#and i just don’t want to do that anymore i’m tired of maintaining it
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billysgirllol · 8 hours ago
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“because it was convenient for him. he didn’t go because of me, he went to save himself. then after i asked him who the third is that he killed, he lied to me knowin’ keepin’ my trust is important and i figured out i could be next. after i ran off, after the shootin’ deal, he went back to the capitol undoubtedly because he was able to get rid of the guns that he shot the mayor’s daughter with.” lucy gray explains, feeling delirious acting like this is coriolanus himself. at this point, she just goes along with it because she doesn’t have the energy to disagree with him anymore. “he came to twelve to begin with, because he was forced to be a peacekeeper after he cheated the hunger games to win his prize money for his schoolin’. he came to twelve to make my life worse.” she assumes, since why would there be any thought in her mind he came to see her after what he ended up being capable of? murdering her. “because i’m tired. i’ve gotten up so many times now, i’m tired of gettin’ up. i lost my family when the peacekeepers came and herded all of us up, forced us into a district, i was cheated then reaped in the hunger games, i went into the hunger games, i watched people die— be violently murdered. i survived, then i watched more people die, i had a second hunger games with coriolanus. i lost what family i had left. there’s no more covey, no more music. birds don’t like to fly alone. or be without their coveys.” she’s alone, she has no friends or family, he ruined her life. surviving him meant something, until even that doesn’t mean anything to her anymore. this many tears hasn’t fled from her eyes since the loss of her parents, once she starts she can’t quit. dirty finger nails digging into the wood, hanging onto the back of the chair. “it still hurts a lot.” burning sensations pouring through her leg. they don’t get better this time, she used to believe in that, but her hope has been crushed all out. sucking in a breath before giving a shaky exhale, a girlish cry vulnerably spills out of her before resorting to quietly crying to herself while the odd feel of his hands are in her tangled hair. lucy gray’s always maintained her hair, no matter how harsh the conditions get and she’s even let that about herself go. picking up her tear stained faced, she pushes herself up, “thank you.” scooting off the chair, she goes over to sit on the bed before rolling onto her side to finish her crying. coriolanus can kill her now or do whatever he wants, she feels like she’s dying anyway and heaven’s on the brink, suddenly not afraid being vulnerable anymore. she curls onto her side that’s not putting pressure on her leg, folding an arm under her head and hiding her face into her bear.
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“thanks…” that would come out more enthusiastically if he wasn’t coriolanus. but the fact he was, just means— it’s all contrived. “sorry, i guess i’m just not used to it.” not from him. when does he notice that things like her childhood toys mean a lot to her? “it’s all i’ve known to do so i reckon i have no choice but to say i like it.” the twang on her voice drawls, a wry laugh sounding from her. “he did. you did.” more than turned… revealed he was a killer the entire time and was just waiting the right moment to put a bullet in her chest. “stayin’ right here, i guess. since i can’t return to twelve, not now. and really darlin’… i don’t really have much care what happens anymore.” thinks she might just go curl up in that bed, close her eyes and sing herself to a peaceful death. you’re headed for heaven, the sweet old here after. and i’ve got one foot in the door, but before i can fly up, i’ve got loose ends to tie up. right here in the old therebefore. humming her song now. “when i’ve burned out both ends. when i’ve cried all my tears,” she quietly sing-talks her way through to try and distract herself from the leg pain, “when i’ve conquered my fears. right here, in the old therebefore. when nothin’ is left anymore.” the last part striking a nerve, exactly describing why she’s even singing her saddest song. she’s burned out both ends, cried all her tears, conquered her fears and nothing is now truly left…anymore. “his story’s ended. gone to heaven, if the lord allowed it.” hopefully he repented somehow, but she doubts he even saw his life ending so abruptly.
it’s fine, she thinks, she doesn’t need his shoulders for support. until she does. it jolts through her at once, pain shooting up her thigh, toes digging into the wood and her socks, a wince and her hand tightening against his shirt, other hand clutching the bottom of her seat. biting her bottom lip, trying to be usually tough, but the feeling and the look of her flesh makes her nauseous so quickly— stomach muscles caving in at how terribly pain shoots through her again. bottom lip that’s been wobbling, teeth let go when a cry rips through her throat. shifting in her seat to bury her face in the back of the chair, tears exploding out of her eyes as face is hidden, matted curls curtaining around her jaw. she’s fought the pain so long, it just keeps barreling out in heavy exasperated cries. leg pain, mental and emotional pain, exhaustion pain. it’s all collectively releasing at once. upset she’s been beaten down so much, gotten up every single time, but at her wits end— she’s gave her all and she’s completely shutting down this time. lucy gray can’t be that girl who gets up anymore, it’s why her weeping is so relentless and loud. the leg pain just added to the fuel now.
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timeacola · 2 years ago
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i removed the black dye from my hair today and the ginger i had before showed up and i swear i’ve never been happier
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strawberryrhubarbs · 2 months ago
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god I am acting bleak on main tonight
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priestfrommidnightmass · 1 year ago
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i’ve decided that 2024 is going to be my year of my rest relaxation and most of all selfishness. i’ve been reflecting on myself this past year and this holiday season has made it really clear to me about how i’ve been working myself to the bone for others and holding myself back in terms of the things that bring me joy and i just can’t keep living like this. i’ve never thought of myself as a people pleaser i’ve actually actively been against that label but the more i’ve been reflecting on my behaviors i’ve realized that i totally am one and well fuck that!!! i hate that shit!!! it’s not that i want to be rude or unkind or anything because that’s definitely not my goal but. straining myself and pushing myself farther than i need to and ignoring my own wants and needs in fear of being judged isn’t going to make people love or care about me or put any more thought into me. i’m so utterly exhausted of constantly giving 150% for others when i don’t get even an eighth of that back. so i’ve decided i’m going to start putting myself first and everyone else leagues behind me because. so much of my life is rooted in guilt and shame and beating myself up because of how i’m perceived and it makes zero sense and all it does is make me fucking miserable. i want to knock down even those stupid mental barriers like how i’ve been too scared to go see movies by myself or forcing myself to be quiet because i’m convinced that all of my emotions whether it’s misery or joy is a burden to others because Nobody. Cares. nobody cares!!! nobody cares and that’s so freeing. i am going to find a way to love myself if it fucking kills me i am going to do what makes me happy and not care if it’s a “burden” to anyone else (it isn’t.) i am gonna do what i want when i want to fuckin do it and i don’t Care anymore. this will be the year i come out victorious in the idgaf war and it’s gonna be incredible
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glassballdinosaurs · 7 months ago
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Ugh
#so I’m in this class for a certification right#it’s dull AF#IM BORED OUT OF MY SKULL#this is through the unemployment office so it’s free and focused on how to get a job/keep a job#I can hold a job thank you I just couldn’t get employed regardless of my effort#of course now I have a job and I’d much rather be working an additional shift instead of doodling in my notebook#it’s aimed at the lowest common denominator#those kids in high school who always fucked around and then couldn’t get a job at McDonalds kinda denominator#which is fine! but I wish I had been told that this med receptionist class isn’t actually learning about what the job entails#but rather the most basic fucking skills for interviewing and maintaining a job#attendance positive attitude don’t steal supplies from your job 🙄#like….im the youngest person in my class (I’m 27) and it’s really hard to not just ask my teacher for the damn certificate#so I can get the fuck out#it won’t happen but god damn if only it could#personal#I’m tired of this class#I wanna be done#OH and there’s a stupidly long graduation ceremony#like this is high school graduation or some shit#just give me the damn paper#I don’t even want to be a receptionist anymore#or anything to do with the medical field#I wanna be a park ranger or something along those lines#I wanna physical job#I wanna work in nature#I don’t want to wear ‘business professional’ attire who gives a shit#my clothing doesn’t reflect my ability as a worker#get fucked
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privatelyownedsilicagel · 1 year ago
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idkimoutofideas · 1 year ago
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Having a weird one this week
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drewsbraziliangf · 1 month ago
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nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader
summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?
Word count: 1388
a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist
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"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."
"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.
"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."
My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.
"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.
"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 
"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.
"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."
I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?
It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.
That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 
“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”
At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.
“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 
I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.
“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.
The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.
“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”
“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.
“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.
After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 
“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.
Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.
Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.
In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 
So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 
Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 
“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”
“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.
“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”
At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 
Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”
I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 
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mavrintarou · 4 months ago
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[2:53 PM] Kozume Kenma
My version of Kenma
Warning: hurt to comfort & makeup smut
.
Kozume Kenma may look like a reserved and introverted man in public, but little did anyone know about the hidden facets of his personality that only you were aware of.
Kenma had a kink for cockwarming.
Any available opportunity, he wanted to be buried deep inside your pussy. Whether it would be while you guys slept, after sex or bathing, or when he was working (aka streaming).
However, the two of you engaged in a heated discussion, resulting in a temporary separation that lasted for three days.
You clarified that you would stay at your sister’s place for the week, giving your boyfriend space. Unfortunately, you returned to your shared condo with Kenma to grab more clothes and other necessities without letting him know.
As you noticed the closed door to his office, a clear indication that he was in a live session, you discreetly made your way to the shared bedroom to retrieve your belongings and depart as silently as possible.
You rummaged through the drawer of your swimming suit and stuffed it into your bag. After ensuring you got everything you needed, you walked out but froze when you got near Kenma’s office.
His door was wide open, and you couldn’t walk past without him seeing you.
Unless he wasn’t in his office.
Taking a deep breath, you moved your feet; even if he saw you or vice versa, you two were still on a break. Kenma was great at ignoring the problem, only wishing to brush it off or pretend as if it had never happened.
You looked straight, refusing to peek at the corner of your eyes to see if he was in his office.
“You’re really going to just walk by and not say a word?”
You barely reached the doorway when you halted, and your brow raised, surprised to hear him confront you. You tilt your head back to look at him; he sits in his chair, leaning back and watching you with tired eyes.
“I forgot something and just came to grab it, just pretend I wasn’t here.” Because you’re great at doing that.
“Come here.”
You looked away and let out a sharp breath. “I need to go; my sister is waiting for me downstairs.”
“Come. Here. Y/n.” He punctuated each word in a tone she recognized as his dominant and assertive voice.
You instinctively stepped back and positioned yourself between the doorway, standing your ground. “What?” you asked, making an effort to maintain your composure despite the circumstances.
“Come. Here.” He emphasized each word, his tone firm yet gentle.
You set your bag down before walking over to him, and when you got close enough, he moved like lightning, tugging you over and between his legs. His face was buried in your stomach, and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs. “Don’t go….”
“I’ll be back in a couple of days – “ He shook his head, tightening his grip. “Ken, we should use this time to ourselves to –“
“I’m sorry; I don’t want to be away from you anymore,” he pleaded, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desperation. “Please, don’t leave me.”
Cupping his face in your hands, your eyes scanned his entire countenance, taking note of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the bloodshot redness in his gaze. Concerned, you softly inquired, “when did you last sleep?”
Being a popular streamer, Kenma often went for extended periods without sleep, sometimes exceeding 24 hours.
“I couldn’t sleep without you.”
You couldn’t accuse him of lying knowing full well he needed you to sleep. You are his drug yet his peace and when it came to sleep, he truly needed you to sleep.
“Ken –“
“Don’t go, please…” he pleaded in a whimpering tone she had never heard of.
Letting out a deep sigh, you tenderly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay, let me make a call and inform my sister,” you suggested, awaiting his response. However, he clung to you, not letting you go. “Ken, let go so I can get my phone,” you gently urged, hoping he would release his grip.
Shaking his head, his hand began searching for his phone on the desk and handed it to you. “Just use mine,” he muttered, offering a solution without letting you go.
.
You found it difficult to fall asleep because Kenma’s weight felt like an anchor, making you hesitant to move for fear of disturbing him once he drifted off to sleep. You were familiar with Kenma’s affectionate hold in bed, but the way he clung to you at that moment felt different. It seemed as though he was afraid that you would slip away once he entered a deep slumber. His weight on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder with his breath tickling your cheek and neck. He had one arm pillowing your head with the other wrapped around your waist and your legs entangled together.  
After assuring your sister you’re okay and will follow up with her, you force Kenma to turn off his computer and sleep.
He shook his head like an exhausted puppy, “only if you sleep with me.”
It’s been an hour, and you can still feel his grip on your shirt readjusting from time to time, letting you know he wasn’t in a deep slumber yet.
His fingers kept twitching and you finally exhaled and whispered, “just do it, it’s fine…”
You should have known when he stripped down to just his boxer briefs, that he was considerate enough to leave just that much of clothing on. Kenma always slept naked.
Kenma was sensitive, when he felt his privilege had been taken away from him, he needed reassurance upon receiving it again.  
He doesn’t hesitate to turn you on his side and swiftly, any lower garments you had on are gone and Kenma is behind you.
“Lift your leg for me,” he whispers huskily.
When you lift your leg, he slips his semi-hard cock into your hot and ready pussy. Your body misses him just as much as he misses you. Relaxing your leg you let out a breath, “now, sleep.”
He let out a shaky breath that sounded much like a low groan. “Okay,” he whispered, voice clearly satisfied.
You don’t feel him truly relaxed and asleep until his hand slips inside your shirt, skims against your tummy until his palm is against one of your tits, giving it a gentle squeeze. His even breath calms you at last and lulls you to sleep.
.
You wake up two hours later in the same position, Kenma is behind you and still inside you.
He was deeply asleep and you gently pry his hand away from your chest before slowly easing his cock out of you. It was no shock to you when you felt a gush of sticky fluid release and you quickly squeezed your thighs close. Kenma had no problem ejaculating in his sleep. You have woken up to him, thinking he was awake due to his hips moving only to discover after he’s cummed, he was thrusting in his sleep.
“Don’t go…”
Looking over your shoulder, Kenma was barely awake, only enough to sense you moving.
“Keep sleeping,” you whisper, pulling the comforters over his shoulder.
He locked his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your back. “No, don’t leave me.”
Frustratedly you snapped, “I’m not leaving – Christ… just…” you exhale, “just sleep, I’m just going to be in the living room.”
Incredibly stubborn, he shook his head, tightening his hold on you.
“Let me go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you assured, tapping his hand that’s locked around your waist. You felt a huff of breath against your back before his grip loosened and you were free.
.
You wiped the residue smeared between your thighs and cleaned yourself before walking out. You nearly swore under your breath when you swung open the door and Kenma was leaning against the doorway, still naked.
“Done?”
