#soft merda

[to-ti-to]

ahghhhhgshhhghhg

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Bloody Lips and Bruised Egos

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott; fluff/angst

summary: when Mattheo gets in another fight, his best friend takes it upon himself to patch him up. Theodore is just his best friend…right?

a/n: when i tell you i’m a feral, rabid animal for this ship, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. yes, there will be more. god i love gay panic

Mattheo hisses as the antiseptic hits his wound with just a bit too much force. The movements are clumsy and unpracticed but he grits his teeth through it anyway. In front of him with his eyebrows furrowed is Theo, intense blue eyes staring down one of the many cuts on his face. Theodore lets out a frustrated string of expletives in Italian, or at least, what Mattheo thinks are expletives. He’s not entirely sure. But what he is sure, Theo has clearly never played nurse before.

“Theo—”

“Merda! I’ve got it Matt.”

He continues to grumble under his breath as he tries to fix the blood he managed to smear across Mattheo’s face worse than the fight had.

“Hold still!”

“I am!”

But instead of being frustrated like he probably should have been, Mattheo was trying not to laugh at how seriously Theo was taking this. If anything, it was kind of cute?

“Teddy—”

“So help me God, Mattheo.”

“What! I didn’t say anything! Your bedside manner is atrocious, Theo. Have you never cleaned a couple cuts before?”

Theodore’s hand stops its movements, eyes flicking up to meet his from where they were focused on his cheek. Mattheo holds his breath as they stare each other down. Because damn it, no one can intimidate him like his—Theo can. Mattheo breaks the staring match as he shakes his mental slip of the tongue away, praying his cheeks aren’t on fire.

“This time is different,” Theo’s voice cuts through the tense silence, pulling Mattheo from his thoughts. He shoots him a questioning look, not even needing to ask how?

“It’s you, dumbass.” There’s his answer but it just leaves Matt more confused. Theo must have picked up on the slight tilt of his head, curls shifting on his forehead, because the taller boy sighs. “Maledetto idiota. I worry about you,” it’s punctuated with a flick to Mattheo’s forehead, making him blink and pull his head back in surprise. “Oh.”

Then like it never happened, Theo is back to cleaning his wounds, gentler this time. The touch is almost feather-light, like he’s scared of hurting Mattheo further. Theo works in silence until Mattheo speaks up again; his tone dropped down, no longer making an attempt at banter. Vulnerable.

“You didn’t have to do this y’know. I could’ve done it myself… or gone to Pomfrey.” His gaze is locked on his lap, head still tilted up for Theo to do his thing. There’s a few more beats of quiet and Mattheo doesn’t even have to look up to know Theo’s trying to figure out what he wants to say.

“You got these because of me. I should be the one cleaning you up.” There it is.

Brown eyes flick up to meet blue ones, so much passing between them without a word. “You didn’t make me deck that bastard in the face.”

Theo dodges the reassurance with a shrug. He traces over the worst of the gashes with his thumb, uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t think they’ll scar.”

Mattheo hums in response as he tries to push past the gushy-feely bullshit with some banter, “that’s good, wouldn’t want my face to get any uglier.”

Theo’s brows furrow again. “What are we doing Matt?”

Mattheo’s mouth goes dry, caught off guard by the question, “wha—what do you mean?”

“Are you just playing dumb? You know what I mean.” And damn it, Mattheo does know. The lingering glances, the sitting ever so slightly too close for two people that claim to hate physical contact, the late nights smoking together and talking about everything. Mattheo is intimately familiar with what Theodore is referring to. But he’d rather take another fist to the face than admit it out loud. And maybe part of him hoped his best mate felt the same and they’d never have to have this conversation.

But a quiet voice in the back of his head, the one he tries to shove away every single time it comes up, is glad Theo’s the one to say something. That maybe something can change and Mattheo can finally do the things he’s wanted to do. The things he’s longed for in the privacy of his four poster with the curtains drawn in the middle of the night. The things he’s yearned for since his stupid, stupid heart went and fell for the one person he couldn’t have. But instead of giving in, his walls come back up and he’s sliding off the edge of Theo’s bed.

“No, I’m not playing dumb, jackass. And next time, just let me handle the clean up. It’s not like I’m dying.”

Theo’s soft expression instantaneously evaporates, making Mattheo regret ever opening his stupid mouth. Hell, he wishes Theo would look mad, pissed, hit him, anything other than the cold, dead eyes he’s getting now. And he wants to apologize, he really does. But pride? ego? cowardice? holds him back.

So he does what he always does when it comes to Theo and this stupid little dance they’ve been doing all term. He runs away. And fuck, he really does feel like a coward. But he can’t—can’t what exactly? He’s not entirely sure.

Before he can make it to the door, Theo’s barking his name. “Mattheo! Wait.” And he’s barely given a moment to react.

Theo grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close. As their chests bump together, Mattheo’s eyes widen, heart thundering in his chest. The grip on his shirt slowly relaxes and is shifted to the back of his neck. Mattheo braces for a punch.

But instead he gets lips lightly pressing against his. And fuck he thinks his heart might stop. He’s experienced kisses before, heated make out sessions in broom closets and sloppy drunken ones at parties but nothing like this. This is gentle and tender and sweet in a way no one else has ever been with him. And he damn near melts.

His hands automatically come up to cup Theo’s face, a hint of scruff under his fingertips. Mattheo’s seen Theo kiss people before; passionate, like he’s trying to devour them whole, but this is different. He could have never anticipated Theo’s lips to be so soft, the movement like he’s scared Mattheo might break apart without warning. Maybe he will.

Before he can quite get addicted to this feeling—this sinful, heavenly feeling—Theodore’s pulling away. And it takes everything in Mattheo to not chase after his lips. Instead they stare at each other for a moment, breathing a little heavy and cheeks lightly flushed. Then Theo’s running a hand through his hair with a murmured curse under his breath and leaving the dorm. Taking Mattheo’s heart with him.

[anachronismstellar]

I have no other excuse for this besides:

1) Italian YQY is funny as hell and

2) I need to practice some of my Italian or I'll forget everything I've seen in college lmao

So why not enjoy the brainrot? :D

Prompted by this amazing post by @artsarasp and @vodkassassin

TW: Old Master Place being Old Master Palace

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

Yue Qingyuan was a politician true and through, capable of mediating difficult groups of egotistical individuals, his presence imposing enough to demand respect. But there was something about Huan Hua’s Old Palace Master that brought forward his street-smart instincts, a sleaziness that made his teeth ache and the hair on the back of his neck raise up. It was so bad that he had to concentrate on circulating his qi to not lose his mind. Or his patience.

Because if there was one thing that Yue Qingyuan could call himself was patient. But every man had their limits, and Yue Qingyuan was reaching his.

"Besides, you will understand with time, young Sect Leader Yue, these types of border negotiations must be dealt with utmost care. Oh back in my day when-"

And on and on the Old Palace Master went, his voice gritting on Yue Qingyan’s years.

They had been fighting over the border issue for the past five days. It was supposed to be simple, a matter to be solved between head disciples at most, nothing that a simple correction of maps wouldn't solve.

And all this due to a river Huan Hua palace had diverted themselves resulting on them pushing back their own territory. An action they have done without consulting their own maps, creating this entire situation without Cang Qiong Sect knowledge of it, only to whine and complain right after.

This was pointless. A waste of time. He could have been having tea with Xiao Jiu right now or reading the last pile of paperwork Shang-shidi had left on his table. Five days ago. Heavens, he would rather go back to the Ling Xi caves and lock himself there for a month than listen to another hour of this nonsense.

Their departure had already been rescheduled two times. It had gotten to the point which Shang Qinghua had panicked after sending the third bird, arriving at the Huan Hua Palace the day before by sword flying.

He could feel Wei Qingwei stealing glances at him on his right, eyebrows slightly raised, clenching his hands over crossed arms. On his left, Shang Qinghua wasn't fairing any better by the soft vibration coming from under the desk, leg shaking in an anxious tick.

"- And then your Shizun, young Sect Leader Yue, personally had gone there to check it! I remember as if it were yesterday! Oh how beautiful she was, your Peak colors suited her very well! And the nape of her neck, as gracious as a swan-"

Yue Qingyuan had enough.

"Stronzo, porco di merda," Yue Qingyuan let it slip through his clenched teeth, Xuan Su warming up to dangerous levels against his waist. "Testa di cazzo, figlio di puttana," he closed his eyes, doing his best to breathe through his nose, letting it go through his mouth. Even so, not even Wei Qingwei polite cough or Shang Qinghua's squeak was enough to snap him out of the pure wave of rage coming straight from his core.

He had kept himself quiet for far too long if that insolent decrepit man had the audacity to mention his Shizun as if he hadn't acted like a dog in heat every time he wormed himself close to her. Each praise felt dirty, as if the Old Palace Master were dragging tar all over his Shizun's image, perverting her beauty with a sickening smile. Yue Qingyuan could almost see the droll dripping from the scum's mouth.

"Mortacci tua!" he said with a slap on the table, shoulders hunched as he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

"Zhangmen-shixiong-" Wei Qingwei gently took him by his arm, trying to calm him down, his qi rattling Xuan Su to the point of the sword start buzzing inside its sheath.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Old Palace Master demanded with a frown, lips pulled downwards, nasty friendly aura completely forgotten. "Explain yourself! Does Young Sect Leader Yue intent to curse this Master?!"

"Sei proprio un rattuso che dovrebbe andare a farsi nel culo," he said with a smile, ignoring how every single person in the room had their hands on their swords, or how Wei Qingwei seemed to be doing his best (and failing) at holding back his laughter.

Not only curse you, you fucking pervert but also your entire family and ancestors, piece of shi-

"Aiyaaa! Forgive us, Old Master," Shang Qinghua said as he squeezed Yue Qingyuan arm hard enough to make for him to wince. "This lord fears that Zhangmen-shixiong might be going through some type of qi deviation!" and in a proper Shang Qinghua fashion he started to whine, fat tears already gathering at the corner of his eyes. "This lord humbly requests a break so a doctor might check on Sect Leader Yue! This one has never seen him so distressed, please Old Master-"

Yue Qingyuan didn't even have time to blink before Shang Qinghua took him away from the room, screaming for a doctor, not bothering to wait for the Old Palace Master's permission to leave with Wei Qingwei hot on their heels.

"What was that?!" And he knew he had messed up if Shang Qinghua was angry enough to hiss at him. "Yue-shixiong, have you lost your mind?! What if someone could understand what you said-!"

"I did," Wei Qingwei said with a snort, patting Yue Qingyuan on the shoulder, beaming like a proud big brother. "It was amazing and well deserved. That old sac-"

"Shh!" Shang Qinghua hurried to slap both hands over Wei-shidi's mouth, trembling all over. "Have you both lost your minds?! This place ears have ears, so kindly please shut the fuck up. Both of you," and then he threw a glare at Yue Qingyuan so heated it made him turn his face away from his shidi.

"Here is what we are going to do," he said after pulling a face, cleaning his hand over his robes while Wei Qingwei gave him a smug smile. "We are going to take Yue-shixiong to the doctor, and you are going to do your best to pretend to be really sick, do you hear me, Shixiong?"

Yue Qingyuan didn't want to, it felt wrong to pretend to be weak at the heart of their allies/enemies palace, but he trusted Shang Qinghua. He could see by the glint of his eye that he had already though of plan and a contingency one in case the first failed.

"And you," Shang Qinghua turned his glare at Wei Qingwei, lips pulled in an almost snarl, squinting at Wei-shidi while pointing his finger at the swordsman. "You are going to keep your big mouth shut if you want get any closer to a certain sword, do you hear me?!"

Yue Qingyuan wasn't stupid or frigid as bad tongues might say. He knew very well what Shang-shidi was insinuating, so he did his best to stare at the ceiling, doing his best to ignore the way Wei-shidi was almost giggling at Shang Qinghua.

"Of course, shidi~"

It could have gone worse, Yue Qingyuan though to himself as Shang Qinghua dragged him all the way to the medical wing of Huan Hua Palace. It could have gone way worse. Thank Heavens he had requested Wei-shidi to accompany him instead of Xiao Jiu. That would have ended up with the Old Master Palace with a dagger on his throat for sure.

And it would be well deserved. Porco matusa.

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

YQY: *can't hold together anymore* SQH: SHIXIONG NO- WQW: GO SHIXIONG!! GO APESHIT GOOO!!!

this was so SO fun ashdfuahsdufahsudf and yes I've sprinkled a little bit of 12/12 SQH over it, I couldn't help it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I Airplane this so hard I didn't check what we know about YQY's Shizun but she is a boss woman now. An awesome lady because I said so lol

Now, to the Italian part,,,, I haven't studied Italian since?? 2019?? I'm very very rusty, and these are mostly curse words but please let me know if I said something weird OTZ

Stronzo: Shit, in this case "you piece of shit"

porco di merda: porco means pig, di merda means shitty, together it becomes shitty pig or fucking pig

Testa di cazzo: dickhead :D

Figlio di puttana: son of a bitch/son of a whore

Mortacci tua: .... This is a tricky one! From my sources (aka my Italian speaking friend) it's like YQY was cursing OMP entire family, including his ancestors in a really reaaaally rude way.

Sei proprio un rattuso che dovrebbe andare a farsi nel culo: "you are a real pervert old man and you should kindly go fuck yourself" we love a really passive agressive sect leader Xiao Jiu would be proud

porco matusa: again, porco means pig, and matusa comes from Methuselah which is the oooooold dude from the bible. idk if this one is right, but I wanted to call OPM an old pig lol

I hope you guys had as much fun as I did writing this and searching for Italian cuss words :D

And Long Live Italian YQY, may he finally go off and bite many people's heads like he deserves

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 1st

Pegging, Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.2k.

Warnings: Pegging; established relationship; praise kink; anal fingering (m receiving); anal sex (m receiving); fellatio; use of sex toys; sub!Copia; soft dom!Reader (but you’re still a little mean to him); gender neutral!reader (but reader does have a vulva); mild humiliation kink; hella fluffy because Copia deserves the world; premature ejaculation; overstimulation; tears; happy ending.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

It didn’t take much to get him all worked up. Depending on the kind of day he’d had, it could just even be a look that got Copia ready and waiting for you to do whatever you wanted. He was an easy mother fucker, especially for the right mother - or rather - person.

