#sobbing on my knees no one understands me

[sunbleachedcadaver]

me stumbling out of Welwitschia tangled in red string, pushpins stuck into my cork-board body, white-knuckling pages upon pages of obscure references,

[tkbrokkoli]

sent my professor a lengthy email asking for an extension for my presentation so I'd have one week more to prepare and. he just answered "Sure. Best [first name]"

like

[Begin ID: A screenshot showing an email. The sender and recipient are blurred. The subject of the email is "reschedule [redacted] presentation?". The text says "Sure. Best [redacted first name]". End ID]

[hauntedgarden95]

me to me: okay so we’re gonna play through the whole series again to get a good feel for how my canon should be

Every single one of my OCs: actually we’re changing this story

[luveline]

if it’s at all possible, i’m requesting the fluffiest, giggliest fic with poly!marauders where reader is just sad and teary so they get in a big cuddle pile and tickle her and kiss her until she’s a giggly mess and all cheered up 🥹 thank you lovely jade!! <3

ty for requesting angel! fem, 1.1k

You watch yourself in the mirror. At your vanity, a cotton pad soaked in toner in hand. You wash down your face gently, your eyes hot and heavy and waiting to fill with tears. 

Maybe it’s because it’s Sirius who’s sitting on your bed that you end up crying. It’s hard to explain why it makes a difference, why he’s the one out of everyone who you can’t hide from when you’re sad. It’s not as though James or Remus are any less understanding than he is. James is the most generous person you’ve ever met, he’d let you cry into his arms for days on end without complaint, and Remus understands better than most what it is to be in pain, but Sirius won’t make you talk about it. When you’re feeling better, you’ll realise that it’s the complete lack of pressure to confront your feelings that brings them to the surface. Sirius won’t ask you to explain yourself. 

The tears fall down in discordant waves. One from the left, two from the right. Your nose grows hot, an uncomfortable wetness gathering at the back of your throat. 

You put your cotton pad aside, sniffling. 

“You okay, my angel?” Sirius asks, turning another page of his novel. 

You take a shaky breath. “Yeah,” you say, voice thick with tears. 

“You don’t sound okay.” You watch in the mirror as he puts his book down. He stands up quickly, and you’re presented with how good looking he is. Even through tears, he looks pretty. “What’s wrong?” 

You bend in on yourself, pressing your fingers to your eyes. “It’s nothing.” 

His hand falls against your shoulder, warm, the other not far behind. He leans on your back. “Come on, sweet girl,” he whispers, “don’t cry by yourself. Come to bed with me.” 

He doesn’t push you. You knew he wouldn’t. 

You let him usher you into the bed, where he sits with crossed legs and you fall into his chest. Your shoulders ache with your crying, shaking as the tears turn to sobs. You think about everything too much. And, despite the best intentions, Sirius’ gentle patting and hugging makes you cry harder. 

It’s a quiet house. The sound of your breakdown attracts another boy. He climbs into bed in front of you both. You know it’s Remus because James’ would’ve exclaimed in fear at the door, his hand tentative on your thigh. “Is everything alright?” he asks softly. 

“She’s okay, just a rough day,” Sirius says. 

It isn’t a lie. You wrap your arms around his waist like a clamp and lay there, face slipping down against his stomach, all bent and hurting as tears soak his dark t-shirt. 

“Really rough, it must’ve been,” Remus says. He rubs your thigh. “It’ll be okay. We’re here.” 

That makes you cry worse, too, but eventually the sentiment is driven home. No matter how bad the day is, or what happens to you, you’ll always have people to come home to who love you, and who want to rub your back for you when you can’t calm down. 

Remus pats your leg in a rhythm. Sirius stays very still. They both, somehow, know what you need. 

A little later, you lay with your face pressed to Sirius’ chest just shy of his armpit, Remus’ patting turned to light tickling, his voice a low constant. “You’re just so beautiful it intimidates people, that’s your problem, dovey, you’re scary because you’re that pretty. You think I’m blowing smoke, but I’m serious, and Sirius agrees with me, and James would get down on his knees right here and now and testify to that same thing.” His hand slides between the soft upper insides of your thighs to squeeze one reverently. “Everyone is jealous of you.” 

“Stop it,” you mumble. 

“She’s smiling,” Sirius says, drawing a loop behind your ear. 

“Stop.” 

“Everyone is jealous of me,” Remus furthers, “at Books and Coco, whenever you come with me, the boy behind the counter always gives me that stupid chauvinistic look like I’ve done some great service to men-kind in landing you.” Remus leans down to kiss your leg. “And it’s silly that he gives me that look, but his sentiment isn’t wrong. I can’t say I landed you, but I am lucky.” 

“Stop,” you say again, laughing as his breath further tickles your leg. 

The door to the bedroom clatters open. You jump, having not heard the front door, but Sirius rubs your arm and you quickly calm. After all, it’s James coming in. He’s far from scary. 

“Hello,” he says, a little breathless, “you guys wouldn’t believe the photo I just took at the pond. The sun was setting and there were all these colours coming through the trees and over the water.” He gives you a funny look. “Have you been crying?” 

“Just a bit,” Sirius says gently, hugging you a half inch closer, “she’s alright now.” 

James frowns. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“It’s okay,” Sirius answers for you. To some, his speaking for you might irk them, but right now it’s exactly what you need. It’s less embarrassing to have him talk for you. “Remus has praised her half to death, and he keeps tickling us both.” 

“Oh, you’re tickling him too?” you ask. 

Remus squints at you. “Well, just a little bit.” 

You put upon a forlorn sigh. “I’m not as special as I thought.” 

“Sweetheart, you are the most special,” James says, climbing into the bed, making you the centre of their flower, “you’re gorgeous. Let’s have a kiss.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus says, laughing as you lean away from James’ kiss, even as big hands find your cheeks to hold your face. 

“Come on, lovely girl, just give me a kiss so I know you’re alright,” James says. 

You evade to tease him. You can’t help laughing as you turn your head one way and then the other, quick to dodge him, his lips pressing half kisses against whatever bit of skin he can as you move. 

“This is harassment!” you laugh. 

“Just one kiss…” He holds your face steady, and he looks at you long and hard. When you move your chin up to kiss him, he moves away. “You’re okay?” he asks softly. 

“I’m fine,” you laugh, kissing him quickly. 

James collapses atop you, all his weight and smells. “Thank god for that.” 

“Well, thank Sirius,” Remus says, “he did all the back-rubbing.” 

Sirius groans and tries to get out from under you. “You’re all very heavy.” 

“James? Can I see your photo?” you ask. 

He squeezes you half to death in answer. 

[flangore]

❥ scarlet plumes

feat.: Valentino/f!reader

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, drugging, rough sex, choking, punishments, manipulation, Valentino is his own warning

You were not the type to get into trouble.

Being confrontational, at least attempting to have things go your way through protests and complaints, had never seemed worth it; not when the one you were up against was Valentino, who always got what he wanted in the end, one way or another.

All too often, you had seen the way he punished disobedient whores; all too often, you had watched the way they were still limping days after, bruises blooming on skin if they had been lucky, bullet wounds trying to heal, oozing blood, if they had been less so.

There was no reason to willingly go through the struggle of disobeying when simply giving in, caving to Val's wishes and orders, was so much easier.

When Valentino told you to bend over, you did so readily, spreading your thighs apart in offering; when Valentino ordered you down onto your knees, you went obediently, lips dropping open, praying he wasn't in a bad mood, unpredictable as his sudden bursts of anger often made him.

You were not the type to get into trouble, and yet you currently found yourself on the floor, crumpled in front of Valentino's boots, cheek warm and stinging.

“Now, why don't you tell me what happened, baby?” His tone was a low coo, almost gentle enough to soothe your sobs. “You've never acted out like this before. What happened to my well-behaved girl, hm?”

In your defense, it really hadn't been your fault — you hadn't meant to do it.

Your night shift had been supposed to be a simple session for a well-known client, consisting of some lap dancing and a blow job; that was what he had paid for, at least. Your surprise when he had begun ripping your skimpy panties off you, forcing your legs apart, hands greedy, mouth drooling, high on some drug, was therefore understandable in your eyes; as was the way you, in your shock, had lashed out, claws scratching at his chest in order to push him off you. A split second later, the side of your face had ached with pain, his flat palm having met your cheek before he had stormed out of the room, screaming and spitting.

Valentino had been with you after barely any time at all.

“I didn't—”, you choked out, voice trembling, “I didn't mean to do it, sir, I swear, he just startled me, and, I mean, he didn't pay for more, he wanted to —, he wanted to—”

One hand of his cupped your cheek, golden claw gently tracing over your jaw. Even with him crouched down in front of you, he seemed ridiculously tall. “Hey—, relax, sweetheart.” At an exhale, red smoke coiled around you, assaulting your senses. Instinctively, your raised shoulders fell as tension bled from your muscles. “I get it. I understand.”

With how utterly merciless Valentino was known to be, it took a few moments for you to actually understand the meaning of his words. Even then, you barely dared to let go of the dreadful fear curled in your stomach. “You do?”

“Of course I do”, he said, eyes half-lidded behind heart-shaped glasses. His voice was soft enough to cause more tears, now of relief, to drip down your cheeks. “You know, I was really surprised when that patron came up to me, demanding to have you fired, if not killed for your disobedience. You're usually such an obedient girl — I was wondering what actually happened. Good job for being honest with me.”

Hope bloomed in your chest, your eyes widening. Streaks of mascara and eyeshadow, black and colourful, ran down your wet cheeks. “So you're not upset with me?”

“Upset with you? Of course not, amorcito. You were scared, that's alright. It happens, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in a stifled sob, lips, the gloss now smudged, curling up into a pitiful mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Val.”

