#glitter just looks so tasty

[crystalpop]

Just two guys enjoying some glitter

Benzene belongs to daichizemoff on twitter

[redflannelsheets]

.

[naffeclipse]

Taste Test

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm back once more for a lovely little request from @counterbalance who wanted Y/N and Mer Eclipse to play a little game involving food, taste buds, and guessing! This was a sweet little treat to write, ah! Eclipse loves his yummy fish and deep sea delicaties but Y/N has a few tasty morsels from on land to try and stump Eclipse with.

———

The sea is gentle with its waves. Softly lapping against the side of the Rustbucket II, the water holds still and calm. The late evening light burns golden over your boat. Looking out the small window of the cabin, you watch the glittering shards of light dance over the smallest stirrings of the ocean. 

A small shiver comes over you. Tucking your thick wool coat tighter around your sweater and overalls, you sit at the humble wooden table slotted into the narrow space. Your fishing boat is far from glamorous, but it has always served you well. 

A familiar, kind pulse fills the space of your ribcage, and you smile.

“Hey, big guy.”

The resounding swell within you answers, and you nearly close your eyes to soak in the vivid desire he holds to scoop you up in his palm and gently nuzzle your face.

But not right now. You two are playing a game. The leviathan has tucked himself away in his cavern so there is no chance of cheating—not that he would. It’s just that his big eyes tend to stray over to whatever you’ve prepared for the game when he’s lingering along the surface, and you can’t help but turn your head towards whatever catch he has thrashing in the water.

Now that you’ve learned just how acutely you can share things over the magical bond of your soul connection, you’ve developed a guessing game.

Four bowls spread over the tabletop before you. One holds small bites of beef jerky, another salty nuts, the next some dry fruits, and lastly, a bowl of ice cream that’s beginning to melt. 

“Are you ready?” you whisper to the air, concentrating on the great warmth in your middle. 

A resounding heat rolls through you. You feel the splashing excitement beginning to surge through him, and then a wayward thought of what meals he’s chosen before he cuts those off from your presence.

“Nothing is spicy, I promise,” you say quickly.

A pouty swell moves through you. Of course, you don’t eat spice often simply do not torment Eclipse with the wicked heat on your tongue. But you will warn him whenever you’re about to enjoy a meal with a kick to it. 

The first time you had unknowingly subjected him to such an experience, he had been confounded by your willingness to subject yourself to such painful torment as cayenne pepper. 

You first.

Eclipse nudges you gently, and you sit up straighter in your seat. You pluck a bit of beef jerky. It’s a bit more expensive than you’ll usually splurge on, but you want to feel his reaction to a lump of meat that is not fish. 

Popping it in your mouth, you begin chewing. You throw all your concentration into the flavor filling your mouth, savory and rich. You chew and chew, your molars working on the tough and dried meat. 

You feel Eclipse in the distance. His jaw unconsciously works with yours. You keep your thoughts close to him as if you drew a curtain around your mind, but he feels the sensation in your mouth all the same. 

He knows that you don’t have it a lot. It is saved for only rare occasions.

Something once alive.

“Correct,” you say around your morsel.

You feel his mind working, jumping from textures of fish he’s caught from a large, elderly whale to an armor-crusted deep sea creature you have no name for. 

His guess jumps into you. The latter fish he thought of. 

“Sorry, that’s not it.” You swallow the bite with a grin. “It’s beef jerky. It comes from a cow.”

He pouts, a lighthearted tide touching against you. It’s not meant to be easy, but the point is to feel each other’s thought process while taking from their own experiences and trying to decipher something the other has never tried.

My turn.

“Go ahead, big guy.” You sit back in your chair. Closing your eyes, you focus on the inner tugs of your soul. 

Eclipse lifts something to his mouth. He takes one big bite, and you frown at the texture. You feel it slipping over his tongue as if it were your own. You’ve sensed such a sensation before. 

Oh, this is easy.

“Squid,” you point your finger upwards in an ‘ah ha�� moment. 

A pleasurable flow moves through you. It would have been sad had you gotten that wrong, considering that it’s one of his favorites. Not that you can imagine eating squid in such a fashion.

In-kind, you move on to the salty nut. Tossing a handful into your mouth, you hardly have a second to chew before Eclipse correctly guesses the food. It’s a favored snack of yours. 

Too easy.

You huff out a breath at him before he dines on something else. Something new. You frown at the unique texture. It’s supple but rich in flavor. Lean and strong. Eclipse chews it with delight before swallowing it down.

“I… I don’t know,” you manage, stumped. “What is it?”

You are impressed upon with visions deep in the blue sea. Then there are silverfish. Large compared to you, but bite size for Eclipse. The long, flattened bills give away what they are.

“Swordfish.” You never would have guessed.

Eclipse rumbles in delight though admits he doesn’t usually eat them. They’re too much of a pain to catch, but he wanted to win you on something. 

You laugh.

“Cheater.”

He rebuffs you with a promise that he would never, and you reassure him that you’re well aware. You just wanted to pull his leg—or tail.

You taste the dry fruits next. The natural sweetness bursts over your tongue though kept contained without the juices. Eclipse makes a face, finding it leathery and strange.

He has no answer until you reveal it to him. 

The last food from Eclipse has him buzzing. You stir with his energy as he sets something in his mouth, and it crunches. You almost flinch from the great sound. It’s meaty as well. 

“Clams?” you ask, though you’re grasping at straws. “Mussels?”

Eclipse trills inwardly. Wrong. Wrong.

Then he gives you an impression of a crab, a great deep sea one that almost looks too alien to walk this earth. 

He got you again.

You straighten and grab a spoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

Eclipse immediately stills, his curiosity piqued while you spoon up a small bite of chocolate ice cream. It begins to pool the bowl, but it retains its cool richness. 

You take the bite and slowly swirl the ice cream around with your tongue. The sweet treat immediately sends a shiver down your back.

You feel Eclipse shudder with the sensation, but his frills pick up and his presence burns within you in delight.

He loves it, though not any brain freezes that might come with it

Ice cream.

“It sure is, big guy,” you grin. “Do you want to share some more?”

His resounding answer makes you laugh softly.

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Part 2: Pretty Woman

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: reader convinces her girlfriend jay to dress up tags: teasing, sexual tension, groping, cunnilingus, thigh riding rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k a/n: honestly just an excuse to put jay in cheetah print

Your girlfriend in her steel toed boots, rotating closet of identical tank tops, worn in jeans, and leather jacket is hot. Capital H O T hot. You are absolutely not complaining about the way she dresses, especially when she’s looking at you like you’re something particularly tasty. No, it’s just – she makes you feel so pretty, that’s all. She makes you feel dainty, delicate in her hands, the belle of the ball on the arm of the most handsome woman there. You love the way she makes you feel, you love the way she lets you do her hair sometimes, and you just want to make her feel happy.

So it’s with that in mind that you start planning. Slowly start adding images to your pinterest board, start looking up hair and makeup tutorials. Flag certain items in your online shopping cart for when they go on sale, just so there’s no fuss when the items do turn up in your closet. Primp and practice, collect and wait until just the right moment. For the right mood to strike. And when it does, you’re ready.

You’re curled up on the couch, head resting on Jay’s stomach as you watch old reruns of Dynasty on the tv. She’s got a hand resting on the side of your face, fingers stroking softly as the lights from the screen flicker across your face.

“D’you think they’re pretty?” You ask her, not looking up from your comfy position.

“Who, the actresses?” Her fingers still on your face as you move your head to nod. “I guess, though their fashion’s pretty dated.”

“Yeah but don’t they look so gorgeous and confident though?” You continue to prod. “Big hair, bigger attitude.”

“O-kay,” she drawls, clearly just humouring you but it’s an opening.

“Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” You tease, starting to push yourself into a seated position.

“What, you don’t mean me?” She squints at you like if she looks hard enough she can see the exact shape of the head damage that put you in this mood.

“Uhuh,” you nod, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “ A little bit of primping, a dab of red lipstick.”

“And then what?” Jay asks. “You turn me into some tv villain sleeping with her ex-husband’s mortal enemy?”

“Um,” you stutter, suddenly shy. “More like the morally grey lesbian that seduces her daughter?”

Jay grins because now she’s got the gist of your plan unfurling into the palm of her hand.

“Yeah?” She teases. “You want me to seduce you?”

You nod, vigorously.

“Okay fine, turn me into your soap opera lesbian then.”

You squeal and grab her hand, drag her off the couch and ignore her rolling eyes at your excitement. Push her down into the vanity seat as gently as you can while dashing around to grab things from their hiding places. Jay looks at you in the mirror as you start to backcomb her hair.

“Is this you preparing for the outcome you wanted again?” She asks suspiciously like she already knows the answer.

“Might have been,” you say, already nearly done with shaping her hair.

A fog of hairspray brings it all together, Jay coughing and swatting at your ass to leave off. Grinning, you spin her around in the chair and start on the makeup. End up sitting on her lap, legs splayed, as you swipe bold oranges and gold across her eyelids, too engrossed in your work to notice the way she’s palming at your ass. A careful hand applies a crisp line of red lipstick to her pout. Grabbing a tissue, you hold it up to her mouth and tell her to “Bite gently.”

She does, eyes never leaving yours with a hunger in them that’s not quite appropriate for prime time television. With a careful finger under her chin, you turn Jay’s head side to side to make sure you haven’t left any spidery mascara marks or fallen glitter. Satisfied with your handiwork, you push off her lap, only suddenly just realizing how far up your skirt had ridden.

“There’s an outfit laid out in the closet,” you tell her, hands fidgeting with your skirt hem. “You don’t– you don’t have to wear all of it if you don’t want to, but um, I’d really like it if you did. I’ll just um, just wait here for the grand reveal then?”

Sighing the heavy burden of the long suffering, Jay walks to the closet, trailing a lone finger down your shoulder as she brushes past. Inside just as you said is an outfit, or, what should be an outfit only there is barely enough fabric to qualify as such. Grumbling she throws her clothes in the laundry basket and starts inspecting what you’ve gifted her.

“Hey these underwear are missing half the fabric,” she calls out to you, holding out the glorified strings of cheetah print, trying to figure out which bit is supposed to actually cover her.

“Thongs just always look like that!” You call back.

“Well I hope you didn’t pay very much for them,” she continues to grumble, finally figuring out how to slide them over her hips without turning them into a garotte.

Pulls the high cut of the waistband up over her hip bones and admires the way they make her look curvy. The bra – the bra almost makes her laugh out loud. That same loud cheetah print only stuffed to the gills with padding. It’s probably 80% padding and the balconette cut means there’s basically no cup for her actual boobs. A very far, far cry from her usual sports bras, but she’ll bite. Has to adjust and play around with it to stop her nipples from wanting to spill out but she’ll admit her tits look good. She will be asking you later about why you had a lingerie set in her size just lying around though. A tight, tight pencil skirt that has her jumping and shimmying to get on goes on next, the stretch of the fabric smoothing out the harsh lines of her. A thin, see through button down is all that’s left. With a snort she simply knots it, already knowing that the hassle of the tiny buttons won’t be worth it. Not with how she plans the rest of the night to go.

Taking a breath, she allows herself a moment to just look at herself in the long mirror. Twists to admire what the skirt does for her ass, the line of her legs. She looks... powerful. The kind of beauty that crushes lesser beings underfoot with casual cruelty, sharp edges tempered by the fullness of curves Jay was never sure she’d really have. Wild. Her muscles make her look dangerous and wickedly feminine, red lips curling up at the corners at her thick thighs test the limits of the skirt seams. The way the shirt clings for dear life across her shoulders, make her an hourglass figure to kill for. Oh you knew what you were doing, dropping hints about seduction, but Jay’s gonna make you regret not being honest about it.

With a swish to her hips that is enchantingly new, Jay walks back into the bedroom. She savours the instantly glassy look in your eyes. The sweet little parting between your lips and the harsh bob of your throat as you swallow. Walks right up to where you sit on the bed and uses her height to loom over you. Your legs part automatically and she slots herself between them like she belongs there. She ghosts the back of her hand down the side of your face and you close your eyes and shudder.

