#this is the most intense thing i've seen in a while

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey big fan of your work! I was wondering if you could write about Donna killing a trespasser in front of reader, she becomes really worried that this has upset reader/reader will see her as a monster but it actually really turns the reader on (powerful/protective lady moment ahh), maybe smut if you can! No GP <3

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

Powerful enough

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Slightly dark themes, smut at the end, Minors DNI, mentions of violence and murder, Donna being Donna, fluff

Word count: 8,404

Summary: Can she really protect you?

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

“I don't know what I'm doing here, I should be making my dolls,” Donna murmured, letting you take her hand, despite her reluctance.

Opposites attract or so they said. Nonsense, attracted was a too insignificant verb to describe your relationship. In the two years you had been in that isolated house, you had felt many things similar to pure attraction, but with an intensity that made that word not enough.

Still, convincing Donna to leave her house, even for an innocent and invigorating walking around the grounds, was quite a feat.

“You spend all day with your dolls, I think a quiet walk with your girlfriend won’t hurt you, right?” you said amused, giving her repeated kisses on the cheek, to which the brunette protested with a playful movement of her hands.

“Ugh,” she groaned; her grumpy attitude at an all-time high.

A pity that those tender protests were one of the things you adored about Lady Beneviento.

“Going out is fun!” Angie shouted, who seemed much happier with that excursion than her owner.

“Look, Angie is happy,” you commented, blinking petulantly, leaning towards the lady’s shoulder. “Donna, stop being so grumpy, will you?”

“I'm not grumpy, tesoro,” she protested, sighing and looking around. “I just feel helpless to your requests.”

“That's because you love me,” you hissed with a mocking smile, clinging to her affectionately. “Or well, maybe I have some mental powers too.”

“Maybe, you're the most stubborn girl I've ever seen,” Donna teased, stealing a quick kiss on your lips and making your cheeks blush. “What's your goal with this?”

“My goal?” you asked confused. “Well… it doesn't have a goal. It’s just to spend the time and…”

“Spend the time,” the brunette repeated, looking around. “It's terribly cold, (Y/N).”

“You're such a whiner, darling, but don't worry, I'm used to it,” you said with a tone impregnated with malice, but without really being an acid comment. “Let's talk about something.”

“Mm? What do you want to talk about? It's cold,” she said, frowning, uncomfortable since, once again, you managed to convince her not to wear her veil.

After all, she didn't need it, it was still her land. No one dared to go beyond the wooden door, much less the bridge.

It took you a while to convince her to lose her fear of letting the breeze caress her beauty, but over time you had become a true master of conviction. Well, it could be that or that Donna was simply madly in love with you. Either option seemed valid to you.

“Let's see, let's see...” you whispered thoughtfully, looking up at the snowy trees that guarded the Lord’s territory like silent guardians, like a reminder that you were, in some way, safe. “Oh, yes, I've already finished the book you gave me.”

“You read fast,” Donna murmured, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, resuming her steps, perhaps more calmly than before.

“You know I love adventures,” you said, sighing romantically, finally managing to walk at the same time as her, holding on to her hand, as if you didn't want to let her go. “Hey, let’s go that way,” you said, deviating slightly from the path towards one of the dilapidated cabins.

“That way? Why do you want to go that way?” the lady asked, letting your hand go and tilting her head as she looked at the cabins. “(Y/N), it’s dangerous, something could collapse and…”

“How old are those cabins?” you asked, making your way through the undergrowth surrounding what was once surely a beautiful metal structure, full of flowers.

“Oh, um…” she replied, watching your clumsy steps through the weeds. “Those cabins were here before my family built the house.”

“Interesting,” you commented, nodding slowly and looking for the best place to cross that kind of protection time granted to that place. “Well, if they haven’t collapsed in all this time, I doubt they will now, right?”

“You are definitely stubborn,” the lady whispered, leading you by the arm along a safer path to one of the cabins. “There, a ruined cabin just for you.”

“Great,” you sighed, rubbing your hands together, but showing no sign of imminent freezing.

“Be careful, (Y/N),” Donna whispered as you explored, the thirst for adventure running through your veins.

“Yes, yes…” you said, rolling your eyes and glancing around that desolate cabin. “Who lived here?”

“Josef, the gardener,” the lady said, answering your question in a somewhat hasty way. “He always worked for my family, he even took care of me after…” she whispered, stopping right at the end of the sentence, not wanting to remember all the tragedies she had to live through.

“Donna, calm down,” you said, cupping her face in your hands before an inevitable crisis clouded that wonderful day. “You don't have to tell me, come on, breathe…” you said, doing relaxation exercises you already knew and that luckily, also calmed the inevitable madness of the lady in black.

“I-I'm sorry,” she stammered, regaining her calm gaze and sketching a shy smile. “I've gotten a little nervous.”

“I know, it's okay,” you said, kissing her slowly on the lips, thus finishing to calm her tormented mind. “Come, Angie, let's explore,” you said to the doll, who followed you immediately.

You and Angie walked through that ruined cabin, finding just old books, typewriters destroyed by time and gardening tools, but, nothing interesting, unfortunately.

You were about to give up, to recognize the cold you were going through and tell your girlfriend you wanted to go home, when you noticed an old shed on the side of the cabin.

“Well, well, Donna, come, look at this,” you said as you and Angie peered over a fallen piece of wood that spanned the shed. “Wait a minute…” you sighed, pulling the obstacle and letting it fall into the snow.

“Be more careful, silly!” Angie protested, as she was almost crushed.

“Oops, sorry,” you said with a worried face, enduring the blows of the doll on your shins. “Look at this…”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, frowning and looking into the shed.

Inside the old structure was a sort of miniature of a house with a too convenient path leading down, as if something had to go there. Beneath the model, there were some tightly closed bars, and inside there was a golden glow that immediately caught your attention.

“What’s this?” you asked, studying that miniature house. “Look, it moves,” you said surprised, realizing that you could move the model at will.

“Oh, it's one of the four labyrinths of Norshteyn,” the brunette explained, with disinterest.

“Who?” you asked, scratching your head and looking curiously at the lady. “A labyrinth?”

“Mm,” she murmured in response, approaching the model with a serious look. “In the 19th century, a craftsman named Norshteyn came to the village. They said he was considered a heretic in his country.

You nodded, blinking in curiosity.

“A craftsman?” you asked, running your fingers over that house. “Wow, he was good.”

“It is said that he made them due to the hospitality in the village. He built four labyrinths for each of the noble families of the place, labyrinths that could contain whatever they wanted,” Donna explained, passing her hand next to yours. “The families deposited some of their treasures inside the labyrinth, hoping that no thief could get them.”

“Oh,” you said attentively, trying to open the gate, something impossible. “He certainly did a good job, this is impossible to open.”

“You can pull as hard as you want, tesoro,” she said, amused by your fruitless attempts. “Karl, Alcina and Salvatore have one model too.”

“Of course... the four families, four Lords, it makes sense,” you said amused, studying the mechanism. “Surely he felt satisfied with his job.”

“Not exactly,” the lady corrected, getting closer to your ear. “When he finished the last of them, he blew off his head.”

“Um, what?” you said, scared by the sinister voice that Donna mastered perfectly. “Why?”

“Nobody knows, it is said that he had four wives, and they all died. He couldn't handle the guilt and…” she whispered in a mysterious tone. “There are many stories about him, but the legend said that he sold his soul to the devil to rescue those of the four loves of his life, paying a very high price.”

“A-A price…” you stammered, letting yourself be carried away by that slightly terrifying atmosphere. “Which one?”

“His own life,” she said, with an increasingly sinister tone, surrounding you by the waist from behind, making you swallow. “There are people who say that those souls… live in these labyrinths… the souls in pain of his wives, desperately searching for their lover, for all eternity.”

“Boo!” Angie screamed, coming out from behind the model and making you almost jump into Donna's arms, taking refuge behind her.

“Yiah!” you screamed, your heart beating very hard while the doll laughed, as did her owner. “Donna…”

“What's wrong, tesoro? Did we scare you?” she asked, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to her in a playful way, kissing you quickly.

“Yes…” you reluctantly admitted, crossing your arms, but returning the kisses while the doll laughed satisfied. “Donna, you give me the creeps.”

“It must be the cold,” Donna joked, kissing you for the last time and releasing you from her grip while you, pathetically, tried to regain your composure. “Anyway, you won't be able to open it just like that, it needs a key.”

“A key,” you commented, shaking your dress and squinting at the doll, who was still laughing at the scare she gave you. “What key? Do you have it?”

“I don’t,” she said, arranging your clothes lovingly, rubbing your arms. “It's not just any key, it's a kind of ball that you have to roll along the rails to get it into this hole here, see?” she pointed to a small round hole at the end of the model, and you nodded curiously.

“A ball... I see, well, we'll have to look for it, right?” you said, catching your breath and searching around the model. “You don't know where it is? It belonged to your family, didn't it?”

“Yes, but it's probably lost,” the lady commented, sighing with a victorious smile. “Don't bother looking for it, my grandfather tried several times and didn't find it.”

“Well, maybe I can,” you said enthusiastically. “It could be a good adventure, right? The search for a treasure…”

“(Y/N), let's go home, you're just wasting time,” she said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Killjoy,” you hissed discreetly. “Come on, Donna, it has to be somewhere…”

“No, besides, it's getting dark, we should go back now,” the lady insisted, crossing her arms.

The cold was already unbearable, and, although you hated to agree with your girlfriend, that time she was right.

“Ugh, okay,” you sighed with a childish grimace. “But I plan to find that key,” you said, raising a finger and letting Donna slide her hand around your waist, guiding you on the way home.

“Mm, I didn't know you were interested in treasure hunts,” she commented with a tender smile.

“Well,” you said in a passive tone. “I've read a lot of similar stories, but I still prefer novels about knights, you know: damsels in distress, dragons…”

Donna laughed, shaking her head and pulling you a little closer to her.

“They are my absolute weakness,” you murmured, fantasizing about your favorite stories. “Especially the part where the brave knight kills the dragon and saves the girl. It must be very romantic.”

“Dragons don't exist,” Donna said in a serious tone, showing you her poor conversational skills, taking everything you said totally seriously.

“Tell your sister,” you said amused, making her shake her head. “The feeling of being saved by a strong and brave knight… it must be great, right?”

“Mm,” she murmured, kissing your hair, not paying too much attention to your fanciful words.

“You know, oh my dear knight, I'm so weak I think I'm going to faint…” you said in a dramatic tone, pulling away and putting a hand on your forehead before doing something stupid, before letting yourself fall to the ground, hoping that she would pick you up in her arms, something that, of course, didn't happen.

“Ouch!” you screamed as you fell to the snowy ground with a thud, glaring angrily at your girlfriend.

“What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?”  the lady said, clumsily helping you up as Angie laughed out loud again. “(Y/N)…”

“Ugh, you were supposed to pick me up,” you whispered, letting yourself be helped and checking to see if you had hurt yourself. “Donna… you didn't save your damsel in distress.”

“Damsel in distress? Cavolo, (Y/N), how do you expect me to know that you were going to let yourself fall?” she protested, checking your condition as well. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine,” you growled with a childish gesture, pushing the brunette's hands away. “And you, stop laughing,” you said to Angie, who was writhing on the floor.

“You are so silly, silly, silly,” the doll mocked, pointing at you with her finger. “You amuse me.”

“Fine,” you hissed, rubbing your back and noticing an even more penetrating cold. “Brr, I'm going to catch a cold.”

“Don't worry, tesoro, let's go home and take a hot bath, do you fancy it?” Donna suggested with a warm smile, kissing you as an apology.

“Yeah, sounds great,” you said, relaxing your expression and your posture.

 A hot bath next to the woman you loved was certainly a good plan. Your naked bodies warmed in the water as you intertwined in a comfortable, relaxing silence.

With your head on her chest and her arms around your waist, you continued to fantasize, making your mind travel through stories and memories, memories of how you got to where you were, why you were there, next to her.

You were a simple villager in a not so simple village. The Black Gods, the Lords, Mother Miranda… These were things that made the place very different from any other. You knew it, but you didn't give it any importance, at least until you realized what it meant to have all these entities around you.

You were eight years old, you were a little and dreamer girl like any of your friends, running errands for your parents, praying and having fun. One night, when you had to give some tools to your uncle, while you were walking in the dark through the poorly lit streets, you got a scare that would change your life forever.

Miserable rat or idiot, you didn't know how to describe the man who attacked you from the shadows, demanding, under threats, that you give him all your money. You were a child, you were scared and defenseless.

You had never been so afraid, the knife the robber carried shone in the moonlight and you closed your eyes as you cried in terror. It could have been your end, or, at best, stayed in your mind as an insurmountable trauma, but it wasn't.

You never really believed in miracles, that your devotion to dark deities served any purpose, but that night, yes, that night you witnessed your mistake. Just when you gave up, cornered and with your bag of coins already at the mercy of the attacker, some blades shone next to the knife, abruptly pushing that man away from you.

A local hero? A divine intervention? No, a Lord.

The lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu, finished off that robber. She didn't say anything; she simply looked at you, smiled at you and took what was left of that evil man.

Then your vision of the village changed completely. Everyone, your family, your friends, everyone feared the Lords. They saw them as a constant threat. Mother Miranda always insisted that she, as well as the four nobles, protected the village. You didn't believe it before, but you started to.

The rejection and fear that those four shadows caused you silently mutated into an admiration that became increasingly sick. The priestess was right, they protected you. They were in charge of keeping the village at peace, of freeing you from possible threats. It was impossible for you not to believe it, you had lived it.

Stopping seeing the four Lords as a threat to see them as a shield unleashed many thoughts, you even dared to write letters to the lady of the castle, thanking her for her intervention. They could be childish things, but time passed, and your devotion to the four shadows of the village didn’t diminish.

They were your saviors, your protectors, and it almost seemed like you were the only one who saw them that way. Each and every one of them had extraordinary powers, capable of chasing away anyone who dared to poke their nose into the village's affairs, or harm you. They didn't care if you were rich, poor, or who you were; to them, all of your lives were worthy of protection.

Your devotion to these protectors surpassed even rationality, fervently wishing to meet them, admire them, have a moment to talk to them, to thank them for everything they did. Already 20 years old and with a bold and extroverted character, that goal was closer than ever.

What you never imagined was falling in love with one of them, one that you saw off guard to attack with your questions and sick adoration, the lady in black, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

The woman in mourning, always silent and mysterious, unwittingly put herself at the mercy of your approach, at the mercy of your exaggerated words of admiration. As much as the Angie doll protested, the lady didn’t move; she simply listened to you.

Thus, with time, you came to see the beauty she hid, to hear her melodic voice speaking to you, incredulous, surprised because you, unlike the others, didn’t fear her. Love arose soon after, and without wanting to, you ended up completely in love with the lady in black, just as her with you.

Maybe she couldn't transform into a dragon, or control metal, but those trifles ceased to be important to you the moment your lips touched hers. Power and strength stopped being your fixation, Donna began to be.

Two years later, your relationship was perfect, harmonious. The fact that she was a Lord, that somehow you felt safe was something you didn't usually think about.

Donna was a strange woman, hurt by a madness no one could remedy, but she was much more than that, much more than the monster everyone talked about. You weren't exaggerating if you said that she was the love of your life.

Your body enjoyed the warmth of the water, the touch against hers, that vaporized silence filling your mind with dreams and memories. As you moved to let her lips kiss your neck, you felt a slight pain in your back, probably due to the fall.

That pain made you grimace in disgust, but it also made your mind move away from the pure love you felt for Donna, asking yourself a series of questions you had never gotten an answer to.

“Mm, Donna,” you sighed, playing with her hand under the water, breaking the calm, but speaking with a velvety, romantic tone. “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure, tesoro,” she whispered, kissing your ear and leaving her kisses for another time, giving you all her attention.

“Hey, who do you think is the most powerful of your siblings?” you asked distractedly, looking at the ceiling as you moved in the water.

“The most powerful?” Donna asked back, with a thoughtful sigh. “Honestly, I wouldn't know how to answer your question,” she sighed shortly after, looking at you out of the corner of your eye. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, curiosity,” you said shrugging, lying back on top of her body. “Well, Alcina can transform into a dragon…”

“It's not exactly a dragon, it's a…” the lady interrupted.

“Yes, yes, a mutation, or whatever. Dragon sounds much better than a mutation of a disgusting mold, doesn't it?” you joked, shaking your head.

She laughed too wrapping her arms around your waist, keeping you closer to her, if that was even possible.

“Let's see, Heisenberg can control metal, Moreau is a huge disgusting fish…” you murmured, counting on your fingers. “Honestly, I ask you because I couldn't tell you which one of them is more powerful.”

“Hey, tesoro, aren't you forgetting something?” she said in a mocking tone, frowning and moving your head so you would look at her.

“Mm? Oh, of course you're there too, but you're no use to me for this,” you said without thinking, causing the water to move along with her body, abruptly.

“Why not?” the lady asked with an inquisitive expression.

You rolled your eyes, turning around to face her.

