#hi I’m back!

[inkofmefondly]

I’ve never made a casserole before - hand carved rubber stamp!

[violet-lazer]

Returned Favour

Content / Warnings : EXPLICIT 18+, Copia/Reader + Aether/Reader, Gender-Neutral Reader, Cuckolding-ish Content, 2.3k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

The notion hadn’t come from nowhere. It was a culmination of all those teasing observations and risky jokes between the two of you; your wry comments about Copia’s fondness for Aether compounded with Copia’s swift retorts about your wandering eyes in the ghoul’s presence. Possibilities hinted at but previously unspoken, until he’d broken the news of his impending absence. Jokingly, you’d complained about how devastatingly cold and empty the bed would be. And then you’d turned to face your lover and found him regarding you with the most curious expression.

(Or: Copia has left you in Aether's care while he's been away. Upon his return, he wants to hear exactly what the two of you have been up to.)

“How many times did you fuck him while I was away?”

Copia’s breath is searing along your neck as he purrs into your ear from behind. He has you pressed against a wall in some dark, quiet corner of the Ministry, his weight anchoring you in place. You’d barely heard him approach before you felt gloved hands on your hips, pushing you forwards; scarcely had the time to brace yourself against the wall with your palms. The stone is harsh, cold against your skin, at odds with the heat already pooling in the pit of your stomach. But. Enough of that. He asked you a question, didn’t he?

“I don’t remember,” you confess, mind suddenly, genuinely blank.

“I told you to keep count,” Copia says, tone low and dangerous, lips brushing against your ear. “I told you that for every time he fucked you, I’d fuck you twice.” He drives his hips forwards roughly and you can feel him hard against your back.

“So, how many times?”

Hmm, no, your power of recollection isn’t getting much better with his cock pressed up against you. Distracting, if anything. You’d rather not make up a number, but you’re also aware of the urgency of the situation and how criminally unerotic your hesitation is. Copia sighs.

“The first day?” he prompts.

The first day. You remember-

“Once,” you say, voice trembling with your divulgence. Thirteen days ago, twelve short hours after Copia had left for some hideously tedious Ministry training event, you’d fucked Aether in the bed you and Copia shared.

Copia hums, releasing his grip and letting his hands trail across your stomach. He gets to work on your vestments, slipping his fingers through familiar layers of fabric to allow himself access to you.

“Very good,” he says. “Where?”

“In our room,” you say, head falling onto Copia’s shoulder as he makes skin contact. His gloves are warm on your thighs as he inches a path upwards and inwards at a pace so torturously slow you could cry in frustration. You weren’t expecting him tonight, he was due home tomorrow morning. Lucifer, he must’ve been prowling the halls looking for you. The thought of him stalking the corridors, aching with the desperation to back you into a corner sends a shiver through you.

“In our bed?” he growls, fingers almost, almost dipping underneath the band of your underwear.

“Yes.”

Copia exhales sharply. In one swift motion, he grabs your hips and pulls you backwards, away from the wall, grip firm enough that you don’t even attempt to turn around to face him. Pity. Imagining Copia’s expression isn’t enough as he shifts your underwear down your thighs. The touch of his gloves is soft on your skin, and your heart hammers.

“Bend over,” he says, “and tell me what he did to you.”

Obediently, you stretch forwards, fingers finding the wall before you. You’re exposed, here, heavy with the need to be touched, to be filled. Silence hangs in the air. Copia’s waiting for you.

“He…came to see me after dinner.”

Your cheeks are burning. It feels wrong to be telling him this, as though it wasn’t an arrangement Copia himself had suggested, as if the idea hadn’t sent a riotous thrill of arousal through you the moment it had fallen from his lips.

The notion hadn’t come from nowhere. It was a culmination of all those teasing observations and risky jokes between the two of you; your wry comments about Copia’s fondness for Aether compounded with Copia’s swift retorts about your wandering eyes in the ghoul’s presence. Possibilities hinted at but previously unspoken, until he’d broken the news of his impending absence. Jokingly, you’d complained about how devastatingly cold and empty the bed would be. And then you’d turned to face your lover and found him regarding you with the most curious expression.

“In that case…”

It had been flattering how quickly Aether had agreed to take care of you. As the three of you hashed out rules and boundaries, Aether had let his eyes rove over you with a shamelessness that had sent heat coursing simultaneously to your face and to the pit of your stomach.

Copia had noticed, of course; the urgency with which he’d bent you over his desk once Aether had departed betrayed his enthusiasm for the arrangement. In retrospect you probably should’ve taken a minute to relocate the paperwork he’d been working on before your meeting, but you know what they say about the throes of passion. To Copia’s credit, he’d managed to present the…lightly worn papers to Sister Imperator the following day with a decently straight face.

Still. Actually recounting the explicit details of your affair to your partner is another matter. But Copia wants to hear it, and you, aching with desire, want Copia to rail you into next week. So, you gather your thoughts and continue. Get to the good part.

