#Certainly got lost along the way while writing this

[yandere-randomfandom]

Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

[caraphernellie]

SLOW HANDS. EIGHTEEN PLUS INTERACTIONS ONLY.

so in this drabble, i mentioned having a draft about a reader with an oral fixation and always wanting to suck on ellie's fingers. here is the aforementioned draft, mostly self indulgent because i just really want ellie's fingies in my mouth and also this is straight up more yappery about her hands and how much i love them (bordering on hand kink atp) than anything oral fixation related (but that's included, don't worry)– just using this as a thought space to get myself into the writing mood, and i'm not the proudest of it based on the writing style but thought i'd post it anyway.

ellie's hands are a true blessing, are they not? calloused and rough from years of guitar, a testament to the bond she has with loved ones (of course joel, who taught her to play) but perhaps also from the determination to perfect her art. hours spent journaling and detailing every moment of her day like a sweetheart, keeping tabs on things and always taking time to keep herself grounded. she'll sketch things throughout her days, drawing everyday from the pettiest of pretty landscapes to her most beloved people, all in the name of improving and documenting her journey through life. 

ellie is quite an awkward person in general, at least that's an observation i've made overtime – i don't mean her personality with this, although that's certainly true as well! i mean physically. she's not so coordinated. she's not precise. she's always stumbling or falling around the place, she's got that gay ass gait, and she takes less time thinking, always acting without it. 

but i think even despite her being a little challenged in a coordinational sense, and how she's rather lanky, it doesn't mean she isn't practised. moving away from a modern au for a second– think about living in the apocalypse. how she's grown so used to defending herself, handling heavy weaponry. her hands will move deftly to fire, reload, and protect herself, every action memorised after years. and moving a little more towards a modern au once again, although ellie does have a ps3 in canon, how she'd be so good at gaming. nerd activities are right up ellie's alley and of course gaming has to be up there too– her hands have a wide breadth and her fingers are nimble and long, she'd probably be really good with that advantage.

so, all this to say, it'd be hard not to be so distracted if you were dating ellie williams. especially watching her work on any of the many rather attractive passions of hers – her music, her art, or, well, gaming. large hands veiny and rough, perhaps smoothing out a page in her journal, retuning her guitar, or fumbling with a controller. and yet, all you can focus on is the capability of them, lost in memories that live in your head of the way she warmly grabs at your body or how it feels when her fingers are buried deep inside you, soaked in slick and rubbing at the walls that squeeze around them.

and it really could just be a comforting thing for you, getting to sit, observe, and take in every detail of your girl while she's right there next to you. and really, it's something she's noticed. it was nothing unexpected. it was just so cute to ellie how if she'd let you get a hold of them, you'd pepper little kisses along her wrist, up the back of her hand and onto her knuckles. she'd sit with rosy cheeks and watch you, rub her thumb along the curve of your lip gently before replacing it with her own lips.

what she never really expected was how far your fixation goes. she'd had a habit of sometimes liking to lick her fingers before or after touching you, a sight that of course made you squirm, but in some way, you started to get jealous of ellie.

before ellie could even try, you'd already grabbed her by the wrist and taken two long fingers between your lips, sighing almost in relief. best believe it shocked ellie at first, but she couldn't keep her eyes off of you, nor the way it clearly turned you on so much more than usual to suck her fingers into your mouth. 

staring down at how your cunt took her so easily after, she whispered dirty words in utter shock. "fuck, baby, just swallowin' my fingers, aren't you?" 

after that day, no longer was ellie able to indulge in the taste of your pussy on her fingers. it was commonplace for to let you lick her hands clean, and she'd started taking advantage of your fixation in other ways, too. too loud? she'll wrap her free arm around you and shove her fingers into your mouth to silence you while her other hand is between your thighs. she'll relish in the sweet humming muffled by her digits, looking into your sleepy, pleased eyes.

it starts manifesting in different ways, less heated and amorous situations, instead quiet and calm times. wrapped up in blankets together on the couch one evening, ellie so casually rubs her forefinger over your lips to play with you; teasing you with the closeness whilst pretending to be engrossed in the movie playing on screen. her thumb tugs gently at your lower lip, pulling the soft skin down before slipping into the wet warmth of your mouth. 

it's not like you were paying attention to the movie anyway, but it's much harder to look now – as if taking silent instruction, you close your eyes and slowly run your tongue along her skin. you fall victim to the sudden heat radiating the couch, holding her wrist close with three fingers in your mouth and a wet patch growing into your pyjama shorts.

photomode creds to @/stcreeka and @/T1OU_ on pinterest!!

[taintandviolent]

So, I saw that you write Gambit, and I fell in LOVE with your style and portrayal. I also saw your smut list? Could I maybe request Gambit with a female S/O? I can't decide between 100, 117, 127, 144. So uh.... You pick? I'm honestly a sucker for first times/possessive/protective/ would burn the world down to protect troupes. If it's too much though, feel free to ignore me. I don't mean to bother you about my hyper fixation crush xD

warnings: smut (female receiving), fingering, remy being selfless and concerned with your pleasure only, uhhhhh I think that's it. I'm sorry my smut drabbles have been kinda mild lately, I haven't got the braincell during the work week lmao.

The sound of the world outside your window fades away as he touches you. Your back arches against the mattress, pushing your chest up into the air and as it does, Remy’s hands trail over your ample cleavage, admiring it as his fingertips ghost over the flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

Every ragged breath has your tits bouncing, jiggling underneath his touch, and Remy gobbles up the visual like it’s dinner. Everything he does seems to elicit lewd reactions from your body, actually – not that you’re complaining. At all. In fact, you’re just about blissed out with the way he’s touching you. A shiver erupts down your spine, shaking your entire body. He smiles a half-smile as he watches your reactions.

He has you whining at the attentive way his hands move over your body, tracing every inch of it like he’s trying to remember it in case he never gets to touch it again. One hand traces the curve of your stomach, while the other is slotted between your legs, fingering you masterfully. You swallow, laboriously lifting your head to look down at his hands. He’s been going at you for God knows how long, you’ve lost track. You can feel the outline of his erection on your leg, yet he oddly hasn’t insisted upon anything. 

“You feel so good… but…”  He looks at you with concern in his eyes, as if he’s suddenly realized that you’re unhappy. Remy’s fingers slow their pace, ready for whatever comes next. He’d do anything to please you, even if that meant stopping. 

“B-But what about you?” you continue, worried.

Relieved, he chuckles low, and slides his finger down to your entrance, ready to resume. “We can worry about Remy later. It’s alla’ ‘bout you right now.”

His selfless response floors you… or maybe it’s the way that his middle finger breaches your dripping slit, and crooks up inside to find your G-spot with ease, while the wide pad of thumb continues swiping at your clit. Maybe it’s both. You’re going with both. 

You’re used to being pleasured. You’ve felt all this before – well, not this, specifically, because no man has ever pleasured you the way that Remy Lebeau is pleasuring you currently. From the way his finger encircles your clit, applying just enough pressure to drive you crazy, but not enough to make you orgasm yet to the way that he leans down every so often, kissing along your collarbone.

“Remy,” you plead. “I want you to feel good, too…” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout ‘dat, chere… I feel just fine right now.”

Serving as punctuation, Remy thrusts his hips into the meat of your thigh, bumping his swollen, aching cock against your leg. You can feel the heat of it through your pants, and long to touch it, to stroke it, to taste it… but he has you whipped underneath his grasp, he’s in control and you’re certainly not about to test his strength.

[greynatomy]

regret

leah williamson x reader

actually finished writing something! wooo! the poll i put out was a close one, but this pair ultimately won. thanks to all who voted.

i’ve decided to split this into two parts, so this isn’t the end peoples!

part 2

———

“Alright. Remember, when we get there—”

“—pretend that we’re still happily married. I know.” You say annoyed, getting out of the car.

“Hey, don’t be like that!” Leah gets out of the car, catching up to you.

“Be like what? I’m not the one who got us in this situation.”

“Can we just be civil? This is the last time we’ll go through this.”

“Piss off will you! We wouldn’t have to act civil if you kept your mouth to yourself. And you had the audacity to file for divorce.”

Before Leah could reply, the front door opens to reveal Amanda, Leah’s Mom.

“Oh, I’ve missed you girls so much!”

Putting up a smile on your face, you engulfed the woman in a hug.

“Missed you too Amanda.”

“Come in! Come in!”

“Oi! David how’ve you been pops?”

“Oh, I’ve been wonderful! Glad to have you here!” He pulls you into a hug.

“There’s my favorite sister!” You hear behind you, Jacob just coming down the stairs from his room.

“Come here you! It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has! You gotta visit me more often.” You tense a bit, but not enough for him to notice in your embrace, putting up a smile on your face.

“I’ll try to visit more.”

What you don’t see behind you is Leah watching your interactions with her family.

You’ve known each other young. You’ve both been dating since you were fifteen, marrying at nineteen, divorced at twenty-one.

Her family’s have welcomed you with open arms since the beginning. You were her first serious relationship. The only one of her girlfriends that her family loved. You’ve had your whole life basically planned out, Leah would become a footballer, you a doctor, marriage, kids, the dream basically.

Leah didn’t know the exact reason why she did what she did, but it happened and she couldn’t take it back. She knew this teammate of hers has liked her for a while and never told her off.

She woke up to an unfamiliar bed, an arm around her that certainly wasn’t you. She regretted it the moment she woke up, didn’t know how to tell you, but you found out before she could. Ashamed of herself, Leah filed for divorce.

———

Leah didn’t know what she was thinking divorcing you. She didn’t have the right to be the one to file as she was the one who fucked up. It was impulsive and shameful. It was the best option she could think of at the time.

Now here she was, five years later, at the Emirates training grounds, about to run for the first time since her ACL injury. She missed you so much during this time. Every time she was injured in any way, you were always by her side nursing her back to health. You were her support system, making her fall more in love with you. This time, without you by her side, she realized how much she took you for granted, how she didn’t show you enough love, betraying you in the worst way possible.

She’d already signed the divorce papers, pressuring you to do the same all while making you go to her family’s for a dinner pretending that nothing has changed between the two of you. It was when she finally saw your signature on the papers was when she realized how she’s lost you for good.

———

Getting back home after a family walk, Amanda spots a stack of papers on the kitchen counter, a folded paper on top, along with two rings. Curious, she opens it up and quickly skims through them, shock fills her body after she finished reading.

“Leah!” She yells for her daughter.

“Yeah, mum?” Leah walks into the kitchen to see her mom holding something up.

“What the hell is this?”

Leah being clueless, grabs the sheet, reading it herself.

Leah,

I’ve finally signed everything you’ve been wanting me to sign. I don’t know why I’ve put it off for so long even if I’m not the one at fault. Guess it’s just hard to let go of the one you love the most.

Don’t contact me. Don’t look for me. You’re free.

Yn

Leah couldn’t even respond to her mother. All the emotions she bottled up came at her all at once, breaking down in front of her family. Six years of relationship, one year of marriage over.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

hellllllllloooo your writing is great. Might I request the scared reader that you did but with Scara?

ah this was such an interesting request! i went a little more along the route of Wanderer instead of Scara but if you'd like Scaramouche, when he was in his fatui phase, i can always write that as well :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against ones will, implied kidnapping, implied forced Stockholm syndrome, restrictions around food and meals, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

If this was pre-erasure then Scaramouche would understand, he’s got a reputation, he’s known for things, regardless of how much he’s come to regret them. If this were post-erasure though, it would be a whole different story. He understands that while he has lost the intimidating, scary reputation he once had, he’s in turn taken on a mysterious, unknown one. 

He doesn’t like that you’re scared of him, especially when there’s nothing to be afraid of. Wanderer finds himself angry and confused, he doesn’t know how to make you stop being afraid of him, he can only remember how to be feared, desperate to avoid getting hurt again. And it’s not like he can just go around asking how to make you get over your silly fears. He spends a lot of time pacing around the room he keeps you in, muttering to himself and making exaggerated hand gestures. It takes him a while to come up with a plan, one that he really thinks will work, but when he does finally have his plan together, it’s impossible to change his mind on it.

It’s not his greatest plan, hell it wasn’t even a good plan, but it was the only thing he could see actually working. It’s slow at first, barely noticeable when he starts cutting back on your meals, serving slightly smaller and smaller sections each time until it becomes too obvious to ignore. He restricts you to the single room even more so than before. No more free range of the home, no more looking out the windows or even going to the nice bathroom, now if you have to go, you use the bucket. Wanderer plans to slowly break you down until you cave, begging and crying and pleading, saying you’ll do anything for some more food, for a proper bathroom, for some sunlight. 

He stands in the corner, watching as you stare at the plated meal in front of you. It could hardly be considered a proper meal, barely enough to feed a young child, it would certainly not be enough to satiate you, and he knows that. Wanderer gives you just enough to keep you from falling ill, but so little that your stomach crawls in hunger, hands clutching at your sides as you lay awake, praying for it to settle just long enough to get some sleep. He may not be a human, but he certainly understands how they work, he knows what they crave most and what depriving them of basic needs will do. 

“I could get you more if you’d like.” He sees the way you stare at him, like he’d grown three more heads, and it makes a small part of his chest tingle in excitement. Wanderer can see you hesitate, wanting more but knowing the price it comes at, the tears that well in your eyes as your head hangs low, a small nod leaving you.

He’s practically vibrating in excitement when you finally give in, letting him hold you close without fighting in exchange for more food. From there it continues to escalate, no longer does he wait for you to give in, instead he slowly starts returning things to normal and being as close and affectionate with you as he desires. If you should go back to fighting and screaming again then you can expect him to remove all your ‘privileges’ again. Wanderer will repeat the process over and over again until you give in for a final time, even if it breaks you.

[yuri-is-online]

I love your one sided Floyd vs Ace thing because Ace is just trying to play wingman from the background so Yuu will stop talking about how Floyd's "Such a sweet boy!", like he didn't just try to take Aces head off during practice. And "He visited my class today" , yeah perfect, Floyd visited him today too. For very differnt reasons though. or "He just helped me dye my hair! Doesn't it look good?". It does but that's besides the point.

Bro Floyd is pining SO HARD rn it's not even funny anymore! He's always lost in fantasies but they're not even the hot kind! No, he's daydreaming about holding Yuus hand and going to that one really cute Cafe in Port city that Yuu always calls a "French Cafe". He doesn't know what the hell a French is but you know what! Calling it that makes you happy so that Cafe is French! He wants that excuse to come find you whenever he wants a nap and fall asleep in your lap as you pet him to sleep, and no one can even say shit about cause like! You'd be together.

But he thinks that Ace is trying to get together with Yuu and that just puts his mood way below the poverty line. HES NOT. HE SWEARS HES NOT. ACE JUST WANTS TO TEASE YUU FOR THEIR STUPID GROSS CRUSH NOT BE CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF IT!

AlsoYuuisthepervertintherelationshipthankyouforcomingtomyTEDtalk

ah confused the ducky you. you always see my floyd visions so clearly, i am so happy

I like Ace's relationship with Yuu in pretty much all flavors, when I'm writing floydyuu I think of Ace as the self appointed mom friend/older brother. He likes the feeling of power and responsibility he gets from it since he's used to being the baby of the family. Floyd thinks that little shrimpy is funny and cute at first, someone he could chase around similar to Riddle.

But then they beat Azul. They beat Azul by annoying Sea Lion, who constantly ignores and mocks his attempts to fight him. They got under his skin, that's just on a different level. He's paying close attention now, and he likes what he sees. At first it's exciting, he likes new things and these feelings are certainly new. But it also makes him notice little things. Like how much closer you are to Crabby than you are to him. The jealousy just eats him up because he feels like he shouldn't be? Crabby kind of sucks? He's seen how his color changing magic is, he can't imagine he'd be a better option than him. But shrimpy giggles at his jokes and spends almost all their free time with him. He hates it, and it's starting to effect his... not quite but yeah kind of friendship with Crabby.

Meanwhile Yuu is savoring any sort of contact they can get with him. I love the hair dye suggestion, Floyd says he'll give you one color but really he just wants an excuse to put a streak of teal where his swoop would be on your head. He's too much of a coward to do it, going with whatever you request instead and how happy you are makes it almost worth it until you babble about how you'll have to show your friends how cool it is and what a good job he did. He makes a point of visiting Ace intending to threaten him but he ends up just whining about how he doesn't know how to get through to you, and asking if Ace knows anything about what a "french" is (he thinks it's a dessert) before he lapses into the silence of daydream while Ace wonders if it would be worth it to get Jamil involved.

