#this doesn't work for me. it works against me. how do i stop it and learn new strategies.

[angelltheninth]

When Arcane Men Get Jealous

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Finn, Marcus, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessive behavior, being protective, kissing in public, biting, holding hands, public display of affection, canon typical violence, suggestive

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would die if they were jealous over me. Melt into a puddle. Gone.

When Viktor gets jealous he gets a bit more withdrawn than he usually is. Not that he was ever a social butterfly, however he was always more open and happy to talk when it was with you. So his behavior is odd, he even seems to get quieter whenever you walk into the room. Like he's trying to remove himself from you with silence.

"I am not avoiding you. Look, there has been a lot to do for the past week, I'm sorry if you got a bad impression but I was simply busy. If you want more company, go ask Jayce, or Skye, I'm sure they will be more than happy to entertain you, darling."

Viktor is short with his answers, saying as little as possible to minimize the amount of time he spends talking to you. Not because he doesn't want to talk to you, he loves talking to you, but if he keeps talking there's a chance he might say something he's going to regret. And end up hurting you.

"There you go again with these ridiculous accusations. You won't leave it alone will you? So now it's my fault that your project is running late? I would have been happy to help but someone was too busy talking with... you know what, nevermind. You're right, we both have a lot to do, so let's just drop this conversation and focus on work."

If you keep getting in the way of his work, Viktor will eventually come to a breaking point. Him not being able to work is only adding to his emotions, and he's never been the best at dealing with them. While he doesn't exactly yell at you, it's very rare that he ever raises his voice there's a notable frustration in his words, and pain, fear that you'd leave.

"If I'm being so unreasonable then leave. Go. Have fun. I know it's not idea to be cooped up in the lab all the time. There are so many more things to do out there. if you... want to go with other people I suppose I can't stop you, nor can I stop my own jealousy. How am I being even more unreasonable? I know you wouldn't leave me without talking about it. Look... I do not... want you to leave, working is more fun with you. But am I truly all that you want? Me? This lab? Because you're all I want. All that I can think of."

When Jayce gets jealous he keeps invading your personal space when you're around the person or people he's jealous of. His behavior is nothing innapropriate or pushy. It's just his arm around your waist, just him bringing you that drink you wanted, just him bragging about you a bit too loud and saying how much he loves you.

"You really are great, babe. How in Runterra did I ever find a beauty like you huh? What's that bashfulness for now, I always praise you, and I'm never gonna stop. You're my girl right? I can be a proud boyfriend and talk you up every once in a while."

Physical affection a big deal to Jayce and a way he shows he cares but also a giveaway to his jealousy. He holds your hand longer, his eyes flicker between you and the one he's jealous off, his smile is a bit more nervous when he has to leave you alone. Then there are his kisses, not as gentle, not a little, quick peck on the edge of your lips but a real kiss, lips pressed against yours until you let him know you need air.

"Got a bit carried away there. Ah, sorry, I can't resist you sometimes. All the time. Do you expect me to when you wear lipstick like that? Makes your lips look like they're made to be kissed. By me specifically. I'd kiss you all night long, for the rest of our lives and never get tired of it."

Jayce keeps denying that he's jealous when you bring it up in a teasing way. Logically there's no reason to get jealous, everyone knows your relationship is doing great, in fact you're hardly ever fighting and even when you are it doesn't last too long. How does he turn that part of his brain off? How can he not get jealous when all those people look at you the way he looks at you?

"They're always looking at you. How can you not notice? It's so obvious. You don't notice because... you're only looking at me? That doesn't even make sense! Of course they're looking, you're breathtaking everywhere you go. I just hope that wherever you go, you'll always take me with you, because I want to be by your side forever."

Ekko often jokes about being jealous so you don't pick up on him actually being jealous. A little jealousy is fine but not when it's getting in the way of his missions and operations with his team. He'd been a bit distracted in the past, by one of the Firelights flying too close to you, so he pushed his way between you two.

"It was the formation! Which you would have remembered if you weren't too busy chatting. Come on, Firefly, get your head in this. Otherwise you're gonna make your leader jealous. Wouldn't want that right? What if... what if you get demoted for it? Hey! Ow! I wouldn't demote you, who would listen to all my plans?"

When you have free time together Ekko makes sure to spend as much time with you as possible. If you're together all the time there's less chance that someone else will swoop in and flirt with you. He would never describe his behavior as being clingy, all he wants is to spend free time with his girlfriend. That is perfectly normal behavior.

"What do you say we go out to get some food? We don't have to spend all our time here. Not like the tree is gonna burn down if we're away for a couple of hours right? Besides it's been a while since it was just you and me all alone. Miss being alone with you. Don't you miss it too?"

If the person he's jealous of ever puts you in danger in any way Ekko will go off on them. Harder than he scolded others in the past. He might let some of his jealousy show then, but he storms off, well flies off before you can talk to him. As much as he wants to be alone he also makes room for you on his hoverboard when you float down next to him.

"Shouldn't have went off on them like that. I know, you don't gotta say it, I'll say I'm sorry. Let cool off a bit. You'd think that if they were flirting with you that much they could have been looking out a bit better. I'm always looking out for you. Maybe a bit too much. Sorry if I've been weird about it lately. Would you forgive me if I took you on a romantic hoverboard ride?"

No one wants to piss off a big man like Vander by flirting with his wife. Everyone values their life and their bones too much. But... they stare at you. Quite openly actually. You see it, and you bet he sees it too. He sees everything that's happening at his bar and he won't stand for someone ogling his wife, even if he has to get aggressive about it.

"It's my damn bar, I've got the right to break the table with their heads when they're looking at ya like that. Tell ya what, a lot more people would avoid this place if I started beating up every asshole that looks at ya wrong. Only reason I don't is cause I don't want ya to be mad at me after."

He hasn't banned anyone from his bar in a very long time. Vander knows he tolerates a lot, this is Zaun, and some people don't have the best manners, that's not exactly their fault. But on the other hand if they start something with him then he will finish it. When he tells them to stop looking at you like you like you were one of Babette's workers and they get in his face he will pick them up and throw them out.

"Bastards had it coming. I tried to be nice, then they had to go and call ya names. Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let anyone insult my wife. Not here, not on the streets, not anywhere. I went there and I wanted to talk to them, tell them to fuck the hell off, they were the ones who started getting violent. So I responded in kind."

Vander calls you over to the bar a bit more often if he sees a particular table is trying to monopolize you. He carries some of the drinks over, the food plates too, or he simply walks up behind you when one of the guys is getting flirty. Seeing his imposing, huge frame behind you, his muscles bulging, is enough to get most to back off you.

"See, darlin', I can talk things out just fine. When people are being smart about it that is. Might have to stop selling so much booze in this place, then they won't be so bold with ya. Ya are a pretty sight, I can't say otherwise. But ya are a pretty sight for me, not them, ain't that right? Mhm. I know, I'm all yer's too."

Silco never ever says he's jealous of anyone. He is the most powerful man in all of Zaun, everyone is scared of him and with good reason. As the Eye of Zaun he knows when people are looking, talking too, and might even try to touch you. Those people are often payed a not so nice visit by his men.

"I did hear about that gang, yes. It's very unfortunate that they don't know how to keep their noses where they don't belong. It's not that big of a loss on our end. There are a hundred people who can do their work, and better. All that matters is that they won't even have to think about not touching you again."

He rarely has to get his own hands dirty when he gets jealous. All it takes is him saying who the target or targets are and he makes them dissapear from Zaun. That doesn't always have to be deadly, but if they're really dumb it is. If Silco feels that you're in some kind of danger then he will keep you close by. He tries to distract you from seeing he's jealous.

"All I'm saying is that we could take a break from work. Sevika and Jinx can handle a week of it. And you and me can lock ourselves up in our home and not come out. The bedroom works perfectly fine too, if you'd rather spend our time in there. And what is it that I'm doing, darling? Jealous? You are an observant one. I wouldn't want you any other way."

The only time Silco will threaten someone in person is if that someone is bold enough to flirt with you in front of them. He can scare people within an inch of their life just by talking to them, he's not just a good businessman, and some people tend to forget that. He has Zaun in the palm of his hand, and everyone in it.

"He did not actually piss himself. Did he actually. Hm, I wasn't look at him anymore to be honest. He was spineless, surprising given he talked to you like he did. Guess he was thinking with his other head a bit too much for his own good. Why are you looking at me that way? Ah, I see. Looks like someone enjoyed watching me put a scumbag into his place a bit too much."

Since Finn isn't someone who would take anything lying down he will be damned before he sees someone coming onto his woman and not do anything about it. He might have a certain charm about him but that doesn't mean he's not ready to makes heads roll the moment when someone crosses any kind of line with you. Imaginary or otherwise.

"Hah, did you see that doll? As soon as I threw one punch he went down. All his buddies ran like rats. Left him all alone there. After all that tough talk and he couldn't even defend himself. Serves him right. He's lucky all I did was break his nose when he flirted with you. I wasn't even that far away."

Finn will make out with you in front of who ever he is jealous of just to prove a point to them. And while he has you moaning, has your head buried against his neck and your body running hot he will look at the other person and stick his tongue out at them, right before making a V with his fingers and putting his tongue between them. He's vulgar but it gets the point across very well.

"All these people looking at what's mine. Now, I can't have that right? I love that you're showing off your body, it's a great body, you know how much I love it. But sometimes I want to keep you away from prying eyes. And if I can't the least I can do is give them a show. Make them know I'm the only one who can touch you."

His jacket is a signature part of his outfit, but Finn will let you wear it. Hell, he will walk over and drape it over your shoulders while not even looking at whoever you're talking to. Sometimes they're not worth looking at when he can look at the pretty way you blush as you touch his hand that's lingering on your shoulder.

"Thought you looked a bit cold there. Keep this on all night. Later on I'll help you warm up my way, a much more fun way. Don't even worry about your perfume getting all into this, love having your scent all over me. And by tomorrow you're gonna be wearing all of my marks."

There are a lot of people in the Enforcers who tease Marcus about having such a pretty wife. He knows you're pretty, but he doesn't like that the department is noticing it so much as well. Not that there's any way for him to hide it, or that he wants you to hide it, that would be a real crime.

"I was not pouting. That is so childish. I was glaring at them. Well, they were the ones who stared first. You visit me at work, like that's such a big deal. We're married, honey, I pick you up from work too. Why is it such a big deal here? I think they're just trying to get a rise out of me."

Won't deny that he's feeling jealous or shy away from showing it. When Marcus notices any of his men flirting with you he makes them work extra hard that day, he gives them more paperwork, something that everyone hates there, or assigns them to the toughest jobs that he knows will take them days to complete. He can't help but chuckle when you visit again and they're too tired to flirt with you, they just say hello.

"What do you mean I'm picking on them? Of course not. You know how hard it is to deal with all these extra cases. Someone has to take on a few more. No, the fact that it's the same Enforcers who gave you flowers that one time has nothing to do with it. You think it does? And do you have evidence of this accusation?"

Marcus isn't shy about kissing you in front of the whole department. If that's what it takes to send them all a clear message to back off. It's always perfectly chaste kisses, but he does make sure that everyone hears him say he loves you when you leave. He smirks when eyes turn to him and he wishes them all a good rest of their day.

"Now you call me petty. All of these accusations and you still don't have any evidence. That's not a very good way to have a case. You've been keeping count have you? Oh. You... actually have been keeping count? I'm guilty? Fine, you got me, you got me. Maybe... that was a little petty of me, but I'm not sorry."

Every time Loris is jealous it's almost impossible for him to hide that fact. He's a big guy, nothing about him is easy to his, not even his emotions. And he's loud, so every time he huffs, mumbles something, or grunts you hear it. Your eyes meet and he looks away, his hand grasping yours and running his thumb over the back of your hand.

'They were staring at you a bit too much for my liking, pretty girl. If they were as tough as they pretend they were they should have held their ground more. Proves they were all bark and no bite. People like that really get on my nerves, and then they talk to my girl like she's single."

Loris invites you to have lunch with him quite often, even more often when he gets jealous of someone who works with him. Dealing with them in any other way would be unprofessional of him, and might get him in trouble. This way he gets to avoid that, avoid them, and spend a nice lunch date with you. No matter how you look at it he's the real winner here.

"Looks so good. But if you keep looking at me like that I might get hungry for something else besides the food. Just try shifting the blame on me when you know exactly how you're looking at me right now. I wouldn't risk it at work, but... if you showed up with a few hickeys on your neck it might get the rest of the department to stop flirting with you."

As much as he tries to make his jealousy go away it's not easy. Loris knows he should be an example for others, after all he had been an Enforcer for a long time, he can't just let his emotions get the better of him. Hard to keep those emotions down when they concern you. If nothing else works he will intimidate people. Easy enough for him. But he would rather that be a last resort.

"If he wasn't ready to throw fists and words at me then he shouldn't have thrown flirty words at you. He should be able to back himself up if he's gonna be saying stuff like that. All I did was pick him up and throw him outside. Hey, I might get in a bit of trouble for it, but at least he'll leave you alone from now on. I'd risk my badge for you if I have to, you know that."

Since he is the quiet type Steb shows his emotions and jealousy is one that he works hard to surpress. Every time he notices that someone is standing a little too close to you he walks over and looks at you, lovingly, then he looks at the other person with a glare, a deadly one. All the while he's standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Come now, angelfish, they weren't even worth your time. We both know they only had one thing in mind when they were talking to you. I could see it in their eyes. I don't appreciate that they looked at you like that. And I know you don't either. So I felt like I had to step in."

He is very physical with his jealousy. Steb lets his eyes and touches linger a few moments longer when he wants to make a point to someone. While he knows you don't hate it he also doesn't want to come off as too jealous or too possessive over you. You can take care of yourself and he loves that about you, he's watched you put people in their place often, but there are times where he can't hold himself back.

"I could feel your fingers interlocking with mine. You wanted me to stand close to you when they weren't leaving you alone. Would you have raised your voice if I hadn't walked over? It would be amusing to see it. But I think those kisses we shared also sent an equally powerful message. You didn't have to bit me though."

Steb nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck when he's feeling really, really jealous of someone. He makes it look less possessive than it is, pretending like he's overhearing something you have to say, and then pushing himself just a little bit closer. His cold lips make contact with your neck, sending shivers down your body before he brushes your lips with his thumb and leaves with a smirk.

"That ought to be enough. I could have done more but marking you in public might have been a step too far. We can enjoy things like that in private however. I enjoy being close to you in any context, and if it makes others realize you're not looking for anyone because you've already got a man then I enjoy it even more."

[whiskis]

A/N: Hi there! For those who don’t know, first part is here. (If that link doesn't work, try suscribing for free to Patreon and check this one) Enjoy!

Orc professor (part 2): late for class

Orc x chubby fem!reader || power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism (kinda), oral sex, size kink, age gap, degradation, praise kink

“If you want to show me your pussy, my cum better be leaking out of it. Do you understand?”

His words still echoed in your brain when you were getting dressed the next morning. You were already wet, and you fingered yourself to the memory of his dick in your pussy last evening. You were a bit sore, but the fact that you could still feel him made everything more intense, hotter… sexier. And it made everything so much better.

You decided to wear your pencil skirt this time, and blame it on your bad luck, but you spilled your coffee all over it. Cursing yourself, you changed as fast as possible, but not fast enough that you could get to class early as you knew you should.

