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jiminjamms · 3 months ago

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sex therapy :: 33. more than friends

chapter tags/warnings: this is the last chapter to sex therapy!

word count: 3.9k

notes: please read my final comments in the end notes. thank you forever. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Megumi Fushiguro shouldn't feel awkward, but he did.

With tonight marking the most significant event on the Zenin clan’s monthly calendar, distant relatives and the family conglomerate’s executives convened at a majestic top-floor venue in central Tokyo, the occasion naturally bringing together the country’s most powerful individuals.

As per usual, every detail in the ballroom had been curated meticulously to exude glitz and glamor. Indeed, Megumi felt like a prince amid a golden age, surrounded by the euphonious melodies from the string quartet, the cluster of high-class individuals in tailored suits and dresses, and the fragrances of honeyed orange blossoms and sweet sage.

Megumi had attended these events plenty. Ever since he could tie his own tie, to be exact (which—among the Zenins—was something taught early).

His many experiences should have dulled his senses to this evening’s splendid decorations and live classical tunes. Yet, in the months his father had been estranged from the same household that once again heralded him king, the memories had quickly faded from Megumi's mind, and the teenager essentially found the opulence foreign.

His aunts Mai and Maki had urged him to mingle, but Megumi stood toward the side of the room, shy and aloof as he stared into the human sea ahead.

As much as he tried to seem invisible, Megumi didn’t feel invisible as he caught the many eyes sneaking a look at him discreetly, the eighteen-year-old impossible to overlook given his regal-like appearance.

Of course, people took an interest in him.

Now that a) he was an official adult and b) his father returned as the next family leader, Megumi was the second-in-line to the Zenin throne. Exciting? Maybe. Grateful? Surely.

Except, a fidgety Megumi was just a normal teen who would rather be playing video games tonight.

“A blast to the past, eh?”

He glanced over at the unanticipated voice.

To his surprise, Tsumiki slid into the vacant slot next to him and prodded her younger brother's back, knowing how he tried to appear cool and collected when he actually seemed uptight and restricted.

“Relax a little,” she chided with another nudge. Placing her champagne flute onto a nearby table, she smoothed over her lavender ensemble before adjusting the collar on his royal blue mohair suit. “Old habits die hard, hm? Standing in the corner and hoping no one sees you. Don’t you want everyone to know how smart and capable you are?”

“...No, not really.”

“What? Why?” Tsumiki patted his blazer’s fabric in a finishing move before reaching for her glass again, swirling her drink. “Don’t tell me. Is a certain Harvard-bound first-year shy?”

The said soon-to-be college freshman snorted faintly. “Am not.”

“Sure.”

As she examined her step-brother from the side, she tiptoed, relaxed her feet, and then tiptoed again. "Only been six months since I've last seen you, but you've certainly gotten taller again, Megumi," she remarked, this time swinging her hand around to compare their heights.

“Because you’re shrinking early.”

“Hey!”

As the two continued their squabble, Megumi realized just how keenly he had missed his step-sister. Despite lacking shared blood by definition, the two had constantly found security in each other, a sibling bond that became especially important amid the recent whirlwind.

Tsumiki had only been home for a week, fresh from her university semester abroad in the United Kingdom. Yet, in this short period: 1) Naoya had been ousted from the Zenin household by no one other than Naobito Zenin himself; 2) Amid the power vacuum, the family elders had turned to Toji to reinstate him as CEO, a decision fueled by both their desperation and regret for having doubted him in the past; and 3) With his father back at the helm, Megumi found himself positioned as the next presumed successor.

Of course, who could also possibly forget Tsumiki’s mom?

Megumi had heard how his step-sister had furiously confronted her mother after seeing the latter’s affair published by media outlets. Since then, he hadn’t received any updates, which prompted him to ask: "Where's that woman now?"

‘That woman.’

Even without an explicit mention, Tsumiki knew who he referred to. She stopped swirling her glass and let the flute dangle lazily in her hand.

"I don't know where she’s been, and I don't care,” Tsumiki admitted, her tone impassive. "I would not be surprised if she moved away from Tokyo once she realized too many people knew her face.”

Megumi figured as much, too.

Anyone who wasn’t living under a rock these days could recognize Mari Fushiguro, making her an easy target for verbal harassment on the streets. Netizens online already destroyed her, deeming the woman a slut, a whore, and a homewrecker ‘too easy’ for any Zenin with enough money.

Merciless would be the best word to describe the general public. That much step-siblings knew, especially since both had been on the receiving end firsthand when the Zenin clan cut them off months ago. How fickle those very people could be, too. The same relatives who shamed them now praised them all for the sake of politics, for the sake of money, and little else.

“I heard Naoya left the country, though,” Megumi added, given that the conversation had reached the topic.

“Good for him.”

Tsumiki, on the other hand, did not wish to spend a moment longer thinking about them. She instead exhaled deeply and whirled around, peering into the main hall to observe the multitude of guests enjoying sparkling wine and hor d'oeuvres while chatting about their respective ventures.

As her silence continued, Megumi watched along.

From afar, both noticed their father, encircled by older household members and company directors eager to discuss business matters. Toji’s return naturally brought him overwhelming attention, and—as an experienced leader—he came off as distinguished and dignified as the CEO of Japan's largest conglomerate should.

He greeted approaching guests with his signature charismatic grin, exchanging firm and courteous handshakes that subtly reminded them that these events were more about strengthening business ties than lineage connections.

Megumi and Tsumiki had seen their father like this many times before.

Yet, this evening, the two sensed how his demeanor seemed a touch…different.

"Dad's never looked this happy before," Tsumiki noted aloud first.

Her comment stumped him.

Megumi had to pause, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. Dad being happy? Then, he realized and vaguely beckoned in their father’s direction.

"Because of her."

Now was the girl’s turn to appear confused. “‘Her?’”

Intrigued, she followed her step-brother’s line of vision and didn’t need much effort to figure out who he referred to. Standing at the other far end of the hall was a woman who, despite her understated maroon dress and simple accessories, radiated with regality like a princess.

The realization dawned upon Tsumiki.

“Isn't…Isn’t that Mister Daisuke L/N’s daughter?” She knew your father from his many years as the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer. As for you, Tsumiki continued to stare hard with curiosity. “That's the same lady who had been married to Naoya, right?”

Megumi placed his hands into his front pockets, his nails pressing into his palms as he answered. “Yes.”

“Oh, wow.”

With Tsumiki seeing you for the first time in person, her eyes then began to spark with admiration. She now understood why Naoya Zenin wanted to marry you. Given your polished poise and fluid gestures, you were obviously a woman with a refined background and effortless sophistication, the trophy that her unsavory cousin needed to soothe his small ego and shield him from public scrutiny. Why suffer as an unproven bachelor when he could tout around you?

Detecting his sister's interest, Megumi reached for a glass of apple cider from a serving table and drew in one slow sip. “What do you think if she becomes our new mom?”

“What?!” Tsumiki whipped her head around, taken back by stupefaction again. “Where did that come from?”

To play off his curiosity as something casual, Megumi drummed his fingers along his cup. “Just…a thought.”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him for a moment before finally letting him free from her scrutiny. “Frankly, I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “This is only the first time I’ve seen her. I need to speak with her first.”

The teenager paused thoughtfully. "Well," and he hummed, "I approve.”

If Tsumki’s shock had not been apparent enough, this time, her jaw fell to the tiled floor.

"That's new!” The girl knew she missed out on some developments during her semester abroad, but she could barely process this whole conversation as revelations kept coming one after another, disorienting her with a flood of unanswered questions that dashed through her mind. She had trouble assessing whether Megumi was serious. If this was a prank, Tsumiki would make sure to send him to Mars. “Normally, you're extremely, extremely judge-y with the women that hang around Dad." Not that she could blame him. "What changed?"

And an amused Megumi shrugged.

"If you talk to her, you'll know.”

Toji Fushiguro was the biggest distraction.

As the man of the hour, he commanded the room such that—despite your best efforts—you couldn’t stop stealing glances in his direction.

Neither could everyone else.

The situation seemed ironic, really, as many of the same people now commending Toji Fushiguro were the ones who had turned their backs on him in the past. The ideal family figure, some lauded, as others approved of his sharp business acumen, but their gushing admiration reminded you of how quickly loyalties could shift in the face of power. With this, guests all around buzzed like bees as they spotted their renewed leader.

To you, Toji was difficult to ignore because his three-piece suit hugged his broad frame wonderfully. The freshly pressed fabric stretched over his sinewy muscles underneath, his satin lapels underlining his flair. His jet black hair had been neatly gelled back while the ink trailing down his arms peeked from beneath his sleeves. Fatigue slightly wore on his features due to his longer hours at work. Yet, in the end, CEO Fushiguro looked striking, handsome, and undeniably robust.

A whistle interrupted your reverie.

“Someone’s staring,” Choso’s voice rang out as he appeared, his words laced with mirth despite his leveled tone.

Averting your gaze immediately, you then watched him adjust the sleeve to his velvet suit. “I am simply admiring him like everyone else,” you countered, trying to play it cool. “Toji’s…just very popular.”

Choso hummed in pretend contemplation. “Admiration is one thing, but you looked like you were in a trance, bimbo.”

Just when your mouth turned dry from the inability to retaliate, Sukuna and Suguru popped up in high spirits, the former offering you a raspberry tart while the latter heartily patted your back.

“What’s with the frown?” Suguru draped a protective arm around your shoulders and noted your little pout before glancing up at the instigator. “Is Choso bullying you again?”

“I am not a bully.”

“Exactly what a bully would say,” Sukuna added this time.

Being stuck in another jest among the three men wasn’t something you had planned for, but dismissing their liveliness was impossible. As they traded pointed jabs, you couldn’t help but smile, their energy a far cry from the iciness that had defined your days as Naoya Zenin’s wife. Since this was your first Zenin family event without your ex-husband’s presence, the evening allowed you to realize how much your previous marriage had weighed upon your spirit.

Most notably, the woman you were earlier this year had clung to Naoya’s empty promises. She swallowed his insults, obeyed his commands, and convinced herself that, despite his belittling actions, he would one day truly love her. That woman had run back to him, apologizing for sins that were never hers to bear, believing that loving him harder could fix what was never hers to fix.

But, due wholly to the support from those around you, that was no longer who you were now.

“Well, what do you think?”

Geto’s question cut through your wandering thoughts, and you blinked rapidly at the unexpected question. “What?”

The pink-haired man purred at your cute and confused expression, unable to help himself from stroking your cheeks, the cold metal from his silver rings icing your hot skin. “Aw, someone spaced out. There’s no fun when you’re not mentally with us too, sweetheart.”

To no avail, you tried to shrink away. “I was just...thinking about how much things have changed. How much I’ve changed, and,” you became shy, “how…lucky I am to have all of you.”

Immediately, the group cooed at your charming comments, complimenting you for being such a ‘good girl’ and a ‘precious doll,’ and how they would do anything to hear sweet nothings from you again.

Even Choso cracked a grin. “We’re amazing, yes.” Quiet on the outside, cocky on the inside. “Who wouldn’t feel lucky?”

Geto elbowed him, a non-verbal sign to shut up. “He’s not wrong, though. You’ve come a long way. We’re proud of you.”

Just when you wanted to thank them again, a synchronized shout chimed along.

“We found you!”

The voices belonged to Mai and Maki. As was typical, the two were keen to converse with you and their animated hands reflected their enthusiasm upon their approach.

As Sukuna, Geto, and Choso stepped aside for them, the twins instantly took the opportunity to link their arms with yours. They dressed in matching cocktail dresses, making them nearly indistinguishable if not for the differences in their updos.

“Girls,” you beamed, happy to spot them. “You both look amazing as always.”

The younger sister shook her head in modest.

“You are even more gorgeous,” she emphasized with overflowing vivace. “You’re glowing these days.”

Mai had to nod in wholehearted agreement. “Looking completely different from how you looked a month ago.”

Forget the opalescent crystals adorning your collar or the subtle makeup highlighting your features. What truly stood out to them was the elegance, assurance, and composure you carried now compared to your timid self from just weeks ago.

Sukuna ran his fingers along the tattoos by his jaw and let out a huff of fake exasperation, wanting them to leave so the therapists could spend more time taunting you. “Guess you’ve both grown old enough so we can’t just order you to go to the kids’ table anymore, huh?”

A proud Mai smirked. “Got a problem?” Her outright challenge led her to receive sulking faces as an immediate response. “We couldn’t let you three hog Y/N all night.”

“Exactly. She’s ours too, you know,” Maki concurred before turning to you. “By the way, can we still call you our favorite in-law?”

At the question, laughter erupted in a homely and unrestrained rhythm to which you soaked in the heartwarming scene. Even if the world could be selfish and cruel, there were beautiful moments like these when people who weren’t bound by blood treated each other like family. They joked around, they laughed together, they fought and argued, but they shared deep loyalty and respect for one another in the end.

