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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

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the party | alexia putellas x reader

songfic based off of the song the party & the after party by the weeknd

warnings: cunnilingus, smut, minors dni 18+

With your Louis V. bag, tats on your arms

High heel shoes, make you six feet tall

Everybody wants you, you can have them all

It would be a crime to not look at her. Standing tall, her Louis Vuitton bag slung over her shoulder, her skimpy black dress that left nothing to the imagination, her tattoos that peaked over her shoulders and down her arms, her red backed Louboutin heels that made her look so irresistible and so fucking tall, accentuating her long legs and every single muscles and vein that ran along them. Your eyes were drawn to her from the other side of the room, completely pinned to the figure standing in front of you. She was insatiable, everybody in the room wanted her and yet her eyes were caught on your own, her long legs slowly making their way towards you and your seat at the bar.

In a club full of people, music and noise she silenced it all, made you feel like the both of you were the only people in the world, it was addictive, like a party drug. You almost choked on your sip of your martini as she approached you, and took a seat beside you on one of the barstools, ordering a drink from the bartender before addressing you.

“It’s rude to stare, tesoro.”

You blinked, your eyes darting to the glass in your hands.

“Lo siento.” I’m sorry

There was something about this woman that made you feel like you were on fire, and she was the only thing that could extinguish you.

“Don’t apologise, I don’t mind, what’s a girl like you doing in here anyways?”

The implication strung in her voice made you feel so shy, so small in a way you could never explain.

“Just looking for some fun I guess, how about you?”

You finally found the confidence to glance back up at her eyes, it was a rewarding sight, her deep hazel eyes locked onto your body, searching you up and down like you were a monet painting.

“Looking to have some fun on my night off.”

Her eyes were tantalising, dangerously dark and sinful, the hazel circling around her pupil into a tie dye mix of dark and light browns.

“How’s that going?”

It was a stupid question, but you felt like you were under a microscope, like a diamond under immense pressure and it was stressing you out, making you second guess everything. The mystery woman just seemed amused though.

“Could be going better, I’ve got a drink though, that’s one way to start it.”

She pulled her glass of what appeared to be whiskey on the rocks up, and you met her glass, clinking them together, a small smile gracing your lips.

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

The term of endearment sent shocks down your spine, little jolts of shivers that you didn’t even attempt to put a stop to.

“Y/n Y/l/n, how about you?”

Her eyes pierced your own from their position sitting just above your martini glass, peering over the rim at her figure, slowly taking in her figure that didn’t leave much of her body to your imagination, so much skin on show.

“Not important.”

Her voice was dismissive, and if you really cared you would push it, but you simply didn’t, so you just nodded your head.

“Y/n, that’s very pretty, suits the pretty face.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little bit at the flattery, lifting your martini glass to cover your mouth and the bright smile that you knew was spreading across your facial features.

“You’re a charmer, c’mon, give me a name to put to the face.”

She smirked at you, devilishly, like there was so much intention behind her eyes and mouth, intentions that you couldn’t even attempt to try and unearth.

“I think beautiful things should be appreciated, if you're really desperate you can call me Ale.”

You couldn’t help but feel the butterflies begin to crowd in your stomach, the heat rising up your neck and to your face at the outward compliments from your companion.

“You're very forward, most girls sitting at a bar would be a little bit intimidated.”

The woman’s eyes stayed pinned to your own, neither of you breaking the eye contact that made you feel so vulnerable and naked, like you were under a microscope in front of her.

“You’re not most girls though, are you?”

You bit your lip, her intentions were so clear and so blurred at the same time.

“You didn’t come and sit with me because I look like most girls.”

The woman snorted, setting her empty glass down on the bar.

“I’m going to the bathroom, the door with number 3 above it.”

Girl, I got your bag, I got it all

Hold your drink, baby, don't you fall

Be there in a minute, baby, just one call

You don't gotta ask me

Girl, pick up them shoes, I'll race your ass up all them stairs

She picked up her bag, her heels clicking under the floor beneath her as she strutted towards the stairs at the end of the bar, her hands reaching down to pull her frighteningly big heels so she could climb the stairs. You watched her ass and thighs move, it almost felt like she was putting a show on for you as she slowly progressed up the stairs.

You took a final swig from your glass, holding onto it and gripping down on the glass as you watched her finally ascend the stairs and out of your sight. You waited a minute or so, clutching onto your glass before setting it down and picking up your own belongings and making your way towards the stairs.

You didn’t take your time like the mystery woman, you climbed the staircase like it was a mountain you had to make it to the top of, completely relieved when you finally got to the top. It was a simple corridor in front of you, with numbered bathrooms, one to ten. You made your way down the hallway slowly, your eyes pinned to every door you passed until you made it to door number three. You felt like you were in a game show, or escape room, looking at the different doors and almost expecting something to pop out of one of them.

The surprise never came, so you reached for the door knob cautiously, testing the handle to see whether or not it was locked and quickly learning it was not. You took a deep breath, before twisting the door open and quickly shutting it behind you as you walked into the stall, making sure to lock the door behind you.

Before you even began to take in your surroundings the woman had pounced on you, her lips attaching to your own allowing you to taste the whiskey and spearmint on her tongue. It was a welcome flavour, overloading your taste buds which went into shock from the sudden contact and lust that was invading your system.

“Esta Bien?” Is this okay?

You nodded into her mouth, her tongue brushing against the roof of your mouth and pushing against the skin and tissue, exploring your mouth and lips with vigour.

“Si.” yes

The woman smirked into your mouth, continuing her bruising attack on your lips, but her hands falling to your hips and the exposed skin in between where your jeans separated from your cropped corset top. It was more like a bra, the only difference was the small chunk of material below the bra line. Her hands danced up and down your sides and you couldn’t help the little moan that left your lips as her hands brushed over the tops of your breasts and nipples.

“So desperate already, I could tell just how needy you were in that bar, desperate for some attention hm?”

You moaned openly into the woman’s mouth, your hips grinding upwards searching for some kind of contact or relief. The woman’s hand made its way to your waist though, pushing you back against the bathroom door.

“No, tomas lo que obtienes.” No, you take what you get

Her hand stayed pinned to your waist, her lips pressing against your own sinfully, moving rhythmically and nipping at your bottom lip as her teeth caught it in hers.

“Ale, please, need more.”

She was a woman that you knew absolutely nothing about, and normally that would make you uncomfortable, but for some reason it only spurred your sexual desire on, it was treacherous how horny your felt, your stomach and pussy clenching in tow as this woman’s lips moved down to your jawline, sucking on the skin.

“Is your pussy dripping for me, is it soaking through your panties?”

You nodded quickly against the older woman’s mouth, your head trapped by the grip that her lips and mouth had on your neck and chin.

You moaned openly when she dropped to her knees. Normally you’d be worried about the cleanliness of a club bathroom floor, but your whole brain was clouded with sex and that was enough for any kind of worry to leave you brain.

I understand, your body wants it

I know your thoughts, of you ‘bout it, ‘bout it

You’re a big girl, and it’s your world

And I’ma let you do it how you wanna

Girl, now ride wit it, ride wit it

I know you know, I know you wanna (ride) wit it

Don’t be shy wit it, I’ll supply wit it

I got you, girl, oh, I got it girl

You nodded at the woman when she looked up at you with an eyebrow cocked as her fingers looped into the belt of your jeans, silently asking for permission. When you nodded at her quickly she smirked, reaching for the clasp and unbelting it insanely quickly and letting it fall to the floor. Next her hands found the zipper of your jeans, tugging it down quickly and then popping the button before tugging the jeans down to join your belt. You stepped out of them and groaned a little bit as your eyes came into contact with the growing wet spot on the front of your panties, your arousal beginning to stick to the insides of your thighs.