You blinked, “uh – yeah…”
Without a word, he reached for your wrist and tugged you along back to his bed. “Get in, please.”
You followed his command and crawled into his bed again. He followed and spooned you from behind.
“I’m sorry.” Kenma must have felt your tensed body. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, I am aware of my behavior and how it affects you and I will change. I’ll talk out our problems, stop ignoring them.” He turns you around so he can see your face and tilts your chin until you stare into his eyes. “Forgive me, please?”
You nodded, “I forgive you.” You lean to press a kiss to his lips. “There’s no next time.”
You’re pulled into his arms as he confirms, “yes, there’s no next time, I’ll make sure of it.” He leans back to smile at you before kissing you again.
You’re rolled onto your back and knew where it was going. Your legs widen to allow him in between your legs. His cock was already pressed and rubbing against your pussy. “Please,” you begged.
He slips inside you and Kenma keeps a steady pace. He leans over you, supporting his weight on his left elbow right, “I can’t live without you, Y/n. You are the air I breathe, my life…” His right hand pushes your shirt up to expose your tits and groped one mound, tweaking your perky nipple. “I don’t ever want to be without you again…”
Your hands are placed on his waist, urging him to thrust deeper into you. “Me too, Ken… I missed you… fuck – ah… more… harder, Ken…”
Slow yet deep thrusts have you seeing stars. “Need you… need you…”
His chest is pressed against yours as he grunts into your ear. “Me too… always…”
The room is filled with skin slapping skin and the creaking of his bed.
You moan his name, belly tightening and your pussy fluttering around his cock. Kenma’s cock jerks inside you before following with ejaculation. You feel each spurt leaving his cock, shooting at your womb.
Kenma shifts you, rolling you both around while still intimately connected. You lie above him and straddle his body. “This is great makeup sex.”
Running a hand through his hair, he smiles, “agree. Again?”
. . .
E/n: I watched the Garbage Dump movie a few weeks ago and loved it!
>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy
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lovecla · 25 days ago
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TAKE IT EASY (OTHERWISE I’M LEAVING) | connor bedard.
© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, single chapter:
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ᡣ𐭩 — pair: connor bedard x fmc (olivia)
ᡣ𐭩 — synopsis: in which connor bedard’s girlfiend, olivia, is tired of seeing her boyfriend destroy himself every single day.
ᡣ𐭩 — word count: 3.1k
ᡣ𐭩 — chapter warnings: inspired by the song “you” by chase atlantic, angst, hurt with a dash of comfort.
ᡣ𐭩 — from me to you: the second chase atlantic released this album i knew i had to write something inspired by it. i missed writing for bedsy and since he’s our golden, hardworking boy, i thought this was very fitting. hope u like it 🤍
ᯓᡣ𐭩
but you've been diggin' up the truth
haven't slept in like four nights now
blame it on substance abuse
out in the deep end, i'm swimmin', i'm swimmin' again
YOU WOKE up startled with the loud bang coming from somewhere inside your apartment, your whole body jumping and your heart starting to race inside your chest.
Now, almost fully awake, you stare at the clock sitting on your bedside table, reading the time. 4:13 a.m., and when you pat the other side of the bed, where your boyfriend of two years should be laying, you frown as you find it empty and lukewarm to the touch.
“Connor?” You whisper, scared to wake him up unnecessarily, even if you knew he wasn’t lying with you in bed. Again.
You get up, the fabric of his old Blackhawks sweater heating up your skin, as you put on your slippers and leave the bedroom, noticing traces of Connor’s absence here and there— his slippers aren’t by his side of the bed, his duffel bag isn’t on the hallway like it usually is, his water bottle isn’t on the couch like he had left it last night, when you both went no sleep at one in the morning.
So that’s why you don’t understand what he’s doing by the front door, ready to leave, even if he had only slept for three hours.
“Connor?” You call again, watching as his blue eyes look at you, surprise and guilt decorating his expression like a famous painting hanging on the Louvre’s wall. “What are you doing?”
Your voice is still soft, and despite the scare, your eyes can barely stay open. You’re tired, tonight was the first night you had allowed yourself to sleep freely since now you were done with your exams. And you were happy because you managed to convince Connor to come home earlier, at eleven instead of midnight, just so you could spend some time together, like you used to do when you started dating.
“Liv, hey,” he whispers, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
That’s when you realize what he’s doing. The bag, the stick on his hand, the outfit. He’s—
“Are you serious right now?” You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. “You’re going to the rink? At four in the morning?”
“Baby, you know I need to,” he tries to sound convincing and if it wasn’t for the fact that this is probably the hundredth time he’s done this, you would’ve actually believed him. “We have a game coming up and—”
“Yes, I am well aware of that, Connor. But you went to sleep at one. Two nights ago, you also went to sleep at one and woke up at five. And the night before, and the night before that too.”
You don’t try to hide your feelings anymore. You want him to know you’re upset, and you want him to know that this, whatever the hell he’s doing, isn’t okay.
“I know, baby, but you know I have to keep practicing so I can help the guys.” He’s now facing you, his body visibly tense.
“That doesn’t even make sense, Connor, what the hell. There are other twenty fucking people in your team, you’re not the only player there. It’s not your responsibility only!” You cover your face with your hands, truly upset.
“Liv,” he calls your name, and it hurts to even hear it, because his voice is so full of guilt and shame. It makes you feel sick. “You’re not being reasonable right now. This is the NHL. You know how hard I’ve worked for this. There are people counting on me.”
“And I’m not one of them?” You whisper, making eye contact again, only to realize you’re not strong enough to have this conversation at four in the morning.
“Liv—”
“It’s fine, Connor. Go to practice.” You sigh, making your way back to the bedroom, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks.
ᯓᡣ𐭩
you said, "take it easy, otherwise i'm leaving
yeah, i don't wanna stay and watch you die",
ᯓᡣ𐭩
CONNOR HAD an injury.
His jaw had been fractured, and he had to go to surgery to fix it. You were in the arena watching the game with Connor’s sister when it happened, and you had never been so scared.
You know Hockey is about hitting people as much as it is about playing and winning, but you won’t lie and say your heart doesn’t hurt inside your chest whenever you see Connor getting hurt on the ice.
And you aren’t dumb. You know that some players will purposefully hurt him just because he’s good. And even if people aren’t one hundred percent sure that that is what happened that night, you still remember the terrible feeling of losing when you were in the ambulance with Connor to the hospital, trying your hardest not to cry in front of anyone because you know what they would say.
She’s not tough enough to date a NHL player.
But you believed yourself to be tough. The only problem with all of this is that you knew Bedard would never take great care of himself, meaning that you’d have to be with him twenty-four-seven, which wouldn’t be a problem, if only he accepted your help.
Now, four weeks after the surgery, you’re inside the United Center, the Blackhawks arena in Chicago, stomping your feet as you walk towards the rink, the sound of your steps being muffled by Connor’s constant skating.
“Connor.”
You have to call him a few times so that he can finally get out of his head and look at you; once again, those blameworthy eyes looking down at you, as he skates closer to the benches where you were standing.
“Liv.”
“What do you think you’re doing, Connor?” You snap. “You’re supposed to be resting. You’re definitely not supposed to be on the ice.”
“I know, but my jaw is just fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He removes his helmet, running his gloved hand through his hair.
“It didn’t seem like it was fine last night when you had to swallow a bunch of pain pills because it was hurting. Connor, don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You can feel your face heating up, and you’re trying so hard to keep your shit together but— “You have to allow your body to rest. If you keep up with this, you won’t get better—”
“That’s not an option, Liv, and you know it,” he hissed back, now looking more distressed than guilty. “This is my life. And I did allow myself to rest, I spent four weeks doing absolutely nothing, just like the doctor asked me to.”
“He said six to eight weeks, Connor,” you sigh, tired, not actually believing you’re having this conversation with him. “Please. Just think about how I feel when I know you’re not well enough to be here yet you still are.”
He pressed his lips together, placing his stick on the floor next to him and moving his helmet around his hands.
“Liv, you know I love you but this— Hockey is what I am. It’s what I do. You have to understand—”
“And I have done nothing but understand you!” You shout, finally losing your cool and snapping at him, your loud voice echoing through the empty arena’s walls. Connor takes a step back, but now you’ve already started and you won’t can’t stop. “Ever since we met, I have been nothing but understanding. I stood by your side at all times, even when what you were doing wasn’t healthy for you!”
“Olivia—”
“I went to sleep alone and cried more nights than you could ever imagine,” your voice cracks, and your stubborn tears are already rolling down your face. “I still supported you no matter what. I cooked your meals, I packed your bags, I went to those ridiculous gala dinners and I did it all with pleasure because I love you and you’re supposed to do these types of things for the people you love!”
“Baby—”
“So you don’t get to stand in front of me and ask me to understand how badly you treat yourself and how you don’t care about anything else besides Hockey when I gave up everything to be with you!” You try to wipe your face, stepping back when Connor tries to reach you. He frowns when you flinch. “I gave up my freedom because I wanted to be with you and God knows I’d do it all over again because I fucking love you.”
“Baby, I know all of this and I’m grateful, I really am but—”
You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head. “There’s always a but with you.”
“Hockey is important to me, baby.”
“And I am not.”
The silence after your words is cruel, and it tears you apart, scratching your skin and making your insides hurt. His blue eyes, your favorite color to ever exist, are also filled with tears and you hate to see it. You hate to feel bad about saying these things.
The thing about loving someone is that the thread between giving up yourself for them and giving yourself to them is really thin.
You love Connor Bedard. Have loved him for years now. He makes you happy, he listens to you, he’s your best friend.
“You know that’s not true, Liv,” he gets closer, the sound of his skates hitting the ice making you want to puke. “You know you’re more important to me than any of this. You know I love you.”
“No, Connor, I don’t,” you whisper, smiling even when all you feel is pain. “I can’t do this. I won’t watch you d-destroy yourself and not do anything.”
He removes his gloves quickly and grabs your wrist, cold fingers holding your arm down. “Olivia, wait.”
“No,” You shake your head. “I need time. Sorry.”
You don’t look at his face as you leave the arena, and you certainly don’t listen to his voice shouting your name, over and over again.
ᯓᡣ𐭩
i don't know what to do
i’m stuck in a loop, stuck in a loop
ᯓᡣ𐭩
HE WATCHES you talking to the children from afar.
You’re sitting on the floor, and it’s so obvious you’re better different from everyone else at the party. The children surround you like you’re their favorite princess or superhero, all of them wanting a little bit of your attention.
Connor feels like he should be offended, since those kids were there to see his team in the first place. It was some kind of reunion Foligno arranged with the media team, inviting some of his son’s friends and some other children with less opportunities.
But he isn’t. First of all, he’s thankful because if it weren’t for your charm, he would be the one having to deal with the children, something he wasn’t very fond of. Sure, he likes kids and he’s happy they like him, but if he could avoid social interactions, he would.
Besides that, watching you happy is something that he had missed, and he feels like shit for it. He knows he hasn’t been a good boyfriend, and he knows he should do better. Ever since that one night at the rink, you haven’t been the same.
But if he thinks about it too much, he realizes that you haven’t been yourself for a long time now.
And it hurts.
It hurts because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, the very first girl he fell in love with, but he also loves Hockey. As a young player in the NHL, he feels like he constantly needs to prove himself to others, and since people give him so much attention, he needs to keep on being a good player.
He doesn’t know how to balance things, how not to spend hours and hours without end on the ice, muting all of his doubts and worries while he keeps throwing the puck in the net.
You smile at a little boy who’s now handing you a flower, and Connor smiles as he watches you ask the little boy to put it on your hair, laughing when the other kids stop their babbling to clap at your newest look.
You make eye contact with him, and he feels himself getting devastated when he notices that the shine in your eyes lessened a little when you looked at him.
ᯓᡣ𐭩
(why do you hate me?)
i could never hate you, despite the words that you've been sayin'
i’ve been having breakthroughs
and hoping you were proud, just maybe
anxiety drives me insane, and my newest addiction is pain
i know i said it was a ‘phase’
five years later, still stuck in my brain
ᯓᡣ𐭩
CLOSING THE front door with a sigh, you let your first sob out. The tears won’t stop, and you don’t bother to wipe them, it would be pointless.
All you want to do is slide down to the floor and stay there, letting the hardwood hurt your back and get you dirty, but you can’t. Your car decided to break in the middle of the road on your way back from college, and you had to walk until you found the nearest telephone to call your insurance company, which would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the terrible storm going on, the water drops penetrating your thin shirt like you weren’t even wearing anything in the first place.
It’s just one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong, but you’re already so fed up with life lately that this all seems too much.
“Liv? What happened, baby?”
You lift your head up faster than you should've, because now you can see tiny, black dots floating around in your vision. You weren’t expecting to see Connor at your house, much less wearing the apron you gave him when he prepared his first dish by himself two years ago— a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Connor,” you whisper, not looking him in the eye. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I texted you,” he says, removing the apron that read “cook it yourself, cunt”. “What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”
You don’t say anything, mostly because you’re certain that if you let one little word slip past your lips you’ll start crying uncontrollably once again, so you just shake your head and leave your things on the floor beside you, walking past him so you could get to your room.
He’s quick to follow, though, watching as you remove your wet clothes and get in the shower, both of you silent and lost in your own thoughts.
Not talking to Connor about your feelings feels weird, but you can’t help but feel like you’re holding him back. It’s sickening, because all you want is to stay with him and be happy, but sometimes loving is also letting go.
You get out of the shower, feeling the tears coming back when you spot the change of clothes Connor left for you on top of the toilet lid— his shirt, his pants, your favorite panties.
He knows you too well. He knows who you are as a person and he knows who you want to become. He knows your fears and your ambitions, he knows your dreams and hopes. He knows what you stand for and what you absolutely despise.
He knows you.
You change, and leave the bathroom quickly, wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep for days.
“Some lady from your insurance company just called, saying your car will be ready next week,” Connor says, and only then you noticed he’d been standing next to your wardrobe the entire time, crossed arms in front of his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your car was broken?”
You shrug. “I knew you were at practice. Didn’t want to bother you.”
“So you walked home? In the rain?” You can tell by his tone that he’s upset, but there’s nothing much you can do.
“I mean, what did you want me to do?” You scoff. “My phone died and I had no cash on me. And honestly, we both know that you would never leave the ice for something like this.”
“Liv, you know that’s not true,” he whispers, getting closer to you. “You know that I’d leave at any moment if I even knew you needed me.”
