#ive been having. feelings about these tow

[iknaenmal]

theyre moirails i dont make the rules

[dorkicon]

bitching abt homophobia n shit at my job in the tags o7 happy pride

[todayisafridaynight]

def made a post bout this before but Heaven Knows Im Not Hunting For It anyway how public. yall think sawashiro was once aoki became governor right.... like do we know what im asking rn.......

[chuuya-kisser]

THEORY TIME THEORY TIME

ok. so. first of all FYODOR FCKIN DOSTOEVSKY I LIKE U AND ALL BUT???? REMAIN DEAD??? U JESUS FR??

ANYWAYS ignoring that

so bc i adore skk to hell and back obviously im gonna explore their dynamic first

what kills me is how familiar they are with each other. they arent insulting each other in every sentence, which is still alright. and what struck me the most is how much dazai seems to trust chuuya. more so than anyone.

so far we know that dazai isn't exactly the most open person around. his entire cheerful joking persona is a facade, a fake. what you see is usually only what he wants to show you. his real emotions? ive only seen them very rarely, if at all. now look at these

the way chuuya says what he does implies that he is already used to this habit of dazai's, which is only possible if dazai did this in his mafia days, AND even then, he was open and willing enough to let chuuya see it and know that dazai was anxious. which means that even before mersault, before dazai left the mafia, he and chuuya atleast were that close that the usually closed-off, know-everything demon prodigy could show his worry to his partner, multiple times.

i think that over here, dazai really isnt hiding his emotions. you can see the shock and worry on his face and in his eyes clearly as he puts the pieces together. not only that, hes also laying out parts of his plan to chuuya, in addition to his theories. which he rarely does unless im wrong about that (its possible). he isnt worried about chuuya using his emotions and weaknesses against him, because he trusts him enough, although i think the trust between them was already shown when both of them fake-killed each other.

its easy to see the panic in his eyes, and personally i feel that this is him showing a bit of weakness, which is perfectly alright. the thing is that again, hes letting chuuya see this. I very much doubt that he would have let down his facade enough to show this to absolutely anyone else.

also the poor guy literally looks so stressed out here give him a goddamn break asagiri

aaaaand now chuuya.

now what strikes me is that even in the last chapter/s, chuuya has multiple times tried to reassure dazai that fyodor is indeed dead to try and calm down dazai's worries. this can also be him also wanting a damn break but anyways.

and these panels. while many ppl are agreeing that hes just sitting there being a pretty boy while dazai tows through helicopter debris (and i agree), and definitely chuuyas sadistic streak when it comes to dazai is showing itself clearly, its often been seen in both the official arts and animanga that whenever working together, chuuya always covers dazai's blind spots.

think about it. dazai has his back turned towards everything. if someone launched a surprise attack on him at this moment, the chances of him dodging, finding out abt it in time is pretty low. chuuya is directly behind dazai. i got this idea from another post i saw, but what if this is also chuuya covering for dazai yet again? protecting him?

anyways thats it folks maybe ill make another post on jesus- i meant fyodor soon

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 19

Series Masterlist

Warnings: strong depictions of illness; very minor suggestive situations

A/N: Super angsty with generous amounts of cuteness. Reader will eventually get to be a badass. But this chapter focuses on articulating the grave situation.

You were pacing outside the bedroom door, wringing your hands just to keep as many parts of your body as possible moving so you wouldn’t combust. Hershel had insisted you wait outside in case it was something possibly contagious that took Daryl down. Even though you’d spent a lot of time close to him, you were showing no symptoms, so the veterinarian thought it best to be safe rather than sorry. 

You could hear Daryl coughing through the door, the sound sudden and harsh, followed by a groan each time that gave you hope that he’d possibly woke up. He’d been dead weight in your arms when everyone had burst in to help. The others had returned just in time, a heavy coat and gloves in tow for Daryl like you had requested. Rick and T-Dog had carried him up the stairs while Lori and Carol put forth effort to keep you back. You had shrugged them off and followed until Hershel stepped in. 

“Y/N, you’re gonna pace a groove into the floorboards.” Carol stood by, watching you, refusing to go about her evening duties and leave you alone. “Y/N.”

You finally paused but didn’t look at her. She didn’t get a chance to comfort you before the door opened. Hershel and Maggie stepped out, whispering between themselves in a way that made your chest tighten. 

“I’ll go get Beth and Carol to help me make a list. Carol?” The eldest Greene placed a hand on Carol’s arm, giving her enough time to assess you before she reluctantly followed. 

“Is he okay?” You asked quietly. You and Hershel were alone outside the door now, the old man’s face smooth with a calm you wished you could muster. 

“He likely had a virus that developed into pneumonia from breathing in the cold air. His lungs are full of fluid and inflamed, which accounts for the rattle when he breathes and, of course, the cough.”

“I know what pneumonia it is.” You interjected, a hint of irritation lacing your tone. “What needs to happen?”

“Ideally, we’d start an IV with fluids and antibiotics. If we can get the fluids and manage some oral antibiotics, we can make those work too. He needs those two things for certain. Fever reducers and cough suppressants would be beneficial. I will check for Tylenol in my things, though I fear I may have given you the last.” 

You crossed your arms above your belly, hugging yourself tightly, and bounced on the balls of your feet, your brain running on overdrive. “Maggie’s making a list?” Hershel nodded, hanging the stethoscope around his neck. “Okay, I’ll go see when we can leave.”

“Y/N, wait.” For an old man, he sure moved quickly, stepping into your path. You knew what he would say. He would advise you not to go, that you shouldn’t put your baby in danger. For fuck sake, you knew that. “I can’t tell you what to do. We’ve established that. And I know that Daryl means a lot to you.”

“With the utmost respect, Hershel, please get to the point.” Your tone was level though inside, you felt like yourself crumbling. The world just took and took and when you would start to feel safe, it didn’t hesitate to remind you of the devastation it could bring. 

“I’d like you to stay with Daryl.” Your rebuttal melted on your tongue when he held up a hand. “I will do everything in my power to care for him but I need to be able to care for you too. Maggie is capable. She’ll have help. Daryl needs you here.” 

“I just—”

“There will be no getting him to cooperate if he finds out you left. You know this.”

You threw back your head and let your arms fall. Of course he was right. And once again, you felt useless. “I know.”

“You know, you are doing more for that man in there than anyone in this group ever could hope to do and I’m not just speaking of the child.” He smiled at you with such kindness. It reminded you of your father, your eyes burning. “Remember that.”

You nodded and sniffed. The old man’s footsteps retreated as you leaned your forehead against the door. Daryl was coughing on the other side. Hershel would have told you if you shouldn’t go in. Most strains of pneumonia were not contagious beyond the virus or bacteria that caused them. If you hadn’t contracted the cold or flu that Daryl had before this, it was unlikely you’d be infected now. 

Turning the knob, you pushed on the door, steadily controlling how quickly it opened to keep it from making a lot of noise. Daryl was under the blankets, one arm lying across his stomach and the other at his side. His face was tilted away from you.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt but if you ventured to guess, he was likely not wearing anything. Hershel would have checked for bites. The hunter wouldn’t have kept that hidden. You knew that but maybe they didn’t. 

His chest rattled and wheezed with each breath, appearing to take a lot more effort than should be necessary. You wondered if they would search for oxygen tanks. Maggie is capable. They would. You needed to stay right there and not try to micromanage. Daryl needed you more. 

There was already an old, cushioned chair next to the bed. Perhaps Hershel used it or maybe Maggie moved it there for you. Regardless, you lowered yourself into it, remaining on the edge so you could easily reach Daryl’s hand. 

His skin was overly warm and dry, the sound accompanying each labored breath was somehow worse at that proximity. Seeing him so still reminded you of finding him injured back at the farm, how afraid you had been at the thought of losing him. That fear had experienced then resurfaced with a vengeance, squeezing your lungs so tightly that you imagined Daryl could breathe with more ease in that moment. 

“Prolly shouldn’t be in here.” 

You visibly startled, nearly sliding off the edge of the chair. “Jesus, Daryl, don’t do that.” You had to take a moment to get your heartrate under control before meeting his scarcely open eyes. It was as if whatever energy, whatever stubbornness, that had been keeping him going had just drained out of him. “How’re you feeling?”

“How ‘m I lookin’?” He wheezed. He coughed without opening his mouth until he could get his arm to obey him and cover the lower portion of his face. He inhaled his food like a human vacuum but at least he covered his mouth when he coughed. 

“Fair point.” You took his hand again and held it between yours. He didn’t pull away. 

“Just need a night an’ I can get back out there.”

You instinctively began to heat up in anger. How could he even think he was fit to be out of bed, much less hunt or take watch? How many times were you going to need to remind him that he needed to care for himself as well? After the initial desire to throttle him had passed, you leaned forward to rest your elbows on the mattress. “We’ve been over this. You can’t run yourself into the ground to take care of me, Thumper, or anyone else. You've done that. You’re really sick, Daryl. And I’m scared.”

“Ain’t gotta be scared.” His fingers wiggled weakly, slowly between your hands. You moved one away so he could squeeze the other. “Ain’t gonna be in this bed long.”

“You’ll be in this bed until Hershel says you can leave it.” You replied sternly. Despite the tears in your eyes, you firmly held his tired gaze. 

He challenged you, indignation carved into every line of weariness. When you didn’t waver, he backed down, much to your relief. “Fine.” He coughed again, coming up off the pillow from the force of it. You released his hand and stood over him, grabbing the old pillow from the other side of the bed. Luckily the dust had been beaten from the fabrics before you were in that room. You slid an arm behind his neck to help him sit up a little, placing the pillow behind him. “Could’a done it myself. Ain’t a invalid.”

“I know you can do things yourself. You’re just not seeming to comprehend that you aren't alone anymore. That someone cares for you.” Loves you. You were still standing and took notice of the bowl of water on the table with a piece of fabric hanging over the edge. Very likely Maggie was trying to bring down the fever. Licking your lips, you dipped the damp material into the cool water and wrung out the excess. With the slightest hesitation, you sat down close to his hand and began to dab the feverish skin of his face. Daryl probably didn’t even realize he sighed when his eyes fluttered closed. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

Fever-bright blue reappeared to study you. He didn’t seem upset but the hunter was known for his sudden shifts in temperament. You simply continued what you were doing, moving on to his neck. He coughed weakly, bringing his arm toward his face while you moved yours to make room. The spell was brisk, your limbs trading again but you felt his fingers brush your swollen belly. 

After another moment, Daryl grunted with a look of absolute feigned irritation. Though you knew you had won this round, you kept your expression neutral and leaned close to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Thank you.”

His eyes were closed but you didn’t miss the twitch at one corner of his lips. His only reply was another grunt. 

The night was nearly unbearable. You had moved to the other side of the bed and sat cross-legged at his side. His breathing was labored and loud, the coughs frequent and painful. The more he rested, the less lucid he became during moments of wakefulness. His skin burned hotter as the fever climbed, your attempts to lower it all for naught. 

Maggie and company were set to leave at first light but it wasn’t soon enough. Pleas fell from your lips each time Hershel came to check on each of you. He urged you to try and rest, even offering to bring Carol, Lori, or Beth to sit with the archer while you got some sleep. Your refusal was instantaneous. Eventually, he brought Beth with him and reasoned she could stay to watch over Daryl while you rested beside him, promising to wake you with any changes, good or bad. 

You were exhausted, that you couldn’t deny. The baby rolled and kicked, honing in on your anxiousness, Hershel said. It was with a yawn that you reluctantly agreed. The Tylenol had finally been located, and you insisted on helping get Daryl to take it before lying down. He was resistant for only a moment before complying, simply because you started to cry. Hormones and exhaustion were not a great combination. 

“You’ll wake me for anything?” You were propped on your elbows, preparing to curl up next to the furnace that was your boyfriend? Partner? Significant other? Whatever. You’d figure that part when he was better. 

“Anything at all. I promise.” Beth smiled reassuringly and patted your ankle. 

You had been made aware that anything not in use had been packed and was ready in case there was a need to flee. That would leave ample time for Daryl to be moved safely. The team of Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog would go in search of what was needed, likely to be gone the entire day to venture further out. The local homes and businesses had already been looted. In essence, there was nothing more to be done except keep the archer comfortable and more importantly, alive. 

“Okay.” You conceded, rolling onto your side to face Daryl as he coughed, a spasm of pain on his face before he settled again. “I’m right here.” You wrapped your fingers around his and held on loosely, closing your eyes to sink quickly into sleep. 

You heard the coughs before registering that your name was being called—no. It was being shouted. You shot straight up, hands immediately fumbling for Daryl. He was upright as well, leaning over his lap and arms braced against his chest to hold the blanket in place, cognizant enough during even such a paroxysm of hacking to hide his marred chest. With both the candle, nearly spent after what most of been a few hours rest for you, and the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside, you could see the redness on his skin, veins and tendons bulging from the force. 

“It’s okay. Daryl, it’s—where’s Hershel?” Your eyes remained on him, hand rubbing circles over his upper back. “Beth?” You looked at her then, found her staring at Daryl with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Fear? Hopelessness? The girl flinched at the sound of her name, only then seeming to hear your question. 