This could have gone much worse. Your hands were still shaking, anxiety thrumming underneath your skin, and yet Valentino didn't even seem particularly upset. Some higher being — whether that was Lucifer or God, you didn't really care — must have blessed you, somehow.

“Of course, baby.” The moment Valentino stood once more, he towered over you, his shadow swallowing you up. “Now, follow me, yeah?”

Your legs struggled to support your weight, knees feeling weak as you trailed behind him through corridors you didn't recognise. Your steps were unsure, the heels, ridiculously high, only adding to your troubles. You have half a mind to stop yourself from asking where you're going.

It's entirely unnecessary, either way.

You arrive but a moment later, the noise of a heavy door falling shut causing you to flinch; where Valentino was in front of you just a second ago, he was now behind you, a looming presence at your back.

It was a studio; not the fancy kind actual stars like Angel Dust filmed in, but a smaller one, the light bulb flickering, the sheets on the bed stained. Voxtech cameras were pointed at the mattress.

“Val—?”

“Bend over, baby.”

“You said you're not angry with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without your permission, a panicked high-pitched tone. “You said you're not—”

“And I'm not, as long as you hurry the fuck up and do what I tell you to.” His voice was sharp. Instinctively, you obeyed, bending over the edge of the bed, nausea churning in your stomach. “See, that guy you were a bitch to was a regular. Good money. I gotta show him you're sorry, sweetheart. You understand that, right?”

For a moment, you didn't get a word out, throat tight as tears spilled past your lashes. Eventually, you managed a shaky; “Yes, Valentino.”

“There we go. Knew you'd get why I have to do this.”

Large hands settled on your thighs, the touch making you flinch; his claws, all too sharp, teased at your skin, leaving faint scratch marks, before they prodded at your folds.

This, by now, should have been routine. It was; and yet, the idea of this being a punishment had you tensing, muscles locking up while Valentino thrust one claw into you, only to grunt, irritated.

“Ungrateful bitch”, he spat, one hand settling on your lower back, pinning you to the bed while another fumbled with his belt, metal clinking. “That's what I get for tryin' to be nice and preparing you — tightest cunt I've ever seen. Loosen the fuck up or deal with it.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice shook, though the threat of violence, of pain, didn't help with relaxing in the slightest. Instead, you instinctively clenched around the digit, only to whimper when he yanked it back out.

“Sure doesn't seem like it.”

The fat head of his cock, pierced, the metal cold, pressed against you, then pushed inside; you were unable to stop yourself from letting out a pitiful noise, sounding more like a wounded animal than a practiced porn star.

Valentino didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Your vision blackened out for a moment when he bottomed out inside of you, the pain agonising. For a moment, you were certain he was tearing you from the inside out. His hips slapped against your plush ones, building up a steady rhythm; one set of his hands grabbed onto your hips, claws digging into your skin, using his grip for leverage to pull you back against him

“Some wetness would help us out here, y'know”, Valentino mumbled, complaining, bitching, like this was your fault. It probably was.

The only response you were able to come up with was a choked out sob, a dull ache steadily present in your abdomen, only interrupted by sharp stabbing pain whenever Valentino's tip hit an impossibly deep spot inside of you.

This couldn't have possibly gotten worse — or so you thought, tears dripping down your face, your claws ripping the sheets as you scrambled for purchase, only for it to get so much more agonising when, all of a sudden, his hand closed around your throat, squeezing.

You weren't able to breathe.

Instinctively, you clenched around him, thighs shaking. If he wasn't still holding you up, you would have collapsed.

“Fuck, you're so damn tight.” Valentino groaned, low and raspy. His tongue lapped at your neck, leaving trails of pink saliva to drip down your shoulders, your chest. “We could've had such a pleasant time together, baby, if only you hadn't been such a disobedient slut. Hate that you're making me do this.”

His pace was unforgiving, the metal of his belt buckle hitting your hip with every other thrust, surely leaving bruises. Not that it mattered — Valentino did provide you with full coverage makeup, after all.

Out of the corner of your eye, you focused on the red dots of the many cameras, blinking, recording. By now, numbness spread through you, a small blessing. You weren't certain just how long it went on; only that, eventually, Valentino came with a groan, filling you up, making you whimper.

When his grip on your throat loosened for a split second, allowing you to suck a burning breath into your lungs, it felt like Heaven.

“Use your words, baby. Talk to me.”

“Val, 'm sorry—”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, the words barely audible through sobs, “I'm sorry, Val, I'm sorry—”

Suddenly, his hand, still on your throat, yanked your head up, his lips clashing against yours; the very moment you opened your mouth, pliant with submission, with exhaustion, smoke flooded it, you choking on it.

Your mind felt muddled, mouth dry even as saliva trickled out of your lips, jaw slack.

Faintly, you were able to feel his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs, sticky.

“Now”, Valentino said, voice a sultry purr, “Why don't you wait here, I'll send you your client and you apologise properly to him?”

Mind filled with scarlet plumes, you barely knew what you were agreeing to, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, Valentino.”

“That's what I like to hear. Good girl.”

When multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the room, you, even in your hazy state, had the bad feeling that you were going to be having a long night.

i won't lie i didn't proofread this yet.. tomorrow... ALSO FIRST POST YIPPEEE

[pretty-little-mind33]

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Logan has fun punishing you ;)

warnings: hard kink (don't like, don't read!), kinda dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, humiliation, rough sex, degradation, mean!logan, dacryphilia, crying, slight dumbification, spanking, creampie

~ last kinktober!! happy halloween! ~

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You're a sobbing mess, face pressed against the couch cushions, your arm flailing around, clutching onto anything you can hold onto. Logan's back is pressed against yours, warm and hard, as he thrusts into you. He's feral like an animal and you can feel his cock stretch you painfully wide. 

"Lo–lo," you whimper, voice small, "Can't do this anymore," you sob, tasting the saltiness of your tears as your poor pussy is abused. Logan's hands fist your hair, pushing down as he grunts. 

"Can't take it, hm? Yes, you can. You're a slut remember. This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you fucking begged for when you were on your knees. Huh, you remember? Licking up my cock, staring up at me with those doe-eyes of yours," he pauses, growling, "What was it you said? You can handle it? Well, handle it then, honey."

You catch your breath, barely able to breathe as he fucks you hard. You're sobbing, unable to focus. Logan grins wolfishly, pulling you up by your hair as he leans in. His lips hit your ear and he whispers hoarsely, "We're gonna play a game now, can you do that for me?"

When you don't answer him he thrusts particularly hard.

"Yes, Logan, yes—" you whine, eyes blurry from your tears. You're staring at the wall now, trying your hardest to be good for him. His laugh in your ear makes you shiver. 

"I want you to count every thrust into your soaked pussy." You can hear his grin, "And if you miss one, I'll go even harder, do you understand me?"

You choke on a cry, not understanding why he's punishing you. You hadn't been that bratty. Logan just seems like he likes this; mocking you and making you squirm for him. He thrusts hard, hitting your cervix and you gasp. 

Apparently, the game had started because he slaps your ass. "One!" you cry, moaning loudly. You're slightly afraid your neighbors might hear you but Logan doesn't seem to care. He continues fucking into you, whispering dirty things in your ear and you struggle to count all his thrusts. He's so fast. His stamina is intense. 

"Four–ah–five, six, s-seven—"

"Louder. I want everyone to know how much of a slut you are." 

You cry, your body feels weak and you're happy he's holding you up because you couldn't do it yourself. Your mind goes hazy as you try and count. "thirteen, fourteen, ah—fifteen, s-sixteen—Logan—I- I can't," you sob, completely losing track and his thrusts become harder to the point that it's burning. You accept the pain, moaning louder. 

Logan's hand wraps around your jaw, groaning in your ear. "Filthy girl. Can't even listen. What am I gonna do with you? I have to teach you a lesson, huh? One your stupid little brain will understand." 

Your skin burns with embarrassment as tears prickle your eyes. His other hand roughly cups your breast and tortures your nipples. This is humiliating, being so powerless against him. You just cry softly, coming around him, body convulsing. You couldn't hold it anymore.

It just happened.  

Logan smirks. He doesn't care that you didn't ask for permission. After all, it gives him more ammunition. 

"Couldn't control yourself, honey?" 

You shake your head, tears streaming down onto his hand. He wipes his hand around your face, smearing your tears around and messing up your mascara. He chuckles.

"Please—t-too much."

Hearing your words, Logan grunts, spilling himself into your womb. He lets go, watching you fall forward again, and digs his nails into your hips. His thrusts slow, catching his breath and looking down at you. You're a complete mess; tears and snot coating your face as you lay there, completely used. Logan smirks to himself, pulling out and then plugging his cum inside you with his fingers. You whimper, too weak to squirm. 

"Keep it all in. Lose a drop and I'll make this worse for you," Logan says. The threat is empty considering he can see you're done. He's pushed you to your limit and you took it so well. Soothingly, he runs his other hand over your back. Once he's satisfied that you're keeping his cum inside, he walks over and caresses your cheek, truly wiping your tears away this time. 

"Shh," he says, kneeling next to you. You blink, eyes still hazy. He's still naked and he chuckles when you see your eyes wander downwards.

"Want more?" he teases.

You shake your head, whining. Logan laughs and kisses your head. "I know, honey. You're okay. You did so well for me," he says and strokes your hair. You sigh, relaxing in his arms as he praises you. You hum, needing more praise. Logan knows you do and he will happily oblige.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing right next to your lips, smiling into your skin. 

You're always his good girl.