“Donna, honey, you can't transform,” you said softly, calmly caressing her cheek due to her annoyed look. “I'm talking about real powers.”

“I have real powers, I'm as strong as them, even more,” Donna protested, crossing her arms, with a marked accent that betrayed her anger.

“Yes, yes... you make people hallucinate, but, my love, it's not like you're the strongest woman in the world,” you said jokingly, perhaps without too much care.

“Playing with people's minds isn't enough power? I'm telling you I'm as strong as them,” she insisted nervously, to which you caressed her face amused, biting your lip while your hand traveled along the skin of her arm, pinching it mercilessly. “Cazzo! Cosa diavolo stai facendo!?”

“You see, my love? You control minds, yes, but your body is weak, isn't it?” you mocked while she looked at you with resentment, rubbing her injured arm.

“You say I'm weak?” she asked in a brusque tone, terribly offended. “You think so?”

“No, look, Donna, you know that I love you very much, but maybe you wouldn't be the right one to face an imminent danger, right?”

“I'm stronger than you think!” she said, shouting in a very loud voice, making you back up in the tub.

“Okay, then prove it to me, make me hallucinate,” you challenged your girlfriend, approaching her in the water, suggestively crawling up to her body.

“No,” she answered coldly, putting a hand on your bare chest. “I'm not going to do it.”

“Aren’t you? Come on, say that I'm wrong,” you joked, making a gesture with your hand. “I want to see how powerful my girlfriend is.”

“No, (Y/N), I'm not going to hurt you,” she said, shaking her head and hastily going out the tub. “My powers are not a game, (Y/N). I don't care if you think they're useless.”

“Hey, I didn't say that,” you said, reaching out your hand to take hers while she picked up a towel, covering herself with it. “Donna, don't be mad, come here so I can apologize.”

“I have to make dinner,” she said, leaving the bathroom and you, in the bathtub, sighed regretfully.

“But what did I say?” you murmured, scratching the back of your neck and shrugging. “Oh, I must learn to keep my mouth shut…”

Luckily, the tension you caused dissipated over time and the day could end as usual. You had absolutely nothing against the lady, you didn't doubt her powers, in fact, you knew that, whatever she did, no one had dared to enter her property for years, apart from you, of course.

Okay, maybe the lady in black wasn't the strong and invincible Lord you admired, but that wasn't a reason to stop loving her. Strength was not your main goal, especially when you were able to truly meet Donna, when you saw her deformed but amazing beauty, when her whispers, her caresses, made all the hair on your body stand up.

You didn't bring up the subject again, and the next day started like any other, except that, that morning, you woke up with only one goal. You still had that sinister story of the labyrinths in your head, and you dedicated your always lonely morning to looking for some information around the house.

Your thirst for adventure was insatiable, even wandering alone through the halls of the mansion was an epic feat for you. Donna never minded you rummaging through her stuff, through her memories, as long as you did it with respect. And so you did, dusting off old books you barely understood.

While you were searching, you came across an old notebook that caught your attention, especially because of what was written in it: Fabrizio Beneviento (1878).

It looked like an old diary; a notebook as old as time, with its yellowed, delicate pages that seemed to want to fall apart among your fingers. Logically, it was the property of an ancestor of the lady in black, and the date coincided with the creation of the labyrinths. Your favorite novels were those about knights, but you didn't dislike detective stories at all.

“Oh, I have to ask Donna to teach me Italian, I don't understand anything,” you said with a confused grimace, trying to decipher what those old pages said.

After looking at those incomprehensible sentences in bewilderment, you finally found something, a name that you expected to read: Norshteyn.

“Bingo,” you said satisfied, marking the page and walking towards the workshop, where Donna was working, as always, on her dolls.

“Hey, silly!” Angie shouted, swinging her legs on a table while the lady worked, distracted by the shouts and shaking her head at you.

“Angie…” Donna murmured, dropping a paintbrush with a grimace of disgust. “You almost ruined my work.”

“Tell her, she interrupted you,” the doll said, pointing at you.

The lady smiled, shaking her head as you approached and gave her a quick kiss in greeting.

“Are you bored, tesoro?” she asked softly, smoothing your hair.

“No, not exactly,” you said triumphantly, holding up the notebook. “Look what I found. I think it belongs to a relative of yours… Fabrizio Beneviento.”

“Wow,” she sighed, studying the notebook. “Yes, he was my ancestor, what’s this about?”

“Look, in this part it talks about the labyrinths of that Norshteyn guy. It might say where the key is,” you said, pointing at the page. “But… I don’t understand what it says. Would my wonderful girlfriend be so kind as to translate it for me?”

Donna laughed, nodding with a slight blush on her cheek, looking down at the text.

“Let’s see…” she sighed, picking up the book. “There’s something about that man that makes me shudder, no matter how kind he was when he built that chest,” she began to read.

“I have a bad feeling about him. Maybe opening it is a bad idea, my legs shake every time I get close to that damn model. I have no way of knowing what evil powers will be unleashed if I let that key slide down the rails. I have enough problems already, it would be best to hide it, and I have the perfect place, under the tree in the nearby cabin.”

“Wow… is that what it says?” you asked expectantly.

“Uh-huh,” the lady said, turning the pages with curiosity.

“Great, great, we have to go to the cabin to look for the key,” you said excitedly, rubbing your hands. “Treasure, here I go…”

“Hey, stop, (Y/N), do you intend to go now? The sky is very dark, I fear a storm is approaching,” Donna said, closing the notebook and tilting her head.

“W-Well, then we better hurry up,” you said jumping. “Come on, Donna, let’s go…”

“Do I have to go with you?” the brunette asked, frowning and looking away at her dolls. “(Y/N), I'm working on…”

“Yes, yes… your dolls, I know,” you said looking up and putting your hands on her shoulders. “It'll just be a moment, besides we already know where it is.”

“No,” she said with a cold look, turning around and picking up the brush again.

“Donna…” you sighed disappointedly, waving your hands. “Don't be boring, come on, let's go…”

“Why don't you go by yourself?” she asked, annoyed by your insistence and the distraction you caused in her greatest passion.

“I…” you stammered, embarrassed.

No, you weren't a coward but… well, walking through that sinister forest, through that place in ruins… yes, it made you feel like a coward, but you weren't, really, you weren't…

“It's just that…” you whispered, dragging out your words. “I don't like walking alone through the forest. I'd rather you came with me, just in case.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, dropping the brush again and crossing her arms. “I repeat the question, tesoro: why do you want me to go with you? I'm weak, remember?” she said, spitting out her words, telling you she hadn't forgotten the conversation from the day before.

“Oh, come on, I didn't mean it,” you said with a growl. “I'd feel safer if you were with me, because you could protect me, right?” you said, changing your tone from pleading to a slightly defiant one.

The lady in black abruptly stood up from her chair, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“Do you doubt that I can protect you?” she hissed with a dark look, one that betrayed that you had made an annoying insinuation.

“Mm, no,” you said, looking at your nails with disinterest. “But it would be a good occasion to prove it, don’t you think? Imagine if a lycan sneaks onto the grounds, or if I trip and fall and…”

“Ugh, basta. Va bene, va bene…” the doll maker growled, kicking the ground in a childish manner. “I’ll accompany you so you shut that big mouth, but not now, I’m busy. We’ll go this afternoon.”

“Mm, Donna,” you said with a triumphant smile, throwing yourself into her arms. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Lasciami, you always do whatever you want with me, tesoro,” she said with an amused smile, fighting against your tireless kisses.

“You're the best,” you whispered, giving her one last kiss on the cheek. “I'll leave you alone,” you said with a sweet voice walking out of the workshop.

“Finally!” the doll squealed.

“Angie…”

The adventure would have to wait, but only for a few hours. Donna kept her promise, walking with you through the forest again. The lady was right, the impending storm could even be smelled, but that didn't matter to you.

You dug in the indicated place, finally finding your prize, a ball decorated with the crest of the Beneviento family, the key that opened that mysterious labyrinth.

“I found it, look, it's cool,” you said, walking towards the lady, who was waiting impatiently, with her arms crossed.

“Mm, it's beautiful,” she said, studying the ball curiously, running her fingers over the engraving.

“Yeah, and now... let's play labyrinths and...” you said, approaching the shed triumphantly.

“Watch out for the ghost!” Angie shouted, which, along with a terrifying thunder that shook your insides, caused you to lose your balance with a cowardly scream.

“Shit!” you yelled, causing the ball to fall to the ground.

You bent down to pick it up, but at that moment a drop of ice-cold water fell on the tip of your nose, forcing you to look up.

“Does it have to be now?” you protested angrily, looking at the model out of the corner of your eye as Donna ran beside you. “Come on.”

“Let’s go home, tesoro, before we end up soaked,” she said, dragging you back to the mansion. “(Y/N)…”

“Jeez…” you sighed in disappointment, but at that moment, another thunderclap made you jump on the ground. “Uh… okay, good idea.”

Luckily the storm didn't reach you.

“Almost,” you sighed, closing the door of the mansion, holding the ball tightly. “Don't think you've beaten me, stupid ball… wait until tomorrow,” you hissed, putting it in your pocket.

“I better get dinner ready,” Donna murmured, watching the rain that was beginning to fall without remedy, making the sunset even darker.

“Wait, wait,” you said hurriedly, running next to her. “I'll go with you, so I can keep you company.”

“Do you want to see me cook?” she asked, letting your hands hug her waist.

You blushed and nodded effusively, kissing her slowly.

“Yes, I want to compensate you for having accompanied me,” you whispered, getting closer.

“I can think of better ways to do it. But it's fine for now,” Donna purred, tugging erotically at your lower lip and pulling away in an almost painful way.

After all, it was a fun afternoon. The two of you cooked together, laughed, kissed, almost let yourself be carried away by passion... Nothing could go wrong that night, nothing.

“I'll set the table,” you said, exiting the elevator with the lady.

She smiled in response, walking beside you towards the living room.

You hummed as you placed the cutlery in its place, glancing sideways at the open door to the hall. You turned your head without noticing a detail, and did so again abruptly when you noticed something was wrong. The entrance door was banging due to the wind, it was open.

“Um, Donna, did you open the door?” you asked with a frown, getting closer to the entrance.

“No, didn't you close it?” the lady asked, carefully correcting the places of the cutlery so everything looked perfect.

“Y-Yes,” you said nervous, confused, remembering that, indeed, you closed it. “I'm completely sure that I closed it.”

“Mm, it must have been the wind,” Donna commented.

“Anyway, I'm going to close it,” you finally sighed, approaching the entrance.

Just as you crossed the door to the hall, you felt a strong grip on your body, hands that grabbed you tightly and an arm around your neck. In front of you was what looked like a dagger, a knife, shining in the light of the mansion.

“Ah!” you screamed, struggling with that strength, with that arm that surrounded you.

“Shh, quiet,” a male voice threatened in your ear. “Walk.”

He looked like a man from the village because of his clothes, but his furious breathing told you that he was dangerous. Slowly, trapped like a hostage, you returned to the living room, trying to scream, with your mouth covered by the hand with the knife.

With a strong movement of your body, you managed to free yourself from his hand, and finally, scream.

“Donna!” you screamed, drawing the attention of the lady in black, who immediately turned around, opening her eye wide when she saw the scene. “Donn…” you couldn't scream again, as the edge of the knife dug into your throat.

“Silence,” that man said, wet from the rain, roaring like a beast eager for blood. “Don't move, you weirdo,” he said to Donna, you suspected with a sinister smile.

The lady didn't move an inch. She just stared at the aggressor, without saying a single word, coldly.

“That's it, very good,” he hissed satisfied, pulling you to expose your throat even more. “Good girl.”

“Donna, please…” you whispered pleadingly when you saw your girlfriend's calm, a calm that began to make you nervous. “Donna…”

“Shh, shut up,” the man demanded, pressing the knife harder into your skin. “Cooperate and I won't do anything to you, little bird… I haven't come for you, but for her.”

“Dare to do something to my Donna's girlfriend, you bastard!” Angie threatened, immediately reassured by a fleeting glance from the lady.

“Oh, is she your girlfriend?” the attacker sang. “You have good taste, I admit it, a shame it's your last day with her.”

“Let me go!” you shrieked, trying to free yourself from the grip.

“You think you're very important, don't you? You and that gang of monsters,” the man said, ignoring your protests.

Donna raised her chin, but once again, she remained motionless.

“You've been desecrating this village with your lies and demonic blasphemies, but it's over. I won't allow it, I'll finish you off. I advise you to behave yourself, Beneviento, or else I'll hurt this beauty, what do you say? Will you let me finish you off?”

“Donna, for the Gods' sake, help me,” you said angrily, frustrated.

“You're not going to do anything to the girl,” the brunette finally said, walking a step closer to you.

“How bold for a nutcase like you,” he mocked, making you feel a stab of pain in your throat as you felt the knife graze your skin. “Don't take another step, monster, or the girl dies.”

“The girl won't die,” Donna said, getting a little closer, darkening her gaze and raising a hand towards you. “You will.”

“You wanted it…” the man hissed, suddenly loosening his grip. “What? What?!” he shrieked as he looked at his own hand.

Taking advantage of that moment, you broke free with a push, running into the arms of your beloved.

“Tutto bene, (Y/N)?” Donna asked in a whisper, holding you against her chest.

You nodded on the verge of panic, not letting the lady's body go.

“No, no…” the man murmured, scratching his skin with the knife, trying to get rid of something. “Take it off!”

“Don't look,” Donna told you, turning your head towards her clothes, holding you tightly against her as she raised her hand again.

“You can't!” he shrieked, desperate, along with a horrible sound of something breaking, it sounded like bones.

You heard something fall to the wooden floor, the knife. Curious and nervous, you shifted to observe, though you wished you hadn't.

The attacker's arm was twisted, completely out of place, surely broken.

“No, no! Don't make me do this!” he pleaded, falling to the floor on his knees, while his good hand hit it, twisting until that horrible crunch attacked your ears again. “Ah, Gods, no! Forgive me, my lady! No, please!”

“You threatened (Y/N), my family,” the lady whispered, with a tone that gave chills. “You have to pay for it.”

“No, no!” he screamed, desperate, involuntarily hitting his head against the wood. “No, take it away from me! They're going to eat my brain! No, out, out!”

“Do you want me to stop?” the lady asked, while hugging you with a sinister smile.

The man, terribly wounded, stood up fighting against invisible enemies, barely able to move, throwing a chair in front of him.

“Leave me alone, damn it! You won't take me alive!” he screamed for the last time, letting himself fall backwards, hitting his neck on the chair with a last terrible crunch, ceasing to scream, to exist.

“It's over, (Y/N),” the lady said, hugging your face while you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. “That's it, tesoro... shh...”

“D-Donna, he was going to kill me, he was going to...” you said sobbing in fear, with the lady in black controlling your tremors as best she could.

You turned your head to look at your attacker, with his neck dislocated in the chair, with a look of terror that you would dream about for several nights.

“H-He's… dead,” you murmured scared. “He's dead,” you repeated nervously, shaking your head.

“No, tesoro, don't look, look at me, come on,” Donna said, guiding your gaze away from the corpse. “(Y/N)…”

“D-Donna…” you sobbed again, breathing heavily, in shock and disobeying the lady's orders, turning your head again and growling in rage. “You son of a bitch!” you screamed, breaking free from your girlfriend's grip and walking towards the body, kicking it in a crazy way. “Bastard!”

“Hey, hey, tesoro, stop, please,” the lady said, grabbing you to get you away from the attacker, having to fight with your kicks. “Enough, it's over, he won't hurt you anymore.”

“Donna, he was going to kill me,” you cried, in a terrible panic attack, clinging to the Lord’s clothes while soaking them with your tears. “He was going to kill me…”

She sighed and kissed your head while still hugging you, rocking your body in a comforting way.

“Don't cry,” Donna whispered. “Don't cry, please…”

“He was going to kill me,” you repeated, unable to say anything else until you regained some consciousness, enough to realize what had happened. “He was going to kill me and now… now he's dead,” you gasped, opening your eyes wide and moving away from her embrace. “He's dead… You, you killed him, you killed that man,” you stammered pointing at the lady, who shook her head.

“Tesoro, I had to do it, he was going to hurt you,” she excused herself, trying to get you closer to her again, something that, due to shock and nerves, you rejected with a step back.

“Donna, you killed a person,” you repeated passing a hand over your forehead.

“I was protecting you, don't you understand? I… Oh, cazzo… Listen to me, amore mio… I didn't want to…”

“You tortured him and then you killed him, Donna,” you said nervously, shaking your head. “Gods…”

“What did you want me to do? He had a knife at your damn throat!” she shrieked, with a crazy look. “I… I-I'm, sorry, I… per favore, tesoro, don't be afraid of me. I promise I'm not a monster, please…”

“No, Donna,” you said in a calmer tone, with the panic fading from your mind and body. “I'm not afraid of you, I… Donna, my love, you saved me. Oh, Donna,” you sighed, running back to her side, hugging her tightly.