“He went to check if we have any tea bags.” She had lost so many, so much already. So young, still a child in that world. She was frozen, her eyes beginning to shine with moisture. 

Daryl’s fit was calming, each wet, wheezing gasp making the vice around your heart clench tighter. “Beth. Beth, look at me.” You were scared. No, you were terrified of losing Daryl. When the girl swallowed hard and finally turned her head to face you, you smiled with as much reassurance as you could scrape up around the dread stealing your own breath. Whatever you had, you would offer to Daryl. And to her. “He’ll be okay. Your dad’s gonna make sure of it.” You almost failed to hide the quiver in your voice. “Can you go see if we have any more clean scraps of cloth? I’d rather not have him spitting what he coughs up onto the floor.”

Beth nodded and spared one more lingering glance at Daryl, then she left the room. 

“Nice.” Daryl said with a desperate inhale. “Almost—believed ya myself.” He was still sitting up with his shoulders slumped, nearly folded onto his lap. You were still tenderly rubbing circles over his back. 

“You will be okay.” You whispered, laying your forehead against his shoulder blade, smiling when he didn’t react to your skin pressing against a particularly deep scar. Each breath vibrated where you rested. “Here.” You sniffed and pulled away one of the pillows. ��Lay on your stomach. It opens up your lungs.”

The hunter looked over his shoulder tiredly as if considering whether or not it was worth the effort. There was a small jerk of his chin that you perceived as a nod, and then he was turning languidly to stretch out on his stomach. He coughed and buried his face in the pillow. You hadn’t noticed he was shivering before then. The blanket was twisted around his legs, making it more difficult to pull it up to the middle of his back. 

“S’miserable.” The words were muffled but decipherable. 

“I know.” You were getting to your feet, pressing your hands into the small of your back to soothe the ache there. The baby moved in what felt like a roll. “Thumper’s doing gymnastics.” Daryl turned his head toward the chair on his side of the bed just as you sat down and dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water, his arm immediately outstretched so that the back of his hand rested on top of your bump. “Let’s see if we can help the Tylenol with that fever.”

When the cool fabric touched the back of his neck, Daryl flinched. With his body fighting to regulate his temperature, it must have been quite the shock. You left it there for a moment before moving to dab the side of his face. Swiping the cloth over his back, you realized he once again was allowing you to see his scars, this time without the tension of rigid muscles that accompanied his shame and self-loathing. Maybe he just felt too horrible to care. 

By the time Hershel lightly tapped on the door, Daryl was sleeping. The coughs were still present but with longer reprieves, the hunter so exhausted that the fits barely roused him. 

“We found some tea. I regret not mentioning to Maggie that honey could be beneficial.” One plastic cup in one hand was steaming, a torn piece of flannel wrapped around it to ensure he didn’t burn himself. The other hand held a refilled bottle of water, likely from boiling some of the snow. 

Your mind drifted to how different this winter was so different from the ones before the turn. Georgia wasn’t usually a state to receive that amount of snow and such low temperatures. Maybe the lack of human activity had altered the weather patterns. Less cars, less pollution, less deforestation. You weren’t an expert but there had to be something different. If he was real, maybe god just saw fit to throw a few more curveballs at your little group. As if the threat of being eaten alive by the dead wasn’t enough. 

Shaking your head clear, you brushed your fingertips across Daryl’s forehead. “They left?” Hershel nodded. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet. 

“Rick seemed to think this was urgent enough to send them out before dawn. I can’t say I’m thrilled to see my daughter driving away into the night but I am inclined to agree with his judgment.”

Daryl could die. It was urgent but for more than any practical reason Rick could suggest. It was so much deeper than that. “He’s asleep. Should I wake him up to drink it?” You placed the fabric back in the water.

“As much as I’d like him to rest, he also needs to avoid dehydration.” He raised the cup slightly. “Peppermint tea is caffeine free but we had nothing to sweeten it. We can only hope he’s thirsty enough to not care. If he’d prefer, I also brought some water.”

Sighing, you nodded and leaned forward to be in Daryl’s line of sight once he awakened. “Daryl. Wake up.” You pulled the blanket up to cover his back. Hershel had seen the scars more than once, you knew that, but you were almost certain Daryl would have appreciated the effort. 

With a groan of protest, he opened his eyes to slits. “What?”

“Hershel brought you some tea.”

“Ain’t thirsty.” He closed his eyes. 

“Bullshit.” You challenged flatly. “Come on, sit up.”

His eyes opened a little wider then, sheer stubbornness driving him to glare at you. “M’comfortable.”

“Tough titty.” 

His expression smoothed out, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Nah, s’real soft.” The hand that laid on your stomach drifted up, the back of his knuckles pressing lightly across the swell of your left breast. 

Hershel cleared his throat. Daryl’s hand moved away at a speed you didn’t think he was capable of in his current state. You snorted when the fevered flush coloring his cheeks deepened with embarrassment. 

Reaching a hand toward the veterinarian, you waited for him to cross the room and pass off the cups.

“Try to drink as much as you can, son.” 

Daryl hummed, likely feeling too awkward to trust his voice. You smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Hershel.”

“No thanks necessary. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check in, but call down if you need anything sooner.”

“Okay.” The door clicked shut while you sat the cup of water down by the bowl and cloth. 

“Why didn’cha—tell me the old man—was in here?” Daryl croaked, making a face so close to a pout that you found it adorable. 

You chuckled. “I didn’t think you were gonna feel me up from your sick bed, sir.” He grumbled something incomprehensible but you honestly weren’t paying attention. If he wasn’t willing to sit up, you could have him raise his head just enough for you to help. “If you won’t sit up for me, could you at least lift your head and let me help you drink?”

“Y’ain’t gonna—stop houndin’—me ‘til I do, are ya?” He turned his face into the pillow and coughed, staying there until he was sure it was over. 

“Nope. You might as well just do what I ask.” You were smiling sweetly and batting your eyes when he finally moved his face back to you. 

“All women nag—this much—or s’mine just special?” Along with the relentless wiggles of your unborn baby, butterflies stirred and fluttered. Even if it was difficult to look past the fact that he struggled to draw in enough air when speaking, you felt your skin—as well as your heart—warm. 

His. 

“You’re just lucky.” You nearly sing-songed, choosing not to question his verbiage. You knew you were his. He’d been rather clear about that, even if he hadn’t exactly used words to convey it. That was enough for you. Hearing it was just a bonus. 

Daryl dragged his limbs and began to push up onto his forearms, but he abandoned the movement before his chest even lifted from the mattress. When he sighed, it was likely from resignation. He lifted and angled his head for you to adequately position the cup and pour a small amount of tea into his mouth. 

“Needs sugar.” He commented a moment or two after swallowing. Shaking your head, you offered it again.

It took a substantial amount of time to finish the tea and a few sips of water. The sun’s appearance found you sitting on the edge of the mattress, running your fingers through Daryl’s hair. He had fallen asleep before finishing the tea, waking only just enough to cooperate with your efforts. Hershel had been in once, declaring that while the archer hadn’t improved, he hadn’t worsened either. 

When he began to cough, you moved your hand from his hair to his back, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to provide any measure of comfort. Once he had settled, you used one of the flannel pieces Beth had retrieved to clean his mouth and the pillow. Hershel seemed pleased that the cough was productive. It was a disgusting reassurance but you’d take anything.

Daryl groaned and shivered, the fever relatively untouched by the Tylenol. The veterinarian had cautioned you that without the aid of antibiotics and soon, it was likely Daryl’s condition would deteriorate. Your hand stilled on this spine, the rattling of his lungs vibrating beneath your palm. Nearly overcome with an intense notion of foreboding, you turned your face toward the window, almost as if to summon back the team by sheer force of will alone. 

“Please hurry.”

[fadingstudentbananacookie]

It's hilarious how Daemon and Rhaenyra's grandchildren carry the Green's legacy in spirit by destroying House Targaryen through internal conflicts decades later.

Aegon IV grows up to be far more extreme and gluttonous than Aegon II could ever be, coupled with a greater degree of cowardice (Aegon II would never). His sister Naerys is a little Helaena/Alicent-coded, but her cousin Daena mirrors Alicent more than I could imagine. And I am precisely talking about book!Alicent here.

Both Alicent and Daena were unapologetic in their pursuit of power after years of abuse and neglect, demanding the realm recognize their sons as kings by birthright. Neither of them gave two fucks about starting a civil war and I call that a slayyy. Go, my queens!

If Daena had been more like Rhaenyra, believe me when I say I wouldn't have liked her as much. It's their defiance that makes both Alicent and Daena more compelling characters.

I don't necessarily think Daena would have liked Alicent, but she would have definitely felt grudging respect and admiration for her courage.

Daeron the Young Dragon is just like Daeron the Daring (both are extremely popular among the nobles and the smallfolk). Both died young and were eternalized. Baelor the Blessed is obsessed with catholicism and guilt to a point that would even scare Alicent and Criston.

Aemon the Dragonknight is essentially a more refined, though not necessarily cooler, version of Aemond One-Eye. Aemon literally stood aside while his sister endured years of sexual and psychological abuse from her brother-husband. Aemond would never have stood by if Aegon II had tried to harm Helaena. His loyalty and protectiveness towards his sister would have driven him to intervene. Their love stories are similar too, with many fans shipping Aemond with Helaena, and Aemon with Naerys.

Elaena is intriguing, but there's not much to say about her or her sister Rhaena.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's grandchildren are worse than the Targtowers in every aspect. Alicent (the Hightowers) and her children de-stabilized House Targaryen during the Dance, but Rhaenyra's grandchildren did so much worse by starting a civil war that lasted for generations to come. Team Black got the realm and power back, and they still fucked up. Again.

Another intriguing aspect is that Alicent and her children had legitimate reasons to resist and fight for Aegon's claim to the throne by feudal right—even if those reasons were fueled by spite and revenge. Alicent endured years of sexual abuse from Viserys, bearing children he barely acknowledged. She was humiliated in court and called "mad" when her son lost his eye, and Rhaenyra's son faced no repercussions—not even a slap on the wrist.

The Targtower children were neglected by their father for years and were practically forgotten when Rhaenyra lived in the Red Keep with her sons in tow. (And if you think Rhaenyra didn’t use her father’s love and rejection of his other children as a political machination, then you’re an absolute idiot.) If usurping her throne was the biggest fuck you they could give Rhaenyra and Viserys, then I fully support it!

Despite their complicated and angry feelings towards each other, the Greens would never act on them to cause significant harm. They understood that they only had each other for support and protection. But Rhaenyra's grandchildren, who were also in a similar situation, harbored outright hatred for each other for no reason! You'd think after the Dance, they would have learned a thing or two about the importance of family, but the gang didn't give a single fuck LMAO.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's grandchildren didn't have significant opposition. House Targaryen still held substantial power and ruled over the other Great Houses. Although they had to be more cautious without having dragons to threaten others, the internal strife could have been avoided if Daena and her sisters had been treated like actual human beings rather than cattle. (If Alicent was treated better and her children were acknowledged by Viserys and the rest of his family). The lack of care and respect towards them sowed the seeds of war, leading to the internal conflicts that ultimately weakened the dynasty.

The generational cycle of abuse and neglect within House Targaryen is one of the main key reasons why they were driven to extinction in merely three centuries. House Hightower and House Baratheon only did so little to show their true color.

Rhaenyra's claim that "The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself," couldn't be more accurate!

[slaybestieslay946]

Luke Castellan and Persephone!Child (I know she doesn’t canonically have Demi-god kids but I feel like it fits well) with a story similar to Eurydice and Orpheus’s sad tale.

thank you so much for your request, it acc ties in really well to a fic idea ive had for a while, so i was so excited to see this in my inbox!!

Circle

MASTERLIST

word count: 1800

pairing: luke castellan x persephone!reader

warnings: death, minor depictions of violence, angst

a/n: partly inspired by the request, partly by mitski's song 'circle' honestly i think it made this extra gut-wrenching. hope you all enjoy!

'Nobody knows my lover, is buried underground.'

When Luke Castellan received his quest, everyone knew who he would pick to take with him. 

Immediately, he turned to you, flashing you a bright grin, and beckoning you towards him. You laughed, wading through the crowd to your lover, smiling brightly all the way. 

The rest of camp half blood rolled their eyes fondly at the pair of you, and just how disgustingly in love you were. 

It had been like this ever since you arrived at camp half blood, mere months after Luke himself. 

You’d been escorted to the Hermes cabin by one of the older campers, and sat down on a bunk bed. You had looked around the place, lost, confused, and homesick. 

And then a boy stepped up to you, asking how you were, what your name was. And gods, even at the age of 14, you knew he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Luke thought the same about you. 

He was so drawn to you, he couldn’t stay away. 

Now, even 4 years later, nothing had changed. 

He was openly enraptured by you, just as Hades was with your mother. He was never seen without you by his side, so of course he’d pick you to bring on his first quest.

A few days later, you set off, Luke’s half-brother, Chris Rodriguez in tow. Everything started off well, you’d managed to locate someone to tell you where the Garden of Hesperides was, in order to retrieve the golden apple that you had been sent for. 