“Oh bebita, is this all for me?”

You nodded your head once again, your head and back arching against the door as Ale’s fingers scooped underneath the elastic band of the thong you were wearing, snapping it twice against your hips, eliciting a positively filthy guttural moan that ranged from your core to your lips.

“God your so desperate, you going to ride my face, going to get off like a horny bitch in the heat and rut yourself against my face?”

It was pure filth falling from the older woman's lips as she tugged your panties down your thighs and onto the floor, her eyes latching onto your glistening lips that were directly in front of your face.

The feeling of her tongue darting out to meet your clit was ecstasy, pure pleasure as she dove into your folds, her tongue exploring the open sex right in front of her.

It was as her tongue found your open hole that you angled your hips directly above Ale, humping her face and beginning to grind your hips up and down her mouth and nose.

You half expected her to stop you, her dom persona seemingly controlling your every move, but she didn’t, so you continued to move your hips against her face, her tongue pushing in and out of your whole and your clit rubbing down hard and fast against her nose. The angle that it have you was magnificent and something that you’d never quite experienced. You pulled up for a second, out of fear that you were strangling the woman below you with your thighs, but you were quickly pulled down, your clit brushing down on the tip of her nose, it was fantastic and had you becoming a moaning mess and the coil in your stomach was so close to snapping, and then she refracted.

Her mouth moved from your lips and down to your thighs, sucking and biting down on the soft and milky skin, leaving bright purple marks as a reminder of exactly what she was doing to you. It was equally pleasurable, but not in the way you needed, not in the way you yearned.

“Ale, fuck, please, so close, please just fucking use my pussy, it’s all yours.”

She was so patient with your skin, gently sucking the marks in, your begging didn’t go unnoticed by her though, and once she finished her fourth love bite she nudged her tongue back to your opening, thrusting her flat pad in and out of your hole, generating completely sinful noises from your mouth. Your hands found Ale’s hair, fisting it in between your fingers and in your palms, tugging her up to meet your core and deepen her tongue’s thrusts.

You would have told her you were teetering on the edge, but you were too incoherent due to the amount of pleasure coursing through your body. It only took a few deep thrusts of her tongue and then a brush of your puffy clit against her nose for you to come undone, your whole body tightening and freezing against her warm mouth as you began to gush, your body grinding and your pussy gushing out and squirting all over her face as you spasmed on her lips.

Her hands pulled your thighs over her shoulders, stopping your legs from collapsing out from under you and leaving you to collapse on the floor. She guided you through your aftershocks with gentle kitten licks, sucking up any of the extra liquids that your pleasure cloud had produced.

Only when you’d come down from your high and you’d moved your legs off of her shoulders was when she moved off of her knees, revealing an absolutely soaked face, neck and top of her dress. You couldn’t help but snort a little bit at the appearance of her, a once composed and slightly terrifying woman now covered in your orgasm.

She stood up and before she could even try to say anything your lips were attached to her face, your tongue gently licking at your taste on her skin.

“That was fucking amazing.”

You moved your lips up to her nose and across her cheeks, lapping at any of the left over arousal on her delicate and clear skin.

“You didn’t tell me you were a squirter baby girl, look at my dress, all ruined in your slutty juices.”

You chuckled, a deep chuckle from your chest as you took in Ale, in all of her glory, completely fucked out and you hadn’t even touched her.

We can play all night

It just takes one night

To let me fuckin’ prove

This feelin’ I would give to you

“How about I make it up to you then?”

Your grin spread all the way up your cheeks, revealing your pearly whites to the woman.

“How about I take you back to mine and you can show me exactly how good you can be?”

Your head told you that it was a bad idea to go home with a woman that you’d only met a few minutes ago, but then the thought of going all nigh with this woman, who clearly knew what she was doing ran through your mind.

You began to take her in truly and it was then that something clicked in your brain, that you knew this woman, or you knew her face, and that was when all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

“Fuck me, your Alexia Putellas.”

The woman just smirked, her tongue dangling out between her teeth as she moved towards rhe sink, cleaning herself up a little bit but maintaining eye contact with you the whole time through the mirror.

“I will later, baby, don’t you worry, and it took you a little bit to figure that one out, now, my house? I promise I’ll give you everything you want, baby, all you have to do is ask.”

Ringtone on silent

And if she stops, then I might get violent

No call is worth stoppin’

So, momma, please, stop callin’

You reached down for you bag, and then your phone, recognising a string of texts from your roommate, worried about where you were and normally you would reply, but instead you turned your phone off, shoving it down into the bottom of your handbag and turning back to the Catalan woman, who was now standing directly in front of you, her arm stretched out as an offering.

If you had your wits about you, and not singularly sex on your mind you would have left her arm, left the renowned soccer player hanging, but then again, you definitely didn’t have your wits about you with your post orgasm brain.

So you took her arm, smiling brightly.

“Your house?”

Alexia smirked and nodded, leading you out of the bathroom and back downstairs and out of the club, a smile on both of your faces and the smell of sex radiating from both of you.

#daddy alexia putellas #alexia putellas smuttt #alexia putellas is mom #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #marry me rn #wlw smut #woso smut #shameless smut #i love smut #smut

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wynnibee · 6 months

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hi sorry this is so late!!! @sup-its-cat i was your secret skeleton dsklfdfk i hope you like it i put a lot of work into this <33

[id in alt and under the cut!]

[id: a fully lined, colored and shaded piece of sup-its-cat’s Mind Roommates AU with (from top to bottom) Eclipse, Moon, Sun and then their halloween-ified sona. Eclipse is in the top right corner, with its arms held out and a wide grin on its face as it looks down at Moon. Eclipse is entirely pink-magenta, with two rows of rays; large white ones and small light light pink ones. It has puffy sleeves on its arms, one with wavy stripes, and the other with stars. Each sleeve ends with a small bow on the wrist. Large ruffles sit around its neck, and its torso is a single, solid color. Its eyes have a darker magenta outer iris, an inner light pink iris, and then a white heart shaped pupil. It has large eyelashes, with the right eye having a long curly-q lash. Jester stripes cut through its eyes onto its cheeks and eyebrows. Eclipse has a long “tail” barely visible swirling around and behind it. The tail starts at the base of its body, and swirls across the entire canvas down to Sun. Eclipse is covered in glitch effects, with a majority of them surrounding its rays and the rest on its ghostly tail. Eclipse’s entire body is glowing a bright pink and it’s semi-transparent, with one arm fading off the canvas. Next is Moon, in the middle left. He’s floating in a partially reclined position, arms held around him loosely. He has a concerned expression on his face as he looks up at Eclipse. His face is white on his crescent side and a medium blue on his shadowed side. He’s wearing his blue nightcap, with a very fluffy white band, and light purple stars. The end is shredded and missing its poof/bell. He’s wearing a light brown hoodie with dark brown zig-zag stripes at the end of the sleeves and a box pattern with a star in the center on his chest. He’s also wearing brown gloves and simple blue pants. Moon’s legs slowly turn into his ghost “tail”, though his is a bright blue and more opaque than Eclipse’s. It’s full of sparkles and a small amount of glitch effects. It curls around behind him as it swirls down the canvas towards Sun. Moon’s colors are very light, having a blue-ish hue to his entire palette. His eyes are mismatched, with blue sclera on his crescent side and red sclera on his shadowed side. He has white rings for irises. He also has large eyelashes with a curly-q lash on the right side of his face. Jester stripes cut through his eyes as well. He has sharp, pointy teeth. Then Sun, who’s standing hunched over with his arms and hands held up in clawed poses with a large, slightly snarled smile on his face as he glares at the viewer. He has a single row of large, orange rays. A couple of his rays are chipped. Sun’s wearing the same clothes as Moon is; a large brown hoodie, blue pants, and brown gloves. He has glowing white eyes and is entirely backlit with blue and pink light. He has large eyelashes, with a curly-q lash on his right side and jester stripes that cut through his eyes. Lastly is sup-its-cat’s sona, an anthromorphic pink cat wearing a suit. It also has a snarled smile on its face, exposing sharp teeth as it glares at the viewer. It has two large horns forming a heart shape on the top of its head, and long fluffy cheeks and ears. It has a purple cravat around its neck with a bow, held together in the center with a diamond shaped purple gem. Its pink suit has exaggerated lapels that curl under themselves. Its shirt is a dark, almost black pink with ruffles around the buttons and a wrinkled waistband. Its holding its long, three clawed fingers up on either side of itself, and its long, fluffy tail curls up behind it. The cat has glowing green eyes with dark pink sclera. The cat, like Sun, is also backlit with blue and pink light. The background is a simple dark blue to magenta gradient, with a white border that has a glitching effect to it. End id.]

