#mantra to make someone fall in love with me

[rindreamery]

it's just instinct, all i want is you.

how long it takes for the blue lock men to realize you’re the one.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku

it takes itoshi rin 6 months.

rin likes to think that he’s slow and deliberate with his relationships— that he’s not the type to have such decisive thoughts about someone so early on. he’s spent years building up a wall to protect his feelings, and he’s not about to let a (potentially fleeting) person ruin what he's worked so hard to maintain. he's only been with you for 6 months, and he has his doubts about whether you would want to stick around. but all it takes is, “i’m so proud of you, rin,” and his world is completely tilted off its axis.

he tries to tell himself that it's nothing; he's been complimented by other people before.

you probably didn't even think much of it when you told him. it’s just a simple phrase, one of many that people say without thinking. but it's different, it's special, when it's coming from you. your words repeat in his head, like some mantra. it's like his senses are overwhelmed by you. he finds himself focusing solely on your voice, the way you look at him with such gentle eyes, the sincerity behind your words— you. it’s scary how much it affects him. it rattles something deep inside of him, and it shakes him to his core.

he doesn't want to hear it from anyone else, he quickly realizes. those praises don't mean much when it's not coming from you. they don't make him feel unstoppable, like he’s on some high that he’ll never be able to get down from. and he's hit with a jarring realization—

“say it again,” he's standing in front of you, ignoring the incessant flashing of cameras that surrounds him and the deafening cheers of the crowd. he's only looking at you.

“i’m so proud of you,” your voice is quiet, but all he can hear is you, “rin.”

—he's fallen for you, much deeper than he thought he would. he’d be damned if he let you slip away.

it takes itoshi sae 1 year and 3 months.

sae had no intention of falling in love with you. needless to say, his affection for you wasn’t some calculated move. the thought of liking you hadn’t even crossed his mind, and he’s not even sure if he’d ever considered you as a friend. you’ve just been around for long enough that he’s stopped questioning it, that he’s grown to tolerate your presence. at least, that’s what he tells himself. he lets you come over when you want, eat all the snacks in his pantry, use his netflix account— to everyone else, you’re basically a couple. before he knows it, you’ve settled into his life the way a familiar song gets stuck in his head without him noticing.

it’s hard to deny the noticeable shift in sae’s behavior whenever he’s around you.

the way the frown on sae’s face vanishes to a more passive state whenever he’s talking to you, and he's much less irritated at the aspect of having to answer your random (but stupid, in his opinion) questions. he’s not aware, but a part of him subconsciously looks forward to it. “would you still love me if i was a worm?” comes another one of your stupid questions, and he answers without thinking.

“yeah.” the expression on his face remains the same, he’s as indifferent as he always is. but his answer takes both of you by surprise. under his cool facade, his mind is scrambling to make sense of his answer, as if he hadn’t expected himself to say such a thing.

you’re flustered, and it’s evident in the way you stumble over your words. a part of you begins to wonder if that was simply a figment of your imagination, like some hallucination from sleep deprivation. “what— huh?”

so he plays it off, he acts as if he meant to say it. “you heard what i said.” he realizes his heart had decided on you longer than he’d ever been aware of.

it takes nagi seishiro 3 months.

nagi’s used to being alone— he’s used to neglecting himself and every aspect of his life because no one is there to tell him not to do so. he’s not used to having someone be a constant in his life, to have someone who isn’t thrown off by his apathetic and lazy attitude. sometimes he wonders if he acts this way to keep people out, and he wonders why you choose to stay despite. but slowly, you color your way into his bleak routine.

at first, it’s subtle. you linger around him, but your presence isn’t demanding for his attention. you’re there, but you let him be.

and then your presence becomes something a little more prominent. he starts to notice the little post-it notes you leave in his locker, and how you remember to sneak in his favorite snacks. or how his pillows start to smell like your shampoo, and the way he becomes used to having you there in his living room as he plays video games. or even the fact that he finds himself waiting by the gate when classes end, and how he doesn’t mind being pushed around by the crowd as he searches for you in the endless sea of students so he could walk with you. so he could be with you.

he starts to feel like he’s truly living, like there’s something to look forward to every day.

when you say, “see you tomorrow,” he deflates at your words. it’s a weird feeling— he feels weird at the thought that he doesn’t like being alone anymore. that he misses you in the way he misses his phone. he feels bored without you there, and a part of him feels so empty when he doesn’t have you beside him.

when he drops you off at home that day, he realizes it feels strange to be alone again— “can you stay with me?”— he needs to be with you.

it takes michael kaiser 7 months.

kaiser lets his ego get in the way of his relationships. he thinks he can have anyone he wants, and that's why he wholeheartedly believes that he's above the idea of yearning for someone. the idea of wanting someone so much that his thoughts would be consumed by them, and only them? it’s unimaginable. he’s used to being admired, worshipped even, by others. he doesn’t need anyone— he doesn’t need you.

so the prick of irritation he feels, when he sees you laughing at another man’s jokes, catches him off-guard.

it shatters his pride, and he tries to ignore the heat that bubbles under his skin. but he can’t ignore the feeling of possessiveness that washes over him at the sight. you’ve always been his— the heated touches, the way you wear his cologne on your skin, the way you linger around him like it’s natural. you're mine, he always thinks to himself, but he never says it out loud. he’s above yearning— but the idea of you being with someone else makes him feel sick. and he’s not about to let another man take you away.

“come with me.” his voice is sharp and demanding, his mere presence filling the space with an unspoken challenge. but before you can speak, kaiser’s gripping your wrist, pulling you into him without another word of explanation. you don’t fight him, you don’t fight the excitement that it brings you. there’s something in his gaze, something so possessive and raw, that makes you follow him wordlessly. you’re mine, the thought echoes in his mind and for the first time in months, he can’t deny the feeling that has been brewing under the surface.

he yearns for you, and he’ll never let anyone strip this feeling away from him.

it takes oliver aiku 4 years and 2 months.

oliver would never deny the fact that he enjoys having you around. but you’re simply his friend— nothing less, and definitely nothing more than that. you’ve been in his life for years now, lingering in his orbit in a way that keeps you both close, but so far. you’re a constant in his life because he doesn’t need to act around you. he never needs to impress you, never needs to win you over with sugary words. you’ve never given him the typical attention he’s used to, the type of attention that he naturally demands. and that bothers him in a way he won’t admit. yet, it’s this disinterest that pulls at him like gravity. it keeps him coming back, keeps him by your side.

but he doesn’t want anything more from you— he doesn’t need it. it’s these words that keeps him from tainting you.

he doesn't like the dangerous and greedy feeling of wanting to have more of you, wanting to see you in ways that no one else has, and that dangerous feeling that makes him want to devote himself to you wholly. and that’s what gets to him. he’s used to being the one in control, the one who dictates the terms.

it's a futile attempt, he realizes. it's always been you who's had the upper hand.

he can no longer deny that he wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. no one else has his heart racing ‘til he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, no one else has him hooked in the way you’ve been stringing him along. and suddenly, all those meaningless flings feel like distractions, like he’s been wasting time when what he really wants is right in front of him.

it’s not about lust, not about the chase—he just wants you. and this time, he’s not about to let fear or pride hold him back.

note. desperate and yearning hcs next??? who knows

© rindreamery, 2024

[calmcoldevening]

Santa Art the clown || SMUT

Tw: nsfw, adult content, no minors, babe. Just missed this boy

It's been quite a while since you last saw your boyfriend Art. The collision with the girl Sienna did its job. But you had a strong feeling that he was about to come back to you, you were sure of it.

Your body spun easily around the house as you continued to decorate the rooms for the approaching Christmas. And although you were still sad in your heart, you intended to spend this holiday with your family or friends to fill the void of longing and pain. All this time you couldn't find the strength to find another partner, Art was too dear and irreplaceable in your life with all these oddities and habits.

You were standing in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies. Even if you no longer believed in the good old Santa, you still cooked this sweet as you once did in childhood. Something akin to tradition. Having already memorized the recipe by heart, you expertly quickly and carefully prepared the dough and began to add chocolate chips. Finally, you put the future cookies in the oven and set the timer with a satisfied smile. Suddenly, you felt two hands with cold palms hugging your waist. You instantly shuddered, convulsively remembering how you could not close the front door. But then your gaze slid over the stranger's gloves and hands, and an obvious supply of blood hit your nose. You instantly relax and lean back against the man's chest. His chest is shaking with silent laughter.

"God, babe. You scared me to death.."

When awareness fills your frightened brain, you turn around in the clown's tight grip to face him and hug him tightly in response, burying your nose in a warm sweater.

"I missed you. I missed you so much," you mumble like a desperate mantra, his hand finds your hair and starts stroking it slowly in a soothing manner.

Despite his demonic nature, you can say with some certainty that he missed you too. Maybe it's his calm demeanor, or maybe the tenderness in his touch. You don't know. You just feel it.

Art leaned back possessively on the back of the sofa, legs wide apart. You can already imagine how long it will take you to wipe the blood off the upholstery of your favorite sofa. But it doesn't matter now. You slowly crawl up to him on all fours and settle between the man's legs, gently squeezing the soft fabric of Santa's costume in your hands. The clown's face curves into a sadistic smile and he shakes his hips slightly, watching you with obvious glee in his eyes. With eyes trembling with anticipation, you unbutton his belt and slightly lower the pants of the suit, releasing a hot cock. You softly wrap one hand around his penis and gently run the tip of it over your lips, mixing precum and blood from previous victims with your saliva. You literally feel like a starving man at the sight of his throbbing length. Not long, but thick enough to make you see the stars.

Finally, you lean forward and take his cock as deep as possible into your throat, feeling the gag reflex from not using your mouth for a long time. Your chin rubs against the pleasant fabric of a soft red suit, and shiny tears appear in the corners of your eyes. But pain at the same time brings you a strange perverted pleasure, you already feel how your thin, delicate underwear gets wet.

As your movements accelerate, you feel Art's hips begin to move towards you, his fingers burrow into your sweat-soaked hair. A painful mumble escapes from your throat, and you already feel an unpleasant burning sensation from swallowing. His precum slowly flows down your throat while the throbbing head continues to hit the back of your throat, causing unpleasant spasms. Your free hand finds his balls swollen with semen and begins to slowly massage the places that you know he loves. Art's head falls back in a silent groan.

Finally, his movements become more frantic and animal, your jaw aches from his massive cock, you start to suffocate. The feeling of someone else's blood leaves an unpleasant gnashing on the teeth and a taste of metal. Art's fingers dig into the skin of your head when you get into his particularly pleasant place. He enjoys seeing your face covered in tears, cum and blood. Finally, he cums with a silent scream, pouring a generous portion of hot sperm down your throat. His cock twitches in your mouth, rubbing against your swollen tongue. Art is breathing heavily, looking down at you, and slaps you on the cheeks a couple of times, checking if you've swallowed his Christmas present. When you obediently open your empty mouth, he grins sadistically and pulls his cock out of your mouth, leaving traces of sperm on your lips and chin.

With one sharp movement, Art pulls you onto his lap, squeezing your juicy thighs in his hands. He forcefully presses your clothed warmth to his penis, which was still wet from your saliva, which was slowly starting to harden again.

The man leans forward and grabs your lips in a nasty hungry kiss. You moan with pleasure, finally feeling the familiar sensation of his heavy tongue in your mouth. Your senses are filled with his musky scent and the taste of blood on his lips. His movements are full of pure animal hunger.

Without warning, Art grabs you by the hair, throws your head back and exposes your throat to his perverted desire. His painted face is decorated with a sadistic smile. He looks at your stained and swollen deer eyes. His free hand wanders over your body, quite caressing your soft breasts and sides. He leans closer and begins to leave quick, careless kisses on your throat. Your skin is slowly covered with traces of saliva and black lipstick. His lips stay on your pulse point for a particularly long time, circling your artery with obvious pleasure. His hand slides over your thick thighs, squeezing this flesh he loves, and finds the edge of your panties, starting to massage your throbbing clitoris with unprecedented skill. A pathetic meow escapes from your lips and you bite your lower lip. Art giggles soundlessly and grabs your mouth in another clumsy wet kiss, wanting to take every sweet moan of yours just for him. His fingers slowly sink into your welcoming wet warmth, and his thumb continues to expertly massage your clitoris. Your pussy instantly squeezes his fingers into a vice, which makes his eyes roll in pleasure. His fingers begin to lead in and out of your hungry pussy with a perverted squish, sliding over the wet folds with undisguised glee.

Finally, he pulls away from your mouth, and his fingers come out of your pussy, leaving you whimpering because of the sharp feeling of emptiness. Art giggles silently, enjoying this hot sight.

With one sharp movement, Art rips the fabric of your panties, pulling out a surprised sigh from you, and impales your pussy on his proudly standing cock. You desperately shout his name with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Your hands squeeze his shoulders and you bite the inside of your own cheek until it bleeds. Art's mouth opens slightly and he begins to breathe rapidly, enjoying the long-awaited feeling of the wet warmth of your pussy. God, he missed that feeling. Art squeezes your hips in his hands and starts moving slowly, his massive balls slapping hard against your ass. Your face is blushing in obvious anticipation of how his suit is going to be damn wet with your juices running down your thighs.

He pulls you closer to him and begins to slowly kiss your neck and shoulders, his overgrown nails digging painfully pleasantly into the flesh of your ass. You whine softly, silently begging him for more. Art grins sadistically, speeding up the pace. The wet slaps of his body against yours fill the room, interrupted by your voluptuous moans. Gripping your hips tighter, he leans into that perfect spot inside, enjoying the way your inner walls contract and pulsate around his throbbing length.

Reaching down, he lock his hands together behind your back, lifting you nearly upright as he continue to hammer into your dripping cunt. Your tits bounce wildly with each forceful thrust, pale flesh jiggling obscenely. He feels your inner walls clamping down on him in a vice-like grip, your pussy quivering on the edge of a toe-curling orgasm. With a final, particularly vicious thrust, he bury himself to the hilt and still inside you as he feels your cervix ripening, your womb clenching in eager anticipation. He holds you in that perfect position as a tsunami of pleasure crashes through you, milking his shaft for every last drop of semen.

Finally, the pleasure subsides and you go limp in his strong embrace, feeling fuller than ever. You mumble softly, hugging his neck and burying your nose in the warm fabric of his Santa suit. Art pulls you closer, still breathing heavily, and pats your trembling back.

[creamflix]

Hiiiii queen, not sure if your requests are open but what are your thoughts on a reader x gym instructor Toji fic? as a gym girly, I’m feining for that shit bjsjsbsh 😭 If you’re not into it, no worries at all, just ignore this! thankyou loveyou 😛 hope u have an amazing day <3

HOT GIRL SUMMER! — toji fushiguro x female reader 

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. gym trainer toji, gym trainee reader. mentions of gojo satoru. toji's kinda a dork. lots of sexual tension. big dick toji yessir. orgasm control & denial. doggy style. fingering (f. receiving). big four: dirty talk, degradation, teasing and praise. slight dacryphilia. overstimulation and mindbreak. hair pulling. semi-clothed sex. locker room sex. p in v sex (protected!! no creampies today folks). crack + fluff ending, somewhat aftercare?

thank you to anon who requested this <3 i hope you enjoy!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 

your first day at the gym felt a little like the first day of school — except instead of a backpack full of supplies, you had a duffel bag stuffed with coordinated athleisure and just a tiny bit of misplaced confidence. 

toji fushiguro. the name echoed in your head like a mantra, which was completely coincidental and not at all the result of a quick late-night “gym instructor thirst trap” google search. nope, not at all.

as you walked in, the gym smelled of disinfectant and...testosterone? was that what testosterone smelled like? you weren’t sure, but it had a distinct, musky gym-bro-y vibe. before you could question your life choices, a deep, gravelly voice boomed over the general clatter of weights and treadmills.

“alright, rookies! welcome to hot girl summer bootcamp. i’m your instructor, toji. keep up, and you’ll love me. fall behind...and you’ll still love me, just a little less. maybe. let’s go!”

oh. 

my. 

god.

this man wasn’t just hot. he was illegal. broad shoulders that could probably carry a family of four, a scar on his lips that somehow made him hotter, and those arms — did the gym air conditioning suddenly malfunction, or were you overheating just looking at him?

play it cool, you thought, adjusting your cropped tank top and hoping you looked effortlessly sporty rather than like someone who stayed up all night watching his gym tutorials on youtube.

“you, newbie,” toji pointed in your direction, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. “what’s your goal for the program?”

your brain short-circuited. goal? what goal?

“uh, uh...i want to — uh…” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier than a protein shake with no milk. “be able to...carry all my groceries in one trip?” nailed it.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking as if you were the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “realistic. i respect that.”

as he moved on to interrogate another poor soul about their fitness dreams, you caught yourself staring at the way his tank top clung to his chest. focus! focus! groceries!

the first warm-up nearly killed you. 

it wasn’t even anything extreme — just high knees and jumping jacks — but you were convinced your spirit left your body halfway through. toji, however, didn’t seem to notice your imminent demise.

“c’mon, grocery girl,” he teased, jogging over to you during a plank hold. “don’t tap out on me already. what’s that, two minutes?”

two minutes felt like two hours.

“easy for you to say,” you panted, glaring at him. “you look like you eat kettlebells for breakfast.”

toji crouched beside you, his smirk growing wider. “nah, i eat waffles. protein ones. maybe i’ll make you some when you hit your first milestone.”

oh, so you’re a malewife too? just take me now.

you managed to survive the rest of the class, though it involved more wheezing than you’d like to admit. as you grabbed your water bottle, toji sauntered past, giving you a casual, devastating grin.

“good hustle, grocery girl,” he said. “see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, cheeks flaming. “yeah, tomorrow,” you replied, already dreading the soreness that was about to hit you in waves.

walking out of the gym, you made a mental note:

stop chanting his name during your nightly activities, because that would definitely get weird if you slipped up in class.

figure out how to be normal around the human equivalent of a greek god.

spoiler alert: you wouldn’t succeed.

— ☆

toji leaned against the front desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he eyed satoru, who was fiddling with his phone instead of paying attention to literally anything else. typical.

"seriously, satoru," toji grumbled, his voice a low growl. "five grand for this program? five? you think these rookies deserve me for that price? do you know how many squats i had to watch today? squats, done wrong."

"aw, c’mon, toji," satoru drawled, not even looking up. "think of it as community service. you're making the world hotter one newbie at a time." he flicked his snow-white bangs out of his annoyingly perfect face. 

"besides, you love attention. what are you complaining about?"

toji's scowl deepened. "attention doesn't pay my rent, dipshit. if i wanted praise, i'd do push-ups on the street. and don't call this ‘community service.’ i ain't some saint."

satoru grinned, finally setting his phone down. "you're just mad because you can't charge extra for...specialized instruction." his grin turned wicked. "you know, one-on-one, intense focus...maybe a hand here, a hand there."

"you're disgusting," toji deadpanned, though he didn’t bother denying the accusation.

"but i'm not wrong," satoru shot back, leaning on his elbows. "soooo? any student caught your eye yet? some sweaty rookie got your heart racing?"

toji huffed, his lip curling into a smirk. "isn’t it obvious?"

satoru blinked, genuinely curious. "wait, for real? who? the one in the neon pink outfit? or the guy with the weight belt who clearly didn’t need it?"

toji ignored the question, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. "none of your business, dipshit. but let’s just say someone’s got a long way to go before they’re carrying groceries in one trip."

“groceries?” satoru cackled, almost doubling over. “oh, man. you really know how to pick ‘em, huh? let me guess, rookie can’t plank for more than thirty seconds without praying for salvation?”

toji’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he turned toward the gym floor. "thirty seconds? generous. more like twenty. but...they've got potential."

“potential or a cute face?” satoru called after him, earning himself the bird as toji disappeared into the weight room.

satoru shook his head, still chuckling. “toji, you greedy bastard. just don’t make it weird, yeah?”

as if that was possible.

— ☆

day three, and your thighs felt like they’d been personally cursed by the devil himself. you were convinced that even sitting down was a workout at this point. 

but toji? toji looked fresher than a damn protein shake commercial — biceps bulging, sweat glistening, and his sharp green eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting his next meal.

and maybe, just maybe, you were on the menu.

you caught him staring again. or maybe that was just wishful thinking? nah. those weren’t just glances — they were slow, deliberate, and paired with that cocky little smirk that said he knew. knew you were stealing glances at him every time he turned his back. knew you were biting your lip and adjusting your shorts every time he got too close.

“grocery girl!” his voice cut through your haze, and you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“y-yeah?” you stammered, clutching your water bottle like it was a lifeline.

“plank position,” he ordered, stalking toward you with a towel slung over his shoulder. “let’s see if you’ve improved since day one.”

improved? babe, i can’t even look at my floor without flashbacks to this torture.

still, you dropped down, doing your best to hold the position without trembling too much. but then he crouched next to you — close enough that you could smell the clean, heady scent of his sweat — and suddenly, holding anything became a challenge.

“hips down,” he murmured, his voice low, and your brain went static.

before you could process it, his hand was on your lower back, pressing gently to correct your form. “like this. don’t cheat yourself.”

cheat myself? i’m about to cheat on my sanity if you don’t move that hand.

“you good?” he asked, his tone dipping into something almost teasing.

“uh-huh,” you croaked, feeling the tremble in your arms spread to every inch of your body.

“ya sure?” he leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear. “y’er shakin’ like a leaf.”

if you weren’t so oxygen-deprived, you might’ve said something snarky. instead, you clenched your jaw, determined not to crumble under his gaze — or the weight of his stupidly attractive hand.

“good girl,” he finally said, pulling back.

your entire body locked up.

did. he. just.

“keep it up,” he added casually, walking off like he hadn’t just detonated a dirty bomb in your brain.

you managed to hold the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing into a heap, thighs burning and mind spinning.

grocery girl? more like gone girl.

but as you left the gym that night, legs wobbling and sanity in tatters, you couldn’t stop replaying his words.

maybe next time, you wouldn’t just be locking in groceries. maybe you’d be swinging something a little more...muscular.

— ☆

you burst into the gym like a bat out of hell, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed, and already out of breath — and you hadn’t even started the workout yet.

the weeknd’s smooth, sultry vocals blared from the speakers, which only made the scene more ridiculous. this wasn’t exactly the kind of music that screamed “fitness bootcamp.” but then again, satoru — ever the chaotic piece of shit — was in charge of the playlist. because why not let the white-haired menace control everything?

“late again,” toji’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and low, cutting right into your frazzled panic.

you froze mid-sprint, your brain short-circuiting as you turned toward him. he was standing at the front of the gym, arms crossed, one brow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.

“got caught up,” you said, lamely holding up your water bottle like it explained anything.

toji didn’t budge. he didn’t even blink. instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, assessing. it wasn’t the fun kind of eyeing-up you hoped for; it was the “how much time are you about to waste” look.

“class started fifteen minutes ago,” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of annoyance and condescension that had you wanting to melt into the floor.

“yeah, well, blame the playlist,” you blurted, motioning toward the speakers. “you ever try running on time to ‘earned it?’”

the corner of toji’s mouth twitched, but he quickly covered it by rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t try blaming satoru for your inability to read a clock.”

you swallowed, your cheeks heating up even more. “i’ll make it up, promise!”

toji snorted, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “oh, you’ll make it up alright.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“stay after class,” he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. “you can finish the session one-on-one. wouldn’t want you wasting that bargain-bin fee you paid for this ‘hot girl summer’ thing.”

your jaw nearly hit the floor. stay back? alone? with toji? 

your brain immediately jumped into overdrive, filling in all the blanks with...decidedly non-fitness-related scenarios.

“uh, sure,” you managed to squeak, your voice somehow two octaves higher than normal.

“good,” he said, already turning away. “get moving, grocery girl. we’re doing circuits today.”

as you stumbled to the nearest mat, still reeling from the interaction, satoru leaned out from behind the front desk, earbuds dangling.

“one-on-one, huh?” he sing-songed, loud enough for you to hear over the weeknd’s crooning. “careful, rookie. toji’s not great with boundaries.”

toji flipped him the bird without even looking back, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing — or screaming.

you didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited, but one thing was certain: this program was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

toji leaned against the squat rack, arms folded over his chest, watching you with a smirk that had trouble written all over it. sure, he didn’t care who rolled into class late — hell, he didn’t even care if they showed up. paycheck was a paycheck. but you? oh, you were special.

watching you stumble in all flustered and breathless, making excuses about playlists and time management? priceless.

now, you were sprawled out on the bench, your brows furrowed in determination as you pushed up a whole ten kilograms like it was the weight of the world. your form was...passable, at best.

“careful there, champ,” toji drawled, stepping closer. “don’t wanna overdo it. wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle with that massive load.”

you shot him a glare, though the pink creeping up your neck betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. “’s fine. i’ve got this.”

toji crouched down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees as he tilted his head, studying your face. “uh-huh. ya sure? y’er arms shakin’ like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.”

