#this is all your fault. its your fault and its so fucking draining

[cherrieguroo]

this is genuinely so fucking funny to me. you're digging your own grave. you've been digging your own grave for months. you don't even know.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[euthymiya]

“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

————————

a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.

[priestessame]

♠.. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐧 (。々°）

.. minors dni ..

NSFW drabble, Fem AFAB reader. Warnings: Slow burn, dirty talk, pet-play? (≖ᴗ≖ ✿)

It is difficult to get him jealous, nearly impossible. Sylus is far too secure, it stemmed from his astute sense of self. After all, he's built everything from the ground up, crawled himself out of hell to get where he is now and woven wealth out of shadows. In every way and more, Sylus is the uncrowned king of the N109 zone, so a man that's so self made just cannot be thawed with insecurity.

Until ofcourse, you showed up.

Jealousy had always been something trivial for him, but around you it sneaked up so easily, it was alarming. Even the politest of smiles and the most innocent glances had him clenching his fists.

Most people would fidget under prying eyes, twiddling thumbs and shuffling when they feel people's gazes. But nothing really bothered Sylus. He never felt the urge to act a certain way in the presence of others, he was too used to having the gazes on him. Unfortunately nowadays, the gazes seemed to shift past his form, pinning on someone he had on his arm. All of a sudden he was hyper aware of everything. He would find himself slipping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to whisper in your ear and pressing a ghost of a kiss against the nape of your neck. You were his, and the prying eyes had to know that.

That man is too proud to actually admit that he is jealous. He tries to play it off, his arrogant smile not faltering for a second, disliking how he's letting his emotions get the better of him. And he knows it's no fault of his beloved, so he tries to find other ways to channel those... urges.

You would think he'd have you kneeling immediately but Sylus' jealousy isn't harsh on you. Its all pearls and silk. This time it started with a gift.

His gift stands to true to the way he usually addresses you. It's fancy, and frilly, with a golden bell seemingly sewn into it. Yup. The more you look at it, the more it looks like a fucking cat collar.

The collar is crafted from lace and it sits delicately against your skin. The bell jingles as he pulls you closer, tracing the lovely pattern with his fingers. The touch is harmless but it still sends shivers down your spine.

"It suites you kitten." He hums. His fingers glide under your jaw, turning your face ever so lightly to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth. His scent crawls over you, grazing your skin as if its ghosting over your soul. He seems drained of his usual impatience, practically purring as he peeled each item of clothing leisurely, lips barely touching your skin.

It pins you in the moment, forcing you to feel the ebbing need as each second passes by. Its torturous how he touches you then, featherlight kisses over your skin, and praises that have you blushing under him. He knows how to please you so well, but he teases you too much fingers never pressing down hard enough, only glazing off your sensitive parts.

By the times he's done, he only left the collar on you.

His fingers trailed down your stomach, "Maybe i should have gotten you kitty-ears and a tail too. What now? you're squeezing your pussy at just me saying that?" He says, his tone makes you squeeze your legs together, his cranberry eyes drink up your bare frame. The gaze itself felt smiting, the imprint of his cock straining his trousers painfully taunt. 

But every time you fingers reach to slide up his cock, he just peels your fingers away, clicking his tongue, "Don't make me pin you down with my evol, sweetie. You don't get to touch me today."  

It was just too much, it has you griding your raw cunt against his clothed bulge, as you plead him to fuck you. To let you cum on his fingers or mouth, but he wasn't giving you that privilege today. Within moments he has his evolve pressing your wrists into the bed as he drags his veiny cock along your folds, the swollen tip rubbing up against your clit in a pang of momentary pleasure before he drew back again. It builds your pleasure painfully close to your release, only to pull away entirely later. 

It makes you whine, buckling your hips back for more friction. Even though he had even traded his usual filth for overbearing praises, they somehow sounded even dirtier than usual. When he finally gave in to you, he wants you finishing on his cock with your cute collar jingling with every stroke.

It is difficult to get him jealous, nearly impossible. But when he does, he finds his salvation in way you desperately beg for him, fisting his hair as he drags his tongue over your folds, in all the times the act is breathless and needy and in how hard your walls grip him as he fucks into you. As he sees you sprawled for him, juices dripping down on his silk sheets eyeing him with that overstimulated lovesick gaze, so fucked out but still begging him to fill you up again, his jealousy is finally satiated. 

Not to mention he'd love if you pick out a matching dog collar for him later, something with spikes that spells his name out in diamonds.

♠

[sturnioz]

⌗︙— matt takes a bet on not to touch/fuck you !

☆ the truth is, matt is horny 24/7. he can't help but get turned on, especially when he's around you.

☆ there's just something about you that constantly makes him feel a little hot and bothered—his cock grows hard each second you're around him, straining against the material of his boxers uncomfortably.

☆ you don't have to touch him either, his cock is already leaking when in your presence.

☆ yet surprisingly, matt takes on the bet given to him by chris and shared friends... a bet on not to touch/fuck you for a month. (he told you its similar to no nut november—except its not november rn... so its just a regular bet).

☆ ❝ok listen — don't get mad — but the guys made a bet with me that if i don't touch or fuck you for a month, i get $100. its basically a 'no nut november' type shit.❞

☆ ❝no nut november?❞ you repeat. you then blink, deadpanning. ❝you know that means you can't cum for the whole month either, right?❞

☆ ❝yeah—but, like, i can do it. shit seems easy.❞

☆ also matt internally: 😨😣😢

☆ .... matt fails it on the first day.

☆ and he blames it on you.

☆ its your fault for looking too good. its your fault for talking to him. its your fault for looking at him. how dare you do this to him.

☆ ❝looking good? but i'm just wearing normal clothes, matt...❞ — ❝the way i talked? matt, you asked me a question...❞ — ❝for looking at you? i looked at you because you were talking to me...❞

☆ ❝yeah but you did all of it in a really hot way you know? :/❞

☆ ends up complaining about how fucking stupid the bet is as he's buried deep within your guts. he rambles on about how good your pussy feels and even mentions how he loves you too much to not have you like this for a month.

☆ $100 down the drain. but who cares? he's still got you.

© sturnioz

[sexybabystevie]

...

[girllblogging777]

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸𝐷

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader drabble (fluff, angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,02k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo’s jealousy causes an argument, but both find yourself comforting eachother

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"i told you i don’t care about that ravenclaw guy, he was just asking me about a potions assignment," you snapped, the frustration of your argument with mattheo finally reaching its peak. your boyfriend had found you talking to another boy in the great hall this morning, and he hadn’t let it go since, making you the main target of his pent up anger.

"well, i care! i care that my girlfriend was being all giggly with some guy in front of everyone, and i care even more that you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing!" he shouted back, running his hand through his brunette curls in frustration. you knew mattheo’s short temper well, how his mental health and past trauma affected his ability to express emotions, but he rarely lashed out at you like this. today had been different, and you’d sensed it the moment you saw that flicker of harshness in his usual soft brown eyes.

you sighed, trying to explain yourself calmly and hoping to ease his anger before things escalated, silently aware that it wouldn’t change anything. "look, i understand how you must be feeling right now, but—" he cut you off, his voice sharp and unyielding.

“no, you don’t ! stop playing therapist all the time. you don’t get it, and you’re never fucking going to." his words were harsh, and you tried not to let it get to your head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly. you braced yourself for what might come next, knowing he was too far gone to appreciate your gentleness. "maybe if you weren’t always trying to fix me, it would be easier. not my fault you’re oversensitive and can’t take anything !"

that was the breaking point. he’d crossed a line, and he didn’t even seem to care. mattheo knew how much you hated being yelled at, how it made you feel small and vulnerable, and yet, today he hadn’t held back. deep down, you knew the reason : he hated how much power you had over him, how easily you could mess with his heart. in this entire school, you were the only one who dared to stand up to mattheo riddle, to tell him the truth even when it hurt. it was why your relationship worked, but also why you ended up having those arguments so often.

something shifted in your gaze, and he noticed it : the tiny spark of pain mixed with the tears welling up in your eyes. you whispered pleadingly, "don’t yell at me like that, i can’t do this." your voice was small, but the impact was immediate. the anger faded away from his eyes, when he remembered you telling him the reason why you couldn’t stand shouting. he realised he’d just reenacted the past trauma you had told him about and his lips curved into a barely-there frown. you saw the regret settling in his expression.

"i know… i took it too far. i shouldn’t have." his voice was softer now, the anger draining from his features. you didn’t move or say anything, still reeling from the sting of his words. mattheo took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation. he hesitated, he saw the hurt he’d caused, the way your body tensed as if waiting for more. he hated himself for letting his temper get the better of him, for hurting the one person who had always stood by him.

“baby, please…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he took another step towards you. he reached out, but you instinctively flinched, and he froze, the guilt getting to him. you turned away, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “mattheo, you know i care about you more than anything, but i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lashing out at me every time you’re upset. it’s not fair.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “i just… i don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. i get so scared of losing you that i get jealous and push you away. it’s messed up, i know that.” you finally looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. it was the side of mattheo that made you fall for him, the boy beneath the act who just wanted to be loved and understood. but that didn’t make the hurt disappear.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady but soft as you tried to comfort him. “but i need you to be with me in this, mattheo. i can’t be the only one trying to fix it.” he nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. “i promise, i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only good thing i have.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. his arms enveloped you immediately, holding you tight as if you might slip away. you had never seen him cry before but that single tear on his cheek was enough to make you forget what had just happened

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled but heartfelt. “i’ll work on it, i swear.” you nodded against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. “i know you will. just… talk to me next time, okay? before it gets to this point.”

