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missempanada · 3 months ago

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How to help the people in Spain

As you may have seen online, Spain is going through a flash flood since October 29. It's mainly affected the Community of Valencia but also some parts of the south-west and the cold drop is now moving to the north-east.

95 bodies have been found at the time I'm writing this (edit: 205 now), there's still people missing and entire towns are isolated as they don't have electricity and their roads have been destroyed. A lot of people don't have tap water or any means to cook. If you're wondering why people didn't evacuate beforehand, it's because authorities didn't care enough to warn people so technically everyone had to go to work and school. Though politicians should be held accountable, the most important thing at the moment is to help those in need. So here's some ways you can help both people and animals that have been affected.

NGOs and fundraisers

MOST NEEDED AT THE MOMENT: You can donate to Valencia's food bank by making a transfer to this bank account: ES86 2100 2806 6402 0009 8998.

Horta Sud is a county in Valencia that has been the most affected by the floodings. People are leaving their houses because they're scared of the infrastructure getting damaged and even walking by foot to Valencia capital to get food. You can help those families via this gofundme.

Hambre Cero is a Spanish non-profit that was founded after the earthquakes in Indonesia. They will be giving food to those who need it. Here's different ways you can donate.

This gofundme is joining efforts with the town hall of Valencia to help people who have lost their homes.

Una copa por Valencia ("a drink to Valencia") is a campaign organized by Spanish influencer David Aliagas. The idea behind it is to donate the amount of money you would spend on drinks on a night out. He'll be joining effort with local non-profits. You can help here.

Here's a thread of artists that are accepting commissions in exchange for donations for Valencia.

Spanish Kpop fans are organizing a collective fundraiser.

EDIT: took Cáritas and Spanish Red Cross out of this post after this tiktok made by a volunteer went viral and a lot of people posted their experiences working for these NGOs. Apparently they're not distributing food. Instead they're telling people not to send more food and send money instead so they can keep part of it.

Help people directly

Help Sara, Steven and Bruno rebuild their home in Valencia.

Help this high school teacher buy a new car to get back to work.

Raúl was about to open his barbershop on October 31 but it was destroyed by the flood. Please help him get his dream back.

Help the neighbours of Aldaia (Valencia) rebuild their homes.

This artist has been affected by the floods and lost their car. They've opened emergency commissions.

You can help rebuild the town of Letur (Albacete) by donating to this gofundme that's directly coordinated with the town hall.

Rebeca is a seamstress. Her studio was both her workplace and a place were came together for a sewing club in the afternoons. It was destroyed by the flood. You can help her rebuild it here

Animal shelters

Refugio Minipow was home to 50 rabbits and guinea pigs. Thankfully, the owners were able to move all the animals to their homes and those of their neighbors, though the shelter itself has been destroyed right after recent renovations. There's different ways to donate here.

El Refugio de María a dog shelter in Sueca (Valencia), is completely flooded, leaving the dogs visibly distressed, as shown here. You can donate to PayPal [email protected]

Modepran is a dog shelter in Campanar (Valencia) where infrastructure damage has left some dogs without a proper sleeping area. You can donate through PayPal here.

Gatos Campo de Gibraltar is a cat shelter in Los Barrios (Cádiz). need of assistance for relocating cats to new homes and rebuilding damaged facilities. You can donate to their PayPal [email protected]

Protectora San Antón is an animal shelter for cats and dogs in Jerez de la Frontera (Cádiz). The entire place is flooded and the animals don't have a comfortable place to sleep in. Cats can't even walk on the ground. You can donate to their PayPal [email protected]

I'll be adding more as I find them. Thank you everyone for your help.

Edit: adding this because I keep seeing people on Twitter and Tiktok say it makes no sense to give money to people in a "first world" country. I need you people to understand that living in a western country doesn't equal politicians caring about you.

This whole thing started because politicians weren't doing their job and they're still not doing it. People (literal civilians, not firefighters or policemen) are literally pulling bodies from under cars and putting them inside the trunks so children in the affected areas don't see them. There's underground parkings still flooded by water and we don't know how many people may be inside them.

France offered to send us 200 firemen and the Ministry of Interior literally REFUSED. Some of these French firemen came on their own anyway. But that's what our politicians are doing. Negating help and pointing fingers at each other so they don't seem guilty.

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blueboyluca · 3 months ago

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Among the tens of thousands of people who risked their lives to stay home, fear of abandoning their animals was a primary reason for that decision. But even after the levees broke and thousands of men, women, and children were stranded on their rooftops, sometimes for days, rescuers did not allow the displaced to bring their pets into emergency facilities. Some residents had to be forced at gunpoint to leave their companions behind.

...

"There is a class issue involved here," Karen Dawn, an animal advocate, wrote in The Washington Post. "While Marriott hotels welcomed the pets of Katrina evacuees as ‘part of the family,’ people who had to rely on the Red Cross for shelter were forced to abandon that part of the family or attempt to ride out the storm. It cannot be denied that many poor people are dead as a result of 'no pets' policies."

...

"There’s no question that the pit bulls were separated out and treated differently [during the rescue effort]," a woman named Molly Gibb, who traveled to the Gulf to help lost pets after the hurricane, told me. "The media has done a very good job of 'de-dogging' the pit bull." Gibb would later foster a shy red-and-white pit bull that had been found tied to her dead owner, who had drowned. When the dog was picked up, she was wearing a fancy leather dress collar with metal studs on it, something Gibb recognized must have cost a good amount of money. "That man gave his life to save his dog," Gibb said, her voice trembling, "and other rescuers were complaining about what kind of collar she had on." (Later, the dog would be adopted by a pastor who took her to church with him on Sundays. He named her Faith.)

— Bronwen Dickey, Pit Bull (2016)

#Hurricane Katrina #dog books #pit bull

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angelseraphines · 1 month ago

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ೃ⁀➷ ultraviolence ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, and a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? i hope you enjoy reading! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ choosing to take up arms and align yourself with player 456’s desperate plan was not so much a choice as it was an ultimatum. to do nothing, continue playing by their sadistic rules, meant walking the same path to inevitable death. but this? this rebellion, this gamble to strike at the heart of the operation. a blaze of defiance instead of the slow suffocation of compliance.

˚ ༘♡ the gunfire came fast and relentless, each crack like lightning splitting the air around you. the deafening staccato of bullets ricocheted off the metal structures, sharp and unforgiving. you pressed yourself hard against the crimson barrier, your heart a violent drumbeat in your chest. each near miss tore at your nerves, leaving behind the bitter taste of survival.

˚ ༘♡ the red structures were impractical shelter, offering only the facade of safety. around you, the others fought back with what little ammunition and courage they had. some fired blindly, their hands shaking, others aimed with accuracy, faces set with the resilience of people who knew they may never see another day.

˚ ༘♡ the air reeked of gunpowder and sweat, and your own breath came in short, uneven bursts as you tried to steady your hands. the ground beneath you was littered with shell casings and splintered debris, each piece a fragment of the chaos you had willingly stepped into. a thought crossed your mind, whether this was bravery or madness. but the thought vanished as quickly as it came, drowned out by the next thunderous racket of gunfire.

˚ ༘♡ you don’t have time to think, only to act. your fingers find the magazine release instinctively, pressing it hard. the spent magazine drops to the ground, clattering louder than you’d like. your other hand is already reaching for a fresh one, fumbling for a second before finding it.

˚ ༘♡ the cool metal feels heavy in your palm as you slot it into the magazine well. you shove it upward until it clicks into place, a sound that’s both satisfying and urgent. your hand moves to the slide, gripping the serrated edges. you pull it back sharply, feeling the resistance, and let it snap forward with a crisp, metallic clank.

˚ ༘♡ your heart is racing, but your hands are steady. you flick the safety off with your thumb without even thinking about it. the gun is ready again, its weight familiar in your grip. you take a breath that doesn’t seem deep enough, your focus narrowing as you lift the weapon and prepare to fire at the masked men who stand across in another block structure.

˚ ༘♡ player 001 had insisted you stay behind. his voice was grounded, almost gentle, as he took your hand, his rough fingers a stark contrast to the warmth in his tone. “this plan is reckless,” he said, his expression unreadable except for the glint of concern in his dark eyes. “we have enough people. you don’t need to put yourself in danger.” but his attempt at reassurance only fueled your resolve.

