#amor marginal

[the-starryone]

Ondas

🔊 Recomendo fortemente que esse texto seja lido em acompanhamento da música pra uma melhor experiência e imersão. ATENÇÃO 🚨 aos gatilhos mentais de saudade e separação. Espero que desfrutem, boa leitura! 😉

Acho que eu me entendi, venci meus inimigos da minha cabeça e transcendi. Sobre ela só minha coroa (e dentro dela só você) agora.

Eu mudei muito e mudar tão rápido é uma viagem em águas muito confusas mas eu já imaginava que seria assim. Nesse nosso amor secreto não havia segredos, então te mostrei antes e depois… pra acreditar em seus próprios olhos. Queria que visse como eu faço sentido e como tudo que eu era foi alinhado, organizado e entrou na frequência certa, como ondas… e como acima de tudo é lindo, como o seu canto.

Mas c sabe o que tbm é louco? É como eu ainda insisto em insistir te ter comigo, parece que nunca acaba, não tem fim. O amor é fascinante, né?!

Sinto que meu amor por você é como uma força da natureza... lenta, mas irrefreável, esplendorosa ou desastrosa.

- um amor puro ainda que marginal.

Sabe… por falar em marginal, c lembra daquele ursinho que te dei de presente de dia dos namorados? O Marginal, haha. Poisé, queria representar o quanto c foi importante na minha vida, por estar comigo nos momentos mais difíceis… vou te amar pra sempre, que nem o Sol e a Lua! Então resolvi te tatuar em mim, eu ando meio caladão agora então como símbolo que une as coisas escolhi o Polar, um ursino calado e marginal, que nem a gente, né? haha

Enfim, espero que c ache daora vai!

No pescoço, onde c costumava beijar, o lugar que como vampira c me matava sempre, e como sereia provava o sal da minha pele. As ondas nos trouxeram ao encontro um do outro, a gente soube desde a primeira vez que nos vimos. O primeiro contato de duas realidades maravilhosas que só são possíveis de serem compreendidas uma pela outra. Essa falta da minha metade me mata.

E por falar nisso, c ainda me mata várias vezes… Ainda olho pro lugar onde vc estaria sentada me olhando e choro, a saudade que vc deixou foi grande, branca-de-neve, tão grande que algumas vezes eu acordo cedo e fico imaginando futuros impossíveis com vc no café da manhã, mas acordo e percebo que passaram 15 minutos e que vc não está, e não vai mais estar… queria que pudesse ter te escolhido mas tudo bem, “a vida é isso”, eles dizem… eu que lide com aprender a resignificar Pearl Jam! Haha 2 anos intensos não se esquecem assim, né? Ainda lembro da sua voz, nossa música juntos ainda ecoa pela casa, rodando que nem quando dançávamos agarrados por aqui.

Espero que vc esteja nadando em águas tranquilas, c é forte mas ainda é de carne e eu não consigo segurar as ondas, e ainda que pudesse, algumas ondas são pra serem entendidas, outras decididas. Sabemos qual foi a nossa. Nada dura pra sempre, só as ondas.

P.S.: esse texto foi uma compilação de textos previamente escritos, sendo assim, podem ou não expressar correlação a data da sua publicação.

Já que sou seu “garoto digital”, o registro deste texto está eternamente guardado em Web Archive, resistindo as ondas do tempo, e a inteligência artificial disponível no link a seguir:

14/01/2023 - Feliz aniversário pra sua filhota! ❤️

❤️ Ler o texto acompanhado dessa outra música é uma experiência que conta um outro lado da mesma história, experimenta, mas só se vc quiser! 🧜‍♀️

[starry-one]

Ondas

🔊 Recomendo fortemente que esse texto seja lido em acompanhamento da música pra uma melhor experiência e imersão. ATENÇÃO 🚨 aos gatilhos mentais de saudade e separação. Espero que desfrutem, boa leitura! 😉

Acho que eu me entendi, venci meus inimigos da minha cabeça e transcendi. Sobre ela só minha coroa (e dentro dela só você) agora.

Eu mudei muito e mudar tão rápido é uma viagem em águas muito confusas mas eu já imaginava que seria assim. Nesse nosso amor secreto não havia segredos, então te mostrei antes e depois… pra acreditar em seus próprios olhos. Queria que visse como eu faço sentido e como tudo que eu era foi alinhado, organizado e entrou na frequência certa, como ondas… e como acima de tudo é lindo, como o seu canto.

Mas c sabe o que tbm é louco? É como eu ainda insisto em insistir te ter comigo, parece que nunca acaba, não tem fim. O amor é fascinante, né?!

Sinto que meu amor por você é como uma força da natureza... lenta, mas irrefreável, esplendorosa ou desastrosa.

- um amor puro ainda que marginal.

Sabe… por falar em marginal, c lembra daquele ursinho que te dei de presente de dia dos namorados? O Marginal, haha. Poisé, queria representar o quanto c foi importante na minha vida, por estar comigo nos momentos mais difíceis… vou te amar pra sempre, que nem o Sol e a Lua! Então resolvi te tatuar em mim, eu ando meio caladão agora então como símbolo que une as coisas escolhi o Polar, um ursino calado e marginal, que nem a gente, né? haha

Enfim, espero que c ache daora vai!

No pescoço, onde c costumava beijar, o lugar que como vampira c me matava sempre, e como sereia provava o sal da minha pele. As ondas nos trouxeram ao encontro um do outro, a gente soube desde a primeira vez que nos vimos. O primeiro contato de duas realidades maravilhosas que só são possíveis de serem compreendidas uma pela outra. Essa falta da minha metade me mata.

E por falar nisso, c ainda me mata várias vezes… Ainda olho pro lugar onde vc estaria sentada me olhando e choro, a saudade que vc deixou foi grande, branca-de-neve, tão grande que algumas vezes eu acordo cedo e fico imaginando futuros impossíveis com vc no café da manhã, mas acordo e percebo que passaram 15 minutos e que vc não está, e não vai mais estar… queria que tivesse me escolhido, mas tudo bem, “a vida é isso”, eles dizem… eu que lide com aprender a resignificar Pearl Jam! Haha 2 anos intensos não se esquecem assim, né? Ainda lembro da sua voz, nossa música juntos ainda ecoa pela casa, rodando que nem quando dançávamos agarrados por aqui.

Espero que vc esteja nadando em águas tranquilas, c é forte mas ainda é de carne e eu não consigo segurar as ondas, e ainda que pudesse, algumas ondas são pra serem entendidas, outras decididas. Sabemos qual foi a nossa. Nada dura pra sempre, só as ondas.

P.S.: esse texto foi uma compilação de textos previamente escritos, sendo assim, podem ou não expressar correlação a data da sua publicação.

Já que sou seu “garoto digital”, o registro deste texto está eternamente guardado em Web Archive, resistindo as ondas do tempo, e a inteligência artificial disponível no link a seguir:

14/01/2023 - Feliz aniversário pra sua filhota! ❤️

❤️ Ler o texto acompanhado dessa outra música é uma experiência que conta um outro lado da mesma história, experimenta, mas só se vc quiser! 🧜‍♀️

[desamor-desapegado]

Uma carta aberta para eu mesmo:

Eu já me abdiquei de tantas coisas nessa vida e continuo indo nesse caminho, é como se eu não tivesse interesse em seguir os meus planos e sonhos, me lanço no mundo e simplesmente nem olho pra onde eu tô me lançando apenas vou seguindo, eu preciso deixar de ser o vilão da minha própria história quero que daqui pra frente minha narrativa seja sobre o quanto eu evoluí e o quanto eu consegui alcançar fazendo tudo o que eu sempre quis e sem me preocupar com a opinião dos outros.