“i will,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’m not going to let my stupid temper ruin what we have.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, forgiving smile. “i love you too, mattheo. just… no more yelling, okay?” he nodded frantically, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “no more yelling. i’ll keep that in check.”

you both stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the tension melt away. the storm had passed, and in its place was a new sense of understanding and commitment. mattheo might not be perfect, but neither were you, and that was okay. as long as you faced your flaws together, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

“but you have to promise me not to let anyone get too close to you” he finally said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “and besides, you’re only supposed to laugh at my jokes.”

you smiled, chuckling. “he didn’t stand a single chance.” whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together, and that was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thank you @reys-letters for your request !!! please like/comment/reblog and leave requests if you think of something <3

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[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Fall Awakening

✧ "I loved watching the base of those thunderstorms, the billowing tops of the cumulonimbus, the lightning that effortlessly lit up the lake and the sky. It was gorgeous, so energetic. I was in love." - Ginger Zee

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, the tense changes from past to present to future, I hope this doesn't make the reading difficult.

Also! Thank you so much to everyone who put in a paid reading request, when my life stabilizes, those will be on the top of my priority list. <3

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

Pile One (King of Cups, 5oC, The Sun, The Knight of Cups)

This energy feels sudden but fated. This year’s eclipse season has been insane and you were always destined to reach a cosmic juncture of complete renewal around this time. The scales are tipping in your favor and this is your season to receive. 

This is my emotionally attuned pile. You were a sensitive child—a walking bundle of warmth and acceptance—until people took advantage of your gentle soul. You could have been the typical sunshine kid always giggling, easily making connections, and being a bright energy people were easily attracted to. Whether or not you were aware of it, people saw your capacity for love and happiness as intimidating and “fake”. Their reality did not shine as bright as yours so they could not fathom your authentic happiness.

That doesn’t mean people did not try to take advantage of your gentleness. Society associates friendliness/happiness as weakness and sees you as an easy target to get over on. Being trusting isn’t naivety, it isn’t your fault that you extended your time and resources to greedy people, it is their loss that they ruined a genuine connection because they were too far gone in their own misery to recognize a helping hand out of the shadows. 

This is a general reading so the details of what happened vary greatly, for most of you, there was a series of traumatic events involving your interpersonal relationships that scarred your heart. I visually see a wilting flower or a chest caving in on itself. 

Betrayal, cheating, abuse, years and years of lying, bullying, isolation, being ignored, and just overall feeling less important than the other people in your life.

But we don’t need to get into the nitty gritty of that bullshit. That chapter is closed, burned, and a renewed phoenix is rising from its ashes. 

To any other person, these events would have turned them rotten and nasty, but you never passed this hurt onto others, you just held onto it and kept holding on until it slowly drained and left all the cavities in your body empty and numb. You’re used to depletion, giving and giving, but being left in the dust after everyone else gets their fill and moves on.

Listen to me, you are stepping into your rainfall- the world revolves around you- era. You’re being rewarded for your resilience and “the cycle ends with me” attitude. A hurt person hurt you and you turned that into further reason why you would never be so cruel to another soul.

You got the sun, the best fucking card in the deck, right in the middle of your spread. With the lies you’ve been fed over the years, at some point on your journey, you got lost in the illusions of lack and fear. Fear that you weren’t enough and less than the magnificent being you truly are.

But this juncture is like a lightning strike of clarity to your consciousness, you are realizing that this journey is just that… a journey. A life lesson circling you back to your power so you can acknowledge just how fucking desirable your heart actually is.

People tried to rob you of your happiness because they wanted it. People tried to squash your kindness because they wanted it. People abused your time and energy because they yearned for it but could never have it. Think about it, if you had nothing of value, they wouldn’t have plotted on the resources you offered. 

We’ve all heard the saying, “You don’t know how good you have something until you lose it.” Life put you on this course of being on top, hitting rock bottom (deep depression), and then climbing up again so you can cultivate the strength to have a sensitive soul and defend it against all the greedy hands who want a piece. 

This journey taught you discernment, who to trust and who not to trust. It taught you how to pick yourself up and dust off. You learned to be stingy with your time and treat yourself as high value. Most importantly, you experienced your first full cycle of rebirth, where you learn that even your lowest of lows are temporary and it is universal law that all things eventually come to an end to be reborn bigger and better. 

True strength is seeing the world’s ugliness and not letting it taint you. You’ve been the victim of cruel actions and you wouldn’t dare enforce those on anyone else. The universe honors people like you. You were always meant to experience this upcoming win fall.

If you’re reading this, you’re already beginning to feel it. Shifts like this happen internally before manifesting externally. You step outside and the world looks more… romantic.

You can feel it in your bones that you are about to receive your fairytale life. The moon is smiling back at you and the stars are spelling out your name.

Embrace this Knight of cups energy and follow the whims of your heart, they’re leading you to your new timeline. Fall in love with yourself and acknowledge the battle you not only survived but won. 

P.S. Little you is so motherfucking proud of who you are and what you stand for. They knew you would make it back to them. It pained them to see you lost in other people’s lies but they never doubted your capability to see love in life again. Your kid self lived and breathed this joy and they knew nobody could truly take it from them. They are happy to see you realize it too.  

"Sometimes, the strongest roots grow in the softest soil."

Pile Two (King of Swords rev., King of Pentacles, 10oW, Queen of Wands rev.)

YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH! There is no fucking reason to fixate on changing yourself when you are already perfect as is, sugar plum!

You carried your family’s burdens up a verrry long mountain. You were trekking through life with a generational weight strapped on your back. Your greatest devil was expectations. 

You were told who you should be, what you should do, how you should act, what you should believe in. 

There weren’t many loving voices in your home, your efforts were met with harsh critiques and a heavier load on your plate. This is the classic case of being pushed beyond limits no child should have to reach. In your upbringing, it was perfection or nothing. Not only did you have to excel academically, you had to be attractive and have a thriving social life, do extracurriculars, and anything else that exemplified you as a model child and citizen. 

And even then, when you did all those things, you didn’t get the proper acknowledgment or congratulations you deserved. Lots of you just got higher expectations set after you proved you could reach an already unrealistic standard. God forbid you didn’t reach those standards, some of you got shunned or abused. 

Sometimes you felt more like a project your people flaunted rather than someone they authentically loved and cared for.

This fucked with your young psyche. I mean… what's the point!? You jump through all these hoops to barely get a pat on the back? Yeah, you seemed perfect on the outside but internally, you were teeming with self-hate and the contempt of not being enough for anyone. 

I am getting frustrated just channeling this message, damn you deserved so much more! 

(Do you get migraines or tension headaches?)

This is my pile of people who did not get the privilege of choosing their own career path. Your guardians told you to study to become a doctor, engineer, scientist, artist, or whatever the hell they wanted to flaunt as an extension of themselves. 

But get this, your people didn’t do that shit either! They push so hard for you to be someone they’re not because they’re projecting their (fear of) failure onto you. 

For some (those who were not ignored or abused), it wasn’t malicious. They pushed you to be great because they wanted the best for you, but the way they handled it was fucked up.

There was a lot of fear about falling short of expectations and disappointing the people around you. Creating this mindset that you had to perform for affection and needed to prove that you were of value to people in order to be loved.

Some of you heavily rebelled against this authoritarian force in your life. Explicitly, through using sex to satiate your desire to feel loved. Like with your family, you viewed love as transactional and went into “relationships” with people who disguised their lust for you as love but only truly wanted to exploit your vulnerable state.

I am sorry you did not deserve that, you are better with those energies out of your life. 

BAAABBBYYYY, this season is rinsing out all that gunk between your ears and pushing the weight off your back. Can you feel your spine unfurl?

This season you’re letting all the bullshit go. You’re garnering strength the rest of society only talks about. You’re looking at yourself in the mirror and saying that nobody’s expectations are worth living a life you don’t want to live. Those people were empowered by you not recognizing your own capability, they were the only measurement of how worthy you were and the only source of the approval you craved. 

(why won't this center???^)

You’re awakening to just how much of a bad mf you truly are! You’re the king of pentacles- you’re your own empire! You’re reclaiming your power and acknowledging that with all the time and effort you put into building someone else’s dreams, you have the strength to build your own!

With every challenge thrown at you, YOU BODY THAT SHIT!

I’m getting chills, I feel like a hype man lmao. I’m your biggest fan fr. I want you on my team! You’re an irreplaceable asset that anyone would be blessed to work with. 

All the pressure you faced has forged you into a one-of-a-kind gemstone and you are shining brightly! 

This journey taught you the power of control and how to take the reigns of your own chariot. You will never allow another soul to take your will from you again. 

*Clears throat* Don’t tell anyone I said this but… expect your life to blossom in ways you can’t even begin to fathom.

Your 5th house: leisure, pleasure, romance, creativity, and your 10th house: higher self, your image, and how you carry yourself once you leave the shadows is getting a major activation.  

The dreams of your future that you wouldn’t dare whisper to the people in your life are being heard by Source and they’re being packaged (with a cute lil bow) behind the scenes, ready to be delivered at your feet. I am not kidding, your oracle cards are: 10th house, 5th house, Venus, fated meeting, and “Blessings you couldn’t even dream of are walking to your front door”.

There is a special emphasis on your creative endeavors, unleash the side of you that was shunned, and allow it to garner the love and attention that has always been meant for you! It is your time to live life the way you’ve always wanted to. 

P.S. People don’t want to hear it because getting your expectations high is a “bad” thing or whatever, but you will meet someone. It’s a fated meeting and you two are meant for each other. Royal love. You got all court cards and while I was typing, “one-of-a-kind” autocorrected to “one-of-a-king”. 