By the time you arrived, he was writing something on the board. “Good morning, sir,” you enunciated very slowly, looking at him for directions as you saw the other few students entering behind you.

He turned around and stared at you with such intensity you felt your whole body react. You were almost panting, biting your lip not to groan out loud. “Good morning. You can sit down while I go to my office for a second.”

The other two students nodded and he passed you on his way to the door. He looked at you in such a way that you knew what you had to do without him having to say anything. You let your stuff on your usual seat and smiled at the girl who sat next to you, mumbling about going to get some coffee before class. She nodded with a smile and you had to stop yourself from running to his office.

You arrived just in time for him to pull you inside by the waist, pressing you against the door and kissing you senseless just like he did yesterday, his tusks feeling incredible against your jaw. His hands were traveling up and down your body, groping your ass and your thighs as he grunted against your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back and passing his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “You were late. And I thought you regretted what happened yesterday. I was freaking out, little human. And then you walked out like nothing happened looking hot enough to eat and smelling like me… Good goddess. Do you know what you do to me?” He pressed his hips against your middle and you moaned at the feel of his huge hard on.

“I- I can feel it,” you stuttered, your voice quivering when his hands squeezed your ass, parting your cheeks and letting one of his fingers rub over your lace covered asshole.

“You have no idea. And now I can’t even fuck you properly. I can’t ruin you the way I want because you were late.” He punctuated each word with a squeeze and a roll of his hips. You panted, so horny you were about to burst and he didn’t even touch you. “Goddess, you smell so fucking good…” He whispered, burying his face on your neck and inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry… I- I spilled coffee on my skirt and had to change and then I forgot a book and have to open the door again and…” Your rambling was interrupted by his lip covering yours again, swallowing your explanation as he grunted, his hands massaging your ass-cheeks once again.

“What do you have after my class?” He asked, his breathing labored, almost desperate.

“A couple more classes,” you told him, mentally checking if you could skip any of them. But you knew you couldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. You were a damn good student… Even if you were fucking your way through one of your subjects.

“Shit.” He passed his hand through his hair again, messing it up and making you want to whimper. “Okay, okay. I have classes after lunch, but I’ll be here around four-ish. Does that work for you?” You nodded fervently. “Okay, I expect you to show me how sorry you really are for being late and depriving me from what I was promised.”

“I can… I can give you my panties now,” you offered, feeling the lace sticking to your pussy lips like a second skin because you were that wet.

“I don’t want them. I want you to be feeling how wet I made you all day. I want you to be uncomfortable and thinking about my cock deep inside your pussy until you are so horny you are desperate to come. Until you know how slutty you really are…” You moaned, his words igniting a fire inside of you that made your brain short-circuit. “Now, compose yourself, we have a very interesting class ahead. I’m sure you are dying to know about the survival strategies of cacti,” he said with a laugh, making you let out a choked giggle. You weren’t expecting him to joke. Shit, why did that make him hotter?

The class was boring, but you didn’t even care about it. You didn’t care about anything but the feel of your wet panties against your pussy and his words resonating inside your brain. He made a point of looking directly at you a couple times, going as far as to ask you something about what he was saying, just to huff in annoyance when you didn’t answer correctly. But he smirked in your direction and that was enough to send you spiraling into a thousand of new horny thoughts.

You left his class as fast as you could, trying very hard to look normal when you passed him, but his knowing smile only made your clit pulsate harder, your core clenching around nothing and making you want to beg him to take pity on you and fuck you right then and there. But you were stronger than that, so you left his class on your way to the next one.

You didn’t take a single note the rest of the day, your brain filled with possibilities and images of his hard dick. The feel of his lips against yours, and the ideas of how would feel against your lower lips… Your brain was running a mile per minute, and you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the rub of the lace against your clit. It was exhilarating and maddening at the same time, and by the time four rolled around, you were on the edge and you had to run to his office in need of release.

You knocked rapidly, and when you opened and saw him there, shirt rolled over his big green forearms and glasses pushed down on his nose you almost came right there. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy it wasn’t fair at all.

“Come on in,” he said as soon as you closed the door behind yourself.

You tried to lock it, but he shook his head… Oh shit, that made you even wetter. The idea that you could get caught. That somebody could just walk in and know how much of a slut you were, that you were fucking your professor for a good grade…

You moaned and he chuckled. “Come here, little human, I almost hear your brain short-circuiting.” You walked to him, your steps measured so you wouldn’t fall. Your knees feel like jelly, and your pussy is so wet you are sure he can hear it from the desk. “So… Did you think about what you are going to do to redeem yourself from not meeting your end of our deal this morning?” You nod. “Go ahead, tell me.”

You’d been thinking about it all day. Your whole brain occupied by thoughts of his cock inside of you, against you, spilling in and over you… But there was one thought that surpassed all others. “I- I want to suck you off, sir.”

He smirked, his tusks framing his plush lips in a way that made your clit tingle. “Is that so? But you have such a tiny human mouth, I don’t know if you’d be able to fit me…” He teased, making you blush. You gave him your panties everyday, and that’s what got you to blush, him teasing you… Incredible.

“I will. It will. It will fit, sir,” you stuttered. This orc made your brain so fuzzy you could barely process words correctly anymore. You could barely talk when he was close, especially now that you were moments away from sucking his dick down your throat.

“Prove it then, little slut.”

You dropped to your knees so fast you moaned when you hit the floor, the spark of pain focusing your brain for a second. But the second you touched his big-as-tree-trunks thighs, your brain disconnected again. Only heat and lust left behind. You pulled down his fly in a slow movement, staring up at him as he looked back at you with an indescribable look.

You took his dick out and gasped again. You already saw it, you had it inside of you, but it was nothing compared with the realization that you were about to fit that inside your mouth. Maybe he was right, and it wouldn’t fit.

His eyes were tender when he looked down at you. “Relax, you don’t have to take all of it, just whatever you are comfortable with. I like you submitting to me, but I don’t want to hurt you in any way. Do you understand?” You nodded, relief running down your body and making you even hornier.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And then you launched.

You pulled out your tongue and started mapping the veins of his huge shaft one after the other. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair with such force you could hear the leather breaking. You smiled against his dick and he grunted, one of his hands fisting your hair and urging you where he wanted you more. You complied, you wanted nothing more but to be a good girl for him, a good slutty human for him.

You took his head into your mouth, your lips so stretched it was almost uncomfortable, but you liked it. You loved the feel of his cock inside your mouth, it was exhilarating in a way you weren’t expecting. You weren’t one to like giving head in general, you preferred to go down on girls than guys, but definitely wasn’t your go to activity, but right there… You fucking loved it.

You rolled your tongue around the tip, teasing the underside where you knew he was especially sensitive. He moaned over you, his fist pulling at your hair and making you moan around him, which made him almost whimper and let out a series of curses that would make a pirate blush.

You kept going at it, you couldn’t get past a few centimeters, he was too wide for you to get him to the back of your throat, but by the glassy look in his eyes you understood it was enough. You were messy, your saliva getting everywhere as you bobbed your head up and down.

He was looking down at you reverently, and you couldn’t hold back a few more moans, who made him thrust up accidentally. You pulled back coughing, eyes teary and a few tears rolling down. He groaned at the sigh, and you felt your clit pulsating with your heartbeat. You were so close to coming, you wanted nothing more but to touch yourself. You threw your body to him again, but he stopped you with the hand tangled in your curls.

“I want to fuck your pretty face, would you let me, little slut? Would you let me use you like my personal fuck toy?” You whimpered, nodding against his thigh as he pulled your head back by the hair. “Such a good girl for me, already so needy and desperate. Look at you… You look so dirty like that. Remind me to take a pic so I can enjoy you later,” his words made you emit a guttural moan.

The idea of him taking pics of you like that, make up running and lips swollen… it made you feel hot. It made you feel so horny you could feel your juices dripping down to the floor under you, your panties so wet they couldn’t hold your gushing pussy anymore.

“You like that? You like me having pictures of how pretty you look all fucked up? Why do I even ask, of course you do, you are such a little slut for me. Now open up.” You obeyed and he directed his dick back against your welcoming mouth. “Tap my leg three times if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded again. “Words. How many times?”

“Three. I tap three times if it’s too much,” you repeat, breathless already.

“Good girl.”

And then he started a brutal pace. He used his hold on your hair to direct your movements, moving your head forward until you couldn’t take it further and then retreating. Repeating that process until something inside of you gave out and you felt him slip inside your throat. It was almost too much, you couldn’t breathe, but your eyes rolled back into your head at the sight of him in pleasure.

He pulled back to let you breathe, looking down at you with reverence. “You look so fucked out I want to ruin you. Would you let me ruin you, little human?” You nodded, unable to form words. “Such a good girl for me.” He pulled your head forward and started to fuck your mouth in earnest.

Your brain was fuzzy, your pussy so wet you could feel it dripping down, and your clit asking for attention. The weight of his cock against your tongue, his hand on your hair and his curses over you were driving you insane.

“Touch yourself for me, little human. Come around your tiny fingers. Show me how much you like sucking my orc cock,” his permission was enough, your hand traveling down your body and rubbing frantically against your clit, over the lace.

His pace became erratic, and your fingers rubbed so hard you were almost afraid to set your clit on fire. But it was so good, the combination of sensations so intense you were about to come.

“I’m about to come. Do you want it? Do you want to swallow my come or do you want it in your face, little slut?” You sucked harder, pushing your head further down, swallowing around him to indicate you wanted it. You wanted to swallow him whole.

That was all it took. He growled over you and pushed his dick as far as he could before you felt the first shot of his come in the back of your throat. He pulled back a little to avoid chocking you, the final spurs of his release filling your mouth to the brim, some of it dripping down your chin.

The second he opened his eyes and looked down at you, his dick still in your mouth, you were done. You flicked your clit one last time before you melted, pulling back and spilling the rest of his come over your boobs as you cried out your own release.

Your vision whited out, your ears ringing as you felt your body moving as he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands caressing your back as he whispered sweet nothings that your brain couldn’t process.

He took some tissues from the box on his desk and carefully cleaned your messy face. “You didn’t take the pic,” you told him.

“We didn’t talk about it beforehand. I wouldn’t risk stepping over your possible boundaries like that.” Your heart skipped a beat. “But don’t worry, we’ll have more opportunities if that’s something you’d enjoy…”

“We will?” You asked, a bit confused but a spark of hope blooming inside your chest.

“I’m not letting go of your sweet, sweet slutty pussy anytime soon,” he told you, kissing your forehead as his hand traveled down until it met your dripping panties. “I would like this panties now, thank you,” he whispered against your ear, you could sense his smirk on his tone, making you laugh so hard you snorted.

Reminder that you can find all my other stories over @monstersflashlight

[cleoselene]

don't doomscroll, DO SOMETHING. Don't complain, TAKE ACTION. here are things you can do:

call your Congresspeople. If you are living in a Democratic district, this is so easy! Tell them how YOU want them to fight! Don't just sit back and complain that "Dems in congress aren't doing what I want." CALL THEM AND TELL THEM WHAT YOU WANT. EMAIL THEM. And be nice about it, lead with the illusion that you trust them to do the right thing. "I know you don't really want this to happen, you're a good person!" methodology.

If your reps are like mine and horrible horrible monsters like Byron Donalds, then you have to make your phone calls differently. You gotta strategize these. There are two ways to do this: 1) be incredibly angry and aggressive, but filibuster about it. Don't give them any ability to get off the phone. Don't curse or insult, just properly outraged. The key here is to WASTE THEIR TIME. I spend about 45 minutes on the phone with one of Rick Scott's people once. The other way, i think is more effective, but this is better than nothing. The other way, 2) is to frame the specific issue you're calling about from the most conservative angle possible. If you're calling to support Ukraine, cry about how your daddy fought in 'Nam to stomp out communism, now you want to let a KGB guy like Putin bring back the Soviet Union? Act super fucking scared of communism. Say the words "KGB" and Putin together over and over. Talk about how America doesn't roll over for Russia, not now, not ever. This is just an example of a particular issue, but it can apply to any. My mom calls it the "sandwich technique." Lead with a compliment, then say what you really mean, and end with a compliment. People get tricked into changing their minds.

I realize this is tumblr so if you are really really that phone-phobic, apply this to email. But really, this is worth making the call for. The call cannot be fully ignored. An email can.

Join the class action lawsuit against the government for Breach of Privacy if you have Social Security or Medicare, and tell people you know who do to join it.

get involved at the local level. Agitate at city council. hell, RUN for city council. I promise you that no matter how unqualified you think you are, less qualified people have run and won. There was a town that had a golden retriever as its mayor for a while. You have to start thinking locally. You have to start doing things ALL THE TIME, not just every 2-4 years. This isn't just voting, but making your voice heard. That tumblr post about ten people showing up at a council meeting being able to change thing significantly? True. "But I live in a red area!" yeah, so do I, and that makes it even more important, since they're doing shit like banning books in schools here.

Run for office!! I just said that, but seriously, run for office!! AOC was a bartender before she got where she is now!! If I were not completely disabled, I'd do it. If you don't feel like it's for you, think of the people in your life who are capable who might be persuaded!

Focus on the real enemy. It's Republicans. It's not Democrats. Like I said, if you're unhappy with the way your Democratic rep is doing things, TELL THEM. Sitting outside the party and criticizing accomplishes nothing, it only weakens our only opposition party in this country. If you want to talk about third parties, MAKE ONE THAT'S VIABLE. But realize that will probably be decades of work. Stop complaining and start doing, start reaching out to the people who at the moment have some ability to do things and influence THEM. You can say a lot of things on the internet and expect to change the world, but you won't. (Yes, I realize the ridiculousness of me posting this on the internet, but I will be doing things, too, not just shouting into this void)

[minyard-05]

ok so here's the thing about andrew minyard's hashtag DIY rehab tactic. what actual rehab does, what it's supposed to do, is not just flush the drugs out of your system (because you can technically do that pretty effectively the way andrew did) but rehab centers are supposed to help you by letting you come off drugs slowly in a safe environment, and provide you with ways to prevent relapsing once you get out. it's supposed to help you to stop relying on substances day-to-day, so a lot of them will have counselling services and other methods of helping you adjust to being clean.

obviously this is not everybody's experience with rehab, but in my understanding this is the main aim.

so let's just make some ground assumptions here while i talk about this. 1) aaron was addicted from an early age, most likely with the effects of fetal alcohol syndrome combined, and it got worse as he got older and started relying on the drugs more heavily as his mother's abuse equally worsened. 2) he did not stop after tilda died. the week or so between her funeral and andrew locking him in the bathroom were probably some of the worst for him in terms of his addiction and what he was using. 3) he was taking, regularly, a mixture of different street drugs all with varying effects and was probably high more often than not.

what andrew did, exactly, was stock the bathroom with canned food and lock aaron inside against his will for an undetermined amount of time. given the assumptions i made above, i'm going to say he collected enough food for about a week, accounting for how long aaron's withdrawal symptoms probably would have lasted. the thing is, that method would have worked in the sense that any drugs aaron had taken before being locked inside would have worn off and withdrawal would've kicked in not long after, depending obviously on what he took and when.

this means that aaron essentially quit completely cold, and he spent withdrawal locked inside a small room with canned food and two people in the house who wouldn't let him out until he was clean. and when he was let out, yes, he was sober, but he also had a very high risk of relapsing for a while after, because he would've had nothing to replace using.

which leads me to cracker dust. now, andrew says in the books that they took it up for aaron's sake, which means that in a sense it's basically a gentler way of letting him relapse. it's probably nothing compared to what he was on before the bathroom, but it's a way to get a similar, if limited, kick on a semi-regular basis, that at least maybe helps to ease him off it a little. is this the best way to handle drug addiction? the short answer is no, not at all. but i wouldn't be surprised if neil asking andrew to quit cracker dust is another reason why aaron quietly doesn't like him, because it would definitely hit him harder than the rest of the monsters.

some food for thought :P

[voids-ideas]

I saw this and thought "what would someone who isn't a nazi would say?"

