#fabrice caro

[des-paroles]

Fabrice Caro, Samouraï

[polestargios]

“it’s on amazon” “i got it on amazon” “you can find it on my amazon storefront” SHUT UPPPPPPPP SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPPPPPPPP

[sugar-petals]

Hi caro thanks for your amazing posts ❤ . Do you think we should style ourselves based on our venus sign or kibbe type ? For example I'm a pure romantic / bright winter , but I have aries venus . It's such a dilemma, should I dress TR( intense +yin ) as sort of a middle ground and call it a day 😅? Have a nice day

short answer: your color palette does the trick first and foremost.

long answer: i think that even though body types have the most traction and astro inspo can be fun, seasonal color makes the biggest difference. especially for hair, with its warm vs cool tones, as it frames the face directly. e.g. warm - left ❌, cool - right. ✅

why? a well-chosen kibbe outfit can be ruined by an off color choice, but an outfit or hairstyle not quite your ID can make your face glow when it's your color.

so, finding bright winter in your wardrobe would be your priority. lots of exciting, screaming color, you're the only type that pulls off neons. alex daddario is an example. it just shines.

(reverse example: zac is a summer wearing winter colors here, but the gently muted cool brunette saves it, so it looks nice.)

for her, as soon as you turn the brightness off, the yellow and red warm tones in the hair no longer light up the complexion. bright winters only thrive with cool-toned, intensely dyed fashion.

add black/cool white as the staples, e.g. as the hair color. bts' yoongi is a beautiful bright winter. cool bright blonde on him... so good, adds a healthy glow. his natural black hair obviously, too.

megan fox' wardrobe & hair are perfect as THE consistent example, too. she hardly ever misses since the start of her career. the darker the outfit, the better. the right-hand styling works best because winters are born for high contrast style.

lets test it, juxtaposed with kibbe.

megan wearing her (soft) classic-ish lines (simple + soft fabric) but it's a dull beige color far from bright? looks boring, too bland. not memorable, doesn't highlight the face.

megan wears dramatic (sharp shoulders, V neck) even though she is too short for a D type at 5'4 but the color pops = it looks great, her face is so amazing.

this jennifer's body scene is famous because of the color scheme, the clothes are too soft gamine for soft classic meg. but as long as the hair is winter black and the wardrobe is brightly toned, it works.

color before kibbe, the face and hair being in harmony with the garment's color is the most notable difference. if you prioritize the face less, then, kibbe facilitates the styling more. bright winter is easily possible with romantic lines, you don't have to dress TR.

color is 100% important and impactful. kibbe, around 70%, with room for options. seasonal color is much narrower an art. a palette can be restricting, while kibbe IDs can open up an endless world of variation.

that's why seasonal color is less popular, it's tough to be so exact. remember the 6 color families (warm, cool, soft, bright, light, deep) to make it easier:

not her hair: too warm, muted, light (autumn-ish)

exactly her hair: cool, bright, deep (= bright winter)

thanks for your ask, have fun!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt Swap II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get a package

When you and Momma get home from the park, there's a package outside of your door.

You scamper up the front steps and kick at it.

Momma sighs. "Princesse, what have I told you about kicking boxes?"

"Not to," You huff," Because they might be fragile. But! But, it's got my name on it! Is it stuff for the new house?"

Momma and Morsa have been busy packing a lot lately. They say it's because you're going back to Germany and they're getting stuff ready for the new house.

They've got the World Cup first though so the summer is going to be very stressful and busy, which is why they're packing everything now.

"If it was stuff for the new house," Momma says fondly as she picks up the package and opens the front door," Then it wouldn't be addressed to you."

"But it is for me!" You insist, pointing at the label," See, it's got my name!"

It has got your name but it's also got a bunch of other labels on it too.

Momma gets a box cutter and opens it. "It looks like it's come from abroad," She says, cutting through the layers of tape and pulling the flaps up.

"Ooh," You say, kneeling by the coffee table as you peak inside.

There's a little letter at the very top but you're more interested in the many jerseys underneath it.

You grab at them, pulling each out carefully. You recognise a lot of them as Barcelona jerseys - the blue and red design recognisable easily.

Momma reads the letter as you go through them.

Most of them are Barcelona shirts like you thought but there's a white shirt too with blue accents and the crest of three lions on it.

"Momma!" You gasp as you hold it between your hands," It's a Keira Walsh shirt! Momma, look!"

You hold it up triumphantly, a look of complete awe on your face.

Momma's smiling at you. "I can see that," She says, waving the letter at your face," It's signed too. Have you noticed?"

You hadn't at first but, as you look at your little pile, you notice that all of them are signed.

"Wow."

"They're from Aitana," Momma says as she reads you bits of the letter," She hopes that you're doing well and she's sorry that it took so long. Please enjoy the collection of club and national team jerseys she's gotten from her teammates."

You take little time to think before you're tearing through the box again, throwing jerseys around as you dig through it.

You've got two Keira Walsh jerseys - her England one and her Barcelona one.

You've got another Caro one too, her Norway shirt this time instead of an old Wolfsburg one. You get an Engen shirt too. You vaguely recall Engen in your memory, at your last year at Wolfsburg with her and Auntie Frido (who had also encased just her Barcelona jersey because you had so many of her Swedish ones).

You brush your fingers over the fabric of the red Caro and Ingrid Norway shirts. It's red. You like red. It's not quite Arsenal red but red is red and you think the Norway shirts are really cool.

You tell as much to Momma.

She laughs. "You know, technically, my Denmark jerseys are red too."

You roll your eyes. "They're red-pink," You tell her," This is proper red. Not Arsenal proper red but still more red than red-pink."

You close off that line of argument by digging through the box again. You stop at a Barcelona shirt. You run your finger over the number eleven on the back and the name too.

You're very good at reading in all four of your languages so you spell it out quickly.

"A-lex-ia," You sound out slowly," Alexia." You frown. You think you've met someone called Alexia a few times before but never someone with a surname like that. "That's a weird last name."

Momma laughs again. "It's her first name, princesse. Sometimes, when you get very good and very famous, you get to put just your first name on your shirt."

You think about your keeper gloves, hanging out on your desk. You haven't packed them yet, not when you still have time to go to practice with Zećira and Ann-Katrin.

You look back at the shirt in your hands.

"I want to have my first name on my jerseys," You say softly, not exactly to Momma but you know that she can hear you," I want to be really good like that someday too."

Pernille smiles at you, not saying anything as your stare down at Putellas' jersey with a little crinkle in your brow. You keep looking at it for a moment longer, completely in awe at the singular first name on it before grasping for your England Keira Walsh shirt.

Momma helps you put it on just as the front door opens again.

Morsa appears in the doorway, hopping on one foot as she lifts the other in the air to take off her shoe. She looks at the carnage with one brow raised.

"Did a bomb go off?" She jokes," I don't remember ordering any new jerseys."

"Aitana Bonmatí sent them," Momma replies," Remember, I told you that we met her during the friendly against Spain? She was quite taken with our princesse." She pulls the jersey over your head. "So much so that she rounded up enough jerseys for maybe two extra teams."