“(Y/N)…”

“Donna, my love, thank you so much, thank you for saving me,” you sobbed, burying your face in her dress. “You saved me…”

“Calm down, stop crying, (Y/N),” the lady said, putting a hand on your shoulder and looking at you closely. “Oh, you have a wound on your neck…” she sighed, staining her finger with your blood. “Come, sit down, I… will make some calls to clean this up and then I will heal you, okay? Just, just relax.”

You let yourself be guided by her and obeyed, giving one last look to the lifeless attacker, a look devoid of fear, full of hate. He got what he deserved, you were convinced.

Soon after, Heisenberg appeared to clean up the mess, and finally, with your nerves completely calm, you could breathe and think coldly about everything that had happened. You were completely wrong about Donna. She seemed the weakest of the four, but she wasn't, now you knew.

Mind control, tormenting someone to the point of forcing them to end their life, was perhaps not the physical strength and power you admired, but it was, without a doubt, the most dangerous skill. Isolated from the world around you, you fantasized about what had happened, imagining Donna as one of those knights who rescued damsels in distress, as your savior, the woman who would always protect you, always.

That childish thought at first turned into something more due to euphoria, something you weren't sure you could control.

“It's nothing serious, just a scratch,” the lady murmured as she passed a cotton ball over your wound, in a silent moment, warm in a certain way. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” you said, taking a breath as you endured that sting. “Better than ever.”

“Mm, you must be in shock,” she commented, caressing your cheek. “Ascoltami, (Y/N), you have to understand that I did it for you, to save you. If I lost you… I don’t know what would become of me, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” you said with a smile that made the brunette frown and held your face a tighter.

“You understand… fine,” Donna sighed, letting your face go and finishing healing your wound. “I would understand that you were afraid of me, maybe I would prefer that you continue thinking that I am weak,” she whispered amused, kissing your forehead affectionately.

“I have never really thought that way,” you said due to the sudden heat of your body. “Besides, I don’t need a huge monster to protect me, with you it is more than enough. I’m safe with you, right?”

“Yes, of course you are. I will always protect you, no matter what,” she whispered, getting dangerously close to your lips, leaving them at the mercy of yours, which were quick to take advantage of the situation and kiss them deeply.

“Mm,” you murmured at the lady's confused attitude towards your kisses, but without giving her much time to react. “So... are you like my savior knight?”

“Do I look like a knight to you?” she joked, playing along, returning those increasingly wet kisses.

“Mm, no, I would never do this to a knight,” you purred, leaving her lips aside, kissing her neck as you pushed her against the couch, climbing up her hips.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” she asked at your sudden attack of lust, but not resisting at all. “I think you should rest.”

“No, no, Donna... a damsel in distress should be grateful, don't you think?” you whispered in her ear, biting her lobe, tearing a gasp from her lips as your hand ran over her chest, passively playing with the buttons of her dress.

“No, I… I'm altruistic, I just do it for love,” she said, her words clumsy, with a nervous smile at your touch, your wet kisses on her skin, the subtle sway of your hips.

“Then you will receive love,” you hissed, capturing her lips to silence her reluctance, leaving her completely still, leaving your savior without any chance of saving herself.

The kisses echoed off the walls, the euphoria drove you crazy, making you much more mischievous, fighting against her tongue in a fair battle while her hands delighted in your skin, slipping through the slits of your dress, squeezing, scratching, possessing…

“Mm, Donna,” you said, looking at the confused but visibly nervous lady, with her skin burning under the subtle touch of your lips, under the soft caresses of your fingertips on her neck. “My lady, allow me to kneel…”

You whispered in her ear, getting up to carry out your threat, letting your knees rest on the wooden floor as your hands became vines on her legs, under her dress, making her tremble.

“(Y/N), it's not the time, I…” she said, without moving away from the poison ivy that spread across her skin, those stinging leaves that dug into her flesh as they climbed helplessly, as they pulled up the black fabric to keep it out of your sight.

Ignoring those weak complaints, you reached her thighs, locking your eyes on hers, looking for a cowardly and silent approval, the trembling of her body, a subtle moan when your hand ran over her telltale wetness through the underwear.

“Cazzo…” she cursed, looking away, embarrassed, shy as always, but excited as never.

A sinister, menacing smile spread across your face as your lips distracted the doll maker, running over the places marked by your nails, kissing, tasting her warm skin.

Your hands, knowing that Donna was too busy with the pleasure your kisses gave her, the tickling your lips did to her skin, took advantage of that confusion, those pleasurable moans that came out of her mouth, to pull at the edges of the garment that covered her shame, sliding it elegantly down her legs, which didn’t resist.

“(Y/N)…” the lady moaned when she noticed you were getting closer, that your kisses and your body were moving towards her. “Gods…”

Your hands played their role well, slightly separating the brunette's legs while grabbing her flesh, while your mouth salivated at the sight of her shiny wetness in front of you, with her arousal clouding all your senses.

You didn't want to waste time, and you immersed yourself in her, kissing and savoring her essence in a delicate way, adoring her flavor, her skin, the moisture that permeated your impatient lips.

“Mm, delicious, Donna,” you moaned sensually, running your tongue through her folds, making her shudder, her hands going wild, tangling in your hair, holding you on her body. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she said with a voice broken by pleasure, closing her eye from the embarrassment of the situation, from the carefully studied movements of your lips on hers.

Donna moaned, writhing when the kisses attacked her clit, her most sensitive area, licking, sucking, moving in circles like a slow and wet dance, a delicate and cautious dance that drew from her lips the most beautiful melodies you had ever heard.

Her moans stopped being harmonious, becoming a kind of claim, a demand for you to increase your speed, to be constant and never abandon her. That was always Donna's greatest fear, that you would abandon her, no matter in what sense.

She was your savior, your protector, your refuge, your inspiration, she was everything to you and you to her.

How could she not protect her most precious possession? She would do it fiercely, she would always do it, because she loved you. Thinking about that protection only gave you more pleasure. It tempted you to stimulate yourself, to be selfish, but you were always strong against impulses.

Your kisses, the caresses of your tongue, the union of your fingers to that wet gratitude were too much for you, but they were also a reward, an act of love, of promises that would always be fulfilled, of passion, of lust, of madness, of moans and supplications… Donna and you, you and Donna, Lord and villager, knight and damsel, love and lust.

“Per, per favore… don’t stop now,” the lady said, panting nervously when you dared to enter, when your fingers slid along her walls while your tongue was unable to speak, being too busy with her taste, with her movements, with the beauty of her trembling body. “Sto per venire…”

“Oh, my love…” you sighed, laughing tenderly, granting your savior the gift of release, curling inside her, feeling her body demand your presence, squeezing you without wanting to let you go.

Donna screamed and you did too against her skin. Her body moved uncomfortably from the waves of pleasure and the moisture was already part of your mouth. Her arousal slipped from your lips, her movements stimulated your own lust, making you moan in unison.

“Donna…” you said with a kind look, leaning on her knees as she recovered from her well-deserved orgasm. “You will always protect me, right?”

“Always…”

[clowndensation]

there’s a question to be asked i think about to what extent “getting out” can be conflated with “being saved” in this show, and what freedom actually means to any of these characters.

like you can argue that shiv saved ken by voting against him on gojo, but what if your intent behind saving someone is to inflict a worse punishment than if you’d just left them trapped? can a child weaned on poison survive on milk, or are you just sentencing them to a death by inches, starved of the only thing they know? and if you save someone specifically because you know that being saved is the worst thing that can happen to them, is that kindness or cruelty? at what point does a good thing become a malicious act?

and you can say that roman is finally free, but what exactly is he free from? the company? his father? does unlocking a cage mean saving a dog, or are you allowing him out on the street knowing there’s a kill shelter nearby? if the driving anxiety behind roman is that he’s an idiot and a failure—that he’ll never amount to anything, and trying will only lead to pain—and he’s finally cut loose once all of those anxieties have crystallized into cold hard fact in his mind, what has he actually escaped from? if the cage is in your mind, is it even possible for somebody else to unlock it?

the fundamental truth of a tragedy is that even being saved can be a death sentence, if the characters are incapable of escaping the thing doing them the most harm (themselves and their childhoods)

[bunnihearted]

.

[isthehorsevideocute]

If I see one more walk/trot adult ammy fly around the country/go overseas to go horse shopping I'm going to have a fucking aneurysm.....

[unproduciblesmackdown]

bonus thing i cherish in this shot is that it's the one time it's immediately noticeable that her hair length is uneven....let's go Cutting One's Own Hair (With Or Without A Mirror) look havers irl (b/c of cutting one's own hair with or without a mirror, maybe) & even when it's recreated on purpose like so

[shinobicyrus]

I've seen a lot of posts about Batman using his Bruce Wayne alter ego for the good of Gotham: job programs for felons released from prison, orphanages, charities, high wages for his employees, ethical business practices...the legendary post where Bruce Wayne goes to Wal-Mart.

Thus far I've never personally seen anybody really dig into the persona of Bruce Wayne the Billionaire Playboy. A handsome, rich, powerful man who always is seen at fancy galas, art openings, charity dinners, and wild parties with at least one beautiful woman on his arm.

We know Bruce Wayne is the mask, and its Batman who has a...complex love life, depending on the iteration we're talking about. Talia, Catwoman, sometimes Wonder Woman.

Bruce Wayne's dates, on the other hand, are all "normal" people. Maybe they're an aspiring actress, a supermodel, a prima ballerina, the occasional reporter...and every time there's that bit of nervousness at the start.

Sure everyone knows Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows the story with him. Sometimes his wilder parties make the news, but there's never really been anything nasty reported about him. Never...allegations. But he's a billionaire. He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city, nevermind the country. If he did have some skeletons in his closet. Well. Men with power have a way of making those kinds of stories go away, don't they?

As time goes on the Date's fears dissipate pretty quickly. Bruce Wayne is nothing but polite, kind, and at times charmingly awkward in an 'raised by his butler in a mansion' kind of way with his dates. Some of them can tell he's holding back, of course. Maybe the more perceptive Dates notice he's smarter than he lets on - playing the himbo or hamming up the "know-nothing rich boy" act to the cameras or some of his wealthy peers.

He also listens, is the thing. He's always listening to what they're saying, is interested in hearing about their careers, their hobbies, their lives. Really listens, too. Might refer to something a Date said weeks later off-hand. Buy out the whole museum for a private dinner date with a famous painting from an obscure artist they like, or a private performance with another's favorite band.

He has anecdotes and funny stories for days that somehow says very little about his personal life. The Dates know he has kids (it's practically a running gag in the news that Bruce Wayne has adopted yet another orphan) and maybe she might spot one of them at the mansion, but Bruce seems very keen to shelter them from any intense spotlight and scrutiny, and they all seem happy if a bit weird like him.

Eventually, there's drifting. He's a very busy man, with a very busy schedule. On more than on occasion his nice old butler will call and extend apologies that Mr. Wayne will not be able to make it this evening. Sometimes it's virtually impossible to get a hold of him over the phone. After a while they stop trying. None of them feel quite surprised by that. In the end, it just doesn't work. Sure, he's a little distant and doesn't make himself emotionally available...but he's not a bad person.

Especially when the so-called "exes" of Bruce Wayne start networking. Gotham isn't a small city, but the social circles Bruce Wayne travels in aren't as big. They don't quite gossip or complain about him. More like...who else would get it?

(I touched his side once and he winced...like he'd been hurt real bad there. He laughed and said it was tackle polo. How does that even-?)

(Somehow, after two dates, he saw right through me and listened while I told him what that casting director tried to do. He nodded, gave me the contact details of a law firm, and said not to worry about the legal fees.)

(I don't know for sure it was him, but it can't be a coincidence that my building got bought out from under my shitty landlord and we were all able to buy our apartments under market value.)

(He got my brother in the best rehab program in the city after his relapse. It probably saved his life. We'd stopped dating months ago, I still don't know how he found out.)

(He gave me a card with a phone number and told me that if I was ever in trouble to call it. Said one of his cars would come to pick me up, any time, any place, no questions asked. The one time I did have to use it after a bad party, it was Alfred.)

I think any tabloid reporter digging around for salacious stories or dirt about Bruce Wayne's love life would be completely and politely stonewalled when they try asking his former Dates. Even when money is offered. Every single one of them.

[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or are there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[syluslnd]

Hello, I love your headcanons! May I ask for a S/O who secretly doesn't feel attractive??. Until one day they say "I'm so lucky to have you, even tho I'm not pretty" as if they are used to it. Thanks!

Sylus reaction to his S/O who is insecure

You're sitting across from Sylus, having a casual conversation, sipping on tea while he casually scrolls through something on his tablet. It's a peaceful moment, his presence grounding as always but your mind drifts for a second. Absentmindedly, you say “I'm so lucky to have you... even though I'm not pretty."

The words slip out so casually but they hit Sylus like a ton of bricks. His head snaps up and for a moment, there's disbelief in his dark eyes, as though he can't believe what he just heard. His gaze sharpens and without saying a word, he sets his tablet aside.

"Kitten" he says, his voice low and commanding “what did you just say?"

You blink, a little startled by the intensity in his tone. "What? I'm just saying... I'm lucky, you could have someone way more beautiful!"

Before you can react, Sylus stands and pulls you onto him with a firm but gentle grip.You're pressed against his chest and his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.

"Sweetie, I don't ever want to hear you say that again”he says, his voice a mix of frustration and something softer, more protective. His hands cup your face, tilting it toward his and he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips. "You have the prettiest face" he murmurs between kisses, his voice dropping to a husky whisper "and it's all mine."

You can't help but flush under his attention but before you can protest, Sylus grabs your wrist gently, lifting your hand to his lips.

"These hands" he says, kissing your palm "are the prettiest l've ever seen. I love every little part of them." His lips travel down to each finger, teasingly slow, making sure you feel every kiss.

"Sylus, I-" you start to protest, but he silences you with a mischievous grin, his teasing only intensifying.

"Oh, l'm not done" he says, his voice playful yet firm. He runs his hands along your sides, letting them rest on your waist for a moment before pulling you closer. "This waist?Prettiest waist l've ever touched” he purrs, his hands traveling lower until they settle on your hips.

He grips you firmly, not letting you squirm away as his lips press against the curve of your stomach. "And don't even get me started on this tummy, kitten. Prettiest thing I've ever laid my hands on."

You're starting to blush harder now, squirming under his relentless teasing but Sylus's hands slip down to your thighs, his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

"And these thighs?" he says, his voice dipping lower, full of amusement and affection. "Sweetie, I could write poetry about how pretty they are."

"Sylus..." you mumble, flustered and trying to hide your face but he's not having it. He tilts your chin back up, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"Say it" he commands softly, though there's a teasing edge in his tone. "Say you're pretty."

You try to resist, biting your lip but Sylus leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I'll keep going, kitten. Every inch of you is beautiful and I'll remind you of that until you say it yourself."

Your heart races as he kisses your collarbone, his hands still tracing your body as though each part of you deserves a special touch. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, you manage to whisper,

"I'm pretty."

Sylus smirks, satisfied but not done yet.

"Louder."

You blush deeper, but the way he's looking at you-like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen-gives you courage. "I'm pretty."

He chuckles softly, his hand cupping your cheek once more. "Damn right you are and don't you ever forget it."

[pin-k-ink]

mania // hinata shoyo

tw ⇢ childhood friends to lovers, possessive!hinata, borderline obsessive behavior, teasing, squirting, cunnilingus, manhandling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, grinding, hinata takes a picture of you while you’re covered in cum

wc ⇢ 8.5k

The blaring of your alarm jolted you awake, the last wisps of a strange dream quickly dissipating. Groaning, you reached over to silence the incessant beeping. Another day, another monotonous routine to slog through.

As you raised yourself up on your elbows, you noticed a moving truck parked outside your window. Huh, someone new must be moving into the apartment next door that had been vacant for months. You supposed you should introduce yourself as the neighbor at some point.

You watched with detached interest as a figure emerged from the truck, hoisting a box into their arms with ease despite its considerable size. They wore a baseball cap pulled low, shielding most of their face from view. Suddenly, the person paused, turning to look in your direction. Even obscured by the cap's brim, you registered a pair of distinctly familiar bright eyes that sparked an old warmth within you.

Could it be...? No, it couldn't possibly...

As if hearing your internal questioning, the figure reached up with their free hand to remove the cap. Instantly, you gasped softly in recognition at the sunlight catching on his tousled orange locks and the gentle, friendly features - those of your childhood friend and neighbor Hinata Shoyo whom you hadn't seen in nearly a decade since his family moved away.

But as you drank in the rest of him, you realized this was not the Hinata you remembered. His compact frame had broadened substantially into toned, powerful muscles that rippled beneath his shirt as he moved. Faint tan lines gave a glimpse of the athlete's build lying underneath. Your gaze lingered perhaps a moment too long, feasting on the sight.

It was then that a myriad of conflicting emotions welled up - shock at his unexpected return after so many years, happiness to see your dear friend again, but also a growing flutter of something else in the pit of your stomach you couldn't quite identify. The tiny, energetic boy you fondly recalled was gone, unmistakably.