On the way there, you hardly encountered any monsters. You lived comfortably, even if you slept in motels every night, and dined on gas station food. 

It all went downhill when you finally reached the garden. 

You and Chris stood guard whilst Luke stepped towards the tree, no sword in his hand. You kept your spear gripped tightly in your hand, should he awake the dragon sleeping at his feet. 

He eventually reached the foot of the tree, taking a deep breath before reaching up into the branches, and trying to snag one of the apples. Meanwhile, you didn’t take your eyes off the dragon, watching it for any sign of movement. 

And when it finally opened its dark eye, looking up at Luke, you ran forward, sprinting towards it with your spear outstretched to stab it. 

But you weren’t fast enough, and it turned, slashing a talon across your chest, and sending you collapsing onto the ground, blood soaking into your shirt. 

Luke darted towards you and in his rush, he wasn’t able to avoid the sharp tail of the dragon whipping across his face, leaving a fine cut all the way down it. 

He ignored the biting pain, barely able to register it when all he could see was you, lying on the floor, a pool of blood encircling you. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, patting your cheek gently, cradling your body to his chest, “You’re gonna be alright, yeah? Just open your eyes for me baby.” 

You struggled to do as he asked, looking up at your lover with confused eyes. 

“You-” You coughed, “You have to go. It’s over for me. Gonna go see mom.”

“No, no. Gotta stay with me. We can get through this.” He cried, brushing his thumbs across your face.

“I- I- I love y-you. W-we’ll s-see each other ag-gain.” You did your best to smile, and while all you wanted to do was reach up and hold his face, you found you didn’t have the strength to do so. 

He continued to cry and beg you to come back, but it was all for nothing, you’d gone silent, and your eyes were all still. 

And then vines began to wrap around your body, pulling you into the earth, down towards Persephone, your mother. 

Luke kept crying as they took you away from him, leaving nothing but your camp necklace behind. 

“Hey, man, we gotta go.” He heard Chris call, and he whipped his head around to berate him, until he saw his half-brother was currently in combat with the dragon that had killed you. 

He was right, they had to go. 

He scooped your camp necklace off of the ground, and ran towards his brother, who detached from his fight with the dragon to run away from the garden. Luke followed after him, tears streaming down his face the whole way. 

*

When Luke got back to camp, he was different. Numb. 

Annabeth ran up to him when they descended the hill, a bright smile on her face at her older brother's return. It faded slightly when she saw you weren’t right beside him. 

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, looking around as if you’d pop out from nowhere.

“Gone.” Was all Luke could manage to say, pulling his little sister in for a hug he so desperately needed, confirmation that at least she was still here. 

For the next few months, he barely left the Hermes cabin, only ever going down to the amphitheatre in the early hours of the morning, where he could be seen slashing recklessly at wooden dummies left right and centre. 

He didn’t know how to live without you. He always thought you’d be with him forever. He had this vision that together you would grow old, and would die while sitting on some front porch, holding hands as you went at the same moment. 

Now he realised that it was a pipedream. You were demigods, it was never going to work out like that. 

But he couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning if you weren’t beside him. So he formed his plan, to go down to the underworld and retrieve you himself. 

His father was the god of travellers, and your mother was the queen of the underworld. It could work. 

So he travelled to the entrance to the underworld, your camp necklace in his hands, and prayed. First to your mother, asking for an audience, and second to his father, asking for use of his access to the underworld. It was the first time he had ever asked Hermes for anything, and if this worked, it would probably be the last. He’d never want for anything again if it meant you were with him again. 

And it did work. The gate opened to him, a long staircase down into the darkness. Luke descended quickly; he didn’t want to keep Persephone, or you for that matter, waiting.

He soon found himself pushing through crowds of lost souls, keeping a look out for you, but you were nowhere in sight. He then turned his attention back to reaching Persephone’s throne, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found himself at the foot of it, looking up at the goddess herself. 

“You requested an audience with me, Mr Castellan. I hope this is not about my daughter.” Persephone said sternly, looking down at the demigod, her fears confirmed when she saw the string of beads clutched in his hands. 

“It is, but-”

“There’s no buts. I can’t do anything about your predicament. It is not within my jurisdiction.” She declared, her voice growing regretful, “My daughter is in Elysium, and that’s where she must stay.” 

“My lady, I understand that this is difficult for you. But we both know Y/N… died before her time. She would want to come back. She deserves to have a life.” 

“And you would give that to her?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you would protect her, better than I can?”

Luke gulped, “Just as well.” 

The goddess sighed, and muttered, almost to herself, “We have had this problem before, persuasive mortals and their tales of love. Let’s see if you can fare any better, Luke Castellan.” 

“I will release my only daughter from the underworld, on one condition. As you lead her back into the world of the living, you mustn’t look back at her. She will be following you, trust me on that, demigod.” 

“And if I do? Look back?” 

“Then you will never see her again. Not in your world, nor mine,” She looked down at him once again, a sad look in her eyes, “Now go, exit through the fields of asphodel, she will follow you from there.” 

Luke nodded firmly, and turned back around, returning the way he came, smiling more brightly than he had in months. 

He was going to see his Y/N again, all he had to do was not look back at her, how difficult could that be?

He pushed his way back through the fields of asphodel, keeping a tight hold of her camp beads. As soon as they reached the surface, he would string them around her neck again. He’d be able to hold her face in his palms, to kiss her, to hug her. Everything would be alright again. 

As he returned to the staircase, he felt a rush of wind behind him. It had to be her. Then, to confirm his suspicions, he heard soft footsteps on the stone staircase. Luke smiled to himself once again, wishing so desperately that he could greet her, but not wanting to break Persephone’s rules. 

He continued up the staircase for what felt like hours, it was definitely taking him a lot longer this time. The thing that kept him going was your footsteps behind him, a reminder that you were still there, following after him. 

Until they stopped, right as he became able to see the light coming from the living world above him. 

He paused for a moment, listening out for you. But he couldn’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and the odd screech of a harpy. 

Luke began to grow worried, a pit forming in his stomach, but he kept climbing the stairs. Persephone told him you’d be following, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

Or maybe it was all some elaborate joke. Fortune hadn’t been on his side recently. 

Maybe he should check. Just a peek, it couldn’t hurt, could it? What was so wrong about him looking back anyway, why shouldn’t he want to see his lover, the girl he would do anything for?

So he did. He turned, to look over his shoulder. 

And of course, you were right behind him, just like your mother said you would. 

At first you looked joyful to see him, and then your face fell in horror as you realised what he had done. You reached out to touch him, to hold on, but you couldn’t quite reach. And then you felt yourself being pulled back, away from him. 

Luke watched on in horror as you fell back into the abyss.

[dantesunbreaker]

Red Velvet Lines

(Dracopia)Papa Emeritus IV x GN!Reader

It's the Clergy's annual Halloween ball, and you're without a date. But its seems a certain pair of mismatched eyes are watching you from across the room.

TW: Alcohol, blood drinking, suggestive themes, implied hypnotism 2.3K words (There is potential to write a NSFW part two later? Maybe?)

GIF by preqvelle

All Hallows Eve is one of the most celebrated occasions amongst the clergy, and tonight is no exception you think as you find yourself mingling amongst your fellow siblings of sin. Every year a grand ball is held, siblings and ghouls alike invited to in or out of costume to drink, dance, and socialize. Many come with partners in tow, few getting a kick out of silly couples costumes, while others come alone. Whether it be in hopes to leave with a newfound bed mate for the night, or simply to have a good time by themselves. You aren’t sure which of those you would consider yourself.

Without a date for the night, you find yourself sticking to the outskirts of the room, mingling with your siblings and making a clear point to avoid the dance floor. But as the night drags on, you find yourself leaning against the bar, whiskey sour in hand. That’s when you feel eyes on you from across the room, a prickling tingle that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Play it cool. Don’t draw any extra attention. Slowly, casually, you turn around, eyes making a wide sweep until they stop on a pair of eyes staring right back at you. Breath leaves you in a hot gasping huff. Cool winter mint and frigid white ice watches your every move. Something about his eyes both chills you to the bone and sparks a burning flame at your core.

Of course you know who he is, the former Cardinal turned Papa. But you can’t understand why his attention is on you of all people. There were plenty of other brothers and sisters of sin in attendance. Siblings that are far more attractive than your own plain features. Yet, you still feel his gaze on you even as you turn back to your drink. Why would he have any interest in you? You attempt to put the current reigning Papa far from your mind, focusing on savoring the last sip of your drink. But that turns out to be a little hard to do.

“May I have this dance, mio caro?” You spin around at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. There is a flutter of your heart as you come face to face with the same multi-colored eyes.

“Oh, um... Papa?” You stammer nervously, wringing your hands and shifting from foot to foot. “Are you sure that you want to dance with me? I mean.. I’m sure there are plenty of beautiful sisters that are simply dying for the opportunity to dance with you. And well.. I’m just me.”

A warm, hearty chuckle is your response, dismissing your self depreciative comments as a gloved hand takes yours, whisking you away to the center of the dance floor. It amazes you how effortlessly he moves you, as if you were floating on air, pulling you to his chest with practiced ease. 

“I have no doubts that there are many siblings desperate for the chance to be in your place,” Copia hums into your ear, keeping your hand in his, while the other hand rests on your waist. “But, they all share the same flaw. None of them are you, piccolino.”

Heat flushes your cheeks, eyes cast down to your feet with a wave of embarrassment while giving no resistance as Copia begins to sway you both in time with the song softly echoing around you. That feeling soon is all but forgotten though as suddenly you are being spun out from Copia’s arms, only to circle back in until your chests touch. You are far from being a dancer, more than likely to trip over your own feet. But Copia seems to know how to lead you well enough, swaying you both across the room with ease and skill that would make onlookers think you have been doing this for years.

As the song draws close to an end, Copia pulls you up from a dip and brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. “Let’s go outside, catch some air, si?” It’s a hushed whisper, only loud enough for you to hear, and you find yourself nodding in agreement before you have even processed what he said. Too caught up in feeling enraptured by the way he moves your body and holds you close.

The music fades, and Copia seamlessly transitions from dancing to holding your hand and leading you off the dance floor. Together you slip from the room unnoticed, a brisk walk through the corridors of the abbey until coming to a secluded balcony. It feels like a rush of adrenaline as you step outside into the crisp air, goosebumps rising as it feels like little pin pricks biting at your cheeks.

But that shoves to the back of your mind as you are spun around, back facing towards the beautiful gardens below. Something tells you that you should be afraid, ready to turn tail and run, but you are mesmerized by soft alluring eyes as Copia draws near. Under his spell, you don’t want to run. You would allow yourself to be devoured by the beast.

“Do you trust me, amore?” Your back presses into the cool stone of the railing, caged between Copia’s arms resting on either side of you. His voice is rich as honey, putting you at ease and leaving you wanting more. Even as he leans into you, breath tickling your neck, you can’t seem to resist the charm of his soft and sweet touches. No matter how much your brain screams no, your body succumbs and outweighs all rhyme or reason.

“Yes,” you whisper, breathless, eyes closing as your head tilts back at the feeling of Copia’s lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck.

You feel rather than hear the soft vibrations of Copia’s chest as he gives a pleased hum, a hand snaking around the back of your head and anchoring in your hair. Lips press against you, soft and warm along your neck, lulling you into a false sense of safety. For a moment later, you feel twin sharp pin pricks of pain from the very spot Copia presses against your neck. Eyes snap open, mouth dropping in a silent gasp as you clutch at Copia, fingers digging into one shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair. Tugging harshly barely has Copia moving even a fraction of an inch. 

Warmth spreads from your neck, you can feel something trickle down past his lips in the brief second you break the vacuum seal Copia has on your flesh. Blood no doubt. Your blood. Though it should send fear striking down your spine, there is something about the way Copia’s tongue soothes over the wound he has created that has you slowly returning to a lax state in his arms. The grip in his hair loosens, the hand clawing at his shoulder smoothing to a soft caress as you instead hold him to you.

A sudden rush of euphoria seems to drip through your veins, pleasure keeping your limbs heavy and compliant. Pain fades until all you have to focus on is the feeling of Copia’s plush lips, the soft lapping of his tongue as he greedily drinks up whatever you have to offer him. Carding your fingers through Copia’s hair, you focus on the heat that pools between your thighs. You feel almost suspended on air, as if Copia’s teeth at your neck were the only thing keeping you from floating away.

But through your haze of ecstasy, you notice the freckles of black that are closing in on your field of view, sucking in a deep breath becoming suddenly difficult. A spike of fear hits your chest, but lethargic limbs keep you from being able to struggle. All you can manage is a trembling double tap to Copia’s shoulder as your fingers tighten in his hair. You plunge head first into darkness, a feeling of peace washing over you.

“Tesoro,” through the dark silence, a soft voice breaks through, calling to you in a loving tone. 

Softly groaning, your heavy eyes gradually flutter open to find piercing eyes inches from your face, watching you with great intent. Your mind is foggy, but you recognize Copia’s gentle features. Though, the crimson that paints his bottom lip, bleeding into the once crisp white along his chin is peculiar. A lucid smile paints your face as a hand drops to cup his painted cheek.