Yuu gets the perv title for being into a literal fish on top ha of going along with whatever Floyd comes up with. Please do not underestimate his imagination he can be quite filthy when he wants to be, he's just being a good boy and only thinking about extramarital h*nd h*lding for now (•̀⤙•́ )

[blue-slxt]

One Hammock - Chapter 2

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Here's the much requested Part 2 for the one-shot I wrote. I honestly didn't expect it to be as popular as it is and I certainly didn't think I'd write a second part for it, but I'm glad y'all are loving it! This part came out a little longer than I meant for it to, but I got lost in the sauce lol. So I hope you guys enjoy! All the characters are aged up.

Previous Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, masturbation (M and F), vouyerism kink?, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, Scenting, One bed trope (kinda), I think that's it

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've been avoiding Neteyam since the hammock incident because you're trying to figure out your feelings, but you can't avoid him any more when your parents have you stay with the Sully family while they're away.

It had been a week since that night, and you had been avoiding Neteyam. It wasn’t like you were mad at him or anything, you just didn’t really know how to act normally around him in public anymore. Just the mention of his name sent your mind racing with memories of what happened. The few times you did happen to see Neteyam, he seemed perfectly normal. Not an awkward bone in his body. How does he do it? Meanwhile, you were a ball of nerves whenever you were in close proximity to him.

Kiri and Lo’ak take notice in your change lately too. They’ve tried asking you multiple times, but you dismiss them every time. There was no way you could tell them the truth. Nobody wants to hear about their brother doing something like that, especially with such a close family friend. What would they think of you?

You’d talk to Neteyam again when you felt like you were ready to fully face the situation. You just needed time to finish processing your emotions about it and him.

Unfortunately, it looks like you were going to be forced to process this a lot faster than you anticipated. Your parents are going on a 3-day long hunting trip and they’ve asked for you to stay with Jake and his family. This is ridiculous, you’re an adult so you should be able to be home alone. But your parents are very protective over you as their only child. And they only trust the Sully family with your safety and once they’ve put their foot down, there’s no getting them to change.

It’s going to be a lot harder to not talk to Neteyam when you’re going to be staying in his home. But maybe he won’t even want to talk about what happened either. Yea, maybe he’s feeling weird about it too and he’s just better at containing himself than you are. Either that, or it just simply wasn’t a big deal to him. But the thought of that being the case hurts your feelings just a tad. Why? Did you want it to mean something to him? Did it mean something to you?

You figure that maybe going to bathe at the nearby waterfall might help clear your head a bit so that you can hopefully get some sleep tonight.

You loved coming to the waterfall at night. Something about the roar of the rushing water against the quiet night air was like a melody to your ears. You remove your clothes before walking into the waist deep water. For it to be after eclipse, the water is still surprisingly warm. You sink down to your knees and let your head fall back and your hair sprawl out across the surface of the water. It’s so therapeutic. You’d stay here all night if you could, but you know if you take too long, somebody will come to look for you eventually. So, you start cleaning your body off.

You run your hands along the length of your arms and your torso and then you reach the spot between your thighs. It’s right where he was. You hold your hand there for a second just remembering. It was hot and heavy and slippery against your skin. When you look down, you can still visualize the way his tip poked out from between your legs over and over again. Your fingers travel up mere centimeters and find your already throbbing clit. Shit, you were sensitive just from the remembering. You start rubbing mindless circles on the little bundle of nerves and your breathing gets heavy.

Your eyes close and your mind tells you that instead of your own hand, it’s Neteyam. Instead of your fingers, it’s the tip of his dick brushing against your sensitive spot again and again. “Fuuuck…” you breathe out. He was so close to being actually inside of you. Oh, how you wanted to feel him inside of you.

You lean forward onto a rock to help steady yourself as your legs grow weak beneath you. Your fingertips poke and prod at your entrance teasing you. He’s teasing you until he finally sinks into you. A loud moan escapes your lips, “Neteyam…ah…”

You do your best to keep your voice down so as to not attract the attention of anyone who may be nearby. Thankfully, the sound of the waterfall is loud enough to mostly drown out your sounds.

Your fingers move in and out of your dripping pussy making such obscene sounds which just pushes you further into your fantasy. Neteyam pounding into you from behind whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Your core tightens and you can feel how close you are.

Memories of that night replay in your head fueling your oncoming orgasm. “Haah…I-I’m gonna cum!” You remember the feeling of his cum on your skin and his hands on your body, gripping you harder with his own release. It’s enough to get you to your peak and you cum with a loud groan that echoes in the area around you.

You continue leaning on the rock to keep yourself up while your mind slowly comes out of its fog. You finally feel like some of the weight has been lifted off your mind and you can think clearly again.

However, unbeknownst to you, there was someone watching you the entire time. Neteyam didn’t mean to find you in the forest. It was pure coincidence. But when his eyes caught sight of your bare, slender body in the water, he couldn’t tear himself away. And then you started touching yourself. He knew this was wrong and he shouldn’t keep watching such an intimate moment. But his fascination was too much for him to move. And then you said his name. His ears shoot up at the sound of his own name being on your lips. Before he knew it, he was palming his own dick while watching you. Fuck, how he wanted to be the one feeling you right now. He wanted to hear you scream his name, not just simply whimper it.

Knowing that you made yourself cum with the thought of him made his head spin. Caught in a dizzying space of pleasure. He was nearing his own high at the same time as you. His seed spilled out over his own hand making a big, sticky mess.

He runs off to find a different stream to clean himself off in and rushes back home before you get there.

When you get back to the tent, you see how Neteyam tenses up at the sight of you. That was odd. After being totally normal all week, he’s suddenly acting like the awkward one. You didn’t get it. But it’s probably best to not think too hard on it.

…

Sadly, sleep still doesn’t come easily for you tonight. Even though Lo’ak isn’t snoring tonight, your mind and body are still too restless. Jake had put up a temporary privacy curtain for you while you were staying with them, but you stare at it feeling uneasy. Neteyam is just on the other side of this curtain and you wanted so badly to see him. Truthfully, you hated being so isolated. Being by yourself like this made you umcomfortable. But you don’t want to be ungrateful since Jake had put this up just for you. You chew on your bottom lip and try to bear with it and turn your back to the curtain. Then, there’s a sound in the silence. It’s just barely there, but you catch it. Footsteps and it sounds like they’re coming towards you.

“You still awake?” Neteyam whispers to you peeking his head behind the curtain. He tried to keep his voice small enough to not wake you in case you were asleep.

You turn around to face him and shake your head.

“Is it okay if I come in?” he’s hesitant.

You just nod at him. Words don’t seem to be coming to you just yet.

He carefully and quietly makes his way over to your hammock and scoots his way in. His body is right against yours and the contact sears your skin.

“I know you don’t really like sleeping alone and I was worried you might be scared over here by yourself.” He says quietly.

He remembers. That was part of the reason you two would share a hammock so often when you were children. You would beg and plead until you were purple in the face because of your fear of being alone while you slept. And Neteyam never minded. He always played the role of protector and he liked making you feel safe.

“Thanks” you say to him and you’re grateful that he can’t see the flush of your cheeks in the dark.

Your face studies his silhouette in the dark with only the small rays of light from the stars seeping in through the spaces of the tent. Your eyes travel further down to his chest watching it rise and fall and to his abs that flexed slightly with each breath he took and then even lower and the flashbacks hit you again. It’s like you can literally feel how your clit wakes up in his presence.

You fidget in your spot trying to squeeze your thighs together for some relief.

“So, listen, um, about that night” he starts.

Oh no, do we really need to talk about this right now? But you have nowhere to hide.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“No no, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I mean I was the one who offered, right?” your face feels like it’s on fire. “Honestly, I kind of…liked it…” the last words come out as more of a whisper than a confident statement. You’re cautious with your words since you’re still not sure where his head is in all of this.

Now, it was Neteyam’s turn to blush, thankful for the cover of the dark.

“The truth is…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.” He confesses.

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest. So he did think about it just like you.

“And I was thinking that I could help you out sometime too…You know, if-if you wanted to…” his words trail off with his growing uncertainty.

You’re not sure what came over you in that moment. What suddenly gave you the confidence boost to say what came next, “C-could you help me now?”

His breathing hitches in his chest. He turns onto his side to be face-to-face with you. Neither of you say a word, but your eyes are pleading with him. Begging him to touch you. He slowly lowers his hand to the waistband of your loincloth. He pauses, his eyes still silently asking you if this was okay. You give him a small smile letting him know to continue.

His fingers pass your loincloth and come into direct contact with your heat. One of his fingers strokes your aching clit and your breathing gets heavier. You chew on your lip trying to bite back the moan you desperately want to release.

Neteyam’s notices how his own loincloth is getting tighter at the feeling of his fingers gliding up and down your slit.

Small groans of pleasure fall from your lips at his touch. He felt even better than you had imagined. And the way he touched you, it was as if he knew how to please your body even better than you did. His fingers touch you with just the right amount of pressure and speed. You feel drunk at his touch.

“Neteyam…m-more… please” you whisper just inches from his face. He can feel his own restraint slipping at the sound of your pleas.

‘Eywa, please just let me have this.’ He thinks to himself before he captures your lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss. You waste no time moving your mouth in sync with his. Your tongues dance together in each other’s mouths. He loved the way you tasted. He just wanted to drink you in all night.

That tightening in your core is back. Your back arches trying to press yourself even more into Neteyam’s body. His lips muffle your moans, but he can feel how close you are. Just at the last second, he plunges a finger into your heat sending you over the edge. Your body jerks and your hands fly up to hold onto his shoulders while you struggle to keep yourself from being too loud.

Neteyam bites his lip to keep himself quiet feeling your walls pulse around his finger.

You come down from your high and rest your forehead against his chest.

He looks down at your face and when you look back at him, Neteyam knows he’s done for. Your big, round eyes staring up at him still full of longing. Without a word, or a second thought, you both hungrily crash your lips together while you both hurry to shimmy out of your loincloths. You couldn’t wait one more minute. You wanted him, needed him, and you needed him right now. You felt like you might lose your mind if he wasn’t inside of you immediately and he felt the same.

He turns your body around and you instinctively push your ass back against him making him let out a low groan. You use one of your hands to spread your still drenched pussy for him. He holds on to your hips while he swipes his tip up and down against your slick. He lines up with your opening and he slides in you painfully slow. You had never had anything bigger than your own fingers inside of you and the slow fill was indescribable. Holding back your moans was nearly impossible. He’s struggling too, trying to deep breathe his way through the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. He finally pushes all the way into you and you burn the shape of him into your body’s memory. You want to only know the shape and feeling of him forever.

He pulls his hips back, but you’re clenching on him so tight, it’s difficult to even pull out. It’s a wonder how he didn’t cum instantly. He moves slowly in and out of your warmth. Every thrust drags across your sweet spot.

His head falls forward resting in the crook of your neck. One hand slides up your body to massage your breast while the other reaches around to rub small circles on your clit.

“Of f-fuck…Neteyam…” it comes out as a whimper and it drives him crazy.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well” he breathes into your ear. It’s exactly how you dreamt it.

His hips pick up their pace, “You have no idea how badly I’ve always wanted this.”

“M-me too…ah…” you’re losing your breath from panting.

“Yea? You touch yourself thinking about me? You want me to make that pussy feel good?” his voice is low but commanding in your head.

“Yes yes!” your voice comes out a bit louder than you meant to. Your hand cups itself over your mouth to muffle your sinful sounds.

Neteyam is loving every second of it. He loves watching you lose yourself to him.

“Oh, fuck yawne, I’m gonna fill you up so good” he rubs his face into your neck mingling his scent with yours.

“Please Neteyam…” even whispering, your voice is still strained.

He wants nothing more than to just pound into you mindlessly, but he knows that would make too much noise right now and he uses the last shred of his power to control his thrusts. But he can still feel your approaching orgasm. Your walls tighten even more around him, he wasn’t even sure that was possible.

“G-gonna cum…I’m gonna cum again Neteyam” your eyes blur unable to focus under the influence of your impending release.

“Do it, cum with me.” His grip on your body grows as he chases his own high.

The knot in your core snaps with ground-shaking force and you definitely would have screamed had it not been for your hand over your mouth. While you’re still at the peak of your release, Neteyam shoots thick, hot ropes of his seed deep into you. You felt so full that you thought you might burst. It intensifies your own orgasm tenfold.

You both stay there unable to move an inch from the exhaustion. Neteyam manages to pull himself together enough to pull out of you and his cum slowly drips out of you too. He rolls onto his back and watches the ceiling still catching his breath.

“Hey, Neteyam?” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Would you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?” you still didn’t want to be alone.

He smiles gently and turns over to pull you against him, “Of course” he places a small peck against the shell of your ear.

His arms are like walls around you shielding you from any feeling of fear or unease. He’s just so inviting. You fall asleep within minutes. Neteyam isn’t far behind you, falling asleep just moments later.

…

In the morning, the gentle sound of someone rustling around out of bed wakes you. You don’t open your eyes yet though. You just want to stay how you are for a little longer. You can hear Lo’ak’s voice on the other side of your privacy curtain, “Hey, have you seen Neteyam? He’s not in his hammock.”

At the same time, he’s pulling your curtain back to come talk to you, “oh shit!”, he pulls the curtain closed and jumps back on the outside.

Your eyes shoot open and your body jumps awake. The sudden movement and loss of warmth wakes Neteyam too.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…interrupt.” Lo’ak says from the other side of the curtain. Your head falls into your hands in humiliation. “You guys should probably get yourselves together before mom and dad wake up.” You can hear the amusement in his voice.

Eywa, out of all people, did it have to be Lo’ak? You both knew you weren’t going to be hearing the end of this any time soon.

You look over at Neteyam and he shoots you an amused smirk of his own. You can’t help the small giggle that you let out. He props himself up to kiss you.

“How about next time we go somewhere actually private?” he jokes.

“Definitely.” You say smiling back at him.

‘Next time.’

[eroguron0nsense]

The Mysterious Mysteries of Mr Sir Crocodile (Character Analysis)

(Apologies in advance for discrepancies from my usual tone and for holding off on everyone who voted for this on my last poll. Honest to God I hope y'all enjoy this in some capacity because I've been procrastinating on this meta so long it's derailed ALL my other One Piece writing and I only accomplished it through addy-fuelled mania)

This was such a fucking pain to write. I really wanted to say something about Crocodile and what makes him so fascinating that wasn't like, another fan theory or just a set of headcanons, but that's easier said than done?? We could boil it down to immaculate design, screen presence, attitude, or just the fact that he got brought back as an unlikely ally who shocked everyone by saving the protagonist, but I don't know that those factors in and of themselves make for a villain who's become such an object of fandom obsession.

Whatever it is, it's certainly not backstory or depth, because 24 years and hundreds and hundreds of chapters after his introduction, we still know nothing about Sir Crocowani's past beyond a vague confrontation with the Late Great Edward Newgate (that apparently like, ruined his dreams or something?), and some totally-not-just-a-threat-to-out-him-if-he-betrayed-the-alliance blackmail material the Queen of the Queers is holding over his sandy reptilian ass. I was born and grew into adulthood in the time it took Oda to tell the world fuck all about where he's from or his inner thoughts, or his actual honest motivations and traumas.

All we have about this character are questions. Why did he save Luffy and Ace –very conspicuously after both of their lineages were revealed to the world– against all logic and reason? Does he have ties to the revolutionaries? Is he the long-lost son of Rocks D. Xebec? Did he bounce on Comrade Dragon's Monkey D and squirt out the fucking Warrior of Liberation? I assume Oda's going to tell us more about him, but at this point, he's managed to keep a tighter lid on Sir Crocs, Inc.'s past than the fucking Secret History

You may be wondering, dear reader: what the fuck is my point? What is there, at this final stage of Long Running Pirate Manga, for me–Frankie EroGuroNonsense, OP Tumblr Community Z-lister with like, 7 mildly popular meta posts under my belt–to write about the legendary Sir Krokorok that hasn't already been said or theorized? What eagle-eyed observations did I make while rereading Alabasta and writing toxic Crobin fanfic? Am I going anywhere with this? Sorta. Yeah.

Let's start with listing things we actually know about Crockpot, in roughly chronological (??) order: –attended Gol D.'s execution way back when he was my age, along with anyone else who's anyone from his generation.

–At some point, met and was known well enough by Iva that she could effectively blackmail him

–Made it far enough on the Grand Line, somehow getting to the New World, and managed to pick up an 81,000,000 bounty (low end for a warlord, presumably scouted fairly early in his career)

–Wanted to be Pirate King until he gave up on it, not 100% explicitly confirmed but most likely due to getting his ass beat so badly by Whitebeard that he settled for picking off small fry and racketeering behind a government desk job. This makes him profoundly relatable to the rest of us depressed fucking losers who acquiesce to our own mediocrity.

–At 30, after presumably licking his wounds for a hot minute, sets up shop in Alabasta, comes up with a clever evil plan to quietly build up enough arms to conquer the world with a WMD, and then gets his years-long bioterrorist coup attempt foiled by a 17-year-old.

