lice

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — relying too much on other people's approval can be harmful to your self-esteem. developing confidence in your own decisions and talents is critical for mental health. it can be tough to not always ask for other people's opinions and sometimes it isn’t bad to put it to the point it is something you need, and that’s when the problem occurs

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — worrying about others can consume a significant amount of time and mental energy, leaving little room to focus on your own goals and aspirations, this is so true because when you become overwhelmed by the worry you begin to lose focus on your goals and being overwhelmed alone is horrible

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — people will be people no matter what you do at the very least 1 person will not like it so worrying and trying to please them is just so pointless

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — there’s nothing to be embarrassed about we live in a time of cringe, everything is cringe until other people like the same thing so just be yourself and do what you love

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — people's opinions are subjective and change depending on different situations. trying to please everyone is just an unachievable endeavour that can result in anxiety.

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — focusing on your wants and priorities allows you to set healthy boundaries in your relationship with others. This ensures that your time and resources are divided in ways that are consistent with your goals.

౨ৎ･ﾟ:* — ultimately, the secret to a meaningful life is to prioritize your happiness and fulfilment. By letting go of excessive concern for others, you can concentrate on building a sense of joy and fulfilment that comes from living truthfully and following your passions. your life should be lived for you and you alone because what’s the point if after living for others years later you’re still unhappy? so do what you want and live the life you choose.

you hesitate briefly, then think about his words and begin to truly ride his face and crying out loud. your clit bumps deliciously on his nose and his tongue slithers it’s way into your hole.

your hands soon leave the wooden headboard and makes their way down to wriothesley’s inky locks, pulling at the hair. “ah! so good! mmph!”

he groans into your pussy. your slick and his saliva was everywhere. on his nose, his lips, and it was dripping down his chin. god how he loved you, loves your pussy, your tits, and he loved the way you were riding his face so desperately.

“that’s it… that’s my fucking girl…”

୨୧ NEUVILLETTE

❥₊ ⊹ “you’re a messy little thing, aren’t you?” neuvillette chuckled. you were currently sitting half-naked on the edge of his oak desk in the palais mermonia. just wearing your white blouse, your panties and skirt were discarded and thrown somewhere in the room, your bare pussy was dripping on the wood of the desktop.

"you usually don't tease..." you pout, looking down at your husband though his eyes didn't quite meet yours. instead they were trained on your cunt.

"sorry, love." though it doesn't truly sound like he is. neuvillette lowers to face your bare bottom, his lithe fingers come forward and pull apart the lips of your pussy.

"so beautiful..." he mumbles before his tongue meets your clit then travels down to your hole. his tongue thrusts into you and he tastes your slick on it. "so good..." he groans.

neuvillette then starts to eat you out like he's starved. his movements which are usually precise and calculated are now messy, and erratic. you've never quite felt heaven like this and neuvillette hadn't tasted heaven until the first time he ate you out.

your hands thread themselves in his hair as you moan out loud and they pull his head impossibly closer to your core. "oh! mmf!" and you feel tears begin to cloud your vision.

he didn't care that you were making a mess out of him, and he didn't care about how your arousal was all over his desk or all over his face.

though there is a sudden tightness in his pants, and it becomes more and more obvious to him, neuvillette continues to let you use his mouth. to let you reach that orgasm you oh so deserved because he wanted to be the cause of it.

୨୧ AL HAITHAM

❥₊ ⊹ “tsk… you’re such a distraction…” al haitham feigns annoyance. he brings his hands up to your thighs and pries them apart. "can't even read a book in peace around you, can i?"

"ah! 'm sorry... i just really needed you, al haitham." you mumble looking down your body and the view breathtaking.

al haitham had his head leaning against your left thigh, pressing open mouth kisses that were getting closer and closer to where you needed him most. while his left hand was rubbing lazy circles against your puffy clit.