“Guess I took a little too much this time.You were unconscious there for a few minutes” Copia gives you a sheepish look, arms around your back and supporting the back of your neck. “Mi dispiace amore mio. You taste so delizioso, I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay, C,” the smile on your face reaches your eyes, regaining your senses the longer that he holds you in his arms. “Besides, it’s not all on you. I should have signaled sooner.... I may have also gotten a bit too carried away. Still haven’t quite learned my limits yet.”

Gathering your strength, you push up to crash your lips against Copia’s in a heated kiss that is all tongue and teeth. You taste the salty copper tang on his lips, a unique hint of sweetness that you’ve come to learn is entirely you. It doesn’t take long though before you need to pull away, gasping to suck much needed oxygen into your lungs. Copia of course has full composure, though his paint is a bit worse for wear. Black and white paint has mixed with your blood into a dull brown from lip to chin. 

“Give me a minute to get my breath back and I’ll fix your paint up,” you sigh between gasps, holding Copia by the shoulders as you work on supporting your own weight. There is a soft twinkle in his pearly eye that is full of adoration. "We can't have you going back looking like this, Sister Imperator would be livid."

Gentle lips brush yours, not quite a full kiss, but enough you feel their presence without being deprived of the room to breathe.

"Why bother going back?" Copia's nose touches your own, his cool breath fanning across your cheeks. "I can think of plenty of other things I'd much rather be doing with you back in my chambers."

You scoff, giving a playful swat to his shoulder. "Because a certain Papa is expected to give a speech, and I won't be taking the fall for the reason you are late again,” you fix him with a stern glare, recalling the reaming you received from Sister the last time.

At least Copia has the decency to give a flash of shame, like a puppy being caught being naughty. But it doesn’t last long.

"You can have me however you want later tonight,” you catch the look of mischief in Copia’s eyes and quickly amend your statement. “After! You can after you are finished with your expected Papal duties for the night."

Overly dramatic, Copia deflates, bottom lip jutting out in an adorable little pout. But he concedes. He is just as worried about the harsh lecturing you both would get for being late the second time in a row. It’s best not to play on thin ice. So Copia doesn’t fight it, your eyes locked together as you take the time to collect yourself, placing a firm hand at the center of Copia's chest when you feel you are able to manage on your own.

Knowing what to expect as the outcome from your game of cat and mouse, you have one of the emergency make up kits that would normally be used for when Copia was on tour stashed behind one of the statues in the corner of the balcony. While ideally you would want to clear his whole face of paint and start with a blank slate, that wasn’t an option. It would take too much time, and you would be late, which if that were to be the case you would rather skip it all and go to Copia’s room.

So you settle for scrubbing at the stubborn paint of his chin, only stopping once it gives way to pale white skin. Once patted dry, you dip into the white grease paint, slathering a thick layer across the bottom half of Copia’s face. When you have achieved a full and even coverage, you shift your focus to touching up the black of his lips. As you set about setting the paint, you think that it certainly isn’t your best work, but under the dim lights of the ballroom you doubt anyone will notice.

“All done,” you humm happily, giving Copia a light pat on the shoulder as you pack the supplies back into the kit. When you glance back up, Copia’s smile is practically radiant.

“So,” Copia takes a step back, giving an extravagant twirl before spreading his arms out as if to display himself. “How do I look, amore mio?”

“Handsome as ever, Papa,” you smile fondly as you tuck the paint kit back away in its original hiding spot, knowing one of the ghouls would later come by to retrieve it. “Come, let’s get back before Sister sends someone after us.”

Stepping in stride with you, Copia spreads an arm out across your back, tucking you close into his side as you enter the building. Music still filters down the hall, a quiet hum that lets you know Copia’s cue hasn’t been missed yet. You might just yet might be able to go without any suspicion being aroused.

“Amore,” Copia however, cuts your train of thought short just as you open the double doors to the ballroom. “My apologies..but you uh have a little..something dripping from your neck.”

Of course, you catch sight of the twin red velvety lines slowly dribbling down the side of your neck in the reflection of Copia’s white eye....Just as you hear Sister clearing her throat from beside you. Copia gives you a sympathetic smile, but you can see the mirth in his eyes. But in the end, you think that your fun is worth a little ass chewing from Sister.

[sinsirellaxx]

The Sallow-Cupid

Ominis x Reader

Requested on AO3 :

i absolutely have this idea that i cannot write due to how busy med school is! Pining Ominis Gaunt and pining HARD, Ominis POV

Became friends with MC bc of the twins

Slytherin!MC

standard slice of life

Anne isnt cursed and in hogwarts, Seb is best wingman

F!MC or GN!MC thinks Ominis is "pretty" but is too busy with ancient magic stuff

None of MC's friends know about the Ancient Magic

MC's blissfully unaware of Ominis' feelings, twins have sworn secrecy or they have a suspicion

Preferably spicy, but I'm already asking for a lot, fluff or nsfw, ill be happy

MC's a pureblood (i just want a happy fic, that's all 🥺, so many fics ive consumed have too much angst, it makes my heart hurt for them)

MC ACTUALLY goes to classes 🙄

tall order, but please? 🥺

-

Ominis leaned back against the tree he was sitting under, closing his eyes as he closely listened to his surroundings. His shoulders relaxed as the sound of the birds and the rustling of the leaves tuned out the voices in his head – life could be so serene. Moving his fingers, they played with the little box with containing the necklace that he had picked out for y/n’s birthday – well, Anne had helped him pick it out. His pointer finger carefully traced the curve of the bow decorating the neatly packaged box – again, thanks to Anne – as he tried to imagine what he would say while giving her his gift. Y/N’s birthday had long passed but he did not have the time to give her his present as he wanted the whole process to be more intimate, which was impossible nowadays, seeing as the twins never left the duo alone – and to add to that, Y/N was rarely around. She had always been secretive, disappearing from time to time, for hours on end – sometimes even for a few days. They never asked, he never asked. He wanted to – but he could not bring himself to do so, in fear of being rejected. Although Ominis couldn’t imagine Y/N reacting in any way rude or distant – she was just too sweet for that.

Anyways, Ominis still had the beautiful bracelet in the pocket of his robe, the bow probably already deformed from all the times he had played with it nervously. Just like he was doing now. The calm look on his face had been replaced with a small frown, as he thought back to breakfast. Y/N had not been there –again. The blonde boy worried about his friend – she had started skipping more and more meals and he could hear Anne and Sebastian whispering about the dark circles under Y/N’s beautiful eyes. (He’s convinced that everything about her is beautiful – even if he’d never physically see.) The peaceful bubble that the blonde boy was in quickly dissipated as the loud twins approached him.

“Yo, Ominis!” Sebastian shouted, as he walked closer with his sister in tow. “What are you doing here all by yourself?”

Ominis sighed as he was forcefully ripped out of his thoughts, trying to prepare himself for the sometimes-overbearing energy of his favorite twins.

“What are you frowning at, Gaunt.” The brunette male teased as he kicked the blonde’s foot slightly, before letting himself fall on the spot right next to his best friend.

“You.” Ominis grunted, his hand giving the little box in his pocket one last touch before pushing Sebastian away with said hand. Sebastian snickered at his easily provoked friend, earning a glare from his sister.

“Leave him alone, Seb. Ominis is probably worried about Y/N, you know that.”

The blind boy wanted to object but decided against it – the Sallows are his closest friends, they obviously knew of his crush, which definitely wasn’t just a crush anymore.

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he bumped shoulders with his friend. “I’m sure she is alright. She always is.” The brunette tried to reassure him, knowing that it was more than just worry that the blonde felt – he missed her. Sebastian’s shoulders slumped as he noticed the way Ominis sighed – however, his frown immediately morphed into a mischievous smirk as he thought of what he heard yesterday at breakfast.

“You know what I heard?”

“What is it, Sebastian?” Ominis grit out, not having the energy to deal with the less pleasant twin.

“Well, I heard Y/N say something very interesting – but you seem a bit annoyed, so I’ll just shut up.” Sebastian sighed as he moved to lay down on the grass, his arms behind his head serving as a makeshift pillow. At this the blonde’s ears perked up, straightening his back as he turned his head towards Sebastian’s voice, “What did you hear?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my dear friend.” Sebastian snickered as he enjoyed seeing his friend flustered. “I don’t know Ominis … you hurt my feelings with the frown and all you know –“ Sebastian yelped as his sister suddenly threw her heavy bag on his stomach. “Stop teasing and start spilling, Seb! Merlin, you are insufferable!”

Ominis thanked Anne silently as he bit back a grin – he could always count on her.

“What the heck, Anne – that hurt!” The brunette whined as he scrambled to sit upright, swallowing thickly at the glare his twin threw his way. “Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in defeat. “I heard Y/N talking to Poppy during breakfast yesterday and she dreamily talked about a specific Slytherin dude – she said he was beautiful.” Sebastian wiggled his eyebrows at his sister as he finished, expecting his pale friend’s face to turn red – however, he was met with a crestfallen look and a silent ‘oh’.

“W-What’s with that face?!”

Ominis was lost in thought, he had always feared that the girl he loved would fall for his best friend – it made sense: Sebastian had known her first. Before Ominis could lose himself completely in his dark thoughts a snipping sound got him out of it. “No, no, no, mate. She meant you! Honestly – for someone this smart, you sure are dumb sometimes.” The brunette groaned baffled by his friend’s naivety.

“How do you know she meant me – how can you be this sure?”

Before Sebastian could retort Anne interrupted, rolling her eyes at the annoying situation. She has had to watch two of her closest friends pine after each other for months now, both doubting themselves and it was getting annoying. “Ominis – well to hell with it – trust me, she likes you. I told her – no, I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I honestly cannot watch this anymore. She told me that you are the most beautiful person she has ever met – inside and out.” The brunette girl finished with a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the secret leaving her at once. “Gosh, this feels great.” She closed her eyes as she leaned back on her arms.

“Oh.” Omini whispered, his fingers twitching in excitement – his right hand immediately flying to the small box in his robe.

“W-What’s that Ominis? Is that – is that the necklace?!” Anne shrieked. “You still haven’t given it to her?! Oh, for merlin’s sake – I swear you boys are so helpless.”

“What necklace?” Sebastian questioned as he raised his brow at his sister. Anne, however, ignored her twin completely as she stood up to stand in front of her blonde friend, her eyebrows set in a deep frown. “You’ve got to talk to her Ominis and give her that bloody necklace!”

“Guys, what necklace?” Sebastian tried again, whining as he got ignored once again.

“You’re right, Anne. I should talk to her – thank you. I needed this.” Ominis smiled slightly at his friend, slowly standing up from his spot on the grass.

“I need to find her.” Whipping out his wand, Ominis started walking towards the building – he had a few spots in mind. As he walked, he felt the eyes of his friends glued to his back, hearing Anne sighing softly.

After an hour of looking for Y/N, Ominis gave up and slumped against the wall in the undercroft – it had been the last place on his list and yet again: no Y/N. Sliding down the wall he combed through his hair with his pale long fingers. The more time passed, the more insecure he got.

“Ominis, what are you doing here all by yourself?”

Said boy tensed up at the sound of her voice and if not for the footsteps he would have thought that his mind played tricks on him. He could hear the soft smile as she uttered those words – how he wished he could see the way the corners of her lips curved upwards. With a sudden sense of confidence, he quickly replied with a, “I’ve been looking for you.” Standing up, he slowly walked towards the girl he felt so strongly for, easily towering over her smaller frame.

“O-Oh, is something wrong? I’m sorry I haven’t been around a lot.” Y/N stammered quickly, Ominis noticed a slight tremble in her voice. He smiled softly, hoping that it would ease her nerves. “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. I just wished to speak to you.” He reached out his left hand waiting for her to put her smaller one in his palm. A second later, he felt her warm hand in his and squeezed it slightly with gratitude. He’d feel much more comfortable confessing while holding her hand – that way he could read her reactions better.

“There is something I’ve been wanting to give you.” His right hand reached into his pocket as he slowly pulled it out. “I got this for your birthday, but I wanted to give it to you in private.” He trailed off, needing a small break to gather every ounce of confidence that hid in his body. Now it was Y/N’s turn to squeeze his hand softly, telling him that it was fine to continue.

“I wanted to give it you in private, because I wanted to tell you that I like you. No, I think I love you, Y/N. I have for a while now, actually.“

He heard a soft gasp, his chest tightening at the silence that followed. He had never been so desperate to see – to analyze even the tiniest of movements on someone’s face. His heartbeat quickened as he waited, the only thing keeping him sane was the feeling of her now clammy hand in his.

“Ominis, I – I think I love you too.” Y/N finally spoke, sounding relieved as she immediately rushed to hug the tall male. Ominis immediately relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her, the smell of her shampoo calming his poor heart.

“I never would have thought you’d feel this way about me – I’m so happy.” The girl squealed into his chest; her voice slightly muffled from the way her face was pressed into his chest.

The Slytherin boy chuckled at the girl’s words, feeling ridiculous as he thought back to how close he had been to give up on confessing.