The rest we know: after a brief moment of glory as the unsung MVP of Impel Down/Marineford, he immediately reverts to Failguy Mode, gives all his money to a literal clown, and consequently gets roped into the neverending uncontrollable PR nightmare that is Cross Guild. It's still super vague and we know little to nothing about his past before the Alabasta Saga (for all we know he had a fling with King Cobra)

...Onto his personality and mannerisms. This shit's a lot more revealing. Superficially, he's everything: immaculate Bond villain levels of charismatic villainy, unbelievably ostentatious, dripped out like a Pimp, constantly smoking cigars, absolutely dripping with smugness and grease and disdain. Owns exotic pets and a giant casino, and spends every waking moment either grinning like a maniac when he's got the upper hand or storming around in a fucking mood when anything goes mildly wrong.

He's also pretty hardened underneath all that, obviously couldn't have lived a day on the grand line or survived Impel Down Torture otherwise. But even in Alabasta, Crockery gives off an air of being distinctly more grounded and willing to get his hands dirty than other flashy, established villains who flaunt their wealth and status. A big part of it is just his really hyper-masculine indomitable tough guy persona, but even early on he's very much micromanaging his operation, fighting people hand to hand in (as opposed to, say, Doffy, who literally puppeteers people while lounging around) and makes a point to keep almost all of his followers at a distance and rely on them as little as possible. He rants a bit about how dreams and whatnot are pointless follies, as One Piece antagonists tend to do, and repeatedly taunts Vivi about how her idealism can't save her, but with the context that he wanted to find Laughtale himself, it feels a lot like projection.

The character trait that's harped on a LOT in canon, and probably the most pertinent one to whatever demons he has, is Croconaw's profound pathological distrust for everyone around him. It's a huge part of what makes him a good early foil to the Nefertari family and the Straw Hats, whose collective strength is derived from organic human connection; Crocalor, by contrast, makes sure that up until the very last moment, he keeps most of his people so distant from him that they genuinely have no idea he's even their boss. His relationship with Robin is interesting, but he turns on her immediately when he realizes she either can't or won't give him the location of Pluton and has his dramatic stabbing/"I forgive you" lines about how he never trusted her or anyone from the start. He says the same shit to Mihawk when he suggests they join forces, even citing their mutual distrust as a kind of paradoxical justification for why they'd actually work well together.

Arguably the only exception is Daz Bones, but even that relationship is still a pretty reserved one; one of the few traits Daz exhibits is a similar avoidance of human connections to his boss and even though they've ironically formed a bond despite it, I can't imagine that they're emotionally close. I find these more explicit declarations of paranoia a lot less indicative of what's actually going on in Croconut's head than subtext, but I feel inclined to mention them just because it more or less tells us that his background/trauma has something to do either with betrayal or alternatively just being jaded and deprived to the point of self-isolation.

Krookodile's character gets a little bit more interesting when we get to see him again in Impel Down being a smug little manipulative rascal right up until he gets blackmailed by his endocrinologist, which is definitely medical malpractice but also funny as hell. I also appreciate that literally the first thing he does after getting out of his cell is change into a big coat and cravat to keep up appearances, but it's not until Marineford proper that things get really complicated. Saving Luffy and Ace is the first selfless thing we see Crobat do–while yelling at Luffy that he needs to protect what matters to him properly, no less– and he just keeps fighting for them after that, teaming up with his most hated rival crew to cover Luffy's retreat and telling the entire WG to go fuck itself multiple times over. He fights everyone on sight with no regard for his own safety, talks mad shit to Doffy, and demonstrates a genuinely compelling amount of honest to god chivalry.

For a short time, we see Crocomotive less as a really entertaining cartoon villain and more as a person with hidden, profound emotions and a confusing moral code that's seemingly incompatible with the vicious little creature we met in Alabasta. We come to understand, in a few very brief lines that give us way more questions than answers, that Cromagnon has deep-seated, emotional convictions he actively suppresses, and that whatever baggage he has is probably tied to wanting to or failing to save something of his own. His resentment of Newgate, who he really really wants to have a go at (despite theoretically no longer caring about the ambitions of his youth) is indicative of a desire to revisit the fight that probably ruined his dream and ego, but it's also tinged with a deep-seated grudging respect for a living legend.

Crock–Afire Explosion's obvious seething hatred of Doffy also gives us a few more insights into what's wrong with him. On a surface level, it makes sense that he dislikes a profoundly obnoxious, even flashier fellow warlord who achieved more or less the same goal he set out to in a shorter time, fucks with his business, and then mocks him/tries to recruit him right after his very public defeat and imprisonment. He postures a lot, especially with his lines insisting he's on a higher level and that Doffy could only ever join him as a subordinate, but he's visibly steamed in their initial encounter and clearly hasn't liked him for quite some time. I bring this up because if we stretch our interpretation a little (for the sake of my argument), Croc Holliday's distaste for someone who's (outwardly) so much like himself and embodies all of his villainous characteristics from back in Alabasta might also suggest that deep down, he doesn't actually like the things they have in common; he sees right through Doffy because he's done the same shit and he hates what he sees.

Having gone over all that, I've come up with some key characteristics of Crocomelon that I'll use going forward:

–Extremely performative: puts an ungodly amount of energy into maintaining a carefully curated persona, and projecting a certain amount of power, masculinity, and prestige. Not necessarily an unnatural or inauthentic one, but a constructed and purposeful one nonetheless

–Deep-seated paranoia, hidden secrets; probably intertwined. Keeps personal details on tight, tight lockdown, probably afraid of being known.

–Constant projection of his own insecurities and failures onto other people, making a point to be uniquely cruel in Alabasta to an idealist who loves her people and a dreamer who wants to be the Pirate King.

Ironically, he demonstrably respects and defends two people–Luffy and Whitebeard–who theoretically embody everything he hates or scorns (ambition, goodness, love, connection, romanticism, greatness in the traditional sense) and he intensely dislikes the villain most like himself, or at least the one who shares a lot of his worst characteristics (ostentatious manipulative scheming rat bastard backed by people stronger than himself) –The Grinch's heart grew three sizes at Marineford because of like, the compelling power of brotherly love and reminders of his youth or something

SPECULATION, CONCLUSIONS??

The difficulty with writing anything definitive about Crocko's Basilisk is that he's such a mystery, which functionally lets the fanbase project literally whatever weird personality traits, potential backstories, or anything else they could possibly come up with onto him. So I want to be clear that I have absolutely no interest in theorizing about the specifics of his past or secret identity or potential baby daddy or anything along those lines; I'm only interested in what we can infer about his personality by extrapolating from canon. And the conclusion I keep coming back to, the one that I'm convinced is true on some level, is that Crocodile is living a lie and he fucking hates himself. Everything he does, from how he acts to what he claims to believe, is a desperate effort to cope with his own insecurity and failure and cover up a past version of himself he's deeply ashamed of.

Now, unfortunately, Oda did not conceive of Crocodile as a trans man but stories belong to the people and we can do what we want let's forget about that and play it straight because he's constantly performing gender as a means of compensating for a deep-seated shame and self-loathing from whatever traumas and secrets he keeps hidden. Even assuming he's a cis man, he deliberately chooses a hypermasculine persona with a Capital V Villain moniker and pimp outfit and speech pattern he's carefully curated to project masculine power–physical, political, and financial–and we know it's performance because we see him break kayfabe and get legitimately fucking angry whenever he's confronted by a person like Luffy, who's crazy and brave enough to try and do what he couldn't and risk everything for love and hope that he cannot bring himself to feel for another person, or reminders of the past he tries so desperately to bury.

The lessons he's wrongfully obtained from his past are as follows: Idealism is a weakness. Dreaming is a weakness. Connections to other people and being known are crippling liabilities (If he is, in fact, trans and closeted, that's all the more reason to be existentially disgusted by what he used to be). All the hope he brought to the Grand Line, all the excitement of trying to carry on where Roger left off, needs to be purged and buried because all he got to show for it was loss and humiliation. But he can't stop wanting more, and ironically, after he gives up on conquering the Grand Line, he ends up chasing the same fucking poneglyphs and weapons because his ambition's still there; it's just compromised and much more jaded.

Everything he does that's seemingly contradictory makes sense when you realize that Crocodile resents his failure and wants to avenge himself. He makes a big show of talking down to Luffy and Vivi's petty ideals and shit-talking Newgate and his family, but he still wants to fight Whitebeard like he did way back when and help Luffy protect what matters to him. He hates Doffy, who's honestly just a more successful schemer than he is because it's a constant reminder of what he settled for when he took that warlord post and fucking gave up. He claims to trust no one, but he keeps Daz by his side and rewards his loyalty because he can't help but trust someone who respects him so deeply and follows him to the ends of the fucking earth long after losing the material incentive to do so. He claims to look down on people who aim for the stars and fight for love and joy and freedom and yet, in his most vulnerable moments–not in the face of violence or imprisonment, but when he's emotionally compelled to defend a child and help save his brother–we see how badly he wants that for himself.

TLDR: Crockman Holic is deeply insecure in his masculinity, desperately needs psychological help, and his character/potential redemption arc in One Piece is just dealing with his midlife crisis.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Late Returns | Dom!Lisa x Sub!Male!Reader

A/N: I sat down today, set a 45 minute timer and told myself: Alright, content, a smutty short. Don't think, write. Well, 45 minutes turned into an entire day and roughly 6 pages of text. Is this graphomania? T/C: Femdom, clothed female nude male/CFNM, facesitting, cunnilingus, electrostimulation, amazon position, use of a condom.

While the Academy of Mondstadt was far from the level of strictness expected in Sumeru, it certainly wasn't easy. Notes, deadlines, classes, practice, essays and books. Books upon books upon books, stacked in every corner of your house. The knowledge they contained was crucial for passing the many exams you had yet to face, making each book priceless - literally, as copies sold to students have price tags that still haunt your sleep. 

The only option was the Favonious Library. 

You couldn't say you were the most diligent of people. That in of itself was bad, but combined with the diligence of the head Librarian, Miss Lisa, it was a nightmare. You did your best to keep track of the due dates - among the mess your studies constantly created - and you succeeded… at first. Later, as the year got more and more hectic, you would forget about tomes and turn them in after the appointed date. It was only due to Lisa's kindness that you were spared from the occasional thousand or two Mora fine. 

Still, you couldn't help but feel she was losing her patience with you. She grew more and more smug, probably knowing that your entire livelihood relied on her not asking for her due payments. She even started calling you a cutie, something you found fairly flustering. You could only hope to stay on the good side…

… but obviously it had to go down sometime. 

This month has been so busy you were forgetting your very own name. By the time you got a grip and took all of the late returns to the library, you knew you had a bomb on your hands. No amount of smiles or tea parties could get you out of this kind of debt. 

“Ah… Sorry, cutie.” Lisa said, browsing through her record book. “These are very overdue I'm afraid. If anybody would see me going easy on you, they would certainly feel unjustly treated…”

You rubbed the back of your head, looking hopefully at her. “Miss Lisa… I don't have much money at the moment… Could I maybe pay in installments?”

She smacked her lips, slowly raising out of her chair. “I'm afraid that won't do. But, if Mora isn't the way, I'll think of other disciplinary means.” You could tell you saw a small flicker in her emerald eyes as she took your hand. “Follow me.”

There was no time to refuse. You sighed in defeat, going along with her as she led you to the back room. Taking your seat at the small table, you watched as she drew a key and locked the door behind you. You swallowed, nervous at what the sorceress had in store for you. 

Lisa drew a piece of paper and tallied up your due, revealing a shocking, six digit sum. How in the world were you to pay that up…

“As I said, we can change it into something less monetary.” Lisa joined her hands on her chest, looking at you from under her wide, purple hat. “You could do library duty, public works, cleaning or, say, help me specifically.” 

You nodded at the last one - it seemed the least strenuous and, if truth were to be told, you loved spending time with her. Even if it wasn't to earn favors. 

“Excellent choice, cutie. Let's start now.”

Lisa approached you, an eager smirk on her lips. With a gentle tug she stood you up from the chair. You could feel her warm breath on your skin, causing it to heat up with a blush, eliciting a chuckle from her. So responsive, she said, as her hands traveled over your arms and down your back, coming to rest on your hips. 

You felt her fingers creep behind the waistband of your pants but lost focus as soon as her lips touched your cheek. Hidden under the wide rim of her hat, Lisa kissed each inch of your cheek, slowly going up to your ear. The tip of her tongue tickled your earlobe, riddling your skin with goosebumps as her other hand continued its quest. Her fingertips rubbed your thighs through the fabric of your boxers, following a trail from the outer to the inner part of your leg. 

While her tongue continued its work, Lisa's other hand found its place behind your pants and with a slight tug, she pulled them down. You meekly took off the article of clothing, letting her hands grope whatever part of you that struck her fancy. She gently raked her nails across the soft fabric covering your buldge, a nervous hum slipping out of your lips. You allow your hands to wrap around her waist, granting her permission to go further. Her index finger starts trailing up and down your clothes cock, swelling up under her gentle tease. Lisa's lips withdraw from your ear and move closer to yours. Your eyelids lower; your head tilts in expectation. You draw closer, so close, you can barely taste her lipstick, almost…

“Ah!”

Your body jumps back on reflex as a spark of electricity goes through your sack. Lisa smirks, seeing you close your legs and grip your package protectively, all with that adorable look of - fittingly - shock on your face. She turns around, humming. 

“Don't forget this is a punishment, cutie~” She flashes you a smug look and turns towards the couch. “Over there, Y/N. Lay back, will you?”

You obey her command, feeling excitement bubble in your veins. Lisa nods in approval. Her hat is removed with gentle touch and placed securely on the large table, the centerpiece of the room. While unbuckles the chain connecting her top, she lets her Vision drop and fall between her bountiful mounds. With a quiet moan, she slowly drags it out by the small chain still attached to it, letting the cold metal drag across her burning hot skin. The clothes are discarded on the table; Lisa steps out of her heels and waltzes up to you. 

“Mm~” She touches the tip of your cock, struggling to break free of its confines. “I have a feeling you're aching to get out of these, aren't you?”

The purple glow in her eyes causes your pulse to jump. Fearing another shock, you clumsily pull down your boxers, getting rid of the shirt for good measure. The witch's gloved hand grips the tip of your shaft, pushing her thumb into the flat of it. You feel your veins bulging under the pressure, causing your dick to throb in her hand. She laughs. 

“Look at this little cutie, so eager for my touch…” She drags her palm across your erection, moving it to rest on your stomach. “But I'm afraid he'll have to wait. Your punishment begins now. Are you ready?”

You nod. 

“Good boy.”

Lisa steps up onto the couch. She stands still for a moment, letting you gawk up at her like a helpless puppy. She turns around, the cloth flaps of her corset doing a painfully good job of hiding her assets. She holds the back one in her hand, revealing a set of black, laced lingerie under. It hugs her fatty thighs tightly, almost threatening to come apart with a crouch. The silk holds firm, though, as her ass lowers and settles right on your face. 

Your nose is pushed into the crevice of her ass, your mouth feeling the pressure of her fatty lips, separate from you only by a thin layer of fabric. You take a breath, and your nose fills with a strong, tangy scent of her arousal, soaking the silk of her panties. 

She shifts her hips, smothering you as she looks for a comfy position. Her attention turns back towards your manhood. Lisa takes pity on your cock and wraps her hand around it, using your chest as a support as she gives it a few test strokes. 

“Who would have thought that a cutie such as yourself carries something so…” She leans down and takes a whiff of your cock, taking in the musky mix of precum and pure lust. “Mm~... Intoxicating in your pants. The thick shaft, the bulging veins, and the delicious, thick head… Ah, I would love to feel it pushing my lips apart as it forces its way into my pussy~ Wouldn't you, too darling?”

You make a noise in response, the words drowning in the fat of her hips. 

“I'm sure you'd love to empty your naughty balls inside me… I've noticed the way you've been looking at me ever since we met, Y/N. Know that I would love to take advantage of that too~”

Lisa brings your cock closer and presses her painted lips tightly to your head. When she pulls back, the lipstick leaves a nice mark of her kiss. 

“But first thing first… Your punishment. For being such a handsome, shy and absolutely tasty little cutie - and for the books of course - you'll eat me out. If you'll be a good, diligent boy, I'm sure I'll have an appetite for a second helping. I'm sure you'll handle it.”

You mumble yes, miss into her ass, your mouth salivating at the prospect. She giggles, wiggling her hips to bury you deeper in. You move your hands to her waist and, as soon as you touch her, you yelp in pain at the zap delivered to your cock. You whine, and immediately off-hand her. 

“Bad boy. Use your teeth.”

Lisa rubs the skin right above your cock, grazing the base with her immaculate nails, promising more if you behave. You open your mouth, bite down on the fabric and, with utmost care, pull it away. The fabric digs into Lisa's skin, exposing her just enough for you to get in. Feeling your way around her slit, it isn't long before you find the wet, expecting lips. With the tip of your tongue as your guide, you slide between her inner lips, feeling the salty taste of her excitement. A few humms of approval escape her lips. You use all of your mouth to fully expose her pussy. 

