#reshape your nose

[something2believe]

the post by georgia (hi if you see this <3) i reblogged earlier got me thinking about just how LONG it took for me to realise that the reason i struggled making friends and had no love life wasn't bc i was physically repulsive 🥲 as a teen who wasn't totally aware yet, i must've formed that belief (it's a very literal thought after all) and it resulted in such bad dysmorphia!!!

#i was only 13 when i bought some plastic shit off ebay that was meant to reshape your nose (obviously didnt) like how sad is that... #i would lie if i said i wasnt still affected by it but at least i have zero interest in ever getting work done to change my face

[flowercrowngods]

“Baby?”

Steve lifts his head off the pillow to look at Eddie, his back arching in a much needed way after lying on his stomach for so long, and he ends up groaning appreciatively as he stretches his back a little more. It makes Eddie smile. All the small things do.

Overcome with sudden but gentle affection, Steve rolls over with a matching smile and comes to a stop lying halfway beneath Eddie, getting a glorious view of his deepening dimples.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie says, his hand coming up to brush Steve’s hair out of his forehead. Steve leans into his warmth a little further, feeling so incredibly loved when Eddie looks at him like that.

It’s infinite, what he feels for Eddie. What he feels with Eddie.

“Oh? ‘Bout what?”

Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “You,” he says. “Me. Us.”

Steve hums, wrapping himself in Eddie’s scent as he buries his face in his chest, his arms trapped between them. He can’t move. Can hardly breathe. It’s perfect, and Eddie always indulges his cat-like tendencies, as he calls it.

“Tell me about your thoughts?”

A hand weaves its way into his hair, scratching wonderfully along his scalp in lazy, soothing patterns.

“I’m gonna put pillows on the walls for you.”

“Hmm?”

“When we have our own place. I’m gonna put pillows on the walls for you. In the kitchen even, so you can sit on the floor and still be comfy. You can have a little nook for floor time with Robin. And it’s gonna be padded with pillows, but the ones that are still solid. Only a little soft. Still grounding.” Eddie mumbles, a little lost in thought like he’s still imagining it all unfold.

Steve melts, first rolling further into him and then back, so he can look up and meet those soft, soft eyes.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“All the time. Never wanna tell you about it so I won’t ruin the surprise, but, I don’t know. Wanted to tell you. You’re gonna have bougie-ass wall pillows, angel.”

And Steve doesn’t know how to handle this. How to take it all, take everything Eddie gives him and live his life an unchanged man. His heart is going to burst one of these days. It’s gonna burst and it’s gonna go everywhere, remind the world for all eternity of the love they shared. Built. Shaped and reshaped in all the ways they needed.

“Everything,” he says, his voice weak with the awe he feels, his own hand coming up to Eddie’s cheek.

“Hmm?” Eddie’s nuzzling the palm of his hand, brushing kiss over kiss to the centre.

“You’re— You’re everything. Can’t believe it sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Eddie teases, making Steve laugh for the first time in hours. It’s easy. God, it’s so easy.

“Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“Oh, I’m gonna be full of som—“

Laughing, Steve claps his hand over Eddie’s mouth, shutting him up and revelling in the giggle that follows before Eddie nips on his palm.

“I hate you,” Steve grins, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle.

“Yeah, well,” he hums, fond affection settling permanently on that pretty, pretty face. “‘M still gonna put pillows on the wall for you.”

Steve sighs, hoping to relieve some of the intensity he’s feeling. It’s overwhelming, even after all this time.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” Eddie whispers, hovering above him in an almost-kiss. “Endlessly.”

@puppy-steve i love you. i’d put pillows on the wall for you 🤍🌷

🤍 permanent tag list gang (i hope this is okay even though it’s only a tiny thing) (and maybe some reprieve from all my current angst): @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off)

#steddie fic #steddie #dio words #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio’s steddie ramblings #floor time #<- going back to my OG steddie ways even if it’s only implied #they’re soooo in love smh #cj i’m holding you ily so much i miss talking to you (i just suck) but pls this is for you i hope it makes things better 🥺🤍

[specialistscosmeticcentre]

Best Centre for Rhinoplasty in Kerala? We Found the One!

The specialists cosmetic centre is the Best Centre for Rhinoplasty in Kerala. It offers world-class treatments that are perfect for reshaping your nose. The clinic has a team of experts who are passionate about their work and are committed to providing the best possible service to their patients. They use state-of-the-art equipment and techniques to give you the perfect result.

#Best Centre for Rhinoplasty in Kerala #reshaping your nose #Rhinoplasty in Kerala #Rhinoplasty #beauties #beauttiful girls #beautiful

[dudecunt]

mom who slaps and hauls her bratty son around to put him on his knees, the outline of her cock hard and obvious in her sweats in front of his waiting face. he's trembling, afraid, but not even crying, more confused than anything. when she tugs her waistband down it frees her dick, bouncing, angry with arousal in front of his face. before he can even hesitate she's pinching his nose, waiting for him to splutter before clamping his mouth shut. she laughs darkly seeing his face, the rage and disbelief in his eyes amusing to her, nostrils closed beneath her fingers. he shudders in...disgust, yes, when she bumps her cock against his lips, a glob of thick precum sticking to the seam of his mouth.

"open your fucking mouth you bratty bitch," she hisses, taking her free hand to slap his cheek hard. "open it or else you don't get to breathe."

he's stubborn, but he has to gasp for air eventually, the tip of her cock keeping his lips open. he thinks for a moment about biting. this was so fucked up he could barely believe it was happening. she grits her teeth, sliding more of her cock into his mouth, and it's unreal, all of it. "don't fucking think about it unless you want your asshole destroyed today. i'll leave you naked on the fucking street after. watch your teeth."

she allows him to breathe while coaxing his throat open, and he feels her shiver against him when his nose is buried in her pubes. he gags at the intrusion of his throat, spit flooding around her cock and dribbling partially to the floor. unbelievably, she gets harder in his mouth.

"attaboy," she mutters, which he ignores, trying to shift around in his place on the floor from pure discomfort, nothing else. his eyes flutter back when she pulls him off her cock slow to the tip, then sliding all the way back in, her answering moans each time she taps the back of his throat and feels it spasm rich and pleased. his hands grip his own thighs clumsily for any sort of anchorage, trying to cope with something so fucking big reshaping his throat.

she pulls him off her cock and he can't help but, for a moment, watch it bob in front of his face, strings of spit connecting all over its length to his tongue and lips, and he sucks in desperate puffs of air, a mix of thick saliva and precum spilling down his chin to his t-shirt. he looks back up at her, feeling her tug at his hair a little and he jolts, trying his best to stay perfectly still even as she jerks her creamy cock head right in front over him. "mom," he grits, sounding way less angry than he planned on sounding, something like a fucking whine underlying his words.

she chuckles, sounding a bit surprised. "fuck," she sighs, "you're so cute. you look like you like this."

he scoffs. "why th'fuck --" and he's cut off by her slapping the length of her cock against his face, pushing her balls against his lips. "mom stop. y'rfucking sick, i hate you," he tries, more muffled as she groans looking down at him totally degraded.

"such a little shit. suck my balls."

he's a little weirded out at the speed at which he listens, but he's just doing it so this is over soon. she seems to be getting close from all the stuttered moans and whimpery gasps she's letting out. she fists the tip of her cock, still laying on his face as he lavishes her sac with his tongue, and then her hips are jolting. he feels her balls tightening, the pulse of her heavy dick, and horrifyingly, his eyelids flutter with the rawness of it all. something definitive stirs in his gut when her cum hits his hair, his entire body shivering, mouth still working at her sac.

"knew you were a slut," she murmurs, "fucking whore. is this why you run through so many girlfriends?" she spits, yanking him away from her, lugging him back up to drag him to her queen bed and toss him over its edge. he bows at his waist when he stumbles, face burning with mortification. "what the fuck are you talking about," he says, voice hoarse, trying to get back up only for his mother to manhandle him fully onto the bed. he knows. he already knows, but he feigns ignorance, hoping she'll drop it --

she's yanking his shirt off now, ignoring his squeak of shock to palm at his tender tits and thumb at his nipples. she slaps the hand looking to grab at her arms and do something, shove her away, anything, before simply ignoring his continued pushing and pulling at her working hands. "mom, mom, stop--"

"i'm talking about you and those seedy fuckin' girls you're always bringing in my house," she mutters, her hands trailing down to his stomach to massage there and against his waist in a move that's so oddly soft his efforts falter for a moment. "wha'?" he says, sounding so stupid, so dizzied.

"god, they're awful," and she's yanking his joggers off along with his briefs to toss them across the room completely, "wondered what you saw in them until i kept hearing you getting drilled through your fuckin' bed through the walls. then you dump 'em like it's nothing."

she tugs him down towards her by his hips, and only then does he realize he's stopped fighting, eyes blown wide as he listens to his mother's admissions. "that's --" and fuck, she's spreading his legs to get between them, they cannot do this. "wait, mom," he says, rushed, voice dying when she lowers herself down to his -- oh. his throbbing, soaked cunt.

he's dripping down his asshole to the sheets. a hint of grating, infuriating smugness underlies her face. he glares as best he can, but he feels like he just looks dumb.

"huh," she says simply, worming her arms between his legs so she can spread his pussy wide with her thumbs. it feels like lightning shooting through his body, and he twitches with it. fuck.

"guess i was right. did all that just to piss me off, huh. needed mom to fuck you properly?"

he squeezes his eyes shut, even as he feels globs of slick gushing from his hole. "you're so disgusting. you're so fucking --"

his breath catches when her lips kiss his clit, and now all of his effort and energy is going into not making noise. maybe the -- the wetness is a fluke. maybe it's just his body protecting him, he thinks weakly as her tongue slips down to flutter against his hole and clit in tandem. his hips jerk, her mouth hot against his cunt, dipping down, nose tapping against the throbbing nub as she drinks down his juices. yeah, maybe his body is just preparing...in case she tries to rape him with her cock. she's big, after all. pathetically, his breath catches on a whine and he gushes even more. this can't be real.

begrudgingly, he realizes how much better she is at this than any of his shitty girlfriends. he's...admittedly, he's never been this messy before either. he tries not to think about it and moves to tangle his hands in his mom's hair, tugging -- away, he thinks...?

she grunts, ignoring the pitiful amount of pressure applied to her scalp, laving a wet, expert tongue against the pulsing bud in her mouth. "christ, you taste incredible," she whispers, and his whole body twitches even more, head rolling back. he's trying to understand why, how...what's going on? he's throbbing so badly. her arms are wrapped around his thighs and they're so warm, so secure. too late does he notice himself rocking up into her mouth.

"fuck," he manages, sounding wet and crackly, disbelieving. "mom, pl --" and he stops himself, shaking his head. no fucking way. something coils tight in his stomach, sinking down into his core. no WAY. he can't.

"y'can," she encourages, her voice reverberating against his pussy, her tongue and lips working him open, worshipping his clit, stimulating him in ways he thought were exaggerations before his mom of all fucking people proved his beliefs wrong.

awfully, his body starts to spasm. "'mgonna cum," he says, sounding fucking miserable even as his body radiates pure heat, singing along with her ministrations.

she pulls away.

the denial feels like a punch to the gut and a blessing all at once. "holyshit," he rushes out, a mixture of gratitude and pure irritation flooding throughout him. "oh my god." he closes his eyes, unwilling to look at her.

he tries to scramble away but she's tugging him back down against her, both legs pressed together and held against one of her shoulders. his eyes flash open. she can't be serious. "mom, don't. seriously," he rushes out, looking her right in her eyes while he tries not to crumble under her gaze, filthy and predatory. she licks her lips. "so you weren't being serious before?"

"idon't --" he starts, sobbing once when she lowers her waistband completely, not bothering to shed any clothes fully. "you know that's not what i meant please. please mom," he says, voice shaking, and now the tears are coming, hot and streaming down his face. "i'm ovulating. you can't, you can't."

she lets out a sigh that's all rumble. "jesus fucking christ," she mumbles, seeming actually conflicted. her cock's pressed up against his thighs, hard again, seemingly even more so. but she can't, they shouldn't. all the wrongness that clouded over as his orgasm reached closer just moments before has started to roll over him, nausea in his stomach along with pure white-hot arousal. horrifically, it doesn't cut into any of it, doesn't stop how bad his boycunt is pulsing for his mom, how slick continues to pool under the small of his back. "we can't," he says, weak, disgusted with himself. because he doesn't know if he could say the same about not wanting to.

his mom looks to the ceiling, eyes closed, dick pulsing. he feels a bit of precum leak from her. he takes in the line of her throat, the shaky, heavy breaths she's trying to take in, her plump lips, full lashes. he's not going to think about how pretty she is right now. unbelievable.

"ugh," she decides, tugging his legs open. "fuck it. i'll get you a plan B. i'm gonna breed the fuck out of you," and despite his sputtering, his little nononos and mom you can'ts, she's pushing inside him with a horrifying ease.

he's so wet, so open, and she didn't even finger him but he...

"you're taking me so well," she coos, hands pressed down on his thighs, only smiling down at his tear-stained, terrified face. her eyes are blown completely black. "fuck," she husks, hips stuttering halfway in his cunt. "calm down, honey. you're squeezing me too tight."

something in him snaps. with clumsy hands, he covers hers with his own gently. "'msorry," he blurts, trying to relax. he's so fucking turned on. he's so turned on he can't believe it. "pull --" he chokes, hips pathetically trying to grind forward despite the broken request. "mommy, pull out, i need to --"

she groans at the name, one he still calls her every so often playfully -- he swore it was innocent, but it has such a dark tinge to it now. and she listens, cock slipping out so he can squirt all over it and her sheets with a drunken moan. she chuckles, working her dick back in.

"y'rso..." he starts, feeling her reach even deeper in him. "so big, mom." it's breathy, strung out, and he whimpers like a dog when she starts fucking him gently with a little more than half her length, working him open with long, steady strokes. "please."

"please what, huh?" she sounds a little winded already. with each push she's sinking deeper into his pussy, his fertile pussy, hissing at the feeling of his cunt soaking her cock in creamy wetness. he wants it, wants her fucking load, wants multiple.

"all of it," he babbles, "want it all inside, gimme it, please."

she closes her eyes carefully, hips stopping, and he sobs, trying to rock forward under her pin to no avail. they inch back open, low, primal. "yeah," she whispers, dick sliding further in and fuck, fuck yes, her balls are pressed fully up against his hole. "like this?"

he can't respond, other than fully body twitches around her fat cock. she laughs, evil, low, and then grinds her dick inside him, allowing his pussy to nurse hungrily on it as much as it wants. "i love you, mom," he admits weakly, completely broken, his body thrumming with heat.

"god," she gasps, "i love you so much, kid," and she lowers herself, hands guiding his legs around her waist so she can give him tongue kisses, both their mouths spit-slick and molten-hot. he's never had sex like this before. he doesn't wanna stop having it, doesn't want this to end.

in the midst of sloppy kisses, her thrusts lengthen, his pussy sopping wet and noisy around her. she pulls away reluctantly, spit snapping from between their mouths so she can press down on his legs to mate him, his calves wobbling and toes curling mid air as she pounds him properly.

"your mom's gonna get you pregnant," she says, gritty, a new, hungry roughness, sentence broken up by nasty thrusts. "who's pussy is this?"

"yooours," he croaks, gushing and squirting around his mom's dick now, no longer needing her to pull out with how open and ready his boyhole is. "'s your pussy, mom, breed me --"

she pulls out completely and he chokes on his own spit, body wracked with uncontrollable tremors as his cunt clenches around nothing. she's staring down at his pussy in awe, and he can see the glaze of juices he's left on her dick, the stream of precum she squirts onto the bed just tracking her eyes up the line of his body.

"just needed to fuck you to get you to obey," she mumbles, sheathing herself balls deep once more. as soon as her cockhead squishes against his cervix his body is quivering with a silent orgasm, squirt splashing against her pubes and all over her dick, milking her cock, begging for a load swimming with babies. he's babbling nonsense, eyes rolled back, hands limp as they rest atop his womb.

"fucking --" she starts, voice almost unrecognizable as she drills his pussy with ignited vigor, extending an already mindmelting orgasm. wet, filthy slaps fill the room, unable to block out his submissive whines and squeals and her grunts of effort. "take that fucking dick."

he doesn't quite recognize his voice anymore once he's three...four minutes into an unending orgasm? her stamina is ridiculous. under the bitch moans erupting from his throat, she's growling, muttering like an animal about fucking him up for anyone else, turning him into an incubator. he agrees, says yes to all of it, wants it as long as it means he'll keep getting fucked by her like this.

six minutes in, his eyes are glossy. he's not sure if he'll ever stop cumming. it hurts so, so good. he looks up at her, in disbelief but for a thankful, grateful reason now. she looks carnal.

"made a'mess all'over my cock," she grits out, "fucking whore. i'm cumming inside."