Eu sou meu próprio vilão

Ass: AF

[gighen91]

La donna ideale non è quella che ti asseconda,

ma quella che ti ribalta la vita, i sogni, le idee.

Quella che ti fa vivere...! 💖

_Charles Baudelaire

[navree]

wayne family adventures going "we're gonna make an entire season about the joker and center literally everyone EXCEPT barbara and jason beyond the bare minimum" is certainly a choice and lemme just say, it is Not a fucking good one

[somehow---here]

Perché un nuovo amore sbocci, a volte è sufficiente che ci ricordi un amore morto; a volte è sufficiente il ricordo di un amore morto a offuscare lo splendore di una nuova felicità.

Nicolás Gómez Dávila, "In margine a un testo implicito" (Escolios a un texto implícito I), 1977

[cigarrw-s]

— Charles Bukowski, em "O Amor é um Cão dos Diabos". L&pm pocket, 2007

[in-tacto]

[gravehags]

the one who comes (richly endowed)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: rough sex, cum eating, copia in that goddamn white suit, oral (m receiving, through pants), semi public sex, ghoul voyeurism, masturbation, curator reader being evil

Words: 3,459

Summary: A series of sartorial events.

a/n: i am quite literally always saying how i'm going to suck copia off through those white lululemon leggings so you know. here you go.

~~~

“The eh, Ministry tailor wants to go over some of the tour outfits tomorrow afternoon. Care to join me?”

You yawn wide enough to pop your jaw and snuggle into the side of your lover, fingers raking through his abundant chest hair. He’s got a book propped up on his belly and his reading glasses perched on his long nose as he pauses every few moments to notate something in the margins or underline. 

“Yes please,” you say, leaning forward to place a kiss to each of the entwined 6s tattooed on his freckled pectoral. The action makes him chuckle, eyes briefly leaving the page to flick to you.

“You promise not to get too jealous?” he asks innocently, turning the page, “I mean these are the outfits my adoring fans will be seeing me perform in while you’re stuck here at the abbey. Who knows what kind of mischief I could get up to?”

You snort and sharply pinch his nipple, causing him to let out a ridiculously rat-like squeak.

“You’re not the only one who could get up to mischief,” you coo, “When the Cardinal’s away, the curator will play, hmm? I bet Terzo isn’t busy these days…”

Copia lets out a growl and removes his glasses, tossing them carelessly on the nightstand along with his book.

“What did you say?”

You’re trying so hard to bite back the evil grin that threatens to spread across your face as you lean away from your lover to flop onto your back and stare at the bed canopy above you.

“I think it’s only fair that I be allowed to seek out some ah…diversion in your absence. Particularly when you’re going to have your ‘adoring fans’ crawling all over you. Tell me, which of the Papas is best at eating pus–”

You don’t get to finish the sentence because Copia has rolled on top of you and situated himself between your legs.

“Dolcezza,” he leans in to growl in your ear, making a delightful shiver run up your spine, “Do not toy with me. Do not make me keep you tied to my tour bus bed with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air to use as I please every night, eh?”

You giggle warmly.

“I don’t know, sounds kind of ideal to me,” you purr, “To be so deliciously, divinely stuffed with your cum over and over after every show. What is it the siblings call me? ‘The Cardinal’s mistress’? And what is it the ghouls call me? Ah yes, ‘the Cardinal’s mate.’ Would you mate with me in that tour bus, amore? Loud and feral, for all your ghouls to hear? I think they’d like to wat–ah!”

Flinging back the covers and sitting on his haunches, he grabs you and roughly flips you over. 

“Piccola provocazione mia,” he sighs, rucking your nightgown over your hips and bending your knees, “If you wanted my cock so badly tonight–” he says, and you hear him yank down his sleep pants behind you, “--all you had to do was ask.”

You giggle into the pillow as he drags the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“Much more fun this–ah!--way! Fuck, Copia!”

He’s bottomed out inside you before you can even finish your sentence and places a firm hand between your shoulder blades as he begins to roughly fuck you. You turn your head to the side to get some air and so he can hear every noise that comes out of your mouth.

“You–ah–want it like this? Bent over and spread open for anyone to watch? To listen? Tesoro, we should recruit you for–hngh–sex rituals. Who knew a sweet girl like you liked–ah–an audience?”

The snap of his hips against yours is ruthless and the sound of his balls slapping against you with each thrust drives another moan from your mouth.

“Fuck, Copia, right there! Feel so good baby, l-love it when you u-use me, ah!”

His hand on your back presses you further into the mattress, causing you to arch your back even more sharply. The new angle has starbursts exploding across your vision.

“Sei mio,” he grunts, his grip on your hip bruising, “And until the m-moment I leave for t-tour I’ll–ah–gladly remind you, s-si?”

“Yours, yours, yours,” you chant, pushing back onto his cock to meet his thrusts, “Mmm fuck, Copia, make me yours!”

His fingers abandon your hip to reach around and slide through your folds, moaning at how wet you are. When he brushes against your clit, you let out a sharp whine.

“Copia, please! Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh fuck!”

Your cunt spasms around him and you cry out as he brings you over the edge, his name on your lips. 

“Ragazza brava mia,” he moans, “My perfect girl, so good for me. Cazzo, I’m gonna cum, amore. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

When he pulls out of you, you whine at the loss but crane your head as far back as you can to watch him feverishly stroke his cock.

“Come on baby,” you pant even though your neck is killing you. “Cum on me. Mark me up.”

The sight of his fist rocketing along his reddened cock, slick with your juices has you grinding into the mattress, desperate for another release. When he cums with a shout, covering your lower back in spurts of his seed your body sags into the bed. You can hear his rapid breaths as he wrings out every last drop onto you and finally lets go to survey his handiwork. He drags his forefinger through the mess and you turn your head, opening your mouth obediently. When the warm digit meets your tongue, the salt of him on your tastebuds, you close your mouth around it and suck eagerly.

“What a deviant I have made of a sweet little virgin,” he marvels and you slide off his finger to swallow with a smile.

“Think I was a deviant even when I was a virgin,” you murmur, “You just encouraged it. But some of the fantasies I had…”

“Oh?”

“Get me a rag to clean this up then I’ll tell you all about them, my love.”

He does as he’s told, wiping up his seed and rejoining you in bed so you can assume your earlier positions. You make a bet with yourself about how many times the two of you are going to hunger for one another that night.

As always, both of you exceed your expectations.

–

“What do you think about this? Amore?”

“Hmm?” you look up from the binderful of sketches you’ve been browsing while your beloved and the tailor conversed in rapid Italian, “Think about what?”

Copia stands on a round platform surrounded by mirrors. The tailor leans up against the door and gestures to the Cardinal.

“It’s a good suit, no?”

You smile. Of course it’s a good suit. It’s the suit Copia was wearing the night of your first date. The night where the two of you grinded on each other and made an absolute mess of those trousers. Those lovely, snug trousers and the curve of–

“Amore?” Copia asks, and you see his mustache twitch in amusement.

“It’s great! I love it, did you um…change the material of the pants? From the original suit I mean.”

“Si, si,” the tailor nods, “the Cardinal requires pants with more stretch to allow for vigorous movement on stage.”

Mmm vigorous movement.

“So he’ll be wearing either of his cassocks and uh…this black suit?”

Once again the tailor nods.

“I also have made prototypes in two other colors. Would you like to see those?”

He’s asking Copia too but you interject to answer for him.

“Yes, please.”

“They’re in garment bags in the dressing room, Cardinal.”

The Cardinal gives the tailor a tight smile before turning to you and giving you a look. You smile and shrug. Better him than you, and the way he fucked you last night, you almost collapsed on the floor this morning when you got out of bed while he chuckled, the bastard. He deserves a little torture. A few more minutes pass and he comes out and does a little pose. He looks resplendent in a cardinal red version of the suit and you know you’re grinning like an idiot when he steps onto the platform, preening.

“Oh the red is good, signore,” you tell the tailor, who smiles pleasantly at you. “I think I like it even better than the black. What do you think, my love?”

Copia’s preoccupied with making stupid little muscle man poses in the mirror and you have to stuff your fist in your mouth to muffle your guffaw.