Which is how he ended up spread-eagle on his bed, one of his pillows in his mouth as your fingers went deep inside his tight hole. His cock was rock hard and bounced a little every time you touched a sensitive spot and made his hips buck. Although his eyes remained tightly closed and that was something you couldn’t abide by. Not only was he keeping his desperate whimpers to a minimum, he refused to let you see the needy look on his face. You tutted and removed your fingers from him.

Immediately, his lids opened in terror and his gaze snapped to you. “No! Per favore! Don’t stop, ti scongiuro!” In his need, he sat up and began peppering kisses all over your face. “Amore mio, per favore non fermarti. I need more, please.”

“But your eyes were closed, baby.” You responded, your tone somewhat condescending especially for a man twice your age. “You were quiet. I didn’t think you were enjoying it.”

His kisses became more ferocious but his hands were clinging onto your neck. “Non è vero! It’s not true. I love it. Ti amo. Please, dolcezza. Please give me more.” This was so far from the Papa you’d grown to know - this was exactly how the Cardinal acted. Touch starved and desperate. Yet here was the head of the Satanic Church fumbling his words and begging for release.

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. While he was still sat up a little, you moved your hand sneakily towards his hole and began rubbing over it once more. This earned you a loud yet surprised moan. With a little extra lube, you slid a third finger in and felt one of his hands clasp your forearm. He wasn’t whimpering as much, but he was breathing heavily, as though he were trying to stave off an impending orgasm.

Taunting your Papa was the most fun thing to do, especially when he was all spread out in front of you at your complete and total mercy. He didn’t expect anything from you, especially when you were knuckle deep inside of him. So when you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cock from base to tip, he screamed and bucked again. “Merda.” He whined. “What are you try-trying to do to your Papa? Do you want to kill me, dolcezza?”

You chuckled a small, evil laugh before responding. “Of course not, Papa. But when you look so deliciously tempting, I can’t help myself.” Finding that spot inside of him now that you had three fingers working at him was easy. Combine that with what your mouth was doing and he was convinced he was going to have a heart attack. Your mouth, now quiet had taken the entire head of his cock into your mouth, and was gently sucking on it.

“Amore mio, if you keep doing this Papa will not last.”

You removed your lips from him and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “You don’t want to cum?”

“I do!”

“In my mouth?”

He shook his head so you stopped moving your fingers. “NO!” He replied when he realised what you were doing. You continued your ministrations, rewarding him for his words.

“On my fingers?”

“No, dolcezza, please.”

“Well, where would you like to cum, Papa?” Calling him Papa while he was submitting to you felt criminal. Papa was for the strongest of leaders, Papa was for the leaders who bent others into submission. Papa wasn’t for the shy, clumsy and awkward men who willingly spread themselves for their partners. But here yours was - ready, willing, waiting, and humiliated beyond satisfaction.

“Non farmi dire questo.” His hands now were covering his face in embarrassment.

“I can’t make you feel good if you don’t tell me where you want to cum.”

He muffled something only his hands caught. So you gently prized them apart gently with your free hand to see his bright red face, and his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Tell me, my love. Where do you want to cum?”

He took in a deep breath. “On your cock!” He exclaimed quickly.

“Good boy.” Your praise affected him more than he would like to say, but his hole clenched around your fingers as it registered in his brain. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

“Sì.”

You kissed his lips softly before pulling your fingers out of him. He whined into your mouth at the lost of you, and as you tried to break the kiss he kept following you. He was clingier than usual. “I won’t go far, precious. I promise.” You said when your lips were finally free.

He chased you to the edge of the bed and watched you strap yourself into the harness. His hands were aching to get hold of you again, but knew he needed to be patient for you. You went to the bedside drawer and pulled out one of the dildos you’d both selected online months prior, and his eyes were completely fixated on it as you attached it to the harness. It wasn’t overwhelmingly big, but big enough that it would stretch him out more than your fingers would.

Knowing how clingy he was feeling, you went straight back to him and immediately wrapped him in your arms, his head falling on your chest. His hands gripped your waist tightly as he took in your scent. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He said.

“Do you think you can lube it up for me?” He nodded and leaned across to the bedside table to grab the lube and poured some onto the toy. “Make sure you get it nice and wet for me, yeah?”

He nodded again. Both of you were transfixed by his hand touching the dildo, wrapping around it and spreading the lube up and down as though he were stroking a real cock. You were both silent as you listened to the squelching of the liquid in between his hands as he rubbed, losing his mind to the thought of it finally entering him. As soon as he thought it was ready, he nodded and lay back eagerly. His legs spread once again, and you watched him deposit the leftover lubricant into his waiting and stretched hole. You waited until his hand was removed before you climbed over him.

You kissed his sensitive neck, and travelled all the way up to his mouth, where you gave him a deep and gentle kiss - another touch that made him whimper. He bucked up one final time, and groaned at the feeling of his cock rubbing against yours.

“I’m ready, amore mio. Per favore. I need it.”

You lined yourself up with his waiting hole. “Tell me when you need to stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

As you breached his walls, his mouth fell open in an ‘o’ shape, his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. You were slow with your movements, almost maddeningly so, and his hands flew to your biceps and gripped tightly. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, a lot more loudly than he intended.

You stopped. “Are you okay?”

He could barely breathe. “It feels incredible.” He propped himself up enough to reach your cheeks and began kissing you again. “More. More, please.”

You obliged and continued to push into him until the dildo was all the way inside him. He kept kissing you as you paused, waiting for him to get accustomed to the feeling. He, on the other hand, had different ideas. As he was kissing you, he also began to slowly rock up and down, feeling your cock move inside of him. “I take it you want me to move, hm?”

“Please!” He begged.

And so, you did. Gently at first so you didn’t hurt him, but as his moans became louder, you understood he was ready for a bit more handling. So, your thrusts got faster and faster.

Until you watched him spasm beneath you, his breath knocked out of him and his mouth wide open. You looked between you to where you were connected, and watched as the remains of his seed spilled out of him. Much faster than both of you had hoped, but he was so worked up you were surprised he lasted that long.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated that over and over again, tears forming in his eyes from his overwhelming emotions.

You were still inside him. “Can you give me one more, Copia?”

He seemed shocked at the sudden use of his name. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, amore mio. I can give you one more.”

“Good boy.”

He keened at your praise but hissed when you pulled out. You were gentle, tentative, but you wanted to wreck him a little more. So, when you were sure he could take it, you didn’t hold back.

His grip on your arm returned but this time much harder, fingernails digging in and holding on for dear life. Your thrusts were almost brutal, but you knew he was living for it. Each one punctuated with his sounds - whether they were outright overstimulated screams, chokes, or even the sound of his hole sucking the toy back in. He was practically singing. Your moans would occasionally join the cacophony of sounds, not because you were feeling particularly good, but because you knew he appreciated them.

You stopped once more to pull out and hear his groans of disappointment. “I want you to ride me,” you told him, “let me see you take my cock.”

Copia gulped but nodded. He had never allowed himself to be so exposed before, and he certainly had never been the top in this position. He felt himself getting shy again, and if it wasn’t you he wouldn’t even attempt it. With a hiss, he climbed onto you and lowered himself down. His cock was red and angry, and dried cum stained his stomach from his first orgasm and had been forgotten about until just then. He looked positively sinful, sweaty and blushing red.

In order to help him find a rhythm, you held onto his hands and pinned your elbows to the bed, giving him the leverage he needed to work his hips over the dildo, expletives in Italian being mumbled in between his whimpers. Once he found a rhythm and forgot how exposed he was, he let your hands go and began bouncing on his own, using you to get himself off. Your hands were now free, and one clutched onto his bouncing cock and begin to stroke it.

“Tell me how you feel, Papa.”

“Si se-sente bene.”

“Bene?” Your voice was back to condescending. “Only bene? Poor Papa, struggling to pull a decent sentence together.”

“I-”

“You’re so tight and desperate for cock, aren’t you, Papa?” He nodded emphatically. “Do you feel good riding me like this? Taking me for your own pleasure?”

“Dolcezza, per favore!”

“What, Papa? What do you want?”

“I need more.”

“More what?”

“Y-your hand… please.” You stopped stroking his cock. “No! You can’t do this - your - Your hand, stroke my cock, please!” Your hand gripped him again. “Tighter, please.” You obliged now that he was using his words. “Merda! F-feels good. So good. I can’t stop.” He was riding you harder now, his own words egging him on and sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“Do you want to cum, Papa?”

“Sì.”

“Cum for me, Papa. Cum all over me.”

Sure enough, his second orgasm spilled from him. His hips twitched erratically as he covered you in his seed, gasping for air as though he was suffocating. He couldn’t make any noise even if he wanted to - he couldn’t even hear you talking him through it. All he could feel was your tight hand wrapped around his sensitivity and still pumping him until he was completely spent. Not to mention the dildo still in his hole, keeping still while he wiggled and providing him with aftershocks that could bring his sanity crumbling down. He collapsed onto you, completely unable to move himself, and it fell upon you to make him come back to reality.

You stroked his hair and kept talking him through it, waiting until his ears stopped ringing enough to listen to your instructions. Eventually, he came to, and lay on his side after he’d painfully dragged himself off of you and waited for you to remove the harness and come back.

His eyes were closed from exhaustion and he jumped in surprise when he felt your hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry, I have to clean you up.”

“Va bene. Grazie, amore mio.” His voice was weak, but there was a lazy smile on his face.

As soon as you were finished, you came back to bed and wrapped him in your arms. “You were so good for me, Copia.”

He moved his head level to you. “You’re always good to me.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[smut-anarchy]

Own Me - Chapter Four

Tags: Dom!Mattheo, Gryffandor!Reader, Cursing, Blackmail, Anxiety!Reader, Dubious Consent, Spanking, Language, M**blood Slur

Word Count: 4,187 Words

Chapter Four: Reaping Rewards... And Punishments Too

How did my life turn into this?

After kissing you stupid in the broom closet Mattheo only interacted with you during classes. You were thankful for the break from him, your neurons still fried from his amazingly wicked lips. You felt lost, there was the part of you with hatred for his arrogance and the manipulation he’s put you through. But smaller, growing part of you was feeling the sweltering heat of lust, an ache not only wanting a repeat of the kiss but even more than that.

You’d only shared two other kisses in your time at Hogwarts, one an extremely awkward moment between you and Neville Longbottom during a game of truth or dare in your third year. Needless to say, it had been nothing you were interested in repeating with the fellow Gryffindor, and it took a year and a half for Neville to make eye contact with you again. The other had been a simple cheek kiss from Harry after giving him some valuable information you’d known of the Hungarian Horntail dragon he was set to face during the Triwizard Tournament in your fourth year, and though pleasant it hardly awakened any feelings inside you the way Mattheo had with his teeth and tongue.

On Friday night, your owl, a barn owl you affectionally named Hootie-Pie, flew into your room with a black paper bag and a green envelope. Softly petting her soft feathers and cooing a thanks to her you accepted the bag, tearing open the letter immediately. 

Halloween party tomorrow - 7PM. You’re serving drinks, Kitten. 

Part one of your punishment is in the bag.

M.R.

You felt your stomach plummet, terrified of what punishment could be in the bag. To your horror it was a black velvet strapless bodysuit with matching elbow length gloves, a cat-eared headband, a cat tail attachment and a chunky collar with a comically huge bell and large green tag that said ‘Kitty’. You didn’t know where Mattheo could even get something this tacky or racy, but you were pissed. 

Your rage only grew further when you’d slipped the costume on an hour before the party, that fucker had charmed the ears and tail to twitch and sway like a real cat, the movements being attuned to your mood. 

This was only part one of your punishment, so the logical part of your brain pleaded with you to behave tonight. You often had to remind yourself that Mattheo held your future in his cruel hands while you dressed in the costume, only adjusting it to add some long black thigh high stockings to give you a semblance of covering. 

You’d worn your robes down to the Slytherin common room, not willing to risk being caught by a professor or Filch in such an indecent costume. When you got close enough you saw Theo leaning casually against the wall, a mischievous glint in his eyes upon seeing you.

“Piccola leonessa, I’ve been asked to retrieve you this fine evening.” He greeted, doing a small bow in front of you. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the ridiculous image of the tall boy bowing to you, his joke slightly setting your nerves at ease. 

“Such a gentleman, Nott.” You grinned, “Maybe I got stuck with the wrong Slytherin.” He chuckled, his eyes dropping to look you over. 

“I wouldn’t say that too soon Piccolina. The robes, I’ve been told to take them from you.” He held his hand out expectantly, giving you a playful lopsided grin. You scowled back at him, but nonetheless shrugged off the fabric providing you coverage and dropped it into his awaiting hand. You refused to let any shame grow under his inspecting eyes, straightening yourself and sliding your hand to your hip in a challenging pose.

Theo let his eyes wander over your figure shamelessly, a whistle coming out of his mouth as he stared appreciatively, “Merda, you look good enough to eat.” 

Theo’s reaction was definitely a confidence booster; You felt weirdly naked without one of your chunky sweaters, not used to showing as much skin as you were. Still, you steeled yourself, embracing the boldness within so you could get through this night.

“Thank you, Nott, though I can hardly take credit. Mattheo picked it out.” You mused, growing more brazen under Theo’s gaze. 

“Remind me the thank him then.” He mumbled, his eyes finally reaching back to yours, the steel grey orbs filled with heat.

“Not that I mind the attention but don’t you and your little friends have a rule about mixing with mudbloods, Nott?” You wondered aloud. Since you and Draco’s little tiff the question has been on your mind, as long as you’d been serving Mattheo no one else had elected to use the word to you or in front of you. 

“The only one that cares is Draco,” Theo chucked, “And that’s mostly because he can’t handle that he wants to fuck Granger but has to settle for Parkinson. The rest of us enjoy our muggle relations studies from time to time.” Your mouth dropped open in shock.

Oh Godric,  I can’t believe Luna was right!

“You bunch of sluts!” You’d gaped, the information far too mind blowing for your brain. Theo laughed, amused by your astonishment. 

“Well then,” He cleared his throat, “Shall we, piccola?” He outstretched his arm to you. You rolled your eyes, but looped your own through his. He spoke the password and the door appeared, Theo accompanying you down the stairs. 

“So be honest,” You started, “Am I the only one in costume?” Theo wasn’t wearing one, if you were you going to have to fight embarrassment all night long.

“No, everyone is wearing a costume.” Theo answered, his voice betraying his laughing smile. 

“But you aren’t wearing one.” 

“I have a mask, I’ll put it on later.” You nodded. The closer you got to the common room the more your nerves started to rile up in your body. Theo, somehow sensing your unease, stopped right before the opening. 