Pressure Reveals Our Brilliance

Pile Three (10oS Rev., 10oW, 8oP, Queen of Swords, Emperor)

Growing up, my mom always told me that when we feel like we’re wandering aimlessly, we’re actually slowly inching closer to where we’re meant to be.

I pass these words of wisdom on to you because you know the pain of wandering all too well. When you were younger, your energy was unadulterated and you dreamt big without any doubt creeping around your skull to sully your aspirations. You are naturally a very ambitious person with a killer drive to get shit done.

However, something shifted. I don’t think it was a specific event, it happened over time. The wrong people and painful situations slowly chipped away at your spark for life until your body lost its will and you slowly staggered to the ground with all ten swords in your back. 

There was a dense fog around who you were and what you wanted. You questioned your desires and your ability to achieve them, growing more frustrated with your own confusion. Until eventually, you stopped dreaming. Anything to curb the painful disappointment of feeling like a person coming from a broken mold. Or a human without an outline, just an indistinct blur melting into the background. 

I feel static in my bones. I see that your shadows locked you in place- paralyzed. Limited only to the realms in your head as you watch the world evolve and move on without you.

This pile struggles with the most intense anxiety. Have you seen Inside Out 2? There is a scene where the anxiety emotion goes into overdrive and can’t remove herself from the control panel and Riley has an ongoing panic attack. For a huge chunk of your life, your anxiety couldn’t release itself from the command center. Your whole life has felt like you’ve been holding your breath, waiting for the panic attack to subside. 

You’re a nervous nelly, I’m afraid. Not to be offensive, but I imagine a nervous, wet chihuahua shaking like a leaf (haha, been there).

Something about your friendships and the negative influence of others is important. The ten of swords is typically a betrayal card. These situations left you with an aching sense that you didn’t have control over the direction of your life, so you spent your days worrying about everything that has and will go wrong.

Maybe people told you that you weren’t capable? Maybe you felt like you didn't measure up to the people around you who had direction in their lives.

You have a lot of energy, pent-up energy. It is actually one of your blessings, you have an abundance of energy to achieve all that you set your mind to. But these traumatic events locked up this vitality and prevented it from being properly expressed. It didn’t go away, it got transmuted into mental energy and you “thought” yourself to death. 

It’s funny—you probably daydream about taking action and doing the everyday things that others do without a second thought. For them, it’s normal, but for you, it’s a wild dream. 

This is my late bloomer pile. The things people your age typically do, you haven’t gotten around to because you can’t seem to get your body and mind on the same accord. 

You had restless energy, your body was always on but not in motion. Think of a tightly stretched rubber band aching to be released anywhere but stuck in this moment of tension. You felt the pull, the urge to leap into action, yet something held you back—whether it was doubt, hesitation, or simply the weight of expectation. Each day was a reminder of your potential, a constant yearning to break free and finally express that energy in a meaningful way. But, the second you went in for the kill, your bones locked up and left you stagnant.

I want to cry writing this. Your wishes are so simple and you will get them tenfold, quote me. 

This season you are getting the key to freedom from your mental prison- clarity. Clarity on just how possible everything is. You are awakening to the world at your fingertips and the very road map woven into your heart.

It sounds silly, but you dream of work! You want to go out and create without paralyzing fear looming over your shoulder. This is your deepest desire because you are meant to do it. You’re the fucking emperor AND the queen of swords. Your name is meant to be plastered on a building somewhere, and no amount of fear or doubt is going to keep you from that. 

This journey taught you how to build mental fortitude and define yourself. You won’t listen to any voice that prevents you from living the life you want to live, not even your own. The next time you get stabbed in the back, you won’t even flinch and you sure as hell won’t stop your motion. 

You don’t need to think, just be. Your feet will take you to where you need to go.

(Shoutout to my Rahuvians!)

Your wildest dreams have been heard and answered, and you’re beginning to find your direction again. I know it’s hard to believe, especially after spending so much of your life in an illusionary prison—a mental construct that felt all too real. But take a deep breath and allow those bars to melt away. Remember, this chapter is just that: a chapter in your life. You are ready to turn the page and embark on a new adventure, one that could be your very first! Embrace the possibilities ahead, and tell any lingering fears to shut the fuck up and kick rocks.

This next phase in your life is anything but slow, it’s a complete 180 from what you’re used to. Get ready to be a busy bee and in high demand. Your mind and body will be sharp, focused, and honed in on your craft. You are mastering something and achieving great success. “Blessings you couldn’t even dream of are walking to your front door.”

P.S. I know that was a long, agonizing, period in your life but jump for joy now that it’s over! I promise you, it truly is!! Don’t stress about the past or worry about what you should or could have done differently. You did everything perfectly and you were always meant to be where you are right now. 

I know this might sound cliché, but the situation was out of your hands. The lesson was about learning to surrender control and trusting in the only constant in life: change. Nothing lasts forever, your pain is temporary. Trust that this experience has shaped you, and now you have the opportunity to step forward with newfound strength and resilience. Embrace the future—it’s waiting for you!

She's Using the Colors of Her Aura to Define Her Being

Pile Four (2oP, 7oW, 4oW, 90P, Clear, Third Eye Chakra, 1st House, Pluto)

Hmmm, pentacles (earth​ = stay and grow, grow, grow) and wands (fire = go, go, go)… “Should I stay or should I go?” 

Nobody wants to hear it, but you’re being pushed into hermit mode. But fear not! ☝🏾 This will be your last and most peaceful retreat. You’re caught in a battle between the urge to slow down and prioritize your wellness and the temptation to jump up and grind. Embrace this time for reflection and self-care—it’s essential for your growth. When you take the time to recharge, you’ll emerge stronger and more focused, ready to tackle whatever comes next with renewed energy. Trust that this phase is necessary for your journey.

The right answer is a blend of both. Make a steady meditation and fitness plan you can rely on where you feel productive yet kept to yourself. Your energy is sensitive at this time and people are going to try and purposely trigger you because they can sense that you’re getting ready to pop out and do your mf jig!

You are crazy intuitive and are awakening to this fact, but just like the start of any journey, you’re trying to find a balance between your intuition and judgment.

Spoiler alert, they're the same thing! 

ESPECIALLY for you. Check to see if you have Pluto, Ketu (south node), Jupiter (Sag or Pisces), Mars (Aries or Scorpio), or Moon (Cancer) in your first, fourth, seventh, or tenth house. Or literally anything in your eighth house.

You are blessed with the ability to see beyond the veil of illusion and are meant to nurture and refine this gift. Embrace it as a powerful tool for understanding yourself and the world around you. Trust your intuition and allow it to guide you through challenges, helping you uncover deeper truths. 

This season is bringing changes to your physical body and immediate environment, you feel most vulnerable to the weather changes and are probably having trouble sleeping. You are likely feeling tension between your eyebrows and are seeing images that aren't actually there. 

You’re experiencing a third eye awakening and a major karmic clearing, this is my most spiritual pile by far. If you’re not into these types of things, this isn’t your pile. Actually, this group really stands out from the others, I don’t have advice for you per se; this message is to assure you that you’re not delusional. 

I am here to tell you to trust what you’re seeing. You’re right! Whatever you think is happening… is happening. If you think great things are coming, they absolutely are. Conversely, if you feel that something shady is going on behind the scenes, then that’s exactly what’s unfolding. Trust your instincts; they’re guiding you toward the truth.

Here’s a secret about intuitive judgment: If the thoughts are causing anxiety and plaguing you with fear, they’re not true. On the other hand, if your instincts provide insight into a situation and help you feel more in control, you’re on the right track. Even if the truth is harsh or painful, knowing it empowers you to make informed decisions about your next move. 

The truth is enlightening, even if it leads to a tower moment where everything you thought you knew comes crumbling down. Lies may feel comforting at first, but they can slowly trap you, binding you to a life that isn’t truly yours. Your soul craves deep transformation and healing. It may sound cryptic, but this is your season to die and allow yourself to be reborn anew. Embrace the intensity of Scorpio season; it’s a powerful time for you to shed old skin and welcome a higher version of yourself. 

Who is this higher version? You have been cultivating them bit by bit with every trial thrown your way and it is finally time for them to rise to the surface. This version embodies your resilience, wisdom, and strength, shaped by your experiences and the lessons learned along the way. Embrace this transformation and let your true self shine. You are ready to step into your power and create the life you’ve always envisioned.

(Any Mula natives in the chat?)

I am excited for you, it’ll be tiring and unpleasant but the world waiting for you on the other side is one of bountiful harvests and celebrations! Hang in there! 

Embrace the slowness and allow yourself to relax while it's here because this next chapter is TURNT. 

P.S. You’re hot—like really, incredibly sexy. Your gaze is piercing, and people feel as though you see straight through them into depths they aren’t even aware of. You don’t have to do much to unsettle others; they’re easily triggered because they can’t hide behind the safety of their masks when they’re around you. Your authenticity and intensity shine through, making them confront their own truths. Embrace that power; it’s a gift that not everyone possesses!

She Follows the Blueprint Woven Into Her Flesh

[yameoto]

MINDRAPE! CATE DUNLAP.

synopsis; she can make you do whatever she wants. fill in the blanks. (and hey, it's not kidnapping if you walked in there and chained yourself up. right?)