[moonlightrafe]

Blood Lust

summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.

pairing: Aemond x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: Explicit smut, dark!Aemond, incest, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, heavy dubcon, loss of virginity, mention of blood, knife play, angst!!! 18+ MDNI

Destiny was a fickle thing but Aemond Targaryen knew three things for certain: he was destined to lose an eye, destined to claim the largest dragon of the known world and destined to be with you.

For as long as Aemond could remember, he wanted you, dreamed of you. The mere thought of you made his cock ache at any moment.

It was not as if Aemond had no other options. There were plenty of Lord’s willing to send their daughters to King’s Landing to be married off to a prince.

As lovely as those girls might have been, they all shared the same detrimental flaw: they simply were not you. You were a member of House Targaryen — bastard born or not, the blood of Old Valyria ran deep within your veins. You were a skilled dragon rider, you carried yourself with grace, held a quick wit, spoke your mother tongue. Above all else, you had been there for Aemond when no one else was. You were perfect.

Aemond had no interest in being betrothed to a Baratheon or a Lannister, nor an Arryn or a Stark; even the most beautiful girl the Tyrell’s had to offer would simply never compare. After a denied proposal for a betrothal and you being taken away to Dragonstone Aemond felt powerless — until now.

Your entire body aches as you make out your surroundings. You had been taken in the middle of the night, forced onto dragon back with your hands and feet tied.

“Listen to me,” your uncle says as he crouches in front of you, “if you scream the guards will come and you’ll be thrown in the dungeons. You have no friends here except me. Do you understand?”

You nod your head in agreement, desperate to be free of the makeshift gag he had made for you.

“Aemond, this is treason,” you state plainly.

“Treason, would be betraying the crown, sweet niece,” he responds, “I am the crown.”

“Fuck you!” you grumble at him.

“Iksos bona skoros ao jaelagon?” Is that what you want?

Against your better judgment, you spit right in his face, observing him nervously as he wipes it away.

“Fiesty little thing you are.”

“What do you want with me, Aemond? Will you force me to kneel before you? Carve out my eye? Perhaps I’ll suffer the same fate as my brother?”

Ah, Lucerys. He was waiting for you to bring that up.

“While I’m sure that seeing you on your knees is a glorious sight, I have other plans for you.”

“I have no desire to bed you, Aemond. I am betrothed.”

The smirk on his face slightly drops at that. Betrothed.

“And where is Lord Stark now?” He questions casually.

“Preparing his army for war.”

“I wonder how it must feel?” he goes on, “to be whored out? Practically sold like a broodmare so that your pretender of a mother can build herself an army?”

“Better to be his whore than your war prize.”

The mask of cruelty on Aemond's face fades for a moment, and for a second, he almost looks hurt at your words.

“Is that what you think? That you’re merely a ‘prize’? You wound me, dear niece. Do you not remember that I love you?”

Ice fills your veins at his confession and your heart drops into your stomach. Things could’ve been different, they should’ve been.

“I don’t understand why things had to escalate in this way, Aemond,” you say as you start to cry, “you could’ve —“ you choke back a sob, “you could’ve had me.”

Aemond takes your chin in his hands as he lets out a laugh.

“I do have you, baby.”

Fear courses through you at his words. Aemond unsheathes a knife from his jacket pocket and holds it to your chest for a brief moment before pulling away.

“Hold still,” he demands as he cuts the rope that holds your ankles together.

You wince as Aemond forcefully spreads your legs apart, violently cutting a hole into your undergarments, exposing your cunt to him.

“Tell me, has Stark fucked this pretty little pussy yet?”

He knows he hasn’t, he knows you and Cregan still have yet to meet. He wants to hear you say it.

“N-no,” you stutter as you continue to cry. Gods, you look so pretty when you cry, Aemond thinks to himself. He only smirks in response.

“You are still a maiden, right, sweet one? You haven’t let little Lord Strong defile you, have you?”

“Gods, Aemond. No.”

“Hm,” Aemond frowns, “a shame for him, really. Now he’ll never have the chance being that you will never see him again.”

“They’ll come for you,” you tell him.

“If they wish to keep me away from you and your perfect cunt they’ll have to kill you,” he muses, “But even then…”

A darkness takes over your uncles face and you soon realize the Aemond you once knew is gone. You are dealing with a whole new monster. He is an animal, a beast — and you are merely prey.

“Do you touch yourself?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“S-sometimes,” you whisper, feeling ashamed, but finding it difficult to lie to him.

“What do you think about when you do?”

“Not you,” you retort.

He runs two fingers through your soft folds, causing you to gasp, before bringing his fingers up to the light.

“Liar,” he states as his fingers glisten, coated in your slick. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, baby. I think about you, too…”

You can’t help but notice the evident bulge in your uncle's pants, his cock strains against the delicate fabric. You can tell how big he is. You try your best to divert your gaze elsewhere.

“Now, I’m going to untie your wrists. Might I remind you of what I said earlier: You are far better off in here, with me, than out there,” he says, pointing to the door with his dagger.

You’re not sure if you believe him. At this point, you might prefer to be thrown in the dungeon with the rats, left to starve. Instead of arguing, you simply nod your head as Aemond cuts you free.

You feel wobbly as you stand on your feet, Aemond holds your hands as you gain your composure. Your ankles and wrists feel sore, but Aemond rubs his thumb against your wrist soothingly.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as that familiar ache between your legs begins to grow. You know you shouldn't be aroused by this behavior, but your body is betraying you.

Aemond picks you up swiftly and places you onto his bed. There was a time where you dreamed of this. If only your younger self could see you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted once again as Aemond’s large hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, trying to keep you in your place. You make a feeble attempt to push him away, but he is too strong and you can’t break free.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” he pleads, “I need you,” the timbre of his voice is so low that you aren’t sure if he meant for you to hear. His free hand moves to your breast, massaging it roughly through your chemise.

"You are so beautiful," he says, leaning over you. You feel him press himself against you, his cock rubbing against your leg, pre-cum leaks out of the tip and smears onto your thigh.

He pushes back and nestles himself comfortably between your thighs. His dexterous fingers part your folds ever so gently, exposing you to him completely.

“Gods, you’re perfect. The most perfect girl in the entire realm,” he groans before his face is buried between your thighs. His plump lips suck at your clit as he prods at it with his tongue before moving up and down your slit. You feel yourself getting wetter, arousal leaks from your core and Aemond laps it up eagerly. On instinct, you spread your legs even further apart, your body betraying you once again.

Aemond licks harder, and you feel the soft muscle of his tongue slip inside you. A loud moan erupts from your chest as a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. Your hand shoots down to to tug at Aemond’s silver tresses.

You’re so close, you’ve never been touched like this before and one final glide of his tongue pushes you over the edge. You cry out loudly as you cum, your vision going blurry as your cunt contracts around him.

Aemond pulls himself from your core and stands up, grabbing your hips. He harshly pulls you to the edge of the bed and you feel his cock pressing against you. You eagerly push towards him this time. There is no point in fighting him. You gasp as he enters you fully, filling you completely. The stretch is overwhelming, a tight burning sensation. The fullness begins to feel good as your silky walls flutter around him.

“Just relax,” he coos, “I know you want me.”

You feel his cock twitch inside you slightly as he groans, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, “you’re so tight and wet, baby, so perfect; just like I dreamed you would be.”

Your cheeks bloom crimson at his praise and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he fucks into you. The sharp pain soon fades into pleasure. The fat tip of his cock relentlessly bullies that sweet spot inside you that you were never able to reach on your own.

Aemond reaches up to paw at your breast, pinching at your nipple roughly, and a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your spine tingles and your toes curl, causing you to moan in response.

"You think Stark could fuck you like this? Make you feel the way I do? That anyone could?" He rasps as his thrusts become relentless. He slaps your face when you fail to give him an answer. A shameful whimper escapes you.

"Answer. Me." he demands between thrusts, his teeth gritted together, his thumb swiping over the rosy, delicate flesh where he hit you.

“N-no, Aemond! Only you, just you! I'm sorry!” you all but choke out to him.

“That’s right, my sweet. You were fuckin’ made for me,” he grunts before pausing his thrusts, his hips stuttering before he pulls his cock out of you almost entirely. Making note of the blood that coats his shaft, hoping you don’t notice.

“You know it, I know it, your mother knows it,” he grits out, “you’re mine.”

“Yes, Aemond, I’m — fuck! I’m yours,” you mewl.

“Do you love me?" he asks, your mind is hazy, and stars blur your vision as he continues to drill into you. Even while he is taking control, his insecurity still has a way of shining through his cruel demeanor.

You loved him once, long ago. Maybe you could love him again? You know the answer he is looking for is not ‘maybe.’

"Kessa, Avy jorrāelan." Yes, I love you.

Aemond grins at this, impressed with your knowledge of your shared mother tongue.

He slams his cock into you full force, stilling as he presses hard against your cervix, making you cry out again. His hand tangles in your hair as he places his forehead against yours.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he tells you.

You grip at his hips, pulling him into you.

“C-cum inside me,” you moan through bated breaths, “claim me as your own, once and for all.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he says as he complies, pushing into you deeply as he shoots his hot cum inside of you, warmth blooming in your chest as he does so; before collapsing on top of you.

“What happens now?” you ask, as he gently pulls himself out of your heat, allowing his seed to seep onto the bed sheets.

“This is just the beginning.”

[me-writes-prompts]

-:"I can't stop loving you." Angsty romance prompts for your otp:-

(This prompt list...... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. tag me if you write these ☠️)

By @me-writes-prompts

"It's not you...it's me. I can't stop loving you."

"If I knew loving someone would hurt so much, I still would've loved you."

"I'm tired of being the only one who loves you. I need you to love yourself first." oof

"This is not the version of you I fell in love with. And honestly, I've forgotten the real you." T-T

"Is it so hard to believe I've stopped loving you?"

