#I tried doing a puppet on a string thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uncuredturkeybacon · 20 days ago

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𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you coach her game and quiet her mind

part two - part three - part four - part five

You met Paige Bueckers on a Tuesday afternoon in late September, your sophomore year at Hopkins.

It’s open gym. You aren’t technically supposed to be in there—you’ve already finished your weight training hour and your basketball season doesn’t start until winter—but the hum of a bouncing ball is too rhythmic to ignore. There’s a familiar comfort to the hollow echo of sneakers and grit on hardwood, something that calls you in like a whisper.

You open the gym door quietly, backpack still slung over one shoulder, and that’s when you see her.

Blonde ponytail swaying. Wide stance. Shot pocket high. Paige freaking Bueckers.

You’d heard of her, of course. Everyone at Hopkins had. Varsity freshman starter. Handles like a string puppet master. Shot like a dream. Girl had already been ranked nationally, and people couldn’t stop talking about her like she was some prodigy out of a sports movie. You thought it was all hype.

Then you saw her move.

And the thing was—she wasn’t just good. She was smooth. Every step calculated, but casual. Every pivot like muscle memory. She dribbled like the ball owed her rent.

She doesn’t notice you at first. Just keeps shooting from mid-range, the ball sailing through net with that soft, cotton-candy swish. Over and over and over.

You step in farther.

She stops, finally turning her head slightly, eyebrows raised. “You lost?”

You blink. “No. Just… didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

She nods once, grabbing her rebound. “You hoop?”

You shrug. “Yeah. But I train more than I play now. Strength and conditioning stuff. I work with Coach Cosgriff sometimes.”

Paige bounces the ball slowly under one hand, studying you with that squint she always seems to wear. “So you're, like, a trainer-trainer?”

You laugh once. “A sophomore trainer. I’m certified in watching YouTube videos and correcting people’s forms at the gym.”

She smirks. “Sounds legit.”

“Totally. Olympic-level.”

There’s a pause. You think she’s gonna go back to shooting, but instead she spins the ball toward you with a flick of her wrist. You catch it without thinking.

“Rebound for me?” she asks.

That’s how it starts.

You don’t say much that first week. You mostly pass the ball back to her and correct her foot placement when she does too many fade aways in a row. She doesn’t seem to mind your notes. In fact, she listens. Eyes narrow, brows drawn together. She nods when you speak. Adjusts. Tries again.

By week three, you’re staying after school just to watch her shoot.

By week five, she’s asking you to run drills with her. “I need someone who won’t go easy on me,” she says. “You look like you play defense like a demon.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You calling me aggressive?”

She grins. “I’m calling you annoying. Like a mosquito.”

You end up training together every week after that.

It’s past 6:30 PM, and the gym lights are humming like they’re tired of you both. You’ve run suicides, jump-rope footwork ladders, and back-to-back spot shooting. She’s collapsed on the baseline with a towel over her face.

“You trying to kill me?” she mumbles.

You grin, stretching near her. “You wanna be the best or nah?”

She lifts the towel just enough to peek at you. “I was the best like three years ago.”

“Complacency,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “That’s the first sign of career death.”

She snorts. “You sound like a Nike ad.”

“I sound like someone who’s keeping your ass in shape.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, tossing the towel aside. “You do.”

There’s something unspoken in the air. The gym is empty. Just your water bottles clinking, the soft squeak of shoes as you shift. She looks at you a beat too long.

“You ever think about going into this for real?” she asks suddenly. “Training people?”

“I already am,” you say. “I’m applying to kinesiology programs. Sports science. I wanna do this for a living. Maybe NBA. Or… WNBA.”

“You’d be good at it,” she says, and there’s no teasing in her voice.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You make people better without making them feel like shit. That’s rare.”

You blink. She’s never said something like that before—not with that tone. And something flickers in her eyes like she didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“I’d want you to keep working with me,” she adds quietly. “If I go to UConn. Or wherever.”

“You planning on bringing me with you?” you joke, nudging her shoe with yours.

She doesn’t joke back.

“Yeah,” she says simply.

The dorms are stuffy and the air smells like ramen and underachieving. You moved in early because Paige wanted to start pre-season training before official practices began. You aren’t on the team. You aren’t on staff—yet. But Paige made some calls. And they made an exception.

You’re the one in her corner before the season even starts.

You run her drills. Chart her shot percentages. Track her fatigue, time her sprints, log every mile she runs.

But you also learn her.

The way she hums under her breath when she’s shooting threes. The way she swears under her breath when she’s not getting it right. The way she pulls at the hem of her shorts when she’s overthinking.

The way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not looking.

You see it more now. The lingering. The heat behind her glances.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look too.

You’re lying on your back in her dorm room after a long night of training, the air between you quiet but charged.

“You ever think this… all of it… happened too fast?” Paige asks softly, turning her head toward you.

You meet her eyes. “Basketball or…?”

She doesn’t answer for a second. “Everything.”

You inhale slowly. “No. I think some things happen when they’re supposed to.”

She smiles faintly, shifting closer.

“And what if this—us—is one of those things?”

You glance down between you. Your hands are almost touching.

You don’t pull away.

Neither does she.

“Then I guess we’re right on time.”

It’s weird how easily your dynamic translated to college. She still listens to you. She still trusts your eyes more than anyone else’s.

“Step on your left harder after the spin,” you tell her during an individual session. “You’re floating too long. You’re not getting enough power.”

She nods and tries again. Nails it. Of course.

Afterward, she walks with you back to your apartment, as she’s been doing for weeks now.

"You coming to the scrimmage Saturday?" she asks, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk.

"Obviously. I'll be sitting next to Coach. Telling him what he's doing wrong."

She laughs and bumps her shoulder into yours. "You're cocky."

"I'm right."

“You’re something,” she mutters.

You don’t ask what she means. You don’t need to.

But you can feel it growing. The way she lingers when she talks to you. The way she watches you when you speak with someone else. The way she listens too closely. Stands too close.

And then it happens.

It’s after a game—a blowout win. You’re the last two in the practice gym, her icing her knee, you jotting down some movement notes in your tablet.

She asks, “Do you ever think about us?”

You stop mid-type.

“Us?” you repeat.

“Yeah. You and me. Not just trainer-player.”

You blink. Slowly. “All the time.”

She’s quiet, like that answer knocked the wind out of her. “So what do we do?”

You swallow. “We try.”

She smiles, soft and quiet. “Cool. So… kiss me?”

You walk over, heart thudding like you’re about to play in front of a sold-out crowd. But this moment—this kiss—is private. Gentle. A quiet victory.

Dating Paige Bueckers is exactly what you expected and nothing like you imagined.

She’s a goof. Always humming Drake songs and using you as a weighted vest when you’re trying to do push-ups.

But she’s also laser-focused, and sometimes that means 3AM texts. My jumper feels off, help. So you drag yourself to the gym with bedhead and bad breath, and she lights up like the scoreboard when she sees you.

The chemistry you have—on and off court—is unmatched.

“Let’s try that pin-down cut again,” you say during a workout. “But sell it harder this time.”

She wipes sweat from her brow. “Why don’t you just play defense on me? That’ll make it real.”

So you do. And she doesn’t get past you the first three tries. Fourth try, she fakes right and spins left—you’re gone.

“God, I love when you push me like that,” she says, out of breath, laughing.

You grin. “Yeah?”

She walks toward you, playful. “Yeah.”

Paige kisses you there, right in the middle of the gym floor, hands on your hips like you're her anchor.

And you are.

You always have been.

There are tough days. Days she doubts herself. When the pressure builds and she doesn’t want to talk to anyone but you.

“I’m not playing like myself,” she says one night, curled on your couch.

You rub her thigh gently. “You’re in your head. You need to come back to your body. You need to play with joy.”

She looks at you, teary-eyed. “How do you always know?”

You shrug. “I’ve always known you, Paige.”

There’s a long pause. And then she says, “I think I want to do this forever.”

“Basketball?”

“You.”

It’s not flashy. There’s no grand gesture. No candlelit dinner. But it’s her. And it’s you. And it’s exactly enough.

It’s senior year now. She’s a legend. You’re her official trainer.

And people still call you Bueckers’ shadow, but now it comes with respect. Because they see it now. That you’ve helped shape her, sculpt her, kept her balanced.

On her senior night, she gives a speech.

She thanks her coaches. Her team. Her family.

And then, looking right at you, she says, “And to the person who’s been here since day one… my first pass, my best read, my forever one-on-one partner—thank you for never letting me forget who I am.”

You don’t cry.

Okay. You do.

But so does she.

Later that night, she pulls you into her room, shuts the door, and murmurs against your mouth, “You were always more than my trainer.”

You smile into the kiss. “I know.”

The moment Paige Bueckers’ name is called, the world erupts.

But she doesn’t.

She just looks at you.

Not the camera, not the stage—you. With that look you’ve seen a thousand times since high school. The one that says we did it.

You’re already standing when she launches into your arms, nearly knocking you back into the row of chairs behind you. Her arms wrap tight around your neck, her face pressed to your shoulder, whispering through the noise, “Don’t let go.”

You don’t.

Not when she pulls back, eyes glassy, hands still gripping your waist.

Not when she walks up to the stage with tears in her lashes and your name on her tongue.

And definitely not when the cameras catch her glancing at you before every answer.

The draft is a blur of bright lights, cheers, cameras, and interviews—but you stay close. Just off-screen. Just like always.

Until the media starts asking questions that aren’t about her game.

“Paige, congratulations on being the number one overall pick to the Dallas Wings! Can you tell us who you brought with you tonight?”

She glances sideways to where you're standing in her shadow. But you know her well enough to read the decision flicker behind her eyes.

She’s not going to hide you. Not anymore.

She turns back to the mic, confidence radiating from her like warm sun. “That’s my person. She’s been with me since high school. Trains me. Puts up with me. Challenges me. Loves me. So yeah—she’s a big part of why I’m here.”

The reporters buzz.

“Who is she to you?”

Paige smiles softly. “She’s everything.”

You nearly choke on your breath backstage.

Paige’s suit jacket is slung over a chair. Her shoes abandoned by the bed. Her Wings hat perched crooked on your head.

She’s on her knees in front of you, chin resting on your thigh, dress shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, her fingers lazily tracing circles on your knee.

“You really said all that on national television?” you murmur, smiling.

“I’ve wanted to say it since we were seventeen,” she replies. “Since that day in Hopkins when you rebounded for me until I cried.”

You slide your fingers through her hair. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I’m your number one overall pick, too?”

You grin. “That, and now the whole world’s gonna know you’re soft for me.”

She leans up and kisses you—slow, full of promise. “Let ’em.”

You lie back on the hotel bed as she climbs in beside you. Her fingers tangle with yours like muscle memory.

“I’m scared,” she whispers eventually.

“Of what?”

“The league. The pressure. Failing.”

You squeeze her hand. “You won’t fail. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

She turns to face you, nose brushing yours. “Stay with me through all of it?”

You press a kiss to her forehead. “Always. I trained you for this, remember?”

She grins sleepily. “Guess I’m stuck with you then.”

“No,” you say quietly. “You chose me.”

Her silence says everything.

And for the first time that night—long after the cameras stopped flashing and the confetti settled—you both breathe.

The sun’s barely cracked the skyline of Dallas, golden haze stretching long across the parking lot when Paige turns to you, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her practice jersey half-tucked into her waistband.

“You sure you want to come?”

You raise an eyebrow as you slide into the passenger seat of her car. “Seriously?”

She grins, brushing a hand over your thigh before starting the engine. “I mean, you’re not on staff.”

“Nope. Just the person who got you to number one.”

She leans over at a red light and kisses your cheek. “Damn right.”

The gym is humming with controlled chaos when you arrive—assistant coaches shouting instructions, music blasting, rookies trying not to trip over their own nerves. Paige is handed her gear and directed to the locker room, while you find your way to the bench along the sideline.

You set your bag down beside you, pull out your tablet, and cross your legs. The gym smells like polished hardwood and sweat and the faintest trace of new opportunity.

And there she is—Paige Bueckers—tying her shoes like it’s still high school in Hopkins, rolling her shoulders, bouncing a ball between her legs like she doesn’t know every camera in the room is aimed at her.

Your stylus hovers, and you begin.

Hips tight in lateral slide. Right knee still drifting inward on push-off.

She doesn’t look at you once, but she doesn’t need to. She knows you’re watching. Studying. Calculating.

You catch her third turnover in scrimmage. The coach yells something—timing issue—but you know better.

Drifting right early on corner curl. Jumping the pass. Tell her to settle feet before turn.

The practice stretches two hours. Drills. Scrimmage. More drills. Water break. Media arrives toward the end, clicking cameras, calling out names. Paige answers politely. You watch how her smile fades when she turns away.

When it finally ends, she doesn’t even glance at the locker room. She walks straight to you.

“Alright, hit me,” she says, dropping beside you on the bench, water bottle tucked under one arm, legs wide and hands clasped between her knees. Her jersey clings to her back with sweat. Her hair’s pulled into a tight bun, a few loose curls framing her flushed face.

You smirk. “You sure? I’ve got five pages already.”

“Jesus,” she mutters, leaning over to peek. “You still do bullet points?”

“I upgraded. Color-coded now.”

She groans. “Please tell me red still means ‘sucked.’”

“Red means ‘must address immediately.’ But yeah, you sucked on a few.”

She tosses her towel at you. You duck, laughing. Then you glance down at your screen.

“You rushed your footwork on the baseline pick. Every time. You’re cutting the corner too shallow, and it’s forcing your hips to stay closed when you rise.”

“I felt that,” she says, nodding. “Couldn’t get any lift.”

“Exactly. Also—your right knee’s collapsing again on your jump stop. You need to slow down your load. Breathe through it.”

“Got it.”

“Scrimmage—third possession, you jumped the passing lane too early on the weak side. You overcommitted on a read that wasn’t there. That’s a high school mistake, Bueckers.”

She groans again, flopping back against the bleachers. “Ughhh. Be nicer.”

You smile. “No.”

She nudges you with her shoulder. “Anything good?”

You glance at her, the way her eyes are shining despite the exhaustion. You nod.

“You read the defense perfectly on that skip pass to Crystal. Footwork was clean, timing was elite. Also—your fake hesitation in transition off that turnover? Disgusting.”

She grins. “Filthy?”

“Filthy,” you confirm.

There’s a pause, one of those quiet pockets that only exist with people who know every version of you.

Then Paige stands.

“Come on. Let’s fix my corner curl.”

Half the players are already gone, heading toward the locker room or training room or their cars. But Paige pulls you to the far basket like it’s still your high school gym at midnight.

You don’t even hesitate. You grab a ball and toss it to her.

“Start at the top. Walk me through your cut.”

She moves to the elbow, begins her motion slow.

“Too shallow,” you call.

She adjusts. Again. Again.

“Keep your center low. You’re rising too soon.”

She adjusts. Again. And again.

You step closer, placing your hands on her waist as she resets.

“Watch your hips. You’re twisting before your feet are planted.”

Her eyes flick to you. “You watching my hips or checking me out?”

You give her a look. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You sure?” she smirks, stepping closer, her hands ghosting your sides.

You push her shoulder gently. “Back to work, Bueckers.”

She backs up, laughing.

Across the court, Coach Koclanes is still talking to staff when he glances over and sees the way Paige moves differently with you. The way she listens more intently. The rhythm of it. The ease.

He watches as she finishes her last curl, catches the ball you pass her, and sinks it from the wing—net barely moving.

You jog to grab the rebound. She resets.

And he’s already walking over to her by the time she sinks another shot.

“Paige,” he says, calm but direct.

She turns, wiping her forehead. “Coach.”

He glances across the court, then back at her.

“She yours?”

Paige follows his gaze to you, where you’re dribbling the ball lazily between your legs and checking your notes again.

She swallows.

“Yes, sir.”

Koclanes raises an eyebrow. “Trainer or girlfriend?”

“Both.”

He watches you again for a moment then nods slowly. “She’s sharp.”

Paige smiles. “She’s the reason I’m sharp.”

Koclanes studies her, arms crossed. “Alright. Just keep it professional when it counts.”

“She always does. I’m the reckless one.”

He smirks. “I figured.”

You're sprawled on the couch, tablet in your lap, and Paige is sitting on the floor between your knees, her back against the couch as you gently press into her shoulders.

“How bad was I?” she mumbles, half-asleep already.

“You weren’t bad,” you say. “You were just out of rhythm. New system. New teammates. New everything.”

She sighs. “It’s weird. Being the rookie again.”

You thread your fingers through her hair.

“You’ll adjust. You always do.”

She tilts her head to rest against your knee. “Coach asked about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanted to know if you were my trainer or my girlfriend.”

You grin. “What’d you say?”

“I said both.”

You pause. “And?”

“He said you’re sharp.”

You tap her forehead lightly. “Told you.”

She laughs softly.“Thanks for coming today.”

“I’ll be at every practice I can,” you promise. “Always.”

Paige reaches back, wrapping one hand around your ankle. “Feels like we never left the gym back home.”

You smile.

Because you know, deep down, that no matter how far Paige goes—WNBA stardom, championships, international fame—there will always be a corner of a court, a half-lit gym, where it’s just you and her.

The next time Paige asks if you’re coming to practice, you don’t answer. You just give her a look from across your shared bed, tablet already charging, stylus clipped to your hoodie collar. She laughs like she already knew.

"You're such a nerd," she teases, stretching as she slides out of bed.

"And you're late to everything but the gym," you shoot back, already packing snacks into her duffel.

Inside the Wings facility, it's déjà vu—but with a twist.

Paige is looser now. She’s smiling as she jogs out onto the court for warmups. Still focused, still razor-sharp, but her eyes find you through the bleachers like you're her true north.

You're already scribbling notes.

Dribble height off the left—still inconsistent. No dip off the hip before the pull.

She looks smoother today. Reads are quicker. She’s calling out switches and catching mismatches before they fully form. You know she’s watched the film. Your film.

And it shows.

She has a strong scrimmage. Ten assists. Fifteen points. The gym buzzes every time she touches the ball. Coaches watch her like she’s the answer to every late-game possession. But she still looks to you when she’s subbed out, even for just a moment.

A raised eyebrow from you is all it takes to remind her, slow your footwork, release higher, trust the screen.

She does. Nails her next three.

After practice ends, some of the players linger around the half-court line, chatting and stretching. But Paige’s sneakers squeak straight toward you.

She slides onto the bench beside you, water bottle cradled between her palms, jersey clinging to her collarbone with sweat.

“Well?”

You pass her the tablet. “You tell me.”

She scrolls. “Less red.”

You bump your knee against hers. “Because you actually did your hip mobility warm-up this time.”

“Don’t out me.”

You smirk. “I’ll keep your secrets if you keep hitting those high-release threes.”

She hands the tablet back, mock-serious. “Deal.”

You open your mouth to say something else, but someone clears their throat just behind you.

You turn and see him—Coach Chris Koclanes. Arms folded. Neutral face. Calculating eyes.

“Mind if I steal you a second?” he asks—not to Paige, but to you.

You blink, then glance at her. Paige just smiles and gives a subtle nod. You stand slowly, brushing your hands on your sweats as you follow him a few paces down the sideline.

He gestures toward the court. “That was a hell of a session for Bueckers.”

You nod. “She’s a rhythm player. Once she finds her pace, she’s lethal.”

“She credited you yesterday. Said you’ve been training her for years.”

“Since Hopkins.”

“She listens to you.”

You shrug, cautious. “We’ve built trust. I’ve been in her corner longer than most.”

Coach tilts his head, studying you. “You ever worked in a professional setting?”

“Not officially. Internships. Assistant roles. Mostly freelance analysis. Paige has been my primary focus.”

“I noticed.”

You’re silent.

Then he says it, casually—like it’s not a thing that could change your entire trajectory.

“I’ve got a spot open. Player development. One-on-one focus. I want you on staff—assigned directly to Paige.”

You freeze.

“Wait... what?”

He doesn’t waver. “You’ve clearly studied the game. You’ve got rapport. She trusts you more than anyone I’ve seen her with. I want that. I want you working with her officially. You’d be listed as player development assistant, but your job’s simple. Keep her sharp.”

“I—I’d need to talk to her about it.”

“You can. But it’s her job now. Not college. Not freelance. You’ll be part of the system. You in or not?”

You hesitate for the first time in a long time.

You’ve always been by Paige’s side. Always in the shadow just outside the spotlight. But this… this would put you inside the machine.

And that scares you.

But then Paige jogs over, towel around her shoulders, hair a mess, and eyes locked on you.

“You okay?” she asks, sensing the weight of the moment.

You look at her.

At the girl you trained through injuries, through heartbreak, through the hardest years of her life.

At the woman she’s become.

You smile softly.

“Coach wants to hire me,” you say.

Her brows lift. “For real?”

“To train you. Officially.”

There’s a pause.

Then her hand slides into yours, quiet but steady.

“What are you waiting for?”

You show up fifteen minutes early.

Even though you’ve walked through these gym doors a dozen times with Paige, everything feels different now. Your name’s on the clipboard. Your badge is clipped to your lanyard. You’re not just the person she looks for in the crowd.

You’re staff.

Official.

You nod to Coach Koclanes as you pass him in the hallway. He grunts a greeting, mid-conversation with another staffer, but you catch the way he gives a tiny approving nod in your direction.

Paige’s locker is already open when you make it to the court. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of it, re-lacing her sneakers like she didn’t lace and unlace them five minutes ago just to get it right.

She doesn’t say anything. Just looks up and gives you the smallest smirk.

“You nervous?” she asks without looking up.

“Why would I be nervous?” you say, adjusting your tablet bag and trying to sound like your heart isn’t pacing like it’s game day.

“Because you look like you’re about to give a TED Talk instead of coaching me through curls and closeouts.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

“Y/N?” Coach Koclanes’ voice calls from across the court.

You walk over. “Yes, Coach.”

“You’ll be shadowing the guards today. Track foot placement and timing—specifically the pick-and-pop sequences. If Bueckers misses any lift opportunities, I want it noted.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll run her one-on-one this afternoon. After team breakdown.”

“Understood.”

He claps your shoulder once, short and firm. “Welcome aboard.”

You nod. “Glad to be here.”

Practice unfolds like muscle memory.

You stay on the sidelines during group drills—eyes sharp, clipboard scribbling fast, quiet enough not to distract but focused enough to clock the split-second decision Paige makes before her assist in a half-court set.