“Whatever,” you mumble before reaching for your phone in your bag, the device thankfully still dry, and put it to charge, removing the hundreds of pillows you have on top of your bed and throwing them on the carpet floor, already visualizing the amazing sleep you’d have.
“What are you doing?” You feel his hands on your back, his body closer to yours than it’s been in a while. “You haven’t had dinner yet. I cooked…”
His sad tone makes you break again, and you hate yourself for it. But you still love him so much, and it hurts to see what you’ve become.
“Liv, please, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, turning you around and wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’ll fix it, I promise. Just tell me what’s wrong, baby.”
“Can you fix us?” You whisper, resting your head against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. He smells like home and the winter. “Can you fix what we’ve become?”
He’s quiet for a while, long fingers caressing your hair, like he used to do back when you had started dating.
“I’m trying, I swear I am,” he whispers back, and you can finally hear genuineness in his voice. “You’re everything to me, baby, and I won’t lose you.”
“I’m not asking you to give up on Hockey,” you explain, watching as your tears stain his shirt. “I’m just asking you to take care of yourself. Connor, I need you to take care of yourself.”
“I know, baby, and I’m sorry,” he kisses your cheek, the first time his lips touch you in more than two weeks. “I’m so sorry.”
You listen to his heartbeat and sigh, choosing not to say anything. You know the only way you can find out if he’s being genuine or not is with time, because only it will tell if you’re fixable or not.
But as you let yourself sleep close to his body that night, losing yourself between the sheets and his arms, you can finally breathe again.
Because he said he’ll try, and Connor Bedard always tries his hardest with everything.
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alisonwritesimagines · 7 months ago
Text
Insecure ~Bruce Wayne Imagine~
Summary: During a charity event, you see Bruce talk to Selina Kyle which makes you feel insecure.
Author’s Note: I had to leave work early today which I'm upset about.
BatFamily Masterlist
Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: feeling insecure, mentions of infidelity
Do not repost this anywhere!
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All the galas and charity events were the same but you knew you had to make an appearance every once in a while to help maintain Bruce’s identity a secret. And it helps when you bring one or a few of your children along to also maintain the identity a secret.
“I’m gonna go get us a couple drinks,” Bruce tells you.
“Don’t take too long,” you tell him.
“Trust me. I won’t. I rather be with you instead of talking about business with other people,” Bruce said before giving you a quick kiss.
You engaged in some small talk with others until you noticed something across the room.
Your smile had turned into a frown as you watched Selina flirt with your husband. But it wasn’t her that you were upset about. It was the fact your husband didn’t do anything to stop it. He stood there as he let her take the champagne glass from his hand that was meant to be yours, and drink it.
“You okay mom?” Cassandra asked you. You looked at her with a small smile.
“Yes. Just tired. I think I’m gonna go home early,” you tell her.
“Are you sure?” Cassandra asked. Her eyes looked over to see Selina with Bruce. “Mom, you know he loves you more than anything and anyone.”
“I know. But after what happened before, it’s just a little triggering,” you explain before walking towards the exit.
“Mom?”
“Stay with Bruce. I’m gonna go,” you tell her. Cassandra quickly pushed through the crowd to get to Bruce.
“Bruce! Mom is leaving,” Cassandra quickly told Bruce as she got close enough to him. Bruce stopped his conversation with Selina and looked at Cassandra with a confused look.
“Where is she?” Bruce asked quickly as he looked around for you.
“Outside,” Cassandra told him. Bruce rushed out quickly to find you.
He stopped as he watched you get into the car before it drove off.
Bruce and Cassandra quickly went home the moment you left. Bruce found you lying in bed in your dress, sobbing from what you saw.
“Y/n? What happened?” Bruce asked as he walked over towards you. He sat on the bed and placed a hand on your shoulder.
“It’s nothing. Why are you home early?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Bruce said. You sat up from the bed and wiped some of your tears away. Bruce pulled you onto his lap so he could hold you.
“Bruce, I want you to be honest with me,” you tell him.
“Of course.”
“Do you still love Selina?” You asked him.
“No. How could you say that?” Bruce asked you without any hesitation.
“I saw you two tonight,” you explained to him. Bruce’s face softened.
“Oh. I apologize if I made it look like I was still into her. The truth is, I don’t love her. Not anymore. I have you in my life and I never want to lose you,” Bruce said as he gave you a kiss.
“Bruce, I’m sorry if this makes me look insecure-“
“No. It doesn’t. It is my fault that you even feel insecure. Your my wife and I should be treating you the proper way I should be treating you,” Bruce tells you before kissing you once again. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Bruce.”
“Why don’t you and I renew our vows together? I think it’s a little overdue don’t you think?” Bruce asked you.
“I’d like that,” you smile and nodded.
——
“Looking good, Bruce,” Dick told him as he patted his back.
“How’s your mom doing?” Bruce asked him.
“She looks great too. The girls are helping her finish getting ready,” Dick tells him.
“Ready whenever you guys are,” Jason told the two as he and Tim walked in.
“The guests are all seated,” Tim mentioned.
“Is your mother ready?” Bruce asked.
“She’s ready!” Cassandra told him as she walked inside.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” Bruce tells the kids.
Bruce waited under the gazebo where you both agreed to meet before you both headed in to renew your vows. He felt a tap on his shoulder making him turn to look over at you.
“You’re as beautiful as the day I met you,” Bruce tells you in awe.
You stood in a gorgeous midi, lace, white dress with white matching heels. Bruce wrapped his arms around your waist. He leaned down a little but you stopped him before he could kiss you.
“The girls worked hard on this makeup. They’re gonna be upset with you ruining it,” you tell him.
“Okay fine.”
“Mom! Bruce! Let’s get a couple pictures of you two and then let’s go in!” Tim says.
After the pictures you both headed over to the dining hall where everyone who was close to the two of you were seated at the tables.
Bruce took a microphone and grabbed everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to first thank everyone for being here with us. Y/n and I really appreciate everyone here and we’re glad you are all able to make it to our vow renewal ceremony. I want to say that this woman here, is one of the strongest women I have ever met. She has dealt with me for so long and I am truly grateful for her love and support. I don’t deserve a woman like her and I’m so thankful and blessed to have her in my life. And I hope to have her for as long as we both shall live,” Bruce says. You smile up at him as he leaned down to give you a quick kiss.
“So I want to say, Y/n Wayne, I vow to continue to love you until time disappears. I vow to be truthful to you and to be honest with you no matter what. Even if the kids beg me to hide their shenanigans from you,” you laughed a little at that. The kids laughed as well before hiding their faces from their embarrassment. “And I vow to always be on your side. No matter what. I will forever chose you.”
Your eyes teared a little as you stood up to kissed Bruce.
“And I vow to continue to love you forever. I vow to continue to be there for you and never give up on you, the kids, or us. And lastly, I vow to continue to be the best wife you can have,” you tell him.
Bruce smiled at you and kissed you once more.
The party was similar to your reception. Everyone danced and partied but now that you had kids (with two who were of drinking age) the party was more memorable.
“We’ll take care of everyone. You two go sneak off to your honeymoon redo,” Diana tells you two as she and Clark walked you and Bruce out.
Bruce had talked to the Justice League and his family about taking you out to Europe for some alone time together after the party. Now that it had began to die down, it was a perfect time for you two to go.
“Are you sure?” You asked.
“We have Alfred here as well for anything. You two enjoy yourselves,” Diana tells you.
“We’ll see you two back soon,” you say before giving them a hug each.
“Have fun!” Clark smiled as Bruce carried you to the car.
“You ready for some alone time, Mrs. Wayne?” Bruce asked you as you two got into the car.
“You bet I am Mr. Wayne,” you giggled before pulling Bruce into a kiss
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nymphomatique · 1 year ago
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power play with miguel 🫣
OH EM GEE,,,,, yes but like not in the way u think. i’m envisioning a college au with loser boy nerd miguel (bc sub miguel supremacy🗣️) and reader where she makes him do her homework and out of pity let’s him fuck her hand in return 🤭
word vomit incoming omg wait
“o-oh my god, thank you s’much. thank you thank you thank you,” you hear miguel whimper as thrusts quite erratically in your hand.
“yeah, uh-uh,” you respond flat, scrolling on your phone with your unoccupied hand. “just make sure my cal homework is gone by friday. you’re taking way long today.”
this thing between you and your classmate has been going on for a semester already. you saw him, curly brown hair, squared black frames sitting atop his long and sharp nose, horrible posture and good grades, above all else.
you pranced around him in a tight mini skirt and high heels for weeks until you just so happened to ask him to do an assignment for you, because i just don’t have any time to myself anymore, and i’m so tired these days. and you’re smart aren’t you, miguel?
maybe you let it slip that if he objected, your mother, who just so happened to be on the board of education for your school district, might hear about his coming onto a classmate inappropriately, and we wouldn’t want that now would we?
that brings you to now, miguel and you both sitting on your bed, him having been fucking your hand for the past fifteen minutes.
“i c-can’t.. not until you tell me to finish..” he whimpers. you roll your eyes and throw your phone next to you on your dorm bed. you lean over towards miguel’s crotch and look up at him, flippant expression on your face.
“you’re gonna cum in my mouth, and you’re going to do it in the next minute. got it?” with that you begin to jerk him off and wrap your lips around his tip while maintaining eye contact.
“oh my fucking g-god, i’m gonna- ah!” and with that he spurts in your mouth, his load covering your tongue. miguel leans back on his hands spent and you pick back up your phone like nothing had just happened.
“time for you to go. just send me my answers by email, you know the usual by now.” you say to him haphazardly, scrolling through your contacts to find your best friend.
“oh.. can w-”
“hey, tiff! i’m freed up tonight, got my homework done fast so we’re on for the party.” you’re ignoring him now, and he decides to redress and make his way to exit your dorm. although it seems you’re paying enough attention to slam your room door in his face.
staring at your pink decorated dorm door, miguel can’t help but blush at the thought of you.
do we want a full fic? 🤭
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wolverigrl · 2 months ago
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Request for Hugh story.
The reader gets a little jealous when Hugh has to spend some time with his ex wife and kids, so to show his girlfriend just how much he loves her. Hugh makes her romantic dinner just for them.
Jelousy
Hugh Jackman x reader
!A/N! I hope you like this requested story! <3
Warnings: jealousy, cheesy, nothing more!
Enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------
It had been a year and a half since Hugh and I had started dating. The first year had been incredible - dream-like, really. But things had changed. It started slowly, creeping in like an unwanted shadow. His work, the endless promotion for his new movie, had taken over our lives. We barely saw each other anymore. And when he wasn’t jetting across the globe for press junkets, he was here in New York - spending time with his ex-wife and their kids.
I knew it was important for him to be there for them, to maintain that family bond. And I understood that. I tried to understand it. But lately, it felt like I was always waiting. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for some kind of sign that I still mattered.
And today? Today was the final straw.
I had seen the photos online—Hugh and Deborra-Lee with their kids, laughing, looking so perfect together. Like nothing had ever changed between them. It wasn’t rational, I knew that. He had been married to her for years, and they shared a lot of history. But no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the jealousy kept bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over.
So when Hugh finally walked through the door that evening, his face lit up with a tired but warm smile, I couldn’t hold back anymore.
"Had a good day?" I asked, my tone far too sharp for what was supposed to be a casual question.
He dropped his keys on the counter and looked at me, confused by the edge in my voice. "Yeah... spent the day with the kids. It was nice. What about you?"
"Great." I replied, unable to mask the bitterness. "Saw the pictures. You all looked... happy."
Hugh's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Of course, we were happy. I was spending time with the kids- "
"And your ex-wife." I cut him off, my arms crossing defensively. "You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?"
He stared at me, his confusion deepening. "Y/n, she's the mother of my kids. We’re not together, you know that. You have nothing to worry about."
"I don’t?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Because it feels like I’m the last thing on your mind these days. I’m starting to forget what it’s like to even have you around."
Hugh stepped toward me, his voice soft but firm. "That’s not fair, y/n. You know how crazy things have been with the movie, and I’m trying to be there for the kids. It’s complicated."
"Yeah, it is complicated!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. I could feel the words tumbling out of me, unstoppable now. "I would never ask you to choose between me and them, Hugh, but I’m not asking for much. I just want to feel like I matter too."
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated but trying to stay calm. "You do matter. You know you do."
"Do I?" I shot back, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to stay composed. "Because lately, it feels like I’m just here. Waiting for you to remember I exist!"
Hugh’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "Love, come on... it’s not like that."
But I couldn’t listen anymore. The flood of emotions was too much, and I needed space. "I need to get out of here." I muttered, grabbing my coat and heading for the door.
"Y/n, wait!" Hugh called after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I just needed air, space - anything to clear my head. The door clicked shut behind me, and I found myself walking aimlessly through the streets of New York, my emotions swirling in my chest like a storm.
The crisp night air hit my face as I wandered through the city. My mind raced as I replayed the argument over and over. Why had I let it get this far? Why hadn’t I talked to him sooner, before it all exploded like this? I knew he wasn’t intentionally pushing me away, but lately, it felt like I was invisible.
After an hour of walking and stewing in my own thoughts, I realized I needed to head back. I couldn’t avoid this forever. We needed to talk - really talk. And maybe I needed to apologize for being... well, dramatic. I sighed, turning back toward the apartment, my steps slower, more thoughtful.
When I finally reached the door, I took a deep breath, expecting tension. But as I stepped inside, I was met with something completely unexpected.
The lights were dim, and there was soft music playing in the background. I slipped off my shoes and walked towards the kitchen. The smell of something delicious - my favorite dish - wafted through the air. Candles flickered gently on the dining table, which had been set for two. The entire room felt warm and inviting, a strong contrast to the storm that had been brewing between us earlier.
I stood frozen in the corridor, blinking in disbelief. Hugh emerged from the kitchen, his eyes soft and apologetic as he wiped his hands on a towel.
"Hey." he said gently, his voice carrying a tenderness that tugged at my heart. "I, uh... I made dinner. I figured we could use some time, just the two of us."
I stared at him, the earlier frustration slowly melting away. "Hugh... you didn’t have to do all this."
"Yes, I did." he said, stepping closer. His eyes searched mine, and the sincerity in them made my chest tighten. "I’ve been so caught up in everything - work, the kids - that I forgot to make time for us. And that’s not okay. You’re right."
I bit my lip, guilt washing over me. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I just... I was feeling- "
"I know." he interrupted softly, his hands reaching out to gently hold mine. "And I get it. I should’ve been more present with you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter because you do, more than anything."