"I can't live without you. I can't love without you. I need you, by my side, always did and always will." "You'll be okay. I know you will."

"It's not okay to just leave me here, after telling me you love me back." "We can't- we'll never be together."

"So you choose them over me? After all we've been through together, you choose them?" (AZIRACROW MY HEARTTTTTTT)

"I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?" (bear with me here AHHHH)

"It's truly funny...how you can't choose who you want to be in love with. I didn't choose to be in love with you. It just happened, and I wish it didn't."

Walking in rain to their house just to find that they're no longer there.

"You can't go. You cannot leave me here. You promised we'll be together forever." (No words)

Playing the song they always sang together to, and just crying.

"It'll never be the same between us. We'll never be the same."

"Your silence speaks more than you ever have. And, I'm not sure why it took so long for me to notice."

"You've drifted so far away from my side that I can no longer reach for your hand and guide you back to me." SOB OMG DID I JUST WRITE THAT

"I can no longer recognize you. And that's not even the saddest part. It's the fact that you no longer make any attempt to make me understand you."

[beloveds-embrace]

I’m such a crybaby because I’d be sobbing my eyes out if the angst dukedom!ah shit happened to me

Kyle hearing the duchess crying in her room so he lingers near the door but doesn’t know how to even approach her :(((((

Same honestly 😔

Dukedom au masterlist

Kyle hearing you cry in your room, aware that you must be so… alone. Alone and cold because he knows none of the maids had bothered to prepare your room for winter and you couldn’t even ask any of them to even tell you where the thicker linens and softer pillows are.

His guilt festers like an open wound, each muffled sob from behind your door a twist of the knife. He’s supposed to be the head butler, the one who ensures every guest’s comfort- yours included regardless of his own feelings- but he’s failed you. The other servants followed his lead, and his silent disdain for you has been their permission to mistreat you. He knows better now, but knowing doesn’t ease the shame that burns his throat when he finally orders the maids to prepare your room properly. He doesn’t tell them why. He can’t admit he’s started to care.

Simon just silently watching you struggle to pull a book out of the library shelves because your dress was not made for climbing ladders, and the servants working there ignored you and pretended they had something else to do when you asked for their help. Something in him quietly aches when he sees your shoulders slump, giving up on getting that book.

He watches you more often than he’d like to admit, truthfully. It’s not just the way your frustration lingers when no one helps you, or the resigned sigh you give when you’re ignored. It’s the quiet dignity with which you endure it all. He sees it in the way you straighten your back even as you, at last, leave the library empty-handed, and something in him twists painfully. He hates how much he’s beginning to admire your strength, And yet, he still says nothing. For now, all he can do is quietly place the book you wanted on your desk later that night, hoping you’ll understand what he can’t yet say.

Johnny just staring at the many mugs of tea and hot drinks he’d made, meant to soothe after such a cold day of hardworking for everyone. A treat from him, a little gift. He’s even made a cup for you and yet… he says nothing when a maid he knows already had hers takes it. Yet the regret he feels when he catches you later that night warming some water on the stove, thinner than is healthy, is something fierce and sharp. He still says nothing, words at the tip of his tongue yet unable to come out.

Still, Johnny can’t stop thinking about the cup of tea. It wasn’t just a drink- it was the smallest gesture of warmth he could have saved and offered you, and he’d let it slip through his fingers. He doesn’t even know why he made it for you in the first place, why he bothered when resentment was easier. But seeing you at the stove, cheeks hollow and shoulders hunched, a spark of defiance in the way you warmed your own water despite everything- it broke something in him. Later, he’ll leave a bowl of warm stew and a fresh loaf of bread outside your door, too ashamed to knock but desperate to ease the hunger he knows must gnaw at you.

John can’t even look at you. If he does, he will be reminded of the one night he allowed himself to see you. Not just as the intruder he once thought you were, but as a woman trying to survive in a world that seemed determined to keep you on your knees. He remembers the soft tremble in your voice when you thanked him for a kindness so small it was almost cruel- handing you a coat left in the drawing room after everyone had gone. You wore it like armor, though it was far too big, and he’d spent the rest of the night cursing himself for the way your gratitude had made his chest ache.

Now, he avoids your gaze because he doesn’t know what he’ll see. Pain? Loneliness? Or worse, the hope that hasn’t yet been extinguished, despite everything. He knows that hope will unravel him if he lets it.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part One (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Bound together by power and fate, you and Rio are undeniably tied, but Agatha Harkness was something unexpected - yet in the end...

Words: 1664

Warnings: Canon deaths, AAA, uh... language, child birth kinda? Angsty? I dunno, there's things.

A/N: A retake and partial redo of AAA (in the sense of "what if"). This is gonna be a... four part series? I think?

-X-

Cries of pain echoed throughout the trees as Agatha stumbled towards the water, body finding purchase against the trunk of a tree as another contraction washed over her. Everything ached, but she didn’t care. All she had worked for was so close. She just needed a little more strength and her child would be tucked into her arms, a beacon of her love.

She hardly noticed the unnatural silence that befell the forest, the wind dying into nothing more than an occasional puff of air. All she could see was- feel, hear - was the sound of her own heartbeat.

Glancing up as another cramp hit, she caught sight of two familiar figures lingering near. The beating of her heart quickened, so overwhelmed at the prospect of you both being there to meet your son, but the identical expressions you wore sent her heart plummeting.

He is not mine, you conveyed to Rio regretfully, tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

Life and Death stood, watching critically over the mortal who’d stolen their hearts. While bound together forever in a way no one would ever understand or be capable of recreating, you had both found the tiny piece you were missing within Agatha. You’d found a middle ground.

Death took a step forward.

Life took two steps back.

“It cannot be,” Agatha breathed, inching away from the green witch as she neared.

You could feel Rio’s heart cracking, felt the anguish and guilt rushing over her.

“It must be,” she replied gently.

“You do this and I will hate you forever,” Agatha spat fearfully, glancing between you. “Both of you.”

A sob clawed its way up your throat, suffocating and vile. This was the hardest moment you’d ever been summoned to.

“Please let him live!” Agatha cried. “Please, my loves. Don’t take him from me.”

Pleas began falling like tears, and your entire being called out to you. Begged you to rush to her side. To heal your son.

Rio’s eyes drifted closed for a moment before a dark stare met Agatha. You could see the parts of Rio warring. Her nature and her love clashing together in a battle, both reaching out to Agatha before being yanked back.

“I can offer only time.”

She peered at you. Save him.

Your feet moved before you could fully comprehend what was happening. Your knees hit the dirt in front of Agatha, warm light shining from your hands as they touched her swollen belly.

Looking over your shoulder at Rio, you watched the veil that separated you from mortals swirl around her.

Tell him of me, she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks in rivets.

All the time, my love, you vowed.

Attention returning to Agatha, you smiled up at her faintly. “Let’s bring our boy into the world, shall we?”

-X-

Years passed. Years of joining your love to decide the fate of a life. Years of watching your little boy grow, watching him become sick, watching him grow frail and tired…

Watching your lover kill in hopes of distracting your other lover. Watching her use your son to do it but never allowing Rio too close. Watching Agatha grow colder. Meaner. Deadlier.

As life comes and goes, you were often pulled away from Nicholas, helping the other piece of your soul collect and distribute life and death as needed. But for the times you were with him, watching him blossom and shrink, you never let him forget about the woman who offered him time.

As you stepped through the trees, veil falling away into your human form, you watched the beautiful smile break across Nicky’s face before he was bounding into your arms, clinging to you like a lifeline.

“Mother! You are back!” he beamed up at you, his thin arms gripping you as tight as he could. It was devastating to see the sickness ravaging him, knowing you could do nothing to change it.

“Hello, my littlest love,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his long hair before peering over his head at Agatha. “And my tall love.”

“If you are here, will I see Mami tonight in my dreams?” Nicky whispered into your ear, shrieking happily as you lifted him, tossing him over your shoulder and holding him tightly as his little feet kicked.

“Maybe.”

Agatha rolled her eyes affectionately as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, Nicky thrown playfully over your shoulder and squealing as you swung him about. She was surprised to see you return so soon, and her heart thumped painfully as she thought to Rio.

As the afternoon progressed into night, Nicky regaled you with tales of their exploits. Your heart ached, knowing the reasons behind Agatha’s choices but refusing to discourage your son from telling his vivid stories. You were so… angry with Agatha, for doing this to him, but in another life, maybe you would’ve done the same.

After he was tucked onto a small pallet, blanket right around his frail form, you joined Agatha at the edge of the water. Staring out into the darkness, you spoke softly, “This has bid you some time but you know this cannot stop the inevitable, my love.”

Bristling, Agatha turned to walk away, unwilling to hear your truths, but a steady hand caught her.

“You need to hear me, Agatha. She has given all she can. She has fought the universe to keep him here; avoided her own son so that Death would not call him home yet. But we cannot keep him here. He is not meant to be here, yet we let him walk and talk and be here with you. And you still hate her for the time she has allowed me to give him. Without her, he never would have taken his first breath. You need to unbury your head from the sands and accept we cannot change fate anymore than we have.”

Eyes flaring purple with fury, Agatha shoved you but you did not waver. “You are essentially gods! Yet one child unravels the cosmos? Fate? He is my son and you want to let her take him from me!”

“He is our son,” you corrected sharply. “He is her son. As much as he is mine or yours. She made him as we did. She does not get to watch him grow as we did. Hold him. Love him. Because she wanted to grant you time with him and yet you spit in her face!”

