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ghostchems · 1 month

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hello my darling. i see your requests are back open… 👀 i've got a prompt for you if you so wish to write it… reader has been dead for decades, aimlessly wandering the halls of the ministry where no one has ever seen her, heard her or even felt her… until one day, she's walking (or y'know… floating…) through the halls and someone is walking towards her. He stops in his tracks and stares straight ahead. Then she realises…

he's staring at her… Choose a papa, any papa! Whoever you would like to write, if you choose to write it! 😘

a/n: almost 1k words of some sweetness. after reading the prompt i KNEW i had to pick Cardinal Copia 🥹 bee. thank you SO much for sending this in. hit me right in the dang feels

Loneliness has driven you to the busy corridors of the Abbey. Despite the clergy members quite literally seeing right through you, their presence around you is enough to alleviate the void inside you. You’ve had to make do over the decades but even after all of the disappointment there is still an unwavering flicker of hope that you’ll make some sort of contact. Who knew it would be impossible for a ghost to be noticed in a Satanic Ministry? Many attempts have been made, ranging from morose to macabre (floating candles vs. severed limbs) but to no avail. Perhaps there’s something wrong with you. Is your spirit not dark enough to be seen? You remember how you died and decide that can’t be the case.

You gave everything for The Olde One. The Ministry was a very different place back then.

You’re lost in the endless abyss of your thoughts until there’s a shift in energy around you. Something new. Someone new. The wisps of your ghostly train curl towards the ceiling behind you and gust of warm air blows your hair out of your face.

Oooh. A Cardinal. It’s been ages since there’s been one here, the last one being in 19—

Is he looking at you?

There’s no way but… his gaze is fixated on the space you occupy, eyes wide. He bears the Mark of The Olde One — just like the Papas, but even with the Eye no one has ever seen you. He picks up his pace, walking to you with such purpose. You feel an excitement you haven’t felt since you were alive but it’s quickly replaced with crippling anxiety. In a fit of panic you poof out of the corridor and reappear deep into the underground archives, far far away from any person. But the new Cardinal saw you. He really did. After vying for this for so long… you aren’t ready for it.

***

You’ve meandered further into more densely populated areas of the Abbey over the last two weeks after taking some time for yourself to come to grips with the fact that he saw you. Problem is now the Cardinal is nowhere to be found. The longer the week stretched the more you began to believe it was over — he must have only been visiting for the day and thus your chance at talking to someone other than yourself for the first time in 55 years has slipped through your fingers. But that same hope you’ve clung to keeps you pacing and wandering day after day, hoping to catch of glimpse of his black cassock.

One late night you find yourself perusing the library, hovering around the new releases aisle (you like to see how ridiculous the names of romance novels have gotten). The further you get down the aisle the thicker the air becomes around you, the familiar buzzing in your ear from the first time you saw him. There’s a dim light coming from one of the nooks. You steel yourself, you’re going to make yourself known like you planned. Glowing brighter than you ever have before, you float toward the light. How can a ghost have anxiety? You’d think all of those feelings would be gone but somehow you feel like you’d throw up if that were even possible. You reach the outside of the nook and suck in a sharp breath before peering around the corner.

His duochromatic eyes are on you instantly.

“Per favore — please, do not run away again.” He sounds quiet, sleepy but polite and he extends a hand out to you. “I was worried I would not see you.” You blink at him as you reveal yourself fully to him, his gaze taking you in.

“You… you really see me?” Your voice cracks, your ghost trail wiggling with how charged you are emotionally.

“Yes. I do.” The Cardinal stands, his hand still out to you. “I, ehh… I’m the new Cardinal, Cardinal Copia. What is your name?”

My name?

“You’re… you’re the only person who’s ever seen me.” Not an answer to his question at all but your brain is broken. All that time you spent hoping for this…

“Oh. Oh, poverino.” His fingertips graze your hand and you jump — he could feel you too? “Ah! I am sorry! Ehhh… what can I do? How can I help you?” Copia shuffles on his feet anxiously, making sure to keep a safe distance so that he doesn’t startle you again. Your guise is crackling, vibrating with energy, more than you’ve ever felt before. He seems… delighted by your prescience and it makes you feel warm.

“H-how? Cardinal, how?” You push in closer to him, wisps brushing against his cassock.

“Non lo so. I’ve… I’ve just always been able to.” He gives you a sad smile. “I eh… had some weird “imaginary friends” growing up. But please, you must… you must have a lot to say after spending so long only listening.” Copia may have the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard. You want to hug him especially since something about this feels deeply personal to him…but you compose yourself and instead take him by the hand as you sit on the corner of his desk.

“What do I even say now?” You laugh to yourself. “I’ve been so worried about ever being heard that I haven’t thought about what to say. What do you… want to know, Cardinal?” Even now you’re feeling shy.

He gingerly rests his hand on top of yours, a warmth spreading through you that you’ve never experienced before.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you since I saw you, fantasmina. Please, tell me about you.” Copia squeezes your hand with a kind smile. Speechless. You take a deep breath and nod.

You’ll tell him.

You’ll tell him everything.

#guys i am on a plane right now #forgot to add the damn pic #Cardinal Copia #Cardinal Copia x reader #Copia request #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus reader #Copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #ghost band fabric

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daredvssy · 1 year

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Gloves

Saw an absolutely sinful photo of Copia's old grucifix gloves earlier and immediately set off to write this. Thank god I'm not all that interested in seeing heaven's gates because I'm definitely never going to make it there now! If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here :)

Ship: Cardinal Copia x Reader

Rating: 18+!!!!!! No minors PLEASE!

Wordcount: 2047

Warnings: smut, fingering, glove kink, f!receiving oral sex

It’s not like you meant for it to happen, really. When your beloved had come to you and asked if you could aid him in sorting through some documents he needed to translate, you had been quick to agree to help. After all, he always did so much and so rarely asked for any sort of assistance, and you definitely wouldn’t ever pass up a chance to spend a little extra time with him, no matter how that time was spent.

So yes, you had genuinely gone to his office with the best of intentions, truly meaning to help the Cardinal in any way that you could. And you would have, save for one problem. No matter what you did, you couldn’t seem to focus.

