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hmmmmmmmm more mafia au outfits ideas
We made another thing for London MCM!
https://www.etsy.com/shop/sammyborras
$2.36 = £1.50 (approximately) $2.25 = £1.50 (approximately) International Shipping: $5 Illustrated Halloween playlist featuring Everything Everything, Bat For Lashes, Gnarls Barkley, The Go! Team, Tom Lehrer, Gorillaz, Villagers, Franz Ferdinand, Peace, Adam Buxton, The Kinks and The Subways. A6 12 Interior Pages Black and White Interior Orange Cover (80gsm) Black Inside Cover (80gsm) (Sarah Fogg www.etsy.com/uk/shop/sarahfogg )
Normally when an Animal Crossing game comes out:
"Awww man! I have to go to work/school/social obligations! I just want to stay at home and play Animal Crossing!"
Mid-March 2020: North America enacts Social Distancing protocol. Events are closed. Businesses are emptied. The public is advised to stay at home.
Covid-19:
You're Welcome
Julian with tattoos. That's all I want. Like, more than his murderer's mark. Like a whole sleeve or pirate tattoos covering his back. Like imagine sleeping together for the first time and slowly uncovering all his body art.
Portia is so damn pretty, someone help me I-
The new swimsuit sprites for the main 6 in the beach tale extracted from the game files because I wanted a good view of everyone's legs without the textbox covering them.
why is explaining a villains sad backstory always taken as an effort toward excusing their actions. why does the conversation need to involve the question of excusing anything rather than just making their present behavior way more interesting by complicating their feelings or their motivations. why is acknowledging complicated feelings or motivations taken as apologism in and of itself. why is everyone so incredibly boring
Wo, fake screenshot be upon ye
Made Rainworld X ISAT AU because they’re both my favorite games of all time they’re so fucking good bro go play them NOW ⚡️
If I think about Phineas and Isabella for too long I start crying /j
big question. what is your song of the year so far? the one you listened to most, the one that touched you the most, or for any reason. for me its where do we go now? by gracie abrams 🌟
Me stealing lil thingies for Dio
My mom wondering where her wine bottle corks are going: ??? Me running to my room hunched over like a lil gremlin to put them on Dio's altar: hehehehehe >:3
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS
HYPE AS FUCKKKKKKKKKKK
𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 (part I) | frater imperator x reader
𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 | when the newly-appointed head of the clergy decides (or, has it decided for him) that it is time to marry, he neither has time for nor has to worry about the stress of dating... he can just take his pick.
𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 | 5.2k
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 | for the series overall: smut (18+ only!!), arranged marriage, extreme religious themes, shy!reader, and lots of pining/slow-ish burn. for this chapter: mention of death and mostly just reader having anxiety... and a hint of my glove kink coming through but that's neither here nor there
this is probably not worth saying when it's already in the title but uh, rite here rite now spoilers. so sorry but it's literally what the fic is based on so I couldn't help it.
Frater Imperator… Frater Imperator…
He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the title, still. It was a shock already when he first read the letter from his mother— on top of the shock of losing her, which was more than enough— but it still hadn’t quite sunk in.
He was so shocked by the promotion, in fact, that he’d been entirely unable to process the paragraph afterwards:
And please, do as I’ve been asking for quite some time and finally take a wife. Or husband! I’m not picky. But you need someone beside you to keep things in order and keep you in line.
Yes, Copia’s mother had been encouraging him towards marriage for quite some time, even before he knew she was his mother; in some ways, it made more sense once that element came to light, though it did change the tone of her request quite a lot. It also made him take it much more seriously.
And now, it could be argued that this was basically her dying wish. He really had no other choice: he couldn’t put off a marriage any longer.
See, he’d never had a problem with the idea of it— he’d always imagined getting married some day, like most people seem to— but he wasn’t the luckiest in love. A broken heart or two (or five) had convinced him to focus more on his work with the church, and to be fair, no one could deny that the work had paid off. But, as they say, it gets lonely at the top: and now, he was the leader of the whole church, and he had no prospects or even romantic interests to speak of.
Fortunately, he had realized that because he was the leader, he didn’t need all that: all he had to do was say the word.
~
The announcement spread through the congregation like wildfire: the newly-minted Frater Imperator was going to get married. The part they neglected to mention— and the part everyone wanted to know the most— was to whom.
There were already plenty of rumors, which you avoided because you felt they were all baseless. Even within one day you’d heard three different stories about this mysterious future spouse, each more preposterous than the last: that he had a secret lover in the ministry he would wed, that he met a fan at a ritual and swept her off her feet, and that he had some previously unmentioned long-term girlfriend who wasn’t even in the church.
