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occamstfs · 3 months

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Legacies Are Supposed To Change

Another fratification, This is one more of a prep to slob tf ! -Occam

My father was a member of Kappa Epsilon Gamma, and my grandfather before him was practically a founding member. I am going to be the third generation Astor to not only pledge but eventually become president. My family donates enough to the chapter to more than pave my way to the top. My only question now is, why are they making me pledge.

The current president, James, clearly didn’t care for me implying that I was getting in regardless, stopping just short of calling me out in front of the other pledges. That’s the only mistake he’s going to make though, when I’m in the frat I’ll completely clean house. That dunce will be lucky to even still be in the frat. I’m already old enough to be the president anyway, I’m sure my father will help the other alumni to agree.

Despite the president’s protests I have already secured a room in the house and I will say the room does seem to be exquisite. The only detail out of place is a pitcher of beer sitting on my desk. The head is still frothy so it must have been put there recently. Before I moved in my father warned me against partying too hard, we have a reputation to uphold after all, and I am not even a big drinker.

The amber pitcher in front of me, ice cold without a piece of ice within, is more enticing than it ever should be though. The president must have done something to it. Absolutely. But, I am awfully parched all of a sudden. I feel my mouth rapidly dry as I move closer to inspect the glass. A sip couldn’t hurt, it’s just beer after all. It’s probably that faux president admitting defeat already, no one can stand up to an Astor and prosper after all.

I raise the pitcher to my mouth, struggling to raise it without spelling as it is heavier than I thought beer could be. The head spills over my face as I tilt the pitcher to drink. It runs down my cheeks and off my chin not that I could notice or care though. This beer is unlike anything I’ve tasted before. It's so, I need more right now. I force as much of it as I can down my throat before needing to take a break to breathe. The brief respite only gives me time to do something I thought unthinkable for a man of such poise as myself, I let out an impossibly loud burp.

I hear frat bros cheering outside my room in response “Yeah bro! Let’s go Tank!” I feel my face redden from the embarrassment of being heard doing something so profoundly basal. I scoff and roll my eyes as I notice how itchy my face suddenly is. It must be the beer starting to dry where I spilled it.

I go to wipe it off and notice it is far scratchier than it has any right to be. It burns even. I feel my face grow an even deeper shade of red as the beer must start to hit my system. I put the pitcher down and start to scratch my cheeks. I’ve never even had to shave before! Us Astor men don’t even grow peach fuzz! It would be unbecoming to even try to grow a beard! I look in the mirror to assess whatever my situation and find an uncomfortable face staring back at me. That can’t be right. Thick brown hair is pushing out forming a chinstrap that must have taken months to grow! I lean in closer to inspect my face as another burp tries to force its way out of my throat.

Unwilling to embarrass myself once again I fight to keep it down. As I struggle against the gas in my esophagus I notice that my stomach is starting to bloat up. I see the thick brown hair in my beard start to seep up through my sideburns, staining my perfect blonde coifs into some dirty oafish brown. I gasp as my thin eyebrows rapidly burst into heavy caterpillars over my eyes which almost allows the burp to escape.

Clenching my jaw as I feel my stomach starts to press against my dress shirt. I audibly groan as I hear my bros outside start to cheer once more, something about me drinking the pitcher. They left it for me didn't they! What was I supposed to do! This burst of rage allows me to swallow the burp my neck thickening as it forces its way back down. I look down to see the button pop off of my suit jacket as my stomach starts to grumble. I feel woozy watching my torso start to barrel out, what happened to my lithe lacrosse build? My mind feels heavy as I inspect my growing body, I start to smell some vile body odor start to come from somewhere. One of these oafs absolutely needs to invest in cologne. I sniff around before my head finds itself in my own pit as I take a deep inhale and find the root of the stick. But that can’t be right?

My arms bloat out straining my dress shirt as I toss off my coat. I raise my arm behind my head to inspect my armpits further which creates a tear right on the seam, exposing my pit just in time for me to see my few blonde underarm hairs rapidly thicken to the same brown now covering my face. It’s almost funny? I can barely stop myself from laughing as I watch hair spread like a jungle in my pit, creating a haven for odor my body now apparently produces.

Is this because I burped? Is it some kind of sick joke? I’m struggling to find any reason for what is happening when I hear the zipper of my pants give out. Apparently my stomach isn't the only part of me bloating. I need to stop this. Maybe, maybe if I finish the beer without burping again I’ll go back to normal. That, that makes sense right?

I quickly grab the picture and do not notice how much thicker my hand is. Brown hairs sprouting on my hand and knuckles as my fingers grow hammy and lose the dexterity I have long honed. As I raise the glass to my face my stomach finally blows off the buttons as a thick treasure trail forms a peak halfway up my meaty torso. My body odor grows thicker in the air as I start to drink the rest of the glass.

I feel my ass thicken as it forms a much weighter cushion in my seat, in the other side I feel as my balls rapidly grow to supply my body with the testosterone my body demands. My cock thickens but gets no longer as the beer dribbles down my face spilling all over my chest where curly dark hair spreads out from the center in a large diamond.

I finish the pitcher and shout to celebrate my conquest, “I did it fuckers! I passed the test,” as I shatter the pitcher on the floor of my bedroom, one of the pledges’ll clean that shit up anyway.

I stand and rip the strained pants off my body as the shirt tears itself off of its own accord, no longer able to even try to hide my party bod. My bros burst into the room and start cheering “Tank, Tank, Tank!” Making me realize that duh, they’re talking about me. My bros have always called me that I burp again, now performativity as my body finishes changing. My eyes lose any pretentious sparkle they still held as they darken to a dull brown. My vocal chords grow visibly thicker, just showing from underneath the thick beard hanging off my face. A clear boner starts to grow in my shorts, not like my bros care.

I shake my package at them with my hand as I finish burping. Now that I’m in the frat I can show my bros that I’m not a fuckin’ prude like my dad and the other fuckin’ geezers. It’s gonna be a great year, now let’s go see which of these bitch pledges are Kappa material!

#male tf #masculinization #mental change #frat bro tf #jockification

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copiousloverofcopia · 7 months

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imagine copia about to become papa iv and his prime mover saying something like "you're going to be papa" and he's like duh, not getting it at all, and she literally has to go "no, you're going to be *papa*" and that's how she breaks the news to him

It's a shame how long it's been since I got this...like a year. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Hopefully this little sumthin sumthin will be worth it.

And Then It Hit Him

You have news for your husband, Cardinal Copia on the brink of his ascension to the Papacy, but will he stop long enough to listen?

Also available on AO3 HERE!

You were doing your best to remain patient, though the news was burning from inside you. Wringing the fabric of your habit in your fingers as you waited for the perfect moment to interrupt him. Your husband had barely looked up from his parchments since you entered. A comfortable silence between you as you noted his hands were once again covered in ink.

You were instantly transported back to when your dear sweet Cardinal was only the Ministry treasurer, and you still a naive novitiate. A time when you fell hard and fast in love with eachother. Watching with joy as he ascended the ranks of the Ministry. Proving himself worthy of his station at each and every turn.

Now he was only weeks away from the announcement that he would receive the miter. The highest honor that only the select few could ever hope to achieve within the church. Truth be told you had wondered if your news would pale in comparison, but knowing Copia as you did, there was no way it would.

"Cope..." You nudge, hoping to finally garner his attention. Copia stopped, pulling his glasses off from where they hung on the bridge of his nose and began rubbing his eyes. Clearly he hadn't moved them from his work for more than a few second at a time.

"I'm so sorry cara, I just have so much work that needs to be done before I head back out on tour. If I leave anything unfinished Sister will have my head for it." He responded, taking your hand in his. His eyes, returning to his desk. You could tell he was worn down by it. The endless bureaucracy of the Ministry trampling over him in the guise of all this paper and ink.

"Copia, my love...I know you have a lot on your plate, but I—I just have something I wanted to tell you."

"Of course, what is it?" He asked you, a sweet smile sent your way.

"Well.." You began, rounding his desk and placing your head on his shoulder. Breathing in the scent of his cologne. Like old books and patchouli, a scent that had intoxicated you night after night for so long now. It hardly seemed fair just how much it had affected you. Like a spell cast on your senses. Clearly it was one of the many reasons, like his undeniable charm, that led to you being in this position. "Soon my love…you are going to be a Papa.”

You were surprised when Copia's reaction was lacking. Letting out a sigh as he finished up the sentence he had been writing. "I know, I know. That's why I have to get this done." He explained, clear now that he had completely missed what you were trying to tell him. You thought for a moment, trying to decide if you could stand one more minute of knowing it all on your own, before finally you let out a groan.

It stopped him, Copia catching on that you needed him. Letting the pen drop to the desk as he pulled his attention away from the plethora of papers decorating it to face you. Heeding you as you gently brought his jaw up to help face you. Your eyes locked with his when he gently kissed your hand. The hair of his sideburns, tickling your palm as you spoke.

"No…Copia.” You began, a note of both amusement and disbelief in your voice, “...that's not what I was trying to say.”

“I'm sorry amore… you should have had my full attention. Please…what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“I'm trying to tell you, you silly man, that you are going to be A PAPA.” You emphasized by taking his hand and placing it on the small of your belly. Suddenly it was clear to him. Hitting him all at once as his eyes began stinging with tears. He stared at your still inconspicuous belly. Both mystified and deliriously happy before looking up at you.

“Amore, are you sure?” he asked you. His voice quivering—a mess of emotions. You could feel Copia's hand trembling as his thumb gently glided over your stomach. Already so gentle and tender with a child he had only just discovered existed.

“I'm very sure Cope…we’re going to have a baby.” You smiled.

“Sweet Satanas, I'm going to be a Papa!” Copia yelped, casting himself up from the chair and pulling you tightly into his arms. Blissfully crying and whispered praises in Italian, his hand never leaving your belly. You began to laugh. Copia looking up at you once again just as your own tears began streaming down your face.

“A papa and Papa.”

Notes:

novitiate- nun or sister in training

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m1ssunderstanding · 4 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 21: The Concert

Every time they're not on camera I simultaneously feel so relieved for them and so upset that I don't get to watch. Messed up of me, but hey. Remember that slightly disturbing quote where Paul said he actually does believe he's kind of public property and he's fine with that?

He looks so determined. Like the fairy tale prince staring down the dragon or Enjolras about to hijack a funeral (Literally my baby was conceived after I watched this in IMAX so if that tells you anything about my feelings . . . I'm going to be annoying I'm sorry I can't help it)

Her legs look so good in those tights! I love that Mo came not because her boyfriend needs his mommy but because she wants to see them perform! Kissing her on the mouth right now.

Danger boy Paul!

Fun fact, I was this John for Halloween in 2021 to a college party. My hair was already like that, and I had dirty white keds and black jeans, so I just did fake sideburns, fake glasses, and a fake fur coat. I tried to get my best friend to be Paul. She wanted to be a hooker, and I was like “It’s the same thing!”

See, look at him and his whorish ways!

John’s little lip-bit smile. He’s so happy with himself nailing that solo. Cutie.

Cocky boys. As they should be. I love when they’re proud of their work together. Get Back is 95% just Looks between John and Paul, isn’t it?

John and Paul instantly jump into their little “humble working class entertainers” act. You know what just occurred to me? You know how they talked about the “rattle your jewelry” comment backstage and Paul dared John to say it? I wonder if they talked about the “audition” comment too.

It really is a beautiful thing they’re doing. It’s lovely, watching everyon leave their desk jobs and their shopping and whatever else to sit in their fire escapes and congregate in the street and huddle together on rooftops. It really is just like the happy end in a sixties zeitgeist movie.

All the girls nervous to be too enthusiastic after years of being made fun of themselves and watching others like them being mocked on TV. Let girls like things, damnit!

Mo jamming! I’m in love.

John mouthing Paul’s lyrics.

“Paul McCartney singing that. What a voice.” Literally me if time travel existed.

“And if SOMEBODY loved me like she does,” Well, it is good manners to look at the person you’re talking to, I guess. But you do have an audience, John. And a mic and a camera.

“Absolutely disrupt all the business in this area.” Yes! Get those blue meanies, boys!

“No lay rishi gahd blay bloojaygoo” should replace all the stupid quotes the Lennon estate puts on everything they sell. Then I’d actually want their shit. Paul trying to magic the words from his head into John’s there. Successfully, though.

That “Pleeeeeheeeeease” is one of the prettiest beatles vocal moments. I love it with all my heart. And clearly, so does Paul. Doing that thing he does, inappropriately thrusting into his bass.

Oh my gosh it’s the song Paul and John do together on tour right now!

That “Yyyyyeeeeeah, yeaaaaaah!” (I mean the whole song, the whole concert, but especially that) does things to me.