And I laughed. I would laugh. There's no fucking way you would think I'm a nazi. Not because I can't be, everyone can be any type of person. But I've been obsessed with extreme political movements since i was 12, I've learned how they operate and I've worked to ensure my way of thinking prevents me from ending in one

I conditioned myself to think "why the fuck am i doing this?" Every time a sense of extreme hatred for a group of people starts. I learned to take a step back and think in every situation where i feel I'm 100% in the right. It's fucking hard, specially when you're autistic and that fucking strong sense of justice that makes me think i need to speak in every fucking argument. But i worked. I've worked since i was a child to not be a nazi. And i learned to identified when my emotions are valid and I can think i hate someone so much and they've done so much damage i think the best for the world is for them to die. And i know even with the valid of my emotions, that doesn't mean a government should kill people

I've learned you can think something should happened to someone, and doesn't mean a government should do it, because a government it's there to protect all the people, and everyone it's people. A government can be kind to everyone, because a government it's not a person and it doesn't have emotions, can't feel resentment. Their purpose should be everyones well being. Because if you let a government be bad to one person, then it can be bad to everyone

People don't need to work like a government. And a government shouldn't work as a person, a government doesn't have the right to validation of its emotions. Because it shouldn't have them

People have the right to have their emotions being validated, and to understand their actions based on that emotions, Doesn't meant they are excused of their actions.

I lost track of what i was saying. No fucking idea what i was saying, fuck this is a good song... so... have a good day?

...Oh, ok. I remembered something. When i say a government has to be able to protect everyone, I'm not saying let the nazis go because they're people, I'm saying look for the reason they are nazis and make sure there won't be more by fixing things. Stop the possibility of being more nazis in the future

What do you do with the ones that exist? Idk man, I'm an engineer, I'm against prisons and i would like to punch them, but i don't think that's exactly the way a government should work, and... well, it's not like I'm the only person in the world and i should know the solution

I would want to punch them, but pretty sure a government shouldn't punch people

[sensitivepluto]

On the Down-low

Short & Sweet - Day 3: Secret Meeting

Touya Todoroki x Gn!Reader

[TW]: injury & care, cursing, pet names, Touya Todoroki in general

This is @thewritingstar's prompt list - here's the link to the post!

After those texts you'd rushed to his place immediately, your first aid kit in hand. As annoyed as he made you, the wound he shared with you didn't look good. You'd never admit it to him, but his dangerous lifestyle often had you lying awake at night with worry.

When you finally made your way up the fire escape to his window, you rapped your knuckles against the cold glass. And then after a few moments you did it again...and again. Why wasn't he answering? Did he pass out? Maybe you should go around to the-

You watched as a shirtless Touya stumbled to the window and opened it haphazardly for you. By the time you'd wiggled yourself in he was already collapsed face down on his old creaky bed.

"Touya..." you sighed, unhappy that he'd gotten himself injured again.

"I don't want to hear another lecture, doll. Can you help or no?" He grumbled. "Also stop calling me that. It's Dabi now and you know it."

A disapproving hum left your lips and you joined him on the bed. Of course you knew what he was doing was all a means to an end, but it didn't mean you approved of it. Especially since all he was doing was injuring himself.

Trying not to waste anymore time, you took a look at his back. The gash was worse than the picture he sent you told. A deep gash spread across his back, starting at the shoulder and cutting diagonally to his hip. You lightly touched at either sides of the wound, inspecting the inflamed skin. It definitely needed stitching

No words were shared between the two of you for quite some time. You unpacked your first aid kit for alcohol and cotton rounds. The kit wasn't much, but it was what you had. You soaked the pad in alcohol before positioning yourself over Dabi.

"This is going to sting." You warned before delicately running the pad over his back. The man hissed in pain, causing you to hesitate. You worked as fast as you could, cleaning the wound and prepping it to be closed.

"Jesus fuck..." He growled. It made your heart ache to watch him in pain, but it needed to be done. You reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his stapler and a row of staples. If you weren't so engrossed in your task, maybe you would have noticed Dabi staring you down. Most of his face tucked into his arm. His eyes were half-lidded as he watched you prep his stapler, your faced scrunched in focus.

"Okay, are you ready for the staples?" You asked, finally catching his eyes with your own. He held your gaze for a moment before looking off lazily.

"Go for it, doll." You nodded and adjusted yourself back over him, steadying yourself. Of course you'd helped him with his staples in the past, but no matter how many times you did it left you uneasy. Nonetheless you took a deep breath and started.

Click...one...Click...two...Click...three.

Twenty. It took twenty staples to finally close the wound. You were amazed that Dabi took it without a word. Maybe a hiss or a grunt in tender areas, but otherwise completely silent.

A thought overtook your brain while you cleaned up your mess. The many cotton pads littering the bed, as well as searching for a gauze wrap for Dabi - of course you never found one. All the while, his gaze studied you.

"So why was it you wanted me to sneak in again?" You questioned, your back turned to him. The thought on your mind finally in the open. He rolled his eyes at the question.

"Didn't want to get the league involved." He posed. You turned to look at him with question in your eyes.

"What do you mean 'get them involved?' They've seen you injured before, no?" The man grunted and pushed himself up to sit on the bed.

"Doesn't matter..." He trailed off, not making eye contact with you. You thought for a moment and rounded the bed, coming closer to him.

"Unless..." You teased. "You simply just wanted me to take care of you." The statement sat in the air between you. He looked at you with those lazy, piercing blue eyes. "Am I right?" You pressed.

Dabi rolled his eyes once more. "Don't test me, sweetheart." He warned. You feigned offense.

"Oh no? I guess I'll just leave you alone then. Go on home." You turned to leave dramatically, but his hand caught your wrist in an instant. Dabi pulled you in so you were face to face with him.

"You are not going anywhere tonight, doll." A dangerous smirk pulled on his lips. And you smiled at the implication. It was going to be a long night.

[ledesaid]

William (Billy) Joseph Batson Constantine?

12 years ago, John Constantine offered his genetics with the intention of serving others while putting his own interests first (he was a donor at a fertility clinic) and forgot about it.

Indeed, he also forgot when he pawned his firstborn in some pagan ritual to save his own neck...

Once and...

Again...

Oh, heavens! A fifth time?

Can someone stop this man?

Call it luck or chance, but his sample was used only once. An American couple turned to a fertility clinic and, by chance, their firstborn was born.

Yes, that firstborn.

William Joseph Batson always wondered why all sorts of bad things happened to him. From the premature death of his pet fish, to the variety of monsters that started living under his bed, and culminating with his inability to look at himself in a mirror. That didn't deprive him of his parents' love, fortunately, at least until a demon took them when he was seven.

Everyone believes they died, Billy doesn't... He remembers they were dragged to what that monstrous creature called hell... Billy searched how to get there on Google Maps.

He is absorbed by the system for the next two years, he is nine when he starts looking for answers on his own.

He's not starting from scratch, he still remembers what the demon said that night...

"The time has come, spawn of John Constantine."

The Internet told him what "spawn" meant, but there seem to be no traces of this Constantine except for an anonymous complaint, on an occultism forum, about his poor services and his "charming" personality.

An informational seed.

He starts with local fortune-tellers' houses, all charlatans... Continues with people from questionable cults and escapes before becoming the main dish.

Other terms appear along the way: alcoholic and gambler.

He's eleven years old when his tour around the country takes him to a show by a certain Zatanna. He does the usual routine... Sneaks into her dressing room and waits...

He's already an expert at waiting.

Billy: John Constantine. He's harder to find than cockroaches. I've been looking for him for three years... They say he's my father... Do you know him?

Finally, for the first time in three years, he finds someone who knows him and has his number. It only took two more cities, of stalking the magician, for her to call that man...

That man... The one responsible for everything.

But when he sees him, his stomach churns as he notices their clear resemblance. Billy looked a lot like his mother, but the handful of the man's genes was evident.

He doesn't scream when a portal appears in the dressing room. He's seen worse and smellier ones.

John: Hello, love, is everything alright? You don't usually call first... I brought a good bottle of...

And the man also realized. Of course, he did, he knows... whispers his tortuous mind.

Billy: Finally, you are John Constantine...

John: And you must be the reason why my firstborn trick stopped working.

Billy gets angry and lunges at the Englishman. With one knee on the blond's stomach, he takes advantage and grabs him by the collar of his trench coat. He shakes him violently and shouts all he's been holding back for so long.

Billy: I've met at least five principalities, I've been chased by things I still can't comprehend, and they took my parents when I was seven... You're going to fix this now!

Billy starts to sob as he steps away from the man and leans against the dressing room door.

John: Would you believe me if I said I'm sorry?

He's not sincere, Billy knows it and also knows that his voice is nothing more than a sign of his defeated certainty.

Billy: No, you are everything they said you were...

[covenofagatha]

my dears please do not aspire to be me.. the horniness consumes you and your work! it's horrendously and deliciously distracting.. i have way overdue studying that has not been done 😭

anyhow, thank you miss covenofagatha for replying me so quickly <3 i saw your reply about being on the rowing team, and afterwards i headed to the gym where i got complimented by an acquaintance who said i "gained a lot of muscle". obviously i ran away because i can't talk to women but the agatha brainworm persisted! so i present a very self-indulgent baby brainworm:

sub! needy! agatha who's obsessed with your body, and she can't stop thinking about riding your abs. even if you're asleep.

(contains g!p daddy! reader, i might not have abs but let me pretend for a sec, bratty agatha, sweat mention, suggestive showers™, consensual somno, pillow riding and grinding which becomes ab riding and grinding, degradation)

the moment you come home from work, agatha's all over you. "i missed you," she mumbles, words muffled by your broad shoulder that she's buried herself into. you grunt out a half-exasperated "agatha", pushing her off you gently because you're sticky with sweat and you really, really need a shower.

(it's funny because when you're out together, most people assume agatha's the dom, the top. little do they know how she melts into putty in your hands, all whiny and desperate for your cock. and agatha loves feeding into it, because every time rio brings up agatha pegging you as a joke, you drag her into a nearby bathroom stall and fuck her against the wall, snarling about "what would they say if they knew you were my little brat, huh? that you're so fucking needy for daddy's dick?")

she clings back onto you, and while agatha harkness does not pout, the narrowing of her eyes at you certainly feels like she is. you sigh, shaking your head fondly as you meander your way to the bathroom. she does this song and dance with you every time you go off for work, your part-time job as a physical trainer at a nearby gym. each time, she mutters about how she can provide for both of you easily, but you brush her off because you don't want to be a burden. you already live in her house basically for free!

one upside of the job, is that whenever you come home in your tank top and sweatpants, agatha gets all flustered and needy. you asked her after the fifth time she jumped you why she gets so worked up the moment you get home; and she'd spluttered a sorry excuse, cheeks blushed a faint pink, and you just had to fuck her again then and there.

this time, though, you're still aching from your workout. "hit a new PR, baby," you say as you turn away to strip for the shower, "m'a little sore," hoping it'll deter her advances a little. when she doesn't respond, you turn back to realise she's raking her eyes up and down your body, licking her lips, pupils dilating greedily. You raise an eyebrow curiously, and she seems to snap out of whatever daydream she's in.

"I'm going to shower," you warn, implying that there will be no shower shenanigans, and she huffs, arms folded. "I'm joining you," she declares, and leaves no room for argument as she begins unbuttoning her shirt seductively -- normally, you'd pounce all over her, and your cock hardening cements its approval on the idea, but you really are a bit sleepy.

by the time the two of you get in, she's facing you directly as you lather soap all over your body, her fingers trailing up your abdomen. "sweetheart," you groan, and she mocks you with a saccharine call of "daddy". she moves, and you can feel the heat radiating from her cunt, her fingertips ghosting each ridge and dip and scar while she noses into your neck.

"you're such a brat," you grumble, and she coos, grinding her clit upwards against your raging boner with a "then punish me, daddy," and you keen loudly. fuck, she's good at this. "I'm tired, baby. really," you protest again, and she slumps in irritation.

"don't pout, darling," you console her, stifling a chuckle at the great agatha harkness getting grouchy because she isn't getting fucked. "I'm not," and her eyes glint with something mischievous. you'd be a little concerned if you managed to see it, but unfortunately for you, she steps out of the shower before you can decipher it.

after soft kisses and promises to fuck her silly tomorrow, agatha seems to have settled, accepting that she won't cum tonight. "my sweet girl can hold out a little longer, can't she?" is what tides her over until you fall asleep, breathing evening out as you relax next to her.

there, as you fidget with the sheets, your shirt riding up, she spots the central object of an embarrassing number of wet dreams; your abs. agatha never thought she'd be so enraptured by a part of your abdomen, always liking your tits or ass or cock, because duh. but as she grows accustomed to those, she finds that every time you flash her with your soft tummy with the hard edges of your core muscles, she gets soaked.

the idea that you're so fit, that your perfect body is owned by her the way hers is by you, drives her insane. she needs to run her hands over them, plant kisses along the ridges, lick up your happy trail, suck marks over your skin -- fuck, she's so wet already.

she glances over, and you look so utterly perfect, all ready for her. she battles herself for a little while, because contrary to popular belief, she *does* want to be your good girl. but you wouldn't even know, right? so she wouldn't be breaking the rules if you didn't know she was.

she tries with her pillow, imagining its your hard muscle and gentle skin, but it isn't enough. the fabric runs rough, and it's smooth as silk but it isn't *you*. agatha turns, looking at your snoozing form -- and makes a decision.

.. it's your fault for being so damn hot, honestly.

you wake up to a moving weight on your stomach, a sticky hot wetness coating your lower abdomen. blinking your eyes open, your mind hardly registers the moans above you, and your body flexes reflexively. agatha whines a loud "daddy, fuck-" and your eyes shoot open, hips bucking up, and your gaze settles on her.

agatha straddles your waist, one thigh on each side of you, ass sitting on your bulge as she bunches up the blanket in her grip; most importantly, though, is the furious rutting of her cunt against your abs, and it sounds so fucking wet. her head is thrown backwards, eyes rolled back too, and the noises coming from her mouth are positively *filthy*.

frantic whimpers of "daddy" and "feels s'good" and "please" drive you feral, and you swear under your breath before sitting up, agatha whining at the clench of your muscles under her.

"you're so fucking desperate," you grip her hips, stilling her movement and agatha genuinely wails. "couldn't wait, huh? daddy's needy little slut. can't even use my cock, getting off on my abs? pathetic whore."

"need you, daddy, please," her cunt throbs, and she feels your hardened cock pulse underneath her, and agatha gasps as you move to dig your fingers into her supple ass. "oh, baby, I know," your core muscles hurt from the awkward position, and they contract. when she pants, out of breath from her earlier endeavours, you roll your eyes mockingly.