“A word of advice, leonessa?” Theo offered. You shook your head at him, with the bundle of nerves in your stomach you’d take any advice. 

“Behave tonight. Make him happy and he’ll reward you.”

Your face scrunched up at the thought, making Mattheo happy seemed impossible, there was no telling what the unpredictable boy wanted from you. However, the prospect of a reward was enticing, you looked at Theo with curiosity, lips ready to ask questions. The Slytherin must have anticipated this, ushering you into the full common room with an impish grin.

You followed Theo through the throng of people, the seemingly endless waves of people parting for him with ease. He led you to the couches in the middle of the room where the group had set up for the night. Enzo, dressed as a pirate, was filling up two fire whiskey shots. Next to him was Blaise, who opted for his quidditch Jersey over a traditional costume. Across for them sat a bored looking Draco, a silver crown atop his head and a green fur cape around his shoulders, across his lap was a laughing Pansy Parkinson, matching his price costume with a princess costume of her own. 

Between the couches, lounging on a green armchair was Mattheo, a white button down shirt with splatters of red stretched across his lithe and muscular torso, a red tie loosely around his neck. When he noticed you and Theo he smiled, revealing two fanged teeth. 

He’s a bloodsucker alright.

“Well, don’t you look fucking bitable, Kitten.” He welcomed. His voice broke Blaise and Enzo from their discussion, their eyes landing on you.

“Holy shit!” Enzo gasped, his eyes rapidly roaming over your costume. Blaise nodded in agreement, looking over you with subtle interest. 

You felt your body warming in a flush, their attention and appreciative looks making you feel bashful. You forced yourself to walk with confidence, nodding greetings at everyone, even Draco and Pansy who elected to huff and turn their noses away at you. 

“I’m glad you like it sir, thank you so much for picking it out.” Mattheo’s dark orbs gleamed in satisfaction. Theo’s words echoed in your mind — behave tonight, get a reward. 

Though the other boys eyes had wandered on your body, taking in your formally hidden curves and skin, it hadn’t sent chills over you the way Mattheo’s was. Mattheo’s gaze slowly crawled up your body, from your heels to your faux ears, his observing, dark irises licking lustful paths of heat on every inch of your skin.

“You’re being so good today, Kitten.” Mattheo praised, his approval sending a spark of yearning into your gut. 

Merlin, if he complimented you like this all the time you’d be a gooey mess.

“You wanted me to serve drinks?” You questioned, hoping to get away from his eyes and the seductive powers they held over you. 

Mattheo nodded, pointing at a little alcove to the left where stockpiles of alcohol sat. “Do a couple laps and then come right back here. I’ll be paying attention so no funny business tonight.”

You chirped out a cheerful, ‘yes sir!’ and skittered to the table, filling a nearby tray full of as many shots as you could carry. Your eyes were on the prize of whatever kind of reward Theo hinted at, so you’d smiled at everyone, offering them a drink. Most of the partygoers didn’t recognize you, which was made apparent the more you’d walked around. Many of the pureblood supremacist students accepting drinks with thankful nods or lustful comments towards you. Still, you ignored everything, taking it all in stride and making several loops around the room until most of the bottles had emptied. 

When you figured Mattheo would be happy with your work, you weaved your way through the bodies back to the couch area. Breaking past the crowd of people you’d found him, though it was no longer only the usual group surrounding him. Leaned over his chair with her polished claws gripping the armrest was Daphne Greengrass in a fucking angel costume.

Yeah fucking right, if she’s an angel I’d rather be in hell. 

Mattheo looked as bored as Draco did, though Draco was at least partially entertaining Pansy with a few words here and there for the gossiping Slytherin girl. Mattheo looked as if he was completely ignoring the girl, his eyes searching the crowd. 

When he saw you approaching his smile appeared, face alight in interest. “There you are Kitten, you did so good tonight. I’m almost impressed.” You couldn’t help but preen under the compliment, a slight blush finding its way to your cheeks.

Godric, if he keeps this up this might not be so bad.

“What are you doing here lion, wander into the snake den on accident?” Daphne’s voice cackled, her face contorted with malice. You could feel your temper rising, the fangs of your anger ready to tear into the girl.

“I’m doing Mattheo a favor tonight.” You curtly responded, your voice holding a chill to withhold the animosity buried in your throat. Daphne looked between you and Mattheo, eyes darting trying to make sense of the scenario no one in the castle outside of Mattheo and his closest friends seemed to be privy to. Another one of her shrill laughs burst out of her.

“So the rumors are true! Riddle is slumming it with a mudblood! Mattheo, baby, you don’t need her, I can give you everything and more.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, making you want to retch. Her implication that Mattheo was ‘slumming it’ with you made you seethe in annoyance, as if you’d be here if it wasn’t for her!

“Nice costume, I wasn’t aware you could dress up as a pigeon.” You growled, your eyes rolling at her desperate attempts of seducing Mattheo. The boy in question seemed amused by you, his attention away from the Slytherin girl. This drove Daphne mad, the boy of her affections seemingly discarding her for what she believed to be an inferior witch.

“Excuse me? I’m an angel, you mangy cat.”

You strode over, now directly in front of her and Mattheo. “Oh my mistake, my second guess was going to be Buckbeak’s ugly sister.” You snarled. Behind Daphne you heard Enzo and Blaise snort, Theo’s soft chuckling next to them.

Buckbeak, forgive me for using your name to roast this bitch.

“Kitten, heel.” Mattheo’s deep voice cut through the rising friction between you and Daphne. He pat the arm of his chair and you followed the silent command to sit down on it, still choosing to glare a Daphne. 

“Oh, I understand,” Daphne fumed, “She’s a little fucking pet for you.” Daphne’s smugness seeped out of her every pore, her hurt pride fueling her foul words. “What would your father think?”

Though the party was still going on at full force, the bubble you were in was stilled to the point you could hear a pin drop. Draco’s gasp and Theo’s ‘oh no’ was distantly registered, though you couldn’t take your eyes off Mattheo, his entire body shaking in fury, his muscles tensed and jaw tightened. 

You almost fell off the arm of the chair with how fast he stood up, his face set into a menacing glower, the veins of his neck straining under his skin. “You don’t get to say shit about my fucking father. Get the fuck out of here.” 

Daphne sputtered, attempting to take back what she said but Mattheo only sat back down and glared up at her, eyes daring her to stay and test his wrath further. In an attempt at saving face she backed away a bit, before settling her eyes on you. 

“You’re just a pet Lion, you’ll never be worth anything to him.” She snapped. This time you were prepared for Mattheo’s wrath, settling a hand softly on his chest to keep him from storming over to her. You don’t know what came over you, but you kept your hand on his chest, sliding down the arm of the chair to settle right in his lap. His raging, fevered skin seeping through his clothes, warming you instantly. If he had not been such a ticking bomb right now his warmth would be almost comfortable for your state of undress. 

“You’re right,” You admitted, her face briefly quirked smugly, “But that’s still more than you’ll ever be.”

Daphne scoffed, scowling and stomping away muttering a string of unkind curses under her breath. 

“Gods, I hate her.” You released, looking at Mattheo. His amber irises darkened, resembling hot coals. His eyes bore into yours, behind them flickered something you couldn’t identify, but as fast as it came it went and was replaced my a mischievous glint. 

“C’mon you troublemaker.” His gruff voice demanded. Without any further word he scooped you up in his arms and threw you over his shoulder. 

You squealed, arms smacking his back as he walked away from his laughing friends, Enzo cheering loudly. 

“Mattheo put me down! This is embarrassing!”

“Don’t make things worse for yourself, Kitten. You’re already in trouble.” You slumped on his shoulder, surrendering under the promising threat in his voice. You sighed grumpily, frustrated that you’d no longer receive the reward you’d been aiming for now. 

Damn it all! It was going so good until that bitch showed up!

Mattheo took you to what you assumed was his dorm, kicking the door closed and tossing you on the solitary large bed in the room. Like you, it looked like Mattheo had no roommates. You wanted to look around and be nosy, curious about the things Mattheo would have in his room, but your curiosity was shattered after hearing Mattheo place silencing charm on the room. 

“You can be so mouthy, you know that?” Mattheo asked sardonically, “I wonder if it’s a habit you’re ever going to break.” 

“She deserved it though…” you’d argued weakly, not sure if putting up a fight would be worth it at this point now that you’re alone with the unpredictable boy.

Mattheo hummed in agreement, slipping his tie from around his neck. The motion chilled you, you were alone in his room and he was undressing. A stone of panic settled in your gut, your eyes flickering everywhere but him and hands fidgeting into the soft sheets under you. 

You were a virgin, you can’t do this. 

“Stand up Kitten.” On shaky legs you followed the command, your body tingling with waves of anxiety. He took your place on the bed, sitting down on the edge and stretching his long legs out. He motioned for you to stand between them and you hesitantly did. 

He pulled you closer by your hips, causing your breath to hitch, his warm large hands summoning terribly dirty images to your mind. His eyes raked over you, inspecting every inch of skin available to his greedy orbs.

“Fucking hell, Kitten. You look damn good like this.” His deep voiced rumbled, sending heat straight to your stomach. 

“Mattheo,” you breathed, your voice coming out like a sigh, “I-I can’t — I mean…” You stumbled over your words, choking on a mix of lust and anxiety gathered in your throat. 

“Did you think I was going to fuck you, Kitten?” 

All of the air left your lungs, your heart pounding in your chest like a bludger, every thump cracking against your ribs and reverberating throughout your bones. Your face flamed up in a blush, you chewed on your plump bottom lip, nodding wordlessly. 

“Don’t worry Kitten, your virginity is safe,” He cooed, his eyes betraying the sweet tone of his words with a mischievous twinkle, “Though I’m afraid everything else is mine.” He punctuated that wicked sentence by sliding his hands from your waist to cup your perky, round bottom. 

You slipped out a gasp as his fingers groped and squeezed your backside, the sensation igniting desire that rippled through your entire being. “H-how?” You released, utterly breathless by his hands again.

“It’s simple,” He chuckled, his mouth curved into a teasing smile, “Your face and body say it all. You act like every time is the first time anyone’s touched you. You’re stupidly easy to read, Kitten.” He pinched your butt cheek, causing your breath to stutter out of you. 

“Tonight is part two of your punishment. I’m going to bend you over my knee, you get five spanks for breaking Malfoy’s nose and five for taunting Greengrass tonight. Then you’ll leave this room, your ass red with my handprints, understand?” His voice drawled sadistically, his fingers still stroking the soft skin of your ass. 

“I didn’t taunt her! She started it!” You argued. 

“Oh yeah?” He hummed, removing his hands from you completely. You hadn’t realized until he removed them how warm they were on your cool skin, your brain yearning to call them back to touch your icy skin. “Then what was all that at the end? Sliding into my lap? Face it, Kitten, you were claiming me.”

You shook your head, mouth opening and closing trying to protest his absurd statement. Of course Mattheo wasn’t yours, you’d only done that because Daphne was being a bitch. You weren’t jealous, you couldn’t be, you had no right to be. Anything between you and Mattheo was strictly contractual, born out of your stupid decision to climb into a magical vase and break it. No, you told yourself, there was no way Mattheo was right, if it had been any other girl it wouldn’t have mattered, Daphne was just an evil bitch that needed to be taken down a peg, and you were fit to give it to her that’s all.

“Regardless, Kitten,” he interrupted your boundless thoughts, “That’s your punishment. If you take them like a good girl, I’ll give you a reward.” 

Your body vibrated with nervous energy, Mattheo patting his knee with a smirk on his face. You braced yourself before gently lowering yourself over his lap, your stomach flush with his muscular thighs. He trailed his hand down your spine, eliciting shivers throughout you, before he settled on your plump ass. 

“You’re going to count each one Kitten, you stop we start over.” 

You inhaled a deep breath, stuttering out a small agreement. His fingers traced the edges of the fabric bodysuit you wore, sliding it further to one side to fully expose your cheek to him. The air was charged with electricity, the tightness waiting to break upon Mattheo’s movements, you held your breath in anticipation. 

He brought his hand down sharply, the sound echoing throughout the room. Out of instinct, your hips bucked in his lap, a mix of pain and pleasure flooding you.

“One.” you whispered, Mattheo let out a hum of approval.

His hand cracked down on you again, harder than the last time, the sting making you cry out.

“Two.” You whined, your voice growing more soft. His hand lightly caressed the skin he’d just smacked, the featherlight touches juxtaposed against the stinging skin. Three consecutive slaps met your ass, each one harder than the last, and you crying out to count out each one. The burn of the five spanks was intense, the throbbing ache lingering on your skin where it would likely remain for days after this.

“So good, Kitten. You’re halfway done.” Mattheo praised, his voice slightly breathless. He slid the bodysuit’s hem from your other cheek. A part of you was relieved that no more would come down on your already blushed cheek, another part of you was mortified at having both sides of your ass be a matching shade of red. 

You shifted in his lap, though the slight movement was enough to have you notice a familiar wetness building between your legs. You hung your face, cowering in embarrassment that you were starting to like this. 

A sharp whack rang throughout the room, his assault on the uncolored side of your ass beginning. 

“Six.” You huffed, breathing heavily as the impact of his hand seemed to cup the entire fleshy mound of your ass.

Another one. Another count from your breathy voice. 

 “You know,” He mused, the deep timbre of voice murmured, “You should have seen the looks you got. I think everyone’s eyes were on you, Kitten.”

Thwack.

“Eight.”

“You know, I think even Theo and Enzo were looking at you.”

Thwack.

“Nine!” You moaned, the wetness between your legs no longer a small growing amount but rather proudly collected in your sex that you felt with every movement and spank. You vaguely registered what he’d said, deciding to file it away for later, too caught up in the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Maybe I should call them in here, so they can see how well you take your punishment.”

Thwack! 

The final slap on your cheek leaving an exploding quake on the abused skin, your piercing shriek calling out the final number. Tears were welled up in your eyes in shame but drool pooled in your mouth from pleasure, you forced yourself to swallow before he could see. 

Mattheo scooped you up and let you lay on his bed. The soft sheets bringing no comfort to your stricken ass, your fingers lightly prodding the tender skin. You squirmed, your breath coming out in shaky gasps as you tried to soothe yourself from the rough and arousing treatment. 

“You did such a good job, Kitten.” Mattheo soothed, his hands softly stroking the fiery skin. “Would you like your reward now?”