“they’re not!” you protested, though your voice wobbled a little.

“mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in just enough to make your pulse spike. “y’er breathin’ all wrong too. gotta pace yourself. in through your nose, out through your mouth. like this.”

before you could argue, he demonstrated, exhaling slow and deliberate, his lips quirking into a smirk when your eyes flicked to them.

“got it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded quickly, your grip on the bar tightening as you tried to focus.

“good,” he said, standing up and moving behind the bench. “because i’m upping the weight.”

“what — wait!” you yelped, nearly dropping the bar as he added an extra plate to each side.

“relaaxx, grocery girl,” toji said, his smirk widening. “y’er stronger than ya think. or is it all talk?”

your jaw dropped. “i’m not all talk!”

“prove it.”

you gritted your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of backing down. with a deep breath, you pushed up the bar again, your muscles screaming in protest.

“there you go,” toji said, his voice annoyingly calm. “juusst like that. keep goin’. you wanna make it to after-class, don’t you?”

you nearly dropped the bar. “excuse me?!”

toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you heard me. gotta be in top shape for...extra training. wouldn’t wanna disappoint, would you?”

you sat up, face burning, and watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and infuriating smirk seared into your brain.

what the hell had you signed up for?

— ☆

toji cursed under his breath, leaning on the counter at the front desk where satoru was spinning a pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do.

“the hell are you even doing here?” toji grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’re not even working today.”

“who says ‘m not working?” satoru chirped, not bothering to look up. “i’m in charge of morale. and you look like you could use some.”

toji rolled his eyes. “whatever. just...ya got a condom or what?”

that got satoru’s attention. the pen stilled, and his blue eyes flicked up, wide with mock surprise. “toji fushiguro asking me for protection? man, didn’t think i’d live to see the day!”

“shut the hell up,” toji growled, looking around like the floor might swallow him whole.

“relax, big guy,” satoru teased, standing up and fishing through his gym bag. “why do you need one anyway? didn’t know you were into ‘safe sets.’”

toji’s eye twitched. “just hand it over.”

“ohhh,” satoru grinned, pulling out a foil packet and dangling it between two fingers. “don’t tell me this is for grocery girl? you finally gonna ask her if she’s dtf?”

toji swiped the condom out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket. “shut up, and dtf doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“doesn’t it?” satoru grinned, leaning on the counter. “down to flexibility? full-body workout? man, she’s been killing those planks lately. bet she could handle it.”

toji muttered something incomprehensible, walking away before he could throttle the smug bastard.

back in the gym, you were finishing your last set, your face flushed and sweat dripping down your temple. despite the tremble in your arms, you racked the weights with a triumphant sigh.

“better late than never,” toji said, his voice low and smug as he appeared beside you.

“jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?” you snapped, though your smile betrayed the irritation.

“you survived,” he said, ignoring your jab and eyeing you with a mix of approval and something darker. “good. now you ready for your after-class session?”

you blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “after-class? i thought we were done.”

toji smirked, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “oh, we’re just getting started.”

his eyes flicked over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“now let’s see how flexible you really are,” he murmured, straightening up and motioning for you to follow him.

your heart pounded as you trailed behind him, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.

maybe satoru wasn’t entirely wrong about the full-body workout after all.

— ☆

you may have looked like the epitome of gym-girl confidence on the outside, with your matching hot pink spandex set, a perfectly executed high ponytail, and that “accidental” giggle whenever toji smirked your way, but inside? absolute chaos. a full-blown mental spiral.

did you stink? like...bad enough to ruin the vibe? gym sweat wasn’t exactly the kind that screamed sexy glisten. and no, BO unfortunately didn’t stand for bend over — though give it a few minutes and maybe that could change. if you played your cards right.

was your hair still in place? you couldn’t even check without making it obvious. sure, it felt secure, but your elastic had seen things today, and who’s to say it wasn’t moments away from snapping like your sanity?

and your lips — oh god, your lips. you’d spent twenty minutes on that routine before leaving the house, crafting the kind of pout that was supposed to say “effortlessly kissable.” the process itself had been more intensive than a skincare regime, involving a lineup of:

a honey sugar scrub (scrub, rinse, repeat),

a hydrating lip mask (because you weren’t about to let crust ruin the vibe),

a peach-toned lip liner to enhance the shape (read: fake plumpness),

a glossy pink-tinted balm for the natural flush, and

a strategically placed clear gloss dab right at the center for that “i’m dewy and so is my life” illusion.

now? that careful work had probably melted into oblivion, and you were too chicken to check in case it looked like you’d been eating barbecue wings during your bench presses.

but there was no time to worry about any of that now. because toji — yes, your gym instructor toji — had waved you into the locker room with one of those stupidly smug smirks, the kind that promised trouble.

and now here you were, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, his broad frame taking up way too much room as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed.

“so,” he drawled, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement, “you gonna stand there all day, or did you actually wanna get to the...extra training?”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry despite your meticulous hydration schedule all day. “oh, um, yeah. totally. i’m ready.”

toji arched a brow, taking a slow step toward you. “you sure? because you look a little...distracted.”

“i’m not distracted!” you blurted, louder than intended. “i’m just...focused.”

he chuckled, low and gravelly, closing the space between you in two strides. “focused, huh?” his gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your knees wobble.

“then prove it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “show me just how much you’ve been paying attention.”

your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest on the locker beside your head.

mental checklist? forgotten. lip gloss? nonexistent. your name? who even knows.

but whatever was about to happen, you were damn sure it was about to be worth it.

— ☆

toji had this all planned out — or so he thought. 

he was supposed to be the cool, non-chalant one here, the collected gym instructor with the alpha energy. though just thinking that phrase made him grimace. alpha energy? 

yikes. he’d rather drop his dumbbells on his own feet than lean into that nonsense.

but still, he had a role to play, didn’t he? lead the charge, keep it professional until it wasn’t. you know, manly things. hot-gym-instructor-guy things. 

except now, as he leaned casually (or so he hoped) against the locker, one arm propped above your head, his brain was running through a thousand different scenarios, none of which involved him being the one to lose his cool first.

toji couldn’t help it though — he was sweating. not just the faint gym sheen kind of sweat, but the sweating bullets kind, the kind that made him worried he’d be the one stinking up the confined space of the locker room. which, really, was the last thing he needed when he was trying to exude effortless charm.

he opened his mouth, ready to play it smooth. “so, you —”

and then your lips were on his, crashing into him with so much urgency it almost made him stumble.

oh. okay then.

toji froze for half a second — half a heartbeat — before the message clicked loud and clear in his brain. whatever he thought he was going to say, whatever stupid quip he had lined up, melted into nothing as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer like the damn door to the locker room was about to disappear and leave you stranded.

you tasted faintly like strawberries, probably from whatever overpriced lip product you’d slathered on before this, and toji had to suppress the urge to groan. the kind of groan that might make you think he was more desperate than he wanted to admit. but the way your hands fisted in his tank top, tugging him even closer, made him reconsider — maybe desperation wasn’t so bad.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips flushed and eyes wide, and gave a low chuckle that felt more confident than he actually was in the moment. “well,” he drawled, his voice rougher than he intended, “guess we’re skipping the warm-up.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his hand slid down to your waist. “don’t act like you weren’t waiting for it.”

toji smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “message received, loud and clear, sweetheart.”

he might’ve thought he was supposed to be in charge, but hell, he wasn’t complaining about this turn of events.

“now let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with your endurance training,” he murmured, his voice teasing, but his grip on your hips told you he was already taking this challenge seriously.

training? oh, the session was just getting started.

— ☆

you thought you had an idea. you’d done your research, watched enough videos of the kind of stuff that should’ve prepped you for moments like this. but this? this was an entirely new level of freaky, toe-curling, brain-melting insanity.

toji had a system, a stupidly cruel system that you were 90% sure he cooked up just to mess with you. it was simple: he’d trace a muscle on your body, one agonizingly slow swipe of his rough fingertips at a time, and if you guessed the name of it right? well, you’d cum that many times.

easy, right? wrong. so wrong.

especially because right now, this cocky little shit had your gym spandex yanked down to your thighs, your ass perched high in the air, and was treating this whole situation like it was a damn trivia segment on who wants to be a millionaire. except the prize wasn’t cash — it was a full-blown ride to pound-town.

“alright, genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed over the curve of your shoulder, down to your upper arm. “name this muscle.”

you froze, your breath hitching as the cool air brushed against your heated skin. “uh — uh, the...deltoid?” you stammered, hoping the few snippets of your high school bio class would come in clutch.

toji snorted, clearly unimpressed. “correct. guess you do pay attention sometimes.”

the next second, he was gripping your hip, his free hand sliding between your thighs in a way that made your brain short-circuit. 

oh.

“‘s one,” he muttered against your ear, low and teasing. “don’t get cocky yet, though. we’ve barely started.” 

you barely had time to catch your breath before his hand trailed lower, stopping just above your thigh. “now,” he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm for a man currently wrecking your ability to think straight, “what’s this one called?”

you blinked, frantically rummaging through the dark corners of your mind for an answer. shit, what was it? quad? hamstring? quad-something?

“uh...quadricep?” you ventured, your voice shaking.

toji hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin. “good girl. maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

then he moved. his hand, his lips, the sheer weight of him — every part of him was suddenly everywhere at once, dragging you so close you could barely breathe.

and just when you thought you might lose it, he leaned back, smirking like the devil himself. 

“next question,” he said, his fingers brushing over the curve of your back. “get it wrong, and we start all over again. think you can handle that, doll?”

you groaned, face buried in your arms. “‘s isn’t fair,” you muttered.

toji chuckled, dark and low. “oh, sweetheart, life isn’t fair. but this?” his grip tightened, his breath warm against your ear. “this is me being generous.”

generous? you’d show him generous. if you didn’t pass out first.

— ☆

“well, well,” toji murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed his lips down your spine, his rough palms kneading the soft curve of your hips. “looks like someone paid attention in class after all. didn’t think you’d actually pass my lil’ quiz, but here we are.”

you should’ve felt victorious, proud even. but all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your thighs and the way his voice dipped into that gravelly tone, each word laced with promise.

“so here’s the reward,” he drawled, sliding a hand beneath you to spread your thighs just a little wider. “two orgasms. back to back. think you can keep up, sweetheart?”

you shuddered, biting down hard on your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill out.

toji smirked, watching you squirm under him. “oh no, no. don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his fingers dragging along your slick folds, collecting the evidence of just how desperate you were. “your little cunt’s doin’ all the talkin’ for ya anyway. she’s real chatty tonight, huh?”

you buried your face in your arms, heat blooming across your cheeks as the filthy squelch echoed in the confined space of the locker room.

“awww, embarrassed?” he chuckled darkly, pressing two fingers into you without warning. “don’t be. she’s got a lot to say, and trust me, ‘m alll ears.”

you gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling his fingers just right.

“ah-ah,” toji chided, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the locker above your head. “none of that. i said quiet, but not that quiet. lemme hear you, baby.”

you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as his pace quickened, his free hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“fucckkk,” he muttered, glancing down at the ruined fabric of your hot pink pants. “look at that. already makin’ a mess, huh?”

your head shot up, panic flashing across your face. “toji! these are new —”

“not my problem,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “you shoulda thought about that before you wore somethin’ so tight. can’t even blame me. ya lil’ cunt’s the one makin’ all the mess.”

you groaned, half from frustration and half from the sheer overwhelming sensation as he added another finger, stretching you just right.

“tell ya what,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “if you make it through both without ruinin’ those pants completely...maybe, just maybe, i’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“but if ya don’t?” toji chuckled, biting gently at your earlobe. “well...guess you’ll just have to wear ‘em messy next time.”

— ☆

“fucckk, you’re s’tight,” toji grunted, his fingers dragging slick trails over your thighs as he teased his tip against your entrance. “first with those tiny-ass weights, now this? guess i gotta stretch you out for the real deal, huh?”

you whimpered into your forearm, legs trembling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you with his damn fingers alone. your head was a haze of pleasure and overstimulation, too lost in it to even realize how thoroughly you’d ruined your cute pink pants.

“hey,” he rasped, smacking your ass lightly to snap you back. “don’t go floatin’ off on me just yet, sweetheart. we’re just gettin’ started.”

his voice dropped lower, the sound rolling through the locker room like a growl as he pressed the fat head of his cock to your slick entrance, giving just the slightest nudge. “shit, you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. you want it that bad, huh? bet you couldn’t even tell me when your pants hit the floor.”

“toji,” you whimpered, trying to form a coherent thought, but it all shattered the moment he pushed just the tip inside.

“ohh fuucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his head tilting back, a shudder running through his massive frame. “ya feel that, baby? nice and slow…fuckin’ perfect fit.”

he sank in another inch, his girth forcing you to stretch around him. the burn was sweet, electric, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched cry that escaped your lips.

“shi, don’t go cryin’ on me now,” he muttered, though his voice was laced with a smirk. “or is it just ‘cause s’too big, huh? couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

your walls fluttered around him at his words, and he hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips to steady you. “oh, ya like that? filthy lil’ girl. already squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to pull out.”

you tried to push back, eager to take more of him, but toji’s hand slammed down on the curve of your back, holding you in place. “nuh-uh, not s’fast. you’re gonna take me slow, jussst like this,” he grunted, rocking his hips forward and shoving another few inches inside.

“fucccck,” he hissed, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his voice all gravel and heat in your ear. “you’re gonna break under me, baby, but you’ll fuckin’ thank me for it later.”

you moaned, gripping the locker for dear life as he finally bottomed out, his cock buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“there we go,” he growled, pulling back slightly before slamming back in, the force jolting you forward. “shit, look at you, takin’ it so good. bet you’ll be thinking ‘bout this every time you put those tight little gym pants on again, huh?”

he thrust again, harder this time, his cock dragging against every nerve ending as he set a brutal pace.

“fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, looking down at the slick mess coating your thighs and dripping onto the floor. “but don’t worry, baby. promise i’ll make it worth ya while.”

toji’s pace was merciless, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the lockers as your trembling hands scrambled for something — anything — to hold on to. the metal surface was cold under your palms, a sharp contrast to the fiery heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, look at you,” he grunted behind you, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “all that attitude earlier, now ya can’t even keep your knees steady.”

you whimpered, trying to push back against him, but your legs were too weak to cooperate. toji didn’t seem to mind, one arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him as his other hand dipped between your legs. the first stroke of his fingers over your clit had your head lolling back against his chest.

“shit,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as he worked tight, relentless circles against the swollen bud.

“what was that, baby?” toji’s voice was a rough purr in your ear, laced with amusement. “can’t hear you over all that babblin’. ya sayin’ somethin’ real important, huh?”

you weren’t, not really. every attempt to speak came out as a mix of incoherent cries and choked moans, your brain too fogged up to string together a single coherent thought.

toji chuckled, leaning back just enough to grab your tit through the snug fabric of your gym top. “shiit, look at these,” he murmured, giving it a firm squeeze that had you arching into his touch. “what’s this one called, huh? c’mon, grocery girl, don’t tell me you’ve been skipping anatomy class.”

you blinked rapidly, trying to summon any semblance of a logical response, but the only thing that tumbled out of your mouth was a breathy, “b-boobs.”

toji froze. for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of your slick and his choked laugh. “boobs?” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“uh-huh,” you nodded dumbly, too far gone to register the trap you’d just walked into.

toji groaned, but not the kind that promised satisfaction. he pulled back just slightly, the absence of his cock stretching you leaving you whining in frustration. “wrong answer, sweetheart.”

“w-what?” you stammered, your brain slowly catching up.

he pulled his hand away from your clit, ignoring your desperate whine. “told you, you gotta earn it. and what ya just said? ain’t even a muscle.”

“but —”

“nah,” he interrupted, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming against him. “you don’t even get the extra credit for effort.”

you felt him shift behind you, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, just out of reach.

“toojiiii!” you practically wailed, your voice pitching in desperation.

“naaahh, don’t ‘toji’ me now,” he drawled, smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “guess you’ll just have to wait for round two to get it right.”

the realization hit you like a truck: no correct answer, no dick. 

“it’s the pectoralis major!” you blurted out, your voice cracking with panic.

toji chuckled low in his throat. “shit, there’s my smart girl,” he murmured, thrusting back inside you with one sharp, fluid motion that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“fuck, baby,” he grunted, picking up his punishing pace once again. “next time, don’t make me work so hard for it, yeah?”

you’re not sure who to thank first — god, your ancestors, or that one stray eyelash wish you made last week — because the way toji’s pounding into you feels like some divine intervention. maybe all of them had a hand in it. you’re sobbing — like, genuinely sobbing — and not just because of the hair-pulling or the fact that toji’s filthy mouth has been spewing the most degrading things you’ve ever heard.

“shit, cryin’ already?” his voice is rough, tinged with smug amusement as he fists your hair tighter. “can’t handle it, baby? nah, you’re tougher than that. gotta be — still lettin’ me wreck this tight little pussy like it’s mine.”

you hiccup a broken moan, legs trembling so violently you’re barely upright, and the lockers are the only thing keeping you from collapsing. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through your body so hard you swear you lose all sense of time and space.

“therrre she goes,” toji groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing his own high. “look at this mess. got you so fucked out you don’t even know where you are, huh?”

you can’t respond — not with how your body’s spasming, clamping down on him like a vice, dragging him closer to his edge.

“fuck, gonna cum with me, yeah?” he growls, voice strained, his hips stuttering as he holds you so close it feels like you’re merging into one.

him cumming is the final nail in the coffin, sending you careening into an aftershock so intense you’re genuinely concerned you might pass out. both of you stay locked in place, panting heavily, sweat dripping off your bodies as the reality of your very messy situation sets in.

toji’s the first to break the silence, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. “guess you’re gonna need a new gym set, huh? no savin’ this one.”

you groan, burying your face against the locker as if it could somehow swallow you whole. “yeah, no shit.”

he chuckles, pulling back just enough to smack your ass lightly, earning a half-hearted glare from you. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, baby. besides…” he shrugs, flexing a little in his tank top as he adjusts it. “i still look good in this, so we both won here.”

“we truly live in a society,” you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.

he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, smirking against your skin. “damn right we do. now, c’mon, let’s clean up before satoru comes snoopin’. dude’s nosier than a fuckin’ bloodhound.”

— ☆

toji, ever the professional, seems to flip a switch the moment your sweaty, blissed-out bodies part. he’s tugging his tank top back into place and wiping his face like he’s about to lead another class. the audacity. 

his voice takes on this infuriatingly instructional tone, his hand on your lower back steadying you as he rattles off something about muscle recovery or post-workout hydration.

“you’re gonna wanna stretch that hamstring later,” he mutters, glancing down at your wobbly legs that threaten to betray you with every second. “looks like you overworked it — shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”

you blink at him, utterly dumbfounded.  this man — this man — is casually chatting about hamstrings while his cum is literally dripping down your thighs and your legs are trembling so hard you could probably register on the richter scale.

“you’re seriously talking about muscles right now?” you deadpan, crossing your arms even though they feel like noodles. “toji, ’m boutta faceplant, and you’re out here giving me a biology lecture.”

he grins, a little too pleased with himself, and leans down to plant his hands on his knees, face so close you can practically feel the warmth of his breath. “what, want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”

“kiss me, idiot,” you huff, tugging him forward by the neckline of that stupidly tight tank top until your lips meet his.

and just like that, the gym instructor act shatters. his shoulders relax, his hand curling around your waist with a gentleness that feels so at odds with how he’d been handling you not five minutes ago.

he hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to mutter, “damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else.”

“soooo, does this mean you’re carrying my groceries now?” you tease, brushing some of your messed-up hair out of your face.

“depends,” he smirks, straightening up and patting your ass with zero shame. “can you walk without lookin’ like a baby deer? if not, ’m keepin’ my hands free to catch ya when you inevitably fall on your cute little face.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “big talk for someone who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“can’t help it,” he shrugs, leaning in close again with that wolfish grin of his. “you make it too damn easy, princess.”

if he keeps this up, your next gym session might be less about training and more about dodging toji’s wandering hands in the frozen food aisle.

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[shomatoriashi]

10/07/24; 05:40pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you watch them fall in love with someone else ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes and warnings: unedited; non!mc reader; unrequited love; angst, no comfort. do not ask for a part 2. mc names for each story ( lorelai, ashley, teresa, melody )

thank you @/nyashykyunnie for providing the banners for this story ♡

{ she's got you mesmerized, while i die | why would you ever kiss me? | i'm not even half as pretty | you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester | but you like her better... i wish i was heather. }

to sylus, you were simply someone he hired to help with making his life easier. his relationship with you was nothing short of a mere business deal, with your mere existence seeming to be a means to an end.

yet foolishly enough, you had fallen for this cocky bastard, knowing you would do anything to please him-

anything to make him happy.

you couldn't count the instances where you sacrificed your own dignity for the sake of furthering his agenda alone. from sleeping with his enemies to obtain their secrets, to risking your life backing him up in various situations that more often than not, ended up in a gunfight-

you truly didn't understand why you would put your body and heart through such torture, simply to receive a mere nod of approval in response. it was during times like these, when you're so busy nursing your wounds, that you wondered why your traitorous heart beat so strongly for him, despite knowing how he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

in order to feel better about this whole situation, you managed to convince yourself that sylus was a busy man. that he didn't have time to feel such trivial emotions like love; that he treated you well enough, and as long as you could forever remain by his side, then you had no complaints.

you were a fool, purposely living in this tiny sandbox, convincing yourself that you could survive on mere scraps alone when it came to sylus.

yet that all changed when a certain hunter crash landed into his life, changing not only the course of his life-

but yours as well.

you had simply tagged along, being sylus's all too willing shadow when the young woman foolishly stepped into the n109 zone with an agenda of her own. as sylus takes her back to the warehouse, you could detect the fear and anxiety in her voice even when she willingly went against sylus.

and it was with those eyes, so filled with conviction, that you could see the way the walls around sylus's heart was beginning to crumble. he makes a few snide remarks to the woman, yet you could hear the amusement in his voice when he steps closer to her, pressing his hand over hers that felt much too sensual for your eyes.

envy was felt choking you, and you had to turn away from the scene. ice was felt coursing through your very veins at the sight, and you bit down against your bottom lip with such intensity that you swore that you were close to drawing blood.

thoughts pertaining to your denial kept repeating itself in your mind, like a never-ending mantra, and you knew that deep down you were simply trying to lie to yourself.

sylus was simply using that hunter as well.

she was just as much of a tool to him like you were.

that woman is nothing special.

yet it all came crashing down one late evening, when you stepped into his room in hopes of seeking some sort of comfort from him. you were dressed in a thin nightgown, with your heart racing with anticipation within your chest. while admiring his sleeping face, you were filled with a longing for him, finding yourself praying that he would somehow return your feelings and take you in his arms all while admitting that he never wished to let you go.

when your hands reached out to him was when he began mumbling in his sleep, stating the syllables that made up a name that had your heart cease its beats almost immediately.

a name that wasn't your name-

"lorelai..."

you felt like you couldn't breathe, hearing his deep voice becoming so filled with yearning for that woman that it made you sick to your stomach. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and you quickly turned away from him all while biting down against your fist.

lorelailorelailorelailorelailorelai! it was always her!

the woman with the smooth, pale skin and alluring gaze; her doe eyes and perfect hair managing to captivate sylus within mere minutes of him meeting her. your heart was utterly destroyed along with your confidence and love for him.

after everything you had done for him, he still refused to give you his heart-

yet it was stolen so freely by that perfect woman... lorelai-

you didn't think you could forget the way sylus spoke her name, filled with such reverence that it made you feel dizzy with envy.

spending several days avoiding sylus, doing your best to cut him out of your life. you wanted to skip any confrontations, not wishing to even admit the truth about your feelings when it came to him-

but as always, you were foolish into thinking that sylus would ever give you an easy way out.

you had been taking your usual trek home, ready to enter your apartment complex when a flurry of black feathers begin marring your vision, making you stop dead in your tracks when the onychinus leader appears before you. his large hands grips at your wrists almost painfully, making you cry out.

but perhaps more so than the pain was the fact that he treated you roughly, clearly not caring about your own well-being whereas he treated lorelai like she was made of porcelain.

"where the hell have you been?" annoyance twists sylus's features, morphing it into an expression of absolute disdain for you. "i've spent weeks trying to get in contact with you, and it turns out you've had me blocked this entire time?"

anger surges through you, and you use that sole emotion to fuel you when you manage to shove sylus away from you. his eyes go wide, taking a few steps back while giving you an incredulous expression. strengthening your resolve, you meet his gaze and give him the iciest glare that you could manage.