˚ ༘♡ “if you’re not staying behind, neither am i,” you replied, your voice firm, though your heart pounded like a war drum. his face darkened with vexation, but he didn’t argue further, young-il knew he could not change your mind.

˚ ༘♡ crouched behind the unforgiving cover of the red structure, your hands trembled as you clutched the empty weapon. “i’m out of ammo,” you called, your voice barely cutting through the raucous chaos around you.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun and jung-bae had disappeared minutes ago, slipping into the chaos to infiltrate the control room. every second they were gone stretching unbearably thin. around you, the others were panicking. shouts rose above the gunfire, “almost out!” player 246 hollered, “running low!” player 120 yelled out, desperation laced every shout.

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s radio crackled to life, gi-hun’s strained voice breaking through. “we’re running out of ammo here. there are more magazines on the guards, someone has to get them. hurry!”

˚ ༘♡ the moment the line went dead, young-il turned to the group. unlike the others, he was calm, his face as still as stone, his composure a striking contrast to the pandemonium. his eyes swept over each of you, calculating, deliberate. “four of us will move to back them up,” he said, his voice even, “but someone has to retrieve the magazines from the guards.”

˚ ༘♡ you felt the weight of his gaze settle on you for a moment longer than the others. your stomach tightened. the bodies of the masked men were out there, sprawled in the open, exposed under relentless gunfire. retrieving the magazines meant running into certain danger.

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll go!” dae-ho shouted, his voice quivering. his hands shook as he clutched his weapon, his knuckles white against the grip. before anyone could argue, he pushed himself to his feet and sprinted into the open, his silhouette a vulnerable target in the chaos. bullets ricocheted off nearby walls, sparks flying like tiny explosions. player 120 darted after him, crouching low and firing in short bursts to cover his reckless charge.

˚ ༘♡ young-il, player 047, and player 015 began moving toward the exit. you didn’t hesitate to follow, the worn soles of your shoes crunching against the debris-strewn ground. before you could take more than a few steps, young-il stopped abruptly, turning to face you. his stern gaze locked onto yours, “stay here,” he said, his voice low.

˚ ༘♡ your chest tightened with frustration, and you met his command with a sharp glare. “i can’t stay out here,” you hissed, your voice barely louder than the chaos around you. “how can i stand by knowing you’ll be in danger while i sit here, doing nothing? i can help.”

˚ ༘♡ his expression darkened, his face hardening as his jaw tightened. the faint lines around his eyes deepened into sharp creases, the wear of age etched into his skin. you could see the conflict inside him, his instinct to protect you clashing with the knowledge that he couldn’t stop you. his shoulders sagged ever so slightly, a reluctant surrender.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t argue further. instead, he turned sharply and continued toward the exit, his steps heavier than before. you followed close behind, the cold air biting at your face and your hands shaking.

˚ ༘♡ once inside, the oppressive silence of the corridors was shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire echoing through the narrow passageways. your boots slid against the blood-slick floors, the dark streaks smearing across the ground like grotesque markers guiding your way. shattered shell casings crunched underfoot, their metallic edges catching the dim light as you moved in tight formation behind the others.

˚ ༘♡ the sounds grew louder with every turn, each burst of gunfire sending a jolt through your chest. when you reached the source, your heart sank. gi-hun and jung-bae were pinned down behind a stack of crates, their weapons barking in quick bursts as masked men returned fire from the opposite end of the hall. “the control room is there!” gi-hun shouted, his voice strained as he gestured toward a guarded staircase. the veins in his neck stood out with the effort.

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s gaze darted between the staircase and gi-hun, his expression grim. “i’m nearly out of ammo,” he said, his voice undisturbed despite the chaos around him.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun didn’t hesitate. he reached into his pocket, retrieving a magazine with shaky fingers. “here,” he said, extending it toward young-il. “it’s my last one.”

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s eyes flicked to the magazine, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “are you sure?” he asked, his tone measured, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun nodded. “dae-ho will be back with more. now go!”

˚ ༘♡ young-il looked as though he might argue, yet with a reluctant nod, he took the magazine. sliding it into his weapon, he jerked his head toward the opposite direction. “this way,” he commanded.

˚ ༘♡ you fell in step beside him, your shoulder brushing his as you moved. the air felt thick, you couldn’t help but glance at young-il, his face a mask of stable focus.

˚ ༘♡ arriving at another stairwell, the tension in the air felt suffocating, every step heavy with the weight of what might come next. player 047 and player 015 moved quickly, their rifles poised as they positioned themselves near the walls, peering toward the masked guards above.

˚ ༘♡ you and young-il lingered behind them. he reloaded his rifle with the magazine gi-hun had given him. your hands tightening around your weapon. the cold metal felt heavier than ever, slick with the sweat of your palms. you tried to calm your breathing, to ready yourself for the chaos that was certain to erupt. beside you, young-il raised his gun, his posture steady and unshaken. you followed his lead, preparing for the onslaught, waiting for the inevitable storm of bullets. the shots rang out, but they weren’t aimed at the guards.

˚ ༘♡ the first sharp crack reverberated through the stairwell, a deafening sound that seemed to shatter the air. player 047 jerked forward, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded puppet. his rifle clattered away, the life drained from him in an instant.

˚ ༘♡ before the echo of the first shot faded, another followed, sharp and final. player 015 collapsed, his body writhing as blood began to trickle beneath him. he let out a guttural, choked gasp, his hands clawing weakly at the ground as he struggled to breathe. his voice, broken and trembling, was barely audible as he begged for mercy, his words dissolving into wet, rasping breaths.

˚ ༘♡ you stood paralyzed, the scene before you unspooling in a sickening blur. player 047’s body lay still, his eyes vacant, while player 015 twitched helplessly, his life draining away with each agonized second.

˚ ༘♡ your eyes went to young-il, who remained motionless, his gun still raised. his expression was cold, unreadable, as if the weight of what he had done didn’t touch him at all. there was no hesitation in his actions, no flicker of remorse in his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ the distant echoes of gunfire and screams drowned out by the discordant pounding of your own heartbeat. your mind raced, grasping for something, anything, to make sense of what was happening, but your body refused to move. your breath caught in your throat as young-il turned toward you, his weapon still raised, the barrel gleaming under the light.

˚ ༘♡ time seemed to stretch as the frigid metal pressed against your forehead, the faint scrape of the barrel against your skin sending a chill down your spine. his eyes, once a source of reassurance, now bore into you with an intensity that felt almost inhuman. they weren’t angry, but calculating. you opened your mouth to speak, to plead, to demand answers, but no sound came. the words were trapped, strangled by a fear that gripped your chest.

˚ ༘♡ for a vanishing moment, hope sparked when he lowered the gun. relief struck you so abruptly it nearly made your knees give out. that hope shattered as quickly as it came. he aimed the gun not at your chest, but lower. you barely registered what was happening before the deafening crack of the shot filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ the agony radiating from your shattered knee. it was as if every nerve in your body had been set ablaze, the pain so consuming it blurred your vision and stole the breath from your lungs. blood gushed from the wound, pooling rapidly beneath you.

˚ ༘♡ you clawed at the ground, desperate for anything to anchor you as your body convulsed with the shock of the injury. tears streamed down your face, hot and uncontrollable, as a strangled cry escaped your lips. the cold floor beneath you seemed to pull the heat from your body, leaving you trembling and vulnerable.

˚ ༘♡ through the haze of agony, you forced your gaze upward, meeting his cold, unflinching eyes. “why?” you rasped, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears. the word was a broken plea, filled with pain and betrayal, though deep down, you already knew no answer could justify what he had done.

˚ ༘♡ young-il stalked over to player 047’s lifeless body, his demeanor disturbingly composed despite the carnage surrounding you both. crouching beside the corpse, he grabbed the sleeve of the dead man’s jacket, his fingers curling around the fabric. with a deliberate pull, he tore a strip from the bloodied material.

˚ ༘♡ you writhed where you lay, the searing pain in your knee refusing to relent. blood continued to seep from the wound, its warmth pooling beneath you in thick, sticky smears. your breathing came in short, erratic gasps

˚ ༘♡ he returned to you, the strip of fabric clutched in his hand like a twisted tool of control. his presence loomed over you, suffocating in its quiet intensity. you flinched as he knelt beside you, the smell of blood and sweat clinging to him, a grotesque reminder of what he’d done.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, his hand shot out, his grip firm as he seized your chin. the sudden pressure forced your head off the cold, blood-slick floor, and you gasped, your lips trembling as you struggled to focus through the pain clouding your vision. his touch was rigid, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of your jaw.