The wedding was less than a week away and all anyone knew was that everyone would be there.
Unfortunately, it was hard to ignore the gossip, even if you weren’t participating in it. The night when it all began, you were trying to read while several of the other Sisters were giggling amongst themselves over their various theories. “I wasn’t sure he’d ever marry,” someone admitted, “even though he could probably have anyone he wanted.”
“Not me,” one Sister announced smugly, “I never thought he was all that good-looking.”
“Oh please,” another scoffed incredulously, “you’d be on your knees in a second if you saw him at a ritual.”
“Besides, his looks aren’t the most important thing: this is the head of the clergy. Whoever he marries is probably going to be spoiled rotten!”
They laughed excitedly, and though you’d been trying to tune it out, you couldn’t help but wonder about it as well. The announcement had left so much unanswered, but the timing of it seemed too important to ignore. Perhaps the clergy had forbidden the Papa to marry— you weren’t aware of any rule against it, since to your knowledge none of them had ever tried— and so he’d had to wait until his time was complete to be with the person he loved. Perhaps it was the death of his mother that triggered it: at best, a renewed desire to find happiness and family when faced with a reminder of mortality; at worst, his mother hadn’t approved of his lover and only now was his final obstacle removed.
Ironically, after all those times you failed to ignore them before, it took the other Sisters several attempts to tear you out of your train of thought now: you blinked quickly and looked up from your book as you realized they were saying your name to get your attention.
“Hm?” you mumbled hazily when you looked at them.
“A message for you,” Sister Agnes informed you, leaning over to hand you a rolled parchment. You weren’t sure if it was private or not, but everyone was staring at you in anticipation— in fact, you noticed then that their entire conversation had died down to silence— and so you awkwardly unrolled it and read the writing inside.
MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY:
Frater Imperator and the clergy request your presence in the upper sanctum imminently.
~
As soon as you descended the stairway back to the mail halls of the abbey, a gaggle of Sisters descended on you, wide-eyed and desperate for gossip. “So?!” Sister Lilith asked expectantly, like the rest of her question should be obvious. “What was it about?”
“Was the whole clergy there?”
“U-uhm, all but Frater,” you replied shyly.
“What did they say?”
“Don’t be silly, ladies,” Sister Agnes scoffed, “it was obviously about the wedding. What else would there be meetings about today? They must want her to help in some way: communion, maybe?”
“Ooh! A bridesmaid!” another in the group suggested excitedly. “Do you know who he’s marrying?”
“Of course she knows!” someone answered for you. “Who is it? I was right, wasn’t I— it’s someone in the church!”
“Well… yes, I know who it is,” you mumbled, “but I… I’m not sure I’m permitted to speak on it.”
That was a lie, but you were too busy trying to process it all yourself to share it with anyone.
“Just tell us,” they begged. “You won’t get in trouble!”
“The wedding’s only a few days away,” Sister Lilith pointed out, “so there’s no point in it being a secret now— and if I’m right about who it is, Sister Magdalena owes me a fifty.”
“I’m sure you didn’t guess it,” you promised her.
But the questions just kept coming: “It is a woman, though, right?” “Is it someone you know? Wait, is it someone we know?” “
You realized that if you didn’t tell them now, they would either figure it out soon or be entirely blindsided at the ceremony. Not to mention that if you refused to answer their questions, they’d just keep grilling you until they got something. Your voice was actually quite feeble in that moment, not loud or strong enough to cut through all that chatter— but your words were enough to stop every question being thrown at you in its tracks.
“It’s me.”
You waited for them to react, but for a moment, they didn’t.
“I was asked to— to take the position,” you specified, putting it as vaguely as possible. I’m going to marry Frater Imperator was just as true but was just as hard to say as it was to wrap your head around.
They erupted into a variety of reactions, all of which at least had some element of shock involved. “I had no idea you were so close!” Sister Agnes exclaimed.
“We’ve… never even spoken…” you shyly replied, and the excitement quickly died down. You weren't offended by their quizzical stares; if anything, it was a relief to see some of them looking as confused as you felt.
Why did he choose her? you caught a few whispers in the back of the group. They're strangers? What makes her so special, then?
You wish you knew the answers to those questions.