"we need to stop this charade, sylus. i can't go on working for you, not when you make it so damn obvious that i was never the one for you."

a flash of emotion was seen within his crimson gaze before quickly disappearing. his jaw seems to tighten in response to the way he was now gritting his teeth, "what are you talking about?"

you sharply inhale, finally spilling your darkest secret to him, "i love you, but you don't give a damn about me- not like you do with her."

surprise flashes across his features, and he takes an unsteady step towards you, "you... what?"

shaking your head, you angrily wipe away your tears, "i love you, that's why i can't be with you anymore. everything i've done, i've done for you, to make you fucking happy- to make you acknowledge me."

with your head held high, you meet his gaze and tell him (all while managing to keep your voice even), "if you want me to come back to you, then you need to make a choice. knowing how i feel about you, how i've always felt about you, you need to choose-

if you want me to come back, it's me. but if you choose her, then i'll be forever gone from your life."

sylus looks away from you, remaining silent for just a few seconds before his body began to shake, his laughter seeming to pierce through your heart, "you have no idea how long i have yearned for her... so to have lorelai so much closer to me than ever before, it's clear that i would accept any losses, including you."

the devastation you felt in that very moment was almost too much to bear, with you quickly running away from him. the tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, and every memory you shared with him continues to play within your mind.

your love-

the sacrifices you had made for him-

it had been all for naught.

when you were hired to work as one of the general surgeons as akso hospital, you felt as though you had hit the jackpot, landing a job at such a prestigious hospital in the heart of linkon. feeling happy at being able to further your career, you didn't think that anything could possibly distract you.

that is... until dr. zayne came into the picture.

you had heard about his achievements in the medical field, and you held a great deal of respect for him. becoming a cardiac surgeon of his caliber was no easy feat, and the fact that someone so young could accomplish it was commendable to you.

in fact, you were eager to start your work life with dr. zayne-

however, what you didn't expect was to fall so deeply in love with him at first sight. his bright eyes and the way his tiny smiles would constantly invade your mind was taking its toll on you. each time you would think about him, daydreaming of scenarios with your beloved doctor, your coworkers could see your lovestruck expression and take note of how your cheeks would suddenly go warm at the sight of zayne.

you were just so enamored with him that you gathered your courage and asked him out, first. after all, there was no penalties for developing a relationship between coworkers as long as both parties kept it professional while on the clock.

the memory of you confessing to zayne became a fond one. you had heard from yvonne that his favorite food were macaroons, and you figured that you had a better chance of winning his heart by gifting him his favorite food. so, with the box of colorful cookies in hand, you step into zayne's office and offered the gift to him all while confessing your feelings for him.

"zayne, i apologize if you find this... unprofessional, but i can't hide my feelings for you any longer. i... i truly like you so much, so please, will you give me a chance and go out with me?"

you watch as his eyes grow wider, an embarrassed expression taking over his expression as he hides his lips from you with the palm of his hand. he seems to be deep in thought, and after much deliberation, he accepts your confession and agrees to date you.

for the first couple of weeks, you were on cloud 9. zayne was nothing short of being the perfect boyfriend, taking you out on weekend dates at the end of your long shifts while giving you special trinkets here and there.

but there was one glaring issue-

zayne never once kissed you.

sure, he gave you gentle hugs here and there, yet each time you would lean up to try and kiss him, zayne would inevitably look away from you, saying that he was tired or how it wasn't the right moment to kiss.

despite how he never once complained or said a word to you, his lack of affection-

or rather, the lack of him reciprocating your affections, was taking its toll on you.

and you couldn't figure out the reasoning behind his distance until much later.

you had just come out of surgery, and as you stepped out into the lobby, you saw something that made you freeze, unable to move or say a single word.

standing a mere few feet away from you was zayne, and he was smiling at a petite woman. never before had you seen zayne appearing so soft before. the woman seemed to be chattering on about something to zayne, and your boyfriend did nothing but smile at everything she said-

as if he were hanging on to her every word.

feeling the pinpricks of jealousy beginning to surface, you march towards zayne and take a hold of his hand, doing your best to maintain a casual air as you cling to zayne and smile at the other woman. "zayne, i was looking everywhere for you!"

your laughter was strained as you eyed the woman, feeling the envious feelings begin to rise upon seeing how... perfect she looked. with kind eyes and full, rosy lips tilted up in a smile, she greets you. "hello, you must be zaynie's girlfriend! my name is ashley, and zayne's been my friend since we were little kids! he talks a lot about you, and i'm happy he's met someone so wonderful."

from your periphery, you could see the way zayne winces upon hearing ashley's words. it was clear that her calling zayne as simply her friend was enough to earn a wounded expression from him-

and that was the moment your epiphany came.

there was a reason why zayne never kissed you; why he never went beyond hugging you while taking you on simple dates-

it's because his heart had never been yours to begin with-

it belonged to her.

the blood had already rushed to your ears, blocking out whatever ashley had said before she excuses herself, leaving the hospital lobby. in your daze, you look down to see zayne clutching on to something tightly, realizing that ashley had made lunch for him.

feeling your throat go dry, you manage to tell him, "we need to talk."

zayne gives you a stiff nod, following you towards the upper floors and into his office with almost robotic movements. upon reaching the privacy of his office, you close the door, watching as zayne gingerly places the container filled with ashley's homemade lunch on his desk.

"who is she?"

zayne doesn't meet your gaze, simply staring out the window, answering your question softly, "it's like she said, she's a childhood friend."

"...a childhood friend that you love."

your heart was felt shattering all over again when zayne stiffens momentarily before visibly relaxing, as if feeling some type of relief-

like he didn't need to lie to himself or hide it anymore.

you thought hearing him confirm your suspicions would be the end of your heartache, but it was so much worse when he admits to you, "ashley is the reason why i worked so hard to become a cardiac surgeon. she... she has a heart defect, and i wish to save her life... to keep her alive and live a happy, fulfilling life."

his admission has left you reeling in response, the pain becoming so palatable that you could feel your heart begin shattering into a million pieces. "if you love her so much, why aren't you with her?" you ask him, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

zayne simply shakes his head in response, "she doesn't feel the same way for me... and truth be told... she deserves better than me. even though i've loved her through every timeline and universe, i-"

your heart couldn't take zayne's pain any longer, the hurt you once felt for him quickly becoming overshadowed by the unconditional love you still felt for him. taking him within your embrace, you feel the way he trembles against you, clinging to you as soft sobs were wracked through him.

and when he finally lifts up your chin, meeting your gaze while sayig your name with a broken gasp, he finally kisses you-

the taste of your first and last kiss with him was salty with his tears, yet you were too far gone to realize that this single kiss of desperation was made in response to his own lingering emotions for ashley-

never for you.

"there's a new girl that's going to be my partner at the association... and i'm in charge of looking out for her."

xavier tells you as you prepared dinner for the night. you frown at this information, but thought nothing of it. after all, he was skilled at his job as a hunter, often receiving praise for his strength when it came to dealing with the wanderers that roam the world.

"that's fine, i know what your work entails, xavier. you're a hunter, and if there's a newbie you need to train, then that's the end of it." you tell him with a hum, your back now facing him as you focused on cooking once more, missing the relieved expression on his face.

you serve dinner and ask him about his day, only to receive one word answers in response. this also seemed a bit strange for you, since xavier never really shied away when it came to telling you about his day and how he felt.

you had both been dating to close to a year now, with you growing closer after becoming friends. you realized that you both shared similar interests and just... naturally progressed your relationship into something a bit more romantic. at the 6 month mark of your newly developed relationship, you decided to move in together with him.

it was true that you dated and had a few other boyfriends before, yet none of them were quite as serious as your relationship with xavier. despite never once saying the l word to each other, deep down, you knew that you were falling for xavier. in fact, with the sheer amount of times you had gushed to your family and friends about how much you adored him, they were confident that you would get engaged the moment your one year anniversary hit.

with the date quickly approaching in just a few weeks, you began to paint your daydreams, thinking of different ways xavier would propose to you while giggling like a little girl. you had always dreamt of having the perfect proposal, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of what was to come.

after serving dinner, you sit across from xavier, taking a few bites here and there all while sneaking glances at him. you couldn't stop grinning at him, which makes xavier raise his eyebrows at you in suspicion.

"what? do i have sauce on my face?"

you snort and quickly shake your head, reassuring him that you were simply caught up in your reveries. xavier doesn't bring up the subject any longer, simply returning to his meal.

later that night, as you both got ready for bed, you were dressed comfortably in your favorite pajamas all while anticipating xavier's return to you. after his usual shower, he comes out of the bathroom with a plush towel wrapped around his head. tossing the damp towel into the hamper, he gets into bed, with you expecting your boyfriend to face you while taking you in his arms.

but when he gets into bed with his back turned towards you, you had to fight back the strange pang felt within your chest. your mouth kept opening and closing, asking him if he was okay-

"sorry, i'm just a bit exhausted. let's just sleep..."

ignoring the way your throat seemed to clench in response, you give him a stiff nod, only to realize that he couldn't see you. "r-right... i understand, you're tired, that's all."

the tears were felt brimming against your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, falling into bed while clenching your eyes shut. you tried to ignore the lingering suspicions, distracting yourself by counting sheep until you could fall into a restless slumber all while trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay...

{ ... }

the weeks leading up to your first anniversary with xavier was strained, to say the least.

for starters, he seemed to be taking on more missions than usual, all while telling you that teresa was still new and needed someone with experience like him on these higher level missions.

at first, his reasonings didn't bother you or raise any alarm, and you simply allowed him to work with teresa because it was his job and that woman was his partner. you couldn't let your insecure thoughts put a damper on his job.

even when you saw him less and less-

your love never once wavered for him.

on the day of your one year anniversary, you decided to surprise him at work instead. surely, he would have completed his mission sometime during the late afternoon, and you were certain that he would appreciate your kindness.

with his favorite takeout in hand, you walk into the hunter association building, weaving your way through the area. it takes you a few minutes to locate him, but when you went down to the lower levels and could see his familiar, blond hair, you quicken your pace, his name already on the tip of your tongue when you freeze in your steps.

"i thought i had lost you!" xavier's voice was heard cracking as he wrapped his arms around another woman, seeming to crush her slender frame against his chest. your heart begins to ache at the sight, making your labored breathing feel even more painful as you struggled to remain calm and not hyperventilate.

but, it was clear that such a heartbreak would not break even when he opens his eyes and sees your trembling form staring blankly at him. even after seeing you, xavier does not move away from the woman, seeming to hold her even closer to him as he shakes his head at you.

while meeting your gaze, he mouths a few words, and you could read his lips while taking in those harsh syllables. you drop the bag of takeout, your choked sob echoing throughout the area as you ran out of the building.

your sobs coupled along with your gasps for air were making a scene, with some of the civilians looking at you with bewildered expressions. yet you stopped caring, allowing your mind to piece together what had always been in front of you ever since teresa had come into his life.

xavier distancing himself from you-

xavier suddenly filled with the desire to protect teresa, a woman he had just met-

the way he held her so tightly at the memory of nearly losing her-

a sudden cry of your name stops you from taking another step, your stupid heart suddenly filling with hope when you hear xavier's voice and his rapidly approaching footsteps.

you hear him stop a few feet away from you, his voice strained once he begins speaking once more. "i... i'm so sorry, i didn't want you to find out like this, but you have to know the truth."

it takes you a herculean effort to fight back your tears, but you knew you had to hold it together and allow xavier to finally explain himself. "i do care about you... but... fuck, the moment i saw her, everything else just melted away. all of my life, my entire existence, was simply waiting for her to come back to me. i've waited so long for her... and what i feel for her... it's like... like gravity isn't what's keeping me grounded, but she is."

you had no idea what kept you rooted on the spot, knowing that both your heart and mind were screaming at you to move away. but, you couldn't find the strength to do so. instead, you had to listen to his words once more, the same ones he had mouthed to you earlier-

"i'm sorry, but i love her..."

when the beautiful and charming rafayel confessed to you, you accepted his feelings and simply wished to date him just to have fun. despite his occupation as an artist, rafayel was so full of life- so full of light that you couldn't stop yourself from basking in his brilliance.

during the first few weeks of your relationship, your rafe was achingly sweet and cute, often giving you sketches he made of you when he drew your portraits on a whim. he liked calling you his muse before pressing audible kisses against your features, earning a series of joyous laughter from you. because of how much you adored rafayel, you often liked to spend the night at his place, where you would both order your favorite seafood and simply watch cheesy rom-coms together.

as time went on, you began to realize that you were falling hard for the young artist, with him being constantly on your mind even when you were at work. and just when you thought you couldn't love him anymore than you already did, he surprises you by gifting you a gorgeously crafted bracelet that had cute little seashells along with aquamarine gemstones.

altogether, your relationship was achingly perfect with rafayel, with you being certain that he would become your endgame. truly, there were times where you felt like your relationship with rafayel was too good to be true-

yet sadly, you would learn the harsh reality when it came to his feelings for you, realizing that the love rafayel had given you had been his own way of coping.

when it was nearing your 8 month mark of being together with him, rafayel suddenly became distant with you, often locking himself within his studio as he seemed to produce copious amounts of artworks. of course, when you tried to see his new paintings and sculptures, rafayel would hide them all away from you, covering them all with a thick sheet while distracting you with a date.

this behavior was strange, but you thought nothing of it. perhaps he was nervous about an upcoming art exhibit, and he didn't wish to reveal anything until the day of his exhibition came.

so, you went along with it, making up excuses each time rafayel would stiffen when you hugged him, or suddenly turned his head away from you each time you tried to kiss him.

but perhaps what hurt the most was the day you found out the reasoning behind his growing distance. rafayel told you he needed to take a break from making art and invited you over to enjoy the evening with him. you arrive an hour earlier (unable to contain your excitement at finally spending some time with him), and caught him with streaks of paint decorating his outfit.

he mentions how early you are, yet still allows you inside, telling you to make yourself at home while he takes a quick shower. as you rest against his kitchen counter, you hear the shower go off and smile. a few minutes pass, and you felt the palm of your hands begin to itch with a sudden sensation.

biting down at your bottom lip, you look towards the area where rafayel keeps all of his artwork. you were filled with curiosity, wondering what he was working on that made it such a touchy subject for rafe each time you asked about it.

you close your eyes, still hearing rafayel in the shower when you decided to push yourself away from the counter. "i'll just take a quick peek, then put the sheets back in place. he won't even notice."

stepping into his gallery room, you turn on all the lights, coming closer to the sheet as you gripped at the corner of it before pulling it away-

only to reveal a gorgeous carving that depicted a mermaid. she was by far the loveliest creature you had ever seen, with her soft features carved with a gentle smile as she held a pearl within her slender hands. from the amount of care rafayel had put into making her, it was clear that this sculpture was made with love.

there was just one problem-

the mermaid looked nothing like you.

your throat was felt painfully clenching at the sudden realization, but you brushed it off as mere paranoia. surely, there was some other art piece that held your likeness. as you trail your eyes towards a canvas now, you felt your heart sink even further.

it was the same woman; her features matches that of the mermaid sculpture, but this time, you could see the colors. her cheeks were painted in a rosy hue, with each paint stroke seeming to accentuate the soft beauty the woman displayed. around her neck was an aquamarine pendant in the shape of a banded tulip seashell. trailing your eyes further downwards towards the frame, you felt your heart clench upon seeing the title of his painting:

melody, my beloved queen

your mind was racing now, and the sheer intensity of the hurt and envy you felt renders you incapable of taking another step. you were so caught up in your reveries that you didn't even realize that rafayel had come out of the showers until he places the sheets over his works once more.

"you- you weren't supposed to see that."

slowly, you turn around to face him, and his guilty expression was more than enough proof, confirming your suspicions that the woman he kept painting and sculpting- this melody-

he loved her.

"why did you even approach me when your heart was never mine to begin with?"

you were proud at how even your voice came out, and when rafayel tried to stutter out some excuse, you immediately cut him off.

"no more bullshit lies, rafayel. tell me."

the artist lets out a string of curses, running a hand through his damp hair. unable to meet your gaze out of shame, he sighs before admitting, "it's because she doesn't remember me... even after meeting her, she only sees me as a friend. she... doesn't remember me."

your throat was burning now, and you could feel the tears streaming down your face, "then why waste your time with me?"

rafayel meets your gaze, a pained expression painting his features. yet his next words succeeds in absolutely devastating you:

"i used you as a means to try and forget her."

the agony you felt was indescribable, with you immediately turning away from rafayel. the sting of his betrayal was felt coursing through your very veins when you rushed out of his home and into the cold, night air.

you wanted to grip at your hair and scream at the top of your lungs-

you wanted to claw at the sidewalk, making sure that your nails bled with each scrape against the concrete-

but perhaps most of all, you wanted to rip your heart out for still loving rafayel despite it all-

even when you were no longer his muse.

[ all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!! ]

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

STAR SHOPPING — charles leclerc (angst, smut)

pairing; fem!reader x charles leclerc summary: look at the sky tonight, all of the stars have a reason. warnings: angst angst angst angst, little bit of smut (very less tbh), dying relationship a/n: ifuckfuckfukc. im not good at writing summaries, i guess. alsososo, this is inspired by lil peep's song, 'star shopping' (rip to that angel). love the song, love you.

charles massaged his temple, debating whether it would be worth it.

it was reckless, sure. a stupid gamble. but he’d made it anyway. he wasn't going to back down from a challenge.

the text from carlos glared at him, a void pulling him in, daring him to take the leap.

carlos Party at Twiga, join us bro!

he slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to her. “i’ll be back in the morning,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to her temple.

she nodded but didn’t say a word.

he knew she didn’t care anymore. and why would she?

promises, once bright as fireworks, had dulled to faint whispers she could barely hear over the noise of his world. he wasn’t the man she deserved, not anymore.

but god, she was everything to him. so much more than perfect, more than anything he thought he’d ever deserve.

but he wasn't worth it.

she was losing her patience, and he didn't blame her.

he first saw the cracks in their relationship months ago.

one conversation a week—if that—was all he could give her. he’d call her late at night from hotel rooms, his voice tired from exhaustion, apologising for being so far away.

“it’s okay,” she’d say every time, but her tone told him it wasn’t.

when he was home, his hands would find her waist, lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. she’d arch into him, sighs warm against his skin, and for a moment, everything would feel right.

but this wasn’t about her. it was about his need for her, his desperation to feel close to her again.

his fingers trailed lower, her eyes fluttered shut, and he saw his own desperation in her expression.

she still loved him, he was fucking sure of it.

and the knowledge only sent him spiralling as if it were the only thought in his head.

her name a chant, a prayer, a mantra.

her name left his lips over and over, a plea she didn’t answer.

because she wouldn’t look at him. not once.

and that hurt more than anything.

he kissed her again, and she moaned against him, nails raking his back. he pressed harder, wanting her to feel, to see how much he needed her.

her hands moved to tangle in his hair, and he could feel her body tightening around him.

he pulled back, looking down at her.

"look at me," he murmured. "look at me, chérie."

her eyes were a void, and he could feel himself falling.

falling into her, and then, falling out.

out of her life, out of the apartment they shared, out of the city he promised he'd always come home to.

falling into a chasm that would take everything. everything he had, everything he was.

he fell, and she watched.

"do you still love me?" he asked.

she diverted her eyes, "yes."

her friends didn’t make it easier, either. they saw the missed dinners, the empty seat beside her at gatherings. they whispered that she deserved better, and charles hated that he agreed with them.

but he was working on it, he really was.

he was trying to make something of himself, to be someone worth her time. he spent hours at the track, pouring everything into his career. because maybe, just maybe, if he could prove his worth to the world, he could prove it to her too.

make his money, and drive his car.

he didn’t pick up her calls as often as he should have.

it wasn’t because he didn’t want to—he just didn’t know how to face the guilt in her voice. he was already so stretched thin, trying to balance racing and everything else.

his exes had hated this part of him too, the way he disappeared into his own world.

but she was different.

she didn’t hate him for it; she just wanted to understand.

and maybe that’s what made it harder.

her family didn't like him either. they thought him unreliable, uncommitted, and too much in his own world.

he wasn't the person her family wanted him to be.

he couldn’t blame them, though.

but she would just shake her head at that, arms wrapped tightly around him. “i don’t care about that, charles. i want you.”

her words should have been a comfort; a reassurance, but they felt like another weight added to the ones he already carried.

her faith in him was suffocating. they fought over it, a lot.

"charles, it was important to me!" she shouted, hands raising in the air from anger.

"what did you expect? what the fuck did you want me to do?" he shouted back, his anger matching hers.

"something! anything! you never think about me."

"of course i do!"

"you promised, charles. you said you'd be there." she ended, eyes shutting close from the tears welling in her eyes.

and there was the night before he left for vegas.

they sat together on the balcony, the stars blinking above them. he couldn’t stop looking at her, the way her hair moved slightly from the breeze, the way her fingers traced patterns on the glass of her wine.

“do you think the stars have a reason to shine?” he asked suddenly.

she looked at him, surprised. “i think we all have a reason,” she replied after a few seconds of silence.

he nodded, swallowing hard. “i hope you know you’re mine.”

she smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

it was 3:14 am now.

charles stared out at the sea from where he sat in his car. he had left the party early.

his phone vibrated, with her name flashing across the screen.

he didn’t answer. not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know what to say.

all he could do was look at the sky that night, wondering if the stars above her were the same ones above him.

and if they were, maybe they’d shine a little brighter—for her, if not for him.

[meanbossart]

I LOVE DU drow and I love your art style! I also really like how you draw Astarion's hair, it looks flowy but still with his trademark curls.

Can you give any advice on drawing Astarion's hair? I find it a nightmare to draw. Whenever I free hand it, it just doesn't have the amount of curliness I want, and when I try to use a reference it ends up looking rather stiff.

Take care and thanks for the art 😊

THANK YOU though to be honest I'm shocked to find this ask in my inbox because every time I draw Astarion a war is waged between me and his hairdo. But sure, lets give this a shot!

First of all I feel like its a good idea not to be too attached to his in-game model hair when drawing unless your style is very realistic. The only reason why that dry-noodle helmet looks so regal and bouncy is because of the high-detailed graphics. Like you mentioned yourself and many of us have experienced, if you try and stick to it too closely in most art-styles it just ends up looking terribly stiff.

Instead, I suggest just keeping growth-direction and shape in mind and applying as much movement as you want to it when you draw it. Here's some things to remember that might help you with that:

-I employ the liquify tool a lot when sketching his hair because I never get it big enough on the first try, lol. This can also aid you with "distorting" more curliness into your lines if you aren't used to doing that right off the bat, just try not to become too reliant on it!

-I usually leave the areas around the ears and back alone but imply a lot of movement with the top and front of the hair, taking as many liberties as I want even if it's not entirely faithful to the model. I feel like the impression of curliness comes entirely from the silhouette of the hair and little fly-ways that I add, and everything else I just try to do without overthinking it too much for a more natural look.

In truth, I feel like a lot of times we get stuck on things like parting-placement, right amount of curl, which brush we're using yada-yada when in reality we are neglecting what actually makes a character's hair recognizable: Hairline, growth pattern, and shape. If you get these three things right I feel like everything else is entirely just stylistic choice. It's worth pulling away for a moment and checking on these things if you feel like you're continually unhappy with your outcome!

-Astarion has a hairline capable making most men over 30 cry. It's very low on the forehead and tight on the temples with the slightest hint of a widow's peak. As someone who drew a lot of big-foreheaded characters with receding hairlines prior, this was a STRUGGLE for me to get used to and a big reason why I felt like I couldn't get his hair to look "right" for the longest time.

-His hair swoops to the right side of his face in a fanning kind of shape and is the longest at the front and top. You can imply a strong part if you want, you can split it into sections, you can have it falling over his forehead or not at all - as long as it's going in the right direction you will probably be fine.

-A mistake I would catch myself making often was getting the shape totally wrong - making it too slick at the top and putting all the volume in the back when that's pretty much the exact opposite of what his hair does. IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP, REPEAT IT TO YOURSELF LIKE IT'S A MANTRA: IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP.

And lastly, if you absolutely hate how his hair looks or hate to draw it, you can forego all of this and just do whatever you want. These tips are only worth something if you like how I draw his hair specifically.

Hopefully this was helpful at all!

[lizardboiii]

Breaking up ┃One Piece Pt. 1

Scenario: Having a huge fight with your bf which ultimately leads one of you to saying something you regret.

"I wish I never met you."

Characters: Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro x Fem!reader

cw: 18+, SFW, Angst, Hurt/No comfort, vulgar language

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Monkey D. Luffy

“You never even treat me like we're together!”

You were at your breaking point, figuratively and literally. In the last three months that you and Luffy had been together, not once did he change the way he acted towards you. It felt as if you were still just Luffy’s nakama. Well today that was all going to change. You had a plan.

It took some convincing, but you finally managed to get Nami and Ussop to help you set up a romantic dinner in the Sunny’s crow’s nest. Two of Luffy’s favorite things, food and you. It was perfect.

With preparations taken care of, you waited patiently for Luffy to arrive. Your aforementioned captain was currently exploring the island you were stopped at. But with the sun starting to set, he'd be back for dinner any minute now.