#crackles knuckles #sup-its-cat #dcah2023 #fnaf eclipse #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #mind roommates au #cw eyestrain #my art #yeah sorry this is so late!!!!#october was set and determined to make sure i couldnt finish this #so ive been working nonstop to get this done sdlkfjdksflj #i really hope you like it!! your au is so cool

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call-sign-shark · 4 months

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Savage Daughter || Shelby family x You

Summary: When the Shelby family gathers together, chaos is never far. Yet, for once, it's not the men who bring it but you, and soon the girls join you too. (based on Ekatarina Shelehova - Savage Daughter)

Words: 1.2k

Notes:

✞ This story is linked with the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes but can be read as a stand-alone.

Slipping your finger between your diamond choker and your skin, you took a big exhale — the expensive corset you wore for the occasion was crushing your ribcage. The sound of chatters, clinging glasses, and classical music might have been loud but all you could hear was your own pulse, beating in your temples faster and faster with each labored breathing.

Your crystal eyes scanned the room, looking for your husband but it seemed that he was also in distress, standing still behind Tommy with his gaze fixed upon an invisible spot on the wall. Arthur was nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, visibly as uncomfortable as you when surrounded by all these posh guests, and yet, he had no other choice but to keep playing the bodyguard for his younger brother.

"Mr. Shelby, what a wonderful party you're hosting here! Arrow House is wonderful, I reckon." An old, ugly gentleman, dressed in a suit more expensive than everything your parents had ever owned, said with his silly accent. If being honest, he was looking absolutely ridiculous with his ears too big and his triple chin far too fat for such a small bowtie. To play the Devil's advocate, your mocking thoughts were justified: the pig had tried to grope almost every woman he had talked with. And as if this previous fact didn't render him despicable enough, he had ignored Arthur as if he were part of the ballroom's furniture. Another sigh, louder this time, escaped from your lips at the painful sensation of the blisters behind your heels when they rubbed against your tight shoes.

When Arthur came back to you, one look at his pursed lips had been enough for you to guess that he had spent the last ten minutes keeping himself from strangling the impolite Mr. Dempsey.

"Fookin' bastard, can't even say a bloody 'hello' to me. I swore I should've cut his fucking —" Stopping mid-sentence, the lanky gangster suddenly frowned and tilted its head at the sight of you taking your high heels off, only half listening to him, "The hell you're doing, angel?"

"I'm taking my heels off, that's what I do." You replied, grunting as you undid the complicated laces that were climbing up your shinbones, "And I don't care if it ain't classy or decorous, these shoes are making my skin bleed and this damn corset is suffocating me!" Talking about the corset, you pulled on the delicate silky laces to tear them apart and free your body from this inhumane trap until all you were wearing was a thin white summer dress.

"Heaven, love," Arthur tried to interrupt as he noticed how a few outraged guests were already whispering together all the while glaring at you. Among them, Tommy Shelby's arctic iris.

"I'm dead serious: I'm trapped here among hypocrites, suffering in clothes their wives criticized when they saw me while I could be outside, peacefully enjoying the immense garden of the mansion. A garden which is, by the way, the only enjoyable feature of this golden cage. All of this only because Tom wants people to believe we're all getting along in the family, tsk." Arthur closed his mouth, unable to find something to retort to your murderous prose. Maybe that was why he looked at you silently instead, a glimmer of amusement shining in his still blue eyes. "What?" You finally asked, not comprehending why the lanky gangster was now smiling, his mustache slightly lifted on one side.

"Gimme these shits." With that being said, Arthur took your heels and corset from your hands before leaning above you and kissing your forehead with indescribable tenderness, completely obliterating the rest. "Now go," The gravel in his voice rumbled, "Go run barefoot and curse at sharp stones, I ain't going to pin your wings." Of course you felt suffocating, he thought, for he knew you didn't belong here. Just like him. But while he had to remain somewhat near to his brother for the whole evening, Arthur never wished to inflict such torment on your savage soul: you were born to dance around fires, in the curves of old bones, or look for omens in the falling of feathers. Not to sip on champagne and boast about your riches with aristocratic ladies.

"Really?" You inquired, the fierceness of your face softening at your husband's surprising —and understanding— reaction. Arthur winked at you for a sole reply before turning around and barking at those who were still observing you with a loud "The fook you're looking at me wife ay? Go back to your chit-chat!". It had been the final nail in Tommy's coffin, who pinched his nose as if to stop a dawning headache — a headache that bore your name.

Offering one shark-like and insolent smile to little King Shelby, you left the ballroom running barefoot and only stopped when you found yourself in the middle of the garden, slowly spinning on yourself. With your doll-like face facing the night sky, you relished the sensation of the fresh breeze softly grazing your skin in welcoming strokes. A cheerful giggle fell from your plump lips as rays of moonlight illuminated your dainty frame like a myriad of motherly hands ready to catch you.

"Hey! Devil! You're nothing but trouble, you know that?!" A feminine voice erupted behind you, making you stop dancing and glance from where the soft lilt was coming. What was your surprise when your gaze met Ada's cunning smile! Beside her Polly was standing, her frail arms crossed on her bosom but her ebony eyes displaying an excitement she hadn't felt in years.

"I can't help it, Ada. I'm my mother's savage daughter!" You exclaimed, opening your arms to fake a pretentious bow — a move that stirred a sincere laugh from your sister-in-law.

"Tommy's mad." She said through her grin.

"Tommy's always mad. Why don't you join me?" At your offering, Ada side-eyed her dear Aunt, not sure if she could momentarily strip from the elegant Mrs. Thorne mask and be herself for once. For fuck's sake! Can't they fucking behave?! Can't your fucking wife stop fucking everything up just once eh?! Tommy's voice was roaring from the inside of Arrow House, just what Ada and Polly needed to make up their mind.

Freeing themselves from fancy hats, oppressive clothes, and painful high heels, both Polly and Ada joined you in the middle of the garden, the two of them grabbing one of your hands to form a round dance.

We are our mother's savage daughters, you sang.

I'm not joking Arthur! Did you think about what people are going to say?!

We are our mother's savage daughters, Ada followed. Her voice swirled up to the sky, each note bringing her closer to her mom she barely knew.

We will not cut our hair! We will not lower our voice! Polly's cheered louder, and as she did she was sixteen again, walking barefoot in the mud with a horse's rein in one hand and flowers in the other.