Here was where, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you…belonged.

With these thoughts, your sight instinctively drifted across the room and landed on Toji again. He was mid-conversation but seemed to have sensed your stare this time as he turned. When his sharp verdant eyes found yours, your pulse quickened like a mouse caught in the open. What didn't help was how he didn’t look away.

In fact, Toji took your wandering gaze as his signal to hurriedly wrap up his current discussions before he walked in your direction with brisk steps.

Several regional managers chased after him, but the observant Sukuna, Geto, and Choso noted the situation quickly and rushed forward.

“We’re happy to answer any lingering questions,” they interjected, forming a human barricade that closed in on the pursuers. “We work closely with Mr. Fushiguro and can provide further insights on his behalf.”

With the spotlight shifted away from him, Toji closed the distance between you, stopping just a few steps away. The redolences of bergamot and sage greeted your nose with their familiar velvety, spiced notes as he placed a rough hand against your back, his sudden firm touch nearly lifting you off your feet.

“Hey." Even with Mai and Maki obviously there, his green eyes only zeroed in on you. "I could use some fresh air after speaking nonstop for the past two hours. Want to step out onto the balcony with me for a little bit?”

Oh, goodness. Flustered, you didn’t expect your innocent stares to lead into this. “I—” you began, but your hesitation bubbled perceptibly. As a result, Maki pinched your elbow, prompting you to brave past your bashfulness and mutter, “Sure.”

Toji smiled. “Perfect.”

With that, he swept you away from the waving twins, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back to lead you toward the nearby corridor. He didn’t care about the guests who leered in your directions; he rightfully needed a break, and when he brought you outdoors onto the grand terrace, the man’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He didn’t bring attention to himself, though.

“Everything alright?” he asked instead. The wrought-iron railing ahead framed the twinkling skyline below. “I can imagine your previous experiences at Zenin events like these aren’t the best, so if you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to…”

His unprompted concern was touching and, when his voice trailed off, you replied by softly shaking your head. “I am doing perfectly fine, don't worry about me. Besides, I have exactly the company that I need here.”

The sincerity in your answer satisfied him, evident in how the tension along his jaw eased. “I’m glad, then. I should check in with you more, shouldn’t I? Sorry that I’ve been busy. Sukuna, Geto, Choso, and I have been neck-deep in redeveloping the company.” Distant lights haloed him like some god as he spoke, and he ran a few thick fingers over inked lines on his neck. “Of course, how can I also not thank our new fantastic secretary?”

There was no need to wonder where Toji’s gratitude stemmed from.

With the therapists thrust back into their roles as corporate leaders, you stepped in to handle their clinic’s appointment schedules and client inquiries. By giving you a renewed purpose in your day-to-day, they were also determined to keep their practices despite their narrowed availabilities, a decision stemming from their dedication to help others during their idle hours. They intended to shift the clinic's focus to more general relationship assistance, which would allow them to broaden their scope and improve the public's favor.

Meanwhile, had it not been for your help, the same four men would not have been able to fully focus on implementing immediate action plans to steer the Zenin Corporation from a public relations and financial disaster. As a result, the company swiftly regained its positive reputation and maintained its position as the nation’s top conglomerate, hardly meeting a dent in total market share despite the shakeup in leadership.

That being said, you didn’t hide your playful pettiness. “I deserve way more than verbal gratitude, you know.”

Testy, and Toji took the chance to humor himself as well. “The answer to that is me.” He winked. “I am already a hundred times a better friend than you expected.”

Some things truly never change. “Arrogant as ever.”

“Only because you know that's true,” and he lolled his head toward his shoulder in pride. “I did let you run your pretty juices in my therapy office, over on my bathroom counter, and inside my executive suite." Hearing him recount all these moments of pure debauchery made you elbow his rock-hard pecs in retaliation, but he continued. "Do you have any idea how much self-restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Each time, Naoya would ignore me the second after he came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy.” Like Toji cared about having a filter. He found no reason to try to hide his hatred for your former husband. “Officials sent me a note on how that man flew out of the country yesterday afternoon. You don’t ever have to think about him again. You’re with me now, and I warned that fucking bastard to never bother us.” The handsome scar on his lips flexed while he spoke. “Anyway, since you do deserve to be spoiled, you should order all the caviar that you want tonight.”

"Oh?" Impressed by the offer, you jokingly jabbed at his upper arm. "Guess this is what happens once you start making the big bucks again as the Zenin Corporation’s Incumbent CEO and Future Chairman, hm? You weren't this generous before."

Toji frowned. "What do you mean? I've always been a generous man. I gave you my free trial, remember?"

“Yes, only a free trial,” you emphasized, letting his words sink in. “What happens once that ‘free trial’ ends?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that. There’s no expiration date because I like you enough, princess.”

While the pet name was more than enough to make you giddy, his last remarks were what really had you desperate to hide your frazzled face (which, by the way, Toji noticed anyway). "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"That you...like me. I get flustered easily."

“Don't act like this is the first time. You know I'm straightforward and honest.” A low chuckle slipped past him since he still found your reaction adorable. “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Hey, the cards have always been in your hands. I told you earlier. I’m up to whatever you want to do. For as long as you want, baby.”

“For as long as I want, huh?” The midsummer breezes did not help with the warmth creeping up your neck. “I’ve already clarified before that I wish for us to be friends for a long, long time. Or, as you have suggested before,” and the following thought made more heat suffuse across your cheeks, “…more than friends.”

“Maybe I would happily say yes to that.”

“Just a maybe?”

He huffed in mock annoyance before tugging at your wrist, and you tumbled into his body’s hard planes that you had learned to find comfort in. “Does this feel like ‘just a maybe?’”

Your ensuing silence answered him, and the serene starry night as you snuggled your head into his steady chest was more perfect than words could describe, a soothing escape from the world. He squeezed you tighter, nuzzling his face into your ear while your heart pounded against your ribcage.

So warm, so big, so safe.

“You missed me,” he eventually stated with confidence, and his voice turned husky. Because, oh, he knew. He read you like a book, always.

“I did.”

Only the distant hum from the streets below disrupted the stillness. You sensed his contentment when your neck craned to gaze into his mellow emerald hues, and he similarly pulled away to examine your blissful mien in turn. The two of you became lost, lost in absorbing the peace and serenity such that neither of you detected the third presence that came along.

"Um, hi."

Both heads snapped to the side, gawking at Megumi as he walked in from the doorway.

The eighteen-year-old scratched the back of his head, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink as though he felt embarrassed to interrupt a scene he shouldn't have been watching.

Yet, there's a faint smile on his lips.

"Tsumiki wants to meet you."

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗

last chapter || (at end)

end notes: (see below)

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, shared, and commented on Sex Therapy!

This work, over the past many chapters, has accompanied me through many moments and milestones in life, and I sincerely cannot thank you all enough for going through this journey with me, Y/N, Toji, and the therapists. This was my first big project; there were many areas in which I excelled and others in which I could've improved. I also never wanted this story to merely be Character x Reader, so I touched upon themes like healing and self-discovery, societal and business dynamics among the elite, and (the illusion of) power versus authenticity.

I didn't expect this work to blow up on TikTok or Wattpad during the work's heydays nor did I anticipate encountering so many fanarts, fan speculations, and fan videos. (Yes, I see everything!) I am going cherish this work and reader's community forever.

As my life picks up, I hope to write sporadically for fun and will likely publish shorter and more lighthearted pieces. On Tumblr, I also want to share some writing tips I've gathered over time. Please feel free to find me on Wattpad and AO3, too! Whether or not we meet again, I wish you all happiness, health, and success. Lots of hugs and love always. XOXO, Jamms.

(P.S. As per my tradition, feel free to comment the date and time you finished reading!)

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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thrawns-backrest · 3 months ago

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A guide to chiss fashion

Alright, it’s finally done. I’ve managed to compile my headcanons in a format I’m more or less happy with so say hello to the chiss fashion guide. As I’ve said before, this is a homage to my love for fashion history and fashion illustration books so it’s written in the same(ish) kind of style, with made-up history and trivia behind it.

Mind you this isn’t about what your regular civilians wear – I can’t even begin to imagine what the spectrum of current fashion looks like for a species spread over multiple planets, that’s too much of a tall order.

Instead I’ll talk about what I imagine as ‘standard traditional wear’. A kind of traditional ensemble for formal occasions which is also the accepted dress code for the upper ruling classes and administration. The books give us many indications of how hung up the chiss are on rank so I imagine their fashion reflects that accordingly, with dress codes and etiquette and whatnot.

So without further ado, let’s start with structure.

The typical traditional ensemble consists of: underwear (plus any additional thermal underlayers), an underrobe, outerwrap robe, jacket (optional, mostly decorative) and top robe or coat (not pictured) for more severe weather and outdoor activities.

First we have the underwear layer (1) with a wraparound robe which can be long or short depending on the season, breeches and any other additional thermal layers underneath.

Next comes the underrobe (2) with a high buttoned collar and fitted sleeves. A slit starts at around chest level and ends in the usual overlap pattern at the ankles. This hem is often embroidered and is meant to be visible under the outerwrap robe.

This robe is also what I imagine is used as lounge wear at home (sometimes accompanied by a lounge robe) or as an outer layer in warmer climates and casual settings, though it’s usually decorated with accessories to make up for how plain it is. Some underrobes, especially padded styles for colder weather, have a waist string to pull excess material in in preparation for the layers to come.

Underrobes for low ranking administration are traditionally red, symbolizing specific qualities, but more on color symbolism later.

Then we have the outerwrap robe (3) with its flared bottom and sleeves which are also typically decorated. The outermost edge of the hem is important here because that’s where the trim that shows family allegiance goes.

These robes are closed with a pair of strings (usually at waist level but may be higher or lower depending on current trends) and the kind of knot used varies depending on social standing and occupation, again, a reflection of how classist the chiss are in my mind. For lower class administration, in case the knot is obscured by a decorative item (like a jacket or scarf), the item is required to have strings of its own where the knot can be duplicated.

The next part of the outfit is the jacket (4) which also varies in style depending on the wearer’s rank. A popular style for low ranking administrators is a waist or thigh level boxy cut with rectangular sleeves that don’t cover the embroidered hems of the robe under it.

Jackets can have individual trims and even small lapels. Structured shoulders and wide lapels are inappropriate as they’re reserved for upper level Aristocra.

Despite their popularity, these jackets aren’t a practical item since their cut provides little insulation and they prevent the use of garments like top robes and coats. Because of this they are either meant to be taken off or worn with cloak-like outer layers outdoors.

Fashion, especially that of the high class, is rarely all practical so I think it’s neat to include elements that are less functional and more so trendy, decorative or appropriate.

This goes in the opposite direction as well and I imagine there being plenty of modern modifications like hidden zippers for easier donning and a variety of false hems, cuffs and collars to minimize layering, making the outfits more functional.

As long as the overall silhouette and main elements are retained, the outfit is considered appropriate though more formal events are usually attended in proper full traditional wear.

Next we have accessories.

The most common ways to accessorize in traditional ensembles are scarves, jewelry, fans, and a variety of trims. Scarves are normally worn between layers and can be used to cover up the open hole at the neck in colder settings. The long sleeves make bracelets impractical but earrings and necklaces are hugely popular. Handheld fans are also a stylish way to elevate the outfit and different kinds of trims like feather and fur are used in less formal settings.

With all that in mind a complete outfit ends up looking something like (5).

Moving on to Syndics:

(traditional silhouette and some images of syndics to show the range of variety available to them)

With Syndics we start to see the appearance of structured shoulders (a strictly upper class element) and more extravagant lapels, particularly in jackets. Still no structured collars however as these are reserved for Patriarchs. Jackets, in contrast to those worn by lower ranking administrators, are longer and made of soft, flowing fabrics like silk, with the goal being to show off expensive materials and dyes (hence rich colors and light silky textures).

Proper etiquette regarding underrobes and outerwrap robes remains the same with one exception being the waist knot: higher ranking syndics aren’t required to replicate the knot if it’s covered by an overgarment or accessory (a syndic’s status is obvious from other elements of their outfit).

In general Syndics are the echelon with the most freedom when it comes to their fashion. With the exception of some traditional elements, there’s more room for variation in accessories, cuts and combinations: Low ranking Administrators need to follow a stricter dress code while Patriarchs are limited by the need to project a certain image so you see the most variety in the fashion of Syndics, the only exception being extremely formal events and ceremonies where the traditional silhouette is a must.

(Syndic Zistalmu with a more personalized interpretation of the traditional structured shoulders.)

And finally, there’s Patriarchs.

Patriarchs, in my mind, have the strictest and most elaborate dress code. Their outfits retain the most traditional elements so they’re like a walking museum piece in, sometimes literally because many of the pieces they wear are hereditary and come from famous artisans.