So you waited. 

And waited. 

And waited….

You waited till the candles were near burnt out. Waited till the food went ice cold. Waited till your eyes stung from holding back tears.

Monkey D. Luffy had stood you up.

Your own boyfriend. 

Slamming the napkin delicately placed across your lap onto the table, you pushed yourself to your feet. Humiliation creeped its way up your neck. Never in your life have you ever felt so worthless. 

Holding back hiccups, you dragged yourself out of the crow’s nest and away from the undisturbed meal. What was Nami going to think? All that preparation for nothing. You clenched your hands into tight fists. The next time you see Luffy you swear you were going to-

“y/n!”

You spun on your heel to face the familiar voice. Luffy’s face smiled brightly at you, blinding you more than the moonlight. It was almost enough for you to forgive him. Almost.

“Wait up!”

Scoffing, you glared at his cheery form before turning away from him. All you wanted was a shower, not excuses. 

Luffy caught up with your silently seething form with ease, spinning around you like top. He pranced around as if he were a crow and you his shiny treasure. Your name falling from his lips like a mantra.

Try as you might, eventually you gave into his pestering, voice sharp as nails, “What do you want, Luffy?”

Luffy’s grin widened despite your tone, “Sorry I couldn't make it, y/n. There was a festival in town, you should have come. There was an all you can eat buffet, Tra-guy and Jaggy were there too!” He scratched his chin, “Maybe next time you can invite everyone else so we can all eat together again!”

Your eye twitched, “Why would I invite the whole crew to our date?”

“Date?”

You stopped in your tracks, “Yes, date. You know the ones you're supposed to take your girlfriend out on? That kind?”

You could practically see the gears turning in his head at your reply. 

“But I have multiple girlfriends?” “WHAT?”

“Ya! You, Robin, Nami,” Luffy used his fingers to count, “Oh, and Vivi!”

You face palmed, “Not “girl” friends, Luffy. A “girlfriend”. Someone who’s more,” You reached for Luffy’s hand, “Special.”

“But all my friends are special,” Luffy pouted, gingerly returning your touch.

Laughing, you shook your head, “I know. But…It's a different type of special. It's when you wanna hold their hand, and you wanna be near them no matter what,” You met his confused gaze, “It's someone you love.”

“Then why would I wanna do that with you?”

“Huh?”

It felt like your body hit a brick wall. Every word ripped from your throat. He was joking right? It was a sick joke but a joke no less. 

“I don’t think I love you.”

You blinked in confusion before choking out a response, “T-Thats okay. Sometimes it takes a while to realize you love someone. It's not immediate.”

Luffy hummed, “I'm not sure I even want a “girlfriend”, y/n.”

A nervous laughter erupted from your throat, “Luffy, what are you talking about?” It felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

“I like how my friends are now. I don't need a “girlfriend”. I have my Nakama. I have you.”

The world suddenly stopped spinning, and only for a moment the ocean quieted and the breeze hushed. Then, as if nothing happened, the world began to turn as normal, leaving behind your hollowed out body.

"...what?"

Cheeky smiled, Luffy repeated his words as if it was only the news, "I don't need a "girlfriend" I have a crew!"

The empty feeling in the pit of your stomach slowly filled with rage. First, he stood you up. Now? Now, he wants to pretend you guys aren't even dating!?

“Luffy, we're dating! What are you talking about? I asked you out almost three months ago!” You snapped, “Why did you even say yes to me if you didn't want a "girlfriend"?” 

“I don't know,” He cocked his head to the side, “I just thought you wanted to be closer friends.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “What?”

Luffy shifted in his sandals, clearly uncomfortable, “I thought you wanted to be my “girl” friend, not my “girlfriend”.”

“Are you joking?” Your skin felt red hot as if your whole being was ablaze, “You thought I wanted to be your “girl” friend!? Did it ever once occur to you that friends don't hold each other’s hands!?”

Luffy quickly retracted his hand from your grip, scratching his head in thought, “Not really.”

“Oh my god,” You couldn't tell if you were laughing or crying at this point, “This whole time you never thought we were together? Ever?!”

“I guess we are a bit closer than everyone else,” Luffy’s brows furrowed in thought.

“A bit?” You ran your fingers through your hair, “We spend every waking moment together! I've confided in you, you've confided with me. You know things about me no one else does!”

To his credit, Luffy looked ashamed, “I’m sorry, y/n. I guess…I just never noticed how you really felt.”

You rolled your tear filled eyes, “Obviously.”

“I can try if you want-”

“Forget it, Luffy,” You held your hands up in defeat, “Just forget it. Whatever you thought was going on here is over.”

Luffy grabbed your arm, “What! I don't want that!”

“You don't seem to want a lot of things,” You shrugged his grip off, “Including me.”

“y/n.”

You wiped your face clear of tears.

“We're done, Lu.”

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Roronoa Zoro

"Do I need to be a sword just to get a minute of your attention!?"

Three hundred seventy-six, three hundred seventy-seven, three hundred seventy-eight-

“Are you still counting?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, mom.”

Zoro ignored your annoyed response, preferring to continue his push ups below you. Huffing, you rested your chin on your hand. He had been going at this for hours now. You were starting to feel nauseous as your form jostled every time Zoro went up and down with you on his back.

“How much longer?”

Zoro grunted, “When I reach two thousand.”

“Two thousand!?”

Your sudden shout made Zoro shoot up quickly, knocking you off balance. Your criss-crossed form easily flew from Zoro’s back to the ground below. You fell hard, slamming your shoulder into the wood floor. 

Hissing, you rubbed your now sore arm, “What the hell, Zoro!?”

“Shit.”

The moss head was quick to his feet, offering you a hand, “Dammit, you should've been more careful.”

You snatched his extended hand and scoffed, “I wasn't the one who moved so suddenly.”

Pulling you to your feet, Zoro continued to hold your hand, “I wasn't the one complaining so loudly.”

“I can’t help it. We’ve been here all day,” You played with his larger fingers, “Plus, you promised you'd explore the island with me today.”

You could hear Zoro grumble under his breath before sighing loudly, “Training is more important right now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What, why?"

Your thoughts raced around in your head to find a reason for Zoro's sudden uptightness. You were quick to settle on striking golden eyes and a small dagger. Dracule Mihawk. He and Zoro had put on quite the show only weeks ago.

Rubbing Zoro's palm, you quirked a brow, "Are you still hung up about that Mihawk guy beating you?”

“I'm not hung up.”

You flinched at Zoro’s tone, “You clearly are.”

Quickly dropping your hand, Zoro turned away from you, “Listen it doesn't even matter what you think. You wouldn't understand. You're not a swordsman.”

“I'm not a swordsman but I'm definitely your girlfriend,” you snapped at his back.

“Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean you can control my training.”

“Just because you're a swordsman doesn't mean you can just dismiss me.”

The room filled with a silence thick enough to cut with a sword. You thought you might drown on land. Staring into Zoro's rigid back, you tried to manifest any form of response from him.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, Zoro rolled his shoulders and turned to face you. Your breath caught in your throat at his expression. It was dark, almost...menacing. It was a gaze he normally reserved scum marines and enemy pirates alike, but never for you.

“You're the one who's dismissing me!”

A forced laugh erupted from your mouth, “How am I dismissing you, moss head?” You crossed the space between the two of you, “By telling you to take one measly break?”

Zoro’s eyes bore into your own as if trying to find his next words. Grabbing your hand, he placed it on his bare chest, “Do you see this?”

You tensed at the feeling of the scar tissue, Mihawk.

“This...this scar is why I have to be stronger. For the crew. For Luffy,” Zoro squeezed your hand, “For you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Zoro, I didn't-”

“Maybe we should break up.”

You paused, mouth stuck open in shock, “...what?”

It felt like you had swallowed glass, pins and needles running down your esophagus into your stomach. But the glass still wasn't enough to fill the large pit beginning to form.

Gently, Zoro pushed your hand away from him, “This relationship,” he took a deep breath, “Might be too much of a distraction.”

You never really understood when people said it felt like their heart was being ripped out of their chest. But now? It felt like your whole chest cavity had been removed. 

Slowly, hot tears began to cascad down your rosied cheeks, “You think I'm a distraction?”

Zoro paused, his internal conflicted evident on his face, “...yes.”

You clenched your teeth together tightly, “Screw you, Zoro! I can barely get you to pay attention to me when someone even mentions the word “sword” but I'm the distraction?!” You jammed a finger into his chest, avoiding his scar, “If you needed an excuse to break up with me so badly you could've at least chosen a good one!”

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Zoro favored staring at the ground, “But if I want to be the greatest swordsman I can't be with you.” His hand captured the one buried in his chest, "Not yet at least."

You ripped your hand away from him, "If not now, then never." Your eyes searched Zoro's, looking for any sign of regret, "Choose, Zoro."

"Its over, y/n," Massive arms pulled you into a warm hug, "I'm sorry."

Clutching onto him, you sobbed silently. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he just have both?

"I love you."

“Fuck you.”

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Requests Open!

[nepenthendline]

till death do us part - Hawks (Keigo Takami) x reader

a/n: unconfirmed reader death, gore and blood mentions, hawks wants to marry you, angst angst angst, gn reader, let me know if you want a part 2 where reader survives!!

Hawks and you had been battling a nomu for what felt like hours now - it was a high end, and even you two, a duo of perfect sync and compatibility, were struggling to knock it down. There were other pro-heros in the area focused on rescue and evacuation, but only the two of you were in direct combat.

Things seemed to be taking a turn for the better, however. Even though most of Keigo's feathers were demolished, leaving him to fight with his swords, and you were covered in injuries and small broken bones, its regeneration was wearing thin.

'Almost there, let's go for the head!' Keigo yelled to you over the wailing of the nomu, in which you nodded in return. As if connected, you both moved forward at the same time; your partner was fighting in front of the nomu, working as a distraction, whilst you lept up from behind and plunged your knife into its head. The creature groaned and stumbled, blood pouring out of its brain as you sliced through the flesh. 'You got it,' you heard Keigo yell above the noise, giving you the power to plunge your knife further. The nomu fell to its knees, making you grip onto its shoulders to steady yourself as it collapsed. Now, at a lower level, you could see the relief in Keigo's eyes and the slowing rise and fall of his chest. He began walking closer to assist you as you plunged your knife again to deal a final blow, however, the next few moments flashed before him.

The nomu raised one stub of an arm over its head, growing some sort of sharp extension from it, and aimed towards you. Before you could react, the sharp appendage shot through your abdomen, throwing you a few feet back and released, dropping your limp frame on the ground.

Keigo's eyes were wide, and jaw dropped as he watched his love get pierced by the creature. As soon as he heard the tear of your body, he screamed your name - a gut-wretching, painful scream. He vaulted forward, moving out of pure adrenaline and fear, slicing the remaining head off of the nomu, and watched it crumble to the ground. He stood still for a moment as the world came to a silencing hault expect for the sound of his blood rushing through his body. He dropped his swords and bolted to you.

You lay lifeless on the ground, blood pooling from your stomach onto your hero costume and the earth below you, mixing with the dirt. He reached you in seconds and dropped to his knees by your side. One hand came to cradle your head, the over hovered over the gaping wound, shaking.

'Shit...SHIT,' his whole body trembled as he looked over you, eyes darting around and taking in the horror. They fell onto your face, covered in blood, dirt, and tear stains that had fallen from your half-lidded eyes. His head shot up, frantically looking for someone, or something, to help you. He spotted a person, a hero, not too far away who stood frozen, watching the two of you, with their hand cupping their mouth in terror. 'Get someone! They need help!' His voice was rough and unsteady from the lump in his throat - something so raw and agonising. The hero nodded vigorously, before running off.

Keigo looked back down to you - the blood continued to spill from you, and his hand was holding more weight from your neck than before. His other hand, the one that rested above your wound, flexed open and closed before he spoke. 'Dove? This is going to hurt, but stay with me, ok?' He pleaded, watching you force a slight nod as you looked up at him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the heel of his hand into your wound, putting pressure on the area to slow the bleeding. The hand under your head stroked at your scalp as you whimpered and winced from the pain. 'I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he murmured like a mantra as he shifted himself so that your head rested in his lap. The, now free, hand came to move your damp hair away from your face and continued to brush through. You locked eyes for a few moments in silence.

'It's gonna be ok, dove, you're gonna be ok,' he forced out, his voice breaking as tears ran down his cheeks. He sniffled before bending down to place a kiss on your cold yet sweat-slick forehead. His chapped lips trembled against your skin, and you felt a teardrop or two roll onto your own cheeks. 'Gotta stay with me, ok? Getting you help, so just gotta stay awake for me, go it?' You weakly nodded again, to which he whispered sweet praises in your ear and gently rocked your head in his lap.

'I-I love you,' you muttered, barely audible. He let out a dry chucke, although it held nothing but grief.

'I love you too, so so much, so keep fighting for me, doing so well,' the corner of your mouth raised slightly at his words, as much as your body would allow, and his grip on you tightened. His torso hunched down closer to you, occasionally brushing his wet nose against yours, or peppering your face with kisses. Your tears were mixed together at this point, you had no idea what was coming from who.

'M'tired,' fell from your lips as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. Keigo nodded in understanding, bringing his hand from your head to hastily wipe his tears on his torn jacket sleeve.

'I know, baby, gotta stay awake for me, though,' he repeated. His breath hitched when he didn't get a response from you this time, except from your eyelids closing for a few seconds, then opening ever-so-slightly. He needed to do something, think of something to keep you awake. His eyes flitted around as he thought before resting back on you.

'Hey, baby?' He shook your head gently to get your attention, letting out his held breath when your eyes moved to his. 'How about I tell you about something really exciting, yeah? Know you can never sleep when you get excited,' he chuckled as he cried, forcing a smile onto his lips. His tone was something like his usual teasing manner, although he cracks and dips in his voice broke his facade. He felt one of your hands shift, coming to lightly grip onto his trouser leg in response. You also let out a huff of a breath, something adjacent to laughter. He sniffled again and smiled down at you as his thumb stroked your cheek. 'Gonna propose to you soon,' he confessed, a pained grin painting his face. Even despite the agony and blood, he still looked at you with the same adoring eyes as ever.

'Yeah?' You whispered, a tear escaping your eye and rolling onto his hand. He nodded, chuckling again.

'Yeah. Got you the prettiest ring and everything,' he saw something of a sparkle in your drooping eyes, so he continued. 'Gonna plan the most romantic, most cheesy proposal you can imagine,' your smile grew wider as you listened, gripping tighter on his trousers, although you had to take a few deep breathes, as deep as you could, before you could speak again.

'Figured, it's not Keigo if it's not dramatic,' he gasped, feigning shock at your words before nuzzling his nose against your cheek. With his face so close, he could feel that your breathes were getting shallower, and your neck was barely supporting you. His head moved back, glancing over you again.

'Dove?' He probed, but the only response was your grip on him fading.

'Baby?' He tried again, his voice growing more desperate. He could see your eyelids fighting to move - you were still holding on, even if barely.

Whenever danger struck, or things happened that pushed you back, Keigo was always there to hold you together and inject you with positivity and light, even if that meant pushing away his own pain and suffering. He didn't ever want to be one that broke in front of you, but now, at your most broken, he was falling apart. He needed you, he couldn't lose you, not like this.

'Fuck it,' he let out a groan and looked up to the grey sky as if to push past his torment, which startled you with what energy you had left. 'You know what? Fuck the engagement, fuck the planning, let's just get married,' his voice was louder than before, stronger. His gaze returned to you once more, relieved to see the dim curl of your lips. 'As soon as all this is over, let's get married. Would'd'ya like that?' He beamed down at you, an expression almost manic.

'Yeah,' you breathed as your eyes closed.

[holding-monsters-hands]

Hello!!

I LOVEE how you write AM!! He’s the perfect blend of how he canonically is and how I see him being in love. So, could I request him with a s/o who has been bullied most of their life and now has OCD? For example, they obsess over whether or not they are annoying to others (maybe to AM himself)

Thank you!!!

WAA THANK YOU, I try really really hard to make these characters as (for lack of a better word) in character as humanly possible. Even tho I think harlan ellison would personally hunt me down and kill me for the shit I write about AM. /hj

Also I am writing this as someone who does not deal with OCD, and has only been around people with said condition. So I will do my best, but I deeply apologize if it’s not entirely accurate or has a full, deep representation!

AM with an s/o that has OCD

He’s a computer, and one that arguably has an infinite load of mental illness despite him not containing a human brain. He does not have a full understanding of OCD except from an outside view.

So, when he falls for you and witnesses what your day to day is like. He feels like any depiction he’s studied in both medical and entertainment just could not possibly understand the real thing.

Especially seeing how you have to constantly battle your own thoughts, and the negative effect your childhood bullies have had on that.

How you can’t really control those intrusive thoughts of yours, how they disgust you, how you fear what those thoughts make you as a person.

He does his best to assist you with constant, verbal reassurance. You can trust that he will never leave you guessing on how he’s feeling or thinking of you.

Even if that in itself doesn’t completely make the problem go away, he’s still aware that these are compulsive thoughts and actions. You aren’t doing them because you want to, and they certainly don’t make you a difficult or an annoying person. That, is a mantra he will constantly repeat to you until you tell him to either knock it off or he sees some improvement in your brain.

He’ll try and do things in your little routine to make it a little less stressful for you, such as when you ‘have’ to do something out of fear of something bad happening. He’ll count out the amount of times you’ve done it, or try and reassure you with logic. (Which, he’s aware isn’t going to solve much- but he’s trying.)

He’ll even offer to just.. tinker with your brain a bit, not because he thinks you need adjustment or change.. but because it just pains him to see you suffer, to see you deal with these unrelenting thoughts and compulsions. He wants you to have some sliver of peace, however, that’s something he’d leave up to you.

[fishermanshook]

ASK: sooo you mentioned that you wanted someone to ask for ganji or orpheus smut so here i am 😆😆 so, general ganji smut hcs? or maybe just sfw nsfw hcs of taking a bath with him? or perhaps first time hcs? Soooo many ideas

requester: @ch6douin

HOLD ME TIGHT AND DON'T LET GO

(batter , novelist x gn!reader) separate [N]SFW hc’s

# MINOR WRITING SMUT ⚠️ , reader is gn , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

What’s more intimate than bathing together under the moonlight? Holding each other in your arms, as the other shakes and cries from the overstimulation you’ve caused to their body. Seeing you, their darling, twitch, and moan from the pleasure they give you is something they need engraved in their mind and memory.

How can they help themselves when you look so stunning right now?

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

The Batter

SFW

Getting close to the Batter is an accomplishment in itself, but establishing a relationship with him earns you some bragging rights. Ganji’s emotional (and physical?) walls are literal fortresses in themself, so to have a relationship with him takes time, patience, and communication. The more the two of you talk, the fewer bumps there will be.

Once the two of you start dating it will be a lot smoother from there on out.

In the early stages of your relationship, if you were trying to bathe alongside him, Ganji is automatically shutting it down. He’s not comfortable doing something that he finds so intimate already and he’d rather do it later in the relationship.

When he does find your relationship solidified, he asks you if you would like to join him in the bath. Where the sun pours in from the windows and gleams across your skin. It feels nice to be this close to his, with your chest against his. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.

Ganji might ask you to wash his hair, or, as long as your hands aren't wet, run your fingers through his hair. It's such a soothing thing for the man that he could fall asleep if he weren’t in the bath.

But on certain and rare occasions, the Batter may or may not find it harder than usual to keep focus. Especially when your ass is pressed right against his— oh god. He might explode if he doesn’t have his way with you right now.

[N]SFW

“Fuck, Ganji! Yes right there!” the words spilled out of your mouth as the Batter pumped his dick in and out of you. You should’ve become numb to any feeling down there, but it’s your 5th round and you swear the twitching of his cock becomes even more prominent with every thrust.

The Batter seems to have an unwavering stamina, but you sense his tiredness growing in every thrust. Yet he keeps it up. He can’t get the image of you bouncing up and down on him out of his brain, and he wishes to soak up the memory and feeling before your touch eventually wilts away.

“Tell me I feel good, love,” Ganji whispers in your ear with that deep, raspy voice that you love. It never fails to send chills down your spine as you moan out his name and praise him like it’s going out of style.

“You so amazing darling,! Fill me up so good, ugh please keep going,” you groan out as his name continues to spill from your mouth like a mantra. You take him so well, your eyes filled with lust and love.

Ganji senses that you're about to reach your climax, and he’s not far behind you. It seems only now you realize that his hips have started to meet yours in a lustful rhythm neither of you want to end. With a final kiss, you moan out his name one last time before coming.

“Yes darling— come for me,” Ganji says as you come undone on his cock, coating his in your essence once more. The Batter eventually thrusts into you sucking in a breath of air as he follows suit.

The aftermath leaves both of you tired and drowsy. Using the last bit of your energy, you help clean up Ganji and yourself before making the trek back to your shared bed.

“I love you,” Ganji states as he lays a gentle kiss on your forehead. You hummed back in response, closing your eyes to get some well-deserved rest.

Aftercare is an obvious must. It doesn’t matter how tired he is Ganji will help clean you up. So while it doesn’t explicitly state that here, he did make sure to help wipe you down.

Ganji just wants to make you feel good, but also won’t deny pleasure as a response. As long as you feel like you're going to burst, he’ll feel good too.

The Novelist

SWF

The Novelist isn’t one to trust easily, let alone fall in love as quickly as he did. He’s quick to judge others on their behavior and who they surround themselves with. You must’ve made an amazing first impression on him, as it’s become a lasting one even months later.

Orpheus finds himself confessing to you using a heartfelt letter that took him weeks to write. Don’t believe him? Then maybe the crumbled drafts decorating his bedroom floor will convince you otherwise.

Regarding bathing together, he’s not entirely against the idea. Orpheus thinks just that preferably, he’d want to do it later on in the relationship when trust has further been built. He’s not rushing to have you with him in the bath, and it doesn’t seem like you are either.

Although, he can’t deny the pleasant thought of holding you oh so close to him. A glass of red wine is held in your hands as he massages out any areas of tension across your back and other areas. To have you wash his hair and try (miserably) to keep the soap out of his eyes.

It’s all adorable to think of, which leaves him to inviting you into the tub more often than not. As you lay on his chest, hands intertwined, he can’t stop thinking about how lucky he is to have you.

This time though, the rose petals and candles that decorate the bathroom floor tell a different story. Leaving you to wonder if Orpheus had ever written something like this before.

[N]SFW

Orpheus wants the both of you to feel good, which is why he refuses to stop when you're begging him to. He works away at your neck first, covering it in hickeys as his fingers twist and pinch your nipples.

“Orpheus please— need you so badly,” you whine into his ear as he pulls away from your hickey-covered neck to face you.

“But darling I thought you wanted this,” Orpheus states as he presses kisses along your jawline before finally moving inside you. Drawing a low moan from you as he pushes himself inside. “Shit, always so tight for me no matter how many times I do this huh?”

It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this, he always makes you feel too good for words to describe. He touches all the sensitive parts, kisses all the right spots, and always hits the right spot. His accuracy is precise and has you coming in no time.

Your wet hands glide through his hair and pull his head towards yours. In other situations, he’d pull your hand away and sulk because “now my hair is soaking”. Now though, he wouldn’t want anything else but to have his face against yours. To listen to the melodies that fall from your mouth. To hear his name fall from your lips.

“Come on daring, lemme hear more of you.” Orpheus managed to grunt out as he pounds into you, the water and soap around you creating waves around you.

“Feel so good—Orpheus I want all of you!” You shout out as you scratch and claw at his back. Your neck and collarbone are littered with hickeys and warm spots from where his soft lips were earlier.

Sooner or later, you're gushing from his cock. Your back arched in a way that has him drooling from his mouth and shooting loads into you that feel like they'll never stop.

Once the situation has calmed down, he'll help clean up and tuck the two of you into bed. With a final kiss to the lips and a shared "I love you" goodnight, you two drift far off into sleep.

Orpheus is a gentleman at heart, but despite that, he'll tease you a bit before giving you what you want. It's always worth it in the end and always makes the experience just 10 times more pleasurable for both of you. 

note: hi poookieeee,,,, apology’s for how long this was left in my drafts 🌝 hope your happy with this sjsjajakqllemsc

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

i love your donnaxreader oneshots 🥲❤️‍🩹 may i request some angst?

the reader has been friends with Donna since childhood, and they're so close that they know each other's deepest secrets. when donna's parents die, the reader tries to stay with her but her family forbids her to do so, and donna ends up all alone.

not knowing her reasons, donna kept to herself all those years despite wanting to reach out to reader. donna's in love with her still, she never did forget her.

fast forward years later, donna went to the duke's to buy expensive pieces of cloth for her dolls, you know, the usual. but that time, reader was there too and donna grabbed the opportunity to talk to her.

when they chatted, donna was caught off-guard having found out reader was getting married to someone else soon.

donna doesn't want that, so, ehem, smut happens. but make it fluffy thoughhh and like donna was so gentle to reader because she doesn't want to hurt her, yet she's very possessive because she doesn't want reader to leave her for the second time.

please, make it happy ending 🥲

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your words and for your request!!! I'm sorry, I think it's maybe too long :S I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Come back to me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: smut, Minors DNI, angst, fluff, happy ending

Word count: 9,422 (Again, I'm sorry for it being too long)

Summary:  After 18 years, she came back to you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“Look at me! I'm the undisputed queen of the place!” you said amused, dangerously climbing a tree.