She doesn't guide you this time, and instead wraps her hand around your cock to signal her satisfaction. You feel her hand squeezing your dick as Lisa pumps it up and down with frustrating deliberation. Knowing that the pleasure or torture of your cock is at stake, you dig in. 

“Ah~!” She moans as your tongue dives between her eager folds. 

You dine, switching between gentle flicks and strong, full licks. As you tunnel between her lips, Lisa cranes her neck back, her blonde hair cascading back as pleasure builds within her. It's not long before her needy cunt demands more and Lisa begins rocking her hips, matching the length and direction of your tongue. Her body heats up, her beautiful, deep moans filling the room. More, she says, now resting on your entire body as your fingers dig into the fat of her ass, stabilizing her hips for better access. Your tongue dances around her bud, sliding between her folds before locking onto the clit, lips wrapping around it and sucking. Lisa whimpers and her grip on your dick becomes tighter. You squirm, pain pulsing through you yet never slowing down your service. Her heart rages in her chest and her breath quickens as she grabs your balls with the other hand. 

“Keep… Mhn~ Keep going now… Don't get… distracted~” Your skin crawls as you sense Electro buzzing between your legs. Your grip becomes tighter, legs trembling as you feel the energy pulse down your cock and spread to each of your nuts. You shift your hips helplessly, desperate to keep your mouth working as your shaft hardens even further, balls churning even more cum at the painful stimulation. 

You feel her thighs growing tighter around your head so, with the last gasps of air you push your tongue into her core. Lisa lets out a gasp as her pussy tightens, her legs trembling around you as you eat her to completion. 

Lisa releases her hands, cutting off the electricity. Your cock throbs and bounces, both relieved and missing the stimulation. Lisa groans as she lifts her ass up, freeing you; you gasp for fresh air, coughing. With half lidded eyes and a dazed smile, Lisa looks back at you. 

“Good job, cutie.” She turns around, taking a seat on your thighs. “You know how to please a lady, don't you?”

You nod weakly, letting your hands drop to your sides. You feel Lisa prop up your aching dick with her slender hand. 

“All that licking, sucking and eating was delightful… yet my body wants more. It looks like I went a little hard on your cock, didn't I, darling?”

She strokes the head of your cock comfortingly. You wince at the sensation, instinctively tightening your thigh muscles as you watch her. 

“Aw, don't be scared. I won't punish you anymore. You did what I asked, didn't you?” She leans down, placing a light kiss on your frenulum. “You're a good boy.”

Relaxing, you lay back and focus on the feeling of her hands going up and down your legs. The calm doesn't last long, however. 

“Legs up, big boy~” 

You raise your head, shooting her a look of confusion. She smiles in response, sliding her hands under your ass and gently pushing up. You go along with her signal and raise your legs. Lisa shifts closer, gently caressing your inner thighs as she fumbles with her corset. Before she drops it, she reaches between her breasts and pulls out a small, brightly colored pack. 

“Miss Lisa…” You say, eyes never leaving her hand as she tears the foil open and pulls out a condom. “Why did you keep it there?”

“For special opportunities like this, of course. A woman has to be prepared for a sweet catch like yourself, doesn't she? It doesn't happen often, but when it does, well… Better be prepared, hm?” she coos as she slides the rubber over your raging hard-on. 

Lisa rises up, pushing her hips against yours. She steps over your legs and squats down, pushing them to hang in the air. Lisa sends you a teasing wink as she reaches under the flaps of fabric hiding her sex and grabs your dick. Your imagination runs wild before it stops completely, mind blanking out as you feel your dick finally sinking into her sloppy cunt. Your vision goes blurry for a brief moment before it's brought back down as Lisa raises up and falls back down. You see stars as your cock slams against her cervix, making you moan in unison. 

Without delay Lisa begins moving her hips up and down, her walls eagerly sucking you in as she fucks you. Her hands hold onto your ankles as her ass plops down on you again and again, the clapping growing sloppiers as each thrust coaxes her insides to drool all over your cock. Holding onto the couch for dear life you moan as she rides you, bent over and completely helpless. You could only moan and whimper in response. Lisa keeps her pace steady, looking down at your flushed face with satisfaction. 

“Such a good boy, letting me fuck you like this~” She says, reaching out to tilt your head up. Your eyes meet. “Now cum, cutie~ Empty your balls inside me~”

Tenderized by her earlier torment, your balls fail to endure her pace and tighten in preparation to bust. Your mouth cannot form a coherent word other than cum. Lisa presses her body flat against yours, holding your cheeks as she pounds you into the couch. 

“Good boy… That's it… Cum for mommy~” she whines out as you safely unload inside her, her slick walls pulsing in rhythm to coax every drop of cum from your body. When you can shoot no more, your tired form goes limp against her. 

She chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead. She slowly stands up with a satisfied, drawn out whine. You look up only to see the condom gone from your softening cock. Lisa smirks as you look at her for an answer. She lifts her front flap to reveal the end of the condom stuck inside her pussy. 

You follow her as she graciously steps down from the couch and heads towards the table. Lisa picks up her hat, making her way over to the armchair put up against the opposite side of the room. She sits down, resting her legs on the footrest. Her hat is lowered back on its rightful place.

“Consider the fees settled, cutie. But if you’d like to discuss… extended terms, feel free to come in for a cup of hot tea~”

Thanks for reading!

[genshin-obsessed]

Water Tasting | Neuvillette x Reader

This was a joke between my friend and I, but seeing as how I've entered my Neuvillette obsession phase, I might as well throw out at least one fic for him. Enjoy~

Word count: 832 Unedited; please don't mind <3

"I'm sorry I came here so late. I didn't intend to get lost." You said with a slight dry chuckle. Neuvillette sent a small smile your way, waving his hand a little.

"Not at all, I said my doors were open to you at any time of the day. Besides, I'm also taking a bit of a break, myself. So it's quite perfect."

You followed Neuvillette further into his office and found a nice seat for you, while the long-haired man looked over at you.

"Are you thirsty? I have a wide array of beverages you may like." You eyes lit up and you sent him a smile, along with a nod.

"Oh yes! I'm absolutely parched."

"You're in luck." The chief justice walked over to a large cabinet and opened the doors, revealing many fancy bottles, decorated with beautiful text and adorned with gems. Honestly, you weren't even sure you wanted to drink such expensive looking beverages.

"This one is from Mondstadt, you've been there, yes? It's quite the popular one. I wouldn't say my favorite, but I do like to indulge every now and then." You were certainly familiar with the variety of drinks offered in Mondstadt, so you figured it was akin to dandelion wine. The bottle had the colors of Mondstadt and even had a small symbol. You couldn't make out the writing from where you sat, but the bottle, itself, was absolutely beautiful.

"Oh, like dandelion wine, right? I've had it before, it's great."

"No, it's not wine. What gave you that idea?" He asked, which confused you, honestly.

"Well you mentioned it was popular in Mondstadt... they're known for their dandelion wine..." you elaborated but Neuvillette shook his head. Without hesitation. Maybe he didn't like alcohol? You knew a guy like that- a certain tycoon.

"Oh, so it's more like a juice. I know their-"

"No, it's water."

What...?

The long silence hung in the air as the two of you stared at one another. You really weren't sure what to say to that, but the awkward silence was getting to you.

"Like... triple digit water? It's not their famous spring vale holy water right?" Knowing how that water was bottled, you'd feel awful knowing Neuvillette fell for such a scam. However, much to your delight, he shook his head.

"Anyway," he reached for another bottle, one that looked like it brandished Liyue's design and markings. "This one is from Liyue and I heard even their own Archon was quite in favor of it. I, myself, have enjoyed it every now and then but it's not my favorite."

"Is... is that water too?" You asked, making Neuvillette give you a sweet smile and a nod. You only returned the nod as you realized... all of those bottles on the shelf were water. Just water. Unflavored, plain water.

"This one, however, is my favorite. It's a brand from Snezhnaya and it's best served chilled." You almost laughed at his words but buried it deep, deep down.

There was something so innocent and sweet about his fascination with different brands of water. The passion in his voice just brought a smile to your face and somehow the awkwardness of the situation lifted as he got into the other various bottles, claiming the one from Inazuma did seem to have a sweeter scent and flavor to it and was one of the more comforting drinks in his collection.

You found yourself getting lost in his voice as he kept going on and on about the different varieties of waters from all over Teyvat. He claimed there were still a great many he hadn't tried as he doesn't have the chance to leave Fontaine with his position being so high up in the court.

"Well? Is there one that beckons you? Or are you unhappy with the selection?" Neuvillette asked with a slight tinge of disappointment in his tone. Maybe even a hint of shyness.

"No, that's not it! I was just expecting different and you surprised me." You assured him, waving your hands a little.

"Oh? What were you expecting?"

"Like Fonta or something."

"No, we don't drink that garbage here." Ok, now you had to laugh. You threw your head back as the fit of giggles finally escaped your system before you calmed yourself. Neuvillette just stood by, unsure of what could possibly make you laugh like that.

"I'll take your favorite then. We can enjoy it together." His confusion melted into a smile and he nodded, grabbing the Snezhnayan water and closing the cabinet. He walked over to you with two- what you would call chalices- and poured you a generous amount. He sat down across from you and you lifted the cup to your lips.

Taking a small sip, the cold water rushed across your tongue and cooled down your entire mouth. Water was water, but there... was indeed an interesting flavor behind this one.

Maybe Neuvillette had a point- water had flavor. This one did anyway.

[madwomansapologist]

lost in your fire | camille l'espanaye

Navigation | More Camille L'Espanaye | AO3

synopsis: When you survived the entire selection process to be Camille L'espanaye's new assistant, you certainly didn't expect to find this type of employment contract. You could bet your life that the worst thing that could happen to you would be a Miranda-Andrea type of employement. Good thing you didn't.

warnings: smut. strip tease. oral. fingering. degradation. praise. pussy slap. age gap. dom/sub. s&m. co workers. tw: use of 'needy pretty slut'. sugar mommy? that can tagged as abuse of power? prostituition? female!reader. gif: @azrphales

You never thought that graduating in journalism would be the answer to all your problems. It isn't an easy profession, nor is it respected or pays that much. You didn't expect your life to be perfect once you got your diploma.

But damn.

Horrible bosses, jobs that added nothing to your life, laughable salaries. Little free time, little rest, little leisure. Little of everything, except work and stress. Those were always a lot.

And all because you didn't have money. If you had been born into a wealthy family everything would be so different. So much better. Because you know you have talent and determination, what you lack is chance. Is luck. And anyone alive knows that luck is just another name for money.

So when you went to the job interview to be Camille L'espanaye's assistant, you weren't surprised that you did it well. You for sure were surprised to be chosen over someone with an established surname. Or that had a least already finished college. Someone older, experienced. But what surprised you more were the terms of contract.

You didn't know for sure if Camille L'espanaye had too much courage or just lacked the shame, but she was the one to give you the contract. Not someone from HR, not a group of lawyers that would speak for her, but the woman herself.

She did like it was just another thursday for her. Maybe for Camille it was.

You dropped the contract on her desk. "So you want a whore?"

Before that you were so polite. Even thought Camille barely looked into your face, you kept on that thankful-employer act. You said it would be a honor to work for her. But after reading that, nothing mattered anymore.

"I need an assistant," Camille didn't look up from her notebook. She was writing something, the way her fingers moved showed concern while her voice was uterly disinterest. She didn't look up from it since you entered her office. "Someone that I can trust to gather information, follow my orders, know when to speak up and when to shut up. But I also require certain things from my assistants."

"Do I look like a whore?"

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't the lack of money or a renowed surname. Maybe all your rich colleagues got into great jobs while you rot was because... they are better for you. Maybe that's the only thing you are capable of: work on horrible places because others wouldn't be stupid enough to hire you.

Camille chose you because she wants to fuck you. Not because you are talented, competent, competitive. Not because of your writing, your morals, your desire to become something more. Camille saw you as a fuckable body with a pretty face and nothing more.

"It's not my problem to give a shit about your..."

"That was the reason I made till the finish line?" Camille was the one surprised now. Not only you interrupted her, but there was something on your voice. It sounded almost dissapointed. "Because you wanted to fuck me?"

Camille looked at you for the first time.

Her platinum hair moved along when she bent over the table, her face founding a support on her open hands. Camille was something. There was a fire on her eyes, a flame that just couldn't die.

When Camille L'espanaye looked at you, it burned.

She was more than the daughter of someone important. Camille was the very next best thing.

"I read your thesis. The gatekeep theory and it's changes during the last decade," Camille didn't look bored. Not anymore. "And I read your articles. Your blog. But you know what surprised me the most?"

You found difficult to open your mouth. "What?"

"Your empty curriculum," she laughed. You would have feel ofended, but she kept on talking. "You have talent, that's for sure, but no one noticed it yet. I know you're starving for a opportunity. Now all you need to do is chose: will you grab it, or will you spend the rest of your life hating whoever made the right decision?"

You glared at the paper. "That's not safe for me," you didn't realize you're were gaving in until you opened your mouth. That shocked you. To know that just a few words from Camille turned your no into a almost.

Camille noticed that too. "Item IX."

You thought she would say something more, but at the end you had to open the document again. Item IX was about... limits. Safewords, six different spreadsheets to be filled with your answers about anything related to sex, Camille's own boundaries, NDAs that protect the both of you.

You spend a few minutes in silence. Just thinking to yourself, trying to find a answer. Yes or no? You looked at Camille, and it startled you to see that she was glaring at you. She was so blasé, but her burning eyes showed you interest, curiosity.

Hunger.

You grabbed the pen in front of Camille's smartphone and signed where it was needed. You left the contract on her table, grabbed your purse and didn't looked back.

And what a shame. Because if you had, you would've see how Camille L'espanaye observed every step you gave.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Most of your time is spend with you running from one place to another, gathering information about anything that Camille think is troublesome. Making the right questions, tooking the right photos, knowing when to get out before people get upset.

If Camille senses that something stink, your job is to show her how much of shit is involved on it.

Except by your first day of work. That was unusual. It included getting measured for your uniform and an appointment with her hairdresser. You also run a few blood tests, consulted a gynecologist and signed documents in front of a scary lawyer.

But today was a calm day, and your feet were so grateful for it. It was the first time in two weeks that you could just sit still. Organizing Camille's agenda, confirming her presence on a few events and denying any request for a interview, you took your heels off.

That's the thing about news channels and saturdays: everyone that makes things interesting are too busy enjoying their day off. Normally you are one of those people, but Camille needed you here today.

The phone rang, and she didn't even gave you the time to answer. "My office. Now."

Your heels announced your presence. White dresses, gold earrings and black heels: that was your uniform meanwhile the real one was being made.

Camille was paying attention to her phone, tipping as fast as humanly possible, when you entered her office. Everything was black and white, just like your clothes. "Open it," Camille murmured gesturing towards a golden box on her table.

You got near it, leaving your table beside the box, and opened. Inside it you found the reason why you're working today. Your uniform was there.

Camille clearly can have anything she want, all she needs to do is open her mouth. But there is no way she could speed up a sewing process. Not without getting bad clothes.

You took it from inside the box and notice how it looked just like those school's uniforms that appear on series about rich people. It was soft, warm, and beautiful. There was also a pair of new, black shoes.

She really wanted you to look young.

"And... done," Camille closed her eyes, and passed her fingers throught her hair. It must have been a really stressing conversation. "Now put it on."

"Alright," you put everything inside the box ans took it on your arms, going to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. But before you could made to the door, Camille's voice stopped you.

"Do it here."

Camille demanding you to get dresses in front of her should have make you want to vomit. You shouldn't want that, or her, or that fucking job.

But you do. Fuck, you want that.

Camille told you to grab the opportunity. She show you that it wouldn't wait for you. And it was the right choice. Not only your payment is really good, but she is also paying your college debt as a act of encoragment — her words. Working for Camille will open so many doors for you, and those that won't you can open with her money.

And all she's asking is for you to fuck her.

You fucked girls for free, and none of them were directly responsible for you buying a new car. Why not put a price on your body? Camille is willing to pay it.

It helps that she's hot as fuck.

So you put the box on a couch and gave her the show she wanted. You started just taking off your earrings and necklace. Then you opened the ziper of your dress, slow enough to make her sigh. You let it slid of your body, revealing that you wore nothing bellow it.

You twirl the dress on your fingers, then throw it at her. It feel right beside Camille's phone. Once more her facade broke a bit, her smile way closer to a laugh then to a smirk.

As you put on your new clothes, you gave her a little spin. "Come here," was all Camille said.

You licked your lips and walked towards her. Right in front of Camille, you felt her eyes analizing every single detail of you. She gave you smirk.