Hesitation dribble sets defender. Delay creates opening. Reinforce timing.

During defensive rotations, she switches too late once.

You make a note.

She knows.

On the next possession, she’s early.

By a beat.

You smirk down at your page.

Water break.

Paige jogs past you, towel around her neck. She slows just enough to pass a quiet, “How am I doing, Coach?”

You don’t look up. “Foot’s still sliding out on the stagger screen. Don’t let your heel lead.”

“Got it.”

She grins and disappears into the huddle.

You keep writing.

The court’s cleared of team chaos. Most of the players have filtered out, heading to the weight room or showers. Coaches flutter around, chatting about the next game plan.

You wait with two fresh basketballs and a short list of drills. Paige walks back onto the court, damp hair tucked into a fresh headband, sweat already drying on her skin.

She nods at your clipboard. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad. But I’m not here to tell you what’s good.”

“Of course not.”

You toss her the ball. “We’re going to fix the angle on your split step first. You’re hesitating mid-transition when you don’t need to.”

She shifts into position. “I only trust you to tell me that.”

You smile quietly. “Lucky me.”

The next thirty minutes are the closest you’ve felt to home since stepping into this facility.

You aren’t just watching her. You’re correcting, measuring, coaching her through every breath and pivot.

Her shoulders relax under your voice.

Your fingers brush her knee to adjust her positioning—not intimate, but familiar.

You step in behind her on a jab series drill, guiding her hips gently with your hands to show where her weight should be. She exhales through her nose, eyes laser-focused on the floor.

When she nails it three reps later, she grins over her shoulder at you.

“I forgot how it feels when it clicks.”

You nod. “That’s why we’re here.”

Another assistant watching nearby chuckles. “She listens to you better than anyone.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

You’re gathering your clipboard and packing up your notes when Coach Koclanes walks over again. Paige’s eyes flick toward you once, but she heads toward the weight room with a soft brush of her fingers across your arm.

It’s subtle.

No one else would notice.

But you feel it.

Coach stops in front of you, arms crossed. “That was a clean session.”

“She’s responding well to structure,” you say.

“No. She’s responding to you,” he replies. “That’s why I pushed to get you on staff.”

You nod. “I appreciate that, sir.”

He watches Paige across the gym, already laughing with teammates in the weight room.

“You keep this up, you’re not just gonna be her trainer. You’ll be a real asset to this team.”

You look at him. “I want to help them all. But she’s the one I know best.”

He nods once. “Then don’t let her down.”

You tighten your grip on the clipboard. “Never have.”

That night, Paige sits beside you on your apartment balcony, toes tucked under her, hoodie zipped halfway, her knees brushing yours.

"You were so locked in today," she says.

"So were you."

She leans over and places a kiss on your shoulder, resting her head on your arm. “You made today feel like home.”

You close your eyes for a second, listening to the hum of Dallas in the distance.

“You are home,” you whisper.

She doesn’t reply.

She just laces her fingers with yours and holds on.

You linger near the back wall, just behind the assistants’ bench setup as the players finish changing. Paige tapes her wrists in near silence, bouncing her knee the way she always does before big games. You know her tells like your own breath.

She looks up once and catches your eye.

You nod, once. A signal.

You're ready.

She blinks slowly and exhales. A signal back.

I know.

Paige Bueckers in crunch time is art. She’s calm chaos. She moves like music. The crowd chants her name before the buzzer even sounds.

You don’t celebrate yet. You just stand with the clipboard tucked to your chest, waiting for the team to return to the bench.

And then she jogs off the court, towel over her head, high-fiving teammates—and her eyes go straight to you.

No smile.

No show.

Just a look that says everything.

I needed you here.

You give a subtle nod, lips parting just slightly, and she closes her eyes for half a second like she’s sealing the moment.

There are reporters. There are lights. Paige answers questions about the debut, the crowd, the shots. One asks if she felt ready.

She pauses. “I was more than ready.”

“What helped you prepare the most for your first game?”

She tilts her head slightly. “Honestly? I’ve had someone in my corner for years. She’s always known what I need before I do.”

A subtle answer.

But you know who she means.

Another day, another practice and you and paige stay past practice to work on more one-on-one training.

She’s standing at the elbow, hands on her hips, jersey damp with sweat. You’re holding the ball. Clipboard tucked under your arm. Your eyes narrow as you step forward.

“Okay. Three reps. Elbow pivot into the dribble-drop. Inside foot. One step. Pull.”

Paige nods. You pass her the ball. She moves—sharp, clean, quick—but her foot lands too flat. You don’t say anything, just tilt your head. She stops, pivots back toward you.

“Too slow?”

“Too flat.”

“Again?”

You toss the ball again. She resets. This time, the movement slices. Sharp plant. Quick pop. Perfect arc. Net barely stirs. You smile, but you don’t say anything. She already knows.

DiJonai Carrington is leaning against the wall near the exit, pretending to be texting. She's not. She’s watching.

She nudges Arike Ogunbowale, who’s walking by.

“Tell me that’s not a couple.”

Arike squints. “You mean Bueckers and iPad Girl?”

“Y/N,” DiJonai corrects.

“Yeah, I mean… they’re always together. I thought she was just training her.”

“Sure,” DiJonai says. “But you ever watch them?”

They both look again.

You’re walking in a small circle as Paige mirrors your movements, copying your footwork in silence, like dancers in slow sync. She laughs at something you say. You roll your eyes but reach out to adjust her elbow softly.

Arike raises an eyebrow. “That’s not just training.”

“Nope.”

You’ve got the court from 7 to 8 a.m. before scheduled practice begins. Paige shows up five minutes early—iced coffee in one hand, her mouth already chewing a bite of banana.

You’re in joggers and a Wings tee, tablet resting on a folding chair, cones lined up like a blueprint for something more serious than just “a workout.”

“You’re in a mood,” Paige says, setting down her drink.

“You’re inconsistent on your left side release. We’re fixing it today.”

She groans. “That’s a lefty problem.”

“It’s a you problem.”

She steps into her shoes and points. “Tell me what to do, Coach.”

You walk through it together.

Left foot plant. Shoulder twist. Off-hand steady. Ball into motion.

You call out commands. She adjusts immediately.

Thirty minutes in, she’s drenched. You toss her a towel and a water bottle.

“Better,” you admit.

“I’m gonna crash before real practice even starts,” she huffs.

You smirk. “You’ll thank me mid-season.”

Paige grins. “I always do.”

“Is it true?” Maddy Siegrist asks during stretching.

“What?” Ty Harris replies.

“That Paige and Y/N have been together since college.”

Ty shrugs. “They’ve known each other forever.”

“I thought it was just a trainer thing,” Maddy mutters.

Ty grins. “Look again.”

Later, during team cooldown, Paige finishes her reps and jogs straight to you. Doesn’t even grab a towel first.

You hand her one anyway.

She dabs her face and says, “Can we run that pick split tomorrow? The one we talked about?”

You nod. “I’ll draw it up tonight.”

She nudges you lightly with her hip. “Add a note that says ‘tell her she’s brilliant’.”

You roll your eyes. “Noted.”

The gym’s closed. The team had morning practice and mandatory lift. Most of the players have left for the day.

You’re not supposed to be here. Not technically. But Paige had asked. Just thirty minutes, she said. Just to walk through that new screen sequence you diagrammed.

So here you are.

You both are.

No cameras. No coaches. Just the echo of sneakers on hardwood and the sound of Paige’s soft exhale as she resets for the fifteenth time.

You're seated cross-legged on the court with your notes spread around you like a campfire circle. She’s walking herself through spacing patterns and foot placement, talking aloud so you can listen for her rhythm.

She misses a step. You catch it instantly.

“Too wide on your pivot,” you murmur.

She sighs. “I felt that.”

“You’re rushing the top foot.”

She stops. Tilts her head.

“You know what helps that?” she says.

You squint up at her. “What?”

She walks over slowly, takes your hand, and gently pulls you to your feet. “You.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want me to demo it?”

“No,” she says, slipping her arms around your waist. “I want a break.”

You laugh quietly. “Oh, so now I’m a human timeout?”

“You’re my entire recovery system.”

Her fingers hook into the waistband of your joggers. Her forehead presses to yours. Her body still humming from the workout, but her expression soft, flushed in a different way.

You lean in. Her lips brush yours once—slow, careful, reverent.

Then again—deeper this time, her hand rising to the back of your neck. She kisses you like you’re the rhythm she’s trying to memorize.

You sigh against her mouth.

“Oh my god—”

Both your heads whip toward the doorway.

Maddy is frozen, Gatorade bottle in one hand, gym bag slung over her shoulder, eyes wide.

You and Paige instantly take a step apart—hands dropping, space returning.

Too late.

“I didn’t see anything,” Maddy says, blinking. “Except I very much did.”

Paige groans quietly. “Mad…”

Maddy grins—messy, teasing, thrilled. “So… I was right.”

You rub the back of your neck. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Too late. They’re all going to scream.”

Paige groans louder, dragging a hand down her face. “God.”

Maddy holds up her free hand like a scout’s oath. “I’ll be cool. But like… this is kinda iconic.”

She starts to back out the door, already pulling out her phone.

“Ver—no texts!” Paige calls.

“I can’t hear you,” she says, vanishing around the corner.

Paige is curled up beside you on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, scrolling through the messages with an embarrassed smile.

“Maddy said she saw a spark fly across the court when we kissed,” she says.

“She’s being dramatic,” you mumble, stroking her leg.

“She also said we owe her wedding invites.”

You snort. “Tell her she’s not getting a plus one.”

Paige laughs softly, then sobers. “You okay with this?”

You glance down at her. “The team knowing?”

She nods.

You rest your hand over her heart. “Feels like they always did.”

She smiles again. Quieter. More secure.

“Yeah,” she says. “I think so too.”

The Wings take the game by six.

Paige finishes with 24 points and 9 assists, carving up the fourth quarter with her signature midrange feints and off-ball creativity. You watched it all from the second row behind the bench, scribbling down your notes in silence, even though you knew everything you needed to say could be told with just a look.

After the buzzer, she walks off the court with her arm draped over DiJonai’s shoulder—grinning, exhausted, and glowing in that way she only does when she’s earned it.

She doesn’t come straight to you like she normally would. She gives you a look—soft, quiet, later.

You nod. Clipboard tight in hand.

Because you both know what’s next.

She’s in front of the mic, jersey swapped for a Wings hoodie, hair damp, eyes focused. The media crowd is familiar now—reporters from local outlets, national sportswriters, and the occasional YouTube basketball guy with a small mic clipped to his collar.

She’s answered three questions already. All standard.

“What did you see on that final possession?” “How has your chemistry with Arike developed this early in the season?” “What’s been the biggest adjustment from college ball to the league?”

She’s smooth. Thoughtful. Never rehearsed, but always real.

And then it comes.

From a new face in the third row. Out-of-town badge. Small outlet, but a big voice.

“Paige—this one’s off-court. There’s been a lot of speculation online recently about your relationship with your player development assistant, Y/N L/N.”

You feel your stomach go tight, even from where you stand just off to the side.

“There are viral clips. Locker room comments. A lot of fans believe you two are more than just athlete and trainer. Do you have any response to that?”

The room doesn’t gasp—but it shifts. Everyone suddenly leans in.

And Paige?

She blinks. Once. Steadies herself. And answers.

Calm. Clear. Unapologetic.

“I think it’s interesting that when a male player trains with someone for years and builds trust with them, no one asks these questions.”

The room holds its breath.

“But when it’s two women, it’s suddenly public interest. People want a headline. A label. Something to screenshot.”

She pauses. Looks directly at the reporter. Not angry—just... resolute.

“Y/N has been by my side since I was fifteen. She's shaped how I play. How I think the game. Whether we’re running drills or sharing silence, she's never once wanted credit for what I’ve done.”

Paige turns her head slightly.

Just enough to catch you in her peripheral vision. She doesn’t smile. But her voice softens.

“So no, I don’t owe anyone a label. But I will say this. Whatever she is to me, it’s not just anything.”

Silence. Then cameras flash. Keys click. But no one says anything else.

You’re leaning against the cool concrete wall when she steps out.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just walks toward you, tugging her hoodie sleeves down like she’s trying to hide how tense her hands are.

You hand her a water bottle. “You handled that well.”

“I hated that,” she mutters.

You nod. “I know.”

She leans her shoulder into yours. “Was I too blunt?”

“No,” you say. “You were just... honest.”

Paige swallows, jaw tightening. “They’ll make it into something it’s not.”

“Let them try,” you say. “They still won’t know us.”

She looks at you now. Really looks.

“Do you wish I’d said more?”

You shake your head.

“You said exactly enough.”

Dallas Wings vs. Connecticut Sun

The crowd is loud before the game even starts.

It's not UConn-blue anymore — this arena bleeds orange tonight. Still, there are kids in Bueckers jerseys lining the front rows. Signs that say "Hopkins to Storrs to the League". A smattering of navy Wings hats in the crowd.

You keep your head down as you walk out of the tunnel with the coaching staff. No clipboard today — not your usual one. Today it’s a tablet. Branded Wings quarter-zip. You’re seated next to the coaches. Front row. You’re not just behind the bench anymore. You’re in it.

“It’s a full-circle night for Paige Bueckers — back in Connecticut, where she built her legend at UConn. But let’s talk about something fans might not know…”

“You mean Y/N L/N?”

“Exactly. She’s seated right there on the bench now. Officially added to the Wings’ player development staff this season, but unofficially, she's been Bueckers’ personal trainer and basketball mind since Hopkins High School.”

“I’ve seen it up close. She has one of the sharpest eyes for the game I’ve ever encountered. Doesn’t just do physical development — she reads the floor like a coach with fifteen years in.”

“And you’ll notice it tonight — every timeout, every free throw, every adjustment, Paige checks in with her. Watch for it.”

Timeout. Wings down by 5.

The team gathers. Coach Koclanes talks to the core five. But Paige doesn’t go to him first.

She walks straight to you.

“Every time I fight over the screen, they’re slipping the weak side,” she says, breath quick but eyes locked on yours.

You nod, tapping a graphic on your tablet. “They’re baiting you. Your stunt’s coming too early. Let them close the lane, then rotate.”

“Got it.”

“On offense, they’re loading strong side on you. Reverse it. Skip it before the trap comes.”

“Copy.”

She claps your shoulder once and jogs back to the huddle.

Behind you, one of the coaches mutters, “It’s scary how fast she processes.”

You smile. “She’s just wired that way.”

The arena quiets slightly as Connecticut sets up at the line.

You see Paige backpedal toward your end of the bench. The ref glances at her, but she makes it quick.

“They’re stacking corner help every time we swing,” she says.

You lean forward. “Because you’re not cutting sharp enough off the split. Give the help something to respect.”

She nods, jaw set. “Backdoor?”

You whisper, “Only if Arike clears. They’re watching her eyes.”

Paige jogs back on-court, whispering something to Arike as the free throw bounces off the rim.

The very next play — skip pass. Fake drive. Backdoor cut. Paige lays it in.

Your stylus marks the play with a bright green tag.

“And there it is. Every time she glances at the sideline, it’s Y/N she’s looking for.”

“And you know what’s incredible? They’re not even speaking full sentences anymore. It’s absolutely fluid. That’s chemistry you build over years.”

“There are players who have court vision, and then there are those with a court language. Bueckers and L/N speak their own.”

It’s close. Wings up by 2. Sun with the ball.

Timeout.

Everyone’s shouting. The crowd is on their feet.

But Paige walks directly to you.

“What do I do?” she asks, fast, fierce.

You point at the digital clipboard. “Let her take baseline. You don’t need the steal. You need the stop.”

She nods. “You sure?”

“Always.”

She gets the stop.

The Wings win.

And as the clock winds down and the buzzer sounds, Paige doesn’t jump. Doesn’t throw her arms up. Doesn’t scan the crowd.

She turns.

And she finds you.

She walks straight to you and pulls you in with one hand behind your neck, pressing her forehead against yours again—this time longer. This time with the world watching.

The locker room is buzzing with celebration.

Not wild. Not champagne-and-speakers. Just a grounded, satisfied kind of joy. The kind that comes when you win with poise. When strategy trumps talent. When Paige Bueckers gets the stop that seals the game in the city where she once built her name.

You’re standing off to the side, tablet in hand, quietly reviewing clips when you hear her voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You turn. She’s fresh out of the postgame cooldown, hair tied back again, towel looped around her neck. Her cheeks are still pink from the adrenaline.

“That cut worked,” she says, low so only you hear.

You nod. “Knew it would.”

“I’ll say it in every language if I have to,” she adds, stepping a little closer. “But thank you.”

You smile, voice soft. “You already say it in mine.”

She holds your gaze like she wants to say something else—but then a media assistant calls out, “Bueckers — press in two!”

She winks once. “Meet you after.”

The postgame presser is at full capacity. More media than usual. Because this one? This wasn’t just a win. This was a return.

Paige walks in wearing her warm-up jacket zipped to her collarbone, no jewelry, no flash. Just locked in. She slides into the chair beside Coach Koclanes, a bottle of water in front of her.

First few questions are standard.

“What did it feel like playing back in Connecticut?” “Did you hear the crowd reaction when you checked in?” “What were you seeing on that final defensive play?” “How do you feel still being undefeated at Mohegan Sun?”

She answers each calmly. Firmly. Head high. Shoulders square.

From a reporter in the second row—

“Paige, we saw a lot of sideline communication between you and your player development assistant, Y/N L/N. This isn’t the first time, but it was definitely the most visible. Can you speak to that relationship and how it affects your in-game decisions?”

A pause. The room quiets. Coach shifts slightly in his seat but says nothing.

Paige exhales once through her nose — not annoyed. Just... thoughtful.

Then she looks directly at the reporter and begins.

“Y/N isn’t just a development assistant. She’s my basketball brain outside my body.”

A few eyebrows lift. Cameras click.

“She knows my tendencies, my triggers, my adjustments. We’ve worked together since high school. Every version of my game — from Minnesota to UConn to the league — she’s helped shape.”

Another pause. The air is listening harder now.

“So yeah, we talk every timeout. Every free throw. Every off-ball set. It’s not just strategy. It’s trust.”

Her voice softens slightly.

“I trust her eyes more than film. More than instinct. She sees the angles I don’t.”

Someone clears their throat. Another reporter chimes in.

“There’s been public speculation that your connection goes beyond coaching. Are you prepared to comment on that?”

Paige tilts her head just slightly — and then gives the smallest smile you’ve seen all day.

“I’m prepared to say that what we have is ours. And whatever anyone thinks they see... I hope they understand it’s built on years of work, not just a few looks during timeouts.”

She shrugs once.

“If it looks like more, maybe that’s because it is. But it’s not for you. It’s for us.”

Silence.

And then, one lone voice, “Well said.”

You’re waiting just past the press hallway, tablet shut down, credential badge dangling loosely from your neck. Paige rounds the corner still in her team gear, phone buzzing in her hand, mouth curled into a small, tired smile.

She walks up slowly, voice low.

“You hear that?”

You nod. “Every word.”

“Too much?”

You shake your head.

“It was perfect.”

She steps in, arms sliding around your waist, and rests her forehead lightly against yours — again, the way she always does when the world outside is loud and this little pocket of quiet is the only thing real.

You whisper, “They’ll keep asking.”

Paige whispers back, “Let ’em. We’ll keep answering our way.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #wnba x reader #dallas wings #lesbian #wlw #wuh luh wuh

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thinemoonshine · 1 month ago

Text

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓭𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝓭𝐨𝐥𝐥 ˚⊹♡

human doll!jake x soft-hearted!female reader content(s): jake is not an actual doll, he is a touch-starved man, obsessive mannerisms, reader is described as a saint, the way jake yearns is ravenous — you're the little gift to fill the human doll's hollow shell

you don’t know.

you don’t know how much you mean to jake. and at first, neither did he.

jake is the living epitome of perfection. he is sweet as honey gold and his face is sculpted in a perfect blend of sharp and delicate—allowing him to both tempt and yet, melt the hearts of many. his voice is mellow and fresh paired with a cute accent and his bod is carved to utter perfection.

everybody knows him, everyone adores him and those that hate him can't help but want to be him.

there’s just one problem: he's…empty. like a porcelain doll. a pretty and glamorous exterior only to be devoid of soul and spirit.

it's not his fault. he's been this way for as long as he remembers and even when his parents have tried their very best to 'fix' him, he couldn't find it within him to be the way they wanted him to be.

so he adapted.

he finds that things become easier the more he acts the way as his parents wish. they want him to smile, he laughs. they want him to be smart, he excels. they want him to be sad, he cries. and he's been living in such way for as long as he remembers.

this exhaustive cycle recurs so ceaselessly that he's forgotten how to truly be—living his days more as a doll than he is human.

but it's fine. he's used to it and it's become as easy as breathing. as long as he follows his scripts and lifts his limbs in accordance with their strings, there should be no problem.

...until you came.

because now, sitting on your kitchen counter, drenched from the rain, with you standing between his parted knees as you patch the cut on his temple, he can't find it himself to act—well, like a puppet.

he can’t remember the lines he’s recited his whole life, nor the facial expressions he’s performed to perfection. the strings on his joints have loosened, leaving him limp at your disposal and when your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe.

because all he can think of is you, you and you.

“i told you the next time i see you i’m gonna pour salt in your wound,” you remind in a grumpy mumble and the natural curls at the corners of jake’s lips pull higher.

and there are no threads forcing them. he smiles simply because he wants to, he feels like doing it—an instinctive, uncalculated thought.

he did it just because he wants to.

and it’s all because of you.

“do it. pleasure, pain—” he expresses suddenly, making you look up at him and his pretty brown eyes flicker between yours down to your lips before returning to your gaze. “—as long as it's you, i won’t complain.”

your brows knit at his words before you scoff, thinking of it as a joke but, no.

oh, no no no.

never will jake jest about this. he doesn’t care what you do to him because whatever it is, it always ends with him feeling. you make him…human. and he will take anything you give him—even a stake through his heart—if it meant it’s by your hands. from you to him.