"i can tell... you're dripping on the couch." he sighs. al haitham likes to act like he's bothered, when in reality he had already read that book more then ten times over for a research paper. he was secretly more than happy to please you, though he won't admit that outright.

al haitham leans down and presses a kiss to your pussy, then his lips wrap around your clit and begins to suck on it. he liked to take his time eating you out, to savour it. to savour you. and that meant not making your cunt a sopping mess until you beg him for it. but he won’t tease you all that much today seeing how badly you needed him.

you moan out, one hand of yours coming up and grabbing your own breast. "t-thank you. love you, love you so much al haitham!" you babble.

"love you too, baby..." he murmurs into your pussy. soon, his long fingers meet where his mouth is pleasuring you and they make their way into your little hole, thrusting in and out.

you swallow back a loud sob, remembering you're not entirely alone in your boyfriend's house, as if the sounds of al haitham eating up all your sloppy pussy has to offer isn't loud enough.

al haitham's fingers were making your head spin along with the way his tongue was moving over your clit. his digits were grazing that sweet spot inside of you and the sound of your hiccups only spur him on more.

"please, please! al haitham 'm gonna cum!" you sob.

"do it." he pulls back for a moment, "cum on my face..." then he dives back into your cunt, his tongue and fingers now working overtime to make you orgasm.

your hips begin to grind against his mouth and your chest heaves. "i-i'm cumming! oh my god!" you cry out as you orgasm, hot flashes of white makes it way across your abdomen and you make a mess everywhere. your arousal covered al haitham's face, his hands and your quivering thighs.

"you're so messy..." al haitham says as he moves up to your face.

"sorry..." you apologize.

"don't." he says sharply, not wanting you to feel bad. his lips then meet yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue. "we're going to do that again and this time, you're going to be louder."

It made Diluc sigh, averting his eyes to the other side of the room. Everyone was dressed to the nines, but you, you stood out. You had always caught his eye, even on a day to day basis but this evening, you looked phenomenal. Even with the mask, he could tell who you were. The swing of your hips being a dead give away. Your red gown clung to your figure, drawing nearly all eyes to you, but you didn't seem to notice. Your eyes were trained on him, hiking your dress up slightly to scale the stairs and join him.

"Isn't it rude to isolate yourself at your own event?" You asked, taking in the red head's appearance. His mask matched his suit perfectly and his red hair was pulled into a higher ponytail than usual, showcasing his broad shoulders. He looked so handsome and you couldn't even see his whole face.

"They should be happy there's an event here at all." Diluc grumbled, turning so that he was fully facing you. You laughed, extending your hand to fix his collar and allowing your gaze to linger over his features. "It's a beautiful party though, I must say. Even the new drink is very good." You let his collar go and ripped away your gaze, now leaning on the bannister. He followed suit, still allowing his eyes to drink in your body. "I must say, the way you look tonight puts this party to shame. All this effort put in planning, defeated by a red dress." He said, tone flat as he looked out over his guests once more. He couldn't let his emotions show too much, what would the rest of Mondstadt think if his ice cold demeanor melted simply by looking at you.

Then again he didn't care that much, moving to lean over you. Hands on either side of you on the railing, trapping you between him and the bannister. Diluc's face was in front of yoursand his breath was fanning over your lips. "It would be even more rude to leave the event entirely." You mumbled, your eyes flitting down to his lips. "Not if it's under the guise of giving a guest a tour." He mumbled, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. His lips pressed into yours as he pulled his body to press against yours even more. He was definitely beyond caring and kissing you so deeply you simply knew that if Barbara saw it she'd be blushing. His hand moved from your cheek to your chin, and gave it a squeeze as his tongue dipped into your mouth. He could taste winery's sweet new drink on your tongue and it made him absolutely dizzy.

"I believe you haven't seen my office... or my bedroom." He pulled away, ignoring the way the room seemed to be watching you both. "I believe you're right." You agreed, not looking back once as he grabbed your hand to tug you along and have you both disappear at the top of the stairs. Event be damned, he didn't care about it anyways. Diluc did however care about your dress and how it would look on his bedroom floor.