“Like what you see, sweet thing?” She teases. You nod blindly and press your face into her hand. “Such a good girl, getting everything ready for me like this.” You sigh as her fingers card into your hair, cups the back of your head. “There’s just one teeny, tiny, little problem.” Your eyes fly open, brows creasing with confusion. With one hand Jay pulls on the knot keeping her shirt closed, exposes her breasts to the cold air of your bedroom. “My tits are sore from this teeny, tiny, little bra. You’re going to put that conniving little mouth to work and make them feel better.”

The hand cradling your head turns to iron, guides your face to her chest and plants it right in her cleavage. It takes a few slow seconds to realize what’s expected and Jay’s fingers tightening in your hair before you start to move. Quickly you begin to mouth at the warm flesh of her tits, laving your tongue over their heavy weight, kissing and sucking little red marks into them. Use your empty hands to massage them, squeeze at them the way you’ve been to ever since she walked out and tied your tongue into knots. Carefully free one breast from its confines and latch onto her dark nipple. Tease at it with your teeth until you can feel her panting. Your hips start undulating, desperate for friction at your throbbing core. The wet core of your panties brushes against her leg and the iron grip on your head pulls your off of her breast with a wet sounding pop. 

“I generously let you play with my tits but you just had to get greedy, huh?” She taunts. Steps back and has you moaning at the loss of her. “Thought your gluttonous little cunt deserved more.” With a broad hand she smacks between your legs, has you writhing and whimpering only held up by the hand still in your hair. With disgust she throws you back onto the bed and crawls up your body. Shimmies the tight skirt up around her hips, just the thin string of her thong keeping her covered. “I’m going to ride your lying little tongue,” she tells you with a cold kind of disdain. “Your hands are going to stay on my ass the entire time and if you’re good and make me come, maybe I’ll let you grind on my abs after.” 

Your keen gets cut off by Jay seating herself over your face, hands scrabbling to grab onto her plush ass. You tongue aside the wet fabric of her thong and start sucking. Seal your lips around her hole and grind your nose into her clit. Use your hands to encourage her to use you. Tongue at her entrance until she starts swearing, knuckles white around the head board. Slick coats your mouth and chin. Stiffening your tongue, you start to thrust inside of her and she grinds down on you. Throws her head back and arches her back in a way that pushes her breasts out. Entranced, you lap at her cunt reflexively as she starts riding your face in earnest, tits bouncing rhythmically. You throb between your legs, hips meeting nothing but air as you squirm beneath her.

Urging her on, you start to tongue fuck her in earnest, desperate to make her come in your mouth. Jay takes one look at your wide glassy eyes and grins wickedly, instantly understanding what part of the show has all your attention. Reaching behind her, she unclasps the bra and shrugs it off, lets her tits fall heavy. Arches her back artificially and starts to feel herself up. Moans as she tweaks and pinches at her own nipples, hips grinding faster against your tongue. She comes just as you start to give up hope of being good for her, thighs clenching around your ears and slick dripping into your throat, slow fire lighting up her veins.

With a heavy sigh she rolls off of you, sits next to your head as she fixes her skirt. Carefully you keep your hands to yourself as your roll onto your elbows to look up at her. Very intentionally you don’t grind your aching core into the mattress. Jay strokes her thumb over your cheekbone, then uses her hand to tilt your chin up, admiring the way your face glistens in the light.

“My, my baby girl’s a messy eater,” she chides, your face flushing warm. “M’gonna have to teach you better manners.” She tuts.

“Was I–” you clear your throat “Was I good though?”

“Yeah baby, you can have your reward,” she says affectionately. Scrabbling on the bed you straddle her, almost crying out in relief at finally having something to rub up against. “You’re gonna have to do all the work though,” she tells you, warm hands coming up to steady your hips.

You groan and start grinding, her hands guiding you. Strung tight already and achingly turned on, you know its not gonna take much. Your panties are disgustingly wet, soaked through and practically dripping. Frantic, grind as fast as you can, plant your hands on her chest and bear down on her taut stomach. Your thighs already burn and you whine in frustration, pleasure not building fast enough in your gut to satisfy you. Jay reaches up a hand and cups your breast through your t-shirt. Brushes a thumb over a sensitive nipple and you’re crying out as you come on her stomach, legs shaking and cunt quivering.

Exhausted, you slump over on her chest, face buried in her neck. She pets a hand over your hair and coos as you shake against her warm skin.

“There she is, there’s my good baby girl.” You sigh and try to wriggle closer at the praise. “See what being patient gets you? Now come on baby,” she says, rolling you onto your back on the middle of the bed. “Let’s get these sticky panties off. I want to see whose lips this lipstick looks better on.”

series masterlist | part 1 | part 3

[cerys-scribbles]

sweet on the tongue

Halsin x f!Reader A bit of fluff and yearning Wordcount: 1.5k

You always looked over the abandoned wagons and backpacks. 

It was an old habit, born of a time when coin was scarce. You’ve always had an eye for shiny things - the gleam of jewelry, the graceful curve of a gem, and the glitter of a bottle. You never knew when you might find a small treasure.

Some of the others mocked you for it. Astarion, in particular, seemed to enjoy the sight of you rummaging through crates. “Your pack is so full you’ll have to find a rothe to carry it,” he called, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth. 

“I can carry my own pack,” you replied, with a dismissive wave. “And what do you care?”

“Merely concerned for your posture, darling. If you become a hunched over crone in your thirties, it would be a tragedy.” 

You snorted. “That’s rich, coming from the one with the outdated vocabulary and the white hair.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “It’s not white, it’s silver.”

“Children,” called Gale. “You’re going to get left behind if you dawdle.”

The others had continued on. The path wound through the mountains, toward the Githyanki creche. Lae’zel was far ahead, her long strides carrying her forward with a grim determination. It was no wonder she was eager; the prospect of ridding yourself of the tadpole was an intriguing one. But even so, you felt the pull to pick through every crate. 

Your diligence was rewarded when you found a gleam of gold tucked within a sack. You pulled it free. It was a jar.

“Come on!” called Astarion, and you hastily shoved the jar into your own pack. You would look at it more closely later. 

*

It was hours after, once camp had been set up, that you investigated your finds. You picked through the small trinkets, sorting through which ones could be sold and which ones discarded. You were so single-minded that you didn’t notice the smells of food or call to dinner. It was only when someone stood over you that you looked up. 

Halsin towered over you. The sunset gave his hair a golden cast, and he was smiling. “You’ve been busy,” he said mildly.

You sat back, only now feeling the ache in your lower back. “Oh. I was distracted.” You gestured at the piles of trinkets, feeling mildly embarrassed. Would he think it was silly? “Did I miss dinner?”

“I set some aside for you.” Halsin put the plate down on a fallen log. It looked like a surprisingly tasty stew. “It’s a little cold.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Thanks for bringing it.” It shouldn’t have surprised you that Halsin was the one to notice you weren’t eating; he was observant in camp, quiet and watchful. His tent was pitched along the outskirts. Part of you wondered if it was because he wished to remain near nature or to make himself the first line of defense should anyone attack camp. It was likely both. 

He squatted down, eyeing your finds. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?” He reached out, gently sifting through the knotted chains and one half of an earring.

You flushed. “I just… you might have noticed I tend to pick things up.”

“I had noticed, yes,” he said, a touch of dry humor in his voice. But there was no mockery to it. “Do you sell them?” 

You shrugged. “It helps. I can buy a little food, maybe weapons or medicine for camp. We can hunt, of course, but we still need things. And it’s not as though we have a noble patron.” You snorted. “Well, we do have Wyll, but I know he’d protest that title.”

“He would,” agreed Halsin. “He seems far more happy being the Blade of Frontiers rather than a duke’s son.” He tilted his head, gaze flicking over the assortment of trinkets. “Can I help?”

“I mean,” you said, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His gaze met yours and you felt another flush rise to your cheeks. “It’s better to have something to do with one’s hands.”

You both began to work, untangling chains of necklaces and sorting through your findings. There were coins from several cities, jewelry that was junk and one piece that might sell, along with forgotten letters. You set those aside. “I’ll give them to a messenger or the like if we reach Baldur’s Gate,” you said, when you caught Halsin’s eye. “Maybe those letters will reach their destination.”

“That’s kind of you, to carry them without any hope of reward.” 

You gave him a little shrug. “It’s not as though they weigh very much.”

“Still,” he said. “You have a good heart.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Halsin disarmed you in a way that none of the other companions could. There were no deceptions, no games to played, no secrets to ferret out. Halsin was simply… Halsin. He was undemanding and kind. 

And all right. He was gorgeous—you’d admit that to yourself. You’d had a few fantasies of him picking you up and kissing you, but you tried to tamp them down. You didn’t want your desires to leak into your conversations and make him uncomfortable. You were friends and that was more than enough.

Finally, you pulled out the jar. You had almost forgotten about it. “What is that?” asked Halsin. 

You held it up to the fading sunlight. “Preserves, I think. Whether or not they’re edible… well, I’m not sure how we find out.”

Halsin chuckled. “Opening it would be the first step.”

It took a knife and a fair bit of prying to get the jar open, but the moment you did, your mouth watered. 

Raspberries floated in a thick, golden liquid. They had been preserved in honey. The sweet scent floated out of the jar and you swallowed. 

“Well, well,” said Halsin. “A pleasing find, if my opinion matters.”

You remembered what he had said when you tried to get to know him better: that he enjoyed sweet things. “You can have it,” you said, holding out the jar. 

He shook his head, a smile on his lips. “We’ll share it.”

You didn’t have a spoon, but Halsin had a few carved ones in his pack. He unearthed it and you gasped. It was intricate and beautiful—a woven pattern made up the handle. “It’s gorgeous.” You knew he whittled, but this was a work of art.

He looked pleased but embarrassed. “I’ve had much practice. It’s yours, if you like it.”

You dipped the spoon into the honeyed raspberries. Then you popped the spoon into your mouth. Tart sweetness spilled across your tongue. You closed your eyes and moaned softly. Perhaps you should have found a loaf of bread or something else to cut the cloying sweetness, but you did not care. It had been weeks since you enjoyed anything so luxurious. 

 “Oh, it’s amazing,” you said, holding out the jar to Halsin. “Try some.”

His gaze was not on the jar—but on you. “You have some,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. “May I?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but even so you nodded. You trusted him. 

His thumb—warm and callused—slid across your chin. A small tendril of honey had stuck there. “Oh,” you said, laughing a little. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” He licked the honey from his thumb—and you could have sworn his pupils dilated as he looked at you. “It tastes all the sweeter.”

Heat churned in your stomach. You knew you should break that gaze, look away before this became all too intimate, but you didn’t want to. Your breaths quickened, and you thought you saw his gaze fall to your mouth. Was he going to kiss you? At once, your lips ached for it. You needed his touch more than you needed air or warmth or even a cure. 

His fingers brushed your cheek. But before he could utter a word, a voice rang out from across camp. 

“I can see you eating something over there!” called Astarion. “If you get sick from fare you found along the road, I am not carrying your pack.”

The mood was broken in an instant. You looked down, half-wondering if you had imagined the moment. 

“You won’t have to,” called Halsin sounding as good-natured as ever. “I’ll carry it for her.”

You swallowed. Perhaps you hadn’t imagined it, after all. 

End

[her-satanic-wiles]

Bejewelled

Papa Emeritus II x Reader

It’s Papa Secondo’s birthday, and after spending the whole day working, he just wants to relax. But how can he when his favourite Sister of Sin is being a bad girl in front of everyone?

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by @inkstainedrat

Words: 5.6k.

Reading Time: 22 min.

