning of this?” the woman shouts. “What have you done?!” 

**Part Two. TW: mentions of child abuse & fear wetting**

Galinda’s breath hitches on a sob, tears gushing down her face as the woman towers overhead, screaming. She feels tiny and terrified, her stomach twisting and twisting. Even Elphie is cowed, leaning away from the woman though she resolutely remains in front of Galinda.

“W-we didn’t do anything!” Elphie cries, fear lacing her own voice. 

But the woman is enraged, stomping past them to grab something off the floor that Galinda hadn’t even noticed. It’s a book- strangely built in two different pieces, hinged in between and with pages that glitter with symbols that look nothing like words. 

Everything is so confusifying! Galinda’s brain hurts, and she clings harder to Elphie as the older girl braces herself for the older woman’s approach.

She knows this woman just like she knows Elphie; buried in memories she no longer can access. But where Elphie feels like a warm embrace, this woman feels like the cold slide of fear that accompanies her momsie pointing to the corner. 

Punishment. Galinda shakes harder. Under her hands, she can feel Elphie’s back rising and falling in desperate breaths, nearing hyperventilation. 

The room stinks of fear, the woman stalking over and shaking the book, yelling something about spells and magic and idiot blondes! Galinda can’t quite hear her. Her ears are ringing, body trembling, and before she knows it, before she can stop it, there’s a sudden warmth and wetness that flows down her legs. 

Everything freezes. The woman’s nose curls in disgust. Elphaba spins around to look at Galinda, tearing the blonde’s hands from her shirt. Galinda realizes she’s had an accident and her sobs turn into proper wails. 

“I’m sowwy!” she cries, throwing her hands over her front as though that can hide the growing dark spot. She scrambles backward, the room too big and too open and the woman’s face too mad, and Galinda is in trouble, she knows she is. “I’m sowwy, ‘m sowwy, please, I d-d-didn’t mean to!” 

If Momsie were here, she would put Galinda in the corner. She’d tuck the back of her nightgown in her collar so she could give her a proper spanking and then leave her there, shivering in her soaked clothes until Popsicle came home and saw the evidence of her shame. 

Something about this woman makes her think her version of punishment is even worse. There’s a spark of memory from behind the fog, something that rumbles like thunder and cracks across her skin, lightning hot and piercingly painful. Galinda stumbles and trips, falling to her butt on the cold floor. 

“Ple-ease,” she whimpers, curling into herself. “I be good, I pwomise, please.” 

She repeats herself over and over, babbling on about being good, doing good, she’s so sorry. 

Elphie rushes to her side, small green arms surrounding Galinda as the older girl tries valiantly to glare at the scary woman.  “D-don’t come near!” she shouts. 

She sounds just as scared as Galinda. Her little chest is heaving with fast breaths that never reach her lungs. She’s got her arms spread like she can physically shield Galinda with her body. 

“Y-you can’t hit her, it was an accident!” 

But that’s not how punishments work. Galinda knows that, and she thinks Elphie knows that, too. They must’ve done something wrong. But as the woman advances on them, all she can think is it’s all her fault. 

Galinda did something wrong. And now both she and her new friend are going to pay for it.

(2k continuation of this scene now posted here)

[endofthelinegang]

OMG CAN U PLEASE MAKE A MEGA ANGSTY FINAL BOSS BUCKY BARNES FICTION? One that’ll leave me digging my own grave wanting to rip out my sore and red eyes.

SO BASICALLY, Bucky and reader had a misunderstanding, and there’s this random ass woman who’s feeding more into Bucky’s brain which makes reader look like the bad person and they have these arguments and stuff like that and its TOTALLY UP TO U how u wanna finish it

(im rlly sry if this doesnt make any sense english isnt my first language so😭😭)

this is a marvel blog so i guess we all cry in the club

The first time Bucky raises his voice at you, it feels like the earth cracking open beneath your feet.

"You lied to me."

The accusation slices through the air, sharp as a blade. Your breath stutters and the world tilts slightly. "Bucky, I didn’t—"

"Don’t." His voice is raw, frayed at the edges, and it hurts—because it’s him, because there was a time when that voice never held anything but warmth for you. He paces the dimly lit apartment, his fingers raking through his hair, his shoulders coiled so tight you think he might snap in two. "Victoria told me everything."