…

he’s getting a bit greedy.

feathery touches and longing gazes aren’t enough anymore. he wants more.

he needs more, more of you. and jake, picture perfect jake, has no doubt that he will get what—who—he wants.

time passes and you’re at the point of friendship where you're comfortable enough to let him hang around your place. watching movies while snacking, cooking together, even having little skincare nights—all these domestic activities that jake never found a point in, he finds it with you.

suddenly everything mattered. when it’s with you, everything is significant, a momentous occasion. even something as mundane as brushing your teeth.

one night, when comfortable silence enwraps both your bods and the film being the background noise in the living room, jake finds himself staring at you. you’re sleeping soundly—defenselessly—on the couch with your legs sprawled, head lolled to the side, lips slightly parted and throat exposed to breathe comfortably.

jake’s practically vibrating in his seat from restraint, nails clawing into his thighs as he sits on his heels to ground himself. his breaths are shaky, shoulders trembling and the blacks of his eyes push the deep brown of his irises as they’re fixed on you who’s so inviting, laid out upon him like a meal on a golden platter and driving him near manic.

his teeth chew on his plump bottom lip mercilessly—nearly drawing blood as he swallows painfully. oh, how cruel you are.

he finds himself laying his head on your stomach as he sits on the floor beside the couch—letting himself be lulled by the rhythmic raise and fall of your abdomen. his eyes shut to focus on his favourite lullaby, your breaths, as he revels in your burning warmth even through the constricting fabric of your shirt.

jake shudders at the intensity of it all.

jake loves you. he craves you, yearns for you. it’s no longer just because of how you fill the hollowness inside of him. instead, he wants to be the one embedded within you—to take space in the deepest, most dark and intimate crevices of your being. he wants to feel every inhale and exhale you make, see the colours of the world through your eyes, to be the voice you speak, the thoughts you think—to be one. a soul and spirit shared.

never parting, never one without the other.

without his notice, his hand has made its way to grip your arm with the most secure yet, trembling touch—nails resting just above your skin from clawing into your flesh. “(y/n)…”

it’s a soft mewl, most delicate. but the unfamiliarity of it within the constant noise manages to stir you awake and you furrow before spotting the young man who’s now nuzzling into your torso.

“jake? what’s wrong?”

your voice. your voice.

he whimpers, unable to muster his words with you echoing in his ears and rattling his bones so he lifts his face—instantly alarming you with the way he looks absolutely flushed and unfocused.

his eyes glazed and glossy, ears red down to his face and neck as he pants. his dark brows are knitted, a mien of agony yet, something else. but they’re left irrelevant when you spot the crimson liquid spilling from the cut in his lip slowly dripping down to his jaw.

“jake!” you’re quick to cup his face before wiping the blood away, inspecting the injury with utmost care and concern it makes him cry. “what happened?”

he only shakes his head, tears spilling past his lashline. “i’m sc-scared. you’re gonna leave me one day. you’ll find someone else and i’ll be—alone…” he manages to stutter through his sobs and you frown, confused.

but then it hits you. from all the times you’ve seen jake, he’s always been painted with bruises and wounds—way beyond the point of normalcy. you should’ve known there was something amiss.

he’s never shared anything about his life, his background, if there was ever any at all.

you should’ve known. how foolish of you to monopolize all his time and company without bothering once to ask of how he is. with the way he’s always nodding without hesitation, you’d forgotten that he has his own life. one that you know nothing of.

“i’m sorry,” you utter quietly, remorsefully, as you open your arms to let the other climb onto your lap and cry into your shoulder. your hands find refuge just as he does—one cradling his head and the other smoothing across his back—and your focus on guilt and comfort distracts you from noticing how he trembles and sighs with every caress. “i’m so sorry, jake. i will never leave you, i promise.”

your image of him—perfectly curated by the man himself—blinds you from seeing how your whispers against his ear has him keeling and mewling your name, how your gentle tugs against his hair has him groaning and nipping at your shoulder, how your affections has sent him utterly, irrevocably insane.

you’re so sweet, and soft-hearted—a true saint. strong against strong and weak against the weak. there never was a competition since the beginning when the winner is clear.

and as jake held you tight against him—strong, steel cage disguised as warm, gentle arms trapping you against his chest—he whispers your name with such reverence that has your soft heart completely wrecked yet, whole at the same time.

it’s touching to have someone to care for you so much, to need you as one needs air and the way jake treats you, it might just seem your significance is above it.

he breathes in your scent, searing it into his senses as his hands memorize your shape, wishing to carve and mold a statue of you—a semblance of you to keep close when you’re not around.

his eyes open suddenly as he gently feels you rock him side to side.

what is he saying? you’re his now. he doesn’t have to make a false you. nothing can compare to you, anyways. he grins at the realisation, one that reaches from ear to ear as his limbs coil tighter around you—almost akin to a constricting snake. but you don’t mind. he needs you. it’s only right for you to be there for him—whenever it is.

and so for the very first time, jake, the human puppet, has his very own doting doll. and he will play with her, cherish her and love her to his heart’s content.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

#𖥔ཐི⋆𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝖘𝖎𝖈𝓴𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺#༘˚⋆☁️‘en’reverie｡⋆𖦹 #jake x reader #jaeyun oneshot #jake imagines #possessive jake #enhypen x reader #enhypen fantiction #sim jaeyun x reader #jake fanfiction #jake drabbles #jake oneshot #jaeyun x reader

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blues-stories · 2 months ago

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I haven’t really worked up to smut but I’d do have an interesting head cannon for the boys when they’re doing the ✨Devils Tango✨.

Imaging The LADS men loosing control of their Evol during sex:

Xavier:

Picture this- the room is starting to heat up as you and Xavier are frankly going at it like bunnies. You’re Exhausted, Over Stimulated, and quite frankly SORE from the positions he’s manage to bend you into. (Who knew you were so flexible? You sure didn’t) And right as he’s pistoning into you for the umpteenth time, you start to notice a….Subtle difference…At first.

One second he’s panting and sweating as he hovers over you, your back flush to his chest, and the next he’s become a Mother fuckin glow stick.

It only gets brighter as he keeps going, chasing his high until eventually- once he does cum- You’re literally getting flash-banged from the bright flash of light that emits from him. Alarm clock? Needs to be reset. Lights? Three bulbs busted from the surge of power. Xavier? He’s finally dimmed down as he collapses onto of you, mumbling about replacing everything tomorrow.

Rafayel:

Once again the scene is nothing new. This time you’re on top of him as he sits on one of the blush sofa like chairs in his studio, Hands digging into your hips as he guides your movements. What started as you taking control quickly turned into him guiding your body like a puppet on strings….Not that you particularly cared though.

He’s got you bouncing and grinding faster- HARDER even as he tries to pull you and himself over to that metaphorical finish line- and my god would you both be finishing. His face is getting flush- his skin scalding hot to the touch, so much so that you’re starting to get more and worried..

Poor Rafayel is so lost in the moment that he doesn’t notice the fireplace starting to roar to life, nor does he notice the steam rising from his body…It’s mere moments until he locks you on top of him as you both reach your high, his finger tips feeling as if they’ve scaled you in the process….Unfortunately the burned cloth of your Hunters uniform and the very mild Hand prints on your hips do nothing to help his case.

He makes whispered promises to you to buy a new uniform and soothe the marks on your hips with some aloe… (I imagine them as sunburn marks instead of actual burns)

Zayne:

Ironically his and Caleb’s are the one that started this rant.

THIS time you’re not at home like the others- you’re actually at his office (Very original I know) And the scene is shocking to anyone that knows Zayne.

You’re laid back against the desk as Zayne stands between your legs, a hand on each thigh as he keeps you nice and spread so you can really take all of him…Now zaynes Evol acting up isn’t exactly a new thing, but what you’re starting to see now is DEFINITELY different.

Soft grunts can be heard from him with each thrust he gives you, his once warm hands have now gone cold- bone chilling so as that feeling seems to spread throughout his body…Up his arms and onto his chest, down his stomach and- oh god it’s like you’re being fucked by a icicle…To make matters even more complicated, Ice and frost start to spread toward the ground- coating the floors and crawling up the walls with how intense things are getting…

And the moment- the second he does finish deep inside you? The door to his office has frozen shut, and a big fat glob of snow seems to come raining down onto you…Zayne tries his best to hold it together as you sit up with snow flakes on your lashes, a slightly red and runny nose, and a big dollop of snow on your head…

He assures you it was an accident as he oh so kindly starts to dust the flakes from your hair, already planning your care plan for when you inevitably catch a cold from him…Of course that can wait till AFTER he’s done with you though…Now that the door is frozen shut, why waist this opportunity of alone time?..

Sylus:

Sylus has you under him with his hands pinning yours over your head, his fingers intertwining with yours as he ruts and grinds into you. That luxury mattress and bed frame he brags about? Absolutely rocking with each thrust of his hips, the post probably putting dents- if not HOLES- into the wall.

Now Sylus’s Evol is unpredictable- more so in the sense that it possibly can do just about ANYTHING- so if he were to ever loose control, who knows what’ll happen…But you know who’s about to know? You. At first it’s minor really- that familiar red and black mist oozing off of him as it slowly surrounds both you and Him- spreading like vines across the bed in a slow and meticulous manner…

Too lost in the sauce- Sylus keeps thrusting and thrusting with his eyes pinched tight and his teeth bared, a low growl leaving him as he buried himself to the hilt inside you and blows his load…You soon follow after… However instead of the usual blissed glow on you face, he finds your brows knit and mouth forming a thin line on your face. The reason? In the midst of his high, all those stuffed animals that had littered your shared bed had gotten wrapped up into the mist, squeezed so tight until they simply burst into energy…

His mumbled apologies do little to sooth your anger- Especially as he mumbles about replacing your limited edition stuffy you oh so proudly had displayed…Sure you had won the war against being single, but my god had it come at a cost…

Caleb:

This fucker right here-

Unsurprisingly, you were sprawled out on the soft sheets of your bed, hands fisting the pillow you lay on as Caleb’s head is tucked happily between your thighs..He’s been at it for hours- and despite your pleas and protests, he hasn’t stopped yet.

Caleb’s favorite place is between your thighs, making you squirm and fall aprat all from his tongue alone…He loves it so much actually- that he’s lost count of the amount of times he’s gotten off just from watching you writher in pain and pleasure…Just like now as he feasts on you, ignoring your words along with the rest of his surroundings while he feeds…

Unfortunately, despite that coil in both your bellies growing tighter and tighter, you can’t help but watch as the stuff on your bedside starts to shake…It’s small at first, a few pens on your night stand, then your dresser- then all the furniture in the room starts moving as if there’s a earthquake….But Caleb’s eyes are on you as he eagerly and hungrily awaits you to reach your peak…

Just as you do, the bed as well with the rest of the furniture are lifting off the ground, the entire room looking like something out of the exorcist movie…Your climax crashes over both of you with a wave as you arch your back- Caleb spilling his own release on to the bed in the process…And just as quickly as it happened, everything in the air seemingly drops back to the floor with a loud thud, your own body sitting up from the sudden falling sensation, and the sound of something very fragile shattering…

Not even Caleb’s cooking will be enough to calm the rage that comes with shattering your entire collection of little baby figures you’d worked on these past few years…But hey- at least you both came right?…

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calebsdog · 4 months ago

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Not enough people understand the extent the chip is affecting Caleb.

Do you remember Caleb's first reappearance in the main story when someone tried to assassinate him? Or when he was speaking to Joseph in the very next chapter? His tone wasn't icy and his flippant behavior wasn't because of composure. He literally just felt 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 in these moments.

Personally, I believe Caleb is no longer capable of feeling emotions for anything at all unless it relates to Mc.

Caleb was walking around Skyhaven after he supposedly died in a dissociative state. Signing paperwork? His hand is moving on its own his eyes reading the words while his mind is a thousand miles away. He takes orders like a living corpse while numb to the world around him. He handles losing his arm so well because his body doesn't have the capacity to care for things like that anymore. He was a young man who wore his heart on his sleeve. And that young man was taken and picked apart until he became hollow.

The seven percent left of Caleb's brain is composed of nothing but Mc. She's the only thing left reminding him he's alive and not a puppet on strings like the rest of the fleet. Spending time with her, reminiscing, or dealing with the pests that dare pose a threat to Mc? These are the only things he has left to spark his emotions.

If you were walking around half dead like Caleb, a shell of your former self, wouldn't you also be a little selfish with the only person or thing left that can make you feel something, anything at all?

#I feel like I never make sense #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x mc #lads caleb #lnds #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #caleb #caleb xia #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #caleb thoughts

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zeep-xanflorp · 26 days ago

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rambles and thoughts on Summer of all Fears - a meta

what really stands out to me about this newest episode is how it portrays how both summer and morty respond to stress.

EPISODE 1 SEASON 8 SPOILERS UNDER CUT

morty goes off the rails. he lashes out in every way he can think of. he becomes violent, vengeful, antisocial. he focuses on clear but short term goals like getting out of jail and fighting a war. when he's not doing these things, he fixates on things like engineering and firefighting, that have very set in stone rules but that are complex enough for him to get lost in. his hobbies are distractions but they are also productive. he opts not to use the productive side of him in times of stress. perhaps this isn't even consciously chosen. it's his instinct to self destruct.

and that's where he and summer differ. when she faces the same challenges, she focuses on mastery. she wants power, perfection, and order. she results to manipulation. she focuses on long term goals. on becoming untouchable to others around her. she becomes president and doesn't just become a master of her reality, but also a master of herself. she becomes fixated on achievement. she's able to do this by working extraordinarily hard, planning things out elaborately, and pulling strings like a puppeteer. it's her instinct to take charge.

both of them, when put in a situation outside of their control, do what they can to reclaim their power. morty is unconventional and chaotic, summer is traditional and lawful. he tries to reclaim power himself, summer tries to reclaim power over the situation.

id be remiss not to mention the feminist reading of this. that in times of stress, women are expected to remain composed and rational or otherwise be labelled emotional. summer has the same societal learning as us. she feels pressured to prove herself to even a fake society. perhaps even to rick and her brother. she takes conventional means to gain power so she not only appears as in control but feels it. although she doesn't place particular value on what she's doing, she knows its a typically respected profession and she can make it suit her.

i think she's smart enough to realise this but i don't think she's able to solve it for herself. interestingly, when she gets out of the matrix, she defaults to her standard self. she rejects wisdom and feedback, and decides to live impulsively.

in the real world when put under stress, morty tries to control the situation. he often goes to rick to get help, someone who he believes can do and fix anything. but summer tries to control herself. their roles switch.

#summer of all fears #rick and morty #rick n morty #r&m #rnm #rick and morty season 8 #rick and morty season 8 spoilers #rick and morty metà #summer smith meta #morty smith meta

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see-arcane · 6 months ago

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You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

- Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves—he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

#Merry Christmas to meeeee #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu spoilers #spoilers #robert eggers #my writing

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nastyc2nt · 8 months ago

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Hey, I saw you're taking requests so I wanted to know if you could write something with yandere Percy Jackson and fem reader where they're already in a "situationship" or something and reader decides to be a little cheeky and runs away from Percy in random moments when he tries to touch her, without knowing he's really into this shit because it awakes the worst sides of him and he fucks her mercilessly after he catches her?

I don't know if this makes any sense or if you can really make it work, feel free to change anything if think it necessary. Xoxo

(Sorry if I wrote anything wrong, English is not my first language.)

࿐ Playing Games ࿐

╰┈➤ Older!Dark!Yan!Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

╰┈➤ Warnings: Yandere, 18!Percy, Demi god college dorms, Chasing, Pray kink?, Teasing, Rough Fucking, Chocking, Biting. Tell me if I missed anything.

╰┈➤ Word count: 1.4k

╰┈➤ First requests! So excited, thank you, hope you love it baby!!

It’s all just a fun game you’d play. Turning away from his kisses or the touch he tries to give you, acting as if nothing happened. Harmless fun.

The whole campus knew how Percy felt about you — the gods themselves couldn’t stop the madness that is his love. And yet you guys weren’t a thing, something he wound change in time but he’s fine with keeping it on the “down low” as you like to call. Be it too kissing in his dorm at night while his hands run down your shirt, feeling your soft skin or ass while you sit nice and pretty on his lap. Or, fucking you in the dead of night not caring if the person next door can hear your moans, his voice or the bed hitting the wall.

Today was the second day you’d been playing that game of yours, and much to his dismay he’s been enjoying it more then he’d care to admit. When he got his hands on your warm figure only for you to turn around and run off, using many excuses to play it off. It was so easy for him to catch on, when you did it the third time on the same day he connected the dots. That cheeky smirk on your lips didn’t help your act either.

So Percy spent no time wondering if you were mad at him or didn't love him. That time was filled with wonders of what he'd do when he gets tired of this little game.

“Come here,” he mumbled when he reached out for you, it was so easy to just grab you from behind and rest his hand on your shoulders. But as soon as he spoke your head ducked while stepping out of his reach. You giggled, eyes looking soft but mischievous. Daring darling you are.

You stepped back slowly, “Catch me if you can, might give you a kiss if you ask nicely.” the next step was to run around to try and avoid him. It was primal instinct for Percy that kicked in when you ran off. You needed him to chase you. Catch you and take what he needed — To fuck the brat out of you and show you that you can play your games, but you’re still a puppet on his strings.

Once his hands wrapped around your frame it was over, for the guy you’ve been seeing was a new beast. One that wasn’t going to show you mercy, you’re it’s pray now and can’t fight back. Percy was rough and his eyes were shot that you swore they changed to black with his dark hair looming over his face.

He tore the clothes off, ripping them open just to show you what he was capable of. His hands pinned you against the wall while the other wrapped around the nice neck he’d been marking for weeks. This was new. Yes you had crazy sex in the past but this was different, he wanted to break you.

“I do love a good chase,” his raspy voice was right next to your ears, “wanted to rile me up just so I would show you who you belong to? Yeah, your pussy is answering when your pathetic mouth can’t.” he grins at your expression. All fucked out, mouth wide open from the moans leaving your lips and eyes rolling back from pleasure. You had given up pushing him away minutes ago so your hands gripped on his shirt to hold onto something.

His cock was going too fast for you to take a breath, he was racing with himself to see just how loud and hard it sounded when your bodies met. It started to hurt your breasts with how much they were moving up and down, and your swollen cunt that was get abused by his cock, and clit that was puffy.

His dark eye’s followed each expression you had, how your brows curled up, a scrunch in your nose. Everything was for him. “Such a slut, you know that? That little game was just so you could be used like rag doll?” You screamed when he bottomed out inside you with one hard thrust, hitting so far within you and stayed there for a minute.

He laughed at you. It was pathetic, the tears running down your cheeks was cute but you’re such a cry baby. “Awe, can take my cock girl? You’ve been begging for it but can’t handle it now?” Percy mocked down at your trembling body.

You whined, lips bringing themselves together, and you looked up at him through the soaked eyelashes. “Please— agh~ please, be more gentle.” it was cute that you think you had any authority to beg him right now.

He leaned back, his cock slipping out of you quickly but not as quick as he flipped you around against the wall and wrapped one hand around the front of your torso. “Gentle? We both know that’s not what you want,” his hand rushed down to send a sharp slapping pain to your ass, making you jump in surprise and pain. “you’ve cum about three times now.”

Percy slipped back in and began at the same speed he was before, his balls slapping against your ass, making the cheeks more red as he thrushed against them. You sobbed, going back to pleasure bliss, overestimated once again by his long cock.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned and kissed your neck.

You shook your head violently as his fingers reached down to play with your swollen clit and rubbed you nice and fast. “Percy- Don’t, too sensitive,” you cried again. Sloppy sounds came from your hole that was was being fucked, it was so dirty to hear. Your walls clamped down on him from the growing orgasm building up in your stomach and burning in your core.

“Cum for me, let me feel you pulsing on me again. Be a good girl, cum and then let me fill you up,” he whined finally softer into your neck, his head rested in the crook of your neck. His rhythm started to get messy but never slowed down once— It got rougher. A few seconds later your body gave one last electric shock throughout itself and you released everything you had onto his cock. Your stomach twitched up and down, your pussy tighten as the sticky cum foamed at the base of his cock.

It was now that you had begun to actually sob— Just from being exhausted and overwhelmed. You grip the walls for support and press against it hard to keep yourself up but Percy help with you limp body. “That’s my good girl, thank you baby. Gonna fill you up now,” his voice was back to its soft and gentle tone.

Three thrust, in and out, was all it took before he unload himself into you and pushed it all the way inside you. Filling you up so much it hit your womb and he wondered how to make it stay there afterwards. He panted while you did the same, a few big breaths before hitting your head on the wall to relax.

Percy groaned and stayed inside you, his hands now trailing back up to your waist where bruises formed from his grip on you. “Did so good for me,” he whispered. You hummed and didn’t dare move or anything, probably would fall if you tried to do anything.

“I’ve been trying to stay calm around you for weeks, acting as if we aren’t actually a thing,” he rubbed the painful redness of your ass, his lips kissing your shoulders in affection. “But you’re mine, always have been and always will be. This— This just proves you’re ready to be completely mine.”

His teeth sink into your skin, not as rough as it could have been but it was surprising and painful nonetheless, “I’ll kill for you, make you happy any anyway you want. But you’re never leaving my side, or I’ll just have to put you in your place again.”

He slipped out, his cum and yours mixed while trailing down your thighs, “Just gotta fuck it into your pretty little head, but you don’t mind— Do you baby?”

There was no getting away even if you wanted to. The ends of the earth aren’t even safe from him, no god could save you now. Willing or forced, you’re his girl.

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

#‧₊˚✧.*ˋ°‧₊ Angel Writes #percy jackson x reader #older!percy jackson #book!percy jackson #book!percy jackson x reader #book!percy jackson smut #percy jackson smut #smut #yandere!percy jackson x reader #yandere!book!percy jackson #yandere smut

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lady-arcane · 3 months ago

Text

The Strongest Man and His War with Sleep :

Sleep is a mercy he cannot afford.

Gojo Satoru has never been good at resting.

It’s not just about the nightmares—the ones that creep in like thieves, whispering names of the dead in his ears. It’s not just about the fear—that if he lets go, if he closes his eyes for too long, the world will crumble without him watching.

No, it’s deeper than that.

Sleep is vulnerability. And vulnerability is something the strongest man alive is not allowed.

So he doesn’t sleep. Not properly. Not often.

Instead, he runs himself ragged, burns his energy down to the wick, pretends exhaustion is something that only happens to other people. He hides behind laughter, behind endless motion, behind the overwhelming force of his own presence.

Because to stop—to be still—means to listen to his own thoughts.

And there is nothing more terrifying than that.

-----

You notice it, of course.

The way he’s always moving, always talking, always shifting from one thing to the next like silence might swallow him whole. The way he rubs at his temples when he thinks no one is looking. The way he leans against doorframes just a little too long, like standing upright is a battle he’s barely winning.