Warnings: anal play, begging, breeding degradation, cock warming, creampie, dubcon, fingering, frottage, free use, groping, hair pulling, mentions of cunnilingus, mentions of fellatio, pain kink, PIV sex, positive degradation, praise, rough sex, spanking, spit as lube, underprepared, unprotected sex (Embrace safety - enjoy it greatly), vaginal sex,

Taglist: @inkstainedrat @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @socksandcr0cs @dio-niisio @duskspring @foxybouquet @likeloversentwined

Thank you to @da-rulah, @angellayercake and @tasty-ribz for workshopping some of these ideas with me and getting me on track!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You settled into your space at the meeting table, notepad opened to the next available page and date written at the top of it in neat handwriting. You had taken on a more secretarial role for the Ministry, providing the reigning Papa with a helping hand as he went about his daily schedule. The other clergy members were already sat and settled like you, cardinal robes of black and red alternating the seats like chess pieces on a board, broken occasionally by the odd sibling of sin who’d, like you, joined to either take notes for their respective bosses, or provide insight on the general running of the Ministry where the upper clergy couldn’t assist. In short, everyone was ready and waiting, conversations slipping past your ears as certain cardinals spoke over you, not to you. But they soon silenced themselves when the door opened and Papa Emeritus II walked through the doors.

Papa Secondo, despite being a softhearted, kind man, oozed an intimidating aura that put men in their place just by his presence alone. Papa Secondo was not a man to be trifled with, played with, or undermined in any way. His word was law, even among his brothers, one of which outranked him in both age and experience. He took no shit, dished out as much as he could, and ultimately threw his weight around in a respectable, yet authoritative way. Just the mere look of his scowl would have your thighs clenching, and heat pooling between your legs - and you weren’t the only one affected by this.

Papa Secondo’s personality was much different to that of his brothers. Before he met you, he would almost never seek a woman out, he’d rarely approach her, rarely proposition her - in fear of making her uncomfortable mostly, but he also didn’t want to blend in with the other men in the Ministry, his younger brother included, who would approach and whine and beg for the ladies to spread their legs and invite him in willingly. Besides, there was something inside him that loved being chased rather than doing the chasing. The idea that a beautiful woman would want him so much, she’d run after him and coyly ask if he’d give her some company later on. That a beautiful woman would want him so much, that she’d face the fear of rejection in front of her friends and potentially embarrass herself, just to get the opportunity to hold him. He’d never approach a woman, but he’d also never reject one either. And, as he entered the room, your eyes darted to all the other sisters who were equally as squirmy as you, the mere proximity being too much for you all to handle.

It always made you feel smug knowing he had such an affect on the rest of the clergy, but would always come back to you no matter what.

Men feared him. Women wanted him. Somehow, the perfect man did exist, and he wore black, glitter paints and silenced a room just by opening a door.

“Buon pomeriggio.” He said, his deep voice quiet yet commanding. He kept his eyes straight in front of him as he entered the room, not bothering to spare a glance to his colleagues until he’d approached his seat at the head of the table and directly opposite you. You were the first person his mismatched eyes had landed on, reminding you that to him, you were the most important person in the room despite your low ranking among his peers. Once he’d registered your existence, he sat down and situated himself comfortably, gloved hands immediately opening his own folder to pull out the important documents for the meeting. Once he’d personally acknowledged everyone else in the room, he cleared his throat and began.

“Ora, we have many things on the agenda today, so I would like to start immediately, by Sathanas and the mother, Lilith, we thank and worship thee as we do ourselves. Nema.”

“Nema.” Came the chorus of the clergy.

“Cardinale Zhang,” he looked towards the man and you watched as Cardinal Zhang startled at the sudden attention. Papa Secondo noticed, and despite his face being emotionless and stoic, a flicker of amusement passed across his eyes, feeding on the Cardinal’s fear. “You have been visiting universities to de-stigmatise the Faith. Update me, how is that going?”

Cardinal Zhang swallowed and cleared his throat doing his best to hide his nerves. He failed, obviously. He began talking, detailing his efforts across the Atlantic in America and how he’d shown up for each of the universities along the East Coast, hoping to break through to the youth. But as a lot of that part of America were staunch ‘Red States’ and Christians, he was met with a lot of resistance.

Secondo, somewhat surprisingly, was understanding with his response. For once, he didn’t criticise the Cardinal’s failure, or what he deemed as such, rather the country’s unwillingness to be open to change. He quickly followed up that comment with another about Salem, and how they were always welcomed with open arms there thanks to the work of previous clergy members who’d moved to set up temples and places of worship.

He then moved on quickly to the next outreach programme, opening the Ministry doors once a month for visitors and tours of the historical building they all called home - another effort of de-stigmatisation that was under the watchful eyes of Cardinal Garcia. His tone softened when he spoke to her, his eyes never leaving hers as he listened intently to everything she had to say. “We get upwards of one thousand visitors per weekend, Papa.” She confirmed in an upbeat tone. “This is a 20% increase of last year. We’re still keeping our entrance fee at 20 Euros for now,” she handed a sheet of paper to one of the Ghouls standing behind her, who then brought it to Papa Secondo to browse at his leisure, which he did, “Last month alone we received approximately 20,080 Euros. Our finance specialists have worked closely with our social media team, and have worked out we may get roughly a further 500 guests next month, an additional 50% growth, which should tip us over the 20,500 Euro benchmark.”

“Can we quantify the impact of these tours on public perception and understanding of our beliefs and values?” Papa asked, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I believe so, Papa. On average,” she handed another sheet of paper to a Ghoul, “30% of guests purchase a membership of the Satanic Church, and organise unholy baptisms. 10% actively apply to work and live here full time.”

“How many of these applications get accepted?”

“Recently, with all the moves and changes of our staff, around 50% got accepted last month. But usually, we only select from the most impressive, which is, as accurately as I can describe it, a handful.”

“Are any of our parishes around the world asking for more siblings?”

“I’m not sure, Papa. That’s Cardinal Smith’s jurisdiction.”

Papa’s eyes snapped to Cardinal Smith, another man who shivered beneath the weight of Papa’s gaze. “Well?” He snapped, expectantly, clearly annoyed by Cardinal Smith’s lack of initiative.

“W-we have had a few requests, Your Dark Eminence.” Cardinal Smith stammered.

“And how many siblings have been transferred?”

“Well, n-none.”

Papa’s eyebrows raised. “None? Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! Perché? Why are you not assisting our unholy siblings?”

“We couldn’t spare the people.”

“Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith?”

“N-no, Your Dark Eminence.”

“Then why do you not liaison with Cardinale Garcia and ask her to accept more applicants to send them overseas after their education?”

“I d-didn’t think.”

“Ah. Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. A brain as smooth as yours must be kept shiny and pristine, sì? Cannot be worried about trivial tasks such as thinking.” His tone softened again as he turned to - “Cardinale Garcia, work with Cardinale Stronzo in providing new applicants for our unholy siblings overseas, per favore.” He turned to another woman in the room. “Cardinale Kim, I would also like you to work on this with Cardinale Garcia and Smith to speed up our applicants education and send them out to their respective countries. When you have the time, of course.”

“Of course, Papa.” Cardinal Kim responded.

“I thank Lilith that there are two intelligent women on this job. Sathanas knows we’d fall apart if it was left only to the smooth brained of us in the room.” He cleared his throat. “Sorella ___,” he said addressing you, “are you getting all of this?”

You didn’t look up from your notebook, wrist aching from all the minutes you were taking. “It would help if you spoke slower, Papa.” You replied, insubordinately. You didn’t need to look at Papa to know he was looking at you furiously. “Either that or let me bring my laptop to these meetings.”

“Your laptop is too loud.” He protested through gritted teeth.

You finally looked at him, a small grin on your face. “Then speak slower. Please.”

He sighed and sat back in his seat, staring daggers into your soul. You were usually so sweet and polite to him - his little angioletta who respected him in front of everyone in the vicinity, who behaved so obediently behind closed doors and thanked him for all that he gave you. You were never bratty to your Papa, never rude or obnoxious. “You’re very audacious today, little one.” He commented, his tone commanding your obedience lest you face a punishment.

You persisted, the idea of dealing with your angry Papa later on too delectable to give up now. Papa would often take his frustrations out on you, an agreement between the both of you allowed him to take your consent and use you as he pleased, whenever he pleased. You would always spread your legs willingly for him, or bend yourself over and arch your back just as he liked without him uttering a single word, and depending on the kind of day he’d had, you’d either be worshipped, or bruised by his daily frustrations. You’d told him through bright red cheeks once that you thoroughly enjoyed him using you to deal with his anger, and so, he would have you whenever he felt even a little bit perturbed. But never were you the reason for his anger, not until today. And the way he looked at you now had your hole clenching around nothing, and a need to push him until he snapped and bubbled beneath your surface. You’d started now, you didn’t think you’d be able to stop until he put you back in your place.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be blamed for missing even a drop of your wisdom.”

The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably as the tension became so thick, you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.

“I’d hold my tongue if I were you, angioletta.”

“But you’re not me, Papa.”

Papa dropped into a foul mood for the rest of the meeting, shooting you angry looks and constantly asking if he was being slow enough for you. But eventually, the meeting came to an end, and Papa pushed everyone out of the room, keeping you in your place. As soon as the door closed, in a harsh tone, he broke the silence. “Angioletta, what was that?”

“What was what, Papa?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me - you know what you did. Sathanas, ___. Since when do you have sass with your Papa, hm? Since when do you show your Papa such disrespect?” He sighed at your lack of answer. He stood and walked over to you, looking down on you as you remained seated in your chair. You weren’t looking up at him, instead keeping your gaze straight on the seat he was sat in before, and he didn’t appreciate this either. With his finger and his thumb, he gently pinched your chin and guided your face to look at him, forcing eye contact with you. “I expect you on your best behaviour tonight, angioletta. Capisce? No sass, no back talk. Just doting on your Papa on his birthday, sì?”

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You said, softly, a smile playing on your lips. Wholesome. Nonsuspect.

“Grazie, amore mio.” He bent down to kiss your forehead then left you alone in the room, seemingly unaware that you’d never actually agreed to anything.

That evening, you dressed in your finest for your Papa, choosing a dress gifted to you by him. It was just something simple, a body con black dress that hugged your curves in all the right ways, paired with a Satanic pentagram harness that he loved to see you in. It was really no effort at all, but your Papa would certainly enjoy you tonight. A feast for his eyes - at least you hoped.

You were one of Secondo’s earliest guests, besides his older brother Papa Primo, arriving at his quarters and knocking on the door before entering. Papa Primo greeted you warmly, and welcomed you in, placing a drink in your hand. You could already smell the dinner coming from Secondo’s private kitchen and felt your stomach growl in hunger. You were so ready for the feast to begin - and for your torture of your Papa to continue. You weren’t just ravenous for the food, especially when you saw him enter the dining room, not wearing his usual robes but still painted in his official paints. His suit was perfectly tailored, cut to each contour of his body, and made from a rich, cold, emerald green. Velvet. Accompanied by a deep green tie and his favourite black-painted fingernails. In his robes he was divine. In a suit? You were feral.

As soon he saw you, you watched as his glittery eyes darkened, and his chest reflected a deep sigh. The second he was beside you, his hands grasped onto your hips and pulled you into him, lips attaching to your neck. He didn’t care that he already had other guests - he didn’t care that he may be smudging his paints. He was too intoxicated by you to do anything other than dig his fingers into the meat of your flesh and inhale your seductive perfume, bewitching him beyond belief. He was ready to drop to his knees and worship you there and then, except you pushed him away.

“I haven’t forgotten how you spoke to me earlier, Papa.” You chided, keeping your voice as level as you could and holding back your giggles when his expression changed.

“Angioletta,” he practically whined, “you promised.”

“No,” you poked his chest, “you laid down the law. I never told you I’d follow it.”

“You want to make me suffer all night, hm? Embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“I never want to embarrass you, Papa. I’d like an apology.”

He frowned. “For what?”

You sighed. “Use that big, wrinkly brain of yours and think.” And with that, you walked away. In truth he had nothing to apologise for and you both knew it. But you enjoyed watching him stew away in his mind, greeting and welcoming guests and trying to maintain a semblance of composure. You were teetering on the line between enjoyment and cruelty, though. And you’d need to end this quickly so as not to actually spoil his birthday.

Secondo’s quarters had never been so lively, but even then, they were lively by Secondo’s standards. To celebrate his birthday, all of the people closest to him had gathered in his chambers, crowded around his long dining table (that he mostly used for work), and feasted on the delightful Italian delicacies hand crafted by the Ministry’s chefs, whom you’d paid extra to cook for everyone for the evening. Amidst the clinking of glasses filled with the Ministry’s own wine, and the aroma of garlic-infused dishes wafting through the air, the place was abuzz with laughter and conversation, but your attention was solely fixed on one man – Papa Secondo himself.