"yesssss" and new, strong waves hit him, shutting him up completely as she paints his cervix and walls with loads. she doesn't stop fucking him while she cums, her thrusts mean, punctuated, final. there's no way he's not pregnant. there's not even a possibility that he isn't.

when she stops cumming, she gives him a few more angry thrusts before pulling out entirely, moving away from his spasming, shaking, quieted body to let his legs collapse to the bed. his vision is blurry but he can distantly hear her pumping her cock over his juicy, bred cunt, and he shakes harder when he hears a sweet moan and feels a second load splash right onto his womb.

he cleans her cock off with his mouth on wobbly knees once he stops shaking so intensely, which takes him almost five minutes, vision slowly coming back to him. with a sickeningly sweet kiss, his mom whispers down to him that she's going to the drug store, lugging his twitching body back into the bed. she leaves to bring him a few water bottles with the clinking of her keys already in her hands. as soon as he hears the front door shut in a hurry, he swirls a hand around his clit, trying to get as many orgasms as possible in while he reminisces on his destruction before she can come back. i'm fucked for life.

#wow #!nc3st #sloppy deepthroa #mind break #degrading k1nk #evan's brain #nblw nsft #nblw ns/fw #r4p3 kink #breeding k1nk #mommy k1nk #squ1rting

[diejager]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well!! I was wondering if I can request more of percht König! If not that is totally okay!! Thank you ^^

Cw: blood, gore, injurie, inaccurate medic stuff, violent shift, tell me if I missed any.

He couldn’t remember much, after a rough and impromptu shift, his bone cracking and spine reshaping, snapping back together after his fat and muscle stretched along his back, his body rippling and shuddering, howls ripping through the stormy sky. Urgent shifts had always been painful, his body hastily and roughly shaping into the beast he was born as, leaving the ground beneath him bloody and his limbs shaking and throbbing with agony. His mind was a blur in the moment after it, every shape muddled, smell enhanced, his hearing filled with the loud beat of his heart, gurgling screams and booming shots, and his mind blurry. 

The last thing he remembered seeing was the insurmountable number of enemy, a trap they’d fallen into and left surrounded and caged, only knowing that he and Ghost had fallen into a stupid trap. Like a fly stuck in a majestic spider’s web, the intricately woven lines spun and interlaced to build the trap, unsuspecting and invisible until they flew into it; buzzing and squirming against the sticky web while the spider, big and dangerous in it’s beauty slowly crawled over, long and delicate legs threatening to stab the fly. They had stupidly fallen for an embellished trap by their backstabbing ally.

And when he woke up, laying in the biggest bed in the infirmary, the thick taste of iron lingered on his tongue, the disgusting flavour of rotten human skin and fat, the muscle fibres breaking so easily under his sharp teeth and eyes heavy with a bone-deep exhaustion. He was glad the lights were dimmed, the air sterile but gentle on his sensitive nose and the sheets soft around his rough and scarred skin. He layed naked, body tense under the blanket in his private corner of the infirmary, a thick, grey curtain hiding him from wandering eyes or other patients.

He relaxed when he saw you poke your head between the wall and curtain, a mask hooked under your chin to flash him a gentle smile, slowly approaching his bedside without spooking his frantic and confused mind. He tried to smile back, but his balaclava would barely show it with how subtle the curl of his lips was, his tired eyes fleeting over the heavy bags under your eyes and the worried air that oozed off your shoulders as you sat on the chair beside his bed, a clipboard placed on your lap. 

“How do you feel, König?” He loved how soft your voice was, the quiet rasp of it to not worsen his pulsing headache, but he caught the worn tone. You probably stayed up the whole night, stuck by his bedside and leaving only to shower and get another cup of coffee. 

“Tired,” he sighed, closing his eyes and slumping into the comfortable mattress and sinking deeper into his assigned bed, “Everything hurts.”

He heard you nod, scratching something on your clipboard, probably writing down his symptoms and noting down what you’d plan to give him for his pains.

“Headache?”

”Ja.”

The pen scratched again.

“Muscle pain and exhaustion.”

“Ja.”

You already knew that, he hadn’t heard you write anything, only the subtle sound of a page flipping.

“Do you want coffee or lunch before I give you painkillers?”

“Coffee.”

You placed the clipboard down, your boots quietly thudding against the slick floor and the click of a door letting him know you left his side. He appreciated your care, your tender affection to provide for him when he felt sickly or worn out. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami 

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #monster 141 #monster 141 au #monster cod au #könig x reader #konig #konig cod #konig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig #könig x you #könig call of duty #monster!konig #monster!könig

[ghouljams]

Oh no not the viagra cigars

Fr tho increased libido? For out inexperienced witch? Please have mercy on her nooo

He's saving one of the cigars to use on the witch and it is just gonna dumby her to get hit with her own magic. She cannot handle Price and he loves it.

The air is heavy with smoke, you thoughts are swirling with it. Resinous and intoxicating. Tobacco and wild magic.

You drag your tongue up the fat heavy cock in front of you, eyes glassy and unfocused as you try to keep them locked on Price. His big hand cups the back of your hand, keeps you held close and panting against his cock. What is that in the air? You can just smell it under the tobacco, under the cold woodsy scent of the man in front of you.

High John the Conqueror, your brain churns, sluggish from the magic in the air.

Your eyes lid, head tipping to kiss the length of his cock as you grind your dripping cunt against his boot. He tastes like sweat and salt, and magic, like something powerful and unchanging. Your tongue traces every vein, lapping at the pre-cum that drools from the thick head. Your hands press against the wood floor, giving yourself an extra point of balance for your canting hips.

"Such a greedy little whore," Price lets smoke drip down towards you, "Don't look so innocent from here." His words simmer like fire in your stomach. Smoke filling your nose, making you wetter, making his cock harder and hotter against your tongue.

You open your mouth wide, stretching your lips around his cock, feeling his hand guiding you down his length as you suck. His magic swirls through your thoughts like the smoke in the air, clouds them, dampens inhibitions. But not shame, no you think he wants you to feel that. To know fully that you're on your knees, so desperate for him that you're willing to take anything he'll give you. Even if that's a cock down your throat and a boot against your cunt.

"All of it," Price tells you, his hand a steady weight, pushing you down his cock. You whine, swallowing as best you can, laving your tongue against the veins lining the underside of his shaft to try and slick the process. You try to pull back and find yourself trapped by his careful fingers. His fingers are so warm where they touch your scalp. Magic. He's pumping you full of some sort of magic as he eases you down his length.

You look up at him, whine around his cock stretching out your throat. He looks like a God staring down at you, uncaring but attentive, hazy but perfectly focused. He reshapes your throat to fit him, insistent on pushing you down until your nose presses against the coarse hair trailing his stomach.

The warmth from his magic fades, and you gag. Your eyes give wide, clouds around your mind clearing just enough. He was stopping your gag reflex. You try to breathe, try to swallow around the thick cock holding your throat open, try to push down the gag. Price hums, watching your brows furrow as you try to sort yourself out. You don't know how to do this, you don't know why he won't let you off.

"You have to learn witch," he tells you with a smile, tipping his head back to watch the smoke filling the room, hardly paying you any mind, "Such a good girl f'me, playin' like you dont love it."

You shiver, closing your eyes to try and focus on the knot in your stomach, and not on the knowledge that he's right.

#Nobody look at me I cannot explain myself #Literally couldn't stop thinking about this and had to write it somewhere #We're doing Price and his Darling so out of order but whatever #This is deeeeep in their relationship #there is no way that woman is letting him fuck any time soon #Fae!Price #the way he would hold off on fucking her properly until she literally begged him to #just to really make the tether stick #God he's so fucking mean I want him to make me worse #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price #captain price cod #x reader #captain price smut

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Unbridled Instincts

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: There is a time to wait and a time to act. You and Walter fuck around and find out what time it is.

Warnings: masturbation (f), slight voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), slight brat taming (if you squint), hint of choking, monster fucking, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mentions of ovulation, biting, knotting, breeding kink

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Without her help, this chapter would have been a complete fucking nightmare. I adore you, Peyton!!!

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

But your brain goes back to this morning. Walter’s arms around you. His scent is fresh on you. If you could keep extra quiet, you’re sure you can crank one out without waking the beast downstairs.

Right?

At first, it’s the temperature. The fever from a fast-healing wound. Plus the warmth from being near a potential mate. He sheds his clothing during the night. Eventually, he has to remove his boxer briefs, as the material is just too tight on his sweat-soaked skin.

Then, it’s the hint of sweat as he inhales. The sweet, tangy taste of it clouds his nostrils causing him to stir in his slumber. 

Next, the overwhelming lure of arousal that pheromones release like tentacles attaching themselves to him. 

Lastly, the sound of a rising heart rate pounds in his ears. It all screams your name.

Opening his eyes, he gets his bearings on where he is. A living room. Pup’s. 

Whimpering from your bedroom catching him by surprise, he isn’t able to stop himself from shifting. 

His hands grow longer with claws, dense fur, and thick, black padding on his palms. His legs and feet contort and reshape into the hind legs of a wolf. A fluffy tail pushes its way down and out of his spine. His broad chest is covered in the same dark chocolate pelt, the color of his human hair. Arms fill out with hairy musculature. His nose and mouth form a small snout and his teeth sharpen and elongate. His beard and hair grow a bit wilder around his ears now resemble those of a wolf high on his head, completing his transformation.

Once he hears you whimper again, he springs over the back of the couch, lands on his hind legs, and bounds up the stairs taking them two at a time. He sniffs the air as he gets closer to your bedroom door. He can smell it as plain as day.

You’re aroused. And when you whisper his name, the heavy weight between his legs becomes harder to ignore. Reaching a hand down, he squeezes the base of his veiny, mammoth cock near his knot. The bright red tip is already leaking, and his swinging balls yearn to be emptied.

His slow steps, punctuated with claws against the wood floor, finally reach your door. Wasting no time, he swings the door open, catching you with your fingers in your pussy and your nightgown around your tits.

Somehow you don’t hear or see him come into the room, so wrapped up in chasing your orgasm. He uses your ignorance of your surroundings to his advantage and walks to the side of your bed. Looking over your body, his instincts take over. He sniffs the surrounding air, sensing that you are ovulating and ready to be bred. You had the perfect body to carry strong pups.

He could see it already, your full tits and round belly with a kid on your hip and one running around you. He would keep you nice and pregnant as much as you could stand it. 

“Walter, eat my pussy...please, I’ve been a good girl,” you murmur, eyes still closed while your finger circles and teases your clit.

A deep rumble in the room alerts you, the growl from deep in Walter’s chest sending a chill up your spine. You look up at him covered in fur and larger than before and your first thought isn’t to scream or hide your body. Giving in to his natural sexiness, you want nothing more than to worship him.

Turning on the bed so that your cunt is facing him, you beg him, “Please, Walter?” Every thought about waiting is long gone from your head.

Within seconds, Walter is on his knees at the edge of the bed while his mauve tongue hungrily hangs out of his muzzle. His hands hold your legs out of the way so that his nose can ghost over your folds. Inhaling its wet arousal, exhaling warm air from his lungs across your most sensitive parts. 

When you reach a hand to the top of his head, his eyes close momentarily as he pushes into your palm. Once you scratch at his ear, he lets out a groan deeply from his chest again, he picks his head up slightly to lick from your delicate petals to your swollen nub. 

While he uses his tongue to explore your cavernous deep, his thumb rubs against your clit. Tongue brought to a point, where he strokes inside you, and he finally attacks your inner bundle of nerves. You watch as he gently cups your mound. 

Withdrawing his tongue, he licks at his maw. He picks up the pace of his thumb on your clit. Your mewls, piercing his ears and wrapping around his heart. He stands to lick at your neck’s pulse point, nipping and whimpering into your skin. 

One hand caresses you leaving the other to explore other places. His giant paw finds your neck, squeezing slightly while you stare into his glowing eyes. He seems to be willing you over the edge, his stare forcing your body closer to completion.

“Come. For me,” he forces out, the words sounding distorted in this body.

And that is the little push you need. Along with the paw gripping your neck, the tongue lapping at your skin, the finger flicking your bean, and the command in that gravelly rasp. The longing in those words is too much for your resolve to hold even a moment longer.

“Walter,” his name a breathless whisper on your lips as your climax takes you over.

Your eyes roll into your head as your back arches. Hands rushing out to his, one at your throat and the other stilling on your clit. Your walls twitch and flex around nothing, pushing your sweet nectar out of your hole.

You watch as he collects your wetness and brings his sticky palm to wrap around the leaking, red erection that now has your attention. Its shiny surface has you wanting to lick it like a lollipop and Walter watches as you wet your lips in anticipation. But it’s far too sensitive for that kind of attention right now.

Instead, Walter gets on the bed between your legs. He raises your ankles to place them on his shoulders, leaning forward, so his face is inches from yours. You’re being folded like a pretzel and you couldn’t be happier as you feel the pointy tip of his cock teasing through your lips. 

It slides up and down from your clit to your hole over and over, as if he doesn’t want to give you what you crave most. You’re so close to the edge, if he doesn’t push inside you in the next few seconds, you are going to scream!

He rips the nightgown from your body, not that it covers you in any way. He didn’t want to leave anything between you. No clothing, no barriers, just your bodies and whatever sounds you made together.

It is then that he pushes himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch. He works himself into your walls, letting you adjust to the shape and size. So kind of him to take you apart with the speed of a snail. Once he is seated inside you as fully as this position will allow, he grabs both hands and holds them in one paw above your head. You nod, silently pleading for him to move.

“Make you mine,” he promises, the hefty growl reverberating through your chest. His hips retract and come back to meet yours, his canine cock filling you to the brim. 

“Wanna be all yours, Walter. Please,” you breathe, ready to be fucked open by him.

The answering groan is all you get before Walter is snapping his hips back and forth inside you. With your arms unable to move, you instead try to move your legs down off his shoulder to wrap around his waist. He gets the hint soon enough, only slowing down slightly, then returning to a punishing pace when your heels are digging into his ass.

He shifts his angle a bit to hover his face above yours as he leans forward. When he slides home, he can bump against your clit. Grinding his pelvis against yours, he easily brings forth your next orgasm, he is not surprised when the base of his cock is nice and wet from your eruption. He pulls out after fucking you through your orgasm.

Sitting back on his heels, one hand slowly stroking his length, he looks down at you. Blissfully fucked out, almost asleep, cock-drunk. Too bad for you, he’s not done. Before you can register what’s happening, Walter is turning you on your stomach and putting a pillow under your hips. Straddling you, he enters you smoothly, your walls molding to him. He lays his chest against your back, both arms enfolding you. One around your waist while the other hand wraps around your neck.

“Mine,” he whispers, lips snarling next to your ear, “Say it, Pup.” He only grinds his hips against yours, not fully fucking you yet.

“Yours,” you huffed, trying to find your voice with the weight of him bearing down on you.

“Louder. Can’t hear you,” he demands, he begins tugging his hips back slowly only to push in even slower.

“Yours! I’m yours...Wolfie,” you hum, holding in your bratty laugh for all of three seconds until it’s cut off when Walter tightens his grip on you. 

He widens his legs on either side of yours, his toes digging into the mattress for leverage. From this angle, he can fuck right into your sweet spot while his heavy, full balls swing back and forth into your clit.

Your squeaks and moans punctuate each thrust, and it’s music to Walter’s sensitive ears. Your groans and squeals cause his ears to twitch, your elevated heart rate lets him know he’s doing all the right things. 

And he certainly is doing all the right things.

It almost wasn’t fair that your first time with him was in wolf form. But as good as this feels, you just feel like human sex may end up a bit lackluster. Which is not what you should be thinking right now with him turning your insides to mincemeat.

He must sense that you were getting distracted, growling lowly in your ear. Dragging his wet nose along your neck, he inhales deeply. He unhurriedly licks at the sweat dripping from behind your ear, his tongue trailing up around the lobe and shell.

His hips start to stutter, and whines in the back of his throat are forced out. You can feel the sudden fullness of his cock as he pushes in even deeper than before. His tip is pressing into your cervix and the pressure is almost too much. As you feel his length twitch, warm jets of cum paint your walls. 

He growls again and bites the nape of your neck, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still while his knot settles in place. It felt like a plug just inflated inside you and you feel the fullest you’ve ever been. You try to reach your arms back to grab at him in any way you can. Feeling held in place at two points of contact was just too much.

You try curling inward to relieve the pressure in your pussy, but Walter painfully wails and bites down on your neck harder. You realize both you and Walter are in pain with his knot stuck inside you. 

You take a second to get yourself together. Getting your breathing under control, you can calm down Walter enough to slow the blood flow rushing toward his knot. When he releases your neck, he licks and soothes at the marks left behind.

Once he can slip out of you, he unhooks his arms from around you. His hands hold you open, so he can see if he hurt you. You’re more than flattered when he licks over your fucked-out little hole, but you push him away once he goes for your still-sensitive nub. 

“Too much,” you mumble, rolling over and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Walter moves to follow you, but you push him back to lie down. “I’m ok, Wolfie. Just going to the bathroom to freshen up. You stay in bed and keep it warm for me.” 

You watch as his brows grow concerned, but he pulls up the comforter over himself and your side of the bed. You thank him and head to use the bathroom. While you sit and relieve yourself, you think about how aroused you were for Walter. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You haven’t had an attraction like that in ages, if ever. Likewise, you didn’t necessarily plan on having him cum inside you, but once it was an option, you didn’t exactly stop him from pushing deeper inside you.