That night as you laid in bed, you couldn’t do anything but replay the clergy meeting in your mind. You’d felt so small across the table from all of them; you had no idea air could feel so heavy and stiff, matching the tense energy as you waited for them to explain why you’d been summoned. As it all happened, you thought you would never forget every detail— but already you were losing your memory of what was said in what order, when exactly you realized you weren’t in trouble, how long it took you to believe what you were hearing.
Should we not court first? Or have a meeting, maybe? You had suggested. Frater does not feel it is necessary, a clergyman firmly replied.
And he’s not here now, because… you trailed off.
We all feel you should make this decision privately— in case his presence would sway you one way or another, a high Sister answered.
You could see the logic in that, and appreciated the concern for your uncoerced consent… except, of course, that this was an offer already impossible to say no to. They’d successfully convinced you that you wouldn't be punished for turning down the proposal, but the marriage itself had already been announced: if you rejected the offer, someone else would surely take your place. And for some reason, though the idea of going through with this terrified you, passing it up sounded even worse. Even just imagining another woman taking her place at his side… why did it bother you so much?
Because you will take your husband's title, but will not have decision-making power over the clergy, your title from henceforth shall be Sister Imperator Consortia.
It had a ring to it, but it didn’t feel like you— at least not yet. It felt too… formal, too important. Generally, people don’t join a convent and put on a habit because they’re intent on standing out, Satanic or not.
You told yourself that you needed to rest while you could, you had a busy week ahead starting with a dress fitting first thing tomorrow. But still, you hardly got a moment of sleep that first night; part of you thought if you shut your eyes long enough, you would wake up to learn this had all been some bizarre dream.
You couldn’t decide, though, if you’d be relieved or heartbroken if you awoke.
~
In some ways, the wedding mass was quite similar to how you’d always pictured yours would be… except for the attendance. You were sure you’d never met this many people in your life! Even tonight, you wouldn’t be able to meet them all!
But, of course, this was the social event of the year, if not decade, for any church member or Satanist: it only made sense that there were throngs of people not only in the church but outside, waiting to see the new couple.
As you looked at yourself in the mirror, face obscured by the black veil, your eyes widened with the thought that you might be basically the Kate Middleton of Satanism in this moment…
Trading your opaque veil for one of lace, your loose and simple dress for a form-fitting and extravagant one made of dark red silk and sporting an over-the-top train, you wondered if you were going to be swallowed up by all this overwhelming intricacy, all this… pomp.
Taking a shaky breath, you tried not to imagine that everyone else watching you walk down the aisle would agree with you that you were horribly out of place. You wished you’d had a chance to understand why you were chosen— to even just meet the high Frater, but the clergy had insisted several times that he was too busy with his new duties and planning the wedding. Yes, your fiance was too busy planning your wedding to speak to you. It was all horrifically ironic, and irritating. So, as you turned and stepped out of the bridal suite, taking your bouquet of Dahlias from one of the Sisters assisting you, you thought to yourself if nothing else, at least I’ll get to finally try to understand all this by the end of the night.
The doors to the main hall opened for you, and there was no turning back.
It was a massive room, with easily a thousand people between you and the altar, but the very first thing your eyes fell on was Copia all the way at the other end of the aisle: the all black suit was no surprise, yet even from so far his white eye stood out prominently, and it was fixed on you.
Walking down the aisle took quite some time— you’d been reminded to take slow steps, as if you were just going to break into a sprint or something. You tried to keep your eyes ahead, and ignore all the eyes on you: people seated on the furthest ends of the pews leaned and stood on their tiptoes to try to get a glimpse, but between all the encouraging smiles you caught an occasional glare of disapproval… it seemed plenty of your siblings were jealous of or disappointed by you one way or another.
Adjusting your clammy hands slightly, you realized you were unintentionally holding a concerningly tight grip on the Dahlia stems and the ribbon they were wrapped with; that said, you were very thankful for something you do with your hands.
Your heart was pounding by the time you reached the front of the hall, where the priest, the clergy, and your betrothed waited for you at the altar. A Sister took your bouquet away to free your hands just as you passed the front row, and when you looked forward again there were only a few carpeted steps between you and… everything.
Copia surprised you by reaching forward— at first you weren’t sure what he meant by it, until you realized and quickly took his hand, letting him guide you up the stairs. He was wearing those leather gloves you hardly ever saw him without, but even still, it was the first time you’d ever touched him; was his hand shaking? You couldn’t tell, yet it almost felt like it. Not to say that his grip wasn’t a strange sort of comfort in that moment; as he helped you up the stairs, you felt yourself relaxing slightly, despite being far from over with the hardest parts of this.