"Kneel for me," she ordered. You did as she wanted, your heels digging on the skin of your feet. "Now use your mouth. Prove me your worth."

Camille opened her legs, the dress went up her tights and revealed her black thong. You touched her skin, your fingertips just brushing against her knees and thights. You slid them across her covered pussy, a touch so delicate it felt like a ghost.

Looking into Camille's burning eyes, you put her thong aside and revealed herself to you.

From then on, you were nothing but a starving woman.

Camille held on by your hair. She wasn't delicate. She just grabbed you, almost like you would run away. How could you ever do that? Not with her being so sweet. Not with her lips so warm against your lips.

"Fuck," she whispered. Her incoerent words showed that you were doing a good job. "Just like that."

You looked up, and then you saw Camille looking deep into your eyes. It made you go even harder on her, totally focused on making Camille reach heaven.

"What a pretty thing you are," Camille moaned. Her hand, before pulling your hair with no regards, now carressed your cheeks. "You're such a needy pretty slut, aren't you? My fucktoy."

You moaned against her dripping pussy, drunk on her arousal, and felt Camille shaking bellow you. She's so blasé, so colected, but now you saw her breaking bit by bit.

More confident, you grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to you. Your tongue brushed against her sensitive clit, your fingers spread her pussy from inside. The sounds she made were the prettiest song you ever heard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Camille couldn't stop screaming. That all put together bussinesswoman you meet were long gone. She was just a woman in need of a helping hand. "I'm 'bout to, oh god..."

Your felt her melting against you, her legs trembling against your arms. You stopped when her body collapsed against her armchair.

"Get up," she murmured. This time not out of disinterest, but because she was lost on her own pleasure.

Standing, you turned your back to her so you could get your things and leave. But before you could walk away, two hands grabbed you by your waist.

Camille, standing before you, caressed your skin. "Where are you going?" She bit your shoulder, and her teeths dig on your skin. It wasn't delicate, but it was good. "Already running away from me?"

"I thought you were done," you whispered. Her taste was still on your mouth. So sweet it could give you toothaches.

Camille kept on bitting your neck, licking it right after, until she made to your ear. "I'm not done with you," she whispered, and you didn't knew if she was mocking you.

"Sit on my table," she slapped your ass when you moved. "Open your legs." She once slapped you, but this time on your pussy.

The moan that escaped you made Camille force herself against your mouth. She tasted herself on you, but she also felt the taste of your lipstick. Camille licked your lips, trying to get more of you, then went back to explore your mouth.

Her fingers played with your lips, so wet for her, and entered on your tight pussy. So warm, so made for her. Camille curved her fingers, and you held into her. "Just like that," you moaned. "Please, just..."

Camille went harder, so hard you knew that it would hurt the other day, but you didn't care. Camille could hurt you however she wants, as long as she keep on making you feel like that.

"Be a good bitch and cum on my fingers," Camille grabbed you by the chin. That made you open your mouth, and Camille noticed the way your lips covered on her saliva shone. "Show me your tongue."

Camille spat on it, and you gadly took it. You blinked to her.

"Fuck," Camille fingered you as she pinched your clit. You were so close. "You really have a talent for that, don't you? Thinking about making you mine. Chain you to my bed so I can use you whenever I want."

"Do it," you whimpered against her lips.

She spread her fingers inside you. You gasped, your body chocking against her. You couldn't think, you couldn't see, all you did was moan as you came.

Camille continued until you were too sensitive to take it. She licked her lips, now addicted to your taste, and stepped away from you.

She took off her thong and thrown it at you. Camille moved your body, taking her phone right behind you, and sat on her armchair. You breath as you watched her go back to work, but you also smiled when you noticed her trembling feet.

"Cover yourself," Camille started. "Clean my agenda for tomorrow, scheduled a meeting Pym and find someone that make a coffee that doesn't suck like yours."

"But you swallow," you murmured as you put on her thong. It was wet from her arousal and your spit.

"What did you just said?"

"You heard me," you took your tablet and didn't gave her time before you walked away.

Camille L'espanaye observed every step you gave. When you were gone, she throw her phone away and closed her eyes.

"I am so fucked," Camille whispered to herself.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[pretty-red-garnet]

Happiness At The End Of The World

Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader • Road/Prison • Fluff

A/N: First time writing for TWD. Excuse any mistakes please! I’ve never written for Daryl before, so I’m sorry if he’s out of character or anything like that. This was just for fun, but would anyone be interested in sending requests? Let me know and maybe I’ll write some more.

     You didn't know being truly scared until after the end of the world. Until now.

     Lori held Carl to her closely. Her ever growing belly was sticking out of the thick blanket she had herself and Carl cuddled under a little. Rick was off taking watch, he had grown distant and cold, but who can blame him.

     Everyone else was supposed to be sleeping, but from the freezing cold, you're positive no one is, just laying there with their eyes closed and hoping that was enough.

     This winter was bitter and freezing. Being out in the elements most nights certainly didn't help. Sometimes your group would find a cabin or warehouse to hole up in, but walkers usually took that from you quickly. The cold meant most animals were gone, causing walkers to wonder deeper into the forest looking for food. Nowhere was safe.

     You roll over on the hard ground. You couldn't stand to look at Lori and her son any longer. She wasn't going to make it much longer, everybody knew. As her belly grew, her face just got slimmer and slimmer. The thought of the poor woman having to give birth out here terrified you. You shivered a bit at the thought.

     A blanket being thrown over you startled you. You looked up to find Daryl looking back, fixing the blanket so it covered your back.

     "You're shiverin'," he whispers. You sit up a little.

     "Everyone's cold. I'm ok, take your blanket back." You go to take it up but Daryl pushes your arms down.

     "I'm goin' to take over for Rick anyway. Keep it." He walks away with that. You settle down again. Daryl was probably the kindest, most selfless people you had ever met, even if he could be a little... surly.

     He cared through actions, not words. This wasn't the first time he had given you his blanket, although you argued a little every time. He was also the first one to give up his food portions if he thought Lori or Carl didn't have enough, or give Beth his gloves if her hands trembled too much. He always put others before himself.

     It was what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

     Ever since the first time you saw him, you knew he wasn't what everyone else thought he was. You were one of the first at the quarry camp, having been picked up by Glenn during a run to the city. Daryl came after with his loudmouth of an older brother.

     Daryl was a hothead then, too caught up in what his brother wanted him to be, but you always knew there was something else there. Especially with the way he always provided fresh meat for the group, or was the first to volunteer for night watches so others could sleep.

     And then with Sofia, always looking for that little girl. He never lost hope for her. Even if it didn't go how everyone wanted it to, it gave Carol hope, which was what she really needed then.

     Daryl had grown a lot since then, since being on the road after you lost the farm. He became your best friend and someone everyone relied on. Your provider and hunter. It was a no brainer why you fell in love with the man.

     The next morning everyone was up and moving again. You were hoping to find some roofed shelter. Lori was maybe 6 months along now. She was getting bigger and couldn’t keep up as well anymore. You needed to hunker down.

     Luckily, the group had found some fuel for the cars. Hopefully you could get a little farther this way and find a good place to hole up for a while.

     But before you left, you went with Daryl to check the woods one last time. A few squirrels or even a rabbit could go a long way right now. You followed him with quiet footsteps, he had his crossbow in front of him.

     He suddenly stopped, so suddenly you almost plowed into his back. He turned around to face you and shook his head.

     "Nothin' out here, might at well head back. We're just burning daylight," he said, angry at himself. You nodded and tried to give a small, reassuring smile, but you were sure it wasn't convincing. He didn't say anything, but he grabbing your arm lightly to lead you back to where everyone was waiting by the road. You're used to the casual contact by now, but you still appreciated it.

     "You think we'll find somewhere?" You suddenly ask, voicing your worries. You always did around Daryl. "Somewhere for Lori to have her baby."

     "Mhm hm." He nods and bites the inside of his mouth like he always did. "We gotta."

     Simple as that.

Luckily, Rick had found a little cabin in the woods later that day. There were no windows, just boarded up wood planks, but they did an ok job at keeping most cold out. The fire was nice too.

Daryl was sitting on the steps keeping watch and you decided to join him. It had been a bit since you two had been together and talked, and you missed it. Missed his smile and how he blushed when you and Carol teased him. Everyone had been so stressed by the barren winter and Lori, the three of you didn't joke anymore.

"Hey," you said as the dropped next to him. He nodded as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Those will kill you ya know." You smiled at him. "I might just hide them from you."

He just shrugged, didn't smile either. He must've noticed your crestfallen expression because he gave you a lousy half smile afterwords. It didn't meet his eyes, so you didn't try to make him laugh again.

"Well you were right. We found somewhere." He scoffed.

"Not much of a place." He took one last drag and finally put out the cigarette, it was just filter now.

"It's enough. Has a roof, nice fire." You shrugged and rested your head on your knees, trying to stifle a yawn. He'd make you go inside if he knew you were tired, and you just wanted to be with him.

"Why ain't you inside then?" You shrugged and gave him the brightest smile you could muster up in your exhausted state.

"And miss all the fun out here with you? Never!" He just shook his head but he let a little smile crack this time. Your grin got larger at the sight. He nudged you with his shoulder. You went to nudge him back but instead of pulling away, you melted against his arm. He tensed a second but relaxed quickly.

"Falling asleep on me?" Daryl asked lowly.

"No..." you mumble, eyes slipping closed. The last thing you feel before slipping into unconsciousness was fingers lightly smoothing down your hair.

     You woke up slowly from sunlight in your face and nearly forgot where you were. You were warm and cozy and almost didn't move, until you realized you were in Daryl's lap. You got up with a start, blushing and embarrassed.

     "Daryl, you should've woke me up! God, i slept on you all night?" He nodded and his own checks were a little pink. He was biting his thumb.

     "You haven't been sleepin..." he said with a shrug. Your face darkened even more. He could be so damn cute without even knowing it. Being so caring and sweet like that.

     "You neither, no one has."

     "You looked comfortable... didn't wanna move you." He got up with a groan and outstretched a hand to help you. You grabbed it and smiled. "'sides, kept me pretty warm."

      You giggled a little and he dropped his head with a embarrassed smile. You turned your head to the sound of movement inside. Daryl's cheeks were still a little red when you looked back at him, but he tilted his head towards the door.

     "We better get inside before little Shane eats our breakfast." You smack him lightly on the shoulder and shake your head at him, but a smile cracks anyway. You missed this.

     It was another painful couple months before you found the prison. It looked like a castle now, a safe haven, protected from walkers with two rows of those beautiful tall fences. It took one afternoon to block off a section of the courtyard, and you were ecstatic. Everyone was grinning. This was the most room everyone had in months to roam free.

     The fire in front of you was warm and nice. It was cool tonight, comfortable after the hot and sweaty day. Carol had gone to bring Daryl some food because as she'd said, he wouldn't eat if not bothered. They were standing on top of a bus not far, you can see them laughing and chatting together. You smiled a little just watching, Daryl seemed a little lighter.

     They came back soon after to Beth and Maggie singing. Daryl dropped himself next to you and Carol sat down not far. You clapped a little and smiled at the girls when they finished. Beth smiled a little bashfully at you while Maggie cuddled up to Glenn.

     You leaned up against Daryl a little, watching Rick do laps around as Hershel mentioned that he would've found a breach by now. Lori went to talk to him. Daryl was fiddling with a loose string on the seam of your shirt.

     "You gonna fall asleep on me again?" He asks teasingly. You turn your head to face him and stick your tongue out a little. Your face falls when you notice just how close both your faces are. You turn away again and Carol catches your eye. She looks between the two of you quickly and widens her eyes in a 'do something!' manner.

     Daryl continues to play with the string, but he seems extra distracted, like he also was taken aback by the proximity. Maybe it was your imagination, you're pretty positive Daryl doesn't feel how you do, and that's ok.

     Your friendship was something you didn't want to risk, ever, even if both Carol and Maggie and even Beth at one point had tried to convince you to make a move.

“Daryl is too shy to make the first move, it's up to you!" Carol's voice rings in your head.

     "He's in love with you, Y/N. You just can't see it," Maggie had said before.

     But Daryl was too important to risk. A confession would either push him away from you or he'd play along not to hurt you or make things awkward. Neither sounded good. Your relationship with him was good as is, even if you wished some nights it was more.

     "You good?" Daryl asks.

     "Huh? Yeah, why?"

     "Looked lost in thought is all." He shrugs and leans back against the grass, causing you to fall back next to him. Most others were ready to sleep too, other than Rick who was taking watch.

     "Just... thinking."

     "'Bout what?" It took you a second to think of something to say. You couldn't exactly say, 'oh just about how I'm in love with you and how everyone is convinced you love me too. Nothing much.'

     "If we could be safe here." Daryl nods and pats your hand that was resting between you both. The contact wasn't anything new, but with your mind thinking what it was, it sent a spark to your heart.

     "We'll make it safe," he says finally.

     The next day is full of killing more walkers to empty out a cellblock. The thought of sleeping in a cell might have made you dizzy before the end of the world, but now it was the equivalent of a five star hotel. Safe and sound and away from walkers. It helped that you tried to forget it was a cell and thought of it more as just a room, just four walls.

     You dropped your bags down on the cell floor. It had blood smeared on the wall but the bed seemed clean... enough. It was right across from the catwalk, which Daryl claimed. It seemed he didn't think of the cells like you, instead refusing to 'sleep in a cage,' as he said.

     That night was more uncomfortable than you thought it'd be. You had grown used to having your group, who you considered family now, always in eye sight of you. It was strange not to have them all around you. It was crazy, they were in the same cellblock, but it made your skin crawl anyway. You had grown used to felling the familiar presence of theirs around you as you slept.

     If you leaned off your bed slightly and peaked out your door, you could just barely see Daryl's feet sticking out of his blanket. He was tossing and turning. Maybe he had the same problem?

     You crept out of the bed and made your way outside your cell. Daryl was staring at the ceiling and fiddling with an arrow, or bolt as he'd corrected you with a snap back at the quarry.

"Can't sleep?" You whispered lowly. He shakes his head.

"You neither?"

"No..." You rub your hands on your arms, trying to fight the chill going through you.

"You ok?" Daryl asks with a worried look on his face. He sits up and pats the bed next to him, and you quickly sit down.

"Yeah... it's nothing. It's stupid," you reprimand yourself. It was a little ridiculous that you couldn't sleep in your own cell, like a child. Hell, even Carl was ok in his cell.

"C'mon," Daryl prods and bumps his shoulder to yours. "Tell me."

"I guess I'm just lonely in there... I got used to having you and everyone around me." You shake your head and close your eyes in embarrassment. "I'm bothering you, this is so stupid. I'm sorry, get some sleep, Daryl."

You go to stand but Daryl is quicker, grabbing your arm lightly to stop you. You slowly sit back and see his face is reddened.

"Just... stop," he says quietly with red cheeks. "Ain't bothering me, you could never bother me. I care 'bout you. And you ain't stupid either, don't say that shit."

He looked like he wanted nothing more than the earth to swallow him, but he pushed through. Your face was just as red as his now. Daryl was a man of few words and didn't often say out loud how he felt for others. He just acted. So the sudden declaration surprised you.

"Ok..." you utter. You weren't too sure what to say, this is pretty much the most open he had been with you. "Sorry."

"Jesus don't apologize, just..." He stops and bites his lip, fumbling his hands together. "I don't know what I'm doin.'"

"What do you mean?" You ask with furrowed brows. Daryl looks at you, face flushed and trembling hands. "Daryl?"

"I fucking love you, alright?" He scoffs and looks away. "So... you ain't bothering me talking to me."

You're speechless. You just stare at him slack jawed and in shock. Daryl obviously takes your stunned silence as rejection, and gets up abruptly.

"Daryl, I—"

"Forget it," he mumbled and takes the steps two at a time to escape from you. You recover from your shock after a minute and stagger up, scurrying down the stairs to try and catch the man.

You look around outside, trying to find him in the pitch black. Finally, you spot him leaning against the railing of one of watch towers. You admire him for a second trying to figure out what you'd say once you get to him. You hesitantly walk up to the watch tower, climb the stairs and soon your staring at his angel wings.

You takes slow steps until your standing beside him. You don't say anything for a second, just stare out at the trees next to him. He's smoking but you can see his hands are shaky and he shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly.

"You don't gotta say anything. It's fine, just forget it," Daryl mumbles. You're a little surprised he broke the silence first, but it's welcome.

"I don't want to forget it," you say. Daryl glances at you shyly. "Can you look at me, please?"

Daryl does so, his eyes dancing all across your face anxiously. The muscles in his jaw are tense and clench with nerves. You slowly move a hand to rest one on his cheek. He watches closely, eyes bouncing from your face to you hand, but he let's you.