And then there was the knot. Granted, you had done some research on werewolf anatomy, so you weren’t surprised by the knot. But the length of time it was in you, how big it was, that wasn’t in any of the articles you had stumbled upon. 

Also not mentioned? The hyperspermia, which could just be a Walter thing, but it seems like a wolf thing too. You felt so full of his cum and you had already pushed out so much of it. You will be surprised if he doesn’t get you pregnant, and you don’t know what it means when that only brings a smile to your face. What the hell…

Yeah, you might have it bad for this man. 

Or you’re flying high on the level of dopamine coursing through your veins from the number of orgasms Walter has given you.

They can both be true at the same time. 

You realize you’ve been in the bathroom for quite some time, and your legs start to grow numb. You wipe, flush, and stand on wobbly legs to wash your hands. Splashing water on your face, you steady your nerves to go back and be with the wolf that fucked you silly.

You open the door, turn to shut off the light and walk right into Walter. Standing outside the door with his hand raised, ready to knock and check on you.

The oof that escapes your lips compels strong hands to your biceps to steady you on your feet. The feel of bare human skin on yours is comforting and familiar. You look up and notice the frown on Walter’s face, knitted brows sit above fretful aquamarine eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his human face now back in place along with the rest of his body.

“Oh, that? I’m fine. Just need to watch where I’m walking,” you smile, trying to reassure Walter’s concern.

“I meant, more along the lines of whether you’re hurt. It’s just, I have this pull. This...intuition. All I want to do is take care of you. It’s all I can think about,” he confesses, sliding his hands down your arms to grab your hands, “Would you let me look you over just so I can see you’re alright?”

You open your mouth to tell him you feel amazing, but you close it just quickly. He wants to make sure he doesn't go too far, and you respect that. If you think about it, it’s possibly the hottest bit of aftercare you could ever have.

You nod, welcoming his assessment. He moves you more into the bathroom and turns on the light again. He examines your wrists, but seeing a bit of redness doesn’t alarm him. Inspecting your neck where his teeth sank into you, he’s delighted to not see any broken skin, but there will be heavy bruising there if you don’t apply ice to it soon enough. Thankfully, your clothing should cover up most of the area.

Seeing his heartsick eyes look over your neck in the mirror causes you to turn around and hold his face in both hands. His hands come up to cradle yours, your eyes finally grabbing his attention.

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I can hear the gears turning, Wolfie,” you plead, hoping that he will illuminate you with his thoughts.

He sighs, and you can tell he doesn’t want to worry you. You can also tell he’s becoming weak to your suggestions, seemingly wanting to do whatever pleases you.  

“Need to get ice for your neck, or it’ll bruise,” he mutters, looking down before continuing, “We haven’t known each other long and I already feel protective over you. Hearing your breathing, recognizing your scent. It felt like you were in danger, and I shifted. Then, seeing you...like that, I needed to claim you. I haven’t felt that in so long, it’s like I’d forgotten the intensity that comes along with it. My wolf brain took over and instinctually, my body reacted the only way it knew how.”

“What do you mean?” you breathe, your brows scrunching together.

“I could smell that you were ovulating and all I wanted, all I could think of, was to breed you. The fact that I didn’t give you a choice...it weighs heavily on me,” he admits, taking a deep breath before starting again, “I shouldn’t have taken that from you. I would understand if you never want to see me again after that.”

The distraught look on his face makes you believe that he thinks the worst of himself. That only makes you want to fight whatever demons put that thought into his head.

“I’ll be honest, I did intend on waiting a little longer before taking things further. But, there is something about you. Probably sounds weird, but I have a pull toward you too. Like, this invisible string that’s tied around my rib cage, and every time I’m near you, I feel it tugging. I feel the urge to touch you, to feel your skin on mine,” you confess, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that you both were struggling with staying away from each other.

“So, we both feel this connection. What do we do now? What can I do for you?” he prods, his hands moving to your sides as yours weave in his curls.

“Well, the good news is that we don’t need to figure this all out right now. We know how we feel about each other, and that’s most important. So, for now, we can do one thing,” you offer, a smile playing on your lips.

“And what’s that, Pup?” he wonders aloud, thumbs pressing into your hips.

Foregoing speaking, you stand up on tiptoes to press your lips against Walter’s. A chaste kiss or two gives way to open mouths and tongues getting into the mix. You hum into his mouth, and he answers with a groan. The grip on your hips tightens and his length grows against your thigh. 

You feel him dip to grab and lift you under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him. When he breaks from the kiss, his nose nuzzles your cheek and neck as he inhales your potent scent of arousal. He turns to shut out the light before exiting the bathroom and taking you back into the bedroom.

Laying you down, he hovers over you and smiles lazily down at you. When he doesn’t say anything for a beat, you roll your eyes and sigh.

“What are you smiling at, Wolfie?” you tease, secretly loving how he looks at you like you hung the moon.

He opens his mouth to answer, but instead, he nudges your nose with his before peppering a trail of kisses over your cheek, chin, and neck. Using one hand to position himself at your opening, he collects some of your moisture to help slide in. Slowly, agonizingly he enters you. 

Once seated inside, he grinds his hips against yours. He wants to take it slow this time. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him in any way you can. Everything else can wait until the morning.

To be continued...

A/N: Ok, so about that whole ‘let’s wait’ thing...um, I got this idea in my head that this is where this would all happen. And Reader and Walter didn’t seem upset about it so, yeah.

(Also, if you are upset about fictional characters not using protection, please use that anger and either register to vote in the next election or contact your state representative to see how you can help make sure safe sex education can be taught in schools in your area. Didn't think you would get political advice in this author's note, didja??)

A/N 2: Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a wonderful day!!

**Tag List**

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @milknhonies @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @cardierreh15 @viking-raider @imaslutforcuddles @ilovetaquitosmmmm @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell @calwitch @meanlilbean @samahenoyrhye @openup-yourmind @juliaorpll78 @princessaxoo @toooldforobsessions @carrie80reads @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @evansabove1981 @used-to-be-bourbonwithice @hannah9921

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #walter marshall smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #werewolf!walter marshall #night hunter au #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you

[buckybarnesb-tch]

Random Thoughts: Klaus Mikaelson

Voice of the Wolf

Klaus’ wolf is just as obsessed with his mate as he is

A werewolf has a voice in their head once they trigger the gene and it speaks to them. All wolves have this, though few talk about it to anyone other than other wolves since the voices can be…hostile at best…vicious and violent at worst

The voice in Klaus’ head was cut off from him when his mother cursed him and though he had only had that voice in his head for about a month from the time he turned and killed someone until his mother cursed him that next full moon, he truly had missed it. The voice, though terrifying at first, really helped him embrace who and what he was when no one else ever had.

Once he had broken his curse Klaus once again had the ability to find his mate as a wolf and when he did that voice in his head howled so loud it gave him a headache (though brief it may have been) and it was rabid for you

Every once in a while it scared him with how desperate the beast was for you but Klaus knew even as a wolf he would never harm you. When he followed you those first few days after finding you his wolf insisted Klaus just take you and lock you in his home, that he was the only person you would ever need and while there was something very appealing about that idea he knew he could never do that to you.

His wolf was talking nearly every time Klaus was in your presence and while the Hybrid tried to ignore it most of the time and even got it to shut up on occasion, eventually he had to come clean about it as it sometimes became a distraction to him and he didn’t want you thinking he wasn’t listening to you or was uninterested. You were actually understanding about it and even seemingly curious which Klaus enjoyed, he loved that you embraced something about him that no one else ever had

Unfortunately his wolf was often overly sexual and detail oriented which ended with the Hybrid hiding an erection every time the beast went into detail about how perfect your breasts are and how desperate he is to suck on them, or how tight your pussy must be and how much you would love that wolf tongue tasting you deeper than anyone else ever had

Klaus was surprised when you agreed to be there when he shifted one night, while Klaus was conscious and could control himself during his change the wolf is at the forefront of his mind and is more in charge like how it is for every wolf, Klaus may have perks but his wolf is still a wolf.

You didn’t like watching him change, hating the sound of your loves bones breaking and reshaping, not enjoying him in pain but you sucked it up and held his head to your chest, brushing through his hair as it happened and were eventually left with a large hound shoving his snout in your breasts

You allowed him to snuggle you for quite some time before he ran around, letting off some steam and killing people. You awoke later that night to the large black wolf hopping into your bed and pressing his body to yours. At one point when he shoved his nose between your legs you smacked his snout, shocking him when you didn’t even flinch as he growled at you, going so far as to ‘grr’ right back at him

The beast in Klaus’ mind was just as desperate and needy for you as he is and you loved it, every second of it as it was also just as much of a Puppy as your thousand year old boyfriend was

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

#tvd klaus #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x oc #vampire #hybrid #niklausmikaelson #niklaus x reader #niklaus x oc #Niklaus imagine #klaus x y/n #klaus x oc #klaus x reader #klaus imagine #joseph morgan #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries #the originals imagine #the originals #klaus fic #klaus mikaelson fluff #Klaus Mikaelson fic

[eternalsa2z]

Come to Bed

"Come to bed, baby"

You didn't move. At first. How could you staring at the beautiful goddess in front of you? Knowing that less than 24 hours ago she had been your best friend?

You were overwhelmed with emotions. Lust. Concern. Giddiness. Fear. But curiosity won out. You move toward the resort's plush bed, eyes never wavering from her svelte form, nose inhaling her delicate yet intoxicating perfume.

"Come"

You watched her pat the pillow beside her with her perfect pink nails. Body splayed curvaceously on the silk sheets. Her own pillow draped with the platinum waves of her luscious hair. This was your friend. But this bimbo wanted to be your lover.

Soon you were lying beside her. Kissing those pouty, plump lips. Massaging her pert breasts and shapely ass. Moaning in tandem as you slipped inside her perfect pussy. But she was fucking you more than you were fucking her. You knew what was going to happen when she finished with you. But this moment was making it all worthwhile.

"Cum"

You couldn't help but obey. Erupting in a climactic moment that sealed your fate. Bones shifted, memories faded, your body and spirit reshaped into a pink, pretty, mindless sex doll. A cute compliment to your bestie who had succumbed to the same fate the previous night. It would be your last orgasm as a man. But the first of many as another bimbo escort at the Bimbo Resort.

#m2f transformation #bimboification #bimbo resort #magical transformation

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 13.1k.

Reading Time: 53 min.

Warnings: biting, caught having sex, cheating?, corruption kink, cum eating, cum kink?, creampie, cunnilingus, detailed depression, detailed panic attacks, dry humping, exhibitionism, face sitting, feelings of lonliness/abandonment, low self-esteem, marking, mild mind break, naked woman clothed man, pain kink, poor mental health, primal kink?, public sex, salirophilia, spanking, taint tickling (woohoo!), under the influence?, unprotected sex (wrap the shlang before you bang m’dudes), vaginal sex, worship,

Please note that some of these tags are a smidge inaccurate if you want to talk about specifics, but they’re the closest thing I can think of to give you somewhat of a warning without actually spoiling anything. Like, they’re under the influence but not of drugs or alcohol, and everyone’s consenting but they’re also kind of not in their right mind as well but they’re not under the influence. Like it’s not primal, but it is mind hazy/breaky animalistic in a sense so like? Idk how to tag it. You’ll get it when you read it but if these are triggers for you then I’d recommend just skipping.

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadyladyx @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The snake was watching you the whole time, its marble eyes staring into your soul and laying it almost as bare as your physical body. There was no judgment, quite the opposite actually. It was praising you, egging you on as Copia’s hands held your thighs down so he could get at your cunt from beneath you.

Your sodden folds dripped onto his face the more he sucked on your clit, getting wetter and wetter with your arousal and his added saliva. Your hips bucked wildly of their own volition, his tongue dragging across your core as you took your pleasure from his mouth. Your habit had been hiked up to your waist, allowing Copia full access to your core. All the while, your eyes were locked onto the snake, moans echoing throughout the ancient library.

You felt sinfully filthy. The library that was once your private sanctuary away from the stresses of daily life now lay underneath your knees, reverberating your wanton sounds as you traded knowledge for lust. Once again, Copia’s moustache tickling your clit with each thrust of your hips, causing one of your hands to tangle in his locks. Your clit would occasionally hit against his nose as you rubbed yourself against him, crying out ever louder at the feel of his warm breath hitting your core. He was pinned beneath you, there was nowhere he could go so easily - yet there you were, trapping him with your thighs and clasping onto his hair for extra security.

Copia let this happen - he allowed you to jump his bones after the library closed for the night and it was just the two of you. You looked divine anyway, all sleepy and eyes slightly red from the dim light of your office as you’d worked for hours upon hours deciphering that text, starved of any touch from him as all of his advances were met with pleas for concentration. When you locked eyes with him towards the end of the night, after Sibling Riley had dragged you out for some fresh air, you were delirious, ravenous, downright feral - and Copia was rock hard.

He lay on the cold floor, in the shadow of the snake, both hands on you and ignoring his own arousal, dedicating his body to you and you alone. He buried his tongue wherever your desperate cunt would let him, inside your hole, over your taint, sucking on your clit. He was still learning your body, everything that made you tick, everything that made you scream his name so the whole Ministry could hear exactly who was turning you into a filthy animal. The quiet librarian, on her knees in front of Lucifer as the unholy connection between Earth and Hell was at her mercy.

The orgasm you had was so mind-numbingly good, you heard your drool hit the laquered floor beneath you. It was all electric shocks bursting from your cunt and splitting every single one of your nerve endings in half, freezing your body and curling your toes as you were leaking all over your lover’s big nose.

Your body felt numb, like it wouldn’t respond even if you forced it to. Somehow, you weren’t sure how, you remained upright, on your knees and steady. You vaguely registered your habit being lifted over your head and hearing Copia’s groan when he discovered you were bra-less and completely nude for him. You hadn’t heard the zipper of his jeans drop.

You felt your flesh being trapped roughly between his teeth as he bit your ass, your back, your shoulder blade, your neck, and finally your ear. That was taken into his mouth as he pushed into your cunt, already sloppy and and prepped enough for him to just slide all the way in with no resistance. Another groan escaped Copia when he bottomed out, the vibrations of the deep noise standing all your hairs on end.

It had been days without you, despite Copia’s attempts at getting into your pants then having to accept the rejection when he saw how stressed you were over these translations. He had already found himself becoming addicted to you after he entered you for the first time back in London, and the last few days had been damn near punishing without you. Sliding into you felt like the closest to Heaven he’d ever be, and he, too, felt the effects of the snake’s eyes on him. He felt more animalistic in his needs - his mind so clouded that fucking you in the middle of the public library felt like the only thing he ever needed to do.

Every drag of his cock against your walls was heightened by the haze clouding both of your minds, driving you to carnal lust and only that. You were so far gone from your stress and now your relief, that you just couldn’t form sentences at all. Your mind only focussing on the feel of his length ramming into you hard and slow, hitting your cervix with enough force to have your whole body shaking. Copia, on the other hand, was unable to shut up. His words slurring between the Italian expletives and the filth that was spewing from his mouth.

“I can feel you squeezing every time the door rattles, amore. Do you like knowing that someone could walk in and catch you on my cock, hm? The way you’re moaning, I would think you want them to come in and watch. Or is this performance for the Dark One only, amore? Cazzo! You’re so fucking tight for me.”

He smiled at the sound you made in response, a deep chuckle sounding at the back of his throat. His tongue caught between his teeth as he hissed at a particular thrust that felt so, incredibly delicious, he thought he’d go insane. His hands moved to your shoulder blades, situating right in the centre and he pushed you down onto your elbows, moaning at the way your back arched and your ass jiggled with each snap of his hips.

His hand came down and landed on your asscheek, making it jiggle a little more, his lips catching between his teeth as he watched the skin turn redder and redder. You clenched around his cock at the feeling, which only egged him on to do it again.

Slap.

Slap!

By the third one, your clit was dying for attention, and so you reached down and started playing with yourself, your fingers working quickly over the bundle of nerves in the dire need to reach orgasm. Copia’s large hands reached your hips, and pulled on them, gripping them so hard they might bruise. His pace was unforgiving at that point, just taking what he needed from you as you continued to get tighter and tighter around him, closer to orgasm. Your ass ricocheted off of him with each snap of his hips, the sound combining with the stickiness of your cunt and the noises coming from it had Copia’s cock twitched. You were so wet and pliant for him, a good girl using him and letting him use you. He could hardly breathe, and you could feel him all the way up into your stomach.

“Cumming!” That was all the warning you could give before your fingers, frantically stroking at your sensitive clit, had now worked you into your second orgasm of the evening. Your cunt quivered as each wave of your climax hit, sending him into his own. His hips jerked to a stop, each thrust still as rough as the last but slow in their hits, a grunt slipping out of his mouth with each one. His cum poured deep into you, and you were so sensitive you could practically feel it.

But Copia wasn’t done with you yet.