Those damn gloves he always wore were the problem. The smooth black leather stood out so blatantly from the red fabric of his cassock. Combined with the decorative grucifixes that adorned the backs of them, they served to automatically draw your attention to his hands.

And oh, what incredible hands they were. His hands were quite large, and by this point in your relationship you were all too aware of exactly how talented he was with those long, thick fingers. Just thinking about it was enough to have you squeezing your thighs together in a pathetic attempt to fight off a surge of arousal.

As you stared at his hands while he worked, you couldn’t help but wonder exactly how those fingers would feel inside you if he were to leave the gloves on. You already knew the leather was sinfully, luxuriously soft; you were well accustomed to the feeling of his gloved hands caressing your face or holding your own. The thought of that texture instead being used for less innocent touches had left you in a state where it was almost impossible for you to get any work done, or pay attention to anything else.

You were yanked out of your reverie with a jolt when you realized that Copia was looking at you expectantly, apparently waiting for you to answer a question he had asked.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked meekly, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring so intently that you hadn’t even heard him.

“I was asking if you are okay, cara,” he replied. If he was slightly annoyed by your strange behaviour, he very graciously didn’t show it. “You look like your thoughts are elsewhere, should we take a little break?”

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” you agreed, grateful for the suggestion. “I apologize Copia, I’m just a little distracted right now.”

“Distracted? Is something bothering you?” he asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

“I’m fine Copia,” you replied, a small smile gracing your lips. He was always so quick to react if he thought you were feeling even the slightest bit off. “It’s just something silly, really, you don’t need to worry about it,” you reassured him. Copia narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “Mi amore, if it is bothering you then I am sure that it’s not silly. Tell me, what has you so preoccupied?” he pressed, unwilling to let the subject drop.

You flushed bright red, realizing he wasn’t going to let this go until you admitted exactly what it was that had made you so distracted. You took a deep breath in an attempt to steel yourself.

“Well,” you started, staring determinedly at a spot on the floor to avoid meeting his intent gaze. “It’s… your hands, I guess. Or… your gloves, actually.”

“My gloves?” said Copia, mystified. He reached over to you, one of the offending gloved hands gently guiding you by the chin to lift your head and look him in his duochromatic eyes. “What do you mean, cara?” he urged.

“Well it’s just… Your hands look so good in them, and they feel so nice and soft whenever you touch me in them… I guess I was just wondering what they would feel like if you touched me with them… somewhere else,” you admitted, the words flying out of you all at once.

Realization finally dawned on Copia’s face, and you were sure you were going to burst into flames in your embarrassment. You attempted to turn your gaze downward again, but were prevented from doing so when his grip on your chin tightened, insisting that you continued to look him in the eye.

“Come here, bella ragazza,” he directed you, moving his chair back and guiding you to stand in front of him, his desk behind you. “If only there was something I could do about this… distraction,” he said, pretending to be deep in thought. As he spoke, he ran both hands down your sides, coming to a stop with them resting around your waist. You shuddered slightly, his actions only fanning the flames of the arousal you had been feeling since shortly after you arrived at his office.

Copia removed his hands from your waist and leaned back, considering you. Almost unwillingly, a soft whimper escaped you at the loss of his touch. He smirked knowingly at the sound.

“Take this off,” he said, tugging at the hem of your dress. The tone of his voice left no room for argument, not that you would have protested anyways. You loved the times when he got like this, demanding and domineering. Quickly, you did as you were told, pulling your dress off over your head, not caring if you mussed your hair in the process. You were left in nothing but your bra and panties, shivering a little in the cool air of his office.

“Bene,” he said. He gestured towards his desk behind you. “Take a seat.”

Not needing any further instruction, you hopped up on his desk. Just as you had earlier, you squeezed your thighs together to alleviate the ache between your legs.

“None of that, bella,” he tutted, as he moved his chair forward to position himself closer to where you were perched on his desk. “Let me see you,” he demanded.

You huffed a little in response to his scolding, but made no further comment as you opened your legs a little for him.

“More,” he demanded, his hands coming up to your thighs to urge your legs to open even wider. He kept his hands in place as if he was holding your legs open. As he noticed the very clear wet patch that had formed on your panties, the smirk returned to his face.

“Yes, just as I expected,” he said, studying the wet spot intently. You were almost certain you were blushing redder than his cassock, at this point.

“Copiaaa,” you whined, drawing out the last syllable of his name. “Please touch me,” you begged.

“So needy,” he chuckled, teasing. “Don’t worry bella, I will take care of you.” He slowly, very gently dragged one of his gloved hands up from its place on your thigh to softly rub at your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties.

You mewled at the contact, gripping the side of his desk hard. You squirmed a little, trying to coax him to touch you with a little more pressure, to no avail.

He studied your face carefully as he continued to trace feather-light circles around your clit through the ruined fabric, like he was determined not to miss any of your reactions. He continued with this for a little bit, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Copia please,” you blurted out, well past the point where you would have felt any shame about how desperate you sounded.

“Please what?” he replied, feigning confusion. “What do you need, amore?”

“I need you to touch me!” you grunted out in frustration, trying again in vain to wiggle your hips in an attempt to make him touch you with more pressure.

“I’m already touching you, cara,” replied Copia. “You are going to need to be a little more specific.”

You whined again in distress at his refusal to cooperate and make things easy for you. “Harder, Copia please,” you begged.

Copia regarded you for a moment, as though he was considering his options. Just as you thought he was going to ignore your pleas and keep teasing you, he stopped altogether.

“Okie dokie,” he said cheerfully, hooking his fingers in the waistline of your drenched panties to pull them down. He discarded them quickly, and then finally, blissfully brought his hand back up to touch you again, firmer this time.

You hissed at the sensation of the soft leather of his gloves gliding smoothly around your clit, the sensation making you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Is that better, amore?” he asked as he rubbed you, coaxing gasps and moans and all sorts of other noises from your lips.

“Yes, yes Copia,” you moaned out. Satisfied with this response, he turned his attention to your entrance, gathering some of your wetness on his gloved fingers before slipping one of them inside of you.

You keened in approval as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, quickly adding a second finger alongside it. The added thickness of the gloves on his fingers combined with the smooth texture of the leather felt divine, and it wasn’t long before you had to squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensation.