"You don’t sleep, do you?" you ask one night, watching him sprawl out on your couch like he owns it.

He grins, too wide, too easy. "Who needs sleep when you’ve got these?" He gestures vaguely at his eyes, like the sheer force of his existence makes him immune to basic human needs.

You roll your eyes. "That’s not how bodies work, Satoru."

He shrugs, lazy, dramatic. "Maybe yours."

You don’t press the issue. Not yet.

But you see the way his hands still for a fraction of a second. The way his smile flickers, just briefly, like a neon sign struggling to stay lit.

And you know.

You know that beneath all that brightness, beneath the godlike arrogance and the infuriating charm, there is a man running on borrowed time.

A man who is tired.

-----

When Gojo does sleep, it’s not gentle.

It’s not peaceful, like in movies, where lovers rest entangled in soft sheets and morning light. It’s not slow and dreamy, where sleep comes like a lover’s touch, warm and welcome.

No.

When Gojo Satoru sleeps, it’s like something in him collapses.

Like a puppet with cut strings. Like a body giving out after carrying too much for too long.

It doesn’t happen often—not really. But when it does, it’s as if his body is making up for years of neglect in one go. He sleeps like the dead.

No amount of shaking, nudging, or even yelling will wake him. You’ve tried. Once, you even held a mirror under his nose to make sure he was still breathing.

(He was. But it was unnerving, seeing him so still.)

-----

"You should go to bed," you tell him one night, watching as he leans against the counter, eyes half-lidded.

He smirks. "What, you worried about me?"

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you grab his wrist, tugging him toward the bedroom.

"I don’t need—"

"Shut up, Satoru."

Surprisingly, he does.

He lets you drag him, lets you push him onto the bed, lets you pull the covers over him like he’s something fragile, something worth protecting.

And when you card your fingers through his hair—slow, soothing, like a lullaby made of touch—he doesn’t protest.

His breath evens out. His body melts against the mattress. And before you can even make a joke about it, he’s gone.

Fast asleep.

Completely, utterly, unmovable.

-----

Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, is impossible to wake up.

You learn this the hard way.

You try shaking him—nothing.

You try calling his name—still nothing.

You even flick his forehead, the way he does to others—but he doesn’t so much as twitch.

It’s honestly a little terrifying.

It’s like he trusts you enough to completely let go.

Like, in this moment, in this space, he believes—just for a little while—that he is safe.

And that realization sits heavy in your chest.

Because Gojo Satoru is not a man who allows himself to feel safe.

Not with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Not with the ghosts of the past clawing at his heels.

Not with the knowledge that the moment he closes his eyes, something else might be taken from him.

But here, now, with you—he sleeps.

And that means something.

-----

In the morning, when he finally stirs, stretching like a cat in the sun, he blinks at you blearily.

"You let me sleep," he murmurs, voice thick with something you don’t quite recognize.

You hum, tracing lazy patterns on his wrist. "You needed it."

A pause.

Then, a quiet chuckle. "You didn’t try to wake me, did you?"

You don’t answer.

Because if you admit how hard you tried—how impossible it was—you might have to admit what that means.

Might have to admit that Gojo Satoru, for all his power, is still just a person.

A person who gets tired.

A person who needs rest.

A person who, in the end, just wants to lay down his burdens—if only for a little while.

And somehow, impossibly, he’s chosen to do that with you.

So instead, you smirk, flicking his forehead in revenge.

"Don’t get used to it, Satoru."

His laughter is bright, easy, filling the room like morning light.

But when he pulls you close again, burying his face in your shoulder, you think—maybe, just maybe—he already has.

-----

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

✨Falling For You (Again)✨

Angel!Lucifer x f!angel reader ➡️ Lucifer x f!fallen angel reader

Summary: You and Lucifer were the best of friends up in Heaven with eons of history between the two of you. But when the first woman catches his eye, your heart couldn’t help but ache…

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, light tail play, oral (f receiving), p in v

It was no secret that you and Lucifer shared a special bond. You two were as close as friends could be. It was a little odd to be fair; a seraphim and a virtue were definitely an unusual pair. Nonetheless, neither of you cared what the rest of Heaven thought of you. You did your best to ignore the rumors that were floating about; saying your bond with Lucifer ran deeper than just a friendship. It wasn't true, of course, and those relationships were heavily discouraged by the Elders. Neither of you would dare consider stirring up trouble...more than you already have, that is.

Separately, the two of you were considered "mischievous" as Sera would say. But together, you created a whirlwind of ideas and spectacles that would land the both of you with serious reprimand more than once. You tried your best to behave, but Lucifer brought out the worst, or perhaps the best, in you. You were the only one who believed in his dreams and his passions, and he was more than encouraging when he asked about your ideas for creation. It was heartbreaking when you learned that he had been left out of the creation of the new world. To you, his ideas were not dangerous as many others believed, but inspired. When Lucifer told you that he wanted to see Earth for himself, you covered for him, as any good friend would do. His visits became more and more frequent, and your lies became less and less believable.

Every time Lucifer returned from Earth, he would go on and on for hours about the wonderful and fantastical things he'd seen. But what he wanted to talk about most was the human woman, Lilith. You had witnessed for yourself how the human man Adam had treated her; demanding control and with no regard for anything but himself. He was selfish, you believed Lilith was right for fleeing the garden. You hoped that the new human woman Eve would fare better. Lucifer had found Lilith and immediately was enraptured with her. You were happy for him. Mostly. There was a small pang in your heart every time he mentioned her, but this was your best friend; you wanted nothing more than for him to be happy! There was also the constant threat that now loomed over him. What would Heaven do if they found out about Lucifer and Lilith? You vowed to keep his secret; you couldn't bear to witness any punishment befall him.

One day, Lucifer came rushing to your room with an idea that could shake Heaven to its very core.

"Free will?" you asked Lucifer. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, the Elders-"

"The Elders are wrong," Lucifer responded curtly. "Humans deserve to have free will. They shouldn't just be puppets on Heaven's strings. It's not right! They should have the right to choose!"

You sighed. "I don't disagree with you, Lucifer. You're right. But...I'm worried. What will happen once they do have it? Once it's given, you can't take it back. And what will happen to you? You have to know there will be consequences if you go through with this and I...I'm..."

Lucifer pulled you into a tight hug, and you instinctively returned the gesture. Holding him felt like one of the greatest gifts you could ever receive. "It'll be alright. No matter what happens to me, I know this is the right thing to do." He pulled away from you and smiled, holding your hands delicately. "You are a wonderful friend, and a true reflection of what Heaven should be. I don't want you to worry anymore. I can't get in any worse trouble than I've already been in before, right?" he laughed.

His golden eyes shined brightly; you loved the way he lit up when he told you about his dreams. You finally smiled back at him. "Thank you, Lucifer. I trust you completely. When will you return to Earth?"

"Tomorrow," he responded. "Lilith and I will meet with Eve. She seems like she would be more receptive to the idea than Adam. Perhaps she could convince him afterwards!" With a wave of his hand, a shiny, glowing red apple appeared in his palm. "This is my gift to humanity. It's the least I can provide."

You leaned in and planted a tiny peck to his pale cheek. "Please be careful," you whispered.

A light golden blush dashed across his cheeks. "O-Of course." He turned around slowly, opening the door and was about to leave when he turned back to look at you. "I'll be back tomorrow after it's done. Don't miss me too much!" With that, Lucifer walked out, leaving you alone in your room once more.

You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

****

“GUILTY!” All of the courtroom angles shouted in unison.

"SERA, PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!" you cried out, your arms and body being restrained by archangels.

Lucifer had succeeded, he had given the fruit of knowledge to Eve. But everything had shattered. Her acceptance of free will had caused darkness to enter the world. Evil now had free reign on Earth. And the ones responsible were about to face the consequences. Lucifer and Lilith were surrounded by Heaven’s forces in the courtroom, spears encircling them, backed into a corner with no hope of fleeing.

"Keep her away," Sera ordered the guards from her pedestal, refusing to turn in your direction. "Lucifer. Lilith. Your reckless act of providing free will to humans has caused creation's downfall. You will both be punished for your transgressions."

You watched as Lucifer shielded Lilith with his magnificent wings with little regard for his own well-being. "S-Sera, please listen to me!" he pleaded. "This isn't what I wanted! Lilith had nothing to do with this, this was my fault! I-I only tried to-"

"SILENCE!" Sera's voice boomed. "As far as Heaven is concerned, you are both responsible. As punishment, you will be sent down into the dark pit you have created. You will never again step foot in Heaven, forever separated from this holy place. The humans who abuse your gift will join you after their death, sharing in your fate. You WILL understand the gravity of your misdeed."

You couldn't handle hearing another word. You mustered all of your strength and were able to break free of the guards' hold on you. You flew as fast as you could, now standing between the doomed lovers and the angelic spears.

"Sera, you can't let them do this!" you begged. "Lucifer only wanted what was best for humanity!"

"And look what his gift has brought," Sera remarked. "He was warned, and you would be wise to move aside."

"If you cast them out, you'll have to cast me out too!" you challenged, barring your teeth, your angelic eyes peering out from your hair. Tears ran down your cheeks at the thought of never seeing your home again. But you were prepared to make that sacrifice.

Sera's eyes narrowed at your words. "What did you know of this?"

"NOTHING!" Lucifer shouted. His hand found its way to your shoulder and managed to push you behind him where Lilith stood trembling. "She didn't know anything! She's only trying to protect me!"

"Lucifer! You can't-" you tried to protest, but you felt a hand cover your mouth. You peered over to Lilith who shook her head solemnly.

"I didn't tell her what I was planning to do," Lucifer continued. "She had nothing to do with this. Please, spare her..."

Sera sighed and soared down to meet the three of you. The spears were lifted away from you, the gaudy splitting to make way for the high seraphim. "Consider this a final act of grace." Her gaze made her way towards your glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be. We will discuss this later." Sera had vanished in a flash and a new portal had suddenly appeared behind you. You peered behind you, seeing nothing but a red barren landscape that struck fear in your heart.

You were petrified. You didn't know what would become of your friend or Lilith, but you knew you were powerless to stop it. Your body gave up, falling to your knees with a thud. Your head sank and you began to weep.

"I'm sorry Lucifer, I'm so sorry," your hoarse voice barely carrying.

"Don't you dare apologize," your friend responded, kneeling down next to you. "This was not your doing."

"B-But..."

"Lilith and I will be alright." You knew he was lying. You shook your head in response. "You have to remain in Heaven. They need you here. And so do I." You raised you head, at least meeting Lucifer's pleading eyes. "I will miss you, my dear friend. Please forgive me." You felt the pull of the portal begin to force all of you towards its bleak destination. The guards’ angelic spears were once again at your throats. There was no escape. Lucifer hugged you tight, only for him to pull you up suddenly and push you away from the portal with a hard shove. You weren’t able to find your balance and found yourself back on the courtroom floor. “Go! Now!” he yelled out to you before disappearing into the abyss.

All you could hear was their screams as they fell.

****

Days turned into month, months turned into years, years turned into decades, and decades turned into centuries. Not a day passed when you didn’t think about him. It took a few millennia before you stopped crying every day. Even the thought of mentioning his name caused your anguish. But now, you were numb. You went about your duties as instructed, but your will to dream and create had all but vanished. It wasn’t the same without him there. And now you were a perfect virtue, always did as she was told, never straying, and never questioning. You were broken. Even more so when you had mistakenly learned about the extermination of demons led by Adam and his soldiers.

No one was allowed to know, not even Emily, who had become the closest thing to a friend you’ve had since Lucifer’s fall. She was the one who helped you through your darkest moments. Her pure joy was enough to pull you out of your deepest pits of despair. For a little while at least. Your sadness never truly left you. It was like a black hole that could never be filled and could never truly be satisfied.

Your heart sank from the devastating revelation. You knew deep down that this was wrong; the slaughter of souls that were already doomed for eternity. They didn’t deserve that fate. But there was nothing you could do. What could you do? So, you stayed silent.

That is until one day, you learned of the arrival of Princess Morningstar's arrival to heaven.

You had known Lucifer had a child with Lilith, Charlotte. There was a great panic in Heaven, concerned over what a child of Lucifer could mean for both of the unearthly realms. But the last two hundred or so years had brought nothing. Until today. You had seen her walking alongside Sera and Emily on the promenade, as well as another person who looked awfully familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place where you'd seen her before. It was odd considering you had never met a sinner before. You wanted to follow them but had caught Adam and Lute discussing the demonic pair amongst themselves and thought it best to avoid fanning the flames of an already tense situation. After waiting some time and asking around, you learned the princess was visiting the zoo. You'd flown there as fast as your wings could carry you. After circling the enclosures, you spotted the princess gawking at one of the koalas that had fallen asleep in its tree. Luckily, you didn't see any signs of anybody else around her. Silently, you landed behind her, now realizing you hadn't thought about what to say. You sucked in a breath and took one step closer.

"Charlotte Morningstar?" you practically whispered. The princess turned her head cautiously at the sound of her name. "I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"Oh, hi there!" she beamed at you, using both of her hands to shake one of yours, your body jerking slightly with each motion. "And you can call me Charlie!"

"Charlie," you repeated. You took your time studying the princess in front of you. Her golden hair and pale face with rosy cheeks stuck out to you the most, as well as her genuine and unadulterated smile. She truly a reflection of her father. "You look...so much like him."

"My dad?" she questioned. "Yeah, I get that a lot!"

You shook you head, finally breaking eye contact and letting go of her hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Your father and I, we...we were really close when he was here. He was my best friend. I was there the day he..." you couldn't find it in you to finish your sentence. "I tried my best to help, to save him. But he saved me instead. I should have been cast out with him." Your voice drifted off. You could feel tears began to prick your eyes. "This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come, I should go-"

"Wait!" You felt a hard tug on your wrist as you tried to step away. "Please don't leave! I'm sorry if I upset you in any way!"

The utter compassion and sincerity in her voice felt like a stake to the heart. You fell to your knees, not being able to hold back the tears any longer. Charlie kneeled next to you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. This felt all too familiar. "I'm s-so sorry. This...this isn't your burden to bear."

"It's alright," Charlie soothed, "it's okay to cry. To feel sad. Your feelings are nothing to be ashamed of." She unwrapped her arms from around you and placed them on your shoulders, now lifting your head to see her empathetic stare. "My dad...he never really talked about his life here in Heaven. I imagine it's painful for him to think about, just like it is for you." Charlie swiped her thumb across your cheek to catch a tear that had fallen. "But I'm happy to know that he had a friend like you who cares about him as much as you do. I'm more than glad to have met you, so now we can be friends too! That is, if you want that."

A small smile spread on your face as you reached out to return her hug. "Yes," you replied, "I'd like that, Charlie. More than you know. You really are your father's daughter. Sweet, and kind, and caring." You felt Charlie's arms around you once more, the tears at last beginning to dry. You pulled away and cleaned the rest of your face with your sleeve. "If I can ask, why are you here? Not the zoo, but, in Heaven, I mean."

"Oh! Yes!," Charlie shot up straight, offering her hand out to help you up as well. "My dad got me a meeting with Sera! I'm running a hotel in Hell right now in order to rehabilitate sinners! I want to convince them that redemption is possible so that they can have a long fulfilling afterlife here!"

"Redemption..." you pondered aloud. "Do you think it's possible?"

"IIIIIIIIIIIIII don't know," Charlie admitted. "We haven't really had a successful case...yet! But I'm hopeful! We have a few patrons already who are making great progress! I'm presenting my case to Sera and the council soon, and I'm hoping I can persuade them!"

Charlie had just given you much to process. The idea of redeeming sinners had not once crossed your mind. It almost seemed too big of a dream, and knowing Heaven's attitude towards the demons in Hell, you were weary of how Sera and the rest of the court would react to such a proposal despite Charlie's seemingly boundless optimism. Another well intentioned idea from a starry-eyed dreamer shot down and ridiculed by Heaven; the parallels were impossible to ignore.

"Charlie, no matter what, know you have an ally in me," you told her. "Whether or not Sera and the others choose to listen, I believe in you, as I believed in your father all those years ago. I know for a fact Emily will listen to you. You remind me of her, she's a good soul."

"Thank you," Charlie smiled. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from Charlie's pocket. "Oh geez, the meeting! I have to go!" Charlie gave you one last quick hug before she darted off towards Heaven's courtroom, waving to you as she ran. "I'll see you later! Oh! And I'll tell my dad I had the chance to meet you!" she called out! You tried to wave back, but she didn't see you as she sprinted away.

That was the last time you saw the princess of Hell.

****

It's been a month since your conversation with Charlie and with each passing day, your anger had risen. Emily had told you that Sera had ignored Charlie's proposal, that she now knew about the exterminations that have been taking place, and how Adam had threatened to attack her and the hotel as he forced her out of the courtroom and back to Hell. In turn, you had told Emily about your brief conversation with the princess on the same day. Thankfully, the two of you were on the same page and decided that you were going to fight for Charlie. You had asked Emily if she could make arrangements to meet with Sera privately to discuss the matter. Of course, the only time Sera agreed to meet was the same day as the extermination. You spent so much of the day collecting your thoughts and practicing your speech that you didn't realize you were running late for the meeting. You flew across the city, barging through the front doors and making your way up to Sera's office in the blink of an eye. You swung open the doors in a panic.

"I'm sorry I'm late Sera, I was-" you began to apologize until you realized that the was their attention was not on you. You turned your head and noticed another angel in the room. He was slender, tall, and was wearing an incredibly unique hat. It was easy to tell by the look on his face that he was confused and a bit startled by your sudden entrance. Perhaps he was a new soul, but he didn't look like a soul you've ever seen.

"Oh, hello to you assss well," the new angel greeted you with his unique accent, his forked tongue slipping between his teeth.

Before you could respond, Emily shrieked stood up excitedly, rushing over to greet him. “Hi there! I’m Emily! Or you can call me Em or Emmy! It doesn’t matter, I’m fine with whatever! Welcome to Heaven!”

You looked over at Sera who had not moved since you entered the room. Her face was a strange mix of horrified and uncertain. Sera remained motionless as Emily refused to contain her unbridled joy.

“I recognize you!” she exclaimed. “You were the one in the club with your friends in Hell!”

“Wait, in Hell?” you chimed in. “How do you…”

Emily flew over to you suddenly, pulling your body closer to the stranger. “He was one of the residents of Charlie’s hotel! We saw him while she was pleading her case to the court!”

“Emily, wait,” Sera finally spoke up, but Emily ignored her. And so did you.

“What’s your name?,” you asked him.

The angel smiled and bowed before you. “I am Sir Pentiousss, a pleasure to meet you!” He straightened back up, looking around the room curiously. “I’m terribly sssorry to ask, but where am I? I don’t recall how I came to be here. I was in my airship, ready to take on that dastardly angel, the one with that obnoxiousss guitar. And in a sudden flash of light, I was here!” His eyes grew into saucers, gripping onto his hat. “My friendsss! I have to get back to them, they’re in danger!”

You watched as he slithered back and forth across the room, mumbling to himself when it all hit you at once. This soul was a sinner. He was in Hell. And he was someone who was staying at Charlie’s hotel. The one meant to save lost souls.

“You were redeemed,” you finally spoke.

"What?!" the three angels asked in unison.

"Emily, don't you see?" you asked, reaching down to grab her hands. "This was Charlie's plan all along!" You turned to look at the redeemed soul. "Sir Pentious, I think you may have been killed."

"But I wasss already dead, my dear," he responded.

"Yes, but only souls who have passed on can face divine judgement," you explained. "Whatever you had done must have sent you here!"

You and Emily looked at each other and smiled, now hovering in the air. “He was a sinner!” Emily belted. “But now he’s here! He’s here in Heaven! Charlie’s hotel works! She was-”

“That's enough!” Sera cut in unexpectedly. You and Emily frowned; your feet placed firmly on the ground again. "You two need to leave, now. I will handle this matter."

"But Sera-" Emily tried to reason.

"Please do not question me, Emily," Sera warned, "remember what I had told you."

Emily hung her head and sighed, starting to make her way towards the door, still holding onto your hand. but you refused to budge when she had tugged on your arm.

"No," you replied sternly through your gritted teeth.

Sera narrowed her eyes at your defiance. "I'm not asking. It would be in your best interest to do as your told. You were already pardoned once before. Don't make this worse than it has to be."

You took to the air and were now at eye level with the high seraphim, a righteous anger surging through you. "I'm done listening to you," you spat. "I should have been cast down with Lucifer that day. He told me everything, I knew what he had planned. He protected me and not a day goes by where I don't regret not staying by his side. I did nothing to stop him because I knew he was right in giving humans free will. And now I can see Charlie was right in her quest to redeem souls. You were wrong back then, Sera, and you're wrong now!"

Sera's angelic eyes appeared; her anger peaked to its boiling point. "Emily, take the new soul and leave immediately."

Not wanting to anger her further, Emily took ahold of Sir Pentious's hand and rushed him towards the door. You caught a glimpse of her teary expression as she looked back at you. I'll be okay, you mouthed to her, but you knew it was a lie. When the door finally closed, you glared back at Sera with a fiery intensity that you never knew you were capable of.

"You know the punishment for an act of defiance," Sera spoke sternly.

"I should have fallen eons ago," you retorted, holding back you sobs. "Do it, Sera, cast me to the pits of Hell!"

"So be it."

****

You don’t know how long you were lying there in the crater you created all you knew is that you were in a tremendous amount of pain. Your eyes fluttered open, now feeling the rocky heard ground beneath you. Languidly, you tried to pull yourself up, your arms shaking under your weight. But it was no use, your strength had left you and you fell back to the floor with a thud. You fought to keep your eyes open, doing anything to stay conscious. Feeling a strange stickiness on your face, you reached up to touch it, only to pull your hand back to see your golden angelic blood leaking from an open gash.

But beneath that blood was something that made your heart stop completely. Your hands had turned a charcoal black with razor sharp claws jutting out of each fingertip. The color ran all the way up your forearm, stopping just past your elbow. It was as if you had been held over a raging fire.

"What in the...OW!" you tried to say, but you felt a sharp pain on your tongue. Tentatively, you pressed a finger to your mouth only to pull away instantly. Your teeth, once perfect and smooth, had now all been replaced by razor sharp fangs. Your brain was working overtime, trying desperately to comprehend these drastic changes to your new form. But another problem was on the horizon.