He lay back underneath you, pulling your pussy back down onto his mouth and began licking and sucking away again, your cry so much louder than either of you had anticipated. His tongue worked deep into your core while your hips slid across his face, once again rubbing your clit against his nose. He made short work of your third orgasm, especially with you knowing that he was sucking his own cum out of your messy cunt with such fervour, you were surprised he didn’t want to bury himself deep inside you again and take you one more time. But, once you’d finished shaking, he gave your ass two playful taps before sitting up and pulling you into his arms, both of you kneeling on the cold floor panting and gasping for air, your minds clear and your bodies nude and sweaty from the exertion.

You were the one to break the silence first - not with words, but with laughter. Your body was doing its own thing, trembling in his arms from the adrenaline that was beginning to leave your body, as was your sanity by the sounds of it. Copia pressed kisses over your face, fervent, loving kisses as he rocked you gently. “Are you okay, amore?” He asked, his voice a whisper.

You nodded. Though your brain regained some of the clarity it lost when you first saw Copia, you were still very much fucked out of your head, to the point where you could still feel it spinning. “Sleepy.” You told him simply.

“Non sono sorpreso. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, eh?”

You chuckled. “Right back at you, Cardinal.”

“You’re right,” he relented easily, rubbing his fingers up and down your arm, “let’s get you dressed and back to my room, hm?”

“Why? So you can ruin me again?” You teased.

“Maybe in the morning.”

Warm light filled the room as the gentle morning light entered through the open drapes. You awoke slowly from a sound sleep, and the unfamiliar surroundings of Copia’s bedroom became clear. There was a wrapping of calm in his private quarters, even with the distant, rhythmic noises of the Ministry humming in the background, the day beginning as usual for everyone there.

With the softness of dawn light on his features, Copia lay alongside you. His dark hair was all over the pillow, and his chest was rising and falling in a pattern that suggested he was sleeping soundly.

Recollections of the previous night surged back as awareness engulfed you. The hours you spent translating the unholy scripture, the pounding you received in front of the Statue of Eden, the jokes you told each other, and the private talks you had in Copia’s chamber felt unreal, but the fact that he was there to support you kept it grounded.

You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb his slumber, and took a moment to observe the details of the room. Curiosity eventually got the better of you, and so, as if you were someone straight out of a movie, you gripped onto one of the blankets that sat on the bed and wrapped it around your body to preserve your modesty. You could have put your habit back on, but you also needed a shower, and you had no idea what Copia had planned for you. With your new and unusual outfit draped precariously around your body, you slowly began to tiptoe around his room, getting a sense of who he was when he wasn’t in charge of an entire religious sect.

A plethora of volumes from all genres and eras filled the bookshelves, which was a testament to Cardinal Copia’s wide-ranging interests and tastes. Every spine appeared to tell a story as you read the titles: A collection of philosophical essays and reflections. Another book indicated Copia’s love of music and seemed to delve into the mystical elements of melodic compositions.

There was an anthology of occult knowledge and rituals, showcasing Copia’s interest in the esoteric also sat upon the shelf, standing between a historical account, likely chronicling the rise and evolution of the Ministry under various leaderships; and a compilation of folklore and mythologies from different cultures, reflecting a broad interest in the stories that shape human imagination.

Turning the pages of “Infernal Insights: A Treatise on Satanism,” you found a comprehensive, multifaceted investigation into Satanism. The text analysed the ideology in detail rather than offering a straightforward defence or criticism.

The first section of the thesis addressed the development and historical foundations of Satanism, following its inception across many theological and cultural contexts. It explored the various ways that Satanism had been viewed and applied throughout history. It illuminated the symbolic aspects and intended spiritual or psychological repercussions of a number of Satanic rituals and practices by providing in-depth explanations of them. The author looked at the ways in which rituals could be used to celebrate personal empowerment and establish a connection with Satan Himself. You pondered the number of these rites that Copia had carried out and the number that he would carry out with you.

As you placed the book back on the bookshelf, your curiosity continued to guide you through Cardinal Copia’s private space. The transition from the bedroom to the main living area was seamless, and the atmosphere shifted as you stepped into a room adorned with a rich blend of Gothic aesthetics and modern comfort.

The space was centred on a large, antique wooden table that was flanked by luxurious chairs with velvet upholstery that radiated luxury and cosiness. A variety of candles in elaborate holders glowed on the table, creating shimmering shadows on the glossy top. The room’s furniture was tastefully mismatched, with a mix of modern and antique items that gave the space a distinctive look.

Copia watched you wander around his living room in nothing but blankets from the bed, and stayed in the doorway silently, smiling at your curiosity. You had no idea he was there until you turned to go to a different area of his apartment and saw him there, your eyes widened like a deer in the headlights and looking absolutely delectable.

He had a dark glint in his eye at the sight of you, cock hardening at your innocence. His lip trapped itself between his teeth as he stalked towards you, preparing to take his early-morning prize. He took you on that antique table, throwing the blanket on the floor and bending you over the wood so he could bury himself deep inside you and have you screaming out for him. Scratches appeared down his back at the force of his hips slamming into you. You walked to work that day with a limp, while he walked to work with his ears ringing from the sound of your pleasure.

Life carried on this way for some time - a few weeks at most. Every day, you’d translate the Chronicles, and then find yourself in Copia’s arms come nightfall, or even speared on his cock. Neither of which you complained about, of course, more than happy to be the one he looked for in the comfort of the night. He took you wherever he could: your office, the floor between the library shelves, in his room, his office. Any time he could get his hands on you, he absolutely would, and he’d never let you go once he had hold of you. All other responsibilities came second.

The haze that had fallen over the two of you dissipated just two days after that, and in that one moment, you felt the tides change for the rest of your life.

You were sat upon Copia’s desk, his head between your thighs and tongue lapping at your core when a knock at the door brought your pleasures to an end. The person who knocked didn’t bother waiting for an invitation, pushing the door open and cutting your activity short. Both you and Copia fumbled quickly, to both preserve your modesty and pretend that nothing had actually happened - though, your flushed cheeks and his wet chin was evidence enough.

“Ah, Sister!” Copia said, straightening his hair and trying to make himself presentable for Sister Imperator, whose face was eyeing both of you with a stern look plastered upon it - clearly unimpressed. “I didn’t expect you… here… today… right now.”

“No,” Sister Imperator said, her eyes raking over your body as you tried to straighten your habit, “clearly not. So this is why none of your work is getting done.”

“Sister, I can assure you that I’m not slacking.”

“You don’t need to be here for this, Sister.” She said, looking directly at you. “Off you go to your duties.” You looked briefly at Copia, and before he could say anything, she spoke. Her voice was filled with frustration now, “Now.”

“Yes, Sister.”

With your tail between your legs you quickly made your escape, closing the door tightly shut behind you. Nothing good would come of the Sister Imperatrix kicking you out like that, and your stomach dropped at the dread. It was only when you were walking back to the library, you realised that Copia still had your panties in his pocket.

Sister Aisha laughed at your dishevelled appearance when she saw you, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Look who finally graced us with her presence!” She teased.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you stammered in an attempt to regain composure. “I-I didn’t mean to disturb him! I just wanted to update him on my progress.”

Sister Aisha chuckled, “I think something else progressed judging by the state of you.” She moved around the desk to help straighten your clothes and make you presentable again.

Although the feeling of discomfort remained, Sister Aisha’s humorous manner calmed the mood. “Sister Imperator walked in on us. She kicked me out.”

Sister Aisha’s hands froze at your veil, her eyes widening slightly as she clearly understood what you were saying. Copia was getting a verbal lashing.

“Ah, these things happen,” Sister Aisha said with a playful wink. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You nodded in response but your stomach still churned.

Sibling Riley raised an eyebrow at your disheveled state, walking over to the desk with a cart of returned books being dragged behind him. “Midday escapades, Sister?”

Before you could defend yourself, Sister Aisha interjected, “Our dear Sister here has become a muse for Cardinal Copia. A living, breathing inspiration, if you will.”

Sibling Riley smirked. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? Inspiring Cardinals in the middle of the day?”

You groaned, the teasing from your companions proving relentless. “Can we please focus on the important matters at hand?”

Sister Aisha looked at Sibling Riley, her eyes widened, conveying a silent message. “Sister Imperator caught them - but everything’s fine, isn’t it, Sibling?”

Sibling Riley picked up what Sister Aisha was putting down. “Of course it is. So she caught you mid-fuck… not like you’re defying the Dark One or anything.”

You said, “You didn’t see the look on her face. It was like we were converting to Catholicism right in front of her.”

Sister Aisha, “Come off it. The Cardinal’s meant to be balls deep in anything that moves - Papa Terzo was.”

Sibling Riley, “He was removed, though.”

“For not sticking to the teachings of the Church, not for fucking as many people as he did.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement at the absurdity of the conversation. “This really isn’t helping.”

“Listen,” Sibling Riley said, “you won’t get into trouble - you’re going to be fine, everything will be fine, okay? She probably kicked you out for Upper Clergy matters. I mean, let’s face it, you’re not exactly privy to the every day runnings of the church, are you?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves and believe your friends. “You’re right. Thank you. I have work to do, and I’d rather not dwell on personal matters right now.”

Sibling Riley nodded, a hint of sincerity in their eyes. “Fair enough, Sister. We’re here for you, regardless.”

“Thank you.”

There was a hint of tension in the Ministry in the days that followed. The typical sibling banter and friendliness felt strained, and you were forced to contend with the knowing looks and quiet murmurs that followed you. Sibling Riley and Sister Aisha appeared to be watching you more intently, showing a mixture of wonder and worry in their expressions, in spite of their earlier assurances.

Your thoughts started to become troubled by Cardinal Copia’s lack of contact. Your concern increased with each passing second without hearing from Copia, and transcribing ancient writings felt like an uninteresting routine that just seemed to be a pointless waste of time, though you knew it wasn’t. The fact that the Upper Clergy had been radio silent, too, wasn’t lost on you.

Sister Imperator was a mysterious and powerful person in the Ministry who inspired terror in the hearts of many. Her acts were frequently surrounded by an air of secrecy and harshness, and her presence alone was capable of inspiring a trickle of piss to run down your leg when you least expected it. While your brain knew that you hadn’t done anything wrong, you still felt like a naughty schoolchild just waiting for punishment.

She never came to you. You were summoned to her.

One of her own Ghouls came to collect you in the days after Copia’s office, interrupting your work and walking you down the cold, unfeeling corridors you once used to marvel at. The whole Ministry felt darker, as though a witch had cast a curse on the place and was taking pleasure in the way you squirmed in discomfort. The long walk to Sister Imperator’s office felt like a murderer’s walk to the gallows - like you were about to be put to death for treason against the state.

The Ghoul knocked on the door, and the Sister’s voice boomed from behind the wood, inviting you both in. The Ghoul, speaking for the first time since pulling you out of your office, announced your presence, then promptly left.

Sister Imperator put her pen down, and turned her attention to you, her brown eyes scouring over your body again, as if she were studying you. “Ah, Sister,” she said, her tone much softer than it was the last time she saw you, unnervingly so, “welcome. Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to drink?”

You shook your head. “No thank you,” you told her as you sat on the chair in front of her desk.

“I apologise for distracting you from your work, but it turns out you and I have important business to discuss. As Sister Imperatrix of this Ministry, and close advisor to the Cardinal, it’s my duty to act on the Cardinal’s behalf when he’s unable to do so. Now, it’s come to my understanding that you and the Cardinal have been… spending some time together, yes?”

“Yes. He asked me to help him translate-”

“I know. You both got carried away since then, hm?”

“I… I’m sorry, Sister, but what’s this about?”

“Right, yes. Let me get straight to the point. Unfortunately, Sister, any escapades you’ve had with the Cardinal must come to an end. His work is beginning to suffer, as is his personal life.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, Sister, I’m not following. I didn’t realise we’d done anything wrong.”

“Well, you wouldn’t. The thing is, Sister, the Cardinal has been consumed by his fun little distraction. While that’s all you were to him - a distraction - he allowed himself to ignore all of his other duties and responsibilities. As a result, the Upper Clergy have decided to cut him off from the temptation of the flesh… for the time being at least. Until his partnership is finalised and he takes a Prime Mover.”

The realisation from Sister Imperator hit you like a lightning bolt, leaving you dazed and confused. Her remarks held a whirlwind of emotions that swirled around feelings of betrayal, rage, and perplexity. “You’re saying I’m a distraction? That I’m somehow hindering the Cardinal?”

Sister Imperator nodded. “The Cardinal’s commitment to his work and the Ministry’s objectives is of utmost importance. Any personal entanglements that divert his attention from these priorities must be addressed.”

A mixture of disbelief and hurt welled up inside you. The connection you felt with Copia, the shared moments and the blossoming understanding—all reduced to a mere distraction in the eyes of the Upper Clergy.

“But we were translating an important text, a sacred text for the Ministry,” you protested, seeking a thread of reason in the unraveling situation. “Our work was in service to the Church. How is that a distraction?”

“Sleeping with him isn’t beneficial to the Church when the Church has already decided his future, Sister. A future that doesn’t have you in it, I’m sorry to say. Now, you still have a place at the Ministry if you want it - you are incredibly valuable to our dark cause and we need you and your mind. However, we must ask that you please refrain from speaking to the Cardinal, or even being in his presence as much as possible.”

“But how am I supposed to do that when I’m translating the Chronicles for him?”

“All important information can be given to me and I’ll relay it to him.”

“But-”

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Sister.” Sister Impertor was clearly getting more and more agitated the longer you spent in her office defying her demands. “I… we have worked too hard for the Cardinal and his career for someone to come and ruin it now.”

“And he doesn’t get a say in this?”

“He does. These are his wants and wishes, too.”

“I doubt that. I want to see him.”

“I’d advise against that, Sister.”

You stood, “I appreciate your advice, Sister, but I’d rather hear all this from Copia. Excuse me.”

The Sister’s words were swirling round in your head, fear building in your stomach with every step you took towards Copia’s office. You didn’t want to believe it, that he would treat you like this without so much as a conversation beforehand. He acted like he was enamoured by you, infatuated with you to the point where all he could do each day was exist for you.

But he hadn’t told you that he loved you.

Actions spoke louder than words, and Copia’s actions seemed like they were shouting to the world from the peak of a mountain: “Look! Look at her! I adore her with ever fibre of my being. I live for her! I breathe only her! I would die without her near.”

Seemed. You don’t know.

You hit the side of your head with the heel of your palm, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. The internal argument you were having with yourself over Copia’s actions was enough to drive everyone mad, and you could feel your body running on everything other than logic and sanity. Your breath was getting lodged in your throat and tears stung at your eyes. You were so close to his office now - you’d see.

He’d be sat at his desk doing his work and he’d look up in surprise. He’d see you, and he’d start to chastise you for distracting him when he was busy, but then he’d notice your tears, wrap his arms around your body and hold you close as you let the panic fade away into his warm embrace. He’d rock you, shush you, comfort you. He’d tell you that he loved you. He’d kiss you. He’d remind you that you were his, and he was yours.

Or he’d echo Sister Imperator’s words.

If he does, then so be it. Better those words to come from his mouth than a messenger’s. At least then you’d know.

But you’d never have him again.

You turned the corner and rushed towards his office door, the cold, iron handle biting at your skin as you pushed down on it and forced your way in. You hand may have been cold from the iron handle, but your blood was cold from the sight that lay before you.

Copia was sat at his desk but he wasn’t doing his work. You couldn’t see his body properly as he was hidden behind a mass of black. At first, you couldn’t tell what was happening, but the longer you stayed there, the clearer it became. That was unmistakably Copia sat beneath another Sister of Sin, his gloved hands clutching onto her ass as she sat on his lap. Her hips moved, grinding down onto his crotch as her whimpers filled the air, accompanying the sounds of their lips smacking together.

You didn’t realise you’d made a noise until their attention both snapped to your direction, the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes finally registering who was standing in his doorway and interrupting his break. A small gasp fell from his kiss-swollen lips, before, “merda!” was uttered. He tried pushing the Sister of Sin off of him, but it was too late. You’d seen what you needed to see. You’d turned and started to make your way out of his office.

“Sorella, wait please!”

The door slammed shut behind you and you’d already made your way out of sight when the Cardinal had finally reached and opened the door.

You’d got halfway back to your room when you saw Sister Imperator walking towards you, no doubt making her way to the Cardinal’s office to watch the drama unfold. The tears that you’d held back when you’d closed his office door were out in full force by the time Sister Imperator had reached you, and there was nothing you could do to hide them.

She sighed and looked at you, her hands holding onto your shoulders in a feeble attempt at comfort. Her eyes were filled with sadness, a sadness you didn’t expect to see from a woman as coldhearted as she was, but it was there. A faint whisper of a connection telling you that she’d been through the exact same thing once upon a time, and knew what this heartbreak felt like. “He didn’t see you cry, did he?” She asked, a gentleness to her voice that you never thought you’d hear.

Your words failed you, and instead you just shook your head.

“Oh, sweet child.” She pulled you in for a hug and began comforting you in the way you’d wanted the Cardinal to. It was surprisingly warm and caring, filled with compassion and kindness. “Never let them see you cry - never give them that satisfaction of knowing what they’ve done to you.”