When Hinata's penetrating stare met yours once more, the intensity simmering there rattled you to your core. It was as if he were seeing straight through you, into you, assessing your reaction to his transformation in minute detail. You looked away sharply, heat creeping up your neck as your heartbeat quickened for reasons you didn't fully understand.

One thing was for certain - the reunion with your long lost friend was about to make your life anything but monotonous...

You stood there, still trying to process that the tall, chiseled man before you was actually little Hinata Shoyo, when he suddenly broke into a blinding smile and started bounding towards your door. Before you could even react, your front door burst open and powerful arms were enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.

"(Y/N)! I can't believe it's really you!" Hinata's deep voice reverberated through you.

As he squeezed you tight against his firm body, his large hands splayed across your back, one slipping perhaps a little too low without meaning to. You gasped at the unbidden thrill the innocent contact sent through you. Get a grip! This was your childhood friend, for god's sake.

Pulling back finally, you drank in Hinata's features again up close - the sharpened jawline, intense eyes that seemed to glitter with unrestrained joy and something else you couldn't quite place, kiss-swollen lips quirked into a roguish grin.

"Shoyo! I...wow, you've really..." Your voice trailed off as heat flooded your cheeks.

His grin widened mischievously, as if he knew exactly what you were flustered about. "Yeah, I've changed a bit since we were kids, huh? The big leagues will do that."

There was a self-assured cockiness there that the old Hinata definitely lacked. His hands were still planted firmly on you, his thumbs tracing maddeningly slow circles against your sides that had you struggling not to squirm.

"Hey, why don't you come over in a bit after I get settled?" he asked, that molten gaze boring into you. "We have a decade to catch up on, after all."

You couldn't be imagined the darker undercurrent, the subtle heat behind his words and body language. This reunited friend dynamic was quickly veering into dangerous territory. Still, you found yourself nodding dumbly in agreement before he released you finally.

As you watched Hinata retreat back towards the moving truck, you realized with a start that he moved with the same fiery confidence and intensity he always radiated on the court - except this time, it was directed solely at you. A shiver ran down your spine at the implications.

What had once been an innocent reunion between childhood friends was rapidly becoming anything but. You didn't have the slightest clue just how obsessively Hinata's desires had been simmering underneath the surface for you all these years.

A few hours later, you found yourself standing at Hinata's door, your nerves a bundled mess of anticipation and trepidation. You had changed outfits twice, uncertain why you felt the need to put in any extra effort for hanging out with an old friend. But the simmering tension from earlier had you feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious.

Taking a steadying breath, you rapped your knuckles against the door. It opened almost immediately, as if Hinata had been waiting right on the other side. He greeted you with that same earth-shatteringly warm smile and ushered you inside.

"Make yourself at home! I just put the kettle on for some tea if you'd like."

You nodded, drinking in the neat but still half-unpacked surroundings. Pictures were already hung up - most showcasing Hinata's impressive volleyball accolades, but a few candid shots of the two of you together as kids. A pang of nostalgia hit you seeing your grinning young selves, so blissfully ignorant of what the years would bring.

"Those were the days, huh?" Hinata's deep voice rumbled beside your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You jumped slightly, not realizing how close he had gotten without you noticing. He was radiating warmth like a furnace, his clean, crisp scent enveloping you and cranking up your pulse.

"Y-yeah, I can't believe how long it's been," you managed, hating how flustered you sounded.

Hinata held your gaze a beat too long, as if studying you, before thankfully the tea kettle's whistle pierced the tension. He flashed you another knee-weakening grin before brushing past you towards the kitchen, his arm grazing your side ever so lightly.

You sank onto the couch, trying to collect yourself as Hinata pottered about preparing the tea, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on you. This was just Hinata, your innocent best friend growing up...right? You had to be misreading the heated looks, the weighted silences, the proximity.

By the time he returned with two steaming mugs, placing one in your shaking hands, you had mostly regained your composure. Hinata took a seat beside you, his broad shoulders bumping against yours in the tight quarters. The smell of his intoxicating cologne clouded your senses again.

"So..." He took a long sip, those hauntingly amber eyes flickering over you from beneath his lashes. "What did I miss while I was gone?"

And so the two of you fell back into familiar banter and catching up, the years seeming to slip away with every laugh and anecdote shared. But you couldn't shake the feeling there was an underlying current of tension just beneath the surface - a raging storm of want and obsession Hinata could barely contain, no matter how friendly his words.

He hung on your every word, body angled towards you eagerly as you recounted pieces of your life since he'd been gone. You tried not to stare too openly at the way his toned forearms flexed as he gesticulated or how his shirt stretched deliciously across his muscular chest with each breath. This was torture in the sweetest way.

At one point, Hinata reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a beat too long and sending sparks ricocheting through you. His gaze had darkened an unmistakable few shades, pupils blown wide. You realized with a start your faces were mere inches apart, close enough for you to taste the lingering tea on his lips if you just...

The afternoon drifted by in a warm haze as you and Hinata continued catching up, swapping stories and reminiscing about old times. With each anecdote and laugh shared, you felt the lingering awkwardness dissipate as the familiar comfort and ease of your childhood friendship reasserted itself.

"Oh my god, do you remember the time we tried to camp out in your backyard?" Hinata chuckled, his eyes crinkling in that achingly nostalgic way. "We didn't even make it past 10 pm before you were crying because you thought you heard a bear!"

You gasped in mock indignation, swatting his arm. "I was 8 years old! Of course I was terrified! You're the one who insisted we could survive in the wilderness by ourselves."

"Hey, I still maintain we were doing pretty well until your dad came out and dragged us inside," he countered with a smirk.

Shaking your head at the memory, you couldn't stop the fond smile from stretching across your face. Those careless days of wandering the neighborhood and dreaming up adventures seemed like an entire lifetime ago now. An unexpected pang of wistfulness tugged at your heart seeing how much had changed - how much Hinata himself had changed into this ruggedly handsome man oozing quiet confidence.

As if reading your melancholic turn of thought, Hinata's expression softened almost imperceptibly. Reaching out, his thumb gently grazed your cheek, lingering on the cusp of something more intimate. You fought the urge to turn into his touch, to chase that fleeting connection.

"I missed you, you know," he murmured, molten eyes roving your features as if mapping every curve, every laugh line. "After we moved away, not a day went by I didn't think about you."

The raw honesty, the undisguised yearning in his voice made your breath hitch in your throat. What did he mean by that? You wanted to ask, suddenly hyperaware of the searing heat building between your bodies where your legs were pressed together on the couch.

Before you could find your words, Hinata dropped his hand, the moment breaking. He flashed you a brilliant smile, but you could have sworn you detected a fleeting look of frustration, of wanting more. But the instant was gone in a blink.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "Tell me more about what you've been up to recently! Any relationships I need to intimidate the guy over?"

And just like that, you found yourself diverted onto a new conversational path, the flirtatious tension fizzling out into easy banter once more. But you couldn't quite shake the feeling that something deeper, something hungrier lurked behind Hinata's every glance, every casual brush of contact between you two.

Part of you was afraid to give in and explore where this was leading, this dizzying chemical pull between you and your newly reformed friend. Another part wondered if you were imagining things, projecting some deeper meaning onto innocent friendliness.

But the largest part of you, the part that recognized the same blazing intensity from Hinata that used to set gymnasiums alight when he took the court...that part was purely intrigued to see just how far this obsession could go if you fanned the flames rather than backing away.

As the conversation continued to flow naturally between you two, you started to relax more into the familiar camaraderie. Hinata's boisterous energy and lack of filter were still very much intact, to your amusement.

"So then this rookie on the team tries to mess with me during practice," Hinata was saying animatedly, "Acting all cocky because he's some hotshot striker right out of university. But he doesn't realize who he's messing with!"

His eyes flashed with a competitive fire that made something stir low in your belly. You could easily envision the intimidating aura he must command on the court these days.

"Well, what happened next?" you prompted, leaning forward with rapt attention.

Hinata flashed you a wicked grin. "Let's just say he learned very quickly not to underestimate the flight patterns of my freak quick strikes."

There was an edge of cockiness, of arrogance coloring his deep voice that you had definitely never heard from him before. This supreme self-assuredness, this awareness of his own prowess was utterly intoxicating coming from the usually humble, sometimes bumbling boy you remembered.

"You should have seen the way he was gaping at me after I spiked that ball right past his face," Hinata continued, leaning back to throw an arm over the back of the couch behind you. "The look on his face was priceless."

His movement brought you two even closer together, close enough for the heady scent of his aftershave to cloud your senses. You tried not to visibly react as the back of his hand came to rest against the nape of your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I'll have to take you to one of my games sometime," he murmured, eyes darkening in a way that had nothing to do with the story he'd been telling. "I think you'd enjoy watching me hit the court...get a taste for my stamina and power up close."

The words seemed loaded with innuendo, dropping into the silence like lead weights strangling the air from the room. You swallowed thickly, frozen under the banked intensity of his stare. Was this really still just playful banter to him or was there an undeniable heat simmering behind those amber eyes?

Hinata leaned in a few hateful inches closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke in a low rumble. "I have a feeling you'd appreciate the view, among other things."

The implication in his tone was clear, setting your already heated skin aflame. This was not the innocent boy you had once played pretend with in your backyard. The man sitting before you now was all bravado and unrestrained desire barely contained beneath the surface.

Just as your mind began to reel, Hinata pulled back abruptly with a laugh, the spellbinding tension shattering. "But enough about me, what about you? Any hot dates or romantic prospects I should know about as your best friend?"

You could only gape at him, utterly thrown by theiplodic shift as he regarded you expectantly. Clearly this new Hinata was a master at skirting the line between propriety and inappropriate suggestion, holding you in a constant state of off-kilter want.

Part of you was uncomfortable with wherever this was leading, fearful of crossing boundaries you could never uncross with your childhood friend. But the other part, the growing part, was undeniably intrigued to call his bluff and finally unravel the obsessive beast you saw lurking beneath his careful words and heated stares.

Licking your lips, you managed to find your voice at last. "No, no one serious at the moment. But I'll be sure to let you know if that changes."

The blatant challenge glittered in your eyes, tossing the ball back into Hinata's court now. His pupils flared, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he studied you. It was clear the gauntlet had been thrown between you two - the only question was which of you would be the first to stop playing games and give in.

The charged tension continued to build between you and Hinata over the next few hours, every casual touch and weighted look laden with the promise of something more simmering just beneath.

His words became more boldly suggestive, clearly testing the boundaries to see how you would react. "You know, sometimes at night I still get flashes of the games we used to play as kids in your backyard," he mused at one point, amber eyes burning into you. "Except in my dreams, we were a little...older and the games became much more physical in nature."

You nearly choked on your drink, warmth flooding your cheeks. The blatant innuendo hung heavy in the air, daring you to either deflect or match his energy. Holding his heated stare, you replied evenly, "Is that so? I don't recall those kinds of games, but I'm certainly intrigued to learn the rules now."

A muscle flexed in Hinata's toned forearm where it rested on the back of the couch, the only visible sign of your words affecting him. His gaze darkened further, a low growl sounding in his throat that had your heartbeat thundering. For a moment, it seemed like the dam of restraint was about to break and he would finally act on the smoldering obsession written across every part of him.

But then the moment passed, that infuriatingly placid mask of friendly interest slipping back into place as if nothing had happened. "Well, maybe I'll have to show you sometime and refresh your memory," he said with a wink, so achingly casual.

The back and forth continued like this, each salacious comment and heated look slowly unraveling your nerves until finally you realized with a start that evening had begun creeping in through the windows.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize how late it had gotten," you murmured, disappointment and relief pooling in your chest. Part of you was grateful for the reprieve from the exquisite torture, while the other part ached to keep pushing to see how far Hinata would eventually take this.

"I should probably get going," you continued, standing up from the couch and trying not to look too affected. "But we'll have to do this again really soon, Shoyo. I've missed you."

You realized the truth in your own words as you said them. Despite the simmering tension and undercurrent of something darker lurking within Hinata, it felt so refreshingly wonderful to have your oldest friend back in your life again after all this time.

Hinata's expression softened at your parting words, something painfully tender flickering across his features before the hungry gaze returned. "Count on it. In fact..."

He rose as well, following you towards the door with those powerful, assured strides. You felt dwarfed beneath his towering height, pinned by the smoldering look he swept over your body. Reaching out, his calloused fingers grazed your arm, tracing upwards to curl around the back of your neck with unrestrained possessiveness.

Your breath hitched in your throat, trapped by the unyielding heat in his stare. He pulled you flush against the solid wall of his chest with a gentleness that somehow felt more frightening than outright aggression. You could feel every shuddering inhale, every thump of his hammering heart against your own ribcage.

"How about I walk you home?" Hinata husked, his lips a hair's breadth from yours now. "Make sure you get there safe?"

You could only mutely nod in acquiescence, all power of speech robbed by the delirious tension rapidly crescendoing around you both. His grip tightened ever so slightly against your nape, a clear undercurrent of possession in the deceptively simple request.

The walk back to your apartment building passed in a heated daze, the only sound your shaky breaths and the white noise roaring in your ears. Every nerve ending felt electrified under the weight of Hinata's domineering presence beside you. He was so close, the scent of his cologne and body heat making your head swim with visceral awareness of him.

When at last you reached your doorstep, you started to turn and bid him goodnight, but your words died on your lips as Hinata suddenly crowded you back against the door. His large palm slammed against the wood by your head with a bang, face ducking down to crash his lips against yours in a heated, untamed kiss.

A shocked gasp parted your lips, allowing his insistent tongue to delve deeper, staking its claim as he devoured you. You clutched the hard planes of his chest, knees turning to liquid at the unbridled desire, the feral obsession driving his fevered movements. This was not the chaste affection of childhood friends - this was a man's unyielding passion finding its voice at last.

Then, as abruptly as the searing kiss began, Hinata tore himself away. You slumped back against the door, chest heaving as if you'd just run a marathon, lips still tingling from the lingering heat of him. When you finally managed to pry your eyes open, Hinata was watching you with hooded eyes, body tense like a lion poised to pounce again.

But instead, he simply retreated a step backwards, the briefest flicker of a satisfied smirk playing across his swollen lips. "Goodnight, (Y/N)," he murmured in that deep, rasping timbre that had become your undoing. "Sleep well."

And with that, he turned and started back towards his apartment, leaving you a gasping, disheveled mess still slumped against your door in disbelief.

The next morning, you awoke feeling groggy and disoriented, as if emerging from some fevered dream. Fleeting fragments of memory ricocheted through your mind - the blazing heat of Hinata's kiss, the undeniable hunger in his touch, the gravelly timbre of his parting words that had you squirming restlessly through the night.

Surely that couldn't have been real...could it? Your fingers drifted up to ghost across your still-tingling lips, the phantom taste of him making a shiver chase down your spine. No, it was too visceral, too branded into your very bones to be anything but reality.

Which made Hinata's complete nonchalance when you finally ventured next door all the more confounding.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted you cheerfully after pulling open the door, seemingly oblivious to your rattled state. Not a single hair was out of place, every inch of him the picture of friendly affability, as if he hadn't ravaged you against that same door just hours before.

"I, uh, made some coffee if you want a cup?" he continued when you failed to respond, holding up the steaming mug in front of you. "Cream and sugar's on the counter."

You blinked dumbly, struggling to find your footing as Hinata brushed past you towards the kitchen, jostling your shoulder with his warmth. The familiar citrus notes of his body wash and subtle musk wafted over you, conspiring to make your head spin anew with half-remembered sensations.

Clearly seeing your frozen, flustered state, Hinata's brow furrowed slightly in concern as he regarded you. "You okay? You're looking a little...flushed."

His eyes slowly trailed down your body in an unhurried once-over, like a physical caress raising goosebumps across your heated skin. You fought not to squirm beneath that smoldering amber gaze, dark memories of its intensity looming over you threatening to unravel you completely.

Somewhere beneath the indifferent veil, you caught the brief flash of a knowing smirk playing across Hinata's full lips before it disappeared just as quickly.

"Sorry, I'm just...still waking up I guess," you managed to stammer out at last, averting your eyes.

"Well, wake up quickly then!" Hinata clapped you lightly on the shoulder, the innocent touch somehow loaded with suggestion. "I was thinking we could go on a hike together later and explore some of the old trails? For old time's sake."

His brilliant, sly grin was daring you to read between the lines. What fresh depravities might await you two alone on those "old trails"? The question hung unspoken but heavy between you as your tongue slicked unconsciously across your lower lip.

Hinata's eyes followed the movement hungrily, pupils flaring for the barest hint of a moment before regaining their innocuous sheen. Every part of him screamed he was a master at this game of plausible deniability.

"Only if you're feeling up for it, that is," he added smoothly, stepping close enough for his clean, heady scent to cloud your senses anew. A heavy-lidded look was cast your way, not quite a challenge but definitely dangling an unspoken promise of something more if you were brave enough to agree.

Your throat clicked in a dry swallow as you held his piercing gaze, vividly recalling the taste of his tongue in your mouth, the scorching brand of his hands on your body. There would be no going back once you stepped over this line with him, of that you were certain.