Staring into the reddened face of your lover, you softened slightly. “She loves Nicholas. I love Nicholas. And we love you. Gods know we do not wish to hurt you. But he is sick. His body is tired. You know there is only one way.”

“If you cannot understand why I do what I must to keep him here, maybe you should leave,” Agatha whispered, eyes filling with anger and tears. “I will do whatever I can to save him.”

Bowing your head, you tugged her into a tight embrace, pressing your lips to the crown of her head as she cried silently against your chest. It was raw and painful and you knew this was the last time you would see her for a very long time.

By the time she wandered back to camp, you were gone.

-X-

The shadows of night surrounded you as you and Rio approached the campsite one night, hand in hand. Her eerie green torch illuminated the path, her true form hidden beneath a familiar guise.

“I don’t want to scare him,” she had mumbled, cheek resting against your shoulder as time ticked down.

The heavy fall winds dragged Nicholas from his slumber and he slowly sat upright, eyes landing upon the eerie light. His eyes brightened before dimming, realization crashing into his chest. He peered down, watching his body remain as he stood.

Rio gestured for him to kiss his mother and he obeyed, whispering, “I love you,” before meeting you and Rio at the forest edge.

She cupped his cheek sweetly, thumb soothing on his paling flesh. “It’s time, love.”

“I am afraid,” he admitted shyly, wide eyes flickering between you as if ashamed of the admittance.

Crouching down, both of your hands found his lithe shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, letting light and warmth pour from you. “We will be with you every step, darling. I swear it.”

He peered over at Agatha, eyes shimmering in the green light. “I do not fear dying, but I do not want Mama to be alone. She is going to be so lonely.”

Your chest seized painfully.

“Our sweet, wonderful boy,” you breathed, peeking up at your partner, who stared at Nicky adoringly. “I promise, we will not be far from her, even if she cannot see us. Even if she is angry. She is etched into our bones and we will not stray far.”

“I will miss her,” he murmured, “But I will see her again one day?”

“Yes, sweetheart, and someday, we shall be a family again. A complete family.” Looking at Rio, you smiled sadly and cupped her face with your free hand. “One day, we shall never be apart again.”

“A complete family,” Nicholas repeated with a smile, peering up at Rio. “With Mami this time.”

Carefully making your way to the bridge, shadows and light swirled around as you passed through the veil and Nicholas was brought into the embrace of his mother’s domain. You were not ignorant to the pain that would overtake Agatha when the sun rose above the horizon, so once Nicholas found the space crafted especially for him, you returned to the mortal plane and stood above the resting witch.

Stooping down, you patiently maneuvered Nicholas’ mortal body in Agatha’s arms, tucking his blanket tight around him before pressing a butterfly soft kiss to Agatha’s temple.

“I am sorry, my love,” you muttered, pecking her temple again before disappearing with the morning light, soul aching as her wails crested the treetops.

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

--------------------

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[connorsui]

“Believing in love”

Sylus x fem! reader

Synopsis: Amidst the dazzling lights of a futuristic city, you confront your fears of love

Genre/warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, soft sylus, reader who doesn't believe in the concept of love, emotional trauma, vulnerability, discussions of betrayal, past trauma for reader, sylus just wants to love you for you and nothing else, hurt/Comfort, emotional healing, small fluff, slow burn, hints of trust issues

Note: okaaayyyyyyy I went overboard this was originally going to be a short imagine ..like maybe five hundred words or less with the concept: “I don't believe in love” and “I'll show you what it can be” – I wasn't planning on this to be a full fledged one shot…but hey …I ain't gonna complain any further my brain is just doing its job ✨️

w.c: 1.8K

The city hums beneath you, a symphony of noise and light, but your mind is far from the chaos below. You keep your gaze fixed on the skyline, as if it holds the answers you can’t seem to find. Beside you, Sylus’ breath is ragged, his desperation barely concealed as he clings to your wrist. You can feel the tremble in his fingers despite the firmness of his grip, as though he’s trying to hold you together—or perhaps, to keep you from drifting away.

“Why do you always attempt to leave me? What is it that I’m doing wrong?” His voice is soft, almost pleading, a rare break in his usually stoic demeanor. He’s searching your face for something—anything—but you remain still, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.

He clutches you tighter, not forcefully, but in a way that tells you he’s afraid you might vanish into the night, just like the countless times before. The emptiness in your silence gnaws at him, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracks, the word nearly lost in the wind. “I’m not one to beg, but if it means I’ll get an answer from you, then I’ll lower myself.”

You glance down as you hear the rustle of fabric, your eyes catching the sight of Sylus sinking to one knee. A proud man, reduced to pleading. The weight of his devotion presses down on you, suffocating in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I wish for an answer. Any answer from you.”

But still, you say nothing. The flood of emotions you’ve buried for so long stirs within you, threatening to overwhelm. The city lights blur in your vision, turning into a kaleidoscope of glowing orbs, and suddenly, your throat tightens. You want to speak, but the words are tangled in your chest, caught in the rising tide of emotion.

“It’s… it’s not that I wish to ignore everything you’ve done,” you start, your voice shaky and weak, barely audible over the rushing wind. “It doesn’t mean I hate you, or that you're not trying hard enough. I care for you. I do.”

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding against your ribs, as tears, hot and unrelenting, streak down your face.

“I want to love you, Sylus. I want to be near you every day, to feel what it means to love someone, to truly understand it. But I…” Your voice cracks, the word foreign on your tongue. Your chest tightens, the familiar sting of betrayal flashing in your mind, the memories you’ve fought so hard to suppress now rushing back in vivid detail.

Before you can break down any further, Sylus pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you like a shield from the world. His warmth seeps into you, steadying you amidst the storm inside.

“Shhh… it’s alright. Come here.”

His voice is soothing, and for a moment, you let yourself relax in his hold. You breathe out slowly, though each exhale feels labored. Your chest rises and falls as you try to calm the sobs threatening to tear through you. His hands gently cradle your face as he wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, his touch delicate but firm, as if assuring you he won’t let go.

“I’m scared…” Your words spill out between quiet gasps, your chest heaving as you finally let out the weight you’ve carried for so long. “I’m so scared, Sylus. I’ve loved before, countless times… and neither time was it ever given back.”

Sylus' embrace tightens, his chin resting atop your head as he rocks you gently. His voice, though calm, carries a raw edge of determination, as though he’s willing his words into reality.

“I can show you what it can be,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ll show you what love should feel like, what it should be… No one in this entire city is more deserving of that than you.”

His hand rests against your back, moving in slow, soothing circles.

“I just need you to believe in me. let me show you that I can give you the love you’ve been searching for.”

You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling into your chest, pushing against the wall you’ve built around your heart. For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the quiet murmur of the city below, and the cold wind that carries the scent of the night sky. Moonlight bathes the two of you, casting silver across the rooftop as if the world has stilled for this one moment.

And though the fear still lingers at the edges of your mind, something shifts within you. Perhaps it’s the warmth of his touch, or the sincerity in his voice. But for the first time, you allow yourself to believe in the possibility.

Yet he keeps himself steady, his grip tightens—not out of force, but from desperation, as if he’s holding on to more than just your body. He’s holding on to the very idea of you, of the two of you.

“I don’t need you to say you love me, not now, not in this hour, not tomorrow” he murmurs into your hair. “I just need you to trust that I will. That I already do.”

His words pierce through the walls you’ve spent so long building. The fortress around your heart cracks, letting in the first tendrils of warmth you’ve felt in ages. You try to push him away, afraid of being vulnerable, but his hold remains firm—not possessive, just secure. Safe.

“But Sylus—” you whisper between breaths, your voice breaking.

“I’m not like you. I don’t know how to—how to do this. Every time… I let someone in, they ripped pieces out of me until there was nothing left to give...so, even if you say you love me… what can I give you..when there's nothing? ”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His red eyes soften, the intensity that so often burned with dominance now a smoldering ember of understanding.

“You think there’s nothing left to give,” he murmurs, “but every broken piece of you is still yours to offer. And I’ll take them, even if they don’t fit together perfectly. I don’t care if you feel shattered. I’ll hold onto every fragment until you’re ready to trust me with the rest.”

Your chest heaves as you fight for control over your emotions, but the more you resist, the harder it becomes. Sylus’s steady gaze undoes you. How could someone like him—so powerful, so untouchable—look at you as if you were the most fragile thing in the universe?

“ — and yet there will be days you think I don’t know fear?” he continues, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “You think I don’t wonder every day if I’m enough for you? That I’ll lose you before you ever truly belonged to me?”

The vulnerability in his words makes you flinch. You’ve seen Sylus command entire fleets, face enemies without a trace of fear, and yet here he is, baring himself before you. It’s too much—too raw. But it’s also exactly what you needed to hear.

“I’m not a perfect man, and I won’t pretend I am," he adds. "But I will never stop trying for you. Not for a second or an hour or a day of my life"

His thumb brushes the last of your tears away, and for a moment, all that exists is the sound of the wind whipping around you, the lights of the city flickering beneath your feet, and the quiet hum of your hearts—one racing, the other steady.

You finally exhale, the weight of your emotions loosening its grip just enough for you to speak again.

“What if I’m broken?” you choke out. “What if there’s nothing left that is untouched for you to love?”

Sylus’s lips quirk into a sad but tender smile.

“It doesn't matter if any part of you is left …untouched ” he says softly. “When I mean I would love ..you ..I mean you .. Every part of you…that I have fallen in love with”

His words settle into you like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t realize were still bleeding. You’ve spent so long believing that love was something to fear, something that would eventually turn on you and leave you empty. But Sylus is showing you a different kind of love—one that doesn’t demand perfection but offers patience. One that doesn’t expect you to be whole but promises to stay, even when you’re not.

