#fucking proprio

[ross-nekochan]

JAGO - Venus (2018)

JAGO is an Italian artist working in the field of sculpture. He was born in Frosinone (Italy) in 1987, where he studied art high school and then the Academy of Fine Arts (left in 2010).

His artistic research is rooted in traditional techniques. Jago uses marble as a noble material, but he treats fundamental themes of the era he inhabits, establishing a direct relationship with the public through the use of video and social networks to share the production process.

#JAGO #Venere #the Michelangelo of the new era #Venus #contemporary art #contemporary artist #sculpture #contemporary sculptor #IO SONO ALLIBITA RAGA #seems real skin but it's FUCKING MARBLE #IO LO AMO FOLLEMENTE #come artista e come ragazzo #perchè è proprio gnocco #infatti è pelato :)))) #women #beauty

[yep-ishouldbesleeping]

Me @ seeing that Europe eliminated Georgia

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #Georgia #Iru #one of the best ones amongst all those fucking boring ballands and tik tok dances Europe tasteless proprio cazzo

[primrosepollen]

rip to people who dont speak italian but the devil bullying ivan because he uses the word "lacchè" too much and ivan cringing so desperately was the funniest thing ive ever seen in my life

#brothers karamazov #bk 1969 #it was so fucking funny omg iloved it #the way he dramatically falls on the bed LMAOOO #i love him so much #scusa ivan ma lacchè è proprio una parola stupida #te lo devo dire

[lesbicastagna]

i just truly am taken aback everytime i see someone romanticizing (not sure that's the right term) the dynamic guts and casca have with the moon kid or whatever like. OBSESSED with nuclear cishet straight family. this ain't the right neighborhood for you i fear. learn how to read. respect women? idk anything at this point

^ me every single day i'm cursed to be here

#like im not even the biggest fan of it as a plot development but like it can be interesting with like. a sick incestous approach #exploring of perceived childhood innocence. sick bisexualism man i dont know. anything but 🥺🥺🥺 awww shes his mom like be for fucking real #LET ALONE THATS THE KID OF (ALSO) AN ASSAULT? NAH i cant stand it in here #non ce la possono proprio fare porco dio dovete morire non sto scherzando

[theophagie-remade]

Watching people talk about Tomura's dream sequence and seeing them go "Oh that's his family holding him back, right" but not make the connection that the reveal of Nana's hand being there = AFO held onto and used her corpse after having killed her...

#povero hori. che deve fare per farvi capire che è un matto scocciato (apprezzamento) #io sono mesi che dico che voglio ubriacarmi con lui proprio per questo #i mean at least he spelled it out out loud in the newest chapter. about having fucked with her hand post mortem. so ❤️ #mytext #animanga #bnha #char tag #afo

[paginacentosessantuno]

the Other Problem is that I find captivating the other one too 🙄

#DIREEEE #intervention for me when?? #spent the evening listening to that pedal show with noel #didn't understand shit but I just kept listening two fucking hours of it #bene #tutto bene #meglio se non fosse proprio durante la sessione d'esame ecco #oasis #m.

[moody-hummingbird]

Ipocrita del cazzo.

#frasi #citazioni #frasi tristi #frasi e citazioni #cretina #deficiente #sei proprio scema #stupida #stupid as fuck

[omarfor-orchestra]

Il preferito della mia psicologa è Edoardo oh there's so much I could say about her from this information

#le ho raccontato dei drama all'interno del cast ha riso un sacco #i was supposed to tell her about my ed but guess what we talked about the possible one of cric e crac #crac è lei #'la sento proprio felice' I'm worried as fuck maybe I'm a better actor than i thought #ero troppo isterica oggi 'vitale' va bene #lei nel senso vr

[forlorn-crows]

And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?” 

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back. 

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer. 

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.” 

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers. 

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack. 

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually. 

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow. 

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar. 

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply. 

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable. 

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this). 

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?” 

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul. 

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.” 

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?” 

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs. 

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat.  “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters. 

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south. 

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now. 

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft. 

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply. 

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue. 

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers. 

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more. 

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other. 

“F-fuck,” he stutters. 

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?” 

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants. 

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments. 

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll. 

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?” 

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes: 

“May I?” 

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards. 

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit. 

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.  

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand. 

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human. 

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them. 

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle. 

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum. 

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.  

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.” 

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture. 

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that. 

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second. 