"hump," you bite your lip at the moan that erupts from her at your command, and she obeys, her juices slick as she slides against you again. "so you can listen, hm? you just choose not to, little brat. need daddy to fuck your brains out? couldn't control yourself, had to touch yourself while daddy was asleep?"

she whines again, nodding quickly, "yes, daddy, fuck, couldn't help it- you looked so good, daddy, please-" cooing at her, you knead her soft cheeks, humming condescendingly.

"aww, my pathetic girl has to cum? beg for it, then."

-

okay I'm tapping out here because this is getting too long and i cant decide if i want her to be edged or cum without permission....... you get to decide, i guess!

(i personally am more on the beefy side and i do not have abs... so this is probably inaccurate lmfao. sorry dear i dont train for the aesthetic, as long as i can lift big things im good, so this is likely not uber accurate.)

hope you like your reward! let me know if anything was too much etc. i hope your exam went well / goes well, haha. take care dear 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Oh my god 🫠 brb about to go to the gym in the first time in over a year and get those swimmer/rower abs back (completely unrelated to this of course)

I didn't know bottom!Agatha could be so hot HELP

Hmm I do think reader would let her cum for being so good and asking for it so nicely

I very much like my reward (thank you SO much) and as always, I can't wait for your next brainworm

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! 👋 Thank you for your writing and effort. Can I request a story about reader and Donna having an affair? Maybe reader is Cassandra's gf but Cassandra doesn't treat her right like she flirts with other girls in front of reader and stuff like that? In the process of Cassandra sending reader to run her errands to her aunt Donna house they fall in love. Considering that Donna is super possessive and jealous everytime she sees reader they make love and is a struggle letting reader go back to the castle

One day Donna finds a hickey on reader's neck and goes mad because reader had promised it that Cassandra and her weren't intimate anymore (Cassandra was busy with other girls). Reader tries to explain her that she didn't enjoy it but Donna in her madness and jealousy kicks her out. After that when Donna comes to her sense she realizes she can't live without reader and is willing to fight for her so she goes to the castle and lady dimitrescu thinking her sister has just come to visit her invite her to have dinner. At the dinner table she sees reader and Cassandra but reader looks sad and pale. At one point in the night Donna notices Cassandra and reader fighting and Cassandra about to raise her hand on reader so Donna sees red and punches her niece. That's all the truth comes out and lady dimistrecu having noticed how her daughter treated reader scolds her terribly in front of everybody and let reader go with Donna. G!p Donna is that's okay?

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the delay, and the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Your arms, my safe place

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, castle maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, a bit of smut, Minors DNI, angst, dark themes, (Y/N) is Cassandra's gf, but things don't go well... mentions of abuse?

Word count: 9,796, too long, sorry

Summary: You wanted to be with her, but fate has another plans for you...

N/A: HELLO AGAIN PEOPLE!!! I'm back as you see!!! Thank you for all your support all this time, you're wonderful!!! I'm here again, but I'm afraid I'm unable to update everyday, but I'll do it when I can, I guess maybe 3 times a week!!! So... Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :)) Oh, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!

Donna's hands slipped under your uniform, untying the ties that held it to your body while you worked on the buttons of the blouse of her dress. Your head spun and the excitement was overwhelming.

Determined to leave behind anything that would interrupt the moment, you broke free from your thoughts when your hands brushed her skin, when your fingers unclasped her bra with a quick movement.

Donna began to become wild, dominant, as if the simple act of claiming you, of making love to you, reminded her that you were one step closer to stop being Cassandra's, to being only hers.

After all, feeling like you were hers wasn't the same as being so. Donna knew that, and it tormented her.

A few intense kisses on your neck brought you back to reality, making you moan, close your eyes, and forget about your worries. Her lips felt soft on your skin, her teeth barely grazed you, but made you tremble.

“D-Donna, b-be careful,”  you said, making the brunette move away from your neck to slide her hands under your legs and lift you romantically, placing you gently on the bed.

“Mm?” she murmured distractedly, bringing her hips closer to yours, making you notice her imprisoned erection pressing against your body and forcing you to emit an involuntary moan.

“N-not the neck, okay? You could leave a mark on me and Ca…” you said with a slightly clearer voice, putting your hands on her shoulders and causing her expression to suddenly harden.

“Shut up,” Donna snapped at you with a cold, angry look, hitting the mattress with her fist. “D-Don't say her name,” she hissed, looking away and accelerating her breathing.

You rushed to fix things as best you could: cupping her face in your hands.

“Shh, darling, forgive me, I didn't mean… Donna, my love, I'm sorry, okay?” you said tenderly, to which the lady closed her eye and let the air out of her lungs slowly.

“I know, I… It's just that I…” she stammered without looking directly at you.

“Come here,” you said, bringing your lips closer to hers, kissing the lady to distract her from the uncomfortable truth of the situation, one that seemed increasingly difficult for the doll maker to assimilate.

The insecurities were silenced with the wet sounds of your kisses, with gasps and sighs that increased with each look, word, whisper, caress…

Your hands sought the warmth of her pale skin, her perfect breasts, her arousal struggling to free itself from the black fabric of her underwear… That was more than enough for Donna to roar anxiously, grabbing your legs and freeing her shaft, bringing it closer to your wetness.

Donna was in a hurry, her body was in a hurry to claim you and her thrusts began to move your body while you closed your eyes, noticing how your walls stretched and pleasure began to invade you.

Your hands moved erratically as she claimed your body desperately, moaning in a very low voice, grunting every time she felt you squeeze her. They were quick movements, but when you opened your eyes you felt relief; relief to see her eyes looking at you as always, with love, with tenderness, in a way Cassandra never did.

You could have lost yourself in her perfectly controlled thrusts, in all the sensations that ran through your body, but something prevented you from doing so, forcing you to focus, to finish that forbidden act as soon as possible.

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” the lady whispered, stopping to kiss you slowly, to check that her haste, her eagerness wasn’t hurting you.

“I love you, Donna,” you answered, with a melancholic smile. “D-Don't stop, please.”

She obeyed with a timid nod, resuming her movements as she separated your legs even further, taking absolute control.

The moans, the creaks of the bed accompanied your feelings until the pleasure was too intense, releasing an orgasm, revealing that your body was ready to enjoy the woman you loved, without thinking about anything else.

Her release came soon after, warming your body, caressing your walls in a wet and lustful way. Afterwards, Donna pulled away with a grunt, lying down beside you to begin your favorite part of those visits.

Yes, sex was incredible, but what you really enjoyed were those moments embraced, naked, those tender smiles of Lady Beneviento looking at you, those kisses soaked with the sweat of the effort of loving you… Yes, that was your favorite part.

After a few comforting moments of silence, you inched closer to her naked body, burying your head in her chest as her delicate hands lovingly caressed your hair.

“I could lose myself in your arms,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the passion that seemed to still reverberate off the bedroom walls.

Donna laughed softly, pulling you closer to kiss your forehead, to brush your hair away from your face as you sighed. You wondered if maybe that was her favorite part too.

Your hands tangled together, absentmindedly playing with each other as the lady in black hummed an unfamiliar tune. Your gaze focused on her soft, fine hands, contrasting with the roughness of yours.

“You know? I find incredible that we have come to this…” you sighed, losing yourself again in her gaze. “I remember the first time I came… You closed the door in my face…”

“Mm, it's true,” the brunette said, amused, with a touch of shame in her voice. “I wasn't used to visits.”

“Oh,” you continued joking, sensually bringing your lips closer to hers, without kissing them, leaving the lady frustrated, teasing her.

“Now I can't live without them,” she answered, thus beginning a fight of kisses.

“Donna,” you said, trying to get away from her addictive lips with amusement.

 “(Y/N),” she said shortly after, sitting on the bed and looking away from you for a moment.

“What's wrong?” you asked, noticing how her body separated from yours, creating a horrible feeling of cold and abandonment on your skin.

“Mm, niente, io…”

“Hey! Are you done yet?! Angie doesn't like to be alone…” A sing-song voice sounded from behind the door, breaking that tense calm, that moment of lucidity from the lady in black, those words, which, surely, would start a conversation that you didn't feel like having, not that day.

“Angie…” Donna hissed, shaking her head and rolling her eye. “Go away!”

“I don't want to! Come here now! I'm bored!” the doll shrieked, with a mocking melody in her voice.

You laughed at the doll's always irreverent attitude, and at the embarrassment that it produced in its owner.

Donna looked at you and her smile also widened, joining you in a tender and soft laugh, resting her forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), you know the way she is,” she said amused, shaking her head and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Poor Angie,” you mocked in a low voice while the doll tried to get your attention with soft knocks on the door. “Besides, I…” you said, immediately staying quiet.

“What?” the lady asked, suddenly nervous, her gaze reflecting the fear of hearing that phrase, the phrase that always stabbed a knife deep into her heart.

“It's late and…” you whispered unsure, looking away and uncovering yourself, searching for your clothes. “I have, I have to…”

“Don't say it, please,” Donna interrupted, shaking her head, grabbing your wrist.

“I'm sorry, Donna, but I have to go,” you finally said, disobeying that silent plea, making her hand gently leave your skin. “It's going to get dark.”

“But, but,” the woman said, shaking her head and searching in her mind for an excuse, some words to make you reconsider your decision.

It wasn't really a decision. Your heart ached at the thought, knowing how much it hurt Donna to see you leaving, something that was becoming more and more difficult.

In silence, you both dressed again, without looking at each other, without doing or saying anything. The tension slowly increased; a tension that couldn't be dispelled with an apology or an empty promise, not anymore.

“Can I brush your hair?” Donna asked in a whisper as you looked at yourself in the vanity, searching for a mark, anything that could give you away to your true owner.

You nodded, letting her take a brush and gently run it through your hair as you both looked at each other in the mirror. Her bright eye betrayed regret, sadness, and yours betrayed lack of sleep, tiredness, laziness…

It was an overwhelming sight, but somehow it had its own sparkle. She was at your side, her beauty accompanying you, her hands caressing you as she gently combed your hair. Donna was with you, and that made you feel complete.

“Are you two deaf!? I'm here...” the doll joked, but without causing the same laughter as before.

It was a sad moment, the only moment you hated when you were with Donna.

“(Y/N), you don't have to do it,” Donna said softly, checking the result of her movements in the mirror and bending down slowly, surrounding your waist with her arms. “Please, stay with me a little longer, please.”

“You know I can't.” It was all you managed to say, shaking your head and pushing her hands away as you got up from the chair.

“We could play chess, or, or I could teach you to cook my recipes… Or maybe we could read in silence, with the fireplace sheltering us from the cold and…” the brunette insisted, pulling your body back, holding you tighter again.

“I can't, Donna,” you said, moving away abruptly, regretting it instantly. “Don't make it more difficult for me, my love…”

“You make it difficult for me,” she replied, giving some room and moving away. “You don't know what it's like to see you leaving every week, to see you going back to… to her,” she whispered with a cold look, with her teeth clenched.

“Donna,” you reprimanded, cupping her face in your hands, fearing that the tension would suddenly explode, embittering the moment. “I'll be back, you know I always do.”

“What if one day you don't?” she asked, grabbing your wrists, hurting you.

“Honey, please let me go,” you said in a calm voice, being released instantly. “I promise I'll be back. You're the only thing that makes my life worth living.”

“But, tesoro...” she insisted, grabbing your wrists again, this time more gently. “Io...”

“Shh...” you hissed, putting two fingers on her lips before kissing them softly, noticing the salty taste of a tear that came out of your eyes involuntarily. “Donna...”

“(Y/N), don't leave,” the brunette said again, lowering her gaze, blinking erratically.

“I'll be back, darling,” you repeated like a mantra that relaxed, but at the same time, distressed you.

Finally the lady in black nodded, keeping her hand in yours, but accepting the reality.

With a passionate kiss, you pulled away from her, walking towards the bedroom door, something you couldn't do, as her grip refused to let you go.

“Donna, please...” you said, increasingly nervous, pulling on her arm. “Donna, let me go.”

She did so with an angry growl and a dark expression, turning to give you her back, making her dress dance hypnotically as she sat at the vanity, unable to watch you walk away.

“Just be patient, my love,” you said quietly, opening the bedroom door, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“It's about time! Let's play!” Angie shrieked as she saw you walk past her. “Hey, silly, are you leaving?”

“I'm sorry Angie, but I have to go back to the castle,” you said, putting on your coat, refusing to look back.

A loud noise startled you: Donna's fist hitting the vanity furiously. It was time to leave, you couldn't leave her like that, but you had to.

“Cazzo!” the brunette shrieked as she hit the furniture over and over again.

“Oops,” Angie sighed, looking at you accusingly. “It's your fault, silly.”

“I, I just…” you said sobbing, knowing that you couldn't even help her, that you couldn't stay to ease her madness. “I-I have to go…”

“Yes, go! I'll fix your mess, like always!” the doll scolded you, walking gracefully towards the bedroom. “Donna, Donna, don't do that... Donna...”

The brunette's screams and sobs echoed in the walls until you went up the elevator, turning them off like the end of a movie, the end of a melancholic symphony that split your soul in two.

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, my love,” you sighed quietly, closing your eyes and walking automatically towards the exit, towards the cold of that place, far from the comfort and warmth of your lover's arms.

Born and raised in that forgotten village, your future was written. You couldn't be what you wanted, but what you had to be. Being just another maid was your destiny, and you had no choice but to accept it.

The castle always gladly hired any young girl who was willing to work, to serve its mistress, but the work wasn't as hard as you expected.

Alcina Dimitrescu was an imposing woman, but elegant and even kind. Little by little you got used to being there, to sharing your existence with the lady of the castle and her daughters, who, on the contrary, didn't have much in common with their mother.

Crazy, free and unhinged, yes, that seemed like a correct statement for the three Dimitrescu sisters. Bela, Cassandra and Daniela were like mischievous agents of chaos who broke the harmony and elegance of that place.

After a year working in the castle, things improved before getting worse. One of the three sisters, Cassandra, seemed to have some interest in you. You never thought that those three creatures had interests beyond blood and chaos, but for a moment, you thought you were wrong.

She approached you, laughing evilly, looking at you while you did everyday chores. Habit made your body miss those eyes when they weren't looking at you, miss that laugh when there was only silence in the castle.

An "I like you", a slight blush on her cheeks and a quick kiss were the closest thing to a confession of love that came out of her lips.

Scared by her presence, and despite yourself, attracted, you let her lips kiss yours, you let your body experience what it was like to kiss chaos itself, and you liked it.

Little by little you began to feel that beyond the blood there was a heart beating desperately for your attention, that those looks and laughs were the expression and confirmation that even the daughters of a Lord were capable of love.

You lived happily for a while. Cassandra paid attention to you, all the maids began to respect you and even the lady of the castle granted you certain privileges for, according to her, having captured the interest of her daughter.

You were in a dream, in a fairy tale. You became a wandering smile that began to see the light at the end of her dark future. But it didn't take long for you to realize that fairy tales were just that, tales.

When you couldn't be more in love, Cassandra began to lose interest.  Maybe if you had opened your eyes earlier, you wouldn't be in that situation.

But your eyes needed to see what your intuition was saying, and so it happened. You saw that the suspicions your mind was screaming at you were true.

Cassandra said you were hers, she did, but she had no qualms about flirting with other maids, whispering in their ears, chasing them down the halls, and, of course, not being careful that you didn't see her.

You believed, she said, everyone thought that Cassandra Dimitrescu was your girlfriend, they really did, you really did.

But the concept of commitment and fidelity was far from the chaos inherent in the young Dimitrescu. Deep down you didn't consider that way of thinking as evil or bad-intentioned.