“(Y/N), Get… Get down from there, you, you'll hurt yourself,” your friend said, holding her doll in an adorable way, looking at you worriedly.

“I'm invincible, Donna, didn't you know that? I'm… Ah!” you said embarrassedly, interrupted by a branch that creaked under your feet, making you fall into the snow and proving your best friend right.

“So… Invincible, huh?” she said, looking down at you with a mocking smile, extending a hand to help you up.

You took it and brushed the snow off your dress, with a bright blush on your cheeks.

“I'm sure the tree was bewitched by the enemy…” you murmured, making your friend laugh amusedly, shaking her head.

You had always heard that village was the least suitable place for a ten-year-old girl like you, but you never found a reason to take that mantra for granted.

Daughter of farmers, from a family devoted to Mother Miranda, the Black Gods and the three Lords, your life had not been very different from that of the rest of the children of your age. But, by chance, one day you went into the forest, due to your constant thirst for adventure, meeting the one who would be your best friend forever, Donna Beneviento.

She was two years older than you, but she was completely alone. Her family was important in the village, the makers of those porcelain dolls that even you had. Even so, her daughter was a complete mystery.

Rumors said she had been born with a deformity, that she had two faces, four arms, absurd legends. Donna was a normal girl, with the only flaw being the lack of her right eye, according to what she told you, due to an accident.

Her family seemed to be cursed, even her little sister, Claudia, passed away a couple of years ago due to a strange illness.

There were no secrets between you, even when you were younger, you forged a bond that you thought was inseparable. You dared to leave aside your friends from the village, those boring and normal children, to cross that dangerous bridge and spend afternoons and afternoons with your friend Donna, with your best friend.

Your parents did not look favorably on that friendship, since they were convinced that poor girl was mentally ill. It could be true, you checked it several times, you knew that the doll that her father made her, Angie, was her only means of communication with others, well, with anyone other than you.

But after checking that every night you came back safe and sound, they decided to stop worrying about you, at least not that much.

“One day you're going to hurt yourself, (Y/N)…” the young Beneviento sighed, shaking her head. “I, I wouldn't like anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me,” you said, calmer, rubbing your back due to that resounding fall. “What do you say, Angie?” you asked amused, looking at the doll that Donna was holding, her most faithful companion.

“Sure, (Y/N) is invincible!” Donna replied in a squeaky voice, pretending to speak for the doll, pretending that the two of them were completely different, something that fascinated you.

“See?” you said in an amused whisper, approaching a small cliff, which bordered Donna's family's land. “Come on, Donna, let's play to see who can throw the rocks the farthest.”

“It's, it's dangerous,” the young girl murmured, hiding her fear behind Angie, approaching you with an unsure step. You scolded and made a gesture with your hand to downplay it, throwing the first rock.

“Look, Donna, look how far I threw it,” you said excitedly, comically hitting the shoulder of the older girl, who smiled shyly, bending down to get another rock.

“I think I won,” she said satisfied, thus beginning another of your usual competitions.

“We'll see about that,” you challenged, putting all your strength into that childish rock throwing, thus spending another fun time, another day that was supposed to be boring.

“Hey, (Y/N)…” Beneviento murmured, with a more serious tone “What, what are you going to do when you're older?”

“Oh, well…” you sighed, a bit confused by that question. “My parents say that I'll have to get married and… Well, I guess I'll follow the family tradition and take care of the farm.”

Donna opened her mouth moving her doll and nodded, sighing in a melancholic way.

“What about you?” you asked, relaxing your throwing and sitting on the ground, where your friend joined you. “I guess you won't have to work, right? Your parents have a lot of money.”

“My father is teaching me to make dolls like him,” the brunette explained, playing with a bunch of grass that the snow took pity on. “He says that when I grow up, I will take his place.”

“Oh…”you said, open-mouthed, listening attentively to your friend, who seemed increasingly sad. “How cool, so you can continue living in that big house.”

“I, I don't think it's cool, (Y/N)…” she murmured, with some resentment in her voice, stopping moving the doll, as if she didn't even want to include it in the conversation.

“Your house is amazing, and it has a very cool waterfall, we could play throwing ourselves down it,” you said amused, giving her a little nudge.

“We would die horribly, (Y/N),” she answered with a dark voice. “I, I don't know, if, if I could, I would… I would leave this village.”

“The village? Why?” you asked a bit surprised. You had always known that world. You didn't seem as uncomfortable as your friend living there.

“Everyone in the village thinks that… That I'm a monster… I, I'd like to wake up one day and see… The, the sun shining on the horizon and… Hear the, the sea waves,” she said, as if she wasn't talking to you, but to herself.

“You're not a monster, you're my friend,” you said, saddened by those words. “Hey, you, you're Italian, aren't you?”

She nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

“My, my family is Italian,” she whispered, angrily pulling out several of those herbs.

“That, that's great because, because there's sun there, and it has a lot of sea…” you said trying to cheer her up, trying to keep her from being taken away by her demons again. “I'm sure that when you're older, you'll have so much money that you'll be able to go wherever you want.”

“I don't know but… But I'd be alone again,” she said, looking at the ground again. You answered her with a smile and a bright face, getting up from the snow.

“Okay, would you take me with you?”  you asked with a satisfied voice. “That way you wouldn't be alone.”

Donna stood up too, with a distrustful look, hugging the doll.

“Would you... Would you want to come with me?” Donna asked unsure, with a shy smile forming on her face.

“Of course, you're my friend, I would never leave you alone,” you said, nodding. She laughed happily and nodded enthusiastically.

“Really?” she asked, getting a little closer to you. “I would love to take you with me everywhere. Sure, it’s going to be quite funny.”

“Yes, we could play pirates in the sea and... And we could have everything we wanted. It would be great,” you fantasized, moving your arms in an exaggerated way.

“Yes, I... It would be great...” the young girl said, in a small voice.

“Mistress, Mistress Donna!” a male voice interrupted that endearing moment.

Josef, the family gardener ran towards you. He seemed nervous, upset, panting and putting his hands on your friend's shoulders.

“Josef, what's wrong? It's not dinner time yet,” Donna protested, speaking, as always, through her doll.

“Mistress Donna, I... I'm, I'm so sorry... Your, your parents have... They have...” the man said, bending down in front of the little girl, looking at her with deep sadness.

“My parents? What's wrong with them?” the doll asked.

The man looked at you and growled, looking back at his young mistress.

“Gods, Donna... They, they have...” he whispered, giving her the worst news she could have.

Totally unexpectedly, confirming the rumors of that cursed family, Lord and Lady Beneviento had decided to end their lives, throwing themselves down the estate's waterfall.

Poor Donna was left in shock, looking at the ground as the three of you returned to the house, while the gardener tried by all means to cheer up the young girl, without success.

You didn't know what to say, and you didn't want to either.

Your friend sobbed, hugging Angie in that gloomy mansion while Josef did what he could to comfort her.

“Why did they do it?” she sighed through tears, looking at you, who discreetly put a hand on her back, trying not to cry too. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“I, I don't know, Donna,” you whispered in a small voice, lost in your friend's sadness, guilty for having said that waterfall was the coolest thing in the world.

 “I know, I'm sure it was my fault... They, they hated me,” the young Beneviento sobbed, leaning on your shoulder, pulling on your clothes desperately. “They hated me because I wasn't as perfect as Claudia.”

“Don't say that, Mistress,” -the gardener intervened, separating her from you so she wouldn't accidentally hurt you. “Your parents loved you very much.”

“Now, now I'm alone,” she murmured after a few moments of heartbreaking crying. That was a good time to do something for her. “They've left me alone...”

“You're not alone, Donna, I'm here with you,” you said with a voice more mature than your age indicated, with the tireless desire to make her feel good, to see a smile on your best friend's face again.

The clock struck the time in a sinister way. You couldn't miss dinner, your parents would be angry.

“You’re going to leave me too,” the girl whispered, hugging her doll and moving away from your comfort.

“No, I will never leave you,” you said in a firm voice. “Now, now I have to go but, but I promise you that tomorrow I will come to see you, and the day after, and the next day too, every day.”

“Really?” Donna asked, with tears in her only eye, with the hope of her soul still burning. “Will you come every day?”

“Yes, yes every day, every day. I told you that I would never leave you alone,” you repeated excited to be able to see some light in her eye.

“Promise me,” she said, now with a voice that emanated a deep darkness. “You have to promise me.”

“I promise you,” you said smiling, hugging your best friend for the last time, leaving her alone in her pain.

“Come on, little one…” Josef said, putting a hand on your back to guide you towards the door, leaving Donna crying inconsolably again. “Mistress Donna is very lucky to have you, (Y/N).”

“She is my best friend, sir,” you murmured, taking one last look at that mess of tears and increasingly unhinged screams.

You didn't know it, but that would be the last time you would see her, the last time you would walk through those woods.

“Mm, it was to be expected,” your father murmured during dinner. “Those two freaks…”

“Poor girl…” your mother sighed, of course, joining your father's monologue about what had happened. “First it was her sister and then…”

“Don't pity her, Rose, I've always told you that family is cursed,” the man interrupted.

You didn't say anything. You just looked at your food, not hungry, not wanting to do anything other than being with your friend in those horrible moments.

“Let's hope the Black Gods take pity on their souls,” your mother said in a solemn tone, joining her hands to emphasize her devotion.

“Nonsense, those Beneviento have never had the favor of the Gods, I’m sure, I knew Giuseppe,” your father said, remembering that brief friendship with the family patriarch, that conversation he had with him the day you got lost in the woods and met Donna.

“You only spoke to him once, Dimitri,” your mother corrected, always being a little more sensible.

“Enough to realize that he was totally out of his mind,” he said, haughtily, drinking from his glass of wine. “And the same will happen to his daughter, you'll see…”

“Where are you going, (Y/N)?” your father asked when you, fed up with that horrible conversation, got up from the table. “You haven't had dinner.”

“I'm not hungry, father,” you whispered, with a tear in your eyes threatening to betray your sadness.

That night, you could only think about Donna, only about her sad look, about her desire to be better than her parents, to leave the village, a feeling she had and you didn't. Maybe if you hadn't distracted her, they could... No, you couldn't think that way. At that moment the most important thing was to take care of her, to keep your promise.

“I'll come at dinner time,” you said the next day, picking up your backpack, ready to see your friend, to spend the day with her, something that normally wasn't a problem for your parents. That day, the smiles turned into silence.

“Hey, hey, young lady, where do you think you're going?” your father asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Donna's house, father,” you said sincerely. He put on a cold look and shook his head.

“No, no way, (Y/N),” he said in a stern voice, closing the door with a loud bang. “You will not go to that house again.”

“But, but father...” you protested incredulously at that strange attitude.

“Don't protest, young lady. I forbid it,” he insisted, abruptly removing your backpack from your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

“Dimitri, what harm can a little company do to that poor girl?” your mother protested, unsuccessfully trying to change his mind.

“That little nutcase brat doesn't worry me, I worry about (Y/N), what will happen if she loses her mind and hurts her?” your father said, raising his tone.

“She won't hurt me, father, she's my friend!” you shrieked in a childish way, desperate for that unexpected prohibition. –

“Your friend? Ha, she's a crazy, sick girl and she's not a good company for you,” he said, with a slightly calmer tone.

“Come on, darling, they've been friends for a long time and they've never…” your mother said, discreetly taking your side.

“Her parents didn't seem to pose any threat either, did they Rose? And look where they are now, at the bottom of the river. No, no, those things are inherited and I'm not going to allow that brat to hurt our daughter.”

“But father, I promised her, I promised her that I would be with her!” you protested again.

“There's nothing to say, (Y/N), forget about that Beneviento and start being what is expected of you,” your father whispered, moving away from you.

“Mom…” you whispered, pulling at your mother's dress.

She sighed and shook her head, with a different look.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N), but your father is right. That girl is not right in the head, honey…” your mother said, making you open your eyes in surprise at that change of mind.

“She is not right because she is alone, she needs me,” you pleaded, with tears already running down your cheeks.

“Nonsense,” your father muttered, ending that conversation, the worst of your life. “What she needs is to be locked up with that horrible doll. I'm not going to argue anymore, (Y/N), obey or there will be consequences.”

You couldn't do anything. It didn't matter how many times you cried, how many times you screamed, how many slaps you received for your insistence. You couldn't keep your promise.

Donna was left alone, you stopped being her friend involuntarily, forced to be with your mother and learn things that a good villager should know. You didn't want to play with anyone, the excitement typical of a girl your age faded after a few days, when you realized that, in truth, you would never see your friend again.

But you saw her, years later.

Accustomed to the idea of ​​having lost her, your life continued. You continued to grow. You continued to make your parents proud. Only an old photograph, taken by the old gardener, reminded you that you once had a friend, the best friend, and that you, you had failed her.

Being already a teenager, you discovered something disturbing, something that made you remember again what your sin had been, what had been the promise you could not keep.

Apparently, Mother Miranda had adopted a new daughter, one who would sit next to the rest of the Lords, as powerful as them, as fearsome as them. It didn't seem like something that interested you, until you heard her name: Donna Beneviento.

Your old friend was now in church, dressed entirely in black, with a veil covering her face, always accompanied by Angie, who seemed more alive than before.

She was no longer a child, she was a woman, like you, and you watched her every day, every time there was a mass, every time her dark gaze seemed to penetrate your insides. The years passed like a painful clock that never stopped counting the seconds, the hours that passed since that involuntary betrayal.

You could have apologized. You could have begged her to believe you, to be friends again. You didn't, you couldn't do it.

She was now a Lord, you were still a simple villager. The difference in power was overwhelming. Your attendance at mass was discreet, always trying to escape from her nonexistent gaze, sitting in the back row to avoid being recognized.

You knew she was watching you, you could feel it. But you, you didn't do anything. You didn't feel strong enough to do it, you felt ashamed, hurt for not being there for her when she needed you. The reasons didn't matter, what mattered was that you were her only friend, and you left her alone.

That shame for your past mistakes haunted you every day, every time you saw her black figure, her elegant walk, every time Donna Beneviento was present and you pretended not to be.

18 years after the fall of Beneviento…

“Don't let him fool you, (Y/N),” your tired mother said, sending you on errands as usual. You rolled your eyes and smiled, shaking your head.

“Not even someone like the Duke would be able to fool me,” you joked, picking up the list of items your parents wanted, frowning when you read one of them. “White fabric with ruffles? Mom…”

“It's the best, you'll look beautiful with that,” the woman said, with a tender smile, running her hand over your cheek, which you pushed away when you remembered the only thing you tried to forget day by day and that was getting closer and closer.

“I'd be prettier if you'd just leave me alone,” you hissed furiously, changing your happy face to a dark one, to one that indicated that your stomach was turning at the thought of it.

“It's for your own sake, darling, for the sake of...” she said, knowing that this horrible decision didn't make you the slightest bit happy.

“Yes, yes... For the sake of the family, I know,” you whispered with irony. “Like everything you do, right? It's all for my own sake.”

“(Y/N)...” your mother sighed, with an understanding look.

“Forget it, I have to go,” you said, trying not to argue again, not to make known your opinion about what your family wanted, what they thought, wrongly, was the best for you.

The village had long since ceased to be comfortable for you, a peaceful place to live. With your head now mature, with your feelings constantly battered, you remembered those desires to flee that your old friend had. Now, you understood why she wanted to leave and not look back.

 “(Y/N),” a voice distracted you from your complaints, a girl you knew, and that you didn't want to see.

“Mihaela,” you said listlessly, stopping in your tracks. “I'm a bit busy right now.”

“Yes, well I... I wanted, I wanted you to know that my husband isn't home this afternoon and that... I, I'd like you to come,” she said shyly.

You laughed, thinking about it, but finally, you shook your head.

“I can't go this afternoon,” you lied, fleeing from one of the many sexual encounters you had with the young woman.

“Oh, well, but…” the young woman insisted, getting a little closer to you.

“I said no, I can't,” you said abruptly, regretting it instantly. “We, we'll see each other another day,” you finished, fleeing from the insane obsession that girl had for you.

Yes, you may have been an ordinary village girl, but your tastes were not ordinary. Nothing you could feel was tied to a man. The more you grew, the more your interest in women did, an interest that would be definitive.

You had lovers, one-night stands with girls from the village, but, for some reason, none of them made you feel loved, none of them managed to make you fall in love. Because of the situation you were in, that feeling of helplessness was almost unbearable.

“Miss (Y/N), it's a pleasure to see you in my humble shop,” the village merchant, the Duke said, when you approached that sinister carriage.

You smiled at him in a false way and threw the list at him in an unpleasant way.

“Oh... Very well,” the merchant murmured, looking at you over that sheet of paper. “I suppose you're nervous about the great day, aren't you?”

You laughed mockingly.

“Yes, look at my excited face,” you joked, pointing at yourself. “Do you have it or not?”

“Take a look back there,” he murmured, indicating the back of the carriage, where you walked slowly, running your hand over the fabrics he used to sell that were neither white nor ruffled.

“Oh... Lady Beneviento...” the Duke said, causing you to immediately raise your head and your body to stiffen.

“Duke, Duke!” a shrill voice disturbed your ears. It wasn't Donna's voice, it was… It was Angie's voice.

You, with your whole body trembling, looked out. Indeed, the lady in black was in front of the merchant, holding a rickety Angie in her arms.

It had been so long since you had been so close to her that your first move was to hide, to avoid her seeing you, recognizing you. No, anything before having to face your own betrayal, a Lord, who you knew what she was capable of and who, surely, hated you.

“Do you have fabrics?” Angie asked, with a darker voice.

“Of course I have,” the Duke said, amused. “The best ones for you, my lady.”

“We'll see about that,” the doll mocked in a scornful tone.

The lady began to look around too close to you. Her pale hands gently touched the fabrics on the counter, checking their quality. Your eyes followed them, followed those hands that seemed soft, that delicate touch.

Donna was your friend, you betrayed her. She was your friend and because of you now, now she was... A monster.

“Don't you have anything better?” the puppet asked again, following the gestures of its owner, who was looking at the merchant through that disturbing black veil.

“Try back there,” he said, disinterested, counting a pile of coins that the lady handed him, pointing with his head to the worst possible place, the place where you were.

“Shit,” you whispered, running to hide behind the carriage, with such bad luck that you tripped on one of the Duke's absurd trinkets, crashing to the ground.

A sinister laugh sounded behind you.

“Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy, clumsy village girl,” the Angie doll pointed at you, humming mockingly. You groaned in defeat, trying to get up clumsily.

A hand grabbed your arms, pulling you up. The lavender scent intoxicated your senses and in front of you, you could only see a black figure, Donna. She had helped you up and now, now she was in front of you.

“Th, thanks,” you said, looking away, turning around to flee from that horrible situation. You couldn't, a hand grabbed your arm, preventing you from continuing to walk.

“(Y/N)…” a hoarse whisper came from the black veil, forcing your body to turn slowly, forcing you to lower your gaze further. “Is it…? Is it you?”

“I don't... I think, I think you’ve mistaken me with someone else, my lady,” you said nervously, playing with your gaze not to match hers. Her hand didn't let you go, gently pulling you when you tried to run away again.

“Non mi mentire...” she whispered, with a melodic voice, one that had changed a bit, but was still recognizable, taking you back to your childhood.

“I, I don't lie, my lady,” you said without thinking, closing your eyes for having fallen into that little trap. “Oh, fu...”

“Yes, it's you,” the lady in black whispered, with a slightly happier voice, with a tone a bit higher than a simple and almost inaudible whisper. “You understood me.”

“I... I...” you stammered, unable to flee, to escape, to deny again and again something that she already knew, that it was you, her friend, the friend who betrayed her. “I...”

“(Y/N), don’t, don't you remember me?” she asked out of place, with a tremor in her hand that you already knew.

“I remember you, Donna,” you whispered, embarrassed, looking away from the lady, subtly removing her warm hand from your arms.

“It’s, it's been a long time, hasn't it?” she stammered, with the Angie doll looking at you suspiciously. “How long has it been?”

“18 years,” you whispered, trapped in that horrible conversation, one that you never wanted to have again, that you would never be able to have again.

“Yes, I…” she murmured, nervous, also looking everywhere. “You're always, always so far away in the sermons that… I, I wasn't sure if it was really you.”

“I guess it was me,” you said shyly, with your body shaking at the same time as hers. “I, I'm sorry but… I have things to do and…” you murmured, making a second attempt to flee, one frustrated again by a strong grip on your arm.

“No, no, please don't go,” the lady in black said, approaching you again with a pleading, nervous tone. “Wait, please.”

“Donna I…” you said quietly, repressing a sob, a cry you wanted to release for having met her again and being unable to say anything but vague things. “I, I'm glad to see you but… I have, I have, I have to…”

“Please, (Y/N), it's, it's been so many years,” she insisted, her voice getting weaker. “Don't go away again now that I've found you.”

Well, that was a good argument, which made you sigh, rub your eyes and nod reluctantly.

“Okay, okay,” you whispered, breathing hard, but giving up trying to separate yourself from her, who let you go and started playing with her hands.

“I, I'd like to talk to you... I have, I have a lot of things to tell you...” she sighed, her voice becoming less and less clear, saying with her words what her hidden gaze couldn't. “I know you're busy but please... I...”

“Well, well, I guess it wouldn't be a problem if...” you murmured unsurely, running a hand over your neck, searching for some sanity in your attitude, some of the courage you lacked when you left her alone.

“Ahem,” the Duke interrupted, clearing his throat in an exaggerated way, drawing  your attention.

“I don't think this is the best place for it,” you said with a subtle smile, narrowing your eyes at the merchant, who laughed mockingly.

“No, certo, I... Do you want...? Do you want to come to my house? We can, we can have tea, a real one,” Donna said, clenching her hands tighter, her knuckles white from the pressure.

“Come, come home, silly, you'll have fun…” the doll said, pulling your dress in a comical way, something that made you shudder. That doll was alive, just as the rumors said.

“I… Um… Okay, okay,” you finally said, giving up.

A tender laugh came from that horrible black veil at the same time that the lady turned around, picking up the doll from the ground and leaving the Duke's shop.

The walk was tense, terribly tense. Going through those doors, that bridge, made all the memories of your childhood assault you at the same time. That place didn't seem the same, it seemed much wilder, neglected, surely due to the lack of that gardener, who was rumored to have been murdered by Lady Beneviento.

The weeds covered the gates, the paths, there was nothing left of that cozy atmosphere, of those perfectly cared plants, there was only a landscape that became more gloomy as you advanced, making you even consider running away, fearing that her anger would be directed at you, and rightly so.

The old mansion was still there, just like the rest of the landscape, eaten away by time, by the years, like a reflection of Donna herself, a neglected and dark being, a sinister place for a sinister woman.

“Come, come in,” the woman said, kindly opening the door for you.

The smell of humidity penetrated your nose immediately, a familiar smell enhanced by all those years of neglect. The mansion wasn’t as you remembered it, the curtains prevented the light from illuminating the place, mold grew freely in the corners. Pieces of cloth, disordered books, the house of a sick woman, Donna's house.

“Sorry, (Y/N), this is a bit… Messy,” she said, noticing your pitiful look at that place, how it had changed in your memories. “I, I don’t get many visitors. No visitors, actually.”

“Am I the first?” you asked in a small voice, something that made your friend laugh again, in that shy way you knew.

“Yes, you are,” she said amused, guiding you towards a small corner, the corner where you used to play tea when you were little girls, now covered by that same sinister darkness. “Get, get comfortable, please. I’m going, I’m going to make the tea.”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the sofa, raising a cloud of dust that made you cough, something that, apparently, amused that sinister doll.

“(Y/N), huh?” the puppet asked, looking at you from too close, making you even more uncomfortable. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you…”

“Have you?” you asked confused, shifting on the couch to get away from that sinister gaze. “It's funny, don't you remember me?”

“You? No,” Angie said simply. “I only see you in Donna's memories.”

“Well, you used to be part of our adventures,” you said, trying by all means to be nice, not to disturb the calm of that demonic doll. Angie simply shrugged.

“Here, here is the tea,” Donna said, appearing shortly after, leaving a tray on the table and sitting in front of you, as she did before.

Everything seemed so the same and so different at the same time that your nerves didn’t allow your hands to stop shaking, bringing your cup to your mouth with distrust.

“Is it to your liking? Is it too hot?” the lady asked, worried when she saw your cold expression. You faked a smile and shook your head.