John’s extremely blurry, because he turned his head quick enough to give him whiplash there, sorry everyone. But look! They’re having the time of their lives! They just love performing together so much!

Everyone goes to check on their accumulating audience. (except Paul. Wonder what that’s about.)Ringo’s little pleasantly surprised smile is so so sweet!

It must be so fun for them to be performing One after 909 again after all these years. Bitter sweet with everything that’s changed since then.

LMAO Kevin thank you for your service!

He’s a silly cutie.

The mic in the street asking that girl if she’d like them to come back every lunchtime. Imagine if they did? How cute would that be? Like back to their cavern lunchtime shows. Maybe that could’ve saved them.

Them playing God Save the Queen reminds me of that story where Brian was like, “This bigger manager wants to buy your contract from me, and I just wanted to be straight with you. They could probably get better deals for you.” and they were like, “If you sell us to him we’re only playing God Save the Queen from that moment on.” It’s probably a fake story, but that’s what it made me think of.

I always think that quote of Paul’s is so strange, where he was like “I never got the chance to watch John while we were playing.” Like. What are you talking about, baby?

Literally “Uh. Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” Fucking his bass. Staring at John. Okay? And I’m not supposed to take that and run with it? I’m not supposed to assume from that that you want to fuck your songwriting partner?

I think he genuinely wants to get arrested. I really do. I think he wants them all to get arrested so they can finally be alone in a room together. A lovely cell for four. Just shimmying at them. And Billy looking at him like, Bro. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Paul’s “woo” and shimmy :: John’s “woo” and weird little kick move. And Paul looks so fond, of course.

God bless Mal for stalling those little fucks as long as humanly possible. And Debbie! “Don’t actually go on the roof because it’s overweight.” Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

Absolutely LOVE John and George turning their amps back on. That’s right. You guys are what’s keeping the country going at this point, so if you want to play on your roof they better let you play on your roof and say thank you.

All the times when they just simultaneously turn to each other. Like, yes, this is our que to stare hungrily into each other’s eyes.

My stomach just dropped at those words across the screen. “This was the Beatles’ last public performance.” We know, Peter Jackson. You don’t have to remind us. Jeez.

John and Paul’s two very different but equally important leadership roles in the band at work here at the end of the concert. John delivers his iconic line, makes everyone laugh, and seals the band’s last performance with a very tight bow. Meanwhile, Paul’s climbing the gate to bypass the crowd and schmooze the police out of arresting Mal.

THIS is sooo cute. Heads buried together and John’s very sweet, “‘s’matter? Hmm?”

George is so cute here in the control room afterward. No wonder they don’t listen to his not wanting to do things, honestly, if he acts like this after. “What’s the law say why you can’t do that? Well how disturbing the peace? Yeah, I’m for taking over London. And every rock group in the world all on different buildings, playing the same tune.” Adorable.

Poor John. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t think his little lyric flub is funny. He’s disappointed in himself. I wish he could see that that’s one of the things everyone loves about him. George was grinning ear to ear about it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the reasons Paul fell in love with you in the first place. If only John could see himself the way we see him, you know?

This little moment cracks me up. John always has to be mommy’s naughty little boy, and Yoko does a very sweet job of playing her part here.

Linda and Paul are so touchy and clingy and it’s very romantic and I love that Ringo joins in and makes fun of them.

The whole after-show glow for everyone was just so palpable and fantastic. I wish they could've gone on performing together. Clearly it made all of them very happy.

#and that's that #Apparently we've got a bonus day though that I forgot existed #so that's nice #Or not for anyone that was excited to not see these on your dash lol #tumblr live #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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dontbelasagnax · 3 months

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Ok fine! You’ve convinced me! I’ll learn how to draw specifically so I can draw codywan kissing, you’ve spread your gospel successfully

…

How do you draw tho fr cuz I can doodle like, funky lookin birds but people is fully out of my depth send help

AAAA HELL YEAHHHH!!!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

You've opened a can of worms asking me for art advice so *cracks knuckles* buckle up.

I sort of (only a little bit) use the Loomis method for easy head drawing. Here is a playlist of YouTube videos by Proko. Highly, highly recommend that channel for your art tutorial needs!

I start with a circle. For side profiles, I draw a line down the side of the circle to determine where the features will sit upon. I draw a triangular shape to mark where the orbital socket is. Around the middle point of the circle is where the jawline ends and the ear begins so draw a line there. There are proportion rules which are good guidelines when starting out in art but since I've been doing this my entire life, I have a feel for things and just wing it. That's to say, I put in a line implying the jaw based on vibes.

Next, I draw the eyebrows and brow ridge. Then the nose. I find I majorly base my proportions on this area so if anything is off, it throws the rest of the face off.

Then I draw the lips and chin... or in Obi-Wan's case, his beard. I will mark in his sideburns and hairline as well. Now, about ears: generally the top of the ear begins right around the top of the eyebrow and stops at the base of the nose. At this point I like to draw his eye, define the cheekbone, and refine the eyebrow. I'll finish scribbling in hair and that's it!

(Cody is much the same but I forgot to take useful progress pics 😂)

Extended Art Advice 👇

Tip #1: Draw lightly. Do not ever grip your pencil tight. This only leads to pain. You will notice I didn't erase at all. This is partly because I know what marks to make because I've done it a million times before and also because my lines are soft enough I can make lots of them and choose to deepen the ones that work.

Tip #2: Practice, practice, practice. Artistic skill is just loads and loads of accumulated knowledge and muscle memory from practice. This sounds boring but, in reality, you should make it fun.

Tip #3: Draw from observation/USE REFERENCE! The only reason I can get away without using reference when I'm feeling lazy is because I've drawn the same things over and over enough times it stuck. Aka I did lots of practice.

Now, to combine all these tips together, let's talk about how to use reference and how to make practice fun.

Reference is a huge aid when drawing at any point in your art journey. But I've found that in order to learn from what you're looking at, you need to think critically.

You obviously have something you want to draw. Reference helps you with that. You'll start out trying to draw what you see. Eventually you will run into an obstacle where you've messed up and things aren't looking good. This is to be expected. Every time this happens, think about what isn't working and find solutions with your reference. Analyze your subject to find your answers. Draw it again. Do not be afraid of failure. Each time you fail, you must look for a solution and this will lead you closer to your goal. This is how you grow as an artist.

I know, it sounds dreadfully boring and like a shit ton of work. It is a lot of work but you can make it fun! You love Obi-Wan and Cody so make Pinterest boards of Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison. Whatever you want to practice (may that be eyes, mouths, hands, hair, the face as a whole, etc) draw them. Ever hear tracing is bad? Fuck that. It's a perfectly valid tool to help you learn. If you're drawing digitally, pull up your reference in the art program of your choice, lower the opacity a little, make a new layer and trace what you see. I honestly find tracing to be very hard so when I've done this, I prefer to try to find shapes that will aid me when I'm actually drawing. If you're drawing traditionally, you can print out the photo and trace over it with a tracing paper or use a lightbox. You can also up the brightness on your computer screen and tape a piece of paper and trace that way.

Photos aren't the only references you can use! You can always look to your favorite artists' work and try to figure out how they do it. Often artists will break things down into more easily digestible shapes that will help you better understand how things work. Remember, if you ever copy or trace someone's art, it is for learning purposes only and you shouldn't post it. Feel free to take elements of people's art that you like and put your own spin on it though. For instance: I really love how this one artist draws men's tits so I studied a bunch of their art and now I'm much better at drawing them.

Oh and did you think you only get practice in while studying? Wrong! There's no reason you should shy away from trying to make the art you really want just because your skills aren't the most refined. Spoiler alert: you will grow the most when you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Draw codywan kissing. Draw it really enthusiastically and through profuse swearing and gritted teeth... but never a clenched hand. Don't hold back from the fun stuff just because it's hard. Aim high, land low, and shoot even higher next time.

In the beginning it will be especially frustrating. You'll feel like everything you make is a failure and nothing works out. You'll feel like you're not making any progress. Trust me, you are making progress and I believe in you.

If something really isn't working out and you find yourself growing distressed, take a break. It might last an hour or a week. Just take the break. Don't push it. Come back with fresh eyes and less stress. We all have days where nothing comes out right. Sometimes I can't even draw anything resembling a human face. It's okay. Whisper-yell expletives at your artwork and take the break. It will be okay.

With all that said, happy drawing and even happier codywan kissing!! 🧡💋🩵

#hope this helps!!!#(yes i did put my teaching hat on and break out my sketchbook to draw examples the moment i saw this in my inbox 😂)#ask box #lasagna rambles #my art #codywan

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leezlelatch · 10 months

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Kiss Prompt - "I really, really want to kiss you right now" - Copia

Copia x GN!Reader - kiss prompt, insecurities, misunderstandings, Copia's surgery, smooching, worship of the white suit.

One and only prompt given to me and for my beloved @writingjourney.

“So we’re definitely keeping all the crotch shots, right?” You ask, flipping the photograph in your hand around so the antipope sitting across the room from you can see it.

Copia cuts you a look before turning back to the document on his desk. You smirk to yourself, letting out a small huff of a laugh as you look back down to the stacks of photos on the small table you’re using as a workspace in his office. There are a lot of photographs that the immensely talented photographer for the Ghost Project takes for each Ritual, but they tend to…pile up. And you have been given the - frankly blessed - task of looking through photo after photo of Copia during the Prequelle era. From the Pale Tour Named Death to his ascendency as Papa Emeritus IV.

Your primary task is to separate them into two organized piles. Ditch and keep. From the very vague instructions Sister Imperator gave you, it has something to do with the next tour and a mini museum. As tedious as your task is, you’ve really tried to separate each photo by suit. Black, red, and white, as well as two piles for the black and red cassock. It is so…fascinating to see Copia during a time when you didn’t know him. A time when becoming Papa was a dream he thought would never be realized. A time of facial hair and very attractive sideburns.

“What happened to your suits, by the way?” You ask Copia, placing another picture in the keep pile which is significantly bigger than the ditch. Copia makes a small noise in the back of his throat, an indication that he’s thinking and that he needs to finish the paragraph he’s reading lest he lose his place.

He places his finger down and looks in your direction, “In my closet. Toward the back. Getting acquainted with the dust bunnies.”

“Even the white one?” You say, distraught as you bring your hands to your cheeks.

Copia raises a brow at your theatrics, leaning forward on his elbow across the expanse of his desk as he regards you with an amused smile. “What has you so concerned, topolino?” His head tilts to the side in that natural curious way of his.

“I just think that they…,” you pause as you choose your words carefully, eyes pointedly looking away from him. The blush painting your cheeks broadens his smile. “Have a little more wear to them.”

“Eh, well…they were good for, you know, my Cardinal days, but as Papa I have a much better wardrobe, don’t you think?” He pulls at his brocaded vest before adjusting the frilled sleeves at his wrists.

“Oh, yeah! I’m just saying I really love the Prequelle era! You know it’s my favorite album, and your stage outfits were just so…I mean look at you…Copia?” You pause in your exuberance, one of the photographs in your hand, observing the frown crossing his lips that deepens with every word, made sharper by his face paint.

His eyes fall to the picture in your hand, brow furrowing. His hand comes up to brush against his bare top lip, fingertips then finding the tip of his nose. His eyes seem to go hazy, pupils falling to pinpricks creating an expanse of green and white that looks through you and not quite at you. “Do you think I made a mistake?” He asks, his voice quiet, reaching you like a pot of scalding water against your skin. You place the photograph down on the desk, your own gaze wide as you look back at him. “Should I not have gotten this…,” he waves his hand around in front of his face. “Eh, facial?”

“What?” You sound flabbergasted, confused. Concern etched across your features as you try and figure out what may have prompted him to ask such a question.

“I can regrow the mustache! The sideburns may take a little work…,” Copia trails off as he touches his face again, deep in thought, his eyes dropping to the desktop.

You close your eyes, cursing yourself for…you’re smarter than this. You know how Copia feels about the surgery. And here you are, gushing over Cardinal Copia when Papa Emeritus IV is in front of you, needing your support when he cannot get it elsewhere. He smiled, big and toothy, the day he returned from his ascension and you called him “Papa” for the first time. He looked grateful, however bruised and swollen, bandages across his nose when you expressed how glad you were that he wouldn’t have to suffer such severe nasal issues anymore. He once called you his strength. It wouldn’t do to fail him now.

“Copia. Just because you got a nose job and shaved doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you are in these photos. It’s still you. You still look like yourself. You’re still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.”

