'We all yearn for the woods. That's why every fellow on this island wants to settle down near a tree - just one will do.'
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Art originally by @smrth (find their Twitter here)
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day 4: uchiha obito [mutual masturbation]
࿓ synopsis • you can’t deny the desire you have for obito and you want to show it.
―❦ nsfw, akatsuki member!obito, watching, voyeurism, pet names, humiliaton, day dreaming (kinda), masturbation, fingering, neck holding, cum eating, swearing, ordering, power play (a little), shinobi!reader, f!reader. • 1.9k • so fun to write this maniac yet broken man, love him soo much, much favorite character from naruto beside kakashi. enjoy! [kinktober m.]
he is a wanted former shinobi, a danger to all nations, and you’re just someone he knows from the past he can’t get his mind off.
it’s always like this; he leaves the others, the world behind the moment the sun disappears, and the shining stars lighten the sky up in the night of the hidden leaf. he comes here – comes to you. he knows you wait for him because the same circle of events happened for at least 2 years now. he stays behind the tree, behind your door’s windows yet gazes on inside, traveling on your body, watching every movement, and having a peaceful – even paradise, away from the cruel world behind him.
it’s simple – maybe it isn’t but he doesn’t care; he just likes to sit on a tree, and see the sight before him – you while cooking, reading, laughing at something you watch or read, playing with your hair, sometimes pouting – cute, he thinks, and he finds them enjoyable because it is you – the only person he sees entirely, he seeks and he misses.
however, this night isn’t simple, it’s complex – he realizes even before coming here, finding you sitting on the edge of your bed, the window is wide open, the wind of the hidden leaf flows into your room, a few things fly from here to there including your hair. you seem as if you don’t notice any of it – you don’t, he can say, after with the arrival of his presence, you only focus on him.
you don’t look, eyes still on the wall in front of you, hands between your thighs, the marks of heat you have are visible on your body that is lighted below the gleam of the moon.
obito isn’t blind, no, he has an eye to see clearly, even under the dark light of the night, even from that far. the vision helps him to witness the scene before him with magnificent quality and detail.
he isn’t dumb either – can be the most intelligent man in the whole world. you know it, you always tell him how smart he is, catching little details, especially when it comes to you. he remembers the moments you were surprised when he understood gestures even though you can’t realize what you’re doing, so when he comes here, he doesn’t waste a second time to gather enough knowledge about what is going on.
he leaves a deep chuckle under his mask, a hand stays on one of the branches of the tree he is sitting on, “what a silly girl,” he says, head tilting to the side when you close your eyes, opening them again, and taking a deep breath.
with the knowledge of what you will do next, he gets excited – only you can make him feel this kind of emotion with the rest of the others including lust. he doesn’t have to be smart to get the hints; his girl – he likes to call you that, sitting on the bed, a thin white night dress you chose to wear that shows your entire body underneath it – hardened nipples because of both the cold night and him are visible, exposed thighs clenching together, and a bottle of oil standing on the bed, beside you.
it isn’t surprising that you are naughty and horny, wanting to create a show only obito can witness to. you tried this before, maybe more innocent, but you did. however, obito can’t deny that this one is far more different than the previous ones. his rapid breaths prove him right and when you take another deep breath, he sees determination in your sparkling eyes, and it catches him off the ground when you suddenly change your position.
now you sit right in front of the open window – him. he can see you directly – not your side profile. if you look up, he knows your eyes will be in contact with each other.
you don’t anyway. your eyes focus on your thigh, opening them wider, slowly, you pick up the dress until your soaked pussy can be seen – he holds his voice low when he leaves a growl, hand grips the brunch tighter, head tilts forward to see it closer – “oh maker,” he says, “what a beautiful pussy!”
he knows you hear him because your cheeks begin to burn with redness, hands squeeze the fabric of your dress, eyes half-closed.
he waits for you to move on – to give him more – he’s needy; the desire to come into your room and have you under him right away is pleasing to the ear, however, he wants to wait, you prepared for him after all. he wants to see how far his good girl can go.
two fingers get inside your wet mouth, the tongue licks them from tip to toe – his cock twitch with lust; that wet fingers travel down to your pussy, standing on your folds and playing with them, slowly enough to drive him crazy.
he expects you to put your fingers inside that fleshy pussy of yours yet you have a different plan; your left-hand finds the thin strap of the dress as the other stays still, playing with the folds, earning low lewd sounds mixing with your rapid breaths.
taking off the straps from your shoulders, it falls into your abdomen in a smooth motion, hardened nipples and the cute flesh of your breasts are revealed, making obito’s hand find his clothed cock under the cloak of akatsuki. another growl goes out of his parted and dry lips, he licks them to feel wet as if his lips taste your pussy, kneeling down and eating it out.
somehow his mind goes all dizzy, taking functions of moving from his brain, filling it with you who starts to play with hardened nipples, squeezing them from time to time – low moans leave your opened mouth that obito wants to put his cock into – for another day, he thinks.
he needs to live this moment and enjoy it at the highest level.
after quite a foreplay with your breasts – squeezing, slapping, licking them, you have obito in a state of a needy man whose mind is full of lust, brown eye activates the sharingan because he never wants to forget, the cloak is long forgotten under his feet, cock is standing inside his palm, precum licking from it.
the fingers finally enter your pussy in one go, the head is thrown back, a scream can be heard, minds lose themselves, and sin remains behind.
it’s feels so wrong and so right at the same time; neither of you cares yet the feeling of it drives both of you mad. hunger for one to another rising up with a dangerous rate in sync with your fingers going and out of your now wetter pussy, lewd sounds filling the room travel inside to outside until it reaches the man who jerking himself off while reaching euphoria closer owing to the sight he watches; wide open legs, pussy clenching around the fingers that give pleasure – but he knows well that he is one of your ultimate pleasure givers by only staring at your nearly naked body, eyes blurry, mouth half-open, breasts bouncing in rhythm.