And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking So sing them with voices of thunder and rain, the wind carried your chant away. So far away that somewhere on the road, one Romani woman, fierce and beautiful, felt the wild drums of nature beating within her as she braided the hair of her adorable little girl.

"Are you okay Mom?" She asked, concerned by her mother's sudden stop.

"Yes, Katie. Yes, I am."

Esme smiled.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

#Arthur Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders imagine #Ada Shelby x Reader #Polly Gray x Reader #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x oc #Paul Anderson #Heaven Shelby #Peaky blinders oc #Heaven In Your Eyes

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bb-sg · 10 months

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Devoured

Gojo Satoru x Vampire!reader

CW: Shameless smut, dub con, yandere gojo, rough, violence, blood play, knife play, cursing, degradation, praise, female anatomy. MDNI. Reader is on the prowl when she runs into a certain white-haired sorcerer.

Halloween was your favorite day of the year.

It was the one day that you could truly be yourself, no hiding who you were. Or what you were. People dressed up in costumes of characters they love, dressing up to show off their looks, or pretending to be monsters. Little did they know that real monsters walk among them every day, monsters like you.

You’ve been alive in this world for over one hundred years, lying low and usually strictly drinking from animals to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Recently, you’ve been craving more. During this day and age, it was easy to find willing human participants. Vampires were popular in many cultures; you had found numerous sites and fandoms that craved to be fed from. At first you refused to engage with that community, but curiosity and gluttony got the best of you. You could never deny that human blood was divine.

Which is why you were sitting in a crowded bar on Halloween, waiting to meet a man that you met through social media. He begged and pleaded to meet a real-life vampire. You sat at the bar, waiting for the man to show up but he was running late, and you were running out of patience. You had already had numerous shots, the bar tender had wanted to cut you off 4 shots ago, but you convinced him you were more than capable of handling your liquor. Your mind was starting to get hazy. People swayed and danced to the music around you, laughing and giggling while showing off their attire.

It would be so easy.

They were easy prey, their sweet blood reeked with alcohol and drugs, not that you minded. It would still be a delicacy even if it was tainted. You scoffed to yourself, the alcohol clouding your judgement while you looked around the room, assessing each person in the bar. The cute woman dressed like a slutty cat would be a piece of cake, you could get her back to your house with a few charming words and a couple more shots in her system. Or maybe you should take home the cute bartender, who has not so subtly been eyeing you up and down since you sat at the bar.

You continued scanning the bar until you saw a white-haired man sitting on the other side of the bar, staring back at you. He lounged on the couch, taking up as much space as physically possible. One of his strong arms draped on the top of the couch and a drink in his other hand. His long legs were spread open wide, almost as if he was inviting you to sit between them.

You laughed, trying to shake off the urge to approach him but the intensity of his gaze drew you to him. He was handsome, with sharp features, beautiful hair, and clear porcelain skin. He wore an expensive looking suit, perfectly tailored to fit his muscular build, and showed off his toned arms. His most notable feature was his eyes. In all your years, you’ve never seen anyone with eyes that blue, they looked like diamonds that were floating in the ocean. They bore a hole through you, fixating on you alone.

When you were human, he would have made you nervous, too shy to attempt to talk with him. Now, you finished another shot, smoothed out the tight mini dress that clung to your body and swayed your hips as you walked toward him. He gave you a wicked smile, watching every step you took. You sat down on the couch next to him, crossing your legs seductively. His gorgeous eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at where your fingers were playing with the end of your dress.

“What are you supposed to be?” You questioned.

His smile grew and he leaned in and whispered, “A killer”.

You smirked and nodded; he was not what you were expecting. He bit his bottom lip while he looked you up and down once more.

“Based off how you are dressed, you must be a model.” His voice was playful and flirtatious. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his pickup line.

“Not quite.” You gave him a sweet smile, showing off your fangs.

“Oh, you’re a vampire?”

“You’re handsome and smart.” You ran your tongue over your teeth before scooting closer to him. He smelled very sweet and enticing, the scent made your mouth water. “Are you here alone?”

“I am. I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be by yourself as well. Are you waiting for someone?”

He sipped at his drink before setting it down on the table. He turned his body towards you and rested his arm above the couch around you, his fingertips grazed your shoulder. His scent overwhelmed you as he got closer to you. The temptation to devour him right then and there grew with each second you spent in his company.

“What? Are you stalking me?” You asked him and laughed, playfully slapped his chest, lingering a moment to feel his heart beating in his broad chest. The sound of each thump of his heart echoed in your head like a drum. You could barely hear yourself think over its constant pounding.

“Yeah, I am. I’m a killer, remember?” He broke out in a mischievous smile. You laughed again, throwing your head back and dazzling him with a beautiful smile.

“How could I forget? I was waiting for someone, but it seems like he stood me up.” You pretended to pout, even though you were glad that the vampire fanatic you were supposed to meet didn’t show up. The thrill of picking up and seducing this man, tricking him into coming home with you, was amazing. It was like a game of chess, you made slow and strategic moves to get closer and closer to taking the prize.

“He’s an idiot for not showing up for a gorgeous woman like you. I’m Satoru. Let me buy you a drink.”

Pawn to E5.

You gave him your name and accepted his offer. He flagged down a waitress and ordered the two of you drinks. You made small talk with him, exchanging flirtatious quips back and forth. Every few minutes you would move closer to each other, you let your leg rest against his while his hand rested on your knee. His touch was hot against your cool skin, the feeling made you clench your thighs together. His other hand played with a strand of your hair absentmindedly.

Knight to C6.

You adjusted your dress, pulling at the bust, making your breast slightly bounce and grab his attention. He bit his lip while he watched you, eating you up with his gaze. The hunger and lust in his eyes was evident; he made no attempt to hide his desire for you.

Knight to D4. This is too easy.

The waitress returned with your drinks and the two of you talked and drank for some time. Slowly his hand moved up your thigh, pulling you a little closer to him. He gave you his undivided attention, smiling and making you laugh, it was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’s picked up a woman from a bar. He was charming and playful but there was an edge to him too. Underneath the smile and his good looks, you sensed something dark within him.

“So sweetheart, how about you and I get outta here?” He propositioned you, his fingers sliding underneath your dress and dangerously closer to your core. You imagined how those fingers would feel inside you, slipping in between your wet folds, while the taste of his sweet blood lingered on your tongue.

“You have no idea.” You reached out and played with the collar of his shirt, giving him a wide smile that showcased your sharp fangs.

Checkmate.

You arrived at his penthouse after a cab ride filled with light petting and teasing. When he opened the door, you were blown away. His apartment was filled with expensive paintings, exquisite furniture and completely spotless. The minute you stepped in you were overwhelmed with the scent of him all around you. Your excitement grew, an ache spreading in your stomach.

He shut and locked the door before pulling you against him with a firm grip on your waist. His soft lips ghosted yours, only millimeters from your own.

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” He whispered, one of his hands drifting down to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze. You smirked and looked up into his eyes, trying to read him.

“Looking for me? Or just a beautiful woman to take home?” You teased him and ran your fingers up and into his soft hair. He groaned when you took a handful of his locks into your hand, gently pulling his head to the side so his neck was exposed to you. The drumming of blood pumping through the veins in his neck put you in a trance. His laugh shook his body, and the playful aura that was around him seemed to dissipate.

He grabbed your face by your chin, redirecting your focus to his lips as they crashed into yours, hungrily moving with yours. The grip on your ass tightened and held you flush against him. His leg slipped between your legs and his thigh rubbed against your core. The muscles in his thigh tensed when you ground your hips against him.

The feeling of your swelling bud pressed against him made you moan, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He tasted sweet with a hint of alcohol. It was intoxicating. His wet tongue wrestled with yours, skimming over your fangs but not hard enough to pierce him.