"I've got two Keira Walsh jerseys, Morsa!" You exclaim excitedly. "And-And Caro and Ingrid's red Norway jerseys! They're so cool! Norway's so cool!"

Morsa looks a bit horrified at that. It seems that she can take you wearing Denmark jerseys but a line has definitely been crossed when you start chattering on about how cool Norway is.

"Alright," Morsa cuts you off right before you launch into a tirade about how cool Caro's dribbling skills are," Well, you've got new jerseys. So, what does that mean?"

You gasp. It completely skipped your mind and you scamper over to the hallway wall to stand against it, smiling proudly as Morsa snaps a picture of you wearing every new jersey Aitana sent you.

"Alright," Momma says once she's helped you back into your Keira Walsh England shirt," Now, Aitana also attached her number so how about we send her a little video?"

You grin at the camera, little fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Thank you, Aitana!"

"For?"

"For my new jerseys! Thank you!"

[separatetheyolk]

The Timeline Of Coming Out | Carlos Sainz X Trans!Reader

ʚɞ part one

ʚɞ featuring: Carlos Sainz

ʚɞ You come out as transgender to your boyfriend and navigate your transition together

ʚɞ notes: I'm deciding not to do bottom surgery in this because 1, im not educated enough (despite being a trans guy) and 2, its much less common then top surgery. Reader will be going on testosterone, top surgery adnall the things that come with a social transition. This is going to be very heavy on the affects of being transgender, highs and lows. That includes lows of depression, considerations of self harm and suicidal ideation, transphobia, but also highs like transiton accomplishments.

ʚɞ It is impossible for me to put trigger warnings on everything in this so it is a heavy read at your own risk. If you are easily triggered whether dysphoria, mental health or both, I suggest skipping this one <3

ʚɞ I can tell you though that theres a google translate warning lol

READ TAGS

You grsbbed the small package on the floor by the front door, swallowing thickly. "Babe? Is that the post?" Carlos called from the kitchen. "Anything for me?" You grabbed the letters still stuck in the letter box, slowly walking to Carlos with your eyes still fixed to the grey package in your hand. You set the letters down in the counter, assuming it would all be for him or just junk. "Gracias guapo.." Carlos murmered, picking up one of the letters and began to tear into it.

He got half way through the contents of the letter when he'd realised he hadn't actually gotten a response from you, looking around the room and spotted that you'd migrated to the sofa. "Baby? Everything alright?" He asked, picking up the letters and began to move over to you.

He dropped them onto the coffee table, looking to your hands and spotting the parcel easily. "Ah, here already?" He asked, moving to sit beside you.

"I don't know why I'm hesitating.." You whispered. "I shoud be happy, right? Why is part of me still saying this is wrong?" You paused, feeling Carlos wrap an arm around you and gently directed you to his side.

"Let me see.." He murmered as he took the package, tearing it open with ease and pulled out the white fabric. Unfolding it so it would take the shape of your binder. He set it on the coffee table beside forgotten letters, smoothing out any creases from the clothing. "It can stay here until you're ready. This is at your pace.."

The following few days the binder caught your eye as you'd walked past it. The third day, you couldn't take your eyes off it. The fourth, haircut day, you'd grabbed it from the table rather quickly and headed back upstairs to your bedroom. "Could.. You help me put it on?" You spoke from the doorway, looking to Carlos still lying in bed.

He looked up from the book he'd been lost in when you spoke up, turning to you holding up the binder. "Of course I can, mi amor.." His voice was soft, gentle. He slipped out of bed, slid on some shorts and made his way over to you. Carefully, he took the binder from you, letting you pull the oversized hoodie over your head. You kept your back to him, taking the binder back so you could slip it on part way. You felt the man press kisses to your shoulder, neck and back for a few moments before he pulled away, pressing one lass kiss to the back of your head. Then, let you start to put on the binder. You managed to get it over your head, Caros reaching around to your front and pulled the fabric down so your hands weren't stuck in the air, then brought his hands around your back and evened it out there too.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you for a moment. The two of you standing in silence with no need to talk. Kisses still being left wherever Carlos could reach. After about thirty seconds, he slowly let you go. "Go see if you like it then, handsome." You heard, nodding slowly in response and grabbed one of his shirts from the wardrobe as you went. You made your way to the en-suite, Looking to yourself in the mirror while Carlos stood in the doorway. Slowly, you turned to your side, mood dropping when you saw the bump of your chest still. You knew that it all had to go somewhere. But there was still a dilusional side that had thought you'd be completely flat.

Carlos, your ever attentive boyfriend spotted the sag in your shoulders, shaking his head. "Put on the shirt, mi amor." He spoke, standing upright away from the doorframe. You looked to the shirt, sighing softly. It couldn't look any worse, surely. You pulled the clothing over your head, ever so slightly too big, strap if your binder showing, but it looked better. Instantly better. The part of the binder that stuck out away from yor ribs around the bottom held the shirt away from your chest a little allowing it to taper down and caused the curve on your chest to be less noticeable.

Carlos rose an eyebrow, waiting for any response but you just.. Stared at yourself. "Well?"

"It's.. Amazing." you whispered, smile growing as you spoke.

You stood from the barbers chair. Doing one last checkover in the mirror. You'd mostly kept a straight face thoughout the cut. Watching as the length of your hair fell to the floor. The more that was cut, the more strange it felt. Your head was unbelievably lighter, the breeze down your neck was causing shivers and twitches every so often, everything sounded so much clearer without hair covering your ears.

You done one last check in the mirror, hand running through your fringe, a small smile now on your face. It looked strange, would take some getting used to. But it felt right. Still, part of you couldn't decide if you liked that feeling. You thanked the man as you walked around the corner and to the waiting room.

Carlos looked up to his phone when he heard footsteps coming around the corner. Looking to see you, short hair and all, grin spreading on his face which in turn, caused that small smile on your own to widen. You walked over to him, slight shuffle in your step and a blush spreading on the tips of your ears as you pressed your face into his chest. Carlos set his hand against the the back of your head, the touch felt weird with te shaved back but again, felt right. "You like it?" You mumbled to him, feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

"I love it.." He muttered, holding his card to the reader to pay for the cut. Both of you leaving after a second appointment had been booked. "How about we grab a bite to eat? We hardly ever eat out." He hummed, looking to you as he wrapped an arm arond your waist.

"Sure, where were you thinking?"

You followed Carlos though busy streets, holding his hand tightly as you'd dodge strangers. Trying your best to keep out of their way and more importantly keep out of cameras. He hummed softly, leading you down a cobbled street and into a small cafe, cute and cosy. Lights strung up in rafters, dark wooden booths, tables and chairs. "The usual?" He asked, looking down to you then nodded it to the side to getsture to the till.

"Please. I'll go find us a seat." You spoke softly, stealing a quick kiss from him before leaving his side. You walked further into the cafe, stopping abruptly when a man pushed out his chair to stand.

"Lo siento señor" He apologised, you'd done a double take behind you thinking Carlos must have followed behind you. Finding him still at the till ordering. He'd called you sir? You felt happiness creap into your chest, giving the man a smile and nod as you made your way past him. He'd called you sir.