I swallowed hard, my heart swelling as I looked up at him. The anger, the jealousy - it all felt so small now. He had always been the man who showed up, who cared, even when life got overwhelming. And right now, he was standing here, showing me exactly how much I meant to him.
"I’m sorry." I whispered, my voice trembling as I squeezed his hands.
Hugh shook his head, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles gently. "I’m sorry too. I love you, y/n. I never want you to feel like you’re anything less than my priority."
The weight of his words settled over me, soothing the ache I’d been carrying for days. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension between us dissolve. "I love you too." I said softly, my heart swelling with the truth of it.
He smiled, that familiar, warm smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. "So... how about we start over? No more fighting. Just... dinner."
I nodded, smiling despite myself. "Yeah. I’d like that."
We sat down at the table, and the moment was so simple, so intimate. Hugh had made my favorite dish - pasta with that special sauce he always made when we had date nights at home. The food was incredible, but what made it even better was the way we kept stealing glances at each other, the quiet joy in the air as we ate.
By the time we were done, my heart felt lighter. We moved to the couch, and I leaned into him as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I could feel the warmth of his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.
"I missed this." I whispered, resting my head against him.
Hugh pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I missed you. I hate that I made you feel like I wasn’t here. I’ll do better, I promise."
I tilted my head up to look at him, my eyes meeting his. The tenderness in his gaze made my heart skip a beat. "You always show up when it matters, Hugh. I just... I need to know you’ll keep doing that."
"I will," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "You’re not an afterthought, Y/N. You’re my home."
Those words wrapped around me, filling the cracks that had formed over the past few weeks. I reached up, cupping his face as I kissed him softly, pouring every bit of love and gratitude I felt into that kiss.
When we pulled away, I couldn’t help but smile. "You really went all out, huh? Cooking, candles... the whole deal."
Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I figured you deserved a little romance after putting up with me."
I laughed softly, leaning in closer. "I think we both deserved it."
He tilted his head down, kissing the top of mine softly. "I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you. I know I’ve been distracted, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere."
My heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a promise. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I know." I whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. "And I love you. I just... needed to hear it."
He smiled, a lazy, boyish grin that made my stomach flutter. "Then I’ll make sure you hear it more often."
He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine, slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world just to kiss me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was full of everything - love, reassurance, and that deep, quiet connection we shared. When we finally pulled away, our foreheads rested against each other, and I could feel his breath against my lips.
We stayed wrapped up together on the couch, the warmth of his body melting away any lingering tension. His arm was draped protectively around my shoulders, pulling me close, while I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, grounding. Every time I shifted, he pulled me in just a little tighter, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch between us.
"You know." he murmured, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my arm, "I’ve missed this. Just being here with you. No noise, no schedules. Just... us."
I smiled into his chest, feeling the softness of his words settle over me like a warm blanket. "I’ve missed it too. More than I realized."
We sat there for a while longer, the quiet of the apartment settling around us. Hugh shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over us and tucking it in around my shoulders. He kissed my forehead again, lingering as though he couldn’t help himself.
"And you know." he whispered softly, his voice like velvet against the night air, "you’re my favorite part of everything. Of coming home, of my whole day. You’re it."
My heart melted. I snuggled deeper into his embrace, closing my eyes as I felt the warmth of his love surround me. "You’re my favorite too." I whispered back, feeling safe, cherished, and so completely loved.
We stayed that way, wrapped up in each other, letting the world fade away. No more jealousy, no more distance. Just us, together. And in that moment, everything felt perfect - like this was exactly where we were supposed to be.
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I'd appreciate feedback! <3
xoxo
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uplatterme · 2 years ago
Text
Sit Still, Look Pretty.
a/n: i don’t think the doll fetish is a joke anymore *cries*
cw: sub!albedo, dom!reader, amab!reader (gender-neutral terms and pronouns | dollification, mirror sex, slight feminization, orgasm delay/denial
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The alchemist stands there, observing his surroundings as he waits for you to get your things. Your room is like any other, quite simplistic besides the few paintings that decorated the walls, paintings that he’d given you as presents.
He’s been here multiple times and usually, everything remains the same. The stack of books on your desk, the mint flower you keep by the window, your sword which always rested laying on your chair.
Usually, is the keyword here.
Now, he finds himself gazing up on one of the shelves, where a doll sits elegantly on a tiny chair.
It’s oddly…human-like.
“I found last week’s reports that you were looking for.” You return to the room, the notebook in your hands.
He takes it from you and checks, it’s just what he needs.
And while he doesn’t really require anything else, his thoughts are captivated by the expensive-looking doll. So, he asks.
Your face turns into worry, although it soon is replaced by a gleeful smile. He wonders what the reason for this is.
“That, right.” He hears you chuckle.
“I happened to get it from a traveling merchant. It’s quite pretty, isn’t it?”
He feels as if there is something else you aren’t telling him.
“How much was it?” Albedo questions.
“Including the clothes? Well, it’s about…”
Once Albedo hears of the amount, he can’t help but furrow his eyebrows from your purchase.
He hears you laugh again, your eyes looking as bright as they can.
“Don’t you find them appealing, Albedo? Lifeless forms whose purpose is nothing but to sit pretty.”
“I suppose.” The alchemist answers.
He really doesn’t.
“I just think it’s neat. Having no other choice but to obey their owners, wear dresses whether they like it or not, pose in whichever way they’re directed to…” You describe freely, grabbing the doll and placing it in his hands.
“And you know what the best part of it is?” Albedo sees your face lighten up.
He maintains his expressionless face, even if he’s taken aback by how close your face is to him, gazing into your spellbinding eyes.
“What?”
“They do it all with a smile.”
Needless to say, Albedo’s thoughts had become occupied since then.
He tells himself that he shouldn’t bother with it this much. 
Your liking of dolls is just like any other hobby, isn’t it? It’s like how Lisa is with her books, obsessive when they aren’t handled properly or returned within the given time.
Still, he sighs. He does receive your tender touch from time to time, but there’s something else that Albedo wants…or needs.
“Which do you think suits her better?”
Albedo snaps out of his thinking to see you holding two dresses right in front of his face.
He absent-mindedly chose the one on the left, and you smile at his choice. 
“Cute.” You say.
He feels flustered despite knowing that the compliment wasn’t for him. It was for that doll.
The only thing he can do is watch you pamper it, brushing its hair and using those fingers of yours to undress it and change it into a new outfit. 
He sits there, an uncomfortable emotion in his chest as he hears you utter praises for something that doesn’t even move.
“I’m sorry, I must excuse myself.” Albedo stands up from his seat to leave, unable to bear your fondness for the doll.
He needs to do something.
The door to your house creaks in as you unlock it. You hum a tune, stretching your arms, a bit tired from today’s schedule.
You take off your coat, hanging it on the wall. You rethink if there’s something else you have to do before going to bed.
“Ah, my mint flower. I haven’t watered it yet.” You say out loud.
With the glass of water in your hand, you step into your bedroom.
“Archons, you scared me!” You sigh, seeing the alchemist sitting on your bed.
While he’s the only other person who has a key to your house, he’s never been the one to visit of his own accord.
You await his response.
The alchemist stays still and unresponsive, staring past you as if there’s something that you’re not seeing.
“Albedo? Are you alright?” You question the man again, only to receive nothing.
Worried, you come up closer to him.
His eyes looked empty and his breathing was…quiet. There’s nothing wrong with him physically. No signs of any injuries that may hinder his talking nor any sign of trauma to his head.
He looks perfect, actually. And now that you take a look closer, you can see pink powder dusting his cheeks.
Albedo has always been that way. Beauty and brains, truly a perfect mix
You direct his face to yours, wanting him to look at you as you speak.
Albedo hasn’t blinked throughout this whole ordeal.
You get a hold of his chin and bring his lips to yours, wondering if that’ll execute a reaction.
Unfortunately, no results are to be seen.
He doesn’t open his mouth when you kiss him, confusing you since he usually does.
It’s as if Albedo has no sentience. A lifeless being, somewhat similar to that of a statue that served no other use but to be stared at.
No. 
You deny your thoughts.
Surely, Albedo isn’t doing what you think he’s doing, right?
You trace your fingers on his thighs, its smoothness surprising you. Almost as if it were made from porcelain, you observe.
“Albedo, you cannot do this to me.” You scold him, each second passing by with him in this state is not good for your heart.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” You stare at him, wanting to see if he’ll say anything.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself if things get too far.” You admit, caressing his emotionless face.
Extraordinary.
“To think you would be that jealous of a doll. It’s adorable, my love.” It’s too good to be true, you think. Albedo presents himself as if he is one too, just so he can garner your attention.
He’s always been smart and reckless like this. He knows this will work. Now, to see how far this ambitiousness will push him…
“Well, a new doll needs a new outfit.” You say to him.
Albedo tenses up at your words.
This is proving to be much more difficult than he expected. Your lingering touch makes him want to buckle to his knees. The kiss on his lips, that led to the core in his chest tightening up.
Has he always been that soft? 
Only having a limited field of vision, he cannot see what you’re doing. But from what it sounded, you were likely looking for something to put him in.
“Ah! Here it is!” You bring the dress to his eyes and he immediately regrets playing this role. This is a bit…embarrassing.
“This was supposed to be a gift for Sucrose’s birthday, but I’m sure you’d do a better job modeling this than her.” You explain.
It was getting difficult to maintain his quiet breathing, especially when you ogled his body as you took off the clothes that he has now. He wants to tell you that you should look away, that he can do it in your stead.
However, he ignores it. He ignores the embarrassment and the warmth rushing up to his cheeks. 
“Your white underwear suits you, Albedo. Although, don’t dolls have no need for undergarments?”
Your voice sends a chill to his spine. He sits there helpless under your fingers, awaiting what you’ll do next to him.
“You’re so perfect, my doll.” Albedo bites back the need to whine.
“Should I set up a mirror so you can see?”
He stares at himself through the mirror, the fluffy dress reaching just above his knee. It’s not of Monstadt creation, that’s for sure. Perhaps it’s a dress from Fontaine?
“Do you like it?” He watches you brush his hair.
“You know, I’ve always been amazed at how gorgeous you are. To think I’m this lucky to own you…I’ll make sure to take good care of you, dear.”
Albedo wants to bury himself underground. He’s enjoying this more than he should be.
It’s strange. He doesn’t get why he’s enjoying this at all. Isn’t his sole purpose to be that of living as a human? Why would he succumb to regressing himself like this?
Your arms envelop his body, your hands traveling on top of the fabric. 
They’re warm.
Albedo seethes when he feels you tug his nipple. No talking, he has to remind himself, even if you fondle his body like this without warning.
His throat is itching for something, a word, or any kind of sound. He hasn’t said a single thing since he stepped into your abode. 
He can do it, he reassures himself.
“My doll isn’t giving up this early, no?” You whisper directly to his ears.
Your fingers slip under the dress and he’s forced to be reminded that you’d taken off his underwear earlier. No! If you touch there, he’ll surely—
“Hmm…” 
Panic settles on his face when the noise unconsciously slips out of him.
“Is my doll malfunctioning? That’s a shame. I thought you were perfect. Do I have to throw you out already?” 
No, no… He stresses.
Give him one more chance! He pleads in his head.
Your thumb rubs the slit of his tip, playing with the already oozing precum. His thighs slightly tremble and he’s begging you to not notice it. He can’t —It’s physically impossible for him to stay still!
Your fingers now move to his shaft, stroking his cock slowly and giving him the right pace that he needs.
Albedo’s mind is getting hazy. It feels so damn good, he’s this close to moaning loudly if not for the fear that he’ll disappoint you.
He bites the inside of his cheek, his eyelids shutting close every now and then.
Your pace hastens, each stroke getting rougher and faster. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold in his scream when he cums. 
“Mmgh–”
His breaths are getting heavier and deeper, his cock ready to burst at any second. 
And then he feels your grip tighten. 
You stop your movement, letting his worry go to waste. It’s painful, being stopped when you’re so close to reaching your high. Still, this is better. He can’t imagine what he would do if he actually did crumble beneath your hands.
Albedo shivers when he feels you touch his tip again, replicating the same movements you had done earlier. His thighs are sticky, the insides of the dress damp and warm. 
The alchemist breathes. Coming to a conclusion that he’ll make less of a noise this way. He hears the way it squelches with each stroke, the noise leaving him greatly humiliated.
His cock aches for a release, the emotionless facade that he wears slowly shattering as he gets closer to an orgasm.
He bit down on his lip, ready to contain the noise, when you immediately stopped. His cock twitching from being suddenly released from the friction.
This happens five more times.
Albedo can feel his sanity going away. He needs to cum. Let him, please. He’s been doing so well, hasn’t he?
His legs have stopped shaking, already used to the same torture that you keep putting him under.
He wants it already, impatient at how long he thinks you’ll keep doing this. Albedo wants it to be all over, he’ll do anything. He’ll suck you off with his mouth if you want, no matter if it ends up with him choking at the end.
How long will he have to bear this?
“You really don’t get it, do you?” You ask the worn-out alchemist.
“You’re already perfect, Albedo. But isn’t there something you’re forgetting?”
What?
“I’ve given you so many chances to guess, and yet you still won’t remember?”
Your fingers cup his chin, and his mind relishes at the fact that he could forget about the one thing you told him that you enjoyed the most.
“Smile for me, doll.”
Albedo’s a wreck as he gets his insides wrecked with your length. His body every now and then writhes as he lets you handle his body even if you push inside him so far that he can feel it inside his guts.
He’s not allowed to move. He’s a doll, he keeps repeating to himself.
The smile on his face looks whorish instead of being elegant. 
He doesn’t know whether it’s because of the mirror but seeing you penetrate him, his hole opening up graciously for you has the poor alchemist wanting to scream. But since he can’t, his emotions overwhelm him and tears start flowing down his cheeks.
Being used like this, as if he’s just some object to be thrown around sends a thrill in his head. Perhaps it’s because of the fact that he would have been, if things didn’t go his way. 
Albedo ejaculates on the bed, the dress sticky with his cum. 
You don’t stop, his walls being mercilessly pounded through, wanting to see how far his limit is until he finally begs of you to stop.
Well, you did warn him before, didn’t you?
His body is weightless in your arms, using his body as if it’s your personal sex doll, you grab him by the sides of his waist, thrusting and hitting his sensitive spot each time.
He loves it.
He’s yours and you have every right to decide what he can and cannot do.