Matt was in the process of buttoning his work shirt, a task that you noticed was taking him nearly triple the time it usually took, because his attention was entirely on you. "No one at the presentation will care if you're not wearing heels, sweetheart."

"I care!" You jangled your keys, checked your pockets again for your wallet, and slipped on a jacket. "It's a fashion thing. High heels equal professionalism."

"I like to think that I'm a professional lawyer, and not once in my life have I ever had to wear high heels to court."

"You're overreacting. I'm like a gymnast in heels. Ready? Watch this."

Your stilettos clacking against the floor, you performed several twirls, rotating as though you were a ballerina. For the first few, Matt said nothing, but then he reached out and stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

"The heels sound like precarious twigs," he said.

"They're not precarious and they're not twigs. They're pretty." For added effect you started to skip by him towards your purse.

"Just — please stop," Matt said, finishing with his last button and gesturing downward. "Walk like a normal person, at least?"

"Don't worry. I wasn't planning on skipping into the office," you assured him. "Look, I'll see you for lunch, okay? I've got to split."

"Twelve o'clock. And also promise me you won't twirl like that during your presentation," he said, and leaned in to kiss you before you left.

It was another of those impossibly busy days when you and Matt wouldn't be able to spend much time together. He was going to be in court the entire afternoon, and you had a major annual presentation for work, meaning that you'd both be out overtime and wouldn't get home until late. The bright side was that you both had an opening at noon to meet at a small diner in Hell's Kitchen and catch up over lunch.

You cursed your high heels as you tried to speed down the stairs of Matt's apartment. They really weren't conducive for someone who was running late. Halfway down, you lost your footing; the stem of the heel missed the edge of the step and you jolted downward.

And, mercifully, caught yourself on the railing.

Knowing for certain that Matt was listening to you and likely heard your misstep — as well as the way your heart was hammering from the adrenaline of nearly falling down a flight of stairs — you muttered aloud, "See? Everything's fine," and continued on your way. Shortly after, your phone vibrated with a text from Matt:

Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

Laughing to yourself, you stowed your phone back in your purse.

And the high heels did work out, for most of the morning. You gave your presentation and then buried yourself at your desk in paperwork, confined to work for the rest of the day on everything you'd fallen behind in while prepping for the presentation. You couldn't help but glance at the clock every ten minutes; noon was going to be the breath of fresh air in an otherwise stressful day.

Fifteen minutes to noon you got up from your desk and made your way out onto the street. The sun was shining, a soft balmy breeze carried the fragrance of blooming lilacs as you passed a small garden, and plush clouds drifted overhead idly.

And then, just as you were hurrying to crossing the street — technically the pedestrian light was red, but you had a solid seven seconds before the approaching car would actually reach you — there was an ominous snap, and you found yourself falling onto the pavement, your ankle rolling in the process.

Well, not just rolling. It felt more like your ankle was jerked down into a direction it definitely shouldn't have been in, accompanied by a soft pop and a flaring of sharp, throbbing pain.

The car that you would have easily made it past had to brake, honking angrily at you, and you waved vehemently in apology as you struggled to your feet — shit shit shit that hurts — and hobbled out of the street.

"Bitch!" the man shouted from his window as he accelerated by you, tossing a middle finger at you.

Usually that would probably be enough to ruin your day, being yelled at by a stranger, but you were much more preoccupied with the stabbing pain in your ankle. Did I break it? Should sprains hurt this much? You stared, stunned, at the broken stiletto that was half-dangling from your shoe. It had simply snapped in half, for no reason at all.

"Traitor," you muttered to it, taking shelter in the shade of a building to assess your ankle. Gingerly you tried touching it, but it flashed with pain as you pressed on it. Inhaling deeply and tilting your head backwards — do NOT cry don't cry don't cry don't cry— you began to continue your way to the diner.

Matt wasn't going to be happy about this. And you already knew there was no way you could hide it from him. You were limping so badly that it was difficult to walk; each movement felt as though you were tearing your ankle again. If you could arrive at the diner first and get yourself seated, then maybe you had a small chance of the injury going unnoticed, but your limping must have delayed you just enough, because you could see Matt through the window of the restaurant — he'd already arrived.