You managed to find a booth easily enough, slipping inside and lent on the table with a smile. A stranger had called you sir. "What's got you so happy?" Carlos asked as he sat down, causing you to jump ever so slightly. You waited for him to shuffle further inside, taking one of your hands across the table.

"Someone called me sir."

Weeks continued as normal after that. Though you had mostly kept yourself inside the house. You hadn't come out yet, to anyone. Not your parents, or friends, not anyone on the grid and certainly not online. Still grappling with what being trans meant for you, what you wanted, what you didn't, trying to put yourself in situatuons such as transphobia, how it would affect you. How it would affect you if someone you loved didn't support you. You didn't want to be spotted or outed before you wanted to out yourself.

Right now? You were grappling with the idea of getting out of bed. Today was supposed to be productive. Carlos was on his usual bike ride, he'd get back, have his shower and you'd both clean up the house. But the idea if your body being on display made you want to claw your way out of your skin. Even if it was just Carlos that saw you. It was strange, ever since aknowledging your trans identity, the dysphoria had dialed up to eleven. Your body was ultimately nothing new to you or Carlos, nothing either of you hadn't seen before. But regardless, you wanted nothing more than to keep it hidden.

Carlos came home about two hours later, bike left in the hallway as usual, helmate left on the sofa, shoes toed off and left at the door. "Baby?" Carlos called, looking around the ground floor for you first. When he came up short, he moved upstairs. Checking the bedroom first. There you were, lying in bed still, blankets pulled to your face and a quiet sniffle coming from the pile.

"Mi amor?" Carlos moved into the room slowly, leaning on the bed with a closed fist first. "Guapo?" He muttered, pushing the blanket down to spot you, clearly you'd been crying. Eyes red and puffy, face wet and a damp spot on the duvet. "Oh mi amor.." He whispered, carefully bundling you up in the duvet as he picked you up. Taking your spot on the bed and set you down in his lap. Somehow, even unknowingly, Carlos done exactly what you needed. Holding you, while keeping your body hidden and under wraps. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The question brought everything back up to the surface you'd only just supressed ten minutes prior, a new wave of tears smothering you without warning causing you to break down into uncontrolable and ugly sobs. You moved to hold onto him, not caring for the sweat, grime and dirt. One hand wrapped around his back and gripping the fabric at the back of his spandex, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and your other arm coming over his right shoulder and holding onto the fabric of his left.

"Oh- okay alright.." He murmered, wrapping his arms around your own frame in a tight hug. "Okay.. You're okay baby.. I got you.." You felt as Carlos ran a hand to your neck, massaging it gently in a soothing motion. He let you have your cry. Ugly and messy, skin red puffy, capillaries broken, eyes bloodshot and glossy, cheeks soaked and hair a mess.

Once you'd calmed down some, that taking about half an hour, Carlos directed you away from his neck, hands leaving your back and cupped your cheeks instead. Hos thumbs glided over them, drying your cheeks gently as he placed a kiss to your forehead. "Please talk." He mumbled against your skin. Once your cheeks had dried off, he allowed you to cuddle back up. This time, your arms wrapped around his waist and leaning into his chest. Carlos shuffling further down in the bed.

"I hate myself.." You murmered. Before Carlos could ask why, you continued to speak. "I hate myself for allowing me to explore this, I hate myself for not ever being happy if i didn't, I hate myself for the body i've got. I hate myself for just not being grateful that I'm even alive, I hate myself for putting you through all of this, I hate myself for just.. hating everything about myself."

Carlos frowned at that, hand running through greasy hair without a care for it. "I read that can be normal while you.." He paused, trying to figure out what word it was he was looking for in English. "Adjust.. You might know who you are, but it's a big change for you too. Learning to accept who you are while also knowing others will too is hard. Everything will change in how you're.. Percibido. What's the word- perceived. Some of it will be good, some will be bad. You can't control what people will think but you can control how it will affect you." He heard you sniffle, nodding agaist his chest. He sighed softly, looking down to you. "Would you prefer to keep busy today or just cuddle?"

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. "I'm really tired.." You confessed, removing one hand from around Carlos and pulled the duvet further up so it was half way up your face. Trying to cozy yourself up.

"Cuddles for you it is, mi amor."

[muwapsturniolo]

✯Hoodie Pt 2✯

Summary: Y/N can't get over her breakup with Matt.

warning:angst

pt1

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You'd probably think I was psychotic (If you knew) What I still got in my closet (Sad but true)

She felt like shit. Since Matt broke up with her at the beginning of the summer, she's been crying nonstop. One would think with the way he ended things, she would hate him, but no. Instead, she finds herself finding comfort in an item of his. She knew that if her friends saw how she was coping they would call her psychotic.

I slip it on over my shoulders It's something I'll never get over It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

At nighttime, she would slip the hoodie on, imagining it was Matt holding her. She imagined he would pull her close, whispering sweet nothing in her ear like he used to do.

I can't keep your love I can't keep your kiss Gave you everything and all I got was this

She would go through phases of hating Matt for what he did. She gave him her all, three years of her life...and all she got was a breakup and a hoodie.

I'm still rocking your hoodie And chewing on the strings

At times the girl found herself walking around her apartment wearing the hoodie, chewing on the strings as she carried on with her everyday tasks.

It makes me think about you So I wear it when I sleep

She always had bad insomnia and Matt knew this, so he would sleep over all the time, holding her tightly so she could sleep. But he's not here anymore, so she resulted in sleeping in his hoodie, hoping just the thought and smell of him would be enough to trick her mind into letting her sleep.

I kept the broken zipper And cigarette burns

She was staring at the hoodie one day, examining the blue fabric. She doesn't know why she kept this one, after all the hoodie had a broken zipper and multiple cigarette burns on it. Maybe it was because it was his favorite hoodie, maybe it was because this is the one that holds the most memory.

Still rocking your hoodie Baby, even though it hurts

As much as she wanted to think keeping and wearing the hoodie is helping her cope, it's not. It hurts her to even think about Matt, yet here she is torturing herself.

I used to put my hand in your pockets (holding on) The smell of your cologne is still on it (but you're still gone)

She was doing her laundry, going through the pockets of each article of clothing when she got to the hoodie. She pauses and stares at the blue fabric. She holds it up to her face and sighs, smelling the faint cologne. it's like he's still here. she decides not to wash it, scared she will wash away anything she has left of him.

I slip it on over my shoulders You're someone I'll never get over It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

As she slips the hoodie on over her shoulders, this deep feeling of melancholy hits her. Tears form in her eyes when it finally hits her. She's never going to get over him. he was her first love, her first boyfriend.

I can't keep your love I can't keep your kiss Gave you everything and all I got was this

She gave herself to him, her virginity, her love, everything. He was selfish enough to take it, leaving her with no more love, no more soft kisses...just a hoodie with a broken zipper and cigarette burns.

If you want it back I'm here waiting

She posted a picture of herself in the hoodie, the caption not being subtle at all. She knew she was delusional thinking Matt would see it. But she sat there, hoping he would.

Come and take it back Come and take it back

It was around 20 minutes later of her staring at her phone, when a text came through. She clicks on the notification and feels her stomach fill with butterflies. She responds back quickly, not caring about how eager she seems.