While you weren’t looking, Copia took the opportunity to lean in and lap gently at your clit with his tongue, never one to pass up an opportunity to eat you out. Your eyes flew open at the sensation, your hands moving without your permission to grip his hair, moaning loudly.

Copia continued to curl his fingers in and out of you as he licked and sucked at your clit, the wet sounds it produced absolutely filthy.

One particularly well-aimed thrust of his fingers pressed perfectly against your sweet spot, ripping a gasp from your throat. “Fuck Copia!” you cried out, your legs beginning to tremble as he continued to attack that same spot over and over.

“Are you close, brava ragazza?” Copia asked, pausing his tongue’s ministrations to your clit momentarily to await your response.

“Yes, yes I’m so close Copia please please please!,” you practically sobbed.

“Good,” he replied plainly, before returning his mouth to you, sucking hard as he continued to curl his gloved fingers to rub against your sweet spot.

This was enough to send you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as you clenched around his fingers, a litany of curses and his name leaving your mouth as he worked you through it. He kept going until you could handle no more, one of your hands pushing at his head to signal your oversensitivity. He pulled back, panting heavily as he brought his other arm up to wipe some of your mess off of his face. He slipped his fingers out of you, holding them up to examine the mess you had made of his glove.

“Come here,” he said, his voice wavering a little with his lust. You slid down into his lap, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, securing you in place with little concern for the wet spot you were most certainly going to leave on his cassock.

He held his fingers out for you to see the wetness he had collected on his gloves.

“Open,” he commanded you. Immediately, you opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his fingers in. Without further prompting, you closed your mouth around them, diligently sucking them clean.

“Good girl,” he praised, when he finally removed his fingers from your mouth. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, the chasteness of the action contrasting sharply with what he had just finished doing to you. When he broke the kiss, you leaned forward to rest your head against his shoulder.

“Copia?” you asked as he held you.

“Yes, amore?”

“That was very good, you know, but I’m pretty sure I’m never gonna be able to get any work done now.”

Copia chuckled at this. “Ehe… Well, I say fuck it for now,” he said. “Besides, I just thought of something better we could spend our evening doing.”

You smiled into his neck. You were in for a long night.

#ghost #ghost bc #the band ghost #cardinal copia #copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia smut #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x female reader #sorry rebecca

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lutaviacosplay · 1 year

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Cosplay Fabric Shopping Masterpost

Alright, here we go--a master list of as many (verified) fabric stores as I can think of, and what they specialize in! I will be focusing on fabric stores, as a notions shopping list will come at a later date. They'll be sorted by Name | Types of Fabrics | Brief description, and primarily US-based, though some overseas, so here we go:

--- "JACK OF ALL TRADES" FABRICS ---

Fabric Wholesale Direct | [Various, Budget] | Lots of all kinds of things, specialization in more inexpensive fabrics. Their rayon challis is a great lining fabric, and their poly dupioni is one of the most popular, but they have a little of everything. Processing takes a HOT SECOND, shipping is okay at best.

Fashion Fabrics Club | [Various, Mixed] | Have bought several weird things from here, including various velvets and wools. Great for non-stretch things. Pricing is average, but their sales are amazing if you catch it; shipping is a little slower.

Zelouf Fabrics | [Various, Budget] | A newer fabric store, has literally EVERY SHADE IMAGINABLE of some fabrics, such as their poly taffeta. Also, their swatches are MASSIVE, like half yards or something. If you need a specific color and know your material, try this place out.

Denver Fabrics | [Various, Mixed] | Similar to Fashion Fabrics Club, HUGE variety of stuff. The search feature is not the best but I've found some good gems here, and well categorized.

Sy Fabrics | [Various, Budget] | Similar to Fabric Wholesale Direct! The site is hideous, but very comparable in quality--great basics.

Cali Fabrics | [Various, Budget] | Ships FAST, great for lots of yardage or cheaper mockups. Smaller selection but still plenty to look at.

--- STRETCH FABRICS ---

Blue Moon Fabrics | [Stretch, Formal] | LOTS of stretch fabric, but specifically stretch sequins and very "funky" fabrics. Sales are few and far in between but if you need something glittery or with sequins that can stretch, this is the place.

Spandex House | [Stretch] | Comparable (but not to be confused with) Spandex World, located in the Bronx in NYC if you wanna go and visit! As the name says, lots of stretch fabric, some very unique; this is where I got my stretch glitter tie dye velvet for Exarch's arm. Pricing is "meh".

Spandex World | [Stretch, Basics] | Comparable with Spandex House, but located in the NYC Garment District if you wanna visit! I actually prefer Spandex World as far as /quality/--great for basic stuff like stretch scuba and power mesh or milliskin. Pricing is "meh".

MJTrends | [Stretch, Vinyl/Pleather, Latex] | THE place to go to for things like latex, vinyl, pleather, and stretchy stuff in that avenue. Great for "liquid look" or stuff like Eva plugsuits.

--- FUR FABRICS ---

Big Z Fabrics | [Fur, Various, Fun Colors] | They actually have things BESIDES fur, but I'm going to recommend their fur specifically due to the large selection, at various price points. This is where furries shop, if that gives any nudge to how legit it is.

Shannon Fabrics | [Fur, Pricey, Naturals] | Primarily used for stuff like blankets BUT does have some weirder patterns, in more neutral colors. Their long pile fur in particular is quite nice to work with.

--- SILK + FANCY FABRICS ---

Silk Baron | [Various, Pricey, Real] | You've heard of it, but here it is--the go-to spot (minus literally ordering from an Indian seller) for real silks of various types. Expect at minimum $18/yard for their dupionis and around $22/yard for their taffetas and to go upward from there. Color is unprecedented; if you need a duochromatic silk or a specific type, from organza to matka, go here.

Dharma Trading | [Raw, Budget, Real] | Primarily a dye seller, Dharma also specifically sells raw and finished silks in white, natural, and some in black. These are made to be dyed and come in various finishes, but their raw silk in particular is a great budget option for projects and takes to dye well.

Fancy Styles Fabric | [Pricey, Various] | Though this place also carries poly, specializes in real silk too. Lots of taffeta, dupioni, jacquard, the type of stuff you'd see on a baroque wallpaper. Great sales/deals on their IG, so check there before buying. Pricing is sometimes a bit overpriced, so wait for sales.