He sat beside you at the head of the table, his natural scowl creasing his glabella as he looked upon his guests and listened to their conversations, responding only when he needed to, but enjoying the atmosphere, nonetheless. His paints were perfectly worn, not a single line bent or crooked, or even smudged with the wine he’d drunk, or the food he’d so gracefully placed into his mouth as though he were the epitome of sophistication - which, to be fair, he was. His Roman nose making his profile so intoxicating, so powerful, you found yourself staring at him, drinking in the love of your life and appreciating him silently for the work of art he was.

Secondo cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room as he prepared to address his guests. “My dear friends, I want to take this moment to express my gratitude for your presence here tonight,” he began, his voice carrying authority and warmth. “Your loyalty and support mean more to me than you can imagine.”

You couldn’t resist interjecting with a sassy remark. “Oh, how touching, Papa,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I almost believe you mean it.”

The room fell into a momentary silence as everyone turned their attention to the unexpected exchange between you both. Secondo’s expression darkened, his jaw tensing as he turned to face you.

“Sorella,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone a warning.

But you refused to back down, your gaze challenging. “What, Papa? Can’t handle a little honesty?” You retorted, your voice edged with defiance. You squirmed in your seat under the heat of his gaze, the unbridled anger that oozed off him like peach juice dripping down one’s chin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you watched him become more and more enraged at your attitude, and you tried so hard not to let your enjoyment show.

Secondo’s eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his features before he regained his composure. “I expect respect in my presence, Sorella,” he replied, his voice low and controlled.

You took a sip of your wine and set your glass down. “And yet, you don’t always deserve it.”

“My room. Now.” He all but hissed. His grip on his glass was choking, and you could almost see it shattering in his hand from the force. You’d done it. You got him. Now was the time to obey. You stood and made your way to his bedroom as instructed, hearing him excuse you both and urge his guests to continue without him. The part where he was announcing that he was going to scold you for your behaviour was missing, but certainly implied, and within a few seconds you heard him chase after you and the guests murmuring in the background, only to be blocked by him slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck was that, hm?” He growled, his hand coming up to your hair and pulling it at the roots, making you look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Papa!”

“Sorry? Amore mio, it’s a little late for that, do you not think? Embarrassing me in front of everyone.”

You laughed.

“Che cos’è questo? Laughing at your Papa?” He stopped, a realisation dawning on him. “Ah. I see how it is. My angioletta is giving into sin tonight? Becoming a whore to anger her Papa.” He released you and gestured to the bed. “Hands on the bed. Now, amore.” You obeyed him for the first time that day, resting your hands on the bed and bending at the waist, exposing your ass to him. You knew what was coming, your core clenching in anticipation of feeling his hand come down on you at full force. You arched your back as much as you could, allowing your ass to pop for him, and hearing him groan in appreciation when you did.

“You wanted to play with your Papa,” he said coming up behind you, “so let’s play, hm?”

His hand came down on your left ass cheek, the sting you enjoyed so much muffled by layer of fabric still (barely) covering your body. The first hit was gentle, barely stinging at all. As angry as Secondo was, he still took his time with you, making sure he didn’t hurt you too much and too quickly. He mirrored this on your right cheek, back to your left, back to your right. Each hit gradually landed harder and harder, and you needed to bury your face into his sheets to hide your cries lest his guests hear what was happening. With each slap, your body jumped in response, as if it was shocked to receive the hits your mind knew was coming. You knew you were getting redder with each slap, which would only egg Secondo on more when he saw it for himself.

He lifted your dress up, exposing your black panties fully and bunching the hem around your waist, and, as predicted, groaned at the sight of you. Secondo was an artist, and you were always his favourite canvas. He began to slap your bare cheeks, revelling in the deep red that was forming on your skin, relishing in the dampened moans coming from you. “This is no punishment for you at all, is it?” He commented, punctuating his sentence with more slaps, now using both of his hands. “You love it when your Papa hits you like this, don’t you?” He slapped you much harder when you didn’t answer. “Do not be rude, angioletta.”

“Yes, Papa!” You responded, your voice coming out as a moan. “I love it!”

“I bet you’ve soaked through these slutty little panties, haven’t you?” He moved his left hand to the gusset of your panties, using his four fingers to rub against your cunt and his thumb rested against your asshole as an anchor.

Usually, he’d be met with your soft flesh and twitching hole, and would tease it over your panties, too, just to drive you wild. But today, his thumb met with something hard, and him putting pressure there caused you to moan out loud. “Che cazzo?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the ridges. His hand, damp from the juices that had soaked your panties, came up to the waistband and roughly pulled them off you, hissing at the sight of him. Buried deep inside your twitching hole, was a butt plug, with an emerald resin gem sitting atop the metal base. “Puttana.” Though his words were degrading, the tone in which he said them was appreciative. He loved this little surprise, his cock growing harder and harder beneath his velvet slacks and begging to bury itself into one of your holes. “How long have you been wearing this?”

“All da-ay!” Your voice hiccuped when you felt his fingers hook around the base and jiggle it.

“No wonder you’ve been acting like a bitch today, amore. You’ve been in heat all day, hm? Did you want me to bend you over the table in the meeting room? Is that why you’ve been provoking me all day?”

“Y-yes, Papa. Want… wanted you to f-fuck me all day! Shit.”

“Wanted your Papa to ruin your holes, hm?”

“Yesss!”

He landed another hard spank on your right cheek with his right hand, much harder than the others. That, coupled with the way he was still playing with the plug, caused a moan to escape your lips, much louder than the others.

You heard him play with his belt, unbuckling it and then the buttons of his slacks, before you finally heard the zipper undo. “Hands and knees, ass in the air.” He ordered. You climbed fully onto the mattress, feeling his hand come down on you more and more as you got situated for him. “Gonna put this fuckhole to good use.”

You felt his girth rub against your folds, getting wetter with your slick with each movement. When he stopped and pulled away, you chanced a glance behind you and watched what he was doing, cunt clenching when you saw his head bowed, a thick glob of spit falling from his mouth and landing on his cock. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the saliva over his entire length before spitting again and repeating until he deemed himself wet enough. He plunged two of his fingers inside you, pumping only a few times to get you stretched out a little more before lining himself up with your hole.

You heard him chuckle darkly behind you. “I’m gonna enjoy this - but you won’t.”

That was all the warning he gave you before he pushed inside you, his considerable thickness stretching you out beyond compare. Usually he’d prepare you more, make you cum for him all over his tongue before he even considered fucking you with his cock. But not tonight. He didn’t have the time nor the will to. This was meant to be a punishment, after all. Prepared or not, you adored the initial stretch every single time he slid into you. He always burned so deliciously, but sometimes there was a hint of pain that sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling and fingers digging into whatever surface you were being fucked on.

Secondo took his time bottoming out, enjoying watching your body tense below him from the pain of it, and smiling at your cunt clenching down on him. “There we go.” He said, gripping onto your ass cheeks as he bottomed out inside you, fingers rubbing over your raw flesh and causing a bigger sting to wash over you. He used your body as leverage to help him slam into you, setting a rough pace right away and knocking the wind out of you. He pulled gutteral moans out of you, deep, animalistic grunts that you had no control over as he fucked into you like a madman finally getting his fix.

The sound of your cunt taking him back in over and over again was so loud, you were sure his guests could hear you from the other room. It made Secondo want to bite you, sink his teeth into you like an apple, and feel your juices coat his mouth while he licked and sucked at your core. But he was pretending that this was a punishment for you - he couldn’t consciously do something that would make you cum. Well, maybe a finger or so later on. For now, you were his to fuck around with, and he could hear and feel just how much you enjoyed it.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this, amore.” He taunted, releasing grunts and growls of his own. “A pain slut for her Papa. Cazzo!”

He pushed your hips down, making you lie flat on your stomach, legs dangling off the edge and making you feel helpless below him. He put his entire weight on your body as he railed you into the mattress, rough, quick thrusts making your body bounce and your ass ricochet off his own hips.

“I don’t like hurting you, angioletta.” A growl ripped from his throat. “But you need to learn how to respect your Papa. Apologise for making me do this to you.”

“I- I’m so…rry, Papa-ah!”

“Brava ragazza.”

Every time you made a sound, he landed another hit on your ass, making you redder and rawer. He loved it - but equally, so did you. Even on the days when he was taking his anger out on you, he wouldn’t often be this rough. He wouldn’t laugh at your cries, or push into you without taking his time with you first. Each thrust drove you more and more insane, degraded you more and more to the point where you felt like nothing but his own, personal fuck toy. His own whore who spread her legs so willingly, she became a desperate slut for her master.

He pulled at the plug again, laughing when you jumped. “So much tighter with this thing in your ass.”

“Papa - it… it’s t-too much!”

“You should have respected your Papa, then maybe he’d treat you delicately, hm?”

“Papa, please!”

“You can take it, can’t you?”

He was met with a loud moan.

“Can’t you, puttanella?”

“Y-yes!”

“Of course you can. Only sluts can take a cock this big.”

You forced your hand in between your body and the mattress and found your clit, rubbing at it while Secondo pounded into you. It was a struggle, and made Secondo laugh at you as you tried. He put more weight onto your body to make it more difficult for you, but you were able to get there eventually and furiously play with that bundle of nerves and work yourself to the edge.

“I love looking at you like this.” He said suddenly, watching your arm move as you rubbed faster and faster. You looked so desperate for him. So needy. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked as he felt you getting tighter for him, the telltale signs making themselves present. “You gonna cum all over Papa’s cock like a whore?”

“Yes, Pa-pa!”

“Merda! Beg for it.”

“I n-need to cum s-oh bad Papa! Please! Pl-please let me cum on your f-fat cock.”

“Oh, just like that, brava ragazza. It’s okay, you can let go.”

Secondo could feel you getting tighter for him, working yourself closer and closer to an orgasm as he took you for his own pleasure, and for some of yours. He should pull out soon, he knew he should, but you were so tight for him in this position, so wet and pliant. He couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out and cum on your body. One particularly rough thrust had you finally tumbling over the edge, face contorting in beautiful agony as you came over him, creaming on his cock and screaming silently into the mattress. He didn’t let up as you came, instead, he used your body tensing as an excuse to go just a little harder, making your orgasm more intense the longer it went on.

Your orgasm had Secondo teetering on the edge himself, staving off his own orgasm to ensure yours felt good. But once he was sure you’d finished, he began to pull out of you, finally working the courage to escape from your clutches. It wasn’t until he felt your heels in his ass, where your legs had bent backwards to keep him there, he realised you wanted his cum inside you just as much as he did.

“Please, Papa!” You begged quietly, lifting your head off the sheets and turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Give it to me. I want your cum inside me so fucking bad. Please!”

“Yeah, amore? You want me to knock you up, is that it? So desperate for her Papa’s cum she wants him to breed her like a bitch. Been in heat all day, still acting like a fucking animal.”

“Give it to me, Papa! Cum deep inside me, please!”

“Okay, angioletta. Papa will give you what you want.” He pushed himself deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, you ready?”

“Yes! Yes, Papa, like that!”

“Cazzo!” A string of expletives followed as you talked him through it, continuing to beg him for his seed while he pumped it deep inside you. He gripped hold of you, your skin and fat pinched tightly under his strong, masculine hands as he grasped onto you to keep him grounded while he reached nirvana. He bent forward more, his forehead rubbing against your shoulder blades and paints transferring onto the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care about that, enjoying the feeling of his erratic thrusts as he fucked his cum into your sensitive heat until he eventually rolled to a stop, laboured breaths ringing in your ear despite his mouth being so far away.

“Sathanas, ___.” He groaned, keeping his full weight on your body, too exhausted to move. “Mi farai morire.” You felt his lips kiss your shoulder blades, the dull feeling bringing warmth and comfort to your adrenaline-filled body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, equally as exhausted as him.