“Ah, we talked for a bit? Watched that show he likes, the one where the cat solves crimes? Fuck, what’s it called-” It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what it’s called. Copia hasn’t said a word. You shake your head.

“Anyway. We were talking, just sort of sitting on the bed. No pressure, like we said. And then he just looked me in the eyes and asked me if…if I wanted him to fuck me.”

“Don’t move.”

Copia releases you once again, and you hear the shifting of fabric as he gets to work on his own clothes. Fuck, you want to see him. It’s purposeful, the way he hasn’t yet touched you where you long to be touched. And look at you, so worked up by anticipation alone. So easy. Speaking of anticipation, what you hear next commands every last ounce of your attention. It’s a sound you’re well-acquainted with, the distinctive pop that accompanies the cap of his favourite lube flicking open. In agonising silence you wait, mind filling in the blanks of what you can hear occurring behind you. Oh, you wouldn’t give, now, to turn around, to see Copia stroking his cock slick, eyeing you hungrily. When he leans forward to speak again the head of his cock bumps against your thigh. Wet. It takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to sink backwards onto him. His breath ghosts over your neck.

“And then?”

And then, heart hammering, you’d looked Aether in the eyes and said yes.

“I said yes. And he fucked me into the mattress.”

Copia growls, grip tight on your hips as he buries his cock into you. You gasp as you’re rocked forwards, feeling the stretch as he pushes himself to the hilt; you brace yourself against the wall to stop your knees from giving in. Hips flush with yours, Copia pauses to let you acclimatise.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” Copia murmurs. “Not even a day, hm?”

Slowly, he withdraws almost completely, pausing when the head of his cock is threatening to slip out of you. You’re longing to impale yourself on him, but know better than to rush Copia when he wants to lead. The rewards for your patience are unfailingly spectacular. Copia hums.

“How was he?”

You open your mouth to respond but he chooses the moment to snap his hips forwards, leaving your first attempt at syllables somewhat of a write-off. No need to look at him to know he’s smirking down at you. Copia sets about fucking into you at a languid, steady pace, exuding the energy of a man who has all the time in the world to rail a confession out of you.

Oh come on, as if you can be expected to answer in this state. How was Aether in bed? You’ve had two weeks to become intimately acquainted with him, to sate the curiosity that’s been simmering within you. Out of the sheets, Aether is conscientious, considerate, by Copia’s side at a moment’s notice. Even before you’d become involved with Copia, you’d enjoyed any brief interactions you shared with Aether; he’s a common sight around the Ministry with a reputation for appearing out of nowhere to lend a hand when Siblings are struggling to carry their books, or when a shelf needs to be put up. There’s a rumour he can hear the sound of someone failing to open a jar from a mile away.

And he fucks like an absolute demon. Of late, your bedroom routine has begun with strong arms pushing you gently onto your back, with Aether fixing you that enigmatic gaze as he undresses you with deft fingers. When he screws you- head buried in your shoulder, teeth nipping at your neck- it’s with a confidence and unrelenting tempo that empties your mind of everything other than the overwhelming sensation of his cock pumping in and out of you. Still, it’s obvious he’s being delicate with you- holding back, checking in, making sure it’s not too much. The idea that he could absolutely destroy you if he wanted to makes you ache. So. In short, he’s a dream.

“He was good,” you say, breathless, feeling like your knees might be about to give in. “Good with his mouth.”

Almost immediately, you feel Copia slow down. Ah. Not the mouth. Copia’s source of pride.

“Better than-?” he begins, before catching himself. It’s a slip, and you both know it.

“No.”

It’s not a lie. Nobody knows how to get you off with their mouth like Copia does. How could they? Copia begs to go down on you, a man possessed, as though making you come is his singular, godless purpose. He’s spent hours on his knees working you undone, and oh, what a sight he is to behold from that vantage point; mouth full of you, paint ruined, cock leaking. He presses buttons you didn’t even know you had.

“Of course he isn’t,” Copia says.

Leaning forwards to kiss the back of your neck, he resumes the movement of his hips and works his way up to speed. Oh, you’ve missed this, the wet slap of his skin against yours, the moans that remind you how perfectly you please him. The heady rush of knowing his lust is entirely for you. On another note, your attempts at keeping your voice down are becoming more and more insipid. It doesn’t escape you that someone could come around the corner at any time, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to care. Let someone catch you, full of Copia’s cock and whimpering into your own shoulder. Let them see their Papa claiming what’s his. Tonight he’s relentless; every deep thrust stoking the fire inside you, your building orgasm surging in the pit of your belly. Ordinarily, Copia would have ensured you come first, would have had you undone before he thought about pushing his cock into you. Not tonight. He must be desperate.

“And-” he’s getting more fervent, hips bucking forward raggedly- “Did you let him finish inside you?”

“He fucked me full of cum every day you were gone.”

“Fuck.”