“Huh-wha…what was that, amore?”

“I said, how do you feel about the red?”

“Oh eh, si. Very nice. Vibrant. Is that all?”

“There is one more suit in the dressing room, Cardinale,” the tailor gently reminds him and Copia turns to give you a deep bow before retreating to his cubicle. You hear him disrobe and hang up the red suit followed by unzipping the last garment bag. There’s a shuffle of fabric and Copia makes an odd sound.

“I…I, eh don’t think I’ll come out for this one.”

You look to the tailor nonplussed, who looks to you, equally perplexed.

“Isn’t it just the same suit in a different color, hon?”

“Si, it’s just that it’s eh…” he makes one of his noises, “It’s…ah fuck it.”

When he opens the door and peeks his head out you smile encouragingly. That smile slowly drops as he slides out of the dressing room to stand on the platform, replaced with something more awestruck and hungry. True to the tailor’s word, it is the same suit, however this one is in snow white. He looks incredibly elegant but that’s not what occupies your mind - what occupies your mind is the hefty and defined curve of his cock and balls in those sinfully tight white pants.

“Well, what do you think?”

You let out a lewd gurgle and now it’s the tailor’s turn to muffle his laughter.

“Exactly. I don’t think I’ll be going with this one, signore.”

The string of filth going through your mind is interrupted by his words.

“What?! No!” you splutter, flapping your hands. “No, this one absolutely stays.” 

“Amore,” Copia stage whispers, “You can see my whole dick.”

“Yeah, and balls,” you loudly whisper back, “Which is exactly why you’re keeping it.”

“Sarto, will you eh, excuse me and the signorina for a moment per favore?”

The tailor silently nods with an amused expression and steps out of the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

“Dolcezza, I am supposed to be on stage in this outfit. I’m supposed to sing while wearing this. You want me to look like a…a Chippendale at these rituals?”

You cough to hide your laughter.

“Beloved, may I be frank with you?”

“Please.”

“People come to these rituals to be tempted, right? To dip their toe into what the Ministry has to offer? Copia I am being so honest with you right now when I say that this–” you gesture to what’s on display at the juncture of his thighs, “--in combination with the music? Baby, you’ll be beating new recruits off with a stick. Might as well have a sign-up booth outside the venue. If I were some wide-eyed, easily influenced young person and I walked into one of your rituals to hear you sing about being the one who comes richly endowed and coming into the daughters of men and whatnot? My love, I would swear myself to Satan for one corn chip if you asked.”

Copia nods slowly, considering.

“You…have a point, dolcezza. Kind of makes me wish I hadn’t met you until I became head of the Ghost project so I could see you front row at a ritual…oh the things I would do to you.”

“And you still can,” you murmur, setting the sketch binder aside, “Keep this outfit and I promise you I’ll visit you backstage at one of your shows. I’ll surprise you.”

“Done,” he says, slapping his thigh. A soft knock sounds through the room and the tailor opens the door.

“Everything good?” he asks, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Molto bene, signore,” you say, “He’s keeping the outfit.”

“Ah, good, good,” the tailor smiles, clapping his hands together, “I was hoping you’d say that because I have a couple accessories for this one.”

You look to Copia, intrigued. The tailor produces a hat box and removes the lid, handing Copia a very dashing black fedora with a white band. The Cardinal places it on his head, looking devastatingly handsome as he poses in the many mirrors. The tailor disappears for a moment and then reappears to hand Copia a black cane with a silver snake handle.

“What do you think, signorina?” the tailor asks, hands behind his back. Copia turns to you and with an evil grin, slides the length of the cane along his cock then rocks his hips against it. Your jaw loosens and your eyes glaze over.

“Amore, the tailor asked you a question?”

“Hard. I mean good! Good! It’s all very good, thank you for indulging me, signore. Beautiful work but I expected nothing less from the man that makes his cassocks. You know, the way the fascia cinches him in and the fabric falls over his as–assets. Uh…”

The tailor coughs, hiding a smile with his fist.

“Grazie, signorina. And grazie, Cardinale. I’ll work on making duplicates of these designs at once.”

Copia nods and steps off the platform to return to the dressing room. A beat passes when you get up and scuttle over to the tailor.

“Is there any way you can make the pants um. Tighter?”

“I heard that.”

—

His veins are on fire, thrumming as he makes his walk off the stage post-encore. The crowd loves him. They love him. The little rat bastard Cardinal makes the beautiful young creatures of the crowd scream and profess their adoration. He’s feeling elated, high as he passes by two roadies and works his way backstage when he hears a low whistle come from a corner near some tour crates. When he looks he double takes because surely he must be dreaming. Surely his eyes must be playing tricks on him as he sees his amore slowly emerge from behind a box wearing that little half-smile you sport when getting up to mischief. Before he even realizes he’s doing it he’s running over to you - damn his sore muscles in need of a long shower - and into your open arms.

“Surprised?” you ask as you throw your arms around his neck. 

Immediately he buries his nose into your loose hair and a shudder rips through him as he’s enveloped in your scent. His hands roam your back, sliding down further to cup your ass and pull you into him.

“Mmm insatiable as always,” you mutter into his shoulder, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. The adrenaline of the evening matched with the way you’re gazing at him makes his cock stir. Your lips twitch upwards and eyebrow arches.

“Amore,” he growls, grinding against your belly, “Come to my dressing room so we can–”

“What’s wrong with right here?” you ask innocently, gesturing to the empty nook stacked with gear boxes. “I came such a long way for you, I simply can’t waste another moment.”

When you begin to lower yourself to your knees, his head tips back in a groan. Cazzo, he missed this. When he reopens his eyes he spots something in the darkness further behind you - a slender form in black and a flash of a silver mask.

Dewdrop.

He should tell you, should grab you by the shoulders and scurry away with you somewhere more private but he thinks about that day months ago when you said you wanted to be watched. Copia’s head jerks in a nod in the ghoul’s direction and he sees his mouth fall open in a pant. You’re massaging the meat of his thighs in your perfect little hands when he looks down at you.

“You’re distracted,” you murmur, blinking up at him, “Guess you haven’t missed me much after all.”

“Dolcezza, no!” Copia breathes, gloved hand stroking your hair, “Come up here and I’ll show you exactly how much I missed you.”

“No, no,” you say airily, and for a horrible moment he thinks he’s seriously hurt your feelings but then you look up and give him a sinister little grin that makes him throb.

“Did they like it?” you ask, trailing your fingertips over his clothed cock.

“L-Like it?”

“The white suit,” you say patiently, dragging your fingernails down his thigh. “How did they look up at you tonight, my love? Were they hungry for you?” 

You lean in to place a chaste kiss to his bulge that almost makes his knees give out.

“Will they go home tonight and fuck themselves to the thought of you?”

When you drag the flat of your tongue across his balls and up his cock he whimpers pathetically.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Hmmm,” you ponder, thumb rubbing the head of him through his pants. There’s a sizable wet stain on them now from where he’s been leaking pre, “I was out there, you know. Watching. Saw the way you thrusted and fell to your knees and grinded on that cane. Saw the way they all panted for you. And you know what I was thinking the whole time, my love?”

He’s breathing heavy through his nose.

“No, a-amore.”

“I was thinking about how much I wanted to do this.”

You lean in and wetly latch onto his balls through the thin fabric and his hand flies to the back of your head. You’re giggling around him and the vibrations make him whimper.

“Fuck, amata mia, yes,” he groans, rocking his hips into your touch. Slowly you drag your tongue along his shaft and even through the material he knows you’re tracing the thick vein. When Copia tilts his head back in a moan, his half-lidded eyes fall on the ghoul in the shadows. Dew is still mostly obscured but even the darkness can’t hide the way his strong hand is sliding along the ridges of his hardened cock. His head is tilted downwards towards you - drinking in the way you look with your thighs splayed in that pretty sundress, your mouth suckling on the head of his Cardinal’s cock. Copia knows he won’t last much longer - not with how worked up he already was from the ritual and with their audience - and he looks down at you adoringly.