Promenade Fabrics | [Pricey, Various] | A "better customer service" version of Fancy Styles, with a storefront in New Orleans. Also has good trim selection. Fair mix of real and false silks, good luxury stuff.

Mood Fabrics | [Various, Pricey] | Mood is my go-to for when I want a luxury fabric OR if I want a strong brocade or jacquard that a "simple" pattern won't do for me. There are however some great sales every now and then, including clearance. Every swatch order also comes with a 10% off coupon! As a bonus, their button and trim selection isn't bad, so save yourself some shopping.

VincyStore | [Various, Unique] | This is their Etsy, although they do have an Ali storefront, the prices are very close. Very "weird" unique fabrics, mainly poly silks folded in weird ways or the kinda stuff you'd see on fantasy gowns. Good unique finds.

--- OTHER SPECIFIC STORES ---

Tandy Leather | [Leather, Pricey, Accessories] | It's real leather, and mostly heavier weight, but you can occasionally find good deals here. They do have physical stores and often the stores have BETTER deals. Less apparel weight in my experience.

District Leathers | [Leather, Pricey, Apparel] | Also real leather, and a good various selection, including a physical storefront. I really like their very light suede and similar stuff--good for cloaks, etc.

Fabrics Store | [Linen, Mixed] | This site has other stuff, but, JUST BUY YOUR LINEN FROM HERE. It's great quality, has EVERY color and weight, has both hourly and daily deals, often has coupons. If you need linen, go here.

Sewstine | [Historical, Mixed] | This site has a nice masterlist of historical fabric resources, so I'll share it here to explore rather than link everything individually.