In the corridors of the Ministry, you cried in Sister Imperator’s arms until all the tears had been shed and your teeth were tingling from the numbness you were now feeling. To her credit, Sister Imperator never left your side until she knew that you were strong enough to walk on your own. She’d told you to take the rest of the day to yourself, and maybe even the rest of the week if you wanted to, and had you go back to your apartment and take care of yourself. She sent one of her Ghouls to the library to inform the Siblings there that you’d not be returning to work for at least the rest of the day - though, of course, she had no idea just how close the three of you were. Everything was already arranged. There was nothing to be done except wallow.

And wallow you did.

Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley took it in turns to come to your apartment and keep you fed and watered, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to eat more than a few bites, the depression was too strong for that.

The days passed in a veil of sorrow, the seclusion of your apartment accentuating the echoes of broken dreams. Lost in the devastation of your emotional turmoil, the manuscripts and parchments that once promised ancient mysteries now sat ignored on your desk, while you felt your heart shatter with each memory that played in your head. All the late-night conversations, the touches, the glances, the feel of his breath in the crook of your neck as he slept - or even rocked into you passionately under the veil of night. Lying there, in the darkness of your room, it was almost as though you could feel his arm draped over your waist, phantom fingers on your thighs and the haunting smell of his cologne on your habit.

Your world fell apart following the office, leaving behind a barren wasteland of emotional debris. Your life’s formerly vivid colours faded to subdued greys, with the ghost of his memories resonating through every day. The promise of shared laughter and whispered confessions had long since faded, leaving the air weighted with grief.

Heartbreak’s fingers wrapped themselves around you, entangling every idea you had in a web of despair. The manuscripts and parchments that once piqued your interest now lay untouched, a glaring monument to the numbness that held your soul. The Ministry, which had previously been a refuge of shared moments, had morphed into a tunnel of solitude, with echoes of laughter reverberating as bitter reminders of what had been.

Your bed had become both a sanctuary and a prison, its embrace a frigid consolation against the searing ache within. The world outside the covers grew lifeless. With every day it became a shapeless haze of pain and hopelessness. It was impossible to get out of bed; the sadness of your loss bound you to the nothingness that around you.

The prospect of facing the Ministry, where every nook contained whispers of shared secrets and stolen glances, became an excruciating agony. The formerly known hallways appeared to be a maze, with every turn serving as a reminder of the joy that evaded you. You felt the weight of loneliness pressing down on you, pulling you more and further into the pit of despair.

He was everywhere, his energy was all over the corridors and rooms of the Ministry and you felt suffocated and trapped. There was not a single inch of you apartment alone that didn’t resonate with your previous relationship with the Cardinal, even the look of every day items enough to send you into some kind of flashback, where you could see him, feel him - where every inch of your senses was clouded by him as if he were there with you.

Your waking hours were plagued by visions of him laughing, of his awkward charm, of the delicate minutes spent delving into old mysteries. No amount of sleep could save your dreams from the bittersweet reel of recollections that played endlessly in the back of your mind.

Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley, ever-supportive, tried to coax you out of your grief, offering comforting words and attempts at distraction. They understood the pain you were going through, having witnessed the deep connection between you and the Cardinal. However, healing from such emotional wounds was a process, and time seemed to move at a glacial pace.

At first, they were gentle with you, handling you as if you were a delicate piece of glass that could shatter at the sound of a pin dropping - or rather, a souffle in front of a crying baby. But eventually, Sibling Riley had had enough of watching your despair firsthand, and feeling just as hopeless as you.

People never really think about the friends and family surrounding the person going through something like this. Of course, because they’re not the centre of attention. But sometimes, they suffer as much as you do because they’re watching the person they love the most go through some of the worst things imaginable and they’re unable to do anything.

Sibling Riley experienced a deep sense of powerlessness as they saw you deal with the fallout from the separation. The typical humour and friendship that marked your interactions now devolved into a solemn mood as they struggled to heal the wounds in your soul.

Every attempt to provide solace felt like tossing pebbles into an abyss, the echoes of your pain reverberating against the walls of their own sense of inadequacy. The weight of your despair pressed upon their shoulders, a burden shared but seemingly insurmountable.

Words, which were often their ally, started to become elusive, as if speech itself had deserted them in the midst of your pain. Every effort to console you felt like a weak effort because the depth of your suffering was greater than the comforting words they could offer. But even they could see that the gentle approach was no longer working. That they needed to do something more than tell you how loved you were, and how the Cardinal was a dumbass for letting you go so easily.

They couldn’t let you wallow in self-pity anymore. While unable to mend the wounds or erase the shadows, they clung to the hope that, with time, the echoes of laughter would return, and the vibrant hues of life would once again paint the canvas of your shared existence. But this could only begin when you allowed it.

So, they stormed into your room with all guns blazing. They flicked the lightswitch on, and made the loudest noises they could. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” They yelled, clapping their hands together. They watched you flinch at the sudden intrusion, covering your head with the blanket. That wouldn’t do.

Their hands gripped the bedsheet and pulled it off your body, nose twitching in disgust at the smell of your body-odour that wafted along with it. “Come on, stinky. Up! Up! Up!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Tough shit. I’m sick of you wallowing here and rotting away in your bed. You gotta get up, you gotta get moving. Sister Aisha’s made a pig’s ear of the organisation in the library, and you’re gonna have a fit when you see it. If I don’t get you down there now, then the entire place will be upside down and inside out by the time you get down there.”

“But-”

They grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you off the bed. “Buts are for goats, my dear. Now, get your ass in the shower. You stink.”

You tried to protest further, but this earned you a push and a shove as they forced you into the bathroom. They turned the hot water on and made for the door. “I don’t want to have to strip you but I will - either that or you can shower in your pyjamas. I’m not asking you to leave the house right now, ___. I just want you to wash your goddamn hair.”

Sibling Riley went beyond the typical work/friend dynamic to offer support, realising the weight of emotional stress. They made the effort to clean your room so you could have a more peaceful and cozy environment.

Sibling Riley moved around the room gracefully, gathering stray objects and trash from wherever it had fallen. Everything was put away properly, and misplaced items were returned to their original locations. A small but meaningful gesture, cleaning was done to create an atmosphere that reflected a new and fresh start.

Once thick with the lingering odour of heartbreak, the air started to smell clean and well-maintained. Knowing that the outside world could affect one’s mental health, Sibling Riley worked to establish a foundation that allowed you to feel safe enough to begin healing - truly begin healing. No more wallowing in self pity, or snacks as dinner. Now you could return to the dining hall and eat good food with the other siblings. Was the food always healthy? Absolutely not. But recovery didn’t require healthy food - just the good shit.

The change became obvious as soon as you stepped into the bedroom. The bed, which had formerly represented shared moments and entwined destinies, was now a blank canvas representing revival. Sibling Riley had even gone as far as to change the linens, selecting a black forest set that they remembered you got so excited for. You almost cried, until Sibling Riley had raised their voice a little to snap you out of it.

“A fresh habit is on the bed. I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t dry your hair, leave that to me.”

“Riley, I-”

“___.” They raised their hand gently to stop you from talking, their voice now matching the action. “Call me when you’re dressed.”

You nodded and watched as they left the room.

The drop of Riley’s title didn’t register until they’d already left, but it made so much sense now. Riley was more than a coworker who you’d become friends with, they’d now become a friend who you worked with, and that realisation alone was enough to almost send you back over the edge and into a fit of tears. Snivelling, you began to dress in the clean habit Riley laid out for you, feeling more than grateful for them taking such good care of you when you needed it the most. Sister Aisha, too.

You started to feel more human when Riley walked back into the room. The more they brushed your hair, the more relaxed you began to feel. Their gentle fingertips over your scalp as they massaged in your favourite heat protector, the softness of the comb as it ran through your hair. You remembered the times when your caregiver would brush your hair as a child, and how rough they tended to be in order to get it done quickly - but not Riley. Riley took their time, as if each, slow and precise movement was bringing you back to life.

They played with your hair immaturely at times - of course they did. They did anything they could to have you crack a smile again, even if it meant tying your hair into a topknot do right at the tip of your scalp. “We’ll paint you green and put a TV on your tummy.” They teased.

Eventually, though, your hair was dry enough to be covered and Riley helped you with that, too, fastening your veil to your head and pinching your cheeks. “Right,” they said with a sigh, “let’s go get your library fixed.”

After the mental turmoil you went through, going back to the library felt both familiar and unsettling. The empty corridors that had once smelled of old books and faintly of study, seemed to be ridiculing the shattered remnants of your previous “relationship” with the Cardinal. Once a place of calm reflection and thought-provoking study, the library now held the broken shards of memories that were at once priceless and heartbreaking.

Your eyes couldn’t help but lock onto the snake behind the front desk, its eyes baring into your soul again, but this time making you shiver with a chill you couldn’t quite explain. It was like the statue was alive - like it was watching your every move and judging you for each step taken. It felt like it knew your thoughts, and only wanted to serve as a reminder to the last time you and the Cardinal were here together. Locking eyes with it had another flashback haunt you, his hands ghosting over your skin with a spectral grip so realistically, you could almost feel the long-since-healed bruises.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the library, producing a harsh song against the bookcases. You headed over to the desk that you always used, the one that had become an anchor in the whirling mass of books. The chair creaked as you settled in, greeting you with a solemn air fit for an old friend who had shared in the joy of discovery as well as the heartbreak’s agony.

The hush that had descended upon you like a thick shroud was broken by Sister Aisha’s approach. Her sympathetic eyes locked with yours. She was aware of the underlying pain that you were still feeling, no doubt being filled in briefly by Riley when you’d split off from him and gone back to your office, but there was a small piece of guilt within her. She hadn’t come to see you in a while - not that you’d held it against her. What, precisely, could she have done to make you feel better? To make you not hate yourself and the Cardinal the way that you did? There was nothing. It was somewhat of a miracle that Riley was able break whatever curse had fallen onto you.

“Welcome back, Sister,” Sister Aisha said softly, choosing her words with care. “I missed you.” Her bottom lip trembled as she said it - you’d never seen her cry before, and you weren’t sure you wanted that image in your head. She was always this strong rock that turned sadness into humour and cheered everyone up around her. It was easy to think that life didn’t bother her as much as it did everyone else. But in that moment, she suddenly became more human to you, and you were able to see that she was just as heartbroken for you as you were.

Without uttering another word, you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug, feeling a lump form in your own throat at the feeling.

Sister Aisha returned the hug, her usually jovial demeanour dampened by the intensity of your feelings. The unsaid understanding that soaked into your relationship was a subtle recognition of the fragility that each Sibling in the Ministry carries beneath the surface. The embrace served as a shelter and a sanctuary where the barriers of stoicism fell away to show the true feelings that brought you together for that little moment.

The library seemed to soften as you grabbed onto each other, making a shared place of comfort among its maze-like aisles possible. A scene of comfort amidst the intellectual expanse was created by the hug’s warmth and the subtle scent of aged paper and ancient knowledge.

And with a swift goodbye from Sister Aisha, you got stuck in once more in translating the Chronicles…

Copia’s POV

Sister Evelyn Chandler possessed an ethereal beauty that captivated those fortunate enough to have laid eyes upon her. Her skin, rich and dark brown with a bronze undertone. She was more radiant than a smoky-quartz in the midday sun, exuding an angelic glow that captivated all those surrounding her.

Her eyes, the color of a morning cup of coffee, held a captivating depth. They were pools of clarity that seemed to have harbored the wisdom of ages, framed by long, dark lashes that cast subtle shadows upon her high cheekbones. Sister Evelyn’s gaze was both tender and commanding, a reflection of the myriad emotions that danced within her soul.

Cascading waves of black hair framed her face like a silken waterfall. The strands were lustrous, tightly curled and well-cared for falling gracefully to frame her delicate shoulders. Occasionally, she tucked a stray lock behind her ear, revealing the subtle glint of finely crafted, gold earrings that adorned her lobes.

Sister Evelyn’s lips bore a natural liner, inviting and delicate, forming a captivating contrast against her complexion. Her smile, when it graced her features, was a radiant expression that lit up the room, captivating all who had the privilege of witnessing it.

Tall and gracefully poised, Sister Evelyn Chandler moved with a dignified elegance. Her habit, a seamless extension of her being, draped around her figure in a manner that spoke of both modesty and timeless grace. There was an undeniable allure in the way she carried herself, a quiet strength and confidence that marked her as a woman of substance.

In the presence of Sister Evelyn Chandler, one couldn’t help but feel the gentle pull of her captivating charm, an enchantment woven from both her external grace and the inner luminosity that defined her spirit.

Copia didn’t know why he was letting her sit on his lap like this, why his lips were dancing against hers as deftly as they were, why his hands were defying him and pulling her closer against his body. He didn’t understand why his body had reacted to her when all he wanted - all he ever wanted - was you. He’d tried to push her off, which is why his hands were on her hips in the first place. But she smelled like you, felt kind of like you beneath his fingertips, and if he closed his eyes, he could pretend she was you.

It wasn’t until another sound registered in his ears that he’d realised what was going on. It wasn’t until he saw your body in the doorway, he realised that it wasn’t you on his lap, captivating him in such a way. It wasn’t until he saw the look of hurt on your face, he truly understood the gravity of what he’d allowed.

You, wonderful you, intelligent you, beautiful you, now running from him with tears in your eyes and a heart breaking louder than any car crash he’d ever heard. He couldn’t reach you in time, despite the quickness in which he’d thrown the unsuspecting Sister off of his lap in order to get to you and explain just what the hell you’d seen, but by the time he’d reached and opened the door again, you had vanished out of sight.

Copia’s heart sank as he stood in the doorway, paralyzed by the realization of the damage he had caused. The echoing emptiness of the hallway mirrored the void now expanding within him. Panic and regret clawed at his insides, the gravity of the situation settling heavily on his conscience.

He stumbled forward, calling your name desperately, but his voice sounded feeble against the silence that enveloped the corridor. The haunting image of your retreating figure, tears glistening in your eyes, replayed in his mind, each step you took away from him echoing like a thunderous accusation.

The air felt heavy, suffocating, as Copia’s mind raced with the implications of what had just occurred. He never meant for this to happen. The Sister’s presence, her proximity, had been an innocent mistake, a fleeting distraction he never intended to indulge. Yet, here he was, standing in a doorway, watching you disappear, and it felt like the world was crumbling around him.

Copia’s breaths came in ragged gasps as he clutched at his chest, aching with the weight of regret. The realization that he had shattered the fragile connection he had forged with you, the trust he had meticulously built, overwhelmed him. He sank to his knees in the dimly lit corridor, a broken man.

The anguished silence of the hallway seemed to mock him, reflecting the hollowness echoing in his soul. Copia’s mind raced with scenarios of what he could have said or done differently. The profound emptiness he felt was punctuated by the knowledge that he had hurt you, possibly irreparably.

“That was her, then?” Sister Evelyn asked, crouching next to Copia and putting her arm around him.

He nodded in response, looking to pathetic beside her.

“And given her reaction, you didn’t tell her.”

He shook his head. “I wanted to - there was never a right moment. I didn’t mean to-”

She rubbed his back. “I know, Cardinal. I know.” Cardinal. Not ‘Your Dark Eminence’, not ‘Your Unholiness’. Cardinal. Already she treated herself like she was closer to equality beside him than any other Sibling of Sin in the Ministry.

“Why did you have to do that?”

“Because it’s about time you started seeing me as your Prime Mover, Cardinal. This has been arranged for decades and you hardly even acknowledge me. I almost had you.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about some prophecy, Eve. You know that.”

“And yet,” she stood, “here I am, ready and waiting for the ritual. Get your shit together, Copia. I won’t wait forever.”

Sister Evelyn walked away, leaving Copia on the corridor floor completely alone. “I don’t want you to wait.” Copia whispered to the empty air, cursing his cowardice. “I don’t want you at all.”

The library, which had once been a haven of whispered confessions and shared secrets, now loomed as a maze of echoing shadows. The sacred quiet that had welcomed your partnership suddenly seemed like a crushing burden on Copia’s back. With every stride he took through the labyrinth of shelves, his inner struggle was echoed hesitantly. The smell of old books, which had previously been reassuring, now had a regretful aftertaste. Copia looked in every direction, into every quiet alcove, hoping to see anything, anything, of you, but the library was empty. Every beat of his heart echoed through the ancient halls of knowledge, pounding in his chest like a drum. His every stride is now shadowed by the memories of the last time he was in there, with you wrapped in his arms and the warmth of shared laughter.

In a whisper, he called your name, a cry that echoed through the stillness. The academics and librarians who had previously shown no interest in the secret meetings held inside their revered premises were now watching him with curious eyes. They saw a Cardinal devoid of his customary composure and troubled by the memory of a love lost. Copia was clearly suffering as he walked through the steps of your daily routine towards your office. It felt stale and lonely, the once bright electricity in the air now gone. The very spirit of the library seemed to lament the loss of a relationship that had once thrived inside its walls.

Copia’s speed quickened as he made his way through the maze-like aisles, his search growing more urgent. His cries became more intense and louder, resonating through the silent cathedral of books. However, you did not respond or show up.