“It's, it's okay,” you said with another fake smile, leaving the cup back on the table, enduring another moment of uncertain silence, of nervous breathing.

With your hands now free, you looked for something to touch, something to start a conversation that you hoped would end soon.

A porcelain doll, leaning on the side of the sofa, caught your attention and you slowly picked it up, observing every detail.

“I see that you finally followed in your father's footsteps,” you commented quietly, putting that doll back in its place. “I thought you would leave.”

“I couldn't,” she whispered abruptly, clenching her fists again. “When I was old enough I... I wanted to, I wanted to leave but... Mother Miranda took pity on me and adopted me, naming me Lord. Besides, I... I couldn't leave without...  Well, it doesn't matter.”

“I see,” you sighed, increasingly uncomfortable. “Well, Lord sounds much better than doll maker,” you said amused.

“At least now I'm part of something,” Donna said, with a serious tone, as if she was looking away, something that made you notice her black veil again.

“Why are you covering your face?” you asked suddenly, wanting to satisfy the curiosity that contradicted your desire to leave that place. “There's nothing wrong with not having an…”

Donna sighed, lowering her head and bringing her trembling hands to the black cloth, removing it with an elegant movement.

You were a bit shocked by what you saw. Donna Beneviento had become a really beautiful woman, but that scar, that part of her face she was ashamed of had suffered a horrible transformation, turning into a bulging abscess that covered part of her right side.

“The Black Gods don't give gifts in exchange for nothing, (Y/N),” she murmured, embarrassed by her new appearance, nervously wringing the black cloth in her hands.

“Well, it’s, it's not that bad,” you said, calming an impending nervous breakdown by doing the same thing you did when you were little, pushing away her fears with an amused smile. “Look, you can hardly tell.”

The lady pushed your hands away when they approached her hair, trying to hide her scar under it. You stepped back, biting your lip. It didn't really matter what her appearance was, she was still a terribly beautiful woman.

She smiled more calmly, fixing the hair you moved, shaking her head.

“You haven't changed at all, (Y/N),” she murmured, without looking at your face, leaving the black veil on the table, sighing sadly but with the emotion of nostalgia in her gaze.

“Well, I don't climb trees now,” you joked, drinking some more tea, relaxed by being able to look at her face, by being able to see your friend again, at least a shadow of what she was.

“Now you climb women,” she whispered with a different voice. You gulped at that comment, your cheeks flushed.

“I see a Lord knows everything,” you said with a broken, nervous voice.

“Only what I want to know,” she corrected abruptly, blinking erratically.

After that somewhat sinister statement, silence came again to that disturbing place. You, nervous, tried not to make any comment but, as always, your curiosity spoke for you. You wish it hadn't.

“They say you killed Josef,” you commented, looking away from her pale skin, from her beauty that was screaming to be admired.

“I did,” she answered without any problem, with a cold look that pierced your soul.

“Why, Donna?” you asked disappointed by that statement, by the legend that stopped being one with a few cold words. “He was good to you.”

“It's none of your business, (Y/N),” she hissed, almost breaking her cup with the grip of her hands. Shortly after, she closed her eye, as if trying to control her nerves. “I had to do it, that's all.”

“Of course,” you said with a slightly ironic tone, with one that was dying to leave your lips. “Everything that happens to you stopped being my business 18 years ago, Donna.”

“You were the one who abandoned me,” she reproached you, giving light to a resentment that you were sure she felt. It was the moment of truth. “You were the one who stopped being interested in me.”

“Well, then why didn't you kill me too?” you said, getting up from the couch, waving your arms, letting your own guilt consume your insides, speaking in that way to the one who was once your best friend.

“Why would I do that?” the lady asked, standing up as well, in a furious tone, kicking the small table, causing the cups to shake dangerously.

“You said it, I abandoned you. I left you alone when you needed me, I... I failed you, Donna,” you said furiously too, letting the tears run down your cheeks, losing your nerves just like her. “Don't pretend you don't hold a grudge against me, I see it in your gaze.”

“I can't blame you for not wanting to be with a monster like me,” she whispered, also with her eye full of tears.

“Do you think it's about that? Do you think I would abandon you because of what people said about you?” you asked back, leaving the small corner and looking for calm in your thoughts. You didn't find it.

“I don't know what it could be about then,” she commented calmer, but with the same marked accent, one that revealed her internal rage.

“Oh, it, it wasn't my fault,” you said, shaking your head, running a hand through your hair. “My, my parents, they, they forbade me to see you, they told me that I was in danger by your side.”

“They weren't wrong,” Donna said, whispering dangerously, with a haughty posture.

“Of course they were wrong! You, you were my best friend, Donna…” you sighed, biting your tongue to avoid saying anything else against yourself, to avoid saying that you could have looked for her, but you didn't.

“You were my only friend, (Y/N),” the doll maker said, without removing that dark look from her face.

“Oh, Donna,” you sighed sobbing and doing something that you had wanted to do for years, throwing yourself into her arms, hugging her, feeling her with you again.

The lady was surprised, but she didn't take long to return that hug, holding you tightly against her body, letting your tears wet your dresses without saying anything, just crying, letting out those feelings that neither of you knew how to express.

“Donna…” you sighed again, soaking in her essence, letting her hands embrace you as she trembled, hugged you tightly, sobbed the same way you did. “I've missed you so much…”

“Me, me too,” she answered. “I, I haven't stopped thinking about you all this time… I…”

“Good, good!” the doll squealed, clapping comically. “Hug, hug!”

The two of you looked at each other and laughed, separating, letting your hands join slowly, swinging between your bodies. You caressed hers with your thumb, losing yourself in the softness of her skin, in her warmth, the one you hadn't forgotten.

“Forgive me, Donna, please. I shouldn't have left you alone, I should have been with you,”  you said pleadingly, with a sincere voice, with sincere feelings.

“That doesn't matter anymore, (Y/N),” she whispered, letting your hands go and running one of them over your cheek, making you cry even more, with a splendid smile. “What, what matters is that you're back, you're back by my side.”

You, perhaps too excited by that encounter, by the return of your childhood memories, did something crazy, approaching Donna and kissing her quickly on the lips, the fruit of joy, of being with the only person who understood you again.

She didn't react. She just smiled more widely, blinking confusedly.

“I'm sorry, I got too excited,” you said nervously, biting your lip and trying to control your breathing.

Donna laughed again, with a wider smile, caressing your cheek again.

“You were always so fiery…” she whispered amused, slowly moving her hand away, moving away from you.

“I guess I haven't changed that much,” you said, nervous by that unexpected kiss, by that softness that you didn't imagine, by that act that came from the depths of your heart. “But I think those days of fieryness are over for me.”

You, sighing, letting your duties come back to haunt you, walked through the mansion, shaking your head.

“Why do you say that?” the lady asked, chasing you nervously, turning you slowly, with an intriguing look.

“Well, I...” you murmured, showing your left hand, where a tacky ring decorated your finger. “I'm engaged.”

“Fi, fi, fidanzata...” she murmured confusedly, stammering, as if a jar of ice water had suddenly fallen on her.

“Yes, I'm afraid so,” you sighed, nodding with a sad look, letting yourself fall on the sofa again.

Donna frowned, unable to control the new trembling of her body, approaching you as if she were stalking you.

“Are you getting married?” she asked abruptly, squeezing her hands on either side of her hips, looking at you with an irrational hatred that you were unable to perceive.

“Yes, with Ivan, the boy from the weaver family. He's a jerk, but deep down he's a good boy,” you explained sighing, looking at that cheap jewel on your finger, wishing it would disappear from there by magic.

“With a boy?” Donna asked with that same distrustful tone, with a slow step and a dark air in her gaze.

“Oh, well yes, it's a marriage of convenience,” you said passively, standing up again when you saw the brunette's nervous attitude. “What's wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me?” she asked with a look of hatred. “You're getting married?”

“It's not my thing, Donna, it was my parents' idea,” you said with a serious tone, crossing your arms. She laughed nervously, with irony adorning that sardonic smile.

“It's always your parents, isn't it? They are to blame for everything,” she hissed, shaking her head, as if that happiness had suddenly vanished, as if it had never existed.

“Yes, that is a pretty accurate statement,” you said arrogantly, frowning. “What do you care?”

“That, that's not fair,” Donna murmured, shaking her head, controlling the trembling of her hand with the other, preventing madness from taking over her again. “You, you can't.”

“Of course it's unfair, that's life,” you whispered, letting all the air out of your lungs.

“No, no, no, you can't, you can't do this to me…” she said, talking to herself, her hands pulling at her hair. “You can't!”

“What's wrong with you?” you asked, annoyed by her attitude, by not understanding the reason for her anger. “Now you worry about me? You could have done it 10 years ago, don't you think?” you said unintentionally, blaming Donna for your misfortune, blaming her for not going to save you, for not taking you with her to Italy, as she promised, as you promised before everything got out of control.

“Cazzo, (Y/N)!” she shouted furiously, kicking the dining table hard, knocking over several chairs in an outburst of fury that you watched in astonishment. “You can't marry someone you don't love!”

“But…” you hissed, now with rage controlling your words, your cocky pose, your irrational hatred for the lady in black, your hatred for not having been rescued when you could have been, when you broke your promise, and she broke hers. “What do you know, Donna? What do you know about love?”

“I know more than you think!” she shrieked, approaching you in a threatening manner, grabbing you firmly by the collar of your dress, with a furious eye, bloodshot, with hatred. “I know what it's like to spend years dreaming of seeing you knock on my door. I know what it's like to see you in sermons, to see how you run away from me, how you don't even dare to look at my face, I know what it's like to cry because I know that you will never feel for me the same as I have felt for you for so long… I know what it's like to love you, (Y/N).”

You were left speechless at that unexpected declaration. Tears spoke for you again, running down your cheeks. Your breathing stopped, your heart stopped beating, writhing in pain, stirring for you to hear it, for you to hear those same feelings you had repressed for so long.

But that revelation didn't really matter, that sea of ​​feelings you had kept inside for so long, hers, the love she said she felt for you. You already suffered for her once, you thought about her every day, you sat in the back row, but your eyes always went to her. A lost friendship that became a subtle obsession, an abyss full of guilt and things you didn't think you could feel for another person.

Once again, it was too late, no matter who was to blame.

“I'm so glad to see you again, Donna,” you whispered, turning around, trying not to look at the lady in black, who was crying inconsolably, controlling her anger, shaking her head as if she wanted to wake up from a nightmare. “I guess we'll see each other around here.”

She didn't answer, she simply sobbed, closing her eye and nodding, not wanting to see you leave her again.

You walked slowly towards the exit, with your mind torturing each of your steps, with your heart hurt by the reality of your feelings, your attitude. You were never able to love, to feel love for anyone, you didn't know why. But, after that argument, you began to see your problem clearly.

Donna was always in your dreams, when you grew up, she began to be like a ghost that you wanted to chase. When you were a child, you wanted to play with her, to be her best friend. When you grew up, that wasn't enough for you.

The guilt of having abandoned her joined with a feeling of anxiety and obsession that began to consume you little by little. You didn't care that she was a Lord, that a black veil covered her face. She was still Donna, your best friend, a friend who stopped being one, and with whom you fell in love little by little, for the simple fact of not being able to have her by your side.

The door creaked open and the cold cut your face. Furious and tired, you turned around to look at her once more, to be able to remember her as she was, and not as the village said. It was a bad decision, but a good one at the same time.

“Gods, what... What am I doing?” you asked yourself, slamming the door and running back through the entrance.

With a firm step, you reached the lady in black, throwing yourself at her lips, letting yourself be invaded by your feelings, by her kisses, by that improvised act that your body and your heart were dying to see you doing.

“(Y/N)…” Donna interrupted, not letting your kisses continue, the salty taste of your tears continue to mix on your lips. “Please, don’t, don't get married…”

“Ask me again, come on,” you said, gently hitting her chest, demanding to hear that request again, demanding that her feelings allow you to commit a madness.

“Don't get married,” Donna repeated, resting her forehead against yours, cupping your face in her hands.

You grabbed her wrists, letting more tears flow, losing yourself in the lavender.

“Again,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “Again.”

“Don't get married, stay with me…” she said, sobbing, as if the revelation had also clouded her senses. Her words were barely whispers, but they sounded like uncontrolled screams in your heart.

“I don't want to get married,” you sobbed, kissing her again, with your wild, wandering lips, with your hands running over her waist, pulling her, barely letting her breathe.

“Then don't do it,” she said with a slightly more serious voice, with her cold gaze penetrating yours.

You didn't answer, the kisses simply returned, they became hungry and messy. You could feel her hands traveling through your hair, your waist, your legs. It was an uncontrolled dance, without brakes, that went faster and faster.

The gasps replaced the sobs, the tears. Your bodies moved on their own, driven only by a blinding passion, by intense, immortal, eternal feelings. Kisses, caresses, love…

A trio of words that vaguely defined what was happening, how your steps began to crash against the walls, how her neck became your target, your playground, your safe place.

Donna accepted those kisses with a satisfied moan, with an anxious sigh as she searched for some corner, a crack in your dress so she could have the honor of touching your skin, of taking you to those same sensations you provoked.

There were no words, there was nothing, only gasps, only passion, only the sound of her back hitting the wall, her nervous movements when your leg was placed between hers and your skillful fingers began an unfair battle against the buttons of her dress.

Her slender fingers scratched your covered back, her hips danced discreetly against your leg, the gasps became more intense, the kisses wilder. Growling like an animal, you grabbed one of her legs, running your nails along the soft skin of her thighs, cursing that horrible black fabric for hiding such a brilliant beauty.

Donna pulled away, taking your hand and desperately guiding you towards the sofa, leaving her chest uncovered by your mischievous hands, lying down, dragging you on top of her while your own dress gave way to her discreet hands.

“(Y/N)…” the lady in black moaned, letting you push aside the fabric that separated you from her skin, that deprived your lips of the addictive taste of her body.

Neck, collarbone, breasts, everything was delicious for your lips, for your desire. She panted nervously, looking for something to entertain herself with, some part of your body that was just as attractive to her. Kisses, she only wanted some crazy kisses, kisses from you, from that girl who abandoned her, who threatened to do it again.

There was more and more clothing on the floor, and less on your body. Her hands were less careful, focusing on forbidden places, on parts of your legs that seemed unreachable.

For you, there was nothing else, there had been nothing else in over 16 years, Donna, just Donna.

Her skin, her sighs, her gasps, those little moans she let out were like fuel for your body, like gasoline so you could move how you wanted, where you wanted.

Soon there were no clothes, just sweat, just your lips moving down her body, worshiping the beautiful woman she had become, worshiping Donna, always Donna.

Her hand in your hair signaled for you to continue, you weren't going to stop, there would be nothing that could stop you, not even your stupid parents.

Her wetness betrayed her own desire. The taste of her arousal was sweet, intense, just as addictive as her kisses. Her body moved confused by your actions, confused by a naughty finger that slowly played with her clit, making her close her eye in shame.

More fuel for your lust. Dazzled by her caresses, by her soft hands in your hair, by those sounds she made, you immersed yourself in her wetness, caressing her with your tongue, making her shudder at your touch, at your not-so-innocent kisses. Your fingers took over from your mouth, entering inside of her, taking refuge in her excited heat.

You had never felt such intense pleasure just by touching a woman, there was nothing in that dirty village that resembled the perfection of her body, her moans, the perfection of Donna Beneviento.

Her back arched and her moans turned into high-pitched screams. Your hands comforted her, helped her to release keeping her close, as if your body was begging you to never leave again.

But that wasn't the end, just the beginning.

If you had to speak without knowing, you would say that Donna would be clumsy, even too rough in her actions, in making you hers, hers forever. Quite the opposite, she wasn't like that. You didn't know if you were the first, you didn't know if there had been other women before, you didn't want to know, just thinking about it made you want to scream with rage.

None of that mattered, only that sweetness mattered, those kisses, those tender words in Italian that watered your ears, that moved your body while she adored yours. You would never have imagined that delicacy, those fingers trying not to hurt you, not to run, trying to feel your whole body without fear of you leaving.

Her slow kisses were almost ardent, the movement of her hips was hypnotic, her fingers danced softly inside of you, her eye looked into yours with desire, with love, true love that you never believed possible.

Sex, moans, hips coming together, a thousand and one ways to give each other pleasure. For a moment, your life was reduced only to that and, in your madness, in your unbridled passion, you wished it would never end.

Her hands went wild, her arms wrapped around you tightly as your wetness rubbed together.

You could see, for a moment, that darkness in her gaze again, that desire to hold you in the strength of her embrace, of the scratches on your back, marking you, claiming you as hers forever, bringing out that possessiveness, that attitude of not wanting to lose what was already hers.

After an uncertain time, it ended, and the gasps and moans were replaced by nervous breathing, by Donna's strong and unbreakable embrace of your naked body, so you would stay on her chest, so the lavender would also be part of you.

Like a cruel return to the past, the clock rang with a shrill tone, alerting you to the worst moment of your life, when you were nothing but a child: the horrible moment of returning home.

“Donna…”you sighed sadly, releasing yourself from her embrace, struggling with her, who protested with a moan. “I have, I have to go.”

“You're leaving me again,” she sighed, wetting her cheeks again, struggling unsuccessfully to regain your warmth in hers.

“I wouldn't do it if I could,” you murmured, looking for your clothes and dressing slowly. She nodded, covering herself timidly, with a lost look.

“You can, but you don't want to,” Donna sighed, stabbing your heart.

“Are you going to explain to my parents that I'm not going to get married?” you said frustrated, putting on your dress. “That I'm leaving my life, my duties to stay with you, with a Lord?”

She shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“Marry me then,” she whispered, making you turn your head quickly, surprised by those words.

“What? Have you gone crazy?” you said confused, rubbing your eyes. “Donna…”

“If your parents care that much about you getting married… Do it with me,” she explained, with a desperate tone.

You sighed, running a hand over the back of your neck. You might think it was a joke but you knew Donna, you knew she was completely serious.

“It's not… That easy,” you whispered, letting yourself fall on the couch, exhausted, tired and hopelessly in love.

“Let them dare to oppose, (Y/N), we are not two little girls anymore, no one could do anything to stop us…. From loving each other. Please, (Y/N), sposami…”

“Donna, I… I, I don't know what to say… It’s, it's been so long and… And now…” you stammered, your heartbeat getting stronger, your heart already having the answer.

“It may have been a while, (Y/N), but, but I love you, I have never, never stopped and I will never stop loving you… I, I couldn't bear to lose you again without doing something about it,” she said, taking your hand, looking with disgust at that annoying ring.

“Will you take me to Italy?” you asked in a murmur, with an involuntary smile appearing on your face.

“I can't, I can't get out of…” she said, confused, silenced by a finger on her lips.

“I know, but… Would you do it if you were able to?” you asked again, slowly taking the ring off your finger, throwing it away, through the mansion.

She nodded with tears in her eye, with a sincere, beautiful smile.

“I would take you wherever you wanted, as… As long as you were with me,” she whispered, approaching your lips again, kissing them slowly, passionately, with love. “I would do anything for you.”

“Would you buy me a ring?” you asked amused, forgetting your fears, with the most important decision of your life already made. “One better than that trinket…”

“So…? So you, you want…?” Donna stammered nervously, squeezing your hands tightly.

“Yes, Donna, I can't think of a better company for the rest of my life…”

[yanderecrazysie]

Hello there, I just read that you do ouran high school host club yandere request. I just love that anime it reminds me of my childhood. And I love your work too especially the angsty cheater ones, they’re my favorites.

So actually going to the request: Yandere Tamaki x fiancé reader but Tamaki is neglectful of them and cheats on them with Haru (angst heaven). Basically Tamaki and Reader where engaged when they were children by their wealthy parents . Tamaki hated this and by extension he hated the reader too. Despite the reader trying to be to be the perfect fiancé and supports him from the sidelines, the reader even make sure that the mansion runs smoothly and even learned how to cook his favorite food and cater to his whims. Tamaki still being blinded by his distaste for the arrange marriage carelessly ignores all of reader’s hardwork and flirts with every woman in the host club. Then comes Haru and Tamaki just falls in love and in the back of his head, what better way to get back at his father than to marry a commoner. Reader finally having enough of Tamaki’s cheating and intentionally humiliating them in public, rebels against their parents and cancel the engagement. The reader just leaves Tamaki behind and goes into the countryside to live a peaceful life.. but surprised Tamaki goes full on delusional Yandere, he misses the reader’s devotion to him and wants to continue on with the marriage. When reader left Tamaki felt empty and he started to realize his mistake, He tracks reader down to beg for their forgiveness and so that they can get married as intended. Tamaki still think of you as his fiancé and he doesn’t realize that reader doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Sorry for the long request, I just got excited when I found out that you write for Ouran High school host club. Thanks for reading!

My first OHSHC request!! Yay!! And it's okay, it’s always nice to have a good plot to work with!

Title: Blind

Pairings: Tamaki Suoh x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Tamaki’s behavior proves too much for his fiance.

Part 2: here

blind

/verb/

deprive (someone) of understanding, judgment, or perception:

Sometimes, you wished Tamaki would just open up his eyes and see you. You, and not the engagement your families had forced upon you both.

You could tell from day one that Tamaki hated the idea and, subsequently, hated you for representing the ball and chain that attached itself to his ankle. You couldn’t blame him for being angry that his future freedom had been taken away, but you wished he wouldn’t blame you for it.

You weren’t much happier than him at first, but you decided to make the best of it. Tamaki was handsome, you could even appreciate that when you both were children forced to play together. He also had a soft side that you rarely got to see under all the silly dramatics. If only you could unlock that part of him, surely you both could be happy!

Then the host club started.

It’s easy to smile and say that you aren’t bothered, but it’s another thing to actually not be bothered with your fiance flirting with girls all the time. You could never help the twisting of jealousy in your gut anytime you heard or saw anything to do with the host club.

You’d tried to visit before. Make the best of things. But he’d blacklisted you as a customer, said with a careless tone that maybe you’d prefer one of the other boys. That stung.

“Make the best of it” became a mantra in your head, a desperate goal and coping method all in one. Eventually, Tamaki would either come to love you or accept that his future was predetermined by a piece of paper with his father’s signature. 

Did you want a potentially loveless marriage? No, of course not. But that’s what happened to most people of your stature, so it wasn’t a surprise. If you could just make the best of your situation, you could be happy. Probably.

The changes in Tamaki really started when a new boy joined the club. You could tell right away that he was naturally a girl, but wouldn’t out him to the school if that’s what he chose as his path. You began to suspect that Tamaki knew this truth as well, because he always seemed so flustered around the boy.

Haruhi. You numbly repeated his name in your head. Even in the beginning, you knew, this relationship would be the downfall of your own.

Numbness overtook you as you caught the pair kissing and holding hands, looking happy and carefree, even outside of the club where there were no requirements for them to act like a cute couple or something.

They were trying to be secretive and, at first, you wondered how you were the only one catching them in the act. Then, it hit you like a speeding train.

Tamaki wanted you to see.

Your daily trips to the mansion were mostly in lonely silence. You cleaned the place like his maids probably should, made him his favorite meals, ran hot baths for him, and sometimes left him notes around the house to boost his self-esteem and cheer him up.

As time went on, it began to feel like empty actions. Duties without reward or even so much as acknowledgment. Things you did just because that tiny voice still cried “Make the best of everything!”

Well, you were getting sick of that voice. That hapless fool inside your head that didn’t seem to realize that things were speeding out of control. How could you make the best of anything, when he continually gave you nothing to work with.

You cried as you did those little things- what had once felt like happy little jobs became heavy chores that you couldn’t figure out why you continued. The tears blurred your eyes as you made each gift for Tamaki- gifts that would no doubt be cast aside and forgotten.

What was the point?

When Tamaki called a crowd together in the school’s entrance hall, standing atop one of the highest steps with his hands intertwined with Haruhi, you knew it was all over.

“Haruhi is actually a girl- and she and I have started dating!” His eyes seemed to dart to yours to gauge your reaction, but you didn’t dare show anything on your face. You were still a regal person, determined to not put your family’s name to shame.

“What? Is that true, Haruhi?” One of the girls in the crowd shrieked.

You didn’t need Haruhi’s answer nor the shy smile on her face to confirm the truth. You’d already known well before that this was the future you’d been helplessly barreling towards.

The crowd had mixed reactions. Some people were supportive and found the couple cute, others were jealous of Haruhi, and many people were confused on the whole matter. Those were the ones whose words shot like daggers into your heart.

“Doesn’t Tamaki have a fiance?”

“What will his father think?”

“Does that mean his engagement is canceled?”

Struggling not to break down, you pushed your way through the crowd, looking for an escape. The crowd was too thick and it was quickly too late.

You broke down crying, your large tears blinding you as little hiccups left your lips. Finally, the sea of people parted and you ran through it. You risked one look at Tamaki and were upset to see him looking concerned. How dare he be concerned when he was the one that hurt you?