Your words seem to echo across his quiet office, and leave a silence in its wake. He’s looking at you again, lips parted, boring a hole into you with passionate and relieved eyes that make your cheeks flush. Copia stands from his desk and smooths his hands down his thighs, moving around the chair to carefully push it in before walking toward your small workspace. You stare up at him, unsure, and he flounders like a fish for a moment, mouth opening and closing.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” he finally says.

You suck in a breath and look down, blinking before meeting his gaze once more. “Please.”

Copia looks down at the little table piled with photos and promptly tips it over. The photographs go scattering, his former image fluttering to the floor like a cleansing rain, and then he’s on you. Pulling you up from the chair with steady, gloved hands, he draws you into his body, pressing flush against you as he claims your lips like he’s claiming a prize he has waited far too long for. Copia kisses you like a man who found an oasis in the desert, thoroughly licking into your mouth with abandon, capturing every noise you make with lips that nip and suck your bottom lip until it's swollen. He lets you take in a much needed breath only to continue across your jaw and down your neck, growling softly as he sucks a spot into your sensitive skin which he kitten licks before pulling away.

You stare at each other, chests heaving. His paint is a mess, a slash of gray around his mouth, and you can only imagine what your mouth and neck looks like. Copia smiles, softly chuckling as his eyes rove over your kiss swollen lips.

“Amore?” He questions softly, taking your hand in his.

You smile. “I really, really want you to kiss me again.”

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa iv x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x gn reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia fanfiction #copia x gn reader #kiss prompts

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salmonskinrolltf · 1 month

Note

I’m an 19 year old jock, brown hair, brown eyes. Could you send a copy of the Dukes of Hazzard Seasons? I really like Bo Duke from the show. Something about his himbo redneck charm just makes me fall for him.

Your Be Kind Rewind tape and die have arrived! You roll the die because the web site said you should, but when you roll a 1, nothing happens. You shrug and pop the Dukes of Hazzard tape into your VCR, hitting rewind so you can make sure to catch every moment from the beginning.

As the tape begins to rewind, you think about how you always kinda thought it made more sense for Bo to be gay, or at least bi. He certainly always seemed to prefer the company of Luke to any of the women in his life. You figured he needed a wild, rough-and-tumble redneck guy who could show up in his life and shake him out of his heteronormative upbringing, show him how different it can be to have a little fun with another willing guy.

Unfortunately, that someone can’t be you. Bo’s not real, first of all. But more importantly, you’re too much of a clean-cut jock for that. You think back to your latest game, and how great the uniforms made the asses of the other players look. Especially that one guy - what was his name? you can’t remember - when he was going to make a… basket? Field goal? What sport do you play again? You shake your head as your memories go fuzzy like an old television that needs adjusting.

You decide to reboot your memory by tracking back to the most recent thing you remember and working your way back to the present from there. You cycle through the fuzzy colors and blurry shapes until you hit on something. Siphoning gas from the sheriff’s tank so you could go on a joy ride. Now that memory is very clear, thankfully. What did you do after that?

As you ponder, you feel a tickling on the back of your neck as your hair grows, slithering down in a greasy tangle. The tickling hits your shoulders, and then your mid-back. You shake your head and your mullet flutters against your back. God, you love that feeling. It was hard-earned, too, it took you years to grow all that shit out.

The next memory falls into place. Going mudding with some of your cousins the day after your joy ride. What a good time! You shake your head again and the tickling transfers to the front of your face as a greasy brown beard drapes from your sideburns down across to your chin, a mustache sprouting as the cherry on top of the unkempt, disheveled sundae.

You stroke your beard as you smile and remember going cow-tipping the next day. You picked the biggest cow, of course, to prove how strong you are… While you think about your prowess, your athletic muscles actually shrink down a bit, leaving you with skinny arms and a slim torso where your ribs are in plain sight.

Getting hot, you remove your shirt and stuff it in your back pocket. Your memories are finally traced back to the game you were trying to remember… That game of darts you were playing at the local bar the other night. God, Buck’s arms looked so daggum delicious in that sleeveless denim shirt. You scratch your chest and light brown hair swirls in a spiral pattern from around your nipples, eventually spreading across your entire torso.

And that last memory brings you back to the present… what was it you were doing right now? You were getting ready to watch something, right? It was a… A… You wanted to watch the sunset from Makeout Point, yeah that’s what it was. But you didn’t want to go alone, which is why you parked your truck here by the local bar. You look around to see a serene roadside bar, the trees gently swaying in the humid breeze. You wipe sweat from your forehead, glad you already took your shirt off so you aren’t feeling too overheated. It’s been a loooooong, hot summer.

Suddenly the squeal of tires distracts you from your reverie. A slick car pulls up and out climbs the most handsome blond guy you’ve ever seen in your life.

You chuckle to yourself. This guy is a hunk of all-American beef, but you can see a little sugar in ‘im. You know he’d be willing to experiment if a stud like you showed him the ropes. He wouldn’t be able to resist your sexual magnetism. You spit on the ground, then whistle, catching his attention. He looks over at you and you wink. “What’s your name, pardner?” you ask.

#redneck #Be Kind Rewind #Roll the Die #mullet

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alfredosauce50 · 1 year

Text

Coming up in 2nd place is our very own Mathias! Requests are closed, but it’s about time I gave him some more headcanons. Once again, writing him is gonna be an absolute piece of cake because he’s one of my best characters, if not the best.

Without further ado, let’s hop right into it!

Content warning: Very brief NSFW.

Denmark headcanons

As the resident golden retriever, Mathias is always bounding with energy. He loves to have fun, and is up for just about anything. But under his kind and unassuming nature is something quite untamable.

Appearance

Mathias looks exactly how he sounds. He has spiky blonde hair that sticks up in the front and around his head. He also has some sideburns going on. It’s a bit wild and unruly, but he’ll just tell you it’s indicative of his personality! From a distance, he might even look like a pineapple.

Being in his early to mid-twenties, he has rather sharp features. You could even say Mathias looks mature, but it’s hard to tell with all the different expressions he makes. You’ll have to catch him reading, focusing on a movie, or building a hard Lego set to see his neutral face. It only lasts so long before it changes to something else entirely.

He’s very pale. It’s only his cheeks and nose that are a little pink from rosacea. Mathias also turns really red after physical exertion or sunburn. He needs to slap on a heap of sunscreen or he’s else not gonna survive. In regards to height, he’s well over six-feet. If you told him he was tall, he’ll just laugh and say, “you should see everyone else back home. You’d be surprised!” The average height of Danish males is 5’11” (181 cm), so you best bet there’s lots of guys even taller than him.

Mathias is huge. On top of his height, he works out a lot, so he has pretty big muscles. What he doesn’t like as much is cardio, so he has a bit of fat. It doesn’t make him look any less fit, only more on the bulky side. He prefers it, actually.

(Here’s a drawing of him I did)

Personality

He’s an extrovert that thrives off attention. If he doesn’t get it, he dies like a house plant in bad soil. It’s not validation he’s looking for; it’s the company. Mathias is the happiest when he’s around friends. He’s super outgoing, optimistic, and loves doing things with people around him. Not only is it lively, he feels more supported that way. On the flip side, he will get quite lonely if he doesn’t have anybody to hang out with.

The closest he gets to alone time is parallel play. If he’s winding down, he would like someone to sit with him. He’s the type to need a study buddy so he can be held accountable, and so he doesn’t get bored. He focuses much better, even.

Mathias is very loud. You can hear him coming, going, and when he talks, his voice overpowers everything else. Sometimes, it feels like he’s just shouting whenever he opens his mouth. If you tell him to be quiet, he will, but forgets and goes back to normal ten minutes later. So in places like shop, parks, or restaurants where it’s not an immediate rule to speak with inside voices, you’ll have to get creative. Try whispering at him so he can copy you. “Why are we whispering?”

He’s sweet, but really dense. Rest assured, you won’t find him in any of those horror stories of guys being ignorant, inconsiderate or unhelpful. Mathias is too kind for that. He would go out of his way to help anybody, and without expecting anything in return. If you had a hard day, he will suggest to do something together to cheer you up. “Let’s go grab dinner and dessert. My treat!”

He’s just oblivious. He won’t understand the very obvious implications in front of him, but it’s a part of his unassuming nature to not get ahead of himself. As a result, he’s immune to awkward and intimate situations. Long silences, deep stares, and being alone in private places. Mathias won’t react and carry on like normal. If someone flirted with him, he’d think they were just ‘being nice.’ He wouldn’t even realize they liked him if they said it to his face. “Aw, I like you too!”

He gets distracted easily. If it’s not something he can do lickety-split, he tends to wander off to do other things. Mathias might start folding the clothes, get hungry halfway, then cook and eat. After that, he’ll work out, shower, and power nap. Then when he wakes ups, he’ll wonder why the clothes aren’t folded! As you can see, he’s a little forgetful, so a reminder would do. “Oh, yeahhh.”

Mathias never gets angry. He has a very good temper, and so much that it’s calming for those who don’t. But if he does lose it, there’s usually a good reason. That makes his anger really scary, especially when he falls dead silent. That, or he says some pretty hurtful things, so it’s no wonder why he stays quiet for the most part. With his patience, it takes a lot to push him to that point, but don’t take him for granted. He can take back his kindness as readily as he can give it.

He’s not what you would call ‘protective.’ For one-time situations, Mathias sits watch in the back. He trusts you to handle things on your own, and if you can’t, he’s already next to you. He’ll calmly tell someone to leave you alone, or take over how he sees fit. Acting ‘macho’ and making a scene couldn’t be further from who he is. What he might do is put on the most neutral poker face, hug you, then stare long and hard at the person for a reaction. Indifference is the biggest insult you can pay someone. You’d be surprised at what else he’s capable of, or knows.

Interests

Mathias is a true Lego fan. He grew up playing with it, and never grew out of it. The sets he buys just got more complicated. If he doesn’t have one to build, he’ll just make something up. And you bet he has merch! Keychains, shirts, stickers, etc. He’s also gone as Lego characters for Halloween. Batman? Psh. Lego Batman? You have his attention. Himself as Lego? Even better.

He’s a gamer. Mathias plays a lot of Minecraft, and gets pretty creative with his builds. What can he say, he already likes building blocks in real life! If you play it with him, he’ll make a cute house and farm with you. To top it off, he’ll add a little Danish flag. He’s also the type to customize his characters to look just like him, and use plain old ‘Mathias’ for his usernames. Just imagine him as a Minecraft character spamming the crouch command when he’s trying to get your attention (or as a declaration of peace in survival mode).

He loves EDM, and in particular, house music. It’s hyper, feel-good, and sentimental all at once. Mathias would kill to attend all the big festivals like Tomorrowland and Electric Daisy Carnival. (Only he can’t get tickets before they sell out!) He wants to experience the energy of partying with thousands of other people. The lights, the crazy sets, the bass that he can feel. If you go with him, he’ll carry you on his shoulders and dance under you. Mathias is actually the biggest party animal, but manages to be responsible!

Mathias is an avid traveler. He would practically go anywhere that lets in visitors. Bali for beaches and wrestling with Komodo dragons, Cairo to see the Pyramids and ancient ruins, and Kyoto for the temples and shrines. He does well just about anywhere, and would most likely return with gifts from locals he befriended. It also doesn’t matter what hotel he stays in, or if he stays in one at all. He can go backpacking. So long as the itinerary is packed and the food is amazing, he’s all set!

He’s a gym bro. He works out five times a week, and never skips leg day. Mathias is really strong. He squats pretty heavy, and can bench four plates. What he can’t do as well, is cardio. Allen beats him by a landslide in this department. Mathias isn’t nearly as consistent and might prefer doing it at home (if you know what I mean)

Aside from being college student, he’d either be a boxer, firefighter, or marine biologist. Mathias would be a southpaw with a mean left hook, and his build lets him absorb a lot of punches. As for the fire department, he has the selflessness and physical capabilities to rescue or carry people to safety. And last, but not least, he’s always been fascinated with the sea and the creatures that live in it. He’s not afraid of going to cold places like the Antarctic, and he sure as hell isn’t afraid of the idea of ‘unstable employment.’

Psychology + romance

If you breathe right in his direction, he’d already consider you his friend. Mathias is that open and warm of a person. But that’s the same reason why romance with him is so difficult. He’s quick to smile, laugh, and unleash hugs for anybody. Not just you. So the question is, does he actually like you, or is he just affectionate with everyone?

Everything begins with a good friendship. Maybe you’re an indifferent classmate that happened to sit near him. And he isn’t a straight-A student. He falls behind from time to time, has difficulty understanding material, and can be poor at juggling tasks. But he really tries! Mathias asks a lot of questions, ‘stupid’ ones included, and you’ll inevitably find yourself helping him out of pity. “Psst. Did you get to copy down that last slide?”