“Me too, my love.” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to her head, nuzzling her hair right after.

Suddenly, Y/N moved slightly back, her hands moving to his shoulders. “Now, can I have a look at my present?” She laughed giddily.

The smile never left his face as he gave her the small box, his cheeks a slight pink as he listened to her open the box.

“Ominis, it’s beautiful! Thank you so much!” She breathed as she immediately took the necklace into her hands, moving her hair to the side before putting it on. “I love it.” Y/N whispered, her hand on her necklace as she lifted her head to look at the blonde. Before Ominis could reply he felt her moist lips press against his carefully – still seemingly unsure whether it was alright for her to kiss him. Her hesitance was met with passion as Ominis wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, swallowing the soft gasp as he used the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue. Y/N’s hands moved to his neck as her fingers combed through the short hair there. Her soft touch causing the male to shudder, the feeling immediately shooting to his groin. Ominis pulled back – although it pained him to do so – breathing heavily as he peppered kisses onto her cheeks, her forehead, her nose and then trailing towards her neck. His kisses growing more urgent as her smell overwhelmed his senses – he could drown in her.

“Ominis …” Y/N moaned softly; her eyes closed in bliss as her hands gripped onto him for dear life. Said male briefly wondered if he should stop – if that was what she wanted – but that thought was quickly erased as the girl in his arms begged him for more, her hot breath fanning over his ear. His member throbbed at the silent plea but before he could do anything else the sound of the door to the undercroft opening cut through the air like a knife through butter.

Y/N quickly took a few steps back, her hands immediately flying to adjust her clothes before moving to brush through Ominis’ hair, tucking a few loose strands into their respective place.

“Oh, there you are!” Came Sebastian’s voice as he waltzed into the room, completely oblivious to the flustered couple. “It’s getting increasingly difficult to find you nowadays, Y/N.” He chuckled as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Ominis cleared his throat as Y/N just laughed nervously, avoiding looking at anyone.

“Good grief, read the fucking room Sebastian.” Anne groaned as she grabbed her brother’s arm, dragging him out of the undercroft. “See you later, guys. Have fun.” She sang the last part as she forcefully pulled her confused twin out.

Ominis’ shoulders relaxed, his chest heaving slightly as he chuckled. Y/N burst out laughing as well, her eyes shining as she watched the tall male in awe. “You’re so beautiful when you laugh, Ominis.”

_

A/N:

Anyways, please leave comments – they are appreciated and make me happy! 😌 ❤️

[4pfsukuna]

Prof. Nanami puts his two smartest students together for a research project and you just can’t help teasing him…until he teases back.

Black coded reader, cause black af.mdni.

Tapping my long red french tips on the library table i let out another long sigh irritated with my (not chosen by me) partner.

We had been sitting here in silence a dimly lit corner in the back of the library our only exchange was “hey” so what could he possibly be typing.

“So i was thinking we could do our project on—“ i begin to speak taking my hand out of my leather jacket pocket only to be cut off by the dark eyed assailant. 

“No. I’ve already decided” he mutters out not moving his attention from the screen. Resting my chair forward so im no longer leaning i scrunch my nose.

“Theres no way you decided because i didn’t agree” and from the slight view i have of his face i can tell hes rolling his eyes.

This was exactly why i didn’t want to work with him… or anyone. He was quiet, closed off, known as a loner and had these deep dark eyes that felt like he was stairing into the pits of your soul.

“Are you going to do all the work?” I ask with a raised brow before noticing not once has he even looked at me. Pushing even more forward to see what he was typing im unaware of our proximity until i notice the slight red blush covering his cheeks right under the mark on his nose.

Ive completely invaded his space my boobs nearly pouring out of the top of my black crop top and im pressed completely onto his arm.

“Am i making you uncomfortable” i tease and i couldn't help it when you grow up with step brothers like Sukuna and Yuji (our dad wanting to step out of his marriage and explore with an american woman actually explore his kink for black women which in all actuality he had a poor taste in women their mothers who decided it was time for her to live her dreams so she just up and left and mine who shipped me off as soon as she had the birds and bees talk which is all irrelevant since choso is storming out of the library laptop in tow and the last thing i need is to fail this final paper.

Grabbing my oversized purse and slinging it over my shoulder i chase after him and catch him in the hall.

“Wait wait wait” i huff out of breath because these heels were not made for running and he turns around facing me with a bored expression, you wouldn’t even think i offended him.

“Alright that was completely inappropriate and i shouldn’t have joked like that, but i also don’t want to fail or push all the work on you. I want to work on this project together” i breathe out standing infront of him blocking his path but as large as he was compared to me im sure he could step over me if he seen fit.

“What makes you think i want to work with you” he bites out and i let out the arrogant smile that solidified i was Sakunas half sister.

“Do you actually think professor Namami would place  the smartest person in the class with a idiot and have them do all the work? Come on now its Nanami he would put his two smartest pupils together to challenge another and write a final paper hes actually happy to read” i say as if its common sense cause it is. 

Its NANAMI.

I watch the debate in his eyes as he thinks over what i just said before his shoulders drop in defeat. I grin widely sticking my hand out as a form of truce which he painfully takes.

I force myself to bite back the smirk at his clamy hands knowing it was all my doing and use the grip to yank him closer.

“And i would love if you could send me what you have so far so i can begin doing research” i utter lowly licking my lips watching his glare never falter almost as if he's painfully keeping his eyes avoiding my mouth before bidding him goodbye a devious plan forming in my head.

The next afternoon when we meet in the library i offer sweets from a local bakery as an official truce which i can hardly read his expression at.

“Im sorry now that i think about it you dont seem much of a sweets guy” i feel foolish of course he didnt like sweets— my train of thought is interupted by him picking up a creme filled chocolate pastry.

“Shouldnt judge a book by a cover, every smart person knows that” he quipps quickly and my lips twitch in a smile. Ah so he does bite back. 

“Did you call me dumb?” I scoff playfully dropping bait which he quickly takes.

“Does the shoe fit?” He bites back and when i dont respond only send a playful glare i watch as the corners of his lips twitch up feeling proud i could get a smile. “Come on show me your work” 

And we spend the next two hours talking theories and sharing ideas conspiring every concept as his long fingers type away my thoughts later to be put into essay format.

Its not long before he lets out a yawn breaking our silence and i look up at him noticing the bags forming under his eyes slowly being covered by his bangs.

He was actually begining to look disheveled. Two signature buns drooping from running his hands through them bangs more full from the pueces of his buns and the bored expression— actually that was very on brand for him.

“Come on let’s wrap up your tired” i say softly twirling a stand off his bangs around my finger and i knew it was when he was too tired to cover his blush he was exhausted. 

Yup, still got it.

He swats at my hand sending me a pointed look to which i innocently bat my eyes up at him from the seat next to him.

And thats how it goes for the next few weeks smart remarks met by his even more quick witted remarks sometimes followed by a half smirk, my harmless flirting/ teasing which i may have taken too far the day i rested my palm on his inner thigh and he flew out of his seat claiming he needed to use the bathroom only returning 10 minutes later saying he had to leave.

Or the day he asked me to proof read a page leaning away from his computer so i could take it instead i lean forward hand resting on his shoulder unaware just how close his face was to my—

Both occasions i had to bring apology pastries.

And the more time we spent together the more i learned about Choso. How smart he is, what makes him tick, his favorite foods, what makes him blush the way i thought he was a boob man but ive caught his gaze on my thighs several times and i may purpousely wear shorter skirts on days i know were going to be together.

Today was no exception.

The only thing i hadn’t planned on was the air conditioner being on full blast. Probably my karma from the universe wearing the tiniest of clothes to tease him.

“Oh no were going to have to finish another day its freezing in here” i shiver crossing my arms over another trying to huddle into myself for warmth. The black (extreme)  mini skirt with short sleeve white shirt that had bows tying the back together with Sukunas red varsity jacket was such a cute look until he realized i was wearing his jacket and took it . He was now my least favorite brother and yuuji was in the lead, which he typically always was given his competition.

“What?!” Choso nearly begins to foam at the mouth. “Its our last day and were so close to being done we can actually submit it now and im sure we would get an A still” he quickly rambles out dropping our stuff on the table we usually took up. The library was nearly empty so him being loud was no bother at all to anyone probably because most students didnt know where the library was.

“So submit it, I dont do the cold” i shrug ready to grab my bag when he begins taking off his jacket placing it on my shoulders pulling my hair from put under the collar and going to his work.

“Probelm solved, now sit” he bites put and id never seen this side of him but it was kind of a turn on and probably karma rearing her head into me again because through all the teasing i developed a tiny crush on Choso. Like tiny though.

Super tiny.

Extremely tiny.

So tiny i couldnt help but flirt with him every chance i had and notice all his favorite things and Damn did his jacket smell good.

So tiny i knew every detail of the scar on his face and how it swerves slight over the bridge of his nose not just cause it curves but—

Damn his jacket smelled… good wasnt a strong enough word. I was feeling intoxicated from how sensational his jacket smelled.

My crush was so tiny i made sure to bring his favorite pastries every tuesday and thursday because the way he smiled could brighten up my whole day.

My crush was so tiny i wasnt thinking about using my rose tonight to the smell of his jacket and the way he demanded me to sit down.

Imagine hearing that in the be—

Feeling a tight grip on my thigh my head snaps over to him and his eyes give me that bored yet slightly annoyed expression. 

“Stop fidgeting, its driving me insane and just let me finish typing the rest of what you wrote” he says like he cant wait to be done and i pout knowing this would be the last time we’d get to spend together. My crush would stay just that.

My eyes trail down noticing his buff arms veins sticking out something id never notice before. Has he always worked out. Going down even further i notice the silver rings spread across his fingers and almost choke.

I was going to need 10 minutes in the bathroom if he didnt move his iron grip. I just had one question.

“Have you ever fingered a girl with all your rings on?” I blurt… and this time it was a genuine mistake. Of all the shit ive said this was the one i completely wish i didnt.  I was actually okay with us never speaking again, Sukuna says we should never have shame but i bet he would never do something like that.

Ok yes he would.

“Do you want to be the first?” I hear and nearly fall off the table if it wasnt for his iron grip on my thigh. I thank God for my brown complexion because my cheeks feel hot and I’m lost for words completely. Its when he begins to chuckle that i realize he was just giving me a taste of my own medicine. The weeks of comments and sexual innuendos id thrown at him and couldn’t handle one.

I feel the proud smile grow on my face and unknowingly squeeze my thighs together slightly squirming the idea still playing in my mind. 

“What if i said yes” i retort watching as he becomes flustered and that adorable blush comes back to his cheeks.

“Would it make you stop… moving your thighs so much” he struggles his hand moving to my other thigh squeezing  and i grin knowing he had a thing for them and he can no longer hold back. His eyes meet mine until i lean forward placing a few soft kisses on his lips.

“Promise”

Ok that was a lie. It was all a lie.

Sitting on his right leg, my back pressed up against his chest and 2 of his fingers buried inside me the squirming absolutely hasn't stopped but it doesn't seem to affect him one bit as he edits the last bits of parts i wrote for our project.

“This is so good sweetheart, how about a third finger?” He ask rhetorically lips brushing against my ear and i'm so close to cumming at Dom!Choso cause whewwwww what a turn on. He curls his two fingers up as if he’s trying to pull the orgasm from inside of me and my legs clench together trying not to make too much of a mess.

He chuckles right against my ear and I'm losing myself at the stimulation, Biting my lip as he uses a third finger on my clit. My vision begins to blur and I feel myself about to cum for a second time.

“Look at you trying so hard to hold back those gorgeous moans after you spent the past month teasing me, fucking with me… mmm so wet” he groans in my ear spreading my lips causing the squelching sound to be louder. His fingers brush a particular spot deep in my core making me fall apart as I bite my lip harder cherry lip gloss mixing with the iron taste of blood.

“I love every little sound you make Why try and hide it from me, would you really deny me?” He kisses up my neck using his other hand to pull my bottom lip from my mouth releasing a string of curses, his fingers never stopping their exploration of my walls.

He did show mercy, slowing down other hand snaking up my shirt cupping a boob until his fingers found my nipple. 

“You're so wet for me… just me” he groans his teeth leaving marks down my neck to my shoulder and the idea of him being slightly possessive wanting to mark me so everyone knew i was his? My insides clench and he hums at the feeling.

His fingers pick up the pace once more and I have to close my eyes to hold on to every drop of restraint I have left between the way his fingers are moving expertly inside of me, the contrast of his warm hands to the cold rings on his fingers. I could stay here forever, one hand clutching his bicep the other on his thigh.

“Ch-choso i—mmmmm” i try to get out feeling my hips have a mind of their own grinding down on his fingers needily unaware of how he had me completely wrapped around them. He bites onto my neck and my release follows earning a groan from him as im left panting in his lap. What i dont expect to hear is the wet sound of him licking each of his fingers and the sight has me wet all over again my heart racing.

He chuckles pulling my chin toward him as he places his lips on mine i instantly kiss back gently sucking on his bottom lip earning a groan from him. He doesnt hesitate as his hands rub my thighs gripping and squeezing our tongues dancing together until he slowly pulls away lips and cheeks both red. 