“fuck -!” he swears under his breath, close to the edge like you, hand getting faster. “pretty –“ he says louder, wanting it to reach your ears, and it does. “my pretty girl, go on, give me –“
nodding to him, you lower your head down so that you look at each other.
eye to eye, breath to breath, heart to heart – you see the red eye he has, taking your breath away, and an idea pops inside your mind when you can’t see the lower part of his body. you guess what he’s doing under there but you need to see it, so, you chuckle, teasing him, “oh, my greedy pretty boy, can’t handle watching me like this?” it is a question, indeed, but it doesn’t feel like it. “come closer,” you say, ass moves until you reach the middle of the bed, getting away from him to provoke him. it’s unfair that he can see your pussy yet you can’t see his cock. “please –“ you say, close to the edge, “ooohh, obito –!”
without any control of the body, he moves on his own with the help of eagerness, jumping to the window fast enough to make you rethink your plan once again. the idea vanishes into thin air when your eyes connect with him; standing with his glory, he sits on the edge of the window, the mask is still on but the eye – oh that hazardous eye that can end lives gives life to you now, hands stay on the thighs to show off his thick and long cock – and yes, you open your eyes wider when you see it, precum is all over it. you have to fight with the urge of kneeling down on the ground and taking it into your mouth, sucking it, licking it so that he can fuck you with all that wetness afterward –
“pretty,” he says after chuckling deeply, taking your mind all to himself – to his presence. “move your fingers,” he orders, sounds deep and sending chills down your spine. you wait no more, readjusting the fingers, going back to the rhythm and rate you had – the difference this time is that you witness how his hand rubbing his cock, up and down, giving a weakness to you that you merely have the power to continue.
want to make him cum, make a mess, wins – you get up on your knees, rising on the bed, three fingers giving you pleasure as you bounce below them, breasts bouncing, acting like it’s his cock you’re bouncing on – riding, you moan his name, “aggh -! o – oohh –obito! please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for, neither he is – maybe a bit yet you go on screaming his name, pleases wandering around the room, eyes look at his eye and his cock, a hand holding your breasts from time to time and a sin blooms in the night.
then, he says, “fucking cum.” and you do, your own cum dripping into your fingers – to the sheets, and his white semen flows into his long fingers, ending on the floor.
getting weak – exhausted, you sit down, hands on the bed, looking up, taking a sip of achievement because you drove him mad – too needy, too greedy – and ended up masturbating with you.
a smile appears on your face, he comes closer, and he tilts his head, pointing to your mouth, “open your mouth,” he sounds bossy, alerting you that if you don’t do what he tells you, you will end up in a situation that you face with real menace side of obito, so, you open your dry mouth due to all that moans, and he puts his fingers that full of semen into it. his free hand caresses your hand as you suck his fingers off, bitter taste of the semen that belongs to obito burns the throat – you want more. “my good girl, did that all for me? and even cleaning the mess she caused,” he chuckles, fingers roaming on the lips, hand now holding the neck, kneeling down closer, the eye sparkles – turning the room into the new setting of sin which will bloom sooner than you thought, “will take care of that wet pussy after I fuck this beautiful mouth of yours. will fill all holes with my cum to reward you for the show, my special whore.”
❦ tagging: @lilvampirina ! special thanks. 🎆
[tagging is open!]
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Prompt #241
“Welcome, what can I get for you to—”
Customer interrupted the barista with a gently raised hand. “I heard you make…other things here?”
Barista cocked their head, confusion painted across their entire face. “Other things?”
“N-not coffee. Like…” they lowered their voice into a whisper. “…stronger? In the…heart area?” They burned as they said it. Did they get the wrong place? Or was there more than one barista? They were an idiot. They shouldn’t have—“
“Oooh, you want a Lavender Bliss.”
“What? No? Maybe? I…I..”
The Barista slid a new menu into their hand, palm-sized completely different from the one posted on the wall. “Why don’t you give that a quick look?”
They winked.
Customer heart beat almost painfully against their ribs; for several second they barely understood the items they skimmed. Eventually their eyes fixed on a picture of cloudy purple drink that took up most of the top right corner of the page. Among the couple lines of description the words “love”, “permanent”, and “instantaneous” stood out most.
Oh. So they did need a Lavender Bliss.
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Baby mama time Toji.F
Warning: short, humiliation kink, BDSM, breeding implied , spit kink, Toji is his own warning🤷♀️
AFAB reader
I be trying to write more yall hopefully it some good tho
Sitting with knees tucked tightly trying to stay as still as possible with thick fingers Prise opens y/n mouth struggling moans escaping from her "Oh come on. you can take this right?" Toji mocked in a low tone smacking her ass before gathering up spit in his mouth and putting it into hers Y/n felt the warm spit in her mouth it tasted of her juices from before.
Feeling the fingers leave her mouth she swallows it up "There you go my filthy slut" Toji sneered smacking her face a little, leaving the area heated to the touch she moanfully cries out from the impact. grabbing a fist full of her hair he roughly placed her onto their bed prepping her bottom half up while keeping her upper body pressed down "fuck sweetheart you going to give Megumi a new sibling, aren't ya?" he tapped her ass while spreading her lips.
before letting his tip sit at her entrance.........
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Call this one an experiment in a little something different, darlings~
We all have hard days, and some harder than most. So, perhaps a few words of comfort from some of our most beloved characters.