He seems like a nice guy, and you’d hate to see him fail. You agree to meet up with him to do work together, but it usually turns into an unpaid tutoring session. You’ll need to be very patient with him. He’s not book smart. Your only saving grace is how earnest he is about his studies.

“Look closely, okay?” You instruct.

“Okay.” He stares intensely at your face, and you only get to explain for a few seconds before stopping.

“Not me. The diagram!”

The ball gets rolling when Mathias invites you out. That’s when you start appreciating him as a person, and not just a classmate who’s copying your homework! He’s fun, bubbly, and easy to talk to. You won’t be afraid of asking him for things, and get accommodated with his touchy nature. In fact, you’ll have a hard time not hugging him when he’s smiling at you like that.

On the other hand, you can be perfectly stern with him too. After many *frustrating* hours of tutoring him, you feel perfectly comfortable telling him off when he needs it. Mathias isn’t a masochist at all, but he finds that insanely attractive. It just means you care about him. Because even if he does stupid things, you still stick around. But what gets him to fall hard is when you defend him for the first time.

Mathias is so unselfish, his kindness gets taken advantage of. And he’s usually too oblivious to see it. He’s sometimes buying food for ‘friends’ that never pay him back. And when he’s in group activities, he’s always the spokesperson even when he doesn’t understand the material. Either that, or he promises to help them with their load of the work. When you find out, you’re furious.

“Can’t you see they’re using you?”

“But I don’t mind doing these things,” Mathias says, frowning a little. “It’s just how I’ve always been.”

“I know. But I’m starting to think you don’t have a selfish bone in your body--and not even for yourself. You’ll lose out on things that matter to you because you’re so busy doing everything for everyone else.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m that busy.”

“You can barely keep up with class, Mat. And you don’t even have time for your hobbies anymore.”

He falls silent, unable to argue with that.

“You may not be selfish, but other people are.” You murmur faintly, face contorting as you continue. “And it makes me sad. I hate the way they treat you.”

Mathias starts following you around like a puppy. Wherever you go, he follows. He’s affectionate by nature too, but picks up more and more habits. Since when was he always holding your hand? Kissing your head? When he hugs you from behind, he fits perfectly around you like your favorite sweater. You might brush it off as his personality, especially when he’s so huggy with other friends. Funnily enough, you end up being the dense one. You’re in denial out of respect, but to be fair, it’s not like he’s said anything.

“Your hand is really hot, Mat.”

“Okay. Let’s go inside where the air-con is.”

His number one love language is physical touch. So it’s no wonder he gets upset that you don’t react to it at all. You’re not responding to his efforts at connecting with you, and it leads him to believe you’re not all that interested. Mathias has the communication skills of an egg, and is too shy to say it outright that he likes you--which is interesting because he can touch you like he does. That’s partially because you don’t make a fuss about it, so his cover isn’t ever blown.

The slow-burn is a hot one. He’s sad about being rejected (despite not having asked you out yet) but he just can’t resist you. Mathias is always staring at you like he wants something. He’s an open-book, and ends up having it written all over his face. Dazed looks, pouts, any kind of expression you’d make when you want more. And if you ask what’s wrong, he’ll just hug you and say, “nothing. I just missed you today.”

His breaking point is simple. You let your guard down. It’s inevitable with someone like Mathias, whose kind and unassuming nature makes him practically harmless. Right? Wrong. You’re at his place, wearing his shirt, and getting ready for bed after spending the day with him. He just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing nothing but boxers. And he’s just standing there, menacingly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

His gaze on you is too hot for you to stomach.

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, he comes over and gets so close, he’s pressing up against you. His arms are around your waist, and he tilts his head to hover his lips over yours. Then, he just stops, almost like he’s letting everything sink in.

All those dazed stares, forehead kisses, hugs, and squeezes. Mathias has always liked you.

When it finally hits you, his mouth is on yours.

Dating doesn’t come after friendship. Sex does. Mathias fucks you all night, and really hard to dispel all the sexual tension that’s built up for months. By the time you wake up, you have a new boyfriend and an uncontrollable shaking in your legs. But that’s not all. Whoever that’s sleeping next to you is barely like the golden retriever you first met. Not anymore.

Just when you thought he couldn’t be selfish, he becomes the most selfish person in the world. The only redeeming factor is that it’s only when it comes to you. Mathias will be crazy stubborn then. When he wants something from you, he won’t stop until he gets his way. And when he argues for it, he masks his persistence by asking a lot of questions. “Why?” He asks. “Why not?”

He gives intensely, and takes intensely. Mathias may be a kind and reliable partner, but he’s very demanding when it comes to anything sexual. It’s how he processes affection, and he’s a needy person. Even if he won’t goad you into anything, he’ll get pouty and feel neglected if you don’t respond to him. Sex is central to the relationship, so expect to be ravished into oblivion.

He’s smarter than he looks. He knows more than he lets on, and may pretend to be dense when he doesn’t want something. Once again, the endless cycle of “why” will start and get pretty tiring. Don’t cross him. You won’t be able to because of how he feels for you, but other people could. And Mathias can be frightening when he wants to be.

He tries to be nurturing, but ends up suffocating. Mathias would do anything for his partner, that’s for sure. But he might cross boundaries under the assumption he’s helping you. That, or he asks too much from you. Love, time, sex. You’ll never feel unwanted, but sometimes, you just need the space. It’s gonna be a long learning curb, you’ll go in circles with him again and again, or might not end up anywhere at all, but it’s always his adoring smile that gets you running right back.

There’s no winning with Mathias, and it’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s crazy about you. His love is passionate and even a little obsessive. Everything he does is for you and him. His life with you, and his future too. The sooner you realize that, the more leverage he’ll have over you. You’ll never escape him, and he’ll chase you to the ends of the Earth if he has to.

#our favorite pineapple head.#he is what he eats!#op what the fuck is ‘communication skills of an egg’#source: I made it up #eggs don’t tell you they’ve rolled off the edge and cracked until you find them #Mathias Densen #hetalia headcanons #aph denmark #hws Denmark #hetalia #headcanon #alfredosauce50 #update #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia fanfic

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nonotnolan · 1 year

Text

An Excellent Choice

Dedicated to my valentine, the lovely @mergeman

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

“You still sure you want to do this?” Brad texted. Finn had already spent most of the bus ride on his phone, so he’d already finished reading the message by the time his text notification had finished chiming. “It’s okay if you get cold feet. I won’t be offended. ;) I promise!”

Finn couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “sounds like ur the one w cold feet” he shot back. “i already told u were doin this” Granted, he would have been lying if he’d said that he had no fear... but Finn had worked through all of that hesitation when he purchased the bus ticket. He’d spent far too much time and money on this offer only to back out now.

Brad was offering $150,000 to a like-minded young soul who was willing to merge with him. The man was pushing 60, and was hoping to absorb enough youth to try life over again. For his part, Finn was sick of scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and if that meant giving up 20 years of his life, well... at least he was being reimbursed for it. Five years of his current job’s wages was no joke, and the funds would go a long way towards buying a reliable car, and maybe even a down payment on a house.

And anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to disappear. Rather than opting for the type of merge that put two men into one body, this would be one of the more experimental versions where two people combine all of their traits, and each person becomes the average value. Finn stepped off the bus and started looking around the agreed-upon meeting place to see if the other man was here.

“Guess I’ll tell my bank not to stop that money transfer. I really didn’t think you were going to show up, but here you are.” He watched as an older gentleman strolled up to him, looking very out of place in dark navy sweats. More impressive was the raven black hair, which looked very out of place given his wrinkled skin and frail figure. “What, you’ve never seen a man desperately cling to youth with hair dye before?” he asked, clearly used to the stares. “We can’t all have vibrant hair color, Finley.”

“I’m used to your kind trying to over-compensate with fancy cars,” Finn admitted, unable to pull his eyes away from the older man’s thick beard. “And my name is Finn. Respect my name, and I’ll respect yours. Bradford.”

Brad threw his head back in raucous laughter. “Oh yes, you are an excellent choice. Come here!” Brad pulled him in close, and started to kiss him full on the lips. It took Finn a few moments to realize that the odd sensation in his mouth was Brad’s tongue, and a few more moments to realize that the kiss was how Brad was planning to perform the merge. His height was one of the first things to go-- he no longer needed to bend down to maintain contact-- and his skin felt a bit stiff as it tightened with age. But it was the beard that really felt odd.

Brad’s facial hair crept onto Finn’s chin and worked its way up his sideburns like some sort of crawling ooze, while a smaller tendril grew up toward his nose to form a mustache. The sudden itch of new hair under his nose was a bit much, and Finn briefly opened his eyes. The man in front of him was clearly a few decades younger, which could only mean he was now a few decades older.

“Just a bit more,” Brad said, panting for breath. “We need to even out our hair color, and I think our weight is still a bit uneven. Once we’re done we can stop by the courthouse and file all the paperwork.” Finn nodded in understanding, and leaned back in for another kiss.

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

“Is it normal for hair dye to completely vanish when a merge has finished?” Brad asked, as they sat in front of a mirror in the lobby of the County Recorder Clerk. “Our hair should be a combination of the two inputs, but it’s like your red hair and my former brown hair mixed together, rather than the deep black I was dyeing it to be once it started to go gray.”

Finn just shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know why you’re asking me. You were my first merge. I didn’t even really register that this was a technology that existed until you reached out to me. I’m just glad we just look like twins and not, like... cloned copies of each other.”

“I’m just glad I got to keep my piercings,” Brad said as he absent-mindedly traced the heavy stud with his finger. “Sorry if you didn’t want to deal with jewelry. Yours look small enough that it would probably heal shut in a few weeks.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Finn admitted, still getting used to the idea that the man with the thick beard was his new reflection and his new body. “Do you think they would let us change our names when we register with the state? I really don’t feel like a Finley anymore.”

“I hope so,” Brad replied, following up with another deep laugh. “I was planning to change my name to Bradley. It won’t change my nickname but, it just feels right somehow. Like our names merged when our bodies did.”

Finn smiled. “I think you’re right. Finnegan sounds pretentious and borderline obnoxious, but... I also think that it’s my name, now.”

Brad responded by slinging an arm around his shoulder, giving Finn a supportive squeeze. “I think it’s an excellent choice.”

#male body merge #male body transformation #twinning

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bettyfrommars · 2 days

Note

S1 * 💗

Pretty please

Melll I'm so happy to see you in my asks you don't even know

Your Person is Hybrid Steve, your Place is a Concert Venue, and your Thing is Dealer's Choice, so I will give you Farrah Fawcett Hairspray

word count: 830

Steve is mostly just a vampire in this, a few visceral visions of gore, blood, drinking blood, allusions to tracking someone down and killing them. Hybrid Steve is a complicated boy, his primal urges take him to dark places every so often (babe I had no idea it would go this way 💀)

18+ONLY

"Let me see," you pulled Steve aside, ushering him closer to the bathroom of the hotel room. "It needs more...fluff."

You fingered the wave of a curl that bounced on his forehead, smoothing down his mutton chop sideburns with a satisfied hum.

"I look stupid," he mumbled, running a hand over the buttons of the loud Hawaiian print shirt you'd bought for him. It was an especially sultry night in Vegas, and he also had on a pair of chinos that hugged his ass just right. "I'm dressed like my dad."

"Close your eyes," you held a hand over his face while you sprayed his coif thoroughly with his favorite brand of hairspray, bursts of aerosol puffing everywhere. Once it was set to perfection, you adjusted the collar of his shirt, fingering the tuft of chest hair that was visible there.

"Do I look okay?" You stepped back, twirling to give him the full view.

"You always look good," he mumbled again, turning to give his reflection a dirty look in the hallway mirror, scratching the stubble on his jaw. "You really like it when I wolf out like this?"

You lifted your eyebrows a few times in eager approval.

"Good thing Eddie's not here, I'd never live this shirt down."

"Type O before we go?" There was a martini glass full of plasma on the counter, and you handed it to him before gulping the last bit of your wine. The Flamingo Hotel had an entire wing of the establishment dedicated to their vampire clientele, right down to the automatic blackout curtains and bottles of freshly extracted blood. Your boyfriend liked to drink his out of a cocktail glass, pinky out, because he was fancy like that.

Steve Harrington, the most reluctant vampire you'd ever met.

He took three big swallows, finishing the entire thing before setting the glass back down. "I'm not wearing flip flops like a dork."

"Your converse are right over there," you busied yourself with making sure you had everything you needed in your bag.

Once he had his shoes on, you handed him the spare key. "Keep this on the chain around your neck? In case you go into beast mode and I lose you."