“Lets go” i murmur placing another soft kiss on his lips only to receive a confused look.

“Yuji and Sukuna both are going to a party so they wont be back until 7am… i have a free house where i dont have to worry about being quiet”

[thesherrinfordfacility]

Just whacking this out there, but I mean, much as I do think the "past exploits" comment serves as a warning about Heaven's rules/standards, and reach, and the fact that they've exposed Aziraphale's 'crimes' - sort of a 'you know what we expect from your conduct, and you've been continually stepping way out of line, and we're choosing to overlook it for now, but know that we know, and that we will know about future missteps as well, that we don't approve and could still intervene' flung out there for no immediate particular purpose, just to serve as a reminder - by and large, I find the whole restoration offer thing much more bribe than threat, and, well, frankly, personally, I'd consider a bribe of such proportions more concerning than any threat could have been, no?

hello lovely!!!💕 i think ive shared my thoughts on this in dribs and drabs over multiple posts but no harm in going over it again, fuck it-

essentially, i completely agree with you. splitting those two parts of the conversation into two, i definitely see the first part as a warning, and simultaneously an unspoken threat:

what particularly speaks to me is how the metatron hesitates over both 'previous exploits' and 'partnership', as if he's specifically searching for the right turns of phrase. trying to make light of it, keep it friendly and unassuming. but the small, smirky, private smiles, compared to aziraphale's reaction of flitting eyes and tight lips - it feels like metatron is playing a cat-and-mouse game... the guise of it being that it's all a great opportunity, but truthfully they both recognise the unspoken threat is there

(but - to clarify - i don't think the metatron realises that aziraphale has seen it as a threat. ie the metatron thinks he's being slicker than he actually is, when aziraphale is very much able to read between the lines).

i remember making the comparison in a meta somewhere but it just simply strikes me that - if we're continuing with the 'sleeper/secret agent in the height of the cold war' allegory - the metatron is playing the part of the seedy villain that is doing the 'i've been watching you all along, i know precisely what your pressure point is and why' bit that we all know and love from any kind of dramatised espionage story.

essentially, as you said, "we could still intervene" - ie. 'dont think that i haven't seen every single thing, because i have. i know how deep this 'partnership' runs'. there doesn't even need to be an allusion to what metatron could do with this breadth of knowledge - just simply that he has the knowledge is enough, and aziraphale can draw his own horrific conclusions quite easily, even if they never come to fruition.

(on an intertextual level, metatron kinda reminds me of how i'd imagine karla to be - from the john le carré novels... a little bit, idk.)

now as for the second part; the restoration thing:

i completely agree - this absolutely feels like a bribe. 'i know crowley is your pressure point, and you'll fight tooth and nail coming back without him in tow, so im going to offer it to you - this amazing opportunity that you can graciously bestow upon him! "go tell your friend the good news!"'

the metatron may well be disguising a threat in the exchange, but i do think that he believes aziraphale to have taken the offer to return to heaven at face value, in earnest, and therefore he believes that he has aziraphale squarely under his thumb (and none the wiser for it). however, i personally think aziraphale may be constructing his own hasty game - ie. using the offer as an opportunity to "make a difference" as he and crowley would see fit... but the spanner in the works was that crowley refuses to come with him to play on 'their side' in this little counter-game he's trying to devise.

in terms of functionality of bribe vs. threat - absolutely, a bribe promises a greater yield. threats only work so long as it's a) inescapable enough, b) serious enough, and c) the threatened person is sufficiently scared enough that they won't toe out of line. which may well be effective in getting someone to comply, but the problem with making people scared of you or hate you, is that then they all secretly want to see you ruined or destroyed.

bribe someone, however... give them something that they might have always wanted (or, as i think is the case for aziraphale - gives them the opportunity to give another what they've always wanted), and you have a greater chance of having an ally in them forever, someone forever indebted to you.

i definitely think this is where the metatron's reasoning lies. instead of threatening crowley's life, so to speak, he's offering him the chance essentially to defect - and that's way more appealing to aziraphale and likely to get him to fall in line.

for me though, it's all a gross underestimation of aziraphale on the metatron's part. i will die on the hill where aziraphale sees through what the metatron is saying - has indeed read between the lines where he doesn't have a choice one way or another - but chooses to play the part that the metatron expected him to play (of marginalised-angel who is actually the-very-kind-of-angel-heaven-needs, and therefore very-grateful-to-given-the-top-job-thank-you) so that the metatron will keep underestimating him. bribe or not, aziraphale did not want to go back to heaven... but if he doesn't have much of a choice regardless, he's going to make it work for him.

now this ask has led me to another thought: i do wonder if the restoration is actually a thing? ie. the metatron wasn't bluffing, it's actually possible.

the metatron is putting an awful lot of bank on crowley saying no, when by all accounts - even if the metatron was directly involved in crowley's fall - the metatron doesn't actually know him... right? he likely knows that crowley is resentful and angry still at having fallen, and the unfairness of the whole shebang, but does that guarantee that crowley wouldn't want to take the restoration offer? id hazard no - so the metatron has to have a failsafe for either eventuality.

either crowley says no, and aziraphale is left broken-hearted/rejected, and that suits metatron fine because then he has aziraphale ridden of crowley's influence. alternatively, crowley returns, and is restored!

...but is restored to the same position as he was when he fell - essentially like restoring a backed-up file where the last save point was ~millions of~ years ago... and that would suit metatron fine also, because then crowley is simply not crowley anymore. plausible deniability on the metatron's part too, for the latter option - 'restoration has never happened before, didn't know what to expect, but you've gotten what i promised you!' idk, interesting thought

[blood-grove]

scar trails

now -> next life (wip)

-> tws; injuries , gore , sickness , death , vomiting (basically everything you think to expect in a zombi apocalypse)

-> older brother!kyle & black child!reader

-> a/n: okay so right this has been in my head for days now..so hear you go! also boom the reader is black bc why tf wouldnt they be (ive been dying to write abt a black!reader for so long as a black person)

-> n/n - nickname

y/n - your name ofc

"n/n c'mon" I huffed as I dragged them away from the bugs they were fawning over ignoring there complaints as we kept walking.

We needed to keep heading toward the countryside but ever since Y/N got sick I've had to make us take detours for medicine, extra food, non-expired cough medicine to try and give them some relief, and looking extra for warm sleeping spots that weren't a walker nest.

It was just a cold I knew it was, I tried my best to keep them from worrying about turning.

They'd be okay once we reached Grandpa's.

I had been avoiding eating for a while I know it's dumb but they needed the food the more they ate the quicker they'd recover.

I wish I paid attention to Moms cooking more she always knew the best food to eat while sick, I had snatched a cookbook from a while back but it'd be no use with what we have.

Y/N had been a trooper throughout this all I honestly didn't know what to say we've been out here two months now and they've been going on strong.

I know they terrified though so am I but we have to keep moving.

"Are we there yet?"

"Y/n please don't start!—"

"I was quiet for five minutes like you said!"

I could just feel that cheeky grin on your face as we walked along the railroad not like any trains would be coming threw anytime soon.

It's been fifteen minutes of 'are we there yet' and I've considered turning into a walker.

We finally reached the next town that I figured out on the map, It was empty like the rest but on the next step closer to the country I saw a medicine store and grocery store and headed for them Y/n in tow.

"Do you think they have candy?! Can we get some please?"

Y/n whined as we entered the grocery store luckily still remembering to keep there voice down as I huffed.

"Look if the candy looks..alright we can get one box okay? But we need the space for food.." I whispered as I scanned the small shop's isles zoning in on packaged and canned food.

Dropping our rather light bag to the side to fill up checking the dates as I either tossed them in or tossed them aside.

Y/n went to the small section of the candy isle before coming back with a box for me to examine.

"Look it's those chewy ones mom gets!"

"Mm.. They look fine throw them in your bag.. I think we've got enough for the week now.."

I frowned slightly as I zipped up the bag hoisting it back on me it was certainly heavier but it'd be worth it.

Y/n carried their own bag but it was just medicine and there plushie I insisted I could carry them both but they wouldn't budge or let go.

I wish I was more vigilant we had moved on to the pharmacy Y/n was deciding which flavor medicine they wanted which honestly since it was warm liquid cough medicine it wouldn't taste good regardless.

Then the door opened again.

Now we both hid behind the cashier counter I gripped the handgun our parents gave me like our lives depended on it which it did.

Y/n huddled close to me keeping quiet despite their trembling.

I've never shot really anyone with the gun walkers or people.

People were iffy during these times.

We just avoided them even if it meant on missing out on shelter or food were not idiots.

The person stepped behind the counter and we pushed ourselves further under the counter basically squeezing each other to be smaller in the cramped space.

"I know you there no point n' hiding just come out and show yourself."

He sounded older his voice rough from either age or cigs nearly as familiar as Grandpa he'd just used to go on about not wasting your lungs on the things in that gravelly voice of his.

But this wasn't Grandpa of course.

A quick look at Y/n who was on the verge of sobbing.

I flicked the handguns safety off as I stepped out aiming it at the much larger man now that I had a better look at him.

He had backed up a bit when he caught sight of the handgun despite the obvious lack of experience I was probably showing.

Sweaty palms and trembling hands.

He looked older of course not so old that I could just rush him and hope one of his aging body parts acted up, He was clearly a bit more prepared than us his gear looked professional.

Military.

Not like the two school book bags that used to hold both of our homework that were slowly getting holes in them now carrying the only possessions you both had left in the world besides each other.

"Look mate- I don't mean you any—"

"Shut up."

My voice cracked as I inwardly cringed at the attempt to sound tough gripping the gun tighter.

"..I don't mean any harm okay?.."

The man shifted as he looked at me or mainly my gun I guess mentally deciding if I was bluffing with blanks or actually knew how to shoot.

Y/n was still huddled under the counter hidden.

"..Were your parents at? Seem a bit too young to be out here on your own."

I just glared further.

"..Go away."

"Kid..I-"

"Leave or I'll fuckin' s-shoot you-"

My hands trembled as I straighten his posture.

He just nodded as he left hands still up in the air in an unconvincing attempt to fool me that he wasn't a threat.

As soon as he left and didn't try to sneak back into the store I grabbed our bags hastily sacrificing some food so we wouldn't be slowed down making sure to snatch some medicine reminded by Y/n's coughing and now sobbing fit.

Picking them up despite them not being that smaller than me as we both left the area with haste.

We have to reach the countryside.

I want to go back to getting in extra sleep for summer break and staying up late at night with Y/n, Mom, And Dad watching shitty horror film and eating ice cream.

But now the summer heat was unbearable at time the too cool nights just made me worry for Y/n's cold.

I just want to go home and be a kid.

Why do I already feel so old?.

a/n: yeahh yup didnt plan this one out..

[lemmetreatya]

car washer!avdol who loves his job because of the flexible hours it gives him. being a part time Only Fans creator doesn’t bring in all the money so he helps wash cars at his father’s dealership.

hes been washing cars before he knew how to drive so doing so is second nature to him. whenever locals or frequent customers come, they always make sure its him who’s buffing up their rides.

“i only want my car cleaned if mo’s doing it!”

and his father will assure them with a hearty laugh that that’s the case.

“it’s his only job!” he’d muse back, the irony in his words undetected.

but then on some weeks, car washer!avdol‘s father would take a few days out and leave the garage solely to car washer!avdol. these are the days they dont do walk-ins so car washer!avdol knows hes unlikely to be disturbed during this spare time. car washer!avdol likes to film impromptu photo-shoots and car wash scenarios that he posts to his Only Fans. they’re not high quality — 720 at best — but they seem to be the most receptive content on his site.

but on one of his off days, car washer!avdol‘s father tells him he has someone who’s cashed in a favour; a good friend of his wanted to get his car washed and was having his daughter to deliver it off. of course he agrees because what harm in there was washing one extra car? More so, who was car washer!avdol to say no to his pops?

but when you arrive to the dealership with your father’s car in tow, faux minx jacket and large square sunglasses on, car washer!avdol sees you for what you truly are.

“ive seen your stuff by the way.” you say as you lean against the pillard wall. car washer!avdol only gives you an amusing look before asking:

“what stuff?”

“Your Only Fans stuff, what else?”

car washer!avdol is slightly thrown off because no one he knows in real life has confronted him about this before but once he hears your tinkly laugh, his interest is piqued.

“don’t worry, your secrets safe with me. if anything i find it kinda cool.” you say.

car washer!avdol has an inkling for where you’re taking this conversation but he doesn’t say anything just yet — in case his mouth betrays him.

stepping forwards towards your father’s soapy car, you stand just besides car washer!avdol with your arms crossed.

“you done anything apart from solo content?”

car washer!avdol shakes his head.

“never. but it’s always been on my list to do meet ups or at least film content with others.”

your eyes almost sparkle as you lean over your father’s car to give car washer!avdol a hooded look. he wants to tell you your clothes are getting wet from the soap but something tells him that was the intention.