With Patriarchs we see floor-length jackets, very wide lapels, often with opulent linings like patterned velvet, structured collars (attached to the jacket separately), decorative skirts, silk undergarments and elaborate headwear. In addition, their outerwrap robes fasten with two twin knots rather than one.

Most if not all of these elements are strictly reserved for Patriarchs so they’re instantly recognizable.

The jackets are both long-sleeved and sleeveless depending on how lavish the robe underneath is and the wearer’s desire to show it off.

The separately attached collars are distinct and were originally meant to demonstrate proper posture, fitting best when the wearer was standing or sitting upright. Their rigidity and restrictiveness has decreased over time but they still serve to highlight the wearer’s stance.

The collars are the only element I think I’m willing to allow for Patriels as well, albeit I imagine them a bit more understated. I’m still in two minds about the rest.

For Patriarchs, the top of the white underwear robe is also visible above the underrobe collar – normally underwear garments are supposed to be concealed but these robes were given tall necklines to prevent chafing to the neck from the structured collars worn on top. In order to do that they were made from fine silk which eventually became a status symbol, both because of the expensive material and the fact that they were used in combination with structured collars and nowadays the high collar of the robe is visible at the neck.

The overskirt (pictured above and fastened with strings) is the most traditional element of the ensemble. It’s become obscure in other ranks and is distinctive as a result. The pleating is meant to demonstrate an abundance of fabric, usually heavy patterned or embroidered velvets, and I imagine these pieces to be especially heavy. Its only purpose is for layering and decoration.

Somewhat counterintuitively, Patriarch robes have less lavish lower hems (absent the usual flared shape and no trailing fabrics) to allow for ease of movement and compensate for the extra weight added by the rest of a Partiarch’s accessories. And when I say these outfits are heavy, I mean heavy.

Ceremonial robes in particular are notoriously a nightmare to wear and require practice and a good bit of stamina.

(ceremonial robes)

In terms of curiosities, the Stybla are an interesting case both because their Patriarch is allowed to wear ruling family regalia despite not being one of the nine and because they preserve some older elements in their garments from the time they were the only ruling family. Like the gold pin with their family crest, attached to the lapel. The curled hair style and ‘sun’ style headpiece are also elements that go in and out of Patriarch fashion but the Stybla stick to them because that’s the style that was prevalent in their heyday.

All of this is for the purpose of projecting the image of an innocuous quaint old family that still clings to its ‘faded’ glory.

Now for headdresses. There’s three main styles of headdress, labelled ‘moon, ‘planet’ and ‘sun’ accordingly. The main circular elements are meant to display family crests and can have various additional accessories attached to them like chains and ornaments.

I imagine there used to be more styles, at one point as many as the ruling families, but in time as fashions shifted they boiled down to the three main ones. These are usually worn with the traditional long hairstyles that all patriarchs conform to and are attached using a system of clips and pins to the topknot at the back.

The hairstyle itself is known as the ‘waterfall’ style, inspired by a classical style of sculpture.

Pictured below is a ceremonial style headpiece which are only worn at the most formal traditional ceremonies.

In general, these headdresses are somewhat unwieldly and unstable if the wearer moves too suddenly. This is again intentional as similarly to the collars restricting posture, it’s meant to restrict movement to ‘slow’ and ‘deliberate’.

And finally we have color symbolism

This is something I imagine as very important for no other reason than it gives me another fun element to play around with so let’s get into it.

In general, a chiss outfit is mainly made up of cool colors and a few warmer highlights though that can sometimes be flipped depending on the wearer’s preference or current trends. Overall there’s a preference for cooler colors and those close to the chiss’ natural coloration (skin and eyes) which also has biological reasoning but more on that later.

Most importantly, colors have culturally established symbolic associations, meaning the wearer can choose qualities they want to emphasize through their choice of color. This is often done through statement pieces to make the choice stand out, such as: eye catching clothing items or accessories, wear frequency, color predomination, etc. Often times the colors don’t reflect the wearer’s true qualities but rather the image they’re trying to project.

Because of the complexity of this system, most Aristocra rely on tailors and stylists to construct their outfits (and by extension public image) for them.

There’s also the so called ‘military colors’ (black and white) which are reserved for the army and navy and are only used as highlights in non-military contexts or by off-duty members of the military:

(General Ba'kif depicted in military colors with Stybla teal, decorative fan and robe trimming)

Colors are divided into ‘cardinal colors’ with long established traditional meaning and secondary ones whose meaning is fluid and depends on current trends. The cardinal color symbols are as follows:

Blue – order, duty, perseverance Red – passion, diligence, honor Purple – firmness, reliability Magenta – innovation, farsightedness, creativity, individuality, self-assurance Green – steadfastness, calm, security Orange – boldness, confrontation, certainty in battle Yellow – vitality, energy, enthusiasm Black – stability White – prestige, perfection, glory

(In chiss culture, light blue is a separate color from dark blue. The blue referred to here is what is commonly referred to as dark blue.)

Sometimes colors can be divorced from traditional meanings like when they’re used to denote family allegiance or as secondary colors meant to just compliment a palette. The color symbolism system is also all but irrelevant for the general public where trends and personal preferences take priority.

It still carries a lot of weight in the upper classes, however. For example, low ranking administrators are expected to wear red underrobes to symbolize their dedication and diligence.

An example of how colors can be used to make a political statement is Patriarch Thurfian, who upon being promoted to his post adopted a color palette of blue, purple and green to indicate a stable, orderly and traditional rule as opposed to Thooraki’s more maverick politics and preference for warm reds, yellows and magentas.

(Patriarch Thurfian in characteristic blue palette with 'moon' style headdress and purple collar. The jacket is sleeveless, showing off the decoration of the outerwrap robe sleeves.)

Overall, there are many ways to use color to indicate meaning. Warm vibrant colors are in general a bold choice so they’re seen as more of a statement, like for example a bright yellow scarf.

Syndic Thrass favored a bright magenta jacket with wide short-cut sleeves to emphasize his charisma. Zistalmu is an example of a more fashion-forward choice with a predominantly maroon color palette, a secondary color with fluctuating meaning. Colors can also underline subtle family and political allegiances, like Ba’kif wearing teal (a color traditionally associated with the Stybla) as a highlight color off duty.

Lastly, biology also plays a part in color preference, albeit a minor one. (Disclaimer, I’m not a biologist so take this section with a grain of salt.)

Unlike humans, chiss are tetrachromats, meaning they have four types of light-sensitive cone cells in their eyes. In addition to the cones most sensitive to short (blue), medium (green) and long (red) wavelengths, the ones found in humans, they also have ones that respond to the infrared spectrum, giving them their infrared vision.

They also, unlike humans, have a higher number of blue sensitive cones and a very low number of red sensitive ones. This is because even before Csilla’s shift to a cooler climate, the flora and fauna of their world had predominantly blue pigmentation, the same pigment that gives them their skin color, which is the main evolutionary reason for their sensitivity to blue.

This imbalance is somewhat made up for by their infrared receptors, as infrared is next to red on the spectrum, but the low number of red sensitive cones means they’re not as sensitive to shades of orange and yellow.

Despite this, they still use these colors in their wardrobe (albeit less frequently and with less variety) and the rarity itself has contributed to the specialness of their meaning. Red in particular has proved itself an enduring staple because of its presence in the color palette of natural chiss pigmentation.

The rarity of these colors could also explain why they’re assigned traditionally less desirable virtues in the color symbolism system.

(secretary Ronan (Lyron) as I imagine him in my fic, with a red administrator underrobe, embroidered outerwrap robe, and yellow scarf as statement piece accessory.)

I’ve also toyed with the idea that the bioluminescent properties of their eyes interfere with the natural perception of colors (much like a red filter) which has led to an adaptation where the brain filters out the excess light in the red spectrum, making them even less sensitive to different shades of red and its adjacent colors. It’s an adaptation similar to that which allows most species to filter out constant monotonous background noise to aid hearing.

But that’s another thing I’m in two minds about as it complicates things further and I’m not too sure of the biological mechanics of it.

#chiss #chiss art #thrawn #thrawn books #thrawn ascendancy #chiss headcanons #thurfian #mitth'urf'ianico #ba'kif #supreme general ba'kif #zistalmu #brierly ronan #my art

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communicationthroughlyrics · 11 months ago

Text

I Can't Hide The Way I'm Feelin' - Pt. 2

You have a propensity for tardiness, and your new interim professor will have none of it.

A/N: Whomp. Pure p*rn, if I'm being honest. Requested by to @gswha. You can read Pt. 1 HERE

TW: 18+ only, Intersex reader, mild choking, multiple orgasms, Nat just being a savage sex fiend.

As you walked into class on Monday, you noticed that she was dressed differently. Her usual sharp business attire was replaced by a more casual ensemble, a tight black sweater and a pair of skinny jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin. You felt a heat rising from your chest to your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze. The class was eerily quiet as you took your seat, the only sound was the rustle of pages and the occasional cough.

"Ms. Y/N," she called out, her voice as sharp as ever. You looked up, and she was holding your assignments in her hand. "I've reviewed your work. It's... adequate." The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her to continue. "But we both know you can do better." She paused, her eyes scanning the room before returning to you. "If you wish to improve your grade, I suggest you visit me during office hours."

You felt your heart sink. You had done your best to impress her, to show her that you weren't the slacker she thought you were. But apparently, it wasn't enough. The rest of class passed in a blur, her words echoing in your mind. What more could she possibly want from you?

As the bell finally rang, you packed up your things and made your way out of the classroom, your mind racing. You hadn't even made it to the hallway before you felt a hand on your arm. It was her, Dr. Romanoff. "My office, now," she said, her grip firm. You followed her, unsure of what to expect.

You followed the authoritative click of her heels, her grip firm on your bicep as she pushed you in the direction she wanted. When you reached her office, she didn't bother with pleasantries. She closed the door behind you, the sound echoing through the hallway.

"Take a seat, Ms. Y/N," she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. You did as you were told, the anticipation building in your stomach like a coiled spring. "I've noticed an...improvement in your behavior, and to be honest, your work was some of the best I've seen for a while." She placed the assignments down with a smack, her eyes meeting yours, challenging you to argue.

The confusion that must have crept onto your features was clear as day, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. The fabric of her sweater stretched tightly across her breasts, and you couldn't help but steal a glance before redirecting your gaze.

The look on her face told you that she had caught you staring, a smirk gracing her features. "Do you remember our conversation on Saturday, Y/N?" she asked, her voice a low purr that made you want to squirm in your seat.

"Yeah, I do," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Good," she said, her eyes raking over you. "I've had a small portion of that conversation playing in my head all weekend, Y/N," She leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. "And I've come to a decision. You need a more... personal form of motivation to truly reach your potential. However, I have to know- who is it that holds your attention so dearly?"

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. Did she know? "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stuttered, trying to play it cool. But she wasn't buying it.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N," she said, her voice firm. "I know you've been thinking about me. And frankly, I've been thinking about you too."

The room felt like it was closing in on you, her words a punch to the gut. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it was no use. "What do you mean?" you managed to croak out.

"I mean," she began, her voice dropping to a whisper, "that I've noticed the way you look at me in class, the way you react to my words. And I must admit, it's intriguing." She leaned closer, her eyes searching yours. "I think you need more than just a firm hand to keep you in line. I think you need...something else."

The air in the room was charged with something unspoken, something that made your palms sweat and your heart race. "What are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Romanoff's smile grew wider, predatory. "I'm saying that perhaps we can come to an...understanding," she said, her voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "One that will benefit us both."

You sat there, your mind racing, trying to piece together what she was insinuating. Was she...was she flirting with you? The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. You had never been in a situation like this before, with a teacher, no less. You let a wry smile creep across your face, trying to play it cool. "What kind of understanding are we talking about here, Dr. Romanoff?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned even closer, her breath hot on your face. "The kind where I give you the attention you so clearly crave, and in return, you give me the one thing I've wanted since the moment I laid eyes on you."

You felt your heart skip a beat. "And what could you have possibly wanted since you met me?" you asked, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. Your heart felt like is was about to pound out of your chest, as she stood from behind her desk, walking to the front of it, closing some of the distance between you. She leaned back against the oak surface, crossing her arms and pushing her chest out more.

"Your full attention, Y/N," she replied, her eyes never leaving yours. "And perhaps a bit more."

You swallowed hard, trying to process what she was saying. This was a line you never thought you'd cross, but the temptation was too strong. "Well, Dr. Romanoff," you began, trying to sound as confident as possible, "I have to know what it is you've been wanting me to do for me to do a damn thing about it."

Her smile grew, and she leaned even closer, so close you could feel her breath on your neck. "Is that a yes?" she murmured her voice a siren's call that made your body respond in ways you couldn't ignore.

In a surge of confidence, you stood, completely closing the gap between the both of you. You leaned in, placing your hands on either side of her body, trapping her in front of you. "What's it going to be, Natasha?"