"You know what?" you murmured, leaning in until your lips were a hairsbreadth from brushing against the heated skin of his neck. You felt Hinata's pulse kick up in response, a low rumble vibrating from deep in his chest. "I think a nice long hike is exactly what I need to...clear my head."

As you pulled back, you allowed your eyes to trail brazenly down the corded lines of his throat, across the broad expanse of his chest, daring him to stop playing coy and claim what was rightfully his.

Hinata's eyes were molten fire, burning straight through what little restraint still remained between you two. There would be no more childish pining from afar or hollow games of making you wonder - this day in the wilderness would be about finally indulging the ravenous obsession that had simmered too long unchecked.

This time, there would be no going back to how things used to be. One way or another, you were about to get a firsthand taste of just how far Hinata's hunger for you could go when given the chance.

The hike started out innocuously enough, just two old friends exploring familiar trails and reminiscing about days gone by. The warm spring air and lush greenery surrounding you was almost enough to make you forget the raging wildfire of tension simmering between you and Hinata.

Almost, but not quite.

No matter how casual and lighthearted the conversation flowed, you were hyper-aware of every loaded glance, every "accidental" brush of contact searing straight through you. The memory of Hinata's searing kiss was branded into your very cells, stoking an insatiable yearning you hadn't felt in years.

You found yourself unable to meet his eyes for too long without getting lost in their molten depths, breath hitching at the banked intensity that promised so much more if you let it unfurl fully. Hinata seemed to revel in reducing you to a flustered wreck with little more than a heated stare or casual touch skating along your arm.

The atmosphere grew thicker the deeper you ventured into the secluded trails, a heavy silence blanketing you both as words fell away in favor of something else entirely. You could feel the obsessive pull between you cresting towards its inevitable peak.

It happened so fast when it finally snapped - one moment you were walking slightly ahead of Hinata on the narrow path, the next you felt a solid weight slamming into your back as he crowded you up against the nearest tree trunk. The breath punched from your lungs in a harsh gasp, but any noise was swallowed by Hinata's scorching kiss.

His large hands cradled your face in a punishingly tight grip, angling you backwards as he devoured you with the same unrestrained hunger from last night. You clutched the solid plates of his back as he pressed closer, the hard ridge of his cock grinding shamelessly against you.

There would be no preamble, no questioning what was happening between you two this time. The dam had finally burst and Hinata was claiming you as his obsession laid bare at last. When he finally wrenched his lips away with a guttural groan, you were both panting harshly.

"About damn time," was all he rasped out in that ruined timbre before crashing his mouth back against yours.

No more words needed to be exchanged after that. You simply gave yourself over to the onslaught of sensations - his calloused hands roaming hungrily, his hips rutting against you in primal undulations, his harsh pants scorching your neck as he blazed a trail of opened-mouth kisses downward.

Restraint and uncertainty shattered, nothing existed in this moment except for slaking the ravenous cravings that had smoldered between you both for far too long. Years of repressed obsession, of dark desires aching to be indulged, all came pouring out in a frenzy of tangled limbs and desperate caresses.

There would be no going back after this. You had awoken the unrestrained beast in Hinata and he was never letting you go again. But as his skilled fingers deftly divested you of your top and his solid weight pinned you to the forest floor, you found you had no single regret about succumbing so completely to his smoldering hunger.

The frenzied make-out rapidly descended into uncharted territory, hands grasping and exploring with reckless abandon as you both surrendered fully to the raging obsession. Hinata's broad frame was splayed over you, caging you against the forest floor as he rutted shamelessly into the cradle of your thighs.

You arched off the ground with a keening whine, nails raking down the corded muscles of his back as wet heat pooled between your legs. This was really happening - years of repressed yearning were about to finally find their release. Hinata growled deep in his chest, the scorching brand of his tongue searing its path along the slender column of your neck.

Just as you reached up to tug insistently at the hem of his shirt, desperate to divest the offending barrier and feel his searing skin against yours, Hinata suddenly froze. His harsh pants fanned across your flushed cheek as he drew back slightly, eyes glittering with some emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

Before you could even process what was happening, he rolled off of you in one abrupt, fluid movement. The sudden lack of his solid weight crushed you with its absence, leaving you splayed out and utterly wrecked on the forest floor as he rose to tower over you.

You could only gape up at him, chest heaving rapidly from your entwined state moments before. Hinata simply stood there drinking in the sight of you so thoroughly disheveled, eyes blazing with something that looked a lot like triumph etched across his sharp features.

After allowing the weighted silence to stretch tortuously, he bent down to retrieve your discarded top, holding it out to you without a single word. It was like emerging from a fever dream, the abrupt shift disorienting you even further.

You felt heat prickling across your skin as you shakily accepted the offered garment, struggling to cover your breasts with shaking hands. Hinata didn't so much as bat an eyelash, merely turning on his heel and continuing along the trail as if nothing had happened.

"You coming?" he tossed over his nonchalant shoulder after a few paces, as casual as could be.

Still sprawled there in stunned disbelief, you could only stare after him, mouth agape at the whiplash shift. Part of you was mortified at being left utterly debauched on the forest floor. But the larger part, the part that recognized a deliciously depraved game when you saw one, felt a reckless thrill starting to build.

So that was how Hinata wanted to play things - all heated frenzy one moment only to leave you aching and unfulfilled the next with that stoic nonchalance. Well, two could undoubtedly play at that game if that was the case.

Scrambling the rest of the way into a standing position, you hastened to follow after his retreating form. If Hinata thought he could get away with teasing you to the brink like that without some delightfully torturous form of retaliation, he had another thing coming.

By the time you managed to catch up, his expression was a mask of polite obliviousness, the smoldering heat from earlier carefully banked once more. Only the slightest quirk at the corner of his lips hinted that he was well aware of the effect he'd had on you.

"Lovely day for a hike, isn't it?" was all he said, smiling beatifically as you fell into step beside him.

You shot him a sidelong look, letting your eyes deliberately trail down the distinct bulge still tenting the front of his shorts. That innocent facade wouldn't last long once you decided to enact your vengeance, of that you were certain.

"The perfect day," you agreed lightly, gaze skating back up to meet his heavy-lidded stare.

Let the games begin.

The thick tension lingered heavily between you and Hinata in the days following your hike, neither of you acknowledging or discussing what had transpired on the secluded trail. You went about your routines and conversations as normal, but the undercurrent of unresolved desire simmered with every lingering glance and casual touch that felt electric.

Finally, you decided to invite Hinata over for a home-cooked dinner at your place a few nights later, hoping to find some release from the maddening tension. He arrived with that same nonchalant ease, not a hair out of place, as if he hadn't ravaged you against a tree trunk just days prior.

Dinner itself flowed smoothly, the two of you slipping back into familiar banter and catching up. But you didn't miss the way Hinata's piercing stare trailed over your body when he thought you weren't looking, or how his large hands seemed to linger whenever he passed you something.

"You know, I haven't stopped thinking about what happened on that trail," Hinata said abruptly during a lull in conversation. His tone was conversational, but the smoldering look he fixed you with was anything but casual.

You felt your throat go dry under his heated appraisal. "Oh? And what's there to think about?" you managed to reply, keeping your expression carefully neutral despite your rabbiting pulse.

Hinata's lips curved into the barest hint of a smirk, clearly seeing through your nonchalance. He leaned in closer, braced forearms on the table bringing his face mere inches from yours as he lowered his voice to an intimate rumble.

"Don't play coy, you know exactly what I mean. I meant it when I said I've been waiting years for that moment, to finally get my hands on you like I've craved."

His words struck you like a physical caress, raising goosebumps along your heated skin as you fought not to squirm. The raw honesty, the undisguised obsession burning in Hinata's molten gaze made your head spin.

"I've fantasized about you more times than I can count," he continued in that same low timbre laden with promise. "Imagining what you'd look like splayed out underneath me, writhing and whimpering for more while I took you apart piece by piece."

You swallowed hard, suddenly regretting trying to maintain pretenses of normalcy between you two. This clearly was anything but a normal situation – the powerful, athletic man before you was practically vibrating with years' worth of repressed hunger and fixation.

"So no, I haven't stopped thinking about finally claiming what's mine," Hinata concluded, holding your stare captive with smoldering intensity. "And I won't stop until I've had my fill, until you recognize you've belonged to me all along whether you realized it yet or not."

There was no questioning his blunt words, no interpreting the blatant obsession and dark undercurrents driving him now. Hinata had been pushed to the brink, and he was done with subtlety. You were his all-consuming fixation, the object of his ultimate hunger.

And from the way his hooded eyes trailed over your lips, he was making it abundantly clear he had no intentions of stopping until that appetite was finally sated, no matter how long it took.

The heavy silence stretched between you and Hinata, the weight of his ardent confession hanging thick in the air. His burning stare pinned you in place, demanding a reaction even as your brain struggled to process his blunt words and undeniable obsession.

Before you could formulate a response, Hinata abruptly shoved away from the table and closed the distance between you in two long strides. Powerful arms encircled your waist, hauling you flush against the searing wall of his chest as he captured your lips in a scorching, desperate kiss.

You made a muffled noise of surprise against his mouth, but it quickly melted into undisguised want as the dizzying heat of him overwhelmed your senses. This time there was no restraint, no coy suggestion - just Hinata taking with the same unrestrained obsession he had promised.

His large hands roamed hungrily over your curves, bunching the fabric of your top as he angled your head to deepen the frenzied kiss. You clutched at the straining muscles of his back, whimpering at the solid planes you could feel flexing beneath your palms with each roll of his hips grinding shamelessly against you.

Hinata's harsh growl of approval vibrated against your lips before he seized the opportunity to lick inside, tasting and claiming you with fervent sweeps of his tongue. You melted helplessly back against the solid oak of the table digging into your lower back, utterly at his mercy.

There would be no more feigned nonchalance, no more skirting the issue driving this raging obsession between you two. Not when you could feel the undeniable ridge of Hinata's arousal rutting against your pelvis, or the wet heat of him leaving a searing trail down the vulnerable column of your neck.

"Hinata...we shouldn't—ah!" Whatever feeble protest you tried to voice was swallowed by his searing mouth devouring you once more.

"Don't try to deny this, don't try to pretend this hasn't been leading here all along," he all but growled when he finally tore his lips away, pinning you captive with eyes blazing like molten amber. "I'm done with games and holding back. You're mine, whether you can admit it to yourself yet or not."

His calloused fingers deftly worked at the buttons of your top, divesting you of the garment in one smooth tug as he bared your tingling flesh to his smoldering gaze. You shuddered, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed and vulnerable you were beneath his ravenous stare.

But any shred of self-consciousness was forgotten the next instant as Hinata dipped his head, fevered mouth searing a path downwards across your flushed chest. Your breath stuttered in your lungs as he reached the peak of your breast, suckling hard enough to leave a mark before soothing the sting with his tongue.

You couldn't contain the moan that spilled from your lips, the visceral pleasure and aching heat too intense to remain silent. Hinata rumbled his approval, calloused hands gripping your hips in a punishing hold as he continued his relentless onslaught.

The searing trail he blazed over your trembling body was unrelenting, leaving a map of open-mouthed kisses and love bites in his wake. His teeth nipped at the soft flesh of your stomach, followed by the soothing swipe of his tongue and then the graze of his nose as he inhaled your scent.

Every sense was drowning in him - the searing heat of his palms, the heady citrus notes of his cologne, the low growls emanating from deep in his chest as he slowly drove you mad with sensation.

You could feel the throbbing ache growing between your thighs, the telltale dampness soaking your panties. There was no disguising your arousal from him now, no pretending the raw desire coursing through your veins was anything less than the truth.

Hinata was a man possessed, his fixation driving him onward as he dropped to his knees, yanking down your leggings and underwear in one smooth movement. You felt a rush of cool air hit your exposed center, the sudden vulnerability sending a shockwave of goosebumps rippling across your heated skin.

The breath punched from your lungs as Hinata surged forward, burying his face between your legs without warning. You cried out, head dropping back with a thunk against the unforgiving wood of the table as pleasure jolted through you.

He wasted no time, licking a broad stripe up your center before suckling on your clit, making your knees buckle beneath you. All you could do was clutch the short strands of his hair for purchase, gasping and keening with every sweep of his talented tongue.

Hinata seemed just as lost in the frenzy as you, grunts of pleasure reverberating through your very core as he devoured you whole. You could feel his strong arms gripping your hips, pinning you in place while his thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your hipbones.

The sight of him kneeling before you, head buried between your thighs and feasting on your wet cunt with single-minded determination was too much. The white-hot pleasure rapidly crested, threatening to send you hurtling over the edge at any moment.

Your moans grew louder, fingers tightening in Hinata's hair as your climax neared. You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your slick flesh, clearly recognizing how close you were. Then, just as your entire body was coiled tight as a bowstring, poised to snap, Hinata withdrew.

"Wha—why did you stop?" you panted out in a whine, hips canting forward in desperation.

You were so achingly close, could feel the phantom pressure of his tongue where it had just been. You were right on the cusp, teetering on the edge. One more swipe of his skilled tongue and you would have tumbled over.

"Because," Hinata purred, his warm breath ghosting over your throbbing cunt and making you shudder, "there’s no way in hell I'm letting you come unless it's on my cock."

With that, he rose from his knees, dragging his tongue along the column of your throat. You whimpered, the loss of contact making you ache even worse than before. Then Hinata's lips were back against yours, hot and insistent, and you tasted yourself on his tongue.

You groaned, fingers fumbling to tear at the buttons of his shirt and push the offending garment off his shoulders. Hinata made a rumbling noise of approval deep in his chest, calloused fingers tangling in your hair and tilting your head back to deepen the kiss.

The moment his shirt fell away, exposing the hard planes of his sculpted torso, you were clawing at the waistband of his jeans. You wanted him, needed him, craved the feeling of his throbbing cock splitting you open.

Your frenzied movements had him chuckling, the deep sound sending another shiver racing down your spine. But Hinata was just as far gone, his large hands grasping yours and helping to yank down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion.

The sight of his erect cock, swollen and throbbing with precum glistening at the tip, had your mouth going dry. Your eyes trailed down the hard lines of his stomach, taking in the rest of his powerful body. The faint trail of hair leading downwards, the sculpted v-lines that were a roadmap to the most delicious places on earth, and his thick cock standing proud and ready for you.

Hinata growled deep in his throat, seizing your hips in a punishing grip and hoisting you onto the edge of the table. Your thighs parted automatically, a whimper falling from your lips at the rough manhandling.

Then the thick head of his cock was nudging against your slick folds, not quite pushing in but still driving you wild with anticipation. His thumb guided the fat tip along your slit, rubbing it in small circles as he let it dip slightly inside, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

He was watching your face with such rapt intensity, his pupils blown wide and nostrils flaring with every shaky inhale. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, the corded muscles of his stomach twitching and flexing. He was just as lost in the sensation as you were, his self-control slipping the more his cock slid through your folds.

You could feel your arousal coating his thick length, slicking him up with each pass. Hinata's breaths were coming quicker now, his eyelids fluttering and his head dropping forward as he ground his cock along your aching center.

He was right on the cusp, his hips moving erratically. He was trying to hold back, to maintain his composure and tease you even longer. But you could see the cracks starting to show in his mask of restraint, could see how much he was struggling to hold himself back.

Just when the tension was about to snap, Hinata reached down, grasping his cock at the base and giving it a few rough pumps. His eyes rolled back in his head, a deep groan of pleasure rumbling through his chest as he came.

Thick ropes of cum painted your stomach and breasts, dripping down his fist as his cock pulsed and twitched in his grip.

It was so fucking hot, so depraved, to have Hinata's release marking your body, to know you had driven him to this level of ecstasy.

He gave a shuddering gasp, eyelids fluttering open as the last dregs of his orgasm washed over him. The look of utter satisfaction on his face as he took in the mess he'd made of you, the possessive gleam in his eye as he raked his gaze over your body, was enough to have you aching and needy all over again.

You watched on curiously as he reached over to grab his phone, aiming the camera at you. Your mouth went dry at the realization of what he was doing, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you at the thought.

"Don't move," Hinata murmured, voice heavy with satisfaction and desire. "I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. You don’t know how many times I've fantasized about this, how often I've jerked myself raw thinking of you covered in my cum."

The click of the camera captured the moment forever, the proof of your mutual debauchery immortalized on the screen. His lips curved into a sinful smirk, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"My turn," he growled.

In the next instant, he had you pinned back against the table, his weight settling on top of you as his tongue dragged through the mess on your stomach. You whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair and hips canting upwards to seek out some kind of relief.

Hinata hummed his approval, lapping up every last drop of his release before shifting further upward, licking and nipping his way across your heaving chest.

His cock was already hard again, pulsing and grinding against your soaked folds. The heat of him was searing, setting your body ablaze with pleasure. He was teasing you, torturing you, his lips sucking a dark bruise along the sensitive skin of your neck.