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke. 

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by. 

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans. 

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly. 

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his. 

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is. 

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back. 

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs. 

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in. 

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled. 

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t. 

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch. 

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is. 

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one. 

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

#the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #copia x dewdrop #dewdrop x copia #papa x dewdrop #dewdrop x papa #copia/dewdrop #dewdrop/copia #papa/dewdrop #dewdrop/papa #CORRECTLY translated italian #dews gonna go back to the dorms and theyre gonna smell copia on him and then EVERYONES gonna want him

[landonorizzz]

SUMMARY: pierre is not the boyfriend of the year that everyone thought. his girlfriend is left to fend for herself, fourtunately she seems to have good people in her corner PAIRING: pierre gasly x ex! fem! ferrari media team! oc , [redacted] x fem! ferrari media team! oc (no faceclaim) WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, cursing A/N: this is my first one, it was supposed to be y/n BUT i just didn't like how it looked? idk, i needed to have a name so everyone meet Marceline ;)) A/N 2: this one's very twitter heavy, idk why, also we meet new characters

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liked by marcilazzaro1, vincent_fabbri and others

brunolazzaro03 next time i see him it's on sight

tagged: marcilazzaro1

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marcilazzaro1 oh baby brother, i love you too

↳brunolazzaro03 okay okay, just stop stealing my ice cream

landonorris and what are you gonna do, you're like 12

↳brunolazzaro03 im 20 and i've been training karate since i was 6 ;)) ↳landonorris ah, got it.

maxverstappen1 can i help?

↳brunolazzaro03 i mean, i guess? can you fight? ↳charles_leclerc no, he cannot. he's like a kitten ↳maxverstappen1 i CAN fight wtf, estebanocon can confirm ↳estebanocon that wasn't a fight, it was a shove

charles_leclerc oh shit you did karaoke without me? i'm hurt

↳brunolazzaro03 don't worry, you didn't miss much. she was awful ↳marcilazzaro1 oh i'm sorry that i was having fun and not singing like a pop star ↳charles_leclerc i'm sure it wasn't that bad, but you are legally obligated to go to a karaoke bar with us now ↳marcilazzaro1 name a time and place

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marci's messages:

Marci: Okay, so I do have questions. Apparently.

Claire Ask away, I've told you I'm here to answer anything I can.

Marci: He was in Milan for 17-19th June. Did you meet up then?

Claire: Wait a sec, I'll check the messages.

Claire: He texted me on the 17th, we met up the next day.

Marci: Fucking hell

Marci: What a fucking dickhead

Marci: I can't believe him

Marci: No, actually, I can't believe myself! How could I be so stupid? I KNEW something was up.

Claire: What happened?

Marci: My birthday's June 18th. I had to be in the UK for work, tried to get him to come with me as well, but he said he was needed at the factory.

Claire: What the fuckk

Claire: I'm so sorry this happened to you and for my involvement in it.

Claire: Merda, che proprio stronzo

Claire: The audacity. And his dick ain't even that good.

Marci: Jesus. Ain't that the truth

Marci: What are you doing this weekend? I still have questions and I'd rather to talk about it face to face

Marci: If that's okay with you of course.

Claire: Yeah, sure.

liked by sebastianvettel, lance_stroll and others

marcilazzaro1 last moments in paradise ☀️ thank you for being my friends 💛 miss you already!

tagged: brunolazzaro03, sarah_scott, alliebanks, jonas_braun and jo_king

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jonas_braun you gotta have more free weekends

↳ marcilazzaro1 yeah, let me just say that to the big boss i'm sure he'll be very happy about that ↳ jo_king scuderiaferrari ;) ↳ scuderiaferrari sorry, boss says she's essential ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤠

sundaylover hope you had a good break! ferrari media is different without you

↳ cuddlyriccx right??? it's way less entertaining ↳ elplanxincoming and charles is not enthusiastic at all lol

yukitsunoda0511 i found a good restaurant for singapore so you better come back

↳ marcilazzaro1 i can't wait!

shithappens this is so precious to me, you don't understand

danielricciardo so is my favorite media perosn coming back to work?

↳ marcilazzaro1 i need to make a short pitstop first but yeah ;) ↳ madi_races pitstop? ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤫

charles_leclerc can't wait to have you back!