Still rocking your hoodie

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

i hate this, i like matt's better fr.

TAG LIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

[seeminglydark]

i recently have started using my collection of patches, spare fabric, and studs to customize one of my bags that i’ll use for college and to create my first battle jacket and patch pants. It got me thinking of what John’s first seeing adventures looked like and unfinished or scraped projects that he had.

Oh that sounds so much fun! Best of luck on customizing your stuff! I bet it will look awesome!

Johns first sewing adventures were definitely when he was a teenager, I think it started because he needed to mend his clothes, he didn't get new ones very often because his dads a neglectful jerk, so he had to make what he had last, so it was a lot of really bad stitches and diy. I didnt draw them cuz, just trust me they were bad. He finally gave up and went to ask the Home Economics teacher for some tips (we will pretend thats still a thing) and was taught basic stitches and repair. As a teenager he wasn't as shy or introverted as he is an an adult, so most of his skill was learned by asking around. He started helping Caro hem their too long pants, and his other friends sew on their patches and mend too. Taking his time and making the stitching look good by hand became kinda of therapeutic for him.

As an adult he still likes to customize and sew and mend. Eventually he works up the nerve to go to the library and sit in the room and watch intently at the sewing guild and try to pick up what they were doing, but much like punks, groups of crafty old ladies will often pull you in if they sense interest in something. If you look at some of my past art of his battle jacket, you can see hes embroidered and cross -stitched on it, and of course still make his own patches. He has some unfinished quilt tops lying around, he doesnt actually make actual clothes very often but does diy and customize everything he gets his hands on. These days hes even the one who screenprints the Brew shirts for the coffee shop <3

[ghostchems]

if you're taking nsfw drabble requests bghjdsl um. throws terzo/fem reader cockwarming in here

nsfw! mdni! about 1k words. ehhhh we got some confessional cockwarming!!

You’re not sure why you’re the one who’s being punished — but you know better than to argue with Papa. In fact, this predicament you’ve found yourself in is *salacious,* nestled underneath his chasuble between his knees with his velvety cock in your mouth. You focus on staying completely still though your knees are starting to grow sore from kneeling for so long. Terzo wants you here for the entirety of confession, until every last sibling has had their time to share their sins with him. It’s been infuriating to hear him coo over every single one of them, to have them giggle and flirt back through the partition. Then, you start to remember where you are and what you’re doing. The tension in your body shifts down to your core, your muscles tightening in your lower abdomen, thighs squeezing.

“I’ve fantasized about being with you, Papa. You bring out the most delicious lust in me.” The breathy voice from other other side of the partition sends a current through you as Terzo’s cock twitches with interest. His hands slithers down his robes, sharp nails bunching the fabric above his thighs. You stifle a groan and try to loosen your jaw to accommodate the way he blossoms in your mouth.

“It is a privilege to inspire such thoughts in His name.” He answers cooly, dragging his robes until you’re free from beneath them. Your eyes flicker up to meet his, despite his pupils being blown and his teeth worrying his bottom lip his expression screams behave. “Go on, tesoro.”

“I think about you during Black Mass. How your voice carries through to the tiniest corner of the sanctuary, how your robe flows with such power.” They speak quicker now, their voice a mere whisper. Your cheeks start to burn. It dawns on you how personal these thoughts are and how you’re intruding on this moment. Before you’re able to think any further, Terzo’s fingers weave into your hair, nails scratching at your scalp. You breathe carefully out of your nose and drag your tongue along his underside, paying extra attention to the spot just below the head. His thighs flex and he sucks in a silent breath, exhaling with an interested hum, almost teasing the sibling to keep going. All while his eyes are locked on you.

“You choose me to assist you in your invocation. I drop my cloak and expose myself to you on the altar.” Husky whispers through the partition. Terzo uses his knees to squeeze your body between his legs to keep you still. You’re stuck, all encompassed by him, nothing but him. He runs his fingers across your scalp with a tender touch. “You use your hands to please me in His Name, on display for the congregation to see.”

“A ritual of passion, eh? I don’t believe we’ve had one of those since Primo.” He’s back to playing Papa and the sibling offers a giggle. “Perhaps I’ll bring this up in our next clergy meeting — now that I know I’ll have a volunteer.” More laughter. “Thank you for your confession, caro. I look forward to hearing more from you. And, ah, would you mind telling those waiting I’m finished for the evening? Grazie.” The sibling giggles some more and utters a quiet goodbye.

They leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Terzo stays completely still other than his throbbing cock on your tongue. The both of you listen closely to their receding footsteps, then some murmurs and louder chatter. As soon as the volume in the room rises he guides your head back down his cock with a desperate groan. You sink all the way down his length, nose meeting his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. His heady, salty taste fills your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat and you utter a low hum as you swallow around him. Terzo melts into his chair with a deep growl, spreading his legs further for you, finally able to enjoy himself.

“You are… ah, so good for your papa. Brava ragazza.” He rasps and tightens his grip on your hair. Your tongue swirls around his length and you bob your head at a more steady pace, one hand pressed to his thigh while you curl your other fingers around his base. Terzo moans, running a hand over his face and arching his back with a huff. “I love the way you look with my cock in your mouth. Bravissima.” You whine and suck a sharp breath in through your nose, jolts of arousal spreading through you. You start to stroke his cock in time with each bob of your head, dark eyes flitting up to meet his. He hisses and bares his teeth, hips giving one last jerk as he spills down your throat.

You sit back on your knees and use one of your sleeves to wipe your swollen, wet lips. Terzo’s gaze is hazy but he never looks away from you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as he quietly catches his breath. He’s wrecked — his pants still around his ankles, robes bunched at his hip and hair tousled — and you’ve never seen him look so beautiful.

“Vieni qui.” Terzo reaches a gloved hand out to you and you take it, wobbling to your feet. His arm sweeps underneath your ass, pulling you into his lap. Your heart pounds in your ears, feeling equal parts anxious and excited — he’s never shown such affection after. Your chest presses to his, chin resting on his shoulder as he curls his arms around you. “I like being with you, tesoro. I wouldn’t want anyone else in here with me.” A confession. Much different than the usual teasing and poking. You lift your head just as his hand cradles your cheek, stroking it with his thumb but still gives you a small prick with the tip of his nail.

He gives you a warm smile and you feel alive.

send me a request!

[iveraines]

i just wanna thank everyone for all the love on my V cosplay. it was a tough build, and is still in progress/reworks. i intend on making her prom dress, maid dress, and camp uniform.

long ass post ahead detailing progress, so hold onto your socks!

