Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Imagine your f/o helping you distract yourself after you saw something triggering online. They put your phone on silent for you. They offer to put on your favorite show or movie. Or maybe, they can give you a massage to drive the tension out of your body. Or, if you want, they can just cuddle you and let you vent.
You aren't being weird and your reactions are natural, no matter what triggered you. Your f/o wants you to know that.
when you are doing bad and try to imagine what your f/o would say to help you you should magically be transmitted an exactly perfect sentence as they would say it that helps/comforts/motivates you as much as possible in that situation
trying to imagine f/o comforting me over climate anxiety and its just like “Fuckkk man i dunno” cause *I* dont know either!!!!
☞ 550 words, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, mentions of panic/anxiety | this is for a lovely anon <3
He rolls over and the glaring light of the screen wakes him.
Copia blinks against the pain in his eyes and notices you’re no longer warmly snuggled against his back, no hand buried in the soft hair of his chest. Instead he finds you sat on the floor, your laptop open in front of you as you furiously type. The alarm clock on his nightstand shows a blurry three.
“What are you doing?” he asks drowsily.
“Just checking something.”
“Amore–”
“Go back to sleep, I’ll turn down the brightness of the screen.”
It’s when his eyes adjust that he notices your hands shaking, the half-dried streaks of tears on your cheeks. You’re not just checking something and it’s not the first time this has happened either.
“You cannot solve all of your problems at three in the night,” he says, his voice hoarse from disuse.
“If I don’t try I won't sleep.”
Copia sighs with the aching feeling of recognition. He’s no stranger to anxiety. He’s been there when every horrible thought comes swarming your brain, when every obstacle suddenly seems insurmountable, when every question you answer leads to new impossible problems you try to solve in hopes of soothing yourself. It never works, the thoughts just keep racing.
“Come back to bed,” he says, holding out a hand for you.
He sees your heavy breathing, the way your shoulders are tense, your jaw clenched, fingers trembling as you scroll through threads of information that do nothing to quench your fears.
You look at him, clearly realising that he won’t let you drive yourself further into a panic now that he found you. “Can I finish reading this article?”
“No,” he says, some papal authority back in his voice. “We will look at it in the morning. Together.”
Sniffling, you close the laptop and the room is enveloped by a calm darkness. You crawl into his waiting arms and as expected the tears flow freely once you’re there. He holds you against his chest, tightly, that soothing pressure, a leg thrown over yours to create the cocoon of safety he knows you need.
“What if I can‘t do it?” you whisper. “There are so many problems–”
“You can do it,” he interrupts. “And you are not alone, amore. I am here, hm?”
“But I can’t always rely on you. I have to–”
“Shh.” He presses a kiss to your head. “It is okay. Can you breathe with me? I think we have to shut up those voices in your head, my baby.”
You nod and follow along when he breathes deeply, exhales after a pause. He feels your rapid pulse against his fingers as he cradles your face, wipes at the last few trickling tears. Your heart slows after a while of steady breathing and he removes his fingers from your neck, pulls you to his chest.
You mumble an I love you or a thank you, he's not quite sure. For as long as he can Copia stays awake, only allowing his eyes to drift shut when he's sure you're finally in the peaceful embrace of sleep. In the morning, when he wakes up before you, he'll close the twenty open broswer tabs. You won't need them anymore.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
For the "hold me closer" prompts: "I didn't take you to be the 'big spoon' kind of guy" with Copia!
(Copia reads pretty definitively as "little spoon" to me, so him as big spoon should be interesting to explore!)
see, i feel like i think differently of him... here's a lil somethin somethin:
Papa Emeritus the Fourth’s robes were smooth beneath your fingertips.
You gingerly removed the stole from his shoulders, folded it, and draped it on a nearby chair. He stayed still, his shoulders sloped, his breath deep and slow.
This was its own ritual. Black Mass had just ended, a late-night edition. You prepared the clothing, ensuring everything was ready for the next mass. With that came undressing Papa after each one.
You started a job that once made you blush, but now the routine and his quirks were familiar.
He was quiet today.
“Ready, Papa?”
A nod. No words.
You unzipped the back of his black robe, the orange and gold detail catching in the soft light of the vestry. The fabric was lush, soft in your hands as you pulled it from him.
You expected him to step out in his undershirt and trousers and dismiss you as usual. Instead, he lingered, watching as you hung the robe.
“Something you need, Papa?”
“Eh, actually — yes. Yes, I had something to ask of you.” He shuffled his feet, fiddling with his hands. Copia was looking at you now, tiredness in his eyes. “It is… you can say no, of course.”
Papa was obviously nervous, which made your own chest bloom with a strange kind of anxiety. He always seemed to be a ball of nerves,
“A cuddle. Would you… would you have a cuddle with me?” He nearly cringed at his own words, turning his head away from you. “It doesn’t— we don’t have to—“
Your mind raced as he stammered. This was not a request to deny. Papa was asking, and you couldn’t say no.