↳ ilpredestinatox i NEED to know which side is charles on here

↳ cuddlyxricc so true bestie

carlossainz55 come back, they're making us do challenges without you

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MONZA post race interview:

liked by sebastianvettel, clairobernie_x and others

marcielazzaro1 turns out that the only good thing about him was his taste in women ;)

tagged: clairobernie_x

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ilpredestinatox IM SORRY???? RUE WHEN WAS THIS

elplanxincoming OH this is petty, I LOVE THIS

sundaylover this is the solidarity we need

↳shithappens she's a girl's girl 🥺

maxverstappen1 so that's what you're doing instead of working?

↳marcielazzaro1 i have boss' permisson so shush

fonzlove that's some queen shit right here

↳aussieboi YES

multi21apologist is NO ONE gonna mention the seb like??

↳ redmilton honestly, he's been in her likes for ages (since he made an acc i guess) so im kinda... used to it?

clairobernie_x who knew medicore sex could make this happen ;)

↳marcilazzaro1 CLAIRE 😳 ↳barbiegirl i just know pierre is reading this shaking in his boots

danielricciardo that's some fine views right there

sarah_scott and you didn't take me??

↳marcilazzaro1 next time babes, i promise

charles_leclerc this is amazing

↳clairobernie_x we know ;) ↳madi_races oh i like her, can we keep her?

nyoomf1 WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMOMS

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liked by marcilazzaro1, sebastianvettel and others

clairobernie_x girls just wanna have fun (and bitch about stupid men)

tagged: marcilazzaro1

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landonorizz i'm so happy they're friendly

madi_races oh they're so pretty

↳forzalec16 right??? im SO gay

marcilazzaro1 it was so good to officially meet you

↳clairobernie_x i'm so glad i reached out

shithappens this dynamic is precious, i don't wanna say "thank you pierre" but........

↳marcilazzaro1 thank you Pierre ;) ↳shithappens your honor i LOVE HER

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madi's radio: pt. 2 is here! next ones might take some time cause i'm just swamped with course work and i have a buch of exams this week, sorry. also how are we liking the characters and dynamics so far?

tag list: @sunny44 @rockyhayzkid @biancathecool @unluckyyoshi

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

#f1 #red bull f1 #f1 smau #f1 instagram au #max verstappen #pierre gasly #pg10 #alpine f1 #esteban ocon #lance stroll #lando norris #for fun #sv5

[tsumtsumrry]

sex with harry headcannons

lots of kisses. like i’m talking kisses on top of kisses on top of kisses. he loves the intimacy.

he’s very touchy, heavy on the skin to skin contact. he really needs to feel you

begging (“one more, jus’ gimme one more baby. please? please, angel?”) or (“need to cum, please lemme—fuck fuck. please please please.”)

when he’s on top he’s so passionate with his strokes. slow, deep and hard. he isn’t afraid to wreck you though, don’t underestimate him.

dunno why but i think he’s a boob guy. loves to have his hands on them, suck on them.

check ins (“you alright, m’love? feels good?”) or (“m’being good? i’m your good boy?”)

needs you to get there, no matter what. your pleasure is legitimately his top priority, he never leaves his girl unsatisfied.

very vocal, not ashamed when it comes to moaning

very needy when he’s in the mood (“please? just a cuddle? a kiss? love you so much.”) it’s never just a cuddle or a kiss.

loves to push/test limits (“think you can do four this time, pretty girl?”) or (“i promise i can take it.”)

loves to finger you. it’s never been a fixation he’s had before you but he just loves the way he can make you into a blubbering mess when he’s stroking the inside of you so deliciously.

aftercare is so important to him. he loves that you guys take care of each other and show your appreciation after all that pleasure. the love he feels after the fact is more of a high than the actual orgasm to him

loves eating you out. he tells you all the time that he can spend forever between your thighs. you thought he was joking but he meant it. he loves the taste of you, the way he can feel your thighs shake around his head, the way he can tease you when he licks over your panties and how he can hear the relieved moan when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit.

subspace and “domspace”

subspace: slurring his words a bit, unfocused, glassy eyes, constantly asking for reassurance, feeling so good he doesn’t really think about anything else. (“s’so fuckin’ good baby, g’na cum. am i bein’ good? you love me?”) and (“this is the best i’ve e-ever felt. i can’t even fuckin’ t-think, b-baby love.”)