📸 by my bestie caro :)

the closer to completed i got with the parts, the more and more every little thing went wrong. i need to rework/repair a LOT before i enter her in any competitions. i also intend on building her wings. may post progress updates

for the EVA foam arms, i made them too long (and still need to trim them more) and was unable to use my arms at all. i had to ask my girlfriend to hold and manage all my stuff at the convention. :,) they’re also gritty as hell, because i had to make them outside and the wind kept blowing them off the work area while the paint was wet. the paint messed up a lot and had to be re-done several times.

as for the mask, similar to the arms. the paint gave me hell and i had to trim it down multiple times. i also lost it to a gust of wind at the convention! i was EXTREMELY lucky that my bestie was able to spot it in a road median the next day.

originally, the tail was going to have LED’s in it similarly to the headband. however, the electronics kept breaking. no matter how much i fiddled with it and attempted to re-solder it, it would not work. at one point, the line suspending the tail snapped. that was an insane repair on the con floor.

i was hoping to have the dress done fast, as i have most of the parts pinned and ready to sew but the machine does not like the stretchy fabric. at all.

even though i measured a gajillion times, the stockings did not end up as long as i would have liked them. the painting on them is unfinished too, and was all done the two nights before con. i actually ended up passing out while working them because of how much i overworked myself with school and con crunch!

as a last-second improvise, i whip-stitched some fur on a thrifted top!

i was originally going to do the fingers on the glove with foam, but the parts all peeled and ripped, so i just painted it instead. one of the fingers on the glove even almost came off.

[imprincipalweemspet]

Under the desk

Hello! This is my first time writing something so please don’t be so mean to me. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking.

Enjoy! 😘

You could only hear the dull pounding of your racing heart in your ears, you were on your knees with your neck slightly bent in the dim darkness under the desk waiting patiently for Larissa.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you hear the faint voices of the students, indicating that classes have started.

Entonces escuchas la puerta de la oficina abrirse y cerrarse.

El sonido de sus caros tacones resuena por todo el lugar.

Ves como la silla de cuero se quita del escritorio, lo que te da una vista de la mitad inferior de su cuerpo. Te aprietas contra el soporte del escritorio para no delatar tu presencia.

The desk was big enough that her shapely legs weren't touching you.

She texts you, thinking you were at work. You innocently text him back.

She suddenly crosses her legs exposing the soft skin of her thighs, which were wrapped in a pair of cream-colored stockings that trailed up her legs and ended at the middle of her thick thighs.

You reach out tentatively and touch her ankle with your fingertips.

Larissa gives a small jump in surprise, rolling her chair back.

She tilts her head to look under the desk, fixing her gaze on yours.

Her blond eyebrows rose in surprise to find you under the writing, you gave her a mischievous smile and your hands resumed their place caressing her ankles, dissipating Larissa's tension.

She pulled her chair closer to receive more of your caresses.

Your hands slowly run up her calves, kneading and squeezing her thick legs.

Her legs open slowly giving you more access, your hands moving higher under the hem of her elegant dress and over the top of her stockings, making contact with the softness of her bare skin.

She rolls her chair closer to the desk as she feels the touch of your cool hand on her warm skin, your firm grip on her milky thighs, lifting her dress over her hips to reveal the tops of her stockings and panties.

There was enough light to see her burgundy lace panties covering her beautiful pussy, which was stained dark from her arousal.

Your hands rest on the outside of her thighs pulling her closer to you.

You started by spreading little feather kisses on her knees, slowly moving up her legs.

She can feel your warm breath on the inside of her thighs.

The smell of her sex is driving you crazy, your pussy was soaked and your clit was throbbing, but that didn’t matter, you just wanted to worship your goddess.

Your mouth slowly approaches the target. Her body jerks as she feels your warm breath come in contact with the sodden fabric of her underwear.

You cover her pussy with your mouth, press your wet tongue over her lips, savoring her salty sweetness.

Her hand slid under the desk, tangling her long, slender fingers in your hair, pushing her needy cunt into your mouth.

You tilt your head back a little to admire your work of art, the sodden fabric of her panties clinging to her swollen pussy lips, her erect clit pressing proudly against the wet fabric of her panties.

She removes her hand from your head and pulls the underwear aside exposing her pussy, her lips wet and sticky from her arousal and your saliva.

You crane your neck and your wet tongue slides carefully between her folds, lapping up the hot moisture before finding her swollen clit.

She leans back in her leather chair arching her back and forcing her pussy against your face.

You slowly slide your tongue down the hole of her pussy, inserting your tongue as far as it will go, deliberately rubbing your nose over her clit.

You move your head up and down, savoring the delicious taste of her pussy.

Your tongue alternates between its entrance to her clit, over and over again, eagerly drinking the juices of her dripping pussy.

You feel her legs contract, her hand returns to your head yanking roughly at your hair, you gasp for air as you are stimulated by the sensation of the other woman’s fingers tangling in your hair.

Her thighs tighten around your head, bucking her hips desperately painting your face with her luscious fluids. Your lips close around her clit, licking her eagerly.

You slide your middle and ring fingers deep into the wet velvet of Larissa’s pussy. Using your thumb to rub circles around her clit accompanying the thrusts of your fingers.

Her hips rocked up and down uncontrollably, riding your fingers, you increased the speed of your thrusts by adding a third finger driving her wild with desire.

Larissa was so wet you could hear the wet sound of your fingers working between her thighs.

Her juices gush onto your hand as she reaches her orgasm, feeling the delicious contractions of her pussy crush your fingers.

Your fingers slowly slid out of her soaking cunt, leaving Larissa squirming, moaning and shaking.

You slid your glistening fingers into your mouth, not wasting a drop of her delicious fluids.

You slowly slide your tongue back into her sensitive cunt, wiping away the remains of her glorious orgasm.

[valentine-cafe]

Alessio 164 teaching his darling how to kiss? 👉👈 As a request, if you guys have time😇😅 * trying not to feel too embarassed over asking something that may lead to smut*

Also i am biased so i can't say who would be the best in bed but, i am guessing someone who has lived very long (though many have)? ...Who would be the best? I'm curious now

-🌹 Stay safe and take care! (Also sorry for mini spamming your inbox!)

. ˚◞♡ 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆  ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 164 alessio / fem/masc!reader ꒱ when he found out that you hadn't had your first kiss yet, he was more than happy to help out

𖹭. content warnings◞  explicit content . clit rubbing / jerking off ( at the end ) . 0.6k

𖹭. receipts◞  hehe absolutely 🌹 baby!! hope this suits your tastes

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

♡. when you came to him and asked of him if he could teach you how to kiss, he sat you down almost immediately. a lovesick grin on his face, that said it all.

♡. “let us start out with the simple moves first yeah? I’ll put my lips on yours and you’ll press yours against mine.” he’d hum as he did just as he said he would.

♡. as you press your lips against his, a spark of excitement clashes into the pools of his core and he leans closer to help guide you through the kiss. his hand on your cheek, moving to the back of your head and pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

♡. he breaks the kiss for a moment, muttering against your lips: “wrap your arms around me, amore, it enhances the intimacy.”

♡. listening to him once again, you wrap your arms around his neck. shifting yourself closer to him. pressing your lips to his.

♡. slowly, without words. without warning. his tongue pokes at the bottom of your lips, and you stiffen out of slight panic for a moment, not knowing what to do.

♡. a deep blush spreads across your face as you hear the small chuckle emit from his throat.

♡. “part your lips baby.” he hums “I will not use tongue yet, it will simply be deepend kisses.”

♡. the second you’ve parted your lips, you feel him pressing his kiss against your lips with his own parted ones. tilting his head and yours to kiss you a little more intimately. passionately.