˚ ༘♡ young-il worked methodically, winding the fabric around your mouth. you tried to jerk your head away, but his grip tightened, holding you in place as he secured the knot at the back of your head. the coarse material bit into the corners of your mouth, the taste of grime and death filling your senses as your cries were reduced to stifled, pitiful sounds.

˚ ༘♡ when he finally let go of your chin, your head hit the floor with a thud that seemed to echo inside your skull. the pain was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the turmoil raging within you. confusion clawed at your thoughts, tangled with disbelief so heavy it was suffocating. this was young-il, the man who had stood beside you, risked his life for you. you couldn’t reconcile the murderous figure before you with the person who had once seemed so kind, so loyal. why? the question screamed in your mind, louder than the agony in your leg or the blood pounding in your ears.

˚ ༘♡ he pulled the portable radio from his pocket, the cold efficiency of his actions cutting deeper than any bullet could. he walked over to where player 015 lay, choking on his own blood, the pitiful sound barely audible between gurgling gasps. kneeling down beside him, young-il’s voice changed, slipping into a grotesque mockery of grief and desperation.

˚ ༘♡ “i’m sorry, gi-hun,” he said, his voice uneven, laced with feigned exhaustion. “it’s over.”

˚ ༘♡ your eyes widened as the meaning of his words sank in. you thrashed against the bindings around your mouth, your muffled screams raw and desperate as you tried to drown out his lie. gi-hun needed to hear the truth, that young-il betrayed them, but the gag stifled every sound.

˚ ༘♡ young-il pressed the radio closer to player 015, holding it just inches from the man’s face. the wet, ragged gasps of the dying player filled the channel. you watched in horror as young-il’s hand rested on the radio. it was cruel, calculated, a performance designed to destroy any hope gi-hun might have left.

˚ ༘♡ with a flick of his finger, he silenced the radio. the stairwell was suddenly quiet except for your muted weeping and the faint rasp of player 015’s fading breaths. young-il stood over him, his gun raised once more. there was no hesitation, no emotion as he pulled the trigger. the crack of the shot was deafening, the sound of it reverberating off the concrete walls and leaving an emptiness in its wake.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was unbearable. it pressed down on you, crushing your chest, as the weight of his betrayal settled fully in your mind. young-il turned, his face as calm as ever, and you felt your stomach twist. “i’m sorry,” young-il murmured. your heart sank as you convinced yourself this was it. he was going to kill you, finish what he started and tie up loose ends.

˚ ༘♡ instead, he turned and walked away, his footsteps unhurried. the sound of them faded into the distance. confusion churned in your chest, mingling with the pain that consumed your body. why leave you in such a pathetic state? surely, even he wouldn’t be so brutal as to condemn you to bleed out slowly, to suffer alone in agony until death finally claimed you.

˚ ༘♡ time became meaningless as you lay there. blood seeped from your shattered knee in hot, pulsing waves, the sticky warmth swarming beneath you, soaking into your clothes. the air grew colder, or maybe it was you, the life draining from your body, inch by inch. you couldn’t tell if a minute had passed or an hour.

˚ ༘♡ somewhere far away, gunshots cracked. a scream came, a piercing, gut-wrenching sound that sent a shiver crawling up your spine despite your weakening state, unmistakably gi-hun. you refused to consider what might have happened, it was far too devastating.

˚ ༘♡ and then, footsteps.

˚ ༘♡ as the figure emerged into view, a dreadful realization set in. it wasn’t anyone you recognized.

˚ ༘♡ tall and imposing, the stranger was clad in sleek black from head to toe. the fabric of their attire shimmered faintly under the dim light, perfectly fitted, without a single crease or flaw. their face was concealed by an angular black mask, its pristine surface reflecting nothing, revealing nothing, not even a hint of the eyes beneath.

˚ ༘♡ your mind, dulled by pain and blood loss, struggled to comprehend the sight. fear should have seized you, but your body was too weak, your thoughts too fractured to muster a response. when the figure crouched beside you, their movements swift and efficient, you didn’t resist as they ripped the gag from your mouth.

˚ ༘♡ “who… who are you?” you managed to slur, your voice barely audible.

˚ ༘♡ the figure didn’t answer. they didn’t hesitate. one gloved hand cradled the back of your head, tilting it upward with unsettling care, while the other hand brought a cloth to your face. the sharp, chemical scent hit you instantly, chloroform.

˚ ༘♡ panic flared, yet it was short-lived. the edges of your vision blurred, your body growing heavier, like you were sinking into a dark, bottomless pit. the last thing you saw was the smooth, featureless mask staring down at you, icy and unfeeling, before the world faded into black.

a/n: another hwang in-ho fanfiction! let me know your thoughts and if you have any requests! 🤍

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prythiansprincess · 5 months ago

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brother's bsf! mattheo who you've had a crush on for years.

but he's only ever seen you as theo's little sister (or so he says).

it doesn't matter that you and theo are only a year apart. your older brother is extremely protective of you and so are the rest of his friends — especially mattheo.

you grew up around the boys, which was a blessing and a curse in and of itself. on one hand, you grew super close to mattheo, but on the other hand, he's seen you through your awkward braces and pigtails phase.

lately though, brother's bsf! mattheo starts to notice you. really notice you.

suddenly, you didn't seem so little to him anymore.

but over the years, your infatuation with your brother's best friend calmed to attraction instead. you've come to accept that while mattheo would always be your first crush, that's all it would really ever amount to. a harmless little childhood crush.

thanks to theo, you hadn't gotten much of a chance to date when you were younger, but now that you were starting uni with the rest of the boys, you were determined to push those silly little feelings for mattheo away and start putting yourself out there.

granted, you had a lot to learn given your sheltered upbringing.

boys had taken a liking to you. why wouldn't they? you're pretty, you're smart, and you're the perfect combination of sweet and sassy, but you were also extremely naïve.

brother's bsf! mattheo had to protect you.

it was his responsibility.

theo trusted him to keep an eye on you. so he did.

・❥・ brother's bsf! mattheo glares at any boy that dares to look at you.

・❥・ brother's bsf! mattheo revs his motorcycle and comes in hot when he sees anyone talking to you, handing you the pink helmet he keeps on him at all times without a single word.

・❥・ brother's bsf! mattheo gives you rides to your dorm and takes you out for ice cream after a particularly hard exam.

it's clear that mattheo has a soft spot for you. no matter how vehemently he denies it.

until the night that everything changed.

it was a chilly friday evening when you happily skipped out of your dorm building, eager to attend your first frat party.

the cute boy in your history class asked you to come with him and you immediately said yes despite not knowing what to expect. it seemed fun and exciting and a little bit dangerous.

as luck would have it, you ran into none other than mattheo on your way out. his sleek black motorcycle was parked on the curb, smoke wafting from his lips as he took a lazy drag of his cigarette. leaning against his bike, mattheo raised a brow as you strutted onto the sidewalk.

"where do you think you're going, nott?"

"to a party, matty."

"with who?"

"a friend."

mattheo narrows his eyes at you. "I know all your friends and they're busy tonight. so which friend is it?"

you sigh in frustration. "just a friend from class. god, you sound like theo right now."

"you're not going anywhere wearing that."

"what's wrong with my dress?"

you smoothed down the front of your red minidress self-consciously, shying away from mattheo's intense gaze. his chocolate brown eyes scanned your body, the heat of his stare dragging along your skin.

"for starters, that dress barely covers anything and knowing you, you'll be cold within the first few minutes."

"I'll be fine, mattheo. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

mattheo crosses his arms, huffing at your statement. "so you told theo where you're headed off to tonight?"

you shrugged. "what my brother doesn't know won't hurt him."

"yes, but he might hurt anyone stupid enough to ogle you in that dress. as will I. maybe I should tell him what his baby sister is up to. better yet, maybe I should come with you to this party, hm?"

"no please," you pleaded. "I just want one night where I'm not being treated like a little kid. can you give me that, matty? please?"

you flashed your best puppy dog eyes at him, knowing that he couldn't possibly resist when you asked so nicely.

mattheo considers it for a moment before sighing in defeat. "fine, princess. but text me when you get there and call me when you're home. don't even think about turning your location off or else I'll send a brigade after you."

"yes sir."