I may expand on these later to be fuller pieces of comfort, but only if that's something people feel they'd wish to see. So do let me know if it should go on my list, for more with these characters and additions of other favourites too~ I can probably so a short piece from anyone, given a little time to get under their skin and find their motivation/voice.
There's going to be some mild tw/cw for mental health, mention of scars, and subtle implications of pain/hurt/etc.
Astarion: "Darling, look into my eyes. That's right, keep your focus right here. Listen to my voice, breathe slowly. No more tears alone, love, you are a light in my endless night and I shall not let your flame burn low. You and I, we are more than the scars we never should have earned, and we are certainly far stronger than any blade or bow that has ever tried to take us down. You still do not believe it? You are here, living and breathing, despite all of your worst days. Now, one day at a time, darling, one foot in front of the other. No stumble can erase how far you have come."
---
Halsin: "I am here, my heart, what do you need? No shadow curse or vile beast can reach you from within my arms, no force of nature can tear you from them either. Take all the time you need, my love, I will not leave. Your tears are your strength, not your shame. Let me teach you of all I see within you, your boundless potential proving the acorn can become the oak. I see how you shelter others with your leaves, so let us - let me - hold you through the storm. Your boughs may bend but they will not break."
---
Abdirak: "You endure your pain so well Dear One, but you must stop believing you deserve it. Pain is a gift, it can be loving, and deliver that love to Loviatar. But it must never break, it must not be delivered without purpose. Do not be so foolish as to believe your own hand is purpose enough. Let me show you the right pains, Dear One, the pain that can heal you. No others shall be permitted to taint the art that is you with sullied brushes."
---
Raphael: "Little Mouse, you have set quite the trap for yourself, haven't you? Need I remind you exactly who you made a deal with? No. I shall not permit our agreement to be tainted, not by any insignificant insect that would dare to sting my prey. Do not look so forlorn, Little Mouse, your nickname is not an insult. You might be in the presence of a cat, and you would do well to remember that little fact, but a mouse can be swift, cunning, and survive against impossible odds. That is why I trust you, and no other, to bring me what I want most. It is why I offer you a deal that is almost entirely in your favour - no other could expect such generosity, Little Mouse, so keep that in mind. You are my favourite client, and I shall let none break you. Not even yourself."
---
Haarlep: "Ah my Little Thief, you wish to steal yourself away? No, I shall not have that. How bold you were to look me in the eye and to broker your own deal! I could have killed you the moment you stepped into my abode uninvited, but that, Little Thief, would have been such a terrible waste. You noticed, did you not? When I saw you, when I truly saw you, that I did not see just a body stood brazenly staring me down without a scrap of cloth to cover you. I saw potential, so very much delicious potential. Come now, lie back, tell your dear Haarlep what troubles you, and I shall erase every last one from your mind."
---
A bonus, from Tavylia Sin, to one and all.
Tavylia: "Hello, darling. I see you, I really do. I can see how tightly you hold on, how easily the little hope you cling to can slip through your fingers. I know you may never read this, I know you may never hear it, but perhaps someone else like you will read this instead and that will be enough. You are too unkind to yourself, even as you show endless understanding and patience to those around you. They love you, darling, they cherish you even when you don't hear it. I know you need to hear it , though, and I don't begrudge you the comfort of soft words. Just...remember them, love. Remember every moment you were heard, every time you were adored just the way you are, and know those feelings are still there. A heart of love is not emptied by a single moment of you not believing in yourself, your worth is not measured by what you provide. Your worth is within yourself. I see it, others do too. Take comfort, darling, you are never ever alone. I am with you, near or far, and my love for you will not fade. If you cannot believe in yourself for now, trust that we believe in you. Rest, love, the dawn brings a new day and you are always a pleasant part of mine."
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VH - Divide And Conquer
(Tw: attempted torture)
“I can't believe we finally have caught the legendary Vampire Hero”, said Villain.
The two Heroes glanced at each other and shrugged. The taller one frowned.
“Legendary ?” he repeated.
Villain looked at him with interest.
“Oh yes,” he said. “Many have fallen before your might, Vampire Hero. At least two or three of my opponents are behind the bars because of you.”
“Two or three and you call that legendary ? You're easy to impress.”
The other Hero was nervously following the exchange. Compared to his companion, he seemed much younger and frailer. His eyes were shinier and shinier with tears that did not quite fall. When at least it looked like he couldn't take it anymore, he stepped between the two, saying:
“Stop ! It's my fault ! It's all my fault if we got caught. Hurt me, not him!”
Villain gave the young Hero an amused look:
“Why is that little thing with you, Vampire Hero ?”
His interlocutor shrugged:
“You know. He's new. I'm supposed to show him the ropes or something. You have to teach them some way or some other. ”
“Is that so.”
Villain lift the smaller Hero's chin with a finger:
“My dear little one, how can I hurt him ? Many have tried and many have failed. I'll just make him have a nice little sunbath so he's neutralized. But since you've asked so nicely, I will take care of you.”
“Surely there must be another way ! I'm sure you can do better. I-I'm sure that deep inside, you're a little pure of heart.”
“ You heard your protector, you need to learn.”
He grabbed Hero by the arm, who turned his head toward the man who accompanied him. The latter just shrugged.
“Do you think he cares ?” simpered Villain to his ear. “Oh, he doesn't. He might be on your side, but Vampire Hero is evil. You're better off with me.”
Hero whimpered but didn't resist as he was dragged into the stairs.
“There are seventeen steps. Do you hear the sound they make ? There's an echo, so the prisoners down there can hear me coming. It’s all in the anticipation.”