The first few minutes were just a matter of standing and waiting while the priest spoke: you wish you could say you remembered a damn word of it, he must’ve said something about love or marriages or… you know, all that. Whatever it was, you were relieved when it was over and you could move on to the communion and prayer— the more familiar parts, and the parts where you got to kneel. You were actually amazed that your legs hadn’t been noticeably wobbly so far, but they definitely could use a break.
In the time that your head was meant to be bowed in your prayer, you carefully opened your eyes and turned your head— just enough to take a peek at him quickly. Well, your intention was to be quick about it, but once you started looking, you became distracted rather easily. It was just that you'd never seen him so up close, you were sure: you'd never noticed the slope of his nose before, or how long his eyelashes were, or the shape of his lips in this profile—
Suddenly, as if he sensed your stare somehow, his eyes popped open and glanced over to return it. He gave you a half smirk as your eyes widened and you snapped your gaze back down to your clasped hands.
“...and may they be joined in unholy matrimony for all eternity,” the priest ended his prayer: “Nema.”
“Nema,” you and Copia and the rest of the congregation replied.
The penultimate step of the ceremony was the exchanging of the rings, which were extended towards you both on a little velvet pillow— it was actually kind of adorable, you thought.
You figured he might take his gloves off for you to put the ring on, but it was apparently designed to fit around them; alternately, you had to suppress a startled reaction to your own ring as he gently placed it on your finger. It was a massive ruby surrounded with onyx and black diamonds, intricate and completely unsubtle. You knew Copia had expensive taste, and it was certainly in keeping with such a lavish wedding, but you wondered if it would look entirely out of place on you for daily wear.
I’ll wear this ring every day, forever, you reminded yourself; you breathed out shakily as his hands held yours so tenderly for one more moment after your ring was in place.
And then there was only one thing left. The thing you’d been preparing yourself for since this morning— or perhaps since that fateful meeting with the clergy: the kiss.
It felt pretty melodramatic with him lifting your veil over your head, and it felt surreal to be in the part of this that you’d been imagining in hopes of preparing yourself. Of course, it was a little different than how you’d pictured it, most of all the look on his face: it was subtle, but he didn’t seem as serious or muted as you were used to. It wasn’t like he was grinning or anything— that would’ve actually been sort of creepy— but there was a small smile on his face.
You heard the priest say something about husband and wife but you weren’t paying attention, it all sounded distant somehow. And maybe you sort of psyched yourself up for this moment too much— maybe you wanted to get the wedding over with, maybe you were afraid if you didn’t commit fully that you’d end up instinctively backing away when he came closer and you’d both be humiliated in front of all these people.
There were other possible explanations for what you did, but for whatever reason, you all but threw yourself onto him and kissed him.
It only lasted for a few seconds, but that moment may as well have been frozen in time; it took him a second to react, his hands settling near your waist— and it took the crowd a moment too, but they began to clap and cheer for you both at some point.
Truthfully, you weren’t thinking much about how it felt to kiss him… you couldn’t, really, without losing focus on the point of all this. You weren’t here to have a nice kiss or meet someone you might like— you were here to serve a purpose, to fill a role. And that’s not to say you weren’t grateful, but you weren’t going to let yourself be distracted from your duty to the church.
You backed away as suddenly as you’d latched onto him, and when you opened your eyes after scrunching them shut during the kiss, you saw him looking at you with a bit of shock in his expression. Only then did you wince to yourself and wonder, was that too much?
He took your hand and turned to face the congregation, so you followed suit of course, and as he smiled and waved at them politely you were a little surprised to see them all standing and applauding. It definitely felt like a bigger crowd from this side of the cathedral…
You were almost frozen for a second, until you felt his hand guiding you down— he was already on the first step down, so you quickly picked up your skirt and followed him. You had wondered before if you would feel different walking back down the aisle with him, compared to when you processed on it alone. You weren’t sure if you really felt married or something— what would that even feel like?— but you did feel different.
You felt better, actually— relieved, happier, you even caught yourself smiling at the crowd, but it was hard not to with how… energetic they were. Despite not really knowing what to do with all that attention, you at least appreciated it, though it surely had little to do with you. They were cheering for him because he’s Copia— Frater, the former Papa, heir of the Emeritus bloodline— and they were only cheering for you because you’re his wife.
And no, just because you understood that logically didn’t mean it felt at all real yet.