He won’t mind.
Not at all.
2K notes · View notes
cozage · 1 year ago
Note
HELLO IVE BEEN WAITINT DOR THIS MOMENT CAN I REQUEST FOR LAW A ONE SHOT OF HIS SO BEING SICK N HES JUST SUPER WORRIED N SCARED FOR HER WELL-BEING AND NURTURES THEM BACK TO HEALTH THANJ YOU I LOVE TOU HAVW A GEWAT DAY/NIGHT TOODLES POOKIE PIE
A/N: Apparently I don’t know how to write short fics anymore. Here you are :) Word Count: 3k Characters: gn reader x Law CW: reader sickness, serious sickness, angstttttt (with fluff at the end. i'm not a monster)
Sickness
It took a sniffle for Law to finally see the signs. 
You were already asleep, sprawled out in the bed when it happened. You had been abnormally warm today, spending most of it in a tank top and shorts despite being in a winter ecosystem. When it was time for meals, you opted for ice cream over anything else. You hadn’t been very hungry, and that was the only thing you craved. The crew had made fun of you, but you hadn’t shot back any witty remarks like normal.
And then at bedtime, you had immediately pulled Law into bed when you both entered the room. Your cold feet pressed against his calves, causing him to hiss and jerk away from you. But you just gave a soft, sleepy giggle, wrapped your arms around him, and fell asleep almost immediately. He enjoyed your snuggles, but not even ten minutes later, you had pushed him away and kicked the blankets off, sprawling out in the bed in the little clothing you had on.
It’s not exactly where Law thought the evening was going. You had been so clingy over the past few hours, silently begging him to go to bed. He just thought the two of you were just playing a game of teasing, one that would end in a night of fun. 
And then you sniffled in your sleep and readjusted, groaning from the heat in the room. And Law realized what he had been missing all day. You were sick. How could he even call himself a doctor if he couldn’t see the obvious signs with you, the person he knew best? 
He needed to run a scan. He wasn’t sure how serious it was, and early intervention was always the best cure. He slowly, painstakingly, tried to get out of bed without disturbing you. 
“Law?” Your voice was thick with sleep, your eyes only opening a fraction of an inch. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he assured you. He bent down to kiss your forehead, but thought better of it. If it was contagious, he didn’t want to catch it. Instead, he put a hand to your face, and his breath caught in his throat. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you. Your skin was hot to the touch as he swept your matted hair away from your forehead. 
He was panicking now, but he gave you a tense smile. He had to maintain his composure. “Go back to sleep, alright?”
“I’m hot,” you whined, flipping over your pillow and pressing the cool silk fabric to your face. “I don’t feel so good.”
“I know,” he cooed, still brushing the hair out of your face. “Let’s get to the bottom of this, okay? See what’s going on.”
You gave a weak nod, too tired to do anything else. “Can we just do the exam here?”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. One arm slid under your back, the other slid behind your knees, and Law scooped you up in one swift, gentle motion. 
You laid your head against his chest, and he could feel the heat coming off your body in waves. He forced his heart to remain steady and unbothered, fully aware that you could hear it. 
Silently carrying you to the medical room, his mind raced through the options of what you could be sick with. It was likely a virus, which meant it would be difficult for him to remove. And viruses could change and multiply on a dime. You were already displaying signs of-
“Law.” Your groggy voice jarred him from his thoughts. “I’m fine. Stop panicking.”
He had been so focused on his heart, he hadn’t been paying attention to the rest of his body. His grip on you had gotten too tight, his pace was just short of sprinting, and his breath was shallow and rapid. 
“You should’ve told me,” he said, carefully maneuvering you through the examination room door. 
“I didn’t think it was a big deal. It’s just a cold.”
“It could be-”
“Don’t start spiraling,” you scolded, giving a light cough. “Just do your job.”
His eye twitched in irritation, but he wouldn’t say anything because you were sick. He knew you were right, of course. But he hated when you had to call him out like that. He placed you gently on the cool metal table, and you hummed in delight at the refreshing sensation against your skin. 
He grabbed his sword and ran a quick scan, trying to find the source of your sickness. 
A red icon appeared in your scan around your lungs. “Bronclima,” Law breathed. “A very rare parasitic virus that can be caught in winter islands. The virus can hibernate for hundreds of years, usually residing in old snow caves.”
You gave a weak laugh. “Like the snow cave we climbed down into yesterday, huh?”
“This isn’t funny!” Law snapped. He ran to his bookshelf, searching for any information about it. “Bronclima is extremely rare and…”
“Deadly?” you finished for him. You suddenly felt infinitely more tired. “Can’t you just take it out?”
“Parasitic viruses are tricky,” he mumbled, flipping through an old book. “You have to get it all or else your body just becomes more susceptible to them. It’s hard to use a room technique on viruses in general, but parasitic ones are alive and can move, which makes it almost impossible.”
“Antibiotics, then.”
“No.” Law’s teeth were grit together; you could tell he was only keeping it together so you wouldn’t break down in a panic. “Antibiotics only work on bacterial infections. Viruses just have to run their course.”
“The strong survive,” you hummed, closing your eyes. “The weak die. I see.”
“You’re not dying,” Law hissed. “Bronclima only likes the cold, so we're going to keep you hot and force this thing to die, okay?”
“I’m already so hot, though,” you whined, rolling over on the exam table. At least the metal helped you cool down.
“Good. Stay hot. Stay alive.” Law picked you back up, and you groaned at the sudden movement and absence of the cold surface. 
He carried you to the shower without a word and set you down inside it. You could feel the anxiety rising in him as he fiddled with the temperature gauge, and turned the shower on.
You cried out in pain as the hot water hit you, and your hands flew up to try and block as much of the water as you could. Your skin immediately started to turn red, welting as the water cascaded over you.
Law saw your reaction and quickly tested the water with his hand, but it was only lukewarm. He clenched his teeth and slowly turned the water hotter, adjusting the nozzle so the water was raining down directly on you.
“Law!” you shrieked, trying to get out of the way without moving. You couldn’t find the energy to crawl away from the water, even though your skin felt like it was burning off. Law watched you carefully, turning the water temperature up slowly. 
“Please,” you sobbed, curling up into a sitting fetal position. “Please stop. You’re going to kill me, Law.”
“Hey.” Law crouched down next to you and tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. Tears and scalding water streaked down your face and blurred your vision, but you could see the familiar outline of him. He had stripped down to only his boxers, and he pulled you into his lap and held you close to him as the water rained down on your both. He kissed the top of your head, trying his best to comfort you. “You’re strong. You can handle this, okay?”
You let out a sob in response, but you nodded into his inked chest. You had been through worse, though you couldn’t remember a specific time at the moment.
The two of you stayed there for a long time. You weren’t sure exactly how time was passing, so you counted how many times his fingers ran down your hair. It was 259 strokes before you finally passed out from exhaustion and pain. 
You woke up, now in a steaming hot tub, Law still holding you. You let out a soft whimper from the pain, and Law jolted up. 
“Sorry,” he mumbled, readjusting you slightly against him. “I must’ve dozed off.”
You gave another small nod, too tired to do anything else. 
“We need to get your entire body submerged,” Law said, his voice steely. “At least up to your shoulders.”
“Law, please-”
“I know.” His voice broke when he spoke. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose you, okay? So please keep fighting.”
You could hear the desperation in his voice. He was on the verge of tears, barely holding it together for you. 
You had to fight for him. You owed him that much, and so much more. He always had faith in you, he was always saving you. This was the least you could do. Clenching your teeth and bracing yourself, you completely submerged yourself in the scalding bathwater. 
The heat of the water took your breath away, and you clamped your hands over your mouth to prevent any more air from escaping. You felt like your skin was melting off, but you forced yourself to stay completely under. You’d stay under as long as you had to if it meant getting this wretched virus out of your system. 
Two strong hands grabbed your arms and pulled you back to the surface. Law’s golden eyes pierced into your soul, scanning your face for any signs of distress. 
“Let me go back under,” you begged between heavy breaths. 
He scowled. “So you can drown?!”
You pulled away from him and plunged back into the water. It still burned, but it wasn’t as hot as before. 
Law immediately pulled you back up, trying to get you to calm down. 
“Soup,” you gasped, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I need soup.”
“What has gotten into you? Where’d this energy come from?”
“I want to live. I want to be with you. I’m not being taken out by some stupid virus. So go get me soup!”
Law grabbed your face and went to kiss you, but you pushed him away. As much as you needed his lips as encouragement, you couldn’t have him getting sick too.
“Soup!” You pushed him out of the tub, and he ran out the door in his boxers. You could only hope nobody else on the ship was awake yet. You were certain that would cause a lot of questions between captain and crew. 
Alone in the tub, the water felt much warmer. You could feel yourself sweating, and you were starting to get nauseous. Your body felt like it was on fire, but you forced yourself to keep your body submerged. You desperately wanted to get out, just for a second. But you couldn’t. You refused to give this parasitic virus even a moment of rest. Law was right. You were not weak. 
He came back into the room with a bowl of soup, and your nausea increased just from seeing the steam rolling off of it. 
Bile rose up your throat and into your mouth at the smell of the hot dumplings. You leaned over the side of the tub. “Law, I think-” 
Law quickly put the bowl down and grabbed a trash can, his skilled fingers wrapping around your hair and holding it back just as you emptied your stomach into the bin.  
“It’s okay,” Law soothed. “You’re okay.”
Once you were finally done, he set the trash can aside and grabbed a rag to help you get cleaned up. “That’s a good sign,” he said, brushing your stringy hair away. 
You gave a light laugh. “How are you not completely disgusted with me right now? I’m a mess.”
“I could never be disgusted with you.” His voice was so caring and soft, you almost broke out in tears. 
“Soup,” you choked out, desperate to change the subject as tears welled in your eyes. You didn't want to be physically and emotionally vulnerable with him right now. One was enough for him to handle.
He gave you a small knowing smirk but didn’t say anything. Instead, he rested the soup bowl on the edge of the tub and climbed back in with you again. 
You reached for a bowl, but he intercepted your hands and pulled you into his chest instead. “Give yourself a moment to recuperate,” he said. “How’s the water feel?”
“Hot,” you groaned, but you nuzzled your head into his chest. “You’re a nice addition though.”
He trailed his finger up and down your spine, both of you laying against each other in silence. You could almost fall asleep like this if the water weren’t so uncomfortable. 
After a few minutes, he tapped lightly on your back. “Ready for the soup?”
“I’m probably going to barf again,” you warned. 
“I think I can handle it. I’m a doctor after all.”
You rolled your eyes, but picked up the bowl. It was so hot that you almost dropped it from shock, but Law grabbed your hands to steady it, and he nodded at you encouragingly.
The best course of action would probably be to drink the broth first, and then eat the dumplings. You pressed your lips to the rim of the bowl and inhaled. The steam burned your nostrils and the back of your throat. Every part of you was screaming in anguish, but you opened your mouth and tilted the bowl upwards. 
The broth flooded your senses- first with flavor, and then immediately with a burning sensation. You sputtered and choked from the pain, and Law pulled the bowl away from you as you coughed, attempting to clear your airway. You tried to settle yourself down, but you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. It was like you were choking and hyperventilating all at once. There was too much air, yet not enough. 
Law put the bowl of soup on the edge of the tub and began rubbing your back, trying to get you to calm down. You could see the panic in his eyes, despite his cool exterior. 
“What hurts?” He asked urgently. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” you said between coughs. “Just burns.”
After another few minutes, you finally calmed down enough to breathe without coughing. “Let’s try again,” you offered. 
“I hate being so useless,” Law said. “You’re working so hard and I can’t even do anything to help.”
“What are you talking about?” you scoffed. “You’re the only thing keeping me going. Every ounce of me wants to give up. And I would’ve if it weren’t for you.”
“That’s not what I-”
“Being a doctor is more than just operations, okay? You’re doing the best you can. Cut yourself some slack, Trafalgar Law.” The amount of energy you had to use just to form those words was making you a little dizzy, but you didn’t regret it. “Now give me that soup.”
It burned going down. You wanted to scream and cry and curse, but you didn’t. Even with tears streaming down your face, you drank the entire bowl. You could feel your stomach bubbling, trying to decide if it should reject the liquid again, but it stayed down. 
Law moved you to the shower again, and you let the hot water rush over your skin while he refilled the tub. The water from the showerhead still burned, but it was more like a tingling sensation now. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. You’d mention it to Law later; you didn’t want to inconvenience him with possible bad news at the moment. 
“Ready to move back to the tub?” he asked, poking his head into the shower. 
You gave a weak nod and pulled yourself to your feet. You began to take a step, but stumbled and fell. Law closed the gap between you in an instant, catching you and keeping you steady before you hit the ground. 
“You’re standing,” Law said, looking at you as if you had just performed a miracle. “You haven’t stood on your own since you got into bed last night.”
You gave him a smile. “Help me to the bath? I don’t think I’m quite ready to walk on my own.”
“You’re standing, though! Do you know how big of a deal this is?” You could hear the excitement in Law’s voice, which sparked your own joy. 
“Tell me.” You took a step towards the bath, your arm wrapped around Law for support. 
“You don’t understand,” Law said. “Bronclima takes your energy from you and you never get it back as long as it’s alive. If you’re regaining energy, then…” He helped you into the tub, afraid to say the last part. He was scared to hope for the best outcome. 
The water felt warm against your skin, but in an almost pleasant way now. You sat down and sunk into the water so that your entire body up to your shoulders was submerged once again. 
A blue hue emitted around the room, and Law ran another scan on your body and you closed your eyes and enjoyed the steamy atmosphere. 
“Clear,” Law mumbled. “It’s clear.” You could hear the scan being run again, and the soft positive beep of no issues being found. 
“Am I cured, doctor?” you hummed, your eyes still closed. 
“It’s gone,” Law whispered, hardly believing it himself. That virus had a 15% survival rate and usually lasted for days. And you beat it in less than 10 hours. 
“We can’t let this bathwater go to waste.” Your entire body suddenly felt very limp, worn out from what you had just put it through. “Come lay with me.”
“In the bath?” Law raised an eyebrow, but you held a hand out, beckoning him in. You knew he couldn’t say no to you after all you had been through. 
He gingerly stepped into the tub and rested his back against the wall of the tub. You felt his tattooed arms wrap around you and pull you up onto his chest. You rested on him, the water feeling much more inviting now than it had earlier. 
“This is nice,” you murmured, already starting to doze off to sleep.