“domspace”: sharp vision, focused on your every move, his job is to make you both feel good and to protect you, rougher with you, more demanding, his voice is deep with a little bit of a strained whine in it from how turned on he is. just wants to take care of you. (“don’ move. take my fucking cock, princess. or is it too much for you?”) and (“it’s good? like me stretching you out like this? filling you up? my pretty filthy girl.”)

the occasional dirty talk in a different language to tease you. (“si', piccola. proprio così. prendere il mio cazzo cosi' bene.”) yeah, baby. just like that. taking my cock so fucking well. or (“s'il te plaît, bébé. je ferai tout ce que vous demandez. Je t'aime tellement. baise-moi s'il te plaît.”) please, baby. i'll do anything you ask. love you so much. please fuck me. sometimes you think he purposely learns dirty things when he tours the world just to have you shaking under him.

#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles headcannons #old

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 22nd

Thigh Fucking, Papa Emeritus III x Plus Size!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Thigh fucking; somnophilia; needy dom!Terzo; plus size!Reader; lots of dirty talk; established relationship; consensual non-consent; Terzo’s drunk; free use; spit as lube; praise kink; body worship; cum eating; cunnilingus;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

When you went to bed that night, you were well aware that you’d be there alone. Terzo had an evening of meetings and gatherings, and he wouldn’t be back in your shared chambers until the early hours of the morning. You had a busy day the following day, so didn’t want to attend, but gave him a sweet kiss on the lips and sent him on his way.

Which is why you were surprised when you woke in the middle of the night, moon pouring in through the opened curtains to gloved hands raising your legs in the air. A panic washed through you until you saw Terzo at your hips on his knees, his hands wrapped around your flesh and positioning you as he wanted you. You looked at the clock: it was just after the witching hour. He was home earlier than he would be usually.

His eyes were focussed on your legs, his tongue now placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed flesh. He’d already tugged and manoeuvred your silk, babydoll nightgown off your legs so he could access your body easier, but you’d been so deep in your sleep that you didn’t feel it. His paints were smeared, partially because of his night of drinks and meetings, but mostly because it was all over your legs as he’d run his lips up and down, or accidentally whacked himself as he was moving your body. In his drunken state, he didn’t even realise that you were awake. Still didn’t stop himself from mumbling away as he pulled his incredibly hard cock out of his pants.

“Mi dispiace, amore mio.” He said, words slurring and voice so low it was almost a growl. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I cannot wait any longer.” You were watching him, trying not to let him know that you were awake and doing so. You let yourself be pliant for him, allowed him to take what he needed from you, whatever that may be. The sound of his voice, the way his words purred as he spoke, sent shockwaves down to your core and had you sopping for him.

He wrapped his arms around your calves and pulled your body gently towards him so you were completely flush against his torso. You could feel his hard cock, now dripping with precum as he positioned himself in between your thighs and pushed through, groaning deeply at the feel of your soft flesh wrapping around him.

“Sì, è proprio così. That’s it, pretty girl. Just like that.” He opened your legs just a little and spat down them, aiming for his cock to help lube it up and make the slide smoother, but his first attempt missed and landed on your nightgown. “Oh, merda!” He said upon realising his drunken self missed his mark. So, he spat again, this time hitting where he wanted to, and began thrusting again.

You could see his thoughts racing as he fucked in between your plush thighs, your body jiggling at the impact of his movements. He moaned as he watched your thighs ricochet off of him, and in turn your soft stomach and breasts that were practically falling out of your clothes. He was certain one particularly rough thrust would expose your nipples to him. And this continued to be verbalized as he thought out loud: “If I could reach them I would suck on them, amore. I want them in my mouth as I fuck you just the way you like. I cannot fuck you that way tonight, though. I am sorry. Papa had too much wine. In the morning I’ll have you properly. For now, I need these thighs. These,” he gripped hold of one, “gorgeous,” he squeezed the flesh in between his fingers hard enough to bruise, “thighs. Sathanas, your body is sinful.

“Been thinking about this all day, amore mio.” He continued, his thrusts getting harder the closer he got to orgasm. “Your habit shrunk a little in the wash, or we’ve been feeding you so well. You’ve gotten plumper. Cazzo! Mi stai facendo impazzire! I would have gone insane if I didn’t do this. So good. So good for your Papa.”

You couldn’t keep up the act anymore. His words were going straight to your cunt and making you clench around nothing. You needed to cum just as much as he did. “Papa?” You called for him, your voice a half-whine.

“Amore mio, I’m sorry. I needed your body or I might have killed someone.”