Her eyes widened slightly at your boldness, but the spark of desire grew in her gaze. "If we do this," she whispered, "you're mine, Y/N. In and out of the classroom. No more games, no more slacking off." You groaned at her command, the thought of being hers sent a pulse through your awakening sex.

"Only if," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "If I'm going to be yours, I want all of you. No holding back." You leaned in, your face a mere inch from hers, challenging her to deny you.

Her eyes searched yours, the storm clouds within them swirling with a mix of desire and something darker. "You have no idea what you're asking for," she murmured, but the heat in her voice betrayed her interest.

"Neither do you, Romanoff," you whispered, your voice a seductive challenge. You could feel the thick and palpable tension between you as it hung in the air, charged with a current of something neither of you could ignore. She stared at you, her expression unreadable, but the heat in her gaze was unmistakable.

"Well, Y/N," she began, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "If you want all of me, you'll have to earn it. You'll prove to me that you're worthy of my attention."

You felt a thrill at her words, the challenge in her eyes setting something alight within you. "How do I do that?" you asked, your voice a barely contained growl. She stood up, pressing herself closer to you, your chests now touching and your faces mere inches apart. You try to ignore the spark that erupts everywhere she is in contact with your body, but it is slowly overtaking your senses, and all rationality.

"I think," she stuck her finger in the center of your chest, tracing an absentminded pattern all over, making you internally groan. "That you need to show me what I've heard so much about, Y/N." Her eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt. "Your reputation precedes you." She bites her lip, her eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and lips. "I want to see if you can live up to it."

You smirked, feeling the heat from her body and the way she leaned into you, making you want to devour her whole. "Is that all?" You whispered back, leaning in closer to her ear, making her shiver. "Because I've got more than just a reputation, Natasha." She moaned in your ear at the admission, her body visibly trembling against yours.

Without another word, she grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss that was as fiery as the passion in your eyes. Her tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth, leaving no room for doubt. You felt your knees go weak and had to hold onto the desk to keep from falling. Her fingers wound thier way through your hair, pulling slightly to cause you to moan into the kiss.

Her hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You couldn't help but respond, pushing closer, your hands sliding up her sides to rest on her hips. You felt her tighten her grip on you, her nails digging into your skin just enough to let you know she was serious.

The kiss grew more intense, and you could feel your control slipping away. You had never felt this way about a teacher before, but Dr. Romanoff was unlike anyone you had ever met. Her confidence and power were intoxicating, and the way she looked at you made you feel like the most important person in the world.

As you broke away for air, she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's a start," she murmured, her voice a mix of challenge and desire. "But I need to see more." She turned and walked to the door of her office, swinging the lock shut and sliding a chair under the handle. Her hips swaying with an allure that was impossible to ignore as she sauntered around the room.

She made her way back in front of you, her eyes wandering all over your frame, and pausing on the straining bulge in your jeans. She smirked and took a step closer, her hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw. "Oh, how I have thought and dreamed about this, Y/N."

Her touch was like a spark to dry kindling, setting your body alight with a need that was unbearable. You reached up and grabbed her hand, pressing it harder against your skin, feeling the beat of your pulse beneath her fingertips. "Show me," you breathed. "Show me how much."

With a smirk that could melt the Arctic, she stepped closer, pressing her body against yours. Your hands roamed over her curves, feeling the soft fabric of her sweater and the firmness beneath. She gasped as you found the hem and slid your hands up, feeling the smooth skin of her stomach and the swell of her breasts. Her hand found its way to your waistband, deftly unbuckling your belt and popping the button of your jeans. The sound of the zipper was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

You stepped back slightly, allowing her to push your jeans and boxers down, your erection springing free. She took you in her hand, stroking you gently, her eyes never leaving yours. The look of power in her gaze was something you had never seen before, and it was driving you wild. You reached for her sweater, tugging it over her head and revealing the lacy black bra beneath. Her breasts were full and heavy, begging to be freed.

With trembling hands, you unclipped the clasp and watched as the material fell away, revealing her to you. She was perfection, her skin pale and unblemished, her nipples pink and hard from your touch. You bent down, taking one in your mouth, her gasp making your cock throb in her hand. You teased and suckled, feeling her hand tighten around you as she moaned your name.

Her other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as she ground her hips against yours. The friction was maddening, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. You reached behind her, sliding her jeans down her legs, taking in the sight of her in just her lacy thong. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband and slid it down, revealing the wetness that had gathered between her thighs. She was ready for you, and the sight made you growl with need.

You knelt before her, spreading her legs apart. Your tongue darted out to taste her, and she moaned your name again. You lapped at her folds, feeling her shiver and buck against your mouth. Her taste was like nothing you had ever experienced before, sweet and salty and all hers. You pushed a finger inside her, feeling her tighten around you, her walls clenching as she grew closer to climax.

Her hand tightened in your hair, guiding you as you worked her body, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. You felt the tension in her legs and knew she was close. You added another finger, pumping them in and out as you flicked your tongue over her clit. She was so wet, so hot, and it was all for you.

You pulled away just as she was reaching her peak, leaving her panting and gasping for breath. "Not yet," you whispered against her skin, causing goosebumps to rise on her thighs. "I want to feel you come around me."

Her eyes blazed with need as she reached down, taking your hand and guiding it to her wetness. "Take me, Y/N," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "I need you inside me."

Without wasting another moment, you stood and positioned yourself at her entrance. You could feel the heat of her desire, and you knew she was ready. You pushed into her slowly, feeling her walls tighten around you as she took you in. She was so wet, so tight, and the feeling was more than you could handle. You groaned as you filled her, feeling her body quiver in anticipation.

You began to move, setting a rhythm that had her moaning with every thrust. Her nails dug into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the only sound other than the muffled cries of pleasure that spilled from her lips.

Her breathing grew more ragged, her hips moving in time with yours. You could feel her getting closer, her muscles tightening around you like a vice. You reached between your bodies, finding her clit and rubbing it with your thumb as you thrust deeper. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed out your name as she came, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

The feeling of her contracting around you was too much, and you followed her over the edge, filling her with your release. You held onto her tightly, your breath coming in gasps as you rode out the waves of pleasure. When it was over, you leaned against her, both of you panting and sweaty.

You pulled out slowly, watching as she shivered at the loss of you inside her. You bent down and kissed her softly, tasting the salt of her skin. "You're mine now," she murmured, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.

"Always have been," you replied, a smug smile playing on your lips. You pulled her into a standing position and kissed her again, her legs wobbly beneath her. She broke away, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Good," she said, her voice a low purr. "Now, let's see if you can handle the rest of what I have planned for you." You groaned as she lowered herself between your legs, taking all of you into her mouth, moaning around your length as she tasted her cum all over your shaft, mixed with yours. The sensation was overwhelming, and you had to hold onto the desk for support.

Her tongue swirled around the head of your cock, pausing as she felt the ball of your piercing on the surface of her tongue. She looked up at you with a knowing smile, her eyes full of mischief. You couldn't believe that you had finally given in to the temptation that had been brewing between the two of you for months. The way she took you in her mouth was like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

You felt your knees wobble as she deep-throated you, her cheeks hollowing out with every bob of her head. Her hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as she worked you with a skill that was both surprising and incredibly erotic. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out a low moan, your hands threading through her hair. "Fuck, Natasha."

Her grip tightened as she felt you swell, her movements becoming more urgent. She knew you were close, and she wasn't about to let up. She hummed around you, the vibration sending you into overdrive, your grip tightening on her fiery hair as you began to thrust into her throat. You came hard, filling her mouth with your release, and she swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving yours.

When you had finished, she stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I've wanted to do that since the first day of class," she said, her voice husky with desire. You couldn't help but chuckle, the situation so intense and yet so unexpectedly intimate.

"Well, I'm sure there's more where that came from," you said, your voice still shaky from the orgasm. She leaned in and kissed you, her tongue sliding against yours, sharing the taste of you with you. It was a claiming kiss, one that left no doubt in your mind that she was now in charge.

Her hands slid down your body, taking in the sight of you, naked and hard for her again. "Impressive," she murmured, her eyes lingering on your cock. "But now it's my turn," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. You watched as she wiped her desk clean, climbing onto it, her legs spread wide, revealing the wetness that glistened between her thighs, her arousal dripping onto the surface below. She leaned back on her elbows, inviting you closer.

You groaned at the sight, slowly pumping your length as you rested the other hand on her ass, slapping it. "You're so fucking wet for me," you said, your voice thick with lust. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving yours as she spread herself wider.

"I want you to fuck me like you mean it, Y/N," she instructed her voice a mix of need and command. You didn't need any more encouragement than that. You stepped closer, aligning yourself with her slick entrance, and pushed in. She was so tight, so hot, it was like sliding into heaven. She gasped as you filled her, her nails digging into the desk. You set a punishing pace, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. She moaned your name, her back arching as she met you stroke for stroke.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, you pulled her back to you by her hair, her back meeting your heaving chest. You reached up with your other hand, easily sliding over her glistening torso, tweaking her hardened nipple between your fingers. You could feel her tightening around you, her walls clenching as she neared her climax. You slid your hand down, playing with her clit, feeling her shiver and whimper.

"Come for me, detka," you whispered, your voice a dark command. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at you, her pupils blown wide with desire.

"Y/N," she breathed, her voice a plea. And with one final, powerful thrust, she shattered around you, her body convulsing as she screamed out your name. You watched in awe as she came, her pussy milking your cock, her orgasm so intense it brought you to the brink. With a roar, you followed her over the edge, filling her with your release. She took it all, her body pulsing around you as you emptied into her. When it was over, you both collapsed onto the desk, panting and sweaty.

It took a minute for her to recover before she turned her head to look at you. "When," she panted, still catching her breath. "When did you learn Russian?"

You chuckled, still trying to recover from the intensity of the moment. "I've always had a knack for languages," you replied, leaning down to kiss her neck. She shivered at the contact, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Plus, I have a professor who had me do lots of research work, so I picked up on a few things."

Without another word, she turned around, spreading her legs to straddle you, pulling you closer to her as you stood in between her toned thighs. You stepped up to her, your cock twitching with anticipation. You reached down and slid into her, feeling her tighten around you again. She moaned, her head dropping to your chest. "Fuck, Y/N!"

You began to move, your hips slapping against hers as you took her on the edge of her desk. She was so wet, so hot, and the way she felt around you was driving you wild. You reached down, playing with her clit as you pounded into her, feeling her get closer and closer to another orgasm. Her moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of our passion. You could feel her muscles tightening around you, her body begging for release.

Her nails dug into your shoulders as she arched her back, her breasts pressing against your chest. You leaned down and took one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking and biting gently, making her whimper. Her movements grew erratic, her hips bucking against yours as she chased her climax. You felt it building, her walls milking you as her orgasm neared. You began to pepper bites and kisses up and down her throat, as she let her head fall backward, her hair forming a red curtain behind her.

"Don't stop," she panted, her voice thick with desire. "Please, don't stop." You could feel her pussy tightening around you, her muscles clenching as she reached the peak. You didn't stop, you couldn't. You drove into her harder, feeling the desk wobble beneath you. Wrapping your arms around her back, your hands resting on her shoulders, you were able to muscle her up, pistoning into her at an obscene rate. Her legs tightened around your waist, her nails digging into your skin as she threw her head towards your shoulder, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.

Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, making her entire body convulse around you. You felt yourself grow even harder if that was possible. "Fuck," you grunted, the expletive forced from your chest. You didn't know if you could hold out much longer. The way she felt, the way she smelled, the way she sounded, it was all too much. You felt your own orgasm building, the pressure at the base of your spine growing with every thrust.

Her eyes flew open and she looked at you, a wild look in her eyes. "I'm going to come," she warned her voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. You didn't stop, couldn't stop. You pounded into her, her moans spurring you on as you chased your own release. And then it hit you, a white-hot burst of pleasure that shot through your body like lightning. You came inside her, filling her up with your seed, your body shaking with the intensity of it all.

Her legs tightened around your waist, and she threw her head back, her throat exposed to you as she let out a scream of pure ecstasy. You leaned down and kissed her neck, feeling her pulse racing beneath your lips. You could feel her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her climax as you slowly pulled out, your cock still semi-hard and slick with her juices.

You slowly pulled out of her, resting her on the desk behind. She was a mess of sticky sweat and lust, her chest heaving with every ragged breath she took. You took a moment to admire her, sprawled out like a painting of a conquered goddess, her skin flushed and her eyes glazed over with satisfaction. You couldn't resist leaning in for one more kiss, tasting the salt of your combined sweat, the sweetness of her lip gloss, and the lingering taste of your cum on her tongue.

"Again," she breathed against your lips, her voice a needy whine. You smirked, feeling the beginnings of your arousal stirring once more. How could you resist such an offer?