Lucifer, you can feel your release winding between your thighs- just a bit more- but you know Copia’s going to beat you to it. Rocking against him, you will him- dare him- to come, to fill you until you can’t take any more. With a few short, erratic strokes, Copia falls apart; he spills into you, panting against your back. As his breath evens out, he slides out of you, releasing his grip on your hips. Finally, Copia guides you to turn around to face him. When he meets your eyes, you’re rewarded with a tender smile. Oh, you’re still aching with desire but are almost bowled over by the wave of affection that crashes over you. Copia.

He leans forward and kisses you deeply. You soften, settling against the wall, hooking your hands around his neck to bring him closer. When you break apart, Copia lifts a hand to caress your cheek.

“I missed you.”

“Welcome home,” you reply; shamelessly, hopelessly, smitten.

“Ah, forgive me,” he says, brows knitting into a frown. “It seems I could not control myself, hm? Undone so quickly. And look at you, still suffering…”

Copia nudges your legs apart with his knee and grinds into you, eliciting a soft groan. He hums, pleased. “Allow me to fix this.” Slowly, his fingers trace your thigh, gloves gliding upwards almost frictionlessly.

You nod, reaching up to take his face between your hands. The combination of sweat, lube and cum cooling on your skin is threatening to become unpleasant; it must be past midnight and the central heating situation in the Ministry was absolutely dire in these connecting corridors.

“Let’s go to bed,” Your thumbs brush his cheeks as you look him over, taking in every inch of his handsome face, reacquainting yourself with every line, freckle and feature of your Copia. Two weeks was too long. “I’m fucking freezing.”

“Mm. Yes.” Pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, he dutifully helps you right your clothes. His hands idle a bit too long when he’s readjusting your underwear, but you let him off. He pauses, eyes wandering over you, taking you in. His gaze lingers on your neck.

“Did he take care of you, love?” Pulling your collar aside, he examines a fresh bruise- the one Aether had called a little something to remember him by- and presses a kiss to the tender flesh. You shiver.

“He did.”

“Good. We will thank him tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah. Maybe he kept count.” Copia laughs as he takes your hand, pulling you away from the wall and beginning to lead you towards the bedroom.

“It was quite the ask, I admit. Instead…” He quirks an eyebrow. “Perhaps the two of you can show me what you have been doing.”

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

TW blood I guess?

anyway I had a thought during communion about how the old covenant was blood-spattered from sacrifice and cleansing but in the new covenant we are fully covered in His blood and the flow washes us white

with the symbology of which is the full and better covenant heavier/more valuable is heavier on a weighted scale/images of “justice” holding/being a scale

very rough draft and I have other ideas of how to depict the idea but there it is

[askhellopenguin]

Wow what an interesting break! Are you all ready to continue our wonderful adventure?

Clark. It has been several months. In fact we ended this break 15 days too late. We need to begin moving again. In this time the penguin has ruined thousands of lives and gets stronger by the hour. We must continue quickly.

…

STATISTICAL ANALYSIS DETERMINES WE MUST MOVE ONWARDS AT A RATE OF 198 M/S IN ORDER TO COMPLETE OUR QUEST WITH THE HIGHEST ODDS OF SURVIVAL. STATISTICAL ANALYSIS ALSO DETERMINES THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE.

[binglepringle]

Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na

💥Batgirl💥

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Like the majority of society I’m obsessed with Nimona

And I rewatched it a million times and one thing always sticks out to me 

There are moments when Ambrosius is surrounded by light like a little protective bubble 

That keeps him away from the man he loves more than anything 

[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[pangur-and-grim]

this is fine

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”

[todaysbird]

clearly trump voters are already completely immoral and don’t give a shit about anybody else, but it sucks to see that, even with imminent environmental rollbacks under another trump presidency, there’s not even a little fear. you know that when we all get hotter, you will too? and when prices for everything skyrocket, that will happen to you too? and maybe when florida falls into the ocean, your children will drift away, too

[doctorsiren]

Thinking about how (a humanoid) Bill would see Ford be older after those 30 years (because that’s how people work), and so to try and appeal to him again, he makes himself look older too (I mean, he’s WAYYYY older than Ford actually, but I just mean visually)

But then after he’s killed and sent to the Theraprism, he goes back to his original twink look, and I say this because I already did a drawing of my humanoid Bill in prison and I like how that design worked with his pathetic traumatized orange jumpsuit look more than I think I would like it with an older looking version 😁 plus uhh I don’t wanna deem that drawing “not canon” to my brain so yeah

[otamega8]

Now it’s My Sugar Baby Academia 😌 you can’t convince me otherwise 🙂‍↔️

[verticalstorm]

Her name is HALLOWEEN! (or Hal for short)

[randomgarbagecan]

[Constellation “Demon King of Salvation” is looking at you.]

[atomicradiogirl]

i’m sorry WHY has no one here ever mentioned the house md super bowl commercial from 2011????? this is genuinely insane

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I always have a soft spot for characters who have a protective streak for another out of gratitude for their kindness towards them, but Charles’ protectiveness towards Edwin really hits a particular way because it’s so so apparent that it’s specifically about wanting Edwin to feel as safe and as comfortable around him as Edwin made Charles feel in his dying moments. I’m going to shatter like glass.