"good girl."

before brother's bsf! mattheo could think better of it, you kiss his cheek and promise to call him later that night.

brother's bsf! mattheo watches you strut away in your tight little dress with a soft smile on his face, fully knowing that you had him wrapped around your finger.

by the time you arrive at the party, it's in full swing. music is blaring, drinks are flowing, and the frat house is packed to the brim with people.

you send a quick text to mattheo to let him know you've arrived before spotting aiden.

clearly, your date was already a few drinks in. he greets you with a lingering hug before handing you a red cup. "cheers, y/n."

"cheers," you respond, clinking your cup against his and taking a generous swig. the liquor burns your throat and aiden chuckles as you try to hide your wincing.

still, it does the job.

you loosen up after a few sips. aiden introduces you to his friends and you smile politely, trying not to squirm out of his hold as he pulls you in by the waist.

it's fine, he's just keeping you close in such a packed crowd. he doesn't mean any harm by it.

at least that's what you told yourself.

until aiden tries to make a move on you in the middle of the dance floor. you already told him that you didn't want to dance, but he insisted.

you could smell the liquor on his breath as he grabbed your hips, moving them along to the rhythm of the song. you tried to put some distance between you, but aiden didn't seem deterred by it. in fact, his wandering hands slide down to your lower back until they're planted firmly on your ass. you attempted to pry them away, but he slurred "relax" into your ear before giving your ass a squeeze.

that was the tipping point for you.

with all your strength, you shoved aiden off while he cursed after you. the lights were blinding as you made your way through the crowd, fleeing to the bathroom.

you had brother's bsf! mattheo's number dialed before you even closed the door.

surprisingly, he picks up on the first ring.

"hi matty, are you — are you busy right now?"

"I'm with the boys. how'd the party go, princess?"

"um, I'm still here and I just really want to go home."

you hear shuffling on the other end. presumably mattheo finding somewhere more private to speak with you. "I thought your friend was your ride home?"

"well, aiden's drunk and he's been getting a little handsy the whole night so I don't really feel safe going home with him."

"what?" mattheo hisses. "you didn't tell me you were with a guy. I never would've let you go off alone with some random prick."

"please don't be mad, matty. I just wanted to have fun without worring about my brother hovering over my shoulder. don't tell theo, please. I'll — I'll figure it out. I'll find another ride."

"like hell you are! drop your location. the boys and I are coming."

"no, please. I don't want this to be a whole thing. if theo finds out, he'll never let me out of his sight again."

you could feel mattheo grappling with the situation. part of him wanted to tell his best mate, but all he truly cared about was getting to you as quickly as he could. after a few moments, he sighs. "fine, I won't tell your brother, but I'm still coming to get you. stay where you are, princess and don't hang up the phone. I'm on my way, okay?"

"you really don't have to —"

the argument dies in your throat when you hear the sound of mattheo's motorcycle starting up. he wasn't going to let you talk him out of this. mattheo was coming, whether you wanted him to or not.

"too late. be a good girl and stay on the line with me, sweetheart. I'm coming for you."

brother's bsf! mattheo pays no mind to the boys as they joke about him meeting up with a booty call.

the only thing that matters to him is getting to you.

brother's bsf! mattheo weaves through campus, revving and racing his motorcycle as fast as it can possibly go.

it's too noisy to talk while he rides, but he stays on the line anyways, listening through one earphone as you quietly hum to help calm yourself. mattheo smiles to himself. it's one of his favorite quirk of yours. half of the time, you don't even notice you're doing it. but he does. he notices everything about you.

mere minutes have passed since you first called him, but it feels like an eternity to mattheo when he finally pulls up to the decrepit frat house at the edge of campus.

mattheo parks his motorcycle on the curb, glaring at the prying eyes trained on him. it's not every day that the mattheo riddle, resident bad boy pulls up to a party looking like he's absolutely ready to kill someone with his bare hands.

he has half a mind to burst into the bloody house and pummel that stupid prick for daring to touch you, but the sight of you approaching stops him cold.

you look flustered and fearful, lower lip trembling as you spill out into the sidewalk. mattheo instantly sees red. he vows to make that motherfucker pay for this.

"where is he?"

"mattheo —"

"where. the. fuck. is. he?"

"probably somewhere inside drunk off his arse. I don't know and I don't care. can we please just go?"

despite his anger, you don't balk from him. in fact, you've got both hands pressed firmly against his chest to hold him back.

brother's bsf! mattheo grips your hips, your noses pressing together as he carefully inspects you. making sure you were alright is the only thing keeping him from committing violence.

"tell me where he is."

though mattheo's words are tinged with fury, his tone remains soft and sweet. his voice is nothing but a whisper because even at his angriest, mattheo would never raise his voice at you.

“give me a name, sweetheart. just give me his name."

"it's fine, matty. he's not worth the trouble."

“he left you alone, at a party where you don’t know anyone, got too drunk even though he knows he’s your ride home and got handsy with you even though you weren’t into it. give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fuck him up right now?”

“I can handle him later. can we please just go home? I'm tired and I just want to be in bed now.”

the cold air makes you shiver as you mentally curse yourself for picking such a skimpy outfit when hours ago you felt foolishly confident in your dress.

brother's bsf! mattheo softens when he sees you trembling. without a word, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. the scent of amber and cinnamon envelopes you all at once, lulling you into a calmer state.

"okay, princess. let me take you home."

once mattheo secures the baby pink helmet over your head, he tells you to hang on tight before taking off.

you hug his midsection, resting your chin on his shoulder as mattheo drives slow through the sprawling campus. the streets are empty, but he drags out the ride, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

at the strike of midnight, the two of you finally reach your dorm.

although you insist that you're fine, brother's bsf! mattheo walks you all the way up to your door.

the fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you shift your weight form one foot to the other, suddenly feeling shy.

"thanks for picking me up, matty."

"of course, y/n. you know I'd do anything if you're the one asking."

you smile, trying your hardest to hide the blush on your cheeks. "I hope I didn't ruin your night."

mattheo shrugs. "not at all. before you called, I was watching berkshire stuff marshmallows down his throat while the boys cheered him on. trust me, you weren't interrupting anything important."

"still. I appreciate you coming to my rescue and not ratting me out to my brother."

mattheo smiles. "it's our little secret, princess."

the double meaning of the words causes tension between you and the pull that you've always felt towards mattheo feels stronger than ever, tugging you closer.

maybe tonight is the night that you finally feel brave enough to fall.

"goodnight, matty."

brother's bsf! mattheo watches as you get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek like you always do. except this time, you lean in for a proper kiss.

as soon as mattheo's lips touch yours, you feel your entire body erupt like fireworks. it's everything you imagined it to be and more. his lips are soft against yours, supple and inviting. the kiss takes him by surprise, but once he realizes what's happening, he groans into your mouth, the sound of it filled with need.

dazed and confused, you look up as mattheo pulls away, his big brown eyes scanning your face. "we shouldn't do this, princess."

despite his words, mattheo's hand rests itself on your hip, his thumb brushing gentle circles against your exposed skin. you gulp as he stares at you, your lips brushing, your bodies gravitating towards each other no matter how hard you try to fight the pull.

"is it because of my brother?"

"no," mattheo growls. "we shouldn't do this because I don't know if I'll be able to stop once we start."

"I don't want you to stop, mattheo."

as soon as the words leave your lips, mattheo is kissing you again, and this time, he isn't holding back. you cling onto his shirt as he kisses you hard, the force of it hitting you all at once. his fingers dig into your hips as you bend at the waist, desperately kissing back.

his head is reeling and his heart is pounding. mattheo is drowning in your taste, your touch, your smell. you're every drug rolled into one; seductive and sinful. he's addicted and he can't get enough.

brother's bsf! mattheo doesn't want to pull away. he wants to stay here and live in this moment forever, but he knows that if he does, he'll end up taking everything.

foreheads pressed together, mattheo leans in for one last kiss. this one is sweet and gentle, enough to satiate him for the moment.

"sleep tight, princess. I'll see you in the morning."

"see you in the morning, matty."

brother's bsf! mattheo can't help but take one last look at you, a soft smile on his face when he sees your flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips.

in that moment, he knows he's fucked. you're his best mate's little sister. he shouldn't have kissed you. he shouldn't feel this way for you. he should've stopped before it was too late, but you were both way past that now.

now that he's had you, he won't want anything else. it's you he'll always crave. it's you he'll always long for. and he doesn't give a fuck what it takes to get you.

brother's bsf! mattheo won't stop until you're his and his alone. *✧･ﾟ:*

#mattheo on a motorcycle might actually put me in a coma #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine

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thenorthsource · 4 months ago

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Hello everybody!