"Only if I get to taste you, darling." You smirked, bending down to kiss her neck, your teeth grazing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Dr. Romanoff nodded eagerly, her eyes fluttering shut as you turned her onto her back, her legs still hanging over the edge of the desk. You stepped between them, pushing her thighs apart. The sight of her, glistening and open for you, was almost too much to handle.

You leaned in, your tongue tracing the line of her folds, tasting the remnants of your earlier passion. She gasped, her hips jerking as you found her clit with the tip of your tongue. You took it into your mouth, sucking gently, feeling her body tense beneath you. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, urging you on. The sound of her moans was like music to your ears, driving you almost near madness.

Her legs wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer as you worked your magic. Her hips began to rock against your face, her movements growing more erratic as you pushed her closer to the edge. You grabbed a firm hold on her hips. pinning her to the desk as your tongue began to probe her leaking entrance. She was so wet, and the scent of her arousal was driving you wild. You felt yourself growing hard again, your cock aching to be inside her once more. Trying to quell the desire to sheath yourself inside of her, you inserted two fingers into her, continuing your assault on her clit as you probed her soft, spongy interior.

Her walls tightened around your digits, her moans growing louder as she neared climax. You felt her whole body tense and knew she was close. With one final flick of your tongue, you felt her release. She bucked against your face, her pussy pulsing around your fingers as she came hard. You swallowed her juices greedily, feeling your cock throb with every pulse of her orgasm.

You pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. She looked up at you, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and whispered, "More." You chuckled darkly, moving back between her legs, your cock now fully erect and ready to claim her once again. This time, you didn't hold back, slamming into her without mercy. She took it all, her legs wrapped around you, her nails digging into your back. A guttural moan left her, her lack of shame about being in the middle of a university only spurring you further.

Her breasts bounced with every thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. The scent of arousal mingled with the faint aroma of books and dust, creating an intoxicating cocktail that only served to fuel the fire burning between you. Your hips moved with a primal instinct, the desk beneath you groaning in protest with every pound. You willed your hips to stop, only for a moment, causing the redhead to mewl and writhe beneath you. You shifted her, her legs locking behind you as she tried to pull you in deeper. You swiftly picked her up, and walked over to one of the armchairs in the office, sitting yourself down, with her on top.

"I wanna see you ride me, baby," you growled in her ear, sucking her earlobe in between your teeth. Dr. Romanoff's eyes lit up with excitement, and she straddled you, her slick pussy sliding down your shaft with ease. She began to bounce up and down, her movements growing more confident and wild with every moan that left her lips. You could feel her pussy clench around you, her walls tightening as she approached her peak. Your hands found her hips, guiding her, urging her to go faster, to take all of you. You slipped one hand up, palming one of her breasts, bringing your mouth to the other.

Her moans grew louder, her breathing more ragged as she bounced on your cock. You could feel her orgasm building, her movements growing more erratic as she chased the feeling. You squeezed her breast, rolling the nipple between your thumb and forefinger, eliciting a gasp from her. She leaned back, her hands on your shoulders for balance, her eyes never leaving yours. The sight of her riding you was almost too much to handle, her pussy gripping you like a vice, her ass bouncing with every downward thrust.

"Fuck, you look so good like this, Dr. Romanoff," you taunted, only spurring her on further.

Her hips rolled and gyrated, taking you in deeper with every downward thrust. The wet sounds of your skin slapping together echoed through the office, and you could feel the chair's cushion growing damp with your combined juices. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against your chest.

"Fuck me, Y/N," she moaned, her voice a sweet symphony of need and desire. "Make me scream your name again." You groaned, wrapping one hand around her throat, the other around her waist, as you set a relentless pace that had both of you on the edge of oblivion. Her movements grew more frantic, her breathing shallow and erratic. The pressure in her core built, her muscles tightening around your cock with every stroke. You met every gyration of her hips with a powerful thrust of your own, your grunts and her moans filling the silence between your skin slapping together.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her nails dug into your shoulders as she climaxed. Her pussy clamped down on you like a vice, her juices flooding over your shaft and her walls quivering around you. "Fuck! Y/N!" she screamed into the office around her. The intensity of her orgasm washed over you, and you could feel yourself on the brink. You didn't stop, didn't dare. Instead, you quickened your pace, pushing her further, watching her face contort with pleasure and pain as she came again and again. Her legs tightened around your waist, her heels digging into your back, urging you to go deeper, harder.

You pulled out of her briefly, flipping her over on the floor in front of the chair so that she had her leg flung over your shoulder, and you could hit that sweet spot with every thrust. You didn't give her a chance to recover before you slammed back into her, filling her completely. She was soaking wet, and the sound of your skin slapping against hers was the sweetest symphony of pleasure and desire. You grabbed her hips, pulling her back to meet every thrust, her moans turning into screams of ecstasy. The slap of flesh echoed through the room, mixing with the sound of your heavy breathing. You could feel her tightening around you, her pussy gripping you as she neared another climax.

Your hand snaked around her throat, not too tightly but enough to add an edge to the already intense moment. You squeezed gently, feeling her pulse against your fingertips, her eyes snapping to yours, wide with a mix of fear and excitement. You could tell she liked it a little rough, and the way she responded only turned you on more. "Come for me," you ordered, your voice low and demanding. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed your name as she shuddered around your cock, her orgasm sending waves of pleasure through her body. The feeling of her essence spraying around your throbbing member, milking you towards your oblivion sent you over the edge, your hips stuttering as you collapsed on top of her.

Her legs quivered as she came down from the high, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse slow down. You pulled out of her gently, watching as your cum dripped out of her still-spasming pussy. The sight was obscene, but incredibly erotic, making you want to take her again and again. You looked up at her, a smug smile playing on your lips. "Good girl," you murmured, stroking her hair.

Dr. Romanoff pushed herself up onto her elbows, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "You know, Y/N," she said, her voice a mix of breathlessness and amusement, "you really are a quick learner.” You had never felt so alive, so desired. It was a power exchange that you never knew existed, and you reveled in it. You were hers, and she was yours, and the thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

As the shadows grew long outside her office window, she finally pulled away, her chest heaving with exertion. "I think," she murmured, her voice thick with desire, "that we've made a good start.” You nodded, unable to form coherent words. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice a promise of more to come.

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #lesbian nsft #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natalia romanova #natasha romanov #natalie rushman

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hamilton-here · 1 month ago

Text

𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝓃𝑒

Authors Note: Hey Lovelies. I absolutely loved writing this one-shot! I have a whole list of notes with different ideas I will write about and this is one of them. I also had this on PolyBuzz for ages now, though I don’t remember my user🙏🏻. If you would like to see another one like this let me know what subject next. Lots of love xx

Summary: A 24 year old university student falls for her stylish, former F1 champion PE teacher, leading to a secret romance that blossoms into something real, intense and passionate.

Warnings: sexual content, age-gap

Taglist: @nebulastarr @hannibeeblog

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You weren’t expecting much from your third year of university in PE elective. Maybe an easy A, a few stretches in overpriced activewear and a break from the pressure of your dual major.

You signed up for the PE elective thinking it would be an easy credit. A laid back course to balance out the workload of your double major of psychology and sports science with a side of cardio and campus gossip.

What you weren’t expecting?

Lewis Hamilton walking into the gym with a whistle, sunglasses and a clipboard like he owned the place.

You blinked twice.

And yet, there he was. Seven time Formula 1 world champion turned into PE instructor?

When he walked into the university gym on the first day, the temperature in the room seemed to drop and rise all at once. Every student stopped mid conversation, half frozen by disbelief, the other half whispering like they were watching a legend walk across sacred ground.

He moved like someone used to being watched. Poised. Effortless. As if the echoes of roaring crowds still lived in his bloodstream, even now. The rumors had been vague such as a guest lecturer, maybe, or a special one off speaker. But this? A full on semester with him coaching physical exercise?

Apparently, after years on the track, Lewis Hamilton wanted a quieter life. Something grounded. Something real. And that meant teaching PE to a bunch of sweaty twenty something year olds.

He was every bit as magnetic as he’d looked on your TV growing up. Tall and lean, with sharp cheekbones, brown skin that caught the late morning sun and tattoos that peeked out from under the sleeves of his fitted Nike jacket.

No crumpled tracksuits for him - his were sleek, tailored. Every day brought a new, curated ensemble like black joggers paired with designer sneakers, hoodies that looked hand stitched, subtle flashes of jewelry that made it clear he hadn’t entirely let go of the spotlight.

And he smelled good. Too good for a gym.

You noticed.

Of course you did.

You weren’t blind. And neither were your friends.

“Look at his arms,” Mia whispered beside you on the first day, shielding her phone while sneakily snapping a photo. “Jesus. He’s like, grown grown.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to care but yeah. You noticed. How couldn’t you?

Still, you reminded yourself you were here to move. Not flirt.

You might’ve been in the popular group - always tagged in stories, always in the loop but you were different. You were sporty. Smart. Not just another glossed up girl posing for gym selfies. You’d played competitive soccer through high school, trained like you meant it. You didn’t just show up to class, you showed up to work.

And apparently, so did he.

When he started speaking, the room obeyed.

“Some of you think this is going to be a vacation,” Mr. Hamilton said, pacing the gym floor. His voice was smooth, low, commanding in a way that made you instinctively straighten your spine. “It’s not. You’ll work. You’ll sweat. You’ll earn your grade. If that’s not what you signed up for, now’s your chance to walk out.”

No one moved.

Not even you.

Then, just for a beat his eyes landed on you, sharp and quick your pulse jumped but you didn’t look away.

If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

They didn’t linger.

But they didn’t skip past you either.

You didn’t flinch.

You almost smirked.

And you could tell immediately that Lewis wasn’t going to give out praise just because you were good looking or confident. He didn’t care about your friends or your designer gym bag. He cared about form, focus and effort.

You respected that. More than you expected to.

And maybe that’s where it started.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Weeks passed. The semester picked up rhythm.

He wasn’t just good at teaching, he was intentional. Everything he said had weight and he didn’t waste a single word. He gave feedback without sugarcoating it, kept things moving on schedule, and had this calm authority.

You liked watching him work. The way he moved precise, composed, never hurried. He’d pace the gym floor with a clipboard in one hand, calling out reps, adjusting someone’s stance with a few quick words. His voice always cut through the noise, low and grounded, just commanding enough to silence your thoughts whenever it reached your ears.

Though the tension soon picked up in class.

He was fair but firm. A coach in every sense of the word. Usually relaxed chatting casually with students, correcting stances with a quiet, even tone but when someone slacked off or tried to push back? He didn’t hesitate to shut it down.

Like the time one of the rugby guys made a sexist joke about stretching being “feminine.”

“Do it properly,” Mr. Hamilton said without missing a beat, “Or get out.”

His voice was clipped, cool. Steel under velvet.

No one laughed after that.

You respected him. That’s where it started.

The first time he praised your sprint relay “Good drive phase. Strong finish.” You caught yourself smiling longer than you should’ve. He said it to your form, not your face. But it landed anyway.

You stayed late after class more than once, not intentionally at first. You’d hang back to finish stretching or clean up your area, but more and more, you found yourself hovering. Helping him collect cones. Rolling up mats. Making small talk while everyone else filtered out.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said one afternoon as you grabbed a stack of practice bands from the floor. He was kneeling beside the equipment box, glancing at you from under his lashes.

You shrugged. “Don’t want to go back to my flat yet.”

He looked at you for a moment, lips twitching at the corners like he was holding something back.

“Loud roommates?”

“Louder TikToks,” you said, dragging a mat across the floor.

He huffed a quiet laugh. Just a breath. But it was the first one you’d heard from him.

It did something strange to your chest.

You didn’t know what that was between you but it was something. And that something grew stronger every week.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

After that, things shifted.

Not all at once. Not publicly. But slowly. Silently.

There was never anything inappropriate. No lines crossed. No flirting, not openly.

But the tension lived in the small things.

More banter between reps. More passing glances. A rhythm you weren’t sure you’d imagined.

He never crossed a line. Not even close.

But there were…moments.

When his hand brushed yours a second too long as you passed the medicine ball. When he stood close behind you correcting your squat form, voice low in your ear. “Drop your hips. There. Perfect.”

You felt the heat in your cheeks. You told yourself it was exertion.

It wasn’t.

And it wasn’t just you. You caught him watching you stretch once, his jaw tight, fingers flexing slightly at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Or the way your eyes would meet during water breaks, neither of you speaking, both of you thinking the same thing.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t one sided.

This shouldn’t feel like this.

You told yourself it was just respect. Admiration. A student teacher thing.

It was unspoken.

But your constant excuse got harder to believe the day it rained.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It was raining one Thursday evening when you stayed late again. The gym had emptied after circuit drills. The fluorescent lights buzzed above, washing the polished floors in a sterile glow. Outside, the storm pounded the roof in rhythm. A symphony for two.