In the distance, you heard distant chatter, but it was growing louder and louder by the second. With what little strength you had, you lifted your head to see a group and black-eyed demons headed directly towards you.

“Help, please…” you called out weakly, your voice barely a whisper.

In no time, the demons encircled your near lifeless body. A pit grew in your stomach as you noticed their glistening teeth and ravenous smiles.

“Fresh meat!” you heard one of them declare.

“Bet she tastes heavenly,” you heard another say.

Tears began to prick your eyes, knowing full well you couldn’t fight these demons off. You closed your eyes and awaited your fate when you heard another voice call out to the hungry cannibals.

“What’s all this commotion about now?” you heard a voice say. Your eyes shot open to see a tall woman dressed as if she was from the prohibition era standing right above you. She kneeled down before you, placing a hand under your chin. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? An angel,” she sang out, “but you’re different, ain’t ya? You’re not one of them exorcists.”

“Please,” you choked out, “…need to find the princess. Charlie…have to tell her…she was right…”

Everything went black.

You awoke sometime later, now finding yourself lying on a sofa in a lavish pink room. Your head was pounding, you reached your hand up to your forehead. But instead of skin, you felt something else. You realized then that someone had wrapped gauze around your wound. But who?

“Ahh, good! You’re finally awake!,” a familiar voice rang out. “You really had quite the fall, huh dearie?”

You sat up slowly, feeling every ache and pain from before. You turned to the woman who had been sitting across the room sipping some tea from for porcelain cup. She gave you a sharp smile, sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-Who are you?,” you asked nervously. “And where am I?”

“How forward of ya,” the woman shot back, “I like it! Name’s Rosie, a pleasure to meet ya, darlin’. And right now, you’re in cannibal town! You’re lucky I was there when the townsfolk found ya, could have been a real blood bath, let me tell ya!”

You gulped, realizing that you were almost killed, and you had just arrived in Hell. “I’m sorry, t-thank you,” you stuttered. "But...why did you save me?"

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetheart, it’s water under the bridge!” Rosie assured. She stood up and made her way over, sitting on the couch next to you. “And let's just say I have a hunch. There's something about ya but I can't place my finger on it just yet. Now, what’s an angel like you doing all the way down here?”

“I…I disobeyed Heaven’s orders,” you answered. “I told them that they were wrong, and I dared them to cast me out. And they made good on their promise.”

Rosie smiled and wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you incredibly close to her. “I knew I liked ya! That’s some real moxie ya got! Defying Heaven takes guts! You and the princess got a lot in common it seems.”

“Charlie!” you nearly shouted, pulling away from Rosie and standing up a little too fast. Dizziness hit you instantly and you shut your eyes, attempting to regain some balance. “I have to find Charlie! Do you know where she is?”

“Sure do!” Rosie beamed. “She and her father are over there at their new ritzy hotel they just finished buildin’. It’s just on the outside of the city, ya can’t miss it! That old one crumbled faster than a tower of cards in a hurricane!”

“Her father is there?” you asked, unable to hide the flush on your face.

“Oh, I’d know that look anywhere,” Rosie smirked. “Someone is really smitten for the king, am I right?”

“N-No!” you pushed back. “That’s…that’s not it at all! I-I…”

“Come now, dearie! Ol’ Rosie here is an expert in the romance department! Sit back down and tell me all about it!” She patted the cushion next to her, inviting you back next to her. With a defeated sigh, you took a seat next to the cannibal overlord. “Now, what’s your relationship with the big boss of Hell? I’m dying to know!”

You sucked in a deep breath. “I knew him before, you know, the creation of this place.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow. “Just knew him?”

You shook your head. “No. He was…he was my closest friend. He saved me the day he fell. And not a day has gone by where I haven’t missed him.” You wrapped your arms around yourself at you vulnerability in front of this demon who’d you only just met. “But it doesn’t matter, Rosie. He’s with Lilith and I’d never think of coming between them.”

“Oh, sweet pea, don’t you know?” Rosie asked curiously. “Well, I guess maybe ya wouldn’t. But him and the Queen called it quits a few years ago.”

“What?!” you looked at her in shock.

“Yeah! I don’t know all the details, but trust me, I’m always on top of the hot gossip ‘round here,” she winked. “But he’s a free man, that’s what’s important here! I want ya to shoot your shot!”

The flood of this new revelation made your head spin. The way Lucifer used to talk about Lilith made it seem like they were fated to be together forever, like nothing could ever separate them. You found yourself standing up and pacing the floor back and forth, trying to decide your next move.

“I appreciate the encouragement, Rosie, I really do, but…” you hesitated before speaking again, “my main focus is finding Charlie and telling her what I know. She deserves that much. Everything else can come later.”

Rosie gave you a soft smile. “Strong morals, but I shouldn’t expect anything less from an angel! Good on ya, darlin’.” The cannibal overlord stood up with you and took your hands in hers. “Buuuutttt since you’re likely gonna see the king anyway, how’s about we find ya some new clothes, hmm? The ones you have now are just a bit tattered.”

It was then you realized you never thought to check the robe you had been wearing. Rosie was right, of course. Your robes looked like it had been torn to shreds, countless holes littering the fabric.

“Oh…” was all you could say.

“Don’t you worry,” Rosie reassured, “I have just the thing for ya!”

In a flash, Rosie had returned with a knee length red dress with black lacy patters and some classy black flats for your bare feet. You were a little nervous, never once changing out of your normal robe attire. It would definitely show off more of your body than you ever have before. Rosie led you to a private room to change into your new outfit. But once you removed your all but ruined robe, you noticed even more changes. Your legs now matched your arms, blackened, and burnt to just above your knees where it faded into your familiar pale gray skin. You frowned at the sight, but decided to focus on changing instead, knowing you would have plenty of time later to reflect on your new and somewhat startling appearance. You found Rosie again who began to clap in utter excitement!

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Rosie complimented, “aren’t you just a looker! I knew that dress would go great with your eyes!”

You stared back at her in confusion. “My eyes?”

“Go see for yourself!” Rosie said, pointing over to the tall mirror in the corner of her room.

You shuffled over and stood in front of it, only to jump back in surprise when you saw a pair of two blood red eyes glaring back at you. After the initial shock, you hesitantly took a step closer. You noticed your once pink irises had turned pale white with your pitch-black pupils now slit like a serpent’s. You felt tears beginning to fill your new demonic eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry,” Rosie soothed as she walked over, placing her clawed hand on your shoulder. “Ya might just be the prettiest thing in Hell!”

“I look like a monster!” you bawled, wrapping yourself in your arms.

Rosie turned you away from the mirror and gently brushed a tear that had fallen on your cheek. “Ya know what I think?,” Rosie asked. “I think that’s the Heaven in ya talkin’. Sure, ya might look a little different, but honey, I've met my fair share of monsters and trust me, you ain't one of them. Now c'mon, no more waterworks, okay?" With a shaky breath, you nodded and wiped away the rest of your tears. "There ya go! Now, you better get goin'! I'm sure your prince charmin' would be over the moon if he saw ya!"

"Rosie!" you squeaked out, your face now feeling incredibly hot. "Umm, t-thank you, for everything."

"Oh, don't mention it! Any friend of Charlie's is a friend of mine!" She escorted you to a back door so as to not draw attention and to keep you away from the potential dangers emitting from the ravenous residents. "You just come back anytime you need somethin', okay hon? I'm rootin' for ya!"

With a final smile and nod, you summoned your wings and took to the crimson sky. But it didn't take long for you to notice that your wings had changed too. At this point, you weren't surprised anymore. The light pink coloring of your wings had darkened to a deep maroon. You sighed heavily, silently praying that this would be the last change your new body surprised you with. After gaining enough height in the air, you noticed a brightly lit tower just on the edge of the city, just where Rosie said it would be. You flew there as fast as your wings could carry you. You fought past the lingering pain and soreness you still felt coursing through your body to now hover over the illuminating structure.

Despite the grandness of the hotel, it seemed a little too quiet for comfort. Your eyes scanned the surrounding area for any signs of life but there were none to be found. But with your cursory glance, a familiar shape had caught your attention. On one side of the building was a large structure covered in yellow tinted glass in the shape of what appeared to be an apple. Even after all these years, you could never forget that fateful day when you were shown the gift that would set everything into motion. You knew what that symbol was, and you knew who it was made to represent. Without realizing, you had drifted closer and closer to the symbol of destruction. With a hard gulp, you pressed your face to the glass and peered inside, not knowing whether or not you wanted to find what, or who, you were looking for. It was a lavish bedroom to be sure, covered in various reds and golds with a way too large bed to complete the look. To your relief and disappointment, it appeared that the room was empty. You sighed and were about to turn around when all of a sudden, you noticed a small reflection in the glass. Someone was behind you.

"You know, it's pretty rude to spy on people," the familiar voice chastised. You froze in the air completely, knowing exactly who had snuck up on you. "Not sure what you were thinking coming back here, really not the brightest idea if you ask me. I thought I told you and your friends to go-" you spun around, tears flowing from your eyes. Lucifer's frustrated expression softened immediately. "-home...".

You fought through your tears as you tried to speak, trying desperately to control them. "Lucifer?" you finally managed to choke out. He was different. His eyes were now a pale yellow and his pure white wings now ruby red. His teeth and hands reflected your own. Yes, he was different, but it was him. It was your best friend.

"No...No, it can't be..." he murmured to himself. You found yourself unable to move while Lucifer flew closer and closer to you until he was inches away. Your breath hitched when his hand found its way to your cheek, wiping away the nonstop tears. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," you breathed.

Lucifer's eyes welled up immediately at your confirmation. A small squeak escaped your lips when he suddenly had both of his arms around you, holding you as close to him as possible in a tight embrace. You smiled and returned the gesture, unable to stop yourself from sobbing into the crook of his neck. You two hung in the air for a few minutes, somehow laughing and crying at the same time before either of you pulled apart. But Lucifer's smile faded all too quickly once he began to rake his eyes over your new form.

"No, no, no, no, no, God, please no!" Lucifer pleaded. "Please...please don't tell me you..." You looked away from him, ashamed to admit what had happened. But your silence was all the answer he needed. "No..." he whispered. "No, this isn't right! You shouldn't be here! You don't belong down here! How could Sera do this?! I swear I'm going to..."

"Lucifer!" you snapped, grabbing ahold of his hands. "It's going to be alright. Please don't do anything rash."

Lucifer anxiously squeezed your hands. "But...But this isn't-I mean, you..." His words failed him, lowering his head in defeat. "I've missed you...so much..."

You lifted his head up and pressed a soft kiss to Lucifer's cheek, noticing a soft blush on his cheeks as you pulled away. "I missed you too, more than I can possibly describe. But this was meant to be. I told Sera to cast me here."

Lucifer stared at you with his mouth agape. "What?! Why?!"

"It was the only way I could help," you answered. "There's something I need to tell Charlie. Something happened that could change the fate of everything. And I’ve chosen my side. I chose it a long time ago.”

Lucifer remained somber, unable to process the new reality he found himself in. “I never should have involved you with my plan for Eden. You’re here because of me whether you believe that or not. I’d despise me if I were you.” Lucifer pulled away from you, making his way up to the roof of his roof, sitting down and pulling his legs to his chest only to bury his head into them.

You frowned, following closely behind. “I could never,” you replied quietly, taking your place next to him. “My fall was not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Lucifer shot back. “You wouldn’t have fallen if there was no Hell to begin with! Everyone down here abused the gift that I gave them and now they’re damned for all eternity! What a gift free will turned out to be…” Lucifer hid himself underneath his enormous wings, cocooning himself away from your gaze.

Tentatively, your hand stretched out to comb through his scarlet feathers until you could see him again. "Lucifer, please look at me." He sighed and turned his head slightly. "I told you I believed in you all those years ago, and I still do. Nothing has changed. And it's not as hopeless as you make it out to be. Lucifer, Charlie's hotel works. A soul in Hell was redeemed."

Lucifer's head snapped up in an instant, his wings disappearing immediately. "Wait, wait, wait, hold on!" he nearly shouted, gripping onto your shoulders. "Are you sure? I mean, are you absolutely sure? N-Not that I don't believe you but...do you know the soul's name?"

You nodded. "He said his name was Sir Pentious. Emily said that he was a resident here and-"

"Sera was there, wasn't she?" Lucifer interjected. You nodded again. "You stood up for him, didn't you? You tried to protect him...just like you tried to protect me when..." his voice trailed off. It was at this moment you realized how close his face had gotten to yours.

"Y-Yes," you responded shakily, your voice betraying your calm demeanor. This didn't go unnoticed by Lucifer, however. He swallowed hard.

"I-I..." he stammered. "I never got to thank you for that day. You put yourself in harm's way and I'll never forgive myself for forcing you into that situation."

"But you didn't-" you tried to say, but Lucifer had put a finger up to your lips. Your heart was racing at a million beats per minutes at this point and you knew Lucifer could tell. Your face had never felt hotter.

"I'm never going to allow you to blame yourself for any of this." Lucifer dropped his hand away from your lips, but you remained silent, as if your voice had suddenly vanished. "You were-are-my closest friend and...and I..." Lucifer's voice gave up as well, leaning in closer and closer, watching as his eyelids fell with every movement.

"Lucifer..." you breathed, not realizing your upper body gravitating towards him as well. Your eyelids fell shut.

"Dad? Dad, are you out here?", you heard a faint voice call out below. Both of you froze, feeling his hot breath on your parted lips. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes and shot up straight, refusing to look at your friend.

"W-We should go," you finally managed to say. "Charlie needs to know what's happened." But before Lucifer could respond, you leaped off of the building, vanishing from his sight.

"Huh..." Lucifer huffed out. It wasn't long before he dove after you.

There was definitely a conversation to be had later.

Despite leaving first, Lucifer passed you easily, giving you a small wink on the way down. It didn't really seem fair; his six wings gave him a much larger advantage when it came to speed compared to your two. He landed gracefully in front of the hotel while you followed close behind.

"Oh dad, there you are!" Charlie beamed, "I was-" she paused as she saw you land. "Oh, hello again!" the princess greeted as she ran over to embrace you. "It's so nice to see you! I-wait...how...how did you get here?"

You sighed deeply. "Charlie, there's something you need to know."

Charlie pulled away; a bit confused by your words. But after she took a closer look at you, her usual smiling face had shifted into one of sadness. "Oh, oh no...did Heaven...?" You nodded. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need anything? I don't know what we have in term of medical supplies but I'm sure we can find something! Just wait right here, I'll..."

"Charlie, dear, hold on," Lucifer gently reached out to grab her wrist.

"I'm alright, Charlie," you reassured her. "I'm still sore in some places but I'll recover. But listen, you need to know this. It's the reason I'm down here, Heaven didn't appreciate what I had to say."

"What is it?" she asked nervously.

"Sir Pentious, he made to Heaven," you smiled. "Your hotel works."

"You were right, kiddo," Lucifer added. Charlie stood there motionless with a vacant expression. You and Lucifer looked at each other with a bit of concern. "Charlie, sweetie, are you alright?"

She began to sob uncontrollably. "P-Pentious is okay?..." she squeaked out. "I-I thought..."

You and Lucifer embraced Charlie as she bawled. "It's alright," you comforted, "he's alright. You did it, Charlie! Heaven won't be able to dismiss you anymore." You and Lucifer exchanged a weary look unbeknownst to Charlie. While that may be the truth, there's no telling how Heaven may respond now. And considering where you were at the moment, it wasn't looking good.

Charlie sniffled some more before calming down enough to be able to breathe normally again. "I have to tell everyone! I'll call a meeting right now. No, wait!" She turned to you and grab your hands enthusiastically. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you so much! Anything you need is yours; you just ask! Let's start by getting you a room here; you're a part of our family now! Come on, I have the perfect-"

"Wait, Charlie!" her father called after her. "Would you mind if we caught up with you later? She and I, uhh, have some things to discuss first, if that's alright." You shot Lucifer a nervous glance, but he pretended not to notice.

"Oh, yeah, of course!" his daughter chirped. "I'm sure you guys have a ton to catch up on! I'll see you guys at dinner!" With that, Charlie sprinted towards the front entrance, calling out to the woman who had been standing in the doorway. You recognized her as the one who was with Charlie that day in heaven. You smiled as you watched the princess lift her up to twirl her around. You were so busy watching them that you didn't realize a portal had been summoned behind you. With a slight tug, Lucifer gently grabbed your hand and walked you through it. It took you only a moment to realize he had taken you back to the bedroom that you were spying on only a few minutes ago. Lucifer let go of your hand and took a seat on the edge of his bed, hanging his head low.

"So..." Lucifer sighed.

"So..." you repeated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he began, "I shouldn't have..."

"Oh..." your heart sank as he spoke. "It-It's fine, Lucifer, you d-don't..." You couldn't stop the tears that began to form in your eyes.

Lucifer looked up at you suddenly in a panic as you tried to muffle your quiet sobs. "Oh, God! No, no, no, I didn't mean it like that!" He stood up rapidly and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. "I'm such an idiot, I should have phrased that better!" You took a few deep breaths, allowing him to try and explain. "It's not that I didn't want to...umm...b-but I do! I very much do! I just-damn it, why am I so bad at this?!"

Your tears stopped as you listened to your friend. But it only took you a moment to realize why he had apologized in the first place.

"It's Lilith, isn't it?" you asked softly."

Lucifer looked at you surprised. "Yes. And no. It's...complicated. She and I..."

"I know," you whispered.

"Wait, you know?" he questioned, "How?"

You turned and took a few steps back from him. "I didn't exactly fall from Heaven in this outfit. Someone kind helped me, and they told me about..." you cut yourself short, not wanting to upset him further.

Lucifer let out a sign of relief, clutching his chest. "Oh, thank Heaven! I mean, uhh, you know what, never mind. I'm just relieved! I was panicking for the last few minutes because I thought you were still under the impression that I was taken!"

You smiled, crossing your arms over your chest. "You still have such a way with words, don't you?"

"Some things never change," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck. "But now I'm curious. How exactly did I become a topic of conversation with this 'friend' of yours?"

Your face burned at the question, and you turned to look out the window at the blood red sky. "I don't think we need to talk about it," you dismissed.

"Oh, I think we absolutely do!" he challenged. Your eyes focused on his reflection in the window. He'd gotten much closer than he was before.

"It's nothing, really!" you responded as you turned around to finally face him. "I asked where I could find Charlie and my friend told me that you and her were both at the hotel and...I told her-"

"That you wanted to kiss your best friend?" Lucifer smirked as he finished the sentence for you."

"Gah!" you through your hands up in embarrassment and made your way away from the window and back over to the bed. "You're the worst, you know that? No, I didn't say that! She just...took a guess..."

Lucifer had followed you over to where you were standing. "And did you deny it?" You looked down at the ground, wrapping yourself in your arms. "Thought so. Because if memory serves, you leaned in to kiss me."

"You leaned in first!" you snapped back.

"Aha! So, you admit it! You did lean in!" Lucifer shouted triumphantly.

"Fine!" you yelled back in defeat, "So what if I did?"

Your question hung in the air as the room feel silent. That was until Lucifer moved towards you, each step emitting a nearly inaudible echo. He brought his hands up to cup your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. Your breath hitched as you stared into his alluring eyes. "Well, if that’s the case," he murmured as his head tilted closer, pressing his forehead to yours "you wouldn’t mind if I leaned into you like this again, would you?"

Your eyes fluttered shut in an instant with your hands now wrapped around his neck, giving into his temptations at last. Your lips finally connected as you melted into his touch. His lips were soft, and gentle, just like you always imagined they would be. Lucifer moved one hand to your waist, pulling you flush against chest while the other snaked around to the back of your head, holding your face as close to his as he possibly could. You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath but felt an odd tingling sensation in your lower back. Without warning, your felt something spring out from behind, squeaking in surprise. It wrapped itself around yourself and Lucifer, pulling you together at your waists as if it had a mind of its own.

"W-Wow, that's certainly a reaction to a single kiss. I must say, it's quite bold of you, darling," Lucifer laughed.

As much as you wanted to call out his use of pet names, your focus had gone to your brand now appendage you saw poking out behind you. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" you groaned. "A tail? Seriously?!" You looked back at Lucifer mouth agape. "I-I'm sorry! I-I promise I didn't do that on purpose! I didn't even know I had-" Lucifer silenced your panicked apology with a quick peck on the lips.

"I promise I'm only teasing," Lucifer smiled. "And don't worry, you'll get used to it. It only tends to appear when you summon it or if you're feeling…intense emotions.” He cleared his throat. “But it might take a while to get full control.”

You raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you have personal experience." Lucifer's eyes wandered away from yours. "Oh..." You were able to will your tail enough to release its grip on the both of you. “Can you show me?”

“Very bold…” Lucifer gave you a small smirk. "Are you sure that's the only thing you want me to show you?" he chuckled, poking his tongue out between his sharp teeth. Your brain took a second to process his words as you became a bit distracted by his forked muscle.

"Lucifer!" You shook your head and pushed away from him, feeling your tail once again take control and wrap itself around your leg. You could feel your cheeks burning at the thought of his implications. “I swear, I will walk out that door right now!”

“Kidding!” Lucifer threw up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, that was mean of me. I know you’re nervous. And to be completely honest, I am too. I know I’m coming off like I know exactly what I’m doing, but my heart feels like it's about to beat out of my chest. The last thing I want to do is scare you away.” He gave you a soft look, and you noticed his painted cheeks had a noticeable yellow tint to them now. Your tail uncurled itself again as you stepped towards him once again.

“I forgive you,” you say sweetly, pecking his lips. “You’d never be able to scare me away, Lucifer. And you know, it’s not like…God, I can’t believe I’m actually going to admit this to you…” you sucked in a hard breath. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about…what else you could show me…”

Lucifer’s eyes seemed to glaze over at your confession. “You…you can’t say things like that…”

“Why n-ahh!” You found yourself forcibly pressed against his hips again. You turned around to see your tail hadn’t been the culprit this time. It was Lucifer’s that bound you two together. You felt like you were going to explode any second now.

“It’s dangerous." Lucifer murmured against your ear. Suddenly you found it extremely difficult to swallow.