“Papa!” You giggled at his confession, knowing that he was mostly joking.

Your hand snaked down to your pussy and pushed one finger through your thighs and folds to reach your clit. The tightness he’d held your thighs together made it quite difficult, but you’d managed it.

“Oh, brava ragazza. Touch yourself for Papa. That’s it. Wicked girl always tempting your Papa to sin. Making your Papa so desperate he has to fuck you while you sleep.” He tutted in disapproval but followed it with a gutteral grunt. “You’re gonna make Papa cum soon.”

Knowing that playing with your clit would be pointless now, you moved up to your nipples. You pulled the straps of your nightgown down and allowed your breasts to be completely exposed. Immediately, you felt Terzo’s eyes on you, watching your hands like a hawk as you played with your sensitive nipples, teasing yourself as you couldn’t play with yourself to completion.

Terzo cooed, “is my good girl wet for her Papa, hm?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“You wanna cum so badly, don’t you?”

“I need to!”

“Papa’s got you, tesoro. Papa will finish you off soon. Talk to me. Tell me you want my cum.”

“I do, Papa! I want your cum so bad. I want you to fuck my thighs. Use my body for your pleasure. I wanna watch you cum all over my body, please!”

Terzo’s grunt became more like a scream as he thrust one final time. He only reached halfway through your thighs before he came, his seed painting the inside of your thighs and soiling the soft skin, making you sticky with him. His teeth nipped at your leg, fingers digging into whatever skin he could find as he held on for dear life, his orgasm knocking the wind out of him and combining with the alcohol making him nearly delirious.

When he’d calmed down, he opened and spread your legs for him, allowing you both to see the damage in the moonlight. As your legs were pried open, his cum had stuck together so that there were strings connecting both of your legs that snapped the further apart they became. Trickles of it ran down your thighs and pooled at your cunt, dripping from your pubic mound and onto your clitoris. If you weren’t so horny, this would be disgusting. But the fact that you were so wet and needy for him only added to your arousal.

“Papa,” you whined, doe eyes in full effect knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist, “I need you.”

“Of course, tesoro. How could Papa be so selfish? Let me take care of you.”

His tongue ran down your right leg first, gathering his seed and licking it into his mouth, swallowing it as he went. He then moved onto the other thigh, cleaning you up and driving you insane as he did. Finally, he dove into your cunt as you’d been needing him to. He rested the heels of your feet on his back and had your thighs trap him there as he began to work away at you.

At the first long, rough lick, you accidentally shrieked. His lips then quickly encircled your clit and began sucking as hard as they could, giving you a powerful rush of pleasure that had your back arching off the bed and your thighs clamping around his head. While keeping his mouth sealed, the tip of his tongue continued to move erratically as it worked various parts of your clit in different directions. Your hand was now entangled in his dark, unruly hair as he gave you the most exquisite pleasure, moving his head in all directions as he sucked on your tender bud to keep your pleasure as incredible as possible.

He went on like this endlessly, mercilessly driving you closer and closer to the edge. Even when your hips bucked and you started using his face for your own pleasure, he continued his assault, unwavering and refusing to stop until you came on his tongue.

“Oh my - fuck!” You screeched. “I’m gonna fucking cum! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He gave you one of the most powerful orgasms you’d ever had that night, continuing his intense attack even as you came. Your vision turned white in the strain your body was under from such a violent explosion, fingers tugging harshly on his roots despite how painful it must have been for him. Somehow, your voice was still working despite your lungs giving up, screaming through the intensity as though it would make it better.

Terzo refused to move his head or stop his ministrations even as you tried to push his head away, remaining at your core and stubbornly licking until he was finished. When he finally pulled away, you were able to gasp some air into your lungs, eyes falling upon his shiny face, a shit-eating grin plastered on there underneath your cum, clearly proud of what he’d done to you.

He crawled up the bed and gave you a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. His paints now almost completely gone around the lower half of his face, cheeks included, but his smile still remained. He collapsed on top of you, the weight of his body pushing you down into the mattress and keeping you there. He was sleepy now, you could see it in his mismatched eyes that he wanted to stay on top of you and fall asleep, using your softness as a pillow.

“Your paints, my love.” You reminded him, stroking his hair as an apology for pulling on them so roughly earlier. “Let’s go get cleaned up, hm?”

“I am comfortable.” He told you, burying his face in between your breasts. “Let me stay.”

“No, let’s go.”