"You know," he murmured, hips rolling in an unhurried pace, his words a rumble against your ear, "I could get used to this view."

A strangled moan escaped your lips as his cockhead notched against your entrance, the heady promise of release just within reach. Hinata was still teasing you, dragging his shaft along your soaked slit as his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

"But if I'm going to keep fucking you on this table, I need to make sure you won't spill any leftovers."

You could feel his lips curve into a smirk, the barest hint of a chuckle vibrating through his chest. But you were too far gone, too lost in the sensation of his thick cock sliding through your folds and grazing your throbbing clit.

Your entire body was tensed like a bowstring, wound up so tightly that the slightest movement would snap it. And when Hinata finally, finally, pushed his thick cock inside you, the string snapped.

You cried out, arching off the table as stars exploded behind your eyelids. Pleasure unlike anything you'd ever experienced washed over you in waves, your cunt spasming around the solid girth stretching you open. You felt the foreign sensation of something liquid gushing from your pussy, coating Hinata's cock and your inner thighs.

"Fuck," Hinata hissed, his head dropping to your shoulder. "Did you just squirt? You didn’t tell me you were a squirter, fuck, that's so fucking hot."

He sounded almost drunk, his words slurred as he started thrusting into you. Each pump of his hips had another wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body convulsing and clenching around his cock.

Hinata fucked you through the aftershocks, his hips slamming into you and driving his cock impossibly deep. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, fingernails digging into the straining muscles as you held on for dear life.

He was relentless, pounding into you and chasing his own release. The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, the harsh slap of his balls against your ass, the groans and grunts escaping his throat – all of it only heightened the sensations overwhelming your body.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, a string of curses falling from your lips as the pressure built once again. This time you knew you wouldn't be able to hold back, wouldn't be able to keep from exploding into a million pieces.

The tension was coiling tighter, your body trembling as Hinata fucked you harder. It was too much, the pleasure was too intense, it was almost painful. You were so close, you were almost there, you just needed a little more, a little—

"Oh god," you cried, your body arching off the table as your cunt clenched around his cock, gushing another flood of liquid.

Hinata let out a growl, his thrusts becoming more erratic. You could feel his cock pulsing and twitching, his breathing ragged and uneven. He was right there with you, his own climax building.

"That's it," he rasped, his grip on your hips bruising as he slammed into you. "Fuck, I can feel your cunt milking my cock, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

With a final cry, his hips stuttered and he came, his cock spurting ropes of cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release filling you up, the feeling of his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied himself, was enough to send you over the edge again.

Your orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing and gushing around his cock. The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, running down your thighs and soaking the table beneath you.

"God, I love watching you squirt," Hinata growled, his eyes half-lidded as he watched his release leak from your cunt. "I could do this all day, watch you cream all over my cock and soak this table. You're so fucking hot."

You could only moan, your body completely spent and limp from the intensity of your orgasms. Hinata pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your pussy with a wet squelch. More cum leaked from your cunt, dribbling down your thighs.

He scooped some up with his fingers, pushing it back inside you with a satisfied smirk. You shuddered, the feeling of his cum inside you making your cunt clench around his digits.

"Mmm, we're gonna need to do a lot more work to make sure none of this leaks," he purred, his other hand trailing over your stomach and smearing the remnants of his release into your skin. "We can't let any of this go to waste, now can we?"

You whimpered, his words and touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. He chuckled, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your cum-filled pussy.

"That's right," he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a scorching kiss. "Let's see just how many times I can make you squirt before the night's over."

[giantkillerjack]

@avinlander

Hello! I've got C-PTSD and I've done a Loooot of acronyms of treatment (CBT, DBT, IOP, EMDR, exposure therapy, etc.), and I agree with the above statement.

My biggest pieces of advice are:

1. As much as you can, before starting trauma treatment, ensure you are in a stable place in other parts of your life.

Often when trauma is directly processed, the stress of doing that can make your mental health more fragile for a time.

(A lot of people are not in a place where they can afford to take this time and space. Which is one of the reasons labor rights are a major mental health issue. It's NOT YOUR FAULT if you are in this position.)

Remember that if you are currently undergoing trauma, treatments like EMDR and exposure therapy (which is basically EMDR but without the back and forth brain stimulus stuff) are risky because they are destabilizing agents, and thus can do more harm than good if you are already on shaky ground.

Now, recognizing you are currently being traumatized is not always possible (trauma naturally seeks to hide itself), but to give an example from my own life:

This past year, my partner was dangerously close to death for months (she's safe now thank fuck), but since no one was abusing me and I've had years of therapy to help me recognize these feelings, I was able to recognize that, even though I had JUST FOUND an EMDR specialist, it was a bad time for me to start actively digging into past trauma because I was currently incurring more trauma.

Instead, I opted for talk therapy that helped me get through all that on a day-to-day level. Even now, as my partner slowly recovers, my life is not stable enough to do something like exposure therapy or EMDR again anytime soon.

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY,

2. No matter what PTSD treatment you seek out, this work will exhaust you.

I mean, PHYSICALLY exhaust you.

I am so fucking serious about this:

In 2019, I attended an Intensive Outpatient Program that involved group trauma processing.

It was an emergency 4-6 week program for suicidal adults.

I was there for 21 weeks.

As it turned out, this was what I needed to finally stabilize after years of spiraling. But it was... an intense 5 months.

In fact, I was there for so long that after a time, the counselors declared I was in charge of welcoming newcomers because I had gotten really good at giving advice to new people.

And the thing I said every single time to every single person was basically:

This will exhaust you. Be gentle.

I would say that if you are anything like me and basically everyone I know with PTSD, you will leave here and think, "all I did today was sit and talk and maybe draw a little - why the fuck am I so tired!?"

If you are like me, then tomorrow, you will wake up, and you will think, "Fuck! Why aren't i getting more done? What is WRONG with me?!" And you will push yourself as hard as you can to get everything you planned on done.

And I tell you now, that any kind of trauma processing will actually physically drain your body of energy.

And because of the nature of trauma and capitalism, you likely won't be praised by many people for the extremely hard and extremely scary (brave) work you are doing. And since, during this time, you will also almost certainly be struggling to do anything considered "productive" by the powers that be, then the shame of this exhaustion - or the sheer denial of it - becomes treacherous.

So please know that this is brave work.

Whatever brings you genuine healing is good and important and you are worth it. And every time you try - whether or not you find the solution that time - that is an act of bravery.

If no one else acknowledges that for you in the way you deserve, then let me acknowledge that here:

This is the work of the giant killers.

This is deep magic.

I'm using flowery language but I'm right.

Here be dragons, adventurer. Some for slaying, some for study. And some for finding where they have been left lying long-forgotten, waiting to finally be held by gentle hands, despite everything. And you are the only one who can do it.

You don't deserve this pain, but you do deserve to be seen in the sunlight. I can't lessen the pain. But I can say there is something terribly heroic about you. And that I see you. Sunlight looks good on you.

I salute you and I desire nothing more than to see us both (and also Mr. Wheaton and anyone who reads this and--gods I do go on don't I?) alive and at peace.

I beg you to screw up every scrap of gentleness towards yourself that you can find. Healing is the opposite of an act of brute force. You deserve your gentleness more than anyone else in the world.

Your exhaustion is not weakness; it is a physical reaction to an impossibly exhausting task. This is going to take some remembering.

Try to take time off work if you can. If you can't, try to at least take the days off after sessions until you know how it affects you. (Ex. I was NOT safe to drive or travel after my first times doing new types of trauma therapy for like 24 hours after. I was so so dissociated. I felt like I had the flu. It also didn't help that my response to my exhaustion was to shame myself and push harder. I learned the hard way. That's why I started always saying this stuff to newbies at the program.)

The exhaustion is not just in your mind and heart but in your muscles and joints, and if you try to respond to that with harshness, you'll make it worse. You need extra rest!

Best of luck and softest of hearts,

- Jack

So I was just formally diagnosed with PTSD (I have depression and anxiety and suspected PTSD for some time) and my therapist has suggested EMDR therapy. I still don’t understand much about it and I was wondering if you have tried it? Or any of your followers have?

I've been doing EMDR for a couple months. Everyone's experience is different, but my experience has been remarkable. It isn't a magic potion that takes it all away, but little by little, I'm working through the roots of my pain, sadness, and trauma, and it's working.

I want to stress that it's not magic, okay? But it's been a positive part of my experience and is currently a significant part of my healing.

Also, as a fellow member of the PTSD club, I'm so sorry. I see you.

[nonotnolan]

Rush Week

You develop a special sort of bond with a guy when you've swapped bodies and you're touching each other's dick. It's the justification that Sigma Epsilon Chi gave for their partnership with Cuerpo Inc. during rush week, and I had to admit it makes sense. More to the point, Sig-Ep is THE frat to be in, so I knew I was going to do whatever it took to become a member, hazing be damned.

My face has never been much to look at-- my ears have always been huge, my hair is hopelessly curly, and I think my features are more rugged than handsome. I certainly don't have legacy money or family connections. I pledged with the hope that my muscles or my vibes would get me a ticket in, and I was so relieved to get that offer letter.

They said the house would swap bodies at random for the weekend, but I know that the machinery they use allows you to specify certain swaps and randomize others. I was convinced one of the upperclassmen will be taking my body while I ended up in some twig body for maximum embarrassment... and I wasn't wrong.

Henry is... he's a good guy, honestly. His parents are loaded and he can eat damn near anything and it doesn't affect his figure. I've never been fashion forward, so having access to his closet has been wild. The guy actually owns a sewing machine! He's also one of those guys who is never seen without product in his hair-- he actually left me instructions on how to take care of it. I can only imagine what he's gonna do in my low maintenance body-- all I own are tank tops and gym shirts. I'm half-expecting to come back to a new wardrobe and a manicure. But holy hell, the dude is thin and lanky in ways I didn't think was possible. I hope he enjoys having some actual meat on his bones.

The biggest thing is that Henry is gay. Which, you know, that's totally cool by me! More chicks for the rest of us. But once I was put into his body, seeing all of my fellow bros roaming around shirtless and feeling up their new muscles... I don't know how Henry can wear these skinny jeans all the time. I was rock-hard within minutes and it physically hurt to have my new eight inches constrained by denim. I almost feel guilty, giving him the shorter end of the stick.

I'm pretty sure Henry is an insatiable bottom, so all of that size seems wasted but... what can you do? Anyway, we're allowed to hook up this weekend as long as we use condoms and... when else am I gonna have this opportunity, you know? If I don't take this chance, I'm gonna be consumed by the 'what if's forever. Also the part where I'm horny as fuck in his body.

Lucky for me, whoever ended up in Joey's body was giving me the side-eye the whole time we were at the opening mixer, so I don't think it will take much effort to get my dick wet. His body has the type of smooth skin I've always envied, and I'm honestly jealous at how handsome his face looks. He's got a dirty blonde dye job that plays into his charm, and his muscles are... well, they might be bigger than mine. My real muscles, anyway.

"You wanna head upstairs to my room?" Joey asked, grabbing my bulge in his hand. He flashed a dazzling grin, and I could feel myself swooning from the confidence. God, I wanted him so bad. But Joey was just a Sophomore, which meant he still had one of the smaller bedrooms.

"My room," I said, shaking my head. A thought crossed my mind, and once again I figured I may as well follow the impulse. I threw my arms around Joey's neck and jumped into his arms. He stumbled a bit, but pretty soon his arms were hooked underneath my body to support my weight. So many of my friends back home did that all the time, and now I understood why they found it addicting. I leaned in close enough for him to feel the heat of my breath as I whispered into his ear, "I want you inside me."

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

"I really needed that," I said, putting some clothes back on after the most intense session of my life. "Can't say that I had ever imagined getting fucked by a man before, but, uhh... I enjoyed it, it was good. Hopefully that was good for you, too?" I could feel myself starting to blush. "I've never been a gay man before, but I think I got the hang of it there at the end."

"Bro, you were great, don't even worry about it," Joey said, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "But, uhh... what do you mean, you've never been a gay man before?"

I paused, trying to figure out whether or not he was messing with me. "I mean... I'm in Henry's body right now? It's me, Matty. I'm not actually gay. But, you know... when in Rome."

He just laughed at me. "Bro, that's not how it works. Attraction is all in the brain. Like... yeah, the real Henry is out and proud, but you being in his body doesn't make you gay. If you were into that, you've always been into dudes. You were just too afraid to admit it."

His face was all smiles, but his words felt like a punch to the gut. "Wait, but... I can't be gay, I've had girlfriends, I..." I tried to come up with some sort of defense, but nothing came to mind. I thought I was caught up in what other guys looked like because I was jealous. Was that just some warped form of attraction? "Are you sure the swap works like that?"

Joey wrapped me in a warm hug. "I'm sure. Sorry, bro. Didn't mean to give you a existential crisis. I thought you knew. You may not be gay, if it helps? You might be, like... Bi or Pan instead. And no one's gonna make you pick a label right away. Take your time, see what feels right."

He had a point. Being attracted to dudes wasn't limited to just gay men. And anyway, it's not like being gay would be a bad thing. I just... I didn't think it was me. "Hey, thanks bro," I said, hugging him back. "And... sorry if I sounded insulting. There's nothing wrong with being gay, I just didn't think... well, I'll definitely have to figure out my, uhh... my truth, I guess."

I started lowering my hands back down to his ass, and pretty soon we were making out again. "Hey, are you sure this is what you want?" Joey asked, pausing as I started to strip again. "Feels like you're moving fast, and I want to make sure you're not, like... pressured or whatever."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I replied, smiling at him. "You're the one who told me to see what feels right. That was my first time having sex with a dude, and it felt pretty good. So I think I'm gonna have sex with a guy for a second time. See what happens."

He smiled back, and I could feel myself melt. I don't know who's in Joey's body right now, but I hope it's someone hot. There's no way we aren't hooking up once we swap back.

[tarjapearce]

PLEASE MORE RANCHERO MIGUEL

👀👀 of course.

Inspired by farevalee9s on insta fanart of Cowboy Miguel 🤭

----

The first time Miguel arrived to your family's farm, you were borderline intimidated by his sheer size. You had seen tall people before, but never someone like him.

Your father was in dire need of someone that would take care of his horses and do some maintenance around the farm. Agustín, a horse that seemed a lost cause, was the one that concerned your dad the most. He was a bit aggressive with the other horses, Joaquín Y Luis. He was kept in a different location. The farm was a mess.

Not tolerating a bit ounce of further embarrassment, your mother looked up for people, even put you to post adds through, but none of them actually met the requirements, until a friend of your dad brought him.

-------

"Buenos días, señorita" (Morning, ma'am)

He'd always greet you with a tip of his hat. Unlike your parents, a bit stuck up people, devoted believers and servers of faith, and always speaking the necessary, you were kind to him. Polite and respectful.

You'd bring him cold fresh lemonade after he was done with his training session with Agustín. The sun would hide your embarrassment, since you couldn't help but give subtle glances at his naked torso.

He'd always train the horse, without much on him. Pants, belt, boots and hat. He'd always accept the lemonade with a small smirk and a grateful heart.

"You made it?" You nodded and smiled sheepishly.

"Best thing I've ever tasted." He'd mumble while staring intensely at you.

-----

"Could you teach me how to ride?"

His eyebrows would rise in surprise

"H-Horses, I mean." He'd chuckle and nodded.

"Lo que quieras, guapa ." (Anything for you, gorgeous.)

Sure, you wanted to ride horses, what would the point of having them would be if you couldn't ride them? But in truth, You just wanted to be closer to him. Something that earned you a bit more than you had actually bargained for.

He'd take you by your waist and help you get on Luis, like you weighed nothing. His skin irradiating with heat, calloused hands held you firmly, you could feel his thumb taking a taste of your soft skin. His tongue wetted his lips upon his eyes trailing your form.

Sun blazing on your skin, rosy cheeks, a sweet look that could disarm anyone, gorgeous body. You were such a sweet little thing. Just like the cherries you'd eat in the porch. He stared at your lips, as you dexterously peeled the cherry from it's flesh with your tongue.

He needed to have you.

-------

Of course your mother had seen the not too subtle looks you gave eachother.

He'd always greet you with a knowing smile, and you'd be a flustered mess after. Sometimes your head would hurt by the many times your mother would swat your head with whatever she was choosing to read. Your dad was busy with Church.

Oh, the church.

He didn't seem like a strong believer, neither did you, but respected the business enough to be almost every Sunday in church. Just to see you all dolled up and pretty.

-----

You'd kiss eachother breathless in the barn behind some stacked up hay. You just tasted as sweet as he had imagined. Your first kiss.

You had to be on your tip toes to wrap your arms around him and pulling him down to deepen the kiss as his hands finally were able to touch you and savour you

-----

Your mother was growing suspicious of your sudden absentminded behavior, so she had settled you up a date, and made sure for him to know. Even had the nerve to ask him to have the horses ready.

You had apologized to him, but he seemed unbothered by everything. It kinda bummed you to see him a bit indifferent to the situation. But once you left, he'd glare holes at your mother's window.