And his head was already tilted in a way that meant, yep, he's definitely onto me, he can already hear me.

"Hi," you greeted him weakly as you walked in, ignoring the fact that tears were spiking in your eyes. Matt was already on his feet, grabbing his cane almost as an afterthought and approaching you quickly.

"I didn't think it was you at first," he said, quietly so that other patrons in the diner wouldn't hear. "Your gait was so different. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's not so bad," you said, knowing he'd hear right through the lie, but not caring much in the moment.

"Let me feel it."

There was no sense in objecting; Matt, you knew, wouldn't be satisfied until he'd done his radar scanning of it so that he could know precisely what was going on in your ankle. "Okay," you agreed. "But let's use the bathroom. These people trying to enjoy their meals don't need to see you feeling up my ankle."

It was a single-user bathroom, fortunately. Matt entered first and held the door open for you, and only once it was shut and locked did he abandon his cane and stoop by your feet. You leaned against the sink as his fingers grazed your ankle.

"What's my diagnosis, Mr. X-Ray?" you asked, trying to come off as playful, but it was hard hiding the pain in your voice. It didn't help that Matt wasn't having it. He stood up, hands on his hips, jaw twitching.

"You fully tore the ligament," he said. "I told you that those heels would get you hurt."

"Whoa, excuse me. This was not my fault. I didn't trip. The heel just happened to snap on me, so it is one hundred percent, completely, utterly, not my fault."

"You knowingly wore dangerous shoes," Matt insisted.

"Stilettos aren't inherently dangerous, Matt! They're shoes! I just got a bit unlucky—"

"Unlucky? You can hardly walk."

"I'm fine," you said, a bit more firmly, and tried, recklessly, to do the twirl you had done that morning to prove it, but had to stop immediately because it sent a rocketing flare of pain through your leg. "Ow. Shit."

Matt steadied you instinctively. "You should take the rest of the day off and go to the doctor."

"No way. I'm so far behind in work. Besides, I'm good once I'm sitting, it's just walking that's hard."

Matt said nothing at first, but helped you get from the bathroom to the booth, one hand loosely holding his cane and the other supporting you as you leaned on him. You were grateful for his strength practically holding you up; already your ankle was swelling and walking alone would have made a scene. Still, it earned a few stares from several of the other people eating in the diner, but you ignored them.

"I guess I should clarify," Matt said, only once you were seated. "You are taking the rest of the day off."

You furrowed your brow, outraged. "You can't tell me what to do."

"And I'd really recommend seeing a doctor," he continued, "because—"

"Last week you—" You realized your voice was loud and lowered it to a whisper. "Last month you came flopping onto the bed at three in the morning, gasping for breath because you fractured a rib, and when I begged you to see a doctor, you said, 'I'm fine. Don't worry about me so much.' Don't you see how much of a hypocrite you are?"

"I don't care whether or not I'm a hypocrite, I care that you go to the doctor," he said, then added, "But if you don't, you're at least not going back to work. You need to rest, elevate the ankle, and ice it."

You bit your lip. "What if I simply refuse?"

"Then I'll call Claire and make her come pay us a visit tonight to check on you."

The thought of burdening Claire with having to make a trip out to Matt's apartment just for your sake was enough to make your cheeks burn. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said. "Unless you at the very least stay home the rest of the day and ice your ankle."

"I can't believe you." You fell into silence, punctuated only by the waitress coming to take your beverage orders. Once she left, you tried to brighten things a bit, because Matt's mouth was curved in such an unhappy frown that it was beginning to stress you out. "At least it wasn't my favorite pair of stilettos. If it had been, I might be tempted to try super-gluing the heel back on."

It didn't seem to improve his mood, because Matt didn't smile. "I'd prefer if you just stuck to flats from now on."

"That's a lie. I know you love my heels," you said, impetuously leaning across the table to grab his hands. "You may not be able to see my legs, but I know you can sense them, and I know that stilettos make them, like, ten times sexier."