“We can lay here as long as you want,” Law said. He held his composure until he was certain you were asleep, and then cried silent tears of relief until his eyes were red and puffy. He had been so close to losing you because of his negligence, and he vowed to never take you for granted again. 
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thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 months ago
Note
Your writing is very pretty and I’m amazed at all your stories! This one is a mixed bag of sad feelings, and hopeful wishes ahah but -
What if Donna and female reader have been in a relationship for some time now and are very comfortable together. But lately Donna has been putting in less effort in the relationship. Reader spoils Donna, does most of the cooking, makes time for Donna, tries to do all of the things Donna likes and whenever Donna wants something or feels Reader could do better Reader tries to be better because she loves Donna. This used to be an effort they were both doing, but lately it feels like Donna is withdrawn and isolating from Reader and barely even speaks to her no matter what Reader tries to do. They don’t even make love anymore or cuddle. Eventually Reader begins to get a bit used to this and a bit sad and withdrawn from feeling like she is the one maintaining their relationship. After an encounter with Alcina, in which something happens that shows Donna that Reader is desirable to other people, and someone else is willing to put in the effort to make Reader happy, Donna FINALLY sees what this isolating behavior has been doing to them and makes a tremendous effort to show Reader she cares. All of the romantic gestures (flowers, spoiling Reader, writing her love letters, all sorts of romantic things), and a tremendous effort to seduce Reader and make her swoon in Donna’s arms while Donna makes sure that Reader knows she is loved and belongs only with Donna.
Ending in a romantic, and smutty scene possibly with a G!P Donna if you’re comfortable with that.
Again, your writing is tremendous and I’m excited to read every new one you make!
- A very tired Reader
Yesssss!!!!! Thank you for your kind words, and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))))
A bucket of flowers
Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader
Warnings: G!P Donna, a bit of smut, Minors DNI, angst, fluff, Donna being Donna
Word count: 8,747
Summary: Who is sending you those beautiful flowers?
N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!
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It might seem like it was a night like any other and it certainly was, but for you no day was the same as the previous one, they were all different, endless opportunities and occasions to show her the love you felt.
“Oh, the fool made a cake, congratulations,” the Angie doll mocked, keeping you company in your long cooking sessions.
“It's not a cake, my friend, it's the cake, do you understand?” you asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow, decorating that culinary masterpiece.
“Oh… The cake…” the puppet murmured, staring at you while you checked that everything was perfect. “It doesn't seem special to me.”
“Well… You should know that it's Donna's favorite cake,” you said with a smile, taking off your apron, ready to enjoy what you always saw as a romantic dinner, a special occasion for the two of you.
“Ugh, there you go with your cheesy stuff again…” the doll protested, moving away from the cake, with a softer tone.
“I like to spoil Donna, is there a problem?” you asked amused, taking the cake and walking out of the kitchen, with the doll following you closely.
“I guess there isn’t,” Angie said, shrugging and comically moving ahead of you, almost making you trip.
Humming happily you went up the elevator, where the lady was waiting for you sitting at the table with that same serious expression, one that you had been struggling to change for a long time.
“Why did you take so long?” Donna asked as you approached slowly.
Normally those words didn't have that hoarse, listless tone, that horrible tone you hated and thought you would never hear again.
“I'm sorry, honey, I was just making this,” you said, ignoring her impatience and showing the cake to the woman in black, who glanced at it as you set it down on the table. “Do you like it?”
“Mm,” she murmured, nodding listlessly and starting to eat without waiting for you.
At first it was hard for you to get used to Donna's lack of manners, her apparent lack of interest in everything you did but... Little by little, you understood that it was your new routine.
“I followed your advice and I was very careful with the sugar,” you commented, sitting in front of her, who didn't even make an effort to look you in the eyes.
“Sure,” Donna murmured, serving you a glass of wine with a tired sigh.
“Yes... Uh... I hope, I hope you like the soup,” you said with a shy smile, seeing how she seemed to ignore every phrase you said, without stopping eating.
Her face sketched a brief smile, but long enough for your spirit to calm down and you began to eat too, observing every gesture the brunette made.
Dinner passed in silence, exchanging glances from time to time. They were indecipherable, confused and flat glances. Her bright eye said nothing, yours were always happy to coincide with it.
Your smile was indelible. It didn't matter the silence that for you became more and more uncomfortable. You knew that in front of you was the woman of your life.
“How did you spend your day? You haven't left the workshop today,” you commented distractedly, attracting Donna's attention.
“I had a lot of work,” she said in a whispery voice, barely paying attention to you.
“Oh, of course,” you said amused, playing with the spoon. “I'm not surprised,”
“Mm,” the lady murmured again, taking a sip of wine, making that she didn't feel like talking clear to you, something that was becoming more and more frequent.
“Yes, um...” you said confused, unable to get one of those eternal conversations, a smile that lasted longer, something from Donna that wasn't a tired sigh. “Do you have more orders than usual?”
“No,” she replied curtly, leaving the glass on the table and finishing her soup.
You smiled fakely nodding, feeling frustrated by these incipient slights.
“Oh, um, okay…” you sighed, deciding that maybe it would be better to remain silent.
“I've been very late, (Y/N), and it may have something to do with your insistence of wanting to go for a walk,” she said, with a soft but internally hard tone.
“Don't you like walking with me? The walk last week seemed very romantic to me,” you said, biting your lip and reaching out to take her hand, caressing it gently.
Luckily, that time she didn't push it away, in fact, reluctantly, she briefly returned your caress. Her face, once again, showed a tired smile.
“I like walking with you, but I'm neglecting my work,” Donna said, taking her hand away and sighing before getting up from the table. “I'm really tired today, (Y/N), I'm going to bed.”
“Wait, Donna,” you interrupted, getting up too and grabbing her wrist, turning the lady slowly. “The, the cake, aren't you going to try it?”
“Ugh,” she protested, frowning and rolling her eye. “Maybe tomorrow, put it in the fridge.”
“But Donna…” you said with sad eyes, comically pulling her hand. “I've spent three hours in the kitchen, I made it just for you…”
“I didn't ask you, (Y/N),” she said, shaking her head, looking at you in annoyance and taking her hand away from yours. “That you've spent three hours cooking it's not my problem.”
“Donna…” you sighed again, with an even sadder look. “But, but it's your favorite… I…” you stammered on the verge of sobbing, your eyes slowly filling with tears. “Donna…”
The lady in black sighed, gently caressing your face with a more relaxed expression, lifting your chin.
“Va bene, tesoro…” she finally said, approaching your lips and kissing them coldly, sitting back down. “Serve me a piece, but a small one.”
You smiled happily, jumping for joy and kissing her again repeatedly until her hands stopped you.
“Lasciami, lasciami, per favore,” the lady protested, waving her hands effusively while you walked away with shy giggles.
“A small piece…” you murmured as you cut the cake, serving her the exact amount she wanted and which she accepted with a tired look. “Come on, try it,” you said insistently, serving yourself another piece.
The lady tasted it reluctantly, savoring it and nodding slowly.
“How is it? Say something,” you said enthusiastically, checking for yourself that you had done a good job, significantly better than other times.
“It's very good, (Y/N),” Lady Beneviento commented, quickly devouring her piece and standing up again. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome…” you sighed with a loving smile. “But, but, is it sugary enough?”
“I said it's good,” Donna interrupted with a stern voice. “Why don't you pick this up?”
“But, I… Well, okay, okay,” you said, your smile fading little by little, your heart slightly hurt but at the same time resilient. “Then we could watch a movie and…”
“How many times do you want me to tell you? I'm very tired, I'm going to bed, you can do whatever you want,” Donna said, turning on her heels and leaving you alone and open-mouthed.
No matter how harsh her words were, you accepted them with a half- smile. Sighing, you began to clear the table and, unwillingly, you thought about what your life was like just a few months ago, how different it was.
Meeting Donna Beneviento was a coincidence, one of those coincidences that mark the path of your life. The youngest of the four Lords was also the most mysterious, the most dangerous.
You never cared about danger, or risks. You were a young girl, kind-hearted, what harm could do to talk to that woman in black, to help her when her doll got stuck in some bushes?
If you do good things, good things will happen to you, or so your family said. They weren't wrong at all. The best thing that ever happened to you in life was meeting her, learning to see the light in the darkness of her presence.
The whole village feared her, considered her a terrible and cruel monster. But none of that appeared in your feelings as you got a little closer, as you got to know her a little better.
Lady Beneviento was a sick woman, self-conscious about the deformity of her face, about what the gift of the Black Gods caused in her body. She kept herself isolated, completely alone. A hermit, a ghost, someone no one wanted to get close to.
But you appeared in her life, you smiled at her, you saw her kind side, her words of affection, her shy laugh… None of those were characteristics of a monster, and her appearance, of course, was not one either.
Donna was a beautiful woman, no scar, no change could make you think otherwise. Without expecting it, but at the same time wishing for it, love arose between you.
It was a sudden, romantic, wild love… It could even seem that the romance novels you read so much had come to life in your own reality. Love, caresses, whispers, passion, hugs… Everything formed your relationship, a comfortable one, one that you finally felt good about, one that you didn’t want to disappear.
Lady Beneviento loved you, she adored you, even those overly strong feelings made her behave in a slightly possessive way. You never gave it importance, you knew you didn't have to, you had already decided.
You had decided what smile you wanted to accompany you every morning, what warm body you wanted to melt with every night, what perfume you had chosen to cloud your senses.
Love continued and your relationship was stable. It had been more than a year since you decided to take that important step, stop visiting her and stay with her forever. Everything was perfect, idyllic, at least until a couple of months ago.
The love, those smiles, those caresses, the hugs, the passion… Everything was fading away little by little. Donna was the same and at the same time she was becoming someone different. It was increasingly difficult to get a smile out of her, to get her to return the hundreds of kisses you gave. You didn't want to think like that but… It seemed like you were bothering her, that she had gotten tired of you.
But that wasn't possible, she still told you that she loved you, that she liked you being by her side. It wasn't laziness, it was something else… It was as if the dark part of her mind had taken control, as if she saw you as a nuisance, a distraction that kept her from her old way of being.
There were no more kisses, no more caresses, no more hugs, only smiles, very brief kisses, sighs of weariness and cold words. You, of course, couldn't be the one to blame. From the first moment you didn't do anything that didn't make her happy.
You cooked her favorite dishes, you learned recipes that she told you about, you cleaned the house, you kept everything perfect for her, so a ‘thank you’ would come out of her lips, so those kisses would return.
None of that happened. Donna seemed to have abandoned you, even when she was by your side. It was increasingly difficult for her to talk to you. It was almost as if you didn't exist. But you never questioned it, you simply got used to that new behavior.
You couldn't think that Donna didn't love y. You knew that wasn't the case. Spoiling her, showering her with compliments, with romantic gestures, was your way of desperately clinging to a jaded love that you had already grown accustomed to, until little by little, sadness began to haunt you in your increasingly frequent moments alone.
You would do anything for her, always, but you began to wonder if she would do the same for you.
You picked up the plates, put away that delicious cake and got ready to get into bed next to her. You didn't expect her to greet you with a smile, not even with that mischievous look she had always looked at you with at bedtime. No, she had already fallen asleep.
“Donna, my love,” you said softly, getting into bed next to her, kissing her cheek.
The lady in black, as usual, growled annoyed, turning her back to you.
“Weren't you watching a movie?” she asked with a tired voice, comically covering herself with the sheets.
You smiled and shook your head, moving closer to her ear.
“It's not fun without you,” you said, biting her earlobe and laughing amused. “Hey, Donna, I feel like making love…” you whispered, lowering your hands and pulling her waist.
The doll maker moved her body to make you move away. You, already knowing that impatient gesture, did it.
“Not today,” she said, turning her head away from your rain of kisses. “Another day, (Y/N)”
“Okay…” you sighed sadly, leaning on the pillow with another controlled sob.
Donna, who was always terribly passionate, fierce in love, in possessing you in a carnal way whenever possible, now didn’t want to do it, she just made stupid excuses.
It wasn’t the most important thing for you, but you knew how much she enjoyed taking you.
You did everything you could to keep the passion alive, to hold on to that relationship, but you felt that the weight on your shoulders was too intense, that there was no one on the other side to help you handle that burden.
It was the effort to not extinguish love, an effort that only you made and that would soon make you sink into a depression you could already feel calling you from the depths of your soul.
You tried to forget those moments, to cuddle up next to her as you did every night. Not even that seemed to be acceptable to the brunette, who growled again, removing your hands from her body.
“Leave me alone,” she whispered furiously.
“I'm sorry,” you said, with a voice eaten away by the tears that were beginning to fall down your cheeks. “I'm sorry if I bothered you.”
Donna sighed after a moment of silence, sitting up and touching your shoulder.
“Come here,” she whispered, turning around and grabbing your waist gently, as if she wanted not to be that cruel, as if deep down, she was also noticing your incipient sadness.
“Thank you…” you sighed with a sincere smile, approaching her body, letting her surround you with her warmth.
The slights hardly mattered to you. Donna always did something that told your heart not to stop beating, that you could continue to be terribly in love with the lady in black. The question was simple: How long could you stay that way?
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Donna said with a different voice, pressing you against her body. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, enjoying her warmth. “Tomorrow Alcina will come to have lunch.”
“Tomorrow? But Donna… Tomorrow is the day of our meal on the river,” you protested, playing erratically with her fingers that were clinging to your waist.
“Mm…” she sighed in a way that indicated she was rolling her eye. “Leave it for another day, will you? I don't like her coming either but I'm afraid I have no other choice. She often invites us to her castle.”
“Yeah, well, you never want to go anyway,” you sighed, with an anger that was beginning to be noticeable in your voice. Donna, as always, didn't give it any importance.
“I'd rather be here, with you,” the lady said in an apparently romantic way.
“You're not with me, you spend the day with your dolls, you even…” you said furiously, turning around and crossing your arms.
“I'm with you all day long.”
“Okay, whatever you say, Donna,” you said, turning around again, removing her warm hands from your body. “Good night.”
“Buonanotte…” the lady whispered, kissing you quickly on the cheek and turning around as well.
If you were told a few months ago that your bodies no longer intertwined at bedtime… You would probably think it was a dirty lie.
The next day started like any other. You devoted all your energy to preparing a perfect breakfast that Donna no longer appreciated. The kisses under the shower were no longer intense, they were brief, half-hearted.
Maybe it was your imagination, or maybe not.