That’s how you ended up beneath his crushed blue velvet duvet, waiting for him. He hadn’t expected you to say yes, so delight lit his face. He quickly took your hand, leading you to his quarters.
You shakily slipped off your habit, setting it aside so you wore only a camisole and underwear. He unbuttoned and slid off his slacks, leaving himself in tight black boxers. You’d seen him scantily clad before, but now, knowing you were about to share a bed, your skin buzzed with anticipation.
To your surprise, any earlier awkwardness seemed to have disappeared when Papa left the vestry. His movements were now smooth as he walked around the bed, a small smile resting on his lips as he prepared to join you.
“I’ve needed this.”
The bed dipped as he dropped his knee, crawling in beside you. His skin, already flushed, felt warm against yours. A breath caught in your throat when his arm wound around your middle, tugging you close.
How good it felt to be held by him. His frame was strong, yet comfortable. His hand drifted up your arm, fingers circling your wrist. You sighed deeply, your body shuddering with sudden comfort.
“Oh. I didn’t take you to be the ‘big spoon’ kind of guy.” Mentally, you facepalmed at how casual you sounded.
Papa chuckled into your neck. “There’s a lot that’s unknown about me, tesoro.” His words held surprising weight. You spent so much time with him, yet do you really know him? It was your duty to serve—to dress and undress him for each mass.
Is he different behind closed doors?
He was already proving it.
You settled into him as his fingers laced with yours. “I’ve needed this. Some downtime with another.” His breath ghosted the sensitive skin behind your ear. “It’s a lonely job. If you’ve ever wondered.”
Silence stretched.
You were comfortable but overwhelmed, eyes darting for something smart to say. All you managed was: “I will do this whenever you ask, Papa.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
just woke up from a nap n Im thinkin about some of the best nap buddies in JJBA…
Jonathan, his broad chest so large you can use it as a pillow. On your side, left arm wrapped around him, and his right arm behind you settled on your waist. You lace your fingers with his, nestled perfectly in his arms.
Caesar, on his side facing you, one hand under your pillow to prop you up for the optimal angle. The other hand on the small of your back, pressing you gently forward to twirl legs together in a gentle knot.
Avdol, who lets you rest your head directly on his beating heart, that warm center of circulation grounding you to this moment. He brushes his fingertips against yours, his lips on your forehead murmuring sweet words that relax your sleeping face.
Josuke, wrapped completely around you like net. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck, where you can smell the sweet, woody cinnamon of his cologne, his arms and legs basically a weighted blanket. His soft breath tickles your nose.
Mista, his arms a belt around your waist, your back to his chest. His chin tucked on your shoulder, leg between yours, low snores directly in your ear. Curls brush your neck, the Pistols curling around your pillow, with his back to the doors and windows.
Risotto, with a cool body like a godsend in the summer. Stripped to your underwear, the AC blasting, his large, scarred hand settled just barely on the base of your neck. White hair mingles with yours as he takes a rare break, foreheads touching.
Hermes, lacing her fingers with yours, her other arm sliding under your pillow, and her forehead bumping yours, sneaking little kisses that make you giggle, smiling as you snuggle closer under the blanket.
Gyro, whose hands have ended many a life, watching you with gentle green eyes as you curl towards him. His hand settling on your waist, rubbing slowly from it to your hip, finally staying on it and holding you firm, perfectly still, safe.
for your soft request, how about Frater Imperator with an anxious reader ft. cuddles in bed or on his couch. You decide the direction and what calls to you!
if you need a prompt to get you going: A sibling of sin is worried about losing Papa IV (completely optional)
Content: 1.1k words, Copia x gn!reader, soft and sweet, naked cuddling, softness with a spinkle of angst, anxiety, overthinking, SFW but some suggestive playfulness to help lighten the mood.
“Are you feeling ok, amore?”
The question trailing on the sentence he’s been reading catches you slightly off guard, rips the warmth you’ve found cuddled up in bed away like someone’s stolen the blanket.
A small noise of acknowledgement leaves you before you respond.
“Yeah, why? I’m just listening to you.”
When he doesn’t answer, you tilt your head against one freckled shoulder. He’s so handsome, your Frater, even when frowning and fixing you with that questioning brow-raise. His specs balance on the end of his nose, and his white eye is so piercing in the light of the flickering fire that it looks like fresh snow.
Copia hums, that telling sound that you know means he knows you are absolutely lying through your teeth.
“What was the last thing I read?”
And welp, he’s caught you hook, line and sinker.
“I… don’t know.”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Lucy found the wardrobe.”
You pout and look away from his gaze to where your fingers are buried in that lovely, silken carpet of salt and peppered chest hair of his. You flex the digits, sighing. Your head is simultaneously so full and so empty all at once, too many ghosts crammed into a space not meant for them, and yet you don’t know how to be rid of these phantom worries that mean nothing.
“I can hear you thinking,” he whispers with a bit more of a playful edge. “It’s rather distracting.”
“Sorry.”