You knew that she didn't make you suffer on purpose, she was just like that.

You tried to bear it, not to look at the marks on the necks of other maids. You tried to ignore it, to forget that you were hers, but she would never be yours.

The pain became unbearable and the love you felt for her began to fade away.

At that moment, just when you thought your life would be a curse, that there was no other solution than to wait patiently for Cassandra to pay attention to you, you met Donna.

The first time your girlfriend asked you to take some supplies to the old estate you even thought of running away, of never coming back. That thought left your mind as soon as it arrived; you would gain nothing, and you would lose everything.

Instead, you decided to fulfill the errand and approach the old mansion.

The rest of the Lords weren’t a mystery, but shadows that you never really managed to see. Of all of them, the village especially feared the inhabitant of that old house, Lady Beneviento.

You knew what she was capable of doing, you knew that her mind was sick, seriously injured, and that she was dangerous, very dangerous. The villagers often said that they no longer feared nightmares but the lady in black.

That day you arrived there trembling with fear, only to find a woman dressed in mourning, a woman who hid her face with a black veil, a woman who didn’t speak, whose presence evoked the night and the darkness itself.

You completed your task with a kind gesture, which was answered with a soft nod and a sharp slam of the door.

Even with that brief encounter, your head began to wander, to wonder. While you were washing dishes, cleaning a hallway, or while Cassandra was taking you, you could only see that black figure and theorize what kind of creature was hiding behind that black veil.

Over time, it became increasingly difficult to get the lady out of your head, and everything got worse when those errands became frequent.

You were unable to find out anything about her, but the slamming of doors was no longer common. Instead, Donna remained silent, looking at you, as if she were studying you, as if she wanted to check that you didn’t want to hurt her.

That apparent vulnerability sparked much more interest on your part, and you began to talk, to ask, to address that stoic figure.

Little by little those conversations moved inside the mansion. Your almost childish insistence on communicating with the lady was clearly a cry for help, a cry to forget for a moment the place you had to return to, and it worked, it worked too well.

The doll stopped being her speaker and her lips uttered a word for the first time, almost a whisper, a melodic one, impregnated with a soft and attractive accent: your name.

It was impossible to resist staying a little longer, to listen to her hoarse voice a little longer, and you simply let it happen.

She offered you tea, listening to any nonsense you had to say and answering briefly but nodding with interest. You didn't know why you were so interesting to her, until you eventually realized how alone she had been all that time.

You couldn't deny that you began to feel, to notice something more inside your chest every time you approached her, every time her pale hands touched yours when she served you tea.

Without wanting to, but without stopping it, you were falling in love with the lady in black.

One day, a day of tea and chat like any other, that black veil fell. It was removed with a gentle movement of her hands. Donna trusted you. She wanted to show herself as she was because it was inevitable to deny that she also felt something for you.

Donna was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her face was not stained with blood, her lips were not painted black. Her only eye shone without that yellowish evil you saw in Cassandra's. She was a truly beautiful woman.

The scar that the will of the Gods left on her face was one of her most horrible fears, one of her greatest insecurities. Her revelation was also a plea, a vote of confidence, of knowing if those feelings were worth it, or if you would end up falling off the cliff like her family did.

Your answer, your only answer, was a kiss. A tender, desperate kiss, the sudden capture of her lips with yours.

Knowing the consequences of entering someone else's territory, Donna accepted that forbidden relationship, just like you.

You may have felt these visits as an escape valve from your hardships at first, but you refused to see it that way. No, Donna wasn’t an escape from a place you didn't want to be, she was the place you wanted to be.

Yes, she was sick, she was crazy, but she was loving and attentive too. She smiled, she listened to you, she hugged you, she caressed you, she loved you.

You saw in her everything that Cassandra didn't have. You began to believe that it was what you really deserved, that Donna was yours, and you were hers.

The furtive kisses and caresses didn't last long. Something inside Donna made her resemble her adoptive family: jealousy, possessiveness.

She wasn't jealous of the world, she wasn't jealous of anyone who looked at you, she knew where the root of her sometimes abrupt and erratic behavior was: Cassandra.

Feeling displaced made her feel frustrated and, after making another confession to you, she took you for the first time.

Her face wasn't the only thing the Gods changed. Her body did too, enough to make her even more self-conscious. For you it was never a problem, for her, your natural reaction and your slightly mischievous smile was one more reason to love you madly.

For the first time in your life, you didn't squeeze your eyes shut. You didn't feel the need to repress the pain of some unpleasant scratches on your bare skin. All you felt were soft caresses, playful tickles on your skin, kisses that ran over your lips while your bodies moved anxiously.

Cassandra was the first, or so you thought until that moment. In reality, the first woman who truly loved you was Donna.

She made you feel comfortable, she gave you more pleasure than you could ever have felt, she told you she loved you, she whispered it in your ear while she took you slowly, not wanting to hurt you.

At first you felt guilty, you cried on her bare chest after your first time. A few kisses didn't mean that much to you, but having Donna inside you, making love with her for the first time, knowing what it was really like to feel loved, broke one of your emotional barriers.

Donna comforted you. She didn't scold you for having ruined that moment, for you feeling remorse. She understood you.

Time kept passing and the visits kept increasing. Any excuse was good to melt into her arms, to make love calmly or wildly, to feel like you had never felt before and to forget that you would have to return to the castle, that those arms wouldn’t always protect you.

After walking through the snow, without even realizing it, you returned to the castle. All the thoughts about how you met Donna and your miserable life with Cassandra had made your return a simple formality.

“(Y/N), you're back,” one of your companions, Irina, said. She was your best friend for a long time. Now, she was just another maid. “The lady was getting worried.”

You rolled your eyes, closing the doors and taking off your coat.

The heat of that castle, one that at first seemed pleasant to you, was uncomfortable, oppressive, and even more so after that tense moment with Donna, a tension that was increasingly common in your visits.

“I'm sure you all were very worried,” you said ironically, glancing sideways at the red mark on her neck, one that indicated that Cassandra had passed by there, probably tired of waiting for you.

The girl noticed what you were looking at and quickly covered herself with an apologetic smile.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry, she came over and…” she began to explain, making you snort and shake your head.

No, you didn't need to know what your girlfriend had done with her in your absence. It would probably be Cassandra herself who would tell you if she got bored.

“Cut the crap, Irina, I'm not interested,” you said in a dark voice, pushing the girl away with your hand.

“Yes, of course,” the young woman nodded, with an absurd bow, as if you were something more than her, as if you were a maid who has to be respected.

How ironic, not even your girlfriend respected you.

“Oh, there you are, I thought you had gotten lost, dear,” a deep and sensual voice appeared behind you, freezing your steps: Alcina Dimitrescu, lady of the castle.

“My lady,” you murmured with an elegant gesture, fearing that running away to your room and crying wasn’t going to be possible.

“You've taken your time, my dear, have you had any problems with Donna?” the tall woman asked, putting a hand on your back to gently push you to walk beside her.

“No, my lady, she...” you said, stopping to think about an answer, one that wouldn't raise more questions.

To Alcina, the relationship that seemed to exist between her daughter and you was real, pure and sincere. You didn't quite understand why Cassandra pretended in front of her mother. Maybe she was afraid of her, or maybe she was trying to protect you. You didn't want to know.

“Mm?” Alcina murmured arching her eyebrows, urging you to give an answer you didn't have.

“Well, she's had a breakdown,” you said without thinking, blaming poor Donna, blaming her mental illness.

You felt horrible for doing it, but you had no other choice. You didn't know the consequences of your mistress finding out about your affair.

“Gods…” the lady in white whispered, shaking her head. “Poor woman.”

“Um, I decided to stay with her until she was calmer. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds, my lady,” you said in a formal tone, looking down at the wooden floor, with the images of the previous passion sending confusing signals to your head.

“Oh, not at all, dear,” the woman said, with a grateful smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, my lady,” you whispered, wanting to run, to insult yourself for having lied, for having accused the woman you loved of your delay. “Excuse me, my lady, I would like to retire to my room, I fear I have caught a cold,” you lied again, looking for any clumsy excuse to get away from her, from any Dimitrescu who got in your way.

“Of course, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you got sick, but... (Y/N), when you are done, I would like to ask you something,” the vampire said, walking faster, confirming that you had gotten what you wanted, to be alone.

“Fine, my lady.”

The bath you took was a blessing. The heat penetrated your body naturally and the water eliminated any remaining evidence of your infidelity.

Feeling the sweat leave you, how her kisses disappeared from your skin in the soapy water was more painful than other times. The lavender disappeared to impose on your skin the sweet aroma of the castle soap, making you forget every single sensation you felt when making love with your lover, her smell, the humidity of her home, the mark of her fingers caressing your skin…

Love, forget, serve, pretend, that was your daily routine. You could only do one thing: wait for the next week, long for Donna's hugs, for her body warming yours.

If you could bear the situation, it was because you knew you would return to her but… for how long? Was Donna right and one day you wouldn’t return?

The days passed slowly, too slowly. What Alcina wanted to ask of you was simple, but you were deeply grateful for it. She wanted you to have the privilege of tidying up the wine cellar, a place where no maid was allowed to enter. Of course, you weren't just any maid.

The task was especially pleasant. While you were down there, you wouldn't have to look askance at the necks of other maids looking for Cassandra's mark on them, and even better: she couldn't bother you.

It was too cold in that place for her to bear, which made your stay down there even comfortable.

But of course, what seemed like an advantage, a respite, a longed-for relief in your daily life, would bring unexpected consequences.

One night, in your privileged room, the atmosphere was heavy with uncertainty and a bad feeling prevented you from thinking about Donna, from longing for her.

“Wakey, wakey…” a shrill, yet whispering voice stalked your ear as a lump slid under the sheets.

The ferrous scent of those lips gave her away and her childish laughter confirmed your fears: Cassandra.

“W-what are you doing here?” you asked, startled by the intrusion, by some uncomfortable kisses that were beginning to run down your neck.

“What? (Y/N), I'm your girlfriend, remember? I've come to see you,” the young Dimitrescu said, sensually dragging her words while she moved the fabric of your pajamas aside to look for more places to play.

“Hey, I don't want to be rude but… why now? Didn't you say you wanted to have fun with other maids?” you asked delicately, without altering or removing her lips from your skin.

“Oh, don't be like that, silly, you know you're special,” Cassandra purred, pulling you a little closer to her.

Your heart was beating fast and your conscience was screaming to be heard.

You didn't know how much time had passed since she got into your bed, since she physically claimed you, but you knew it was enough to affirm that there was no kind of intimacy between you two, not anymore.

That lack of interest in having sex with you relieved Lady Beneviento. Knowing that you would never be physically hers again served as a consolation every time you had to leave. You promised her you would never sleep with Cassandra again.

Of course, to make that promise was a mistake. Chaos couldn’t be predicted, and you should have known that better than anyone.

“So you suddenly remembered that I exist?” you asked again, pushing her away, just as her teeth sank into your skin, making you hiss in pain. “I thought you weren't having fun with me anymore.”

“Don't be a whiner, (Y/N). I want to take you,” she said, climbing on top of your body, dominating you with kisses that weren't reciprocated, at least not voluntarily. “Hey! Why aren't you paying attention to me? Oh, you're not mad because I had fun with Irina, are you?”

“No, but…” you denied nervously, stopping her hands from scratching your skin under your pajamas while her hips moved anxiously. “Listen, Cass, I'm really tired and…”

“What's wrong? Has Mother made you work too much?” the young woman asked, it almost seemed like she cared about you.

“No, not at all, but I would prefer that…” you murmured, fleeing from her kisses and provoking a childish moan from the vampire.

“Hey, don't move! What are you doing? Are you rejecting me?” she asked impatiently, analyzing your gaze as if she could see behind it.

“No, I...” you said, containing the trembling of your body, the irrational fear that direct question and the answer your heart had produced in you.

Even though Donna was your lover and Cassandra was your girlfriend, you didn't feel infidelity in that way. Letting Cassandra take you was much worse than having sex with Donna. It was cheating on the only person who truly mattered to you.

Breaking your promise was for you the worst of deceptions, a betrayal of the doll maker's trust, a true infidelity.

But the pressure of those chaotic eyes looking at you, demanding answers, answers that would please her, made you forget any attempt to refuse and you simply sighed, staying silent.

“That's better, hun, hun,” the young Dimitrescu laughed, amused, breaking the straps of your nightgown with a quick movement and insisting on sucking, licking, biting your skin.

You closed your eyes so as not to see, but you couldn't help but feel. Every scratch, kiss or movement was terribly painful. She was having fun, but you only suffered, you could only think about Donna, that every second that passed, every hysterical moan that came out of Cassandra's lips, was one more stab in Donna's heart.

You could only act in that way, reciprocate, obey and let yourself go.

None of Cassandra's movements unleashed pleasure in you. Her kisses weren’t hot; they didn’t provoke sensations like Donna's did. Cassandra’s fingers inside you didn't feel like Donna’s erection sliding comfortably into your walls.

It was a rough act. You just wanted it to be over soon, for Cassandra to get what she wanted, and leave you alone.

Luckily, she didn't take long.

After noticing her absence, you ran to your private bathroom naked, looking at the marks your girlfriend left on your body, washing your hands, your face, everything her lips had touched. Unlike when you took a bath after seeing Donna, that time you hoped that the smell of blood and Cassandra's perfume would disappear from your skin.

You rubbed your arms, your neck, your lips, but it didn't disappear; she couldn't disappear from you.

Crying, you went back to bed, looking for a new nightgown to spend the night in, searching for some memories with Donna that would make you forget what you had done.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst thing was that the next morning you would have to go back to the Beneviento estate, you would have to see your lover.

You thought you had the strength to do it, to force her to close her eye while she made love to you and ignore the new details of your body.

You knew you couldn't do it, you just knew it.

“I've missed you...” Donna whispered when her arms protected you again, when her lips rested on yours again. “Tesoro...”

“Me too,” you answered, letting that romantic hug comfort your wounded conscience and make you forget what happened the night before. “Um, um... Donna...” you said unsure.

“Mm?” she asked, brushing your hair away from your face as she always did, smiling at having you in her arms again.

“I was thinking… that… that…” you stammered, deciding that maybe you should suppress your desires and not have sex, at least that day. “Well, the other day you told me that you wanted to play chess or teach me your recipes… how about now?”

“I thought that before…” she murmured, looking at you confused, blinking erratically. “I would like to make you mine first, tesoro.”

“Yes, well, I know, but it's that… well, it's that… I'm on those days, you know, and…” you lied without knowing how to do it, causing the lady in black to frown, suspicious of your words.

“Oh, you're talking about your period… I-I don't remember the last time I… well, I…” Donna hesitated nervously, with a slight blush on her cheeks, cheeks that you caressed amused.

“Don't be nervous, my love,” you joked, whispering in her ear, inevitably biting her earlobe. “Just think about it. It will be much better when I come back next week.”

“Mm.” She nodded unsurely, playing with your hair, with an air of disappointment in her eye. “Fine, let's do something different.”

“Good…” you said, sighing in relief, perhaps too relieved. “How about chess?” you proposed, clapping your hands in the air and approaching the corner where you used to have tea.

“Va bene,” the lady answered, smiling distrustfully.

“Hey! Chess? Come on! Let's play hide and seek!” Angie protested, comically tugging at your dress as you walked.

“Angie, lasciala estare,” her owner ordered, making the doll cross her arms with a snort.