“No.” He replied with a giggle, which you echoed. “I can’t move anymore.”

“That’s okay, we can wait here for as long as you need.”

“The guests, amore mio.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

He groaned. “I don’t have the strength.”

You laughed at his joke.

Somewhere inside him, he found the strength to pull out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He rolled off you, and lay on his back, allowing his body to flop into any position it deemed comfortable. You didn’t know how he did that, you could barely keep your eyes open.

He looked at you before rushing to the bathroom to get a damp cloth to clean you up, gently wiping at your sensitive centre to try and help you. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

“Nothing I didn’t want, Papa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

He placed the washcloth on the bedside table and pulled you into his arms, finally kissing your lips for the first time.

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You whispered.

Before he could respond, a knock at the door sounded gently, pulling your attention to it. “Fratello?” Cardinal Terzo’s voice sounded from the other side. “Now that you two have finished fucking, we should let you know we’re all gonna go.”

You hid your face in embarrassment despite the fact the only person who could see you was Secondo, who was laughing at your reaction.

“See you later, fratellino.”

“Later, sluts!”

There was a silence for a little while before Secondo heard the sound of your breathing mellowing out, realising then you’d fallen asleep before you both had chance to clean up properly. But that was okay, he could treat you like a queen in the morning. For now, you both needed rest.

Translations:

Buon pomeriggio - Good afternoon.

Ora - Now.

Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! - This is an absolute fucking joke!

Perché? - Why?

Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith? - Are you stupid, Cardinal Smith?

Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. - That does not surprise me, Cardinal.

Angioletta - Little angel.

Capisce? - Do you understand?

Grazie, amore mio. - Thank you, my love.

Che cos’è questo? - What’s this?

Che cazzo? - What the fuck?

Puttana. - Whore.

Brava ragazza. - Good girl.

Mi farai morire. - You’re gonna kill me.

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[traumasurvivors]

Here’s a link to a blog post on my personal website on a topic that I think is very important.

I’ve also put it below the read more for people that don’t like external links. But if you're okay with it, checking it out on my personal website is really nice (and even giving it a heart if you can)! I don't make money from my website, so there are no intrusive ads or anything like that to stop you from reading the article.

Embracing Your Inner Child

This applies to anyone, but I really want to emphasize this to my fellow survivors who went through trauma as children and/or teenagers.

I’m so sorry you lost part, most or all of your childhood. That doesn’t mean it’s too late to give your inner child what you can. This includes comfort but it also includes doing the things you didn’t get to if you can.

Play the fun games. Buy the tasty treats. Go on adventures.

It’s never too late to feel a little more of the kind of joy you had (or should have had) as a child. You may not be able to be a child again, but you can still help and support your inner child.

You might have been told that a fun idea you had was “silly” or even “stupid.” When you have those thoughts now, instead of rejecting it, embrace the “silly” idea and let yourself enjoy it. It’s not shameful or wrong to do the things your inner child wants to do. It’s okay to be “immature” sometimes, even if you’re twenty years old. Or thirty. Or sixty. I just want to say that I don’t think any of this is immature, but I know that is a bias and judgement a lot of us might pass on ourselves. 

A short, not at all complete list of things you might do for your inner child:

Watch childhood movies or tv shows (Did you watch “Blues Clues”, or “Pokemon”? Maybe “The Land Before Time”? There’s no reason you can’t still enjoy them.)

Listen to “silly” music, maybe singing along or dancing to it (for me, one favourite is “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” from The Lion King. I know every word and have a dance party everytime it comes on my shuffle.)

Go to the park and use the swings (I don’t know why, but flying up just a few feet can make me forget all my “grown-up” worries)

Have a treat just because (maybe that big sundae your parents never let you have, or the chicken nuggets you haven’t had in a decade). Maybe you want to fulfil your childhood dream of having ice cream for breakfast! 

Go to the toy store - maybe even get some stuffed animals or other toy items. (I just recently realized that I can fulfill my childhood dream of collecting certain toys that I never got to have when I was younger!) 

Ride a roller coaster and scream your head off on the way down (I like to try to be in the very first car)

Make creative, crafty stuff - like a painting or drawing, or decorating a picture on construction paper with googly eyes and glitter or a clay model with a weirdly shaped head (even if the result looks like something you’d expect to see in a kindergarten class, or the process makes a mess that looks like a glitter bomb went off)

Another aspect of embracing your inner child is trying to give your inner child the person you needed when you were a child. 

This might mean standing up for yourself when others try to put you down or take credit for things you’ve done, even (or especially) if no one else spoke up for you when you were a child. 

It might mean offering comfort and compassion to yourself, and not being too hard on yourself when you make mistakes that you would have been insulted for as a child or don’t know something that “everyone learns as a child.” Maybe now you can teach yourself that accidents happen, and spilling a drink or breaking a plate is not the disaster and failure of character that you were told as a child. 

It might mean being patient with yourself when something is harder to do than you feel like it should be (whether you actually aren’t able to do it as easily as others, or you have unrealistic expectations of its difficulty because of the expectations put on you as a child). There are lots of instructional videos out there to help you to gain basic cooking or cleaning skills. If you never really learned to read, there are programs to help you. If you weren’t allowed or able to learn to manage your emotions or relationships in healthy ways, there’s help out there for you. There is absolutely no shame in not learning any kind of skills you feel you “should” have learned as a child, and it is okay to learn them as an adult.

You may have had to grow up too fast. You may not have been allowed to do the fun things. You may have suffered trauma that shattered your childhood. I’m here to tell you that you still have an inner child, and embracing that inner child is good for you. Just because you’re an adult, at any age, doesn’t mean that you’re too old to have fun.

No one else gets to decide what’s right for you - you get to decide what you enjoy and what you want.

And it’s never too late to remember, indulge, listen to, and embrace your inner child. Let them be a part of how you choose to move forward. It’s time for us to realize that there is no one way to be an adult, and we get to decide what being an adult means to us. And if that means I want to rent a bouncy castle for my birthday, then that is my perfectly valid version of an adult birthday (a birthday which my inner child would be thrilled about, by the way).

[emmic0n]

(posting the fanfic here since I don't have an AO3 account yet) For He's a Jolly good Chess piece

Caine sat in contemplative silence, brainstorming what the next big act should be. When a time-keeping subroutine caught his attention... One of his oldest friends, Kinger, was about to spend his 30th year in the Digital Circus! Humans celebrated anniversaries like this, and Caine was no different. He quickly prepared the stage for a party. The act could wait, his friend needed to be celebrated!

Pomni, Zooble, Gangle, Jax, and Ragatha all found themselves suddenly on-stage. They all braced to endure whatever new act Caine came up with, but instead, Kinger appeared center-stage wearing a birthday hat and a glittering version of his robe. His sudden arrival was signaled with loud, dazzling fireworks, of which he reflexively screamed and cowered from.

Caine himself finally appeared, shouting “Friends! What a wonderful, wonderful day this is! Our friend Kinger,” Caine directed his attention to the regal chess piece, causing them to shrink into their robe out of fear, “is about to have his 30th anniversary here at the digital circus! This is a cause for celebration!”

Caine gave raucous applause as party poppers sounded, streamers flew in from out of nowhere, and a massive banner unfurled reading “Happy 30!! !”. Some of the humans clapped once or twice out of awkwardness, looking at Kinger with pity.

Kinger, meanwhile, stared off into infinity (which was not that much different from his usual expression). Time was but a meaningless slurry to him, but being given an exact reference point was far worse. He had spent almost a majority of his life trapped in a horrible nightmare simulation, a few more years and he'd have been here longer than he had been in the physical world. Realizing this, his already shattered psyche cracked into even smaller pieces. Tears welled in his eyes.

Caine watched his friend cry tears of what could only be joy! What a heartwarming moment it was!

“oh buddy, don't you start getting sentimental on me! If you start crying then I'll start crying!” Caine laughed, “Ha! That was a joke, I don't know how to!”

Ragatha attempted to butt in on Kinger's behalf, “Caine, I don't think Kin-” “Now Then!” Caine interrupted, “Let's party!”

The party consisted of games (that were about as dangerous/painful as Caine's normal acts), Cake (that wasn't edible, let alone tasty), and entertainment (which consisted of Bubble screaming on-stage for 30 straight minutes). As things wound down, Caine announced that gifts would be next!

“So!” Caine said, “what did you all bring for the man of honor?”

A moment of silent confusion passed.

“Caine, we didn't know there was gonna be a party, we didn't have a chance to get gifts.” Pomni said.

“no gifts?!” Caine exclaimed, he clicked his non-existent tongue disapprovingly “how inconsiderate, you should all know better!” His disapproving tone then immediately shifted back into his usual state of manic bombastic-ness, “But don't worry! My gift is so good that It can be from all of us! Kinger!”

The floating ringmaster once again snapped his attention to the chess piece, and once again, Kinger cowered in sheer terror.

“Kinger, my dear, dear friend. Ever since you arrived here, 30 years ago, there has been only one thing you wanted.”

Kinger stopped recoiling, did he dare hope?

“something I have never given you, until today.”

Was he going to get his freedom?

“That's right, I'm granting you your deepest desire-”

This was it! Kinger would be free! He could go home!

“your freeeeee-”

YES! YES! YES!

“-eeeee novelty mug!”

Kinger didn't process what Caine said until the mug materialized in his lap, it read “#100% Kigner” in comic sans.

Kinger never wanted a novelty mug

Kinger never voiced any interest in owning a novelty mug

Kinger had no idea where Caine got the idea that he wanted a novelty mug

after a palpable moment of silence. Kinger just said

“...Thanks, Caine.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) PART 2

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1

PART 2.

You tell him that you’ll meet him there. After your little crying jag, you have to go home and clean up. Maybe with some painkillers and a nap with an ice pack on your eyes you won’t look like death warmed over. He offers to pick you up, but you decline, knowing it would make the drive twice as long for him.

For a moment he seems like he wants to argue, but in the end he lets it go.

The restaurant is in Manhattan. It’s the sort of place you could never afford, and maybe even if you could, it wouldn’t exactly be your scene. You smooth your dress over your hips as you get out of your cab, hoping you won’t embarrass John. It was the nicest thing you own for a respectable rendezvous, a dark green paisley Etro dress with long sleeves that you’d scored at a thrift shop. It bared your shoulders with a wide neckline, but not much cleavage. You were behaving yourself tonight, despite the little suggestions the devils on your shoulders were whispering into your ear.  

Despite the fact that you arrive early, John is waiting for you outside, looking utterly edible in another black on black three-piece suit. Does he buy them in bulk? The thought makes you smile a little, a thing he returns in small measure. There is a sadness that cloaks this man like a mantle, and for a moment you wonder if that is what people see, when they look at you. You’re not sure you’re qualified to help him at all, but maybe, just maybe, there could be some solace in your shared grief for the same woman who left you both behind.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Nervously, you look through the window at the glittering lights and swanky diners laughing over their expensive glasses of wine. You feel unbearably self-conscious. “Am I dressed ok for this place?”

“You look beautiful.” He says it so matter of fact, his tone completely platonic. And yet…

And yet.

He looks at you with a haunting intensity that grips you to the bone. He isn't even looking at your body. He's looking at your face, almost as though he's seen a ghost. 

You know you remind him of her, and you wonder if maybe this is a bad idea. 

But he shakes himself out of it, offering his arm, and even though you have an inkling that maybe you shouldn't, another part of you that is usually kept locked up in the dungeon with the rest of your worst impulses pushes you to take it, because you want to. Bolstered by his approval and your own special brand of foolhardiness, you slip your arm through his with your head held high.  

You haven't technically done anything wrong yet. Lusting after your sister's husband in an abstract way you never had any intention of acting on isn't exactly new. But the rest...is edging into a murky gray area.

What would Helen think? She'd probably be amused, truth be told, at least by your own inner turmoil. You remember that she told you once that she never got jealous when women went all googly eyed over her model-handsome husband, because she trusted him so completely. He doesn't even look at them, she said. 

Well. He'd looked at you, like he was a wolf and you were a tasty little bunny. Just the thought made you flush all over again, your fingers involuntarily flexing on John's bicep.