"No te dejes montar de nadie, ok? " (Don't let anyone to ride you)

Agustín would just flare and pat the ground. As if understanding him.

------

Every date your mother had arranged to you, ended up in the same scenario. Your dates on the floor, being chased by Agustín or the other horses.

"I don't know what that wicked man has done to the horses. None wants to come here anymore if he isn't around!"

To your mother's mortify, you were turning older enough to start your own family. But you didn't want none of that. No. At least you'd have some time away before she started to getting you on the dating scene again, to get you a husband.

They had a sudden trip to see other properties out of town. You were left alone with Miguel, He'd throw you over his shoulder like nothing, after kissing the daylights out of you and took you inside his place in the barn. Your cherry was popped that night.

-----

Ever since then, every time your parents left, you'd be holed up in your room with him, kissing, making love and talking.

You had corrupted him somehow, always wanting to touch and be near around you, and always wanting to put a baby inside.

"Funny you think I'd let you marry some other guy. Tú eres mía, y eso no se discute." (You're mine, and that's not up to discussion.)

[livelaughloveluffy]

confession - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: sorry, i cant not call law "captain". its the same thing with luffy too, its just so hot 😭😭😭 fanfic is truly the only lawless time that i would be into some sort of power imbalance in a relationship, what happens on tumblr, stays on tumblr 😭💀

a/n: okay, not to like be the girl that pairs her fics with songs, but like... the second i finished proof-reading this i couldn't help but think of how well this fit: so here it is; hopefully you see the vision 😭😭😭 you can't tell me that song isn't law coded as hell 💀

nothing but fluff here 💗

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

when law first asked you to join the heart pirates, he never intended to fall for you. in fact, he actively tried to not fall for you.

it wasn't because there was anything wrong with you. you were everything he wanted and more, but he didn't want to be in a relationship. he didn't know how to be, if he was ready for one, how to be a boyfriend. he knew this, at yet, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

•♡•

when you first joined the heart pirates, initially you thought that the captain regretted even asking you to join. you always felt his watchful gaze following you. even when he wasn't around, you could still feel the burn of his intense hazel eyes on your skin. it became difficult for you to even look at law without blushing slightly, feeling a bit intimidated by him, but also intrigued.

so when he asked you for help organizing the files and loose papers in his office, you instantly agreed. party because you hoped that if you did a good job, you would prove to the captain that you were competent and a good choice to be on his crew, and partly because you held the tiniest bit of hope that this could be an opportunity to get to know him more.

•♡•

okay, so, maybe you were wrong. maybe this was a bad idea. i mean, you can't say no to the captain's orders, but also. this was painfully awkward. at least for you it was. you had been going through the loose papers on law's desk with minimal guidance from him. he sat on the opposite side, engrossed in work.

once the mess of papers on his desk were somewhat figured out, you moved them to a separate (just as cluttered) table in his office to set the down on while you gather other papers scattered around the room. even now with your back turned, you could feel law's hazel eyes following you as you moved around his office.

you hurriedly grabbed the other miscellaneous papers, bringing them to the secondary table, where you then decided to take a seat and really sort through them all, carefully scanning their content to determine how you should file them.

it wasn't until a good half an hour in, that you uncovered an open book buried beneath the papers. you make note of the page it is opened on, holding a finger in place there, as you turned to look at the cover.

"i didn't know you were reading this series law! it's one of my favorites! how are you liking it?" law glanced up from his work, looking to see what book you were talking about. with a scoff, he suddenly seemed to perk up a bit, which was the most excitement you'd ever seen displayed from the captain. "fuck, i've been looking for that book for seven months, every island we stopped at that had a bookstore was always sold out. i've been wondering how it ends for ages now."

"it's my all time favorite in the series, the ending was amazing! i wouldn't mind rereading the whole series just to read that book again.... im glad i could find it for you!" you replied, with a wide smile.

law quietly stood up, leaving his desk to walk over to the bookcase beside it. he grabbed the very first book of the series. as he walked over to you, he paused right in front of you for a second, as if contemplating what he was about to do before offering the first volume to you in exchange for the copy you had found of the third volume. with his gruff and quiet voice, he announced "the office can get organized another day, wanna read for a bit?"

•♡•

true, law was always intrigued by you, from the very second he met you. but pure intrigue had instantly shifted to attraction the second he looked up at you holding the "lost" copy of the book he had been obsessed with. it was to his surprise that you too had also read this series, and loved it.

before he could even process what was happening he heard the words "the office can get organized another day, wanna read for a bit?" slip out of his mouth. and the instant wide smile that shined on your face after he did make him so glad he had said it.

•♡•

it wasn't too long after that first day organizing law's office that the two of you made it a plan to read together. quiet and dark evenings in the captain's office, spent in comfortable silence and the the frequent ambient sound of page turning as the two of you read and reread some of the best moments in your beloved book series.

as you both continued to make progress with the novels each night, the more you noticed the utter charm of the captain. his toned, tan, tattooed chest, his messy dark brown hair, his piercing eyes as the scanned the words on the page in front of him.

you two had grown comfortable in each other's presence, and even began to prefer it to being alone. this small routine being the only time you guys got to spend together alone, becoming an honored custom.

but you couldn't help but hope for more from the captain...

•♡•

law had a hard time vocalizing his feelings. this was something he always knew, but didn't quite have to face the reality of until he was sitting alone in his dark office, waiting for you to show up for your usual nightly reading date, but as the clock ticked by he began to give up hope.

his jealousy bubbled to the surface when he walked into the common room to be greeted with you.... hanging out with shachi, penguin, and bepo, cuddled up next to the soft polar bear mink during a movie night with the crew. what bothered him the most, wasn't the obvious sitting right in front of him, but the fact that he was the one who let it happen. its not like you knew that he'd been harboring feelings for you, he never said anything. but that was about to change.

snuggled into the warm fur of your mink friend, you didn't even notice the law's quiet whispers across the common room "room... shambles."

•♡•

in an instant, you were suddenly in law's office. instead of your head being buried into the soft white fur of navigator of the heart pirates, instead your cheek was laying against the soft warm bare chest of the captain. finally adjusting to your surrounds, you startle a bit "captain.. what the hell is going-"

his arms tighten their grasp around your body, keeping you pressed against him. "sorry... i just.. i couldn't stand watching the two of you that close anymore..." he explained, his voice gruff and somewhat defiant, as if it was a sign of weakness and vulnerability to come clean about the way he feels. "i just.... i was waiting for you tonight.."

you softly began to explain the situation "im so sorry, bepo and the gang dragged me to movie night before i could make it to your office" with side of your face pressed against law's bare chest, you could feel his heart racing, he was much more nervous than he let on. and you, feeling proud of him for being able to vocalize his feelings this far, you decided to make it a bit easier for him when you reply "if you wanted me, captain... all you had to do was ask.."

you could feel him bury his face into your hair, and for a moment he just sat there, holding you, soaking it all in, before he lets out the smallest whisper, just barely loud enough for you to hear, as if he's so afraid to say his wish out loud, like doing so would make it disappear "please be mine?"

you lifted your head up, bringing a hand to the side of his cheek, before you reply "consider me all yours, captain."

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

a/n: i may have written the end of this fic before the beginning, so just roll with it if the flow is kind of weird at the end 😭😭 idk how much longer i can stare at my laptop writing this 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[ahqkas]

♯ JUST LIKE MOVIES ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! mattheo riddle, half-naked and utterly captivating, was a vision that would be hard to forget (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.5k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, kissing, pansy serves like always . lmk of more if missed !

NOTES! all credits to the pretty devider below belong to @v6que !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BEST FRIENDS COME AND GO but Pansy Parkinson wouldn't let her closest friends parish without a serious reason. Her loyalty to those she cared about was above the standard (if there any was) and so was the commitment to mark her presence in her friends' lives in a way they wouldn't forget. She was cunning and mean, but she meant well. Most of the time.

It was a regular evening in the Slytherin common room, the dim light from the enchanted green flames casting flickering shadows and a warm glow on the ancient stone walls. You were nestled comfortably on one of the plush, dark-green couches, a loved book balanced in your lap as you tried to focus on the chapter in front of you. Despite your best efforts, your eyes kept drifting away from the page, your thoughts straying to someone who wasn't in the room yet.

Mattheo Thomas Riddle had been occupying your restless thoughts far more than you cared to admit. You tried to brush it off (an impossible task), convincing yourself that it was simple because of how often you saw him. After all, with the both of you being in the same house and friend group it was impossible to not cross paths with him constantly. But deep down, your heart knew there was more to it than that.

The way his dark curls fell over his forehead when he was lost in thought, the way his eyes seemed to darken with an intensity that made your heart race, the way he was looking straight at you every time a small joke slipped past his lips — it was all becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Still, you did your best to keep your feelings hidden, especially around your curious friends. You didn't need anyone picking up on the fact that the nonchalant Mattheo Riddle had you utterly smitten and wrapped around his finger.

Your eyes flickered back to your book, trying to push thoughts of the boy out of your mind. ❛And one asks oneself where are one's dreams. And one shakes one's head and says how rapidly the years fly by! And again one asks oneself what has one done with one's years. Where have you buried your best days? Have you lived or not?❜ But it was to no use. Every little sound made your stomach twist in nerves, wondering if it was him finally entering the common room. You were too distracted to notice when Pansy Parkinson, your ever-observant best friend, slipped onto the couch beside you, wearing a sly grin on her pink lips.

Pansy, always perceptive and mischievous, noticed the direction of your gaze. She had been scheming something ever since she realized the mutual pining between you and Mattheo, and tonight was the perfect opportunity.

"What are you staring at?"

You didn't realized you zoned out a bit and you've been staring at the entrance that led to the boys' dormitory rooms for a while now. You quickly looked down at your book, pretending to be engrossed in the words of literature. "Nothing. Just reading."

The girl next to you snorted at your obvious lie. "Right. And I'm excellent at Quidditch."

Shooting her a glare from the corner of your eyes, you still kept up with your excuses (which didn't seem to work but it was still better than running around telling the truth). "I'm just reading, Pans, really."

"Sure thing, if that's what you want me to believe. But I've seen the way you look at a certain someone."

Your poor stomach did a nervous flip at her words, and in the moment you wished it was for rather different reasons. You kept the expression on your face neutral but you were crumbling on the inside. How did she know? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, it's obvious, even to a blind git like our Berkshire. You've got it bad for Riddle."

An instant heat rushed to your cheeks, aiding to your growing embarrassment, and you fumbled with your words, trying to come up with a denial that didn't sound ridiculous. "I — no, it's not like that."

"Right," the word was drawled by the dark haired witch who was clearly not buying it. "That's why you can't take your eyes off the door, hoping he'll walk in any second now. Face it, you've got it bad for him."

"Pansy, please, don't make this a thing."

"I'm not making this a thing," she held her hands up in a mock defense, the pale skin of her palms facing you. "But if you're going to sit there and pine over him without doing anything about it, someone's got to step in."

And that someone would gladly be Pansy Parkinson.

You shot her a warning look but the girl's bored mind was already made up. "What do you mean by that?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of her devilish lips as she got up from her seat, quietly slipping away without anyone noticing. Panic surged you as you realized what she was about to do. You stood up after her, set on following the girl you so dearly called your best friend, but it was too late.

She was already out of sight, heading straight for Mattheo's dormitory room. You stood frozen in place for a moment, heart pounding against your rib cage, unsure whether to run after her or pretend none of this ever happened. Before you could make a decision, Pansy reappeared with a smug look on her face — and in her grasp, she was holding one of Mattheo's shirts.

You stared at her in disbelief as she sauntered back over to the spot she claimed as hers on the couch, picking at the green and silver shirt with her slim fingers. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently, her tone betraying her mischief. "Just thought I'd borrow a little something from Riddle. He won't mind, will he?" As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"He's going to kill you."

The girl shrugged, completely unfazed. "He can try."

Just as you were about to protest further, you heard the door to the dormitory burst open, and then you saw Mattheo storming down the stairs like his life depended on it.

The air around you seemed to shift. The usual hum of chatter died down as all eyes turned toward him. Water droplets still clung to his skin, glistening in the dim, green-tinged light from the enchanted flames in the fireplace. His dark curls, damp from the shower, hung slightly over his forehead, giving him an almost rugged, untamed look.

His broad shoulders and chest were on full display, the muscles there defined and sculpted, showing the hard work he's done throughout the years of Quidditch. His skin, a shade somewhere between pale and lightly tanned, was smooth, with the occasional freckle or mole adding to his character. Every line and curve of his body was honed, from the subtle ripple of his abs to the V-line that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the towel wrapped low around his hips.

The towel itself was just barely doing its job, clinging precariously to him, revealing strong thighs. He moved with a certain grace, despite the situation, his confidence evident in every step. His dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, swept over the room, taking in the scene with a mix of amusement and challenge. Those eyes, usually so intense and guarded, now held a glint of playful irritation as they locked onto Pansy — and then softened when they found you.

His lips, slightly parted as if caught in mid-thought, were full and curved into a smirk that sent a wave of warmth through you. Even in this slightly ridiculous situation, Mattheo exuded an aura of dangerous charm. There was something about the contrast of his bare, vulnerable state and the raw power he embodied that made it impossible to look away.

Despite the fact that he was clad in nothing but a towel, he didn't seem the least bit self-conscious. If anything, he seemed entirely comfortable, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on everyone in the room — especially on you. As he approached, the air grew thick with unspoken tension, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

And then, as if just to make your heart race even more, he ran a hand through his damp curls, pushing them back from his forehead, giving you an even clearer view of those piercing eyes and the strong lines of his jaw. The sight was almost too much — Mattheo Riddle, half-naked and utterly captivating, was a vision that would be hard to forget.

"Give it back," he growled at the witch, but there was a playful edge to his voice.

The rest of your Slytherin boys in the common room immediately took notice of the situation, and a chorus of laughter erupted. You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks heat up, your gaze inadvertently wandering over Mattheo's exposed torso before quickly looking away, embarrassed.

"Come and get it, Riddle!" Pansy taunted, her grin widening as she stepped behind you, holding the shirt just out of Mattheo's reach.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, clearly used to Pansy's antics, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze when he looked at you— something that made your heart skip a beat. He stepped closer, and the room seemed to quiet down as all eyes turned to the two of you.

"Pansy, seriously. Give me my shirt back," Mattheo said, his voice softer now, his eyes flickering between her, the shirt in her grasp, and you.

Pansy, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, finally tossed the clothing over to the Slytherin beater, but not before giving you a knowing wink. Mattheo caught it effortlessly, but instead of putting it on right away, he turned his attention back to you.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, concern lacing his words.

You nodded, still feeling flustered. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "Listen, I — there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had a feeling you knew where this was going, but you couldn't quite believe it.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The boy glanced around the common room, noticing the curious stares from his friends. With a slight smirk, he leaned in closer, so only you could hear him. "Maybe we should talk somewhere a bit more private?"

Your breath hitched as you nodded, and the two of you slipped out of the common room to the stairs leading to the dormitories, leaving behind a very smug-looking Pansy and a bunch of amused Slytherin boys.

Mattheo motioned for you to follow him, and you trailed after him up the staircase that led to the dormitories. The common room was still buzzing behind you, but the further up you went, the quieter it became. You stopped halfway up the stairs, where the shadows were deeper, the flickering green light of the common room barely reaching this far. It was secluded enough to talk without the eyes of your peers on you, but there was still the chance that someone could come down at any moment — a chance that added an unspoken tension to the air.

The Slytherin leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his still-bare chest, the towel securely wrapped around his waist. His expression was softer now, the teasing smirk from earlier replaced with something more serious, yet still unreadable. You mirrored him, leaning against the opposite wall, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything that had gone unsaid for so long. Mattheo's eyes were on you, dark and intense, as if he was weighing his words before speaking them. You were keenly aware of the proximity, the way the confined space of the staircase seemed to draw you closer together, despite the few feet that separated you.

"I'm going to guess Pansy did that on purpose," you finally said, trying to break the tension with a small smile.

Mattheo huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and rough. "She has a way of meddling when it suits her."

You nodded, the small talk serving as a brief reprieve from the weight of the moment. But you could feel the real conversation hovering just beneath the surface, waiting to break free. And it did, when Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his demeanor shifting slightly as he uncrossed his arms, taking a small step closer.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, his tone even, but there was an edge of something more — something almost vulnerable.

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. "I — well, I didn't think you'd notice."

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as if the idea was absurd. "Of course I noticed. How could I not?"

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your breath catch, and suddenly, you couldn't find it in yourself to meet his gaze. You looked down at the stone steps instead, tracing the cracks with your eyes as you tried to gather your thoughts. "It's just — well, with everything people say about you, about us . . . I didn't want to make things awkward."

Mattheo stepped closer again, now close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the scent of soap and something distinctly him filling the small space between you. He lifted a hand, hesitating for a split second before gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was light, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Awkward?" he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "I think you're the only person who can make me feel anything but awkward."

Your breath hitched at the implication of his words, but you didn't pull away. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and his eyes were locked on yours, as if he was searching for something, some sign that you felt the same way. You didn't need to say anything; the look in your eyes must have been enough because Mattheo's expression softened, a quiet resolve settling over him.