You stroke his face, along his stubble before brushing his hair aside a little. It's longer than when you met him, overgrown and in need of a trim. You smile at him softly.

"I love you, too," you murmur to him. "And i would've told you that if you didn't run away from me so fast."

He looks down guiltily, but you just smile and turn his head to meet your eyes again. His pupils are blown, cheeks flushed, and lips are parted. He's never looked as beautiful as he does right now.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask. He doesn't answer, but leans down to meet you halfway. His kiss is light at first, but you both melt together and soon it's hard to tell when you end and he begins. His hands are hesitant at first when they grab at your waist, but soon he's more confident. Pulling you closer and closer to him, pushing his lips to you harder.

You meet him every step of the way. Gripping at his hair and back of his neck, pulling at him so he doesn't let you go. Your back is pressed against the cold railing now, but you barely even register it.

The mind blowing kiss ends all too soon. You follow his lips for once last peck when he pulls away. He smiles and caresses your check ever so softly.

"I love you," you say to him again with a grin. He smiles timidly and dips his head down shyly to your neck. He nuzzles into your shoulder, placing little hesitant kisses to your neck and collarbone. You giggle and play with his hair, giving the top of his head some kisses of your own.

"Oh god damn it." A sudden voice from the watch tower makes Daryl just about jump away from you. You look wildly inside the tower to see Maggie. In your bliss, neither you or Daryl heard her come up. Daryl's face is bright red like a tomato, and you're sure you aren't better.

"Maggie! We uh, didn't hear you..." you say awkwardly. She has her arms crossed and tries to look mad, but her face is breaking out slowly into a grin. "So... what's up?"

Daryl beside you isn't doing better, wringing his hands and looking anywhere but Maggie. His hair is tousled around from your roaming hands and you bite your lip to stop you from curling into yourself in embarrassment. You can't believe you didn't hear Maggie coming up and she caught you like that...

"I lost a damn bet with Carol! I said it's be after the baby comes when you two would finally get together!" She shakes her head and fakes an angered sigh. "Anyway, I heard you two leave and wanted to make sure you were ok. You'd been gone a while."

Maggie's grin could rival the Cheshire cat's. She rises her brows up and down suggestively. You cover your face with your hands and she laughs.

Finally, Daryl, having recovered from his embarrassment quicker than you, grabs your hand and takes it off your face. He gives you a hard and sloppy kiss on the cheek and begins to lead you to the door of the watchtower.

"Better pay up with Carol then," he says and just about pushes you out the door hastily. You hear Maggie's near manic laughter behind you as you let Daryl's tugging hand lead you back to your cell.

Maybe the end of the world wasn't all bad.

[peakbys]

TAILORED

Pairing(s): Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader, Luca Changretta x Wife!Reader Summary: Your little double life starts to unravel when your husband shows up to avenge his father. Request: Yes. Sorta.             → @alana000 requested the reader in a love triangle between Tommy and Luca, I ended up combining that with my idea for Tommy's poll result and my brain kind of just ran away with it. So, it may not be exactly what was requested but I hope it's enjoyable regardless. 😅 Warnings: Long post, cheating, tension, mentions of arranged marriages, poor Italian, friends to lovers to enemies (if you want to interpret it that way, ending is left as it is.) Eye contact (for the gif?) Note: This is hard to wrap up in a one-shot, so I'm sorry if the ending is less than ideal. Still, I've been working on this thing for weeks so I hope you all enjoy.

You had just wanted to ride horses. 

Of course, life was never so simple, yet it really didn’t need to be as complicated as it was currently. You had left America feeling uncertain, but excited. You wrote back home whenever you could, especially once you managed to make a bit of a name for yourself in horse racing. Really, you wanted to move onto training, yet you knew you could race those horses too. It was extra money, of course, but something you earned on your own. It wasn’t passed down from your family, your husband’s family. Though, in hindsight, you had to wonder if this really was the place you were going to end up all along. 

When you had made a bit of a reputation, it brought the attention of some people that operated in a way you were all too familiar with. Crime was in your family, and it was certainly in the one you married into. It didn’t take long to figure out what was being asked of you when you were asked to take the fall sometimes. Horses lost races, yet that didn’t mean that you couldn’t benefit. At least, that was how it had been explained to you back when your pride was too stubborn to accept that you’d participate in fixed races.

Yet, the opportunities got harder to turn down after a while. 

Your involvement with the Peaky Blinders was something you left out of your letters outside of vague gesturing toward ‘buyers’ and ‘bosses.’ 

Tommy Shelby was definitely a person you didn’t write back home about, as much as he was a very common face in your life over the last couple of years. In a strange way, Tommy had a demeanor that was overly familiar too. You had associated it with controlled movements, sharp grins and the chewing of a toothpick. With him, it was a neutral expression and a stare that felt like he was looking through you at points. Yet, both your husband and Tommy had the same commanding air that pulled your attention to them as soon as they stepped into a room. 

Outside of the wounded pride that came from losing a race you were certain you could win, that alone had almost been enough to call off working with him. You had more than enough of that back in America, and you didn’t want it here for however long you were planning on staying. 

Though, Tommy proved up to your expectations in that he was very hard to ignore. 

It had started off friendly enough–professional, despite the nature of what you were doing. More races won, a few lost with a wad of cash tossed into your lap with a vaguely smug look also tossed your way. It was profitable, so it was easy to stick with. Tommy brought horses to you, sometimes, too. Beautiful creatures. If there was something that easily bonded you to Tommy, it was the horses. The conversations got easier and more frequent. Longer, too. You could remember the mild surprise that crossed your expression when he asked about something more personal than the horses and the races. 

That was what had you both sitting outside your little ranch home that you were living out of currently, talking about your family, America. Your late brother, especially, given that he had passed in the war and Tommy revealed that he had fought as well. Your brother had joined in hopes that maybe it would be something noble–something that wasn’t crime and making his living from getting involved with the families in New York. Dying in a trench so far from the people who loved and knew him didn’t seem very noble in your mind, especially with the memory of how your mother wailed when she got the news. 

Yet, you got a sense of understanding from Tommy that you hadn’t expected to find. It opened the door to some…very troubling feelings. 

You had initially tried to dismiss them as the similarities with your husband causing you to feel homesick, but that really wasn’t the case and you knew early on that you were lying to yourself about that. Given that the majority of letters that you wrote back home were to your mother-in-law, outside of the odd one you got directly from your husband when it seemed like he had the time, it was hard to ignore the growing distance that had festered. It had lingered in the background before you left America, and it only grew once the physical distance was there. 

Still, you had been quick to state that you were a married woman when it felt like Tommy was catching on to your conflict. Didn’t change much, however–it was a weakening defense and you both knew that. 

It resulted in a moment of weakness that haunted you, one that had your loneliness and conflicting emotions taking control. When it came to money, you knew things could get rough. In the back of your mind, you knew there could be some volatile tempers. Yet, you figured some people might not take that out on the riders. 

A man cornering you in the stable one night proved you wrong about that, however. Your feet barely scraping against the stable floor, his hands wrapped around your throat while you tried to talk him down through what little space he gave your windpipe. Between the pressure on your neck and the tightness in your chest from your lungs begging for more air, Tommy’s arrival was lost on you until the man released his hands from around your neck. 

You could remember the way you crumpled onto the ground, coughing harshly and gasping in air. You had registered the threats uttered and the shine of Tommy’s pistol, yet it wasn’t until he helped pull you to your feet that reality had come back around to you. 

–

“Come on. Sit over here.” 

You were used to his usual calm, straightforward approach to most things, yet at the moment it seemed at least vaguely caring. It was hard to tell with Tommy, yet you didn’t have the energy to really dig too deeply into that. As much as your pride wanted you to hold your head up and shake off the guiding hand on your arm, you were focused on trying to still the racing of your heart and ease the tightness in your chest. 

“He really wasn’t here to talk,” you commented once you were sitting down in a chair, holding a hand to your neck still. “I should’ve known better.” 

“Don’t think it would’ve stopped him any,” Tommy replied, “Least I’m not down a good rider.” 

“I appreciate the concern,” you commented around a bitter huff, though the touch of amusement in his gaze settled that feeling easily enough. 

“I was comin’ by to give you this, anyway,” Tommy continued after pulling up a chair and passing over your cut of the winnings from the race. “Just in time, too.” 

You nodded lightly, carding lightly through the cash as you counted quickly in your head. Something you had always done since you started working for him–suspicious at first, more like a force of habit now. In the current moment, however, it was more like an excuse to not have to look at him while every swallow and movement of your head reminded you of the forming bruises that you’d have to cover for the next while. 

It had never been in you to enjoy being rescued, yet you certainly knew that could have been worse if he didn’t show up when he did. You could feel a ‘thank you’ forming on the tip of your tongue the more you thought on it, though the feeling of his fingers under your jaw had you stilling. He tilted your head up somewhat, the action pulling a small wince from you as he examined the marks on your neck. 

Your gaze remained locked on his face as he did so and even after he shifted his hand to let you lower your head again. The tight feeling in your gut cropped up again, a familiar sensation when you looked at Tommy these days. A fluttering feeling that was both familiar and unfamiliar in a sense. Something that you had talked yourself into feeling over time with your husband, yet with Tommy it had formed on its own. 

It scared a part of you, yet you found yourself unable to pull away. Especially when you felt his hand shift along the back of your neck, a few seconds of hesitation and a sinking feeling until his mouth pressed against your own. 

If it had been you who leaned in to kiss him or if he crossed that line himself, you didn’t know. Yet, you found yourself returning it all the same, a hand coming up to cup the side of his face. You lost track of reality for a few moments–it was just you and Tommy, his lips, his tongue. His hands on your shoulders, waist, lower back. The excitement about the kiss made your gut twist, heat in your face. There was relief in there, too. 

Finally, you felt like someone wanted you. You weren’t an obligation, or worse a charity case. Your first kiss hadn’t been forced, yet it felt more like it was something you should do. To prove a point, an intention. It wasn’t like this with your husband. 

That thought hit hard, sinking into you like a heavy stone just as you could feel both your own and Tommy’s hands venturing further. You were married–and kissing your boss in the stable of a racetrack while your husband was an ocean away. 

Shame burned hot in your gut as you pushed Tommy back, standing quickly to put some distance between the two of you. The look he shot you was calm, as if he expected this. Your marriage wasn’t a secret, he knew what he was doing too. 

“I…shouldn’t have done that,” you said after a few moments, tucking your earnings into a pocket. “Thank you for the help, Mr. Shelby. Goodnight.” 

–

Naturally, you didn’t talk to him much after. You wanted to, the thoughts tumbling around in your head, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. The situation didn’t stop you from feeling relieved about his attention shifting away from the races after a while, however. You still raced, listened to the directions that would come in about certain horses and races. Things were normal, stable, and it was like you could just forget what happened. Things were calm. That was, until word got back to America that Sabini was having issues in London. It was a bit of a surprise to you that you weren’t asked to get involved. At the time, that is. 

It was something that was brought up in some of the letters–more of a warning at first, just keeping you informed in case you did need to make a move in the name of your husband’s family. You usually weren’t set to do those things, however, so you didn’t expect much outside of a possible trip to London to see what information you could get from the Italians there. 

That was, until your brother-in-law was killed. Things were a bit of a blur after that. 

Everything had escalated well beyond anything you had imagined and it seemed unavoidable how the two sides of your life were now overlapping. 

It was what had you pacing around the lavish room that you had been told to move to. It was very similar to the one that you had stayed in when you had joined your husband for a family wedding. The very event that put the idea of moving away from America for a couple years to begin with. 

A maid had been in and out over the last couple of hours, leaving you food and drink when you asked but otherwise gave you a polite distance. You appreciated that, despite the fact that no amount of food or tea could settle your nerves. 

You hadn’t unpacked, your little suitcase sitting by the door. It would look a little odd, you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

All you could do was wait, wondering how all of this would play out. The letter had been vague, just the address that he said he’d be staying at and that you should be moved there by the current date. It didn’t do anything to reassure you, obviously. A part of you just wanted to know. Another part of you just wanted to see him–as if seeing your husband would clear all the muck from your head and it would be easier to think. 

So, naturally, you were jumpy by the time you heard the door open. The maid always knocked, so it was clear who it was. 

Luca hadn’t changed much in the three years you had been away, dressed in his typical dark attire. Expensive, tailor-made and you knew how much he seemed to care about his appearance. That had initially struck you as pompous when you had first met him, yet you had quickly grown used to how connected his family was and it seemed to be more so about bragging about his family’s reputation. You knew it pleased him when you humored the expensive clothing and gifts–a little less common as the years passed, you had noted. 

At the moment, you couldn’t help but feel almost…underdressed. A number of things had changed, in more ways than one. You still didn’t know how you felt about the situation or what you even felt in the moment you saw him again. 

Regardless, you worked up a somewhat tight grin and approached him, Luca removing his hat to place on the desk nearby. 

The rings on his fingers were cold as he cupped your face, pulling you in to press a lingering kiss to your mouth. Your hands came up to rest on his wrists, finding an odd sense of comfort in the familiarity of it. Yet, it was lacking now. You knew that. The memories of Tommy that cropped up made that sharp edge of shame known in your gut, yet you still managed to keep the small grin on your face as Luca pulled back. 

“Carissima,” he said, hands still cradling your face as he ran his thumbs along your cheeks, “Non sei invecchiato di un giorno.” 

“Nemmeno tu,” you replied, the words heavy and cumbersome on your tongue. Luckily, Luca just grinned, dropping his hands to wag a light-hearted finger at you. 

“You promised me you’d still practice your Italian.” 

“I don’t get to use it often,” you replied, “Not a lot of Italian speakers around.” 

“Should’a listened to me about movin’ to London,” Luca commented, “Be with the family. Though…well, maybe it was good you didn’t.” 

“Right…” 

You let out a soft exhale through your nose, watching as he circled around the desk slowly as if he was looking for something. The atmosphere shifted as soon as the topic was brought up, your gaze following his movements as you tried to gather together something to say about it all. Killed his brother, his father, and you weren’t naive enough to believe that he was there to drag you back to America. Luca glanced back up at you, almost studying you for a moment. 

“Ma’s told me a few things she’s learned about you, too,” Luca stated, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as your heart jumped. 

Still, you held his gaze, expression impassive. It didn’t seem likely that she would know about what happened while you were staying overseas, yet it didn’t ease the feeling like you were looking down the barrel of a gun. 

“I told her quite a bit in my letters–you, too. In the ones you read, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms as he moved to lean against the front of the desk. 

“Left out some details,” Luca said, “How you’re racin’ horses in the tracks managed by the Peaky Blinders.” 

“It’s hard not to if you’re looking to fix races,” you said with a nod, feeling that tight not in your stomach loosen somewhat. “I didn’t make it a habit to dip my hand in that. When your horses get a reputation, there’s some interest. I might have been approached, but I can’t say I’ve had any personal interactions with them.” 

“No Tommy Shelby?”

“Not personally,” you lied, “I know of him.” 

He met your gaze without a reply for a few moments, arms crossed in a way that almost mirrored your own. A part of you wondered why you were protecting Tommy–of course, you didn’t want Luca to know of certain details, but clearly you didn’t swear any loyalty to him or his gang. Yet, you did so anyway. Luca eventually nodded lightly, pressing his lips together in thought for a moment before he stood up to approach you once again. 

“I was hopin’ you might have some information that might make this easier, but you’re just racin’ horses.” 

You could almost hear a touch of something to his tone, yet it didn’t seem he was willing to make that clear or say what he was thinking. It didn’t sit all that nice, but you figured if he was suspicious of you, you would’ve known. (You hoped.) Still, you gave him what you hoped was a convincing enough apologetic smile as you reached out to rest your hand on his cheek. 

“I know what you’re here to do. I wish I could give you more information than that,” you said, “As I said when I left, I didn’t want any involvement in that business and it’s been kept that way. If I had known…” 

“I wouldn’t want you catchin’ a bullet anyway,” Luca replied, “Though, you remember anythin’ or might be leavin’ anythin’ out…” 

“I’ll tell you,” you said with a small grin, “I wouldn’t want you catching a bullet.” 

“They can try,” he stated before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “Quicker this is done, quicker we can get back home.” 

You hummed in response, not quite agreement. As much as you were uncertain about the outcome of all of this, you had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be dealt with so quickly. 

*****

As much as you knew you shouldn’t be out by yourself, especially with the fact that this vendetta business could escalate at any moment, you didn’t think too much of it. 

There was an issue with one of your horses back where you were staying, and you knew suddenly disappearing would look odd to anybody who was paying attention. You were on edge and alert, yet you figured it would be best to look as if things were business as usual. Family was visiting, you were staying in a hotel. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of the home. If there was an issue, you figured there would be a few different people running around. You frowned as you pulled up to the property, noticing that the stable was empty. You clenched your hands around the steering wheel of the car, ready to pull out at a moments notice. Though, the familiar figure standing outside the home, near the very chairs you had sat in when you chatted over the years. 