“well, why don’t we film sumin now?”

it was his idea, but car washer!avdol has you sprawled out over the hood of your father’s car as he fucks into you from behind. he has his phone filming you both from the side and yours filming from inside the car on top of the dashboard.

your moans are pornographic as car washer!avdol’s thick cock hits all the right places and more! you can’t believe how deep he’s surging into you and a good portion of your brain urges you to tap out.

“i-i-i-ist…fuck…so fuggin’ full.”

words barely leave your throat whole as youre cheeks are pressed against the soapy bonnet of your father’s car. each thrust earns a grunt out of car washer!avdol‘s mouth — every one dragging you deeper and deeper into wanton pleasure.

car washer!avdol doesn’t even let you come down from your first orgasm before he’s tugging you over onto your back, your ankles adjacent to his ears.

“so…fucking…”

he cant even finish his words, car washer!avdol feels so hazy delving into your wet fruit that he almost looses his grip and makes you slip off the hood! luckily, you catch yourself in time and car washer!avdol buckles his legs to support you but it doesn’t take long before he’s finishing inside of you with a low and almost inaudible gasp.

car washer!avdol sends you back to your father with a clean car. he however, cannot say the same for you.

[tarithenurse]

I see fire

Fandom: D&D 5E/homebrew campaign. Word count: 2309 Contents: Still that questionable justice system, probation, new people, gross food. A/N: This is the first bit from the actual campaign. Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag. Divider by @firefly-graphics

IV

Zilvra has been listening to the distant sounds of the city for several days, unable to get a glimpse of the sky through the bars in the window unless she were to stand on the shit bucket – not an appealing thing to do so she has refrained.

Then one day a couple of guards come with a finely dressed man in tow who explains that it’s time for her to work off her debt.

Silently, she follows them through the city, blinking in the sharp sunlight as she tries to get her bearings along the way to a large building with a sign hanging by the door. It’s adorned with crossed weapons (a sword and a mace) upon a shield and beneath it are the words “Adventurers’ Guild”.

She can’t help to hesitate for a moment, not having expected this but rather some factory or maybe work at the docks, but she’s only given a few seconds before one of the guards pushes her forward and across the threshold.

The room is big but also tightly packed with smaller groupings of equally excited and nervous looking people. Most of them are humans but there are a few elves too...and two very colourful individuals – a male and a female who appear to be feeling out of place judging by the way they are looking about.

The male is blue skinned with poofy white hair that he’s tried to comb. He’s well armoured but oddly lithe. Allowing her gaze to travel the length of his body, Zilvra notices that his leather armour appears to be fitted with extra nobs and switches and he has some unidentifiable items hanging from his belt. She is unsure what race he is.

The female on the other hand is elvish although she is far from the race of either drow or High Elves...even Wood Elves would look different although her green colour scheme might be well suited for a life in the forest. Long hair (a darker green) is loosely braided and pushed to one side, allowing a view of a light leather armour and flowy clothes that still seem practical.

That’s all Zilvra has time to take note of before she’s pushed in their direction.

“These are your new friends,” the neatly dressed escort explains, returning from a desk where a rough looking man with black beard and hair is sorting through stacks of papers.

Handing a key to a guard, the escort watches as Zilvra’s manacles are unlocked, freeing her of the chain and ball she’d been lugging around for a long time. Oh, it feels wonderful and the drow can’t help but relish the feather light feeling of freedom only to have it snatched away as the man steps over and conjures new bonds on her wrists and neck. Lighter and without the heavy ball, they manage to remind her of her current status just as well as the previous tethers. At least, though, her items are returned to her and she quickly dons them all.

“They will tighten with time, eventually killing you if you don’t check in with the right people to have them loosened once more,” the escort explains, motioning to the bonds, “we will arrange for that...but make sure to make it to your destinations in time.” Then he turns to the two colourful people: “You now have a full group. Take some time to get to know each other.”

Slinking off to join the guards, the wizard (or whatever he is) gives the three strangers a chance to greet each other.

It turns out the female, who is green skinned, is called Morella and that she’s an eladrin – a Fey elf. She’s a bit vague on some subjects of her life but Zilvra writes it up to nerves and the fact that you don’t tell strangers everything right off the bat. Goodness knows Zilvra won’t.

The blue male is an air genasi by the name of Anvindr Hayate and while he is from this realm technically, he has chosen to embark on a journey of knowledge and research to ultimately help his kin return to where they came from. He doesn’t go into further details but prompts the drow to explain who she is, looking pointedly to the bonds on her wrist and neck.

“My name’s Zilvra Shadowsong,” she offers truthfully, “I’m...also on a bit of an educational quest. I know this first impression is probably not favourable but I promise the wrongs I’ve been accused of are...” she hesitates, looking for the right words, “I just wanted to admire the stars and while I may have been trespassing to get to the roof to do so, I’ve done no harm.”

A discreet snort of either disagreement or incredulity makes the three look over, finding the wizard to be looking at them intently. Noticing that he’s been spotted (although he was obviously not trying to hide it), he steps over.

“Even if you hadn’t trespassed, Roof Walking is still a crime and, in fact, you’ve been let off easy,” he claims. Then his expression softens a bit. “I’m curious to see what the three of you will accomplish as the oddball trio that you are.”

“Excuse me?” Morella bristles at his words.

He just smiles. “Look around. You’re all...misfits compared to the rest and that’s why we’ve placed you in a group together. You’re group D now. Master Tio will explain further once you’re ready,” with that he motions towards the large desk and the bearded man there, “but fear not...I have a feeling you’ve got potential.”

Watching as the man strides off out the door, it takes a moment for the newly made Group D to gather their thoughts.

“D,” Morella mocks, “what a lame name.”

Anvindr shrugs. “Guess we can have it changed?”

“To what?”

He looks both women over. “The misfits? The...rebels?”

Both females perk up at the last suggestion and the trio decides to go with that. Then they approach the desk.

Master Tio is a stout man with clear eyes and several scars that probably can be attributed to a life of adventure for himself. Straightening from his hunched position, he looks over the odd trio with a crooked smile.

“So you’ve accepted working together? Good good.” He ruffles through one of the stacks of papers on the desk, eventually procuring two documents but then shakes his head at one of them before returning it to the stack. “I got a job for you, if you want it.” His eyes are on Zilvra, and she picks up on the unspoken meaning: she doesn’t have a choice. “I want you to head to Heartwell Shire – it’s three or four days’ travel from here if you head east to Oldgarde and north from there. In Heartwell, find Deputy Willem and Marshal McBribe, they’ll fill you in on the rest but I can say that it’s something about the mine up there.” He explains more about the trip: people who can help them with shelter and food in Oldgarde thanks to the way the system is set up with identifying tags (they’re copper rank), the fauna of the region which is unfamiliar to them all, and the time pressure that at least Zilvra is under. “You’ve got five days so you want to get there to get the bonds extended.”

The newly acquainted outsiders exchange glances, at least one of them having a clear preference to make the trip as quick as possible.

“One thing before we leave,” Morella asks sugary sweet, “while walking from the harbour I couldn’t help but notice the damage to the city?”

Something dark crosses Tio’s face. “Yeah...long story short, a rebellious group of masons went amok and caused quite a bit of destruction. It got so bad the king had to intervene and they killed him. It’s best not to talk too much about it for now.” He slumps back in his chair, staring fixedly on a bare spot on the desk. “Just know that the guilty have been dealt with under orders of the widower queen. Now git.”

Not daring to push the subject further, the trio exits the Guild House, finding themselves on a street that has truly woken up. Already having all they need, the three of them thankfully agree to set off towards Heartwell Shire along the route suggested by Tio.

As the group walks, they slowly begin chatting more openly. First contemplating the system for adventurers, they can’t help but wonder what it takes to rise in the ranks.

“So if we’re copper,” Morella contemplates, “and we already will get free food and lodging...what will we get at silver and gold ranks?”

“Actually paid?” Zilvra suggests, thinking of her empty coin purse.

The male nods. “I’ve been told, and I hope it’s true, that you’d get access to places like the library and such.”

“Why do you hope that?” the eladrin asks curiously.

“I need to do some research...” Sighing, it’s evident that he takes the moment to consider what to tell them. “I...my people have been forced to flee our home. We come from another plane of existence and...let’s just say it hasn’t been pretty. I want for us to take back our home.”

The women nod.

“I come from a different plane of existence too,” the colourful of the females admits to no one’s surprise, “from the Fey Wild.”

“Why’d you leave?” Zilvra asks.

“...I don’t know...I can’t remember.” Stunned silence forces Morella to elaborate: “I just...I know I was there one moment and the next I was on a ship in the middle of the ocean. The people onboard were kinda shocked at me appearing out of nowhere. They were nice though, told me we were headed to Stouvania.”

The two other share a glance.

Anvindr is the one to speak up: “So you need to get back home.”

“Nah, I kinda like seeing new things so this is exiting,” the Fey elf grins, “besides I wouldn’t know where to go there either so might as well enjoy this for a while. Maybe I’ll remember something eventually.”

“But won’t people be looking for you?”

She seems surprised at the idea as if she hadn’t considered that before. “Maybe?”Then she turns with a smile to the drow. “And you?

Zilvra doesn’t quite like the beaming attention. “Well...as I said: I didn’t intend to do anything illegal. Yeah, alright, I might have been trespassing but I just wanted to look at the stars! We don’t have them in the Underdark.”

“Underdark?” Morella wonders.

Explaining briefly about the world below ground where she’s from, Zilvra manages to avoid further questions about her past. For now.

---

They walk the entire day, arriving at Oldgarde by sunset.

The place is nothing more than a village, though, with only one bigger building – the inn which clearly has been expanded in recent years and bears the sign “Lion’s Pride Inn”. Several of the city’s guards can be seen strolling or loitering, making Zilvra slightly uneasy, tugging at her sleeves and hood to hid the bonds. As the trio is about to enter the inn, they spot one of the other newly formed adventuring groups.

They’ve barely stepped into the crowded place before a boisterous woman bears down on them, presenting herself as Malikka. Showing her their tags, she verifies that food’s on the house and that they can sleep in the basement.

Checking out the quarters, the trio is utterly dismayed (and grossed out). What once might have been a coal or root cellar has barely been cleared out and in one corner there’s still a pile of refuse with plenty of fat rats. Not to mention the half full piss pot.

It is free, though, and none of the trio has money to buy a room instead so they accept, returning to the main room of the tavern for the promised meal only to be disappointed once more by stale and moulding bread and ale gone bad. Thankfully, Morella has a few tricks up her sleeve and is able to create a tiny but filling meal of Goodberries.

While nibbling, Zilvra points out the other group of adventurers and eventually Anvindr walks over to them, the rest of the trio in tow, and suggests an arm wrestling match so he can test out something about his armour.

The group consists of three male humans called Owen, Hayden, and Adam. Owen, a strong guy who might be a fighter, accepts the challenge after downing his expired beer. The other two discreetly push their mugs towards their friend, too disgusted by the contents to want to drink it, making Owen beam happily. Perhaps that joy is what carries him to a hard earned victory despite the steam slipping from Anvindr’s armour as they compete.

“Where’ve you got that armour from?” Hayden asks, fidgeting with the rings of his own.

The air genasi smiles proudly while rubbing his hand where it got slammed into the table. “I made it myself. I’m a bit of a tinkerer.”

It turns out to be a merry evening. No one but Owen drinks the ale, making sure that nothing goes to waste, and eventually everyone finds their way down into the basement to get some rest – the two of elven kin taking turns to rest so someone is awake at all times...and good thing too because during Zilvra’s watch, Owen wakes up: sick from the beer he pukes in the corner before she can do anything, barely acknowledges her help with cleaning him up after (long live magic) and eventually falling asleep again.

The only other thing that happens during the night is a strange metamorphosis of the eladrin as she changes appearance during her restful trance: from verdant greens and pinks to flaming hues that could match the warmest fire.

[spidermanifested]

ive thought a little more about devils nest dungeon meshi au (demons nest?) and here is the idea i was bouncing around in my head. id love for some kind of lore compliance check because i havent really gone back over the manga since i finished it, or sought out any kind of supplemental material, and i like the challenge of fitting these kinds of things into the boundaries of the source (once again DUNGEON MESHI SPOILERS. for people who havent read the manga at all)

so you have this demon (in a dungeon) (granting desires and eating them) (getting stronger) (hoping someday he can get out of the dungeon). and hes been in there a while and boy does he love watching humans get their greatest wishes granted, but the part where they gradually go mad with power or get disenchanted with the results and also he has to eat their desires anyway eventually kind of blows. he wishes he could only have the good part where he gets to make people happy forever is that too much to ask. maybe when he gets out of the dungeon he can do something about that. love to get out of the dungeon

anyway fast forward a while and this guy comes in. some teenage prince from a tallman country thats wracked with internal conflict and what HE wants is to become immortal, because that way when he takes the throne his reign will be eternal and the different clans will stop fighting over the right of succession. thats so specific. the demon loves it. he can just give him a peaceful united empire here, in the dungeon, which he can rule eternally-- no he wants the one at home. well. the problem with that is that the demon is here, in the dungeon, and not out there.