You nodded, sitting up expectantly. Mattheo brought out his wand pointing it at your necklace, mumbling an incantation you didn’t recognize. When he finished he tossed his wand somewhere in his messy room. 

“Now you have fifteen minutes instead of five to come when I call you.”

Relief filled your chest, you fought the urge to hug him, instead choosing to smile softly. “Thanks.” You uttered, somehow this felt more intimate than what you’d been doing before, even though your ass was burning in protest. 

Mattheo pulled your face close, grasping your jaw in his hands that were inflicting stinging smacks on you just moments before. “Now go out there, with my marks on your body and remember that you’re mine. They can look all they want but every fucking inch of you belongs to me.” He growled, a devilish grin taking over his face as he drunk your flushed appearance. 

You’d nodded, wincing out the door with a stumbling walk, your mind far too drunk on Mattheo to pay any mind to the party still going on. Theo happened to be leaning against the wall near the stairs, his arms holding your robe which you gratefully accepted. He cast a knowing look your way but didn’t say anything further as he guided you to the exit.

“Goodnight piccola, I hope it was what you wanted.”

I don’t even know what I want anymore.

You brooded, waving goodbye at Theo and hobbling your weak legs up the stairs. Your ass rosy and ablaze with arousal dripping down your thighs.

[probablyspooky]

Tesoro Atlantis [Vinny x F!Reader] P.2

[First]

You're a marine biologist, friend of Milo Thatch, who brings you along on the expedition to find Atlantis, allowing you a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the seabed for yourself, but you find more than that.

One by one, small lights were produced, looking up at Vinny you sigh a sigh of relief that you survived that. Realizing his arm is still around you, you feel your cheeks heat up, but something hard is poking you.

“Uhm…Vinny what’s that?” you ask nervously.

“Oh that?” he digs into his satchel, producing a clock strapped to a few sticks of dynamite, “It’s a bomb.”

“Oh…”

The clock's face comically shoots out, this action forces Vinny to frown.

“Merda…” he scowls.

Leaving the armored trucks, Rourke asks Audrey what the damage to the convoy is.

“Not as bad as it could have been,” she says, face inside an engine,”We totaled rigs two and seven, but the digger still looks like it’ll still run. Lucky for us we landed in something soft.”

Mole scurries around, sniffing the ground much like a dog.

“Pumice ash,” he says, “We are standing at the base of a dormant Volcano.”

Helga shoots a flare into the air, its large flame eventually becoming a speck in your eye.

“It just keeps coming,” Helga says, astonished.

“Maybe it’s our ticket out of here,” Vinny says, standing next to you, brushing his finger against his mustache.

The flare pops in the distance.

“Maybe not,” Helga frowns.

Mole scurried around some more.

“The maga has solidified in the bowels of the volcano, effectively blocking off the exit.”

Sweet takes a step back, flailing his hands around as he speaks smoothly.

“Hold on, back up. Are you saying this whole volcano can blow at any time?”

You watch Vinny trying to fix the clock bomb in his hand while everyone speaks.

“No, no, no, no. That would take an explosive force of great magnitude” Mole says calmly.

Vinny's clock face pops out again. Everyone turns their faces to the two of you.

“Maybe I should do this later, huh?” his gaze turns to you with a smirk.

Rourke grumbles to himself, turning to the group.

“If we can blow the top off of that thing, we’d have a straight shot to the surface. Mr. Thatch, what do you think? Mr. Thatch? Thatch?” 

You hadn’t even realized your best friend, Milo Thatch was gone. You were too distracted by Vinny [aren’t we all] to notice, panic rises in your chest as you begin to quickly pace around looking for your lost friend. 

“Milo?” you cry out, “Milo!?”

You feel the firm, comforting hand of Vinny tap your side.

“Don’t worry tesoro. We will find him. I’m sure he’s fine, books probably cushioned his fall.”

Mole scurries around, pressing his ear against a wall.

“I hear something!” he exclaims, quickly jumping to his digger and starting it up. The group follows Mole through his tunnel. You spot Milo running after something. Leaving Vinny’s grasp, you rush after Milo.

“Milo!” you call you, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a hug.

“I thought I’d lost you…”

You look at Milo, realizing you’re no longer within the confines of the cave, your eyes slowly pan to behind Milo, a waterfall, and upon it, the city of Atlantis beholds you.

“Sweet mother of Jefferson Davis!” Cookie exclaims

“It’s beautiful…” Audrey says in awe.

Sweet comes over to Milo giving him a firm pat on the back.

“Milo, I gotta hand it to you, you really came through.”

Your eyes widen at the beauty of the waterfall that beholds you.

“Have you ever seen anything so wonderful, Vinny?” you ask.

“Huh…Yeah, it’s a beautiful sight…” he replies, his eyes not on the waterfall but on someone else instead.

Suddenly, a group of masked people crawl and jump from the digger behind the group. Vinny steps ahead of you, an arm blocking your midsection as unknown masked people approach.

You can’t hear what’s currently being said, but you see the leader of the masked group remove her mask.

“She’s beautiful…” you whisper.

“She’s somethin, I guess,” Vinny replies.

You watch Milo wave his hands around, a desperate attempt to communicate with them. Mole for some reason whispers something to the woman, and she firmly knocks his lights out, applause followed from Sweet.

Rourke sends back a squad to salvage some items, while the rest of you enter the city of Atlantis. You climb into a truck with Vinny and Mole, squeezing into the middle best you can.

“I’m so excited!,” Mole claps.

You try your best to move away from the dirty man, your back firmly on Vinny’s side.

“Careful tesoro,” Vinny chuckles, pointing to the lava underneath the bridge you’re all currently crossing.

The group progresses, and you look at all the flying reptiles, plant life, and ancient architecture around you.

“This is beautiful…I wonder what type of marine life they have.” you say, your eyes jumping from sight to sight.

“Eh, you see one fish, you seen em all,” Vinny says.

“Oh!” you playfully shove him, “Don’t say that! Everything is unique in its own way, there’s beauty in every individual thing.”

Of course Vinny knew this already, feeling you press against him as you look around at all the sights with such passion makes him feel all warm inside, only for a moment, a dark pit of guilt swirls in his chest as he knows the inevitable will happen.

The small convoy trucks begin to halt, and in the distance you can see Milo, Helga, Kida, and Rourke enter a large temple. Eventually your car comes to a halt, Vinny stretches out his hand and helps you down.

“This is amazing!” you exclaim walking with Vinny and the group towards the kings temple. “Eh, it’s not all that great, been down here this whole time, can’t be that great, They probably don’t even have good wine.” Vinny chuckles as you begin to climb the stairs to the temple doors, not realizing the two of you haven’t let go of one another’s hand.

Milo and the rest come out, Milo say’s the princess is willing to help them, but the king however…does not. Rourke volunteers Milo to go with Kida to help convince her, and then informs the rest of the group that they are staying for one night.

The rest of the group veers off to explore the city. Vinny turns to you.

“Where to, tesoro?” he smiles down at you.

You smile excitedly as the two of you wander through the market area of Atlantis, taking in all the sights, all the goods that are being traded around, wonderful clothes, spices never heard of before, these beautiful crystals everyone wears around their necks as they work in their wonderful secret world. Taking in the smells of the food cooking, you might not know what animal they’re cooking, or why it has so many eyes, but one thing is for certain…it’s better than Cookie’s.

The two of you end up at the fishing docks, where the fishermen are reeling in marine life you had never seen before. You peer down from the bricks to look down into the water.

“Fascinating…” you say softly.

Suddenly, this lobster thing with a long tail grips the back of your head and drags you under.

Remember, you can’t swim, you begin to kick, the weight of your boots tugging you down deeper into the Atlantis waters. You hear the water vibrate as something large enters the space with you, your lungs burn as the lack of oxygen begins to cut off your brain function. An arm wraps around your chest, and you’re tugged up from the waters. The feel of cold air on your face as you break the surface of the water.

Gasping for air, as you’re dragged onto solid land, panting you look over to see Vinny, his sweater soaked as he looks down at you.

“Tesoro! Are you okay?” he asks, his hand on your cheek.

You cough, nodding, you don’t know why, but you pull Vinny into a hug, burying your face into his still wet chest.

“Thank you Vinny,” you sigh, looking up at him.

He smiles, looking back at you as your faces inch closer, feeling his heart jump in his chest as your lips are almost touching. 

Vinny stops and pulls back.

“L-let’s get you out of these wet clothes..” 

Disappointed, but understanding the situation, you nod, standing up the two of you head back to the group to get a fresh change of clothes.

Once the main group is back together, you all are treated to a feast…of still moving bugs.

“Oh..yum..” you frown, looking at the creepy crawlies in your bowl.

Vinny picks up this bug creature, with many eyes.

“I’m not used to being watched like this…” Vinny jokes.

Sweet pulls out one of his own from his bowl.

“Oh, don’t forget to eat the head,” he says, ripping the head off with his teeth, “ That’s where all the nutrients are.”

You watch the Atlanteans begin to turn in, Milo and Kida sneak off to go do whatever. So you find yourself walking in the cool night time air of Atlantis, feeling the familiar presence of a demo-man behind you.

“What’s on your mind, Tesoro?” he asks, walking close to you

“Just thinking about…how this whole place was hidden for so long, and I took the leap with Milo to come on this trip, I would’ve…” you turn to look at him, “never found such wonderful things if I hadn’t come alone.”

He takes your hands into his.

“Really? I mean it’s not Palermo, but it’s something.” he chuckles, rubbing his thumbs across your knuckles.

He clears his throat, moving the match in his mouth from one side to the other.

“But, I also found something wonderful down here…”

Like before, the two of you close the gap between your bodies, your faces inches apart, as your bodies begin to sway back and forth together in unison. 

“Really…what’s that?” you ask, leaning up.

Vinny begins to lean down, but the moment he feels your breath on his lips, he reels back once more.

“I can’t!” he sputters, letting go of your hands and squeezing his face, “I’m not who you think I am.”

“What?”

“I-...I really like you Tesoro.”

“I like you too.”

“But..” he grumbles, “I need you to be safe.”

“What do you mean?”

Vinny glances around.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod at him.

“Of course, of course I do.”

Vinny looks conflicted, he sighs and drags you to the trucks, opening the trunk of one of them.

“Sit in here, I will come back for you once it’s done okay?” “What about Milo?” you ask, hesitating to climb in.

Vinny rubs the back of his neck.

“I’ll make sure he’s safe okay?”

You nod, climbing into the trunk.

“I will be back for you I promise.”

Darkness consumes you. You try your darn hardest to stay awake, but you fall asleep. Only awaking to the sound of the truck starting up and commotion outside.

“Vinny…?” you whisper, rubbing your eyes still in the darkness of the truck. Suddenly an explosion goes off, causing you to jump, the lid of the trunk opening slightly as you peer through the crack, you see the shrinking sight of Atlantis as you travel farther from it.

“What?”

POINT OF VIEW CHANGE “BWAAAAAWM” -Ian the editor

Milo stares as the bridge to Atlantis collapses, the crew standing behind him.

“What’re we gonna do?” Milo groans into his hands, turning around to the crew, “[Y/n], sorry for getting you stuck in all-...where’s [Y/N]?”

Vinny freezes, a deep pit in his stomach forms as looks at the trucks driving away.

“Cazzo…”

WE’RE BACK WITH [Y/N] POINT OF VIEW  “MWAAAAAWB”

You hear the bustle of men, work being done, you try your hardest to stay quiet, but soon enough a masked man finds you, yanking you out of your hiding spot.

You’re dragged in front of Rourke and Helga.

“We found this one in the trunk of the truck” the masked man said, “What shall we do with her?”

Rourke looks at Helga.

“I say be done with her,” Rourke says, waving his hand.

Helga raises her hand, stopping your immediate execution.

“Well hold on, no need, not like she can do anything to us now, why waste a bullet, when she can waste away down here with the rest of them?”

Just like that you’re ignored, people working as if they’re not gonna leave you there to die.

You watch as they fire a rocket to the top of the volcano, the warm beams of sunlight as it shines down from the cracks. Rourke basks in the sunlight, happy to finally have his victory.

A giant balloon is produced from a cart, lifting some sort of crate into the air. You climb to your feet and chase after.

“What’s going on!?” you shout, running after Rourke.

“Stupi-”

Rourke turns his face to see the flying fleet of fish charging at them as Milo and the gang proceed to race towards you all.

“Alright change of plan,” Rourke says, grabbing your arm. “I see how Vinny looks at you.” He drags you on to the balloon, then he proceeds to signal his men to start firing at the fish. The battle is brutal, some Atlanteans begin to fall, their fish causing large explosions of blue energy. Rourke forcefully pulls you up as he begins to fire at anything that moves. A blue beam of energy fires between the two of you, causing Rourke to drop his gun. You look over to see Vinny salute at you as he flies off back into battle. 

Rourke growls angrily and begins to shake you, while doing so as he spots Audrey and Sweet trying to cut the cargo from the balloon.

“Looks like someone’s workin’ overtime,” he tells Helga, as she drops bombs onto them.

Milo at this time now flies his flying hammerhead into one of the side balloons of the ship.

“Lighten the load!’ Rourke says, throwing you overboard.

You scream in terror as the air rushes past you, the balloon shrinking as you begin to grow the distance. You close your eyes trying to brace yourself for impact, and then!

The ground feels a lot like a hand.

You peek your eyes open to spot the familiar Italian demoman.

“I told you I was gonna come back for you Tesoro..” he smiles at you, his firm grip holding you close to him.

“Vinny!” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, finally pressing your lips against his.

He kisses you back, feeling your hair in his hand as he continues to maneuver through the airspace.

“Shit, I should save you more often…” he chuckles.

The two of you begin to retreat as Milo defeats Rourke.

Milo reinstates the heart of Atlantis, saving its people. [i aint typin all that, you know what happened]

The people of Atlantis heavily reward its heroes with massive amounts of wealth and gold. The crew overlook Atlantis as its bright roads are now full of hope.

Your hand wrapped tightly with Vinny’s as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Every good thing must come to an end, and you have to say goodbye to Milo.

Kida gives you each a crystal necklace, smiling at yours in your hand.

“Atlantis will honor your names forever. I only wish there was more we could do for you.” Kida says, standing by Milo.

“Uh, you know, thanks anyway… but I think we’re good.” Vinny says, looking at you while motioning to the pile of wealthy behind you.

“They’ll take you as far as the surface.” Milo says.