In a sweet voice, he kept describing their surroundings while they were both descending into his torture room. During all the way, the small one didn’t dare fight back. He soon found himself tied up to a chair, helplessly squirming, his eyes giving a pleading look more than ever.
“So, young Hero,” purred Villain, “as it is your first time, I will make you a favor.”
“R-Really ?”
“Yes. Do you see all these instruments in the shelf in front of you ?”
Hero looked at the whips, the canes and the nails, and shuddered so violently it almost looked fake.
“I'm going to let you choose one among them. If not, I will choose, and you won't like it very much if I do.”
“You don't have to do this ! I-You just will make Vampire Hero angry and you don't want to !”
“You think he will rescue you?”
“I know he will.”
“How touching. But for now you're mine. So make your choice, before I get impatient.”
Hero pondered for a few seconds, then whispered:
“Um – the taser ? Yes – the taser, please.”
“If you ask so nicely.”
Villain delicately took the black rectangular shape in his hand and switched it on.
“Why, if I might ask ? Do you think it will hurt less than the others ? Let me prove you wrong.”
The half-hour that happened then looked much more pleasant for Villain than for Hero. And yet, as time passed, Villain felt somewhat uneasy. That had nothing to do with torturing a man, of course. He liked the thrashing, he liked the begging, he liked the naive faith of the innocent who was certain that he could be saved. Maybe that had something to do with the other Hero. While Villain was amusing himself, Vampire Hero was out of his sight. He might have been careless. He glanced at his watch, but Hero making a rather unconvincing whimper forced him to turn his head.
Perhaps that was the problem. Villain was used to the sounds of pain – the gasps, the moans, the howls, the cries and the pleas. He loved all of them without distinction, and of course he knew that they were a little different with each person. It was a familiar melody that Hero was singing, but thinking about it, it was slightly out of tune, and it got progressively worse. It was getting on his nerves. These rookies these days – they didn't even now how to scream right.
“Let's have a break,” he said.
“Oh well, I guess I’ve held that long.”
Villain raised an eyebrow, amused:
“Getting defiant, are we ? Careful, you sound like you’re disappointed.”
He stared into his prisoner’s eyes, hoping to get a look of terror, but all he got was a frown. Hero...genuinely looked displeased.
“Sorta”, he said. “In my time I didn’t have this kind of toys to play with. I guess having a little blue spark in your hand looks fun, but that doesn’t look like it does that much damage.”
“In your time ? What are you talking ab- wait.”
Hero tilted his head. For a moment he sounded impassible, but he broke soon enough. A loud, loud laugh resonated in the room, while the prisoner was squirming in his chair for a very different reason than before. His way of moving betrayed no pain at all.
“Are you shitting me,” said Villain, whose voice was now icy.
Hero grinned:
“You tell me, pal. I can’t believe you swallowed my “pure of heart” bullshit. I was laying it on so thick.”
Villain glared at him.
“Not that you were especially subtle either”, Hero added. “Oooh, the anticipation !” Do that again?”
Villain stood up and went to the door as fast as self-respect allowed. There was no one left under the sunlight. The guards were on the ground, unconscious.
“How -”
He turned back. Hero was now standing up, neglectfully throwing away the remnants of the straps that held him a moment before. He dramatically exclaimed, a hand on his heart:
“Oh no, he got away ! My, my. Poor little me. Tell you what, though. If Vampire Hero were so legendary, you should have bothered to know what he looks like. I didn’t mean to pass for someone else, but you’ve so graciously given me the opportunity.”
“It can’t be ! How could the – the other have escaped then ?”
“I hate to break it to you, but they are several heroes with super strength.”
Villain blushed and stayed quiet, his lips pursed. Hero picked up the taser, looked at it with curiosity, and switched it on. With a smile – a very worrying smile - he got closer.
“Hey, I warned you. I told you that Vampire Hero was going to rescue me.���
*
Vampire Hero is a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.
Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.
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I thought Trans Day of Visibility a good time to mention that I have a post collecting my stories with trans aro protagonists. I often feel disconnected from the aro community in that the (albeit very limited!) representation we celebrate and bond over largely depicts cis aros. Characters who seldom encompass, because they are cis, much of how I experience being aromantic.
In order to be seen as aro, I must push my transness into the shadows. The reverse is true in trans-centred fiction, where acceptance--by ourselves and/or others--is often demonstrated via a character's experiences of romantic relationships and love. Time and time again, I must choose which part of me to celebrate and which part to ignore: I can only be transgender or aromantic in the stories about which my communities express delight.
So this is a list of aro stories about gender and trans stories about aromanticism, because we deserve recognition as trans and aro.
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YANDERE KATIE AND SADIE HEADCANONS!
Romantic!
Gender Neutral! They/them!
Team up!
Non reality/reality au! (Up for interpretation!)
Theme Song: The siameses song!
TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, OBSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, DELUSIONAL BEHAVIOR, JEALOUS, INSECURE, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR! YOU CAN SKIP THAT POST ^^!
⋆˖⁺‧₊🌸🍥🌸₊‧⁺˖⋆
♡ > Oh! The double trouble duo!
♡ > Two Words? Obssesive girls
♡ > These two follow you around and you could do anything, ANYTHING! That they will talk while looking at you with the most lovey dovey eyes you could see
" They are so kind! And beautiful! "
" And funny! And gentle! Hot! "
" I WAS THINKING THE SAME! "
♡ > When both discoverd that they like you, they had a fight!
" Y/N likes me! Or you think that smile was for you? "
" They like me more! And i liked them first! Not just that! They are flirting with me! "
" UH NO!? They were flirting with me! "
♡ > (The flirt in question was a smile and a hi)
♡ > But after that they decided to share or something like that! I mean sharing is caring!