Dear lord, it was like granite. 

He looks down at you, curious, and you know you look as embarrassed as you feel. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize, looking anywhere but at his burning anthracite eyes. He pats your hand, but says nothing, sparing you the embarrassment of making up some lame excuse. 

You go inside, and the maître d’ is exceptionally solicitous. Welcome back, Mr. Wick. This way please, Mr. Wick. He and Helen must have been quite the regulars.

Once you are at your table John waves off the maître d’, opting to push in your chair for you. His fingers brush your shoulder afterwards. It was probably a mistake, but you cannot suppress a small shudder. He does not look at you as he seats himself, opting to pick up the menu.

You follow suit, your skin on fire. 

It was an accidental touch, you tell yourself.

He didn't mean anything by it.

You glance up from your menu, to find he is looking at you out the corner of his eye.

You tell your treacherous heart that attempts to pound out of your chest to settle the fuck down.

“So...what was Helen’s favorite dish here?”

He doesn't look up, and for some reason you are relieved.

“Guess.”

“Hmm.” You scan the offerings. It is mostly French leaning nouvelle cuisine. It all looks delicious, and very expensive. You know the moment your eyes find the line, and you smile. “The magret de canard.”

This time he does smile with you. It is tinged with nostalgia, and your heart aches. For him. For you. For the woman you are remembering together.

“She took me to Europe when I graduated from high school. She ordered that dish in every restaurant in France we went to. She said it was so delicious there was no point in trying anything else.” You cackle with another memory. “Then when we got home she was determined to learn how to make it. It went ok until the sauce. Holy shit, the black smoke in that kitchen was like a tire fire!” You wipe away a tear that is borne of mirth and memory. 

When you look across the table again John is smiling gently, as though he can see it perfectly in his own mind’s eye.

“She was a terrible cook.” He says it fondly, like it amused the hell out of him.

“I know. I am too, I’m not throwing shade here. Do you like to cook?”

The side of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Yes. I find it relaxing.”

Figures. He would be so perfect. One of many reasons Helen undoubtedly fell in love with him.

When the waiter comes John orders a filet, and you, the duck. “For Helen,” you say with a wistful curl of lips. He stares at you silently for a long beat before nodding, returning your smile perfunctorily. You marvel that you can already tell when his expressions are genuine, and when he’s playing the part he needs to for the sake of social nicety. Your heart aches for him. It must be so painful to be here, where he'd dined with Helen so many times. Maybe more like sticking a finger in a wound, than a brave act for the sake of nostalgia. What were the two of you thinking? 

It occurs to you, from things Helen had said, that maybe this is more than just her favorite restaurant.

“This is where you met, isn't it?” 

His eyes are fixed on a particular spot at the bar. “Right over there. She was meeting a client, but he canceled. So we had dinner together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn't happen to have anything to do with that?” All Helen had ever told you about John's occupation was that he worked in security, but she had implied multiple times that he was resourceful, smart, and not someone to be fucked with.

The corner of his mouth ticks, his eyebrow rising slightly. You congratulate yourself for lifting him at least a little out of his funk. “I'm afraid it was just luck on my part.” 

“Fate,” you correct, toasting with your water glass, because you haven’t been brought drinks yet.

“It's nice to think so.”

“So then you had dinner.” You know the story. “Where did you sit?”

“Right here.” 

You feel a chill, knowing that once, your sister had sat in this very place, across from this very man, and changed the course of her life forever. You marvel at what that must have been like. You never fall for men quickly, usually keeping them at arm’s length for as long as you can manage. You’ve never experienced love at first sight, or first night, but looking at this handsome man across from you, it's not so hard to imagine.

“Did you fall in love that night?” you ask quietly.

“I did. I think for Helen...it took a little longer.”

Immediately you shake your head. “No,” you contradict, wanting him to know this. “She called me, the next day. She told me she'd just met the most amazing man and that she wanted to spend her life with him. I thought she was crazy.” You look around at the intimate setting, the low soft lighting and the swanky surroundings, a little misty eyed. Then, you look at him. This handsome devil with the soft eyes of a poet.

Helen hadn’t been frivolous. She hadn’t even been particularly romantic. Meeting John Wick changed all that.

“Maybe I understand a little better now.”

You look at each other from across the table. There is a longing in his eyes that you know you do not have the power to heal, and yet you would if you could. You would give a great deal to see this man made whole again—you’re not really sure why.

He looks away first, and you feel…raw. 

“Thank you. I…was the best version of myself, for her.” His long fingers trace a circle in the white table cloth, a hairline of a frown appearing on his brow. “I've slid backwards a bit, since.”

Hoo boy, did you get that.

“That’s ok,” you say softly. “We do what we have to, to survive.”

He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes through his long hair. Your fingers itch to brush it out of his face. To touch him, and you absolutely know you shouldn't. Shouldn’t even think it. But there is something in the way he's been looking at you today. Something almost like…hunger, and your belly flutters with a thousand butterflies made of bad ideas and midnight longings.

“So…what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

You shake your head with your heart in your throat. Is he asking out of politeness, making chit chat, or does he want to know if you’re unattached?

The truth is you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than six months, and a nervous little laugh escapes you.

“I’ve…never met anyone who it was worth the sacrifice. Things are always nice at first, but then he starts to try to mold you into the person he really wants you to be, and you realize all along he just wanted someone to cook his meals and wash his socks.” 

John lifts an eyebrow at this, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.

“Maybe you should try dating someone who can afford a housekeeper.” He looks up at you then, his dark eyes soft yet penetrating, and you swear he can see straight through to the depths of you. The look almost feels like a challenge, somehow. You try to meet him head on, but in the end the unbearable heat of it makes you squirm, and you look away.

The waiter saves you from what you might say next, bringing the bottle of wine John ordered. 

Thank god, because you need a drink.

[mylovelylittleobsessions]

Stealth Attack

A Rings of Power One-shot

Featuring Adar and his kids. Pure fluff.

Enjoy!

Wrûg bared his teeth as he crept forward, soot-coated stick in hand. This was it; today was the day he’d finally be taken seriously as a hunter by the rest of the clans. They’d have to accept him, and let him go on the big game hunts after this! No other Uruk could do what he was planning; they were too scared.

Not that he hadn’t tried to convince them before. He’d made it clear that he would bring the best game, the tastiest meat anybody’d ever had, if only they’d let him come along. But every time it was the same: they’d agree condescendingly, or coo at him, or pinch his cheek, then send him off with a pat on the head and a piece of sweet root.

He didn’t deserve to be treated like this. He’d seen seven winters already; he was practically a grown-up! (Though, of course, he didn’t turn his nose up at the sweet root; he wasn’t stupid.)

Tonight, however, would change everything. His bared teeth became a grin as he snuck closer to his goal: Adar’s tent. He’d teach them all a lesson by leaving a mark on the ancient Uruk, and they’d all see how clever and crafty he was! Even Adar would be impressed, right after he scrubbed Wrûg’s mark off.

Wrûg slipped into the tent and almost huffed with disappointment. This was going to be too easy; Adar was asleep! There he was, the eldest of them, snoring away in his nest of blankets without a care in the world! He tiptoed over to the nest and peeked in, stick in hand.

Adar had his face tucked under his arm like a sleeping warg (and snoring like one too), so putting a mark on his face was going to be tricky. He’d wanted to draw face hair on him like the dwarves had, but now he’d have to think of something else. Maybe he’d put a frowny face, or a skull, or a —

Wrûg’s feet flew off the ground as he was suddenly scooped up in a grip like iron. He rolled head over feet into the nest, and found himself nose to nose with Adar himself, eyes glittering with mischief.

Ooh, Adar tricked him! He wasn’t sleeping at all! His snores were made of lies!

“Well, well,” he graveled, in that soft, deep voice that every Uruk associated with the safety of their eldest, “what’s this I’ve caught?”

Wrûg squirmed, but couldn’t wriggle out of the hold Adar had him in, perched on his lap.

Adar looked him over appraisingly, smirk growing. “Looks like a tasty little Uruk-child for my dinner! Let’s see if he’s any good…”

Hang on a minute! He knew where this was going!

“Adar, no!” He squealed. “No tickle!”

But it was too late. Adar had descended, pretending to gobble him up as he made fake-eating noises and gummed at Wrûg’s tummy. Wrûg shrieked with laughter, unable to escape.

Adar hummed. “Not quite. Perhaps some seasoning.” He mimed sprinkling something on Wrûg before gumming his exposed arm. “Much better.” He grinned and resumed his tickling onslaught.

“Adaaaaar!”

After a few minutes, Adar stopped, letting Wrûg catch his breath. “Now,” he rasped, voice filled with mirth, “what brings you creeping in here to me, little one?”

Wrûg stiffened a little, having snuggled up to Adar in the meantime. “Umm…”

Adar raised an eyebrow, then looked around and picked up Wrûg’s soot stick. “This, perhaps?”

Uh-oh, now he was in trouble. “I w-was…”

Adar tipped Wrûg’s chin up so they were looking eye to eye. “Were you going to play a prank on your Father, child?”

Wrûg nodded.

“Why?”

His lip wobbled. Nononono, he was not going to cry like a little baby in front of Adar! “I ju-just wanna be a hunt-ter…”

Adar’s gaze softened. “Oh, sweetling,” he cooed, rocking him a little, “you need not worry about such things yet. You have your whole life to be a hunter or a warrior or whatever you wish. For now, you would please me best by living your childhood without fear in our new home. Can you do that for an old Uruk?”

He nodded, then flung himself around Adar in a tight embrace. “Love you, Adar…”

“I love you too, little one.” Adar got to his feet, balancing Wrûg on his hip. “Now, no more sneaking in my tent!” He teased, booping Wrûg’s nose with the stick and leaving a soot spot on the tip. He carried Wrûg out and into the camp, where his mother was looking around for him.

“You could have been squished by a warg in there.” He sniffed the air and gave him a look. “Although you smell like you might have already. What did you do, child, roll around in a bog?”

Wrûg looked away shiftily. “No…”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No…” he lied.

Adar rolled his eyes with a huff and passed Wrûg over to his mother. “I believe this smelly creature belongs to you, daughter.” He teased, before looking him in the eye. “Be a good boy for your mother, Wrûg.”

“Yes, Adar!” He nodded with a bright smile. Adar called him by name! He was a grown-up!

Adar gave a small smile and murmured something in his mother’s ear about new soap. Wrûg contentedly rested his head on his mother’s shoulder as he was carried away to the other side of the camp. His mother patted his back while she chattered about the stew she was gonna fix for dinner—

Wait a minute.

What did Adar say?

Soap?

But that meant—

“NO!” He howled. “NO BATH!”

[squoxle]

🎄Christmas Fun w/ Enhypen

☃︎ pairing: Enhypen!bf x Reader!gf | ☃︎ wc: 930 ~ 100+ wc per member | ☃︎ summary: Christmas/Winter themed activities each member would do with you (in my opinion) | ☃︎ cw: it’s pure fluff so have fun 🎁😘🎄

🎄희승~Heeseung wc: 132

Correct me if I'm wrong, but Heeseung is such a loser boyfriend--but in a cute way like he just wants to chill with you yk

Anyways, I could definitely see him wanting to watch a billion Christmas movies with you while you snuggled up together.

"Hey, babe. Do you want any snacks?" he asked as you layed on his chest. "No, I'm alright," you said looking up at him. "You sure?" he asked again...you could tell he wanted something, but didn't want to get up only for himself. "You know what? I'd like some cookies...or maybe some ice cream," you suggested. "How about both," he smiled before running off to create your tasty toothache.

Being that this is Heeseung...it could get freaky, but I think cuddling would be great for now.

🎄제이~Jay wc: 132

We all know how much of a husband Jay is. So we shouldn't be surprised when he calls you in the kitchen to bake cookies with him.

I could see him coming over to wrap an apron around your waist before you go over to look at the recipe he printed out.

"Soooo, what do we do first?" you ask. "Hmm, let's get out the ingredients and then we can start," he said as you scanned the list with your eyes. After gathering the ingredients and mixing the dough Jay grabs a spoon for you to scoop the cookies onto the tray.