Seattle Fabrics | [Outdoor, Mixed] | Primarily outdoor and "technical" fabrics, which makes this a great candidate for sci-fi, star wars, and any other more "modern" garment you're making in that realm.

~~~ More will probably be added over time, but here's our starting line! Feel free to comment and share your own! ~~~

#cosplay #cosplay help #textile #sewing #cosplay tutorial #lutavia_resource

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bixels · 10 months

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How do you pick out colour pallets for your characters? (Specifically the Mane 6 human designs) they're so good!!

I'll stick to the Mane 6 so far.

I paired everyone up first so I can design their colors as duos: Rainbow Dash + Fluttershy, Rarity + AJ, Pinkie + Twilight.

Rainbow and Fluttershy are noisy vs. quiet (visually).

Rainbow Dash obviously needs to be super colorful, but I couldn't go total blow-out rainbow with her, which isn't the goal of the design challenge. To stick to the era, I gave her scarf tie and pants colorful but natural dyed-thread colors: teal, orange, pink, green, and red. The vest, on the other hand, was given the bright primary colors of her rainbow-lightning-bolt cutie mark (the diamond patterns are meant to look like a bolt or explosion). Each character gets an accent color too for shadows, and I gave Rainbow a deep purple to make her skintone pop as much as possible.

Fluttershy's the opposite. I designed her palette to be duochromatic: just rose pink and yellow, with a hint of mint green. All her colors are very desaturated as well, though the yellow clothes help her stand out. Unlike Rainbow, any ornaments in dress come in small places, like lace edges, small butterfly patterns, bows, and earrings, as I feel Fluttershy would still enjoy accessorizing.

Rarity and AJ are cold vs. hot (visually, again).

Rarity's given very artificial, unnatural colors to give an impression of wealth and status. I decided to go with a deep blue rather than purple so she doesn't get mixed with Twilight's palette. I also kept her mostly monochromatic to give the sense of neatness and grace. Her palette is simple enough: pink skin, blue clothes, teal accents. Variations come in the clothing itself: patterns, accessories, fur linings, buttons, etc.

AJ, on the other hand, is given very earthy, warm tones. I actually referenced Minecraft terracotta blocks when designing her.

I made green her primary color since no other character carries it. The red and green's meant to make her look a bit like an apple. Weird note, but I'm really proud of the dark teal in her jeans. It looks great against the orange of her chaps. AJ's palette was surprisingly hard to pin down, as I was afraid the yellow/orange skin-tone, hat, and hair would muddy her face. Had to fiddle with it a lot to get it where I want (oftentimes, the green would make her look like a park ranger), but throwing in a blue shadow accent really helped pull everything together.

Haven't gotten to the last two yet, but Pinkie's is definitely going to be crazy and bright. Here's a sneak peak of it, actually:

Thanks for the ask! I really like talking about my design process.

#ask me #anon #long post #color design #ramblings

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 7 months

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𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

| DREAM WITHIN A DREAM | main masterlist | PAIRING(s): incubus!Ezra x virgin!fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 4.1k | CONTENT: dream fucking, loss of virginity, depictions and deviations of supernatural lore, erotic gore

| SYNOPSIS: Your dreams have become the escape from your draining life. When you discover you are not alone in your dreamworld, will all the aspects lacking in your waking life be fulfilled by your handsome companion?

Dreams seemed to be the only place you wanted to stay as of late. If you could somehow capture those endless hours that felt timeless as you drifted between the waking world and the lulling comfort of unconsciousness, you’d prolong your stay until you took your last breath. Each morning when you left that nebulous world, everything seemed duller. It was as though your senses weren’t meant to properly function if you were awake. Although, given the state of your life, you suppose it should be considered a small grace that your senses weren’t tethered to the waking world.

Long hours on your feet in the diner. Busy patrons who provided you with neither conversation nor gratuity. The expense of the bare minimum just to exist, drowning out any notion that you’d have the time or the funds to indulge in luxuries such as hobbies or friends. It was only survival, making enough to pay rent and, on a good month, afford two square meals a day. But, it hadn’t been a good month in many, many turns of a calendar page.

You were exhausted by the day’s end, worn down with the borrowed worry of tomorrow. A tomorrow in which you would repeat the same exact motions. A tomorrow in which you found no happiness or meaning. A tomorrow that could’ve been a today or a yesterday: they were all the same.

The exhaustion may have been a silver lining of your wearying, wasted life as it meant you required hardly any effort to fall asleep every night. Your dreams were the only thing you looked forward to. The excitement of it - the anticipation of something fulfilling even if it wasn’t real - would no doubt be enough to keep you too worked up to sleep if you weren’t already bone tired by the time your head hit the pillow.

Once you crossed over into that peaceful trance, your nerves came alive. You were energized, ready to drink in the beauty of your fabricated world. You aren’t sure when this mind palace had come to fruition. Your dreams hadn’t always been this way. Still, you cannot pinpoint exactly when it all started. The beautiful landscapes with intoxicating atmospheres.

Sometimes the sky was a blush pink with whispers of green and blue duochromatic speckles that twinkled in the sky. The closest thing in your waking life that you could compare them to would be the stars in the heavens, but these speckles ebbed and flowed in size and light. They moved and swirled wherever you went as though they were formed to merely accompany you wherever your feet carried you.

At times when you walked through a field of wheatgrass, the tips of your fingers brushing against the chaff would produce a serenading hum that spread from your fingertip to the rest of your body. It was as though a song itself was being piped into your veins, whirring into the chasm of your pseudo-corporeal form.

There were glimpses of familiar things from your past, but never the hurtful ones. Never the sad ones. The color of a tree would be the exact match of the patch of paint from your childhood bedroom ceiling that hadn’t crumpled and dry rotted away with the rest of it. You’d stare up at it each night with unabashed fondness. It was your patch of color, only to be drunk in by your eyes. You’d never mentioned it to your parents for fear that they’d scrape it away so it wouldn’t inevitably disintegrate onto your face as you slept.

Your parents were never in your dreams. Part of you wishes they were, but you know it’s for the best that they remain absent. You still missed them terribly even though it had been years since their passing. Seeing them would be a bittersweet reunion, a reminder of the good times but also a reminder of all the despair and hardship their deaths had brought. You were still a child when they’d died. Life had never been easy, but you’d grown up fast after their passing. Lying about your age, dressing older so that you might con your way into a paying gig. Even when you came into legal working age, you started back at square one. Your resume and their referrals were extensive but ultimately useless as it detailed your years of unlawful labor.

But here, in this dreamscape, none of that mattered. This was a place of tranquil solitude with nothing taking place that you hadn’t called upon, although you often felt the pressing watch of an unseen counterpart. You only felt certain it was there because it always came with a persistent, clutching sensation on top of your chest, even if you were upright. Something weighty and claiming pushing against your breaths. It wasn’t a foreboding presence, but you didn’t like the knowledge that you didn’t beckon or control it. It had always been there, perhaps even before you’d come to discover this place in your mind. Whatever the presence was, it had never revealed itself, and you felt it best to not ask it to do so.

When it finally emerged, you couldn’t have been prepared for such a companion. It appeared as a hazy apparition at first, and you could feel that this was for your benefit. Not wholly unmasking itself quite yet until you had come to terms with the fact that you were not alone here. When your nerves had settled, it seemed to know and came into its form. It appeared to you as a handsome, roguish man, but you knew he was no such thing.