He picked you up and carried you through the apartment with ease. His large muscles rippled underneath you, while he moved toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. You clung to him and kissed him passionately. The taste and feeling of him mixed with the alcohol made your head swim.

He threw you onto his mattress and climbed on top of you. His legs straddled your hips, and one of his large hands held both of yours about your head, pinning you down. He looked down at you, his eyes clouded with lust.

“No, I’ve been looking for you little vampire.” He used his free hand to undo his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists, binding them together with a tight knot. He leaned back onto his heels, looking over every inch of you. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers up your spine. You were starting to wonder which one of you was the predator, and which one was the prey.

His hand push the bottom of your dress up revealing your white lace panties underneath. He groaned at the sight of the damp fabric, leaning down close to place his lips against them, lapping at the slick that saturated them. You moaned and arched your back as you felt his tongue lick against your cloth covered pussy, leaving you wanting more.

Satoru inhaled your scent, burying his face against your core, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be so sexy. What a shame.” He mumbled to himself before getting off the bed and undressed down to his boxers. His body was impeccable, with a sculpted, and wide chest and broad shoulders with rippling abs that lead down to his long, and thick cock that stood erect. He opened his nightstand and a long, sharp knife emerged from the drawer and he twirled it in his hand skillfully.

You let out a laugh. “What are you going to do, kill me?”

He laughed along with you while circling the bed, moving closer to where your head rested. He stopped and pulled you to the edge of the mattress, letting your head hang off the side. The cold blade run up the column of your neck slowly, threatening to break the skin. It excited you, thrilled you, yet it made you nervous.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice was sweet and warm but his look was dark and cold. He scrapped the knife down to the strap of your dress. He swiftly slipped the cold steel under the strap and cut through it, repeating this action on the other strap. He pulled his boxers down, letting his cock slap against his stomach.

You were getting impatient, wanting to get to the part where you drank him dry while his massive cock filled you up. You opened your mouth wide and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He smirked and stroked his length over you, little beads of precum leaking at the tip.

“So eager, such a little whore. Don’t even think about biting me, little vampire.” He punctuated his statement by pushing his tip into your mouth. The taste of him, both salty and sweet, bloomed on your tongue. He threw his head back and moaned shoving himself deeper and into your throat. His hand wrapped around your neck while he rested the blade against your skin.

He was rough and brutal, fucking your face with abandon, chasing his own high. His aggressiveness made you soak your panties, wishing your hands were free to touch your needy pussy. You breathe through your nose while he kept a consistent pace in and out of your mouth, drool coating his cock and running down your face.

“Fuck. You’re making me second guess this. Maybe I should keep you around after all.” He grunted, his voice breaking a little with every thrust. You tried pulling away from him, something inside you told you to run. He held you down, keeping you from getting away from him. He was strong, intimidatingly strong.

You pulled against the tie wrapped around your arms until it tore, freeing your hands. You pushed back against him hard sending him crashing against the wall behind him. You made a break for it, climbing out of the bed and running to the door. Before you could open it, he threw you against it, your chest slamming into the wood. He pressed himself against you hard, caging you in.

“What the fuck Satoru!” You yelled and tried to push him off you, but he didn’t budge. He was stronger and faster than any other human you had met.

“I told you kitten, I’m a killer. Some people aren’t too happy to have you hanging around town and they sent me after you. I thought it would be harder to get you back here, but you just threw yourself at me willingly.” You felt his chest rumble with a deep laugh, while a hand slipped into your panties, tracing your slit lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll still give you what you came here for though.”

A moan ripped through your chest when his finger pushed past your entrance, reaching deep inside you. The palm of his hand pressed against your clit, making your legs shake, pleasure coursing through your body.

“You’re so wet, you want this don’t you?” He whispered with his lips pressed into your ear. You placed your palms flat against the door with the intent to push him away from you again, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you stopped you. He dragged his finger along your walls, reaching that spot that made you grind your hips down into his hand.

“You can try to kill me all you want, but you won’t succeed.” Your voice was breathy, not coming off nearly as menacing as you wanted it to.

He slipped another finger into your tight hole, spreading you open and rutting into you harder. You moved your hips in time with his movements, riding his fingers, the fire building in your core. You needed him in every way.

You body tensed as he pumped faster, your pussy squeezing him as you quickly approached your orgasm. Just as you were about to reach your high, he quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you back towards the bed. You hit his chest as hard as you could, but he was unfazed. It was like you completely missed somehow even though you felt your fist make contact with him.

“You can’t hurt me baby, not unless I want you to.” He pulled you back onto the bed and pulled your panties down your legs. He bundled them and sniffed them, breathing in the smell of your arousal. You smiled, baring your fangs at him, but he only smirked.

“You know what I am, now what are you? You’re not normal.” You asked him hesitantly as he crawled onto the bed closer to you. His hands rested on your knees and spread them wide, exposing your dripping pussy. He leaned down to nuzzle his tongue into your warmth.

His hot, wet muscle lapped up your juices, and your eyes fell back as you savored the sensation. The sound of his deep, guttural moan made you clench and ache more. Bright, blue eyes watched as you thrashed and moaned under his touch. He used his thumbs to spread you open while he gently sucked on your bud. Your legs tried to snap shut from the stimulation, but his large frame forced them open. You hissed through your teeth when his fingers slipped back into you, while he lapped and sucked on your sensitive clit. The bed shifted as he started rutting his weeping cock into it, desperately seeking some friction to soothe the throbbing ache in his balls.

“So, you’re some sick vampire hunter or something?” You whispered between moans, barely able to form coherent words while he ravished you like it was his last meal. He slapped your thigh hard, before pushing your legs back, pressing them down against the bed, folding you in half. He loomed over you, imprisoning you under him.

He smiled down at you, another sweet and deceiving smile. You reached a hand up and wrapped it around his neck, squeezing slightly, trying to take control. He allowed you to hold him still, looking down on you expectingly.

“Well, are you going to try to kill me little vampire? Before I fuck you dumb?” His smile widened.

You ran your hand up into his hair and pulled him down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue. You mumbled against his lips, “No, I’ll kill you after”.

He suddenly slammed his cock into you, impaling you on his long cock. The intrusion made you gasp and throw your head back in ecstasy. He didn’t wait for you to adjust before rutting into you harshly. The sound of your slick glazing his cock and skin slapping skin was barely audible over your loud moans.

You kissed him again, opening your mouth to let him in. He groaned into your mouth before his tongue brushed against yours. You waited until the right moment, then quickly bit down on his tongue, drawing blood.

The sweet taste of his blood flooded your mouth as you kissed him and sucked gently at the wound. You were gone, drunk with pleasure and the taste of him coating your throat. He thrusted into you hard, the force pushing you further into the bed. He kissed you passionately, as if he was consuming you just like you were consuming him.

Next, you bit his lip, puncturing his soft skin. Blood trickled down his chin while you drank from him. He groaned and pounded into you faster, the grip he had on one of your legs tightened, spreading you wider. You moaned with every punishing thrust of his hips, his hot skin burning you up.

He broke the kiss and slowly pulled out of you, his eyes glued to the sight of his hard length, shimmering with your arousal, sliding out of your tight pussy. You whimpered at the loss of his touch. He laughed under his breath and sat with his back against the headboard. His oceanic eyes stared at you while he stroked himself.

“Come here little vampire. You’re going to ride me and beg me to fuck you like the whore you are.”

You wiped your mouth, and crawled up the bed to him seductively, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You hovered over the tip of his cock, rubbing it through your folds.