“Close, tesoro. Gonna–ah–gonna make me cum in my pants?”

Your lips pull off him for only a moment to give him a wide smile.

“Just like New Year’s Eve. Remember?” You place a hand on his bulge and begin stroking it. “The champagne burning in our veins? The way the curve of your cock felt nudging my clit through those red lace panties you like? How your fingers gripped me hard enough to bruise?”

“Si, si, I remember, I remember, amore,”

“You told me to make a mess of myself. I should have put those panties in your pocket but we already know how you like to steal them yourself, hmm?”

Copia makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine as his cheeks are flooded with red and his hips buck into your touch.

“Dirty old man,” you say with a grin, “Can’t help yourself can you, Cardinal? On stage, in my bed, right now under my hand and mouth–”

He feels the pressure building in his spine as you rub him frantically through his pants.

“--while your ghoul watches us.”

The moan that comes out of him is loud and long, hips rutting against your hand as he cums in ropes and soaks the white fabric. You’re cooing praise at him from your spot on the floor as he takes shuddering breaths. When he looks up, Dewdrop is gone but there’s no mistaking what’s spattered on the floor where he stood. Did you plan this? How could he have known? How could you have known? How–

“Hey,” you say, placing a little kiss to the wet stain on his crotch, “Help me up?”

With a start he bends over and lifts you gently by the elbows until you’re standing and stretching. Overcome with adoration, he grabs you by the back of the head and slots his lips against yours. His ragazza bella. His mistress. His perfect mate.

“So,” you say once you finally manage to pull away from him, “Show me that dressing room?”

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch8

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, fingering, oral, slow sex, praise

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

This was the most comfortable and relaxed you had ever felt. To get your secret off your chest and honestly, the shower was amazing. Poking your head out of the bathroom, you felt your cheeks warm up as you saw Miguel enter his room.

You waited for him to leave before slowly stepping out of the shower. You gripped onto the bottom of your night gown, glancing at him from his bedroom door. Your heart felt like it was going to pound right out of your chest.

Finally having the courage to face him, you smiled as you watched him take cookie from your container,

"D-Do you like them?" You asked shyly, playing with your sleeves. Miguel turned towards you, motioning you towards him,

"Delicious. Shame to say this is my third one,"

"R-Really?! I'm glad!" You chirped.

--------

Miguel hummed lowly as you hugged him. With ease, he lifted you up and carried you over to his oversized couch. Miguel noticed that you seemed much more at ease. He placed you on his lap, pulling you in for a kiss.

His hands rested against your hips, feeling your body. You weren't shaking, which was a good sign. Miguel lazily watched you close your eyes into the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck. It was funny. Miguel felt like he could see the little hearts float above your head.

Licking your lips, Miguel hummed in response as you parted your lips for him. How submissive. Miguel stroked up your back, holding you in place as he explored you mouth. He felt your body tremble as you muffled soft whines.

---------

You felt like the air was being sucked out of your lungs. Miguel was keeping you steady as his tongue ravished the inside of your mouth. It felt like he was being possessive, claiming what was his, but in a gentle way. All the more reason that made your heart race.

"Miguel," You breathed out once he finally freed your lips.

"Tell me whenever you want to stop,"

You trembled with those words. Miguel kissed your lips again before moving to your neck. You couldn't lie to yourself. Part of you was still afraid to moving forward, but at the same time, you trusted Miguel. He was someone whom you wanted to be with.

A small gasp escaped your lips as Miguel kissed your neck. His hair tickled your cheeks. His soft pecks and small licks made your body grow hot. It wasn't until Miguel bit and sucked against your neck that you let out a small whimper of a moan.

Your face grew flustered as Miguel made eye contact with you for a brief second. You covered your lower half of your face, trying to look away as he kept biting and sucking against your neck. Another whimper came out as his hands went under your shirt.

"M-Miguel...C-Can....Can we go to the bedroom?" You whispered.

"Would you like the lights on or off?" Miguel asked as he lifted you, still kissing your neck and shoulders,

"Um, o-off?"

Complying, Miguel turned the lights off and laid you against his bed. You felt yourself sink into his mattress as he climbed over you, capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands returned to under your shirt, drawing circles around your hips.

"It's so hard to see you, mi amor. (my love). Allow me to dim the lights up just a bit. I want to see your beautiful body."

"J-Just a bit."

---------

Miguel was true to what he said. He only raised the light by a small margin. Just enough to see your shy expressions. Miguel did not want to miss a second of him devouring you. You were finally going to be his.

His hands returned to your body, slowly lifting your shirt. Miguel heard your whimpers and saw you cover your face with your sleeves. Realizing that you were still uncomfortable with taking your shirt off, Miguel decided to play a different game. He left your shirt alone and proceeded to grope your breasts while he kissed your neck.

Your hums and moans were his approval to keep going. Miguel was having a hard time holding back. Normally he would just get over the sex session quickly, but not with you. Miguel pinched and flicked your nipples, feeling your body arch.

Oh how Miguel wanted to ravish you. Bringing his lips against your breasts, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he sucked against your nipples through your shirt. You gasped towards the friction, whining softly as Miguel continued to play with your chest.

His erection started to grow painful. Miguel slowly spread your legs with his body, softly grinding his hardon against your clothed cunt. He wanted you to feel what you were doing to him. Miguel wanted you to know how much he wanted you.

---------

You could feel your mind go hazy as Miguel pleasured you. Your knot grew tighter as Miguel dry humped against you. You swore you could feel him holding back. Biting your lower lip, you muffled a moan as you felt Miguel slowly take your pants off.

His slow yet gentle movements sent shivers down your spine. A sudden chill blew against your dripping cunt, causing you to shiver. Miguel chuckled against your ear before his large hands engulfed your pussy, slowly making circular movements against your clothed clit.

"Hah~ M-Miguel," You whispered, feeling that knot growing tighter.

"Yes?" His lips returned to your clothed breasts, sucking against the fabric.

"I-I'm...mhm~" You trembled as you focused on his fingers.

Shivering as he pressed against your clit, you cried softly as you had your first orgasm. Panting softly, you tried to focus on Miguel. Your vision was blurred slightly, but you could see him hover over you. His fingers moving away from your pussy.

"That good?" Miguel whispered with a chuckle. You took a moment to catch your breathe,

"Mhm," You nodded, covering your face, "I-I...I haven't really...been touched like this..." You whispered. Miguel raised a brow before removing your panties with his teeth,

"Then allow me to show you the proper way to feel good,"

--------

Miguel had fucked for revenge. Miguel had fucked for a quick stress relief. Miguel had fucked just for the sake of having sex.

But for his own pleasure?

Now that concept was new to Miguel. The moment you cam by just his small teasing and foreplay gave a rise to Miguel. He groaned softly, wondering how much he was going to enjoy this. Your small confession only made him want to prove to you more that you were solely meant for him.

"That will be the first of many orgasms I'll give you," Miguel kissed you deeply before rubbing your clit again,

"Ah~"

"So wet for me," Miguel groaned lowly, dipping his head to your dripping cunt, "Thanks for the meal,"

"Ah! Miguel!"

Miguel hummed as he started to wiggle and swirl his tongue against your clit. His eyes watching you cover your face while your body squirmed. He held your hips in place as he savored your sweet juices. With a quick suck of your sensitive bud, Miguel watched how you arched and cried his name.

Oh, this was going to be a long night.

----------

You swore you saw stars as Miguel ate you out. You never experienced this. You were never given this much pleasure. You whined and cried as you gripped onto the bed sheets, curling your toes as you felt another knot grow tighter.

Your breathless moans getting louder as you felt Miguel's tongue start to explore your folds. His name rolling off your tongue as your mind became consumed with nothing but thoughts of Miguel.