“Hey! What happened to you?” Angie asked, pointing at you, pointing at your neck.

The puppet's tugs had shifted your uniform dangerously, revealing a red mark on your neck, one you wanted to hide.

“For Gods’ sake, Angie, shut up...” you growled, moving your clothes to hide the mark, something that of course didn't deter Donna from slowly approaching, removing the fabric again with a moan of shock.

“What's that?” she asked.

“What's what?” you asked back, nervous.

“I-it was her, wasn't it? She wasn't supposed to touch you anymore,” Donna murmured, clenching her fists on either side of her hips. “You promised me she wouldn't touch you anymore!”

You closed your eyes, feeling the pain of guilt, the sadness of a broken promise.

“Donna, it's not what it seems, I…”

“It's exactly what it seems, (Y/N),” she said, hissing, getting dangerously close to you and grabbing your arm tightly. “You fucked her.”

Vulgar words didn't usually come out of her mouth, Lady Beneviento was losing her mind, and that time, she was right.

“You don't understand, it's not what you think, I don't…”

“Lie to me again, come on,” Donna threatened, with a hatred in her gaze that made you shudder.

“What did you want me to do?” you protested, crossing your arms, letting a childish defensive attitude take over you. “Do you think I had another option?”

“There's always another option,” she added, shaking her head. “You told me that there was nothing physical between you two anymore.”

“You don't understand, Donna.”

“I don't understand? You've fucked her, you promised me that...”

“You think it's easy?! Huh?!” you yelled, frantic. “What right do you have to judge what I do? You don't know how things are.”

Donna laughed sarcastically, with her eye wide open and her knuckles white from the pressure.

“You're right, I don't know how things are, I don't know what happens when you leave, when you go with her,” the lady in black murmured, pointing at you with her finger, her breathing becoming more and more agitated. “But it's quite clear.”

She turned her back on you, but you grabbed her shoulder, which was pushed away with a grunt and a quick movement from the brunette. You desperately tried to reassure her, to make her understand that the night when Cassandra played with you didn't mean anything.

“Listen to me, Donna, please,” you said in a less brusque, more pleading tone. “It didn't mean anything, I didn't enjoy it, I didn't want to, I…”

“Shut up! Cazzo… shut up, shut up, shut up!” Donna shrieked as she kicked the floor furiously.

“Donna, you're scaring me,” you sighed, moving away from her little by little. “If you'd just let me explain…”

“I don't want to hear your explanations!” she shrieked again. “You've deceived me, you're a bitch.”

Anger and helplessness forced you to act irrationally, slapping the lady in black, causing a painful silence to reign in the old house.

“Shit, I…” you said regretfully, trying to get closer to her again. “I didn't mean to, I couldn't… Donna, I…”

The words tried to come out of your mouth, but you weren't successful, you had reached a dangerous limit, you were walking on the edge of a cliff, and the only hand that could save you was further away than ever.

Donna stared at you, mouth agape, with a hand on her cheek, without saying anything, transmitting all her hatred with a look, one that you would never, ever forget.

“Get out of my house,” the lady murmured, looking away from you while you looked at your hand, shaking your head. “Sei una bugiarda! I don't want to see you again!”

“Donna, please, listen to me, I beg you,” you pleaded, grabbing her shaking arm, being pushed away by a rough push that almost made you lose your balance.

“Don't touch me, bitch,” she hissed in an even darker voice. “You broke your promise... Get out of my house! Get out, get out, get out!”

“Donna, Gods...” you sobbed, shaking your head as she walked towards you threateningly.

It was the first time you were afraid of her, truly afraid.

“Donna, please...” you stammered, being grabbed by the arm and letting yourself be led towards the exit.

The lady pushed you, making you fall into the snow.

“Donna! Don't treat her like that! You're stupid, listen to her!” Angie protested, hiding behind a piece of furniture, avoiding the wrath of her owner.

“I thought we were something, that I was something to you,” the lady in black growled, with her hair moved by the winter wind, while you checked that you hadn't been hurt.

“You are, I, I love you...” you said with difficulty, shaking the snow off your body. “Donna, I love you.”

“Liar! Liar, liar, liar!” the lady screamed, stamping her feet again, out of her mind, completely mad, slamming the door shut with a thunderous noise that echoed in the mountains.

“Donna…” you sobbed, tears warming your cheeks.

Just as you expected, it was all over. You had broken your promise, you had condemned yourself to a life without Donna, without the only thing that kept you fighting, and it was all because of you, because of the fear of being brave, of confronting Cassandra, of asking the lady in black to take you in her arms, and rescue you.

That fleeting thought that maybe Donna would come for you, to fight for you, was the last hope that kept you going the following days, but she wasn't going, she wasn't there, there was only you, alone, with a woman who didn't love you, with the only one who did betrayed by your lies, by an infidelity that Donna wouldn't be able to forgive.

“Remember to label the wine correctly, (Y/N),” Alcina said, on one of the endless afternoons in the winery.

What was once a refuge became a prison, one in which you would be alone, far from Cassandra, but with your thoughts and regrets as your only company.

You were no longer the same. Your complexion had turned pale, dark circles adorned your sickly presence, since, at night, your only protection against your girlfriend was to keep the window open, to let the cold in.

Over time you became a ghost of what you were, the ghost of another ghost, a long and sad shadow that didn’t want to see the light if Donna was not next to you.

Alcina's soft voice caught your attention, but unfortunately you could only emit a sad sob. It was getting harder and harder for you to pretend, to act as if you hadn't lost anything, as if everything you wanted and needed was in that castle, and not behind the forest, in the old Beneviento Estate.

“Yes, my lady,” you murmured, earning a serious look from the lady in white, who left a bottle on the table, walking towards you slowly, threateningly.

“My dear... I can't help but feel that something is wrong with you,” she said in a low voice, putting a large hand on your shoulder, forcing you to hide the tear that was welling up in one of your eyes.

“No, my lady, everything is fine,”

No, nothing was fine. Without Donna, nothing would ever be fine.

“You lie terribly,” Alcina sighed shaking her head and pulling your wrist to bring you closer to her. “Gods, look at those dark circles under your eyes, you look awful, dear.”

“I'm sorry, my lady.”

“Tell me (Y/N), has Cassandra done something bad to you?” she asked, making you be alert again.

She had never asked such a thing, your nerves were about to explode.

“Of course not, my lady,” you answered with a false smile, which tightened her grip even more while she frowned, knowing, being convinced that, again, you were lying.

“You know I hate lies, young lady, now, you are going to dry your tears and tell me…”

“Sorry, my lady,” a saving voice appeared in the cellar, making the lady of the castle growl, making her finally let you go.

“Damn it, Olga, you know that you are completely forbidden to come down here,” Alcina protested, putting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sorry, my lady, but it's just that…” the girl apologized, looking down, with her hands shaking in front of her body.

“It's just that what!?” your mistress shouted, echoing off the old walls, causing you to automatically shrink.

“Lady Beneviento is here, my lady,” the maid explained, as best she could, with her voice trembling, just like her body.

Lady Beneviento. That name made you look up quickly, your eyes suddenly opened and you let out an involuntary gasp that caught Alcina's attention for a moment, making her look at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Donna,” you whispered.

Luckily, you managed to avoid your boss's inquisitive gaze by turning around and pretending to place the bottles correctly.

“Gods, why did it take you so long to say it? You are more and more useless every day,” the tall woman protested, rubbing her eyes with contempt.

“Sorry, my lady,” Olga apologized again, pointing to the stairs. “What do I do?”

“What?” Alcina insisted, with an arrogant tone. “Has she told you what she wants?”

“W-Well, her doll was talking about some unfinished business but…” the maid murmured, making you freeze in place.

Had she come for you? Would that be possible? No, it couldn't be, she hated you. She kicked you out of her house…

“Oh, I understand,” the lady in white sighed, with a soft laugh, but looking at you out of the corner of her eye again. “Always so shy… Gods, what does it cost her to call me to say that she wants to have dinner with me? Anyway, tell the others to prepare food for one more person.”

“Yes, my lady”

“And you… go for a dress, dear, we have visitors,” she said looking at you with a different sparkle in her eyes.

“My lady, I…” you said trembling, not wanting to face Donna, not wanting to be in her presence. Not in that castle, not where she would never be yours. “I would rather not disturb and…”

“Nonsense, you are family, dear. Go on, be good and put on something nice, I am convinced that Donna is very happy to see her… errand girl…” she said with her usual irony, one that you mistook for an accusation, making you feel guilty.

You had no choice but to obey, you couldn’t do anything else.

There, in the dining room, there she was: Donna, covered with her black veil, following you with her gaze while you sat in front of her, asking with your eyes, wanting to know the reason for her unexpected presence.

The Angie doll, unlike her owner, had no problem greeting you effusively.

“See, silly? We've come... Hey, what happened to you? You look like a ghost,” the puppet whispered to you in an indiscreet manner, but just before you could ask or speak, the three Dimitrescu sisters appeared next to their mother.

“Hello, hello...” Cassandra sang while the others politely greeted their aunt. “But what do we have here, my elusive girlfriend... It seems that you can't escape from me today, huh?”

As she spoke, your blood boiled more and more, her unconsented touch on your cheeks made you burn with pain, with shame, while she sat on your lap hastily, without the slightest decorum, kissing you passionately in front of your lover.

It couldn't be worse.

“Ahem, Cassandra, darling, show some decorum, will you?” Alcina corrected, causing the young woman to wink at you and stand up, letting you see how Donna tightly gripped her fork, and how Angie tried to soften the pressure.

You’d had awkward dinners, but that one, without a doubt, was the worst of all.

If it weren't for Alcina's pleasant chat with her sister, everything would be silent. You knew that Donna wasn't paying attention. She only saw how Cassandra made fun of you by feeding you dinner with evil laughter, or speaking to you in indiscreet whispers about what she was going to do to you as soon as Donna left.

The sound of a piece of cutlery falling to the floor interrupted that tense calm. Donna had dropped her spoon and you, as helpful as ever, bent down to pick it up under the table.

You discreetly handed her the fallen object, realizing that there was something in her hand, something she left in yours and that you squeezed tightly.

A note, or so it seemed. You didn't know what it contained, what it meant, whether it was an explanation, an apology, or an insult. You were dying to know, but you couldn't, not with Cassandra beside you.

Your brain worked very hard to ignore her non-consensual assault on your privacy, focusing on the best way to find out what that piece of paper contained.

Okay, the idea was stupid, but it was the best you could come up with given the circumstances.

“Oh, wow,” you said falsely, regretting having let the glass of wine spill on your formal dress.

You were a terrible actress.

“Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom,” you said hastily, abruptly removing Cassandra's hand from your leg and getting up from the table.

Nervous, you ran through the halls, pretending to wash yourself so as not to raise suspicions until, finally, you opened that paper.

I have come to fight for you, to take you home in my arms, amore mio.

I don’t want, nor can, live without you

I love you

You read it once, and again, and again. The smile lit up your dull face when you understood what Donna was doing in the castle.

At last, because of Angie or her own conscience, she had come to her senses. Donna had understood that you needed her, that you never wanted to hurt her.

It didn't mean that she had forgiven you for having cheating on her, but it was a written proof of what she felt for you. She would not give up easily and she had found the courage to fight for you, even risking invading Cassandra's territory.

“Oh, Donna...” you whispered, pressing the note to your chest. “Donna, Donna, Donna…”

The sound of distant footsteps brought you out of your euphoria. Was it her? Could you finally love her, really be hers?

“Donna?” you asked out loud, getting the echo of your voice as an answer.

“Mm, no,  wrong,” a mocking voice said, one you knew, one that made you quickly put the note in your pocket. “Are you blind?”

“Cass, I…” you said as you saw your girlfriend licking her lips, coming closer while laughing, like a predator stalking its prey.

“If you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to stain that pretty dress.”

“It was an accident,” you lied, moving away from claws that were going straight for your waist. “We should go back.”

“Why the rush? It was a very lucky accident, don't you think?” she purred, forcing you to crash against the wall, with no option to escape. “Mother and the others are busy with Aunt Donna, so... well, you and I can play...”

Her tongue on your neck burned like a hot iron. The love you felt for Donna forced you to feel disgust for your girlfriend's actions. No, she wasn't going to get what she wanted that time, not when you were so close to getting the life you deserved, a life with Donna.

“No,” you said in a whisper, opening your eyes and standing firm.

“Excuse me?” Cassandra questioned, as if you had said something extraordinary, something she never thought she would hear from your lips.

“I said… No!” you screamed, pushing your girlfriend back, forcing her to step back sharply with her eyes wide open.

“What!?” she screamed angrily. “What do you mean by no? Listen, you silly girl, you are my girlfriend and…”

“No, not anymore,” you hissed. “I'm sick of you… of you making fun of me every day. It's over…”

“Why do you say those mean things to me? You don't have to… You can't say those things to me!” Cassandra yelled kicking the ground angrily, like a capricious child.

“It's over, Cassandra,” you said confidently, holding the note tightly in your hands, gaining all the courage you never thought you had.  “You are a spoiled, pampered and capricious brat… you think you have the right to play with people, with their feelings… well, I'll tell you one thing… You won’t play with me anymore!” you said furiously, trembling with fear, but without faltering.

“How dare you…” the young Dimitrescu hissed in a dangerous tone, her gaze darkening more and more. “Well, I've been very patient with you, pet. Do you think I don't know that you leave your window open to avoid me, to laugh at me? You can't avoid me! You're my girlfriend! You're mine!”

“I'll never be yours!” you shouted back, with all your strength.

Those words were too much for the young woman, who approached roughly grabbing you by the collar of your dress, almost lifting you into the air.

“You're going to pay for it, pet… You're going to…!” she shrieked, raising her hand, about to punish you for your insolence.

Something prevented her from completing her action, a pale hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from moving, Donna’s hand.

The lady in black appeared to save you, pushing your now ex-girlfriend away from you with a furious growl.

“Donna!” you sobbed in the middle of a desperate cry.

“What are you doing? Stay out of this, Aunt Donna,” Cassandra said surprised, to which your lover paid no attention, walking quickly towards you and cupping your face in her hands.

“Tesoro... are you okay? Did she hurt you?” the lady whispered, checking your condition while you clung to her, shedding a sea of ​​tears on her shoulder.

“I'm fine, I'm fine because you came... you came for me...” you said sobbing, finding the comfort you so lacked, the pleasant warmth of her arms.

“Of course I came... Oddio... I'm so sorry... I behaved like a fool...” she whispered in your ear, melting into you in a sincere, strong, safe embrace.

“Hey! What's going on here?” Cassandra asked, with a disgusted look at you. “What the hell…? Oh, no, it can't be true…”

“Get away from her, I won't repeat it,” Donna threatened, placing you behind her body in a protective gesture.

“You? Are you trying to snatch what's mine? Mother!” the young woman shouted, moving nervously and trying to grab you again. “You bitch… you've been cheating on me! Now you'll really pay for this and…!”

The lady in black moved quickly, pushing the young Dimitrescu aside and slapping her with a blow that left everything silent, lost in the echo of the walls.

“But, but…” Cassandra protested, incredulous at what had just happened. “You hit me!”

The sound of fast heels alerted you. Of course, that commotion alerted the lady of the castle, who was running towards you, causing a sinister smile to appear on Cassandra's wounded face.

“Mother, mother, come, come!” her daughter shrieked with childish satisfaction, pointing at you. “Aunt Donna hit me.”