Victoria.

You feel sick. Your stomach churns violently, nausea clawing up your throat. Of course, her. The woman who has been poisoning him against you, one drop at a time, until doubt seeped into his very bones. You had felt the shift, subtle at first—small hesitations, a slight pullback when he used to press closer. The way he started questioning your words, looking at you just a little too long, like he was searching for something he never used to doubt.

"And you believe her?" you ask, quiet but firm, though your voice trembles at the edges.

Bucky scoffs a humorless, broken sound. "She has no reason to lie."

A sharp, bitter laugh forces its way out of you. "Are you serious? She has every reason to lie. She wants—"

"You." His voice is lower this time, almost a whisper, but it crashes over you like a thunderclap. "She says you’re the one lying. That you’ve been working against me this entire time. That you were seen—"

He hesitates like the words physically pain him.

"That you were seen meeting with people who want me dead. That you’ve been feeding them information."

You stare at him, stunned into silence. The sheer absurdity of it makes your head spin.

"Bucky, listen to yourself!" you plead, stepping forward, but he takes a step back as if your touch might burn him. "That’s insane. You know I would never—"

"I don’t know," he cuts you off, voice splintering under the weight of it all. "Because she had proof."

The words knock the air from your lungs. "What proof?"

He swallows hard. "Pictures. Of you. In places, you shouldn't have been. With people who should be our enemies."

A cold, sinking realization slams into you. Altered. Doctored. Staged.

"You think I would betray you? Me?" Your voice cracks, because it isn’t just about his doubt—it’s about the fact that it took so little for him to believe it.

His silence is louder than any response he could have given.

Tears sting your eyes, blurring his face, but you refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.

"You don’t trust me," you whisper, and it’s not a question. It’s the truth, ugly and brutal.

Bucky exhales sharply, his lips parting like he wants to say something, anything, but no words come. His silence is your answer.

And it destroys you.

Because what do you have, if not trust? Bucky was never the man with a safety net, never the man who had a home to return to. He had you. You were the one who sat with him through the worst nights when the ghosts of his past curled around his throat like a noose. You were the one who washed the blood from his hands, who touched him like he was more than just a weapon. You were the one who reminded him he was human.

And now, he looks at you like you’re just another ghost haunting him.

You think back to the first time you saw Victoria lingering too close, the way she smiled just a little too sweetly, the way her hand would linger on Bucky’s arm for a second too long. You had tried to push down the unease and told yourself that Bucky wouldn’t be so easily swayed. That he knew you.

But now, standing here in the wreckage of what was once unshakable, you realize how foolish you had been.

"You don’t even realize what she’s doing to you," you murmur, voice hoarse. "She’s manipulating you, Bucky. This isn’t you talking. This is—"

"Don’t." His voice is sharp, cutting through your plea like a blade. "Just stop."

"You don’t even see it, do you?" Your frustration boils over, spilling out in raw, desperate words. "I was the one who stayed. I was the one who picked up your pieces every time you fell apart. I stood by you when you couldn’t even stand by yourself, and the second someone whispers in your ear that I might not be perfect, you throw me away?"

Bucky's jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "It’s not that simple."

"Yes, it is!" you cry. "You were supposed to know me. You were supposed to believe in me! If you ever really loved me, even for a second, you’d know—"

"Don’t." His voice breaks, and for a moment, you see it—the war inside him, the battle between the man he wants to be and the fear that’s consuming him whole. "Don’t say that."

But it’s too late.

The words are already there between you, heavy and suffocating.

"I don’t know what she told you," you say, voice shaking despite your best efforts, "but if you can’t see me—really see me—after everything, then I don’t know what else to say."

Bucky looks like he wants to reach for you. Like he wants to take it all back. But he doesn’t. And that’s worse than if he had just let you walk away without a second glance.

The space between you stretches impossibly wide, an ocean of unspoken words and shattered trust. It’s drowning you both, but only one of you is trying to swim.

Finally, he exhales, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me the truth."

You lift your chin, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even though it hurts. "I already did. But you don’t believe me."

And then, before he can say anything else—before he can break you more—you turn and walk away.

And this time, you don’t look back.

Because if you do, you won’t survive it.