The force with which the door flung open matched the turmoil in Copia’s heart. “___!” His words echoed like a frantic plea off the walls, resonating around the room. However, the office was now a mute reminder of your absence.

The soft light created an eerie radiance on the empty desk, reflecting the emptiness within Copia’s chest. The documents you had so carefully arranged were still in place, unaffected by the person who had breathed new life into the room. The smell of old parchment lingered, a painful reminder of the times you had spent together, when there had been laughter and passion, but now there was just a sombre silence.

Copia’s gaze swept throughout the entire area, looking for any indication of your existence. It seemed as though the walls were closing in on him, making the room feel cramped and oppressive. With his regular trappings stripped off, he walked out of the room, showing weakness beneath the weight of his title.

As Copia got closer to the desk, the atmosphere in the library changed, a tension that lingered silently between the old bookshelves. With a look of fury and cold that reflected the storm building within of her, Sister Aisha Banerjee looked up. Copia now had to deal with the consequences of his actions. Sister Banerjee looked directly at him, silently accusing him in a way that echoed throughout the calm library. The murmur of books seemed to stifle with expectation, as though the walls themselves were listening in on the drama that was playing out.

“Sister Banerjee,” Copia began, his voice carrying a note of urgency, “I need to find ___. Have you seen her?”

Sister Banerjee, who was usually quite amiable, responded to his questioning with a chilly silence. Her eyes reflected the storm of emotions roiling inside. She got up from her chair, her actions slow and deliberate, a sharp contrast to the turmoil that was developing in Copia’s mind. “Like I’d tell you. What did you think you were doing?” Sister Banerjee’s words were laced with a biting coldness, the hurt and anger seeping through each syllable.

Copia’s eyes widened with realization, the weight of his actions crashing down upon him like a cascade of unforgiving stones. “No, Sister Banerjee, you don’t understand. It wasn’t what it looked like. I never meant to hurt her.”

“You should have thought about that before you let someone else into your bed, into your life. She’s not just anyone. She’s ___. She cared about you.”

The truth of Sister Banerjee’s words broke through Copia’s layers of denial, causing his heart to sink. Not only had he broken the link that had grown between you, but he had also lost you, leaving an emptiness in its wake.

Sister Banerjee turned away, and the hush descended again, leaving Copia standing in the great space of the library in silence, like a cardinal without his compass. She waited until he turned to leave the library before she spoke one final time. “You don’t deserve her, I think. She’s far too good for you.”

Copia froze in his tracks, Sister Banerjee’s words hanging in the air like a heavy verdict. The weight of her judgment bore down on him, a burden he had no choice but to carry. Slowly, he turned back to face her, a mixture of desperation and remorse etched on his features.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice a mere whisper, the echo of a cardinal laid bare. “I know I messed up. I never meant to hurt her. She means everything to me.”

Sister Banerjee’s expression remained stern, a blend of disappointment and sympathy in her gaze. “Words are easy, Your Dark Eminence. It’s actions that define us. She’s not a pawn in your games, and if you truly care about her, you’ll find a way to fix this mess you’ve made.”

Sister Imperator would allow him to do no such thing.

Standing before Sister Imperator’s office, Copia hesitated, a weight of doubt crushing down on him. The door squeaked open, and he stepped inside, his eyes locking with the dark woman behind the desk.

“Sister Imperator,” Copia began, his voice carrying a plea laced with desperation. “I need to know where she is. I need to find her and explain.”

Sister Imperator regarded him with a measured silence, her eyes penetrating into the depths of his troubled soul. The air in the room hung heavy with unspoken tension, and Copia’s heart raced with the anticipation of her response.

“You want answers, but answers are not always what you need, Cardinal,” Sister Imperator responded with a foreboding tone. “The prophecy grows, and you have to concentrate on the path laid before you.”

Copia’s frustration simmered beneath the surface as he struggled against the constraints of the prophecy. “Sister, please. I can’t bear not knowing where she is. I need to make things right.”

With a faint smile on her lips, Sister Imperator reclined on her chair. “Cardinal, making things right is arbitrary. Think about the repercussions if you don’t walk the path you were destined for.”

Copia clenched his fists, torn between the desire to defy fate and the duty he owed to the Ministry. “Sister, I can’t lose her. She’s…”

Sister Imperator interrupted, her tone unwavering. “The prophecy is greater than individual desires. Sister Evelyn plays a crucial role, and you can’t let personal attachments cloud your judgment.”

Copia felt a surge of frustration and helplessness. “What about us? What about what we feel?”

“Sacrifices are demanded by fate. Find comfort in your duty, Cardinal. The Prophecy awaits, and you have to focus on Sister Evelyn now - your Prime Mover.”

“She’s not my Prime Mover yet.”

“No but she will be on the next full moon.”

“Not if I step down as Head of the Church.”

Sister Imperator’s eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing through Copia. “Do you truly believe abandoning your post will change your fate? The Prophecy is not swayed by your whims. You are the appointed leader of the Church, chosen by Satan Himself. You’re His son, here to do His bidding! To defy that destiny would be to court chaos and go up against the Dark One. After everything we’ve done to get you to this position, and this is how you want to thank me?”

Copia gritted his teeth, torn between the weight of his duty and the ache in his heart. “I won’t let Sister Evelyn become a pawn in this game. I won’t let the connection Sister ____ and I have be sacrificed for some cosmic plan.”

Sister Imperator’s anger flared, her tone sharp and authoritative. “You will not step down, Copia. Your role is crucial, and the Church cannot afford such disruptions. Sister Evelyn is part of the grand design, and so are you. Embrace your destiny, and in doing so, you honor the Church and its purpose.”

Copia’s shoulders slumped, defeated by the inevitability of the situation. He had no choice but to submit to the forces that bound him. “What about ___’s feelings? What about what we had?”

Sister Imperator’s expression remained unyielding. “Feelings are secondary to the greater purpose. Your personal desires must be set aside for the sake of the Church. It is a burden you must bear. Now,” she continued, letting out a calming breath and returning to her usual calm demeanour, “don’t you have Mass to plan for? Perhaps Sister Evelyn could help you announce to the Clergy your future plans.”

“But-”

“Off you go.”

Copia felt guiltier than ever as he left Sister Imperator’s office. The upcoming marriage to Sister Evelyn hovered over him like an omen, overshadowing the love he once imagined could defy fate.

He felt the weight of his choices like a vice as he meandered through the Ministry’s dimly lit hallways. His thoughts were filled with the echoes of Sister Imperator’s remarks, and he couldn’t get rid of the picture of your wounded look when you saw him and Sister Evelyn. He was disturbed by the pain engraved onto your features and by the resonance of your name. He looked for comfort in the shadows of the Ministry, but there was none. Just his stupidity and his fate that had ruined everything.

He had spent weeks without you - not hearing a peep from you, never entering the library in fear he would see you and that hurt look on your face. He stopped asking after you eventually, knowing that it would end up doing more hurt than good for his own mental health more so than yours, as selfish as it sounded. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on with someone else after everything he’d felt - and he thought you’d felt it, too. He couldn’t imagine what you’d feel if you saw him again with Sister Evelyn. How would you feel if you saw them together? Would you care? Would you be over it, over him? Would you pretend to not see him? He knew you were back at work now, given that Sister Imperator would send a Ghoul to relay any important translations you’d done. He’d assumed that was your decision - that it would be easier for you to create a middle man in order to never have to see him again.

Copia decided this week’s mass would be about loss and the grief that surrounded relationships that had died, and how you could turn to loved ones, or even Satan for comfort.

With his ceremonial robes draped over his shoulders like a thick shield, Copia stood at the pulpit. The anxiety that filled the Basilica was palpable, an unsaid weight that enveloped the assembly in a dense mist. There was an uneasy calm in place of the usual Monday Mass atmosphere of reverence and expectancy.

The Basilica’s elaborate walls were illuminated with shimmering shadows created by the wildly flickering candles that lined the aisles. The gloomy atmosphere and the seriousness of the choices that had been made in the weeks before seemed to be emphasised by the dull light.

With their eyes concentrated on the Cardinal at the pulpit, the devout were crammed into the pews. Ghouls and Siblings alike made up the eclectic congregation, but they were all devoted to the Church’s doctrines. Normally ringing with authority and conviction, Copia’s voice held a strain as he led the assembly in prayer. The unholy words that had seemed to have a purpose before now echoed with a strange turmoil. The recent decisions he had made weighed heavily on him, undermining the sacred ceremonies.

The perfume of incense filled the Basilica as it floated through, swirling and twisting in the shadows. Originally a sign of sin, the scent now carried a hint of unhappiness. The general unease that saturated the worshippers’ hearts seemed to have been absorbed by the very spirit of the unhallowed sanctuary.

Copia looked out over the assembly as he raised the sacramental chalice. A sea of faces, some displaying unshakeable faith and others displaying uncertainty and curiosity. The knowledge that his actions had shattered the oneness that had once united them was something he was unable to ignore. Everyone had learned of what happened by this point. Everyone heard the whispers of drama echoing off the Ministry’s walls. Everyone cared enough to talk about it, but no one seemed disappointed in him. They should be, Copia thought.

You sat in a lonely corner of the pew among the devoted worshippers, your presence like a still shadow in the dimly illuminated Basilica. Copia looked at you out of the crowd as he talked passionately from the pulpit. The world seemed to stop for a split second as his gaze lingered on your shape, his mouth running dry and the words following suit.

A painful hush descended on the area between you and the Cardinal, the words of his sermon hanging in the air like an ominous melody. For the tiniest of moments, Copia’s countenance wavered between sadness and surprise. It had not occurred to him that you would be here, a sobering reminder of the broken bond.

When your gaze met his, a wide range of emotions flashed across your faces in that tense instant. Like an unheard confession, the pain of unsaid words, a weight of unresolved emotions, and the real tension of a shared past hung between you. Copia stammered to keep his sermon composed, his voice wavering briefly as the realisation of how serious the situation was dawned on him.

The congregation was unaware of your presence, especially since they were unaware of this Sibling’s identity whose heart was broken by the bumbling idiot in front of them. For Copia, though, it seemed as though the Basilica itself had shrunk to concentrate only on the ache in your eyes.

Every now and then, Copia’s eyes would return to you as he finished his sermon, each snatched glimpse bearing a heavy weight of regret. His words of wisdom seemed to resound with an imploring undertone, a last-ditch effort to close the distance that had opened up between you. The melancholy of the situation was emphasised by the haunting melody of the organ, which accentuated the poignant atmosphere.

The Basilica’s calm exterior disguised the chaos inside. A story of love and separation that played out silently in the midst of unholy rituals was carried by every word spoken and every look shared. Copia’s eyes followed you as the assembly stood for the Gratiarum, a mute acknowledgement of the pain that lingered in the sacred space between the pulpit and the pews.

Copia could barely contain himself and concentrate on the remainder of the congregation when he saw you join the queue. With each blessing he gave, he knew there was something wrong with it, but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes wandered over to your frame when you were in direct eyeline. He watched as you tried to not look at him, sparing him an accidental glance every now and then but ultimately fighting with yourself to just pretend that nothing was wrong. The butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t settle, doing the most in his gut and making it difficult for him to function as usual.

You kissed Lilith’s statue with the same gentle movements you used to kiss him. Then you turned, eyes planted to the ground and took a step towards him.

Another step.

And another.

Closer…

Closer…

Suddenly you were right in front of him, your eyes focussed on the floor and your hands clasped politely in front of your stomach. You didn’t want to look at him, and he certainly couldn’t blame you for it. You looked so shy again. He hadn’t realised just how much you’d come out of your shell since you’d spent all that time with him, and now you were back in it, no doubt afraid to have your heart broken again. Again, he understood, even though the action was killing him with each second that passed. His heart raced in his chest as he looked you over and without thinking, uttered, “Ciao.”

That was the first time you looked at him since the sermon, properly looked at him. And there was no mistaking the hurt in your eyes. In that moment, he realised you probably thought he was making fun of you. “Sorella, I-”

“May I be excused, Your Dark Eminence?”

No, you may not! He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab you by the arms and shake you, steal you, and lock you in a room with him to give him the chance to explain just what was going on. The drop of his given name also felt like a punch to the gut. The last time you talked to him, it was when his tongue was between your folds and his name was spilling from your lips. Now, you were trying your hardest not to cry in front of everyone. So no, you couldn’t be excused! How dare you even entertain the thought? “Please allow me a moment to explain, Sorella.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed your arm.

“Wait for me, in the pews. Please.”

You didn’t answer, or even acknowledge his request, but he watched as you left and went and sat at the back of the Basilica. Relief washed over him as he realised you were giving him a chance. One final chance to make everything right. He turned to look at Cumulus, and asked her to sit with you while you waited. “Make conversation,” he ordered, “I don’t care. Just keep her there. If anyone tries to override this, don’t listen to them. Understand?” He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he rushed through the rest of the congregation, eager to rush to you before you changed your mind.

Of course, Sister Imperator had clocked what was happening and tried to get you to leave, but Cumulus stood her ground. Clearly she was the right Ghoulette for the task. When he was finished, he awkwardly ran to you, his legs resembling an ostrich the way he threw himself up the aisle and toward you. He loved you - he was in love with you. And to hell with the prophecy if it meant he could have you.

“Thank you for waiting,” he began, a little out of breath from the exertion.

You stood and bowed a little, formally greeting the head. “Your Dark Eminence.”

“Please call me Copia.” He sounded much sadder than he intended to.

“I can’t.”

Cumulus cleared her throat beside you both, drawing the attention to her.

Copia nodded. “Right, right. Thank you, Ghoulette. You may leave.” When you were semi-alone, Copia continued. “I wanted to explain myself - tell you about what you saw.”

“Forgive me, Your Dark Eminence, but I don’t want the gory details.”

“No, no. Please just let me explain. It wasn’t what you think - well, it was, but it wasn’t. Sister Evelyn is supposed to be my Prime Mover. There’s been a prophecy for a few hundred years… something about the antichrist only producing offspring with a person who has three sixes in their birth date. It’s ridiculous, I know, but Sister Imperator is adamant it is Sister Evelyn. She’s also adamant that I am the antichrist but, again, I don’t believe her.

“Comunque, I was never meant to see anyone else… I was never meant to fall in love with anyone. But then you come along with your intelligence and your sweetness and become so irresistible that I can’t help but… fall in love… with you.”

He watched your face anxiously, waiting for something that would help relieve the tension in his stomach. But you remained deadpanned, hidden from his gaze.

You started to speak, choosing your words carefully. “If this is how you show love, Your Dark Eminence, then I’d rather not be loved by you at all.”

“Sorella?”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let her… in your office… why?”

“I…” he paused, thinking about what he should say next. “Per cominciare, I don’t believe in the prophecy anyway, so it seemed irrelevant at the time. I didn’t intend on choosing Sister Evelyn anyway so I didn’t tell you because it just didn’t matter to me. But also… in my office… I did try to push her off me, really I did. I so desperately want you to believe me. I didn’t try hard enough, and I wasn’t strong enough. And I couldn’t be sorrier for it. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you. Whatever you need to trust me again, I’ll do it. I love you, ___.”

You stood there for a moment, a little dumbfounded. You were trying to think of something to say, some way to answer him the way you wanted to.

However, the words stuck in your throat, causing an explosion of feelings to pass through you, including hurt, rage, confusion and the last traces of love. Copia’s fervent request lingered in the atmosphere, weighted with sincerity, but your emotions stayed guarded, hurt by the latest discovery. “I can’t just forget everything, Copia,” you finally spoke, your voice a delicate whisper. “I saw what I saw, and it hurt. It hurt a lot.”

Copia’s eyes pleaded with yours, a look of profound regret on his face. He made a hesitant move to close the emotional gap that had formed between you, but you pulled away, keeping a precarious distance. “I love you, ___,” he repeated, the sincerity in his voice echoing through the sacred space of the Basilica.

Closing your eyes briefly, you took a steadying breath. “Love is supposed to be about trust, isn��t it? And I… I just don’t know if I can trust you after what happened.”

His shoulders slumped, a profound sadness settling upon him. “I understand. I’ll do anything to earn back your trust. Just give me a chance, please.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as you grappled with the conflicting emotions within. The sacred surroundings of the Basilica seemed to amplify the weight of the moment, the echoes of your shared history and fractured trust resonating within its hallowed walls.

“I need time, Copia,” you finally admitted, your gaze meeting his. “Time to process, to heal. I can’t promise anything right now.”

Copia nodded, a mix of acceptance and determination in his eyes. “I’ll wait. For as long as it takes. Please just remember that I never meant to hurt you… no matter what anyone says.”

With his mistakes weighing heavily on him, Copia stood there in the dimly lighted Basilica. The lingering smell of incense filled the air, and the elaborate decorations were softly lit by candlelight, creating shadows. A knot clenched in his chest as he watched you walk away, each step bringing you further away from him. Copia became overcome with a deep sense of loss as the heavy door creaked shut behind you. His heart was hollow and empty, and the Basilica, which had previously been a place of devotion and peace, now rang with that. There was a deafening quiet after he had bared his soul and exposed his feelings.