♡ > Delusionals, REALLY DELUSIONALS
♡ > They think that you like them back and flirt with them back! The smiles you gave for them? The hi? When you talk to them? You are soooo into them! (In their head)
♡ > As i said, they are obssesive, and clingy, they follow you everywhere and even compliment you for the most random things
" I think we should go to the other way- "
" OH YES! You are soooooo smart Y/n! "
" And beautiful! "
♡ > Most of the time you just look at them very confused
♡ > Jealous? Hell yeah! They are jealous and insecure most of the people you talk! They think in things like " Who do this person thinks they are! " , " Y/N would never flirt or fall in love with them! Right? " , " She is not that even pretty! " , things like that
♡ > They always know where you are, and when you say to they stay where they are, they stop for a second and after that....BOOM! They are in your side again! Privacy? What is that? Explain to them!
♡ > They aren't that dangerous, but you should be careful anyways
♡ > They are really delusionals, obssesives and these things!
♡ > And dependent too!
♡ > You have to be patience with them.
♡ > Really patient.
⋆˖⁺‧₊🌸🍥🌸₊‧⁺˖⋆
" We are Siamese if you please
We are Siamese if you don't please
Now we lookin' over our new domicile
If we like we stay for maybe quite a while "
🍨 - NOTES!!<3
- " AOI IS THAT YOU!? " Yeah what's up baby? It was you that order a Yandere HC that nobody asked for?
- " WAIT YOU MADE ANOTHER HC THAT NOBODY ASKED FOR!? " OF COURSE THAT NO- Yeah i did it
- I have something for underrated characters, so here it is a hc for these sillys :3
- They should had been in RR and Won fr
- THIS ONE IS SHORT AGAIN!? Damn im sad now
- TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF! IF YOU DON'T I WILL APPEAR AT YOUR HOUSE, COOK FOOD FOR YOU, MAKE YOU EAT IT, TAKE CARE OF YOU AND I WILL READ A STORY FOR YOU TO READ SO YOU CAN SLEEP WELL!!! 😡
- Anyways sending virtual hugs for everyone
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Belladonna - Sick Day
This month on Patreon features the MC being sick and their RO taking care of them. Get your Belladonna sweetness in this fic (or as sweet as she can be) and relish in the way she takes care of MC. Join the Velvet Guard tier for this and more content.
🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨
🌿 Free Demo 🌿Book 1 Steam🌿Book 1 Itch.io🌿🌿 Patreon 🌿Discord🌿FAQS🌿
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Whispers of Lilies: A Jily Short Story
I wrote a 2,500 word Jily Hanahaki fanfic. If you're wondering if this is out of my norm, yes it is. But the story was calling to me and I couldn't resist writing it. Hanahaki absolutely screams Jily to me.
An excerpt:
"Lily there they are again," Mary whispered in the hallway between the Charms and Potions classroom on a Tuesday.
"Look I see more!" Marlene cried out late on a Friday night as she, Mary, and Lily all returned to the Gryffindor common room.
"There's more blood on these than the last ones," Lily said slowly on a Wednesday morning as she took in the mess in the greenhouse.
It had started a few weeks earlier: flower petals throughout the castle. Lily had never seen anything like it before, but she knew the old witch's tale: when unrequited love became too much, it began to consume the lover's very being. Flowers would grow in the lungs, causing the lover to cough up bloody flowers. The realm of magic was called Hanahaki, and it was incurable. Whoever was suffering was deeply in love with someone who didn't love them back, and their body was slowly succumbing to their mental anguish over it.
"There's so much blood," Marlene agreed. A week ago, it was just a trickle. Whoever it is must be getting sicker.
Lily nodded, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Because these weren't just any flowers, they were lilies. And everyone who understood Hanahaki magic knew that that very likely meant that the person was in love with Lily herself.
"It's got to be James Potter, right?" Mary asked. Even as she spoke, there was regret in her tone.
"James Potter's love is not pure," Lily scoffed. She knew enough about James' childish nature to know that him calling out to her across the grass was just for his entertainment. Him staring at her across the lunch table was for attention. When he picked up her books and offered to carry them, it was to play act as a hero.
James Potter was no sincere lover.
It's on AO3 here!
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Keep the King
For my song-story writing challenge! This story is based on the song "King" by "The Amazing Devil", which was submitted by @lqmie! I'll be honest, I secretly really wanted this one, so when the randomizer gave it to me I was ecstatic.
Sorry it’s a day late, I’m mad at myself for not meeting the deadline in time when I’m the one who made it, I also meant this to be MUCH longer, but realized I was getting over ambitious , but I hope everyone still enjoys.
***
Chimera ignored the water’s wailing. Phantom hands dragged on the oars while luminescent waves rocking the rowboat to and fro, threatening to leave the vessel stranded and stagnant enough to flip, but she kept her eyes fixed on the shore, lit in a blue, spectral glow that made the shadows of the trees stretch long.
“Not long now, your highness.”
“You’ll hang for this!” King Idris shouted in return. He looked a bit like trussed bird on the boat’s floor, hair mussed, cheek to the boards, fine bell sleeves crumpled in scarlet tatters behind his back. He’d been a bit scrappier than she’d imagined such a slender, pampered thing to be. She’d barely managed to drag him past the forestline and into the glammer before his guards caught up. Pinning him long enough to tie and blindfold him had been a whole other mess. The scratches on the backs of her hands prickled like stinging nettle.
“My soldiers are some of the best trackers in the kingdom; they will hunt you down! You’ll be on the noose faster than you can plead mercy, that is if they don’t tear you apart first!”