"Beast mode" otherwise known as Steve changing into his hybrid wolf form and losing all control, hadn't happened in months, not since he'd done the arduous work of trying to control it. He'd made friends with the monster, as his therapist would say.

You preferred to feed him from your own vein, but that was another trigger, it tended to flip some animalistic switch inside of him. Once he began to change into the beast, there was no going back.

By the time you made it to the venue to see a world-famous vampire Elvis impersonator on foot, Steve was sweaty and grouchy. You were about to get seated at the designated red velvet booth you'd bought tickets for, when a big man going the other way bumped into Steve, knocking him in the shoulder so hard he stumbled to the side.

"Watch where you're going, Fanger," the other man hissed, continuing on his way. The term Fanger was a derogatory word for vampire used mostly by right wing extremists who didn't think they should be allowed in polite society, or even be allowed to exist, for that matter.

"The fuck did you say?" Steve's normally chocolate eyes glowed amber gold, and his fangs ejected. You stopped to grab his face in both of your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Baby, breathe," you coaxed, shuffling closer. "Not tonight, Stevie, you promised."

His breaths were coming out forceful, like a bull about to charge, nostrils flaring. You held his face with all of your strength until you saw his eyes melt from tiger yellow back to brown suede again.

"Sorry," he huffed, pulling his fangs in, trying to avert his gaze, slightly embarrassed that such a small thing could rile him up and flush all the personal development he'd done down the toilet.

He'd hold your hand and watch Vampire Elvis jive around the stage in his bedazzled jumpsuits and he'd enjoy it. He'd try not to think about how good it would feel to rip that dude's body apart limb by limb, to drink from his bloody head like a cup. A smile quivered at the corner of his mouth as he thought about how horrible the screams would be while he shredded that knucklefuck with his bare hands.

You squeezed his knee, leaning in while the performance was going on. "That's the first time I've seen you smile all night."

Steve leaned into the grin letting his teeth show. He wanted to put you at ease and make you proud. He'd never loved anyone like you before and he'd do anything to keep you.

He'd track that guy later, while you were asleep, and then everyone would be happy.

Except for knucklefuck, of course. He'd be dead.

#Pick Your Poison blurb game #blurb game #hybrid!steve #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington fanfic #Mel ❤️

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cantchoosejust1 · 1 year

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Cardinal Sins - A Different Route

[I’ve decided to actually bite the bullet and write my own smut, Iord knows I’ve driven @gimmethosedaddymilkers mad from all my horny prompts LMAOO - this is a continuation of “Cardinal Sins and Other Desires” except the reader gets to dom Arthur (at first) hehehehehe - while I know the reader is wearing a nun outfit, I will be making them gender neutral, I didn’t use Y/N or any pronouns - sorry if the body description feels awkward, it’s been a while since I’ve written and I only know the perspective of AFAB!reader, so bear with me! I’m not good at adding tags or warnings either, feel free to let me know what I missed - have fun!!]

taglist stolen from the original post lmao: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: sex, priest kink, bondage by rosary, edging-ish, descriptions of demons, this shit is freak nasty in my opinion so just be cautious

This fic is 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You roll your eyes but your hand finds its way to his thighs, patting along the robe in an attempt to find said matches

Of course he has matches on him, he can’t go more than an hour or two without a smoke.

“Mhmm…careful, you’re gonna hit somethin’ else while you’re down there.”

“Why the hell are you so horny right now, I’m not even wearing anything revealing-”

“Maybe I’ve been possessed, need some holy water…”

“Arthur please, can we find the money?”

“I’m sure we can, but I’m sure I’d be a lot more focused after…”

“Alright, thats it-” you growled. Twisting the rosary in your hand, you harshly place it around Arthur’s wrists and grip them together, startling him. With quick steps and momentum, you push his body backwards until his back hits a wall. Arthur grunts upon impact, a random object clattering to the ground.

As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you try to focus on Arthur’s face and mutter, “Keep it in your pants Father, or I’ll have to discipline you later.”

You huff in frustration, the heat blowing across Arthur’s face. Wanting to play along with his silly game, you brought your lips to the exposed skin of his neck. Where you going to admit this was a secret fantasy of yours too? Hell no. Wetting your tongue, you lick beneath his jaw and finish off by flicking his ear lobe once. You laughed inwardly at the idea of Arthur’s so called “demon” having been transferred to your body. The hairs of his sideburns tickled your cheek as you placed your lips tentatively close to his ear.

“Then again, maybe I should exorcise that demon out of you before it corrupts your poor soul. Would you like that, Father Morgan?”

Your vision was able to focus in the darkness, giving you the chance to semi-clearly see Arthur’s face. His eyes wide open, his lips quivering and taking quick shaky breaths, his body shivers harshly as he peers into your lust filled glare. After a few seconds, you press his hands onto his chest near his heart, which is beating wildly. He whimpers as the rosary starts to cut into his skin, but he ignores it as he’s only able to focus on the feeling of your knee pushed between his legs.

As he’s distracted and unable - or rather not daring - to move, your free hand wanders down, exploring his body.

Arthur knew better to not act this way, especially in a church. But in this moment he didn’t give a damn, not with the way your hand quickly brushed against his hip and thigh “searching” for his matches. And he knew this was exciting you too with the way you purposely brush against his clothed heat, eliciting a high pitched sigh from his throat.

You glanced up, your eyes hooded, pupils dilating, watching Arthur slowly unravel. He looks at you with hazy eyes, taking deep breaths. Squeezing his right thigh once, you slowly drag the back of your fingers upwards, deliberately placing more pressure on his erection. Arthur couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his lips, his voice reverberating against the walls.

The basement door opens. “Hello?”

In a second, you shot up and placed your hand over Arthur’s mouth, trying not to slap him by accident. You hold your body against his and look into his eyes to communicate a silent warning.

“If anybody is down there, the church is closed!” the voice yells, taking a second to listen for any noises. The person hummed in confusion, “Must’ve been my imagination then.”

The door slams shut and footsteps recede, but you wait a few more seconds to be absolutely sure the person has left. Huffing, you back away from Arthur to give yourselves some breathing room, the stress of almost getting caught making your heart thrum with worry and excitement.

Arthur takes his time to control his panting, goosebumps fluttering across his body at the chill from losing your heat. His head perks up at the sound of you shaking his matches. You smirk, “Found them.”

The mission didn’t take long after that steamy ordeal. The object that conveniently fell on the floor was a lantern, which you gladly used Arthur’s matches to light. As he gained his composure back, Arthur removed the rosary from his wrists - seeing in the dim light some welts forming on his delicate skin - untangling it and placing it in his pocket.

Wasting no more time, you were both able to locate the money and figured out a plan of escape that didn’t involve going back up the stairs, assuming the person locked it behind them. By then, it had gone dark, the sun hidden away to allow the moon to shine its lovely light and the stars to shimmer against the dark sky. The sounds of your running footsteps hitting the stone road were covered by the noise of a nearby rowdy bar and its even rowdier patrons. You and Arthur were able to reach your horses without worry, bags of money hidden beneath clothes and stuffed quickly into empty saddle bags; whatever money didn’t fit was placed into a separate bag that you carried on hand, making sure to check for any rips or tears as not to risk losing any money and potentially upsetting Dutch.

Arthur took the lead on the way back to camp, avoiding any main roads, trying to get out as fast as possible. When he figured y’all were a few decent miles away did he spur his horse forward, startling you into an unexpected race. You began laughing at the thrill of it all, Arthur joining in with a big belly laugh. As you began nearing camp, Arthur slowed down his horse to a trot, allowing the chance to catch a quick breath.

“I can’t believe we managed to do that,” he said, his smile reaching his ears, hair whipped from the wind, twisting every which way (like he even cared).

You snorted, “I told you, confidence is important when it comes to missions like these.” You gave a mad huff and smacked his left thigh, making Arthur yelp in pain and surprise. “We could’ve been done sooner if you didn’t get riled up! My skin ain’t showing and yet you’re over here acting like a bitch in heat.”

“Oh come on, darlin’, could you really blame me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll admit it was bad timing. I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing your right hand to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “I’m sorry… that you look so fine in that get up-”

You yanked your hand away, yelling, “Arthur Morgan!!”

He laughed once more, urging his horse to pick up more speed as he neared the path heading into camp. He could hear the crackle of the fire and smell the burning wood, the sound of a bottle being opened spurred him to go a tad bit faster. Nearing the stables, Arthur swiftly greeted Charles and jumped off his horse to head over to the crate holding said bottles. Grabbing one by the neck, he made his way over to an empty table and popped the bottle open. He found himself feeling so thirsty, but the idea of water didn’t appeal to him; rather the sensation of his nostrils burning, tasting the bitter alcohol coat his tongue as it ran down his throat.

Before meeting you, alcohol was a comforting friend to Arthur, one he could always lean on for any kind of situation, bad or good. Eventually, having now formed a strong bond with you, he began to drink more socially. Except for the times he goes back to his old friend to help him forget, like he’s doing now. He ignored the sounds of everyone around him, letting himself focus on the golden liquid, trying to push the mission’s events to the back of his mind. But the feeling of your hands on his body haven’t left, making him hungry, just not for food.

As he went to take another gulp, Dutch patted him on the back and stole the bottle from Arthur’s hand.

“Easy there, son, don’t go celebrating just yet.” Arthur almost grabbed the bottle back, but Dutch took it farther from reach, waiting for a response, to know if his wondrous plan had blessed him with riches.

Arthur growled, abruptly standing to go around Dutch, back toward the stables. His shaking hands struggled to grab the bags filled with money, his annoyance puffing out in smoke through his nostrils. You came up next to him and helped to remove the bag, giving Arthur the chance to turn back around and forcefully slam the money on the table. Dutch stared in awe as some bills spilled out, a few coins rolling out before settling on the table. He almost started yelling in excitement before he saw your form coming toward him with the other bags of money, letting out a grunt as they slipped off your shoulder and landed on the table with a thud.

“This better be enough to last us a while ‘cause I don’t feel like dressing up again, Dutch,” you said. Placing your hands on your lower back, you pushed your spine forward until you heard a crack, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“This- hehe..” - he grabbed a couple wads of cash - “is more than enough. Thank you, both of you! HAHA, can you believe it, Hosea?!”

Dutch ran off to find said man, leaving you to take a seat beside Arthur, who has long since finished his liquor and just stared at the money, absentmindedly.

“Hey,” you whispered. Arthur glanced up.

“You’re not still thinking about earlier, are you?” Cocking an eyebrow, you failed at suppressing a smile from forming, the corner of your lip curling at the thought of seeing Arthur look upon you as if you were his god, so defenseless beneath your touch.

Arthur felt his cheeks begin to burn, he clenched his teeth and turned his head away from you to stare at the ground. He made no effort in trying to respond, the feelings from earlier starting to creep into his nerves, his cock twitching at the memory of feeling your hand pressed against it. You watched his shoulders shudder and took that as a ‘yes.’ You stood from the table, placing your middle finger on Arthur’s right shoulder and dragged your nail slowly to the left, watching as his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck straightened out.

Leaning down to Arthur’s left ear, continuing to whisper, “My offer still stands, Father Morgan. I’d love nothing more than to fuck that demon out of your poor, aching body.”

You lick the shell of his ear, scratching his shoulder before removing yourself and walking off to your tent, once again leaving Arthur cold. And horny.

Arthur knew better than to keep drinking, if he was going to experience this pleasure with you, he wanted to do it (relatively) sober. He’s already drunk with lust, maybe even love, but that’s a topic he’d rather discuss with his head and not the raging boner crowding his already tight pants.

Luckily, everybody in camp was too focused on the win, already thanking and congratulating Arthur on the glorious bounty. They all celebrated by drinking and dancing around the formed bonfire, their throats sore with the amount of alcohol being consumed and their loud singing. Javier wasted no time in strumming his already tuned guitar and led them all into a song about love and riches, making sure to wink at Arthur specifically as he sang the verse about love.

Knowing Javier saw their interaction, Arthur looked away in embarrassment, dreading the idea of hearing Javier’s constant teasing. About how Arthur is wrapped around your finger, a tough cowboy now whipped by someone who outwardly looked weaker than him. But that’s what Arthur loved about you; behind your seemingly quiet demeanor was a smart, quick witted, stubborn yet loyal person Arthur was proud to call "his." He knew you both loved each other equally, yet he couldn’t bring himself to the idea of being this vulnerable with you!

…But like hell was he gonna lose this chance. He regrets a lot of things in his life, and this interaction will not be one of them. Having waited long enough to where everyone was too drunk to notice him, he slipped away from the table and made quick strides toward your tent, sending a wink back to Javier on his way over. He was lucky your tent was farthest from the bonfire because he knew this was going to get loud and messy.