HELP WANTED NOTICE: i dont remember what the exact plan was vis a vis the winged lion getting up to the surface in the manga and i know it Had to be simpler than "just walk out of there" because why would it have had to steal laios' body about it. WOULD a sufficiently dedicated dungeon lord be able to get back up to the surface with their respective demon in tow.

ADDITIONAL HELP WANTED NOTICE: if a demon WAS freed from the dungeon without being powerful enough to get out under its own strength, how much magic would it be able to perform out there? would it be able to make somebody immortal without the big magic-insulation box. i feel like this changes a lot if greed Can grant ling immortality vs if now that hes out of the dungeon he cant really do shit.

either way now that hes out he does not technically need to eat this kids desires specifically anymore. if the immortality thing is a bust, maybe hes shaken by the experience of not being able to fulfill somebodys wish for the first time. but HIS wish has been fulfilled instead? complicated! maybe ling drags him back to his kingdom to help him gain the throne, or maybe he gets mad and leaves and greed never finds out what happens to him, but whatever goes down it changes his worldview and hes starting to develop a sense of personhood separate from the rest of the Demon Conglomerate, and also desires that are unique to Him

but he still wants to help people realize their own desires and maybe thats even strengthened by the fact that now he personally knows how much it owns (funny) to want something so bad and finally get it. so im thinking eventually he goes back to his old dungeon, now way smaller, and he sets up shop, and just waits for people to come by so he can help them in a less exploitative way. like he graduates from Addiction Metaphor to Healthy Coping Mechanism Metaphor. and the chimeras all find their way there eventually and he wins their trust one at a time until they are forced to admit this weird overly genuine dungeon guy kind of rules. his personality is laios basically he has the exact same type of autistic swag

but. if the elves heard about a demon who was just fucking going up to people floor 1 like hi im a demon welcome to my dungeon. they would shit bricks. so the raid also has to happen at some point. and i Am putting ling in there albeit as backstory so im open to suggestions as to how the rest of the cast of fma can fit into this (father and the homunculi as other more typical demons obviously) (no clue about anybody else) (come and play toys with me)

[copias-girl]

Pamper Your Papa Part III (Papa IV x Reader)

•••

A/N: After not very much contemplation from me and a lot of enthusiasm from my ghestie @sucharide I decided to go for it and write a third instalment for this because I’m still hung up on the idea doing *actual* facials with Copia! So get ready for some spicy flirting and fluff! More smut will be in chapter 4! 🖤 Btw sorry I was so late uploading this, I got busy with school!

(Also when I picture Copia with no makeup why do I still picture him with the black around his eyes?? lmaoo)

Read Part I HERE Part II HERE and Part IV HERE

•♥︎♥︎♥︎•

“Satanas, calm down, Papa, I’m talking about actual facials this time.” You giggled, walking into the man’s papal suite with him in tow.

“Satanas, calm down, Papa, I’m talking about actual facials this time.” You giggled, walking into the man’s papal suite with him in tow.

“But amoreeeee, my cum on your face is an actual facial.” He pouted, gazing at you quite convincingly with those big mismatched puppy dog eyes.

“We just fucked in the confessional, how are you still horny?” You teased him, rounding on him once the door clicked closed behind you. You smoothed your fingers over his chest and shoulders as his gloved hands skimmed up up up your thighs and waist, going back down again and grabbing two big handfuls of your ass, eliciting a yelp from you as he pulled your hips flush to his.

“I suppose it is, how do you say, the effect you have on me, dolcezza.” Copia growled, causing you to let out a little whine and bite your lip. Oh, how this man could tease you, how he could wind you up so tightly until you were nothing but a dripping mess, squirming and begging for him.

You both could work each other up into a hot, feverish frenzy, often making love for hours and hours on end until the two of you were so sticky and tired and fucked out; hair messy, eyes bleary, minds dizzy and foggy and full of bliss from one too many orgasms.

You almost gave into him just then, almost forgot all about your real spa night in turn for another evening of delicious lust with your Papa. And he realized it. He could see it in your eyes, the way he had gotten you all worked up. But that’s when he smirked and released you from his sinful hold.

“Alas, I do need to take care of my complexion.” He stated simply, gently brushing his gloved fingertips against his cheek.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, old man.” You playfully swatted at him, rolling your eyes.

“Ehh?? Don’t wound Papa’s heart, cara mia.” Copia pouted, kissing your cheek and melting your heart. “Besides, now you know how it feels. You were a very naughty girl today, flustering Papa in front of everyone like that. Making my cock so hard. It’s a wonder I even had enough restraint to wait and drag you into the confessional, tesoro.” He purred, hand rubbing little circles on your lower back. “I should have just fucked you right there on the altar, in front of everyone and under the watchful gaze of our Dark Lord. That way, they all could have seen what a good little slut you are for me. For your Papa.” He said quite matter-of-factly, but his voice was dripping with lust as he articulated each word in that sinful Italian accent of his.

“Oh yeah? Maybe next time you should, old man.” You squared up with him, so close that the tips of your noses were brushing together.

“Hm. Perhaps I will.” The man chuckled with a little smirk, eyes flicking down to your kissable lips before meeting your gaze once again. Fuck, Copia just couldn’t help it; when you acted like that towards him, it really got him going.

“Well, I won’t keep our spa night waiting any longer, dolcezza.” He spun away from you, sheer black cape whirling dramatically as he made his way to the ensuite. “Do with me what you will.” He out stretched his arms in a flourish, taking a seat at the vanity.

You skipped over to him, taking out all the spa stuff you had been waiting to use with him. You were so excited, laying out all the items on the shiny black marble. Mud masques, sheet masques, jelly under-eye pads, gel lip masques, facial serums, and last but not least, your rose quartz face roller, which was a personal favourite of Copia’s.

He grinned endearingly, seeing you so enthusiastic. You seemed like a little girl whose father just agreed to letting her do his makeup. Satanas, he loved you so fucking much. You were just so cute.

“Alright!” You clasped your hands together. “First we have to take your paint off.” You smiled, grabbing the makeup remover and cotton pads, coming to straddle his lap where he sat at the vanity. He let out a little huff as you hopped right onto his lap, his hands settling on your waist as he looked up at you.

You took his black cornette hat off, placing it atop your own head, making Copia chuckle at how it was a little big for you.

“Ok, here we go.” You said, soaking a cotton pad in makeup remover and then beginning to gently smooth it over your Papa’s face. He looked so elegant like this, with his pretty face tilted up towards you.

He gazed up at you, awestruck by your beauty, smiling a bit at the concentrated look on your face as you removed his paint little by little.

You changed the cotton pad every so often, getting a fresh one soaked and ready to go, rubbing it over his cheeks, lips, nose. He closed his eyes when you removed the paint there, looking absolutely angelic. Your Papa always looked so pretty and angelic with his eyes closed.

“All done.” You told him, punctuating your sentence by giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Copia’s mismatched eyes fluttered open and he looked into the mirror, checking out your handiwork. “Ahh, very good, amore mio. You do such a good job for your Papa.” He smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek.

Your heart fluttered at his praise, rubbing your nose against his before hopping off his lap and running into the bedroom. You set his cornette on his dresser and grabbed some loungewear for the both of you.

Walking back into the bathroom, you threw Copia’s at him and started to strip your clothes off. He couldn’t help but stare at you, eyes roaming up and down your form as you took all your clothes off, and he swallowed hard.

You noticed his eyes on you and you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, shaking him from his daze.

He smiled sheepishly when you caught him staring, scrambling to get up and start changing as well. He took off layer after layer, putting on his VVLGARI t-shirt, sweatpants, and hoodie, as well as slipping on his more casual gloves, the ones he always wore with this outfit.

All you slipped on was one of Papa’s pyjama shirts, black silk with ‘IV’ embroidered in gold thread just above the breast pocket. It matched your black and gold lace panties, and was long enough to just cover your ass, so you didn’t bother putting any bottoms on.

“I hope some of this stuff is anti-aging, dolcezza.. I’m so old.” Copia groaned as he sat at the vanity, looking into the mirror and resting his chin in his hand.

“What are you talking about, Papa?” You frowned, coming to stand behind him and looking at his reflection.

“I.. I have so many wrinkles, tesoro…” He sighed with a sad laugh. “I think I really do need this spa night.”

“Papa, we’ve talked about this. You know I love the way you look. You know how you make me feel.” You pouted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind, looking into each other’s eyes through the mirror as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“You like dating an old man, dolcezza?” He chuckled.

“I love dating an old man, Papa.” You whispered into his ear with a smirk, sending a shiver down his spine. Placing a hand on his jaw, you turned his face towards you and captured him in a soft yet deep kiss, one that had his eyes fluttering closed as a quiet moan escaped him.

“You’re sure you wouldn’t want me to dye my hair?” He asked half-jokingly as he self-consciously ran his gloved fingers through his grey locks.

“Mm, don’t you dare.” You murmured against his lips, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Copia sighed as you quelled all his fears, settled any anxieties he had. You always had such a knack for doing that, for making him feel so good about himself. He just couldn’t help having those thoughts sometimes, especially when you were so young and beautiful, always glowing with an ethereal luminance, always leaving him breathless, always leaving him craving more more more of you. Copia often found himself wondering what a pretty little thing like you saw in someone like him.

You grabbed a fluffy spa headband, the one with the cat ears on it, and slipped it onto your sweet Papa to keep his hair out of his face, and put one with bunny ears onto yourself. Gathering up all your things, you took Copia by the hand and led him to the bed, sitting criss cross applesauce in front of each other.

Ripping open one of the packages, you began slathering the lavender-coloured mud all over your Papa’s face as he sat there all pretty, gazing at you with those gorgeous mismatched eyes. But once both of your faces were done, you had a hard time not laughing as you looked at each other, faces purple and stiff and unable to move.

“Stop making me laugh!” You giggled, desperately trying not to crack your masque.

“I’m not doing anything, amore! Well, I can’t do anything, I can’t move my goddamn face.” Copia responded, huffing in amusement, only causing you to swat at him and laugh more.

After not looking at each other for a minute and finally calming down, you and Copia slowly glanced at each other, staring at one another for exactly one second before he snorted out a laugh, causing you both to lose it again.

After the 25 minutes was up, you both ran to the bathroom to wash the masque off before returning to bed for the rest of the stuff.

From there, you applied the jelly pads under his eyes, the gel lip masque, and finally the sheet masque on top of everything. Copia sighed as he reclined back, resting his head in your lap as you began to use the facial roller on him, going over his cheeks, forehead, up the bridge of his nose. You smiled at his little groans of relaxation, soothingly scratching your fingers against his scalp with your free hand.

You admired your darling Papa like this, enjoying the gentle moment with your love. He looked so precious, his closed eyes fluttering open every so often to gaze up at you. And you couldn’t help but smile, because there was so much love in those mismatched puppy dog eyes when he looked at you. Copia never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

After time was up and you removed everything from both of your faces as well as the headbands, Copia sat up and you told him to hold still while you fanned his face with a handheld fan. You didn’t have to rinse any of these products off, just allowing them to soak into the skin. To finish everything off, you smoothed a vitamin enriched serum onto his face, also applying some on yourself.

“All done.” You smiled, leaning in to give him a big smooch.

“Oh, grazie così tanto, bellina! This was just wonderful. You make me feel so special.” Copia grinned, kissing you back happily. “How do I look? Younger? More, eh.. more handsome?” He asked, patting his gloved hands against his cheeks, turning his face side to side so you could get a good look at him.

“You look so gorgeous, Papa. Gorgeous as usual.” You bit your lip, that lascivious look in your eyes not escaping your man.

“Eh, davvero? You really think so, amore?” He asked again, gasping when you playfully pounced on him, tackling him down onto the bed and straddling his hips.

“I always think so.” You whispered before peppering his face in lots of little kisses, making your way down to nip at his neck. You placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, his cheek, and finally his lips. You kissed his lips so many times, unable to get enough of the man. You had it so fucking bad for him. You needed him to know much you loved him, how crazy you were for him. Copia returned your kisses with matched desperation, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him more more more, needing you to be impossibly closer. He opened his mouth when you licked across his lips, his tongue teasing you deliciously, swallowing all of your moans. His gloved hands slipped from your waist to your hips and you fisted the soft fabric of his shirt, licking into his mouth with growing fervour, your Papa groaning in pleasant surprise when you began to grind on him.

You broke the kiss, a saliva string still connecting your lips which Copia eagerly licked up. You stared at each other, lips parted, panting, trying to catch your respective breaths. He was hungry for you, you could see it in those gorgeous mismatched eyes, the way his pupils were blown wide, the way his cheeks were flushed red hot.

You leaned in again until the tips of your noses were brushing together, fingers gently smoothing the pretty whiteish wisps of hair near your sweet Papa’s temples. You then leaned in further until your lips gently brushed together, just staying like that for a few moments.

Unable to take it anymore, Copia cupped your face in his hands, bringing you in for a passionate lip lock that grew sloppier with each passing second.

To be continued 😈

Tagging: @sucharide @my-mummy-dust @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rightintheghoulies @copiaswifey @youhaveahomeinmyheart