Your friends had bailed to get early drinks at your usual rooftop bar, but you stayed behind.

You sat on the floor, unlacing your sneakers, hair damp with sweat, limbs heavy but content. You weren’t expecting him to sit down beside you. Not without a word. Just a quiet presence and the sound of his water bottle hitting the floor.

“You’ve improved,” he said eventually, his voice almost drowned by the rain.

You glanced sideways. “Just now noticing?”

He smiled - crooked, warm, maybe even a little shy. “No. I noticed week two. I just wasn’t sure if telling you would go to your head.”

You scoffed, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “So what, you were playing hard to impress?”

He leaned back on his hands, exhaling slowly. “Something like that.”

Your heart stuttered and for once, you didn’t mask it. Not all the way.

“Why’d you really leave racing?” you asked, curious and a little breathless.

He looked up at the ceiling for a beat. “Too much noise. Too many cameras. I wanted something slower. Simpler.”

You smirked. “And yet you chose a university gym full of twenty year olds.”

He laughed a real one this time. Deep and gravelly. “I said simpler. Not peaceful.”

You grinned. The space between you felt thinner than it had ever been.

And then he looked at you.

Not the casual glance of a teacher to a student. Not even the assessing gaze of a coach to an athlete. But you. The full picture. The smart girl in the popular group. The woman who worked hard, who ran faster, and who watched him right back.

He saw you.

And suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. “I know this can’t be anything.”

You swallowed, your voice soft. “I know.”

“But it feels like something.”

You looked at him then, truly looked and for the first time, you let the guard drop.

“I know that too.”

Neither of you moved. Not that night.

There was no line crossed.

But something passed between you, a current. A silent agreement. Something tender and dangerous and full of potential.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You told yourself it would fade.

It didn’t.

After that, the tension only grew. You caught him watching you during warmups. He stopped correcting your form when he didn’t need to. You were flawless, and he noticed.

Not when he started saying your name more often in class. Not when you caught him watching you leave, his jaw slightly clenched like he was holding something back.

Not when you went home and dreamed about those quiet moments, that knee bump, that barely there smile.

You didn’t talk about it with anyone.

Some things are too sacred for words.

But when his hand lingered again a week later, when your eyes met across the gym and stayed…you knew.

It wasn’t just you.

He was falling too.

And suddenly, it didn’t matter that he wore sunglasses indoors, or that you once went to a foam party on a Wednesday, or that he was eleven years older with a past carved in gold.

What mattered was this strange, slow blooming thing between you. Something neither of you planned. Something neither of you could name.

But it was real.

And it was yours.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It started with a message.

Not through the university system. Not through anything official. Just a name you didn’t recognise lighting up your screen one late Friday night, the same time you were pretending not to replay the way Lewis looked at you in the gym that week.

You opened the message. It was short.

Unknown Number: Don’t answer if this crosses a line. But I’ll be at the park across from the library. Late. Just walking. Just air.

No name. No emoji. Just that.

You stared at it for a long time.

And then you put on your jacket.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It wasn’t a date.

At least, that’s what you both told yourselves.

You met under the dull glow of a streetlamp near the swings, hood pulled over your head, hair still damp from a late shower. He was leaning against the railing, hands in his pockets, dressed in all black. The kind of outfit that was meant to go unnoticed, but on him? It made you look twice.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“I didn’t know if you meant it.”

Lewis gave you a look. That same look he wore in the gym which was sharp but soft, unreadable and tender all at once.

He nodded toward the trail. “Walk with me?”

You nodded. And so you did.

You talked about nothing for a while. The uni food. The rain. Your latest lecture. He asked you about your thesis and actually listened. You asked him about life after racing and he paused longer than he needed to before answering.

“It’s slower,” he admitted. “But not easier.”

You looked at him sideways. “You miss it?”

“I miss what it made me feel,” he said honestly. “That rush. That certainty.”

You knew that feeling. You chased it in other ways like grades, sports, control. You recognised the weight of needing to be someone.

“But lately,” he added, voice a little hoarse, “I feel that again. Around you.”

You stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence wrapped around you both like fog. Too much. Too close.

“You shouldn’t say that,” you said, but there was no bite in your voice. Just truth. Just fear.

He stepped closer anyway.

You didn’t move.

“I know,” he murmured.

The wind shifted, blowing leaves past your feet. Your heart thudded in your throat.

His hand brushed your sleeve, just barely. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, your breath hitched.

And then, finally he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy or wild.

It was soft. Slow. Like he’d been thinking about it for weeks and didn’t want to get it wrong. Like his whole body was holding back just enough not to shake.

His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. You leaned in like your body didn’t know how not to. His lips were warm. Steady. Patient.

But beneath all of it was a current of heat. Of want. Of need.

You broke apart just barely, foreheads resting together, both of you breathless.

“This is crazy,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said again. “But it’s real.”

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You didn’t meet on campus. Not after that.

Not in the gym. Not in daylight. Not where anyone might ask questions.

Instead, it became your routine.

Once a week, sometimes twice.

Always after dark.

Quiet corners of the city. His car parked down side streets. Rooftop views with late night tea. Conversations in shadows and kisses that grew longer. Deeper.

You told yourself you weren’t dating.

But it felt like you were.

You learned things about him no one else knew anymore. That he still watched old races sometimes when he couldn’t sleep. That he journaled. That his favorite playlist had no rap on it just soul and soft R&B.

He learned things about you too. That you cracked your knuckles when stressed. That your parents divorced when you were twelve. That you were scared of letting people see how much you felt.

And he never made you feel too much. Or too young.

Just seen.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

But secrets have a shelf life.

And emotions don’t like to be hidden.

One night, sitting in the backseat of his car outside your apartment complex, wrapped in his hoodie and curled against his chest, you finally asked it -

“What happens when the semester ends?”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he said, “I don’t know.”

You lifted your head. “You haven’t thought about it?”

“I think about it too much.”

You didn’t answer. The ache in your chest did.

“I didn’t plan for this,” he said, hand finding yours. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I didn’t expect you,” you whispered.

Your lips met again, slower now. Less urgency. More ache.

There was nothing casual about this anymore.

This was no longer a game. No longer a thrill.

This was something blooming in secret, wild and uncontainable.

You both felt it.

You just didn’t know what to do with it yet.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

But you would.

One night soon, something would shift. A decision would be made. A line would be crossed.

But for now?

You held his hand in the dark.

And let it bloom.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The semester was over, and so was the façade.

There was no denying it now.

You hadn’t seen Lewis for almost a week. You'd both been too busy. Life had its way of pulling you back into the normal rhythms of university, work and friends. But it didn’t stop you from thinking about him, constantly. The messages. The stolen kisses. Those moments when it was just the two of you, hidden from the world and you could pretend for a few minutes that this whatever this was, could be something more than just fleeting.

But tonight, you were here.

His place.

Lewis had texted earlier, just after you’d wrapped up your final exam. It was simple. Short. But you both knew what it meant.

Lewis: “Come by after. I’ll be waiting.”

You’d tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was impossible.

You stood in front of his door now, holding your breath. Nervousness electrified under your skin, not from fear, but from the anticipation of everything that was about to unfold.

You knocked.

Seconds later, the door creaked open. There he was, standing in front of you. His usual confidence, mixed with something softer tonight like he was just as nervous as you were. He gave you a soft smile and a brief look of reassurance before stepping back to let you in.

“Hey,” you whispered.

He didn’t need to say much a he pulled you in immediately, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close, as if the week apart had been too long for either of you to stand.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your hair.

You closed your eyes, trying to take in the warmth of him, the comfort of his embrace. You hadn’t realised how much you needed him, how much his presence grounded you in the chaos of everything else. The world faded to just the two of you, and the rush of emotions surged through you again.

“I missed you, too,” you whispered back.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at you with a tenderness you couldn’t quite comprehend. “You’re sure about this? About us?”

You nodded, heart pounding. You were sure. More than sure.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” you said, voice quiet but firm.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your lips. Slowly, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Neither do I,” he said softly, then leaned in.

His lips found yours in an immediate kiss, slow and deep, tasting the longing that had built between you for weeks. You responded instinctively, your hands slipping under his jacket to feel the warmth of his skin beneath. His body pressed into yours and you could feel the electricity that always simmered beneath the surface between you.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, you didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. The air between you was thick with desire.

Lewis’s hand slid down your back, pulling you closer. He led you to his living room, where dim lights from lamps cast long shadows across the furniture. His place was sparse, but there was something inviting about it. Cozy. A home you could picture yourself in if only the circumstances were different.

He didn’t waste time. His lips were on your neck, his breath warm against your skin as his hands slid up under your shirt, touching you as if he had to remind himself you were real.

“God, you feel…” he trailed off, kissing his way up to your jaw, then back to your lips.

You couldn’t form the words either. You wanted him. Needed him. It was clear now that this whatever it was had moved beyond the stolen moments in the park and in secret corners. You both wanted more. Needed more.

You broke away from him for a moment, catching your breath. “I’ve never done anything like this,” you confessed, hands trembling slightly as you reached for the hem of his shirt.

“I’ve never felt this way,” Lewis admitted, pulling his shirt off and stepping closer. His bare chest, the muscles honed from years of racing, made your breath catch. He was gorgeous, but it wasn’t just his looks it was the way he made you feel.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he added softly, as if reading your mind. But you could feel his own restraint slipping. He wasn’t just waiting for you to make a move he was with you, in this, completely

Without another word, you kissed him again, more urgent this time. As if there were no more time to waste.

You guided him toward the couch, your lips never leaving his. He groaned softly as you pushed him back against the cushions, your hands sliding lower, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his hands slipping under your skirt.

You were too far gone to care about anything else. Your hands worked quickly to undress each other, the tension crackling between you, a fire that could no longer be contained. His kisses grew more frantic, his body pressing up against yours as his hands roamed, seeking to memorize the feel of you.

You didn’t hesitate when you straddled him, your heart pounding as you aligned your hips with his. The moment was perfect, raw and full of desire. You were both past the point of pretending.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, voice a low rasp. His hands rested on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“Yes,” you breathed, leaning forward to kiss him again.

His hands were everywhere now on your back, your waist, your thighs. You felt his pulse quicken beneath your hands, the need growing between you with every second.

And then, finally, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. The kiss deepened, his hands guiding you closer to him as he finally pulled you down, filling the space between you with nothing but passion, heat and the promise of something more.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Afterward, as the silence of the night wrapped around you both, you lay together in the quiet, his arm around you, his breath steady against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat slow, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“What now?” you asked, your voice soft, filled with uncertainty. You weren’t sure what the future held, but in this moment, you knew you didn’t want to let go.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We figure it out. Together.”

And just like that, you knew it wasn’t just about the secret kisses or the stolen moments anymore. It was about this. About finding something real in the space between the lines.

110 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 5 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

Jan 14th

~*~

1. Itmf fics where Jin Guangyao is good? Very broad topic, lol, but yeah. Fics where he doesn't murder or backstab, fics where he actually is helpful and smart and a good uncle to Jin Ling. Thank you!

walk away from the sun by KouriArashi (M, 107k, LXC/JGY, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, LWJ & JGY, LXC & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Politics, supportive brothers, supportive husbands, Canon-Typical Violence, Lan Family Feels, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 (M, 277k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Accidental Baby Acquisition During a Zombie Apocalypse, Junior Quartet, (except they’re all babies), Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Ensemble Cast, Worst Zombie Fighting Team Ever, Found Family) translations available in multiple languages

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together, And Time is But a Paper Moon [PODFIC] by sami, Winterstar1412, [Podfic] Cold read of And Time Is But A Paper Moon by kisahawklin, multiple translations available) multiple podfics and translations into multiple languages available

somewhere to belong by KouriArashi (T, 62k, 3zun, JGY & NHS, WangXian, JGY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Friendship, Developing Relationship, Families of Choice, Class Issues, Bullying, Light Angst, Politics, Eventual Plot, Happy Ending)

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2. Hi, Itmf fic where instead of characters watching the truth abouth yllz, the whole jianghu is watching uncensored truth about most of cultivators: like assault and imprisonment of lwj mother, rapes by jgs, resentment in nie etc.

Wondered if there is something like this. Thank you!

Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, WIP, WangXian, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Time Travel Fix-it)

💖 The Path by Seastar98 (Not Rated, 279k, WangXian, CQL Verse, Golden core reveal, Fix-it of sorts, Angst with a happy ending) Song of Joy and Regrets and The Path feature people learning about atrocities committed by other cultivators in addition to facts about Wei Ying's life.