♡. a little whine slips past your lips at the feeling — it feels so good. his soft lips connected with yours, moving in a gentle, slow rhythm.

♡. at one point when he notices you are losing breath, but losing yourself in the kiss as well. he breaks it and parts with a little, a string of saliva connecting to the two pair of parted lips still facing each other.

♡. “you have to remember to breath caro” he chuckles, admiring the way your lips are beginning to swell slightly.

♡. when he sees the way you’re looking so desperately at him, he can’t help but pull you close again. kissing you, albeit a bit more hungrily than the last he did it.

♡. he savors every little taste, pressing you further against the couch the both of you had been sitting on, until he’s leaning over your form beneath him, laying right there on the couch.

♡. slowly, his hands begin feeling you up, squeezing gently in areas he knows you’re comfortable being touched in before slowly, making his way to ones he hasn’t touched as much, unless it was without your permission.

♡. “can I? please, tell me if I am going too fast.” he’d mutter against your lips and breathe heavily against them. looking straight into your eyes with a heat he hasn’t shown you yet — a look he’s only given you when you were not looking.

♡. “yes — yes you can,”

♡. fem ) and the second you had answered his hands would move down in between your thighs, his skillful fingers running down your clothed slit, before he carefully moves the fabric of your panties to the side. thumb finding your clit as he presses heavy, panting, open mouthed kisses against your lips. circling it gently, and humming as he hears your soft moans.

masc ) and the second you had answered his hands would move down in between your thighs, his skillful fingers running down the growing hard bulge in your underwear. carefully moving his fingers beneath the fabric and rubbing his thumb against your tip. circling the area gently, as he presses heavy, panting, open mouthed kisses against your lips. and humming as he hears your soft moans.

♡. “fuck, doing so well for me, gonna keep going a little longer, yeah?”

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[des-paroles]

Fabrice Caro, Samouraï

[revryebread]

Everything Is Interstitial: Games inside of Games inside of Games

Interstitial is a game that takes characters and rips them from the cloth of where they come from and quilts them into one world. “Everything is Interstitial” is an extension of that: what if you could do that with mechanics and games?

I have teamed up with 5 designers to bring their games to Interstitial. When you turn the page from one to the other, you will stop being in Interstitial and start being in one of their games. They'll still be playbooks for Interstitial, but you will have the power to get into the gears and change the fabric of how you interact with the base system.

The best way I can put this is like in Dead Cells when you pick up the Hollow Knight needle and suddenly you can incorporate elements of Hollow Knight’s movement and gameplay into the game. I want that for Interstitial. (You can jump on people's heads and swing down, adding parrying and the weird bounce from the HK to a game that does not naturally have it!)

TAKUMA OKADA

Takuma is someone I have known in the TTRPG scene for what feels like ages, and their work has always been deeply impressive to me. They're a creator who has a way of stringing words together that could never come to me, and whenever they release something it feels like it changes the way I think. 

You may know them from Stewpot, Alone Among The Stars, and Old Home!

CARO ASERCION

Caro Asercion is someone I could work with every day and not get tired of it. When I read a game by them, it feels like momentum instead of action–their games let you be the movement of the gears, instead of the thing that is forcing them to turn. It feels second nature, and it makes things happen like magic in front of you.

You may know them from i'm sorry, did you say street magic?, Exquisite Biome, and The Long Shift!

TYLER CRUMRINE

Tyler has an absolutely incredible eye for resolution mechanics, and more importantly has a writing that lets me know cleanly and clearly how those mechanics work work cleanly and clearly. I come out of reading those rules like I've always known how to play. The Possible World RPG series is something I carry around with me when I'm traveling,  and whenever I show them to people they are amazed and impressed. 

You may know them from Beak, Feather, & Bone, Hounds, and Grandpa's Farm!

BRANDON LEON-GAMBETTA

I remember one of my first times ever being on Discord, sitting in the One Shot community, and turning to my wife and going "Oh woah, there's someone in here who actually makes TTRPGs!". That game was Pasión de las Pasiones, and that person was Brandon! I have been following his work forever, and between the experimentation that comes from his podcast or the genre work he's doing in his games, it's always incredible.

You may know him from Pasión de las Pasione, Stop Hack & Roll, and RadCrawl!

BRIAR SOVEREIGN

There is a wealth of big robot games out there in the wild, and to make yours stand out is a feat of strength. Briar's knack for amazing design both in layout and mechanics has made their work resonate clear above everything else. They are an absolute joy to know, and to work with them will be a highlight of my life.

These designers are each going to take one of their games and port it into Interstitial as a playbook, layout and all. This'll give players new mechanics to play around with, and hopefully ways to break everything. All of these designers are incredible at what they do–-- and they're bringing what they do to Interstitial. As long as we can hit that goal!!

[sugar-petals]

Hi caro ! What do you think is Aaron taylor johnson's body type? ( my personal guess would be some kind of natural he does strike me as the sporty guy , but during anna karenina he looked sooo good with Romantic hair curly and blond uh ) thanks

wonderfully gorgeous man. easily soft natural!

here's his recipe: natural soft yang (athletic medium height build) + slight romantic yin elements as you gave example pics for = SN.

kibbe width is first and aaron is above petite height, so not pure romantic. that also eliminates D, C, and G categories.

focal point for all SNs are strong shoulders plus defined waist plus strong thighs. it creates the R's typical figure 8, but in a toned N way. only becomes more obvious with exercise. ultron was a breakout role bc his outfit had SN fabrics and showcased his figure, SN was a popular type in this era too and many actors of that type blew up then!

soft yang + soft yin, oh my that's double soft edges, hence his rounded shoulders, hourglass body, round eyes, romantic hands, abilty to pull off curls and soft plush fabric...

he doesn't have the vertical of FN, doesn't break above 6'0. he's tall like most N family representatives, but he also appears shorter than many SD/FN/D actors. SN is the shortest of all yang-dominant types. sharp edges/shoulders sit on top of his rounded body outlines. so, no sharp yang. always obvious when he wears DC.

he's also not a pure natural as his clothes need to be tailored to accommodate waist. only width = shirt too large. details (yin subtype) > clear-cut. just like his kraven styling, N reads as too casual/not doing him 100% justice.

that's why a touch of yin is so interesting (contrasted with keira's sharp yang in the movie, the aesthetic polar chemistry was obvious - opposite attraction, much like FN or SD is often paired with TR or SG, D with FG...). highlighted hair, gentler tailoring. huge fashion potential!

[bupia]

27, 40 and 47 with Terzo ✨

STRIPPING

"You are doing so well." "I have no idea how to go about this." "Tell me what to do."

There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.

(This is about Terzo with a transmasc!reader)

Available on AO3

Day 8 | Day 10

Terzo reclined in the chair, the faint sound of creaking filling the room. He brought his gloved hands together, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. Being in his presence was intoxicating; he exuded charm and captivation. You couldn't deny that you'd entertained various thoughts about him, more than once. He was perfection personified, and why wouldn't you think about it? Besides, if the ministry celebrated such indulgences, there was no room for guilt.

"What were you about to say?" Terzo inquired.