“Last I saw, your soldiers were having quite the problem with glammer, sooo…” Chimera heaved against an especially violent pull from the lake’s occupants. An oar almost slipped from her paw side, but she managed to sink her claws into the grooves. “Besides, you’re going back soon anyway. Just wait.”
“Take me back now!”
“No can do.”
King Idris cranked, his cloth-swathed face in her direction. “I’m giving you an order!”
Chimera clicked their tongue in feigned disappointed. “Sorry, not human.”
“What do you want then? Gold? Food? Do you have a grudge on my father?”
“Nope. I only came for you.”
The boat knocked hard against the head of the dock, and Chimera shook off any lingering fingers from the oars. The king yelped as a couple glowing droplets speckled his cheek though they quickly dulled against his skin.
“The water won’t hurt you, silly.” She scooped up the rope from the floor and leaped over his head to the dock, tethering the boat fast to the post. “It’s what’s in the water that wants to hurt you.”
Idris only had the chance to make a small strangled sound before Chimera grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up after her.
“Don’t touch me! Monster!”
Chimera dropped him. She probably shouldn’t have. Adler would ask if he had a giant bruise on his face. Besides, this was a king, not only a human king, her king. Or he would be.Of a sort. Anyway, she’d been charged with keeping him safe here, not with dropping him face first on s hard, splintery dock. But…that word. Monster. It made her insides burn, and her hands moved on impulse.
“Suit yourself.” A quick flick of her knife and both the blindfold and the bonds around his ankles fluttered to the ground. She kept the hands tied for good measure. “I dont care if you walk.”
Idris rolled onto his side and blinked rapdily at his new surroundings. His eyes widened like silver pieces at the Dead Lake, then like saucers at the sight of dark looming trees and the pitch black spaces in between the trunks. She wondered if he caught the dark’s barely perceptible writhing? Like something alive. But the biggest reaction came when he looked at Chimera. His pale eyes became like twin moons. He’d called her monster based off a glimpse, she must seem truly inhuman now. She was a sight, alright, even among other fae. A lion paw on the top, a goat leg on the bottom, a tufted tail in between. Plus one devilish horn.
“We’re going up there.” Chimera pointed up the cliff face to the rickety house at the top; blessedly, the king’s gaze followed. “I really wouldn’t recommend running off. Especially not at night. The lake will drown you and the wood will eat you.”
Idris leaned his forehead against the planks and slowly shoved himself up onto his knees. He glared up at her. “My soldiers are coming.”
Chimera shrugged. “Then let’s wait for them inside.” She hooked her claws into the knot of his bonds and yanked him upright. “Come on.”
Maybe Idris realized the stupidity of staying out on this rock because he walked forward without argument. Every once in a while his muscles went rigid like he wanted to bolt or jump or turn on her, and Chimera prodded him in the back with the hilt of her knife, but halfway up he was wheezing to much for defiance. By the time they reached the top of the cliff’s stone steps, he seemed to be choking on his own breath.
"Hey." Chimera slapped him a couple times on the back, but it only sent him into a fit of coughing. "Hey, hey, hey."
She pulled him to the dining table and rushed to fill one of their wooden cups with cold tea from the kettle. She only remembered his bound hands as she held out the cup.
"Right." She moved the cup up to his mouth. He drew his lips together into a tight line, though a few spluttering coughs broke threw, sending ripples across the drink's surface. "It's just honey and blackberry. The normal kind. Not fae food. On my honor."
Idris slowly loosened his mouth and took a tentative drag. HIs face unwrinkled a fraction.
After a couple sips, Chimera placed the cup on the table and crouched behind the king to cut ropes on his wrists. He slowly drew his arms in front of himself, flexing his hands and wrists a couple times before folding them in his lap, the shredded ends of his sleeves swathing his knuckles less elegantly than this morning.
"Did they ever make you do anything in that castle?" Chimera said before she could think better of it.
"I tire out easily," Idris snapped with the defensiveness of one already hyperaware of his own limitations and others' thoughts on the matter. "I always have. There are more important things than traipsing up mountains and hitting people with swords."
Maybe so. As far as she knew King Hyacinthe didn't do much of either. News from the deep wood only brought word of sweet torture and cruel revelries, the fae court's specialties.
"Do you want something to eat?" Chimera said.
Idris went even stiffer than he already was. "Why?"
"Becaaaause we've been traveling since this morning?"
"When you kidnapped me?"
"I wouldn't exactly call it kidnapping." Chimera plopped into the seat next to him.
"Oh? Pray tell then. What would you call it?"
"A temporary retrieval. It's not like I just snatched you to snatch you; we've been expecting you, see?" She motioned to the thick pile of skins in the corner. "That's your bed there in the corner. And there is food for 3 stockpiled in the cellar. We even scrounged you up some clothes for the stay."
"Oh, how magnanimous, that fixes absolutely everything because what I've really been concerned about is what I'm going to wear."
"Well, obviously I couldn't come to you, so I was sent to bring you here."
Idris stared at her incredulously. "Sent? By who?"
"King Hyacinthe." Idris continued to stare. No recognition. "The king. The other king. Fae king. My brother and I were specifically assigned. It's a very important job, you know, and not easily acquired."
Idris held up his hands, trembling a little with the rising register of his voice. "Job? Assigned? Is this a political abduction? Are the fae planning a siege on my kingdom? Are there going to be peace negotiations?"
So he didn't know. Chimera had wondered. When a changeling was planted as an infant it often wouldn't know its true identity. But usually, they figured it out. There were only so many unexplainable things that could happen--accidental glammering, elemental phenomenons, new appendages--before someone took notice. But Idris...the way he spoke. It was like a human.