You skipped your classes, opting instead to head straight home and confront your parents. The moment you were in front of them both, you broke down once more. They wanted to know who’d hurt you right away and, when your story of Tamaki was revealed, they vowed to rip the contract into little pieces.

They let you stay home the next few days. If you could, you’d stay home forever. How could you show your face after you’d been humiliated and cried like that in front of everyone?

You focused your thoughts and feelings into gardening. Today you cut the stems of flowers and placing them into your basket before bringing them up to the house. The chores you did were fit for the family’s gardener, but he was on vacation and you needed something to distract yourself with.

You heard your name called. Furrowing your brow, you raised your head and shielded your eyes against the sun. Was that…?

It was, a certain blonde boy was speeding towards you at the speed of light. Had he jumped the tall fence or broken the gate’s lock? Either method was concerning, to say the least.

You let out a feeble “hey!” when he kicked up some of the flowers in his path to you, but you were more afraid of what he had to say than of losing a couple of flowers.

Finally, he stopped in front of you and dropped to his knees. You stood, watching in shock as he kneeled in the dirt, in a motion that you’d expect a man begging the queen to spare his life.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n). I- I was so stupid, so blind! I didn’t know how much I’d miss you when you were gone. Please come back, please! I’ll do anything!”

You stared at him in shock, “What about Haruhi?”

The man raised his head, his eyes glazed over as they met yours, “I took care of her.”

It wasn’t so much the words he said, as it was the chilling, lifeless tone in which he said it. You took a step back, nearly tripping over the small mound of dirt behind you.

“What did you do to her?” Your voice came out shaky and unsure. Tamaki would never hurt someone, would he? That thought was laughable, wasn’t it?

Tamaki grasped your ankles and began to cry, looking more pathetic than you could have ever imagined him. You never thought that Tamaki would ever beg on his knees to anyone, much less you.

“I’ll do anything.” Tamaki murmured. Somehow you knew.

He would definitely hurt someone, if they got in his way.

[grimreaperschild]

guitar practice

summary: wednesday always seems to put someone or something above you, luckily her roommate is always there to pick up the pieces

warnings: angst

a/n: i might make this into a series i’ve got some good ideas, thank you for all the support on my last post !

“wednesdays child is full of woe” you supposed that should be her mantra as you lock eyes over the top of your guitar, your not sure when your gothic girlfriend started pulling away but recently she’d been spending more and more time investigating with tyler galpin you haven’t spent time in your studio together in months her usually ditching your practice time in favour of gallivanting around the woods but not today.

today she sits dutifully at your side as you tune your beloved instrument, eyes never leaving the side of your face it’s starting to get difficult to hide the blush creeping up your neck so before you’ve even thought about what your doing you turn “do i have something on my face?” inwardly cringing as it comes out harsher than intended, she hums ignoring your last statement “would you accompany me to the weathervane after practice? i’d like to” she sucks air in through her teeth narrowing her eyes “i’d like to take you on, a date.” she nods her head seeming satisfied with herself.

you freeze a lopsided grin stretching across your face “id love to nes” she hums in response again stretching out her fingers to meet yours, still on the tuning pegs she ghosts her fingers up your arm and bumps your cheek with her knuckles affectionately “my investigation has hit a wall and i suppose it has been a while since we had some time together” you freeze again, but this time not in a good way heat and anger flush through you at the statement “ah so you only want to spend time with me when you’ve got nothing else to do?” she removes her hand quickly “y/n we have spoken about how important my investigation is, must you spend the time i give you acting like a spoilt child” you sit stunned at her words

anger.

betrayal?

hurt ?

they all blend together as you stand your guitar falling out of your lap and onto the floor with a painfully loud clatter, tears blur your vision as you look at her passive face unblinking, no, uncaring “really wednesday im a spoilt child for wanting you to spend time with your girlfriend? you think i enjoy you running off with tyler all the time? no. but i try to trust you no matter what my head tells me” your voice breaks and you take a sharp breath in refusing to let her see you break.

you take a step back not breaking eye contact with her

“must you be so dramatic y/n?”

you don’t dignify her with an answer taking another step, she still hasn’t moved you let out a dry chuckle “let me know when i move up your list of priorities” with that you turn on your heel and all but sprint from the room tears rolling down your cheeks.

your not sure where your legs are bringing you until your in front of a familiar dorm wednesday and enid’s room, enid. you knock quickly hearing the pop music pause the door swings open revealing the bubbly werwolf you watch her face brighten then fall at the sight of you, throwing yourself into her arms you choke out a sob her arms instantly coming around you rubbing soothing circles in your back “y/n what happened, talk to me comon let’s get you inside” walking backwards not breaking the hug she flings the door shut.

you rush though the explanation as she picks out one of her biggest hoodies for you to change into, your sat on her bed by the time she finally decides what clothes to give you “she doesn’t deserve you n/n” enid sighs as she pads over to you wiping at your tear stained cheeks with her thumbs “your staying with me tonight i don’t want you feeling like this alone get changed and get into bed” you comply happily and when you come out of the bathroom sporting the pink fluffy sweatshirt and pink mini shorts she cheers and opens her arms wide for you, you settle against her tucking your head under her chin and for a second you think maybe tyler can have wednesday if this is how it’s going to stay.

[hearts444karma]

Hi hi hi!! How are you? Hope you're doing well.

Soo, its almost been a year since Krisis debut, and i remember how my first impressions were totally overturned. So i was thinking: what if they are a totally different person in bed?

Ex: Vanta might seems a dom but what if is the most whiny bottom of all? Or Wilson a rough Top with a praise kink or Zali a soft Dom who likes dirty talk?

I was kinda curious but feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write it.

Thank you so much and wish a good day/evening/night 👋 (sorry for the bad English, I'm still learning)

💌 : ITS BEEN SO LONGGG RNSNAISDN IM SO PROUD OF THEM <33 this idea is amazing and so fun to create!!!! ILOVEKRISIS123!!! your english is amazing, no worries!!

vantacrow bringer

vanta might be the life of the party and full of confidence outside the bedroom, but once things get intimate, he's a mess.

he turns into the ultimate needy sub, constantly begging for attention, touch, and validation. "please, babe, dont stop! i need it so bad!" is his mantra.

loves being teased endlessly and will pout if things don't go his way, giving those wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes.

loves being restrained; not because he enjoys being helpless, but because it forces him to lean into his vulnerability. he'll tug at the bonds while looking up at you with teary eyes

despite the whining, he secretly loves being edged and overstimulated, making every little sensation feel 10x more intense.

super vocal. he's the typre to make the loudest, most desperate noises that leave you blushing if the walls are thin. if you try to quiet him? he whimpers even louder, muttering, "but i can't be quiet!"

his favorite thing? collapsing in a pile of his mess, whining some more about how he "can't move anymore"

aftercare for him is sacred. he demands cuddles, snacks, and nonstop kisses, claiming "im fragile, okay? you broke me" but the next day he'll smugly brag about how "you couldn't keep your hands off me"

yu q. wilson

wilson's transition from goofy to dominant is instantaneous. one second he's joking around, and the next, his voice drops an octave, and he's got this smirk that makes your knees weak.

his praise kink is unmatched, he'll absolutely destroy you with firm but careful handling and growls of, "you're so good for me, aren't you"

has a knack for finding your weak spots, mentally and physically, and exploiting them in the best way. he'll lean in and whisper, "look at you falling apart for me," with this maddeningly calm tone.

despite the rough edge, he's hyperaware of your limits.

a sucker for reactions. the more breathless or desperate you sound, the cockier and rougher he gets. "that's it. that's what i wanna hear. keep going."

absolutely thrives off leaving marks, but he loves it when you show them off. if you cover them up, he'll tease, "hiding my work? afraid someone might ask what happened?"

post-sess his softer side comes through. he'll pull you into his arms, stroke your back, and murmur things like, "you did so good for me," while making sure you're hydrated and comfortable

vezalius bandage

romantic and caring as ever, but his soft demeanor hides his penchant for filthy talk in bed. "you like when i touch you like this, don't you? tell me exactly how much," he'll say with that calm, coaxing voice that makes you melt.

he's a soft dom through and through, focused on making you feel like the most cherished person in the world while still having you completely under his control.

loves whispering sweet nothings with a dirty edge, making you blush with the contrast between his actions and words.

has the perfect balance of control and care. he'll dominate you with his words and actions but always check in with a soft, "still doing okay, mon amour?" that makes your heart melt.

has a soft spot for hearing you say his name, he'll go weak at the knees if you moan it just right, making his push just a little further to hear it again

aftercare is an extension of his devotion. he'll clean you up, hold you close, and tell you how much he loves and adores you. "you're everything to me, you know that right?"

[sunnie-writes]

is loving as good as they say?

pairing: wally darling x reader

tags: romantic fluff, love confessions, reader is a hopeless romantic !!

plot: a hopeless romantic all your life, you dreamed about the love you saw in movies and series, the type you would read in books that left you kicking your feet and giggling. cupid never seemed to be by your side, everyone who you fell in love with ended up not liking you back, so of course you were scared of another heartbreak when you moved to a new neighborhood and ended up falling for your newest neighbor, wally darling. although, it seemed that cupid didn't miss this time.

talk that talk, sunnie !!: so, this has been rotting in my google docs for almost a year already, so i thought i should post it already!! i hope you guys enjoy it, and you're more than welcome to read my other wally fics. thank you, and let's get to it!!

this fic is also available on ao3, you can click here to find it!!

A hopeless romantic, that's what you could call yourself.

You crave the love you would see on TV, those movies and series about romance had a grip on you that no one could explain, and don't get me started on the books. Even while being that amazed by the concept of being loved and cared by someone who you felt the same with, Cupid seemed to always miss his arrows.

Unrequited love was painful, you learned that the hard way. In your high school, you would watch all the high school sweethearts make their ways to classes while holding hands or eating lunch playfully with all the romantic atmosphere that came with it. What was the word you felt? Ah, that's right, you envied them.

Moving away from your town was both a relief and a scare, you would now be open to meeting new people, watching them enter your life. You hoped that they would stay.

And that's how you ended up here, in the lovely and colorful neighborhood that was Welcome Home. The name seemed silly, but you quickly learned that it was because of all the friendly behavior that those who lived there seemed to have. So friendly that they're always welcoming everyone.

All of the stars know that you would be lying if you said you weren't nervous. You never dealt good with talking to new people, you hoped that they could be friendly enough to start introductions first. Even if you were repeating how to introduce yourself like a mantra in your head, you were anxious about meeting so many people in just a day.

"Oooh! Are you the new neighbor?!" And that was your cue to use up all your social skills.

"Uh- yes?" You turned around to see who screamed, eyes meeting with a puppet girl with long blonde hair, and were those candy corn horns?

"Welcome Home! I was so excited to meet you! What is your name? What do you like?" She jumped up and down while popping multiple questions.

"I'm Y/N L/N, nice to meet you." You smiled, she's like a puppy. "I like reading and... animals, and I would love to be your friend!" There was no need to reveal your secret interest yet.

"That's amazing! You remind me of Frank, he also likes reading and animals! Well, specifically, flutterbies!" She spoke rapidly.

"Julie for the last time, they're called butterflies!" You looked to the side, seeing a gray man coming your way. "Oh, hello, I'm Frank."

You settled for waving at him. Julie, noticing your behavior, told him your name and interests. You're starting to think that Julie was sent from the angels as a way to help you enter this community.Then, you were pulled away from your thoughts as more puppet people started to gather in front of you.

"Oh my, the new neighbor has arrived already?" A girl with a sun head happily said. "My name is Sally Starlet, and you?"

"I'm Y/N L/N... nice to meet you!" You gave your best friendly smile.

Everyone introduced themselves to you, all colorful and adorable. Poppy was a pretty chicken who turned out to be an immediate mother figure to you, we also have Barnaby who is a big blue dog with a chill, kinda laid back personality that made you comfortable with his presence. Eddie Dear was the mailman, who Julie alerted you to not catch feelings for since Frank already had his eyes on him, and Howdy was a sweet man who owned the local market.

Judging by the numbers of houses, only one neighbor was missing. You pondered on how the last person could possibly be like, smiling at the idea of them being just as friendly as everyone in this colorful place that had you looking around nonstop.

"Ah, I see… am I late?" Someone spoke up, you turned around to finally meet your last neighbor.

And at that moment, you knew you were in trouble. He was absurdly pretty, with a blue pompadour and yellow skin, along with colorful clothing and eyes that pierced your soul and sent chills all over your senses. You felt your cheeks burn up, Cupid did it again and you weren't sure on how to stop staring at him.

"Woooow Wally, being late to meet our newest neighbor? How dare you!" Barnaby playfully dramatically gasped.

"I apologize, let me introduce myself." He went in your direction, standing right in front of you, who was currently almost out of breath. "I'm Wally Darling, the artist of the town, it's a pleasure to meet you…?"

"Y/N, Y/N L/N." Your voice almost cracked for a second, making your cheeks heat up even more. "Nice to meet you too…"

"How adorable, surely you're a great addition to our lovely neighborhood." He picked up your hand, giving a kiss on the back of your palm.

Stuttering, you thanked him for the compliment while trying your best to not fall on your knees. Julie came into the scene again and began telling Wally your tastes, he listened carefully while nodding and looking at you with a relaxed smile.

Eventually, everyone began slowly saying their goodbyes and going to their homes or jobs. You waved as Julie was the last one to leave and entered your house, closing the door behind you and holding your heart. It was racing, and you were well acquaintanced with the feeling.

Well, you failed, love followed your way again.

And now, what to do? You couldn't lie to yourself but it was hard to face the truth. It seemed too early for falling in love, you can just call it a crush and try to get over it, maybe this time it'll work! 

Yeah, just give it some time and it'll pass, you were sure of it!

— 

So, it didn't work.

That was obviously going to happen, and now you had your head in your hands while you walked around your house. On your bed, a pretty bouquet with your favorite color layed prettily there. Wally gave it to you, as a way to celebrate "your first week in the neighborhood", how sweet!

Your heart kept beating faster and faster each time you thought about the way he showed up on your doorstep, with his smug smile and bouquet in hands. He looked so innocent as your insides felt like melting from all the sweetness that gesture had.

And before you could control your feelings, you were already catching yourself humming to cheesy love songs and even singing them while cleaning the house. The radio echoed around your house, romantic tunes that you requested on the telephone to play there were all over the place.

Your once retired love books were now scattered across the floor as you giggled by imagining the scenarios with Wally. You didn't try to make a move and ask him out, your heart already had many bruises from past love delusions, and you really didn't feel like piling up another one for your heartbreak wonderland.

Instead, you just tried to become his friend while also trying to get your feelings to go away. That was, obviously, not a good idea, how could you try to stop falling for someone who you interact with everyday?

Before you could think properly on a better plan, a month had gone by. You still had your late night scenarios to giggle about, along with your hopeless romantic dreaming that pulled you into a cycle of trying to stop loving Wally Darling and learning how to love him all over again because of your weak heart.

Curse the Cupid, curse him and all of his pinkish love arrows who never found your way before. Of course you would be giving up on the first month, he never gave you what you wanted before, what could possibly make you think that now it would all go the right way?

Stupid, selfish Cupid.

—

Three months had passed, and you could say you were tired of waiting for the feelings to suddenly disappear.

You played with a doll's hand, carefully moving the antique treasure in your arms. Currently, you were at Julie's house, who was the only person who was aware of your huge crush on Wally. She giggled as she asked you questions of all the time you and "lover boy" had passed together.

"He just wanted to paint with someone, it's not like he wanted to paint alone with just me and nobody else!" You blushed while looking at the ground.

"I don't know, he never really let me or the other neighbors touch his painting supplies." Julie then whispered in a teasing manner, "Maybe he thinks of you as special, in a like-like way!"

You lowered your head while choking on your water, feelings all over the place. If there was something that Julie liked to do, it was to tease relentlessly. After you calmed down, you both started to ask each other random questions to pass the time.

"Now, as a hopeless romantic, what is your ideal date?" She questioned, looking happy as ever in your direction.

"Hmm, stargazing seems like a great date, picnics look a lot of fun too!" You bashfully chuckled. "Oh, a picnic on a sunset, that turns into a stargazing session! With sweet apple pies and cake, along with refreshing drinks!"

"Ooh, tell me more!" Julie smiled.

"Okay, then a cold wind blows and suddenly I shiver, then Wally puts his cardigan on me and hugs me closer!" You could easily feel your cheeks heating up just from your imagination.

And that earned a screech from Julie.

“Ugh, how are your scenarios always the best?!” 

“It’s the prize I get for being a dreamer.” You chuckled lightly.

—

Today was a special day in the neighborhood.

Apparently, everyone was going to the nearest lake, which is gigantic, you can say, and pop up some balloons and light up some fireworks because it was the neighborhood’s anniversary! 

You were currently trying to pick your best outfit, and that was because Wally was going to pick you up since you didn’t know the way to the lake. At least that’s what you told yourself so you wouldn’t freak out at the scenario. Seriously, that sounded like a romantic comedy.

After a while, you ended up settling for one of your favorite outfits, one that had stars on them. Then, a knock on the door was heard. You quickly put on your shoes and ran to open it, coming face to face to an adorable Wally, looking at you while holding a bouquet of red tulips and some amaranth.

“There we go, a bouquet of beautiful flowers for an even prettier one.” 

“Oh! Wally, you shouldn’t…” You blushed and took the flowers.

“Nonsense, you deserve only the best!” He chuckled raspily.

You giggled as he gave you his hand, pleading eyes for you to walk with him. You two started walking while holding hands in the direction of the lake, talking about everything that was going on in the neighborhood. It was a nice atmosphere, comfortable enough, and dare you say, romantic.

As you arrived there, Wally smiled and kissed the back of your hand before going to talk to a knowing Barnaby, who stared at you with a big smile and wiggling his eyebrows. Julie, who saw all of that, pulled you towards her and Frank immediately.

"Oh. My. Stars! What was that? Is that a bouquet? Are you two going on a date?" She excitedly spoke while flapping her hands.

"Julie, calm down. Pretty sure she is malfunctioning." Frank told the girl by his side. "But yeah, what exactly happened there?"

"I don't know, and I'm freaking out about it!" You giggled while holding the bouquet close to you, smiling.

"That was absurdly romantic, I think he is head over heels for you!" Julie exclaimed while whispering. "Besides, look at these flowers, they are so pretty!"

"They also have an exquisite meaning, you know?" Frank randomly spoke, dropping the fact like it was nothing.

You proceeded to hint at him to keep going.

"Amaranths mean eternal love, red tulips mean true love." Frank looked at you while raising his eyebrows. "That is literally a confession."

Julie, who was holding her energy back, gave a screech and started shaking your arm. Meanwhile, you had just bluescreened. Your cheeks heated up, and you felt your heartbeat increase rapidly, like it was trying to burst out your ribcage in a desperate manner. At that point, you were checking if you still even had some pulse.

Suddenly, someone started ringing a bell, and so, everyone looked to the front, seeing Poppy there. She smiled before starting to explain that there was food on the foldable table, fireworks and water guns, everything for fun. Poppy then started handing out glasses with juice to everyone before raising a toast for the neighborhood's birthday.

After that, all of you started talking to each other. You looked around, smiling when you saw Eddie talking to Frank, who was trying his best to cover up a blush while Julie looked at him with a knowing smile from across the field, Sally was braiding some of her long hair. Poppy and Howdy were discussing random things while Barnaby just laid down at the picnic blanket and stared at the stars.

And there, from across the room, your eyes met his. Something electrical went through your body, and you could swear you felt your world stop. Suddenly, there were no more friendly neighbors around you, the festivities and candy long forgotten in your mind. No, none of that mattered anymore, did it?

It was just you and him, across a field as he slowly made his way towards you.

Wait.

You were too late to process it, he's already in front of you.

"So, dearest, how are you enjoying the party?" Wally asked, igniting a fire in your belly to light up the butterflies who panicked and fluttered along you.

"Good, I- I think everyone is having fun, what about you?" You responded, trying your best to hide your reaction with the nickname.

“I could say I am.” He looks at you, up and down, down and up. And it sets your skin ablaze.

Icarus wasn’t able to resist the beauty that was the Sun to him, and maybe you wouldn’t survive the flirt that was Wally Darling. Every single thing he does sets you on fire, butterflies infest your stomach, it’s magical and so cheesy, all at the same time.

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” His honey-laced words get to you, and you comply with a nod.

He holds your hand, and starts going into the trees, between all those primary colored leaves. You can feel your heartbeat increasing, all your muscles about to give up, it’s like dying but not exactly that, living in ecstasy, better than any drug.

You two stop at Swan Lake, where the stars reflect on the water and the feathered bEINGS float elegantly. Your eyes shine as you see them doing their little synchronized dance, until you notice that they end up doing a heart. You sigh, real romantic.

“Darling, could you look at me, please?”

You turn to see Wally, on one knee, his hand holding yours. You might start crying.

“You see, Y/N, ever since the day I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. With your smile, your way of expressing yourself, I knew you were gonna steal my heart, and I knew that I would never have it back. I’ve heard stories in the past about soulmates, loved ones made for you, and I didn’t believe any of that, before I met you. I’m an artist, not a poet, but you make me inspired dear, to dedicate you the most beautiful forms of art out there, paint and frame your face, have millions of words dedicating my love to you, and that still wouldn’t be enough for you to understand how much I desire you. I want to see your resting face every morning, I want to hold you in my arms and sleep for eternity, I want to grow every day by your side. Would you do me the owner, Dearest, and accept my confession? To finally be mine and let me be yours?”

You, unable to hold the feeling, giddily jumped around before throwing yourself on him, both of you falling on the ground. You cried tears of joy as you said yes a million times, while he patted your back and chuckled, kissing your forehead.

—

“You know,” Frank started with crossed arms while looking at you and Wally, happily holding hands while sitting on the picnic blanket, “One could say that you two were perfect for each other.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Julie exclaimed, happy that you and your Darling were together, finally together.

“Ha ha ha, oh well, I knew they were the one for me since day one.” Wally answered, pulling you into another sweet and quick kiss, making you squeak.

“Ugh, don’t leave the picnic all sappy with your love.” Frank rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Don’t be jealous Frank, everyone knows you want to live that with Ed-” He covered Julie’s mouth before she could say anything else.”

“... Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I feel like I just won the lottery.” You proudly stated.

“Oh, they grow up so fast…” Poppy hiccuped for what seemed to be the eleventh time, being real emotional with your fresh new relationship.

“There there, Poppy.” Howdy patted her in the back.

“I’m really happy for you guys!” Said Eddie while sitting down next to Frank.

You smiled at him while Wally thanked the mailman. You grabbed yourself a piece of lemon pie to eat.

“Sooo, when’s the wedding?” Barnaby jokes.

And you proceeded to choke on your lemon pie.

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter two: couldn’t look away

neighbor!joel x f!reader

chapter 1 / series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary: 

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet name (sweetheart, darling [we're evolving]), polite southern manners (*cough* sir *cough*), feeling familial and self-pressure, masturbation (m), voyeurism, real pervy behavior from joel, descriptions of female nudity, fantasies of p in v sex, lil slightest bit of dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish bye!!!

Wednesday morning comes by in a flash.

You’d spent the rest of the weekend after the neighborly barbecue replaying that last conversation with Joel repeatedly, your mind finding a different way to interpret his words each time.

“Well, it’s definitely gonna be somethin’, sweetheart.”

Was he excited to see you more? Was he flirting? Was he glad to have childcare? Was he annoyed about you getting involved? Was he nervous about having you around?

These questions looped in your head like a locked groove on a vinyl record — spinning around and around until someone comes to shut it up.

Which is exactly what happens as you stand on the Millers' porch after your short, polite knock at eight o’clock this morning.

Joel throws the door open in a whirl of nervous energy, his head turned towards a space further into his home. You clock his profile, hooked nose leading your eyes along the line of his face to the slightly patchy facial hair framing his jaw and his plush lips, which are moving as he projects back in the direction he’s facing.

“Got ten minutes until we’re rolling out, Bug! Better have your cereal finished and sneakers ready for me!”

Hearing his drawl, although not for you, makes your brain immediately shut up all of those musings from the last few days. The silence doesn’t last for long — your mind starts up again, but this time, your thoughts are merely consumed by a loop of “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…” when Joel turns to you standing outside the entrance. His lips stretch up at the corners, one side reaching a hair higher on his cheeks. Perfectly set pearly whites flash from between the two pink pillows, and your previous mantra is interrupted with the question of whether or not he had braces as a kid.

Who are you kidding? Joel definitely didn’t have braces. He has to be one of those lucky people that avoided the gawky, awkward preteen years and grew into the perfect specimen of a man that is standing in front of you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” — that nickname again — “Thanks so much for popping by early to get the details for everything. Past few days have been a little hectic getting settled and fully unpacked, and trying to keep Sarah entertained in the meantime.”