✗ warnings; dark!cate, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fauxjob, strapfucking wc; 2k

IT’S not kidnapping. at least, not if you think about it. after all, sweet nothings whispered in your ear or not—at the end of the day—you’re the one who shackled yourself to a bolt-locked barstool at the ninety-ninth story of vought tower. at least, that's what cate tells you—and what cate tells you, you breathe like law.

it's okay. you don’t have to think about it. that’s not what you’re good for, anyways.

an eternity passes before she arrives. it’s torture. because while cate may be a crazy, manipulative, psycho bitch who keeps you bound to her kitchen stool almost 24/7 (with rope-burns around your ankles and wrists, to prove it), between her and boredom? the latter is more likely to kill you. so, ineffably, relief washes over you at the sound of the mechanical lock unclicking. heels clinking against marble. your mind goes a little fuzzy around the edges, too. a defense mechanism, or her own design—you don't know. will never know.

cate. cate. you hate her. you've missed her. you can’t live without her. (or, alternatively; you love her you love her you love her).

she leans down to pet your hair like you're some sort of house-pet. god. aren’t you? “untie yourself." she orders, voice, airy and familiar—and your body simply does. she likes you undone. she likes that its you doing the doing and undoing. yes, this is your fault. you brought yourself here. you did this to yourself.

even when you untie your restraints, you can't bring yourself to move. the tiles are cold against your knees.

vought lets her keep you. a plaything under surveillance is better than letting her run amok (though most of the footage she keeps for herself. she likes watching it back. likes making you watch it back, as she keeps you on her lap and fucks the brains out of your skull). as long as she keeps it clean. airtight. under lock and key.

perhaps, she took the statement too literally.

cate flounces to the couch, one leg slung gracefully over the other. she smiles, fingers beckoning you over. at your hesitance, she cocks her head, eyebrow arching warningly. she twitches her fingers, once, and it’s enough to make you squirm. "don't make me make you."

cate always speaks like that—slow, lethal. like the languid swell of blood beading from a papercut. her nails graze underside your jaw, delicate, teetering on the razor’s edge between petting your scruff or slicing your throat. effectively cowed, you crawl, keening timidly at the purred "good girl." that follows. her hand curls in your hair, deceptively gentle.

“legs, open.” her voice is like spidersilk, and even in its’ gentleness your body reacts to its steely underbelly—how it drains the will out of your body, and how it stretches your legs as wide as they might go. “sit.” there’s a beat of hesitance. the floor? the sofa? her lap? misinterpretation begets punishment, and you're so, adorably afraid. so of course, you glance back up at her, wavering, waiting for further instruction. her smile widens, head tilting, like she knows. of course she knows.

god, how precious you are. her sweet thing. can’t even think for yourself, anymore. sometimes, when cate tunes in to the thoughts swirling in your head—there's nothing. no more escape plans that might as well be scrabbling at the walls, or god forbid, droll, suicidal ideations that are more bored meanderings rather than serious attempts. all she hears, nowadays, is blissful, beautiful static.

for a brief moment, she lets you stew in your rising panic; at the near insurmountable feat of choosing something for yourself, as simple as deciding where to sit, until cate savours enough of the frantic flickering of your pupils and the delicious, furtive pound of your heartbeat until she grants you a small mercy. "the table, baby." she clarifies, tone just a smidge smug, and in an instant, you sit your plush ass against the glass coffee table. cate marvels, not for the first time, just how empty she's made that pretty little head of yours.

“take it out.” she breathes, into your ear, and the order is so familiar you don't need further clarification, hands whipping upwards to unbutton the fly of cate’s jeans. cate sinks back into the couch, hum almost playful as you struggle to pull the fabric down, with her thighs pinned against the cushions. she enjoys, watching, in silent amusement—before canting her hips upwards lazily, to help you along. allows you to peel back fabric and let the bulge packing in her crotch spring free.

your eyes widen, smacked in the jaw by hot-pink silicone. it’s larger than normal. the one that hurts. your ensuing whimper makes something hot and heavy wrench in cate’s gut. it's a shame, that you don't even know what you do to her.

"c'mon," cate's head tilts as her eyes bore into yours, arms languidly draped over the couch’s armrests. the dry tip of the dildo bobs into your mouth, your lips wrapping around it. so good, so obedient for her. "make it wet for me, baby."

the order sends a hot flush to your ears. you suck, tongue wrapping against the underside as your pretty pink porno lips glisten with your own saliva, taking her deeper and deeper, cheeks rushing with blood.

“look at you. drooling over my dick.” cate purrs, and your head jerks, downwards in its haste to obey, and you gag in the process, choking on silicone. cate laughs, and you’re all embarrassed and needy because your it’s true. your ass, squashed up humiliatingly against the glass. cunt leaking, smearing with each movement of your thighs, and there’ll be an imprint when you get up. if she lets you get up.

you’re still suckling, tip bobbing in your throat as you bite back splutters like an obedient thing, when cate’s apparently had enough. she shoves you, back flat against the glass. in doing so, the dildo slips from your mouth, and you let slip a confused, befuddled whine as your body screeches at you to take it back in. to follow that single, all-consuming command. simple creature, you. you try to sit upright, before a hand shoots around your throat. thrusts you back down, roughly, head knocking against glass.

“don’t move.” cate hisses, grasp tightening. it locks your limbs, just like that. when you fall limp, she hums, pleased, lowering herself between legs.

she kisses your inner thigh. everything in you aches to squirm, but can’t, not ever—limbs heavy with the weight of cate’s whims. her head tilts, lips jutted out in that sweet, innocuous pout as she drags up your skin. doe eyes blown wide, imploring as if she hasn't broken you, so completely and so utterly.

she dives inwards, tongue lashing up against your clit, and it hurts not to move as she peers up between your thighs. apparently, you can cry and moan as much as you want, though, and god, do you. it's purposeful. she loves to hear the noises. cate can’t smirk, not with the way her mouth is preoccupied with the hot, painful pulse of your cunt. tongue darting out and flicking in delicate licks, like a kitten lapping at milk. she doesn’t need to; the smug, knowing gleam in her eyes is gloating enough.

“mommy, please.” you gasp, like a needy little brat, hips shuddering upwards as the urge for more throbs upwards from between your legs and fuzzes your brain. cate grins in delight.

"mommy, huh?" she echoes, almost wolfish. her fingers are quick to grasp your jaw. she squeezes, angling your jaw as if inspecting a prized animal. "god. i didn't even make you say that." her eyes blaze as they scour over your body. like she’s appraising you in a new light; the way you melt, so pliant in her hands, her words. the way you mould to fit her every need without her having to lift a finger—in every sense of the word.

abruptly, her hands dig into your thighs and she orders, low and soft “flip over,” and you do. ass perked high in the air, back arched and your pussy wet with want that’s not yours, but drips obscenely from your spitsoaked folds onto the glass, like something filthy, nonetheless. cate’s breath hitches from behind, hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. briefly reverent. before her hand comes down to pinch and twist flesh, of course.

“spread yourself open,” she demands, and you can feel plastic brush against your inner thigh. obeying is almost too smooth, despite the shiver that trickles down your spine, fingers stretching your cunt open.

she slaps your cunt, hard. you cry out, clit swollen and pussy pulsing with need. “wider.” she grits, as if irritated, but you can hear the delight underneath there, as your knees bend lower, thighs spreading impossibly wider, fingers trembling with the force in which you splay yourself out, pussy glistening under the light.

god, how gorgeous you are, on display for her. her adorable little showpony. cate laughs, and you hear the snap of a phone, clicking. you open your mouth, lips reddened, bitten raw—

she shoves the dildo into your waiting cunt, and you scream.

“ah. guess i haven’t loosened you enough, yet,” cate observes as she pumps at a leisurely pace, disappointment veiling the self-satisfaction in her tone. the anguished noises you make, with each violent thrust of her hips. the way you cry out, eyes flying open, walls straining against the girth of it, stretching your stomach, thighs wobbling in the effort just to keep yourself upright.

cate forces herself in, making room you didn’t even know you had. her teeth are sharp as she nips in your ear, hips plunging in agonisingly slow motions as she pushes through your cunt's delicious, masochistic resistance. everything in you aches to writhe, to thrash, to throw yourself off this fucking table and hurl yourself down the ninety-nine storey, floor-to-ceiling windows, and yet you can’t even lift a fucking finger. a bee, drowning in its own honey.

cate almost yawns. her hand pinches the flesh of your ass. “god, this is too much work..” cate sighs, hand idly twirling a strand of your hair, and she yanks it back the same time she jams herself, inside, skin flush against skin. she grins, lazy. “mm. do it for me.”

mindlessly, you let out a hopeless whine, and then you’re fucking yourself back on cate's cock. she's not even moving. stilling to idle motionless as her hand twines in your hair, strap cinched low on her waist as your hips rock, panting with effort as you slam yourself back against plastic, again, and again. lips parted, tears a comforting burn behind glazed-over eyes. it’s not only her words compelling you. to snap your hips back with increasing ferocity, pounding yourself—deeper, and deeper. how you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip buries itself deep enough in your tight, hot pussy to make your cum splatter against glass, knees slippery with fluid, and yet—you can’t stop, still. weakly pulsing around plastic as your hips keep moving, walls keep swallowing silicone and spitting it back out again, even as your limbs buckle with exhaustion and your cunt sears—

she’s made you into nothing. nothing but goo on her coffee table, mindless and bathing in a puddle of your own fluids.

finally, when cate’s had her view of the pretty, pathetic sight you make—she touches your shoulder, and simply says, “enough.”

you pull yourself out, slumping on the glass table, a weak thing. cate regards you, for a moment, pussy still dribbling cum, forming a pool under your thighs like melted ice cream. still, you can’t move. arms like lead, tongue lolling out—a beaten puppy.

she kisses your vacant, empty head, lips moving against skin. “tie yourself back up after i go, hm?” and then, she hops off the table.

the door clicks shut, and you tie yourself back up again. the slick dries cold between your thighs.