“We are really going to miss you, Milo,” Audrey says, as Vinny walks over to Milo.

“You know, I’m gonna reopen a flower shop, and I’m gonna think of you guys every single day. Monday through Friday 9:00 to 5:00, Saturday until 2:00. Sunday…I’m gonna take Sunday off probably…date night..Maybe I’ll go in for a couple hours…you know…but August…I’m gonna take August. [Y/N] you got plans in August?” “No?,” you smile.

He turns to Milo with a smirk.

“I’m gonna take August off.” 

With that Vinny walks back to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You gonna be okay [Y/N]?” Milo asks you.

Of course not, you begin to feel tears well in your eyes and you rush over and give him a hug.

“I’m gonna miss you!’ you cry, feeling Milo hug you back

Cookie taps you on the shoulder.

���S’cuse me ma’am I’d like a turn with the nerd.”

You wipe your face and give Milo a final squeeze walking back to Vinny.

Vinny pulls you aside as you watch Cookie give Milo a literal bucket of grease.

“So August…”Vinny starts, “now that ya’know..I’m rich, you wanna…travel to see Venice?”

You nod excitedly, and then stop.

“With you?”

“Yes, with me tesoro” he replies pressing his forehead against yours.

The guard calls everyone over for a photo.

“Say ‘G’ochk”

“G’ochk!” you all say as the photo is taken.

At Mr. Whitmore’s basement room, the group stands now wearing fine clothes, jewelry, and positive attitudes.

“Now let’s go over it again, just so we got it straight,” Mr. Witmore starts, looking through photos,” You didn’t find anything.”

“Nope. Just [Y/N].” Vinny says. You respond by elbowing him, “And rocks. And Fish. Little fish. Sponges.”

“What happened to Helga?” Whitmore asks.

“Well, we lost her when a flamin’ zeppelin come down on her.”

Packard hits him with her parasol, “Uh…missin…”

“That’s right, and Rourke?” Whitmore asks.

“Nervous breakdown. You could say he went all to pieces” Sweet says, smiling at the group.

“In fact, you could say he was transmogrified, and then busted into a zillion…” the parasol is raised again, Cookie clears his throat,” He’s missin, too.”

“What about Milo?” Whitmore asks finally, looking at you.

“Went down with the sub,” you sigh, feeling Vinny’s hand on your head.

Suddenly there is the sound of digging, and your eyes pan over to see Mole’s clothes scattered on the floor and him digging into a large pot of dirt, laughing maniacally the entire time.

“Oh, lord, give me strength,” Sweet mutters, going over to the pot.

“I’m gonna miss that boy..” Mr. Whitmore sighs.

After the group goes their separate ways for now. You wave goodbye at the group as Vinny takes your hand to the car waiting, planting a kiss onto your lips.

“What now?” you ask him, wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling.

“Whatever we want Tesoro…” he chuckles, capturing your lips into another kiss.

[alien-the-ghost]

Hold still

Papa Emeritus IV x reader

Rated M for suggestive content, 18+ only please

Tags: fluff, established relationship, suggestive content, early mornings, Copia being adorable

Summary: Mornings with Copia were precious to you, but even more precious when he allows you to take care of him. This morning he allows you to apply his paints

Words: 2,255

Notes: a smallish drabble of Copia fluff because I adore him <3

Read under the cut or on AO3

Beautiful divider by wrathofrats

“Hold still for me.”

As regular as it became, every morning you woke up in his little apartment was special. He never dared to wake you, claiming you looked too cute when you were asleep, which meant that you were never sure which sight you were going to wake up to; him still in the mirror applying his paints, draping himself in full regalia, or sometimes if you were lucky you'd catch him still brushing his teeth with his hair disheveled and only a towel around his waist. There was one thing that was constant, which was the bittersweet aroma that filled your nostrils, the culprit being the coffee that layed on your bedside table. He always used his own mugs, usually one with a silly pun or a star wars reference which only made drinking the coffee he lovingly prepared even fuzzier.

You were so lucky to wake up every morning in his care, but even luckier when he allowed you to take care of him. It used to only be occasional to catch him with a frown and deep bags, knowing that despite a bad night he forced himself awake early. It was those times he reluctantly allowed you to wash his hair, help him make breakfast, and apply his paints for him. It took a lot of practice, and trial and error, but those mornings became more and more frequent until you'd practically mastered his look.

The stars were still awake in the sky when you stirred awake with a grumble, ripped from an interrupted dream that you were very reluctant to leave. 

“Oh, merda, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to wake you.” 

His startled expression sobered you up quickly, you couldn't remain grumpy when you caught him looking so cute, still in his t-shirt and hair tousled over his forehead.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled with a sleepy smile, “I always want to wake up with you next to me.”

“Ah you are too sweet tesoro,” he leaned in and planted a kiss on your forehead, “but even so you've woken up without coffee. Unforgivable of me and my clumsy feet…”

“Mm, seeing you like this is better than coffee,” you kept him there with two sluggish arms around his neck, and he didn't dare pull away.

“Like this?”

“All handsome and disheveled,” you let one arm down in favour of mapping out every little crevice and wrinkle that blessed his face, “you're cute when you're sleepy, I like waking up early because of it.” 

His cheeks flushed, tired eyes lit up staring back at you. “You must stop this talk in the morning, at this rate I'll never start to get ready.” 

It was tempting for you to keep him, the early morning peace was felt by you both. The breeze that crept in from the ajar window was surprisingly gentle on you today, fresh with a hint of pine dispersing through the air that was so heavy only a few hours ago. Aside from rustling sheets, the only sound you could pick up was the soft rumble of water from the distant kettle. Even if he wasn't Papa, you would understand why he chose to wake so early. But he was, and you knew he would have to leave on time, unless you both wanted him to have to stay away for later that night. You gently pulled him into a soft kiss. 

“Go and have a shower.” That seemed to be a mistake, a rookie one, you should have known he would be even more reluctant to leave now. “Go on…” You mumbled into his soft lips. His stubble grazed you, nose nuzzling yours in an attempt to coax you both into a morning of nothing but cuddling in bed.

“Fine…” contemplating whether to deepen the kiss, he chose the latter. It still took a moment until he climbed off, and with a startled yelp he felt your palm smack into his ass.

“Careful,” he warned, “or you're coming with me in the shower.”

“Oh dear,” you teased with a wide smirk, his warning tone didn't last long when your words were met with a loud chuckle.

“I'll see you shortly amore mio,” he turned back one last time before closing the bathroom door behind him. Your chest fluttered, it was rare these days to see him smile in the morning, nevermind hear his adorable laugh that made you fall deeper in love with him.

You were disappointed to see that he'd already eaten breakfast, most likely immediately after he woke up. His sweet smile embroidered into your mind, you wanted nothing more than to spoil him today. He deserved it, not just for being Papa, but for being Copia. The kitchen was in disarray despite him having bought the pastries, he always tidied up last thing, but somehow there were cutting boards and knives both butter and bread strewn around, likely in his morning rush. You picked a couple of your favourites, but not before rinsing all the cutlery and putting them in the dishwasher. He clearly made the effort in remembering and buying the ones you loved the most, and at the very least that was one less thing he'd have to worry about. It wouldn't be long until he'd call for you from the bedroom, just as you ate quickly without allowing yourself to savour the absolute heaven of the local bakery, he never allowed himself too long in the shower, despite it being one of his favourite places to destress in the evening. It was in the mitst of grabbing seconds when the trickle of the shower came to a close, perhaps next time.

“Ah! I hope the pastries were to your liking.” You could barely process his words, every time you saw his bare body, little droplets of water blessing the thick hairs on his chest, it made you yearn. Like the sunrise, it was a beautiful sight you could never tire of. “Hm?” 

“Sit down for me dear.” You gestured toward the chair that was sat in front of his vanity, various cosmetics, deodorants and face care products sprawled out across the desk. He gave you an inquisitive head tilt.

“Eh? Oh, oh don't worry you don't have to today. I feel good I promise.” 

“I know,” you used the towel around his neck to pull him closer to you until his damp chest was flush with yours, “but I don't need an excuse to want to take care of you now do I?” 

“Hmm…”

“Besides, I enjoy doing it. I like doing things for you, it's not a burden.” It was always hard for him to let you do even a fraction of what he'd given to you. Despite your words being true, it was seemingly hard for him to accept. Even so, you weren't about to stop saying these things, no matter how often they fell on deaf ears. Slowly however, he was starting to open himself up to it more, and today was one of those lucky days.

“Alright.” His lips curved into a small smile, “thank you amore mio.” 

“Hold still for me please,” you were used to him deadpanning for you so easily, only having done this during the mornings when it was unfortunately hard to get a smile out of him. Now you started to see the issue with him having to stare at you in a good mood. 

“Apologies, tesoro.” But his fidgeting did not subside. 

You held his face in place, running the brush along him gently and staining his perfect lips in monochrome. “Copia.” Your voice warned him, when his lips quivered and threatened to break out into a smile again. 

“I'm sorry, it always tickles when you do it. I'm sensitive.” You both couldn't help but smile at that, as he usually did he absentmindedly left his lipstick back at his office, which only left you with one option.

“Look, let me just-” your hands were more forceful this time, attempting to go over them quickly, unfortunately before he was prepared to hold back again. “I didn't realise you were so hopeless,” you chuckled.

“I could do it if you want,” he raised a brow.

“No. I am doing this and you will accept my love and you will hold still.” You let out a deep sigh when your words made him giggle again.

“Sorry, I'm so sorry. Please give me a moment.” 

You tilted your head to the side as you watched your lover attempt to compose himself. It was an unusual sight, but one that made you determined to wake up early more often. You’d both shared laughs, but you’d never seen him in such a playful mood. The only other times that came close to being playful was when he was above you with a lustful glint in his eyes. That gave you an idea.

“Hmm, how about this.” His scrunched up eyes widened as he felt his bare thigh rub against yours, quickly realising you were crawling onto his lap. Your darkened expression seemed to do the trick for now at least, “I think perhaps you need to be in a different mood for this to work,” he let out a soft groan as your hand traced the towel lightly, eyes fluttered shut at the sudden sensation, “don't you?”

He nodded frantically.

“Good. Because perhaps later I will give you a reward.” Truthfully, you never wanted him to stop laughing. It was the most perfect sound you'd ever heard, especially when it was so genuine and made his face light up. Still you didn't want him to be late and have to work late as a result, the thought of that right now made your heart ache. 

Though you slid off his lap, the gap between you two never grew, your concentrated expression transfixed onto his every little detail. He stayed still, not even a flinch now. You were unsure, whether he was trying to concentrate, or lost in his thoughts of what was to come later. The second option nearly made your hand slip. Either way, you were pleased with how good he was being for you now. 

Only the sound of brushes tapping on the glass could be heard, the water darkening with each return. Out of all of the ways you could care for him, this was one of your favourites by far. You loved mapping out his face, taking in every little mark and freckle he'd aquired over the years. It was hard to remain focussed, with each bump you found your mind floating further adrift from you, but the barrier of the brush between your hand and his silky skin made it possible to not get completely lost. The more you drank him in, every time you saw him, you saw it more and more impossible that he could possibly doubt that he was the most beautiful man alive. The symmetry was always the hardest part, but you were confident that you'd mastered it with very little error. It was a better job than some of the work he'd done on himself in the past, imagining the morning hurry back when he was still getting used to the additional responsibilities. You wondered how often he laughed back then, how much he allowed himself the pleasure of spending time with people, even with something less intimate than this. With that in mind you started the outline of his eyes, and a familiar throb was felt when you stared back into molten liquid desire. He was almost done. Finally he broke the silence.

“Allow me please.” 

“Of course.” 

You always let him fill in around his eyes. He was very sensitive to others touching them, the first time you tried he flinched at every movement, and couldn't help but well up with tears that ran down the still wet paints. It was a compromise you couldn't refuse, especially when you recognised those lidded eyes as he ran his finger gently around. Your thighs clenched, and squeezed together, remembering that same expression from last night's events. With this being second nature to him, it only took seconds, which gave you very little time to admire.

At last, he was done…

“Is everything alright?” It was hard to see his little microexpressions you were used to now, but his eyes were wide.

“It’s not fair…”

“Hm?”

“That the paints hide so much of your handsome face…” In the moment as he broke out into a grin, you couldn’t hold back your own. “See! You’re probably blushing and I can’t tell.”

“Ah amore mio, I thought the paints did something for you,” his tone was as teasing as yours earlier.

“They do…” It took everything to refrain from touching, “I just love you so much.”

His smile was as gentle as his eyes, when you felt his bare hand slither into yours. “Your handsome man is still here, but perhaps I’ll let you take them off later too, hmm? Before my reward of course.” 

“I’d love that, Papa.” You spoke with the same grin and an overwhelming warmth in your cheeks.

He tutted and shook his head, “just Copia here tesoro, even like this.” You didn't get a chance to apologise before he pulled you in closer, seemingly uncaring if his lip paints rubbed off onto you, “Ti amo.”

How could you resist kissing him after that? You knew you’d have to redo his lips, but in that moment neither of you could complain about a little more time spent together.

[sulfies]

Wolves In Romé pt2

pt1 here

“I know, I know… believe me I know exactly what you are going through” Ezio could swear he heard a scoff in response

The wolf under him gave a soft whine as he fastened the last knot of the bandage onto the poor animal. He was glad all his fingers were left intact from this encounter...

”I would say you almost sat better than me on my first time” Ezio entertained himself as he talked to the wolf, fingers smoothing the bandage he wrestled onto the beast. “And I do mean the arrow, you horndog… or hornwolf”

His tone teased but Ezio was not lying with his compliments even if the animal could not understand him. The wolf had sat surprisingly still, not that he had wanted to be bit, but he was fairly certain wolves didn't just let you pet and bandage them so he had expected at least a nibble or some puncture marks to remember by.

And now that Ezio had done the basics of medicine, the fact that he was crouched next to a grown wolf that he just helped was entering into his brain fully …. he did not know where to go from there.

His fingers reached back up to the furry ears, digging them into the thick fur to scratch at the spot that got the wolf to close his eyes in a sigh. 

Definitely not a normal wolf.

”You must have an owner, Cuccilio… You are trained at least to human touch aren't you?”

The amber eyes slowly opened back, focused directly to his own.

”Those freaks were chasing after you for a reason hmm? Were they your owners? Please don't tell me they were your owners”

The wolf just tilted his head and sneezed on his face. Rude.