We are offering to make any gif/graphics request you ask of us as long as you donate to the vetted families and charities listed below.

We are also collaborating with the following artists:

@adharaphoenix

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@amuelia [4 slots open for now]

half body, colored and shaded, two characters, 65$

half body, colored and shaded, one character, 40$

bust, colored and shaded, one character, 25$

@snoozingfae

from whom you can request fanart in exchange for donations.

Rules:

- request things related only to the north

- send proof of your donation in asks of our blog and the artist of your choice if you commission art.

Prices:

- graphics: 5$

- gifsets: 5$

- lineart sketch - 10$

- simple coloring - 15$

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- halfbody portrait - 50$

- fullbody portrait - 100$

PALESTINE

Dina Maliha (€36,331 raised of €50,000 goal) Google Doc of vetted fundraisers; Dina is 160 on the list

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Mahmoud has recently gotten a severe head injury and therefore his wife requested that we donate to the PayPal for emergency medical funds

SUDAN

Eman Abdulrahman (GFM CHF33,013 raised of CHF50,000 goal, Chuffed $2,548 raised of $30,000) Eman is 213 on the list

Khartoum Kitchen

LEBANON

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Lebanese Red Cross

#palestine fundraiser #palestine gfm #tags for reach #asoiaf fanart #jon snow #arya stark #asoiaf art #asoiaf #commission #hotd #game of thrones #sansa stark #team black #team green #house stark #a song of ice and fire #lebanon #sudan #palestine

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fir3flytv · 9 months ago

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JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

#my old boy just passed so this is so fucking self indulgent 😭#storm speaks ⛈#storm shorts ☁️#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #I know in some runs he does have a dog just shhhhhhhh #let me live my fantasy life #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #dc #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #This is literally so long 😭

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soupuurr · 8 months ago

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𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 - matthew sturniolo

pairing. dilf!matt x sub!reader

genre. smut

⟶ content warnings. explicit content, age gap (reader is an adult), porn with plot, mentions of drugs, kitchen sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, manhandling, oral, fingering, creampie. MDNI

⟶ summary. you find yourself increasingly drawn to the father of the child you babysit. what happens when you accidentally wind up at his doorstep in the pouring rain?

your drenched figure meekly stood on the front porch of Mr. Sturniolo’s residence, teeth chattering as you tuck your hair behind your ears and attempt to unstick your shirt from your wet skin—you cursed at yourself for neglecting to bring the baby pink umbrella sitting by your closet. realizing you might succumb to hypothermia if you didn't find shelter soon, you had no choice but to bang your fist against the door for the second time. you waited for a few more seconds, glancing at the blaring white numbers on your phone screen; 7:38 p.m.

you considered giving up and heading back to your car until you heard footsteps shuffling on the other side, accompanied by the sound of the locks being undone. the door finally swung open and you stood face to face with the gorgeous brunet. the father of the child you nanny, to be exact. he gaped at you in shock, his blue eyes wide and pretty pink lips parted. the white sweater adorning his body was tucked neatly into a pair of pale blue jeans complemented by delicate pieces of jewelry peeking out at his neckline. although you did notice something strange about him, his eyes were bloodshot red. almost as if he’d been crying, or maybe... your head vaguely tilted in observation before you snapped out of your thoughts—quickly realizing that your clothes were dampened by the rain and pretty much see through once you caught his blue eyes lingering at your tits, practically eye-fucking you.

“oh my gosh sweetheart, what are you doing outside?” his voice, smooth as butter, made your heart skip a beat. sweetheart. he would call you that often. you would be lying if you said that you’ve never touched yourself at night—replaying the sound of his sweet voice and imagining his presence while you fuck yourself with your fingers, “be quiet, sweetheart. you don’t want people to hear”.

“i’m sorry Mr. Sturniolo, i recall that i would have to babysit aria today?” you smiled the best you could, still shivering from the droplets of rain that would pour down your body. the brunet frowned in front of you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“honey, aria is staying with her mother today.” he cooed. you stood, processing his words before squeezing your eyes shut in frustration. fucking hell, how could you forget?

“here—come in, you must be so cold.” he ushered you inside, placing a warm palm on the small of your back. he swiftly shut the door behind you and the house fell silent, filled only with the muted sound of raindrops.

“god, you’re soaking wet.” he murmured softly, twirling the stubble on his jawline between his fingers. your stomach fluttered at his remark.

“and it’s matt, by the way.” he warmly smiled at you. your eyes met his in surprise,

“call me matt.”

“thank you matt.” you whimpered, your hands gently soothing the goosebumps on your arms. matt fell silent for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his features.

“let’s get you cleaned up. you know where the shower is, yeah?” he said, clearing his throat as he walked towards the stairs—his back turned to you. matt’s soft footsteps echoed through the living room, and you couldn't find the words as you watched him disappear into a room.

you quietly made your way towards the enormous bathroom at the end of the hallway, you knew it like the back of your hand since it happened to be one of aria’s favorite places to hide. you rid yourself of your drenched clothes before stepping into the long awaited shower—sighing in blissful relief as the warm water washed over your body. this was the first time you were solely with matt, let alone naked in his shower.

you hated to admit that you were secretly anticipating him, hoping that he would come in and press your tits onto the glass shower door as he fucks you senseless—or maybe have you propped up on the sink while he selfishly flicks his tongue against your clit over and over again, covering his face in your slick. undeniably, you concluded that it was best if you left this house as quickly as possible. for yours and matt’s sake.

you step out of the shower with a towel wrapped snug against your body. your gaze swept the sparsely stocked bathroom, only to realize with dismay that you had forgotten to bring fresh clothes. hesitantly, you step across the floorboards—inching your way towards the bathroom door shortly before turning the metal handle. you prayed that matt would still be in his room so that you could sneakily find a random t-shirt to throw over your head. luck wasn’t on your side, though, as you didn’t make it two steps out of the bathroom before colliding with matt’s solid chest. a pile of clothes fell to the ground as his hand flew to your hips, the heat of his fingertips seeping through the thin towel.

“i-i’m so sorry, i was just bringing you clothes.” matt panicked—briskly removing his hands from your body. you felt so empty without his touch.

“it’s okay! and thank you. i’ll go change.” you bend over and pick up the clothes scattered on the floor, your tits on full display for matt’s greedy eyes. matt stood immobile—pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose and cursing underneath his breath once you ultimately shut the bathroom door behind you.

matt was fucking annoyed, annoyed at your goddamn innocence. after interrupting him while he was high in his room—in the middle of pumping his fist over his cock, he opens the door to find you like that. your transparent clothes leaving nothing to his imagination. hell, he even saw your pretty nipples perk against your low-cut shirt, the lace along the top deliciously resting on the swell of your tits.

he couldn’t help but escape to his room after sending you off to shower, slotting his bottom lip between his teeth and rubbing himself through his pants. he’d memorize all of the curves and divots along your body—envisioning the warmth of your skin underneath his fingertips. matt had known about your twisted fantasies about him, but he also knew that it was so wrong. you were his kid’s babysitter for fucks sake. he always felt so guilty for getting hard any time you would come over in those cute little miniskirts that he could just flip up and fuck you in. he’d imagine how the thin fabric would bounce against your ass with every thrust and fuck. after having your tits pressed up against his chest, he’d almost pinned you to the wall and fucked you right there. he needed to kick you out immediately.

“matt?” you call out from inside the bathroom, biting your nails nervously as you contemplate whether or not to leave the confines of the room. you hear a muffled hum from the other side of the door. he’s still there. you think for a moment, deciding to be bold and strip off the pajama pants. your feet seemed to act independently, driven by an impulse you couldn't resist. the door swung wide before your mind could catch up with your actions, and matt swore he almost creamed himself. you stood in front of him wearing nothing but a flimsy t-shirt. his t-shirt.

“the pants didn’t fit.” you lied and held up the plaid article of clothing—sauntering towards him and observing his changed expression, he looked pissed.

oh no. did you go too far?

“i’m sorry, you need to leave.” you could feel the uncomfortable chill of matt’s cold demeanor as his pierced gaze fell to the floor.

shit. you went too far.

“i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have done anything. i’m sorry if i made it weird-“ you stumbled over your words, how could you have fucked up this bad? matt swiftly brushed his hands against your own—curling his fingertips over your wrists and holding them still.