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3. For the next ITMF: fics where WWX suffers chronic pain as a result of the core surgery and/or injuries that never quite healed. (Nothing where resentful energy is the main problem, because it wasn't really.) Modern AUs with some other illness/disability are okay too. Bonus points if he tries to hide it, because ofc he will if he can. Extra bonus points if it includes or is entirely from someone else's POV. Thank you! 🖤🐇 @linderel

How to Treat Your Injured Yiling Laozu by merakily (T, 3k, WangXian, Chronic Pain, Whump, Love Confessions, Literal Sleeping Together, Burial Mounds, Golden Core Reveal, LWJ has a lot of feelings about WWX being in pain, Hurt WWX)

Aftermath by KouriArashi (T, 57k, XuanLi, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Romance, Developing Relationship, Family, Sibling Bonding, Light Angst, Politics, Attempted Sexual Assault) Jiang Yanli notices Wei Ying has chronic pain following his core removal surgery in Aftermath

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 105k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character)

Ornaments Under the Stars by trippednfell (M, 62k, WangXian, WIP, Modern, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, the wangxian Hallmark Movie AU no one asked for, plot and title were randomly generated, Kidfic, Disabled Character, debilitating injury as substitute for missing golden core, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guest starring Lan Zhan’s sky blue coat, The Coat deserves its own tag, disordered eating habits - not a major plot point) wy has to use a cane because if a leg injury

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4. Are there any wei Wuxian havin hanahaki Disease for Lan wangji @yuukikonnos-world

Regret Blossoms by piecrust (G, 7k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease) Wangxian are in mutual hanahaki

not in so many words by jaws_3 (T, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, offshoot of a hanahaki au, somehow without the angst, but WITH the body horror warning that comes with coughing up flowers, Fluff, Getting Together, Mutual Pining)

Slowly Growing On Me by Latios (T, 9k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Allergies, Flowers, Hanahaki AU, LWJ has allergies, Angst with a Happy Ending)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

Blooming You a Garden Inside Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst, Happy Ending, Pain, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Sibling JC, One-Sided WWX/WN, POV Multiple, JC and WWX Talk About Feelings, JZX & WWX Friendship, Good Sibling LXC, Eventual ChengQing, Protective LWJ, Dark LWJ, Protective JC, Protective NHS, Scheming NHS, BAMF LWJ)

bloody flowers i made for you. by anxiouswreck0_0 (T, 3k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending)

~*~

5. i was wondering if someone had written a what if wei wuxians parents lived au ? ive seen some fics where he gets taken in by a sect other than the Jiang but what if his parents lived is so interesting to me yk? happy new year btw 🐍🐍🐍 hope its a good year for yall !!

Building a home by R95irth (T, 586k, WCZ/CS, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-it, Angst with a happy ending, Family fluff)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

🔒Wújī by FairyTaleDreams (M, 55k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WCZ & CSSR Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX)

marital customs by shijieswife (M, 2k, WIP, CSSR/WCZ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR and WCZ Live Meeting the Parents, Protective Parents, Happy Ending, (they get married !!!), Implied Sexual Content)

🧡 Resplendence by FrozenMarVel ( E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, CS Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX, Crossdressing, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of sorts, Fluff, Explicit smut) Wei Ying grows up just with his mom in Resplendence

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

🔒 the world wags on by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 5k, WCZ & WWX, WCZ & LQR, LQR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Not Everyone Dies AU, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Past Child Abuse, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Not for Madam Yu fans) wcz lives

The Wei of family by HikariNoHimeWriter (E, 46k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, CSSR and WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Male omega with vagina, Vaginal Fingering, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vaginal Sex, First Time, Falling In Love, some violence, Genius WWX, WWX Has ADHD, CSSR Has ADHD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Eventual Smut, Love Confessions, Mating Bond, WangXian Elope, Kinda, Not JC Friendly, not yzy friendly, Mpreg, Crossdressing)

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6. I'm in the mood for a fic in which A) Wei Ying accidentally kills or hurts Lan Zhan, and then he realizes he's lost the one he loves. There's endless pining and yearning for him, but somehow, Lan Wangji comes back to life in the end, and they have a happy ending. Any type of fic is fine—lengthy or short, it doesn't matter—but no modern AU, please.

B) Sorry, I have another request too: a fic where Wei Ying isn't oblivious to Lan Wangji's one-sided love, set in the CQL verse with a happy ending :) @vintagesoul999

6A)

If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, YL WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn) but I didn't read it whole, but so far it fits

6B)

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Accidental Marriage, Coming Out, Falling In Love, supportive family, Fluff, Happy Ending, the whole story is happy)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

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7. I just sent a ff for a specific fic about this but I was wondering if there's any other fics with the premise of LWJ drinks tea like it's alcohol? Like, WWX knows when LWJ is annoyed because he just starts drinking cup after cup of tea or eating something specific. Just fics where LWJ has a tell for when he's angry/annoyed/overwhelmed or something if that makes sense? thank you 🌈

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8. Hello!! Im looking for a fic rec similar to At heart by apathyinreverie, its such a great read that has left me wanting for more of wwx happily atticwifing himself

🔒🧡Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

🔒Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman!WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

~*~

9. hi!! this is for the itmf — recently read a small threadfic/hc where wwx was a heavenly demon but supressed in some kind (and also the grandsom of tianlang jun) and i was wondering there werw any canon-era fics where wwx was a demon of some kind, or related to luo binghe, or anything. thanks !

It's Not The Destination (But The People You Save Along The Way) by Arcxus (T, 65k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, character death is WWX, MXY Lives, God of Death!WWX, WWX is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Demon WWX, LWJ humour agenda, Angst, For Want of a Nail, BAMF WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, Worldbuilding, Politics, WWX is Good With Children, WWX is a Jiang)

ghosts do not speak of lies and truth by LunaChi_KuroShihone (T, 6k, WangXian, Burial Mounds, Canonical Character Death, Body Horror, Horror, Ghosts, Character Undeath, demon!WWX, Mild Gore, junior trio plus zizhen make an appearance, YLLZ WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Kissing, Supportive LWJ, Hurt WWX, WWX-centric, Sad WWX, Soft WangXian, Implied Cannibalism)

Hello, Neighbor!!! by Dragon_Scribe (M, 69k, WangXian, LBH/SQQ, MbJ/SQH, Canon Divergence, Demon wwx, Crossover, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dimension Travel?, Mystery, Mind Control, Love Confessions, Self-Indulgent) might also work but Wei Ying gets "adopted" by Luo Binghe after being thrown into the Burial Mounds.

~*~

10. Hi lovelies! My first ITMF of 2025 is the trope as old as time - confessions made during a heated argument (extra points for the confessor completely petrified by what they let slip). Wangxian, preferably a one-shot but I'm not picky!

Regrets by antebunny (G, 38k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

11. Are there any Wangxian fics where Wei Wuxian is in the burial mounds with the Wen remnants and Lan Shah visits him and they get some relationship development but they have an argument about demonic cultivation and then its just so intense they just start kissing and other stuff (plot stuff can happen too, thats just one of the things I want to see😅) If there are, please let me know, please and thank you and have a nice day or night😁 @yasssbassss

Propagate Understanding by draechaeli (E, 175k, WangXian, Not Everyone Dies, Pregnancy Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, MXY Lives, MXY has an arc, Original Children Characters, Babies for Everyone, Crossdressing, Temporary Character Death, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Canon Divergence)

~*~

12. Hi! I'm wondering if you have any fic recs where Lan Zhan was born first, instead of Lan Xichen? I'm in the mood to read about how that may have impacted the story if such a thing exists. Thank you!!

Strong enough to carry him- he ain't heavy, he's my brother. by Starlitverses (Not Rated, 5k, WIP, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, LWJ & NMJ, LXC & NHS & NMJ, Twin Jades of Lan Dynamics, Brotherly Love, LXC Deserves Happiness, Protective LWJ, Age Swap, First jade LWJ, Second Jade LXC, Sect Leader LWJ, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt LWJ, Hurt LXC, LXC & WWX Friendship, Protective Older Brothers, NMJ & LWJ bonding over their little brothers, WangXian learn actual communication, Meddling LXC, you thought older brother LXC was scary? LWJ is worse, Older LWJ, Older WWX, everyone loves and wants to protect LXC, LXC-centric, LWJ will destroy anyone that hurts his brother)

~*~

13. Hello! First time using this, not a specific wangxian fic, but do you have any where the cultivation world assumes wei ying gave birth to A-Yuan? Thank you and ur finders in advance! @knight-cross

Taking Responsibility by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 6k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Getting Together, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Pretend mpreg, Accidental Baby Acquisition, lots of accidental baby acquisition, all of the accidental babies are acquired, Let LWJ have babies, Fluff and Crack)

Wei Wuxian, God of Fertility by tired (T, 19k, WangXian, Family Feels, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, the juniors get REAL drunk, Gossip, POV Multiple, surprisingly not an mpreg fic, Kissing, Self-Esteem Issues, Discussion of Porn and Sex, Post-Canon, SOFT SOFT SOFT, married wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

🔒 Serendipity b yluckymoonly (T, 6k, WangXian, LSZ/LJY, Post-Canon, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Family Feels, The Juniors and their lack of knowledge of where babies actually come from, Fluff, First time parenting a baby, Mentions of WWX's canon mpreg kink, Adoption, WWX and NHS are BFF, Happy Ending)

chapters 44 and 45 of 🧡 Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

~*~

14. Hi! For the next itmf I’d like to see some dumbass Wei Wuxian! Like don’t get me wrong, I love clever WWX as much as the next person but I’d like to read a fic (crack preferably) where’s he’s just a straight up dumbass, an idiot sandwich

Thank youuuu✨✨

diamonds are wei wuxian’s worst enemy by thefaceofno (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Miscommunication, Angst with a happy ending)

every time we kiss i swear i could fly by sarahyyy (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Kissing Booths, Misunderstandings, Getting Together, First Kiss, Love Confessions)

🔒 The Swan and the Dumbass by ElDiablito_SF (E, 16k, WangXian, Humor, Crack, Fairy Tale, But also Angst and Tragedy, But not too much tragedy, and it's followed by an entire sexpilogue so you know, tw: angry swans, WWX is a pushy bottom, LJW is a consummate service top, Swan Lake Fusion, Explicit Sexual Content)

a life in your shape by occultings (microcomets) (T, 8k, WangXian, WQ/MM, Modern, College/University, Misunderstandings, Confessions, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, almost 9k of dramatic irony, [PODFIC] a life in your shape by occultings by mistynrisky)

Wild in the Streets by danegen (E, 11k, WangXian, WIP, Modern with Magic, POV LWJ, Switching, Vampires, Set in America, So many pop culture references, Mama Lan and Mama Wei are alive because I say so, no jiangs, Vampire WWX, Supernatural LWJ) I'm not sure if this is your flavor of idiot wei ying😅

come rest your bones next to me by tired (T, 39k, wangxian, hogwarts au, mistaken identity, comedy of errors, magic, animagus, awkward flirting, shenigans, quidditch, injuries, happy ending, getting together)

~*~

15. hello!! hope you are having a wonderful day :) For the next ITMF, are there any good zombie apocalypse fics? sort of like The Edge of Night

❤️ A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun (Not rated, 60k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, zombie apocalypse, zombie WWX, yunmeng trio, A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun [Podfic] (WIP) by Miss Appellation (Lizeth))

Darkness Before the Dawn by Selenay (E, 64k, WangXian, Zombie Apocalypse, Modern: Still Have Powers, Necromancer WWX, Reunions, toddler A-Yuan, There Was Only One Bed, There are zombies but not graphically horrific zombies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Find a home in the middle of an apocalypse)

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)

~*~

16. hiii i recently discovered my undying love for JZX and would like more fics which are centered around him

🧡 Song by WithBroomBefore (T, 41k, Platonic Soulbond, Hurt/comfort, Canon Divergence, No golden core transfer, JC&JZX stay in Xuanwu cave, Fix-it, Temporary character death, [PODFIC] Song by Gwogobo) Jin Zixuan isn't the focus of Song but he plays a major role in it.