"M-Mig...ah~ mhm," You whimpered before gasping sharply as you felt a finger slowly enter your pussy, "Miguel~!"

"Just prepping you, mi delicioso conejito (my delicious bunny),"

Breaking down and cumming hard, you cried his name out as you felt his finger explored your insides while his tongue lapped up your mess. Your body felt like it was on fire. Miguel's finger was big. You felt slightly embarrassed by how much your pussy was clenching down against his finger.

You shivered and moaned as Miguel entered another finger. His thick digits pumping deep inside your gummy walls, curling and moving inside you. It felt so good. You kept squeezing against his hand, slowly moving your hips to his movements.

"Not as shy in bed, hm?" Miguel teased, kissing you deeply, allowing you to taste your juices, "You're doing such a good job,"

"M-Miguel," You whimpered, raising your arms.

You wanted to hold him. You wanted to feel him. Miguel must have understood since he took his fingers out, and licked them clean. Placing himself between your legs, Miguel pulled you into his embrace, inhaling your scent,

"Is my little bunny ready?" He asked, pressing his tip against your hole. You shuddered at the feeling,

"Y-Yes."

You gasped and shuddered as you felt his thick cock push into your tight walls. Whimpers and cries escaped your throat as you buried your head into his neck. Miguel whispered sweet nothingness into your ear, easing your nerves.

"Shh, good girl. Just relax,"

This was too much. Miguel was too big. You gripped onto his back, digging your nails into his skin. A cry came out as Miguel stopped midway, allowing you to adjust. You felt so full already and Miguel wasn't even all the way in.

You kept yourself wrapped around Miguel, listening to his sweet praises. After a few seconds, you started to relax. Your wet pussy clenching against Miguel's dick, desperate for movement. Your breathing grew frantic as you looked at Miguel,

"M-Miggy,"

As if something snapped, Miguel pulled your into a rough kiss as he started to move his hips. With a slow pull out, you whined, feeling empty but immediately moaned as Miguel shoved his dick back inside your soaked cunt.

You flung your head back as Miguel thrusted slowly but deeply into your. Each thrust with his dick pushing deeper and deeper into your poor pussy. You already felt your third orgasm about to burst, which gave Miguel another reason to slap into you nice and rough.

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Miggy~" You cried out again, cumming hard.

"Ah, mi amor. How delicious you sound. How lovely you taste," Miguel groaned.

You laid back against the bed, feeling your arms grow weak. Miguel kept kissing your neck as he held your hips. His dick giving you those delicious slow yet deep pounds. His tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. With a raise of your hips, you cried and moaned as you felt him rub against that sweet spot.

---------

Miguel was holding back from ravishing you. He was enjoying this moment too much. Your fucked out expression as he pounded your tight cunt. You looked so good with his dick inside you. A perfect fit. This thick dick being coiled around your delicious walls.

"So beautiful," Miguel groaned, feeling himself fall into the trap of lust, "You're making a mess out of me,"

"Miggy~" You moaned out.

Ah, that nickname. Miguel couldn't resist going nuts when you called him that. He never let anyone call him that except his annoying brother, but you? Oh, it turned him on so much. Miguel wanted to destroy your pussy, but this was so nice.

So good.

The white ring that formed around his dick was proof of it. Miguel glanced down at your body, watching you squirm into your long sleeve shirt. You were about to cum for him again. Unable to hold back much longer, Miguel raised your legs over his shoulder as he fasten his pace.

"A-Ah~ Hah~ M-Mig mhm~!" You moaned loudly, shaking as you came again.

"(Y/N), would you let me...nh...cum inside?" Miguel groaned.

Normally he'd grab a condom. Normally, he'd make sure to pull out. But he couldn't. Not with you. Miguel wanted you badly. Miguel needed you to stay with him. Miguel wanted to protect you and give you his all.

---------

You were so blissed out that you could barely understand anything Miguel was saying. Drool was rolling down your lip as you nodded and moaned in response. You couldn't feel your legs and you sure as hell couldn't feel anything but Miguel's dick bullying your cunt.

"(Y/n)" Miguel groaned.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his hot load fill you. You whimpered in response, but relaxed as Miguel slowed down. He pulled out, pulling you into his embrace once more. He was so warm. Nuzzling against his chest, you closed your eyes, falling asleep.

---------

Miguel let out a sigh of relief as he hugged you. Honestly, he was worried he pushed you too far. It was annoying, but Miguel still wasn't fully satisfied yet. He could go for another few rounds, but you weren't up to his stamina yet.

You weren't trained to handle his dick yet.

Rubbing your back, Miguel proceeded to lay you back down. He went to relieve himself in the bathroom before grabbing a warm rag. Miguel cleaned you up and smiled at his work. You were perfect. Miguel needed to keep reminding you that.

This was just the start of your life with him.

If only you knew that you were making this cruel Mafia leader melt under your touch.

If only you knew how weak you were making him.

If only you knew how bad Miguel wanted you to be his wife.

It was all in due time. Miguel put on his pants, climbing into bed with you. He covered you in his blanket and pulled you closer to him. Your sweet scent mixed with his. You were already becoming his. Miguel was not going to let you go.

----------

Meanwhile, on the other side of town. A hooded figure stepped out of the Greyhound bus, a loud grunt under his breathe. He snarled towards the stench of the city and proceeded to grab his bag with haste. Swiftly, he passed through the roaring crowd, wanting a moment to peace.

"Time for this city to learn how Venom tastes."

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

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27

[thenerdykneazle]

Amorous Tension

Summary: Poppy is quite sure her best friend has feelings for our favourite heir of Slytherin. MC is quite sure she doesn't, despite abundant evidence to the contrary. When Ominis asks MC to help him study for an upcoming potions exam, she jumps at the chance. TL;DR: Two idiots in love brew amortentia together.

A collab with the lovely @darch7995, who created the audio version of this story. Listen to the first part here and the second here.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: the mildest of hand kinks, kissing, a surprising amount of schoolwork, stressing about exams, failure to communicate

Word count: 4185

You tapped your quill anxiously on the edge of your parchment, forming an ever-growing blot of ink in the margin. You were re-reading a paragraph in Flesh-Eating Trees of the World on a South American anteater-eating shrub. The words made as little of an impression in your mind as they had the first time.

A hand settled on top of yours, startling you.

“You’re going to put a hole in the table if you keep that up. And I doubt Madam Scribner would be pleased,” Poppy said teasingly.

You sighed, setting down the quill before dropping your head onto the table. “I’m going to fail. I know nothing. Less than nothing, even. Garlick is going to laugh me out of the greenhouse,” you said hopelessly.

Poppy rubbed your back comfortingly. “No, she’s not,” she assured you.

You let out a frustrated groan. “I’m never learning the difference between Jacaranda muscipula and Delonix geogalinivorae. They’re both just bloodthirsty ferns.”

A smooth voice came from behind you. “Jacaranda muscipula is native to South America, and its diet consists largely of deer mice. Delonix geogalinivorae is found in Madagascar and feeds exclusively on tenrecs.”

Your head shot up off the table. “Ominis,” you said in a higher pitch than you’d intended. You twisted in your chair to see your aristocratic classmate standing there looking effortlessly flawless.

“Hello, MC, Poppy,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I take it you’re dreading Garlick’s exam as much as Sebastian is.”

You scrunched your nose. “More, probably,” you said dismally.

“Well, I had come to see if you might be able to help me study for Sharp’s exam on Monday,” he said. “I could help you with herbology after. Of course, I’d be happy to help even if you don’t have time for potions practice.”

You gaped at him. He was asking you for help? Amit and Sebastian both had top grades in potions. You’d taken to it quite well, but the two boys had several more years of experience than you did. Garreth knew every ingredient and recipe inside and out, though he almost never stuck to the instructions – you could see why Ominis wouldn’t have asked him for help.