[ang3lc]

U said you were bored so I strike again

(for context its 10 degrees f outside rn) I really just want to fucking bury my cold ass hands underneath Simon's shirt when he's not expecting it. Like ice cubes just resting on his abdomen until he pushes me away or takes my hands to warm them up

I'm not really sure how you could expand on this, maybe a print for how the rest of 141 would react. Idk, go crazy ml 🩷

you're too good to me river, always supplying me with asks like my knight in shining armor—ugh—smooch

cw: none, simon x gn!reader, drabble

The door slammed behind you, the bitter cold cutting like a knife even after you were inside. It clung to your skin, sunk deep in your bones. You yanked your gloves off, flexing your fingers to fight the ache, but they stayed frozen and numb.

Simon was sitting on the couch, one leg stretched out, his shoulders relaxed against the backrest. He didn’t move much when you walked in, just turned his head slightly, his balaclava hiding everything but the faint narrowing of his eyes.

“Bad out there?” he asked, his voice low, steady.

Your breath came out in a huff, your teeth chattering as you kicked off your boots. “Understatement.”

“Put the kettle on,” he said, not looking up as he reached for the mug beside him. His tone was calm, blissfully detatched, as always.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you moved toward him, slow and deliberate. You didn’t stop until you were standing beside him, your shadow spilling over the book in his lap.

Simon looked up, still as stone, his gaze shifting between your face and your hands. You could feel his focus, the way he was already bracing for something.

“What?” he said, wary.

You didn’t give him a chance to react. Without a word, you shoved both hands up under his shirt, pressing your icy fingers against the solid warmth of his stomach.

He jolted, flinching hard enough to almost knock the mug off the table. “Fuckin' 'ell-” His voice was sharp, a rare crack in his steady calm as his hand shot to grab your wrist.

But he didn’t shove you away. Not immediately.

His stomach tensed beneath your touch, every muscle wound tight, like he was holding something back. His hand stayed clamped over your wrist, his grip firm but careful, as if he didn’t trust himself to let go.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice low, controlled again, though it carried an edge you couldn’t place.

“Your fault for being warm,” you muttered, trying to sound playful, but the words came out quieter than you intended.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk.

Instead, Simon stayed perfectly still, his hand covering yours now, not pulling it away. His fingers were warm, rough against your raw skin.

You looked up at him, searching his face for something, anything, but all you could see was his eyes, dark and unreadable.

“Doesn’t bother you,” he said finally, the words more observation than question.

“What doesn’t?”

“Me.” His tone was flat, almost hollow. “The mask. The scars. Any of it.”

The weight of his words settled heavy between you, unexpected and uninvited. You blinked, caught off guard, before his meaning hit you like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t about the cold. It wasn’t about your hands, your teasing, or even the small, sharp warmth he let you take from him.

It was about him. What he thought he couldn’t give, what he thought you didn’t see—or worse, did see but ignored.

You didn’t pull your hands back. You pressed them closer, leaning in until the heat of his body chased away the chill entirely.

“No,” you said softly, the word firm. “You don’t bother me. Not a bit.”

Simon didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his fingers flexed around your wrist, just once.

You stayed there a moment longer, long enough to feel the tension drain from his shoulders, long enough to feel the weight he carried shift, if only slightly. When you finally pulled your hands away, the loss of warmth almost stung.

But Simon reached for you this time, catching your wrist before you could step back. His touch was lighter now, careful in a way that made your heart ache.

He pulled your hand back to his stomach, holding it there, firm and unyielding. “Next time y'cold,” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, “just come to me. Don’t make a show of it.”

There was no teasing, no edge to his words. Just Simon, steady and resolute, his hand still over yours like he wasn’t ready to let go.

And you wouldn't let go.

Not this time.

Not ever.

mlist

[flemingsfreckles]

I’ll Look After You

Synopsis: you and Jessie are still adjusting to life with a baby, Jessie notices that you’ve been struggling more and more recently, until you break.

Warnings: mentions of postpartum depression and anxiety, language

WC: 2.7k

A/N: hi, I haven’t posted in a while, just sort of been struggling, work has kicked my ass, and my motivation has just drained a bit but I’m trying to get back into it.

The first noise Jessie hears after the jingling of her keys in the sound of crying. It’s not an uncommon noise in your household, it’s an everyday, every couple of hours occurrence. But what she notices is the crying isn’t just that of your five month old daughter. She can also tell there’s the sound of an adult crying.

She quickly places the diapers and bag of baby clothes she had purchased on the counter and makes her way to your daughter's room.

She walks into the nursery to a scene that breaks her heart. You’re sitting in the rocking chair, your daughter resting in your lap. You’re both crying, your daughter wailing while you’re sniffling, shoulders shaking while you still try to console the baby in your lap. You looked exhausted.

“Oh my love.” Jessie says rushing to your side. “Let me take her.”

“No!” You snap at Jessie. “She won’t eat, but she’s hungry, that’s her hungry cry. She won’t latch, I can’t help her, but she needs to eat so she needs me.”

Jessie kneels in front of you. Her hands reach out to take your daughter. Already feeling panicked from the hours of crying you’ve sat through and the feeling of failure as a parent, you push Jessie’s hands away. You had been dealing with postpartum anxiety, you knew it and Jessie knew it.

It had started with just not letting your daughter out of your sight. She came with you everywhere, the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, she was always just a few steps away, in every moment you had your eyes on her. Even as she slept you watched her though the baby monitor, hardly ever getting rest yourself. That lasted a for the first few months and then it only became worse.

Then you started having nightmares of terrible things happening to her. That’s when you started not letting her out of your grasp. You no longer brought her out to Jessie’s games. You didn’t let family or friends hold her, everything was a threat to her. You held her constantly, feeling as if any place besides your arms was dangerous to her little life.

This even meant Jessie’s arms. You knew deep down Jessie was safe, she was even more cautious than you were with her, but your anxiety refused to let up when it came to your wife. Any time the baby awoke in the middle of the night, you were up too. Despite Jessie’s insisting you stay in bed, being the first one out of bed to get your daughter, as she’d get up, you’d follow her. You watched Jessie like a hawk when she held your daughter, terrified something would happen. It was all crazy, Jessie was the best partner and parent you could’ve ever imagined but your postpartum brain remained in panic at all times.

“What if she just never eats? She’ll starve, it’ll be all my fault. I just want to help her.” You managed to choke out between cried. Jessie could see the dark circles under you eyes, she knew you hadn’t slept that night and now it was early morning, the exhaustion beginning to take its toll.

“She’s not going to starve babe.” Jessie tried her best to console you. She didn’t know what to do, she felt helpless so many times seeing you stress and worry about your daughter, knowing she could only ease your mind so much.

“She might Jessie! She won’t latch! I can’t fucking feed her. I’m a terrible mom, I can’t even feed her.” You move through anger, yelling at Jessie and your fist hitting the armrest of the rocking chair, to feelings of sadness in an instant, tears falling again.

“You’re not a terrible mom.”

“I can’t protect her. She’s always crying, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I can’t keep her safe.”

“You can keep her safe, you do keep her safe. She cries because she’s a baby, she can’t talk to us, her crying is not an indication of you as a parent.” Jessie’s hands gently caress your shins, trying to help you relax. “Now, can I please hold her?” Jessie brings her arms out again. She knew she had to be patient with you but she also knew you had hit your breaking point. Your lack of sleep, your mood swings, your frustrations, all worried her.

She knew you had been up all night with her. It had taken the two of you a while to get her to fall asleep, and just a short hour later she was up screaming again. You changed her and put her back down, before returning to bed. She had started crying at midnight and you had gone into the nursery, telling Jessie you’d wake her for the next time she cried. Except you hadn’t. You never came back to bed after that wake up. Jessie had heard the crying on her own and made her way into the nursery at 2am. You had sent her back to bed saying you had it covered. Jessie listened, knowing it was smarter and safer to have one rested parent, she also wasn’t interested in making you upset.

Then when Jessie woke up again and noticed you were not next to her, she came to find you. At 4am she found you asleep on the floor next to the crib. She had placed a blanket over you and let you sleep while she made herself coffee. The baby had woken up again at 4:30 and you had been up with her since. Jessie had run to the store to get some necessities, hoping when she got back the two of you would be sleeping again. You had now been awake all night, with only a combined hour of sleep worth of naps to hold you over. Jessie knew she had to take your daughter away from you, you needed sleep. She wanted you safe and she wanted your daughter safe.

You just stare back at Jessie. This was your wife, you trusted her with every bit of yourself, your fears, your accomplishments, you trusted her with your body, with your heart, but for some reason you were terrified to hand her your daughter, the baby she had a hand in making, the baby that was half her, you couldn’t hand her over.

“Babe.” Jessie’s tone was no longer asking politely. “For her safety and more importantly, for your safety, I need you to let me hold her for a bit, you need a break.” Her arms extend once again. She had realized this was getting out of hand, not only did she need to take your daughter in this moment, it was probably time to seek professional help. Jessie made a note to bring that up later with you.

“I don’t need a break, I don’t get a break, I'm her mom!”

“I’m her mom too!” Jessie getting more and more concerned about your own safety starts to snap at you.

Jessie was right, she was her mom too. You look down at your daughter, who is still whimpering. You look at her small face, her little nose, the way her eyes were scrunched and her mouth open crying. It had you tearing up again, seeing how upset she was with no relief thanks to you.

“I couldn’t help her, I changed her, she’s warm enough, she’s burped, I checked her over a hundred times, there's no scrapes or rashes, nothing should bother her. She just is hungry but won’t eat.” That’s when you start feeling your heartbeat in your chest, the whoosh of blood through your ears. You can feel your chest heaving as you try breathing in air.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jessie’s hands come off your shins and onto your face.

“You’re okay. She’s okay, look at her she’s okay. You’re both okay. I’m going to take her just for a moment, I’ll stay here by you so you can watch. But I’m just going to hold her for a bit.” Jessie drops her hands from your face and gently scoops up your daughter, bringing her to rest on her chest. Your daughter’s head rests on Jessie’s shoulder. Jessie stands up and bounces her lightly, hand running down your daughter’s back trying to soothe the crying.