You hadn't needed to approach him with it. You hadn't needed to visit his office. Sister Imperator or any other sibling could have assisted you. But you were here because you knew Terzo had more to offer, more to indulge. You were eagerly awaiting that "more," eager to hear what he had to say.

"They gave me the wrong habit size," you remarked, gesturing to yourself. "It's a tad too... snug."

"Sì, I can see that," Terzo replied with a sly grin. "And how might I be of assistance?"

"I don't know, Papa," you pondered, "I was thinking perhaps you could offer some help? After all, you are the Papa, right...?"

"Sì, caro," Terzo acknowledged, leaning forward slightly, "but I'm afraid I can't help you with your habit." He gestured towards the too-snug garment you wore. "This is not one of my duties here; I don't take care of the siblings' habits."

You fidgeted uncomfortably, adjusting the tight fabric. "But can't you even tell me who I should look for?"

Terzo leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look on his face. "I'm afraid I can't, tesoro," he sighed, "I really don't know who could assist you with that problem. Maybe another sibling of sin could help you." He gestured towards the door. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

As you sighed in disappointment, you couldn't help but wonder if your expectations of Terzo had been misguided. Perhaps you had hoped for something suggestive from him, but reality didn't align with your fantasies. After all, he was a Papa, a man of great authority and impeccable behavior, always immersed in his responsibilities.

"No, Papa," you replied with a hint of gratitude. "Thank you for your time."

As you turned to leave, you heard the familiar creak of the chair behind you. Startled, you halted in your tracks when you heard Terzo's voice calling out to you.

"Wait," Terzo said, his tone changed.

You turned back to face him, curiosity in your eyes.

"Yes, Papa?" you responded, eager to hear what he had in mind.

"Maybe I can help you with your problem," Terzo suggested, stepping forward and leaning his back against the front of his desk.

You hesitated for a moment. "Oh, Papa, thank you very much, but I really don't want to bother you. You're probably very busy today, and as you said, I can seek help from another sibling."

"In that case, if you prefer their assistance..." Terzo began.

"No, Papa!" you responded, interrupting him with urgency.

"Molto bene," he said with a mischievous grin. "Come here, then. Let me assist you."

You walked back to him, coming to a stop right in front of Terzo. He placed his hands on your waist, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. Finally, he began to guide you, slowly turning you around, his gaze tracing every inch of your figure.

He stopped as you completed the spin, withdrawing his hands from your waist and crossing his arms. His scrutinizing gaze moved over your figure one more time until it met your eyes. He sighed and shook his head.

"That's really bad, caro," Terzo remarked, his expression disappointed. "Really, really bad."

Confusion clouded your face. "What do you mean, Papa?"

"I'm afraid your problem has only one solution," he replied with a hint of seriousness.

"Only one?"

"Sì, caro, unfortunately, only one."

You took a deep breath, ready to follow his guidance. "That's fine, Papa. What should I do?"

"I don't know how to go about this," he sighed.

"It's okay, Papa."

"I'm afraid you will have to remove your habit," he stated plainly.

"I'm sorry?" you repeated, surprised and unsure of his request.

"You heard me, caro, take it off," Terzo insisted.

"Papa, how is that going to help me?" you questioned, still puzzled by his suggestion, but you knew you were getting what you wanted.

"Isn't it annoying you? Take it off," he repeated, his tone unwavering.

You began to reach for the zipper on your back, but Terzo swiftly caught your arms, stopping you in your tracks and gently pushing your hands away.

"No, caro," Terzo instructed. "Start with your veil."

Blushing, you complied, bringing your hands to your veil and slowly untying it from your head. As you removed it, you noticed a big grin on Terzo's face. He returned to his chair, sitting down and fixing his gaze on you.

"Keep going," he encouraged.

"Yes, Papa," you replied obediently.

With a sense of anticipation, you brought your hands to the zipper of your habit on your back, slowly starting to open it. Terzo reclined in his chair, his gaze remaining fixed on you, his interest palpable.

"You are doing so well," he praised you.

You nodded, continuing to lower the zipper of your habit, revealing more of your skin as you did. When the zipper reached the bottom, you continued to pull it downward, taking your habit off completely. The garment fell to the floor, exposing your body.

"Molto bene, caro," Terzo hissed, biting his lower lip in anticipation. He gestured towards your underwear with a sly smile. "But there is still one more thing, sì?" His desire was evident as he spoke. "Let me see how beautiful your body is."

"Are you sure, Papa?" you asked nervously, your desire to please him battling with your anxiety about exposing yourself in such a manner.

Terzo's gaze remained unwavering as he replied, "I couldn't be more sure, caro."

Again, you hesitated. You had never been naked in front of anyone before. But you knew you wanted to please him. So you took your hands and slid your fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and letting them drop to your ankles.

The cool air hit your body, making you shiver slightly. It contrasted with the heat emanating from your core, which was already wet. You looked up at Terzo, who was staring intently at your body.

"Bravo ragazzo," Terzo praised you, his voice filled with approval. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, Papa," you replied, a sense of relief in your voice.

Terzo's gaze softened as he leaned closer. "Can I touch you, caro?" he asked, his desire now mixed with tenderness.

"Please, Papa," you whispered, your longing evident in your voice.

Terzo's smile was gentle as he beckoned you closer. "Come here, tesoro, sit on my lap," he invited, his tone filled with warmth.

You quickly sat on his lap, facing him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips meeting yours. Your eyes closed as you felt his tongue slide into your mouth, exploring your mouth. His hands moved up to your nipples, caressing them gently, pinching them slightly. You moaned softly, arching your back slightly. "

Mmmm," Terzo sighed. "You are very responsive." His hands moved down to your belly, caressing your skin lightly.

He leaned forward, kissing your neck, then moving further down, until he was kissing your chest. He kissed your chest, licking each nipple in turn, making them harden even more. His fingers danced across your stomach, teasing you. Then he pushed his hand between your legs, sliding his fingers along your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your core.

"Oh, caro," Terzo groaned. "You are very wet."

You gasped, moving your hips forward, pressing your mound against his hand. He groaned, sliding his fingers between your folds, finding your clit. He rubbed it gently, causing you to gasp.

"Papa... " you breathed, trying to control your breathing.

"Shhhh," he said, kissing your neck. "You are so wet, tesoro," he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth.

You opened your mouth, allowing him to slide his fingers inside. You sucked them clean, licking them clean, tasting yourself on his fingers. Your heart was beating fast, your breathing heavy, your nerves on edge. You were so turned on by all of this, but you also felt embarrassed. This wasn't something that you would ever do normally, but you wanted more.

"Why don't you tell me why you came here today, caro?" he whispered. "Tell me what to do, let me give you what you want."

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Redemption is a Perpetual Journey

Series: Bloodbound

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x Gaius Augustine

Rating: Mature (angst)

Word count: 1,491

A little birthday gift for the amazing @thosehallowedhalls ! Based on a chat we had... and because you have made me see our dear Gaius in a new forgiving light 🤭 I hope you have an amazing day - you deserve happiness and all good things! I'm so glad I met you, Caro 🌺🎉

The year is 3024.