“i need you to leave because if you stay here any longer, i don’t think i’ll be able to resist fucking you.” your mouth went dry, taken aback by his confession. his grip stayed tight on your wrist, the sweet scent of his cologne tempting you to just finally kiss him.

“what?” you whispered, fingers nervously toying with the hem of your t-shirt. matt sighed and looked away from you. he was embarrassed, trying to ignore your probing gaze.

“matt, look at me," you softly instructed, gently grasping his jaw to turn his face towards yours. his frosty blue eyes met your own, cheeks and nose tinged with pink. he licked his lips nervously, the stubble on his chin brushing against your palm. “kiss me.” you whisper, warm breaths teasing each other, drawing you infinitely closer like an intoxicating drug.

his mouth hesitantly chased yours until you brushed your fingers through his hair and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips. his touch was gentle, almost like he wanted to be careful with you. yet, you wanted to breathe him in—lustfully addicted to the taste of his lips. his palms laid flat against the curvature of your back whilst your hands grabbed at his collar, pulling him flush against you—the throbbing between your legs did anything but lesson with the close proximity.

matt had never before tasted something sweeter; your saccharine lips fit so perfectly against his—he was convinced that they were made for him to kiss and caress. his cock stirred in his pants for he could only wonder how divine your cunt would taste on his tongue. matt needed it all. he trailed his fingers up your front, pinning the fabric of his shirt over your tits. his fingertips dance across your skin as he detached his lips from yours.

“you have no idea what you do to me.”

matt couldn’t count how many times he had fisted his cock to the thought of you, sprawled out on his bed with beads of sweat dripping down his temple. he would think about your tits, how you would squeak cutely when he would pinch your nipples between his fingers. he would think about your pretty pink lips over his cock—you’d be sitting obediently with teary eyes while he’d push a vibrator against your clit. you’d make him coat his abdomen in so much cum every fucking night. it was torture.

matt brings his hungry lips to your perked nipples. you sighed as his warm mouth engulfed you, digging his dull nails into your hips as he ground his own against you. your tits were just like how matt imagined they would be, round and full. although matt wouldn’t lie and say that he’d never caught a glimpse before—he couldn’t help but stare fixedly at your tits every time your nipples would seep through your shirt, catching a hard on embarrassingly fast.

matt swirls your nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and releasing it—eventually pressing you against the kitchen wall as your hands scramble for his belt buckle. he hisses when your hand finally makes contact with his cock, relishing in the way your palm would rub against him.

“need to taste you.” he pants feverishly, his hands claw at your hips—thumbs dipping past the hem of your shirt.

“will you get on the counter f’me?” you nod and grab his shoulders as he gently places you on the cold, marble countertop. matt inserts himself between your legs, his belt undone and his barely clothed cock dangerously close to your cunt. he leaves an open mouthed kiss down your neck, dragging his bottom lip against your skin before placing a gentle kiss behind your ear. he hooked his fingers onto your knees, pushing them apart gently.

finally, matt kneeled down, eye level with your pussy. he looked at your dripping cunt with wonder, blowing cool air onto your clit and studying the way you squirmed against the marble. matt held your eyes as he placed a tender kiss to your pussy—tonguing gently at your clit once he felt a little braver.

“matt, stop teasing-“ the words die on your tongue and you gasp for air, fingers pulling at his brunet locks as he prods his fingers at your enterance. your cunt sucked him in with ease—his long fingers fucking deep into your pussy. matt wrapped his lips around your clit and cockily smirked against you. your hand swiftly gripped the edge of the counter until he placed his hand over yours—gently intertwining your fingers while you arch your back in pleasure.

matt leaves one final kiss to your folds before leaning back and forcing your knee down with his left hand. he was locked in a trance, watching the way your pussy would gush every time his fingers would pump inside of you. his fingers rapidly disappeared past your folds as you cried out. your hands frailly clawed at his wrist, only to be swatted away while he kept his pace—eyes trained on your precious cunt.

“i’m gonna cum!” you gasp out, scratching the surface of the countertop as you saw stars. matt fingered you through your orgasm, curling his fingers deliciously. he pulled his fingers from your cunt and stood to his full height—licking them clean.

“can i fuck you?” matt inquired, searching your eyes for an ounce of hesitance. you nodded, placing your hand at the nape of his neck.

“i need words, sweetheart.” he traced soothing patterns on your hips,

“yes matt, fill me up with your cum.”

that’s all he needed as he greedily flipped you over—bending you against the cold surface. he hooked his fingers under your knee and pinned it to the table.

matt felt as if he’d been waiting his whole life for this, your body melted into his every touch—he wanted this moment to be engraved into his brain.

matt spit on your pussy, licking his teeth in satisfaction as he watched it drip down your folds. he grabbed your hip with one hand, pushing it down against the countertop. the other hand gently stroked his sensitive cock—to say he was rock hard was an understatement. beads of pre-cum dribbled down his tip as he rubbed his cock against your folds. your slick combined with his spit allowed him to glide his dick along your pussy so easily. with one final brush along your pussy, he pressed his hips flush against you, cock buried to the hilt.

matt lazily tilted his head to the side, looking at you with hooded eyes—he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, balls striking your clit in just the right way. he repeats the motion, this time his grip on your hip tightens as he pulls you against him—his other hand snaking its way to your shoulder. you silently gasp as your pussy clenches around his cock. every single one of his thrusts were full, making sure that you felt every ridge and vein along his cock.

your ass jiggled with each powerful thrust of his hips, and matt observed how your pretty pussy started to spasm around him—he trailed his eyes up your figure, watching you fall apart under his touch. matt bent over you, the soft muscles of his abdomen taut against your back. he caught your lips with his own, moaning into your mouth before finally stilling against you—his warm cum filling you to the brim.

you gasped as matt pulled out of you, tenderly brushing your hair to the side to kiss your shoulder. you twisted your body and captured his lips in a kiss, grabbing his hair as another wave of want washed over you.

“we shouldn’t be doing this.” you sighed as you pulled him against your body.

“i know” he chuckles,

“but you’re just too irresistible.”

a.n.

DILF MATTTT holy shit this was a long one. this particular prompt/fic was inspired by yayo (rockstardolan) i think the prompt was super fun to write and i WANT YALL TO SEND ME REQUESTS!! i’m running out of ideas folks

also thank you for 100 followers WHAT?! you guys are insane.

btw i’ll make a tag list soon! i don’t really know how this stuff works yet so i’m currently trying to maneuver my way around this app the best i can lollll

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

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silicacid · 1 year ago

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This morning Israeli snipers shot and killed my two family friends in an attack on the Holy Family Catholic Church in Gaza. Nahida (Um Emad Anton) and Samar, mother and daughter, were walking to the Sisters’ Convent to use the only bathroom. One was killed as she tried to carry the other to safety. Their bodies remain strewn across the church courtyard. The water tanks and solar panels were also struck. We don’t know if they have enough water to survive. The Christian community in Gaza is on the verge of extinction. There are about 800 of us left, some sheltering in the Catholic church, some in the Orthodox church, and a few still in their homes in Gaza City. There are approximately 530 Christians inside the Holy Family, 60 per cent are women and children. My family has been sheltered there since St. Porphyrius Orthodox Church was bombed and my cousin was murdered. This is a targeted death campaign during the Christmas season on the world’s oldest Christian community. Earlier this morning, an Israeli tank fired on the Convent of the Sisters of Mother Theresa. The convent housed ~54 people with disabilities. The generator was destroyed, taking out electricity. Then two more shells were fired completely destroying the convent. Many of these people are now without the respirators they need to survive. The Red Cross has submitted a request to the Pope for urgent intervention. — Hammam Farah (@hammam_therapy) December 17, 2023

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #nahida anton #samar anton #never forget

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dcxdpdabbles · 8 days ago

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DC xDP Fanfi idea: The End and Beginning

It starts off simple. The Fentons move to a new universe once the AntiEcto-Acts are accepted worldwide. It was a problem when the USA enacted the laws, but convincing the rest of the world to follow suit left a bitter taste in their mouths.

It also made them feel highly useless.

Their youngest was a half-ghost, and after meeting the clone and alternative counterpart of said son, the Fentons family now were half of what the Acts claimed had no soul.

They could fight against the country and escape into the dead of night, but there was nowhere to hide when the whole planet hunted them. Unless you had a portal that could send you far away from the government dogs.