You debated leaving, but thought better of it. While it seemed unlikely that he didn’t know the people he was up against, you didn’t want to appear too suspicious if he hadn’t pieced together your involvement. 

Regardless, your approach was guarded, eyeing Tommy with a questioning gaze as he moved to step down from the porch. 

“Long time since I’ve seen you last,” you greeted, “...It’s very quiet out here for the emergency I was told to come see.” 

“Right…” Tommy replied, his expression unreadable as he approached you. “I had to get your attention somehow. Someone here said you are staying elsewhere for a few days.” 

“Family’s in the country for a while,” you replied casually enough, “I didn’t want to drive back and forth.” 

“Family. Well, I guess you really should see this, then,” Tommy stated, finally pulling a hand out of one of his coat pockets. 

He extended what looked like a photo, folded at a particular edge. You paused for a moment, looking into his impassive stare before you reached out to take it. 

Unfolding it completely, you were greeted with a wedding photo filled with familiar faces. The family wedding from a couple years ago, a seemingly routine celebration for the most part at the time. For the Changrettas, at least. Of course, standing just along the folded crease was you standing next to Luca, a faint smile on your face with your arm interlocked with his own. You had only seen the photo once when you had returned to New York after the wedding, yet it really turned out to be a terrible reminder that you weren’t as well hidden as you thought sometimes. 

“I did tell you I was married,” you stated, finally glancing up to meet Tommy’s gaze, “Though, with what your family’s done, I guess this really changes quite a few contexts.” 

“My family…” he repeated, you catching a glimpse in his expression that you never really saw. It was sharp, angry. It had you propping a foot back in case you needed to step away from him as he stepped a little closer to you. “Your family…killed me wife and my brother.” 

“Yes. You killed my husband’s father and brother. Spared his mother, which was a mistake. If you’re here to kill me to think you’ll get a leg up in this, I wouldn’t. Luca’s old fashioned–wants this done by tradition. As I’m sure you know. Yet, you kill me, I can’t say he’ll not just put a bullet in your head on principle. Considering you had to lure me out here, you have no idea where he is, right?” 

He didn’t say anything, lingering close as you looked up at him. As much as you knew he could kill you where you stood–there was enough spilled blood on his side to warrant it. Yet, there was that part of you that was fond of him. Felt something–might not have been deep or fully developed. It might never be. Yet, you knew you had a bit of a leverage here. You knew how to survive–keep your head down, do things for the sake of connecting your family, and taking advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves. 

“I like you, and I didn’t come to this country with the intention of getting wrapped up in a vendetta between you and my husband’s family,” you continued, “So, I’ll say this. I’m not here to be your enemy, yet I will do whatever I need to in order to get out of this alive. Luca, on the other hand, knows how to hate and will not stop until one of you is dead.” 

“I don’t need a lecture on the vendetta,” Tommy stated, “If you have no involvement, you’re a citizen in my eyes. I would be very careful about crossing that line.” 

“I’d be careful about crossing Luca Changretta,” you replied, “As it stands, I don’t know enough about you to give him anything of value and I have no obligation to tell you anything more about him. Give me a chance to get out of this alive, and I may change my stance on the latter.” 

“You’d sell out your own husband, eh?” Tommy asked, tilting his head somewhat as you continued to meet his gaze. 

“Arranged marriages can be tricky.” 

“I can’t make any promises, Mrs. Changretta.” 

“Then I guess we’ll see how this all plays out, Mr. Shelby.” 

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere concept for Dave miller/William from The silver eyes with a co-worker darling who's a security guard at the mall with him?

Just rewatched the Graphic Novel on YT to write this for you! I like this version of Afton as he is unhinged but I also find him uncomfortable (Rightfully so). So this is what I've got, hope you like it regardless.

This definitely just falls under horror so enjoy :)

Yandere! TSE! Dave Miller/William Afton with Coworker! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Murder/Death, Deception, Kidnapping, Violence, Brief gore mention, Delusional behavior, Blood, Dubious but forced companionship.

I feel like Dave is just... unnerving to be around.

Even when you have no idea about what he's gone he still has such an odd smile and dead eyes.

He almost looks like a corpse himself.

Yet you try to excuse it as just what the night shift does to people.

Dave is certainly not a person to have many close connections.

Obviously, he's a serial killer who has little to no empathy.

However, he can act rather caring to fool others.

Regardless on his intentions you feel uneasy around Dave.

He has a certain way he talks and a bit of an ego.

He gets a bit too close with you as his coworker.

You understand you two are the only ones in this mall but you really hate having conversations with the guy.

As a result you mostly try to avoid him.

Only to have said man follow you so you "don't get lost".

Even if you avoid Dave while on the job he always manages to have some excuse to speak with you.

Maybe it's a way to get you to trust him so you don't find out the truth?

Maybe you're a rare case of him having compassion, as unlikely as that seems.

When it comes to Dave you won't be able to fully tell what his obsession means.

However, I will say this...

Dave is not new to kidnapping or murder.

He has no remorse about it.

So if Dave wanted to get you alone to force you to get along with him in some way, he could.

The moment he hears about your friends and family he plans to keep a close eye on them.

Plus if he really wanted you to rely on him he could easily corner you in the mall.

With the swift hit of a flashlight he could bring you anywhere.

In fact he'd probably most likely hide you deep in the old pizzeria, maybe even placing you in an old springlock suit.

I feel what makes Dave terrifying is the inability to read past his deception.

Even if you are uneasy he does make attempts to have you trust him.

When it doesn't work is when he decides to lock you away.

His plan originally was to just trap you in a springlock suit and keep you locked in the pizzeria.

However, I wouldn't put it past him to springlock you to keep you here with him.

In fact, that is most likely where this goes.

By this point, even when not Springtrap, he kinda already sees himself as one with the animatronics here.

If anything, springlocking you here is like his personal invitation to all the fun.

He feels you're worthy enough for this role.

Come on, the kids will surely trust you once the process is over?

Dave would give you a grin as he sets off you springlocks.

He'd watch in anticipation as you quickly sputter and twitch before going silent.

The springlocks have quickly entered your body, tightening and pulling in a painful demise.

If anything he may even wear his yellow rabbit suit for such a special occasion.

In your dying moments, as you stare up at the rabbit watching the blood spill out of you, you wonder how long he's been planning this.

You wonder how long he's been doing this.

The rabbit, Dave, says nothing.

He stands quietly with you and he waits.

He promises you that you'll have so much fun with him and the others here.

Once you perish, you'll be stuck here.

Only Dave as the yellow rabbit will be there to greet you...

Soon you'll meet the others... and the fun will never end with them.

[italoniponic]

Long Live the Brother | Kingscholar brothers

Synopsis: Since Cheka was born, Falena became more aware of the fact that he wouldn’t live forever. Whenever he falls asleep in his most stressful days, he has this strange nightmare about a gorge and a stampede. As years pass by, the dream has gained more details to its story. Cheka is in danger and Leona is close to Falena, but he can’t help him — because he doesn’t want to.

Falena needs to do something about this premonition. As little as it seems to be.

kingscholar brothers / angst with hopeful ending / Lion King references / minor tamashina mina setting / ft. mention of ocs / 4,5k words / Masterlist

Notes: It’s been a while since I last talked about doing this fic but it’s finally here, folks. *sighs in tiredness* well, I asked people to vote for a type of ending so it took me a long time to write it all and come to a conclusion that felt… proper. Like, there’s room for good things to come, certainly. Hope you enjoy it!

Long Live the Brother

Falena knows he won’t live forever. It seems kind of obvious, especially when it comes to Afterglow Savannah’s oldest teaching: “we are part of the cycle of life.” It’s part of the birth-to-death cycle. Helping others in life and giving life to nature itself when one dies. To become grass, to be a spirit in the stars.

Falena thought about this a lot, especially on some extraordinary occasions in his life: the birth of Leona, the strong illness of their father and, even more strongly, on the birth of Cheka.

The kingdom’s people — among servants, guards and subjects — got used to the charismatic image of Falena. To them, the then-young king was brave and imposing, his strong smile shining brighter than the sunlight on the golden savannah. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

But there were things that troubled Falena’s mind many times. Shadows that have haunted him since the crown was placed on his head.

He was so young at the time and the books he had read during his education weren’t enough to guide his journey in the real world, where brilliant theories could fail at the first unpredictable element of nature. His father was also too debilitated to give any advice. Sometimes he barely recognized where he was in his own room.

Falena could only thank Heavens for having Maisha by his side, she being his most precious support all these years.

The couple had ruled together since they got married. They hit and missed all the obstacles in life together. Maisha was the only confidant that Falena could truly let go of his saddest thoughts and worries. She didn’t demand from him any perfection of his royalty. Maisha would let him just talk to her and it was those moments that made him happiest.

That had been their dynamic since they met at a diplomatic ball a long time ago. The then-prince purposely hid himself from Kifaji just to show the stars to the princess who befriended him.

And it was a mutual, strong feeling. Maisha wouldn’t trade Falena for anyone. Her love was true, overcoming any circumstances and problems they encountered along the way. Proof of this was the birth of Cheka. 

It was an unforgettable day. The kingdom celebrated it as if it were the sunrise after a long period of darkness, the rain after a long period of drought. Both of them were so happy with their little cub. Falena thought of Cheka as the light in his difficult life as king. Unfortunately, with the King’s health worsening, Falena found himself again thinking about life and death.

The shadows gained strength and that’s when the nightmares began.

It wasn’t constant dreams. They appeared mainly after a long and stressful day. When everything seemed about to fall apart, when the difficulties of the kingdom weighed on Falena’s shoulders.

It started simply with him lost in a crowd. People were running over each other, everyone was confused and frightened — and he was being slaughtered by all of them, trampled underfoot.

Then it switched to something else. Falena heard Cheka’s screams and desperately ran to save him. Sometimes he managed to get the little boy to a safe place on the rocks. Other times, they didn’t survive. But in either scenario, Falena would lose his life.

No matter what he did or how hard he tried, everything or only his life slipped through his hands. His son’s screams would turn to tears as Falena collapsed into his own unconscious sleep. It was tortuous. He wanted to answer his little one, to say that everything would be fine — but in what voice? With what kind of force?

As time passed, a new character came to his dreams: Leona. 

He almost always stood aside, just watching the scene unfold in front of him. But sometimes it was he who first warned him of the danger that Cheka was in, and with this, Falena ended up finding himself in the midst of that frightened crowd.

Whenever he woke up from these nightmares, Falena usually took a deep breath and tried to comfort himself in the fact that if something happened to him, Leona could take care of Cheka and Maisha in his place. Without a doubt, he would leave the kingdom safely in the hands of his younger brother. 

There was no other person Falena wouldn’t trust with his own life and that of the people he loved most.

Then, at a certain point, that nightmare repeated itself.

Falena had managed to lead Cheka to the rocks, away from the tumultuous crowd where he could be safer. But he himself fell among the stampede again. In a last effort, Falena jumped up and clung to a high rock.

Relief washed over his face when he saw Leona on top of that very stone, safe enough to pull him away from danger.

“Leona...! Brother! Help me!,” Falena pleaded.

But Leona only gave a contemptuous smile in response. With all the calmness in the world, he crouched down and dug his nails into the knuckles of Falena’s hands, making him scream in pain. 

  “Long live the king,” then Leona gave a long and dangerous smile like he had never given before, looking deep into his older brother’s eyes.

Falena felt afraid of the shade of green in Leona’s eyes. Green in the shade of poison, pure burning sulfur. He wasn’t his brother. Leona wasn’t like that! In front of him was just the picture others painted of him.

Falena heard so many times from the servants that this was who his brother was going to become. A corrupt, envious boy who would bring drought and disgrace to the kingdom. It couldn’t be! Leona wasn’t like that. He would never hurt Cheka, nor anyone. 

Or would he? 

Suddenly the pain in his hands had stopped. The distance between them increased. Was Falena falling? Leona no longer held him. He was watching his fall with a dark, victorious look. A scream was heard in the distance. Falena has never heard the word “no” pronounced so painfully before.

He wasn’t sure if it was coming out of his own mouth because the voice he was hearing was from Cheka. But Falena kept falling until he finally hit the ground and thousands of feet passed over him. The pain of being trampled on was nothing compared to his heart being shattered inside.

Falena didn’t want the crown if it meant leaving his son and wife alone. He never wanted to. 

Before he knew it, he had already left his brother once. He didn’t want to leave him again. 

His voice grew faint before the noise of the stampede above him. Both when he was young and when observing his kingdom, it was the only time when the people’s voice surpassed his light. What began with the servants losing patience with the young second prince, turned into real complaints and fear with his magic.

Falena didn’t know what to say to them. His brother was young, that was all. But as Leona seemed to worsen in behavior, Falena lost the basis to defend him. And with the accumulation of royal responsibilities, he lost sense of time.

One day, Leona was already a full-fledged teenager who didn’t have the slightest motivation to do anything. The chess that Falena taught him with great joy became a game that his brother played alone — because he had no one by his side and no one wanted to be near him. Leona acted as if he were a stranger in the palace, a being who didn’t belong there.

But he was part of the cycle, he was a vital member of the family. Falena still held that truth in his heart. At the end of the day, he didn’t have more time to bring him back? Was their bond already broken beyond repair?

What would be left of all this would be for Leona to let him fall over the abyss of death, more than content to see the color of his eyes shine for one last time? 

“Dad!”

Then Falena woke up. He was alive after all. His heart was pounding hard enough to be sure of it. The sun shone brighter than ever through the office window. He should have fallen asleep unintentionally. His rest time has been getting worse lately. Everywhere he went he had a problem to solve, and if he ever stopped to rest, he felt guilty for it.

But there was Cheka holding his arm tightly, jumping endlessly with excitement. His eyes let out sparks of joy. It was almost nostalgic — at one point, in a room full of books, another boy called his brother to take a break from his studies and talk to him a little bit.

“Dad! Uncle Leona arrived with friends!,” the little prince announced happily. “Can Naru and I play with them? Can we?”

Seeing Cheka smiling gave some cheer to Falena’s poor suffering heart, though the mention of his brother couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Go with Monti and Zakki to talk to your uncle. I... I’m going soon.” 

“Okay!”

“Ah! Cheka!”

The boy stopped in his tracks when his father called his name, his orange hair with yellow edges swirling like rays of midday sun. He was the perfect blend of his parents, a gift from Heavens to them. Falena took him in his lap and kissed his forehead.

“I love you, son. Be careful, okay?,” he asked. His voice was a little hoarse.

“I love you too, dad!,” Cheka kissed his father’s cheek. “And don't worry! I’ll be with uncle Leona.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of...”

Maisha entered at the right moment when Cheka ran out of the office. She had overheard part of the conversation. And her worry only worsened when she saw her husband’s forlorn countenance. 

Falena held his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath. He couldn’t believe what he’d just thought about his own brother. His stomach felt heavy and empty at the same time. He was feeling bad in so many different ways that he didn’t even know where to start. His thoughts collided like an onslaught of hyenas, tearing at his flesh and gnawing at his bones.

“It was that nightmare again?” 

The desolate king felt his wife’s hand massaging his shoulder, conveying comfort and solace. Falena raised his eyes to Maisha, her presence always welcomed on any occasion.

She went around the chair where her husband sat to be closer to him, and he held her waist, resting his head on her belly as he did at the time when she was pregnant with their precious son. His hair of a strong and intense orange cascaded down, confusing itself with the dress of the finest fabric that his queen wore. 

Maisha caressed Falena’s head, patiently waiting for him to find words to express himself.

She never rushed or pressured him. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. Few queens in the world could say that they loved their husband so much that they wouldn’t mind supporting them unconditionally as Maisha had done for a long time.

They never changed, they just got stronger together. Maisha had the same long, naturally slightly grayish-beige hair with strong yellow tips and the kind, wise caramel-colored eyes she had when she was young. The eyes Falena most wanted to face at the moment.

The time that passed wasn’t as long as it felt. For Falena, it seemed like an eternity before he told Maisha every single thing that happened in his nightmare. When the story came to an end, husband and wife stared at each other in deep silence. 

“I failed Leona... terribly,” Falena sighed. “I’d let them say what they wanted of him…”

“Falena, dear. You always defended him the best you could, I know that. Leona... actually, you two are very complicated. All this palace’s life is. What they subjected to a fifteen year old and a five year old boy is unforgivable,” Maisha said.

“But there’s nothing else we can do.”

The woman bit her lip. She understood the feeling well, those shadows that haunted her husband. That’s what she was most afraid of, too. She had known Leona for a long time and, luckily, he came to respect her more than anyone in his life. 

However, respect was still too little to meet him in the desert and drive him back home. Maisha didn’t just want to be Leona’s sister-in-law. She wanted to be his older sister. But he despised his own brother by blood, so what would she — as the family’s outsider — needed to do wrong to fall into the same bad graces?