Your stomach leapt at the idea of spending time at the bench – just you and Ominis, brushing elbows at the cosy workspace. It was always dizzying being in such close proximity – the effect of his expensive cologne, surely.

Poppy would probably argue differently. She’d just been pestering you just that morning about your alleged feelings for the sarcastic Slytherin.

“You’re the biggest flirt I’ve ever met, MC,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes as you walked to the Great Hall.

Garreth had just been talking to you out in the courtyard about needing to acquire Thornback Matriarch venom for a new potion he was working on. You had told him he’d probably be better equipped than you were at charming the ladies into giving him what he wanted.

“I think you’re jealous and just need to ask the Gryffindor out, already,” you argued, shooting her a quelling look. “I was just being funny.”

“Mhmm,” she replied sceptically. “Well, I think it’s funny how I’ve seen you flirt with Garreth, Leander, Sebastian, Amit, and even Imelda, but when a certain serpent with stormy eyes and chiselled cheekbones comes around, you turn into a frightened little puffskein. You go all ruddy-faced and start stammering.”

She was poorly suppressing a smirk as she looked at you.

You scoffed. “I do not stammer!”

“Yeah, and I don’t fancy Garreth,” she replied sarcastically. “Admit it, you’ve got a crush on Ominis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you asserted, glaring at her.

She raised a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. “Then why’s your face match Garreth’s luscious locks right now?”

“Oh, shut it!” you said, increasing your pace so that Poppy fell behind.

She just laughed at you. “You’re only proving my point, you know!” she called after you.

Poppy elbowed you sharply between your ribs. You’d gone far too long without replying. “Ow!” you hissed at her.

Ominis had a nervous look on his face. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t at you,” you said quickly. “I mean, I’d love to study with you.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Wonderful! When are you free?” he said.

“How about now?” you suggested as you began to pack up your things.

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt,” Ominis said.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted. You shot Poppy a reproachful look. “I’m suddenly feeling unsafe here in the library.”

Poppy stuck her tongue out at you. “Yes, I need to go help Professor Howin feed the thestrals, anyway. You two have fun,” she said much too giddily.

You sent her one more glare as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “So, shall we use the Room of Requirement?” you asked Ominis.

“That sounds perfect!” he replied brightly.

You led Ominis out of the library and started the long climb up to the 7th floor of the astronomy tower. You were glad to stretch your legs after sitting in the library for so long.

“I don’t know how you can keep those carnivorous trees straight in your head,” you commented as you strode down a long corridor. “They look exactly the same to me when they’re not in bloom.”

“Do they?” he replied, sounding intrigued.

For a moment, you wanted to sink through the floor. Obviously, the fact that the two trees looked alike was of little consequence to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Ominis chuckled. “It’s all right,” he said, clearly amused. “It’s strange to think that they seem so similar to you. They feel quite different. The jacaranda tree has very rough bark, and the geogalinivore has waxy leaves. Plus, it has a sweet smell – sort of like oranges.”

“That’s actually very helpful. Thank you,” you said.

He smiled softly at you. You couldn’t help but notice how one of the beauty marks on his left cheek disappeared into his dimple when he smiled. “I’m glad to be of service,” he replied.

You could feel your face flush, though you had no reason to be blushing. You were relieved when you reached the 7th floor and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. You cleared your throat. “Right, well, we’re h-here,” you said, cringing at yourself for tripping over the words.

Ominis held the door open for you as you entered the Room of Requirement. “I appreciate you helping me practice. Sharp’s class was hard enough when I knew what I’d be expected to brew. Having to prepare to make any one of four potions has been quite stressful.”

“It is a bit ridiculous,” you agreed as you started pulling ingredients out of your cabinet.

“Honestly! It’s hard enough keeping the ingredients for one potion straight – let alone for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Draught of Living Death, Veritaserum, and Amortentia,” he said.

“It is a lot,” you said. “Where should we start?”

“Hm…Well, I don’t think I would be very productive after testing potions for sleep or euphoria. We’d best leave those for later,” he replied. “What do you think? Amortentia or Veritaserum?”

“Amortentia’s easy enough to test. We can tell if it’s right just by how it looks and smells. Let’s start with that,” you suggested.

Ominis smirked. “You just don’t want me getting you to spill all your secrets,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right; I don’t,” you agreed honestly. You weren’t exactly a secretive person ever since you didn’t have to hide your ancient magic anymore. However, the thought of not being ableto hide anything if you wanted to was terrifying.

“Amortentia it is, then!” Ominis said. “It’s the one I’m best at, anyway.”

He lit the flame to heat the cauldron before beginning to grind the moonstone with a mortar and pestle.

“So, what does Amortentia smell like to you?” he asked, chatting as he worked.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted as you leaned a hip against the bench.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Were you holding your breath when we brewed it last week?” he teased. He cracked two ashwinder eggs into the cauldron before adding the powdered moonstone and stirring it together.

“No! I just…Well, I guess it’s that it doesn’t smell like anything to me,” you admitted.

“You must be joking. Surely you smelled something,” he replied incredulously.

“Just the usual musky dungeon,” you joked. “I thought I’d just brewed it wrong at first, but yours didn’t smell like anything to me, either.”

His brows drew together. “That is curious. I know I made mine right, because it…Well, it worked for me,” he said, his cheeks colouring a bit. “Do you just not find anyone attractive, then?” he added casually as he began cutting the thorns off of some rose stems.

“I don’t know. I mean, I used to think I did, but…now I’m not so sure,” you replied. “I don’t know what could be wrong with me to not smell anything if I did like someone.”

“I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with you, MC,” Ominis replied.

You sighed. “I hope not,” you replied before biting your bottom lip anxiously. “I thought maybe everyone was lying about smelling different things, and it’s really just an odourless potion. But I checked three different texts in the library, and they all said the same thing Professor Sharp did about the smell being unique to what each person finds attractive.”

“It’s definitely not odourless,” Ominis replied with a smirk. He shook his head as if to snap himself out of something before clearing his throat. He turned his attention back to the potion.

He added the thorns to the cauldron before beginning on the petals. You watched his hands as he plucked the petals off the stems, stacked them neatly, and rolled them together before slicing them into thin, even strips. He was quite skilled in his technique. Despite sharing a bench in potions all year, you’d never really noticed how fluidly he worked. There was an almost entrancing nature to the graceful movements.

“So, what does it smell like to you?” you inquired as you forced yourself to stop staring at the veins winding over his wrists and across the backs of his hands out to his slender fingers. You had always thought there was something nice about his hands.

“Oh, there is no way I’m admitting that,” he replied.

“But I told you when you asked,” you argued.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing doesn’t count as an answer.”

“But it’s the truth! I can’t help that I didn’t smell anything,” you argued.

“I’m still not telling,” he insisted. He added the rose petals to the potion. His brow furrowed as his fingers skimmed over the fronts of several bottles. “Which is the pearl dust?”

“Third from the right,” you said before letting out a laugh as a realisation struck you.

“What?” he asked a bit defensively. “Did I grab the wrong one?” He shook the sealed bottle by his ear to listen to its contents shift within.

“No, that’s the pearl dust. I just…” You giggled again, and his scowl deepened. “I just realised that’s the last ingredient and the first thing I’ve helped you with. Seems like you barely need me here.”

He relaxed almost instantly, even laughing a bit himself. “Well, it’s much easier to brew here,” he explained. “I know which ingredients are which when they’re in my own containers – and even most of yours at this point – but almost all of Sharp’s bottles are identical. I have to figure out what’s in each one every time I pick it up. Sometimes it takes four or five tries to find what I’m looking for. It wastes so much time.”