"For you or for me?" He didn't answer, refusing to meet your gaze. "I uhh, I like your tongue, by the way." you blurted out without thinking, trying to steer the conversation into a more lighthearted one. Lucifer smiled and rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m trying to give you a compliment here! I’ve had so many…changes, I didn’t even think about my own…”

"I can check it for you, if you'd like," Lucifer teased. Before you could answer, he captured your lips again, but this time with much more fervor. His tongue darted out between his lips and flicked it against yours, begging for entrance. Slowly, your jaw slacked, and you parted your lips. You felt his tongue makes its way into your hot mouth, entangling it with your own. You moaned into him as you let him explore your chasm, pressing into you as far as he possibly could. It still wasn't enough. His hands roamed your body with one landing at the small of your back, the other finding it's place on your hip. Your hands did some exploring of their own, wandering to his chest and unbuttoning his jacket first and then his shirt. The buttons popped open one by one until both garments dropped to the floor with a soft thud. His skin felt soft under your touch. You raked your nails down his chest and over his stomach, completely intoxicated by the way he was making you feel. Instinctively, you rocked your hips against his, eliciting a small yelp from the king. He pulled away in an instant, his breath faltering as was your own.

"You're playing with fire by doing that, you know," he warned as he unwrapped his tail from around you. Lucifer didn't sound angry, far from it. But his voice was dripping with concern, almost as if he were afraid. Of what, you weren't sure. But you were determined to get the answer out of him one way or another. "In any case, your tongue seems to be perfectly normal. But it wouldn't hurt to double check-HEY!"

With a quick shove, you forced him down onto the edge of the bed, his back now flat against the mattress. His widened eyes followed you as you crawled your way up his body, stopping to hover over him and finally tossing his hat off to the side.

"I'm not afraid of a little fire," you retorted. "I've already been burned." You crashed his lips into his again, lowering your body slowly onto his. Lucifer's hands found their way to your waist as you began to lethargically roll your hips against his. You swallowed every sound he let out, driving you further to pick up the pace. After a few snaps of your hips, your felt a growing bulge push up to meet your core. Your heart palpitated at the thought of riling him up. Your tail took control once more and slithered up the sheets to find Lucifer's, entangling them together. Lucifer whimpered beneath you, his body convulsing with every move you made. Even his grip on your waist was feather light. You pulled your lips away to see his eyes flash a bright red for just a moment before fading back to normal.

"Stop holding back on me, Lucifer," you commanded breathlessly. "I told you nothing you do will scare me away. You have to believe that."

"You..." Lucifer gulped, "You don't know w-what you're asking for."

"Then show me."

A small roar escaped Lucifer's throat as he pulled you off of him to throw you down onto the mattress, your arms now pinned above your head. It all happened so fast that your brain couldn't properly register how you ended up on your back so fast. When you looked back up at Lucifer, he had changed. His eyes remained a blood red with large horns now protruding from his temples. He was no longer a fallen angel, but a demon looking to devour his next meal. And at this moment, it was you. Your whole body trembled from the fallen angel above you. Part of you wanted to scream, but not of fear, but from pure elation. Two fallen angels giving into their deepest desires with no fear of consequence.

"O-Oh, shit..." you squeaked.

Lucifer chucked. "I don't know if I've ever heard you curse before, sweetheart. It's cute." You could only gulp in response, and Lucifer took notice of your tense expression. "Don't say I didn't try to warn you. I think it’d be best if we st-"

You bucked up your hips in response, making Lucifer hiss. "All I’ve thought about for the last 10,000 years was having the chance to see you again. If you think some demonic horns and scary-looking eyes are going to change the way I feel about you, you’re wrong! You’re such a hypocrite! I know I don’t look like I used to before, but you haven’t been able to keep your hands off me this entire time!”

Lucifer froze for a moment at your words, shaking his head in an attempt to regain his train of thought. His hands instantly let go of yours and flew to the top of your thighs. You sucked in the harsh breath when you felt him sneak under the fabric of your dress and finally grip the hem of your panties. He looked at you expectantly, and you wordlessly nodded, giving him approval to keep going. He began to slide your panties down your legs at an agonizingly slow pace, you couldn’t help but whimper. Lucifer chuckled at your impatience.

“Maybe you’re right,” Lucifer finally spoke as he at last removed the black garment from your legs and tossed it away, “Maybe I am a hypocrite. So, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to try something. But first…” With a snap of his fingers, the large curtains that hung in his room fell, covering up the large yellow tinted windows, shrouding the room in darkness. “We don’t want any wandering eyes, now do we. Not that anybody would be dumb enough to try and spy on me, right?” he asked, smiling at you deviously.

“Oh, eat me, Lucifer!” you spat back at him playfully.

“Don't you worry, darling, we’ll get there soon enough,” he teased, licking his lips. You couldn’t hold back the whine that escaped your throat. The skirt of your dress was hiked up further and further until the cool air fully hit your slick folds. All you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Lucifer's claws trailed slowly up your soft thighs, stopping just before where you needed him most. "Are you sure you want this?"

You sat up on your elbows quickly, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him into a quick kiss. "Please," you whispered against his lips.

It was only a moment before you felt an unfamiliar pressure between your legs as Lucifer slipped a finger into you, pushing in and out of you slowly and methodically. Your hips bucked trying to create as much friction as possible, but Lucifer's other hand held you down by the hip. "Patience is a virtue, my dear," he remarked in a sultry voice, "you of all people should know that."

"I-I was-hhng...never that kind of-a-ah...virtue," you babbled, your mind going fuzzy from the pleasure. A second digit was inserted into you without warning, causing you to arch your back and groan out in ecstasy. You felt Lucifers skilled fingers pulling in and out of you, curling them inside hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars.

"You make the cutest sounds," Lucifer praised. "I want to hear more." Lucifer retreated his fingers immediately and you cried out in desperation, mourning the loss of his touch. But before you could beg for him to keep going, his face was already buried between your thighs. You felt his long forked tongue lick up your lower lips and your hand flew to your mouth to muffle a scream. He pulled away and glared at you with his cardinal eyes. "You better pull your hand away from that pretty mouth of yours if you want me to keep going," he warned. "I told you; I want to hear you. You wouldn't deny me those lovely noises after 10,000 years apart, would you." You obliged, gripping the sheet s beneath you to keep your hands at bay. Satisfied with your response, Lucifer's head dipped back down to work at your dripping cunt. The guttural moans and whimpers that escaped you filled the bedroom. His tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his lips sucked on your sensitive nub without abandon. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Before long, you felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. One hand flew to Lucifer's while the other grabbed onto one of his horns. You felt the king growl against you as he continued to devour your pussy.

"L-Lucifer," you cried, "Luci...I-I...FFFUUCCK, I-I can't...can't hold it! G-Gonna cum, I'm s-so close..."

You felt the vibrations of Lucifer's satisfied hum. "I told you I wanted to try something, didn't I?" he asked. "Now it's your turn not to hold back. I want you to let go, let everything go for me." He plunged two fingers back into you without warning while his tongue attacked your clit. You were going to snap at any moment. "F-FUCK, Lucifer, I'm gonna...gonna c-cum, fuckfuckfuckFUCK!" With your thunderous cries, you felt your walls clamp down around his claws digits, his tongue lapping you up like a starved man. You felt something else at that moment, something different. A sudden pressure released from the sides of your head as you came. It wasn't a feeling of pain, but it was a sensation you've never felt before. Lucifer finally lifted his head after helping you ride out your climax, his chin dripping with your release. He flashed a cheeky grin at you before licking his lips.

"Absolutely divine," he murmured, "that was definitely worth the centuries long wait." Your face flushed from his word and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin before you could do so, pulling you into a kiss. You could taste a faint hint of yourself on his lips, and it was intoxicating. "Seems like my hunch was right," he chuckled as his eyes drifted upwards, "you definitely didn't hold back."

"W-What are you talking about?" you asked almost breathlessly. With another snap of his fingers, a small hand mirror appeared from thin air. He handed it to you with a soft smile. Hesitantly, you took a hold of the mirror and held it up to your face, and you finally knew what Lucifer had been trying to do. Your eyes had shifted to a midnight black with bright red irises. And the pressure you felt in your head moments ago finally made sense as you reached up to touch the dark curled ram horns that now poked out of your temples. You stared at yourself, shocked and yet somehow hypnotized. He had pulled the true demon out of you.

"You look...you're so beautiful," Lucifer sighed.

"You really think that?" you asked, looking up from the mirror in your hands.

"I've never thought anything different," he replied.

You tossed the mirror to the side of the bed and yanked Lucifer by the hips, pulling him over to sit against the headboard. He yelped in response but it was quickly silenced by your lips against his. You crawled into his lap and gently ground your slick entrance against the very obvious bulge in his pants.

"I need you now, Lucifer. Please," you begged. "I think we've both waited long enough..." With a final snap of Lucifer's fingers, your dress had completely vanished from your body as had his pants, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. Your instincts told you to cover up, but at this point, all inhibitions have been lost and you were in no head space to concern yourself with that. You saw Lucifer's eyes wander to your chest and hold there for just a little too long. "Are you just going to stare at me or do you need me to tell you to use your hands?"

Lucifer laughed sheepishly as his clawed hands found their way to your soft mounds, kneading them between his sharp fingers. He pinched your nipples, rolling them between his index and his thumb, soft moans catching in your throat. You felt his cock twitch between your stomachs, your mouth salivating in anticipation. You raised your hips and hovered yourself over his engorged member. He took his hand and pressed it against your soaked entrance, slowing gliding it back and forth against your folds, hitting your sensitive nub with each swipe.

"Are you ready?" he breathed.

"I am," you answered.

Slowly, you lowered your hips, sinking down on his cock inch by inch. You hissed at the initial pain of the intrusion, but it in no time the pain changed to feelings of pure bliss. It was only a moment more before you bottomed out on his cock, with him filling you completely as if your bodies were made for each other. You moaned in unison once he was fully inside of you, your tails wrapping around each other’s waists as to hold each other as you possibly could.

"Can I move?" you whimpered.

Lucifer shook his head. "Y-You need to tell me something first."

Your body yearned to move, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. "Yes, a-anything!"

"B-Before..." he started, "Before you told me-shit...you told me the f-feelings you had for me weren't going to change." You looked at him confused as he continued to speak. "I n-need to know...how you feel...about me..."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you lifted his head, forcing him to stare back at you. "I love you, Lucifer Morningstar. I always have. And I always will."

With your confession, Lucifer leaned up to capture your lips again. Your tongues found each other, twisting and entangling them in a passionate fight for dominance. His hands flew to your hips, gripping them tight as you felt your self being lifted up only to be pulled back down on his cock. You screamed into his mouth, but he captured your every noise. Your hips were lifted again with his guidance, and soon you found a steady pace, rocking against him and pulling as many sounds from him as you could. Lucifer pulled away from your lips and dove to your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, with one hand feeling up the other. His cock filled you to the absolute brim, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust. You couldn't imagine a better feeling as you felt the familiar tightening of the coil in your stomach.

"I m-missed you so much," Lucifer mumbled as he tried desperately to catch his breath. "So much...You're mine now. Forever and for a-all eternity. D-Don't ever leave me, please don't e-ever leave me again..."

His words hit you like an arrow to the heart. It was only now that you realized how much he cared for you despite being apart for so long. Torn apart and brought back together by the ones who deemed you unworthy of divinity.

"N-Never," you answered, "I'm yours."

Tears began to roll down both of your faces, him pulling you in to taste you again. "I love you," he murmured against your lips. "I love you; I love you, I-I love youuuu-fuckfuckfuck, I'm c-close..."

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as your body started to convulse. "W-Wanna feel you, Luci, p-please, don't stop, I-I'm gonna cum a-again..." His thrusts up into you became more and more erratic, you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you with every movement. With one final hard thrust, you cried out in pleasure, your orgasm hitting you in full force as your walls pulsated around him. Your climax triggered his own as you heard him wail in response, feeling his hot ropes of cum cover your pink walls. You both rode out your highs as your hips slowed and finally came to a stop. You could feel his release leaking out onto your thighs underneath you and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of being filled with his seed. After you both caught your breaths, Lucifer gently lifted you off of him and laid you down next to him, your demonic forms both retreating. He pulled you flush against his chest and kissed the top of your head.

"To think I could have had you all this time," he whispered. "I'm such an idiot..."

You looked into his glassy eyes and placed a small peck to his lips. "No, you aren't," you comforted. "The past doesn't matter. What matters is now. And we have the rest of time to spend together, right?"

Lucifer smiled back at you softly. "We have forever, my love." He pulled you close to him again, this time with a little more force, but not enough to hurt you.

"Lucifer, I'm not going anywhere," you said sweetly, "you're holding me like...like I'm going to vanish into thin air."

"I can't be sure that you won't," he replied almost inaudibly. His wings suddenly appeared, engulfing you completely in their embrace.