"No, nothing like that," Chimera said.
The human kingdom was already covered 25 years ago. Time for him to know.
"This is an individual issue. You're late."
Idris furrowed his brow.
"You should have manifested years ago, maybe it's best that you didn't, but now you're king. And obviously, you've been doing an awful job on your own, so if you're ever going to change, you're going to need a mentor."
Idris folded his hands tightly together and rolled back his shoulders, staring Chimera down with a cold regality that couldn’t counterfeited. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chimera’s stomach dropped a little. She’d known their situations weren’t the same, but she’d still stupidly thought… Nevermind. None of this was about her. Alder would be depending on her to get their plans in motion.
"Haven’t you felt anything? It's like an itch. An itch so bad you want to claw out of your own skin.”
“I don’t have dealings with magic or magic folk. I have nothing to do with your witchcraft.”
Chimera snorted. “You might want to bend that person ideal.”
“I do not and will not. I demand an immediate explanation of the fae monarchy’s intentions for my kingdom and myself. I will not be cooperating until you do so.”
How did such a pale, and fragile thing pull off such commanding airs? Like he shrugged away his very body and exposed the core of his being. Well, she had to say it straight out sooner or later.
She took a deep breath and then locked eyes with the changeling king. “King Idris, the entire fae court, has been waiting for your ascension. Because only you, a changling raised as human royalty and crowned their king, can make the human kingdom ours.”
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Sick day
Description: you’ve been keeping quiet about you being sick with a little cold you’ve caught because you didn’t want Tom to stop everything he was doing just to take care of you, that is until he still finds you in bed.
Pairing: Tom holland x black fem reader
Note: just another shitty writing :-(
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Tom woke up and looked around the room, everything seem a bit…off, usually y/n magenta silk bonnet would be on the dresser next to the scarf she puts on before bed, her clothes would be thrown on the end of the bed and there would be 3 pairs of shoes since she can’t seem to decide what to wear.
Tom looked to the side, to see his wife sleeping peacefully, her beautiful dark skin shined because the light shined through the curtains. Her hair was wrapped up or so she thought, her box braids slipped out of the bonnet and scarf. Y/n started to cough in her sleep, it went from small coughs to being awoken up from coughing.
“Hey honey, you okay?” Tom said to his wife while running to her side. She nodded still coughing, she then pointed to the little trash can across the room “hand me that” she said in between the coughs
Tom got up and put the trash in front of his wife as spit in the trash. “Yuck” y/n said putting the trash to the side of the bed “y/n are you sick?” Tom asked rubbing her back “yeah but I’ll be fine in no time, you can continue your work, no need to worry” she said with a weak smile
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you can barely move” he said with a concerned look painted on his face, she frowned because she knew this would happen. “I’ll be right back” Tom said while grabbing his phone and walking out of the bedroom.
Y/n sighed and laid back down in bed, before she knew it she was gone, Tom walked back in and saw her sleeping quietly. He tucked her in and tried to at least put her braids back in the bonnet so they won’t get messed up.
He kissed y/n’s forehead and exited out the room to make some soup for her.
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When he was finished he brought the hot bowl of soup and some crackers to her, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed, he tapped her. “Honey wake up, I made soup” he said softly
Y/n sat up groggily and sighed, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and looked at the soup. She grabbed the bowl and started to eat some, she ate half the soup and some crackers.
Then proceeded to lay back down, her husband looked at her while she drifted back to sleep, tom placed the damn near empty soup bowl back on the nightstand and sat down at the end of the bed watching over y/n as she slept peacefully.
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This song was kinda my inspo….it was literally playing when I was writing this🧍🏾
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you know, the thing about Old-Timey Half-Up Hair of Olde Timiness in badly-designed period dramas is
all those lists of “long hair problems” like getting hair stuck in clothing closures or bag straps or transportation doors, hair blowing in your face at inopportune times, hair getting tangled by wind or movement, etc.?
imagine all that...plus truly massive amounts of open flame in one’s everyday life
your Spirited Victorian/Georgian/Whenever Heroine is going to have a bad time
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A Dance With My Clone
[Find other stories from the 2024 Friday Writing Challenge here]
Cloning had recently been defined as an illegal theft of the soul. Not unexpected an outcome, really; ephemeral cloning lacked the charm to hold imperfections – they thought of these bodies made of flesh and marrow and blood as cheaper machines, and thusly they were stuck in a valley of uncanny gestures and stiffer movements. They were automatons, the same ones that would collapse when ordered to conduct an orchestra when all they were programmed for was to shove coal into a steam engine – except they breathed.
She understood that flesh and blood held more than that, however. Sure, it was true that the technology always operated under a veneer of grime and slime, a grey morality as she called it, through which bad men got away with doing worse things than they would be normally allowed to do. And if you proved you enacted against a clone and the original person was unharmed, was the crime still of the same significance? It was no surprise that so many parts of the known galaxy had long enacted such strict laws against the practice.
But she was lonely. An only child, a single heiress to the House of Fern – one of the oldest known names in the galaxy – and her daddy, whom she had loved very much, passed away suddenly in his sleep many years ago. More debts remained from him than friends, and thusly young Amelia Fern had to get crafty quickly.
And the rest, as they say, was history. She performed the first cloning, willingly, and she performed the first public appearance with her own clone. They danced under the moonlight together, two droplets of water identical to each other, observed by both top scientists and top men the entire night. A reproduction so perfect had never been achieved before.
A reproduction.