Your body, tense and guarded for so long, begins to relax in his arms. You close your eyes and lean into him fully for the first time, allowing yourself to be held—not because you’re weak, but because, for once, you don’t have to be strong.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other as the city continues its ceaseless rhythm below. The cold air bites at your skin, but neither of you care. Not when the warmth of Sylus’s embrace keeps the rest of the world at bay.

Eventually, you speak again, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than before.

“I don’t know how to let go” you admit.

Sylus shifts slightly, enough to look into your eyes again.

“And, you don’t have to,” he replies. “I’m not asking you to forget anything that has happened to you then or anything that has happened to you in the months or years away. I just wish for you to allow me to be part of your future.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away this time. Instead, you let the weight of his words sink in. He isn’t asking for grand promises or declarations. He’s asking for a chance—a chance to be the person you turn to, the one who stays when others would leave.

“Would you allow me?” Sylus asks softly, almost pleading.

“Can you let me in?”

There’s a long pause as the world around you holds its breath. Then, finally, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I’ll try.”

And with that, the dam inside you breaks. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love again.

Sylus would show you how much you mean to him ..✨️

[chiscaralight]

thinkin so hard about enemy!satoru who’s dick is enough to wash the hate away. he’s infuriating; annoying and cocky. but can you blame him? he can charm anyone, even you. after all the harsh words and insults you throw his way, he’ll still get you on your knees in the dirty bathrooms, eyes blown out wide and silently pleading for him to just put it in your mouth.

and he’ll hold your jaw with the softest touch, smile so tender as he pushes his length past your kiss-swollen lips. your achy cunt is clenching around absolutely nothing, suffering his less-than-appropriate punishment for being soo mean to him today. what, you think you can do as you please with no repercussions? of course not! but satoru will still make it seem like he's the one in pain, perfectly glossed lips jutting out in a pout as he forces his heavy tip farther down your throat while he goes on and on.

"you made me really sad, y'know. almost hurt my feelings even, but you don't mean any of it, yeah?"

your cries are being muffled out by his lower abdomen, nose pressing against his salty skin as you struggle to get an answer out.

"-know you don't. shit, you wouldn't be taking me this well if y'did, hm?"

the whine that leaves your throat is criminal when he pulls out. satoru is sucking in a breath to prevent himself from moaning back in response. you're so sweet like this, and he feels like a kid in the biggest candy store. oh how he wishes you'd drop this tough act you keep putting on, but it's a little more fun this way, getting to break down that facade until you're teary-eyed and sobbing for him to just put it in, whimpering with broken apologies about how sorry you are.

unfortunately for satoru, he's just as weak-willed when it comes to you. with the remaining strength you haven't sucked out of him already, he'll hoist you up, pressing your back against the wall as he finally bullies his cock into your sopping cunt. his lips are on yours in an instant to drink in your moans both for his pleasure and your education. as much as he loves how you sound, he's not sure the school will understand where he's coming from.

and you're doing such a good job of being quiet now, but the way you're looking at him with those eyes is making him grow a little louder; breathy moans and short curses falling from his lips as he rides out the rest of his orgasm into you, filling you to the brim with his cum. you can feel him twitch with each spurt of white that's painting your walls.

but you look less than pleased after, pussy sore with no release and the constant pressing of your thighs to stop his seed from dripping down your legs. he'll even take a quick jab at you later when you're with your friends. A response quickly hits your tongue, but you're biting it back at the same speed. it might not be the best idea to insult him when he can pull your soiled panties out of his pocket right here, right now. but there's a part of you that wants it to happen. you'd like that, wouldn't you?

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[lightsoutletsgo]

flowers are a language of their own — mv.1

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 4.2k warnings:  slight angst

four times max gives you flowers and the first time you reciprocate, a childhood friends to lovers oneshot this is basically inspired by gwen and for gwen 😭 @verstappen-cult once again thanking you for my max brain rot bc these conversations are just DOING something to me skskksjsj but MWAH! I hope you like it my love 🤍 happy reading! mimi

i. daisies; new beginnings, innocence, cheerfulness (age 6) You hadn’t been at your new school very long, having moved to the town recently. You’d struggled with making new friends, the new language making things even more difficult. But this had really ruined your day. Your bottom lip jutted out and began to wobble as you looked at your drawing you’d spent the whole morning perfecting before tidy-up time. What had once been a beautiful explosion of scribbled crayon colours across one page now lay in two halves. It was more than your poor six year old brain could handle and so you immediately burst into tears. Wailing and sobbing, your teacher hurried over to see what the issue was. Between gasping inhales and snotty sobs you pointed to your crumpled torn drawing. She picked it up and turned to address the class of wild six year olds, “Alright class, does anybody know what happened to Y/N’s picture?” Your teacher’s voice was gentle, “You won’t be in trouble but our friend is very sad so we need to apologise and make it right okay?” Your bottom lip wobbled as your sniffles quietened a little and a small voice could be heard from the back of the classroom, “I didn’t mean to!” A small boy stepped forwards, bright blonde hair with blue eyes and you glared at him. He looked down at the floor as he awkwardly scuffed his shoe against the carpet. The teacher approached him and crouched down, “Thank you for being honest Max… Can you come and say sorry?” He nodded and took the teacher’s hand as she lead him over to you, “I’m sorry…” His apology was accented by a slight lisp and you frowned, arms crossing in front of your chest. “Thank you Max, Y/N? Max said it was an accident and that he’s sorry okay?” You let out a slight ‘hmmph’ as the teacher straightened up at the sound of the lunch bell. Max was quick to run out of the classroom with his friends but you plodded behind the group, still sad about your artwork. 

You grabbed your lunchbox from your locker and looked for a chair in the lunch hall. Spotting your favourite yellow chair you couldn’t help but gasp as your little legs headed over as fast as they could carry you. You sat down and opened your lunchbox, legs swinging under the table. You’d barely taken two bites of your sandwich before a boy approached the table. You looked up and saw Max standing there, his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I broke your drawing.” Max did his best to speak so you’d understand.  “‘S fine.” You grumbled, annoyed he was talking to you. Six year old you could really hold a grudge… His cheeks tinted pink as he removed his hands from behind his back to hold out a small bunch of daisies he’d clearly picked from the playing field. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “Here, for you…” He took a step closer and you held your hand out for him to gently place the flowers in your palm. Your eyes looked at him and you noticed how his knees were slightly muddy and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. You giggled and he beamed back at you, you suddenly felt very shy,

“D-do you want to sit here?” You patted the seat next to you, “We can eat lunch together?” Max nodded, racing off to grab his lunchbox. He dashed back and sat next to you, unzipping his lunchbag to compare the contents with yours. “Are we going to be friends Max?” He nodded enthusiastically, taking your hand in his, “Mhmm! Best friends Y/N! So you can call me Maxie!” 

ii. yellow amaryllis; pride, happiness, strength, determination (age 18) “Smile!” You stood with your friends, taking pictures in your graduation gowns and giggling together. But your heart panged, something - or rather someone - was missing from your day. Your eyes scanned the hall, desperately looking for a familiar blonde head. Despite knowing he was currently halfway round the world at a Grand Prix, “Boo!” A hand covered your eyes and a grin spread across your face at the familiar voice, “Maxie!” Turning around, you jumped into his arms and he laughed out loud, “Easy there bug!” You could hear your friends and family laughing and taking pictures of the two of you behind you but you still didn’t pull away, too embarrassed to let anyone see that you had tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it…” Max squeezed you a little tighter, “I left as soon as the race was over, there was no way I was missing this!” You pulled back and he wiped the tear that had slipped down your cheek. He let go of you and extended his arm towards you, holding out a beautiful bouquet of yellow amaryllis flowers, complete with yellow and white ribbons. 

“Max,” you gasped “they’re so beautiful!” he nudged your shoulder with his, “Hey, you deserve it. They stand for pride, strength, happiness and determination.” “Determination” You spoke at the same time, finishing the sentence together. His eyes stared at you so adoringly, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. The moment was broken by your parents urging you to stand together for a picture. “What a beautiful couple!” You heard a teacher say as they walked past, “Oh no we’re not-” “Me and him? No way-” Both you and Max spoke over each other, completely missing the knowing looks your friends and family all gave each other. You couldn’t help the fresh wave of giggles that overtook you as Max pulled you into his side. You could have sworn that for the briefest of seconds, butterflies took flight in your stomach but you quickly brushed it off, blaming it on the excitement of the day. 

iii. - yellow roses; friendship | bluebells; comfort (age 22) Max couldn’t deny the way that panic flashed through his entire body when he answered your call and heard nothing but your sobs on the other end. “Maxie!” You hiccuped, “Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?” He stood up, not caring that he was interrupting an important team meeting. His alarm grew even more when your only response was to cry even harder. He looked back at the group of people sat around the conference table, “I’m sorry but it’s a family emergency, I have to go.” He raced down the corridor and poked the elevator button far more times than was necessary. “Talk to me bug… I can’t help if you don’t explain what’s going on.” “He cheated Max! I went to his place and he was in bed with my roommate.” Max felt a weird combination of calm and anger wash over him at the same time. Calm because he knew you were safe and anger because who the fuck did your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, think he was? Fuck the elevator, Max headed for the stairs, wanting to get to his car and book a flight to you as soon as possible. “Oh Y/N…” “Said he only did it because he knew that I’d been cheating on him with you.” You heard Max scoff, “God he’s so fucking dumb Y/N… I never really liked him, you know that right? You’ve always been too good for him…” You heard Max sigh on the other end of the line and you curled up into an even smaller ball in your bed, pulling Max’s hoodie up even more as your nose inhaled the comforting scent of him, 

“Can we move to facetime? Just wanna see you.” You choked out and he obliged, quickly filling your request. Max felt his heart breaking as he looked at you in your bed. “Hey! Is that my hoodie, bug?” You nodded with a sniffle as he did his best to cheer you up even just a little, “Traitor! You told me you didn’t know where it had gone…” A watery smile spread across your face. “Look, I’m gonna come see you okay?” You sat upright and stared at him hard, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you cannot do that! You have important meetings this week.” “Ooo full name?” He hissed through his teeth, “I am in trouble.” You shook your head at him, “You’re incorrigible.” “Big words we’re using today hmm?” You flipped him off and he laughed, “I’ll be there soon, bug okay?” You nodded and he smiled at you once more, “Just hang in there for a little longer.” He ended the call and immediately your smile dropped. In those brief few seconds you’d forgotten why you’d even called him in the first place. But now in the quiet of your apartment, the sad feelings crept up once more, smothering you and dragging you down. 