Copia tuts affectionately as he closes the book, sets it by his hip, pulls off his glasses, and then readjusts his hold on you. His thick fingers slide along your scalp, lips grazing your hairline in a light kiss.
“Non esserlo. Do you want to talk about it?”
Before the words even leave his mouth, the tears are already threatening in your eyes. Not quite falling, but you know it won’t take much more.
You shake your head, sniffling even as you say, “It’s nothing. I’m just being stupid as always.”
“Nothing is stupid, amore. Never stupid, especially not you.”
You know he’s dealt with and still deals with his own set of anxieties; you just don’t want to add to them.
“Do you need advice or for me to listen?” He then asks, and some of the weight lifts enough for you to think.
“Both. Words.”
“Then speak to me,” he says in a voice an octave lower than his usual.
It’s his Papa tone. You almost laugh at the small amount of joy it unearths. You adore his voice, no other word for it. It’s like a warm blanket around your shoulders, an embrace after being out in the chilly winter air that frosts the glasspanes of his room in their icy spiderwebs.
It makes you feel safe, wanted, and most importantly, heard.
You know you can be honest with him, that he has never and will never judge you or disregard the things you say, no matter how ridiculous they may sound to you. You readjust your head on his shoulder, and he tugs the blanket higher, arms around you, swaddled by his heat and pliable body that dips and bows beneath you with each breath.
“I just… I worry that you hate me or that you’ll realise you hate me one day,” you force yourself to speak through the lump in your throat, the pressure building behind your eyes. “I worry I’m not good enough for you or that I’m going to wake up one day and you will be gone. I know it’s all in my head, but I…”
“It doesn’t make things easier,” Copia finishes for you.
You nod, sniffling again and biting down the sorry that sits on your tongue.
His cheek presses to your forehead, cradles your skull, and he nods, rocking you both ever so slightly.
“Have I done anything to make you feel this way?”
You shake your head.
“Bene,” he caresses your temple, breath puffing hot across your brow. “Has anyone said or done anything to make you feel this way?”
Again, you shake your head.
Copia sighs. It’s not a sound of frustration or irritation, but one of relief.
“One of those days, eh?”
You nod, eyes burning harder. He clicks his tongue again, the sound filling you with an overwhelming sense of care.
“Il mio povero amore,” he speaks gently, “if I could burn these foul thoughts from your head, I would do so in a heartbeat.”
You know he would, that he would burn the world for you. He wipes away your tears when they eventually do fall, shushing you and eventually getting you to giggle when he reminisces about your first date. How wonderfully, awfully comedic it was due to a few unforeseen mishaps. How he had fallen for you the moment you spoke his name and shook his hand, and how he has not stopped pining for your attention every second since.
It’s been hard, but it’s been worth every second of agonising bliss.
“I like to think I am a good Boss and that I take care of everyone. Especially you, amore. You are at the top of my to-do list.”
“Oh stop it,” you shove back gently, voice raw even as you laugh and sit back to look at him.
He continues to wipe your cheeks with the same tenderness, capturing you with that crooked smile until you’re mostly free of tears.
“But I am not the Boss here, yeah? I mean, I know you like the boss stuff in bed—“ You roll your eyes, and sigh. “—but I am your amore.”
“You are,” you say, warmth blooming in your chest like a rose unfurling in the sun's rays.
He holds your gaze, smiling sympathetically, and you let yourself collapse into his embrace once again.
“And I love you, amore.”
“I love you too.”
And you do. So much. So intensely that you’re afraid the bedding will catch fire with how raw and volcanic your feelings are for him. You’d let him carve you up, slice down layer by layer until you’re bleeding, bare and vulnerable beneath him. It’s scary just how overwhelming it all is sometimes, but perhaps that’s why it feels like the world is ending every time you fear the dying of its flame.
Once you’re sure you’ve stopped crying and breathed a sigh of relief, Copia untangles himself from you to fetch some water, a cool wet cloth and then tucks you back under the blankets together.
The specs are back on his nose, and you spend the rest of the evening listening to him read about the four children who step beyond the wardrobe into another realm.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Copia who spends hours in the library researching topics he’s interested in, pushing his reading glasses up his nose every few minutes. Who listens to audiobooks as he falls asleep, who loves classic spooky tales and romantic stories to get lost in.
Copia who loves numbers and spends hours on budget calculations because they tickle his brain just right. Who works hard in his position as Secretary of the Treasury because they give him more than he can chew. Who still helps everyone when they can’t get the maths right because he’s such a patient teacher.
Copia who watches history documentaries all night when he can’t sleep. Who can give you the most random facts about historical events you’ve never even heard of before. Who spent hours reading about them and trying to understand what it meant for the people at the time.
Cinephile Copia who knows everything about classic horror and science-fiction movies, who has seen his favorites more times than he can count. Who gives you fun behind the scenes facts and mouths the dialogue when you watch them together. He explains it all so patiently to whoever wants to listen with so much genuine excitement in his voice because he’s just so happy someone else cares about his special interests.
gummygunk
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
gracieabrams
kianamaiart
baratheonpilled