Jessie extends her other hand out toward you. “Come here, let’s go lay in our bed.”

You look up at Jessie and nod, taking her hand before dropping it. “Two hands on her.” You say, already worrying somehow your daughter will slip from Jessie’s strong grip.

“Okay, two hands.” Jessie shoots you a smile before placing her other hand onto your daughter's back. She follows you out of the nursery across the house and into your bedroom. You watch Jessie as she carefully places her into the bassinet next to the bed.

“There’s nothing in there right? No toys, no blanket, no pillows? Did you check that there isn’t a spider or anything?” It was your paranoia coming back, but you had to ask.

“No babe, just her. There’s nothing that’s going to hurt her in there.” Jessie says looking between you and the bassinet. “She’ll be okay, I’m going to pick her up again in a moment. Let’s get you changed first.”

Jessie took another glance at the bassinet before coming over to where you stood at the end of the bed. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders. “Would you like a shower?” You shake your head, you did but you didn’t have the energy. “New clothes at least? Brush your teeth? Wash your face? What can I help with?”

“I dunno.” You feel on the verge of even more tears, you’d think by now you’d be completely dry. You feel your lip start to tremble again and you bite it trying to hold back the sob ready to fall out.

“Okay, sorry, I gave you too many options. Let’s just get you changed.” Jessie says her hand gently falling to your shirt. “Can I take this one off?” You nod and lift your arms, Jessie gently pulling the shirt over your head. You stand there shirtless as Jessie walks across the room to her own dresser, pulling out one of her old shirts that you frequently stole and would wear to bed. On your way back to where you stood your daughter lets out a cry. You watch as Jessie quickly moves to grab a clean pacifier, placing it into her mouth before coming back over to you.

“Arms up pretty girl.” You do as she asks and she pulls the shirt down over your head. Her hands drop to the shorts you have on. “These off?”

“Ehh she didn’t puke on them, they can stay.” You say. And Jessie’s hands move off of them.

“Okay, in bed.” Jessie walks over flipping back the cover to your side and waiting for you to get in. You climb in and she gently pulls up the covers before walking around to the other side of the bed. She picks up your daughter from the bassinet before she climbs into bed next to you. “Come here.” She pats her side and encourages you to curl into her.

You watch as she holds your daughter, you watch carefully, making sure your daughter's head is supported, her back is in a good position, you watch Jessie, who’s looking between you and your daughter.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got her, she’s okay, if she cries you’ll hear her and wake up.” You lay there for a moment, Jessie was right, she was right next to you, if she cried you’d hear. You’d be able to get up and help in a second's notice. You take one last look at Jessie and your daughter before closing your eyes.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you finally wake up to the sound of your wife talking to your daughter. “Here ya go. This’ll make you feel better.” You blink a few times and see Jessie with your daughter, a bottle in her hand being held up to her mouth.

Your eyebrows squint as you try to take in the image of your daughter eating from a bottle. That was different, it was rare that she ate from a bottle especially when you were home with her, you’d wake up and feed her, there was no need for her to feed from the bottle. It made you upset that Jessie hadn’t woken you, maybe she didn’t trust you to feed her since you had failed earlier. Maybe she thought you were a bad mother.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You feel Jessie jump, not having realized you were awake and being startled by your voice. “I don’t want her to have formula yet, we talked about it this.” You had been strong in your decision to feed her, Jessie knew that. Bottle feeding her was one thing, but you hadn’t pumped, there wasn’t milk for the bottle, Jessie had to be giving her formula. “You should’ve woken me up, I would’ve fed her.”

You move to sit up, starting to pull your shirt up and reaching for your daughter at the same time. Jessie’s hand gently releases the bottle for a moment before her hand comes down onto yours.

“You are feeding her. It’s not formula, it’s your milk from the freezer. You’re still feeding her.” Jessie says looking at you, her hand returning to hold the bottle to your daughter’s mouth.

“Oh.” You feel stupid, you had frozen milk. Frozen milk you had pumped and saved back when your daughter was first born. She didn’t yet eat enough to use it all, so you had saved it. As she grew she drank more and more and you stopped freezing it. You had completely forgotten. You had forgotten, Jessie hadn’t.

“Go back to sleep love, I’ve got her, well, actually you’ve got her, you’re the one feeding her, I’m just holding the bottle.” Jessie smiles down at you, bringing a hand to run her fingers through your hair. “Close your eyes.”

You feel a sudden rush of emotions again, feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of your wife, who you had been cold to since the anxiety started. “I’m sorry.” You can feel your chest tightening and your vision becomes blurry with tears.

“For what?” Jessie looks down questioning what you could possibly be apologizing for.

“Just everything, I’ve been so mean, and I just, I worry and I can’t let her go, if something happened to her, I don’t think I’d survive. I’m so scared for her, she’s helpless, and I’m her mom so that’s my job and I think sometimes I forget you’re her mom too, and I don’t want to burden you with the responsibility, and I just, I’m not being fair to you.”

“You’re also not being fair to yourself. You’re tired, you’re overwhelmed, I don’t like seeing you like this.

“I know I just can’t help it.” You blinked hard and the tears began to run down your cheeks, Jessie’s finger gently wiping them away.

“I know, it’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later, just get some sleep honey.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, trying to slow down the crying. “I’m sorry, I love you, you’re a really good mom.”

“Shhhh.” Jessie lets her fingers run through your hair again, trying to soothe you back to sleep. She doesn’t need to hear you apologize for something that was beyond your control, she knew it was all hormones, your brain playing tricks on you. She knows she’s a good mom, she knows you’re a good mom, she doesn’t need your reassurance but it is nice to hear. “I love you. I’ll look after you and her. I’ve got you. Just close your eyes.”

You do, quickly falling asleep with the feeling of Jessie’s fingers in your hair and the sound of her whispering softly to your daughter about the first time you and she met, one of Jessie’s favorite stories to tell. The anxiety and stress wasn’t gone, but for once, with her by your side, it suddenly wasn’t all consuming.

[wreckitwrites]

ShittyBF!König x F!Reader

ShittyBF!König who, whilst not necessarily having any malicious intent, gets his first ever girlfriend and doesn't know what to do with her

((CW: F!Reader, NS//FW Content, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Invasion of Privacy, Yandere Behavior))

Complaining about ShittyBF!König to your friends, telling them all about how despite being your perfect man in terms of appearance, physique and performance in bed, he consistently manages to drop the ball when it comes to taking care of his sweet little girlfriend's emotional well-being

ShittyBF!König who is always too focused on his pretty maus's soft thighs and even softer tits to pay any attention when she tries to tell him about her day or talk about whats on her mind

ShittyBF!König who distracts his baby when she starts prattling on about work drama and her annoying boss by sliding one large, calloused hand up her shirt, his fingertips running over her ribs and grazing the underside of her breast, moving up to cup the malleable flesh in his palm and squeezing it gently, whilst his other hand grips your thigh just beneath your ass, pulling you into his broad lap

ShittyBF!König who stopped taking you out to restaurants and outdoor activities on dates because you always shove him off of you and get pissy when he tries to initiate intimacy in public

ShittyBF!König who just can't help himself when you're around, Maus, you're just so pretty and soft and he's never had a woman outside his family be so sweet to him before, let alone a woman as gorgeous and charming as you

ShittyBF!König who had never felt the touch of a woman before meeting you, always too focused on his job to try go out and pick someone up, his poor social skills and imposing demeanor not helping the situation at all

They say not to give a dog food if you don't want it pawing at you and begging you for more, and ShittyBF!König is no exception, always eager and willing to dive face first between your legs for another taste of his favourite treat (besides, that's just how dogs like him say hello)

ShittyBF!König who doesn't know how he got lucky enough to not only cross paths, but secure a committed relationship with someone so far out of his league, but regardless decides to thank you multiple times a day, every single day, by pleasuring you so good that your legs go numb and your brain turns to mush

ShittyBF!König who knows he's not the most romantic guy, but thinks he can make up for it by handing you his black card and telling you to get whatever you want

(He's made so much money in his many years of being the best at what he does, but he's not really a materialistic guy by any means and has never really had anything to spend it on, until you that is. Now he suddenly wants to drain his accounts dry adorning you in pretty clothes and shiny jewelry, torn between wanting to parade you around town and show you off and wanting to keep you locked away somewhere safe for his eyes only)

ShittyBF!König who doesn't notice you stopped bothering to maintain an emotional connection with a man who doesn't listen when you speak and only seems to value you for your body, leading you to give up trying to initiate conversation anymore

Receiving horrified looks from your friends when you tell them about how you and ShittyBF!König haven't spoken a word to one another outside of dirty talk, sexting and coordinating times to meet up (and fuck, obviously)

Its not ShittyBF!König's fault that he doesn't always remember what you have and haven't said out-loud to him when he goes through your messages late at night after he's fucked you unconscious, reading about the events of your day through conversations with your besties

ShittyBF!König who initially only began going through your phone to ensure no men were encroaching in on his girl and jeopardizing the perfect life he had going on, but always ends up with his hand pressed over his mouth to stop his laughter from waking you from your well deserved rest when he reads the banter between you and your friends and all of the hilarious memes you send them, his cheeks warm and pink when he thinks about how fortunate he is to have found a woman who has an amazing sense of humour and wonderful personality on top of having the most attractive face and body he's ever had the blessing of seeing

God knows he's never done anything to deserve this good karma-

ShittyBF!König who's good mood comes crashing down, having to put your phone down momentarily to prevent himself from crushing the device in his powerful grip, hands shaking in anger when he see's the messages you sent the group chat about how underwhelming and disappointing you find your relationship, refering to him as "less of a boyfriend and more of a glorified friends-with-benefits, but without the friend part" and "a dildo with a bank account-"

(Okay, that last one would have stroked his ego a bit and made him giggle if he weren't already so livid)

ShittyBF!König knew those friends of yours were no good, putting silly ideas into your naive little head, telling you that you're too good for him, not to settle for less then you deserve, stop wasting your time on a man that doesn't appreciate you-

(Don't they know how obsessed with you he is? How much he adores every thing about you? That he would die for you? That he would kill for you? That he already has of course not! They don't know anything about your relationship! They don't know that the two of you are endgame-)

ShittyBF!König who's blood runs cold when he see's your message telling them that you're only keeping him around as long as he makes himself convenient, that the moment you start having to put in more effort then the sex is worth, you'll leave him without hesitation

ShittyBF!König who knows damn well that you are not going to leave him. That's simply not an option, Liebling. He is the man you will spend the rest of your life with, the man you will die with-

ShittyBF!König who knows that his precious little girlfriend has just gotten a bit confused, but that's okay, luckily she has a big, strong husband boyfriend to unjumble all those stupid, nonsensical thoughts and remind her of who she belongs to

(Got a bit longer then I expected, thinking of making a Part 2 about Reader trying to break up with König.)