The cold stone under him was a sharp contrast to the warmth that had once filled his heart as he fell to his knees. His gaze remained fixated on the path you had followed, which appeared to extend into an unclear and lonely future. His fingers trembled as he struggled with the regret and shame that were threatening to overwhelm him.

“I’ve lost her,” he muttered to the hallowed area surrounding him, the declaration more of a regret than an assertion. His own remarks seemed to mock him as they echoed off the Basilica’s great vaulted ceilings.

His eyes began to brim up with tears, but he forced them back. The weight of his cardinal robes felt like an anchor, keeping him grounded in a world where love had managed to evade him. His hands balled into fists, anguish and annoyance blending into a soundless orchestra of loss. Copia sensed the loneliness of the Basilica drawing closer to him in the dim light. Kneeling there, a broken man in a spot that had seen the highs and lows of his trip, he couldn’t fathom a life without you, without the warmth of your presence, without the hope that love had once kindled within him.

The compassionate Ghoul, Cirrus, had a great deal of empathy for their leader. She took a step forward without saying anything, her quiet comprehension echoing in her footsteps. The other Ghouls exchanged a look, not knowing how to step in or offer comfort at such a gravely vulnerable moment.

In a show of solidarity and support, Cirrus knelt next to the Cardinal. As Cirrus approached, her hand settled softly on Copia’s shoulder, her wordless presence speaking loudly. The touch, which went beyond the formality of their jobs, was a lifeline amid the sea of grief.

The other Ghouls remained a few steps back, unsure how much to get involved in Copia’s privacy and how much they could help. Worried emotions could be seen on their masked features as each Ghoul struggled with the emotional upheaval that had befallen their leader.

Cirrus stuck by Copia’s side. She didn’t try to make light of the situation or try to make it seem less painful. Rather, her presence was evidence of the unsaid connection that bound them together—a connection made in the furnace of similar experiences, both happy and sad.

“She’ll be back with good news, Cardinal.” Cirrus said. “I saw the way she looked at you.”

Copia, still processing what had happened, glanced up at Cirrus, uncertainty and hope mixed together in his eyes. His face was shadowed by the Basilica’s low light, highlighting the lines of exhaustion in his features. “You really think so?” Copia’s voice carried a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with his usual authoritative tone.

Cirrus nodded, offering a reassuring smile beneath her Ghoul mask. “I’ve seen a lot of love in my day, and the one between you and Sister ___ is far from over. She’ll return.”

Copia let out a heavy sigh, a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “I just… I can’t bear the thought of losing her. She means everything to me.”

Cirrus squeezed Copia’s shoulder gently. “‘Love will out’ as they say, even in the face of trials. Trust in the connection you share, Cardinal. It’s stronger than you realize.”

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost fan fiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fandom #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader smut #cardinal copia smut #copia #copia x reader #copia x reader smut #copia smut #ghost copia #copia emeritus #copia fanfiction #copia is my husband #copia my beloved #lost in translation #commission #ZombieSnips

[seiya-starsniper]

For the gentle prompts! Dreamling, 1. "You're alright." <3

BELOVED I FINALLY FINISHED THIS 💖💖 Hope you enjoy this retired Dream omegaverse sweetness :3

Gentle Prompts Post Here || AO3 Link Here

------------------------ Dream paces obsessively around the tiny bedroom, feeling both claustrophobic and too exposed at once. There is a tension behind his teeth, a feeling that will not abate until his—his—until he is reunited with his beloved. His mate.

When the Fates had come for his life, Hob had stood in their way and called Dream his true mate. As soon as he’d spoken the words, Dream knew them to be true, and he’d stared in wonder, as Hob, his mate, had told the fates they could not have Dream. The Fates had been torn, as killing one’s true mate would kill both partners, and yet Hob Gadling was protected by Death herself, and thus not allowed to die. 

Dream had looked at his sister then, and all she’d given him was a tiny little knowing smile. Somehow, she had known everything, as she knew and Destiny knew all things. 

Dream had wanted to be angry at her, but he couldn’t. Not when she had led him to his mate, all those centuries ago. He had thought that Endless did not have mates, for they did not hold secondary genders the way humans had. And yet, here Hob Gadling was, declaring what everyone except Dream seemed to already know.

The Fates decided instead to take something of equal value to Dream’s life. They took from him his function, his purpose, the very essence of his power as Endless. It had hurt. They reshaped him into something else, something vulnerable and soft, something human. To Dream, the separation from his power had made him feel as though he were dying anyways. His very being had been changed, his soul was no longer what it once was, nor was his mind.

But when he woke up and looked his mate in the eyes, Dream knew everything was going to be okay. Not today, nor the next day, but eventually.  Though he was no longer Dream of the Endless, he was still Dream, and he was not going to spend the rest of his days alone. He had Hob, his oldest friend, his protector, his mate, to help him move through his new life, his new purpose, as a human being.

A knock sounds on the other side of the door, interrupting Dream from his musings of the past.  Dream whips his head so fast towards the source of the noise that he feels his neck pop. That was another new sensation of being human too. Dream had bones now. 

“Dream?” Hob asks, his voice soft and quiet and perfect in Dream’s ears. “I’m done with work now so—”

Dream pulls open the door so hard it crashes into the wall. Hob laughs as he’s forcefully yanked into the room and then pressed to the bed, Dream nuzzling and scenting him the entire time. He wants to drown Hob in his pheromones, wants to bury himself deep inside his beloved’s body, wants to be closer, closer, until he doesn’t know where one of them ends and the other begins. 

“Hey it’s alright, you’re all right, I’m here,” Hob coos, peppering Dream’s face with kisses and nosing along the alpha’s face. He returns the scenting gesture, releasing a calming pheromone that Dream inhales deeply, desperate to fill his lungs with it. He purrs happily with each inhale, and with every exhale, he feels the tension start to dissipate from his body. His muscles relax, and then he is content.

Hob senses the change in him immediately and laughs, clutching Dream even closer.

“So how’s your first rut been going?” Hob asks, and Dream groans in frustration. 

“I do not like this,” he complains, flopping onto Hob’s chest and then rolling over so as not to crush the omega. “Everything is just—so much.” Being human, in general, was a lot, and more unpleasant than good on some days. Especially today at the start of his rut. Dream had always carried the collective unconsciousness within him, he had known what human emotions felt like. And yet, having his own human emotions to contend with was an entirely different thing altogether.

Hob chuckles, and rolls on his side so that he and Dream are face to face, cupping a hand to his lover’s face.

“First one’s always a bit rough, I’m afraid,” Hob says sympathetically. “Though I can only speak for myself as an omega,” he adds. “Gets easier though, I promise.”

Dream sighs, then nuzzles into Hob’ palm. “I suppose it is a small price to pay to be your mate,” he replies.

“That’s the spirit,” Hob says, before he leans in and places a kiss at the tip of Dream’s nose. “I will say you’re one of the most polite alphas in rut I’ve ever met.”

Dream growls, suddenly jealous at the mention of Hob knowing other alphas. It is unreasonable, illogical even, to expect that his mate not be at the very least casual acquaintances with some. Hob has lived for centuries, has loved others besides Dream even. It does not bother Dream to know these things normally. But there is no logic in ruts or heats, and all Dream can think of, in this moment with his hormones running wild, is to claim. 

Hob yelps as Dream pushes him down into the mattress, then grins up at his mate as Dream’s pheromones scream mine mine mine. 

“Well, hello there,” Hob purrs when Dream dips his head down and licks along the mating bite he had given his lover just a month earlier. Hob had gone into heat within days of Dream becoming human and their lovemaking had lasted the entire week. Dream feels the same urge now as he did back then, the urge to be one with his mate. 

“I’ve got you,” Hob croons. “I’m here, whatever you need, love.”

Love.

Such a simple word, and yet it carried so much weight, so much gravitas between the two of them. Hob loved Dream, had always loved Dream. And now, they had the rest of eternity to love one another back.

#dreamling #the sandman #sandman fanfic #hob x dream #morpheus x hob #seiya writes #seiya drabbles #seiya writes dreamling #I need to update my tags I think lol

[emilio-the-dumb-wrestler]

Puberty left me with a smooth slim, V shaped waist, and people call it my best asset. I disagree, I think guys look better when they have more *oomph* round the stomach.

I'll let you treat my midsection as a blank canvas, if you'll help me prove them wrong.

Wishing away that tight waist? I can do that. I’ll even make it so that you’ll never have a tight waist again. Your skin begins to darken as develop a natural tan. One that is reminiscent of another race. But that’s not all. Your hair becomes great on your head. But something odd happens. Hair. Think and black begins to push out over the rest of your body ! Arms, hands, shoulders, back, stomach—- everything… even your feet begging to quickly get coated. Your begin to heat up fast as you begin to sweat and you don’t even notice it but your nose reshapes and gets wider while your cheeks plump up with fat And a thick beard grows on your face. You said you always thought that a man with oomph looked better so kiss that thin stomach goodbye. With each breath you stomach bloats out into a solid hard ball. Sticking out in front of you blocking your view of your hairy size 12s. Sir puberty left you looking boyish before at the age of 21. But now you’re a whole different man. From another race. And now still at the age of 21, yes you are still 21, you look like a man so much older. And that gut. It’s not going away. Each year from this point onward for 10 year will pack on 10 pounds of rock hard solid fat. Making you one massive tanned hairy bear by the age of 31. Stuck at the weight you finish with. Stuck with a monster keg to carry around that is covered in hair. How is that for oomph.

[maxineryx]

Before you continue, I have came to inform you that this includes anime and manga spoilers (chapter 236 onwards). Thanks for reading :)

—————————————————

In a Field of Sunflowers

After a long, exhausting fight, Yuuji finally has a chance to rest in your warm presence.

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x reader

Wc: 1.8k

Warnings & tags: death, blood, regret, self-hate, hurt/comfort

An earthy aroma stuck in the air as multiple patches of tall and bright sunflowers stretched across the green meadow. A light breeze played around with the flowers and grass, slithering around anything in its way. There were a couple of trees that surrounded the meadow, but they were only a tiny speck compared to the ginormous grassy hills in the distance, overlooking and shielding the land in front. The green land was completely covered in yellow, and the clear sky above looked almost dreamy, a very nice shade of blue and a tint of purple. It was entirely devoid of human nature, as if it was an undiscovered place yet to come across.

That was until a bright ball, whiter than the whitest snow, brighter than the sun, appeared out of thin air amidst the sunflowers, slowly growing and reshaping itself to what seemed to be a person. Once it was done, the ball was long gone, and there was now a boy, with a slightly translucent body, as if he was still adjusting to the scene. The sunflowers that surrounded him twinkled and glowed happily.

However, he was anything but happy.

He was none other than Yuuji Itadori, who had a deep wound piercing his abdomen. Although he was in a peaceful setting, blood trickled from the wound, from his nose, and mouth. His clothes were ripped in many places, revealing old and new scars on his body, and his already bruised fingers were still curled into fists. The flowers around him appeared to have noticed his raging demeanour and slowly cowered, returning to their dull yellow colour. Yuuji’s eyes were full of hatred as he froze completely, looking around, taking in the scene surrounding him. His ragged breathing gradually regulated, unclenching his fists. He looked down at his wound, blinking in confusion at how it didn’t hurt when his cold fingers came in contact with the injury. The breeze from before came back, dancing with his hair, calming his heartbeat down. That’s when he took a step, and then another, not necessarily knowing where he was heading, but something in his mind told him to go onward.

Yuuji trudged through the thick patches of yellow, the sunflowers brushing against his dirtied clothes, legs about to surrender due to exhaustion. Then, as he spotted something peculiar in the distance amongst the flowers, his eyes widened as one thought raced through his mind. However, it was too impossible to believe yet. He moved forward again, but this time even faster as if the weariness was never there to begin with.

There he stood motionless, staring at the person in front of him, and he had to blink a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t his eyes deceiving him.

It was you. Staring up at the dreamy blue sky with a carefree expression, sitting on the soft grass with yellow flowers surrounding you. This was definitely a dream. And as much as he wished it wouldn’t be, Yuuji was certain it was one. Just another one of those dreadful nightmares disguised as dreams.

And that's when you turned your head towards him and the breeze slightly ruffled your hair but he still thought you looked beautiful nethertheless, dream or not. He had many dreams of you before, and somehow all of them had their own versions of how you looked like. Sometimes you were short, sometimes tall, sometimes you had green eyes, and sometimes you had no eyes at all.

Your eyes, these eyes, twinkled as you studied him, scanning over his deep wounds, and in an instance they were gone. Yuuji stared at his stomach in awe. Now it all felt so real, too real for it to be a dream. Although you managed to heal his injuries, he could see how your eyes flashed with concern. Then you smiled genuinely, and turned your head back to the scene laid ahead of you. You took a deep breath.

“I knew you’d come.” You spoke softly, looking down at the sunflowers that waved around in the breeze, “It started to get lonely out here.” He remained silent, eyes wide open and full of doubt.

“[Y- Y/N]-“ Yuuji took a deep breath, “This can’t be real— Sukuna is playing with me again.”

“No, Yuuji. It’s me, [Y/N].” You sighed, a pang of sorrow filled your heart at how much he must have been through when you weren’t there, “Thi-“

“Take me back.” He cut you off and demanded. You froze. Perhaps he was still unsure if this was the real you.

“Yu-“

“They need me- I was already too much of a burden, I can’t let anyone else die because of me.” His voice cracked and fresh tears rolled down his face, lip slightly quivering. Your heart broke as he continued to speak, “I can’t let Sukuna win. He has to die-“

“Yuuji.” You stood up and moved your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks, wiping the tears away with your thumbs. Then, you moved your hand to the back of his head and brought it down so that he could cry into your shoulder. And he did. His spare hands that dangled loosely found their way to your clothes, gripping onto you as if his life depended on it. You whispered to him, “Ask anyone you want, and they’ll tell you the truth. You’re not a burden. You’ve done so much to help everyone. I’m so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.” He continued to weep until his eyes could bear no more, moving his face slightly away, gazing tiredly into your loving eyes. You took his hand gently in yours and sat down on the soft sunflowers with him, the sun above you shining brightly.

Yuuji turned to you and brought his healed hand to your face, yet so gently as if he was afraid of damaging you, because his hands were a murderous weapon. “You are real…”

You chuckled, feeling how your heart skipped a beat at his touch. “I am.”

The sunflowers watched this exchange between two lovers and danced with happiness.

“I missed you.” His voice cracked as he looked down, recalling all the memories, “I missed you so much that sometimes I’d cry at night because I slowly started to forget what you looked like. Sometimes you’d visit me in my dreams and when I woke up I felt even worse. I wanted to see you, touch you, feel you again.”

“I know.”

You then patted your lap, signalling Yuuji to lay his head down, and so he did, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair. You two sat in silence, only accompanied by the vibrant flowers and the delicate breeze.

There was so much that you wanted to tell him. For a few days, weeks, months, you don’t really know, you’ve sat and watched him as his heart gradually grew colder soon after witnessing your death, and all the others. It pained you too much to see him like that, the traces of his bright personality and smile long gone, yet knowing that if you hadn’t died so carelessly perhaps even a little of his old self would still be there.

You had fallen in Shibuya, not long after Nobara did.

In front of him.

You could still vividly remember his shocked face, hearing his heart shatter into pieces and his broken voice as he called out your name— if you had gotten more time then you would have told him those three words but you were already long gone.

And when you opened your eyes, you were met with the breath-taking view, but if you hadn’t just died, perhaps you would have payed more attention to it.

Angry, tired, and upset, you wandered around until you spotted Nobara, who was also sitting in the same exact spot he had found you later.

You squeezed her so hard, and the both of you cried out of happiness.

Then, one by one, other sorcerers, close and not so close to you, showed up, until there were so many that you grew irritated. Irritated because Yuuji was still fighting, him thinking that he needed to fight until he had Sukuna’s head. Irritated because you just wanted to see him, to be in his presence.

After a few weeks, everybody left the sunflower field and headed together into the forest, hearing that there was a peaceful village past the land of dark green. Only you were left. The others offered you many times to come, yet you insisted on staying and watching your boyfriend fight. You couldn’t even leave, praying and hoping that his pain would soon be over. And as soon as it was, you awaited his presence, a little nervous, and fresh sorrow deep in your heart.

You knew that he changed, hell, you even faced the possibility of him not loving you anymore, or knowing that you’d never get the old Yuuji back. It pained you so, but you'd do anything for him, even waiting for him, no matter how long. Because you loved Yuuji Itadori so much.

But now you’re pretty sure he still felt the same towards you, with the way he looked up at you from your lap, with love and tears in his eyes as you continued to run your fingers through his slight dirtied hair.

“Um… did you…” He started, blinking tiredly as your fingers worked magic. “Did you… did you see the others…?” You immediately knew who he was referring to by his quiet tone, and you chuckled because this was the same old Yuuji, asking if his close ones were okay before caring about himself. It seemed that your touch and voice slowly managed to soften his heart again and calm the raging storm in his head.

You nodded. “Junpei, Namamin, Kugisaki—“ He sniffled, bottom lip quivering as you continued to say their names. “—Fushiguro, Gojo… and everyone else… they’re all here. Safe. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

There were tears streaming down his face, and you leaned down, pressing a sweet, feathery kiss to his cheek, talking to him soothingly and healing his heart ever so slowly, but efficiently. The boundless bright sun shining proudly above, happily as you looked up at it, the tall flowers that surrounded you swaying from side to side.