“Don’t act like you don’t want this just as bad as I do, Satoru. Does it turn you on when I do this?” You trailed kisses down his jaw and to his neck, stopping above his pulse point. You pressed your lips against the soft drumming of his heartbeat. You had him right where you wanted him, pliant and offering himself to you. Some killer he was.

Your sharp fangs penetrated his skin, and you drank greedily from his coursing vein as you sank down onto him. A load moan slipped past his lips and your eyes fell shut in bliss. He held you against him, opening his neck up to you, but not allowing you to move on top of him. You were crazed, needing to feel his cock bullying your needy hole, while his taste satisfied your hunger.

“Yeah, but you didn’t beg sweetheart. Don’t make me kill you before you finish, I can feel how badly you want to cum.” He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you feeding off him, his mind was clouded with euphoria. He didn’t imagine it would feel this good, it took every ounce of self-control he had to prevent himself from rutting his hips up into you. The fluttering of your cunt around his aching cock made him groan in agony and need.

With each second that passed, you expected him to grow weaker and faint as you drank more and more of him. You planned to drain him until he was weak enough to release his hold on you, freeing you to bounce on his cock as much as you wanted. That moment never came, his grip even tightened when you tried to wiggle and hump him. At the rate you were feeding from him, he should be out cold or worse.

You were almost full, and he was still trapping you against him with a smile on his face.

“You can’t kill me kitten. Drink to your little hearts content, I can heal myself faster than you can drain me.” His voice brought you out of your trance. Your eyes flew open, and you pulled back, blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. You stared at him, watching the trickle of blood from his wound slow and then come to a halt, the wound closing almost instantly. You froze, trying to understand what was happening. Trying to figure out what he was, who he was.

“Now beg for me.” He stared back at you through white dusted eyelashes while he rolled his pelvis against you once, teasing you.

Your mouth fell open, the fire in your core burning hot again.

“Please, just…please fuck me.” You mumbled, feeling defeated.

He fucked up into you, his cock spreading you wide. The power of his thrust made your breast bounce and jiggle in his face. He let your hips go, electing to rip the remainder of your dress, leaving you completely bare on top of him. You ground clit against him while he pushed himself as deep as your body allowed him to.

“Shit, that’s too deep.” You breathed out.

“Too fucking bad. You got what you wanted, now it’s my turn.” He slurred, while he took your soft breast in his hands. He roughly fondled them, rolling your erect nipples through his fingers. You moaned and leaned into his touch. He was the only thing your mind could focus on, even when you should be trying to figure out how to run away from him.

“This pussy is so sweet, you feel so good.” He moaned, pounding harshly into you. It took your breath away. You hung your head back, your muscles tensing as you felt yourself being blinded by your orgasm. Your legs shook and your cum covered his abdomen and legs as you came.

He smiled up at you, watching your hazy eyes droop down. He pumped into you faster, sweat running down his forehead, your pussy sucking him in as your climax rippled through your body.

“Such a slut, cumming all over your assassin’s cock. Look at you, a vicious monster, drooling on my cock. Too dumb to run away and too weak to kill your victim.” He grunted and wrapped a large hand around your neck, and his other hand grabbed your hip.

He lifted you up and down his twitching member as if you weighed nothing. He fucked you vigorously, driving his hips up into your overstimulated pussy while he brought you down on him. You cried out, his tip slamming into your cervix. He watched where the two of you were connected, gazing at your cum covering both of you and his cock disappearing into your tight cunt. The image of him plunging himself into you while you babbled and gasped made his balls tighten.

His abs tightened as he threw his head back, pumping you full of his hot, sticky cum. He moaned as he came, you couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous he looked, overtaken with lust and pleasure. He let out a shaky breath and released your neck. You sat on top of him while both of you caught your breath.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the glint of the knife on the other side of the bed. Quickly, you leaped for the weapon, but he was faster, kicking you back and off the bed. You landed on the floor with a thud, the impact knocking the wind out of you. As you tried to get up you noticed he was already standing over you. He kicked you in the side, rolling you over on to your back. You scrambled to get up, swinging at him, but he smoothly dodged your attack.

It was now or never. You pushed yourself up and bolted for the door, the human blood giving you extra strength. You ripped the door open and ran for the exit. Just as you unlocked the door, as the doorknob turned and you were almost free, his hand hit the door, forcing it shut again.

“You’re not going anywhere. I have changed my mind though.” His voice was playful and light.

You turned around to face him, pressing yourself against the door to create as much distance from him as possible. He looked down on you, his hair covering one of his otherworldly eyes, a smile gracing his face.

“Don’t look so scared, I decided I’m not going to kill you.”

You waited for a sense of relief, but it never came.

“No, I’m going to keep you here and lock you up. You can do whatever you want in the penthouse and in exchange you’ll take care of the place. You can even spend my money on whatever you want.” He paused, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “What do ya say?”

You shook your head, fear prickling your skin.

“Hmm, too bad. You don’t really have a choice.” He kissed you again, his arms blocking you in.

“You’re mine now, little vampire.”

--This was so much fun to write, thinking about making it a series. please let me know what you think, I love getting comments from you guys. Reblogging helps spread my work. Thank you for reading!

#gojo satoru #gojo fanfic #gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo saturo #jjk fanfic #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo angst #yandere gojo #yandere #vampire #vampire fanfic #vampire fiction #vampire fantasy

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flickering-nightfall · 5 months

Note

I loveee how you draw iterator antennae,, please tell how do you design them?? Personally for me one of the hardest parts of designing iterators

Also - Love you art! Have a good day/night :)

Tysm <3

This one's tough, I don't really think too hard about how I design antennae. I just go with whatever looks right and fits the character lol but I'll try to talk about it anyways.

Moon and Pebbles are based off their in-game appearances. They have changes between depictions though so there's some wiggle room. Pebbles' is based off his sprite and Moon's off of one of her art pieces. (Her dull blue color is pulled from her sprite.) This seems to be popular in fan depictions too.

Sig and Suns are also based off official depictions. Sig I took some more liberties with - he really should have rounder, more protruding headphone bases. But I wanted some variety in headphone bases and he kind of just... ended up with a geometric shape theme to match his diamond mark. This is their only official image, so I just shrugged and gave them some broad small antennae that would be hidden at the back from this front angle, because I wanted to. (Bald Sig is valid but I like what I did hah)

Suns is a mix between the in-game art and the concept art by (I'm never sure what name to use here, but the art listed on the wiki is by-) Minkimaro. Mine's gotten more blocky/volumetric antennae over time, and every time I draw them their collar gets bigger. It's an addiction. They have to be comfy.

Wind and Innocence both have more unique antenna, and multiple segments. I wanted to balance them out with the others design-wise, but I wanted them to be distinct from each other too. So Wind gets these wide fan antenna and Innocence get triple thin antenna on joints.

And here's some OCs for variety.

I guess here's some stuff to chew on-

Shape, width, size of the base headphone parts

Shape, width, size of the antennae

How many antennae? Are the antennae all the same size/shape?

Embellishments (such as the extra details on Flicker's)

Does the design suit the character's look? If they can emote with the antennae, how does that fit their personality?

If it matters to you, how do your antenna work, mechanically speaking? If they can move, do they have ranges? For example - Suns' antennae have great horizontal range, but they can't fold them down past their headphone bases.

#sure this one can go in the main tag. why not #look at my ocs boy #rain world #rw spoilers #dp spoilers #flickerdoodles #art #text #ask #anon #group pic #long post #i guess?

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dotieeee · 3 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 6

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 6 Warnings:

Some noncon touching and canoodling (no spoilers)

Replay Level 5

Ready? Level 6 Start:

A knock on the ornate door reverberates inside the empty lab, giving you a tiny jolt in your chair. This must be him, coming over to ‘collect you.’