Alcina looked at you briefly, studying the arms that held you, your tears, with a cold face.

“Now you are going to pay for what you have done... you are going to... Ah!” Another slap crossed the young vampire's face, but it wasn’t Donna's, but her own mother's. “Mother?”

“You stupid spoiled brat...” Alcina hissed, with her teeth grinding, with a visceral hatred towards her own daughter. “How dare you treat a girl like that?”

“What? But, but, but she…” Cassandra protested, embarrassed and terrified.

“Oh, come on, do you think I'm stupid? I know perfectly well what you were doing to poor (Y/N). Tell me, girl, what have I done wrong with you? Haven’t I educated you on how to treat ladies?”

“But…”

“Silence!” Dimitrescu shrieked, making you shrink even further into the arms of your lover, who remained stoic, ready to protect you. “Gods… (Y/N), are you okay?” she asked in a motherly tone, but visibly upset.

You simply nodded, moving away from the hand that rested on your shoulder.

“Mother, it's not fair,” Cassandra protested, with tears in her eyes, tugging at her mother's dress.

“Shut your mouth and get out of my sight! It's clear that you need new lessons… Until then, you're grounded! Go away!” the matriarch shrieked, pointing down the hallway, where the young woman, turned into a tangle of flies, fled in terror.

The tall woman sighed and seemed to calm down, turning her gaze towards you and sighing exhaustedly.

“Donna, how disappointing…” she said in a kind but accusatory tone. “I must confess that I never imagined that you, of all people, would be capable of such a thing…”

The lady in black didn’t respond, she simply hugged you tighter. She wasn’t going to let you go, she would never let you go again.

“And you…” the lady in white said. “Oh, my dear… how could you? Cheating on my daughter with Donna… no, no, no, that is not right, my dear…”

“My lady, I…” you stammered as best you could, with a sore throat, with your heart about to explode.

“Shut up,” Alcina ordered you. “You are fired. Take your things and get out of my castle… Oh, and Donna, I'm sure you won't waste the chance to have a maid like her, will you?”

You both looked at each other. You didn't know if Donna was smiling, but you were; your face regained its full brightness when you realized what was happening.

Alcina wasn't firing you, she was setting you free, allowing you, and Donna, to form the life together you dreamed of so much. It was all too good to be true; you even feared it was just a dream.

But as you left the castle in her arms, in Donna's arms, as she promised you, knowing that you wouldn't come back, that you would finally be free to be with her, you realized that it wasn't a dream, but reality, a reality you finally wanted to be in.

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(v)

You and Jungkook finally met up at a quiet café you both used to frequent. The moment you walked in and saw him waiting at a table, he stood up, giving you that same warm smile you hadn’t seen in weeks.

"Y/N," he greeted, "It’s so good to see you."

"Hey...," you said casually as you slid into the seat across from him.

"How was the trip?" he asked.

"It was good," you said, keeping your tone light.

Jungkook smiled then glancing down at the table as if he had more to say but wasn’t sure how to say it.

You noticed his hesitation, but instead of addressing it, you decided to lighten the mood. Pulling out a neatly wrapped package from your bag, you placed it in front of him with a grin.

"Happy belated birthday," you said with a smile.

Jungkook stared at the box, wide-eyed. "Wait, you got me something?"

"Of course I did. Just because I wasn't there doesn’t mean I forgot," you teased lightly. "Go ahead, open it."

When he opened the box, his eyes widened in shock. Inside was the camera lens he had been talking about for months.

"Y/N… this is—this is the lens I wanted," he stammered, lifting it out of the box like it was made of gold. "How did you even—"

"Of course I remembered," you said proudly, crossing your arms with a playful smirk. "I’m the best of the best friends, after all."

Jungkook looked at you, still stunned. "I can’t believe you got this for me. I didn’t even think you were paying attention when I mentioned it."

"Please..." you said, rolling your eyes. You've been ranting about this lens forever. I figured it was about time you had it." You waved it off like it was no big deal.

Jungkook laughed, but his expression softened as he set the lens down and looked at you. "Y/N… I've got to say, I'm sorry. For everything. The group chat, the way I didn't believe you about Jieun...I screwed up. And the fact that you still went out of your way to do something like this for me…"

You held up a hand, cutting him off. "Jungkook, seriously...it's fine. I’m not mad about it, okay? I didn’t take it to heart."

"But I feel like I—"

"Jungkook," you said firmly but with a small smile, "I mean it. Let’s not dwell on the past. What’s done is done. We're good, okay?"

He looks at you as if trying to read your mind.

"Don't look at me like that," you glare at him. "Now, come on. Show me what that fancy lens can do!"

The rest of the afternoon felt easy, like a weight had been lifted. You laughed, shared stories, and teased him like old times. As you left the café that evening, you felt proud of yourself. You’d faced Jungkook, given him his gift, and managed to keep things light and casual.

— — —

Your friendship with Jungkook back to like the old times.

You received an invitation to a formal dance ball hosted by your old college friends. You need to bring a plus one.

You used to go with Jungkook, so he assumed you’d take him. He hates ballroom dance, but it's fun to dance with you.\

"So, what time are we going?” Jungkook asked casually, leaning against the counter at your café.

You blinked at him. “What?”

"The ball," he said with a grin. "Obviously, I'm stuck with you."

You laughed. "Uh… actually, I'm going with Joon."

Jungkook's smile faltered. "Joon? Our Joon?"

"Yep," you said, nodding with a chuckle. "He’s never been to one before, so I thought it'd be fun."

“Oh… cool,” Jungkook said, forcing a smirk. "Yeah, he must be excited."

But it didn't excite him. Since when did you take someone else to events like this?

[whatifmommylovedyou]

could you write reader edging agatha pls

I threw some bondage in, hope you don't mind. < <

It's the smugness that is getting on your nerves.

The way that Agatha seems to be so self assured, that she's going to get exactly what she's going to get. Which is why she agreed to let you tie her hands behind her back - "it's not like I haven't done that before," she'd said, so self assured that she won't be able to get out.

And really, how is she supposed to know you were a scout back in the day?

So the knots you tie are nearly impossible for her to undo while she's distracted, and you sure are keeping her distracted.

She's riding the head of the magic wand vibrator, her hips riding the thing, and her head is thrown back, her chest heaving. She has her mouth wide open as she takes deep, gasping breaths, and you can't resist the way her breasts are heaving.

It takes almost no effort at all to cup one breast, twist her nipple. The way her voice goes rough and desperate against you sends more heat through you, and your face is hot. You press the vibrator closer to her clit, and you can see the way her hips are hunching forward, her shoulders getting tight.

She's going to come.

And you turn off the toy, pull it away.

Agatha makes an annoyed noise, and she squirms forward. "Why'd you stop?" Her voice is more cranky than desperate, and that won't do, will it?

"I don't want the fun to end yet," you say, and you shoot her the most sincere smile you've got.

It's easy work to drag your nails across her breasts - to flick each nipple in turn, then pinch them, to tangle your fingers in that lovely wild hair and PULL, to scratch down her sides.

She whimpers, and she's shaking, but you can tell she isn't going to come just yet. Which is why it's the best time to press the head of the vibrator against her vulva again, turn it on at full blast.

She groans in the back of her throat, and she humps forward to meet it, trying to ride it to her climax.

You turn off the toy, pull the wand away, and you twist each of her nipples. She makes a frustrated noise, and you see her struggling against the knots… but she isn't pulling herself away, is she? She's still tied up there, when she could magic herself free.

But she isn't.

She's just sitting there taking it, and the fact that this powerful witch is taking it is almost as arousing as the musky tartness of her cunt, the wetness of her pruning up your fingers. You pull the toy away from her cunt, and when you lean forward to suck on her nipple, she groans.

"You're killing me," she groans, and you drag your teeth along the areola, then pulling back to suck a hickey onto the side of her breast, the way she usually doesn't let you.

"Aren't you always saying how badass you are?" You tease, and this time you try to take as much of her nipple into your mouth as you can fit, sucking as hard as possible, then pulling off with a pop. "This can't be that bad, can it?"

Another long, drawn out groan as she wriggles against you, spreading her legs a little wider. "Please," she groans, and then she moans in lusty relief as you press the vibrator against her clit again, humping into it.

She's got her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth falling open, and you can see that she's already nearly at the crest. You shift the toy along her vulva, and she trembles against you.

And then you pull the toy away.

"Maybe just a little more," you say, and she makes a pathetic mewl.

You just smile wider.

[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Part 2.5 (bonus for the people. I think you guys need some good soup, from moi <3)

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

The team dynamics of the 141 have always been messy, ugly things, but this is ugly. You wouldn't wish it on anyone, really.

When you'd walked back to your own room, you'd heard Soap railing the daylights out of Gaz, cussing your name beneath his breath as the other sergeant groaned, high and throaty.

As awful as this feels, at least he's not doing that to you.

Johnny's always been a bit of a... rough bed partner, you know that, he's so eager to get into the heat of it that he never gives himself the time to warm up or cool down. Tends to be so enthusiastic that he doesn't offer much aftercare before he falls asleep, either.

Still, walking past Gaz's room brings back memories of that nasty, sick feeling that follows every intimate experience you've ever had.

It's the feeling that your body is somehow wrong, too tight in some parts and too loose in others, like the very existence of your form is a contradiction that just can't stand a second longer.

The way you hold your laptop shifts, pressing the metal into your chest to somehow remedy this ill. How? You're not sure. It doesn't work very well.

You try to shake it off as you open your door and sit on your bed, but the moans still breach your walls.

God, since when did Gaz sound like that? It feels like it's choking the air out of the room.

You put your best effort toward minding your own business, but you felt like you were losing your mind a half-hour into that endeavor, and instead thumped your fist on the wall, loud enough to send the message. Learning how to sign and trying to ignore... that was simply not a feasible task.

The moaning and creaking stops shortly after, and the sigh you heave is like no others, though you know damn well those two will definitely be pissy with you tomorrow.

Finally.

Plastic buzzing against the "wood" of your nightstand (shitty plywood painted white, as is standard issue) draws your focus away from that, if only for a second.

Heyhey! Do u wanna train together tmrw?? I think you'd do good if you took it easy w/me 😊 <33

The rubber and plastic of your case isn't all that comfortable in your hands, but you hold the magical little glass box in your hands anyway, peering down at the screen before chuckling to yourself.

Why should I?

Is your reply. It doesn't strike you that it might have been a bit on the nose, or that Gary might have read it differently, until the text bubble appears and disappears several times in a row, and you re-read it.

Oh no, you sound like an absolute asshole.

Sorry. I do want to, I just wanted to tease.

He's typing for another few seconds, before the bubble disappears one more time, and it starts to make you panic. More than you want to be panicking over him.

Don't be mad please, I'm sorry. I want to train with you.

How the mighty have fallen.

Look at you, desperately prostrating yourself before a rookie because you're absolutely moronic, praying that he'll offer you a reply. Whatever happened to four times the love?

Fuck. Don't think about that.

im not mad, ur fine just thought you might be a little grouchy from the meds or smth, wasnt sure if i should ask

You breathe a real sigh of relief at the returned messages, already more than tired by the day, but slightly soothed as you look down at the blue light of the screen, and send your last message of the day.

I'll see you at 0630. Goodnight.

A little red heart appears over your message, in the top left corner of the rounded bubble.

You plug in your phone and try to ignore how something in your chest squeezes at being deemed worthy of making plans more than two hours in advance.

It's a shockingly new thing, but goodness does it feel good, even if it brings on a sting of a more somber feeling.

Gaz and Soap sure as fuck didn't do this. Ghost either. You never expected Price to do that for you in the first place. Did they just... not think you were enough to make plans for? Was this pity?

You try to shake off the feeling as you bunch your blankets around your body, allowing your tired form to sink into the mattress and rest. The morning will clear your thoughts.

First | Previous | Next

[ollyissleepy]

𝟎𝟏. 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐲

summary: Rafayel is convinced by Thomas to read one of your previously released books to have him agree to illustrate the new one cw: none? a/n: make sure to check out this months posting schedule to know when more chapters will come out! taglist is open!

m.list | next →

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't do commissions?" Rafayel tries his hardest not to raise his voice at Thomas, his manager, knowing he just wants to make sure his works are known with a bigger audience. "I don't care if it's the god itself; you can't pay me to draw for you."

"I know, I know. I just want to give one of their books a shot." Thomas raised the book he was currently holding, hoping that acting nonchalant would somehow convince Rafayel. "I think your styles match pretty well, that's all." He shrugs his shoulders, coming closer to where Rafayel was working.

Rafayel watches his manager closely, analysing what the man is plotting now. Thomas doesn't comment on Rafayel's suspicious gaze and slowly places one of your books on a small table next to an easel with an unfinished painting. He pats the cover lightly, as if he's quietly trying to encourage Rafayel to read it. Thomas then leaves, saying his goodbyes on his way out.

Rafayel stares at your book for a bit, unsure if he should just leave it there. He realises he doesn't care if the book is destroyed with paint or not. It wouldn't be his fault anyways; Thomas was the one who put it there, not him. Rafayel picks up his brush and puts some already mixed paint on it, returning back to his work, before it was rudely interrupted by his manager. Rafayel tried his hardest to focus on his painting, the brush strokes on the canvas barely looking like anything. He kept going back to Thomas's words. What did he mean by your style matching his well? Rafayel's sight kept going back and forth between his canvas and your book. He keeps telling himself that he's not an artist you can buy and that he doesn't care for that little book of yours.

Rafayel sighs, noticing that he spent more time staring at your book than working on his painting. He gives in to the temptation, hoping that after reading one page he'll grow bored of it and will be able to return to his work. Rafayel throws the brush into the cup filled with paint water and picks up your book. He decides against moving from his stool, thinking he would just take a small peek. He flips to the first page and starts reading.

After the first page, Rafayel, without thinking, turned to the second page. The story captivated him, from the way you described your characters to the way you wrote about emotions. Rafayel kept reading more pages from your book, only stopping once to move from the stool next to his easel to the couch. He didn't notice the time passing, the sun no longer shining brightly and now much lower in the sky.

Finishing the book left Rafayel with his heart aching for more. He grabbed his phone in a daze, ready to search more books that you seemingly poured your soul into. Only then did he remember why he had your book in the first place. Rafayel decided that he has to make you an exception to his rule. Instead of looking up the titles of your other book, he looks up your social media accounts. Once he finds one that you seem to be the most active on, he opens up your direct messages to send you a text.

@sashisuslover @withering-dream

[spencewalterreid]

If "I Love You" Was A Promise

Summary: Your mind has been unkind to you as of late, and Spencer picks up on it. He comes over to try to get you to open up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: very self-deprecating, physical abuse if you squint (reader shoves Spencer), mean!reader but they don't mean it, mental breakdown (like... total meltdown), yelling, no use of y/n, Spencer being a sweetie, I think that's it.

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I truly do love me some angsty angst. I've been going through a gloomy patch recently and wanted to just write a super self-indulgent comfort fic. enjoy enjoy enjoy

You met Spencer a few months ago at a bookstore and you were quick friends. He’s brilliant, great to talk with, and you like a lot of the same media. However, he also happens to be an FBI profiler, which means he thinks he knows everything about everyone all of the time. You’re getting pretty fucking sick of it. He noticed oh-so-astutely that you were going through some shit, and asked under the cover of a movie night to accompany you to your house. Blindingly naive, you agreed. That’s how you ended up in front of him in a heated argument about your current state of mind.