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep the night before, but the combination of the doorbell ringing and the knocking on the door jolted you awake. Rushing to the front door, you threw it open, still slightly disorientated from your rude awakening, “Hey bug.” “Maxie!” You felt wide awake staring at Max who now stood on your doorstep, a warm smile across his face. You immediately felt like bursting into tears once more and Max was quick to see that, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on top of yours. “It’s okay bug,” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” He waddled with you in his arms, through your doorway and into the hallway to close the door and give you some privacy. As he held you, he felt his heart race a little, thinking how he would never make you or let you cry like that if you were his girl - wait what? Now was not the time to be thinking about those kinds of things! Max held you until your sobbing had quietened down again, “Sorry,” you sniffed all snotty and he just poked your nose and laughed gently, “It’s okay Y/N.” His hand gently rubbed your arm as he watched you take a few deep breaths to compose yourself, “Here.” He pulled a somewhat squished bouquet of flowers out of what seemed like nowhere, “Sorry, they got a little uhhh… too involved in the hug?” You let out a breath of laughter and took them from him, a finger gently tracing the petals, “Yellow roses? For friendship right?” Max nodded with a smile, “Yellow roses, because I’m always gonna be your best friend who has your back and bluebells because they’re comforting.” You couldn’t help the way your heart clenched hearing his words. It seemed that Max not only bought you flowers often but he even thought of the meaning of what he was buying. For some reason, the thought had those pesky flutters appearing in your stomach but you quickly reprimanded yourself and shook them off. You hadn’t even broken up with your ex for more than 24 hours yet, but here you were thinking about Max romantically? You shook your head, that was a line you could never think of crossing, no matter how much it seemed to be crossing your mind more and more the older you got. 

iv. pink tulips; perfect love, affection (now) Now that you were living in Monaco, not too far from Max, movie nights were a common occurrence, with evenings being split between your apartment and his. Food would be ordered and wine would be drunk, movies would be played but barely watched as the two of you would end up talking into the night and continue long after the credits had finished rolling. If there was one thing you could count on Max for, it was his promptness and so when the clock read seven o’clock exactly, you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before you heard his footsteps down the hallway to your apartment. You were proven correct as Max let himself into your apartment, calling out as he did so, “Hey bug! It’s just me!” “In the living room!” You called back, smiling as he appeared in the doorway, holding something behind his back, “What have you got there hmm?” Max’s smile wavered for a second and you frowned, sitting up on the couch, “Max?” He exhaled and bit his lip nervously, “Maxie?” You tried again much more softly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, “I’m about to say something and…” He sighed, “I just want you to let me finish okay?” You nodded confused as he came to sit next to you, holding out a bouquet of pink tulips as he did so. You felt yourself gasp as you stared at the flowers, admiring the pretty wrapping and how the ribbon matched the flowers. You wracked your brain as you stared, desperately trying to recall the meaning, Max always gave flowers with meaning. Appreciation? No, apology? Nope not that... No. It couldn’t be? Could it? “Affection?” You didn’t even realise you’d spoken the word out loud but a sharp inhale from Max was enough to tell you he’d heard you. Your eyes shot up to his face and noticed he wouldn’t even look at you, instead choosing to gently trace over the bouquet ribbon, “Yes.” His cheeks were pink and you could have sworn you stopped breathing. It was silent in your apartment. The only noise coming from the traffic outside and the thump of your neighbour as their work boots clunked over the floor before their door slammed. The noise pulled you out of your silence as you stared at Max, “What did you just say?” Max finally dared to look up as he gazed into your eyes, “Pink tulips, affection, perfect l…” “Perfect what?” There was no way he was going to say what you thought he was going to say… “Perfect love.” You stood up from the couch, immediately pacing back and forth as your hands started to fumble together, “Max…” You breathed, finally stopping to look at him sat staring at you. “Okay so this is the part where I need you to listen…” You let out a laugh of disbelief but said nothing as he swallowed, hands nervously rubbing the legs of his jeans. “I like you.” You froze as he continued, “I like you and I think I honestly have for a while… I know that this might not be the best time to tell you but I just can’t keep kidding myself anymore. The feelings I have for you? They’re not things I would be feeling if you were just a best friend to me Y/N. God I think I always knew it was you… From the day I ruined your drawing and then when I surprised you at your graduation… And then that horrific breakup,” You both winced, “I swore then that I would never let you cry over another man like that again. Because I wanted to be the only man that you had from then on.” Your lips parted as a nervous exhale left you. He stopped his rambling, panting slightly as he looked at you, “If you have anything to say, now would be a good time to say it…” You looked at him. Max, your Max. The boy that had been there for you through everything, your best friend.

“No…” You whispered out, your own heart breaking at your words, “I can’t…” Max looked absolutely crushed, “No?” His voice was quiet, “Why?” You shrugged, bottom lip trembling, “I can’t risk losing you.” Max scoffed, “Losing me?” “What if we break up hmm? You’re telling me we would be able to go back to being best friends like nothing ever happened? What if it doesn’t work hmm?” Max shook his head as your spoke, “You think I would say this to you if I didn’t think it would work?” “I-I… I don’t know!” You exclaimed as Max stood up, “You won’t even try?” “I’m too scared to Max…” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you stared at him, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, “Me too.” he said before turning and walking out. The door hadn’t even closed behind him before you’d collapsed to the floor, your legs giving out. You’d never cried so hard because of him before. Not when he’d ripped your drawing, not when he'd surprised you at graduation, not even when he’d held you after your breakup. 

You stared at the pink tulips as they lay on your couch, their bright happy hopeful colour taunting you. You stalked over to them and picked them up, heading straight to the trash, pulling your arm back to throw them away but you found yourself physically unable to do it. 

i. flowers are a language of their own You weren’t sure whether it was convenient or not that Max had a double header after that conversation. Usually you would spam him while he was away and he would pick things up when he could. Often late at night in his hotel bed, a goofy grin plastered across his face as he opened your fit pics and food diary pics of the day, reading through your spam about work, friends and cute cats you’d spotted on the street.

But this time there had been nothing. From either of you. It had been strange and hurtful. You sighed as you checked your phone again for the millionth time that day, already knowing there would be no new notifications from him. Why would there be? The guy you liked had confessed to you and you’d broken his heart because you were too scared he’d break yours. Groaning you dropped your head to the kitchen counter, thumping your forehead against it a few times in the hope of gaining some sense of clarity. It didn’t work. You sighed and stood up straight. You were still kicking yourself for shutting him down so quickly. Yes, he was your Maxie, your best friend, but wasn’t that the point? He knew you so well, he cared for you and loved you, in whatever capacity. He would never intentionally hurt you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, there had been a continuous pull in your stomach and a slight ache in your chest the longer you went without talking to him. You knew if you could do the situation over again you would give a completely different answer. You didn’t want him to break your heart but now you had lost him completely. 

Your head shot up as a plan began to form in your head. Grabbing your phone you looked up plane tickets for the country you knew Max was in at the moment. You knew things would be tricky without his help and you didn’t even know if it would work out, but for him you had to try. Selecting your seat you rushed to pack a bag, noticing how the now dry and dead tulips still lay on your bedroom vanity, the pink now much less vibrant and tinged with brown. Your stomach flipped and you hoped to god it would all work out. You knew which hotel the team usually stayed at when they were racing in that specific country and so after making a quick stop you headed straight there, planning to just wait until you were spotted by someone from the team who recognised you and took pity on you. You didn’t have to wait long as one of Max’s race engineers was exiting the building just as your taxi pulled up. Clambering out of the vehicle as you spotted him, he smiled and waved, “Hey! Didn’t know you were coming this weekend? Max usually says something.” “Ah,” you shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to give anything away about your strained relationship, “it’s a surprise!” His eyes widened and he grinned at you knowingly, especially when he spotted what you carried in your arms. “Well… Seeing as it’s you, I’ll give you his room number.” After obtaining the information you needed you thanked him and headed inside, getting on the elevator and pressing the button for his floor as you thanked whatever higher powers there were that so far the plan was working. As the bell dinged for your floor you gulped, a whole new wave of nerves and anxiety washing over you. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he got angry with you and sent you away? But what if he heard you out? Oh crap, what were you gonna say? 