“That sounds extremely frustrating,” you said sympathetically.

“It is,” he lamented as he added a spoonful of pearl dust to the cauldron. He stirred it clockwise three times before lowering the flame. “There! It should just need to simmer for a bit, and then we’ll see how it turned out.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” you said as you settled into a high-backed chair, kicking your feet up on the ottoman in front of it.

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” he said. “You know, I was even worse at potions when I was younger. I tried summoning the ingredients to myself in the early years, and it was usually a disaster. In first year, we had to brew a burn salve during our exams, and I simply could not find the dittany, even after sifting through all the ingredients on my bench three times. I gave up and summoned it, and it knocked over all the bottles in front of it on its way to me. They rolled all over the bench, and I had nearly plunged my hand straight into my cauldron trying to put them back in order. During another exam, I tried to summon flobberworm mucus, and all the bottles of the stuff came flying towards me at the same time.” He laughed. “It was all over me, my bench, the floor. Amit nearly slipped in it trying to come over and help. Professor Sharp was livid, but I think he felt too badly for me to give me detention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “Oh, I’d have died on the spot!” you said.

“I nearly did. It was utterly horrifying,” he said. “I pretended to be sick for three days after that because I couldn’t stand the thought of facing everyone. I even had Sebastian bring me food so that I didn’t have to go out to the Great Hall. But I’ve learned to bounce back from my Blind Boy Moments quite quickly since.”

“Could Sharp not just label the ingredients for you?” you asked.

Ominis scoffed. “No, he insists that every good potions student should be able to identify the ingredients on their own,” he said, exasperated. “He wouldn’t even let me come in beforehand to label them myself because other students might see them. He also won’t let me use my own containers because it’s all got to be ‘standardised’ so it’s fair.”

“Well, that’s quite the opposite of fair! He’s putting you at a disadvantage,” you said. You could feel yourself getting angry on Ominis’s behalf.

“I am perfectly capable of identifying the ingredients. Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean I’m incompetent,” he said bitterly.

You were taken aback as his ire turned toward you. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you are, Ominis, I swear!” you said earnestly. “It just seems unreasonable that he won’t accommodate you at all. It’s so frustrating. I have an uncle who’s blind. He wasn’t born that way – he had an accident. And he’s a Muggle. So…it’s a bit different, obviously. But he’s worked in kitchens all his life. When he first went blind, he couldn’t cook anymore. But his boss’s wife, Marjorie, was blind, too. She taught him how to navigate the kitchen again without being able to see. They made adjustments to things so he could keep working there.”

“You have a blind uncle?” he asked, seeming shocked.

“Almost all my life. He married my aunt when I was just a baby,” you explained. “He cooks even better than a house-elf, too! Don’t tell Feenky I said that, though. Or Deek, for that matter.”

“I can’t believe you have a blind uncle,” Ominis said, still stunned.

“Really?” you asked. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never met another blind person,” he said.

“Never?” you said, surprised.

“Not once,” he confirmed. “My parents weren’t exactly looking to find me a support group. It’s exceptionally rare in the wizarding world, anyway. So, they sort of just kept me hidden away until school. They hadn’t even expected I’d get a letter even though I clearly had magic. It wasn’t until I figured out how to navigate by wand that they stopped treating me like a doll instead of a child. Even my Aunt Noctua was rather overbearing. No one ever believed I could do something myself until I showed them I could.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was going through all of that on your own,” you said.

Ominis gave a haughty huff. “Yes, well, I think I’ve done all right for myself,” he said firmly, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

“You’ve done more than all right, I’d say,” you argued. “Which reminds me, you still have to tutor me in herbology after this.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

“You’d better not have,” you said sternly. Your severe expression didn’t last, though. You couldn’t help but smile around him. “Wait, so, if you didn’t have anyone to help you figure things out, did you invent the spell that lets you read books?”

“Ah, well, I suppose I wasn’t entirely on my own. Sebastian found that spell in an old tome in the library. Some languorous 17th-century scholar grew weary of having to keep his eyes open whilst reading,” he replied. “It worked quite well in my favour.”

“If there’s one thing Sebastian excels at, it’s research,” you replied.

“Yes, and it’s been both a blessing and a curse in my life,” he said irritably.

“I feel the same,” you said wearily.

Ominis spun back toward the potions station. “It smells like the potion’s ready,” he announced.

You got up and walked over to inspect it. “Mother-of-pearl sheen. Perfect spirals of steam. Excellent work, indeed, Ominis.”

He blushed at your praise. “Any essence of musky dungeon emanating from it?” he joked.

You laughed. You leaned over the cauldron and breathed in deeply to play along. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard by the smell. “Yeah, actually. It…” You took in another breath. It was masked beneath the cologne Ominis was wearing, but you could distinctly smell the cool, earthy scent that permeated the lower levels of the castle. “It does.”

“Merlin, MC! You don’t have a crush on Professor Sharp, do you?” he asked, aghast.

“Gods, no!” you replied immediately. “It’s not the dungeons, anyway. It’s different. But…familiar.”

You tried to smell it again, but it was still too hard to tell. You hadn’t realised earlier just how strong Ominis’s cologne was that day. Usually, you found the scent rather pleasant, but, currently, it was making it extremely difficult to smell anything else. You grabbed a phial and poured some of the potion into it. “I can’t tell what it is. I need to smell it in fresh air.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell foul?” Ominis demanded as you walked away from him.

“No, not at all,” you said before taking another sniff of the potion. “It’s just that your–”

Your voice died in your throat as two realisations struck you simultaneously. The first was that the earthy scent you had identified was the exact smell of the Undercroft. The second was that you still smelled Ominis’s cologne just as strongly even though you were on the opposite side of the room from him. The phial slipped from your hand and shattered on the wood floor.

“Are you all right?” Ominis asked, rushing over to you in a panic. “Did the potion burn you? I heard glass break. Did you get cut?”

He took both of your hands in his to feel for any injuries. The tips of his fingers brushed gently over your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Sorry, no, I’m fine. I just–I hadn’t realised…something,” you said. You heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Poppy had been right. You did fancy Ominis.

Ominis released one of your hands to raise his to your cheek. “Are you certain that you’re okay, MC?” he asked.

Your skin burned hot under his touch. “Y-yes, of course. I was just surprised when I placed the smell,” you said.

He tilted his head in interest. “Oh? What is it?” he asked.

You bit into your lower lip, keeping yourself silent as you wavered on whether to confess. He did seem to be rather doting at the moment. You wondered if he might return your affections.

“Perhaps I should’ve brewed the Veritaserum first, after all,” Ominis joked. “Maybe then I could finally get you to tell me what you smell.”

You laughed. “That’s not necessary. I just…Well, I’m pretty sure it’s, um…the Undercroft,” you said. Your nerves increased with every word, but you felt a flood of relief after getting them all out.

“Oh,” Ominis said uncomfortably. His whole body went rigid before his hands dropped away from you. “I…I see.”

“Ominis, I…” you started, trying and failing to figure out how to take the words back. You imagined the mortification you were experiencing was similar to how he had felt standing covered in flobberworm mucus in front of his peers.

“Well, I suppose I should still tell you what I smell, since you told me what you do,” he said sombrely. “Though, I can’t imagine it will be all that surprising.” He took a steadying breath. “It smells like old parchment, like those dusty pages Professor Weasley had you collecting last year. And I smell the mallowsweet you always carry around with you. And your shampoo. I always smell it when you hug me or fall asleep with your head on my shoulder.” He cleared his throat. “So…there you have it.”