You wrapped your arms around his lower back, embracing him fully. "You'll never lose me again, I promise." You and Lucifer missed dinner that night as you drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

~~~~

IT'S DONE, HALLELUAH, NOW IF YOU EXCUSE ME IMMA GO BATHE IN HOLY WATER BYEEEEEE

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj

@bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps

@ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel

@seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht

@raindropsfromheaven @ronniesgonerogue @lola576 @ag-cookiebat800 @victoriousvic

@rand0m-1diot @lonelynmisunderstood @cosmic-lavender @yourmom132 @liveontelevision

@luci-lover-forever @lolalovesmorningstar @moonlight-readings @mel-windle @la-undercover-latina

@yve-barr @certified-cry-babyyy @literallurker @leviskittywh0re @thornwolfy235

@lauruoriii @annybah @jayyyayaysblog

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #my writing #SLFLDAHKFLSHF HELP

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rblxmaxxing · 8 days ago

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🏙 admins !! .!!!

finally made some proper refs(?( So i can b less inconsistent when i draw themmm.... will be making more for other admins/mods but i jusr wanted to show these 4 first c:

Random little hcs/information yapfest i made abt them below the cut lalala

builderman

- mainly stays in his office more , taking care of paperworks and planning out renovations/locations/etc to further improve robloxia . also Used to do a lot more heavywork back then

- still likes to interact and stay in touch with the communities sometimes, Taking note to any concerns/feedback . Though most of the time this work is handled by john and jane doe now !

- has slight buckteeth That they can hide mosttt of the time (Beave r ) also subconsciously chews on things (typically any woodlike material) to focus / calm down

- can use their tail to lean back / sit since its sturdy enough to support her :D

roblox

- the body they present in is merely a vessel and isnt their true appearance . Said vessel is actually a mass produced helper model that aids in smaller tasks around hq . the only difference itd probably have from the bot models is their shirt color (roblox's blue, bot is a darkish grey)

- was partnered with builderman to help build up robloxia in its earlier stages , but now rarely pops in to interfere

- the bluegrey wires that stem from its back r supposed to be like puppet strings (sort of like a symbolic? design feature idunno? would not actually appear if that makes sense)

- sort of cared more about the clear order and flow of things as opposed to bm's more creative freedom kind of ideals

- face doesnt emote much. its eyes can open and shut but thats it

dusek

- was created alongside a handful of other admins to help keep the growth of robloxia steady and in control As well as improving it in their own ways

- dusek in particular specialized more with magic Creating architecture plans and the like

- their real head is actually just a flame/light of some sort , the dusekkar hat keeping it contained sort of . More flames spill out of their eyesockets to convey stronger emotions

- more info soon Sorry i am slowbraining

shedletsky

- used to go by telamon and was one of the many created to help in robloxias earlier production; Had bigger roles back then but nowadays just helps out in the hq with paperwork esque tasks

- can technically shapeshift to some extent Though there are two specific details that will always stay no matter what form he takes – one is that part of his form will always be a type of bird , and the other is the mark on his face not being able to be hidden

- made 1x1x1x1 a bit before he let go of the identity of telamon , was supposed swap in as a sort of successor before Shit Went Down (more info on this soon its . a wip)

- weird sort of??? cannibal??? (part chicken And eats chicken)

- has gotten a bit rusty in swordfighting now, but still likes to engage in it from time to time

[telamon will have its own little yapfest i Tried to limit it here]

If you got here and read all of that then um . dont perceive me 🦭🦭🦭 combustsinto flames and dies

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pyrodolls · 1 month ago

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a request.... yandere bi han self aware x readerrrrr

SELF AWARE! YANDERE BI-HAN X READER

WARNINGS: average yandere tendencies such as possessiveness and delusion, ooc bi-han cuz it's for story purposes, gender neutral reader, lowercase intended

A/N: still a diehard sagau fan after all these years lmao. i made my kung lao self aware fics over a year ago inspired by sagau/sahsrau fics, and i was surprised by how much people liked it. so here i am with a version with bi-han. perhaps you guys may get another version of this with another mortal kombat character... maybe a character that just happens to be a sexy a-lister. (also?? is this like... SAMKAU?? self aware mortal kombat alternate universe?? can we make that a thing?? idk. i'm excited to keep writing this.. uh.. samkau?? stuff.)

- sub-zero was always your favorite character. when mortal kombat 1 was announced, you were overjoyed by seeing his inclusion on the roster, and his new design. you didn’t mind all the changes the new timeline made; you just wanted to have some fun and watch your favorite man kick some ass.

- you wanted to play the story mode as soon as possible before being spoiled by other fans on social media. but when you did, something strange seemed to happen with your favorite character.

- during the story, when you finally got to play as him in a later chapter, he was much more powerful than any other character so far. it's as if fights were over in an instant, with the enemies only needing one hit to fall. but you assumed it was just a harmless glitch. it was a new game and all, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for there to be some bugs here and there.

- but the more you played, the more conscious the game felt. not only was sub-zero the only character with strangely powerful abilities, but he was the only character you could play as. every time you tried to play as someone else, the game crashed. he also seemed to have voice lines when you went idle. if you let the game run while you left to take a break, you could hear bi-han through your headphones saying something along the lines of: "where do you think you’re going? you must come back."

- incredibly uncomfortable by these occurrences, you turned off the game, hoping it was just a glitch that'll be fixed overnight. but as the game was closed and you went to sleep, there was an emptiness on the other side of the screen.

- bi-han was at a loss for words. he felt an otherworldly presence being emitted nearby. he just couldn't put his finger on it, until you controlled him. his body didn't feel like his own. he felt you control his strikes and protect him from attacks by moving his body like a puppet on a string. despite the initial discomfort of losing self-control, it was still a warm, exhilarating feeling. he felt as if his force grew under your guidance. you made him feel stronger, and that's all he's ever wanted. but when your control disappeared, so did the warmth and power. he felt empty without you. his heart ached as your presence faded. you weren't completely gone, but it still upset him that you weren't guiding him anymore.

- especially when you shifted to guide kuai liang. how dare that failure of a brother take you away from him? and how could you leave him so easily, so quickly? he didn’t do anything wrong, so why leave him?

- he was fueled with a rage he never felt before. not just from the betrayal of his brother, but from the betrayal of you. a warm, advantageous figure that he never knew he needed, suddenly taken away once he got the chance to feel you. he had to fix this as soon as possible.

- he tried to guide you, just as you did for him. he did this by making sure only he could be controlled by you. nobody else can have his strength. with you by his side, his power will never be rivaled again. in order to convince you of this fact, he decided to show off a bit and defeat every opponent he faced within seconds. if he showed you how unstoppable you two can be, surely that’ll persuade you into never leaving him again…

- he thought his plan was working. until you powered your device off, and he was stuck in the cold abyss once more. bi-han is used to the cold. it was nothing new for him. but now that he’s finally gotten a taste of you, and felt you? he can’t stand the bitter, soulless atmosphere of his fictitious life anymore. without you, he has nothing. it’s tedious, and lonely. as much as he hates to admit it, he needs you. badly. desperately. he was your favorite, wasn't he? so why leave him? he did so much for you, to keep you from deserting him. he upgraded himself and downgraded everyone else, so you know he's the only one for you. he was clinging onto the hope that you’ll be impressed by his skills, and you won’t betray him again. but this time? he may just lose his mind. come back. you must come back to him.

#this ask was stuck in my inbox for over a year #i actually had fun writing this tho lol #also reminder that bi han's breath canonically stinks #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #yandere mortal kombat #yandere x reader #sub zero #sub zero x you #sub zero x reader #bi han x reader #bi han x you #yandere bi han

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earpskeeper · 16 days ago

Text

one shot given to me by the lovely @lvnleah - hope you enjoy!

It had been a scorcher at the Arsenal training ground, the kind of heat that made the air feel syrupy and your limbs heavy. Renee had already cut the session short, but you had something to prove. To her. To yourself. To the voice in your head whispering that getting benched meant you weren’t enough.

So you stayed. Pushed harder. Too hard.

Kyra noticed. She always did. From the sidelines, she chewed on a fingernail, eyes tracking every step you took. She saw the tremble in your hands, the unnatural flush in your cheeks, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. She knew the signs.

Then, mid run, your legs buckled. One second you were sprinting, the next you were on the ground, collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Kyra ran.

“MOVE!” she shouted, shoving past Caitlin and Lotte, ignoring Renee’s whistle and the medics who hesitated just a moment too long. She dropped beside you, pale and breathless, cradling your face like it was made of glass.

“Hey. Hey, baby, wake up. I’ve got you,” she whispered, brushing sweat from your brow with a trembling thumb.

“Baby?”

Caitlin’s eyebrows shot up. Katie exchanged a look with Beth. Even Renee froze.

The physios arrived, taking over with protocols and pulse checks, but Kyra stayed put, her hand clutching yours, unwilling to let go.

“Kyra,” one of them said gently, “we’ve got her now.”

It took a second, but finally, reluctantly, she backed away, watching as they loaded you into the ambulance. She was already stepping forward when a paramedic stopped her.

“Are you immediate family?”

Kyra’s mouth opened, then closed. No words came. Only the sound of the ambulance doors slamming shut echoed in her ears.

She didn’t wait. She stormed to the locker room, threw her things into her bag, and left without a word. Straight to her car. Straight to the hospital.

She had to see you. Had to know you were okay. Because if this stupid secret meant she wasn’t even allowed to sit beside you in the ambulance, then what was the point?

At the hospital, her voice cracked when she spoke. “Y/N Y/L/N. She collapsed during training.”

“Are you family?” the receptionist asked.

Kyra paused. “I’m someone who cares about her. A lot.”

The receptionist softened. “Take a seat.”

Kyra sat. Time moved so slowly that when a nurse finally called her name, she nearly tripped over her own feet.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said. “You can see her, just for a few minutes.”

Kyra walked into the dim room like she was holding her breath. You were pale, bandaged, hooked to an IV - but awake.

“Hey,” Kyra whispered, stepping close. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Ky?”

“I’m here.” She took your hand, grounding herself. “You passed out. Heatstroke and a mild concussion.”

You groaned softly. “I was pushing too hard.”

“You do that,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me.”

Silence settled. Then, with eyes half lidded, you said, “They know now, don’t they?”

Kyra chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Pretty sure calling you ‘baby’ gave it away. Caitlin’s jaw hit the ground.”

You laughed, barely, but it was enough.

“They’ll deal,” Kyra said. “Just get better. I can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t.”

Kyra lingered at the door after the nurse reminded her it was time to go.

“I love you,” she said.

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, too.”

Returning to training felt surreal, like stepping into a life that had moved on without you. The drills were the same, the grass familiar, but Kyra was different. Loud. Fierce.

“Careful! She’s just back!” she barked during warm-ups, positioning herself like a human buffer between you and the rest of the squad.

“Kyra,” you warned gently.

“What? You gonna break if someone breathes too hard next to you?” Katie joked from the back of the group.

Laughter rippled around the pitch. Beth nudged Leah and murmured something under her breath. Leah rolled her eyes but smiled.

You tried to shake off the tension in your shoulders, get back into rhythm. It felt good to run again. To move again.

The ball rolled your way during a small-sided game. You broke left, took it on the run. Leah slid in - cleanly, perfectly timed. Nothing reckless.

But Kyra saw red.

“LEAH, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Leah got up calmly, brushing grass off her shorts. “I got the ball, Kyra.”

“She’s recovering!”

“She’s not made of glass.”

Renee’s whistle cut through the air. “Kyra, go cool off. Now.”

Kyra looked like she might explode. Her fists clenched, jaw tight. But she didn’t argue. Just turned on her heel and stormed off the pitch.

You stood frozen for a moment, everyone’s eyes flicking between you and the direction Kyra had gone. Something twisted in your chest - guilt, maybe. Or something closer to worry.

You jogged off without a word, ignoring the glances, ignoring Renee’s raised brow.

You found Kyra behind the equipment shed, pacing. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes fixed on the gravel. She didn’t look up when you came near.

“Kyra.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. Her voice cracked on the word.

You took a breath. “I’m not mad.”

“Well, you should be. I’m acting like a lunatic.”

You stepped closer. “You’re scared.”

Her head snapped up at that, and for a second, her bravado faltered. Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Of course I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You collapsed in front of me. You weren’t moving. And now everyone just expects me to pretend like it’s all fine again? Like I’m fine?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said gently.

She turned away from you, hands on her hips, fighting for control. “But if I don’t hold it together, who will? Everyone was looking to me when you were gone (when you were back at home recovering) like I had answers… Like I knew what was going to happen.”

You stepped up behind her, placing a hand softly on her back. She didn’t flinch, just stood there, trembling slightly.

“I watched them load you into that ambulance, and I didn’t even know if I’d see you again,” she said, her voice breaking completely. “And I didn’t cry. I didn’t let myself. Because if I started, I thought I’d never stop.”

She turned then, finally, and before you could say anything, she collapsed into your arms.

You caught her easily, wrapping her up, holding her as her walls crumbled.

She sobbed quietly into your shoulder, fists bunching in the back of your shirt.

“I was so fucking scared,” she whispered, again and again. “I thought I lost you.”

You rocked her gently, your hand stroking her back, grounding her.

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You held her like that for what felt like forever - until her breathing slowed, until her grip loosened and her body leaned into yours, softer now. Lighter, in a way.

When she finally pulled back, her face was tear streaked, her eyes puffy. But there was something calmer in her expression.

“You’re allowed to feel it,” you said, brushing your thumb under her eye. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

“I’ll try not to. But I will get tackled again, you know.”

She huffed a laugh, weak but real. “Yeah, well. Leah can still piss off.”

You laughed softly and pulled her into a hug again, tighter this time.

And for the first time since everything happened, Kyra held you not like someone trying to protect you, but like someone who was finally letting herself be held, too.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #earpskeeper #kyra cooney cross x reader #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 4 months ago

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Can you do a gardner reader/gp Donna where the gardner was quietly given the cadou, but no one but Mother Miranda knows? Gardner is soft spoken and Donna and reader slowly fall in love...maybe some angst from Donna being scared to lose the gardner but finding out they have forever? If you could have smut (maybe the gardner has a breeding kink), too?

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

Forever

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, gardener! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, (Minors DNI), breeding kink, angst, fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,432

Summary: Your life was getting weird...

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

Living in that village was already synonymous with mystery and disorientation, but it was nothing compared to waking up every morning in a different place. Of course, it wasn't always like that.

You were a normal girl, with a sad and boring life, like everyone who lived in that place. You had a home, a family, the certainty that Mother Miranda and the Black Gods protected you… You couldn't really complain, but deep down you wanted to.

You weren't hungry, nor cold. You weren't even called by the lady of the castle to serve her as a maid, something quite common for young girls like you. You thought that maybe you wouldn't suffer the same fate as your friends, that life had something better in store for you.

Deep down, you weren't wrong.

But when you thought you would dedicate yourself to taking care of a small garden, that you would no longer have any worries other than worshipping the Gods and protecting the crops from frost, something happened.

Even if you tried to look back and retrace each of the steps you took that day, all you could see was the darkness. The first thing your memory recalled when you woke up were those gray eyes, that blonde hair, that woman, Mother Miranda.

According to the priestess, you had an accident, and, of course, the Black Gods had protected you. Although you didn’t doubt her word, although you didn’t distrust the person who protected the village, there was something that didn’t fit in that story.

You weren’t the most faithful villager, and that is why you decided not to question that “divine intervention” and to just thank the bird-woman.

Apparently, your innate ability with plants piqued the blonde lady's curiosity, and after vaguely explaining how she had saved your life, she offered you a job. Distrustful, you listened patiently to what your new role would be, one that you knew you couldn’t escape.

Mother Miranda said that it would be a complete shame if your talent was wasted on simple vegetables, that you deserved something more than that. For that reason, and with you unable to hold her gaze, she indicated that you were destined to serve one of the Lords.

It was something that was always within your possible futures, but perhaps in a different way. You wouldn’t be a maid, or an experiment, you would be a gardener. But not just any gardener; you would be, from that day on, the gardener of House Beneviento.

Naturally, you knew the inhabitant of those grounds, the youngest and most mysterious Lord: the solitary ventriloquist, Donna Beneviento.

She was no different from her siblings. The rumors about the lady in black weren’t foreign to your ears. No one knew her well, but everyone feared her. She was a strange, sick and dangerous woman.

The power to revive your deepest fears, to manipulate your mind like the strings of a puppet kept that mansion as a place of no return, as the last thing anyone stupid enough to enter there would see.

You were terrified of working for her, taking care of the plants that made her power terrifying, but… how could you refuse a request from Mother Miranda?

You soon moved to the house of the one who took your place years ago, the mysterious family gardener, who suddenly disappeared. The uncertainty killed you every day you spent there, but it didn't take long for you to get used to it.

Your new mistress didn't usually come near. Yes, sometimes her black figure walked around the grounds as if she were a ghost, next to the Angie doll. She didn't look at you; you doubted if the lady was even aware of your existence.

It wasn't long before you started to be curious, to wonder what kind of woman was hiding under that black veil.

Little by little that gloomy walk came closer, and the lady in black recognized your work, something strange; you doubted she knew you existed. But contrary to what you might think, the woman did know Mother Miranda's command, that you were her new gardener.

A couple of whispers with a hoarse and melodic voice, slight nods and hidden glances… they were the symptoms that indicated that Donna Beneviento was watching you.

The monster the villagers spoke of faded away with each encounter, and curiosity slowly began to replace fear. Yes, she seemed like a strange, sick woman, and her Angie doll scolded you for being a nuisance, but for some reason, you began to want to see her walking near you, a compliment from the lips you couldn't see, a word with that attractive accent.

Perhaps the desire to get closer to that woman increased due to the loneliness of the place, the feeling of isolation you experienced in that cabin. The days passed slowly without her heels sinking into the snow, without her black presence contrasting with the pure white of the landscape.

Surely you were delirious, or maybe was the lack of sleep that made you imagine longer conversations, maybe having tea with her, making her laugh, making the anguish you saw in her way of moving, of acting, disappear. You were attracted to Donna, and you couldn't deny it, but unfortunately, you weren't the most outgoing girl in the village, and new worries clouded those absurd fantasies.

The days were quiet, the nights were restless, black, a blinding darkness permeated your dreams and the warmth of the fireplace began to disappear. When you woke up, when you opened your eyes, the surroundings were different every day. You could be in the snow, leaning on a railing, on the bridge, near the house...

You had never been a sleepwalker, or so you thought, but waking up every day in a different place, feeling black smoke clouding any memory of the night, made you believe that perhaps your nights were much more interesting than they seemed.

For that reason, you started a diary a long time ago in which you noted the place where you woke up and how you felt. You needed an answer, you needed to find a pattern to that strange behavior, but you never got what you were looking for, just more uncertainty and a irrational fear of falling asleep.

Luckily, that day you woke up in your bed, a rarity that you thought you would take advantage of, perhaps to try to focus on the lady in black, on your discovery of that mysterious woman you worked for.

“It seems that the cold hasn’t caused much damage...” you murmured while pruning some bushes, checking the color, the condition of the plants. “Good, good...”

Your eyes danced unintentionally towards the paths, towards the place where the lady used to appear and a strange smile formed on your face, imagining her slow walking, the lavender perfume she left behind as she passed by you.

“Uh-oh, I think you're going crazy, (Y/N),” you said to yourself, shaking your head and turning your back on the path, taking the lady out of your thoughts.

As if something, or someone, had read your silent request, footsteps in the snow made you freeze and turn your head slowly, unable to stop smiling. Indeed, your silent prayers had been heard, and the dark figure of Donna Beneviento appeared on the path, approaching with her doll.

“Oh, my lady,” you whispered, not being able (you had never been) to raise the volume of your voice.

Despite that, the lady seemed to hear you and turned her head towards you, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Good morning, silly gardener!” the shrill voice of the Angie doll penetrated your ears, making you put on an unpleasant face, but without losing your elegant smile.

“Miss Angie,” you said elegantly, with a submissive whisper. “My lady…”

“What are you doing, silly?” the puppet asked, while its owner put it on the ground, nodding discreetly at your greeting. “You're hurting the plants, huh?”

“No,” you said amused, with an evident blush on your cheeks. “Of course I’m not, Miss Angie, I'm pruning this bush.”

“Sure, sure,” the doll answered while your gaze shifted to the lady in black, who stood with her hands placed elegantly in front of her body. “Hey, hey, the other day I saw in a book that gardeners like you know how to shape these bushes.”

“Really?” you asked shyly, looking down when something told you that the lady was looking at you, even if you couldn't see it. “Well, I don't think I could shape this one, it's too small.”

“Nonsense, it's perfect, just look at me,” Angie said, pointing at herself and eclipsing your daily observation of the lady. “I'm not very big either. Listen, silly, I want you to shape that bush, like me.”

“Don't pay attention to her,” Lady Beneviento's hoarse voice interrupted that strange request as her veil danced while shaking her head.

“Y-Yes, of course, my lady, I…” you stammered, cursing your shy personality under your breath. “W-Well, I wouldn't mind trying and…”

“Yes, and let it be life-size!” the doll exclaimed, comically waving her arms.

“Angie, lasciala estare,” the lady reprimanded the doll, making her return to her side with a gesture of her hand amid sinister laughter. “There's no need to boost her ego, don't you think?”

“Um, well, I guess you're right or, well, I don't know, I…” you stammered, unable to react to a conversation outside of the daily greeting. “Whatever you say, my lady,” you finally said, bowing slightly.

The lady nodded slowly, but didn’t move from her spot; she seemed to be waiting for something that you didn’t understand… Perhaps a conversation with someone who wasn’t made of porcelain?

“Um… um…” you continued to stammer, looking away from her, looking for a place to focus on that wasn't her addictive figure. “I hope you had a good night, my lady.”

“Mm,” she murmured in response, tilting her head as she slowly approached you, filling your senses with lavender.

“Glad to hear it,” you whispered almost without a voice as you felt her black dress brush against your work clothes, as you could see her pale hand, which reached out towards the bush. “Yes, well, I can't do miracles in this cold and…”

“Mm,” the lady murmured again, playing with a leaf in her fingers.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?” you asked nervously as you saw how she observed your work, as you could see part of her hidden face, a pale, young face.

“No,” she answered dryly, getting up again, but staying very close to you. “But you shouldn't be so busy with these bushes, the flowers are my priority.”

“Oh, I know, I'm sorry, I…” you quickly apologized, putting your hands together and taking advantage of the moment to get away from her intimidating presence.

“I haven't asked you to apologize,” she whispered in a stern tone, without looking at you.

“No, but…” you said confused, starting to notice the sweat on your hands.

“Then shut up,” Beneviento ordered you coldly, making you back away further.

“Yes, I…” you said trembling, regretting saying those words again. “I mean, okay.”

“Okay,” the woman repeated, maintaining a stoic pose again.

“Okay,” you repeated stupidly, making the red of your cheeks contrast even more with the snow. “Um…”

“What are you two playing?” Angie asked, interrupting that absurd conversation. “Are you stupid?”

“Angie,” the lady growled, with a tone that indicated a certain nervousness. The question was… was she really nervous? Why?

“Making a fool of myself… is my specialty,” you whispered embarrassed, turning your back to the lady and shaking your head.

“You aren’t making a fool of yourself, (Y/N),” the lady in black said, making your blood run cold. “You're natural, I like it.”

“Do you like me? I mean, do you like it?” you asked timidly, letting your mind get ahead of your reasoning. “I mean, I like you too and… Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't say anything.”

“Sei divertente,” the woman murmured, followed by something very similar to a laugh that came out of her veil. You were sure that you wouldn't forget that laugh, nor that strange conversation.

“I hope that's not a bad thing,” you said blushing, playing with the clippers, but unable to look at the lady.

“No,” she answered dryly, shaking her head, finally walking away from you while gesturing to her doll.

“Okay, I... thank you,” you said confused, bowing as she walked away from you elegantly, carrying Angie in her arms. “Thank you, Donna...”

For a moment you stood enthralled, watching as the black figure slowly moved away, sighing because you knew that the attraction you felt for her was much more than simple curiosity.

Anyone with eyes, or ears could tell the chemistry between you, but it was something you tried to ignore.

Her body was perfect, her words were beautiful like a soothing lullaby, but… Donna Beneviento wasn't one of the girls from the village, who you had some kind of relationships with, she was much more; she was a Lord.

With all the sleepwalking and strange things happening to you, you barely had time to process an internal truth that was running through your heart. You couldn't deny it, but you didn't want to see it: you were madly in love with her.

But love, or what you believed was some kind of platonic feeling, wasn't made for you, not with her, at least. Anyway, if you wanted to stay with her, your job as a gardener was your priority.

“You clumsy fool,” you lamented, ignoring the bush and approaching a corner of yellow flowers, the ones you knew you had to be careful with. “What are you thinking? It's impossible, (Y/N), you don't even know her, you don't even…. Oh, damn!” you screamed as you felt a thorn sticking into your skin, expelling drops of warm blood towards the white snow.

You already had enough distractions and worries, you couldn't think about what you felt for the lady, or you would do yourself much more harm than a simple prick.

“Okay, great, you're great,” you said, sighing and looking away from your wound. “Okay, strange woman, get out of my thoughts,” you added, gesturing comically.

Before you could think about what had happened, an unpleasant feeling took over. It wasn’t just a feeling, but a strange chill on the back of your neck, an uneasiness in your stomach, the unmistakable symptoms that told you that something, or someone, was watching you.

Instinctively you turned around looking for those stalking eyes you thought were watching. A black raven, which flew away at the sight of you, was your only answer. You were so busy thinking about Lady Beneviento that you almost forgot the void in your past, that darkness in your memory, all the strange things that happened to you.

But, between thinking about Donna, fantasizing about what it would be like to really meet her, seeing what her face was like, and trying to get answers about everything that was happening to you… Well, thinking about the lady was much better.

Unfortunately, she didn’t appear on the paths again, and the rest of the day passed with a disturbing calm. The silence of the plants was overwhelming, and your thoughts echoed in your head much louder than usual.

At night, as you got into bed, you wished you would wake up like that morning while you were rehearsing conversations with the lady in black, something that wouldn't make you look stupid, as you almost always did when you spoke to her.

But the work was exhausting, and sleep overcame you before you could imagine, once again, what her smile would be like.

The images in your dreams were quite confusing, but recurring: crows, laughter, darkness, and Donna, always Donna. The feeling that someone was chasing you forced you to move away from her black veil before lifting it, and anguish and confusion always prevailed over your dream wishes.