Frater Imperator and Sister Imperator Consortia! you could hear the announcement echoing through the hall, though it was distant compared to the claps and hollers. You dared one glance at him by your side, thinking it might be easier than looking at this massive crowd around you, and found him already smiling at you; and with a warmth beginning to spread on your face, you let him guide you out of the doors, into the rest of the church submerged in nightfall.
~
After a crowded spectacle like that, the quiet of his chambers was quite a relief. So much so, actually, that it dampened some of that eerie, anxious feeling of being alone with Copia in his bedroom; it wasn’t quite as spacious as you would’ve assumed someone with his level of importance would have, but the ornate and luxurious furniture made perfect sense.
You were so caught up in taking it all in, almost entranced by the beauty all around you, that when he spoke it slightly startled you.
“That kiss,” he said suddenly. “Wow.”
It was just that his voice sounded so different like this: no microphone, no massive chapel, just one small room with stone walls. There was a brief pause as he ran his gloved hand over his hair, blowing air quickly out of his mouth, and you realized you should probably respond somehow: for some reason, your mind struggled to accept that he was speaking to you directly. “I’m sorry if I was too forward, I just—”
“No! No, not at all,” he laughed thinly, “no, you did very well. I’m sure today was… overwhelming for you.”
It felt good to just hear him confirm that: up until now, everyone in the clergy had been sort of acting like this was normal, never really acknowledging (let alone validating) your stress.
“If it’s any comfort, it was for me, too. And I’ve had a lot more experience with large crowds than you,” he added.
You smiled a little; “Yes, that’s true— but it must be different here, at home.”
“Mm,” he nodded, pondering that for a second. “It is. But it’s preferable in some ways, too— like now, being able to come back to my own space.”
You envied that a bit; you were likely never to return to your chambers across the building, and while you didn’t necessarily enjoy sharing that space with a dozen other Sisters, it was probably easier than sharing a bed with just one man.
Before you could get a little too caught up in that train of thought, he spoke again. “I can’t believe I haven’t already told you how exquisite you look in your dress,” he offered.
“O-oh, thank you,” you hummed, “I’m very fortunate, it’s a beautiful gown.”
“Of course it is, I picked it out,” he informed you proudly. “I have excellent taste, no?”
“You do,” you agreed with a small laugh.
“And you liked the ceremony, I hope?”
“Yes, Papa,” you answered dutifully. “I-I mean, Frater.”
“Force of habit,” he noticed, “literally. But, I'm not Frater to you anymore, I'm your husband.”
That certainly made your heart skip a beat, even though you couldn’t imagine you had forgotten it in the last ten minutes. “So what should I call you, then?”
“Well, just my name should do,” he laughed slightly, seeming a bit surprised by the question. “Spouses call each other pet names from time to time, would you like that?”
You might have been able to think about that idea more clearly if his hand wasn't on your waist, petting along the curve of it absent-mindedly. “I… don't know,” you admitted, “I’ve never really tried it.”
“It will come naturally, I suppose,” he shrugged.
“So, it is a proper marriage then,” you realized.
“Hm?”
You wondered if you shouldn’t have said it aloud. “I-I just mean, I wasn’t sure at first… if maybe it was all political, you know,” you admitted. “A marriage for show, not necessarily of a personal nature, I guess.”
“If it were political, I would have been paired up with someone from another church, I imagine,” he explained, one of his eyebrows raising. “Did you think I chose you randomly?”
It felt pretty fucking random, you wanted to say, but that would have been a little bit harsh. Instead, you sat down on the edge of the bed (which was only a little cumbersome with your dress) and he copied you, sitting just a few feet away. “I’m so honored you chose me, Copia,” you began, feeling a little odd about using his name so casually, “but I just… I can’t imagine why.”
“The clergy asked me the same thing,” he recalled, “but they weren’t satisfied with my answer— I’m sure you won’t be, either.”
“Try me,” you encouraged.
“Well… I saw you once,” he explained slowly, “in a Mass— I gave you communion, do you remember that?”
“O-oh, yes, I think you’ve served me the elements a few times.”
“This was the first time,” he assured, “I know, because I thought to myself she must be new, if I’d seen her before I would’ve remembered it.”
You tried not to smile too wide, but you couldn't help some reaction. You never imagined you'd left such an impression on him.
“You looked up at me, and you just looked so sweet… I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, you on your knees before me…”
You crossed your legs tightly. “I mean, I remember that too, of course. But it’s because it was the first time I saw you in your papal robes— I was just one of hundreds, I didn’t even know you could tell us apart.”
“Well, you stood out to me— maybe it was fate, eh?” he smirked. But he was the head of the clergy, the most important man in the church: he made his own fate.