”Yea okay, spray your nasty sylva over my face… not like I saved your hide or anything” He said as he crossed his brows in a fake anger. The reply he got was a soft huff and whack of a tail on his leg. As if the wolf was playing along with his ramblings.

Ezio’s voice was low and soft in the night “Now what to even do with you…”

———-

“No way!”

“I couldn’t leave him in the city!”

”Ezio… No way!”

”And If I leave him in the woods his wound will just get infected!”

”SO YOU BROUGHT IT HERE?”

Here, being the doorstep of Leo’s studio in the middle of the night.

”Well he did follow me all the way here… he is friendly Leonardo, I swear!”

Leonardo glanced at the monster with blood-soaked fur mouth… 

“It’s a wolf Ezio! Wolves are not friendly.”

”I thought you would be excited to see one! You told me one time how you wanted to study them…” Ezio placed his hands on his hips and… pouted like the grown man he is.

Leo sighed. “Yes a DEAD one, the kind that won't maul me to death.”

”Well, good thing this one won't!”

Leo glanced at the bloody mess sitting right next to Ezio listening to their conversation calmly… weird.

”Merda…” He looked back at Ezio’s grinning face “Where did you even find him Ezio?”

The other man rocked on his feet “He was getting hunted by those crazed wolf worshippers on the street… So I-“

”You thought it was a dog at first and jumped in, didn’t you…?”

Ezio snapped his mouth shut and looked to the side down at his new friend.

”It was dark…”

A snort came from the wolf and it looked back at Ezio with what could be described as a wolf's best attempt at an eye-roll… again, weird.

Another sigh… Leonardo leaned on his doorframe and watched the two most dangerous beings in all of Italy standing at his doorstep in silence for a few seconds.

”You cannot leave me alone with it…”

”I wouldn’t dream of it!”

”not even a second!” “I won't, I promise!”

Ezios grin went bigger as he made a step to go into Leo’s workshop only to get stopped by a hand on his chest.

”I am not kidding Ezio, I do not want to be wolf food!”

This time the wolf's snort was directed at him. Did he understand them? No… animals are animals.

Ezio looked down and with his head gestured to it. “Come on Cuccilio, Leonardo decided to be kind to us��� for now”

His third sigh of the night left him and he stepped back,

“If it was anyone else but you Mi Amico… but you need to clean him.”

Ezio’s shoulders dropped in relief.

“Thank you, Leonardo, I owe you one”

“You owe me so much I should just have access to your banking records.”

Ezio laughs as he walks past Leonardo, giving his shoulder a pat. “As if you already don't~”

Leo glared at his friend, almost forgetting about the giant beast till it walked past him like he already owned the place!

“Ay… it's going to be a long night”

He walked toward his wine stash.

—-----

He was finally clean, getting his face dried with a rough towel as he lay on the ground of the workshop.

Desmond was surprised Leonardo actually let them in. At this point, he was concerned both for Ezio and Leo’s rational thinking ability because he personally, under no circumstances, would allow a wolf covered in human blood into his home.

“Now, you are clean… as you can be at least, Cuccilio”

“Really? You are still going to call it a puppy?” 

Ezio looked back to his friend who was sitting at his table sketching Desmond’s form on the ground. Getting used to having a wolf in his studio with the help of a glass or two. 

Now that the initial shock, some-don't ask-how, was gone the artist was happy to get his observations. 

“Well… he doesn't have a name-”

“And he should not, you will get attached the moment you name him Ezio.”

Ezio scoffed “No I wo-” 

“Yes, you will.” Leo smiled down at his friend from where he sat, trying to get Desmond's back muscles right on his paper.

 He was getting sketched by The Leonardo da Vinci, in his studio, as a wolf… 

His tail thumped on the ground slowly.

“I get helping the poor thing, Ezio, but surely you aren’t planning on keeping him?”

Desmond’s ears perked up at that. Ezio put the dirty towel he used to wipe his face away. His other hand still underneath his maw, holding it lightly, while middle two fingers scratched lightly at a spot that gave Desmond’s tail a bit more speed.

Oh no… Desmond knew exactly what Ezio was thinking.

“I mean… I always wanted a dog.”

“Ezio-” Leo started but Ezio cut him off. “He is clearly not a normal one, Leo… took an arrow to the leg and didn't even try to nip when I ripped it out of him..”

His free hand joined to scratch his neck and even if baffled at his stupidity Desmond couldn't stop himself from leaning into it when it was digging into just the right spot.

“Look, he even lets me pet him. I don't think he is a wild one at all… most likely trained.” He looked back at his friend with a grin. “It's a tamed wolf, Leo! I mean-”

“Per l'amor di dio Ezio, You can barely look after yourself, do you have time for a pet? Let alone a wolf?!” His dear friend mused in a concerned tone. 

Desmond looked back at Ezio who was still just petting him with a soft excited smile. 

Oh no…He already made up his mind, didn’t he?

“Oh, who am I talking to…You already made up your mind the moment you brought him to my door didn't you Amico?” the only sane man in the room parroted Desmond’s thoughts.

Ezio turned to look back at his friend his smile turning to a sheepish grin. “Come on Leonardo… when will I ever come across an animal like this again?”

“And you plan on what? Making him a dog assassin? Teach him how to jump roof to roof?”

Desmond sneezed at the image that came to his mind of a wolf in an assassin getup. 

“And does it even want to be kept?”

That made Ezio look back at Desmond, his face showing an expression that said he had not thought of that aspect… Desmond realized he also had not.

He did follow Ezio willingly to here almost automatically but he didn't need to stay here… he could just go, he should just go but… then what? Yes, he was a wolf now, but Desmond was human first and his mind was, surprisingly, still his. 

He didn't know a thing about being a wolf! Would he survive? Did he even understand wolf talk or howl or whatever they do? 

Did he want to be a wolf?

No, he thought.

 He did not want to run through the woods every day hunting for a meal to not starve, sleeping in the open cold air, and waking up with no one to talk to. 

No, he decided. He would not run to the woods.

“Bené… you make a good poi-” Ezio’s somber tone was cut off as Desmond slowly sat up, trying to not move his injured leg too much and plopped his head right on Ezio’s lap, nuzzling into his leg as he sighed softly. Looking up he met his eyes, rich brown ones looking back at him.

“Per carità… forget I even asked” Leonardo’s voice supplied in exhaustion.

Ezio’s grin returned full force, eyes twinkling like the first time he let him pet and Desmond found that he could get used to being a lapdog if it made Ezio this happy.

The three sat there in the night as Ezio’s hands found their way back to Desmond’s fur, Leonardo’s pencil strokes filling in the silence between them.

After a good while as Desmond’s eyelids grew heavier, he heard Ezio’s deep voice speak up again “Now can I name him?”

A well-repeated sigh came as an answer “What do you have in mind?”

“Something strong, a good Roman name for a good Roman wolf…”

Desmond’s ear twitched, half listening as the soft rumble of the assassin's voice lulled him to almost sleep.

“Aldobrandino…”

WHAT?!

[coochellati]

Carnal Inhibitions

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Bruno Bucciarati x gender-neutral reader

Summary: Bruno takes on a submissive role, granting you total control over him.

Genre: Kinky-ass Smut

Content: Inappropriate use of stands, Bruno Bucciarati is a messy sub, overstimulating, edging, aftercare.

Word Count: 1,042

{Read on AO3!}

Drenched in sweat, the imperturbable underboss of Passione trembles under your touch, gasping as if he were fighting for his life. Eyes scrunched shut beneath furrowed brows, he reflexively attempts to cover his gaping mouth with his hand, but it's no use--the rope binding his wrist prevents him from reaching that far. His meticulously styled bangs now cling to his forehead in soaked clumps, the flashy gold clips holding his braid in place gradually sliding out of his hair.

Bruno Bucciarati is a fucking mess.

"Cazzo, m-merda--" he stammers, shooting you a frantic stare before throwing his head backward, letting out a filthy, guttural moan as his body abruptly jolts forward. "Please just let me--"

A frustrated groan escapes him as you suddenly release him and his stand from your grasp. He scrunches his eyes once more as he struggles against the ropes tethering him to his bed, but quickly resigns himself to his fate—he isn't going anywhere. He shoots you a distressed stare.

"I can't--I don't--I don't know how much more of this I can--" he desperately stutters, choking on his breath.

"What, can't handle a bit of pleasure?" you tease, a smirk plastered across your face.

"A bit of pleasure?" His voice shakes. "That's what you call it? This is torture! Ah--!" Bruno lets out a distraught whine as you begin caressing him with your thumbs, one for each tip. He's hot to the touch, cock flushed a deep shade of red.

"Oh, come on--you're a mafioso, you can handle it. Besides, I know you're enjoying this. If you weren't, you would have unsummoned Sticky Fingers by now," you smugly retort. He sharply inhales through gritted teeth as you resume your movements on him and his stand. 

"Too much, this is too much—" he whines, as the phantom sensations and tangible pleasure mix together, creating an unbearable amount of stimulation. You anticipate him to follow up with the safe word the two of you had chosen, but he doesn't, validating your previous claim.

Heartbeat pounding in his face, Bruno tenses, once again approaching climax. "Please--p-please let me cum," he begs, voice strained with hysteria. You can tell he's close--with an evil smile, you abruptly stop all movements, swiftly withdrawing your hands from him.

'Ah--Cazzo!' he cries out, releasing a prolonged, pained groan. With wide eyes, he stares at the ceiling, his lip trembling. He shuts his eyes, and the floodgates open—tears stream down his face, his thick, dark eyelashes clumping together. Each breath he takes is shaky, accompanied by soft sniffles. "I—I can't," he manages between gasps for air, his voice barely audible. "P-please, I can't..." The rest of his words dissolve into unintelligible jibberish.

You chuckle lowly, wiping away his tears. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry like this." Drawing your face close to his, you gently brush back his sodden bangs as he continues to weep. Finally, you give him a tender kiss on the forehead. "Alright—you've been good. I'll let you come." 

"T-thank you," Bruno chokes out, gulping as you continue massaging him and his stand with slow, deliberate strokes. With his mouth hanging agape, he emits a constrained gasp, his face intensely contorted in agonizing pleasure. His heart feels as if it's about to give out; a string of Italian expletives disjointedly spills from his mouth as he forcefully presses the back of his head into the mattress, body stiffening. 

"I'm going to--" his words are abruptly cut off by a sharp gasp, eyes widening as he tumbles over the threshold, vision fading to black as ecstasy engulfs his body. A loud, shameless groan fills the room, and his consciousness explodes into a flaming blast, body violently jerking as his senses become consumed by intense, rippling shockwaves. Pulsing in your hand, he releases, spilling out onto himself and the bedsheets surrounding him. 

With one final moan, he crumbles apart, his body going limp. Still in shock, he pants heavily, eyes quickly darting around the room in an attempt to make sense of his surroundings.

"Merda," he chuckles, still out of breath. A smile forms on his face. "That was intense."

"And you handled it so well," you warmly praise and begin stroking his hair, unfazed by its warm dampness. He lets out a content sigh as he sinks into the bed, body melting at your touch. The two of you sit still for a few seconds, savoring the moment before you reach for the baby wipes you had set on the nightstand in preparation for the events that had just occurred. "Here, let me clean you." He watches as you wipe away the mess on his torso, your touch delicate. 

Once finished, you cradle his jawline, eliciting a soft smile from Bruno. His deep, half-lidded eyes lock onto yours as you lean in close, noses touching. "I love you, Bruno."

"I love you, too," he whispers gently, releasing a singular, happy chuckle before pressing his warm lips against yours. A blissful haze descends, clouding your senses as the faint light from the flickering candle on the nightstand casts elongated shadows of both of you on the wall opposite. Everything around you is still, quiet, and calm.

Gently pulling away, Bruno lightly tugs at the ropes. "Care to untie me?"

"Oh—right, of course," you say, slightly flustered. He patiently waits as you release each limb.

Finally free, he sits up and rolls his wrists around, closing his eyes as he lets out a long exhale of relief. With one hand, he pushes back his hair and turns his head towards you, silently mouthing, "Thank you." You nod in acknowledgment and flop onto the bed, resting on your back.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, realizing you hadn't checked where you decided to lie down. "We're going to have to wash the bedding."

He smiles in amusement, leaning over you. "Yeah, but not yet."

"Huh? Aren't we going to sleep somewhat soon...?--OH!" Surprise flashes across your face as Bruno suddenly pins you down. The sound of a zipper tickles your ears as you become securely fastened to the bed.

With a smirk on his face, he looks down at you. "What? You think you're off the hook?" He chuckles softly, shaking his head. His eyes narrow. "Your turn."

[tsarisfanfiction]

Light in the Dark

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Romance Characters: Nico, Will Nico misjudges a shadow travel and ends up dumping them in the wrong cave. It's not where they were meant to be, but it lets them have an important conversation. TOApril Day 21 - The Sun and The Earth. This was another prompt that took me ages to figure out, but I've been meaning to practice writing Solangelo for the first time in a while (curse you, TSATS) so have a bit of a snippet of me remembering how to write these two again.

The by-now familiar feeling of tiredness washed through Nico as he stepped out from the shadows, hand firmly clenched around Will’s as he guided his boyfriend back into the mortal world again and he staggered briefly.

Their new surroundings were pitch black, a cavern deep beneath the earth, but as light began to trickle in, illuminating their surroundings, Nico realised that, maybe, he hadn’t brought them to the particular cavern he’d been aiming for.

Merda.

Will was going to kill him.  Luckily, they didn’t appear to have arrived anywhere that was teeming with hoards of monsters ready to launch at them and tear them to pieces – the opposite, in fact, with a complete and utter dearth of any other lifeforms except for the two of them – but it was still Nico that had brought them here, possibly got them a little bit lost, and Will wasn’t going to let him shadow travel again until he’d had a nap or three.

Speaking of Will…

Nico glanced over at his side, where he could feel the warmth of Will’s hand still in his, to see that the sudden illumination of the initially black cavern was stemming from his boyfriend.  Will hadn’t shrugged off any clothing, so it was somewhat stifled by the fabric covering his torso and arms, but the brightness more than made up for it.  It almost hurt to look directly at him.

That… that was new.

Not that Will could glow that brightly – he could glow brighter still, Nico had seen it in Nero’s tower, and when they’d first discovered that Will could glow and he’d turned into a human flash-bang, except mercifully without the bang – but the fact that he was.