He stood with a casual but upright posture, sure of himself and at ease in your dream world. His attire was unusual for your times, but you couldn’t place it at any point in the past, either. It was an organic, timeless style of dress, one appropriately bespoke for its wearer. The texture of the loose fitting black top was something raw and untreated. It hit at the top of his thighs, the front lower half opening up into a V shape before disappearing into a closure near his navel that you couldn’t see except for the line of a seam running up the center of his torso. A thick, oil slick sheen black belt cinched his middle, accentuating the tapered waist that sloped into broad, thick shoulders. The sleeves fell just to his elbows where something fastened them tighter than the rest of the garment.

His forearms had the sinewy musculature of a man who worked with his hands, and yet his hands appeared smooth with neatly trimmed nails. The pad of muscle beneath his thumb was prominent, and when his wrist turned you could see the spring of his veins gliding over bone and ligament. He exuded a picture of vitality and strength, although you instinctively knew it was not limited to your human boundaries of such things. He possessed powers and gifts unimagined by even the greatest philosophers and visionaries. He was something else, something greater than what you’d ever known.

He commanded the space with no discernible effort, and his demeanor was only partially responsible. His formidable body projected strength and finesse all in one. His large hands wouldn’t be out of place fine tuning the most delicate of instruments or squeezing the last gasps of air from someone’s throat. You knew you should fear those hands on you, but you only felt a burning need for them to know your flesh.

He stood firmly in loose fitting black trousers and soft leather boots. He appeared sunk to the earth and floating alight all at once. Even in this spellbinding dreamworld of yours, he stuck out as magnificent and awe inspiring. His smile was gentle but knowing. You can’t conceive what in your waking life would’ve lent itself to this creature before you. What had you ever encountered that could trickle into your subconscious and form such a beautiful thing?

Perhaps you must accept that he was no amalgamation of hypnotic, mesmerizing facets of your subconscious. Perhaps you must accept that he truly was something else from somewhere else. His dark eyes were trained on you – watching, waiting. A flash of white blond jutted at the front of his hairline. His curved, prominent nose ran fluidly to the bow of his top lip. Plush, pink. They looked softer than any pillow you’d ever laid your head on.

“Do you wish to comprehend my true nature, Little One?” he calmly asks. His deep voice carried a dulcet cadence, soothing immediately to your ears and thoughts.

“You’re no man,” you assert carefully.

“Does that unsettle you?” he returns.

You think for a moment then shake your head. “No.”

A tiny pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you wonder with the smallest tremble in your voice.

“Only when you beg me to,” he replies coolly with a flippant, knowing smirk.

Your cheeks warm at his suggestive remark. He watches you with an unmoving patience, as though he has all the time in the world. Then you remember, in this place he does. You both do.

“Do you wish to comprehend my true nature, Little One?” he asks once more.

The smooth lilt of every syllable he spoke made you feel like you were in a daze. “What’s your name?” you manage.

He smiles again, softer. “As profound my desire is to hear my given name spill from you tongue, it is beyond what your lingual tissue is able to form. You may call me Ezra, Little One.”

“Ezra,” you repeat.

He breathes in deeply as though he’s been waiting to hear you say it for infinity upon infinity. His exhale feels intoxicating. You feel as though you have released all the captive breath in your lungs, flesh and blood unearthed and eager for fresh air. You consider telling him your name, but you realize he already knows it. Whether your shared subconscious in this dream state or the otherworldly capabilities of an omniscient, magical being.

“Did you make this place? Did you bring me here?” you ask.

“It has always been, as has the inevitability of you and I,” he answers.

“What are we meant to do?” You question him even though you know the answer. Your body and blood sings for him already. You feel the urge, the pull of him. You are meant to be his.

“You wonder why I don’t simply divest you of your essence when I am more than capable of doing so?” His breathy laugh softens the implications of his words.

“I know you could take it. Why don’t you?”

He tilts his head in consideration. How much to tell you. How soon to tell you. “It is true that my survival necessitates the procurement of human essence. Whether that is relented or seized, well, that depends upon the person, I suppose.”

“So why wait for them to give it?” you wonder.

“When essence is freely given, it conveys more power to the recipient,” he explains as though it’s the most logical, simple thing to understand.

“I don’t know how to give it. I’ve never.. given my essence or... my anything. To anyone,” you shyly confess.

“But that is what makes it all the more precious, Little One,” he contends. “An untouched, undisturbed essence. The highest echelon one may ascend to.”

“It’s better than I’ve never been with someone?” you clarify.

“It is one of the things that makes you so special to me, Little One,” he affirms. “For you to give me your essence, the purity of your essence, it will afford me many moons of life. Your gift will sustain me.”

You shift, uncertain about consenting to such a massive commitment. You know you won’t survive when Ezra absorbs your essence, but the alternative of going back to the waking world and wasting whatever you have left of that existence feels wrong. If you aren’t going to make any use of it, why not gift it to a creature like Ezra? Why not give it to someone – or something – that will use its full potential?

“Will you do that for me? Will you freely give your essence to me, Little One?” he presses.

“Will it hurt?” you worry.

He offers a reassuring grin. “Only in the way that a circle comes back upon itself.”

You aren’t sure you understand what he means, but he says it so soothingly that you feel safe anyway. “Yes. I want you to have me, Ezra. I want you to have my essence.”

In the blink of an eye, Ezra is before you. There’s a floral earthy smell in the air as it moves around him in swirling, lazy currents. His hands brace your face. He leans in and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes flutter closed, and you feel the wind whip through your hair. When you open them, you are looking up into the sky with Ezra above you.

“Just as I said, gentle - until you beseech me for devastation.” His thumbs grazes over your temple and down your jawline. Your back relaxes into the soft earth below. “Won’t heed your own destruction when the ruination is so rewarding,” he laughs low, almost to himself.

His tongue slithers against your neck. “Won’t refuse to imbibe the poison if it tastes of honey on the tongue.”

“Won’t mourn the expiry of your existence when it is surrendered to serve a higher purpose,” he whispers into your sternum. His hands snake under your clothing and stop when they rest atop your chest. Your breathing has picked up significantly even though barely anything has happened.

“So trusting,” he continues as he gently pinches your pert nipples between his fingers. You whimper as your body arcs to his touch. “Had I met you a few hundred years ago, I would have relished in the spoilage of your untouched womb. Would have wittingly inflicted myself upon you until I could drink your tears and your blood alike.”

You begin to tremble - with anticipation or with fear, you’re not sure. “Are you g-going to drink my blood? And tears?” you shakily breathe.

“I have never been one to fester in nostalgia, Little One,” he replies curtly.

You sigh in relief and pleasure. Ezra pinches your nipples harder than is comfortable, and you wince.

“However, it would be insincere of me to claim the idea of ruining you – spoiling you for all others, unfit to be had by any other lover – had no appeal to my desires,” he adds in a grunt. His eyes flicker black and speckles of silver for a moment before returning to a deep honeyed brown.

You shrink into yourself slightly, but there’s nowhere to go with Ezra on top of you and the ground beneath you. You feel your pulse between your thighs.