The word held importance. To create a copy of yourself is considered anathema in most major religions, but Amelia Fern argued that a reproduction held merit. She reasoned that without reproductions many pieces of art would have been lost to history, to rot and decay, and we would have forgotten what made us who we are. She saw her clone in the mirror and saw not just another being of flesh and creation, but an art form perfected. She saw herself perfected. And she saw not just friends and family, but company for the rest of her life, now stretching beyond her wildest imaginations.
And now her empire was to crumble in one swift signage, one flick of the wrist done kilometers away.
Sir Johnsen knocked on her door. He knew Amelia had stopped consuming the news through modern means, and relied more on others to relay them to her. The House of Fern had re-established itself as an untouchable modern bastion of progress and art. Why would the commoners’ law affect her again now? Johnsen rang the doorbell and knocked with more force.
She finally opened the door. Her slim cheeks and her red bow as familiar as ever.
“Amelia, I-”
“Mistress Fern is awaiting you in the lounge, Sir Johnsen.”
“Ah,” Johnsen responded, recognizing Amie the maid. A grave mistake. He left her his coat and his hat, and proceeded further inside the mansion. He did not need to address the help Amelia had cloned out of herself to help around the manor. The last heir of the House of Fern instead concerned herself with more pressing manners, such as lounging by the sofa, feet on the pillow next to her, sipping on a singular glass of wine from the second bottle she had just ordered Amie to open for her. She raised her glass and welcomed him with a big courteous smile. He relaxed a bit.
“I heard about the ruling,” he said, tone almost hushed, feeling as if he was being watched. “I thought I would pass by and check on you.”
“You need not to worry, dear,” Amelia responded. “Business will keep booming.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She brought the glass to her lips, a few drops spilling on her dress below. Johnsen, ever the pretend-gentleman he thought himself to be, turned his gaze away. She smirked once she was done. “You would be surprised by how many senators and lords still seek a body. Some even choose to have a body double even! Imagine that depravity, dear Johnsen!”
“I see…” he said hesitantly, taking a look around. He coughed, and he then saw Amelia right in front of him, offering him her glass, with the lipstick still printed on its lip. He brought it closer. The wine had a sharp taste, and her smile was even sharper, laughing the bitter aftertaste of those mushed grapes with joy.
“Don’t forget, my dear,” Amelia said, as she poured herself another glass, “that we made this business together. You were the last one that stayed loyal to my ailing father, may the gods rest his soul, and it was also your idea to pursue this trade.” He turned around, but she only smirked. “I am not complaining! A lady from one of the most esteemed houses of these lands does give a lot of credence – and I do love my sisters running about and helping me around my manor.”
She turned to look towards the maid, the one who had answered him at the door. She offered a gentle smile back to her mistress. He could only feel ambivalence about the creature; she was not Amelia, no matter how much she dressed them like her. In the end, he could only let out a weary sigh. “I am glad you are taking all this in much better humour than I am, because frankly…”
He stopped and turned around. Only a slight giggle followed after him. “Always the pessimist,” she retorted with some slight indignation and scorn in her voice. Gauloiserie wine was not for those faint of heart, or stomach – and gods knew if she has had anything to eat all day. “How about we change the subject…”
Johnsen turned to look at her. Music started playing. Eulenlieder. He winced.
“Would you like to dance?”
“I will see you in the morning, Amelia, after you’ve sobered up.”
He walked out the door after grabbing his coat in a hurry. And she laughed as she awaited his frustrated arrival in the morning. But until then, the night was young, and the bottle still half-full. “Amie,” Amelia dictated, leaving her glass on the floor as the music picked up. “Dance with me.”
Amie, who up until this day had never refused a call from the mistress she shared a face with, complied. She opened her arms, assuming the position, and took on the lead. Perfectly practiced, exceedingly well performed. A step left, a nudge right, a swing and pirouette – the former ballerina knew these rhythms well. She knew the rhythm her mistress dictated. It was said that Eulenlieder had been their mother’s favourite, the one she danced on her wedding day. This was the same dance that made her and Amelia famous too; a rhythm they knew by soul, through beating heart to beating heart, exercised out in the open on the ballroom of the Fern Mansion that fateful night all those years ago. She was not the Amie that danced with Amelia; she couldn’t have been. But Amelia did not mind. She preferred it that way, some might say. Not before long, they settled into their rhythm, dancing together as they had danced hundreds of thousands of times before. Amelia, the daze from her wine slowly replaced by the comfort of her perfume adorned by the maid that she made in her own image, laughed gently.
“You remember our first dance, my dear Amie? You remember how we swooned them together, just you and me?” She allowed herself to fall, to be caught by her hands. Amie never let her down. She never let her fall. She never let her go. She laughed, charmed as she hung in mid-air, her maid holding her so delicately and so assuredly. She pulled her back up, and they continued their slow dancing. The song was coming to an end. “You were, by far, my finest creation, my dear,” she said as she rested her head on her shoulder. Amie let her. She was shaking, feeling her breathing against her neck, the delicate hands they shared still intertwined. Her mistress closed her eyes. She instead turned her gaze away, out towards the glass window. She saw her reflection combining with hers; two drops of water that splash against glass on a rainy day, now finally conjoined. They formed a greater whole, what Amelia called a greater purpose.
She spent a long time swaying gently with her to the left and to the right, her mistress lulled by their rhythm that the proximity of familiarity afforded. She knew her, after all; she was her, after all; it was always her, after all.
Before she knew what transpired, she snapped her neck like a twig.
The last heiress of the House of Fern collapsed on the floor. The rain outside intensified. From the rooms adjacent, more maids came out; valets and waiters and staff Amelia kept in order to afford her still luxurious living, without having to change the amount of people that stayed in this manor.
After all, it was only her.
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– Satoshi Yagisawa, Days at the Morisaki Bookshop
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