“Are you upset about this?” you asked, bewildered by his tense reaction.

He forced a laugh. “What? No, of course not!” he insisted, but it wasn’t quite convincing. “I’m happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“Both of you, I mean,” he clarified, giving you a pained smile. “Although I’ve never asked Sebastian about his feelings toward you, with the way he flirts with you, I’m sure he reciprocates.”

“You think I fancy Sebastian?” you asked.

“Well, he’s the one who showed you the Undercroft,” he replied simply.

“Ominis, you’re the one he learned about it from. You’re the one I hang out with there. It’s rosewood and jasmine from your cologne that I smell in that bloody potion!” you said.

His brows knit together in confusion. “I thought you just smelled the Undercroft?” he said.

“Well, that’s what I thought when I was standing next to you – and in class last week,” you said. “You were right there, so I didn’t realise the smell of you was coming from the cauldron instead of…you know…you.”

His features went slack. “Oh…” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” you replied similarly.

“I’m a massive idiot,” he said, shaking his head at himself.

You smiled. “Yeah,�� you said. “We kind of both are, aren’t we?”

“It would appear so,” he agreed. He laughed as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Well, this has certainly been an illuminating study session.”

You melted into him instantly. “Indeed, it has.”

“You smell wonderful, you know,” he said as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

You giggled in response. “You smell quite nice, as well,” you replied.

“I taste even better,” he said cheekily.

Your gaze immediately dropped to his lips. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice coming out husky.

“I can prove it if you’d like,” he said. His breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“Yes, I think you should,” you replied. “For…educational purposes.”

Ominis’s lips brushed against yours almost tentatively before he leaned in to interlock them. His heat sank into your body as he held you firmly against his chest. You snaked your arms up behind his neck as you kissed him back. Being held by Ominis – and kissed by him – felt right. You wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever. If you could’ve, you would have fused into him so you never had to be apart again.

You didn’t know how long it was before Ominis broke the kiss, but you knew it was too soon. “I still have to return the favour for you helping me with potions,” he said.

“Yes, right. The herbology,” you replied, still breathless from the kiss. You had forgotten about those bloody shrubs altogether.

“Actually, I was thinking we should work on divination, instead,” he said innocently, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

You arched a brow at him. “Oh?” you asked. “Are you even taking divination?”

“No. I can’t exactly read tea leaves or look in a crystal ball,” he stated. The smirk spread on his lips. “But if I could, I’d see me in your future.”

You laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sebastian,” you chided. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling!” he said with a false gravity to the words. “I’d like to fix that as soon as possible by spending more time with you, instead.”

“I’d like that,” you said, unable to stop beaming at him.

“Me, too. Especially if it involves kissing you again,” he said.

You blushed. “I think that could be arranged,” you replied.

[raphael-angele]

If Hades raised Nico and Bianca Part 40 (feat Maria's Cannolis)

Maria, coming back from grocery shopping: I'm home!

Hades, holding Baby Nico: Hello, mi amor. Welcome back. Persephone took Bianca out to the park.

Maria: ...And what are you doing?

Hades: Looking through the company's reports. Profit margin is down in Argentina and-

Maria: No. No, no, no- I can see that. What I meant was, what are you doing with our son?

Baby Nico: *sucking on a Cannoli*

Hades: Oh, that. He was crying

Maria: ...He didn't want his bottle?

Hades: Nope

Maria: Pacifier?

Hades: I tried

Maria: Any of his teething toys?

Hades: He just threw those at me.

Maria: ...Hades, you can't just give our 1 year old a cannoli to make him stop crying.

Hades: Why not? He's happy. He likes it. Plus, I did my research and found out that ricotta is good for babies.

Maria:

Baby Nico: *babbles to let them know he finished his Cannoli (filling)*

[moiraimyths]

Is it possible for romance to bloom while mixing platonic and romantic choices? Sometimes the flirting gets a bit too overt or I just feel the platonic choice suits the mood more (especially often with Shae) so I was curious about how this might work! Do I need to pick romantic choices n number of times to get it on the right track or will it be fine if just sprinkled occasionally?

Short version: Yes, you can absolutely mix your choices! Long version:

There are a lot of choices in NDM. Some are general flavour choices, others are good/bad ending choices, and the remainder are choices that impact your relationship with the cast. When those latter choices are selected, one of these little icons will appear briefly in the top left of your game: A heart, two hands, or a crown.

Heart choices are the most romantic-coded choices; overt flirting, amorous expression, kissing, etc. They're the type of choices you'd generally expect to see in a romance game, and their purpose is to signal that you're pursuing a character romantically.

Hands choices are the more platonic-coded choices; congeniality, friendly ribbing, hugs, etc. If you find yourself faced with two choices and one seems more romance-y than the other, then that second one is most likely a hands choice and will signal your intentions as friendly.

Now if we stop there with our choice options, we run into a bit of a problem: By themselves, these options feel superficial, or too rigid for realistic relationships. Flirting alone does not a love affair make, and who hasn't kissed their homies goodnight before?

This is why we have crown choices. These choices are essentially neutral relationship points that could be plausibly romantic or platonic; gestures of loyalty, positive affirmations, expressions of care, etc. More importantly, if you -- the player -- decide to mix and match your heart and hands choices such to the point that they're essentially even or within a reasonable margin of error, the crown choices will allow you break the tie toward your preferred ending.

Ergo, let's say by the end of Shae's route, your relationship choices are 49% hands, 41% hearts, and 10% crowns. Hands (or the friendship ending) is leading by a teensy amount over hearts, but you really want the romantic ending. In this scenario, you'd be prompted in-game to answer how you perceived your relationship with Shae, which would turn your crown stat into the hearts stat, tipping it to 51%, which secures you that romance end. Same choice would be presented if you incidentally or intentionally had a plurality or majority of crowns over hearts or hands.

Ultimately, we want our players to be able to define their experiences and choose the relationship choices that feel most natural, without necessarily needing to worry about tallying up how many times they opted for smooches over hugs. So have fun! As long as your choices aren't majority heart or hands, you won't be too "boxed in" to one path or another.

[desamor-desapegado]

Teu gosto musical excêntrico

Teu rosto tão escupido

Tua boca carnuda avermelhada

Tua pele clara e macia

Teus cabelos bagunçados

Teu olhar fundo e doce

Tua voz que canta com prazer

Teu sorriso, o sorriso mais bonito

Admirar você é admirável

[astralcities]

when you start saying shit like "marginalized men don't have power over women" you immediately lose the plot. and i see that on here specifically in terms of trans and gay men. where people say "i'm sorry that cisgender heterosexual men are awful but they oppress us too, we have no power over you" & that's simply not true! their interaction with misogyny and manhood is different, sure; extending that logic to other groups makes it look immediately silly. does a neurodivergent man no longer benefit from misogyny due to his marginalization by neurotypicals? are older men who are subject to ageism now no longer a part of the patriarchy? it is not that all men are evil by root of being a man. gender is fully amoral. but all men are, regardless of the denial of power they receive in some ways, still are connected to the patriarchy and privilege. this privilege is obviously nuanced and conditional. flat out denying it on the interwebz and acting like women (many times trans women!) are crazy evil bitches for saying they're wary of All Men or frustratede with All Men makes you seem not like an ally but like someone desperate to shed the responsibility of unpacking their attitudes towards women

[somehow---here]

L'amore è l'organo con cui percepiamo l'inconfondibile individualità degli esseri.

Nicolás Gómez Dávila, "In margine a un testo implicito" (Escolios a un texto implícito I), 1977