“You’re glowing,” he said, feeling a little bit dumb as the observation fell from his lips.  Of course Will was glowing, anyone with eyes could see that.

Will shrugged, the shape of the light rising and falling to accentuate the movement.  “Well, duh,” he said.  “It’s dark and I want to be able to see.”

“No, no,” Nico shook his head.  “You’re glowing but I didn’t tell you to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will asked, sounding almost wounded.  Nico felt him tug his hand out from his grip, and made an aborted reach to try and catch it again.  “Am I supposed to wait for you to tell me to glow?”

Oh.

Nico made another grab for Will’s hand, this time not pulling back before he made contact with the warm skin.

“No,” he said at the same time.  “No, Will, that’s not what I meant!”

Will paused in his second extraction of his hand from Nico’s fresh hold.  “Then what did you mean?” he asked, “because that kind of sounded like you expect me to wait for your permission to use my powers.”

Nico winced, well aware that in the light still being emitted by Will his boyfriend could see it clearly.  “Not that,” he said.  “Gods, not that, Will.”

Will shifted where he stood, a little fidget that said he wasn’t quite sure what was going on – or maybe it was just the ADHD kicking in.  With Will, it could be either, or both.  “Okay, I’m listening,” he said.  “What did you mean?”

“You never used to glow until I convinced you too,” Nico pointed out, and Will’s fingers tensed between his, so clearly he was saying the wrong thing again.  “You used to say it was embarrassing, Will.”

The tension started seeping away again, which hopefully meant he was on the right track now.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you glow without needing to be talked into it, Will,” he said, his voice breaking a little and going soft, but Will’s face lit up independent of his glowing so that couldn’t have been a bad thing.

Will’s cheeks started emitting a red-tinged glow, the way they usually did when he was glowing and embarrassed.  “No-one told me to glow at the Tower,” he muttered, and Nico shrugged.

“I wasn’t exactly with it then, was I?” he admitted, and watched a flash of something cross Will’s face – the sort of something that promised the intended recipient was going to regret crossing the son of Apollo.  Nico hoped it was aimed at the long-gone Nero and his minions rather than him.  It hadn’t been his fault that he’d been knocked out – not really, anyway.  Maybe he’d taken on more than he should have done, but Nero had needed to be stopped somehow.

Will squeezed his hand.  “No, you weren’t,” he admitted.  “But what’s your point, Nico?”

“You’re getting more confident,” Nico said, and he hoped Will could hear the pride in his voice, because he was proud of Will for it.  He’d even called it his powers, instead of mumbling something about how it was just a thing that happened sometimes.

He felt Will freeze.  “I… am?” he asked, sounding completely baffled, as though the concept hadn’t occurred to him.  Knowing Will, it hadn’t.  Nico didn’t say anything else, letting Will think it through, sort through his emotions until he found the answer.  “Oh.  I am.”

But Nico had to laugh at his surprise.  “You are,” he said, squeezing Will’s hand tightly.  “Apollo’s pep talk finally got it through your thick skull,” and he wasn’t bitter about that, not really.  It was a little frustrating that nothing he had said had managed to convince Will that his powers were both a part of him and something to be celebrated and used, but at least someone had – and who was better suited to be that someone than Will’s own father, and the one he’d inherited it from in the first place.

His free hand reached up to catch Will’s cheek.  “I’m proud of you,” he said, knowing he was echoing Apollo’s words, but Apollo didn’t have a monopoly on being proud of his son.  “You’re amazing, Will.”

The glow from Will’s face got a little redder again, but Nico’s attention was more taken by the quirk of his lips as he actually seemed to let the praise sink in, instead of deflecting it like he usually did.

Nico got the feeling he owed Apollo several prime sacrifices during dinner for finally getting enough of a chink in Will’s armour of self esteem issues that he could actually listen to praise, now.  Hades would understand.

He probably wouldn’t, but Nico didn’t care.

He slipped his hand around the back of Will’s neck and lightly tugged him forwards.  Will came willingly, with no resistance at all, and Nico pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  “I’m proud of you,” he said again, keeping firm eye contact.

“Thanks, Nico,” Will replied, barely a whisper but close enough that it was easy to hear him anyway.  They stayed there for a moment, Nico basking in the warm comfort of Will’s presence and glow – which was very much one and the same, right then – before Will pulled away slightly, outside of immediate kissing range, but not so far that he couldn’t re-enter it on a whim, if he wanted.  “So, did you bring me here just to kiss me where no-one else could see, or was there another reason?  Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but this does seem rather excessive when there were several places in camp you could’ve taken me without exhausting yourself on shadow travel.”

Nico winced again, and Will’s newfound confident glow dashed any hopes he had of hiding it.

“Nico.”

“I… uh.  Miscalculated,” he mumbled.  “This isn’t where we were supposed to be.”

Will’s sigh was his unimpressed one, where Nico was in for a lecture on recklessness with his powers as soon as his boyfriend was satisfied they were in a safe enough location to do it – or more accurately, that Nico was in a state to actually absorb it, because Hades knew his boyfriend had no real situational awareness when it came to dishing out scoldings.

“Well, is there another way out of this cave, or are we stuck here until you’re recharged?” he asked.  His glow started brightening again, gentle but steady as he lit more and more of their surroundings.  Nico still had to look away when he started getting light echoes in his vision, blinking once or twice before he could focus on the now very well lit cavern.

There didn’t look like there was any exits.  Without letting go of Will’s hand, he knelt and pressed his free hand to the floor, feeling through the stone.  He wasn’t as good at it as Hazel, but maybe…

He sighed.  Or maybe not.  He couldn’t sense anything already there, and Will would go ballistic on him if he started moving rock around while he was already tired from shadow travel.

“We’re stuck, aren’t we.”  Will was resigned.  “There’d better not be anything in here that wants to kill us while we wait.”

Nico couldn’t feel anything, but wasn’t going to tempt the Fates by saying it out loud.  Still, Will seemed to have come to a similar conclusion by himself, because he suddenly sat down, the movement overbalancing Nico enough that he found his rear connecting with the stone floor, too.

“I guess we’re waiting,” Will sighed.  His glow dimmed slightly, enough that Nico could look at him again without risking his ability to see, and a warm weight rested on his shoulder.  Nico tilted his own head until his cheek landed on something soft.

“I guess so,” he agreed.

[faithstar]

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other. ( from prequelle era au basalt bc i'm WEAK ) @legacysouls

𝖕𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐   was   something   that   copia   was   far   too   familiar   with.   despite   his   elevation   in   status   his   workload   had   not   lessened,   if   anything   it   had   doubled.   many   long   hours   had   been   spent   within   the   ministry's   library   pouring   over   texts   &   attempting   to   bring   some   organization   to   the   papers   pushed   upon   him.

copia   is   dimly   aware   that   a   significant   amount   of   time   has   passed   since   he   stationed   himself   at   a   desk   within   the   library.   he   straightens   himself   up,   wincing   as   his   back   protested   the   hours   spent   hunched   over   his   desk.   he   stiffly   rises   to   his   feet,   letting   out   a   soft   curse   under   his   breath   as   he   stretches   slowly.   despite   the   mentally   taxing   day   he   has   had   he   knows   sleep   won't   find   him   tonight.   it   so   rarely   did   without   him   being   at   the   point   of   exhaustion.

he   quickly   gathers   up   his   papers   in   his   gloved   hands   before   heading   out   of   the   silent   library.   as   he   rounds   the   corner   he   runs   into   something   solid,   pulling   a   startled   sound   from   his   lips.   the   cardinal   almost   tips   over,   one   hand   letting   go   of   his   papers   in   favor   of   bracing   himself.   however   the   fall   never   came,   instead   there   was   a   hand   pressing   into   his   lower   back   keeping   him   steady.

❝   merda   -   !   ❞   his   mismatched   gaze   lifts   to   meet   the   silver   mask   of   the   ghoul   who's   arms   he   was   currently   in.   copia   recognizes   the   brilliant   green   gaze   as   belonging   to   basalt.   this   realization   only   causes   his   pale   freckled   features   to   flush   further,   his   mind   scrambling   to   say   anything   that   wouldn't   leave   him   terribly   embarrassed.

❝   ah   forgive   me   i   was   ...   ❞   he   murmured   softly,   unable   to   look   away   from   the   ghoul's   iridescent   gaze.   the   cardinal   has   never   been   this   close   to   them   before,   at   this   close   proximity   he   could   feel   their   warmth   seeping   through   the   fabric   of   his   black   cassock.   ❝   ...   not   watching   where   i   was   going.   ❞

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 22nd

Thigh Fucking, Papa Emeritus III x Plus Size!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Thigh fucking; somnophilia; needy dom!Terzo; plus size!Reader; lots of dirty talk; established relationship; consensual non-consent; Terzo’s drunk; free use; spit as lube; praise kink; body worship; cum eating; cunnilingus;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

When you went to bed that night, you were well aware that you’d be there alone. Terzo had an evening of meetings and gatherings, and he wouldn’t be back in your shared chambers until the early hours of the morning. You had a busy day the following day, so didn’t want to attend, but gave him a sweet kiss on the lips and sent him on his way.

Which is why you were surprised when you woke in the middle of the night, moon pouring in through the opened curtains to gloved hands raising your legs in the air. A panic washed through you until you saw Terzo at your hips on his knees, his hands wrapped around your flesh and positioning you as he wanted you. You looked at the clock: it was just after the witching hour. He was home earlier than he would be usually.

His eyes were focussed on your legs, his tongue now placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed flesh. He’d already tugged and manoeuvred your silk, babydoll nightgown off your legs so he could access your body easier, but you’d been so deep in your sleep that you didn’t feel it. His paints were smeared, partially because of his night of drinks and meetings, but mostly because it was all over your legs as he’d run his lips up and down, or accidentally whacked himself as he was moving your body. In his drunken state, he didn’t even realise that you were awake. Still didn’t stop himself from mumbling away as he pulled his incredibly hard cock out of his pants.

“Mi dispiace, amore mio.” He said, words slurring and voice so low it was almost a growl. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I cannot wait any longer.” You were watching him, trying not to let him know that you were awake and doing so. You let yourself be pliant for him, allowed him to take what he needed from you, whatever that may be. The sound of his voice, the way his words purred as he spoke, sent shockwaves down to your core and had you sopping for him.

He wrapped his arms around your calves and pulled your body gently towards him so you were completely flush against his torso. You could feel his hard cock, now dripping with precum as he positioned himself in between your thighs and pushed through, groaning deeply at the feel of your soft flesh wrapping around him.

“Sì, è proprio così. That’s it, pretty girl. Just like that.” He opened your legs just a little and spat down them, aiming for his cock to help lube it up and make the slide smoother, but his first attempt missed and landed on your nightgown. “Oh, merda!” He said upon realising his drunken self missed his mark. So, he spat again, this time hitting where he wanted to, and began thrusting again.

You could see his thoughts racing as he fucked in between your plush thighs, your body jiggling at the impact of his movements. He moaned as he watched your thighs ricochet off of him, and in turn your soft stomach and breasts that were practically falling out of your clothes. He was certain one particularly rough thrust would expose your nipples to him. And this continued to be verbalized as he thought out loud: “If I could reach them I would suck on them, amore. I want them in my mouth as I fuck you just the way you like. I cannot fuck you that way tonight, though. I am sorry. Papa had too much wine. In the morning I’ll have you properly. For now, I need these thighs. These,” he gripped hold of one, “gorgeous,” he squeezed the flesh in between his fingers hard enough to bruise, “thighs. Sathanas, your body is sinful.

“Been thinking about this all day, amore mio.” He continued, his thrusts getting harder the closer he got to orgasm. “Your habit shrunk a little in the wash, or we’ve been feeding you so well. You’ve gotten plumper. Cazzo! Mi stai facendo impazzire! I would have gone insane if I didn’t do this. So good. So good for your Papa.”

You couldn’t keep up the act anymore. His words were going straight to your cunt and making you clench around nothing. You needed to cum just as much as he did. “Papa?” You called for him, your voice a half-whine.

“Amore mio, I’m sorry. I needed your body or I might have killed someone.”

“Papa!” You giggled at his confession, knowing that he was mostly joking.

Your hand snaked down to your pussy and pushed one finger through your thighs and folds to reach your clit. The tightness he’d held your thighs together made it quite difficult, but you’d managed it.

“Oh, brava ragazza. Touch yourself for Papa. That’s it. Wicked girl always tempting your Papa to sin. Making your Papa so desperate he has to fuck you while you sleep.” He tutted in disapproval but followed it with a gutteral grunt. “You’re gonna make Papa cum soon.”

Knowing that playing with your clit would be pointless now, you moved up to your nipples. You pulled the straps of your nightgown down and allowed your breasts to be completely exposed. Immediately, you felt Terzo’s eyes on you, watching your hands like a hawk as you played with your sensitive nipples, teasing yourself as you couldn’t play with yourself to completion.

Terzo cooed, “is my good girl wet for her Papa, hm?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“You wanna cum so badly, don’t you?”

“I need to!”

“Papa’s got you, tesoro. Papa will finish you off soon. Talk to me. Tell me you want my cum.”

“I do, Papa! I want your cum so bad. I want you to fuck my thighs. Use my body for your pleasure. I wanna watch you cum all over my body, please!”

Terzo’s grunt became more like a scream as he thrust one final time. He only reached halfway through your thighs before he came, his seed painting the inside of your thighs and soiling the soft skin, making you sticky with him. His teeth nipped at your leg, fingers digging into whatever skin he could find as he held on for dear life, his orgasm knocking the wind out of him and combining with the alcohol making him nearly delirious.

When he’d calmed down, he opened and spread your legs for him, allowing you both to see the damage in the moonlight. As your legs were pried open, his cum had stuck together so that there were strings connecting both of your legs that snapped the further apart they became. Trickles of it ran down your thighs and pooled at your cunt, dripping from your pubic mound and onto your clitoris. If you weren’t so horny, this would be disgusting. But the fact that you were so wet and needy for him only added to your arousal.

“Papa,” you whined, doe eyes in full effect knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist, “I need you.”

“Of course, tesoro. How could Papa be so selfish? Let me take care of you.”

His tongue ran down your right leg first, gathering his seed and licking it into his mouth, swallowing it as he went. He then moved onto the other thigh, cleaning you up and driving you insane as he did. Finally, he dove into your cunt as you’d been needing him to. He rested the heels of your feet on his back and had your thighs trap him there as he began to work away at you.