Standing a few feet away from your tent, Arthur reached into his pocket and dug around to pull out your rosary. He clenched it around his right hand, stepping once… twice… inching closer to the flap of your sacred space.

“Have you come to confess your sins?” you said.

Arthur sucked in a breath, his heart accelerated when hearing your sultry voice. The idea of touching your skin sent the blood rushing from one head to another, the flaming passion igniting in his body gave him the final push to go through your tent.

Ohhh…. Shit.

There you were, sitting on your knees upon your bed, stripped free of the nun costume. The soft blue glow of the moon peeking in through the cracks of your tent being the only thing covering your bare skin. With one more shaky step forward, Arthur fell upon his knees, a priest before his god. He grasped the rosary even tighter, the cross pressing deep into his palm. Without clear direction on your part, Arthur wrapped his wrists between the beads. Clasping his hands together so tightly they turned white, he offered them to you.

“Please… forgive me, for I have sinned,” he panted, voice dropping an octave on the last word. Licking his lips and swallowing, he said, “It has been a few weeks since my last... confession.”

Placing your hands on your knees, you opened your legs a bit and leaned an inch further, watching as Arthur’s eyes bounced from your sex to your perked nipples before landing on your pouty lips. He swore the shadow behind your head was painted with the biggest devil horns imaginable.

“I know of your sins, Father Morgan,” you said. He inhaled quickly at the sound of his name, staring at you wide eyed. “And no amount of prayer will absolve you.”

Arthur hung his head low, choking back the apology he was going to say for his earlier actions in the church basement.

“However-”

“Yes?!” he said briskly. The whiplash he got from lifting his head too fast was painful, but he chose to ignore it, opting to focus on your wicked smile.

You let out a giggle, “While, I am a firm believer that actions speak more volume than words ever could--”

You lift yourself off your legs and plant both feet on the floor, sitting comfortably on the cot. Arthur stared as you spread your thighs apart to show yourself fully before him, your sex leaking with arousal. You place your dominant hand in front of you, slightly blocking the view to show him your index finger beckoning him. Without question, Arthur moved swiftly but clumsily to you, abruptly stopping when you placed your palm on his sweaty forehead.

The sigh he let out as you pet the top of his head changed to a groan as you suddenly grasp the hairs atop his crown. You push his head back to make him look at you, saying, “You get one chance to repent. Make it count, Father, or your soul will suffer until your next confession. Do I make myself clear?”

He nods diligently, his voice a whisper among his heavy breathing. “Yes!… Yes, yes, I promise.”

With his final consent, you push his head forward, moaning as he makes first contact with your sex. His mouth was wet, saliva collecting on his tongue as he licked from bottom to top, making sure to focus his movements on the spots he knows you’re most sensitive.

“Oooohh~ ffuuck, yes Arthur!” you gasp. “Good boy, good- AH!” One lick upon a special spot made you push his face closer.

He repeatedly ran his tongue over the same spot, studying your facial expressions painted in ecstasy. The way your eyes were tightly closed as you focused on the pleasure he gave you, your mouth gaping open, the air making it dry.

“SHHIIIT-- just like that! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!!” you chanted, head swung back, using the arm behind you as an anchor to prevent yourself from falling backwards.

By now, you threw your legs over Arthur’s shoulders, digging your heels on his back, feeling your toes curl and uncurl every other second. A wave of pleasure bloomed from your sex and spread across every nerve in your body, signaling the arrival of your climax. You let go of Arthur’s hair to plant it behind you for more balance, trusting him to finish his prayer. He knew you were getting closer too, hearing the way you took bigger breaths in anticipation, your nails scratching the covers. Keeping the same pace, he continued to drink your arousal like a man thirsty for water. His erection throbbed at the sounds of him devouring you; slurping, sucking, lapping and moaning like a madman.

“Ar-- thur, ’m gonna… cum” you wheezed. You tried to swallow but your mouth was painfully dry. “I’m-- ahh… really close. Please, please don’t stop!”

As the pleasure was starting to become painful, your first instinct was to close your legs, even if Arthur was still between them. Feeling your thighs closing in on Arthur’s face caused him to moan, the vibrations being the final strike in making you cum.

All at once, your body was hit with the force of a powerful orgasm. Goosebumps extend up from one arm and across your chest, making your nipples even harder, then down the other arm; starting at the base of your neck gliding to the bottom of your spine and up your tightening abdomen, and finally, coursing through your legs, making your toes unfurl. You felt your head fog up with a misty cloud of joy and desire. Your sex pulsed, your arousal like a flowing waterfall, cascading water into Arthur’s awaiting lips, him swallowing everything with utmost desperation and gratitude. Softly removing himself from you with a small pop to prevent any overstimulation. He started licking up anything that fell from his mouth, then left a few delicate kisses onto your left inner thigh, his little ‘thank you’.

Regaining your composure, you peered down at Arthur, him resting his weary head on your thigh and gazing up at you with a hint of a smile. You put your dominant hand back onto his head, petting and fixing any misplaced hairs back onto his scalp.

“Very good, Arthur.” You caressed his cheekbone with your thumb, using your other fingers to scratch against the side of his head. “For your dedication, I will reward you. But.. you’ll have to earn it.”

Pinching his chin, you force his head up. “I’m going to bring you to the peak of ecstasy three times,” - you hold up the same number of fingers - “But, you’re not allowed to release until I tell you.”

He became distressed: eyes darting between yours, eyebrows creasing, his smile turning into a frown. As much as it pained him to wait longer, if it meant he can unload inside you, he’ll be patient. Just this once.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes I do,” he answers.

You hum in approval. “Lay your ass on this bed, Big Boy.”

If there really was a god, Arthur thanked it for blessing him with your presence in his life. He was able to last until the third round, almost losing his composure on the second. His head was spinning in a heavy fog of desire, whining with every exhale, merely seconds away from tapping out. His body was beginning to tire out because of the way he tensed his muscles trying to stop himself from cumming too soon, his shoulders and biceps burning as he held his tied hands over his face.

“Look at you, my love,” you say, running your hands over his pecs, teasing his nipple between your fingertips. He let out another whine as he bit his lower lip, wondering how much longer he must endure this.

What a sight he was to behold: his arms flexing above his head, elbows pressed together to hide his expressions from your sinful stare; his face, neck, ears, and collarbone blushing a vibrant shade of red; his lips swollen from the rough way you kissed him when he got too loud; his chest rising with every inhale, his stomach pushing out with every exhale; his cock - wet with your spit and his precum - stood at your command, much to your surprise, figuring at this point he’d have gone soft, but grateful he hasn’t; his legs were extended, feet firmly planted on the cot, quivering beside your hips, his knees bumping slightly against your waist.

Starting at his ankles, you caressed your palms up the back of his calves, then slowly brought them down his thighs. He tensed upon feeling your fingers brush against his V-lines.

“You’re almost done, I promise.” Squishing the flesh of his hips, you raise your dominant hand a good distance away before delivering a harsh slap to Arthur’s ass. Both of you moan in sync, his speaks of pain, yours speaks of adoration.

“Oh, how I love to worship you like this!” Bringing your head lower, you kiss the inside of his right knee. “You are my favorite thing to walk among this Earth,” you say, proceeding to move your lips further down his leg.

Giving one final kiss to his heavy balls and another to his perineum, his body jolting with each one.

“Tell you what. Since you’ve been good thus far,” he parts his elbows to look at you clearly, “I’ll let you cum inside me now, okay?”

Arthur sighs in relief. “OH! Oh…th- thank you, oh my god--”

“Don’t thank me jus' yet, Pretty Boy.” Leaning forward, you grab the rosary and untie his wrists, bunching it together and haphazardly throw it over your shoulder to where you think your nun costume went, wishing to preserve it for future use.

He laid there in shock, not knowing what to do now that you released him. Moving his arms down from the uncomfortable position, he rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache before settling his arms at his sides. You smack the side of his right thigh, gaining his attention.

“How ‘bout it cowboy? You want me to ride you… or do you wanna take the reigns and fuck the demon out of me?” You grip his shaking knees, holding them in place to stare at his leaking cock, then bring your eyes back up to look at him.

“Tell me your desires, Father Morgan.”

Dumbfounded, he asked, “I… I get to decide?”

How cute, I left him speechless. You exhaled a laugh, caressing the top of his thighs, “Yes, my love. Ravish me with your cock, I need it. Fuck me Father Morgan, I beg of you!”

Collecting his bearings and gaining newfound energy, Arthur pounced. He startled you with how quick he shot up, his strong arms opened wide to show his impressive wingspan. In an instant, he caged you in his grasp, lips embracing in a fiery kiss. When you gasped for air, he stuck his tongue inside, wishing to push his love further into your mouth. The sounds of both your moans, cries and whimpers created a symphony, the song of worship.

He brought a hand to the back of your head, protecting it as he shifted your bodies, and you instinctively enveloped his torso between your legs. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, he lifted you with ease to place your back against the cot as cautiously as he could, kissing the middle of your collarbone before lifting himself off you. He felt like the luckiest man on this planet, an angel in the flesh! His precious angel, his soul, his world.

There you rested, arms thrown beside you, showing Arthur you were surrendering yourself to him.

Arthur kept staring at you beneath him, his hands on either side of your head, taking his time to adore every single beautiful feature on your face.

The way your lashes curtained over your eyes, the curve of your delicate nose, your luscious lips so warm and inviting, your cheeks painted with your years of life - freckles, dimples, beauty marks, oh my!

He felt your legs move along his ribs, briefly taking him out of his thoughts, seeing the way you cocked an eyebrow at him in confusion - the demon was growing impatient. And so was he. Hooking his elbows beneath your knees, he forcefully pushed your legs to your chest leaving your feet dangling in the air near his shoulders; the perfect position for him to see your warm, wet, inviting hole. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

He lifted his right hand to his mouth, sticking his ring and middle finger inside to coat them with as much spit as he could. Satisfied with the amount, he took them out and abruptly pressed them to your entrance. With a bit of resistance from the insertion, you moaned as he was able to insert his fingers with ease the rest of the way in.

“So needy,” he groaned.

“Only for you, Big Boy,” you said.

He moaned as you squeezed his fingers, “Don’t go saying that, darlin’.”

“Well why not? It’s true. You drive me wild, Father Morgan.”

“No more of that! I only wanna hear you scream my name by the end of this. I ain’t no saint, and you sure as hell ain’t one too,” he answered briskly, curling his fingers on your soft walls. You cried at the sudden wave of pleasure, driving your heels into his shoulders.

“OOH~ I will, I will, I swear! Jus'… please, Arthur, just fuck me!” you begged, heat starting to flood your face.

Swiftly removing his fingers, he prodded your entrance with his tip, running it up and down, slowly teasing you. He wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, however, his plan backfired when he pressed too far in and the head of his cock breached inside. The feel of finally getting what he wanted made him almost collapse on top of you. He shivered and gripped the sheets tightly.

Collecting himself, he closed his eyes and continued to push himself deeper, lubricated by his own spit - he was gonna lose his mind!

When he was fully sheathed inside, you squeezed his cock once, feeling his veins prod against your walls, trying to memorize everything. He whined at the sensation, tears beginning to form beneath his closed eyelids. If there was one moment he would want to relive for the rest of his life, it would be between first meeting you and this very instant.

Arthur opened his eyes, a few tears escaped to land on your cheeks, one hitting your top lip. Maintaining eye contact with him, you stick your tongue out and licked it up, the salty flavor tickling your taste buds.

“Mmmm…” you moaned.

He snapped. He slotted his right hand against your throat, using his left to grasp the meat of your thigh. Pulling out before slamming his cock back in, his balls slapping your ass lewdly.

You whined at the harsh movement, relishing in the look on Arthur’s face as he unleashed his own demon. He held a stern gaze and an angry scowl, while you held a mischievous glint and a devious smile. Two horny hellspawns, locked in a duel to see who gets to make the other cum first.

As his hips set about a hard but steady pace, Arthur moved his fingers along the side of your neck to find your pulse. He soon made contact with it, feeling the fast beat of your heart on his fingertips, he squeezed his hand with enough force to cut your airflow. Loving the way your eyes bulged for a second, feeling you swallow hard against his palm. He enjoyed letting you control him from time to time, but he’ll never get over the feeling of your body writhing from the pleasure he gives you.

He removed his hand from your neck, moving it down to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it for what felt like forever to you before focusing his attention on the other one.

While he was preoccupied with you perky nipples and the filthy sounds coming out of your mouth, you dropped your sight to where your bodies connected. Hypnotized by the way he fit inside you, so perfectly connected. There was no way you would be able to walk tomorrow. With nowhere else to grab, you bring your hands to the flesh between your thighs and ass, squishing it for some sense of stability.