This was good because said dogs had managed to build their own portal. Nothing with Fenton Works tech, but it didn't seem to matter. They had a way into the Infinite Realms and planned on sending bombs through to vanquish the ghosts once and for all.

Clockwork had warned the planet's governing units, appearing in their skies and speaking every language.

"If you do this, then your world will end. Your world is a flip of ours. Without one or the other, everything will be destroyed."

His warning only further fueled their hate, and mods flooded the streets chanting for the bombs to be set off. It was like the whole world had lost their minds.

The Fentons cowered in their homes, trying desperately to get people to listen, but their words fell on deaf ears. Clockwork's reputation puts him in a challenging position. His natural dedication needed to remain neutral in any situation, but his soft spot for Danny made it hard to allow time to run its course.

In the end, he appeared before the Fentons with a message. "You must leave this world in one week. Everything will come to an end."

His warning had the group moving. They reached out to all their friends and extended family. Begging them to flee with them. Only Sam and Tucker arrived at their house on the last day, eyes puffy red, bags packed, and a daunting lack of their parents.

Clockwork sent them a ship. It looked like a glowing cruise ship, with wooden planks creaking and groaning as they climbed aboard. They were to pick a room and take shelter, understanding that once they sealed the door, they could not reopen it until they arrived.

The ship would travel at alarming speeds, protected from their timeline with Clockwork's power, but it would take everything the ghost had to keep them safe.

The final moment came, with the seven people pilling together in the largest room- The VIP balcony cabin. Sam, Tucker, and Danny held each other while sitting in front of the glass windows overlooking the fleeing ghosts- their world was also ending.

Maddie, Jack, Jazz, and Dani were in a pile on the bed, eyes shut tight and hugging each other with all their might. Tears rolled down their faces, but no one called it out. They were all mourning.

Dan stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest and leaning on the door. Despite not saying it out loud, they knew he wanted to guard it in case a ghost figured out the cruise was an escape pod. If a desperate enough ghost attempted to break through the door, their deal with Clockwork would be voided, and Dan would never allow it.

The moment came without warning. Multiple portals ripped open among the green skies. Through them, the Fentons could see cheering humans, treating the bombings like a giant festival. Fireworks, waving banners, music that thumped with glee- it made them all sick.

The first three bombs were set off. The Realms' reaction was just as instant, collapsing into itself as the humans' joys reached new levels of glee- until the holes warped into black holes, swallowing up the portal and the area around it.

One right after the other. Large glowing lights, then swirling darkness yanking everything into a quick, meaningless nothing. The humans were no longer cheering- now they were screaming. They were cowering.

But there was nowhere left to run.

Clockwork appeared in front of the trio, smiling sadly at them as multiple cracks appeared on his being. He mouths a sentence, placing one broken hand on the glass, and then pushes the ship away. At a speed that is more light than movement, the Fentons and their guests rush away, watching with horrified eyes as Clockwork breaks apart completely.

He vanishes into dust that gets absorbed into a black hole. Dan and Danny's noise is gutted, ripped from somewhere deep in their cores.

The cruise crumbles around the pressure of the push. Wooden pieces are shaken off the ship, shattering from the effort to keep itself together, and fall into the void as they watch, unsure of Clockwork's power, which would be enough to withstand the breaking of a timeline. Soon, only their room remains; even that, it starts to show glowing green cracks on the wall.

Dan glares at them, never hating something as much as the sight of them, while his family and kid brother's friends start to sob. Suddenly, everything comes to a stop.

Or rather, a large being made entirely of light, taking the shape of a human man, catches their cabin. They all stumble, thrown from their positions as the glowing white human shape brings them to its large face. It's like looking into a marble statute with no distinctive face, only the barest of outlines that could count as a face.

"You bear Clockwork's mark, but he is not with you," The being says, blinking its large eye into the window. The swirling red of its pupils baths the humans and ghosts as they stare back open jaws. "How curious"

"Who are you!?" Dan demands, stepping away from the door. "How did you survive the destruction of the timeline?!"

The being eye's dim. "Clockwork is dead then. I told him I would welcome him into my realms, but he chose to send his kin instead. What a sentimental fool."

Dan's human features melt away, and his ghost forms burst from an explosion of flames. "Who are you!?"

"Your kind calls me Speed Force." It replies after a movement, sounding slightly amused, "And I grant you sanctuary as a favor to an old lover. Live well."

With a snap of its fingers, the group vanishes into a bright light, appearing in the middle of a blue sky. Gentle clouds float around, spread out like a mist. It a daunting change from the darkness and the screams.

The group gawks at the sight before gravity reaches up to grasp the broken remains of the cruise ship within its claws. It rips from them the sky, sending them into a downward spiral.

Dan's flames are smothered out as he desperately reaches for it "I can't go, ghost!"

"Me either," Dani screams, clinging hard to Maddie.

"Speed Froce took our powers." Danny realizes, clutching Sam and Tucker closer. "Everyone brace for impact!"

They hit the ground hard and flung around like rag dolls as the last of Clockwork's powers desperately tried to shield them. The glowing green cracks quickly spread until they resemble spider webs.

They hit the ground with a loud bang, sliding through a few layers of dirt. The group is flung against the wall, Dan grunting in pain when Sam slams against him from the force.

Ultimately, the wood can't hold itself together, and it shatters just as it crumbles to a stop. They all land with pain and cries against the hard ground, in a pile of limbs and confusion.

"Oh my," A woman says, standing on her porch overlooking the Fentons. Beside her is a wide-eyed man, one steaming mug in his hold. "Pa, I think I need to put more coffee. We have guests."

Above the couple is a wooden sign with faded but beloved letters. It reads Kent Farm.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #The End and the Beginning #Part 1 #Clockwork sacerfice himself for them #Every blackhole was once a timeline #Pa and Ma kent were just having morning coffee #Speed Force is a being #Who loved Clockwork #Angst #Humans never listen until it's too late #Dan and Dani are part of the Fentons #everlasting trio

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remindertoclick · 7 months ago

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Here's your daily reminder to click for Palestine!!!

U.S. residents, take 5 minutes and use this link to pressure your members of Congress to stop sending weapons to the Israeli military!!

(Letter variants you can copy/paste under the cut!!)

Original letter written by Jewish Voice for Peace:

I am writing as your constituent to ask that you do everything in your power to press the Biden administration to suspend all weapons shipments to the Israeli military, and oppose all future military funding to Israel. The Israeli government has vowed to push forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah, even though President Biden has repeatedly said such an operation would be a "red line." On May 7, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and ordered 100,000 Palestinians in eastern Rafah to evacuate. The 1.3 million displaced Palestinians sheltering in Rafah will have nowhere to flee should a full invasion commence. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. I urge you to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late. Thank you.

Slight variations I created (so that emails don't get marked as spam for being identical to each other)

Variation 1:

I'm writing to you today as your constituent to ask you to do everything you can to put pressure on the Biden administration to suspend all weapons shipments to the Israeli military and opposing any and all future military funding to Israel! The Israeli government is pushing forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah. President Biden has repeatedly said such an operation would be a "red line," yet his administration is still supporting this operation. On May 7th, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and forced 100,000 Palestinians in eastern Rafah to abandon their homes. 1.3 million Palestinians have been displaced. Those sheltering in Rafah have nowhere to flee during a full invasion. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. Their fate lies in the hands on Congress, in your hands. I urge you to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late. Thank you.

Variation 2:

I'm writing you today to ask that you do everything in your power to convince the Biden administration to stop funding Israel. We have to telk them to stop all shipments of weapons to the Israeli military and oppose all future military funding to Israel. The Israeli government has vowed to push forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah... President Biden made it clear that such an operation would be a "red line," and yet he continues to fund them. On May 7th, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and forced 100,000 Palestinians to flee their own home of Eastern Rafah. Should a full invasion commence, 1.3 million displaced Palestinians sheltering in Rafah will have nowhere safe to go. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. I am begging you now, as your constituent, to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late.... Thank you.

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strangererotica · 7 months ago

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SOAKED 𓇢𓆸

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Summary: After Reader is stranded by a carriage mishap, she finds herself lost in an attempt to make her way home alone. Luckily for her, another carriage happens to cross her path, belonging to none other than the Viscount Bridgerton himself…

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

While enjoying your evening ride, your carriage had broken down. To the great frustration of your driver, you’d insisted on walking home alone. It wasn’t in good taste, for a young woman to be out walking unattended. But you were in an exploring mood, and wanted to do your exploring alone. The company of your carriage driver was something you were honestly glad to be rid of.