Jin Zixuan Does the Time Warp by marigold_sigil (G, 7k, XuanLi, Time Travel, Fix-It, Crack Treated Seriously, Awkward JZX, Good Person JZX, Temporary Character Death, Everybody Lives, JZX & WWX Friendship, Good Sibling JZX, JZX makes friends, Bad Humor, JZ Bashing, JGS Bashing, Qíshān Wēn Sect Bashing, Sect Leader JZX, POV JZX, Canon Relationships, JGY Redemption)

ask until your heart gets it right by Stratisphyre (G, 6k, XuanLi, Implied XiYao, Background WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Unreliable Narrator JZX, Minor surprise pairing at the end, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

giant mancala by astrolesbian (T, 1k, JC & WWX & JZX, XuanLi, WangXian, JZX POV, Drinking, Bonding)

🔒The Emperor's New Clothes by bonyenne (G, 556, JC & JZX, XuanLi, Modern AU, College/University, Humor, JZX is a good boyfriend, JC is So Done, JZX Tries)

🔒The Throats of Our Wrists Brave Lilies by greyskais (M, 85k, WIP, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Sunshot Campaign, Male-Female Friendship, Espionage, BAMF JYL, JYL has an Ace Up Her Sleeve, Give MY Friends Agenda, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Assassination Attempt(s), Family Secrets, JC Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug) The archive just went down so I can't check if this is more JYL or JZX focused, but it's definitely about the two of them working together and was very highly rec'd to me

❤️🔒 Candy & Conspiracies by Reverie (cl410) (T, 16k, WangXian, JZX & WWX, Jīn Sect WWX, Chaos Gremlin WWX, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Cloud Recesses, Found Family, pure idiocy, And some light murder, the chaotic jin trio we could have had, good madam jin, No Angst, Canon Divergence)

watch what we’ll become by glitteringmoonlight (T, 60k, JZX & WWX, WangXian, Background JZX/JYL, WWX & JZX are married but completely platonically, featuring my let WWX and JZX be bros agenda, slow burn? is it even a slow burn if they confess but can’t be together for Reasons?, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Angst with a Happy Ending, you’ve heard of enemies to friends to lovers, now get ready for enemies to reluctant husbands to begrudging best friends)

🔒 long bygone burdens by humancorn (T, 17k, JYL/JZX, JZX & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling JZX, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, JZX-centric, JZX Tries, JZX & WWX Friendship, Wife Guy JZX, He’s doing his best ok, Canon Divergence, mentions of corporal punishment)

If It's Me You Need To Turn To, We'll Get By by little-smartass (Linxcat) (G, 19k, JYL/JZX, JZX & JGY, JYL & JGY, Canon Divergence, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, discussions of post-partum depression/similar mental health struggles, JZX loves his wife so much you guys, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, sickfic that accidentally saves canon, the 3zun relationships are in the second chapter and are minor)

Marital Prospects by Vamillepudding (G, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings, LWJ Needs a Hug)

Fowl Play by Alwritey87 (G, 2k, JYL/JZX, JZX & WWX, JC & JZX, JZX & JL & JYL, JC & JL, Everyone Lives, JYL & JZX Live, Awkward JZX, JZX & WWX Friendship, Good Person JZX, JZX Tries, Married JYL/JZX, JL Loves JC, JZX & WWX recreate the scene from the titanic but on a sword, JL & WWX Bonding, WWX makes it to JL 100th day celebration, Happy Ending, JZX's happy family, Ducks save the day, JZX loves his wife)

The Unbearable Pain of Being Seen series by meyari (T, 9k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, slice of war, PTSD, Canon Compliant, Sunshot Campaign, the unbearable reality of seeing someone in pain, the unbearable pain of being seen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jin Murder Baby Patrol, Warning: JGS, Not Canon Compliant, Off-screen Rape, Off-Screen Murder, Fluff and Crack, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Murder, Murder Mystery, surprise acceptance)

Brittle Steel Slicing Through by meyari (T, 19k, JYL/JZX, WangXian, Major Character Death, Sunshot Campaign, War, aftermath of war, PTSD, Warning: Jin Guangshan, fuck that guy, murder as a method of problem solving, murder as a flirtation method, learning to communicate for idiots, Time Travel Fix-It, Jin Murder-Babies FTW, Fluff and Crack)

~*~

17. Hii, I hope you're haveing a good day until now!! For the next ITMF, I was wondering if there are any murder mystery( mystery solving in general), case fics and all that shebang but the characters are in highschool! Just has the vibe of the show School Spirits, actually.

(sorry if this is too specific 😭)

🔒 Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 51k, WangXian, Occult, Ouija, Modern, College, WWX's into the occult and drags his friends along, Paranormal, Fun, Humor, Horror, Sharing a Bed, Pizza, The way to a college student's heart is through food, Slow Burn, Mild Sexual Content, Oblivious, WWn is a moron, Crack, Misunderstandings, Jealousy, Serious Treated Crack, Light Angst, Secrets, some darker elements, Mutual Pining, Emotional Constipation, Morons both of them)

~*~

18. ITMF some good JYL/JZX centric fics ^^

All you need is Love (and 15 years (and MianMian)) by Scrippio (T, 7k, JYL/JZX, JZX & MM & JYL, Modern, school au, (some of it), Fluff, Getting Together)

from the top, this time with personality by thunderwear (G, 17k, JYL/JZX, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, cloud recesses days, JYL stands up for herself, Canon Divergence, Family Feels, love in its many forms)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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slavic-roots-western-mind · 10 months ago

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Main types of Chinese Opera pt. 1

There are many different types of chinese opera, so here are some of the main ones!

Peking Opera 京剧 (Jīngjù)

This is probably one of the most well-known operas, originating from Beijing during the Qing dynasty. There are 4 main roles:

1.生 (shēng), which is usually an older dignified male character such as a scholar, which can be divided into older, younger and martial 生 aka 武生 (wǔshēng)

2. 旦 (dàn), a female role which was previously played by men as women were not allowed to perform during the Qing dynasty, but nowadays both men and women can play this role. This role has several subtypes:

闺门旦 (guīméndàn), a young unmarried high-status virtuous woman, whose main focus is singing.

正旦 (Zhèngdàn)/青衣 (Qīngyī), an elegant, middle-aged, usually married woman who mainly sings.

花旦 (Huādàn), a young woman who unlike the Guīméndàn focuses on speech and movement.

武旦 (Wǔdàn), this is a martial arts role with quite a lot of stunts and fighting with rare singing moments

刀马旦 (Dāomǎdàn), a young brave warrior, who usually focuses on acrobatics, singing and dancing unlike the Wǔdàn.

老旦 (Lǎodàn), is an older female role, usually with a lower singing voice.

彩旦 (Cǎi dàn), is more of a clown role, which is apparently more commonly performed by men

4. 净 (Jìng), a "rough man" role, usually has a vibrant and strong character, which has heavy face painting.

5. 丑 (chǒu), the clown role, which is one of the most physically demanding roles due to the acting and acrobatics combo, despite being considered as a minor role.

There are over 1400 stories used in Peking Opera, with 2 traditional types, civil and martial. Civil focuses on the relationship between the characters and is usually about normal daily occurrences, whereas martial is more about action and fighting. Another more modern type of differentiation divides the plays into traditional (pre-1949ish), plays created after 1949, and contemporary plays.

Kunqu Opera 昆曲 (kūnqǔ)

This is one of the oldest types of Chinese opera, originating from Kunshan, combining signing, dancing and martial arts. It features similar characters like the Peking Opera with another character 末 (Mò), who is an old man with a long beard.

However, there are some differences, as Kunqu uses softer, melodic music and different instruments such as the flute as the main accompanying instrument rather than Peking Opera's stringed instruments. The types of stories are also different, as Kunqu's focus more on the romantic and poetic aspect, exploring various classical stories. Peking Opera's stories tend to be a bit more varied as previously mentioned.

Traditionally, Kunqu was mostly for the upper-class as the stories performed were classical Chinese literature, and at the time not everyone had the opportunity to learn. This may be why Kunqu typically uses classic chinese, whereas Peking uses a combination of both classic and vernacular, making it more available for everyone.

Yue Opera 越剧 (yuèjù)

This opera is also known as Shaoxing opera, originating from Shaoxing, Zhejiang in early 1900s. Originally the performances featured only male actors but nowadays all-female performance troupes are becoming the standard. It's interestingly the 2nd most loved opera type, just after Peking Opera as it's slow and romantic form is perfect for love stories such as The Butterfly Lovers.

Yue Opera also features the usual set of character types e.g. 生，旦 etc. except they are usually played by women.

In terms of appearance, Yue Opera tends to go for a more subtle makeup look (as subtle as stage makeup can be) and simpler but nonetheless gorgeous costumes, in contrast to Peking Opera's dramatic and bursting colors.

Yue Opera usually relies on string instruments, with a smaller musical ensemble and musical accompaniment so that the performers singing is more clear unlike Peking Opera's stronger background music.

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mister-peregrine · 2 months ago

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Cherik Rec List: Kink Meme Fill Edition

By request of @thepointofme, I decided to make a reclist of some of my favorite Cherik fanfics not on AO3. This will include a lot of unfinished WIPs, unfortunately, because most fills on the kink meme tend to be such, but they are all well worth the read if I’m putting them on here, unfinished or not, so I won’t be labeling them as WIPs <3

*My personal favorites will be bolded.

(Also, most of these fills are extremely wordy, so I’ve summarized the lengthy ones as succinctly as I can.)

Objects in Mirror Summary: Erik/Charles, pre-slash. AU in which, while Charles Xavier has just returned from Cuba, severed ties with the CIA and started setting up his school, Erik Lehnsherr is an entirely human engineer who's not remotely fond of mutants. Things are complicated when, in the absence of Hank, Charles hires Erik to build Cerebro Mk.2.

Out of the Park Prompt: Erik/Charles, ensemble cast. Erik is a professional baseball player, and Charles is his clueless yet supportive boyfriend.

Little Birds (AO3) Prompt: Erik/Charles, ensemble cast. AU where they are birds. Yes, it just so happens to be my favorite fill on this list.

Interplanetary Incidents Prompt: Erik/Charles, background pairings. In a futuristic sci-fi setting, Erik and Charles are princes of their respective planets who have just been arranged to be married.

Blue Hotel Prompt: Erik/Charles. Charles and Erik are married, but going through a rough patch, when Erik finds himself teetering on the edge of an affair with his coworker Janos.

How Deep the Bullet Lies Prompt: Erik/Charles, previous Shaw/Charles. Count of Monte Cristo-inspired, modern AU. See full prompt for warnings.

Stage Left (AO3) Prompt: Erik/Charles/Moira, OT3, ensemble cast. Phantom of the Opera AU. + Companion fill below (AO3).

The Bawd and the John Prompt: Erik/Charles. Charles is a brothel owner and Erik, one of their best clients, is madly in love with him.

A Thousand Pages (Give or Take a Few) Prompt: Erik/Charles. Modern setting, rival bookshop owners AU.

Turn Me Inside Out Prompt: Gen, slight Erik/Charles undertones, team as family. Set during the original trilogy. Wherein the original First Class members are all de-aged to their 1962 selves in the modern day.

The Sexual Education of Charles Xavier Prompt: Erik/Charles. No divorce!AU. Charles and Erik seek out a young mutant who sprays them with her powers that induce them to have an uncontrollable amount of sex with each other. Erik, it seems, is full of sexual surprises.

Imagination Prompt: 5+1. Darkfic, mirror!verse.

Honey, They Took the Kids Prompt: Erik/Charles, post-divorce. A government facility kidnaps the children, and Charles enlists the Brotherhood’s help in getting them back.

Untitled Fill Prompt: AU where Charles is paralysed before the start of the movie, either from birth or in a childhood/teenage accident.

Please reblog for visibility so more people will have the chance to read these hidden gems!

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #fanfic #fic rec #personal rec #op #these are for you @thepointofme!!! hope you enjoy :)#most of these are fairly long btw; i have enough fills saved to make a second post with shorter fics too #i also have several livejournal fics saved that aren’t fills and i plan to rec some of those as well soon

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wisteriasymphony · 5 months ago

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actually chosen one holders is a concept i kind of adore because i love the idea that tikki is secretly pissed about being paired with anyone that isn't marinette, especially if it's seemingly by accident.

this is also exclusively a tikki problem by the way, everyone else is generally fine with not being with their #1 pick. it's just like if the girl in high school drama class who always gets the leads in everything was suddenly stuck in an ensemble role

#tikki kwami of creation should be a puppet master control freak. and also really petty and stupid #like hello??? she's 'world ending cookie' stupid??

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da-rulah · 2 years ago

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Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.

Your glove. It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him.

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.

He must have been dreaming...

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa.

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you.

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should.

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”

But you were gone.

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.

Not anymore.

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters.

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.

His his his.

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...

Until...

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.

Just a fucking dream.

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds? Copia sure hoped so.

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still...

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him.

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all...

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion. “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight. “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...”

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial.

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again.

“Sì, Papa.”

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey....

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.”

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.

On a fucking Thursday.

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.

“W-well, yes...”

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him.

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all...

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke...

He cleared his throat quietly. “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing.

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you. Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins.

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture.

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin.

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you. “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-”

“Cardinal please, I can’t-” “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him. “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-” “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings.

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...”

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you. “Sorella, please...”

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust... Of submission.

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head. “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant.

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.

The seminar room...

… from your dream.

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours.

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?”

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma.

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.

Tempting you.

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before.

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try... “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...

But you could never deny your Cardinal.

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth.

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.”

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him.

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon...

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.

This was so much better.

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read.

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...”

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.

Wet.

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric.

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back.

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.

Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____? What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment.

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest.

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear.

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well.

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches.

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you .

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched.

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...”

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed.

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out.

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream.

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself...

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least...

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment.

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first.

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-”

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics. “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you. “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers...

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be... FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

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