"I don't know what you want from me, Reid! This isn't any of your goddamn business. Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean you need to give me a fucking house call!" you shout, your hands pulling at your hair to ground yourself. "This has nothing to do with you."

Spencer held up his hands in a placating gesture, his voice calm and measured as he responded. "Okay, let's take a deep breath. I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries here."

He studied your body language intently - the way your hands gripped your hair, the tension in your shoulders. The distraction, the frustration, it was all rooted in something deeper, something that had nothing to do with their current argument.

"Tell me this," Spencer said, his tone gentle yet firm, "is there a pattern to these distractions? Have they been getting worse over time?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. "Sometimes, it helps to talk things out with someone else. And right now, I'm here to listen."

Spencer was acutely aware of the small, cluttered apartment around him – the scattered books and papers on the coffee table, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He used the familiarity of the space to center himself, to keep his focus on understanding the root of your distress.

"I'm not here to judge or criticize," he assured you, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

In that moment, Spencer's mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what the hell your problem was. Was this distraction tied to a past trauma, a family issue, or something else entirely? As an FBI profiler, he knew that the key to understanding a person's behavior lay in their history, their experiences, their upbringing.

"Talk to me," Spencer encouraged gently, his tone warm yet authoritative. "I'm here to listen. Please?" He held out his hand, a silent offer, and waited for you to open up to him. Yeah, right.

"God, stop being so fucking you for a minute!" you stomp up to him, about 2 feet away, and shove at his chest. "Act like a goddamn human, for once in your life! Would it kill you? Huh?"

Spencer stumbled back from the sudden shove, caught off guard by the contact. His heart raced as he felt the warmth of your hands against his chest, the bloom of dull pain. He was shocked. No one had ever laid hands on him like that before, no one he cared about at least, and especially not you.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the surge of emotions that flooded through him. If the breath was meant to keep tears at bay too, then maybe you didn’t need to know that.

"I... I know I'm not always easy to understand," Spencer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know your mind works differently than most people's. But I'm trying... I'm trying to be here for you, in whatever way I can."

"Stop it!" you shout. "Stop trying to be unaffected. Stop trying to act like my fucking therapist, because you aren't! You... Don't... Know.. Me." you pause between each word, your finger in his face. "Stop trying to fucking profile me. Act like you have any sort of goddamn emotion, for once in your life!"

Spencer flinched as if struck, your finger hovering inches from his face. The harsh words hung heavy in the air between you, a bitter sting he couldn't shrug off like he might an insult from a suspect.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your frustration, your anger, your desperation. It was raw, visceral, a maelstrom of emotion he struggled to comprehend. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently lowering your finger from his face.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I'm not your therapist. I'm not perfect.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze locked onto yours. "But know this... I care about you. More than I can express. And I'm trying.”

Spencer's other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the heated skin. "I may not always show it in ways you expect... but I do have feelings. This isn’t fair, you have to know that.” His eyes brim with unshed tears, as if pleading with you to apologize. He sincerely doubted that would happen, at least right now.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to do this, because I’m at a loss.”

"Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!" you scream, pounding at his chest once more before turning to dig your fingernails into your scalp. "God, you're such a fucking asshole! You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about. You've only known me for a couple of months! You couldn't possibly-" your voice catches in your throat, but you choke down a sob. You couldn't possibly love me. You carefully remind yourself he did not say that. Why would he?

Spencer stumbled back, his heart clenching as he absorbed the brutal impact of your fists against his chest. He tries to keep in mind that you aren’t trying to hurt him, you’re just overwhelmed. He’s having a hard time believing it.

He reached out, trying to grab your wrists to still your frantic movements. But you wrenched away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. Spencer stood frozen, watching the scene in front of him, cinematic in its drama.

"Just because I haven't known you long doesn't mean I don't care about you," he interjects, voice tensely controlled. "You don't get to tell me what I feel or don't feel."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood behind you. Gently, carefully, he placed his hands on your shoulders, feeling the tension, the coiled energy.

"I can't pretend to know everything you've been through. I can't claim to understand what you're going through, especially 'cuz you won't tell me anything," he sighs. "But I see you, or I'm at least trying to. I see the strength in you, the resilience, the courage.” His fingers tighten minimally in support, pausing a moment. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

That did it.

One sentence, and the dam is breaking. Months of grief, loneliness, and a lifetime of being a list priority come crashing into you all at once. Your knees buckle at the weight of it as sobs wrench your body. "Get out," you demand, but your hands wrap firmly around his arms. "Get out. Please." You shake your head. "Please, Spencer, go home." You press back into him, curling into his warmth. "You're such a fucking dick."

Spencer held on tighter, holding you up with a grip around your waist.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you need."

But he didn't let go. He couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew you were steady. Not until he knew, without a doubt, that you meant it.

"Tell me this first," he pleaded softly, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Tell me you know you're not alone. That you have someone in your corner, no matter what."

His arms tightened, a silent vow. "I know we're not close, I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be what you need me to be."

He stood there, holding you through your sobs. It impressed you, the resolve of him. It impressed you that he didn’t get pissed, as much as you wanted him to. You aren’t used to gentleness. You’d rather fight than stand in front of someone who’ll just let you cry.

The wails leaving your throat embarrass the living shit out of you, and you know tomorrow you'll hate yourself for it, but right now you’re grateful. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer." You empty your lungs completely with your sobs, then refill them just to empty them again. "I hate you. I hate you," you repeat, holding his arms with a bruising grip as he gently lowers you onto the floor despite his harsh germaphobia. "I hate you."

The care applied was the kind he usually reserved for crime scenes, mindful of every surface he touched. He sat behind you, cradling your trembling body against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You don't need to apologize. You don't need to hate anything right now except maybe the hand dealt to you."

He rocked you gently, matching the rhythm of your ragged breaths. "I know you're hurting. I know it’s confusing. But please, don't hate yourself for feeling. Don't hate yourself for needing someone to be here for you."

Spencer's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He thumbed away the tears that fell in steady streams, his own eyes a pool of their own. "Hate me if you need to. I can take it. I can take anything, as long as you're not hating yourself."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to break. You're allowed to scream and cry and rage until you have nothing left. And I'll be right here, picking up the pieces, gluing you back together.” He pulled back just enough to watch you for a moment, your cheeks burning ever hotter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches on a hiccup. "Don't say that," you beg. "Please," you sob. "Don't you say that to me. You don't know me, Reid." your voice is totally wrecked, you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what you're saying, you-" your breath catches, then another, then another, and then before you know it you’re hyperventilating.

What you didn’t say was, when you say it out loud, it becomes a promise. What you didn’t say was, I trust you. To say that is to make a promise you will not keep. To say that is to promise to break my trust. What you didn’t say was, To say that is to lie.

Spencer felt a surge of panic as your breathing grew rapid and shallow, your body shaking violently in his arms. He tightened his grip, a fierce, protective hold, as if he could physically keep you anchored. A folly effort, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he urged, his voice calm and steady despite the fear gripping his heart. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you."

He slid his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head down towards your knees. "That's it, just like that. Breathe with me. In and out. Slow and steady."

"Don't- don't- don't- d-" You tremble like a fucking leaf. Pathetic. You try to calm down enough to say this because you know it needs to be said: "Don't make- make- don't make pr- promi- promises you ca- can't- can't keep."

Spencer’s heart drops. What did he do wrong?

He didn’t quite know what to say, but he made an effort anyway. "You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to breathe through this, one breath at a time.”

You lean down to softly press your lips against his hand, still shivering. Shaking. "I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Spencer soothed, turning your face towards his. He brushed away a lingering tear with his thumb, his gaze locked onto your red-rimmed eyes. "Being human isn't pathetic. Feeling, caring, needing... that's what makes you beautifully, perfectly human."

The smile on his face is sad, but genuine. He lays his hand on the side of your head, dragging a thumb across your temple. “I'm here because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Your strength and your vulnerability, they're a part of what draws me to you. Never apologize for being who you are."

"Can you stay?" you whisper feebly. "I mean, you don't-" you hiccup. "Don't feel pressured, of course. You know what?" You force a smile. "I'm actually okay. I'm so okay. You can go home, Spencer. Go get some rest. Sorry." You move to get up, but his hold tightens. He met your gaze, his voice low and firm. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I told you... I'm staying right here, with you."

He adjusted your position, lying down and gathering you fully into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "Rest now," he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'll be here when you wake up." Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You chuckle without any meaning. "Spencer, no. Not on the hardwood floor," you say apologetically, sitting up. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. C'mon, get up."

Spencer tightened his embrace, not letting you pull away as he sat up slowly. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the last of their tears. "I'm not leaving you alone. End of discussion."

He stood, pulling you up with him, then guided you down the hallway, to your bedroom, then to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Spencer's arm remained wrapped around your shoulders, a constant, comforting presence.

"I'll sleep here, with you. I won't leave your side." His voice softened, a gentle caress. "Please don't ask me to go, not now. I need to be here for you.”

"Spence-"

"No," he interjects. "No. Lay down. I'm gonna get you some water, I'll be right back."

He pats the bed behind you. Sluggish, you settle back into the plush mattress, encircling yourself in the comforter, dragging it right up to the bottom of your chin. You huff.

Spencer returned a moment later, a glass of water in hand. He set it on the bedside table and looked down at you, sympathy written all over him as he noticed your closed eyes and the way you had curled in on yourself.

Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. You felt warm, almost feverish.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He leaned in closer, his breath ruffling the hair he had just smoothed. "I know you're not asleep."

His hand slid down to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" Spencer's words were gentle, a nudging request. Not a demand. Never a demand. He wanted to know you were okay, but he wouldn't force it out of you. If you were going somewhere dark, he wanted to follow you with a flashlight in hand, but only if you'd let him.

"Go to bed, Spencer."

Spencer's brow furrowed, stubbornness hard-set on his face. He didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting firmly on your shoulder.

"No. You can’t go to bed feeling like this. It could cause nightmares, increased cortisol levels, and I know you’ll have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink water." He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. "Please, talk to me. Let me help carry this burden with you. I'm stronger than I look, I promise."

You smile, your eyes still closed. "You look plenty strong," you reply. "Please, go to sleep. I'm tired."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, not convinced. “Look at me. Please." When you didn't immediately comply, he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I know you're hurting, and I know you’re tired, but you can’t end the night like this.”

He paused, his posture wilting in his frustration.

You open your eyes and roll onto your back. "Drop it, Reid. It's late, I just cried my fucking eyes out, I want to go to bed. Now, either lay your pretty ass down, or go sleep on the couch."

Spencer studied your face, trying to settle the odds with himself. Accepting defeat, he finally relented with a soft sigh. "Fine.”

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, being mindful not to jostle you. Settling onto his back, he turned to face you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your waist. "Goodnight," he murmured, eyes already heavy with fatigue. "Sleep well."

"Can I-" You turn toward him, but shut your mouth before you ask. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

Spencer felt you shift, turning to face him. “No, what were you going to say?”

You hum, trying to decide how to phrase it. “It was nothing.”

“Here,” he offers, lifting the arm nearest you, inviting you to curl into him. He’s always so observant. Despite your thus-short friendship, he knew exactly what you wanted. You complied.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he repeated, his hand on your waist giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'll be right here when you wake."

[multifandomxzion]

Phaindei x Chubby! reader oneshot

Phainon and Mydei are definitely the types who dont care what their partner looks like, if she alittle thick than she alittle thick! Who cares right?

Unfortunately some people care than you realize, including yourself. You started trying to make an intense work out routine for yourself, desperately trying to lose weight, this included jogging through Akenma Market. There were these 2 guys lounging about talking about how they could lift practically anything, 1 of them saw you and stopped you in your tracks.

Guy 1: Hey! Think I could lift you real quick? you dont seem that heavy

you: Uhh, I don- AH!

The guy doesn't even wait around for an answer before practically ripping at your waist trying to pick you up, only to buckle to his knees panting and wheezing, his friend laughing at him

Guy 1: Dont laugh at me! this one is made of bricks! How do you even stand upright when you way the same as the droma's?!

The crowd around you stares, some quietly laughing, some unamused by the 2 "bodybuilders". You were about to run away and cry, humiliated when you heard a voice beyond the crowd.

Phainon Route

Phainon: Do you really think that insulting someone because of your weak capabilities make you any better a man than the rude onlookers of this crowd? Nonsense! I know for a fact that my sweetheart here is not such heavy as you claim, Dont believe me?

Reader: P-phainon you really dont have to- GAH-!

Phainon swoops you up in his arms, holding you in a bridal carry, the onlookers applausing him while the 2 men turn red in the phase

Phainon: Well? Still wanna say that my dear reader is.. "Heavy"? *he spits out with such a smug smile, The 2 men excuse themselves and gallop away, only then does phainon put you down*

Reader: Thank you phai-

Phainon: No more exercise for a week.

Reader: Huh?

Phainon: Im going to make you eat proper and delicious meals so you enjoy yourself, this routine you have currently only stresses you out

Reader: But, phai... im.. ugly like this.. Dont you think?

Phainon: Fuck no! *ahem* excuse my language, but, baby.. My moonlight! You must understand, I love you! I love, every bit of you, frankly I dont want you to lose weight, your perfect with all of these extra essentials, It just means I have more to love! But... I know this is something you want, all I ask is that you atleast let me monitor you

Mydei Route

Mydei: You dare shame our gods by using such foul descriptions against such a divine beauty as them?!

Reader: Mydei?

The crowd goes quiet, fear settling from Mydei's trembling aura

Guy 2: Whoah! M-Mydei??!

Mydei: You wanna repeat what you said now that im closer in earshot? *He says grabbing the first guy*

Guy 1: U-Uh... I uh.. s-said that they weighed as much as a Dromas??

Mydei: Oh really? *with one hand he effortlessly picks up your chubby body and plops you on his shoulders* Or your just too weak to be a real man~ *he smirks triumphantly*

The crowd gasps, then roars into applause, ashamed, the 2 guys run away.

Mydei: You confuse me as to why weight is such a problem. Your fine just as you are *he says finally putting you down*

Reader: Oh yeah? And just how do I benefit you when im so... round?

Mydei: Pillow, for 1~ *He says smugly*

Reader: I.. Shut up.. -//////-

Mydei: If you really are serious about losing weight, atleast let me train you, make sure that your healthy. *His words laced with adoration and genuine love, kissing your forehead tenderly*

Phaindei Route

Mydei: You dare shame our gods by using such foul descriptions against such a divine beauty as them?!

Phainon: Do you really think that insulting someone because of your weak capabilities make you any better a man than the rude onlookers of this crowd? Nonsense!

Reader: G-guys, please, its not that ser-

Mydei: Of course its serious. You are NOT too heavy.

Phainon: I strongly suggest you take back such vulgar words against them, what would our gods think of your behavior?

Guy 1: Why are you 2 so upset about it, if you think you can lift them no prob, YOU TRY IT!

They look at each other, smirks eminent, before Phainon swoops you in a bridal carry, as you try to process the situation your hoisted into the air more as Mydei carries you both on his shoulders, none of them breaking a sweat

Phainon: Ha! Just like old times eh Mydei?

Mydei: heh, seems ive gotten even stronger!

The audiance roars into a screaming applause! And the 2 guys dont dare to look up, silently disappearing with the crowd.

Tribbie: aww! they really love reader!

Castorice: Such a thing is very warming.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!