While you were cooking a delicious menu for your unexpected guest, you asked yourself that question, one that you avoided asking yourself and that you could no longer contain: did Donna really love you?
“Is all for me, dear?” Lady Dimitrescu asked, surprised by each of the details that you meticulously prepared.
You, pleased by her words, smiled sincerely. It had really been a long time since you heard Donna say something like that.
“Everything looks great, little bird,” Alcina murmured, while you sat next to Donna, who was covered with her black veil, as always when there was someone other than you.
“Thank you, my lady,” you said smiling, pouring yourself a glass of wine.
“My lady… Little girl… We are almost family…” the lady in white sighed, stabbing a piece of meat with her fork. “Call me Alcina.”
“Alcina, yes, of course,” you said kindly.
The three of you began to eat in silence until a satisfying grunt bounced off the old walls of the mansion.
“Oh, dear… It's spectacular,” the vampire said, pointing at you with her fork. “Mashed potatoes with gravy?”
“Yes, well, it's a recipe I used to make,” you commented, destroying the silence that usually accompanied you. “Donna likes it…”
“I see,” Alcina said, nodding with a seductive look. “Donna, you are very lucky.”
“Mm,” the veiled lady murmured, eating in silence, looking at you briefly through her black cloth.
“Mm?” her sister mocked. “Please, not in a million years would I be able to get one of my maids to cook like this.”
“Oh,” you said, laughing amused and blushing at that appreciation. “I love cooking, besides, Donna has taught me a lot of delicious recipes from her country.”
“I can't compete against that, huh?” the tall lady joked, arching her eyebrows. “Um, I see the house is a bit… different,” she commented, observing the cracked walls. “Oh, Donna, don’t tell me you’ve finally lost that absurd allergy to cleaning.”
“No, (Y/N) takes care of the house,” the woman in black said, with a rough and disinterested voice.
“Does she?” Alcina asked, narrowing her eyes and looking at you with a wicked smile. “Do you have a sister?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t, Alcina,” you said kindly, serving the lady another glass of wine. “I like to clean. I love seeing your sister happy.”
“Wow… You are lucky,” Dimitrescu murmured, now looking at her taciturn sister.
“I guess so,” Donna whispered, taking the bottle of wine from you in an unpleasant manner and leaving it on the table.
“Mm, I see…” Dimitrescu murmured again, rolling her eyes. “(Y/N), would you be interested in working at the castle?”
“No, she’s not interested,” Donna said, angrily hitting the table with her fists, scaring you a bit. “(Y/N), dessert.”
The expression of the lady in white cooled and she frowned, watching you as, in an almost perfect way, you slid the knife through the cake you made the day before, the one Donna failed to appreciate.
“Cheesecake with raspberry jam,” the tall woman commented, studying the shape of that culinary delight.
“The jam is homemade,” you explained, serving another piece to Donna, who looked at you through her veil, you didn't know how. “Do you want this one or do you want a slightly bigger one, my love?”
“This one,” she said curtly, taking the plate from your hands roughly. “Em, grazie.”
“You're welcome, darling,” you said in a tender voice, embarrassing your girlfriend with a few sudden kisses on the cheek she pushed away with a brusque growl.
“Lasciami estare, cazzo,” the lady in black hissed, pushing you unpleasantly, under the watchful gaze of her older sister.
“I'm sorry,” you said with a tender smile. “Maybe you'd like a coffee, you want it with milk and no sugar, right, darling?”
“Yes, yes, go, let me breathe,” the lady in black said, moving her hands in an unpleasant way.
You sighed but nodded, looking at the lady in white.
“How…?”
“Black, dear, with two sugar cubes,” Alcina interrupted, with a knowing smile, winking at you.
“Great, I'll bring it right away,” you said helpfully, picking up the plates and going down to the kitchen.
“I want coffee too!” Angie shrieked, tugging at your dress.
“You can't have coffee, you can't have anything, in fact,” you said amused, stroking the doll's head, who laughed amusedly.
None of Donna's actions seemed strange to you. You were already used to it and... Unfortunately, you stopped giving it the importance it deserved.
In an elegant way you put the three cups on a tray, going back up to the dining room. When you heard a sharp voice, you stopped dead, still unseen.
“You're stupid, Donna, stupid,” Lady Dimitrescu snapped in a stern, dark voice. “Keep behaving like that and you will suffer the consequences.”
“It's none of your business, Alcina,” you heard Donna hiss, her voice seemingly upset.
“Mm, maybe, but I'll tell you one thing, dear… If you don't take care of that beautiful garden… well, let's just say that I'd really like to do it,” the eldest Lord said, earning an angry growl from your girlfriend, who stood up from her chair.
“What are you implying? Porca puttana! Get out of my house!” Donna shrieked, pointing to the door.
“Don't yell, little sister… Instead of getting mad, take my advice… Otherwise, I'll be the one to take care of that flower as it deserves. And I think that seeing your attitude, it won't be too hard for me.”
“Fuori!” Donna shouted again.
She seemed very furious, out of her mind. It was time to approach her.
“Sorry, I…” you said timidly, lowering your head and entering the room, earning a seductive look from the lady in white.
“That coffee smells delicious, dear…” she murmured, picking up her ridiculously small cup. “A perfect coffee next to a perfect young lady…”
“Tha, thank you Alcina,” you said with blushing cheeks, approaching the brunette. “Donna, honey, are you okay? Are you having a crisis?”
“No,” she answered, grumbling and letting herself fall into the chair.
“I thought you were arguing,” you murmured, caressing Donna's cheek through her veil, noticing how the rage burned on her skin. “Should I get your medicine, honey?”
“No,” Donna repeated, making you look at her listlessly and then at Alcina, to whom you bowed apologetically.
“Forgive her, sometimes… It happens to her,” you said, apologizing for your girlfriend's attitude, one that was sometimes unpredictable.
Getting furious for talking about a garden… It was very typical of Donna, of course.
“Mm… I know, don't worry, I forgive her,” Alcina said with an implicitly mocking tone. “The question is… Will she forgive me?”
“Stupida…” Donna growled, mysteriously approaching you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it through the black fabric, a gesture that surprised you. “The coffee is delicious, (Y/N).”
“Thank you, darling… Are you calmer?” you said smiling at the compliment, one that you missed terribly. The lady nodded without letting your hand go.
When Lady Dimitrescu left and Donna got rid of her veil, you could see her frown, a strange expression for which you had no explanation.
“Well… It seems that everything went well,” you said sighing, finishing clearing the table and smiling at the brunette, who had her gaze on the floor while playing with her veil.
“(Y/N),” she said with a hoarse voice, approaching you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I would like to tell you something.”
“Of course,” you said smiling, stacking the plates and cups.
“I love you, you know that, right?” the lady said with a different tone, sad, which made you turn around slowly, grabbing her hand and looking at her with concern.
“Me too, Donna, of course I know… Come on, don't be mad. Alcina just messed with your garden,” you said absentmindedly, looking out the window. “Hey, maybe when it's less cold we could fix it.”
“Fix it?” she asked, frowning in confusion. “The garden?”
“Yes, well… Okay, it's impossible to compete with the castle but I'm sure you and I can make it something similar,” you said with that same passive tone, without thinking clearly, without giving importance to that absurd discussion.
“Do you like the castle?” the lady asked suddenly. “Do you like it more than this house?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” you said, picking up a stack of plates. “Alcina can say whatever she wants, but… I love this house, and the garden, I wouldn't change it for anything.”
“Really? Are you serious?” she asked again, holding your hands very tightly, as if she was scared of something.
“Um, Donna, are you sure you're okay?” you asked worriedly, passing a hand over her sweaty forehead. “Oh, my love… You're sweating, let me finish picking this up and I'll prepare a hot bath for you.”
“No, no… Let me, let me pick it up and… And I'll prepare a bath for you… With… With those bath salts that you like,” Donna said, taking the plates from your hand abruptly, with a trembling voice.
You opened your eyes, surprised by that suddenly different attitude. You felt confused, disoriented. There was no doubt that the strange conversation with Alcina had something to do with it but… You didn't know in what way.
“Mm, I think it's a great idea but…” you said with shining eyes, blinking in a petulant and even seductive way.
“But,” the lady said, looking at you with a strange coldness, darkening her eye.
“Only if you come with me…”
That hot, romantic bath started a confusing phase of your relationship. You couldn't explain why, the reasons that led Donna to change her attitude towards you, but you weren't going to complain either.
Yes, she was still the same grumpy one as always, the one who was overwhelmed by your excessive affection and caresses, but she faced it in a different way, as if she were fighting with herself, fighting to change.
Even so, that wasn't enough for your demons to stop harassing you, for the doubts you had about the feelings of the lady in black to disappear.
Yes, you were happier to be able to talk to her again, to receive many more smiles, for her to accept your kisses but... But you didn't feel that it was enough, you felt it forced, as if someone was guiding the brunette to behave that way.
What you really didn't expect was what happened one cold morning, one in which you didn't read romance books anymore. No matter how hard Donna tried. Your relationship was still far from resembling those love novels.
“The door, there's a knock on the door!” Angie interrupted your ramblings, shouting in a shrill voice and waving her arms to get your attention. “Hey, silly!”
“Ugh, I'm coming,” you said, getting up from the couch lazily. As expected, there was no sign of Donna. That hadn't changed. Her dolls were still her absolute priority.
You opened the door to find something unexpected, a villager holding what looked like a bouquet of beautiful flowers, your favorites, in fact.
“Um... What do you want?” you asked, surprised by the presence of that stranger at your door.  That a random villager had been able to cross Donna's territory was something that wasn’t frequent.
“Miss (Y/N)?” the man asked, handing you that bouquet of roses. “This is for you.”
You took it with a frown, bringing the flowers to your nose, slowly inhaling their scent.
“For me? From whom?” you asked, smiling at the beauty of those carefully placed flowers. There didn't seem to be any card, nothing to tell you where they came from.
“I don't know,” the man said, shrugging and turning around. “I'm sorry, but I wouldn't like to stay here for long…”
Before you could ask another question, the man disappeared, walking quickly down the path, surely scared to know where he was.
You stood rooted to the spot, staring intently at the bouquet of flowers, looking for a possible culprit for that romantic act.
Of course, Donna seemed the main suspect but… Something told you that you were wrong. She was a romantic woman, or at least she was for a while, but she never gave you flowers, she never went that far, she never had a similar detail.
No, they couldn't be from Donna. You were quite clear about that.
“Who was it, tesoro?” the lady asked when you entered the house again, startling you. You weren't expecting her presence.
“Oh, um... Well...” you said nervously, showing her the flowers.
“Wow... They're beautiful,” she said with a smile, running her fingers over the petals, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Don't you think?”
If you had any doubts about the origin of those flowers, you had just cleared them up. They weren't from Donna.
“I wonder who it could have been…” you murmured thoughtfully, smelling the flowers again “Mm, they smell really nice…”
“Um, yes, I…” Donna said stuttering, looking at you confused.
“Can you imagine that I have a secret admirer?” you asked amused, finding the idea more and more exciting in your head. After all, no one had ever sent you flowers, no one. “How exciting, isn't it?”
The most sincere smile you had ever put on lit up your face as you played with those beautiful flowers, finding a privileged place for them in the mansion. Donna followed you nervously, looking over your shoulder as you put them away in an empty vase, laughing amused and excited by that gift.
“Wow, I really didn't expect that,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It's strange that they didn't leave a note, isn't it? I'd really like to know who it was...” you said in a sweet voice, your heart beating fast from the excitement of receiving that anonymous gift, of feeling that there was someone out there who appreciated you.
“W-would you like to know?” Donna asked, with a broken voice, putting a hand on your shoulders.
You rolled your eyes, sensing a sudden attack of jealousy and took her hand, kissing the back of it briefly.
“Not again, Donna,” you whispered tired of her jealousy, of her possessiveness. “I don't know who it was and if I knew I wouldn't tell you either.”
“But, but, (Y/N)...” she murmured, shaking her head, struggling with her words to say something. “It's just that I...”
“What's the problem with people sending me flowers?” you asked with your hands on your hips, with the prejudice that the lady had gotten angry and was thinking about how to get revenge on that stranger.
You weren't being unreasonable. It wasn't the first time Lady Beneviento got mad.
“T-Tesoro...” she stammered, taking your hand.
You could only think about that attitude, about her lack of attention, you couldn't even think about what she was going to say to you.
“Shh, quiet, Donna,” you said seriously but mockingly, putting a finger on her lips to stop her complaining. “Don't get jealous, okay? They can send me all the flowers they want, it doesn't mean anything.”
“Oh, um, okay...” she finally said, with a tired sigh, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. She seemed really worried.
“I'm going to make you something delicious to eat,” you said with euphoric joy, kissing her quickly and walking happily towards the elevator.
 She didn't kiss you back. She just stared at that vase of flowers, shaking her head.
“Silly Donna…” Angie hissed, tugging at her dress. “What's wrong with you?”
“Nothing, Angie, it's better this way.”
You were too excited to pay attention to that conversation between Donna and Angie, and continued on your way quietly.
Those flowers… Yes, it had been a good way to start the day, no matter who it was, but at the same time, you couldn't stop thinking about it.
A lot of faces came to your mind and you dismissed each one of them. It couldn't be Donna. She had gotten very nervous, probably wondering what stupid vermin dared to seduce what was hers. No, it couldn't have been her. Then…
A name popped into your head, one you could sense, that had everything it took to become the main suspect. Alcina Dimitrescu.
It was pretty obvious that the lady in white had some sort of fixation on you, and even more so after that awkward lunch. Obviously, you weren't going to say anything to Donna, that would make her even angrier, and it was better that way.
“It's delicious, amore mio,”the lady in black commented when it was finally time to eat, with a radiant smile, one that reminded you of those first months. It was a shame that your mind was so focused on that flower thing that you didn't even notice.
“Oh, thank you, Donna,” you said with a sigh, with a smile that didn't belong to the kind words of the lady in black, but to that mysterious person who showered you with flowers.
“You put pepper on it, like I suggested,” she commented again, with a tender smile that you did see, which you returned without thinking as you nodded.
“I like to pay attention to the things you tell me, darling,” you said, downplaying it.
The lady in black smiled again, glancing at the vase.
“Wait, you're not being nice because that whole flower thing, are you?” you said with a more serious tone, crossing your arms.
“What? No, no, I just…” she said with a sincere look, shaking her head. “I, I like to tell you nice things….”