The world had transformed beyond recognition.

Vast expanses of the earth had become unliveable, forcing its inhabitants to shelter in massive city-states.

The city of Novopolis had risen from the ruins of New York during the times of upheaval.

It sprawls beneath a massive shimmering dome, its skyscrapers reaching for the artificial sky like thousands of jagged steel fingers.

The domes were built centuries ago, consequence of the ozone layer’s depletion. Humankind in its hubris having failed to reverse the climate crisis. This development had been convenient for the vampires who could now walk in the daylight amongst humans, cyborgs and all manner of supernatural beings.

Kamilah Sayeed lands smoothly in a forested park on the outskirts of the glittering, fast-paced city.

A tap on her smartwatch, the lightweight wings disappear into her outfit.

She takes in her surrounding with a sharp glance. Smoothing her sleek dress. The digitally-enhanced fabric changes to align with her desired look – an elegantly dark don’t fuck with me style that makes her feel powerful, in control.

Today, she needs to be in control.

A thousand years had passed since they had defeated the original vampire, the Goddess Rheya. Since that fateful conversation with her sire, her on-and-off lover for nearly two thousand years.

******

2024

“Kamilah… in Japan… you said one good deed doesn’t undo all the evil I’ve caused. How many do you think it would take… to call me friend?”

“Come talk to me in a thousand years. I’ll let you know what I think then.”

“A thousand years…” he smiles wryly, “I suppose I could give it a try.”

*****

Gaius Augustine had been true to his oath.

The vampire had spent the past millennia wandering the known world, hunting down criminals and supernatural villains without reprieve. He seemed to have kept mostly to himself, not staying anywhere long enough to build attachments. Only leaving a trail of whispers of his exploits across continents.

Avoiding all contact with other vampires, anyone from his old life.

That was fine by her.

Kamilah had not wanted to see him. She remained angry at how he had degraded her, corrupted her into becoming a killing machine for thousands of years. But more so, Kamilah was furious at how she had let herself be seduced by his charisma, his allure. Allowed him to tempt her into following his murderous inclinations for so long. No, it would be disingenuous to lay all the blame at her maker’s feet.

And there was the issue of Rheya. Gaius had said she was not completely to blame for his behaviour, though she had locked away his empathy, his ability to feel guilt. How would their lives have turned out without her toxic influence?

At least, the pain had dulled over the centuries.

She had begun to forgive herself.

As for Gaius, she would see.

Kamilah takes a deep breath, composing herself.

The elegant vampire sets off at a leisurely pace, strolling beneath the shade of tall trees.

She heads towards a massive wooden bridge crossing a stream. A vestige of New York. Nothing made of wood was created anymore, the few surviving forests too precious to misuse so.

Kamilah crosses paths with humans, faes and other mystical beings. Most now have artificial limbs and enhancements thanks to growing advancements in biohacking.

Lily would have thrived in this environment.

Kamilah vividly remembers the vibrant, energetic young woman who had sacrificed her life to help defeat Rheya. Lily’s contagious positivity and selflessness had managed to thaw her heart a little.

The other members of their ragtag crew – Adrian, Amy, Jax, Seraphine, Nikhil – also held a soft spot, though each had followed their own paths over the centuries.

“Kamilah.”

Gaius’s soft whisper jolts the woman from her musings.

“A thousand years apart, and yet here we stand.”

He stops a few feet from her, movements uncertain.

Quickly calming her heartbeat, Kamilah takes in his appearance.

Physically, he had changed little. Those same handsome, sharp features. That charming, deviously seductive smile. That ageless face.

Though a constellation of new scars told a story, centuries of rough living. His blue eyes now held a certain melancholy.

“I’ve missed you.”

He smiles tentatively, his angular face softening slightly.

Kamilah remains silent. Observing him.

Attempting to process the chaos of emotions churning deep within her.

Together, they had danced, loved, hated and fought through epochs, their passion always an unbreakable thread. But now, after so many centuries apart, he felt like a stranger to her.

Kamilah’s gaze turns away, sweeping over the cityscape.

“Novopolis. A monument to human resilience. And yet, it lacks the wild beauty of our old world.”

They lean against the worn bridge, staring out at the jagged skyscrapers. Letting the sunlight warm their exposed skin. The dome above them hums softly, shielding them from the toxic atmosphere beyond.

“That is does. I miss the vast forests of old. How one had to spend months hidden on cramped ships to travel between continents. Spend weeks on horseback, traversing vast fields and woodlands, our bodies stiff with the harsh journeys. I had never felt more alive. Now, everything feels fast-paced, ephemeral.”

“Except us. We remain constant through all of it, unchanged.”

“Are we truly unchanged?”

Gaius asks, turning to her, gazing into her eyes intently. As if her response meant everything to him. Could perhaps redeem him.

Kamilah returns his gaze. Silent. Her face an undecipherable mask.

The man sighs.

“I have done my best to atone for my past deeds. Though it can never erase all the harm I’ve brought this world, I dare hope that somewhere down the line, I… I will begin to hate myself less. And perhaps, so will you…”

Those last few words are whispered. A confession to himself, to her.

Kamilah’s gaze finally softens. The tension eases from her shoulders.

“Gaius, for the longest time I have blamed you for our bloody rampage across Europe. For nearly destroying New York. Killing Amy, and countless others. Truth be told, I have my share of misdeeds to atone for. I am still working on forgiving myself."

Gaius takes her hands in his, willing her to look at him.

“My dear, you have always been the greater one. My moral compass. I will forever regret not heeding your advice during my darkest moments. Gods if I could take it all back…”

“But we can’t. We can only move forward.”

Those hands. Kamilah shivers unwillingly at the familiar warmth, as a surge of memories overwhelm her senses. Oh, how these hands had caressed her so tenderly, sensually for centuries. Traced every curve of her body, memorized her intimately, elicited a range of pleasure and emotions that no other being – man or woman – had been able to match since. How these same hands had also threatened her, hurt her and her loved ones. Caused her uncountable grief and sorrow.

What were they to her now?

He notices the conflicting emotions flashing across her exquisite face and steps closer, sliding his hands up, caressing her arms, shoulders, wanting to ease her pain. Somehow.

On impulse, Kamilah reaches out, tracing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Such familiar features. That soft skin, so warm.

He closes his eyes, leaning into her delicate touch. The shadow of a smile dances on the corners of his lips.

“Gaius, will we ever find peace?”

He opens his eyes, locking onto hers. A mix of emotions flickering in those endless pools. Sadness, self-loathing, tenderness… and hope.

“Perhaps. Perhaps… we can attempt to continue our journeys of atonement together?”

Kamilah closes her eyes at that, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Gaius gathers her into his arms tenderly. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and breathes in his familiar scent, hints of leather and earthy notes. Allowing herself to be vulnerable for a moment.

Just a moment.

As the city buzzes in the distance, Kamilah whispers against his warm skin, regretfully.

“I am not certain I am ready for that.”

Gaius holds her tighter, unable to let her go just yet. He nods his understanding into her obsidian hair, bending towards her ear to murmur

“I have waited a thousand years to see you again. For you, my queen, I will wait a thousand more.”