“What’s more,” he continues in a breathy gruff, “is I know you’d let me. You’d let me take all of you, break all of you, and when I was finished destroying you, you’d offer your undying thanks to me for having done it.”

His laugh is derisive and soft. It makes your belly tingle with shame and arousal. “Why is it such a bad thing to be willing to give yourself to somebody?” you ask quietly.

Ezra tilts his head in consideration as he kneads your breasts. “For you to give yourself to me is nothing more than kismet, Little One.”

“Then there’s no reason to be ashamed of it,” you weakly protest.

His smirk makes your breath catch. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Place all contemplation and reflection upon me and allow yourself to feel the pleasure I offer,” he suggests.

Your clothes are gone in a blink, and you openly stare at Ezra’s naked body. He’s muscular but not too lean. There’s still the curve of flesh amidst the jut of bone. You quietly suck in a harsh breath when your eyes travel downward. Your eyes widen and you gulp as you take in the size of him, already hard a weeping at the tip for you.

“C-Can you make that smaller?” you ask. “I’ve never— That won’t fit inside m—”

Your words cut off with a melting, cloudy feeling draping over your body. A sense of calm envelops you.

“Ease your mind. You will discover pleasure in the agony, Little One,” he reassures you.

He creeps down to your dripping folds and smiles to himself. He barely presses the tip of his finger between your folds when you jolt and cry out in pleasure. Your breathing sounds as though you’ve been running down a long path with an animal nearly successful in nipping your heels.

“Your own innocence and lechery have culminated in the sweet slip of your sex,” he hums in amusement. “I could take you right now with little resistance if I weren’t so parched for the ambrosia of your womanhood.”

You feel like a caged animal that’s been given a sedative, fangs and claws no more useful than a blunt knife. Your entire body is warm and lulled. Ezra’s wide tongue laps between your folds in one long, lazy trip. He groans into your wetness.

“Upon your nectar I slake my thirst,” he groans before lapping repeatedly and more vigorously with each pass.

You squirm at the explosion of sensation his mouth renders on you. “Ezra,” you breathe low. “Ezra, this feels so good. Why do I feel so good?” You’re aware enough of the peculiar sense of calm you feel, even as your chest begins to feel heavy and tighter.

“When my words and touch aren’t enough to pacify that errant storm of worry – or perhaps when I am much too distracted to attend to it as I should–” he takes a dive with his tongue into your entrance and slurps loudly at the glistening wet that drools out in response, groaning and grinding in between your thighs “—I concoct something of a transmutable ease, a soothing balm for your mind.”

You whine and buck into his mouth, surprised at your body for knowing exactly how to respond to a man’s attention even though you have never been acquainted with it prior. “I– you.. Ezra, oh,” you pant. “S’your..you.. have me under some sort —aaahhh— of spell?”

“I require no tricks or slight to have you, Little One,” he chides. “It is simply a nicety, an augmentation of your existing pacificity.”

You roll your hips to meet his mouth and feel your core tightening. Your legs begin to shake as much as your voice when you try to verbalize the impending feeling. “I know, Little One,” he groans. “I know you are moments away from coming undone for me. So, come undone. Let me watch the fruits of my labor. Come.”

With a harsh jerk of your entire body, your climax takes hold. You let out a pained sort of cry, overwhelmed despite the hypnotic calm that Ezra has bestowed upon you with his powers. The back of your eyes pinch with the profuse bliss you feel. You flinch when you feel cool teeth nipping at your folds and flesh of your buttocks. Your chest feels tighter still.

“Shall I let the calmative trance dissipate? Do you wish to feel all of me when I take you?” he grunts into your ear.

You feel as though many, many hands are covering your body, sliding up and down. Caressing each inch of you. It will be too much if Ezra allows his powers to ebb. You want to know all of this if it is to be your first and only time. If there is absolute pleasure, you also wish to know divine pain.

“I want to feel it all,” you whisper.

Ezra’s eyes flicker black and silver again at your words. “Begging for pain and your own ruination. Just as I predicted.”

His devious smile fills you with dread and want. He quickly lines himself up at your entrance. He raises a hand to your parted lips. The tips of his fingers have extended into points, like blunted claws. The tips of them seep black towards his hand like a dark cloud extending towards his center.

“Will you spill crimson for me, Little One?” he grits out. He sounds like he’s barely holding back a beastly growl.

“Take me, Ezra,” you plead desperately.

His face looks pained as he drives himself into you with one fell swoop. You scream at the burning and splitting. You must be cleaved in two, the searing pain is so strong. Ezra is grunting and panting, sounding like an animal that has finally chased and killed its meal. A man who is prepared to feast upon you – all of you.

You begin sobbing at the pain of him driving his fat tip into your cervix. “Such a beautiful thing, desperate for the agony of me,” Ezra rasps with a dark laugh.

“Don’t stop,” you beg as tears stream down your face. You’ve never felt more alive than in this moment. Each breath becomes harder to take, your ribcage must be crushing in on itself.

“So utterly divine,” he quips with a cheeky, wry smile. When you tilt your hips for him to take you deeper, he thrusts harder, meeting your unspoken needs. His eyes roll back for a moment, his head tilting back in raptured bliss. You watch the thrum of the veins in his neck and shoulders, the way his muscles tense and flex as he slams into you.

He pulls and pushes out of you with no resistance now. The wet squelch of your cunt is reminiscent to the sound of boots sticking into the mud. You feel yourself taking Ezra and clenching to keep him inside you, mud to the boot, gripping him to keep him situated inside you. You smell copper when he drives himself hard and deep enough.

Your lips tingle. Your vision is darkening along the edges. Your breaths are stifled. The new favorite sensation of yours, that tight tight tightening coil in the pit of your belly, grabs hold of your lower half. Ezra’s teeth have elongated and sharpened. The black that once graced the tips of his fingers has now traveled up his arms. You feel sets of hands all over you, poking and prodding and smoothing and groping. Ezra grips his hand into your mouth, holding your tongue and bottom teeth down with four fingers, his thumb pushing underneath your chin for counter strength. You let your jaw hang limp for him. You have no power to resist anyway. Your chest is constricted. You aren’t sure you feel breaths any longer.

You feel Ezra pry two fingers into your other hole as he mercilessly drives himself into your cunt. All you know is Ezra. All your body knows is being dismantled and torn apart by him. You’ve never felt happier.

“I can feel you, Little One,” Ezra says in a deeper, distorted voice than before.

Your vision blurs as your climax crests.

“I can feel the final slips of your essence. Feed me, Little One,” he growls. “You’ve fed me the blood of your hymen. You’ve fed me the nectar of your womb. Feed me. Let me feast upon you. Let me devour you. Let me take all of you.”

Your eyes slide back into your skull as you come. Each clench of your core coincides with the clenching, strangling sensation of your chest. It’s as though each seizing of muscle as your orgasm barrels through you also wrings the breath of life from you.

Ezra howls as he empties himself inside you. You feel a ripping, clawing sensation in your chest. When you blink, you see the mottled, blackened face of Ezra dripping with blood. Sinew and cord of vessels dangle from his sharp teeth. He chews through the gristle of your flesh and muscle and dives back into the gash he created in your chest cavity where he feasts upon your heart. He is willing your last few moments of consciousness. He wishes for you to watch him ruin you, take you, devour you.

“My perfect creature. My Little One,” he says with contrasting tenderness to the vision of him soaked in your arousal and blood.

He dips his head and grabs either side of your face with huge black hands and claws. He captures your mouth in a hungry kiss, sharing the taste of your own blood and death. You return it with your last fleeting seconds of life. You kiss your demon lover until everything fades into nothingness.

ty to Han @swiftispunk for listening to me ramble endlessly about this and encouraging all my freaky Ezra vibes