“Well, I like you doing it,” you said with a haughty tone, knowing for sure that this slightly more exaggerated attitude was the consequence of the appearance of a new player on the board, of a competitor who seemed to want to claim your love.
Donna continued to change little by little, seeking your warm body at night, whispering in your ear, kissing you relentlessly…
You could consider it a tremendous improvement, a wish that you had been asking for a long time ago fulfilled but unfortunately, you didn't see it that way.
The flowers could have been an isolated incident, an exception in your boring life, but it wasn't. Every day, every morning more flowers arrived at your door, beautiful bouquets that occasionally began to be accompanied by a note, a love note.
Your chest beat with excitement with each new bouquet, with each surprise from that secret admirer. You were excited, intrigued to feel that you provoked so many sensations in someone.
Each bouquet was accompanied by a good deed from Donna. A romantic dinner, walks in the woods... Everything coincided dangerously. That made you think that you weren’t wrong, that her jealousy was forcing the lady in black to become a prodigious lover.
There shouldn't be any problem, it was what you were looking for, to return to the romantic and affectionate beginnings of your relationship, but you knew that Donna would never change simply because she had realized she had neglected you, no, so many months of contempt couldn’t change overnight. That tender and romantic attitude had an explanation: jealousy.
Yes, that was the reason, jealousy. The appearance of that mysterious lover must have forced the brunette to love you, to pay attention to you, to distract your constant thoughts and take them away from that person of the flowers.
On the other hand, you were still in love with Donna, hopelessly in love. Receiving displays of affection from an unknown person was encouraging but you would never change your feelings.
But that she wasn’t able to love you as you wanted, by her own will and not for a mere territorial and primary issue simply frustrated you.
“Let's see, let's see...” you said excitedly picking up your daily bouquet.
On that occasion, it came with a small note, which you opened when you confirmed that there was no one around you.
Dear (Y/N)
I hope these flowers help you understand how crazy I am about you. You are the most beautiful girl in the world. You are the only one who would overshadow the beauty of these flowers. No flower could compare to the light of your gaze, their smell cannot compare to the perfume of your skin.
You are my most beautiful flower.
“Aww,” you murmured, biting your lip, reading that elegant calligraphy over and over again.
Of course, your secret admirer was quite the poet. That person always managed to make you blush.
Luckily, the heels of the lady in black alerted you, giving you time to put the note away and pretend to place the flowers in another vase next to the others.
“Ciao, tesoro…” Donna whispered, hugging you around the waist and planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “More flowers?”
“Looks like it,” you said amused, grabbing the hands that held your body, letting yourself be carried by Donna's gentle swaying. “Isn't it early for you to come up from the workshop?”
“Mm, yes,” she said, kissing your cheek and resting her head on your shoulder. “I was looking forward to be with you…”
“Oh, well, that's… Great,” you sighed, your voice taken over by the words in the note and not by the love the lady was showing you. “What did you have in mind, darling?”
“I thought I could make you some food, you know, some of your favorite dishes,” she commented, dancing with your body, turning you around with an elegant twist of her hand. “Do you fancy it?”
“Your cooking? I always do,” you said, laughing amused by the tickling her lips did on your neck. “Donna…”
“Then we could, I don't know, go for a romantic walk… You and I… The sunset…” Donna whispered in your ear, causing you to blush even more.
“You and I? Without Angie?” you asked suspiciously, frowning.
The lady nodded, stealing a quick kiss on your lips, caressing your cheek and looking at you intensely, as if she was looking for something, something you didn't know.
“You and I, amore mio…” the lady sighed, running her thumb over your lips and making you purr seductively. “After that we could watch a movie, whichever you want…”
“It's a perfect plan, Donna, I'd love to,” you said with a tender voice, letting yourself be completely seduced by her gaze, kissing her slowly.
“Well, well… I have to finish a doll but… After that I'll be all yours,” Donna said, pinching your cheek and pulling away slowly. “Leave those stupid flowers and change your clothes, I want you to be beautiful.”
“Um, okay,” you said blushing, moving your ankle in a childish way while she looked at you with a tender smile before disappearing from your sight.
You sighed with nostalgia, thinking about that new and desired attitude, looking at the flowers. Of course, whoever it was also had feelings for you but you, after a few terrible moments of doubt, cleared your heart or rather, you let it clear itself.
You loved Donna. You loved her with all your soul. Not even all the flowers, all the notes in the world would change that, ever.
Yes, it could be that the lady in black had returned to her loving and kind self because of the danger of someone taking her treasure but... That ferocity only demonstrated one thing: a pure, intense love, one that would be capable of bringing down the moon for you if you asked.
Compared to her smile, her kisses, her words in Italian, the flowers were nothing but weeds and those words were nothing but ink on paper.
In your head, the name Alcina Dimitrescu danced incessantly. Without a doubt, she was the one who admired you, you were not involved with anyone else, it had to be her. You couldn’t betray Donna, you would never do it.
 She could never win your love, never.
That statement sailed confidently through your mind, causing you to make a radical decision.
No, you didn’t want more flowers, you didn’t want more love letters, you only wanted Donna, no one else.
Searching through the old address book next to the phone, you found the castle's number, dialing it decisively. Yes, you loved Donna, only Donna. It took a lot of flowers for you to realize it.
“Dimitrescu Castle…” Alcina's tired, velvety voice answered on the other end of the phone.
“Alcina? I'm, I'm (Y/N),” you said nervously. After all, she was also dangerous.
“Oh, (Y/N), it's nice to hear your voice,” she answered with a sinister laugh. “What's wrong, dear? Don't tell me that Donna has done something bad to you.”
“What? No, it's not that, it's…” you said nervously, annoyed by that horrible accusation. “I have, I have to talk to you.”
“Mm, talk, little bird…” Alcina murmured, with a strange sigh.
“Okay, um, I don't really know how to tell you but…” you started, looking around, trying to make sure there were no unwanted listeners.
“You're pregnant… Oh, Donna, you damn irresponsible brat, I knew that…” Alcina said, interrupting and making you growl more and more nervous.
“No, no,” you insisted, losing your patience. “Okay, I think I'll get to the point…”
“Yes, dear, that's how I like it”
“Look, I don't have feelings for you… No, I'm not interested in you, I mean… I like your company but, nothing, nothing else… I love Donna, I love her with all my soul and… No matter how many flowers you send me, my heart isn't going to change, so…”
“Excuse me? What are you talking about, little bird? Flowers?” Alcina asked, laughing in surprise, something that confused you.
“Y-Yes, the, the flowers you send me at home… You know…” you said, stumbling over your words, with your heart in your throat.
“Dear, I have no idea what you're talking about…” Alcina murmured. “I'd love to send you flowers but I'm afraid I have nothing to do with that.”
“No? But, but…” you stammered, terribly confused. “It wasn't you?”
“Mm no,” she said laughing. “Flowers? Please, I'm not that cheesy,” the lady in white mocked.
“Shit…” you whispered covering the microphone, dying of embarrassment. “So who… Who did it?”
“I'm afraid I don't know, dear… Who do you think it did?” she asked laughing, as if you were joking.
You shook your head, your whole body shaking.
“I don't know…” you murmured, scratching the back of your neck. “Sorry, sorry for bothering you… Bye,” you said hanging up the phone, burying your face in your hands. “Oh… But who?”
Your head was confused, blocked, you weren’t able to know who this secret admirer was, there was no one who could be involved in this matter, you only related to Donna and she simply couldn’t be.
Tired and nervous, you let yourself fall on the sofa. If the flowers were not from Alcina they lost all that romanticism. That there was a stranger who wanted to flirt with you was something that you began to see as disturbing.
Looking everywhere, your eyes were fixed on one of the shelves, where a book seemed to stand out. You had a terrible obsession with order and you got up to put it away, realizing that there was a paper sticking out of it.
“Mm?” you murmured curiously, opening the book, a book written in Italian, a paper written in the same language, full of crossed out words, of short sentences that you began to observe.
That handwriting seemed familiar to you but, after trying to read those sentences, those paragraphs, a light lit up in your head. Slowly, you searched in your pocket for that letter, that love note that came with the flowers.
There was no doubt; the letters, the shape of that calligraphy matched completely, as did the last thing written on the paper, the same love letter in another language.
“Gods... Donna...” you said, covering your mouth with your hand, with the unexpected revelation that somehow, you already knew.
Donna sent you the flowers, she was always behind those words of love, it was her all the time and she never told you. A romantic gesture that you didn't expect from her was the perfect excuse for Donna to continue with her game.
Why had she denied her involvement in something so beautiful? You would have to ask her.
With shaky legs, you went down to the doll workshop, crumpling the paper in your hand, with a unique smile, with your heart beating faster than ever. Love was in your veins, in your body, in your face, the love for that lonely lady who sent you flowers even though she already had you, even though you didn't even know she was doing it.
“Donna, darling,” you said in a sweet voice, interrupting the lady's sewing, who gestured for you to come closer.
“I'll be done soon, tesoro…” she whispered, not looking at you, focused on that small garment.
You closed your eyes, approaching slowly and taking a breath.
“You are the most beautiful flower,” you whispered in her ear, leaning towards her and savoring each of the words.
Donna didn't look at you, but stopped sewing, sighing deeply.
“It's been you all along, hasn't it?” you asked in a soft voice, guiding her head to look at you.
Her cheeks were flushed, her chest moving quickly. There was no doubt.
“(Y/N),” she said dryly, not daring to look at your face.
“You sent me the flowers… It was you, my love…” you repeated, cupping her face in your hands. Her eye looked sad, and with an effort, the lady in black nodded slowly. “Donna, darling… Why…? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Io…” she murmured, avoiding the brightness of your eyes, leaving the sewing to grab your wrists, which were still clinging to her face. “I tried but… You didn’t listen to me. You thought I was jealous and… I, I didn’t…”
You silenced her stammer with a passionate kiss, with the moisture of your lips impregnating hers, loving, caressing her mouth with yours with passion, with pure love.
“Donna, my love… My Donna…” you whispered, running a hand through her black hair while she looked at you between sadness and shame. “I thought you didn’t…”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I know you didn’t think it was me.”
“No, I…”
“(Y/N), I beg for your forgiveness,” Donna said, holding your hands, standing up, looking at you now, straight on. “I was stupid… I, I treated you terribly… I neglected you.”
“Donna, well, that's true but…” you said, thinking about those horrible months.
“I don't want to lose you. To lose you would kill me, (Y/N)…” she sighed, caressing your cheek. “Y-You're right, I was, I was jealous… When I saw that Alcina was interested in you I understood that… That I could lose you….”
You nodded softly for her to continue.
“I've never known what love is, what it means to love a person and… I, I thought you could… I don't know, (Y/N), I was sure that you wouldn't abandon me and… I was selfish, I thought I had you and…”
“Shh, it doesn't matter,” you whispered, placing your hands on her waist.
“Yes it does, you give everything for me and I... I have despised you,” she said, embarrassed by her behavior. “I beg you to forgive me, please... I don't know... I don't know how to love, I... I saw you so happy when you received the flowers that I continued, I continued with the lie just to see your smile...”
You silenced the lady again with a kiss on her lips, seeing in her eye the apology, the regret, the love.
“Mm, well, it seems to me that the fact you let me think that someone is sending me flowers just to see me happy is very romantic, Donna...”
“I can't promise you that I can change, I'm not right and... I... I only know that I plan to love you every day and that you are... You are the only thing that gives me the strength to continue,” she said whispering, kissing you slowly.
“Do me a favor, will you?” you asked in a seductive tone, making a smile form on her lips. “Keep sending me flowers…”
After that penetrating whisper, the kisses returned, more and more passionate, wilder.
“No flower could ever say how much I love you, amore mio…” Donna whispered, running her hands over your body, appreciating it, exploring it, memorizing it with her fingers, as if she were afraid of forgetting it.
“Then show it to me, right here, right now…” you whispered again, walking backwards until your back hit the work table, dragging the brunette's body with you, inevitably drawing it into your kisses.
“Yes…”she said, admiring you with her loving gaze, with the caresses of her hands on your body, on your chest, fighting against the rush of your kisses, which began to fill her skin with love.
Little by little the words were nothing but incomprehensible babbling in a tangle of panting, of passion, of bites and hot, wet, anxious kisses.
Your bodies danced to the same beat, to the same rhythm, rubbing against each other, letting the friction return, that contact both of you craved to warm your passion.
The panting slowly mutated, turning into moans when her firm hands lifted your body, raising it onto the table, making those pieces of porcelain that you considered enemies, tremble.
It was like a mockery, those moans were a reminder of superiority towards the dolls, an act of lust in a sacred place for Donna, which would soon cease to be so.
You closed your eyes, pleased by the touch of her erection between your legs, by the excitement of those forbidden, wild, messy kisses. You didn't want to stop or think, you just wanted Donna, you wanted an animal love, a physical and obscene declaration of the love she felt for you. That was better than a hundred flowers.
“(Y/N)… Ti amo…” the lady whispered, looking into your eyes, seeking approval for her hands to pull down your underwear. “I want to make love to you…”
“I want you to,” you whispered, panting with her kisses, hot from her soft touch, from her increasingly furious caresses, from her nails scratching the bare skin of your legs.
She nodded, releasing her shaft after letting the clothes disappear from between your legs, entering you hastily, but accompanied by soft whispers, words of love that you had only heard in your fantasies for a long time, that you only read in your books.
“Donna…” you moaned as you noticed your walls blessed with her erection, the moisture that bathed her body while yours embraced her tirelessly, preventing her from daring to abandon you again.
The silence was no longer awkward, but a grateful companion to your loving glances, to an intense eye contact while the brunette thrust into you in a soft, intense but at the same time romantic way, enjoying the soft and slow contact.
Your body contracted, stretched, tensed. In your head you saw all those notes of love. You felt those words, those movements as a complete declaration, as an apology for her unfair behavior.
“My love…” you moaned, without blinking, letting passion tense your body before a quick orgasm deformed your walls, without her losing her romantic gaze, her movements, her soft caresses. “Oh, Donna!” you screamed when those involuntary movements became unbearable, forcing you to throw yourself into her kisses, to hang on her body while she held you without abandoning you.
Donna didn't say anything, she just moaned and sighed, looking and holding you with her nails digging into your skin when, with a sharp moan, she released herself inside you, completing that apology, that act of reconciliation, of true love...
“Honey...” you sighed as you felt her wet heat fill you, as you felt her seed claiming you as she hugged you, as she caught her breath without stopping caressing you.
“I will never neglect you again, I promise, my flower...”
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