Ok...I can see things getting really cute after this, like maybe one of you mention something about baking cookies with your future kids and the other one blushes. EEK!

🎄제이크~Jake wc: 149

As our cute little Aussie boy, I feel like Jake would have fun making a gingerbread house with you.

I can see him getting frustrated as he struggles to keep the walls together.

“Ahh,” Jake sighed as the walls fell down. “Jake…you can’t do them all at once,” you said picking up the frosting covered gingerbread pieces. “Ugh, and you used too much icing,” you giggled. “They’ll never stay together with all this stuff,” you added as you watched Jake hopelessly scrape the frosting off. “Argh! This is impossible!” Jake laughed as he tried again. “Here, let me do it,” you smiled as you held the pieces in place. *Crunch* you looked over to see Jake eating the little candy decorations. “Save some for the house,” you giggled as he licked the icing from his fingers.

Who wouldn’t have fun making a gingerbread house with this cutie patootie~

🎄성훈~Sunghoon wc: 111

You should immediately expect the Ice Prince to take you out on an ice skating date...duhhhh

I can literally see him laughing with you and holding your hands while you struggled to stop yourself from falling flat on your ass.

"Relax, princess. Just keep your eyes on me," he'd smile as you trembled. "I'm scared," you whined. "What if I fall?" "If you fall I'll catch you," he reassured you as the two of you continued inching around the rink. Eventually, you'd do well enough to skate slowly, but you enjoyed watching your boyfriend dance on the ice.

Afterwards he'd probably take you out for coffee...because...why not? Sunghoon LOVES coffee.

🎄선우~Sunoo wc: 160

I feel like Sunoo is the type of guy to love doing arts and crafts. So making cute Christmas cards for everyone is right up his alley.

I could see you two playing around with stickers and glitter as you created you holiday masterpieces.

“What do you think?” You said lifting up your googly eyed reindeer card. “It’s for Heeseung,” you continued. “Awww. Cute,” he smiled. “I know our Bambi boy will love it. Wanna see mine?” He asked. “Yesss!” You smiled. Sunoo lifted up a card covered with glitter and heart stickers. “Who’s that for?” You asked with a puzzled look on your face. “Do you like it?” He asked immediately. “Yeah, but who’s it for?” You asked again. “It’s for you. I just wanted to make sure you liked it first,” he giggled before placing it down to scribble some designs on it.

OMGGGGG!!! The more I think about it the more I can see this happening!

🎄정원~Jungwon wc: 134

Maybe it's because he's the leader, but I could see Jungwon and you decorating the Christmas tree together. It would be sooooo cute omg.

You'd be helping him hang ornaments and string garland all around the tree. He'd most likely even let you put the angel on top (or the star...whatever you prefer)

"Wow, we did a really good job," he said stretching as he scanned the tree from top to bottom. "Yeah, we did," you smiled. "Ah, wait...we almost forgot the angel," Jungwon said handing you the cute tree topper. He supported you from behind as you reached up to carefully put the angel on top. "Phew, now it's perfect," you sighed. "Just like you," Jungwon said before hugging you from behind.

Is this cute or what??!!! Help this just radiates Wonergy.

🎄니키~Niki wc: 115

Being the fun, lovable maknae that he is, I could so totally see Niki wanting to build a snowman with you.

Just don't say anything cringey because he WILL call you out for it.

"Aww he's so cute," you said looking at the snowman you and Niki built together. "Oh yeah, well how about you date him instead," he teased to which you just rolled your eyes. "Well hopefully he takes me out on better dates," you teased back. "Hmm looks like he already bought you dinner," Niki smiled mischievously. "Wh--" you were cut off by a snowball launched right at your face.

Yeah...I can definitely see you two getting into a snowball fight.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @nikisdubblchococake @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @nikisblkgf @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

[itsabouttimex2]

Oooh Mei needs some love ! Love to hear your thoughts on Yandere Best friend Mei 🥰

Yandere Mei Headcanons

Mei is doting in a very ‘big-sister’ sort of way, rough and tumble protectiveness meeting an honest (if obsessive) love for you.

So much of your relationship with Mei consists of doting touch. Her hands are always on you whenever she finds a good enough excuse for skinship. A tangle in your hair? Mei brushes it out and makes you sit down so she can check through your hair for more. Your clothes are skewed? Hold still and let her fix them. Hungry? Hop on her bike and wrap your arms around her waist- she’ll take you somewhere!

Speaking of which, she takes you on bike rides whenever the chance arises. It can be a simple ride to a nearby arcade, or a trip out to the countryside to camp out and stargaze. She opts for the latter more often, given that it allows you both to be alone for days on end, isolated from the world, from anyone who would take your attention and presence away from her.

She involves you in a lot of her livestreams, in the most flattering light possible. Lots of ‘Look what my bestie can do’ or ‘Y/N making their famous home-made cookies’ videos- short and fluffy content that her viewers praise for being heartwarming. In this way, she ‘shares’ you with the world, allowing her viewers to marvel over you like a glittering relic.

Lots of showing you off, actually- like a proud dragon flaunting a cherished treasure from her hoard. Mei also uses her money to keep you dressed and presentable, in the same gold and white that she wears. Several of the outfits in your closet were custom-ordered for you, with the excuse that she won them in a giveaway, but weren’t to her personal style. Then you can accept them without guilt or the need to repay her.

Each expensive outfit is specialized just for you, to fit your tastes and preferences while still being in her own colors. If you like to frolic around in sundresses, she adds in wide-brimmed hats to keep you from getting burnt. Do you wear skirts on all occasions? Mei throws in high-quality tights to keep you modest and leggings to suit the weather. You have autism and can’t touch rough fabrics without discomfort? She skips over cheap swathes of spandex and wool, opting to have silk used instead.

Matching jewelry, too- the only difference between her bracelet and yours is differing birthstones. (MK has one too, obv- her obsessive feelings probably extend to him, albeit on a much less extreme scale.) An immediate #twinsie posts, Mei’s fingers wrapped around yours as she takes the photo. She’ll admit that she bought these glittering bands, but point out that MK already accepted his, so you have to take yours too- and you do, but with the promise that you’ll make something tasty to repay her.

Mei comes over whenever you bake or cook, bringing trendy drinks along to share with you. And, if you have no important responsibilities for the next day, then our upbeat dragon girl is hellbent on a sleepover. Same bed, bestie! Mei wraps around you tightly, clinging with her powerful arms and legs to keep you close. (I like to imagine that dragons share warmth in little cuddle piles- it’s too damn cute to not think of.) Her draconic aura surges out sometimes, wispy green trails illuminating the dark bedroom around you. A pair of leering xanthous eyes stare down at you, adoration etched deep into every glowing inch of yellow.

Sometimes she drags MK along to these little slumber parties, both your heads resting on her chest, an ancient warmth pulsing with each beat of her heart. She holds you and him tight to herself, her arms bringing her beloved friends as close as possible. To Mei, the two of you are the closest to ‘perfect’ that the world gets. If she has you both in her her arms, then everything is good and just and right.

And god forbid anyone try to take that from her.

[gfbrokenlocksau]

a question has been posed to me!

WHY did I choose those colors for them, with my shorthand coloring?

Well. You're in luck. I'm about to ramble autistically hehehe

Ford - Red

Bright. Loud. Strong. I've never seen Ford as a socially adaptable person, and he's super headstrong, talking over others, and determined.

(hey, can you blame me for also liking Undertale? Please note— Undertale had no bearing on any of these colors, I just think it's cool lol)

Ford can get angry, and it can be violent— he threatens Stanley with a crossbow, shoves him into a burning panel, and punches him when he sees him again (after 30 years).

Red grabs your attention.

Stan - Blue

A big part of Stan in this AU is that he still has that fascination with sailing. Sure, the point of the dream may have been to sail with Ford, but he still chose the ocean over any other dream.

And, y'know. Blue. Ocean. Do the math.

Also he's literally dead. Deoxygenated blood ringing any bells? Plus a loooot of media shows ghosts with bluish hues and such.

You don't tend to notice blue, unless it's a very out of place color in the area.

Dipper - Green

Pine tree! Pine trees are green.

Hesitated about this one at first, because the first thing that comes to mind when I think "green" is "nature" and I mean.... Look at him.

But I think the "pine tree" connection actually makes sense, with how when it really gets down to the wire, he's pretty sturdy and reliable. Or at the very least he sure tries to be!

Also, I think this kid has some weird, crazy amount of luck. Because so many things that summer were attached to chance, and somehow this kid barely ever got hurt from the wild stunts he pulled.

I mean, come on. He:

Found the journal

Tripped into that one memory, which gave him the key to fight bill (Dreamscaperers)

Survived the Headhunters episode (there was no planning there. Be honest)

Didn't get squashed by the Gobblewonker (with his skinny noodle legs?!)

Managed to Not Fucking Die, Period

Mabel - Pink

Ok. Look at her. She's pink.

Wow! Wow!! Glitter and bubblegum! Blushing and crushes and sugar! She probably smells like cotton candy, that's just the vibes she gives off.

Also unicorn blood.

She's bright, she's happy, she's excited, she loves her family so much. She loves her brother so much her perfect world still has him there. She loves her brother so much she leaves her perfect world for him.

Fiddleford - Orange

He's close to Ford, and sort of stood "in-between" him and Bill for a time, preventing Bill from isolating him entirely.

To me, orange is a very comforting color when it's soft. It's warm, like a fireplace, or sunset, or tasty (mm oranges! I could go for some citrus right now...)

But when you have a strong orange, it works as a notifier of danger and warning. Fiddleford spirals hard.

Bill - Yellow (bordering gold)

Look at that motherfucker. Also:

Connotations of wealth (gold) and also danger (warning signs, safety vests, etc..)

[b0red-b1rds]

In honor of the first snowfall of winter...

...SAGAU during a snow day!

Snow always means different things to different people. Some spend snowy days outside, having fun with others, or perhaps just trying to get to work through all the snow. Others spend the days cuddled up inside, wrapped in warm blankets and sweaters with a mug of their preferred warm drink.

Such is the way things are in Teyvat as well. When windows cloud with frost and the ground turns an enchanting, glittering white, all of the beings of Teyvat have their ways of spending their time during the cold seasons.

But when the Creator themself comes to live amongst their creations, who knows what will happen?

~°•☆~Fluff, wintertime activities, just a lot of wholesomeness here~☆•°~

The ending of the year tends to bring cold weather and biting winds to most places, and with it comes warmer clothes and festive fashions. Heavy coats, elegant scarves, and cute mittens are put on display in shop windows, inviting passersby to partake in a bit of Holiday Shopping. And who would Your most loyal followers be if they didn't take You shopping? It would be a travesty! This totally isn't an excuse to spoil you or see you in the latest wintery fashions, parish the thought. They buy you anything that catches your eye.

°•☆~ Ningguang, Ayaka, Lisa, Yae Miko, Yelan, Dori, Dehya ~☆•°

Laughter and shrieks of joy are heard from outside as a Snowball Fight takes place. It's an all-out, no-bars-held brawl of packed snow and good aim. A nostalgic sight for You, to be sure. Everyone around You can see how You wish to go out and take part in the liveliness... and some of them see no reason to stop You! In fact, a few acolytes even pull you into the fray, whether it be by pulling You down beside them behind their haphazard snow fort or simply by nailing You with a snowball. They'll make sure You have fun, regardless of what others might say!

°•☆~ Childe, Itto, Klee, Heizou, Lyney, Hu Tao, Amber ~☆•°

Once the chilly battle is won, there are plenty of other things to do while everyone has energy! Sledding is always fun, especially when You have someone pulling you down onto a toboggan and taking off before You can realize what's going on. So what if you end up half buried in a snowbank after crashing into it? That's part of the fun!

°•☆~ Childe(again), Gorou, Beidou, Bennett, Kaeya, Xinyan, Yoimiya, Yaoyao, Thoma ~☆•°

Speaking of getting buried in snow... Snow Angels are a classic way of winding down, isn't it? Especially when the little ones are pulling You by the hand, eager to get their turn to play with You! Laughter and shouts of "There's snow in my shirt!" never cease to amuse, especially when You get to stand up and see the product of Your fun in the form of people-shaped silhouettes in the glittering snow.