I really loved exploring this idea. I don't usually write things like this, so it was a fun exercise in creativity for me for sure! I wrote this for the PPCU Discord Fic Event, and you can find a bunch of other lovely stories from it in this masterlist post.

Art in graphic is a transformed work of Jessica Cioffi's (socials: loputyn).

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

tagging a few people who requested to be tagged:

@patti7dc @jupiter-soups @psychedelic-ink @morallyinept @wannab-urs @chronically-ghosted @bonezone44 @iamasaddie @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

#ezra prospect #ezra #incubus!ezra #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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faneth · 4 months

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opening mono/duochromatic portrait commissions for 15 usd, dm me if interested!

would be grateful for reblogs<3

#fanes art #commissions open #portrait commissions

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siren-of-agony · 1 year

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Welcome Home

Masterpost This is a continuation of Mitra's story that I started in Whumpcember. You can read what happens before this here and here

CW: lady whump, claustrophobic imagery, short vomit-mention, knife-mention

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She woke up in total darkness, disoriented and unable to move. Even when she had regained her bearings enough to feel the rough wood pressing in around her, Mitra still couldn’t remember how she had ended up locked in a box too small to be comfortable. Through aching limbs and still hazy thoughts she tried to recall the last memories that led her here.

There was a smile that made her heart beat harder in her chest. Then, calmness. She remembered questions being asked, sounding as if they were coming through a thick fog. Her name, how old she was, where she came from, who’d miss her if she didn’t return soon. What she was good at. What she was doing here. Mitra had answered them all without hesitation. Then nothing, until this.

The wooden box pressed in around her, and she was sure there wasn’t enough air to sustain her. She could neither stretch out her legs completely nor pull them in, and she couldn’t move her arms up to try to push up the top, if not to open it, then at least to give her ribcage more room to move. Her breaths came quickly, short and with no depth to them. There was no oxygen coming to her lungs, she knew it. Her heart raced. Tears rolled down her face and trickled into her ears, dampening her hearing, and she couldn’t even wipe them away. She was vaguely aware she was shaking, but even so, the box shook around her to a different rhythm. She felt sick, and this sent up new panic up her spine. If she’d threw up, here, without being able to move-

Her thoughts were interrupted. Only now, as they seemed to have stopped did she realize what the rattling and rumbling around her had been. She must be on some kind of cart, they were driving, and now, they had stopped.

She heard hinges creaking, steps, then things around her lifted, carried out. Wood scraping over wood, right above her. There had been boxes over her. She was truly trapped.

Then, she felt herself move. What felt like her coffin got lifted, not quite gracefully. She tried to braze herself against the walls, unsuccessfully. Her head got hit against the hard wood more than once.

She felt herself set down, and then the top started to lift. The light flooding in burned in her eyes, but she only allowed herself to keep them closed for a few seconds. She needed to know where she was, what was going on.

It was easier, looking up the second time, but that was also thanks to someone now leaning over her, blocking out the sun. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then she recognized him.

The circus director was looking at her, the bored disinterest on his face not less terrifying than the smile she had remembered not long ago.

“Ah, good, she’s awake already,” he said to no one in particular. Then, he focused on someone Mitra couldn’t see. “Alba, help her up.”

Another figure came into view then, but her eyes had more problems adjusting this time. A dark shadow leaned over her and gripped her arms. She felt herself being pulled up. The strong hands almost hurt, but she was still glad for the stability they gave. Her legs prickled. They had fallen asleep and were in no condition to hold her up. Only when she was face to face with the woman did she recognize her, did her memory truly come back.

Mitra had been worried about a rude stranger, and somehow, that seemed to have landed her in big trouble.

She searched the face opposite her for answers, for help, for anything, but all she found was yet another disinterested expression. This one seemed less natural, though. The lips were pressed together in a straight line and the eyes were staring right through her. This mask of neutrality seemed hard fought for.

Before Mitra could say anything, she felt herself being spun around. The other’s hands still gripped strongly around her biceps, and she wasn’t sure if they were supposed to help or just ensured she didn’t run away. She looked around for the first time, and realized there were other people. None of them looked in their direction. It seemed intentional, the way no one even acknowledged her existence. They seemed to be busy erecting the big circus tent, as well as a barrier around the camp. Through the gaps left, she looked out and saw a small town she didn’t recognize. She had no idea where she was. Even without the hands keeping her here, she wouldn’t even know where to run to.

Movement right in front of her brought her focus back. The circus director had stepped closer, and he was holding a small knife. He was smiling again, like a hunter who had just one of his traps had worked. Mitra took a step away from him, but felt her back hit the woman still holding her, who didn’t move at all. She couldn’t escape.

The knife came towards her face, and she closed her eyes. At least she wouldn’t need to see. The cold metal touched her cheek, grazed over her tense jaw muscles. But it didn’t cut her skin.

One quick move, next to her ear, a fast sound, and she felt his presence step away. She opened her eyes, just in time to see him put a lock of her hair into a small vial and store it away into his suit jacket.

She was caught somewhere between fear and confusion. She could feel herself trying to ask what was going on, but the breath she had held escaped her lips as soon as she opened them to form words.

The man now looked behind her again. “I’ll have to make sure camp is set up correctly. You bring her to the free wagon. I’ll give her the tour tomorrow.”

With a last hungry look into Mitra’s direction, he turned around and walked away in the direction of the tent. Behind her, she felt the woman tense up, then relax slightly. Then, one hand dropped from her arm, and she was pulled by the other.

“Come on,” the woman - Alba, Mitra reminded herself - said, her tone still cold, hiding all emotion.

Mitra finally found her own voice again, but all of her questions about what was going on, where they were, what was going to happen to her, went unanswered.

They ended up in front of a small wagon. Alba led her in, took the few steps up behind her, as if making sure Mitra wouldn’t run. She should have still tried, maybe.

Instead, she stepped into a cramped room, mostly taken up by storage. a thin cot in one corner was the only thing identifying this as living quarters.

She turned around. Alba was standing in the door frame, her dark silhouette blocking almost all the light. “Please-” Mitra stopped herself, unsure what she even wanted to ask for.

Alba said something in return, it was barely a whisper, but Mitra was still sure she had heard “I’m sorry.” Alba shook her head, and this time, her voice was louder, harder, cold. “I told you to leave. This is your own damn fault.”

Then, she turned around and closed the door. After a few seconds of quiet, she heard a lock click. Now, she was truly trapped.

She still ran to the door, trying to get it open, begging Alba not to go, to explain to her what was happening. But all she got as an answer were what sounded like two pairs of footsteps, walking away.

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Taglist: @i-can-even-burn-salad @suspicious-whumping-egg @winedark-whump @whumpawoman @yesthisiswhump @painful-pooch @whump-in-the-moonlight @dont-touch-my-soup (If you want to be taken off or included, please let me know!)

#whump #lady whump #mitra #duochromatic #emetophobia #claustrophobia #knife ment #yay i wrote sth #there will be one more part on mitra's story #and based on my track record that will either happen tmrw or in like a few months :D

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