Arthur refocused on your face, having his view be blocked by your arms. With no other choice, he hooked the free hand beneath your other knee, keeping you in place.

“Look at me,” he growled. His voice reverberated against your ears, your sex pulsed in arousal at hearing his demanding tone.

“Fucking LOOK at me, darlin’, you know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You do as you’re told, gasping for air as you sense your climax slowly approaching.

“You close, ain’tcha? Mmm, I can feel it,” he said.

Nodding, you say, “Please, Arthur! C- cum with me…! I want us to cum together!”

“Nngh!” he grunts. “You keep… squeezing me like that, I’m gonna-- FUCK! I’ll cum soon.”

“Yes, yes! Give it to me, I wanna be dripping with your semen!!” Your moans grew higher in pitch, the muscles in your thighs tightening at the feel of your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Both of you were gasping, hearts beating as one, the smell of sex permeating the air in a dense fog of filthy love.

Wanting to savor this special moment, Arthur took his hands in yours, making sure to interlock fingers before setting them on either side of your head. He pushed his body forward, your legs pressed against his chest in a painful way, ignored by the amount of pleasure building.

The pace Arthur set combined with the forced mating press allowed you to experience his cock in the most delicious way. Free to feel every vein and ridge; his cock leaking so much precum he was able to effortlessly slip in and out without issue; overall an impressive girth, giving you a satisfying stretch.

All the love you had for him was projected into your eyes, Arthur easily recognized it because he looked at you that way every single day, even in his dreams.

“I love you,” he whispered, inches away from your face.

Happy tears began to form in your eyes, a shy smile forming. “I love you more.”

As soon as he reached down to share a kiss, your orgasms exploded simultaneously, moans harmonizing with the loud squelch between your bodies.

Arthur removed his lips from yours, tongues connected by a line of spit. Taking his hands from yours, he lifted himself up and brought your legs to rest at his hips. He watched you get comfortable before collapsing from exhaustion, making you grunt at the force of his body weight. He kissed along your left shoulder and settled his cheek against it, proceeding to lace one hand back to yours and snaking the other arm below your body, imprisoning you with his massive frame. You sighed with content, head still reeling and feeling your eyelids become heavy.

“Arthur?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you get off me?”

He lightly shook his head ‘no.’

The moonlight invaded your vision as it peered into your tent, painting the side of Arthur’s tired face, sculpting his chiseled back with cool lights and dark shadows. You watched his torso rise and fall with each deep breath, the noises of the night mixing with his huffs, the little critters chirping in the wind.

You laughed, out of breath. “Arthur?”

“...mmm?”

“I love you,” you whisper against his temple, placing a soft kiss on his heated skin, the taste of his sweat invading your lips.

“...’ove you… mo’...” he sighed. With the sound of your heart beating in his ear, the rhythm of your breathing matching his, Arthur succumbed to sleep.

Nothing but silence is heard for the next three minutes, until Arthur's soft snores fill the air. Lost in thought, you began to brush his hair with your right hand, the soft locks flowing between each finger. You tried your best to pepper as many kisses to his face as you could, but you weren't able to reach much, only his temple and forehead.

A thought crossed your mind, and you glanced at the chest placed at the foot of your bed. Inside, there was a pistol you owned long before you joined the gang, gifted to you by your great aunt before she passed away. You were the closest thing she considered a child - since either she was unable to carry or simply chose not to have any, you didn’t know - so she told you to give the pistol to the person you intended to marry, in place of a ring. At that time, you thought it silly since you believed in the magic of a ring, that soon changed when you met Arthur.

Having now been in the gang for a few years, you knew most of his past as he gave you little information at his own time. The days dragged on and you soon found yourself falling in love with the cowboy, going on missions together more often, inside jokes and food shared between each other. Until one mission separated the two of you, pulling Arthur to find a random target or whatever, you weren't given much information, which made worrying for his return even worse. A week prior to his return, Arthur had sent you a three-page letter reminiscing of your friendship, how worn out he was, and a shared moment you both had where you almost kissed at the river, having been interrupted by Uncle and his problems. At the very end he proclaimed his love for you, rereading it over and over again with tears in your eyes, the same letter tucked in the holster of the gun. The moment you spotted his figure in the distance walking beside his horse, you took off running and met him halfway, colliding with him in a hug stronger than a python. Thankfully he was unharmed - apart from you knocking the wind out of him - so you had no issues smooching his whole face, pulling apart for a second to tell him that you loved him too, and finishing with a passionate kiss to his lips, finally becoming a couple.

With each passing day since then, you wondered if there will ever be a chance to ask him! Ask him to be your spouse, your lover for the rest of your lives. As long as it was by his side, you didn't care where you'll end up. Closing your eyes, you dreamt of this new life, praying he'll say yes, hoping you'll be able to live a calm life far from the one you were living.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur smiled against your skin, thinking about the ring he has tucked away in his own chest, dreaming of the same future.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan priest #arthur morgan sub #arthur morgan dom #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction

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sonkitty · 6 months

Text

Crowley S2 Hair Post #1 Redone

Take it all in.

Treasure it for all that it is.

Because you will never see this hairstyle this clearly on Crowley ever again, not even from different angles...unless there's a treat waiting for us in season 3. But otherwise, no, that's all we get of this gorgeous, gorgeous shot.

The below post is edited as of 12/11/2023.

What do we learn about the sideburns?

We can't see if both sideburns are short, just that the right one is longer than it was in season 1 (including flashbacks in season 1). My latest findings as I edit this post suggest that space occupied over time by Crowley impacts the length of his sideburns, most especially in a home base environment, namely his car and the bookshop.

I think this sideburn is longer than when Crowley later enters the coffee shop though it is very hard to tell. Pretend I'm right for this bit.

The park is not a home base environment, but Crowley has taken certain steps that have allowed the space to become more his own.

He is sitting still for some unknown amount of time. That might matter because he is also standing still at the end of season 2. While I still think this action helps make the space more his own, I have come to the conclusion it is also helping Crowley be seen or sensed.

He is holding a newspaper. That newspaper is like his threshold in this smaller designated space for himself. It is also an earthly object.

Two characters are going to show up, at different times, and there will be no interaction from him to them until he has deliberately pulled the newspaper down from his face. That is to say, he passes through his designated threshold to talk to them.

Is the brighter red streak visible?

Not exactly. I can tell you where it should be, and that I've added arrows where it could be. From a front view, it is usually above the center of his left eye but not always.

My personal guess is between one of the two arrows on the right.

Is the hairstyle different from the present day Crowley scene before it?

We currently do not have a point of reference but after studying numerous scenes, I can tell you the answer is almost always yes. The style changes even during scenes. The style when Crowley pulls down the newspaper for the first time is actually something like in between the first shot we see and then another shot after it. You probably won't catch that if you aren't trying.

Here's one a couple of extra ones that look more similar, possibly even the same between each other:

Far more subtle, and admittedly iffy, I could just be seeing what I want to see, but to me, it looks like the initial right profile shot has a more obvious gradient. The hair towards the bottom matches his season 1 color better and gets brighter up until the top. The after-pushing-newspaper-down style has a gradient, but there is even less of the season 1 color on the bottom area, as if the hair itself is transforming into its new season 2 state. Here's a comparison view if you wish to decide for yourself:

If it's not that, it might actually be that Crowley's hair gets darker because of Shax being a demon in his presence. Closer to his own home, the Bentley, it tends to be darker there too.

Here's the original collection I made from this scene before realizing the first style at least is different:

Now with streaks indicators too:

So with all of the above in mind, I reached the following conclusions, removing #4. Edit-and now removing #5

(1) Crowley's hair is now a brighter red than season 1, including season 1 present day and season 1 flashbacks.

(2) There is yet an even brighter, more saturated, streak of red hair above his left eye.

(3) His sideburns are longer than they were in season 1. At this point, we have no comparison to season 2, but they are going to get both longer and shorter than what is seen here in this same episode.

(5) His sideburns are short in the presence of a human and then Shax before Gabriel is invited into the bookshop. The Book of Life is also mentioned after this scene, but we're going to see a lot more sideburns correlation with Gabriel than the Book of Life.

(6) In this scene, the hair is lighter and more saturated on his left side; it is darker on his right side. For episode 1 at least, in my latest notes, that is standard for most of it.

(7) I can't tell you what the top style is telling us about Crowley's mood, but it does seem to do that, at least sometimes. It can be fun to try and guess.

(8) The left sideburn does not have as much hair as the right sideburn. Just as the color of the hair is lighter on the left, it seems the left sideburn is supposed to be "lighter" than the right. My latest research suggests this is actually standard across the season if one takes the time to compare.

Additional Notes before I get to the upcoming stuff:

The cut between Crowley holding the newspaper in profile view and pushing it down has him holding the newspaper differently with his fingers. This could be a suspicious chronology edit or it could be Crowley testing/managing the bounds of his created space.

When Crowley leaves, he will pass by Shax with him in the background. He is blurred, and there's something gold around where he's holding the newspaper, that is presumably his bills. After he passes Shax, you can't see the presumed bills anymore. Due to the angle? In this story, I'm skeptical, but yeah, could be. Crowley's going to be conveniently obscured many times throughout the season.

This scene also does something that the entire season is going to do but is way, way more overt about it if you watch any right profile shot of Crowley.

Most of the blocking is going to have a character speaking in a shot alone or with a blurred version of who they are talking to from an over-the-shoulder or such type view. You will usually not see both characters on screen and sometimes even if you do, there will be intentional blurs, so both characters cannot share focus.

Most likely, this is to help us understand that this story is EDITED. It involves memories, and memories can get blurry, so I'm guessing that's another reason. Who edited the story and why? So far, I'm strongly of the belief that it's at least Crowley and Aziraphale but cannot figure out if the Metatron and anyone else is doing it too. I started to figure this out through finding possible deliberation between Aziraphale and Crowley regarding this sideburns thing. You have to look quite hard to pick up on the clues though. They are trying to not look as deliberate as they are.

Now, upcoming stuff:

Questions we will ask in future scenes:

What do we learn about the sideburns?

Formerly:

Are the sideburns even?

How long are the sideburns?

Is the brighter red streak visible?

Is the hairstyle different from the present day Crowley scene before it?

Any additional notes about who is around, the current progress of the story, the physical space Crowley is occupying, and how it compares to what we come to expect of the found patterns.

Due to my mistake on the different styles, I am going to admit up front, there is no way I'll be able to catch every hairstyle. Scenes are cut in deliberately deceptive ways to make it hard to tell when you've shifted over.

Writing an introduction for this project was a big, giant mess, so we're just diving right in before I lose interest. An introduction might come later, if I stay committed and get to do what I want to do with this idea.

Edit-I still don't have a proper introduction, but I do have two significant posts that I've put a lot of time and thought into that I hope explains what I have found as of my latest edit:

Crowley S2 Hair Project - Main Point of Reference for Sideburns

Crowley S2 Hair Post #10 (angry lightning walk)

This project is inspired by these posts:

Crowley’s Sideburns & what do they mean?

Ok, I love this theory that it could be some sort ...