Like the Grim Reaper who’s come take your soul.

Or maybe it isn’t him. After all, the door isn’t locked, and he’s used to visiting by now to know he can just come in after a knock or two. You get up to open the door, willing your hands to stop shaking so he doesn’t see that you’re fazed by his mere presence.

How are going to win this if you start crumbling like a stale cookie whenever he’s around?

You yank the door open, expecting the Devil himself disguised in slick platinum-blond hair and a finely tailored suit, but instead, you get a man in a hat and a courier’s uniform.

“Ms Prunella Innis?” He inquires.

“Yes?”

He hands you a clipboard for you to sign and picks up this enormous white box wrapped in a satin crimson bow lying by his feet. He also hands you the bouquet he’s cradling, then strides past you to deposit the box on the nearest table. Judging by the red roses in the bundle of blooms, you know who sent you everything without even asking.

Coriolanus Snow never does subtle.

You thank the courier as he exits the lab, tipping his hat in response as he does. Gingerly, you prod the box with a finger, thinking maybe anything could come flying out of the box and rip your face out. It doesn’t move, so maybe the thing inside is dead and he just sent it for the funsies. You brace yourself as you unravel the bow, eager to just get it over with. You lift the lid and a subtle waft of roses greets you.

You gasp when you discover that the contents of the box are nowhere near what you’d been expecting.

They’re actually much worse.

Inside the box are three smaller boxes, all wrapped in red satin ribbons, placed on top of what looks like fancy crepe paper. A card lies atop the tiniest of the boxes with handwriting you can recognise from a mile away.

To my Sugarplum,

Wear this tonight. A car will pick you up from the Corso III entrance at six. We will talk about your response to my request then,

Your Coryo

The box underneath the note reveals a heart-shaped ruby necklace with a fine white gold chain, similar to the chain of that plum-coloured diamond he gave you. In the confines of the second box lies a small black silk clutch, embellished in minuscule silver beads, and embroidered with fine-spun silver, making up a pattern resembling roses. The third box contains a pair of single-strap black satin high-heeled pumps. Underneath those boxes, covered in what you originally thought was just wrapping paper, is a floor-length slip dress made of silk in the loveliest shade of crimson. Based on the superb craftsmanship of the dress alone, you can tell that it isn’t something one can buy off-the-rack. Tailor-made by Coriolanus Snow’s choice of tailor shop, judging by the logo sticker sealing the crepe wrapping paper together.

There was one time these extravagant gifts would’ve sent you in a grateful, ecstatic mood.

That feels like forever ago, now.

At the moment, your gut just stirs in discomfort, looking at this luxurious mess.

Your trepidation only mounts as you watch the clock trudge slowly from day to night. By four, you get home and prepare for the inevitable. You try not to be surprised with the way the dress hugs your figure perfectly, because then that would mean he somehow got lucky with eyeballing your dress size, or that he got ahold of your measurements through questionable means. By five-thirty, the girl in your mirror is barely recognizable – a girl you’ve never seen before, put together on the outside and nearly falling apart at the seams on the inside.

It certainly doesn’t help that the near-nauseating scent of roses still emanates from the dress you’re wearing.

The reflection staring back at you seems to mock you, telling you this is your life now, all preened up at the behest of a stranger whose pastime is pushing other people under his thumbs. Oh well. You’ll get out of this invasive mask soon, you assure yourself.

The driver who’s expecting you right at your building’s entrance wordlessly opens the car door for you. An Avox, you recognise – a product of one of the Capitol’s many sophisticated ways of punishing dissent. Because sometimes death by hanging takes the rebels out of their misery too quickly, so one brilliant mind in the Capitol one day had this brilliant idea of cutting people’s tongues off and shunning them into the lowest wrung of society so they could live a life of servitude, not subjecting anyone else to their worthless, wayward opinions.

And of course, everyone else agreed with how fucking brilliant an idea it was.

Would you have preferred Sejanus be sentenced this way and still have him alive instead of dead? You banish the thought as quickly as it had come – too morbid, even by your standards. Besides, there was no way the Capitol could’ve shut him up, even without his tongue. He still would’ve fought tooth and nail for the change he wanted to see in the world.

Ten minutes to six and you’re already pulling up to the entrance of what looks like The Palisades Hotel, the grandest luxury five-star hotel in all of Panem. There are many other cars already milling at the entrance, with small crowds forming to presumably greet each other. The Chauffeur opens your car door, and immediately after stepping out of the rental car, you spot the very man responsible for you being here instead of at home, guzzling hot chocolate and stuffing your face with angel food cake.

Coriolanus Snow seems to be engaged in a lighthearted conversation with a group of older men in flashy tuxedos you only vaguely recognise by face, but his attention shifts the moment he sees you emerge from the car. You could see him mouth ‘see you inside’ to them as one of them shakes his hand vigorously. His piercing blue eyes scan your frame a few feet away, his lilting grin never vanishing from his face as he approaches you.

He seems to have lured you into some kind of party under false pretences.

He looks flawless, as he always does: his platinum-blond locks combed back, his sleek crimson tuxedo matching yours, and a signature white rose pinned to his lapel; no wonder he almost fooled you – that blinding charm he has always allowed him to hide something sinister underneath.

You could feel your pulse race with every step he takes in your direction. It takes you a fraction of a second to realise he’s holding out his hand, which you tentatively accept. He never breaks eye contact with you as he brushes his lips over the back of your hand.

You might’ve yanked your hand away a little too fast for his liking, for you see his eyes flash danger before shifting to his usual semblance of warmth.

He leans into your ear and whispers, “Sugarplum, you are a sight to behold.”

You put on the best realistic smile you can muster. “Thank you. And thank you for the dress and...everything else.”

You stay frozen to your spot as he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers briefly brushing against your cheek. “There. Perfect,” he says. “And there’s no need to thank me. I like spoiling my sugarplum with only the best.”

But despite the rather depressing outlook you had coming here, there’s a glimmer of hope you see as an idea strikes you. Maybe you can get out of this early, after all.

“Coryo, Uncle Cas agreed,” you tell him at once. And then make up an excuse and bolt. Anything to get out of here and away from him. “He’s willing to transfer my apprenticeship.”

Coriolanus beams in delight at the news, his eyes twinkling as he takes the initiative to wrap your arm around his. “I’m so happy to hear that, sugarplum. The highlight of my night. Let me take you inside; a lot of people are dying to see you.”

Before you can complain, however, he all but steers you inside the lobby and to the entrance of the Palisades’ grand hall.

“Where exactly are we going, Coryo?” you ask. He never said anything about other people, but maybe they could come in handy in case you need to duck and make a run for it.

He releases a short sigh, looking apologetic and slowing his pace. “I may have forgotten to tell you that we’d be attending Mr Plinth’s birthday party tonight. I’m sorry, sugarplum, I’ve been meaning to invite you in person, but I’ve been so busy lately it slipped my mind.”

Your hand makes its way to your mouth as you gasp. “But haven’t brought him a gift…”

He is quick to dismiss your concern as he waves to someone exiting the hall. “It’s okay. I wrote both our names on the card on my gift.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, as the massive gold-painted doors open to a grand hall lined with marble and gold, revealing a crowd of people already chatting and enjoying the booze over a full orchestra playing at the corner of the stage. You could feel the blood drain from your face as a sea of curious, ogling eyes trails on you both entering the grand hall, but you power through and smile – there’s no escaping now, at this point.

“I’m simply taking responsibility,” Coriolanus responds in a teasing tone. “Would you rather have come here without a gift?”