Through your internal rambling, you had somehow managed to walk to his door and now you stood frozen. Unable to knock and unable to move. Swallowing the lump in your throat you knocked the door gently. You heard a crash and then a curse in Dutch came from inside and you winced. Oh god, if he was already in a bad mood… This wouldn’t help. The door swung open and a tired looking Max stood there. Dressed in cosy sweatpants and navy hoodie, no logos in sight but still fitting his team colours. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in front of him.  “Y/N?” You gave the softest of smiles nervously, “Hi Maxie.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you saw him. You’d thought about how he might yell or cry or get mad or slam the door in your face but you certainly hadn’t expected him to grab your arms and pull you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, “Fuck, I missed you so much I’m so sorry…” You sniffled, pulling back and looking at him, “Why are you sorry?! I’m sorry! I never should have doubted you-” “I never should have pressured you-” “You didn’t! I never should have jumped to conclusions about how things would end. God. It’s been so miserable without you…” You noticed his eyes growing tearful. “Here, come in.” He gently pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. Your eyes swept the room and zeroed in on an object on his bed, “Is that my t-shirt?” You asked incredulously, mouth gaping at him slightly as he rushed to shove it in his suitcase, “N-no!” “Max Emilian…” Your voice was low, “M-maybe…” You gave him a pointed stare and he relented, “Okay yes fine it is.” He sighed, “I found it at my apartment that night when I got back and… I just… I didn’t have you and it was the closest thing…” He trailed off, sitting on the bed. You padded across the room to take a seat next to him, one hand gently rubbing his back, “I know Maxie… Me too.” His head rested on your shoulder and you inhaled shakily, it was now or never. 

You looked back across the room at where your things lay in the entrance. You stood up and made your way over, picking up what you needed before turning back to him with your arms behind your back. “I’m about to say something…” His head shot up to look at you, “and I need you to let me finish.” You gave him a tearful smile and he swore he felt his breathing quicken as you practically echoed his words from a few weeks ago. You approached him and offered him the bouquet from behind your back. He stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked up to look at yours.

“Red roses?” You nodded, unable to keep looking at him - partly shy and partly terrified of his answer, until he gently held your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze once more, “Red roses.” “You know what they mean don’t you?” “I picked them for a reason.” He stood up and gently took them from you, one hand sliding round your waist to pull you into him, “Baby’s breath?” “Baby’s breath.” You looked down, breathing your answer as his face got closer to yours. “Is this your speech then?” You let out a breath, “I figured I would let the flowers speak for themselves, god knows you’ve been doing it long enough.”

His lips were practically on yours and it took everything in you to keep standing as his next words were brushed against your lips, “Is this your answer then?” You nodded, “No schat, please… Let me hear you say it…” His eyes closed as he felt your shuddering breath, “Yes, Max. Yes, I want to try with you, I love you and that’s enough to tell me we should try-” Any further words you had were cut off by Max’s lips meeting yours. His grip around your waist tightened, the flowers sliding from his other hand to the floor as he gently cupped your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek. You couldn’t help the way you smiled against his lips and he laughed at the feeling, the two of you giggling and grinning between kisses like the lovesick idiots you were. 

Red roses; declaration of love, Baby’s breath; eternal love.   

[morikosa]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?

Summary: You just wanted to make a joke to your sensei, but you had no idea he'd get so angry.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI — Spanking, Smut, Top Gojo Satoru, Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Gojo Satoru is His Own Warning, Possessive Gojo Satoru, teacher x student

"Do you think you're funny, little girl?" he growled, his voice laced with anger and disappointment. Making jokes about fucking another man?"

He glared at you, his blue eyes cold and unyielding. He pinned your delicate body over his knee, your soft ass was red and sore from the relentless spanking. He ran a hand over the heated flesh, eliciting a sharp cry from you.

''Ah!''

He spanked you again, harder this time, making you jerk forward. "Say you're sorry," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Apologize for your filthy mouth and your stupid joke."

He could feel you squirming, and hear your sobs, but he didn't care this time. This was a lesson you needed to learn. "Count, sweetheart" he ordered, his hand poised to strike again. "Or I'll start all over again."

''T-ten''

''Too slow" Gojo snapped, bringing his hand down hard on your already sore ass. "Start over."

Your eyes widened in shock, not again... not again!

''N-no, S-Sense-KYA!''

Your pleas were interrupted when he spanked you. Gojo's lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Ten, again." he said, his voice a low growl.

You wet your lips, pain radiating through your ass with every impact. You began to count, your voice shaking. "One… two… thr-"

Smack.

The pain was unbearable, tears streaming down your face. "Three… four… fif-"

Smack.

"S-six… sev-"

Smack.

"Ei-eight… n-nine… ten!"

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up so you were kneeling in front of him. You squealed cutely, "Now, say you're sorry, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider forgiving you as a good sensei."

"Sorry!" you cried out, tears streaming down your soft cheeks. "I'm so sorry, sensei-! *sobs* Please, I can't take anymore!"

Gojo chuckled at your pitiful pleas, "That's right, cry for me, little girl. Maybe next time you'll think twice before opening that smart little mouth of yours."

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, he released your hair and pushed you down onto your back. He loomed over you, his blue eyes filled with a fierce intensity.

"You're lucky I love you." he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Gojo paused, his hand resting on your reddened flesh. He murmured, his voice softer. He rubbed your back gently, feeling you shudder beneath his touch. His silence scared you…

He looks at you for a moment and says, “You should be thankful I didn't throw you out on the street. You should be honored to have the strongest sorcerer in the world. But you say nonsense and make me angry. I just wanted to come home and hug my girl, but she makes jokes about cheating on me.''

He withdrew his hand, leaving you feeling empty and cold. "Now, stand up and bend over the bed." he ordered, his voice stern once again.

Oh god, what have you done? At that moment, the full weight of your actions bore down on you. You just wanted to play a silly joke, an attempt to provoke jealousy, but it had backfired severely. The coldness in his eyes, the icy tone of his voice, all of it was a direct result of your reckless actions.

You loved him, more than you could ever express. The thought of losing him caused a sharp pain in your chest, a physical representation of the emotional turmoil you were enduring. You didn't understand how things had spiraled so quickly, but there was no going back now.

You hesitated, but you knew that defying him at this point would only make matters worse. You slowly stood, your small hands trembling, before you bent over the bed, presenting your sore bottom to him.

You held your breath, awaiting his judgment, your heart a heavy weight that threatened to suffocate you. You were painfully aware, now more than ever, that you had gone too far, and the only thing left to do was face the consequences of your actions.

He laughed when he saw your wet pussy, a cruel sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You're a natural-born whore, aren't you?" he taunted, his fingers circling your slick entrance, teasing you without entering. "Soaking wet from a few spanks. Pathetic."

He leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "Tell me, did you like being spanked? Did it make you horny, you little slut?"

He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass, making you gasp and squirm. "Answer me." he demanded, his voice harsh.

"Y-yes, s-sensei…" you whimpered, your face flushing with humiliation and arousal. "It-it made me wet…"

Gojo tsked, shaking his head. "Such a naughty student~ I guess I couldn't teach some morals to my sweet student," he muttered, pushing two fingers roughly inside you. "But don't worry, I'll give you what you really want."

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. You moaned, pushing back against his hand, seeking more friction. He chuckled, slowing his pace.

"Not so fast, little slut~" he said, his voice mocking. "I'm in charge here. You'll come when I say you can come."

He increased his pace, adding a third finger, stretching you. You gasped, your small hands clutching the sheets, your knuckles turning white. He could feel you're getting close, your inner walls tightening around his fingers.

But just as you were about to come, he pulled his fingers out of your tiny cunt. You whimpered in frustration

''Not yet, little girl. You will cum on my dick''

He watched you, he chuckled darkly, enjoying the control he had over your delicate body. He pushed you up, spinning you around until your tits were pressed against his broad chest. His erection, achingly hard, pressed against your back, demanding release.

He grabbed a handful of your hair, tilting your head back. "Beg for it, Y/N." he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Beg me for my cock, and I might grant your wish."

His free hand reached around, rubbing your clit again, just enough to keep you on the precipice of orgasm. He wanted to see you beg, to hear you plead for what he knew he would give you eventually.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping your lips. "P-please, s-sensei, I need it… I need your cock…"

He smirked, loving that he had brought you to this point. He spun you around, positioning his throbbing cock at your entrance. "Good girl~" he praised, thrusting into you slowly, filling you completely.

You let out a sharp gasp, your eyes widening in surprise. He began to move, setting a steady pace that gradually grew more fervent. His strong hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fucked you

As he thrust in and out, he captured your lips in a passionate and rough kiss. His thick fingers tangled in your silky hair, tugging softly as he kissed you deeply.

"Cry for me, little girl." he growled against your soft lips, his voice hoarse with desire. "Scream for me as I make you mine."

He slammed into you harder, his pace growing more erratic, as he plunged into you, seeking his release. His breath hitched, and his thrusts grew more frenzied, his skill precise in the way he hit that sweet spot inside of you.

He was closing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the heat building up inside of him, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. His thrusts grew more frantic, his movements uncontrolled as he chased that glorious peak.

"Let me feel how tight you are around my cock." he urged, his words thick and guttural.

The pressure within him was becoming unbearable, his cock swelling inside of you, so close to the edge. His free hand slid between your swollen folds, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

He could feel your inner walls clenching him tighter, your orgasm surging through you. That push was all he needed, his body tensing as he came inside of you, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

After a short while, he pulled out and collapsed next to you, his muscular body slick with sweat. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed at the afterglow of their coupling. "Good girl." he murmured, planting a tender kiss on your forehead, basking in the sweet aftermath.

His fingers trailed over your reddened ass, and you hissed from pain when he touched it. A sympathetic frown tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew he'd pushed you to your limits, but you pissed him off.

"I'll apply the ointment in a moment, to soothe that soreness," he assured you, his voice softening. There was no malice in his tone, only concern. "But don't make me punish you like this again, Y/N"

He gathered you in his arms, cradling you against his chest, his hand stroking your hair gently. The warmth of his body enveloped you, making you feel safe, despite the tenderness in your ass.

"You're mine and only mine, Y/N" he whispered, nuzzling the top of your head.