"You know what's not sexy? A sprained ankle."

"Wow. Thanks for really bulldozing my self-esteem." You paused. "If my ankle makes me so un-sexy, then maybe I'll just... sleep on the couch tonight instead. Wouldn't want you to be near me if I'm all sprained-ankle-ish."

"You're impossible."

"I have a better idea. I can be bait," you said, watching Matt's expression carefully. "I'll stumble out onto the streets tonight — you know, all 'Woe is me, I've got a sprained ankle' — and that'll attract every mugger in the vicinity, seeing a vulnerable girl alone. They won't be able to help themselves, they'll just be dying to come over and rob me. And then, lo and behold! Daredevil dives in and catches all of Hell's Kitchen's criminals in one fell swoop."

Sure enough, you could see an irritated amusement in Matt's mouth, the type that meant he was torn between smiling and getting annoyed. "I'll agree to that plan when Foggy learns how to meditate for more than five minutes at a time."

The waitress arrived and took your orders. You sipped on the water she had delivered, your eyes not leaving Matt's face.

"What is it?" he said, finally. "You're dying to say something."

"Yeah. I want you to admit that it's not my poor high heels you're angry with. You're just worried about me."

"Can't it be both?"

"Leave my high heels out of this and admit it, Matt."

"Fine. I'm worried about you. Does that make you happy?"

"Sure does," you said, squeezing his hands and smiling. "By the way... did I ever mention that I'm head over heels in love with you?"

"Oh, my God."

A/N: This was just a short piece inspired by two separate asks I received that fit together quite well:

Prompt 1: hi!!! could you do a hurt/comfort where reader breaks her heel and sprains her ankle while walking home and matt finds her??

Prompt 2: May I request a Matt fic? I've been seeing girls on YouTube that test their heels out by running around in front of their s/o, and I thought it would be really funny with a clumsy reader and Matt having an absolute heart attack. Thanks!

“You want me to walk with you?”

“No, it’s okay, Fog. I can make it just fine.” 

“Alright, buddy. But text me when you get home. You know I worry about you and your headaches,” Foggy called out as Matt walked out the door. 

“I know, Foggy. But I’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, buddy!” 

—--------------------------------------------------

Matt walked home as quickly as he could, resisting the urge to break into a full on sprint. Once he made it to his building, he dashed up the stairs two at a time, and threw off his jacket as soon as he shut his door behind him. He furiously loosened his tie as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and used the voice command to open up the notification once again. This time when he opened it, he was met with the sound of your voice. 

“Hey baby, I missed you. Did you miss me?” 

Your smooth and sugary voice went straight to his cock, so he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them on his living room floor. He palmed over the bulge in his black boxers and pulled off his tie before going to work unbuttoning his shirt as your voice continued to play through his phone.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I even had to excuse myself from a meeting to go touch myself in the bathroom, but I wished it was your hand. You know just what to do to make me feel good.” 

Matt was so caught up in your voice that it took him a moment to realize he was now half naked in his living room, right on display in front of the window. Truthfully, he didn’t care if the neighbors saw him, but he grabbed his phone and went into his bedroom. He placed his phone on the nightstand, shed his boxers, and climbed under his silk sheets. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out as he slowly stroked his cock while you continued to talk. 

“Am I turning you on, baby? I can see you’re getting awfully worked up in those dress pants. I’m getting pretty wet, myself. You’re so fucking hot. You wanna watch while I rub my clit?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Make those pretty noises for me,” he replied as if you were in the room with him.

You let out a moan as you rubbed your clit, and Matt swore he could hear how wet you were. He started stroking his cock faster and you moaned louder. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, baby.”

“Yes, come for me, sweetheart. Fucking scream for me.” 

“But I wanna come with your cock inside me, so I’ll wait for you. I want you to feel me, and I want to feel you. Let’s come together, baby.” 