"I didn't want to make things weird either," he admitted, his voice steady but laced with the same tension you were feeling. "But not saying anything has been driving me mad."

The vulnerability in his voice was unlike anything you'd heard from him before, and it made your heart clench. The boy who always seemed so sure of himself, who carried an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance, was standing before you, baring a side of himself that few got to see.

"And what exactly is it that you're not saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo's hand dropped from your chin, but instead of stepping back, he closed the distance between you, the barest of gaps left between your bodies. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like they were always meant to fit together. He took a breath, and for a moment, you thought he might back out, but then his grip tightened, and his eyes bore into yours with a determination that sent your heart racing.

"That I like you, more than I should," he said, each word deliberate and measured, as if he was afraid of getting it wrong. "And it's been driving me insane because I've been trying to act like I don't, but I do. And I can't keep pretending otherwise."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and for a long moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. But instead of feeling suffocated, you felt something else — a warmth that spread from where his hand held yours, blooming outwards until it filled your entire chest.

"I think I like you too," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

The relief in Mattheo's eyes was immediate, and before you knew it, his other hand had moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently against the apple of your cheek. The touch was so tender, so full of unspoken emotion, that it made your chest tighten.

And then, slowly, as if giving you every chance to pull away, Mattheo leaned in. His lips hovered inches from yours, the anticipation crackling in the air between you. You closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then something shifted, and the kiss deepened, turning desperate and hungry, as if all the tension that had built up between you over the past few weeks was pouring out in this single moment.

The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hand held your face as if he was afraid to let go. Your free hand moved to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm, grounding you in the reality of what was happening.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, Mattheo didn't move far. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he caught his breath, his fingers still laced with yours.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You couldn't help but smile, your own heart racing. "Me too."

You stayed like that for a moment longer, savoring the warmth of his presence, the way your hand fit perfectly in his. There was still so much left unsaid, so much you needed to talk about, but for now, you were content to just be here, with him, knowing that whatever happened next, you would face it together.

Just then, a faint creak echoed from the foot of the stairs, pulling you both out of your bubble. You instinctively stepped back, your eyes wide as you turned toward the sound, and Mattheo straightened up, though he didn't let go of your hand.

A first-year student, with wide, curious eyes, was standing at the bottom of the staircase, frozen in place. He looked like he was caught between curiosity and the urge to bolt back down to the safety of the common room. The young boy's gaze flicked between you and Mattheo, clearly unsure if he had interrupted something important — or perhaps he was simply trying to figure out what a shirtless Mattheo Riddle was doing on the stairs with his hand in yours.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, but before you could say anything, Mattheo let out a low chuckle. He looked over at you with a smirk that was both amused and reassuring, as if to say, Don't worry, I've got this.

"Hey, kid," Mattheo called out, his voice casual, though the edge of his smirk hinted at something more mischievous. "You lost?"

The boy blinked, his face reddening slightly as he shook his head, clearly flustered. "Uh, no . . . I was just . . . going to bed."

Mattheo nodded, his expression softening as he gestured towards the upper floors. "Well, don't let us stop you. But you might want to keep what you saw to yourself, yeah?"

The boy's eyes widened and with a quick nod, he scampered up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time as he disappeared into the dormitories.

Once he was out of sight, you turned back to Mattheo, who was watching you with an amused expression. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a lightness that made you smile despite yourself.

"You're terrible," you whispered, though there was no heat behind the words.

Mattheo grinned, pulling you close again, his forehead brushing against yours. "I prefer the term 'irresistible,' actually."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. As you stood there on the stairs, the echoes of your laughter mingling with the distant sounds of the common room, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together — starting with getting back to the common room before anyone else stumbled upon your little moment.

But for now, you were content to stay here just a little longer, savoring the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be — by Mattheo's side.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Kinktober - Day 12

12th — face sitting, Lewis Hamilton

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

A/n: I know I'm a little bit behind the schedule but I promise you I will finish the whole kinktober list, just not fully in October.

“I’m not sure, honey,” you said with a hesitant voice, standing beside the bed where he lay. 

“What’s wrong, sweets? You know I have eaten you out multiple times before, this is no different.” he said, reaching over to stroke your leg with the back of his hand.

"This is different" you protested, arms folding over your chest. "I'd be hovering over you, that's not going to be a pretty sight. And what if I hurt you?"

Quicker than you could process, his arm moved to grasp your waist and he pulled you to him. You squealed as you fell into his lap, hands landing on his chest to save yourself somehow. With you on his lap, his hand moved to trace over the expanse of your body, gently squeezing your curves with a quiet moan.

"Not a pretty sight?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Baby, have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous and stunning. Look at you. These breasts," his hand traced the underside of your left boob before slipping up to pinch the nipple, receiving a small gasp from you. "This tummy of yours?" he stroked the soft fat of your belly, "I love it." When your lips opened to protest, he quickly continued,

"Means I'm keeping my girl well looked after, means you're happy. And these thighs, these stretch marks? I love them. God, I love all of you. I want you all the time, but I also just want to stare at you too because damn, Y/N, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life."

Smiling warmly, he cupped your face in his hands, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. 

“Always remember how amazing you are, okay? I want you to see yourself through my eyes strong, sexy, and utterly captivating.” His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away any lingering doubt. 

“Now, about that face-sitting thing... Are you ready to give me a show, sweetheart?” With a playful grin, Lewis guided you onto his face once more, his nose nuzzling your slick folds as you settled into position. 

As soon as you sat down on his face, Lewis let out a deep groan against your pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. He gripped your hips firmly, pulling you down harder onto his mouth while his tongue delved between your folds, lapping at your clit with enthusiasm.

"Mmm, fuck yeah, ride my face baby," he mumbled against your heat, his words dripping with desire. One hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh as he spread your legs wider apart, giving himself better access to your dripping core.

His other hand reached up to tweak and roll your nipples between his fingers, tugging lightly until they stood hard and aching. The dual sensations of his skilled mouth and nimble fingers drove you wild, making it impossible to hold back the moans that spilled from your lips.

"You taste so good, sweetheart,"

As you began grinding down on his face, Lewis let out an approving grunt, his hands gripping your ass tightly. He feasted on your pussy like a man starved, his tongue delving deep inside you, swirling around your walls and flicking over your sensitive spots.

The obscene slurping sounds filled the room as he ate you out with gusto, relishing every drop of your sweet nectar. His nose rubbed against your clit with each thrust of his tongue, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growled against your folds, the vibrations adding to the intense sensations. "Ride my face harder, baby. Let me feel that tight little cunt squeezing my tongue."

Lewis's dirty talk only fueled your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge. Your hips rocked faster, grinding your soaked pussy against his eager mouth as he devoured you like a man possessed.

"Oh god, yes! Just like that!" you cried out, tangling your fingers in his hair and holding him in place. His tongue delved deeper, hitting that special spot inside you that made your toes curl.

He responded with a muffled moan, the sound vibrating deliciously against your throbbing clit. Two fingers joined his tongue, pumping in and out of your tight channel as he worked you towards climax.

"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me. Soak my face with your juices," he urged, doubling his efforts. His fingers curled just right, rubbing against that sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit.

"Ah, shit, yes! Rub that pretty face all over my stubble," Lewis grunted, his breath hot against your sex as he spoke. His facial hair rasped against your delicate skin, leaving a tingling trail of sensation wherever you ground against him.

With a particularly firm thrust of his tongue, he pushed you over the brink. Your inner muscles clamped down on his probing digits as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tidal wave.

"Fuck, Y/N! Yes, come on my face!" Lewis cheered, lapping up your release with unbridled enthusiasm. He sucked your clit into his mouth, nibbling gently as he prolonged your pleasure, milking every last tremor from your quivering body.

As your orgasm subsided, Lewis slowly released your twitching pussy from his greedy mouth, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk. He gazed up at you with lust-darkened eyes, his face glistening with your essence.

"Damn, that was incredible," he purred, giving your sensitive folds a gentle kiss. "You always look so beautiful when you come undone for me."

He helped you stand, steadying you as your shaky legs found purchase on the floor. Lewis leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sharing the taste of your arousal with you.

When he finally broke the kiss, he grinned mischievously. "Now, how about we flip the script and see how you like being on top?"

Just as Lewis was suggesting you take control, the door burst open and Roscoe, his energetic bulldog, bounded into the room, tail wagging wildly. The sudden interruption caused you both to jump, breaking the intimate moment.

Roscoe, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he just crashed a private encounter, trotted over to Lewis and nudged his hand with his snout, whining for attention. Lewis chuckled, scratching the dog behind the ears.

"Well, looks like someone wants in on the action," he joked, glancing up at you with a playful grin. "Guess we'll have to continue this later, sweetheart."

He gave your rear a light squeeze before turning his focus to his excited pup, showering Roscoe with affection. You couldn't help but laugh at the scene, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sight of Lewis with his beloved dog.

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[lanadelnegan]

Tattoo - part 2 (final)

Teacher!Negan x F!Reader

Summary: After your art teacher gives you a tattoo that will always remind you of him, he wants a matching one. But he wants you to give it to him.. while you "give it to him."

Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap, p in v, blowjob, teacher-student relationship, giving Negan a tattoo while you ride him, (if teacher-student relationships and/or age-gaps are not your thing, please do not read.)

Part one here

Finally posting this after a century! Sorry it took so long. xx

“Are you insane?!” I stood with the tattoo gun in my hand, mouth dropped open as I watched him get comfortable on the leather couch. He sat shirtless with his legs spread perfectly apart.

“Probably.” He grinned, flashing his pretty teeth and deeply ingrained dimples that I've become obsessed with over the years.

“Seriously.. Negan.. I’ve never tattooed someone before, obviously, and-“

His head fell to the side as if he didn't want to hear my excuses. “You’ve taken my art class four times. More than any other student at that damn school. Did you learn anything, or were you too busy fantasizing about the teacher?" He smirked.

"... I didn't learn how to give someone a tattoo."

"No different than drawing, baby."

"I can barely do that." I shrugged. "Why did you even pass me?"

Negan let out a chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch for a moment. "I think we both know the answer to that." We both fell silent as I looked unsure about what he was asking me to do.

“I’ll start it. Would that make you feel better?” He asked. I nodded, knowing there’s no way I could do this by myself.

“Hand me that pen over there?” He nodded towards his desk. I grabbed a purple outline pen to give him and he took the cap off with his teeth before easily drawing the most perfect baseball bat I've ever seen on his chest right about his left nipple. He tossed the pen aside and started the tattoo gun, bringing it close to his chest.

“Stop.” I blurted. “You don’t have to do this.”

Negan scrunched his brows at me. “I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do, sweetheart.” He said before carving a small line over the purple outline on his skin, not flinching an ounce. He stopped after making a small mark on his skin, then handed me the tattoo gun while patting his lap for me to sit.

He can’t seriously want me to sit in his lap while I permanently mark his body.

“Take your clothes off first, baby. Give me something to look at while we do this.”

I sat the tattoo gun to the side before slowly undressing for him until I was completely bare and cold, shivering in front of him.

“Mm, so fucking beautiful.” He praised, seeing my perky nipples on display for him. I noticed the straining bulge in his pants before I even sat down. I straddled him carefully and settled into his lap while facing him, cautiously holding the tattoo gun in my hand.

“You got this, darlin’.” He encouraged me, probably because I looked like I could faint any second. Sitting in my hot teacher's lap and tattooing his chest wasn’t something I thought I'd ever do.

“What if-“ I started but he cut me off.

“I don’t care.” He said in almost a whisper. “You could draw little hearts and fuckin' butterflies all over me, and I wouldn’t care as long as you’re hovering that sweet pussy over me. The tat? Is the last thing on my mind right now, doll.”

With that, I brought it to his skin and began making a line before I could talk to myself out of it. I felt Negan’s eyes burning into me, and his face was close enough to mine for me to smell the mint and tobacco on his mouth. Negan let out a breath that resembled a moan when the needle tore through his flesh.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, continuing my surprisingly impressive line.

"No." His voice was hoarse and raspy. "Feels fucking good."

I felt the bulge in his pants grow bigger underneath me and wanted to grind against him but couldn't move without possibly messing up. Negan watched me intensely before I felt his hand drift down to my center. I shivered when he ran a finger through my wet slit and saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye.

"Negan. I need to be still. I'm not messing this up."

"Then be still, darlin'. Don't mind me." I heard the zipper of his pants and glanced at him, giving him a silent warning that whatever he was about to do wasn't a good idea.

Negan grabbed my wrist gently and I pulled my hand away from his chest as he lifted my hips slightly and guided me over his length. I sat down completely, taking him so deep that it hurt.

"Negan.." I moaned, and he moaned with me, keeping us still and not moving while his cock was all the way inside me.

"Finish what you started, baby." He said, gesturing to the tattoo gun still in my hand. Hesitantly I started again, going slower this time. I felt his cock twitch inside me when the needle hit his skin, and almost whimpered at how full he made me feel, pressing tightly into my walls.

"You never answered my question, doll."

"Hm?" I asked, focusing on the tattoo and trying to ignore the throbbing sensation in my cunt.

"Did you learn anything in my class?"

I smiled for a moment, thinking of a clever answer. "Of course. I learned that.. I wanted you. Safe to say I did more fantasizing than listening to you yap about art, although listening to your deep voice did help with the fantasies." I giggled.

"Yeah?" He asked, tightening his grip on my hips as he fought the urge to thrust his hips upwards. "What exactly did you fantasize about, doll?"

"So much. But.. my favorite was thinking of you bending me over your desk. Or sucking your cock underneath your desk while others were around and had no idea."

"Fuuck." Negan breathed out heavily as he rested his head back against the couch. "Keep going, baby. I want to hear more."

"I would always stare at the front of your pants."

"I noticed." He chuckled.

"And I'd imagine what it looked like. How big you were."

"Yeah? What do you think? Was it what you imagined?"

"Bigger." I said truthfully, getting close to being finished with the tattoo.

"Sweetheart, I need you to hurry the fuck up and finish. My dick is gonna fucking explode if I don't move soon."

"Already done." I pulled the gun back and smiled, admiring my work and being pleasantly surprised. "Take a look."

Negan ripped the gun out of my hand and tossed it on the floor. "Later. Bounce on my fuckin' dick, now." He said desperately as he adjusted himself lower on the couch.

I happily obeyed him, placing my hands on his shoulders, being careful not to touch his reddening pecs. It felt so good to finally move up and down on his cock, so I dropped my head back and rode him fast and hard while my tits bounced in his face.

Negan leaned forward and took my nipple into his mouth, slurping around it and groaning as I fucked him. I screamed out, knowing we were the only ones there and I could be as loud as I wanted.

"Fuuuck, baby." He said breathlessly, leaning back again and looking up at me. "You look so fuckin' pretty with my dick inside you." His thumb dug into my hips, brushing against my fresh tattoo that now matched his own.

"Negan! I'm gonna cum!" I cried out, letting my orgasm rip through me while my legs shook and collapsed until I sank all the way down on him again, not able to hold myself up.

"Goddamn! Look at the mess you made all over me." He said proudly and I looked down between us, seeing the pool of wetness where our bodies were connected.

"Sorry.." I said, blushing.

He hummed, looking up at you. "I don't believe you. Why don't you get on your knees and clean up your mess? Show daddy how sorry you are?"

He kissed me before I climbed off his lap and onto my knees in the floor, settling between his spread legs. His cock stood tall between his legs and I finally got a chance to admire it. Wrapping my hand around it, I stroked him slowly, studying every vein in his impressive length. I imagined the sight of this for so long, and I wanted to enjoy it.

Pushing his hard cock away, I dipped my head between his crotch and sucked one of his large balls into my mouth, moaning around it. Negan's leg twitched at the sudden sensitivity as he gently wrapped his hand in my hair.

"Shit, baby. Been awhile since someone's had my balls in their mouth. Forgot how - oh, fuck - how good it feels."

I gave the other one some attention before finally licking up his shaft until I reached the tip, wrapping my mouth firmly around his thick head. He tasted like a mix of my pussy and his precum and it was the most heavenly thing I had ever experienced. I savored it as I took him as far as I could in the back of my throat, gagging slightly before pulling back. I continued this for awhile, taking turns sucking and stroking him until my mouth was dripping with spit and his dick was soaked.

"Ohhh fuck, baby, you ready for my cum?" He said quickly, guiding my head back to his cock. He let out a loud, strained groan as I felt him empty himself down my throat. I moaned around him, not pulling away until every drop was swallowed.

Negan leaned down, wrapping his hand around my throat and pulling me towards him for a kiss. I slipped my tongue in his mouth, letting him taste us and his eyes fluttered shut.

"I should have failed you." He signed when he finally broke away from the kiss.

"What? Why?"

"Art won't be the same without you. I dunno if I want to teach anymore now that you're graduating."

"Don't be silly. You've always loved art."

Negan chuckled, pulling me into his lap again. "No.. I've always loved you."

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