He whined. As he spoke, his voice was muffled by your skin. “I may be an old man, tesoro, but I am still drunk enough to throw a tantrum if you do not let me have my way.”

“And I’ll never give you my cunt again if you do.”

He looked up at you, playfully offended. “You wouldn’t.”

“Would you like to risk it?”

He didn’t waste time even pretending to think, he pushed himself off you and gripped hold of your hand. “Come on, then. You can’t lay there all night. We must clean. Up, up, up, lazy bones!”

What an absolute shitbag.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghost kinktober #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost fan fiction #ghost fanfic #ghost fandom #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus x reader smut #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii smut #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader smut #papa terzo #papa terzo smut #papa terzo x reader #papa terzo x reader smut #terzo #terzo smut #terzo x reader #terzo x reader smut

[mondaymelon]

I. adoro il tuo blog e sarò sempre e per sempre un fan di quanto sia estetico e piacevole alla vista. I tuoi contenuti mi fanno sempre sorridere di felicità perché i tuoi lavori sono semplicemente meravigliosi e tu sei un essere umano magnifico che crea le opere migliori e sei anche un essere umano di grande talento che sa suonare magistralmente il piano mentre io mi siedo lì come un gamberetto suono 'twinkle twinkle little star' perché non ho il tempo della giornata per andare a lezione di piano e e tu avrai molto successo nella vita perché lo so e e e mi fermerò proprio lì perché io ora sto divagando in italiano e tu non capisci una parola, molto probabilmente sto scrivendo, tuttavia ho avuto un bisogno davvero casuale di mostrare affetto a qualcuno in una frase molto lunga senza punti, quindi sì, c'è questo e ora arrivederci perché devo studiare per il test di storia che ho domani quindi sera notte <33

IMC RYIHNG JSIJGLKDF??? PFTAHAH

wai wai..... i think i have a recording of me playing somewhere in my voice memos hold on wait why the fuck cant i screen record w sound hold on hOLD ON

GOT IT (if you can hear my drying machine going on, nonono you cant. shuhs)

@papiliotao GRABS YOU. YOU SHOULD RECOGNIZE THSI SONG. ( hint: its from pjsk sung by leoneed graldksgjlsk;f )

#💬 ⌗ 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 . . . ✧ #🌱 ⌗ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞 ! ♡ #🍀 ⌗ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭: èl ! #uuuu yeah #uh #p i a no

[queerbaitesque]

diodato ha quel catholic priest who fucks slay. proprio l'obi wan kenobi italiano

#sanremo 2024 #sanremo

[millelenzuola]

Film "Back to Black" su Amy Winehouse

Premessa: a me piace molto Amy, la sua voce e la sua personalità sono, erano, assurde.

Il film è bello? Non lo so, proprio per la mia premessa appena fatta. Ho cantato le canzoni tutto il tempo, c'erano Valerie, Fuck me pumps, Back to black, Me and Mr Jones, Tears dry on their own, Rehab, Frank, You know I'm no good, Love is a losing game, Stronger than me, insomma tantissime e le più famose, ma quello è ovvio e me lo aspettavo.

È vero, l'attrice non le somiglia molto fisicamente ma negli atteggiamenti sì e non poco. Il film sembra più sul suo fidanzato/ex che su di lei, ad un certo punto. Purtroppo questo è inevitabile, Blake ha fatto parte della sua vita anche troppo, l'ha praticamente rovinata.

SPOILER/mezzo spoiler: alla fine non fanno vedere la sua morte, cosa che ho apprezzato tanto tanto tanto perché è la musica ad essere protagonista.

Ps. Ho visto molti fan essere contrari al film dicendo che lei lo avrebbe odiato, che l'attrice imita male la sua voce (che ve aspettavate?) e boh, per me sono stronzate, in senso odio gratuito senza motivo.

Se conoscete solo Back to black non andateci grz

#me #musica #amy winehouse

[3nding]

Stamattina incidente mortale direzione Milano proprio dove ero diretto io. Foschia e freddo esco a Fiorenzuola e per strade interne rientro dopo Piacenza. Ci ho messo 2, 40h. Oggi altro incidente più ripristino manto stradale, deviano tutti, TUTTI sulla A4 da Melegnano e dalle tangenziali se diretti verso Bologna. Sono dovuto uscire verso crema Cremona dove sono adesso per cercare di tornare a casa.

Sono partito da Milano alle 15:30

Fuck.