°•☆~ Qiqi, Yaoyao, Gorou, Klee, Nahida, Razor, Mika ~☆•°

Ah, but while some are playing, others are hard at work, putting up decorations and making everything look beautiful! Tinsel, lights, everything that can make the houses and streets look straight out of a winter wonderland. Some are on the roof, some are on ladders, and some lucky folks can use unique abilities and equipment to avoid the usual struggles. And of course, there are also those on the ground giving orders and suggestions. You know, to avoid the hassle of climbing up and down over and over again to make sure everything looks right.

°•~☆ Jean, Kaveh, Wanderer, Faruzan, Kirara, Albedo ☆•°~

Finally, when it's time to go inside to warm up, there are several people who have been Cooking and Making Warm Drinks. Tea, hot chocolate, cookies and biscuits, all sorts of tasty treats and drinks! The smell of baked goods and tasty food permeates the air, and thankfully, everything was planned and timed perfectly so that everyone could enjoy something delicious when they came inside.

°•☆~ Diona, Diluc, Xiangling, Wriothesley, Thoma, Yaoyao, Yanfei ~☆•°

While playing in the snow is definitely a lot of fun, there are always those who prefer to spend their time indoors, wrapped in blankets and sweaters with a warm mug and a good book in hand. When everyone finally returns from outside, it's these people who enjoy telling the stories they read and helping everyone find a cozy spot to warm up in.

°•☆~ Alhaitham, Zhongli, Neuvillette, Sayu, Sucrose, Tighnari, Candace, Baizhu ~☆•°

And what's a good holiday if there isn't singing and laughter? Jokes are told, songs are sung, and the atmosphere is bright and lively as music drifts through the air. Of course, there are a few who groan at the awful jokes someone tells, but it just serves to make things better.

°•☆~ Cyno, Venti, Barbara, Yun Jin, Nilou ~☆•°

And of course, winter holidays often mean presents, and that means gift wrapping! Bright paper, pretty ribbons, and parcels and packages of all sizes are scattered about. Some of these boxes are wrapped up so neat and pretty, while some unfortunate folks and up with tape all over their fingers.

°•☆~ Freminet, Kirara, Keqing, Ganyu, Collei ~☆•°

No matter how you celebrate the winter season, here's wishing you all a wonderful holiday season and a very happy new year. Cheers to you and yours, I'll see you all next year.

°•☆~ Icarus

[ladychota]

Masked Love

Pairing - Loki x Female Reader

Warnings - None, just fluff really (but lmk if you want me to add something)

Summary - You attend an Asgardian masquerade ball and meet a man who immediately piques your interest.

Word Count - 1.2k

Masterlist

The mask lies heavy on your face, its feathers tickling your temples and the jewels irritating your skin. You wish for nothing more than to take it off, but what's the point in a masquerade ball if you don't wear a mask? 

Besides, you're rather looking forward to the anonymity. Being able to go to a royal ball without fear of being judged for your social class or looked down upon for your family's status.

Your heels clack against the marble floors, each tile polished so much you can see your face in them. Your dress follows you like a loyal dog, the hem brushing your ankles delicately. The hallways are lit by hundreds of thousands of candles - some wall mounted, others hanging from the ceiling in stunning chandeliers; all emit a warm, welcoming glow. Guards stand both sides of every doorway, a spear clutched tightly in one hand while the other holds a round shield embellished with the Asgardian crest.

You hurry past them, excitement bubbling inside you as you walk through the huge, golden doors into the ballroom.

It's filled to the brim with people, each and every one of them in glittering ballgowns or slim, satin pieces; fine tuxedoes or traditional Asgardian robes. The room is alive with chattering and drinking, the air filled with the melodic sounds of laughter intertwining with music.

Walking down the stairs, you can't seem to take your eyes off the scene: it's picturesque, to say the least. You wander over to the side, watching as couples move to the centre of the ballroom, the orchestra beginning to play.

It feels magical.

You sigh and tear yourself away, heading towards the buffet as you wonder when you'll get a chance to do that. Perhaps you should go speak to someone, ask if they'd give you a dance. But, then again, you're not sure if you could deal with the rejection.

The buffet table is huge and filled to the brim with delicacies and foods you've never before seen. You're slightly overwhelmed at the choice, not sure what you should try and what you should ignore.

But then something catches your eye. Correction: someone.

A little ways across the table, a man stands holding some sort of half-eaten tart, his piercing green eyes set on you. Although, he doesn't look at you in a way that suggests he means harm; it's more of a soft look. You offer him a smile and continue searching the table, attempting to find something that looks tasty.

Your eyes - for some reason - land on the man again, your cheeks heating up at the realisation he's still looking right back at you. He points to his tart then brings a hand to his mouth, making the motion of a chef's kiss. You can't help the grin that plasters itself on your face.

Scanning the table once more, you spot something that looks rather like the pastry he's holding. You lift it up, point at it and tilt your head slightly, silently asking if it's the right one. He nods.

You take a bite, your eyes widening at how tasty it is. It's sweet, but not so sweet that it's sickly. The pastry is buttery and flaky and perfect in every way. The man grins as you nod in agreement.

The music stops and everyone starts to clap; you quickly finish the pastry and join in, listening to someone announcing the next dance. In your distracted state of trying to peer over the heads of way too many people to see if anything interesting has happened, you lose sight of the man.

You turn around, searching for him; perhaps he hasn't gone far. Perhaps, if you find him, you could talk to him properly. Or perhaps he's gone to dance with his partner. You sigh, but jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Apologies, I did not intend to scare you, my lady," Your eyes meet with the piercing green ones you'd been searching for, his thin lips curved into a soft smile. He wears a plain, black, satin mask and green robes decorated with gold. His hair is long and midnight black; you can't see his face but you're already swept away at how stunning he is.

"Do not fret, I was merely distracted," You smile. "Oh, and thank you for the recommendation. It really was delicious,"

"It's no problem at all, they just so happen to be my favourite,"

The announcer once more signals the end of the dance and the beginning of a new one, inviting people to the centre of the ballroom.

The man grins, holding out a single hand and bowing slightly. "Would you care to have this dance, my lady?"

Your stomach flips and your heart flutters as you slide your hand hesitantly into his. His hold is gentle as he leads you to the centre of the ballroom, sliding his arm around your waist.

The music begins and you're whisked around the ballroom, your skirt swirling around your ankles and your body pressed flush against his. You seem to lose track of your surroundings as you step in time to the music, falling head over heels into his beautiful green eyes.

His moves are graceful yet precise, his grip firm as he sweeps you to the floor and back up to your feet. Your breath comes in short, quiet, unbelieving gasps, a smile seeming to be permanently stuck to your face.

The dance finishes far too quickly for your liking, the last note of the music playing as you sweep into a final, deep curtsy. Applause erupts around you, bringing you back to reality as you stand and take the man's hand once more. He pulls you in close, whispering in your ear:

"How would you feel about going to the gardens?"

He pulls away as you murmur: "I'd like that,"

He smiles and pulls you from the ballroom, weaving through the crowd and taking you into the moonlit gardens. 

As soon as you come to a stop, a single note of laughter falls from your lips. "That was the best thing I've ever done, thank you,"

"No, thank you, my lady. It truly was wonderful," He replies, his hand still clutching yours.

You smile at each other for a moment, butterfly wings tickling your insides.

"Say, I never caught your name," He acknowledges, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

"Well, would that not defeat the point of a masquerade?" You answer, feeling your cheeks beginning to burn from his gesture. "But, if you must know, it's Y/n,"

"Y/n... a pretty name for a pretty woman. I am Loki, it's lovely to meet you,"

"And you also, Loki,"

He reaches up and brushes a hair behind your ear. He cups your cheek and leans in, stopping only a breath away from your face.

"May I?" He murmurs.

"You may,"

At your words, he finally closes the gap, pressing the sweetest of kisses to your lips. Just like the dance, it ends much too soon.

His demeanour seems to change as his eyes land on something behind you. You turn around to see a muscular man with blonde hair beckoning him over.

"I fear I must go," He sighs, seeming to sag. "Though I wish to never leave you,"

You smile, brushing a hand across his face. "It's alright. Go, we shall see each other again,"

Loki takes a breath, looking between you and the man before his face lights up. "Do you know of Stargazing Hill?"

"Of course,"

"May I meet you there tomorrow at sundown?"

Your grin grows wider - if that is even possible. "I'd love that,"

"Me too," He chuckles softly.

"But no masks, alright?"

Loki nods. "I look forward to seeing you fully, my beautiful lady."

[danosrosegarden]

this popped up in my head while watching riddler edits🤭🤭

but i was wondering if you could write something about the reader sending edward nude photos of herself (for his eyes only ofc) while hes at work? like he would be so flustered and hiding his phone under the desk LIKE IM JUST GIGGLING THINKING ABOUT THIS!!

Secret Delivery - Edward Nashton x Fem!Reader Headcannons (NSFW)

Contains: sending nudes, feminine reader...and a flustered Eddie. <3

Note: sorry this took a bit! I've been a little sick, but writing about blushy Edward always makes me feel better.

♡ Your sweet, angelic Eddie. He seems to morph into a grayer and dryer version of himself with each passing day of stressful work. After coming home each night, he says very little to you before collapsing into bed. You try not to feel the strings of your heart being sawed at while his snores drone. You can't help but feel a bit...neglected.

♡ It had been...how long since he'd touched you? He was so much more than a body, of course, but you missed feeling his fingers hook themselves under your bra straps. You longed to hear his high whimpers and watch his thick thighs tremble beneath you. Goodness, you needed it.

♡ So...you decide to treat your Eddie to a little surprise.

♡ You feel like a crushing, daydream-laced girl as you spend extra time in your empty apartment applying your makeup and special lingerie. Edward had yet to see you in this little number...it was a lacy, soft pink set with bows and frills. He was going to love it, you were sure.

♡ After all, he worked so hard to make sure you were comfortable. Doesn't he deserve a reward?

♡ Your heart is hot and hammering as you scroll through the pictures you took and choose the best ones. The ones where your soft skin looked juicy and tasty enough to bite into. You wanted him to bite. You wanted him to draw blood, to leave beautiful, violet splotches of bruises. God, you wanted him down your throat. You wanted him panting, sweating, writhing. You rubbed your cloud-soft thighs together as you pulled his contact up in your messages.

♡ Should you leave a honeyed message for him to read? No...how about just the pictures? You can worry about whispering all sorts of candy-sweet things to him when he gets home. You grinned as you selected the pictures from your camera roll and hovered over the send button. Leave just enough for him to thirst for more. Make him suffer through the rest of the work day, secretly hard and leaking at the thought of you. Plague his mind like a brain-nibbling disease.

♡ Bags of weariness tug under Edward's eyes, whispering an ashy purple tint onto his peachy skin. Maybe he could get away with a wink of rest, he thinks as his head dips...

♡ Ding! His phone screen lights up. Edward squints and lowers the brightness before opening his phone.

♡ A message? Who wants to talk to him now, while he's fist fighting sleep at work?

♡ His hearts glitters like river water under shimmering sunshine. It's you! And you sent him...oh. Oh my.

♡ Edward's hands fly under his desk as he gapes at the photos. His heart pounds and his palms grow clammy as he swipes through the collection.

♡ He worships your body like you were a Greek goddess. His blood sparkles with flowing love and adoration for each part of it. But I believe he's got an especially soft spot for your breasts. Running his fingers along your sensitive nipples, sucking and moaning softly on them, just simply laying his head on the squishy skin...oh, how beautiful they look wrapped in blushing lace.

♡ His cheeks are burning hot, the skin screaming lobster red. Oh, he's going to ruin you tonight.

♡ Edward's far from a master of communication, but you should know he's missed you, too. He despises how work drives him away from your bubble of glistering love. He closes his phone and stares blankly at his computer screen. His brain is sticky mush for the rest of the work day.

♡ I wish you the best of luck trying to pry his clawing hands away from your body when he gets home. You're in for a long night. ;-)