And when you looked down again, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of your adorable boyfriend sleeping so peacefully, gentle breaths escaping past his lips, and you hoped that he dreamt of only nice things. Even though you knew that his normal youth was already long gone, that you wouldn’t be able to fix it, one thing you did know was that you’d always be there for him whenever he needed you. This time there was nothing that could have disturbed you two.

“Sleep, Yuuji.” You whispered, caressing his head gently. “It's your turn to rest now. I'll be here when you wake up.”

————————————

A/N: After watching the new eps, and reading the manga, I realised that the actual villain is Gege. And so, for all the Yuuji lovers, I hope I eased your pain with this fic, there will be more along the way.

#itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 1B! MATCH 3 OUT OF 8

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Ylfa:

She just went through so much and so much growth and i love her very much.

She becomes a big bad wolf

She met Death and Death wanted her to live.

Great depiction of a teenager by Emily Axford. A lot of scenes get really emotional with her being a symbol of the cycle of life and death and eventually she will always become the Big Bad Wolf.

she faced off with Death and he told her to live. this Death, who was much older than the Death she was supposed to meet, stared off with Yilfa for days until she succumbed to hunger and ate him alive. other iterations of death apologized to her for the story she was forced to suffer through, for the punishment she had to endure over an unrealistic and unabidable rule she was destined to break. her corrupted story turned her into the big bad wolf, into death itself. she sacrificed the beloved memory of her grandma, her namesake, so that her friends would be able to save their world. even though she gained it back in the end, she was willing to live the rest of her life as the wolf, a harbinger of death, and when she was reminded that she was just a child, that it wasn’t her responsibility to guide the dead, she cried, and separated from the wolf. she was able to grow up normal and happy after suffering from the looming presence of death. i’m gonna make me friend also submit yilfa bc they’re smarter than me and can make better propaganda

my mutual really likes her

Her narrative arc about growing up and life and death is so beautiful and her being a werewolf is so cool. Emily Axford gets girlhood like nobody else.

she is the bravest little girl in the world she met death and death wanted her to live she split his skull and ate the innards of death himself she is just a little girl!!!!!!!

PRIMO Red Riding Hood adaptation. Ate the wolf who ate her gramma. Is a werewolf and a metaphor for puberty. Loves her friends. Can break her bones to reshape her body into various animal forms.

Not only did she have to lose her grandmother, but she also nearly dies of starvation and exhaustion until The Big Bad Wolf, aka Death, convinced her to live, by her killing him and eating his flesh, therefore making her Death

Ylfa has a snazzy orange top hat given to her by a very attractive fairy. Three Blind Mice is her favorite story. She brought her grandma lollipopcorn and threw the broth in the river halfway there. She first developed a crush on Pinocchio when she saw him use his nose as a stripper pole and didn't kiss him until they were twenty-one and having an awkward conversation about her grandma's death and Toy Island. She fought a baron with a spoon. She wants a bra. She jumped into The Terrible Dogfish’s stomach to save her friend. She has pinkeye and grandma hobbies. She fought off a shit ton of homicidal tables at once. She is pals with Little Miss Muffet. She killed her family. She sacrificed the memory of her grandmother to become Death. She was basically adopted by Mother Goose (who is a cool old gay dude). She Wildshapes by horribly contorting her body into animalistic forms. She is a Barbarian who acts as a support character. She is the bravest little girl in the whole world.

Behold, 3 minutes of the weirdest and best little girl! [Link]

Her weirdgirl swag is off the charts :) [Link]

Ylfa Propaganda: [Link]

Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary:

come on just look at her shes so fucking cool

SHES SOOOOOOOO FUCKING COOOOLL ok so like. Lobotomy Corporation takes place in an SCP type facility where a bunch of abnormalities are living. She is one of them. She is a mostly undying humanoid creature that lives for the sole sake of hunting down the Big And Will Be Bad Wolf. She lives in your facility and will BREAK OUT of her containment if she feels that the wolf is near (or if too many people are dying). You can also hire her to assist you in taking down other abnormalities, and she's actually super good at it. And her outfit is just so sooo sick? She's so cool. Please play Lobotomy Corporation it goes on sale for like $7 every Steam Sale

She's red riding hood if red riding hood had a gun. Also she kisses women

Monster based on human subconscious aka an Abnormality based on the story of Little Red Riding Hood (duh). In this story, she was mauled by the wolf (Big And Might Be Bad Wolf) who is based on all fairy tale wolf villains. Little Red then got to work plotting her revenge and making Bloodborne-esque gear for herself and the two Abnos are locked in eternal combat of hatred for one another

She's literally the coolest, just look at her. For people who might not be so familiar with her: She's one of the abnormalities that remain locked in the Lobotomy Corporation. Her past is somewhat unclear, but she has some horrid scars on her face due to the Big Bad Wolf and she swore vengeance upon him because of that incident. This lead her to become a mercenary and she looks 1000% scarier and more badass than the wolf lol. Also, asides from the fact that she may kill half of your team if she escapes containment, she is quite chill and will even help you take care of your problems if you pay her.

little red riding hood but consumed by vengeance to the point of becoming an anomalous creature hellbent on completing her eternal battle with the wolf. intense desire for revenge. baller as fuck design. will help you kill other escaping abnormalities but you gotta pay her to do it. gets pissed off every time someone escapes containment except for that one annoying bird for absolutely no discernible reason. if you let her kill the wolf she gives you bonuses but if someone else kills the wolf she goes fucking bananas. truly an inspired feral creature of a woman.

Go girl!!! We love your unrestrained violence!

She is literally the absolute coolest!!! I mean, just look at her design! Everything about it screams fucking cool! Not to mention that her story has themes of vengeance, rage, and grief!!! And Lobotomy corporation is just the fucking best and soooooo underrated.

She's starting to fall behind so GO ON AND VOTE MERC WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR! (and buy Lobotomy Corp on steam it's not even that expensive!)

Vote for Riding Hooded Mercenary she's an Abnormality serving as a hired merc that means shes a hunter of her own kind and she WILL chase them to the ends of earth lest she dies herself or knows that damn Wolf is nearby. The cursor for sending hits on something is a wanted poster. She's WAW-classed too, a step below the most dangerous category for her ilk. she shares the class with things such as insane-ass magical girls, an eyeless flower horse turns people into wisteria gardens, fucked up and evil Little Prince, a bird judge that hangs its victims, the now-animate poisoned apple that killed Snow White, and of course the Wolf itself.

#red riding poll #round 1 #round 1b #ylfa snorgelsson #dimension 20 #dimension 20: neverafter #f-01-57 #little red riding hooded mercenary #lobotomy corporation #red riding hood #little red riding hood #polls #character polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #battle of the 'idk they just sort of had similar vibes to me based on the propaganda but i havent consumed either of these medias'

[shadowriel]

Every Sound Your Heart Makes

Here’s chapter 2 of my secret Santa gift for @headcanonheadcase! It’s been so fun creating this for you, and I hope you enjoy this next part.

Summary: It’s been six years since Azriel came back to his hometown, with his newborn daughter in tow. Six years since Gwyn moved away from whatever heartbreak she’d left behind in her previous life and opened up a diner in Starlight Grove.

Now, unable to resist the urge to help Gwyn, Azriel volunteers to design sets for their town’s Christmas musical. But what happens when the town grump and the woman he’s fallen for can no longer hold back from the inevitable?

Chapter 2: Follow Where You Lead

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Read a snippet below:

It’s just him. Until he feels someone step out behind him.

There’s a note of surprise, evident in the tensing of Azriel’s shoulders. Even without turning around, he knows who it is: Gwyn, who surely should still be inside, engaged in conversation with the other townspeople. That’s what she does most Thursday nights—he knows this because he often finds himself blinking at the ‘Be Back Soon’ sign settled atop the door of her diner. It seems that even with her limited time in Starlight Grove, she’d already engrained herself enough into the community that people didn't seem to remember a time without her.

Azriel does—remember, that is. Before Gwyn, there had been few things he’d looked forward to in their small town. Yet, ever since he’d met her six years ago, her very presence had reshaped the way he saw this place. The Archeron’s bakery was no longer known for the best pies, but it was where Gwyn giggled in delight as she took bite after bite of what was supposed to be Azriel’s slice. Where she had whipped cream on the tip of her nose, that he gladly wiped off with the pad of his thumb. The town’s bookstore was no longer a place to get books, but where Gwyn had dragged him between shelves, stacking romance novels into his outstretched arms. Where she blushed when he’d settled them on a nearby table, picked one, and read a scene aloud.

And, somehow, Starlight Grove was not only where he’d grown up, but where he’d grown into this new version of himself—one marked with heartbreak and pain and, despite it all, love. He feels it, stirring in his chest, when he holds his daughter, and when he laughs with his mother as the two of them cook dinner. He feels it when he teases Nesta and Emerie, and when he has his annual snowball fight with his chosen brothers. He feels it now, when he recognizes Gwyn from the sound of her footsteps and the feel of her fingers as she wraps a hand around his wrist.

“Come on,” she says simply, using her hold to pull him along. She moves easily across the sidewalk, and even as Azriel presses his heels into the ground, there’s not much force behind it.

He lets her guide him. Of course, he does.

Turning towards Gwyn, he sees that she’s wearing her blue hat again. The material covers the tips of her ears, and, from this close, he can see every stitch in the knitted pattern. Her gloves, however, are absent now, so he can feel the cold press of her fingertips against his skin.

It draws a shiver up his spine, for more reasons than one.

“Where are we going?” he asks, the words strung together in a single breath.

Her response is short—curt. “To the theatre.”

To talk more about their plans for the musical, he’s sure. That’s what Gwyn had told him the week before, but there’s an urgency to her movements that prompts him to shift more of his weight onto his heels. To push back.

“What’s the hurry?”

Gwyn huffs, using her other hand to tighten her grip on him. She puts all her strength into trying to move him, and when he doesn’t budge—not even an inch—she turns narrowed eyes at him.

“I don’t want anyone to see us leaving together,” she admits, her tone more accusatory than anything.

Azriel blinks at her. He wonders if she can see the surprise in his expression as his gaze darts over her features, searching for more of an explanation to make sense of her words. When he doesn’t find it, he can only ask “Why?”

“They’ll talk.”

He laughs. And maybe it’s the lingering effect of the wine, maybe it’s the sight of colour rushing to Gwyn’s cheeks, but the sound is deep—uncontrolled in a way that leaves him nearly breathless.

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @foundressofnothing @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @trashforazriel @sv0430 @sunshinebingo @shadowsxgwynriel @thelovelymadone @damedechance @talons-and-teeth

For the @acotargiftexchange

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel supremacy #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #azriel #au gwynriel #modern gwynriel #acotar secret santa 2023 #acotargiftexchange #every sound your heart makes

[byou-shin]

hi! ive liked your aesthetic and simstyle for a while and i was wondering if you could give tips or sort of walk thru how you make sims? like the face, makeup, skin details, etc. i have trouble making my male sims look as pretty as yours😭 thank u in advance!

Oh thanks so much for the interest! (ㆁᴗㆁ✿) I'm actually surprised people likes my simstyle....

---- How I make my male sims ----

Let's make this handsome guy with me~

NOTES :

all my male sims (masc or fem looking; Adam, Xion, Moa) are made in masculine frames

I don't use alpha skin, but skin overlays. I find it easier to layer makeup and skin details

all of these are my personal preferences, so back to you again for which you want to take from me

Tutorial undercut

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

One - choosing skin overlay

First thing I always be choosing skin overlay. I always use Obscurus skin, sometimes Darkstone. I don't like cartoonish looking, but I don't make it way too realistic, so I like it in between realistic and animate. I choose other skin details very later.

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

Two - head size & body propotions

a.

After it I choose body preset. After it I will using the EA slider on left whether make it like I want to.

So.. I do really think that EA makes the head size big lol. So I will resize the head using the slider on forehead from afar (zoom out), then make it "slim" by drag the slider to center (still zoom out). Most of the times I max it, but there are sims that I made a liiiiitle bit wider.

See what I mean, right?

b.

If the sim is not tall enough or too short for the character I want to make, I will slider it to using slider in the back of leg

I also slider the back so the sim doesn't have a hunchback. Then usually I will slimmer the neck to max

For fingers I also slide it smaller according to which kind of sim. If I want to make it fragile and delicate, I will slider it to max. If I want to make it masculine still, (or slender) I will slider it until I got the good result I want.

I don't really pay attentions to feet sizes lol, sometimes but rarely, I will slide it smaller or bigger.

c.

Body reshaping is up to my liking actually. Making the shoulders wide or not, it's depend on the sim itself too afterall. So i don't know what to write (u_u;). This guy tho, you can see what I made him like what in introduction post

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

Three - choosing eyebrows & face presets

I do this freely actually, depends on the character itself. There are no differences choosing between masc and fem male sims. All is back to the character, even the jaw and chin presets. I do all that in sliding proccess (making it look feminine or masculine). I use both EA Presets or cc creators presets.

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

Four - eyebrows & face features shaping/sliders

Actually the process is -> chose preset for one feature -> shape it -> chose preset for another feature -> shape it, but ye lol :3

a.

For eyes, I always slider them smaller, usually max or near to max. Depends again. Sometimes I imagine few sims to extra eyelids tape that makes eyes appear really big (see : Taiga & Asakusa).

If you notice it, in this post my sims have different eye sizes

b.

For nose, usually I will make bigger or smaller as I like (depends on character). But the important is to keep the ratio of the face nicely. Don't make the nose too high or too low. There should be enough gap for lips and nose.

*btw I did the change of skin color after hand reshaping

c.

For eyebrows, is as I said above. Also, it's all depend on the sim face and the makeup look (especially for my vkei sims), so idk what should I say (*´・▿・)ゞ

d.

For mouth, i always make it smaller a bit using the slider on corner of mouth (face zoom out), and make it wider as needed (face zoom out). I always make my sims have relaxed mouth, not frowning but not smiling either. Zoom in shaping is also used of course.

e.

For chin, cheeks, jawline etc. Pay attention to it. I slider it little by little as needed. Chin doesn't have to be small. But for this guy, I made it a lil bit smaller. See the chin or jaw shapes in this post.

f.

Important!! I always size up or down(? the head until it have nice ratio with the teeth. (zoom out face)

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

Four - choosing skin details (face & body)

Honestly I do this freely.... if it fits then it fits... lol. Oh also in this part, if I think I should change the skin overlay, then i do it.

a.

Eye details -> if the skin overlay has no eyelids and I want the sim to have it, i'll give them eyelids cc. If I want the sim has eyebags I will give it. Just tiiiiny bit detail. Eyelids cc I use is from Dalsuk and Obscurus. Alsooo, this one is important, I use sclera cc too. I also use eyedepth sometimes.

Also katrina-y eyesocket is good. Sometimes i use it. (See: Xion & Asakusa)

b.

Nose mask/details -> I use nosemask from Obscurus and ddarkstone, faeesih. Depending which suit the best. Not much given to the nose actually.

c.

Mouth details -> i use mouth/smile mask(? from miiko and pralinesims (not always, only if needed). This guy used from miiko

d.

hairline -> I use from setsuki (this time I forgot to gave him hairline but it doesn't show since the hair was covering..

f.

body details -> it depends on the character.. (again). I recommed moonchildlovesthenight abs mask if you want to make muscular sim. This guy though, I didn't add anything to body details.

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

After reshaping face features and add skin details~ I really like the nose.

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

Five - makeup

How should I describe this part? ( ;´ - `;) it depends on the sim itself. What do you want them to be? But I prepared two option

One is "heavy" look type, like.. some neo-vkei bandmen (I was trying to imitate one of Shiyu from Ashmaze makeup :'D. I need more makeup cc..). But you can also look at my other sims. "Heavy" makeup will carry the atmosphere the sim gives. Take look at Nozomi in this post. He looks mysterious, dark and gloomy.

I will list the makeup cc used, but I'm too tired to link.. zzzzzz

So when i saved this guy I actually deleted the first makeup look... I forgot to add the eyelashes back again..

[BBSims] blush1 RemusSirion_Lipstick_195_Hydra JIUJIANWU 晕染眼影 [PARISE]SelenaEyes(UNNATURALS)

Two is natural beauty type of way. Fresh look. The type to wake up with perfect face, even he was drooling in the sleep. (still depends on the sim characters! In this case, he's the type of people who only uses concealer to hide the face "imperfections").

Makeup cc used.

obscurus_lips_N12 ddarkstonee_eyelashes_N5 [baekbobohu] 04Eyes

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

Other tips

Give your male sims eyelashes! Big or not, natural or not.

Use every prossible sliders that is available!

Slide the pupil to imagine them wear big ass contact lens :D (See: Taiga & Asakusa)

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

DONE~

whew,, this took me at least 7-ish hours...

so yeah.. I...... hope this helps...?

^_^; .....................

#ask #tutorial #sims 4 #my sims #sims 4 cas #sims 4 makeup