For reference:

Post #1 with mistake

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #crowley #david tennant #crowley s2 hair project

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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How do you think the different Riddlers would react to being somehow kidnapped by an obsessive fan............. I'm not projecting I promise the boys just belong in the basement

Kidnapped Riddlers

Riddler Headcanons *cough cough* this isn't projecting on my part either...no one would kidnap anyone on this blog, not even silly little villains who might kind of deserve to be locked up for a little while NOT AT ALL 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: mostly fluff i think, but you know me

dano

this is absolutely not the way this was supposed to go

he's convinced you're working with the batman until you admit your crush

honestly, he's flattered that you watched all of his streams

and concerned that the conclusion you came to was "love"

but he'll take it, adoration from a fan is a sign that he's definitely on his way to making something of himself

but to be honest he's lost all motivation for eradicating corruption

he's quite happy to sit here blushing while you praise him

capullo

ooooh, this is kinda kinky, having him tied up like this

and the gag in his mouth? nice touch

but maybe you shouldn't have taken it out because now he won't shut up or stop complaining

like if you wanted him this bad you could have just asked

he would have come (heh) willingly

and if you're taking notes, next time he'd prefer that you were the one tied up

but hey he'll roll with the punches this time

telltale

you have exactly five minutes to explain, apologise, untie him, and scold yourself before he bonks you hard on the head with his-

ah...his cane is over there, out of reach

you're smarter than you look

which wouldn't be hard because the kind of person who would try to kidnap him is not a smart one

well, yes technically you did kidnap him

but it's only successful if he doesn't escape

and trust him, he will

you won't be hard to outsmart or outlast

young justice

bless his soul but his one defence mechanism is being so annoying that you immediately need to get rid of him

after maybe the 300th riddle it's likely you'll let him go

or smother him (with kisses???)

but he's so cute, you couldn't strangle a lil puppy like him

but you could duct tape his mouth shut, making sure not to damage his pretty sideburns

oh and now he's started humming an annoying tune

you should have known he wouldn't make it easy

arkham

you will rue the day you thought you could trap edward nigma

yes, someone like you couldn't keep a goldfish safe and secure let alone a genius like him

it's only a matter of time before he figures out the combination to these locks

and manages to get out of the copious restraints

and then figures out the password to the door

at least you've added some enrichment to his new habitat

but he won't be here long! you better enjoy him while you have him!

hope you soundproofed this room because he will keep complaining until he's free...

twojar

the ropes you've used to restrain him aren't as soft or sturdy as the kind he's used to but they'll do

interesting to note that you removed his shirt

see something you like?

oh he absolutely will try and flirt his way out of this

and there's a high chance he'll be successful

especially when he could provide so much more benefit to you with his hands free

just untie him a little bit and he can give you a taste

gotham

an infuriating subject for kidnapping

god only knows when or why he became so adept at lock picking

and where does he keep producing these pins from?

it's just lucky that he's a bit lanky and feels the need to stop for a dramatic goodbye every time he gets loose

which inevitably leads to him being captured again

you would think he would learn his lesson

but that's the definition of madness i suppose

unburied

understandable why you would want to kidnap him

but hopefully you knew what you were letting yourself in for

because he's not going to be easy to look after

he's used to being captive, and at least here he has a tv to watch

so he's not in any rush to return to arkham

but get ready to wait on him hand and foot

you were labouring under the misconception that this was a kidnapping when in fact

you seem to be catering for him as though it were a five star all-inclusive resort

and also you buttered his toast wrong again

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delurkr · 8 months

Text

Genderswapped Clarkes

There's a bonus D below too. If you zoom in you will find that they all look some shade of miserable and/or annoyed which... checks out I guess lol but it wasn't the intention, neutral expressions are hard ya'll. Everybody go look at @108gary 's genderswapped A-boys, and now for rambling and the art in sections under the cut

Btw the outfits aren't necessarily what they would have been wearing the night of the fire, but they're based on what they were wearing that night (I didn't want to just do pajamas for M or any coats)

M'Anne - The slippers are the same as Anne's, that's about it. The rest of it is just midcentury-dad-around-the-house because it's as close as I could get to Anne's housecoat. How come Anne has no other outfits in the game 😒

Jane - She gets to have some cat-eye glasses as a treat ✨ (We do not try to make sense of her left arm. The watch is visible and that's all I care about at this point ☠)

Terry - Or his left arm. His shirt is reminiscent of Tanya's uniform but not a uniform. I thought about switching things up and giving him a sun necklace and her a moon keychain but I didn't feel like putting him in a necklace, I wanted his sideburns to be the main fashion-forward thing on him

Violet - Corduroy like Vince's coat, except it's a dress and not a coat. Also cinnamon colored stockings, which were having a moment in the early 70s

Dana - So the og plan was the jacket tied around her waist, but somehow I didn't like how it turned out so I did another version (I do like both of them now tho). It actually would have worked to just copy-paste Dennis's whole outfit for her but that's not what I'm here for

Alison - Corduroy again, like Anthony's pants. The dress is a slightly dated style to channel the vibes of his pilly janked-up "should have let go of this a year ago but I still like it" sweater (Anthony's sweater my beloved 💙)

Martin - Based on what Megan wears in the family photo but trying to keep the shirt reminiscent of her nightgown (don't question the pattern lol, pre-made brush). I went with the little girl's red for the sneakers and some good old 1970s plum-colored pants because I like Megan in purple

About the names, I'm not terribly concerned with them but I figured the same amount of syllables and order of emphasis (as much as possible) is more important to me than exact male/female counterparts, I guess it has to do with vibes and being able to hear canon lines the same way just with the names replaced, idk.

I do like Terry and Martin for those two because those names were huge when the Clarke kids were born, and Jane, Violet, and Dana are ok too but the A's are causing problems, especially for a man so it'll just have to be anything else that wasn't used for an A-boy in the game. Like I said I'm not terribly concerned with it but I'm open to suggestions, otherwise it's just "M'Anne" lol

#hm lets see todays lhtober prompt is... stick figure #nope no stick figures in sight lol #I did actually start something last month that might have been finished in time for lhtober but this hijacked my brain instead ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#fanart #my art #genderswap #the clarke family #anne clarke #james clarke #tanya clarke #vince barnes #dennis clarke #anthony clarke #megan clarke #the dark pictures anthology #little hope

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lotusthewriter · 8 months

Text

I want something just like this

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: G

Relationships: Hunter & Darius, Hunter/Luz (romantic)

Characters: Hunter, Darius Deamonne, Luz Noceda; MENTIONED - Emperor Belos | Philip Wittebane

Summary: Hunter wants his first Grom to be perfect. He just doesn't know how Darius is going to react.

Word count: 1.336

AO3

A/N: I bet I'm going to get hate for this lmao. The focus though isn't the romance, so if you can still tolerate Lunter then I guess you'll be able to enjoy the Dadrius. This is my first time writing Darius/Dadrius though, so I hope it's good enough, at least.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - past child abuse and trauma

HUNTER AND LUZ ARE NOT CANONICALLY SIBLINGS. HATE AND ANNOYING COMMENTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

P/roship DNI.

“Your carriage still awaits, little prince.”

“Just a second!” Hunter replies, trying to tie his hair and failing miserably. Multiple times.

There’s an impatient sigh.

“You know it’s rude to keep your girlfriend waiting, young man.”

“I just need a minute!”

“No, Hunter, you’re late.”

“You’re not helping me get done!”

“What are you possibly doing in there?” Darius questions, annoyed. “I’ve taught you how to dress fittingly, it shouldn’t be hard at this point.”

“It’s different this time!”

“What do you mean?” The door handle moves, but it can’t get through the lock. Darius knocks again, firmer this time. “Hunter, let me in.”

“I just need FIVE MINUTES!” Hunter snaps.

“If you don’t open this door on the count of three, I’m tearing it down myself.”

The boy freezes.

A sensation he hasn’t felt in long.

Maybe it’s Darius’ tone, maybe it’s the reason why he’s taking so much time to come out, maybe it’s the fact he doesn’t know what’s going to happen if the door is indeed torn down.

Regardless, Darius starts counting.

“One…”

Hunter stares at himself in the mirror. He knows it’s almost done, but it’s not perfect.

“Two…”

Fearing what will come next, the teenager quickly opens the door and turns his back to Darius. He can tell the man is already crossing his arms, disappointed.

“Well?”

Gulping, Hunter holds his homemade cloak, hiding most of it from his mentor. He’s shaking an awful lot and he tries not to make it obvious, but of course, Hunter is a mess and he’s terrible at hiding things.

“I…” he sighs. “I tried…”

Finally, he gives in and turns back to his mentor. Noting the heavy silence in the room, Hunter can’t look at the other’s green eyes, for he wanted to look exactly like him: the cloak covering part of his body, only it’s on his right arm instead of the left. The blond hair tied in a bun with longer sideburns. The difference being that Hunter wears a dark gray suit, besides the cloak being red in honor of Flapjack.

As he gets no response from Darius, Hunter’s brown eyes blur.

“It’s bad, isn’t it,” he assumes.

Darius takes a while to respond.

“Hunter–”

“I’m sorry, I- I tried, I wanted to be good”– Hunter’s lips quiver and his legs shake so much that he’s on the floor, begging for the other’s mercy –“but I failed, I’m a failure.”

“Titans, Hunter, no.” He senses another presence kneeling down in front of him.

“Forgive me, I’m- I’m a mess, I’m not right!”

“Hunter,” Darius begs, “Hunter, listen to me. Can you listen to me?”

The boy nods.

“Can you look at me?”

Hunter, hesitantly, obeys, face wet with tears.

“None of that is true,” Darius tells him. “You’re not a failure. You don’t need to prove that you’re good.”

Hunter sniffs. “I just… I just wanted to be like you.”

“You don’t need to be. You’re enough just the way you are.”

Waffles has flown to Darius’ shoulder, trying to reinforce his mentor’s words. Hunter’s dread slowly quiets down.

Darius doesn’t act superior to him. He doesn’t control Hunter with the use of fear; he’s here, on the same level as his, gently reassuring him in a way Belos would never. Darius is nothing like Belos.

Hunter knows at this point he should be able to tell the difference, but sometimes it feels like he’s back to square one, and it’s scary and painful, fearing for his life ending at any wrong step. Hence why he’s so surprised that Darius is… actually safe. Has always been safe.

The teen dries his face.

“I… I still want to be like you, Darius,” Hunter concludes. “Not because I want to please you… but because I’m really proud to have your guidance.”

Darius looks… emotional.

Before Hunter can look further into it, he’s being pulled in a hug, strong arms soothing him from the evils of the world, even the ones that aren’t out there, but inside Hunter’s head.

The latter freezes again, but… it’s the good kind.

Darius doesn’t usually show affection other than head pats. Sometimes he goes for the hand on Hunter’s shoulder. But never a hug.

And it’s not a quick hug, for that matter.

It lasts a long time. Saying so many words that will never be spoken.

But Hunter can definitely hear “I’m sorry” and “I would kick Belos’ butt myself if I could.”

And he can’t help smiling, ultimately calming down in the embrace.

Finally, Darius clears his throat nervously and lets go, patting Hunter’s arms.

“Now, we can’t keep your girlfriend waiting,” the former insists. “You could’ve asked for my help, you know.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” I wanted it to be perfect.

“Sure you did.” Darius smiles.

He helps Hunter with the hair bun, as well as adjusting the clothes since everything is a mess. But for the most part, he doesn’t have to change anything else about his looks.

“Alright, this should do,” Darius sighs.

Hunter hums at the mirror. “Do I look okay?”

“You look… like you.”

“And is that good?”

“Obviously.”

He blushes, unsure what to say.

With this, Darius is guiding him to the front door, where Luz awaits, wearing a dark purple and red suit, her brown hair slicked back. She gasps and grins widely, eyes sparkling like light spells, and she runs all the way to Hunter to hug him.

“Oh my gosh! You look so handsome!” Luz exclaims.

Hunter’s cheeks burn as red as his cloak. “Heh, I… had some help.”

He smiles cheekily at Darius, who winks at him.

“Wait, hold on,” Luz lets go, taking her phone. “I gotta take a picture of you guys!”

“Of… us?” Hunter and Darius look at one another, surprised.

“Yeah! You look so much like father and son!”

Hunter is taken aback by the word choice. Darius, his… father? Would he approve of that?

Before he can actually ask, Darius is putting an arm around him and pulling him close, posing rather happily for the photo. Hunter is frozen for a while, not believing this is really happening. But once Darius gives him a trusting look, the boy loosens up and puts his own arm on his mentor’s back.

When Luz shows them the picture, it doesn’t look awkward in the slightest. It looks natural, it looks… right.

“Could you send it to me later?” Darius requests.

“Sure!”

“Alright, now it’s my turn to take pictures of the love birds.”

Waffles appears the moment the word “birds” is said. Hunter and Luz pose for the camera. Only he doesn’t look at it – he’s staring at his girlfriend with the dumbest smile of all. The blue jay palisman is lying on Hunter’s head, much to Darius’ enjoyment.

“I’ll be sending these to you two and your mother, Luz,” Darius tells them.

“They look awesome!” Luz slides through the pictures. “Thanks, Darius!”

“Yeah… thanks.” For everything, Hunter wants to add.

He has never seen Darius this happy and proud.

“Now, go have fun, you’re rather late,” he says, making a shooing gesture. “I’ll be picking you two up later tonight.”

“Okay! Bye!” Luz waves excitedly at him.

“Bye, Darius,” Hunter says rather shyly, but with so much feeling.

The man is waving back, looking like he’s going to cry of joy at any moment.

Finally, Luz is offering her hand to Hunter, who takes it gently and confidently. She looks at him like he’s the most beautiful person she’s ever met. He could say the very same about her.

His first Grom night is fun. It’s filled with life and love. It’s when Hunter realizes he’ll always be loved and supported, even when everything seems to turn against him. Today, he gets to be a normal boy, enjoying his night with his girlfriend and all of his friends, and knowing his father figure will be waiting for him later.

Hunter knows now… he has a home to return to.

#the owl house #toh hunter #hunter deamonne #darius deamonne #dadrius #luz noceda #lunter #abuse tw #child abuse tw #fanfiction

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