At the first long, rough lick, you accidentally shrieked. His lips then quickly encircled your clit and began sucking as hard as they could, giving you a powerful rush of pleasure that had your back arching off the bed and your thighs clamping around his head. While keeping his mouth sealed, the tip of his tongue continued to move erratically as it worked various parts of your clit in different directions. Your hand was now entangled in his dark, unruly hair as he gave you the most exquisite pleasure, moving his head in all directions as he sucked on your tender bud to keep your pleasure as incredible as possible.

He went on like this endlessly, mercilessly driving you closer and closer to the edge. Even when your hips bucked and you started using his face for your own pleasure, he continued his assault, unwavering and refusing to stop until you came on his tongue.

“Oh my - fuck!” You screeched. “I’m gonna fucking cum! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He gave you one of the most powerful orgasms you’d ever had that night, continuing his intense attack even as you came. Your vision turned white in the strain your body was under from such a violent explosion, fingers tugging harshly on his roots despite how painful it must have been for him. Somehow, your voice was still working despite your lungs giving up, screaming through the intensity as though it would make it better.

Terzo refused to move his head or stop his ministrations even as you tried to push his head away, remaining at your core and stubbornly licking until he was finished. When he finally pulled away, you were able to gasp some air into your lungs, eyes falling upon his shiny face, a shit-eating grin plastered on there underneath your cum, clearly proud of what he’d done to you.

He crawled up the bed and gave you a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. His paints now almost completely gone around the lower half of his face, cheeks included, but his smile still remained. He collapsed on top of you, the weight of his body pushing you down into the mattress and keeping you there. He was sleepy now, you could see it in his mismatched eyes that he wanted to stay on top of you and fall asleep, using your softness as a pillow.

“Your paints, my love.” You reminded him, stroking his hair as an apology for pulling on them so roughly earlier. “Let’s go get cleaned up, hm?”

“I am comfortable.” He told you, burying his face in between your breasts. “Let me stay.”

“No, let’s go.”

He whined. As he spoke, his voice was muffled by your skin. “I may be an old man, tesoro, but I am still drunk enough to throw a tantrum if you do not let me have my way.”

“And I’ll never give you my cunt again if you do.”

He looked up at you, playfully offended. “You wouldn’t.”

“Would you like to risk it?”

He didn’t waste time even pretending to think, he pushed himself off you and gripped hold of your hand. “Come on, then. You can’t lay there all night. We must clean. Up, up, up, lazy bones!”

What an absolute shitbag.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[gimmenctar]

eu só queria a karina no meu colo pra eu mamar naqueles peitos enormes dela por horas 😔😔😔 ela me dá umas vibes meio mommy? eu faria tudo que ela quisesse sem nem titubear viu, deixaria ela me usar de qualquer jeito :((( triste e horny pq eu não tô com essa mulher no meu colo nesse exato momento

e ela molinha pq adora ficar com os peitinhos vermelhos por causa da sua boca :( ela é mt soft mommy, te usa de todos os jeitos enquanto te chama de princesa e linda, faz uma bagunça na sua coxa e geme só pra ver vc se esfregando contra o joelho dela. puta merda viu

[contreparry]

happy friday!! maybe something with the eerie prompt of (Patient) Under the watchful eyes of crows? hope it's an interesting one! -broodwolf221

Absolutely! Here's a Veilguard backstory for another Rook I'm working on for @dadrunkwriting!

"You must be desperate, if you want to drag me out of retirement. I was peacefully enjoying my twilight years, you know," Inas remarked. She settled back against the worn leather sofa and crossed her legs at the knee, though her joints were stiff. The chill coming off the canals was enough to freeze Holy Andraste's ample bosom, and it was enough to make Inas feel her age. She considered pulling her knitting out of her satchel if only to drape the blanket she was working on over her lap but decided against it. No drawing weapons in the nest, and her needles were sharper than they needed to be out of necessity.

Crows didn't retire. Not really. Inas only liked to pretend that she had.

"You haven't reached your twilight years, Inas, you stubborn mule," Viago De Riva muttered, his brow set in a grim furrow and mouth pressed into a thin line. Shame, that. He was far too young to have so many wrinkles in that brow, and he had gathered more since they last met. The responsibilities of a Talon weighed heavy on his shoulders. A spark of guilt flared to life with that thought, but Inas smothered it mercilessly. Viago was good at his work, worthy of the title and the responsibilities, and he had a good head on his shoulders. She watched him grow, helped him where she could, and it was time for her to step away and let the young take the ship's wheel and steer the Crows into the future. She was of the old guard, and Crows like Viago the new. Her time was done- let those like Caterina linger on, for her golden age had not ended. Inas was content enough to let others take up the daily work of a Crow while she ran support: gathering information for contracts, teaching the fledglings, maintaining the many poisons the De Rivas specialized in- plenty of work for those who weren't taking on contracts.

"Mind your tongue, lad, one might think you didn't know how to treat a lady," Inas scolded lightly, and she reached into her bag for her knitting. Now if she bought a pair of spectacles she might truly pass for a kindly, grandmotherly soul, harmless as a fly. The streaks of silver in her bobbed hair had grown more prominent as time passed. Once she might have dyed them, but no longer. Seduction was a tool she rarely reached for in the twilight years of her career- that was a young person's game, and she no longer had the heart for playful flirtation. Or, to be more precise, playful flirtation without meaning exhausted her these days. A good deal exhausted her these days. Hence the retirement. And the aching bones and the sensitivity to the cold. Merda, even the tips of her ears were half frozen! She ought to ask Viago to shut a window, but she knew better than that. Fledglings liked to eavesdrop, and if it wasn't serious business Crows let them watch and listen. It was good, harmless practice, and after ages of harsh training it seemed that a softer approach had grown more popular with these younger Crows, these new Talons.

Inas hoped the softness stayed. Old age made her sentimental. Wool as soft as a cloud passed between her fingers, dyed a deep ink blue as she began to knit and purl, knit and purl. She kept her head bent over her work, but through the fall of her hair her eyes flickered from Viago to the other Talon at his side- a woman, elven, pretty as a rose with bright and clever eyes. Inas kept her smile in check. Rumors were enough to whet the appetite, but it was truly fulfilling to witness the closeness and intimacy in person. Viago had always kept himself to himself, even as a boy- one too many assassination attempts tended to do that. Bastard royal children made for easy targets, but Viago was a Crow through and through and survived them. He never made anything easy. It was gratifying to see that someone eventually won his trust and affection at long last. It was one less thing for Inas to fret over.

"As to your request, I doubt an infirm, elderly lady like myself can assist you. Might I suggest you assign a fledgling to the task? The experience will do them good," Inas suggested, needles clacking loudly as she worked on a row. Viago looked annoyed, but the Talon at his side turned her head. Inas spied a smile crossing that pretty face before she looked away.

"You are not infirm. And hardly an elder," Viago sighed loudly, and the furrows between his brows deepened.

"Flattery, do you hear that? Hardly an elder! Almost brings a blush to my withered cheeks," Inas exclaimed, addressing the other Talon. "I do hope he sings sweeter songs for you, my dear."

"Do not answer her, Teia, you will only encourage her," Viago interrupted.

"Oh, do not sulk, Viago! I only tease," Inas laughed, and she set her knitting down in her lap. The game was all finished now. If she pushed any further dear Viago might truly be upset, and her curiosity was sufficiently roused. What sort of contract had their organization filled out that required her expertise? Viago wouldn't summon her for nothing, after all. He had been quite respectful about her desire to step back. So what could this mean?

"I suppose a new old Crow can be persuaded to leave the roost," Inas allowed. "If the work is good." She leaned back against the couch, tucked her hair behind her long, pointed ear, and patiently waited for a proper briefing.

And for a moment, brief as it was, Inas felt young again.

[ros64]

The conversation had left him with the unsettling image of his former stepmother, just as he had last seen her—disheveled and en déshabillé, yet as vibrant and radiant as ever. She probably wasn’t his stepmother anymore, but he had liked her. Later, it occurred to him that Claire-now-Fraser was still his stepmother… it was his father who had changed. Damn it. He clenched his teeth as he rummaged through the saddlebag for his canteen. That Scottish bastard had come back from his grave at the bottom of the ocean, throwing everyone and everything into utter chaos… Why hadn’t he just drowned, never to return? Never again.

“At baptism, you’re given a special papist name, and James is yours. And mine, too.”

He froze as if shot in the back. He hadn’t forgotten those words. The stables at Helwater, the warm scent of horses and animal feed, the straw tickling up his stockings. The cold stone floors. He had been crying… Why? All he remembered was a vast sense of desolation, absolute powerlessness. The end of the world. Mac leaving.

He inhaled slowly and pressed his lips together. Mac. The name didn’t bring any face to mind; he couldn’t remember what Mac had looked like. He was a big man, that much he knew. Bigger than Grandfather, bigger than all the footmen and the other grooms. Safety. A sense of constant happiness, like a soft, well-worn blanket.

“Shit,” he whispered, closing his eyes. And even that happiness had been a lie? Back then, he’d been too young to understand the difference between a groom’s deference to his young master and true kindness. And yet…

“‘Filthy papist,’” he murmured, breath catching as though he’d sobbed. “‘And your baptismal name is James.’”

“The only name I had the right to give you.”

He realized he was pressing his knuckles against his chest, against the gorget… but it wasn’t that kind of reassurance he was looking for. No, he wanted the small bumps of the simple wooden rosary he had worn around his neck for years, hidden beneath his shirt where no one could see it. The rosary Mac had given him… along with his name.

Suddenly, he felt his eyes grow wet. He was shocked. You left. You left me alone!

“Shit!” he shouted and struck the saddlebag with his fist, so hard the horse snorted and shied, while a searing pain shot up his arm, blotting out everything else.

La conversazione l’aveva lasciato con l’immagine inquietante della sua ex matrigna, così come l’aveva vista l’ultima volta, scarmigliata e en déshabillé, ma vitale e radiosa come mai. Probabilmente non era più la sua matrigna, ma gli era piaciuta. Dopo, gli venne in mente che Claire ora-Fraser era ancora la sua matrigna... era il padre a essere cambiato. Maledizione. Digrignò i denti, mentre frugava nella borsa da sella alla ricerca della borraccia. Quel bastardo di uno scozzese era tornato dalla sua tomba in fondo all’oceano, gettando tutti e tutto nello scompiglio più assoluto... Perché non era annegato per non tornare mai più? Mai più. «Al momento del battesimo ti viene dato uno speciale nome papista, e James è il tuo. E anche il mio.» Rimase pietrificato, come se gli avessero sparato alla schiena. Non aveva dimenticato quelle parole. Le stalle di Helwater, l’odore caldo di cavalli e del pastone per animali, la paglia che gli saliva lungo le calze facendogli il solletico. I freddi pavimenti di pietra. Lui piangeva... Perché? Tutto quello che ricordava era un enorme senso di desolazione, l’assoluta impotenza. La fine del mondo. Mac che se ne andava. Inspirò, lentamente, e serrò le labbra. Mac. Il nome non gli riportò nessun volto; non ricordava le sembianze di Mac. Era un omone grande e grosso, questo solo ricordava. Più grosso del Nonno, di tutti i camerieri e degli altri staffieri. Sicurezza. Un senso di felicità costante, come una coperta morbida e consumata. «Merda», sussurrò, chiudendo gli occhi. E anche quella felicità era stata una bugia? Allora era troppo giovane per comprendere la differenza tra la deferenza di uno staffiere verso il suo giovane signore, e la vera gentilezza. Eppure... «‘Schifoso papista’», mormorò, e gli mancò il fiato come se avesse singhiozzato. «‘E il tuo nome di battesimo è James.’» «L’unico nome che avessi il diritto di darti.» Si rese conto che stava premendo le nocche contro il petto, contro la gorgiera... ma non era una rassicurazione di quel genere che stava cercando. No, voleva quella delle piccole protuberanze del semplice rosario di legno che aveva portato al collo per anni, nascosto sotto la camicia, dove nessuno poteva vederlo. Il rosario che gli aveva dato Mac... insieme con il suo nome. All’improvviso sentì gli occhi umidi. Rimase scioccato. Te ne andasti. Mi lasciasti solo! «Merda!» esclamò, e mollò un pugno alla borsa da sella, con tanta forza che il cavallo sbuffò e fece uno scarto, mentre una fitta lacerante gli saliva lungo il braccio, cancellando tutto il resto.

[dhr-ao3]

For You and No One Else | Tradução

For You, and No One Else | Tradução https://ift.tt/RHaPCsB by moonletterss O fim da guerra deixou Harry com a mente limpa, livre de toda a escuridão de Voldemort. Mas isso significa que toda a escuridão e a raiva que Harry sentia agora eram dele mesmo, e de mais ninguém. Ele tentou cumprir seu dever, tentou fazer o melhor que podia, cuidar das pessoas antes de si mesmo. No entanto, seu único pedido para que o St. Mungos cuidasse de Severus foi ignorado, como se o homem não tivesse morrido para que eles pudessem vencer. E Harry se enfureceu. . "Você me disse, várias vezes, que ele estava sendo tratado. Você mentiu." "Você me dá nojo." "Ingrato." "Nojento." "Sem respeito." "Escória de merda." Ele cuspiu. Ele olhou para os dois médicos que estavam no chão e para a enfermeira que estava chorando de medo, "Se ele sobreviver a isso, farei com que vocês nunca mais possam pisar na área médica, ou em qualquer outra área. E, com toda a minha força, farei com que vocês cumpram uma pena perpétua em Azkaban por negligenciarem o tratamento do herói que nos fez ganhar essa guerra. Se ele não o fizer, queimarei este lugar até o fim... E me certificarei pessoalmente de que vocês nunca escaparão do fogo". Words: 10561, Chapters: 5/55, Language: Português brasileiro Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Post-War, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Remus Lupin Lives, Serious Injuries, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Healer Harry Potter, Almost Dark Harry Potter, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Politically Powerful Harry Potter, Injury Recovery, Healing, Seriously injured Severus, Touch-Starved Severus Snape, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Virgin Severus Snape, Bottom Severus Snape, Comfort No Hurt, Inexperienced Severus Snape, Lonely Severus Snape, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Soft Severus Snape, Protective Harry Potter, Non-reliable Therapy Procedures, Oblivious Severus Snape, Harry is a Tease, Massage, Foot Massage, Hand Feeding, Bathing/Washing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Nipple Play, Harry Potter Has a Large Cock via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/eqsK68L November 04, 2024 at 01:45PM