“What can you offer a man who has everything but wants nothing?,” Maisha suddenly thought out loud. 

And Falena grasped this thought as if it were dry leaves that the wind brought in the afternoon. The royal spiritual adviser, Chinaza, once said that those said leaves were messages from the Kings of the Past — and in reality, the old baboon wasn’t so far from the truth.

With the words of his wife in mind, the king began to think calmly about everything. Over the years, he offered Leona various kinds of gifts. Books, chess boards, expensive items of clothing, dinners with his favorite meats and everything else he had at his disposal to give to his precious brother. It wasn’t just charity. He knew Leona deserved it all.

But it must have looked fake in the young man’s eyes. Deep down — and the nightmare didn’t help this feeling — Leona should despise all these gestures. 

It felt like Falena was patching up the past, as if all they had been through was an old tapestry that just needed extra thread.

“What is the one thing that a man who despises all things, because he feels himself to be despised, most wants?,” Falena asked back as he got up and looked out the window.

They were at the highest point of the palace, from where they could see the whole kingdom and everything that the light could touch. Maisha rested her head on Falena’s shoulder and he leaned on her equally, both with their gaze lost in the horizon.

“I have no idea, my love,” the wife replied.

“I think I know what to do... well, I think” Falena swallowed hard. “It’s not much and I honestly don’t know how much Leona will like or understand it…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our father used to say that diplomatic apologies require more than an emotional and well-crafted text. That’s not what touches people. It’s the process, the small steps you take along the way. If you never cross the desert, you will never come home.”

“Alas, you ramble a lot sometimes,” Maisha said but began to smile as she saw her husband’s face recover its grace. “Will you start with the small steps then?”

Falena took a deep breath, filling himself with courage. He would. 

Better late than never.

If anything, Leona’s patience could be more succinctly described as a worn-out tapestry. 

It had interesting embroidered drawings, making smooth lines on thick thread and had the colors of the sunset. In the old days, it had impressive strength. But he couldn’t say the same in the present though. A lion cub had snatched the edge and began to tear it apart, leaving bristles exposed and easy to fray.

Which settled Jack to be the only one — by their side at the moment — who was actually concerned about the dorm leader wanting to rip apart his own nephew running around him in a fit of pure childish energy. 

Meanwhile, Kalim was distracted by all the beautiful landscapes around them in the huge palace. Naru, the lioness-friend of the little prince, was explaining everything to him — and on certain occasions, she would take a look at her best friend and smile at him having fun. 

But, perhaps, what was doing more harm to Leona’s nerves was the indescribable delight in which Lilia and Vil were watching them near the balcony. They both had different kinds of smiles but seemed equally amused by his look of distress.

Was that Leona’s penance for being himself in the NRC? Or were they joining life’s queue to piss him off?

“Cheka!,” suddenly a powerful voice made its entrance. 

“Dad!” 

Leona had his chair turned away from the entrance, but as he turned around, he was for a very brief moment happy with his brother’s arrival. All to get Cheka away from him, especially. 

He then took a look at the colleagues he brought along and observed their reactions of respect and admiration at the arrival of the king. He wasn’t particularly impressed himself. 

Falena might be the most imposing “Lion King” in all of Afterglow Savannah’s history but Leona would always see him as his annoyingly enthusiastic older brother.

“Dear friends!,” Falena greeted the boys with a smile. “Could you let me steal Leona for a moment?”

This was such a surprise that the second prince turned his head back.

“Oh, we don’t mind, Your Majesty,” Vil spoke for the group, smiling politely.

Leona rolled his eyes. It was like he was being handed over like a pesky stray cat off someone’s backyard. 

Jack was thinking of a form to add any type of positive comments — to at least take that very impression out of the room — but he remained silent as the dorm leader assured him in a simple hand gesture that it wasn’t necessary. 

Falena noticed this as his brother stood up. Every one of them had their own opinions on Leona. Well, mixed opinions it seemed. Personally, he would like to know how his little brother was doing at Night Raven College — but he would have to wait a bit longer to hear about Leona’s school adventures. 

Falena waved a goodbye to Cheka and Naru, leaving them in the hands of their caretakers, the meerkat-man chamberlain Monti and the warthog-man cook — who also acted as the little prince’s personal aide — Zakki, and the remaining boys. 

Then the brothers left the balcony and walked through the halls in complete silence. No one dared disturb their course. Even a falling leaf could be heard in the distance.

After a few minutes of walking beside his brother without facing him, Leona eventually realized that they were walking through more and more empty corridors inside the palace. Places he almost forgot existed. It seemed that they had crossed the entire construction when Falena opened for him a door hidden behind a large dark red wall-tapestry.

Behind the secret passage, there was a large field that was part of the royal estate but remained in the shadow of the towers and higher floors. Further away, Leona recognized a part of the field with a large tree as the marking for the Cemetery of the Kings of the Past. 

“Why did you bring me here?,” he finally spoke to his brother, although he had a confused frown on his brows.

“It's a quiet, peaceful place,” Falena said. “Because it’s the Royal Cemetery, anyone who does not consider here an inhospitable place certainly knows that it is sacred so even servants and guards would never think of looking for a secret passage or opening the door.” 

“So what?” 

“I wish you could find rest here.”

Because Leona had a tremendously surprised expression, Falena added quickly:

“N-no! I’m not talking to you to rest forever here! No way! Please don’t even think...!,” then he took a deep breath to recompose himself. “What I mean, Leona, is that here it will be much easier to hide from the palace than in your room. Cheka is terribly afraid of those hallways, even if he won’t admit it.”

It was Leona’s turn to take a deep breath and facepalm, bewildered by that whole situation. He had not confused Falena’s words — though, come to think of it, it would indeed be a strange thing to say normally — and remained in the dark as to why he was being introduced to that place.

“Are you letting me stay here? Is that it?,” Leona questioned.

“Yes. Consider it my holiday gift.”

“Have you... gone insane? Is the crown so heavy that you hit your head on the floor one of these days?”

Falena bit his tongue, trying not to be discouraged in his convictions, nor to let himself be contaminated by the acidity of his brother’s words.

Leona could be an excellent diplomat when he wanted. Emphasis on “when he wanted”. But what was occurring at the present moment was no disaster of etiquette. It was how Leona usually talked to his older brother. 

Sarcasm and irony were always at their peak. Boredom dictated the harmony of his voice. And, above all, resentment oozed through the thorniest sentences like burning sulfur. 

Falena could feel it more than ever. They weren’t just brothers who couldn’t get along like normal families had. There was a large scar between them, completely exposed and fragile. 

There was no point in pressing mere band-aids there, hoping to disappear with the cut. Something needed to be done to improve the healing process and not allow inflammations. It would be painful and difficult. However, wasting time was no longer on Falena’s mind. If he were going to stop the blood, he should do it now.

It was then Leona felt something different when Falena looked up at him. 

Anyone who might have had the chance to observe them — however deserted the place was — might have seen the reflection of the king’s normally radiant countenance. However, only his young brother was close enough to understand that it wasn’t his usual glow.

“I gave you many gifts and allowed you to do whatever you wanted in a clumsy and vain hope that... “Falena sighed but kept going. “...things could be arranged. But it’s not that simple. In fact, by trying to please you, I was making the situation worse. But Leona...!”

His voice grew stronger, pouring out all its honesty like good rain in the midst of drought and desolation.

“I don’t know what to do, that’s the truth! Maybe I’ll never know. If our father was still well, I could try to take his advice... but all this damage is already done. You walk in and out of here with your head held high but with a terrible feeling in your heart. Like this it’s not even your home.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. You don’t know how I feel,” Leona looked away, annoyed.

“Of course I don’t know! You don’t tell me!”

So Leona turned to Falena again, torn between putting the matter aside or contesting it in the adrenaline rush that awoke in his heart. Actually, he wasn’t sure what to answer. And as if Falena could finally after all those years read his little brother’s thoughts, he smiled softly.

“Talk about it when you feel the time has come. It doesn’t even have to be with me, if you don’t want to. For now, a place of silence and comfort is all I can indicate to you.”

“Indicate?”

“Yeah. Because you are still the Prince of the Savannah. You have rights like any of our bloodline,” Falena touched Leona’s shoulder and looked deep into his brother’s green eyes. “You can come here whenever you want. You always could.”

A strong breeze passed by the brothers but they didn’t move even a flinch. Small leaves of various colors, dust and the familiar smell of the savannah continued on its way, as if it were a ghost of one of the Kings of the Past who wanted to spy on the strange scene unfolding there on sacred territory.

Gently, Falena’s hand left Leona and joined his other hand. He wasn’t feeling cowed at least. On the contrary, he was satisfied for the first time with an action he did. His smile didn’t waver.

“Well, if you want to take a break, I’ll let your friends know and…”

“Falena,” Leona called.

He mirrored his older brother’s expression with his words. For a moment, Leona felt like a child again. Not in the sense of feeling small and powerless. But, as it was in the old days. The good times when things were in their place and Falena still had time to afford to teach him to play chess.

“Thanks. Or something like that.”

Leona stared at a distant spot in the landscape, not looking directly into Falena’s eyes. 

He didn’t feel ready yet for that type of situation and had doubts about his brother’s intentions. He never thought he would say that, but hanging out with his classmates and holding his own patience seemed much easier than dealing with the scars of the past.

But something inside him knew that Falena understood what he was doing. It could be a part that Leona hid from his own peripheral vision on purpose, almost always to the point of completely forgetting its existence. Yet it was still there inside him.

“But I’ll have to leave it for another time. I have to lead a pack of warthogs’ backsides to a festival, remember?,” Leona retorted, going back to the exit. “Later. Who knows.”

Falena let out a laugh that made his brother stop for a moment. He looked like he was going to comment on something but then gave up.

“Well, always feel welcome. And I’ll be watching it all from somewhere. Above all: have fun, Leona!”

And then, Falena gave the biggest smile Leona had ever seen before. Perhaps it wasn't just an impression that his aura of majesty was different. It wasn’t like it got any worse, though. 

It was as if an immense weight had left Falena’s shoulders and he rejuvenated like the dawn sun as he reached for his little brother’s step. They continued without saying anything on the way back, following the path in a very rare and comfortable silence. 

It was the first step towards a new ending.

Falena also felt a different energy coming from Leona and his gaze accompanied him throughout the visit, questioning within himself how people couldn’t even see the resplendent light coming from Leona. Or maybe they did — it was his final conclusion — and they didn’t know what to make of it.

But Falena knew. And he felt a deep joy to have a younger brother like Leona. Smart and strategic, able to stand on his own two feet, courageous. Even friendly — although the boy didn’t like to admit it. 

  For the first time in a long time, Falena could have a peaceful night of starry dreams. He never had that nightmare again. He was dreaming of a bright future ahead. Some moment in time when Leona could feel happy doing whatever he wanted. Where Cheka would be a wonderful king and Maisha would still be there by his side.

And Falena would live long to see all this.

Special notes: Uh, I haven’t actually watched anything from the Tamashina Mina event so I don’t even know if they acknowledge Falena’s presence at some point. But this is what I think happened. And I feel particularly relieved about writing this story bc I love Falena due to my memories of Mufasa. I don’t think canon will ever prove me wrong but even so, this is the version of good ol’ Falena that I love the most <3 Thank you for the attention!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

All right, here's my ask for the prompt event

"Link, you are loved."

Your choice of which one and how to show them that but it's one of my favorite things in your writing so here we go. ❤️

Congratulations on the milestone

The wind chimes hummed gently, their song carried in the breeze that generated it, warm and gentle and comforting. Crickets accompanied it softly, a lullaby to the world as night swaddled the sky in its midnight blue embrace.

Two figures moved silently in the grass, their footsteps lost in the symphony of the night, quiet with trained precision.

Impa inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of honeysuckle, guiding her ward along. Link’s hand was warm in her own, callouses a rough reminder of all the times he’d held a blade, making her stomach churn a moment as she redirected her mind from—

Link, staring at her, covered in blood, knife slipping out of his slack fingers as he collapsed—

Impa paused a moment, and Link stopped with her. He glanced at her, just barely moving his head, eyes tired, a glimpse of how worn thin his spirit truly was. Impa took a breath, asked for strength from Din, and walked ahead.

It had been a few days since everything. Link hadn’t been outside that entire time, and Impa had decided that needed to change. The boy needed fresh air. They both did.

Eventually, Impa found one of the many benches scattered across the castle gardens. It was one with a backing, which was nice, dark metalwork intricate in how each strand interwove with the other to form a patterned design. Impa guided Link gently, and the pair sat down.

Impa waited a moment before speaking, eyes roaming across the garden. She was looking for something specific - Link was quiet in his tastes, but she knew for certain that he loved a certain summer bug that came out at night. There didn’t seem to be any here quite yet, though. She half wondered if they should keep wandering in search of a better spot, but at this moment this seemed the best place to settle. Link didn’t have much energy to walk around a lot.

Pulling out cloth from the bag she’d brought along, she gently wrapped it around Link’s shoulders. It was light blue, soft, with frayed edges and different stitches mending bits and pieces of it. It was well worn, cared for with love and bloodied hands, treasured since it had been first gifted to the young Hero many years ago.

His mother’s scarf. Link had worn it into battle time and again during the war. He hadn’t touched it since the royal wedding. He’d grown into it over the years, using it more as a shawl when he’d been younger. It was still a bit wider than a scarf for his size, but it made it a great little blanket on an evening like this one when unfolded entirely.

Link tugged sluggishly at the ends, staring down at the cloth between his fingers. He bit his lip, the distance between his eyebrows closing.

“I remember when you were born,” Impa said quietly. “Your mother had been so excited to meet you. She told your father while she was in labor that she couldn’t wait to tell you how much she loved you.”

Link swallowed thickly, turning his face away from her.

“I’m sorry she never got the chance,” Impa continued, slowly resting her hand on his back. “And I am certainly no substitute for her. I haven’t been there for you when I had promised you I would be. But Link…”

Impa faltered here, her own voice getting caught in her tightening throat. It wobbled as she said his name, displaying a vulnerability she rarely showed anyone.

She remembered painfully during the war when Link had joked around, inebriated as he’d been, calling her “mother.” She remembered the way the little one always looked up to her when he’d been growing up in Kakariko, the way his eyes had immediately sought hers out after he’d completed his trial, seeking approval. She remembered the faith he’d placed in her during the war, the way he’d smiled at her when she’d hugged him at its end, just before everything had fallen apart.

She remembered the look on his face, broken and pleading and terrified, as he’d fallen to the ground, blood pouring from his throat.

Impa took a shaky breath, closing her eyes and grabbing firmly to her resolve. “Link, you are loved. By so many. The people of Hyrule adore you, the Sheikah are proud of you, and I…”

A hiccup threatened to escape, and she held her breath to stop it, eventually looking at the teenager as he slowly returned his attention to her. Whatever tears that had been trying to leave him before had dried, emotions buried under a blanket of bone deep exhaustion. His lip no longer trembled, eyebrows heavy over his eyes, red eyes dull and seeming to look beyond her.

Impa felt her heart break once more, but it also spurred her to speak again, and she moved her hand from his back to his cheek, making him look at her. “I love you dearly, Link. And I… I will take care of you. All I ask is that you… you live. Please, love. If for nothing or no one else, for me. Just… just live.”

Link’s eyes roamed from whatever void they were lost in, looking at her, questioning her words, debating them. He looked worn thin all of a sudden, empty at the mere thought of listening to her words, and for a heart stopping moment, she was afraid she couldn’t reach him anymore.

But then his eyes watered, and he looked down to avoid her gaze, leaning towards her just a hair, a subtle, pleading request.

Impa pulled him to her in an instant, holding him tightly. She felt him go boneless under her touch, trembling, her shirt steadily staining with warm tears. He didn’t have the energy for outright sobs, spirit utterly depleted, but occasionally she’d feel a little sniffle shake his body. She ran her hand through his hair, detangling little knots as she went, disregarding the brittleness of it, the split ends that indicated how little he’d been taking care of himself lately.

The wind chimes continued their gentle serenade. As Impa continued to soothe the teenager, light caught her eye, and she finally saw what she’d been hoping to find by bringing him out here.

Impa shifted, repositioning Link with her, letting him scoot closer but turn his head so he could look out at the garden. Slowly, the environment started to glow gently, fireflies filling the space like silent fairies. Link’s eyes never left the sight, tears quietly falling down his cheeks, bathed in the warm light of the little creatures he used to seek out at night.

Impa kissed his head, closing her eyes and saying a prayer, begging for blessing and mercy on the poor child. She felt her resolve strengthen as Link let her hold him, as he weakly lifted a hand to grip her wrist in return.

The Sheikah chief took a deep breath. It would get better. He would get better. She’d make sure of it.