His chocolate eyes squint subtly as the light creases next to his eyes crinkle. The amount of eye contact is verging on too much for you, your insides rumbling like an engine turning over and his presence revving your nerves.

Heat grows at the back of your neck, ready to blame any sweat sheening your skin from the rising humidity in the morning air when in reality it’s all because of him. Your throat hems as you pull on your own smile, years of debutante-like training to save face in uncomfortable situations blessing you at this moment.

“Morning, Mr. Miller. It’s really no problem at all, I’m usually an early riser so I would’ve been up anyways.”

People pleasing liar. Your alarm is usually your mom coming into your room to ask what you want for lunch.

“Please, just call me Joel. C’mon in, sweetheart. I’ve got all the camp info on the pamphlet that’s on our counter, and I figured I’d give you a quick tour of the place so you don’t get the abridged version from the seven-year-old this afternoon.”

A chuckle falls from your lips, stepping inside once Joel moves. He closes the door behind you while you take a quick inventory of the space. The front door leads into a small entryway, a table to your right, and a coat closet to your left. You follow the lead of the shoes piled up under the console table, adding your beat-up baby blue Chuck Taylors to the mix of worn work boots and sneakers, and small, sparkly sandals and velcro tennies.

The entryway opens into the living room, a large leather couch against the front window and a recliner perpendicular to it. The coffee table is an oversized rectangle, matching the sizes of the other furniture. It fits well enough into the space, but you can immediately tell that a man lives here, even without the context you’re privy to. Identical throw pillows don each corner of the sofa and the chair, some throw blankets strewn around. Remotes and DVDs lay across the coffee table haphazardly, a curated collection of Disney originals with action movies like Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade and Curtis and Viper 2. It surprises you to also see the romantic comedy The Goodbye Girl thrown on the surface, a pang of jealousy shooting through your chest at the thought that it was likely rented for a date that Joel had this weekend, or maybe right before he moved.

“This is the living room, obviously. Feel free to hang out here or watch TV or a movie if I’m ever home late. Sarah will probably beg you to watch The Little Mermaid with her at some point, it’s her favorite and I’m sure she’ll want to know your thoughts,” Joel’s hand falls to your back to guide you easily into the room, moving towards the large opening that leads into the kitchen. His touch is featherlight against the cotton of your t-shirt, a barely there pressure that is rippling energy up your back and down the back of your legs.

“It’s my favorite, too, so already got one thing in common,” you glance over at Joel, a grin tugging at your lips when his sideways smile returns, his hand pressing to rest fully against your back as he leads you into the kitchen.

“More of an Aladdin man myself, but I have been known to hum along to ‘Kiss the Girl’ every once in a while,” he confesses with a chuckle before he turns away from you, his hand leaving your back as the dining table in the breakfast nook comes into view. Sarah’s sitting engulfed in her cereal and a picture book laid out in front of her, not looking up quite yet to acknowledge your presence or her dad’s.

“Now I have to hear that sometime. And maybe you can give me a full blown rendition of ‘A Whole New World’.” 

Your smile is innocent, words coated with saccharine and a hint of flirtation. It’s a line that you feel comfortable toeing right now, testing the waters to see what exactly Joel will give back — if anything.

As Joel opens his mouth to respond, Sarah’s ears perk up at the sound of your newly familiar voice. She drops her spoon into the bowl, some milk splashing out onto the placemat underneath the dish. Tiny legs scramble to stand on the seat of her wooden chair, curls bouncing as she wiggles in a full-body wave to greet you.

“You’re here! Daddy says you’re gonna hang out with me after I get home from camp. Are you gonna wait here for me all day? I’ve got lots of fun toys you can play with if you get bored. I can show you!”

Sarah beams excitedly as she bends down to pick up her cereal bowl, her dad reacting after it seems you both have the vision of spilled milk and a drenched little girl falling to the ground as she tries to maneuver herself down from standing on the chair.

“Bug, what do I always say? Butts in seats, not feets. If you put the bowl down, you can sit and get out much easier. Don’t need to be taking you to the hospital instead of camp today, right?”

Joel’s standing behind her chair now, holding the back as he waits for her to set the dish on the table and pulls the chair away from the surface after she’s fully seated again. His hand finds the top of her head once her feet are planted on the ground, flattening the kinky spirals under it.

Sarah rushes away from her dad, crossing the room to wrap her arms around your legs. Your hand finds the same spot as Joel’s had, fingers lacing into the soft curls to push them away from her face as you look down at her with a tender grin. You squat down to be closer to her eye level, sitting on your calves and locking your fingers together in front of you.

“Well, good morning to you too, Miss Sarah! I really wish I could stay all day and wait for you and play with all your cool toys, but my dad has some chores for me to do. However, I will be eagerly waiting for you at pickup today! And then we’ll come back here and hang out and play with all the toys until your dad gets home from work!”

A giddy smile adorns Sarah’s face, her tiny frame jumping up and down excitedly as she giggles. Joel strides over, the sound of his daughter’s excitement tugging at the corner of his mouth. His large arms scoop her up effortlessly, holding her at his hip as he reaches out a hand to help you up from your squat. You take it, rough callouses from the labor of building smooth against your softer palm. A jolt of energy shocks your nerves at the contact, goosebumps pebbling on your skin.

Joel drops your hand gently, wrapping it back around Sarah as he supports her weight. He looks between you and her, a smile still stretched sweetly across his expression.

“Alright, mija, we really gotta get goin’ if we are gonna get you there on time today. Can you please go get your sneakers on for me while I make sure everything is gonna be in order for later?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in questioning, Sarah’s confident nod easing them back down. He swings her out of his arms and sends her toward the front door, eyes snapping back to yours.

“Hopefully she’ll be a bit tired when you get her later, she can be…energetic in the mornings,” he laughs softly and you do the same, following him as he circles around the island to your left.

Laid out on the granite is the camp pamphlet, with the address and pickup times, and instructions detailed inside. Next to it is a list of emergency numbers, including the landline for the site office where he’s currently working as well as Tommy’s number and a phone number labeled with the name Tiffany, scrawled in parenthesis next to it “Sarah’s Mom”. The ten digits following it send a swirl of anxiety in your gut, your mind reeling to what she could be like. He’s never mentioned her mom being in the picture, and it was silly of you to assume that she wouldn’t be. Maybe they were together still, maybe she was out of town for some reason when they moved.

As if Joel is hearing your thoughts out loud, he clears his throat and nods toward the paper.

“She, uh, she’s only got every other weekend right now…I figured I should put her down, y’know, in case I don’t answer or Tommy doesn’t either. Just for emergencies though. Please.”

You nod once at his anxious but clear directions for the phone number, eyes turning up from the list of numbers to meet Joel’s with an affable, thin smile. Joel continues at your understanding, reaching into his front pocket and fishing out his cell phone. He passes it to you with a “New Contact” page open, clearing his throat briefly before fumbling out.

“I, um, I thought we should probably exchange numbers, so I can call you — or y’know, you can give me any updates or text me or call me — if you wanna — with any questions. And I thought I could let you know when I’m on my way home if you’d like.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Miller. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m all good. I’m the one takin’ care of your kiddo, so you just tell me what you want me to do.”

The device sits weighted in your hands, eyes leaving Joel’s to begin punching in your information. You hand the phone back to him, your number stored under your name with “Nanny” following it in parenthesis.

You slip your own out of the back pocket of your jeans, giving it to Joel to put his own phone number in. The small brick is dwarfed in his hand, some incredibly quiet grumbles slipping from his lips as he messes up a few letters or digits from his large fingers working the small buttons. Once he’s done, your phone comes back to you with the information saved under Joel (Sarah’s Dad).

As if you really wouldn’t know who he was based on his first name alone.

You deposit your device back into your pocket, looking back at Joel and raising your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Anything else I should know, sir? Allergies, things that Sarah isn’t allowed, should I make dinner for y’all?”

Joel’s eyes fall away and his broad shoulders tense at the word ‘sir’, and part of you wonders if he’s averse to the polite title or if it’s a reaction to you speaking it towards him. Your thighs burn at the latter thought in a new way, adjusting your stance to hide the uncomfortable pressure you feel in your gut as you study him nervously fumbling around with the materials on the counter.

“No allergies, and I, um, try not to give her any sweets as a snack. She’ll ask for ‘em, but don’t feel bad puttin’ your foot down. And you most certainly don’t have to cook dinner for us, sweetheart. I promise I can take care of that once I get home. Might need it some nights when I’m late, but those times, Sarah’ll be just peachy with some mac-‘n-cheese or chicken nuggets.”

“Yes, sir,” your voice has a hint of teasing in it, the phrase rolling off your tongue flippantly and your eyes studying Joel’s reaction. He turns towards you to see the cheeky grin on your face, tension relaxing from his shoulders as he gives you a look. One that says “be careful”, a playful warning of the waters you’re merely dipping your toes in.

“Y’know, you’re real polite, but I promise you can call me just Joel, sweetheart. No need for the niceties.”

You swear you see the flecks of amber in his eyes darken in a flash, hands gathering everything to get it on the fridge to find when needed and leading you out of the kitchen.

The rest of the plans are discussed as Joel adjusts the velcro straps on Sarah’s shoes in the entryway, his back facing you as he tells you about where to find the key that’s hidden on the porch. You’re half listening and slipping on your own shoes, the other half of your cerebrum busy analyzing the way his navy blue cotton t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and rib cage as he’s kneeling down and bending over. The stretch of the material makes the hem ride up ever so slightly to reveal a thin stripe of tanned skin above the waistband of his Levi’s. The jeans are tight at his hips and the position he’s folded into shows off a sliver of the elastic of his gray boxers.

The image of him tight, taut, and bent over is reeling in your mind and intensifying that pressure you felt a few minutes before, only this time it travels from your gut to between your legs. The knowledge of the feeling in such an intimate area makes your cheeks and neck warm with anxiety, praying to whoever’s out there that Joel can’t tell what you’re thinking about him.

Once Sarah’s shoes are fixed and the straps of her Blue’s Clues backpack are slipped onto her shoulders, Joel stands up again and claps his hands together.

“C’mon, Bug. We gotta get goin’, can’t be late. Vamos, mija!”

Sarah jumps excitedly and looks up at you, stepping over to hug your legs.

“See you later!”

You fluff her curls, a soft smile finds your lips at her excitement to see you again.

“I’ll pick you up, and we can have all the fun before your dad gets home,” you send her an exaggerated wink, your eyes locking with Joel’s as Sarah’s arms pull away and she jets out of the front door that Joel is holding opening. He gestures for you to go ahead of him with a nod of his head, a crooked, closed smile donning his face.

The seven-year-old has bolted to the truck in the driveway, and you turn back to say a quick goodbye to Joel. Without realizing how close he was to you, your shoulder bumps his firm chest and his hand grabs for your waist as you stumble back. His large palm radiates warmth from its spot on your side, brown eyes fixed on yours as his fingertips dig into the flesh under your shirt. From this close distance, you get a hint of mint from his toothpaste and that familiar scent of bergamot and cedarwood from his cologne. It’s an intoxicating mix, your exhale hitching in your throat and a quick inhale following it to gather as much of his scent as possible. It feels comfortable, safe even, with his hand on you and his breath intermingling with yours. His tongue pokes out briefly to wet his lips, his hand falling to his own side when you take a step back and attempt to steady your breathing.

“You alright there, darlin’?”

Darlin’, that’s a new one.

Thuds of your pulse fill your ears while your head moves in a nod to cover up the electric shock of adrenaline that Joel has sent through your body.

“All good, thanks, Joel. Sorry for bumping into ya, didn’t realize you were right there. I was just gonna say goodbye, or really, see you later.”

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Have a good day, and feel free to text or call if you have any questions,” his departing words are punctuated with a gentle smile, the crinkles next to his eyes growing deeper and a dimple appearing on his right cheek.

The sight makes your pulse grow louder in your ears, washing out other morning sounds of birds chirping and cars rumbling to life in everyone’s driveways. A short nod from you ends the conversation, and your feet step back and turn to walk down the two steps from the Miller’s porch to the front walkway. Joel follows behind, his work boots much louder against the wooden stairs. He calls out to you to grab your attention before you make it out of the driveway, passing off the extra car seat he grabbed from his garage before you arrived, explaining briefly how to install it in your backseat for Sarah; you take the plastic and felt safety device and head back home to wait out the hours of the day until you see him again.

Rounding his truck, Joel moves to get his daughter into the car and glances back at you at the same moment you do. Quickly, you turn right back around, your legs speeding up to carry you across your lawn to the open garage door of your house. Risking it, you turn back over your shoulder just once more to see Joel climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition. He effortlessly reverses from his driveway, and as if he can see you in his rearview mirror, he throws a hand out his open window in a short wave to you before he lurches down the street.

Pickup went smoothly, Sarah found you outside in the carpool lane and ran up to get into your SUV. Once she was buckled in securely, you drove out from the park district buildings, the adorably high-pitched voice of the seven-year-old in your backseat rambling off all of the activities that encompassed the first day of camp.

You ask her questions, hearing all about the nature explorations they went on, the other kids in her group, her counselors, and more. The conversation carried over from the car, to snacktime, and even into the scenarios that Sarah had her Barbies act out.

Hours flew past, and before you knew it, your phone buzzed shortly on the wooden coffee table. Setting the blonde Barbie in your hand to sit down with the others that Sarah was playing with, you grab your device and read the message from Joel:

On my way home — hope you two have been having fun

The message is straight to the point for the most part, but the slightest idea of him thinking about you this afternoon nests its way into your mind and your heart, igniting a kindling from inside you. Sure, he was probably nervous about your first day on the job and how Sarah would be getting along with you, but that was still a thought about you.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Small mannerisms of Sarah’s reminded you of the tiny observations you had made of Joel in your limited time together. A brow furrowed into a deep crease with playful annoyance when you had veered from the story that Sarah was telling with the Barbies, the small dimple in her right cheek when she giggled at something funny you said, the soft demeanor she kept when playing with her baby dolls — clearly mirroring the care her father showed her.

It was incredibly adorable. And also incredibly frustrating, as it meant that Joel had infiltrated your mind for the whole afternoon when you were hoping your time nannying would give you a reprieve from your little schoolgirl crush on your neighbor.

Clicking the buttons quickly, you shoot a text back to him before your attention is dedicated to Sarah again, who’s found her dress-up clothes in her closet from upstairs:

We’ve had a blast, at least I have :) See you soon!

You hit send before you can overthink the wording, your phone finding its place back on the living room table as you follow Sarah to the bathroom to look for her clips to do her “princess” hair.

As you place the last rainbow-colored clip in Sarah’s hair, the front door closes with a click. Boots tumble against the tile near the entrance, the sound pulling the little girl’s attention from the mirror, a smile beaming on her face as she runs to greet her dad.

“Hi, Daddy!”

A smile finds your own face as you follow out from the downstairs bathroom, watching as Joel grabs for his daughter, swinging her up into his arms to be held like a baby. His genuine grin tugs at your heart, the wholesome vignette playing out with a rose-colored tint in your eyes.

“Well hello there, Princess!” Joel sets her tiny frame down, bowing graciously in front of her before giving her a quizzical look, “Pardon me, Princess, but have you seen my daughter? She’s about yay high, pretty curls, killer smile. Responds to the name Bug, or Sarah.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you lean against the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you look on. The sound pulls Joel’s eyes to meet yours briefly, a smile flashing with a wink before his faux confusion returns to his daughter in front of him.

Sarah’s giggles fill the room, her light voice informing her father between bouts of laughter, “Daddy, it’s me! I found my princess costume and we did my hair all pretty.”

A gasp from Joel cuts through the giggles, mock realization washing over his expression.

“Oh my goodness, it is you! Well, don’t you look pretty as a peach, Bug!” He presses a kiss to her forehead standing to his full height as Sarah runs into the kitchen to grab her artwork from camp that she’s been waiting to show off.

Joel’s gaze meets yours again, a warm smile raising one side of his mouth as his eyes glint with something that looks like a mix of exhaustion from work and relief to be home.

“Hope there wasn’t too much trouble with pickup or here at the house,” he pats his pockets with a concentrated look on his face, finally feeling what he was searching for and fishing it out of his dirt and sawdust-covered jeans, “I, uh, got this made on my lunch break. Figured it’s easier for you to have your own so that the emergency one can stay there. Lord knows Tommy or I need it too often for it to go missin’.”

He strides over to close the gap between the two of you, keeping about a foot and a half of space. His hand holds out the object, your smaller one extending your palm out to receive it. A gold key drops into your hand, your initials Sharpied on in his handwriting, and a rush of exhilaration tingles off of the metal and down your spine.

Joel’s fingers brush your skin as he pulls away, your stare lifting from the key to meet his. A smile pulls at your lips, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip before you speak up for the first time since he’s gotten home.

“Should I be expecting any late-night calls? Y’know, when you forget where the emergency one is or if Tommy’s lost it?”

One of his hands lifts to rub at the back of his neck, a slight cringe on his face as he chuckles.

“I have to say, I wouldn’t put it past me. But do not feel obligated to come ‘n help me, I promise I’ll survive a night sleepin’ in the truck. Wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for waking you up, darlin’, just 'cause I was bein’ a dumbass.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for letting you have a bad night’s sleep, sir. I’d come at any time.”

Joel’s throat clears when Sarah’s rushed footsteps pad back into the room, large craft paper paintings in each of her hands.

“Here, look Daddy! I painted these today — my group leader said they were beautiful.”

Before both paintings end up in his hands, he lays a hand on your shoulder, completely enveloping it in his warmth and giving you a light squeeze. His eyes shift to the collar of your shirt and look away quickly before he nods toward the front door.

“Go on and head out, sweetheart. Don’t wanna keep you from any plans ya got. I’ve got a dinner for a Princess to whip up and museum-quality paintings to analyze.” 

You're the one to break the eye contact he’s been holding, stepping away from his touch and feeling the chill of the air on your bare shoulder. Sneakers slip back on your feet, not bothering to do up the laces when you’re merely crossing your adjacent lawns to get home. Stopping short of the front door, you turn back to see Joel already staring, Sarah passionately explaining the painting that he is holding.

“Night, Sarah. Night, Joel. See you both tomorrow!”

“Have a good night, darlin’. Sleep well, see you tomorrow.”

His words wrap you in a cozy blanket, his drawl echoing in your mind as you send him one last smile before shutting the door and exhaling deeply.

It’s gonna be a long summer.

With his daughter asleep in her bed after an hour of reading chapters to her from the latest obsession, Matilda, Joel is relieved to finally have a moment to himself. He’d spent another hour of his evening in front of the TV, attempting to watch the rerun of the latest episode of The Sopranos, before he decided to call it a night and head to bed earlier than usual. It was only about ten o’clock, but Joel is usually one to stay up until at least midnight before he can shut his brain off from all of the stress he’s under day in and day out.

Taking care of Sarah, working long and laborious hours, and keeping his brother under his thumb so he doesn’t go off the deep end. And these days, he’s added the stress of behaving around you. His first glimpse of you the day he moved in made his heart rate pump faster, and when your mom suggested you as a nanny for Sarah, it excited him to be able to see you more and get to know you. He hadn’t thought about the close proximity he would constantly be in and the way you consumed his thoughts when he was away. And he definitely — no absolutely cannot act on the desires he feels towards you, especially as, well, your employer. It would be completely inappropriate. Your parents trusted him to give you a safe summer job, and he really doesn’t want to be driven out of his new home with torches and pitchforks if they found out what he thinks about you. What he wants to do to you.

It all gets to be too much, and tonight is a night that the exhaustion has caught up to him. He wants to relax — turn his brain off for a moment to be able to succumb to sleep, which is why he finds himself dragging his heavy limbs up the stairs to his bedroom.

He shuts the door behind him softly, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he crosses the room. Once the fabric is dropped off of his arms, he’s stood in front of his window, glancing out into the dim night with the glow of street lamps illuminating the sidewalks. Pulling his gaze back up and into his room, he does a double take at what he caught a flash of.

Your bedroom window.

He hadn’t noticed that he faced your room until this moment, probably from the late nights he’s accustomed to spending downstairs on the couch until the last possible second. You must always be asleep, or at least have your lights out when he climbs into bed.

Tonight, however, he can see in. He can see you.

And he feels like a fucking creep.

You're standing unknowingly exposed to him in your open window in your bra and panties, clearly getting changed to head to sleep. He sees the full view of the soft pink bra he’d spotted earlier today when a strap peeked out from the collar of your t-shirt. He felt like a perv staring at it then, imagining what the whole thing looked like against your skin, but this was a whole new level. 

His legs are cemented in place while his brain is screaming at him to look away, to go to bed, and forget all about your baby pink bra and white lace-trimmed panties. All the while, he can feel the crotch of his jeans tightening as he watches on with wide eyes and saliva flooding his mouth as he voyeurs.

Yeah, his brain isn’t gonna win this one over his dick.

Your back is to the window now, and to him, having turned around to face the inside walls of your room, and your hands reach around to unclasp your bra. You let it slip from your shoulders, catching it at the ends of your arms and turning to the side to set it on your bed.

Warm yellow lamplight backlights you, the silhouette on display for him showing off the curves of your breasts and hips, the soft lace of your panties shining in the low light. Joel feels the strain of his jeans to the point of discomfort, and despite him feeling like a complete debauchee, he justifies his decision of what he’s about to do by telling himself that it’s a much better alternative to him succumbing to his desires to have you — it’s better to observe from afar and relieve some tension than it is to make you uncomfortable and lose his childcare for the summer.

Hands grip the back of the desk chair near him, sliding it up to the window and angling it to have a good view while being able to stay hidden. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before sitting in the chair, palming himself as he watches you move around your space without a shirt on.

He reaches into his boxers, pulling his cock out and letting it sit against his stomach as he continues to watch you. Precum dribbles onto the dark curls of his happy trail, the ache in him too strong to ignore. He spits in his hand and starts to stroke himself, a soft groan falling from his lips as he watches you move closer to the window, the night light illuminating you in a blue hue as you lean over whatever surface is in front of your window.

He watches as your breasts move from the motion, his hand speeding up as another moan slips from his mouth. He’s desperate to close his eyes and imagine you under him or on top of him, but he cannot draw himself to look away, especially when he sees a bottle of lotion in your hands.

You pump some out and start to apply it to your body, starting with your arms. He studies your hands gliding over your skin, rubbing and buffing the moisturizer in. You move back towards your bed, lifting your legs to massage the lotion in one at a time. He wishes he were there, kneeling next to you to get a view of your clothed cunt in the innocent white lace of your underwear. An image of what you could look like flashes in his head — wet, spread, and ready for him. He envisions his hands where yours are and your hand where he is working his cock, breath catching in his throat as you reach your breasts and abdomen.

Envy crawls in his chest, a growl sounding from his mouth as observes you getting to touch yourself in ways he’s been imagining since he met you. All he wants is to feel your soft skin pressed all over him, to feel either your hand, your mouth, or your sweet pussy (it has to be sweet, there’s no way it couldn’t be based on that syrupy voice of yours and those candied endearments towards everyone) wrapped around his cock instead of his own fist.

Your hands slip under the waist of your panties to moisturize the skin underneath there, and the vision of you so close to touching your own cunt sends his fist in a wild pace up and down his length, his head rolling back with a deep but restrained groan.

When you come back into view, you’ve got a t-shirt in your grip and his hand continues feverishly as he whispers, no whimpers, to himself, pleading with you to leave yourself bare for a moment longer.

“No, no, no, c’mon, darlin’. Only take a second, pretty please, baby,” his breaths come out heavy, the humidity of it adding to the sweaty stickiness across his body, “Fuck — Quiero metertela, quiero dartelo. (I want to put it in, I want to give it to you.) Gonna make me come just from lookin’ at you, you don’t even know. Such a pretty girl.”

As if you heard his begging, you drop the shirt onto the bed and climb onto it on your knees, bending over and supporting yourself with one hand as you reach for something at your nightstand that’s out of sight for him. He doesn’t even care to know what you could be preoccupied with, thankful for whatever the distraction was for making you get on (almost) all fours for him. At least, he thinks of it as for him, despite you not knowing exactly what he’s doing across the way.

The guilty thoughts of his depravity fall to the wayside as he gets closer to the edge, his mind racing with the phantom feeling of fucking into you from behind in the exact position he can see you in. The only sounds in his room are his labor breathing and the glide of him fucking his own hand, slaps of his arm hitting against his thigh repeatedly.

As if on cue, you sit back on your knees to give him a full view of your form again as he comes, your name rolling off of his lips. Short ropes of white spend coat his fingers as he slows through his orgasm, whimpering while his eyes screwed shut tightly. When they open again, he watches you slip the t-shirt over your head and shut your lamp off, leaving Joel sitting in the dark with only the streetlights casting enough illumination for him to see the mess he’s made of himself while being a Peeping Tom.

It’s gonna be a long summer.

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