Suddenly his hand wasn’t good enough anymore, so he sat up in the bed and stuffed one of his pillows between his thighs to straddle it. The cool silk of the pillowcase felt like heaven against his achingly hard cock that was dripping with precum and begging for release. He started counting the Hail Mary’s he was going to have to say later for this depraved act in his head, but in the moment, he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

“You’re so big, baby. Do you think you’ll fit?”

“I’ll go slow, sweetheart, I promise. We can make it fit.” 

Matt rolled his hips against the pillow at the same time you let out another moan, and he grabbed onto his headboard for leverage. 

“You feel so good, filling me up so perfectly. Fuck me, baby” 

“You feel good too. I’ll go slow at first. I want to feel you.” 

“You’re not gonna hurt me, I can handle it. Just fuck me, baby. Please.” 

“How can I say no when you asked so nicely?” he purred. 

He quickened his pace as you continued making soft sounds of pleasure. He should be ashamed of what he’s doing: fucking his pillow while listening to audio porn and responding back to you as if you could hear him. But, he didn’t care. Once he accidentally discovered erotic audios, he couldn’t get enough, and you were his favorite creator. Your voice was like a drug to him, and he was always jonesing for another hit. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually fuck you instead of his pillow, but he would have to settle for this for now. 

“Oh, fuck I’m so close. I’m gonna come baby. Are you gonna come too?” 

“Fuck. Yeah, sweetheart I’m gonna come.” 

“Come inside me.”

You let out a guttural, almost feral moan, and Matt screamed in tandem with you. His thrusts became more erratic, sweat was beading on his forehead, and he was white knuckling the headboard. He was getting closer with every sound you made, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer. 

“Oh, OH F-FUCK.” 

“Yes, sweetheart. Oh yes, oh FUCK.” 

His chest heaved, his breathing was ragged, and his hips stuttered into the pillow as he came hard. He collapsed backward onto the mattress, a thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body. “Shit,” he breathed out as he ran one of his hands down his face. 

“Did you like that? Be sure to subscribe for more, and don’t be shy about leaving me a comment! Until next time, audiophiles…”

After a few minutes, Matt sat up and reached for his phone to close the app. He knew that pillowcase was ruined, but that could wait. He stood up on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower. As much as he loved your voice, and how turned on he got by it, he longed to have you in his bed so he could hold you afterwards, and maybe even join him in the shower. 

When he was done washing the post-coital sweat off his body, he dried off and put on a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants, threw the defiled pillowcase in the trash, and sat down to leave you a comment on your latest audio that he got off to. He set his phone back on his nightstand, laid down in bed, and allowed his mind to wander about how you actually felt and how your skin smelled. Maybe one day he could find someone with a voice as gorgeous as yours. 

—-----------------------------------------------

The “CLOSED” sign had long since been displayed in the door of the coffee shop, and you were finally done with your closing duties for the evening. Your boss said you were free to go, so you grabbed your bag and your jacket, said your goodbyes, and headed out to your shoebox of an apartment. You loved living in New York City, but it was expensive, and just being a barista didn’t pay the bills. No one knew about your “side hustle”, and you liked it that way. It was oddly empowering to you that you were a caffeine peddler by day, but you used your voice to get people off by night. It was perfect because you could have fun living out your own fantasies, but no one knew your face. 

After scarfing down the take out you picked up on your way home, you sat down to check the notifications on your latest audio post. There were always lots of comments to sift through, but there was one username in particular that commented on every single audio you posted, and you always looked forward to their comments. 

As you scrolled through the comments, you finally saw the one you were looking for: “rllygdlwyr commented: So hot as always, sweetheart. I ruined a silk pillowcase with this one. May have to start buying them in bulk if you keep this up.” 

You laughed and bit your lip at the comment. Normally, subscribers calling you pet names would creep you out, but this one was loyal, and they pretty much paid for your take out habit with their subscription and their tips. As much as you hated to admit it, they kind of kept you going.

Once you were done checking your account and responding to comments, you took a shower, put on some slinky lingerie, and pulled out your favorite toys to make a new audio. According to their username, they were most likely a lawyer, so tonight you decided to try a little roleplay.