Despite being reasonably close to town, you’d somehow managed to wander in the direction of the forest rather than home. Night was creeping closer, trees casting shadows across your path as you looked up at the sky, trying to find your bearings.

A large, cold drop of rain ‘plopped’ against your forehead, making you flinch. Several subsequent drops followed, till the situation quickly became a downpour. You raced for shelter beneath the trees, cursing under your breath as your ankle twisted on a large root sticking up from the ground. The trees were basically useless at shielding you from the rain, Autumn having stripped their branches almost entirely of leaves.

Your hat was soaked, its brim flattened against the sides of your head. The pretty dress you’d chosen to wear that afternoon was now caked with mud at the trim; you realized you must look incredibly foolish right now, but certainly not as foolish as you felt.

The sound of horses’ hooves approaching caught your attention. You looked down the road to see a carriage drawing closer, rain bouncing from its roof and sides. When the carriage came to a stop just by you, a stab of panic shot through your chest. What if it was someone you knew, discovering you out here looking a complete mess? And even worse, what if the carriage belonged to a man?

The carriage came to a full stop; the door swung open, and the handsome, familiar face of Anthony Bridgerton emerged. Your heart thumped inside your chest as his jet eyes raked over you, a mischievous smirk turning his lips upward. “Unusual night for a walk, Miss (Y/N),” he remarked, his tone playful.

Despite your embarrassment and the wet state of your clothing, you attempted a curtsy. “Indeed it is, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied. “I was out for an evening ride, when my carriage broke down.” You pointed past you, unsure of which direction you’d actually come from at this point.

“And your driver?” Anthony asked, seemingly unbothered by the rain pelting his hat and shoulders. “What of him? Am I to assume he left you unattended? At the-.” He bit his lip, running his eyes over your breasts, your nipples visible through the soaked material. “-Mercy of whomever should find you?” he finished.

You felt your cheeks going red, in spite of the chilly rain running down your skin. “It was my choice, I assure you,” you explained. “I insisted he allow me the chance to take some air, alone, on my journey home. I had not expected…” Your voice wavered, words failing you as Lord Bridgerton’s penetrating gaze made you weak.

“The rain?” he offered, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. “Understandable, Miss (Y/N). It seems I’ve found you absolutely drenched.” His eyes scanned your breasts and back up to your face.

Anthony tilted his head, acknowledging your ankle. You hadn’t noticed, but you’d been keeping your full weight off of it on purpose. “Your ankle,” he said, his tone sympathetic. “Is it sprained? You seem hesitant to apply pressure to it.”

“I twisted it on a raised root,” you explained. “It is not badly sprained. More of a discomfort, really-.”

“Regardless,” Lord Bridgerton interrupted. “Leaving you to manage on your own would be unconscionable. I insist-.” He extended his hand for you. “-That you allow me the honor of delivering you home.”

There was no way around it; you had to accept the offer. Taking a soggy step forward, you reached for Anthony’s hand and allowed him to help you into the carriage.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed by the way your wet clothes were dripping all over the carriage’s interior. The horses’ hooves sounded, followed by the familiar tug as the carriage was pulled forward. You could feel the Viscount’s gaze resting on you, but were too afraid to meet it. You’d harbored feelings for him for years, and had often wondered what it would feel like to have his attention fixed solely on you, to be the object of his interest. Now that you were in exactly such a situation, all of the practiced lines you’d rehearsed in your daydreams had completely vanished.

You pressed your thighs together, a familiar ache blossoming between them…a tightening, throbbing sensation similar to your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what it was, this odd pleasure mixed with pain; but you always felt it when you were in Lord Bridgerton’s presence, and sometimes, it occurred while simply thinking of him. You’d come to associate the feeling with Anthony, loving the sensation even as it frightened you. Not unlike your feelings for the Viscount himself.

“You needn’t worry about making a mess,” he remarked, and you froze. Because for a moment, you worried Anthony knew of what accompanied the feeling…the clear, slippery fluid that inevitably wound up wetting your inner thighs, whenever you thought of him.

He pointed to the seat across from him, which you were sitting on. Panic seized you, till you realized he was obviously speaking of the mess your rain-soaked clothing was making inside the carriage.

Your cheeks went rosy and warm again. Anthony noticed, and smiled slightly, as if holding onto a sweet secret that pleased him. “Upholstery can be mended,” he explained. “And on the subject of things that need mending…”

Anthony reached forward, taking hold of your injured ankle and lifting your foot to rest on his lap. Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. What could he possibly be thinking, touching you in such an intimate way?

You watched his fingers as they gently undid the laces of your boot. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked glimmer reflecting back at you. Anthony removed your boot, and delicately rolled the lace cuff of your sock downward, exposing your ankle. When his fingertips brushed your skin, the contact of his touch went straight to the aching space between your legs, as if a line were somehow connecting those parts of you.

A shiver ran through your body, your hips bucking as Anthony softly stroked your skin, coaxing his finger lower, till he was cradling your foot in his hand. Every subtle movement of his fingertips sent a flash of heat straight to your center, setting you ablaze with something you’d never felt before. The familiar throbbing between your legs was suddenly burning, the pleasure mixed with a pain that kept increasing, as if demanding some kind of release, though you didn’t know how to relieve it.

Anthony watched you with an unbearable intensity-could he not see that you were unwell?-his smile long departed and replaced with something darker, almost hungry, like the focus of a predator locked in on its prey. Your body jolted as if struck. Anthony observed your behavior in stoic silence-was he angry with you?-all the while continuing to delicately stroke your skin, as if he couldn’t see the way your body was completely overcome by his simple, tender ministrations. Tears burned behind your eyes as the ache within you throbbed harder and harder, pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. You gripped the edge of your seat, your eyes squeezing shut, air leaving your body in gasps.

You realized you must have been dying…surely, there was no other way to explain this frenzy that had overtaken you. But just as you were sure you were dying…you were flying. The world went white in your field of vision, as the tension inside your lower body finally gave way. A brand new feeling, of absolute rapture and inexplicable bliss, pulsed at your core in waves, rippling and shattering its way through you. Relief washed over you, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, chest heaving as you recovered from whatever beautiful, brutal attack your body had just endured.

Your eyes opened on Anthony, whose expression was even more intense than before. Certain that you’d upset him with your embarrassing fit, a sudden shame humbled you. “Forgive me, Lord Bridgerton,” you panted, tears welling in your eyes. “I am unwell. I do not know what came over me just now, but I must apologize for my intemperate behavior...”

Anthony’s expression softened, unlike his lap, which now felt stiff and uneven beneath your ankle. He cleared his throat, before assuring you that “everything is alright, (Y/N).” Hearing your name leave his lips, your first name and not your family name, was like hearing an angel speak. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And I promise, you are not unwell.” Lord Bridgerton’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Quite the opposite, in fact,” he said.

“But-.” You watched as he rolled your sock back over your ankle. “-I must be ill, my Lord-.” Anthony slid your boot back over your foot. “-Or perhaps a demon momentarily seized hold of me-??” Anthony chuckled slightly, his eyes on the laces of your boot as he fixed them. “-I must rest,” you decided. “To make sure this doesn’t happen again...”

Anthony bit his lip and grinned. “Well,” he conceded. “Perhaps you’re right. Some time in bed might be just what you need…” Anthony leaned forward and took your hand in his. “…In case that frightful feeling returns.”

Your lips parted, his nearness an alarming reminder of the feeling he conjured within you, the aching pulse between your slippery thighs reigniting. “I…” You tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come, not with his hand holding yours, his lips so near to your skin-

-A rapping on the carriage lurched you from the trance you’d fallen in. You hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped moving. A driver opened the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, exiting the carriage. “I’m so grateful for your assistance today.”

Anthony nodded politely, a warm smile on his face. “It was my pleasure, Miss (Y/N),” he said, and as you turned toward your home, “I’ll call on you later this week, to see how you’re recovering.”

You felt your heart rate kick up a notch. “…from your sprained ankle, Miss (Y/N),” Anthony clarified, though the suggestive glimmer in his eye implied otherwise. You watched as his carriage retreated, starting on unsteady legs into your home. Your dress was still soaked, wet with rain and something else…something only Anthony Bridgerton was able to conjure in you, the product of a secret it now seemed the two of you shared, together… 🩵

PART TWO

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