[pbnbucks]

kk arnold smut prompt 20 😔🙏🏽

word count : 586

warnings : cussing, smut w strap, no plot, short

summary : you accidentally tell your sweet secret, only for her to feel the same way.

song : Birds Of A Feather by Billie Eilish || Play Dat Shit !

“i love you” you spurred out as the 5’9 girl in front of you continues to ramble on about what ever meaningless situation she found herself in pouring her heart out to you.

"What did you just say?" she says speechless when you quickly cover your hand with your mouth as kk quickly pulls your hand in hers.

“i know we have only been together for 8 months and its a bit early but-” she shuts you up with a hard pressed kiss on your lips as her hands make there way to your waist pulling you in walking you backwards to your bedroom.

she lays you on the bed as your legs wrap around her waist waiting for her to enter your slick. the strap fits her waist perfectly sitting on her curves, as she finally takes the moment to slip the silicone in to your guts as you both groan at the feeling.

her thrust never fault sliding in and out of your sopping core as her body hunches over you looking you in the eyes before planting a kiss on your lips.

“i love you to princess” she praises now making her way to kiss your neck peppering kisses that you knew where going to form in to hickeys.

your body disappears under her as your hands find their way to her back leaving long red stripes down her back at the gut wrenching feeling of her pleasing you.

the silicone hitting your slick with each stroke as the vulgar noises from your core echo around the room turning her on more then ever.

“feels so good kamorea” your cry out as her tongue dances on the skin of your neck while her breath quickens at the sudden movements with moans falling out of her mouth was music to your ears.

her sloppy kisses peppered on your skin making tiny red marks when she pulls away. her finger tips lingering on your chest.

the strap bouncing off your walls as your whimpers coaxed together in sync echoing across the dorm as the neighbors know your names by now.

her head resting on your breast as her tongue swirls your sensitive bud sucking every few seconds while she study’s your twisted facial expressions.

“do you know.. h-how beautiful you are?” she coaxed as her wet kisses became sloppy and needier when you felt her hands linger around your chest running across every angle she could feel up.

every thrust she pumped hitting your gummy walls as your liquids coated her thick, your legs trembled itching for your release. your hugged her shoulders trying to stable yourself.

“kk, fuck i need to cum” your moans turning to whimpers as her soft fingers ran up and down your thighs soothing your nerves along with your tensed body as your pleasure builds up.

“its okay baby, cum all over my strap while your at it pretty” her words sending you into awe when you finally let go. your legs began to shake are the silicone thats stretching you out.

the penetrating feeling of your sweat mixing together as you sneak a few kisses. her cock refusing to leave your deep cunt as your walls clenched around her toy breaking every barrier that held your cunt together.

“love you so fucking much” you hum at her response all fucked out and drained whiled she pressed her lips against your soft coconut smelling skin capturing every sight of you as she refused to take this moment for granted.

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 2 . Part 1 : A Taste of their Downfall

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

A/N : I need pics for future scenes so im faceclaiming Sofia Carson as Y/N ~

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious

‼️Read Act 1 First

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Act 2. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Y/N, where were you? “ You and Lewis were back in his driver's room inside Mercedes.

You were still in shock about how you just quit your position as Lewis’ Engineer. You cannot believe that they had tried to demote you after all the successes you’ve brought to this team.

“Y/N? Are you even listening? “ Lewis had once again tried to catch your attention.

“Toto demoted me from being your race engineer” you suddenly said, you waited for Lewis to react. But there was nothing. You tried to gauge his face. Suddenly, realization stuck right through you. He knew. Lewis knew.

Horror and absolute terror filled your system. You cannot believe what you were seeing.

“You knew? Lewis, please tell me you didn’t ” your voice broke , as you begged. You again tried to ask Lewis. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe you had it all wrong. You hoped … you prayed that Lewis had nothing to do with any of it.

Lewis was hesitant, he tried to hold your hand. You stepped away from his touch. He looked wounded from your action, but you didn’t care you were adamant to know the truth.

Yet , He was remained silent.

“ LEWIS FUCKING HAMILTON TELL ME THE TRUTH RIGHT NOW! TELL ME YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!” You were ballistic as you demanded an explanation

“ YES, I KNEW! HAPPY?! Toto said that you were distracted and that you were becoming soft on Verstappen! We cannot lose this Championship! Y/N! I’m this close to being the best that this sport has ever seen! This close! You will not be the reason that I lost this! “

As you hear his words, life drains from your face. Lewis was in on it. The person that you love had been a part of your betrayal. You cannot believe it. The person that you gave everything to , the person you trusted the most had stabbed you in the back and dug your grave. And for what? For a stupid fucking title.

Angry cannot explain what you were feeling now. You were seething.

“ Oh, i’ll make sure that I will be the reason that you’ll never win that title. You can count on that , Hamilton”

No, you can’t believe it. You didn’t cry, because you could not comprehend what you had just discovered.

Villains are bred, not born. The fine line between a hero and a villain is slim — pull too hard and the line will snap. Blurring the line is far too easy. Everyone and everything has its limits, no matter how vast and far the maximum is, there will always be an endpoint.

The line has been crossed, You have had enough. Six years you’ve swallowed your pride and took beating after beating with a smile, as if it were normal — turning over the other cheek so they can hit it too. For six fucking years, you’ve suffered being belittled and taken for granted by everybody. The numbness you’ve forced yourself to feel to handle the pain had transformed into rage.

Fire, you felt the burning of fury manifesting in your body. Too much, it has just been too much. They had lit the match and threw it into the powder barrel.

The coldness of your apartment held no comparison to the burning you felt inside. The shock and anger electrocuting you still. You cannot comprehend the depth of monstrosity that loomed over the motorhome of Mercedes and the people in it. Till now ,they are continuously celebrating the win as if it is something festive and joyous. Mercedes celebrated the win in Silverstone as if a person was not lying in bed in immense pain due to their driver’s fault. Mercedes dared to set ablaze fireworks and pop bottles of liquor as if they were clean and innocent from all their dirty actions.

They were celebrating as if they did not just try to screw you and your career over. It was as if the years of maltreatment and abuse that they caused you were being swept under the rug. Ravenous, you felt completely ravenous.

They said that revenge is best served cold, but you digress. Oh no, revenge is best served sweltering, blazing and scorching— enough that they feel the heat of the fires of hell with no return. They did not hesitate to hurt you, why should you show mercy? An eye for an eye was not enough, you demanded a corpse.

Vicious, Cutthroat, and Merciless are words that they associated with your name behind your back. These words used to bring you insecurity, now you’ll wear it like a badge — proud and unashamed. They’ll get what they want. Call it petty and deceitful, but nothing good ever came from you swallowing your pride.

They deserve what’s coming to them.

Game. Fucking. On.

***

It was the morning after, and you were seated on your couch, your leg bouncing up and down. Lewis did not come back to your apartment. No, he had partied with the rest of them.

Leaving Mercedes was easy, but Lewis… Lewis Hamilton was another story.

It was different when you’ve spent 6 years of your life loving someone. Your love for Lewis was deeper than you could’ve understood. To you, he was the light that shined through the darkness. You imagined that you’d spend your lifetime with him. Creating a future for both of you. Lewis completed you.

But it seemed that you were alone in the journey that you painted. Because what you saw on that podium is a man not wanting to be tied down. You saw a man that wanted all the freedom and glory that this sport gave.

Maybe at first, He had wanted you, but along with the speed and fame that Formula 1 brought … he no longer needed Y/N L/N, the woman that he loved. Lewis Hamilton wanted Y/N L/N the engineer that gave him his championships.

It was hard to let go. But you knew that you didn’t deserve any of that. You're not someone who should be kept in the shadows. You deserve to be loved by someone who’ll proudly show the world that you’re theirs. You deserve someone who knows your worth apart from what you can give.

You looked at your apartment, letting yourself feel and reminisce the memories that you and Lewis made, for one last time.

One last time, you let yourself cry for everything that Lewis never gave, the empty promises and the heartaches and even the happy memories that you two shared…this was finally goodbye. Because, from now on you’re choosing yourself.

“ Goodbye, Lew”

And you were gone.

***

“Y/N, Baby? Why weren’t you at the party? And what’s Toto talking about you quitting?” Lewis came into your apartment, the headache pounding on his temple from the alcohol from the night before.