“And that’s it?” you realized sheepishly. “You thought I was pretty, or something, a few years ago and so you married me?”
“Not pretty, no— pretty is cheap, cara mia. You were enchanting.”
Was this flattery? It seemed too perfect to be totally genuine, but hell, he was smooth.
“I thought of you often,” he admitted, moving closer to you, “I imagined if I might have you to myself someday… and now I do.”
His gloved hand rested on your shoulder before carefully moving up to the back of your neck; he guided you towards him, slowly and patiently, looking into your eyes for a moment but taking longer to look at your lips.
You swallowed nervously once before letting your eyes fall shut.
The kiss was soft at first, but grew more intense with every moment; he breathed a little heavier through his nose and you could feel it against your face.
His arms wrapped around you, and it should've felt nice, like a loving embrace; it sort of did, it just also started to make you feel claustrophobic, forcing you to fight the urge to squirm out of his grasp.
You wanted to give into it, you wanted to let yourself melt into his arms… but as he held you tighter and kissed you harder, your heart started to race in a way that wasn’t pleasant anymore.
Pulling back and pushing against him, you broke away and hoped he wouldn’t be angry with you or hurt by your rejection. Fortunately, he let you move back as soon as you tried, and looked at you with an expression more of surprise than frustration.
“W-wait, I—” you mumbled nervously, willing your hands not to shake with nervousness. “It’s not that I don’t— we’ve only just— I do find you attractive, but—”
“We don’t know each other very well,” he finished for you. “It's alright, you seemed nervous already.”
“Yes,” you sighed, smiling with relief. “I just thought… maybe we could get to know each other better first, before we…”
“I didn't expect you to be so shy,” he noticed with a soft laugh. You were keeping close watch on his tone and, from what you could tell, he thankfully didn't sound too disappointed.
“I-I’m usually not,” you assured, “maybe compared to some other Sisters…”
“Well, that's a low bar,” he noted with a raised brow, “but anyhow, it doesn't bother me. I'm happy to wait until you're… more comfortable.”
You smiled a little, glancing away briefly. “Thank you,” you began, barely managing to stop yourself from calling him by a title again.
“I just hope you'll stay in my bed tonight— it's your bed, too, you know. Nothing else has to happen.”
“Of course,” you smiled, “I'd like that.”
He nodded shortly at you and moved as if he was going to get up, but you opened your mouth impulsively to speak— even if nothing came out right away— and he stopped.
“But, um— you could kiss me again,” you suggested quickly, before you lost the nerve. He smiled, with a certain sparkle in his eyes that made you squirm slightly against the bed.
His hand brushed under your chin gently, lifting your face until you were forced to look right up at him. “If it would please you,” he returned with a purr.
Swallowing thickly, you nodded; “Yes,” you insisted softly.
This kiss was slower, but no less intoxicating: he touched you like you were the most fragile thing, and the movements of his lips seemed to gently guide your own. You heard yourself sigh against him, and his thumb started to pet your jawline tenderly.
You remembered that moment clearer now, the one he described to you before. Taking communion from him, kneeling under him, waiting with an open mouth for him to deliver the mana to your tongue… the cool golden chalice against your lip and the bittersweet wine…
His other hand delicately landed on your lower back, and you opened your mouth wider, letting his tongue graze against yours.
When he pulled back, you found yourself leaning forward just for a second, chasing him for more. And he obviously noticed, it was clear from the way he smiled down at you. You wondered if he would indulge your desire for more— for a second, you imagined he might decide that you were more ready than you'd let on and take you right then and there. A little brutish, yes, but the idea tickled a certain corner of your brain.
But, no, he sat up straight and let out a short breath. “I'll get ready for bed,” he announced. “You should too— you've had a long day.”
You nodded back; “Yes, Papa,” you returned compulsively once again. “Damn it!”
“It seems you have a lot of new things to get used to,” he laughed.
More than you know, you thought to yourself as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
fanfiction is dangerous bc i read ONE fic and suddenly im shipping a ship I've sworn off for years
I love how I get into a series, and IMMEDIATELY fall in love with the character that I know damn well is gonna die.
When the penjamin hits a bit too hard…
Cupid, I am begging you, how do you make those awesome glittery texts I NEED to know
IF YOU MEAN THE ONES I DID FOR MEMES https://picasion.com/glitter-maker/ HERE !!
Happy pride and merry yurimas
if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.
© REAL V | Do not edit. (1, 2)