But the dreams barely lasted. The nightmares weren’t with your eyes closed, but upon awakening. The warmth of your body was a good sign. Something was covering you as your eyes tried with great effort to open. Your head was spinning, like a night out with your friends, but without the taste of alcohol on your lips.

At least it seemed like you had woken up in your bed, right?

Your vision was clearing as your back began to not recognize your old mattress, indicating to you that maybe, just maybe, that wasn't your bed.

Wood, humidity, paint... all those new smells began to run through your nose as your eyes focused on your surroundings. You weren't at home.

When you sat up, the blanket covering you slid down your body and panic began to make your heart beat too fast. That dark wood, the timid light, that table, those chairs... you knew where you were: in the Beneviento Manor.

You had only been in that house twice, but it was enough to remember it, to recognize the dampness of the walls, the timid sound of the waterfall coming through the window. But that wasn't the worst of it.

When your brain fully woke up, it detected something, a presence that climbed onto the couch and almost gave you a heart attack.

“Hey, silly! It's time to wake up!” Angie sang in a squeaky voice, making you jump exaggeratedly.

“Shit, shit!” you screamed, nervously kicking until, with a thud, you fell off the couch. “Ouch! Ouch…”

Trying to regain your composure, you got up from the floor, your nerves on edge and starting to feel the cold seeping through your pajamas. The worst of all was that you had overlooked the figure sitting in front of you, watching you in silence: Donna.

“Oh, my lady!” you exclaimed with an apologetic gesture, watching as her veil moved to follow you with her gaze. “What…? I-I don't understand… what am I doing here?” you asked confused and scared.

“What am I doing here? What am I doing here?” Angie mocked, repeating your words while the ventriloquist remained silent. “You're stupid!”

“Um, -I-I don't know what's going on, I… my head,” you complained, letting yourself fall on the couch and burying your face in your hands.

“Last night you seemed to know it,” the lady in black murmured, finally getting up from the chair, maintaining an authoritative posture.

“What? I don't… I don't remember anything, I went to sleep and…” you murmured, trying, with all your effort, to remember.

“Allow me to correct you,” the lady said, crossing her arms and getting a little closer. “Last night you came to my house, rambling about some crows that were chasing you,” she explained, leaving you completely pale.

“Me? But, but…” you stammered, shaking your head, your whole body shaking. “No, that…”

“Are you calling me a liar, giardiniera?” she asked in a demanding tone, getting even closer.

“What? No, no, I… I have no idea what you're talking about, my lady,” you explained with fear taking over your words. “I don't remember anything, I…”

“My lady? How bold, am I your lady now?” Donna asked, with a mocking voice and a marked accent. She seemed nervous too. “Last night I was just Donna.”

“I'm sorry, my lady, but, but... I don't understand anything,” you whispered, curling up on the couch, with your knees pulled up to your chest.

“You don’t understand anything,” she replied, with her fists clenched on either side of her hips. “What kind of game are you trying to play with me, gardener? What are you trying to do?”

“I-I don't know what you’re talking about... I don't, I don't know, I...” you stammered, with tears beginning to form in your eyes, feeling more and more helpless. “I don't know what happened to me.”

“Hey!” the doll shrieked, watching you. “Hey, Donna! I think she's telling the truth.”

“Mm?”

The situation was too tense. Your best weapon at that moment, the only one you had, was the truth.

“I… it's just…” you began, trying hard not to tremble too much, not to make the blush on your cheeks too evident. “I-it's been happening to me for a while now.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, making a patient gesture with her head, indicating for you to continue.

“S-Sometimes, at night… I don't know, I do things… I wake up in strange places, outside of my bed and… I-I don't know… I think, I think I'm sleepwalking,” you said nervously, looking anywhere but at the woman in black. “But I don't remember anything of what happened and…”

“You don't remember anything,” Donna repeated with a slightly calmer voice.

“Nothing,” you confirmed with a sigh.

“Niente”

“N-niente,” you stammered.

“Mm, how curious,” she finally said, sitting down again in front of you. “I was hoping you would remember what you told me before you fainted in my arms.”

Your eyes flew open and your heart stopped. You were unable to move a single muscle and the exit was too far away. You had no escape, and above all, you had no idea what she was referring to.

“Did I faint?” you asked in a small voice, making the doll laugh in amusement. “I don’t…”

“You don’t remember,” Donna finished the sentence for you, shaking her head.

You just nodded, preparing yourself for the worst.

“B-But I surely didn't mean it, I was just dreaming and… if I said something wrong, I beg you to forgive me and…” you said fearfully, kneeling submissively on the floor and bowing your head while you joined your hands.

“Yes, it would surely be a lie,” the lady in black sighed with a sad tone, bringing you a steaming cup. “Get up, gardener.”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed timidly, obeying your mistress's orders.

“Here, it's tea, it will calm the cold,” she offered, to which you, reluctant, took the cup from her hands.

“T-Thank you… I promise it won't happen again,” you apologized, unable to look at her black veil, at the place where her gaze was, one that you only knew from an old portrait on the stairs.

“Mm,” she murmured, before standing up with a brusque gesture and gesturing to her doll. “Angie.”

“You are stupid,” the puppet growled at you before leaving slowly.

Doubt was killing you, not knowing was consuming you, what could you have said to Lady Beneviento? Was your job in danger? Maybe that tea was the last of your life? You wanted to know, you needed to know.

“Excuse me, my lady, wait, please,” you said, leaving the cup on the table and standing up, playing with your hands.

The lady's steps slowly stopped, and the veil on her face danced towards you again.

“Finish the tea and get out of my house,” she ordered you sternly, not letting you speak.

“Yes, but… I-I would like…” you said without thinking, getting closer to the black figure, trembling with fear. “I would like to know what I told you, my lady.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured in response, sighing slowly. “You only told lies, (Y/N).”

“I don't understand,” you denied more confused. “What kind of lies?”

“You said that I was beautiful,” she finally whispered, looking away from you with her invisible gaze.

Your blood froze again.

“W-What? Did I say that?” you asked without believing it. You would never say something like that, even if you thought about it, even if every day you hoped to see her heels in the snow, the black against the white, the lavender around you. “Oh, I-I…”

“Taci,” your lady scolded you. “This is the last time your stupid dreams interrupt my tranquility with absurd lies, is that clear?”

“B-But,” you stammered. “My lady, I…”

“Hey, you forgot about dinner,” Angie added, comically tugging at her owner's dress.

“Oh, certo,” Donna sighed, a mocking air in her words. “You also invited me to dinner. Do you find it funny?”

“What? Me?” you asked confused, pointing at yourself.

“Basta, get out before I regret leaving you alive. No one laughs at me, do you hear me? No one!” the lady interrupted, kicking the wooden floor. “I should punish you for this, but Mother Miranda sent you to my care so I'll be merciful, for once. But I don't do favors twice, (Y/N), so…”

“Actually…” you started, trying to save that horrible situation. “It would be an honor to have dinner with you, my lady.”

“Mm, you're so stupid,” Donna laughed, crossing her arms while Angie watched the conversation closely. “Don't make me angry, stupid gardener, get out before I…”

“Yes, I… I'm sorry, my lady, it won't happen again, my lady,” you apologized, walking towards the door, trying to escape as quickly as possible.

It could have been the most awkward moment of your life, but something inside you made you stop with your hand on the door, looking at the ravages of your sleepwalking as an opportunity, not as a mistake.

That little spark of daring was totally unknown to you. You would never have considered continuing to pull the string of her patience. Something was definitely wrong with you.

The stoic look of that portrait penetrated your mind, forcing you to make the most absurd move of your life.

“My lady,” you said with a weak voice, but strangely comfortable and soft. “I truly think you’re beautiful.”

“Mm?” she murmured, bewildered, shaking her head. “Don't you get tired of pissing me off?”

“I... well, I may not remember anything of what happened last night but... I would like to have dinner with you, if you want,” you asked with a strange confidence, with a knot in your stomach.

“You keep insisting, stupida...” the lady hissed, calming down instantly. “Va bene, at 8... and don't you dare to be late. If it's a trick, (Y/N), you'll pay the consequences, now go away.”

You nodded and obeyed. A date with Donna Beneviento? You had dreamed about it so many times that it seemed impossible.

It wasn't a memorable dinner, it was just awkward, strange. The lady in black definitely didn't believe that you made the effort to have dinner with her of your own free will, and even for you it was hard to believe that you were having dinner with her. Confidence was something completely unknown to you, to your shy and gentle character.

It could be something isolated, a test of loyalty or trust in your lady, but Donna insisted. That situation was repeated for the rest of the week.

Laughter, absurd conversations about your life in the village... Little by little, having dinner with Donna became routine, the term "my lady" disappeared, and the love that grew inside you was increasingly bigger, more evident.

The chemistry between you was clearly shown after several days. The lady in black wasn't completely sure that your smiles were sincere, but, like you, and that side of your personality that you had just discovered, she simply let herself go.

The rumors about Beneviento slowly dissipated with each of her shy laughs, her soft and flattering words. She was sick, yes, the blessing of the Gods wasn’t favorable to her, or so she told you, but she was far, too far from being the monster everyone was talking about.

“Aren't you cold? Waking up in the middle of the forest doesn't seem healthy,”-she asked one of those nights of endless chatter, looking at you curiously.

“The truth is that the answer will seem strange to you but...” you said, taking a sip of your glass of wine. “I feel the cold, but it doesn't seem to affect me.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured in response, slightly moving her veil to eat. “I'm surprised you haven't caught a cold.”

You laughed, shaking your head and looking away from the little you could see of her face, from the internal reconstruction your head made of what was undoubtedly a terribly beautiful woman.

“This may seem almost impossible to you, but I haven't gotten sick in a long time,” you explained, frowning, remembering all the strange things that happened while you were falling more and more in love with Donna.

“You could say you're lucky, (Y/N), and so are my flowers,” the lady answered, nodding elegantly. “I don't think I could, I mean, they couldn't live without your care.”

The blush returned to your cheeks, but melancholy took over you.

“I don't think I could live without you either, I mean, without these delicious dinners and... Wow, I... I should stop drinking, I'm just talking nonsense,” you said nervously, noticing the heat of embarrassment on your skin.

“You always say nonsense, like that I'm beautiful,” she murmured, shaking her head again and sighing.

“It's not nonsense,” you answered with a mischievous smile, encouraged by the wine. “I wish I had the courage to tell you when I was awake.”

“Do you always say things like that when you're asleep? The people around you should feel lucky,” Donna commented, playing with her fork, but listening attentively.

“Actually... I haven't always been a sleepwalker,” you said, ignoring that veiled compliment. “Something happened to me a while ago, something that... I still can't explain... there's a fog in my memories, and I can't stop thinking maybe everything that happens to me happens because of that and... well, it doesn't matter.”

“You're right, it doesn't matter,” she said, with a serious tone, getting up from her chair and approaching you again. “Thanks to that, you're with me.”

“I l-like being with you, Donna,” you stammered, taking the hand she offered you, gently getting up until you were at her height.

“You like being with me,” she repeated laughing, bringing her hands close to your face, caressing it erratically. “I like being with you.”

“Great, I guess, I…” you stammered, feeling terribly nervous, noticing on your skin, in your heart, the anticipation of an impossible kiss.

Before you could do anything, her hands moved away from your skin, going straight to the fabric that covered her face, finally revealing to you the beauty you dreamed of.

“Surely you are regretting it now,” the lady sighed, looking down while you, open-mouthed, studied her features.

She was… she was really beautiful. Her black hair, tied in a messy bun, framed her pale skin harmoniously. A horrible scar hid her right eye, being the reason why she always wore the veil. Nonsense, her beauty was so overwhelming that you almost fainted when you saw it with your own eyes.

“Yes, it's true,” you sighed, looking at her lips, gently grabbing her waist, which trembled at your touch. “I regret not telling you before.”

Her eye opened wide and a slight smile appeared on her lips, which were quickly kidnapped by yours in a passionate, wild kiss.

Her hands grabbed the back of your neck, pulling your body closer to hers in a frenetic dance, full of gasps, without words, just kisses, only the moisture of her lips on yours resonating in the old walls.

Passion took over the room, and your bodies, refusing to separate, roamed it erratically, looking for some safe place to rest, to merge. Unfortunately, just when your hands began to roam freely, Donna stopped, pulling away among gasps.

“No, wait…” she sighed, blinking nervously. “Y-You better go, (Y/N).”

“Have I done something wrong?” you asked scared. “Am I going too fast?”

“No, no, io…” she stammered, shaking her head and grabbing your hands, looking at you with sadness, a strange sadness. “Will you come to dinner with me tomorrow?”

“What?” you asked frowning, laughing nervously. “Um… yes, of course but… I-I don't know, don't you want me to stay with you? We were having a good time, right?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, squeezing your hands in hers. “Yes, but… but… I prefer you to go, (Y/N).”

“Oh,” you sighed disappointed. “Of course, I… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, I just…”

“I know, I…” she stammered, while the Angie doll, always watching, shook her head, surely rejecting the lady's behavior. “B-But flowers don't take care of themselves. I-I mean, you're still my gardener and…”

“Flowers,” you said with a bit of resentment, searching for an answer for that sudden change in behavior, one that, of course, you weren't able to find. “S-So… see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Donna whispered when you let her hands go, running away before you took one more step. “Un attimo…”

After that whisper, your lips were blessed with one last kiss, a quick one, but just as passionate.

Her attitude was truly confusing, and you didn't know what to think, but you did know what to feel. She felt the same as you, and you couldn't blame her for being scared, or for feeling insecure. The best thing would be, as always, to let yourself go.

Of course, it wasn't your last kiss, nor your last dinner. Every night, the same situation was repeated: a delicious dinner, with her beauty already on display, caresses, glances, insatiable kisses that Donna always interrupted and above all, rejection.

Rejection of something more, of spending the night with her, of talking about what you were exactly, what you were to her. Your little nocturnal problem continued to haunt you, but it was no longer a problem.

Donna was the only thing that worried you. You were worried about the love you felt for her, not knowing what prevented her from declaring herself to you, what prevented her from asking you to be with her not only at night, but all day.

You couldn't complain, but as time went by, the situation became more and more uncomfortable.

You insisted on loving her, she rejected you. It could be because of the changes the Gods made to her body, but you knew there was something much deeper that prevented her from giving herself to you completely, something you began to write down in your old diary, forgetting about the strange places you used to wake up in.

“(Y/N)…” the lady protested when your kisses began to descend down her neck, while your body rested on hers, in the intimacy of the old sofa.

“Mm… yes, it’s time, I'm leaving,” you sighed disappointed, getting up after giving your lover one last kiss and walking towards your coat.

“Are you leaving, silly?” Angie asked as you wrapped yourself up, this time, without letting the lady give you one of those goodbye kisses that made you melt.

“Yes, I'm leaving,” you said with a slightly furious tone, tired of being patient, of understanding what was going through her mind. “It seems that I always have to leave.”

“Oh, that sounded like a complaint, silly gardener,” the doll scolded you, while the lady grabbed your waist from behind, kissing your hair.

“I'll see you tomorrow, vero?” Donna whispered in your ear, but your smile didn't widen like other times, you simply turned around cupping her face slightly, before separating yourself from her.

“Yes, as always,” you said in a dry tone, reaching the doorway, but taking a deep breath before disappearing. “Donna.”

“Mm?”

“I just… wanted to tell you that…” you stammered, finding in your words remnants of your former personality. “I love you.”

The lady in black looked at you and a brief smile appeared on her face, but the answer wasn’t what you expected; she simply nodded.

You had confessed, you had verbally declared the love you felt for her and… nod? Was that her answer? There was no patience left that you could use, you were almost desperate.

“Okay, that's enough,” you growled, slamming the door and crossing your arms. “A while ago you asked me what I was playing at, right? Well, it's my turn, Donna: what are you playing at?”

“Cosa? I don't understand,” she murmured, with a sad look, backing away.

“What am I to you?” you asked, approaching the withdrawn lady, intimidating her in a ridiculous way. “We've been doing this for weeks, kissing at night, caressing each other... I tell you that I love you and what's your answer?” you said with irony, mockingly imitating her previous gesture.

“D-Don't talk to me like that,” she said confused, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. “Y-You make me nervous.”

“You make me nervous,” you growled, hardening your words unconsciously, completely forgetting that, with a single gesture, she could force you to jump into the void. “What am I to you, Donna? A toy?”

“No”

“A doll? Your employee who has to work overtime? Is this part of my job? I have to take care of the flowers, and then of you? Donna, I can't take it anymore, I...” you questioned, slowly losing your nerves.

“You don't understand,” the lady hissed, changing confusion into irrational anger. “We can't, I can't...”

“What can't you do? Have sex with me? I've already told you a thousand times that I don't care if you have a...” you answered, thus beginning your first argument with her, something inevitable.

“It's not that, it's not that!” Donna shouted furious, making rationality return to your head and your body start to tremble. “You don't understand...”

“So explain it to me!” you shouted back, making the Angie doll run away from the place in a funny way, hiding under the table.

“Hey, watch your tone, gardener!” the puppet scolded you, to which you growled.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “Donna, I love you and… I, I'd like to think that I'm more than just your gardener… I want to share my life with you, do you understand?”

“I can't!” the lady in black shrieked, making her voice bounce off the walls. “I can't love you!”

“Why?” you asked, watching as her hands trembled more and more, as madness took over her.

“Because… because I… I can't stand the idea of losing you!” she finally said, sobbing, with a tear running down her cheek. “I-I can't, cazzo…”

“Lose me?” you asked a little calmer, trying, unsuccessfully, to avoid an imminent crisis, a terrible one. “Donna…”

“You don't understand, (Y/N), I can't love, I can't let my heart love you because… because I couldn't stand… seeing you… Oddio… tesoro, I can't… you, you're…”

“What am I?” you asked, approaching cautiously.

“You're mortal!” Donna screamed madly, with a burning hatred in her eyes. “You're just another villager and I… I'm going to have to see you… see you die… and I'll lose you and… and…”she said, short of breath, so you put your hands on her shoulders.

“Donna, don't… don't think about it, I… there's still a long way to go… and I'd like to spend my life with you and…” you stammered, trying to make her reason.

“I can't allow myself to fall in love with you… not when I know I'm going to lose you… I… No, no, no!” she yelled, moving her arms, pushing you away. “Porca puttana!”

“Oh, shit, don't do that,” you said scared, trying to stop her arms, which were flailing wildly, trying to stop her hands from pulling on her hair with excessive force. “Donna, please, relax.”

“Cazzo! Cazzo, cazzo!” she cursed while crying in agony. “Ti amo! Ti amo!”

“O-Okay, okay, Donna, please don't…” you whispered, unable to control her.

She was completely out of her mind, running away from your reassuring hands, hitting hard everything in her path.

“Mannaggia! Mannaggia!” the lady continued screaming, kicking the chairs, the table, hitting her head against the wood. “I can't!”

“Donna, Donna…” you called trying to hold her, but it was impossible, she was too strong.

“Who do you think you are to do this to me!?” she shouted at you, quickly grabbing you by the collar of your dress, lifting you in the air. “You have conquered me… just to make me suffer!”

“Donna, let me go… Gods… Angie!” you called to the doll, who approached cautiously.

“Donna, Donna, let her go, come on! You love her, I know it, you told me!” the doll said, also trying to calm her sick owner. “Calmati, Donna!”

The lady let you go, but that didn't stop her anger, which slowly turned into tears, falling to her knees on the floor.

“Don't die... I can't lose you, I can't... they'll kill you, they...” she stammered completely gone, lost, inconsolable.

“Shit...” Angie hissed, running to your side and climbing onto a small table while you crouched down, trying to calm your beloved. “I'll have to call her.”

“Who? What are you going to do?” you asked while fighting the spasms and uncontrolled fury of the lady.

“Mother Miranda! It's me, Angie! Donna's lost her mind again!” the doll screamed into the phone.

Mother Miranda?

After a few minutes that seemed like hours, someone knocked on the door. A shiver ran through your body when you saw the priestess with a serious look that turned sinister when she noticed your presence.

“Gods, what's wrong with you now, Donna?” the blonde asked, ignoring you and forcibly lifting her adopted daughter. “For the Gods' sake, get up, have you taken your medication?”

“Mother... she... she...” Donna sobbed, resting her head on the raven woman's chest, who sighed, caressing her reluctantly.

Miranda's grey eyes locked with yours, making you involuntarily step back and lean against a wall.

“Oh, honey... what did that stupid girl do to you?” asked the witch, continuing to comfort poor Donna.

“I haven't done anything,” you defended yourself, catching her attention again.

“She's going to...” Donna murmured, burying herself in the priestess. “She's going to die, and I love her, Mother, I love her... I love her...”

“Oh, my precious girl,” Miranda said, with a terrifyingly affectionate tone. “Calm down... everything is okay.”

“No,” the lady said unhinged again, moving away from her mother and shaking her head. “N-No, nothing is okay... Mother Miranda, please... I don't want her to die. I'll do anything for...”

“Shhh, taci, Donna,” the witch snapped, wiping the tears from her clothes and lifting the kneeling lady back up. “But how curious fate is... Now, be quiet, dear, no one is going to die.”

You, unable to do anything, terrified by the presence of the priestess, limited yourself to listening.

“No, Mother, maybe not now, but she will die and I will be alone again and…” Donna explained, desperate.

A sinister smile formed on the blonde's face, making you frown.

“No, dear, she won’t die, (Y/N) will live forever,” she commented. “Just like you.”

“What?” Donna and you asked at the same time, making a disturbing laugh bounce off the walls.

“Mm, I must admit that I didn’t expect these results, (Y/N), you were too valuable to be thrown away,” Miranda said, making you, confused, shake your head. “Tell me, girl, haven't you noticed something strange lately?”

“Yes,” you answered coldly, getting a little closer to the women. “My wounds heal on their own and at night…”

“Oh, let me guess, you lose consciousness… you wake up far from home, don’t you?” Mother Miranda whispered, making your eyes widen.

“How do you know?”

“Because I did it, (Y/N)… I must confess that you weren’t a success, but the Cadou didn’t kill you, so I decided to leave you in the hands of my little Donna in case you gave me any surprises.”

The revelation came to your head. That fog in your memories, that empty space in your memory… had it all been Miranda’s doing?

“S-So…” Donna commented, wiping away her tears. “Is (Y/N) like me?”

“Sort of… but she's a failure, aside from her sleepwalking, she's a simple villager, a waste, unfortunately,” the witch commented, leaving you with more questions than answers. “So… well, I guess it's okay if you keep her.”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted. “Did you experiment on me? What have you done to me?”

The blonde woman didn't answer, she simply laughed softly, passing by you indifferently.

“Cheer up, dear, you're immortal,” she commented before disappearing in a black cloud, leaving you completely in shock.

“But, but, but,” you stammered, with too much information, so much that you couldn't fully take it in. “What? What does it mean?”

“Tesoro…” Donna sighed, catching you by surprise, grabbing your face with a radiant smile. “It means I won't lose you... you can be mine forever...”

“Wait a minute, Donna, I don't...” you said confused, pushing her gently. “I need time to...”

A wild and salty kiss interrupted your complaints, and a hug calmed your doubts, a strong, joyful hug, totally out of madness.

“There will be time to think, vieni,” the lady told you, pulling your wrist. “You will be mine forever, tesoro... forever...” she sighed, kissing you quickly, kisses that were hard for you to return “Now I can love you.”

“Yes, Donna, but...” you said confused, moving away subtly. “I just don't understand.”

“I want to make love to you,” she said in your ear, making your body tense and a burning heat start to rise up your legs.

“Um, I… I…” you stuttered, shaking your head, though you didn't have much time to think, as her arms lifted you into the air, leaving you on the couch.

“Per favore…” the lady begged, climbing up your hips while her lips timidly rested on the skin of your neck.

As always, there was no better option than to let yourself go and you, despite still being disoriented, decided to close your eyes and worry only about the warm of her body against yours.

“Gods, Donna…” you sighed, grabbing her face to kiss her while her hands undressed you impatiently. “Donna…”

“I won't lose you anymore, I'll never lose you,” she repeated among gasps while her nails scratched your skin, cupping your exposed breasts and your hips rubbing against hers. “Mine…”

“Yours,” you answered, with the heat of your cheeks dispelling doubts, with her cold hands contrasting with your hot skin, with electric currents running through your body every time your hips played together.

“Do you want to be mine, tesoro? Mine forever?” the lady asked, deactivating Angie with a gentle movement of her hand while playing with her own dress, thus releasing her throbbing erection, one that made your eyes shine.

“Oh, yes, I do...” you said biting your lip, overwhelmed by the reaction that your kisses provoked in her body, by that impatience, the gentle stimulation her hand made on her shaft. “Donna, Gods... you are big.”

She laughed childishly, embarrassed by your comment but focused on her task, on making you hers abruptly, on taking you after so much time full of doubts and uncertainty.

Your mouth moaned involuntarily as you noticed her heat on your wet entrance, the precise movements she made with the tip on your clit, passing, traveling, conquering your folds in such a hurried way, with that furious madness turned into pure passion.

“I want to enter you, (Y/N), I want your body to embrace me,” she sighed in your ear, repressing the desire to penetrate you quickly, playing little by little to enter your wetness, but being careful not to hurt you. “(Y/N)…”

“Yes, Donna… fuck…” you said in the middle of a frenzy of moans and desperate movements of your hips, wanting to fulfill her wish, wanting to fulfill yours.

“No…” Donna protested, moving away and pulling your hair as a punishment. “Don't talk like that. Pretty girls don't talk like that,” she whispered, biting your lip, like a sinister threat that made you lose control more and more.

“Mm, and what do pretty girls do?” you asked in a suggestive tone, sliding down so that her erection was once again impregnated with your arousal, joining your hand to hers, going up and down her skin, making the lady moan in a tremendously erotic way.

“Pretty girls... let themselves be taken care of...” she whispered in her melodic voice, interrupted by the moans caused by being masturbated by you. “Cazzo...”

“Mm, who's saying bad words now?” you joked, completely losing track of what had happened, letting yourself be carried away by passion as you placed your body in the correct position and slowly introduced the tip inside you.

“Mm…” the lady murmured, pushing herself inside you, stretching your body as your legs parted to make room for her.

The sensation was overwhelming, even a little uncomfortable at first, but your new character, one that surely had to do with what that witch had done, prevented you from feeling anything but pleasure.

“Yes, yes Donna!” you screamed as you noticed how she slid down your walls, how you covered her with your wetness while her hips moved wildly, possessively, desperately.

“Ti amo… ti amo!” she cried euphorically, grabbing your legs to move you as she pleased while emphasizing her thrusts. “You feel so good…”

“Gods, you too!” you moaned, closing your eyes, wanting only to feel pleasure, only to feel her, awakening, unintentionally, one of your wet nighttime fantasies. “Donna, do it inside, fill me!”

“Oh, yes, tesoro, of course I will… you will carry my seed inside you… no one will be able to touch you… you will be mine!” she moaned as she let your movements guide her as you wanted.

“Yes, yes!” you shrieked, hitting the couch, being stopped by her firm hand, by her bright eye looking at you with a chilling desire. “Make me a mother, my love! I want to have your babies!”

“Yes, yes, tesoro… Cazzo, it's… it's too much… I'm going to…” the lady in black growled, moving faster and faster as your premature orgasm squeezed her body with intensity and your screams of pleasure reverberated in the old mansion.

“Fill me!” you screamed in the euphoria of your orgasm, noticing how, after an embarrassed gasp, her seed began to fill you and her movements ceased, staying very close, as deep inside you as she could.

Wet kisses, caresses, whispers… after that lustful act, there was only love, the realization that you would always have each other, that she was yours, and you were hers.

“Um, (Y/N)… I…” Donna murmured, finally pulling out of you with an embarrassed face. “I don't know if I'm ready to… have a baby …”

“Oh, Donna, honey…” you said amused, caressing her face. “Don't give it any importance, it's just a fantasy.”

“A fantasy? Can you explain it to me? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, a little confused, looking at you curiously.

“Mm, well, I guess I have all eternity to explain it to you but… now… how about you make me yours again?”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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