He rummaged through the fridge, looking for a sip of water. Lewis expected you to come up behind him and hug his waist, just like how you did every time. Yet, this time you weren’t here with the usual morning kiss and a coffee at hand.

“Babe? Are you still in bed?” Lewis trudged his way to your shared bedroom, only to find it empty.

“Y/N? Where are you? Look I’m sorry, alright!? Please talk to me.“

Lewis searched every part of your house, looking for a sign of your presence.

And then in the living room, on top of the coffee table, a letter you wrote was pressed under a ring — the promise ring that he gave to you on your anniversary.

With shaking hands, as panic started to envelop Lewis, he held up the letter and read.

My dearest, Lewis.

I never imagined myself in the position that I have to say goodbye to you. Despite my best efforts to mend what's broken, I can't shake the feeling that our relationship has run its course. The love that once bound us together now feels like a faint shadow of what it once was, and I can't bear to see us continue down this path.

I can’t forgive what you’ve done. No matter how much I love you I cannot bear to think of your betrayal. But also please know that I am sorry. I had led myself to believe that we wanted the same thing. I thought that we both wanted to build a future together. But now I see that I was wrong. And I don’t think it would be fair of me to force you to want the same. You deserve to follow the path that you choose. I’m sorry, Lew but I also want freedom. I want someone who would shout to the world that they love me. I’m sorry but I can no longer wait on your promise.

You can now run free, Champ. I’m letting you go. Enjoy the glory. Goodbye, Lewis.

- Y/N

Dread washed over him in an instant. Like freezing water was dumped over him. The nausea of his hangover is gone. Lewis felt his chest growing heavier by the second and his stomach had started twisting with fear a sudden pit growing. Tears started to blur his vision as he clutched the paper in his hands.

The memory of your fight replayed in his mind. How could he do that to you? You were the person who was with him through every challenge that life had thrown at him. You were the person who supported him when no one did.

And suddenly his phone vibrated. To Lewis’ surprise — a text from Nico Rosberg

I knew , she’d leave . Y/N deserves better.

Lewis couldn’t believe what was in his hands. No, Lewis couldn’t accept that you were gone. Lewis couldn’t believe that you had left him.

“What have I done?”

***

“Welcome to Red Bull Racing , Y/N! It’s a pleasure to finally have you!”

“ The pleasure is all mine”

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[theangelsheardyou]

Ranpo loves praise♡

Bottom!RANPO X Top!Fem!READER

| Praise kink, use of "Mommy" and "Baby", submissive Ranpo, creampie |

Ranpo loves praise.

It's so cute seeing a man who seemed so sure of himself be absolutely ruined just by a couple kind words.

Just a little compliment here and there, and Ranpo was putty in your hands.

It was dark that night, the only light coming from the moon itself as it danced its way in through the window. It crept up the floorboards until it reached the two of you.

Ranpo was deep inside of you, fucking you slowly and desperately. He knelt between your legs, his grip loosening and hardening against your thighs, keeping them apart lazily. His eyes were barely open, and in the darkness you saw only bright green slits staring back at you, awaiting your approval.

"Such a good boy, Ranpo, dear..." you cooed, finding the tired rhythm of his movements sweet and cute. He was such a baby, your baby after all. All he wanted all day was your pussy, especially after you'd been teasing him all day with those thigh highs that cupped the fat on your legs beautifully. Several times throughout the day, he thought he was going to cum on the spot everytime you leaned over to hand him some paperwork, or gently caressed your thighs knowing he was watching, or simply walking past, allowing your sweet aroma to fill his nose and in turn his dirty thoughts. But he made it, he was good, and he went the whole day without cumming or jerking off. That deserved a reward.

"Ahn, ah, M-Mommy..." He whined, his approval battery suddenly drained so quickly, desperately asking for more of your delicious praise.

"Yes, Baby?" You asked, as if you didn't already know what he wanted.

"M-Mommy, am-am I doing g-good?" He asked as he tried thrusting into you faster, hoping to please you more. Silly boy, just the thought of him not being enough for you was torture for him. He needed validation, he needed your praise.

"Yes, dear, you're doing so good..." you cupped his cheek with your hand, caressing him lovingly. "So good for me, such a good boy..."

"M-Ma...Mommy...." He moaned, slowly reaching his limit.

That's when you decided to bring in the big guns.

"Such a good boy, Ranpo, fucking me so well. So good for me, so good for Mommy...." you added a couple moans here and there, making sure your voice was as sultry as possible, knowing it made Ranpo go crazy.

His hips started stuttering and his grip on your thighs tightened. "M-Mom-Mommy!! Hah, hah...Mommy!!" He whimpered as he slowly reached his release.

That's when you started tingling all over, his cock reaching your sweet spot more and in a faster pace, you held onto his back to keep him close as you both came together.

Ranpo was breathing heavily now, thrusting in slowly, just once or twice, savoring what was left of that feeling, before slowly pulling out with a grunt.

He looked beneath him to find your pretty little pussy, liquids shining in the moonlight like wet little stars. His cum spilled out of you, overfilling your hole nicely. You put on your panties and let down the nightshirt that had been previously pulled up above your breasts, pulling your beloved into a sweet goodnight kiss.

Ranpo finally caught his breath within your mouth. "Please," He pleaded. "One more?"

"No, no, we have work in the morning, remember?" You said, watching him pout like a spoiled little child, it was so cute to see.

"Reeaaally?" He asked again as you pulled him into the covers. "Yes, really, now go to bed, Kunikida-san will yell at you for making us late."

"Why would it be my fault?!" He whined.

"Cause I'm blaming you, of course!" You teased. "Plus, I'm the one who has to shovel cum out of my pussy and take a pill tomorrow, it's only fair."

"Fine." He pouted, getting under the covers to go to sleep.

"But I know you're just doing this just so I'll be extra horny tomorrow."

"Ah, so I guess you don't need those glasses to deduct me."

"Of course! I'm the greatest detective, you know!"

"Of course dear. Goodnight."

"Hmmph. Goodnight."

As Ranpo slowly fell deeper into his sleep, you caressed him, twisting and twirling his black hair around your fingers as you silently read your book.

Ranpo sure does love praise.

[irl-w0lverine]

rubberman!kai smut perchance? as in kai having a rubber suit

ur literally my favourite fanfic writer 💙

pairing : kai anderson x reader

Warnings : p in v, rough sex, degrading, its literally kai, improper use of kool-aid, spit

A/n: aaaaah thank you 🫶🫶🫶 im really feeding yall with 2 sober fics back to back

NOT FOR MINORS COMSUMPTION! IF YOU READ FURTHER THIS IS YOUR FAULT NOT MINE!!

"look at this peice of kinky shit i found" kai huffs, throwing a latex suit onto the table your sat at, the material shining under the dim light of the lamp.

"what is it?" you ask kai gently, knowing anything can set him off.

"some fucking rubber suit, i wanna try it out" kai says blankly, cutting straight to the point.

"is it clean? Where did you even find it?" your words are hesitant, not wanting to cause him to snap.

"doesn't matter. Hop up on the table. Or do you want me to force you down instead?"

Without a second thought, you hop up on the table. His lips crash into yours imediately, his fingernails pulling so hard on your shirt that you can hear the thread begin to snap.

He practically rips your shirt off you, not breaking the aggressive kiss at all. You both discard the rest of your clothes.

Kai leaves the room momentarily with the rubber suit, leaving you to desperately roll your hips as you try to cause some sort of friction.

He soon returns, his cock standing proud as i grabs a cut and a pack of kool-aid from the kitchen. After a few more minutes of trying to get any pleasure, he returns, the cup containing kool-aid mixed with something else...

"if you wanna be such a slut then go ahead and drink it" he growls, spitting into the cup and forcing it to your lips.

You reluctantly begin to drink it, the liquid thicker than water. Then it hits you.

Without saying or doing anything, you force yourself to finish it. Placing the cup aside while your thighs rub together needily.

"please kai... I really need you" your voice pleading. You see his eyes turn dark as you call him kai.

"that's not my fuckin' name. Try again or ill leave you like this. All needy and desperate with no way to relief it."

"s-sorry... Master.." you manage to whimper out, your eyes begging for him not to leave.

"that's my good little slut" he grumbles as he tightly grips your cheeks, forcing your lips together as he drains his saliva into your mouth, leaving you no choice but to swallow it.

Without any warning, he roughly pushes your thighs appart, ramming his dick into your silky hole. Your nails dig into his shoulders, loud moans and whines slipping past your lips as his dick burries itself inside you.

Hes so deep inside you swear you can feel it nudging you stomach.

"you like that you fuckin' slut? Just taking all of me like a greedy whore aren't you? Its like you want this or some shit." he groans, his balls slapping against your ass with each aggressive thrust.

You begin to feel a knot forming, your nails begining to draw blood from his shoulders due to how hard your holding onto him.

"AGH! You fuckin' bitch!" kai yells out, slapping you across the face. This is all you need for your walls to tighten around him. This causes him to slap you again as your climax crashes down.

"did i say you could cum yet!? I dont fuckin' think so! Your gonna get punished later you filthy cum slut." his voice is still loud as he clamps a hand around your throat, not tight enough to cut off your breathing but not loose enough for you to move.

After a few more thrusts, his sticky seed paints your walls white. He practically fucks it into you, wanting to increase his chance of you having his messiah baby.

"clean yourself up. I have a meeting to get to" he huffs, quickly giving you a hesitant kiss on your nose as he speedily gets changed. You would have never expected in a million years for him to give you a kiss so it was a pleasant surprise.

Guess you'll have to wait till later to see what your punishment it.

A/n: this was a 2 day process 😭🙏. This was so fun to write because i kinda ran wild with it

Thank you so much for reading! <3