You look up at him while you cling onto his arm for some support. He looks every bit at home with all the attention – so undeniably different from the eighteen-year-old Academy Coriolanus fidgeting with his collar all those years ago on the day of the Reaping.

You wonder inwardly if that’s the only thing in him that’s changed, while everything else that’s rotten in him had always been there, if not amplified.

“I guess not,” you acquiesce. “Thank you. Please let me know how I can pay you back.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Coriolanus’s arm veers you to Mr and Ma Plinth, who are both entertaining guests. You give Mr Plinth your well-wishes for his birthday and get a motherly hug from Ma, who gushes over how ‘you look every bit like a princess.’

“My sons sure have excellent taste,” she tells Coriolanus with a wink, earning a hearty laugh from him before she pulls him into an affectionate embrace.

The dress. She’s referring to the dress for sure.

But just when you think you’re finally free to just face the farthest corner and disassociate, his arm wraps around your waist and leads you away to meet other people. People you’d rather not associate with.

The horror.

But as usual, you paint on the demurest of smiles, trying not to be fazed by the flashing of cameras in the hall. The party is apparently heavily covered by the media, so Coriolanus does his best to mesmerise everyone with his wit, his looks and his charisma, while you play the role of the dolled-up, docile arm décor, beaming and chiming in only when spoken to.

It’s nothing short of demeaning, but you’re here to play his game, and losing isn’t an option.

Coriolanus proudly introduces you to everyone you meet as his official gamemaker apprentice, much to their admiration. A lot of them, powerful, important heads in the Capitol and their children, some of whom you know by face at the University. Most of them, unfamiliar faces, but they feel the need to give you unsolicited advice – somewhere along the lines of being seen more among peers of the same societal status.

“How come we don’t see you out that often?”

“You’re so pretty, you should go out more and have fun!”

“Nellie, we usually hang out at this bar, it’s super exclusive, you should come with us sometime.”

The same thing, over and over, and you just go along, nodding or shaking your head and laughing whenever a joke is told, crack a few yourself, exchange toasts over minuscule sips of booze, and tell them through gritted teeth that you’ll see them around, only to be snatched away again by the waist by Coriolanus and be brought over to another clique. Your Uncle Cas would be laughing his ass off at you if he could see you right now.

The cycle goes on, and you find yourself getting better at it with practice. Just like a loop, repeating a set of code for x number of times, automating repetitive, boring tasks on a computer application.

The only problem with loop conditions: when poorly written, can lead to infinite loops, which can cause the application’s unresponsiveness.

You vaguely wonder how long this loop is conditioned to last.

A guy you’ve seen in one of your classes approaches you and strikes up a conversation, just when Coriolanus is looking away, his hand slack on your waist as he speaks with a Mr Rutherford.

“I read your paper on the application of artificial intelligence in automating retina-scanning and other security measures,” he says, adding for clarification when you flash him a questioning look, “It’s in the library, along with your other research papers. It’s so well put together.”

He holds out his hand as he introduces himself as Ovidius Browne, the youngest of three sons of business magnate Octavius Browne. The Brownes own a number of factories in District 6. You shake his outstretched hand. He reveals himself to be in his junior year in computer engineering, a career he decided to take to help improve their company’s factory conditions. He wonders if such levels of automation would be possible in basic manufacturing tasks like quality inspection and inventory scanning without taking jobs away or being too invasive to factory workers. It’s a terrific concept, you say, and you get so pumped with exchanging ideas that you forget to put up your facade and instead engage wholeheartedly, at least until a cold hand travels from the back of your neck down to your spine, settling on the small of your back and tracing circles with a finger.

“Browne, is it?” Coriolanus Snow’s baritone chips in.

You introduce them formally and they exchange a brief and polite handshake.

“I’d like to discuss more of that with you Ms Innis,” Ovidius says. “If we could perhaps exchange numbers – ”

“Of course, we’d love to chat, Mr Browne. I can give Nellie your office number and she’ll get in touch,” Coriolanus interrupts genially. His fingers are still drumming over your back as he continues, “Apologies, I have to take my apprentice away; there is someone I’d like her to meet.”

He grips your waist to pull you away without waiting for a response from either of you.

You shoot him a confused look. “Coryo, he was just – ”

“About to ask you to put in a good word on his behalf to your uncle? Yes, he was.” He says with an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“But we were just talking about...tech stuff. Are you sure?”

The conversation you had with him didn’t seem like it’ll branch off into that territory.

He nods once. “A little bird may have chirped to me about a certain Browne sibling’s internship application getting rejected twice by the Dean of Computer Sciences. It’s like you said before, sugarplum: just another one of those sycophants complimenting you in exchange for something.”

How much inside information does he have stockpiled on other people? Maybe he keeps them stashed in his closet labelled ‘in case of emergency, break glass.’

Just when you thought you could talk to someone about something you’re genuinely interested in for once this night.

You’re recognised by a surprisingly pleasant, popular senior and it-girl from your college, Ursa Talbot – daughter of Labor Solicitor Ursinus Talbot – who ropes you in with her gaggle of girlfriends, chatting to you about the exclusive, invite-only social clubs she’s joined and offers to vouch for you.

Ursa’s fiancé, a fresh graduate now working for her father, joins in the conversation, rolling his eyes as the women around him start giggling and making suppressed squealing noises at someone behind you. Before you turn around to see who it is, you feel a gentle squeeze on the waist.

“Ladies, my apologies, but I’d have to take my apprentice away,” he declares with a wink, and they swoon and blush behind their hands. “I hope you enjoy the night. Nellie?”

“Yes?”

Like you’re programmed to do, you look at Coriolanus with a cheerful smile and let him haul you off.

He tells you something you don’t quite catch. With the music now reaching its climax and the chatter getting livelier, it becomes hard to hear anyone, so you have no choice but to lean closer to him to make out what he’s saying. He takes this further and tugs you close to his chest by the waist. The proximity makes you inadvertently place a hand on the lapel of his waistcoat, while he whispers to the side of your face close to your ear, “I said I’m going to introduce you to Dr Volumnia Gaul.”

You peer to your side, to where he’s eyeing, and true enough, Dr Gaul herself was there, wearing a purple and gold brocade dress cascading to the floor and leather gloves to match, her straggly, greying hair adding to her distinct look. She’s chatting away with an animated Strabo Plinth holding a dainty drink in one hand and a beetle-shaped clutch in the other.

Even in something as completely innocent and normal as a birthday party, she still stands out against the crowd as a formidable presence.

She’s what you think Coriolanus is trying to be, except for the speaking-in-riddles-and-rhymes part. Wouldn’t it be funny, a snide voice in your head says, if Coriolanus one day just starts saying ‘hippity-hoppity?’

The thought is enough is cheer you up a little bit.

Volumnia Gaul’s mismatched eyes roam over the two of you as you near her spot.

“Dr Gaul, it’s a pleasure to see you tonight. I’m glad you could join us,” he says with a tip of his head. “I know we mustn’t talk of work, but I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I have secured myself the apprentice of my dreams.”

“Mr Snow, what delightful news you bring me,” she drawls toothily. “Oh my, oh my. Prunella Innis!”

Her unnerving gaze lands on you, her gloved fingers lifting your chin as if to get a better look.

Just smile, dammit.

“The apple of young Snow’s eye. I was wondering when we’d get to meet. Finally putting a pretty face to your name is such a treat!” She releases a pleased, throaty chuckle.

You try to keep your voice as steady as you can. “Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Dr Gaul.”

The grin she has from ear to ear does not extend to her eyes. “Clever little girl, this. I can see why...” she trails off, then flicks an odd, knowing stare at your friend. “Keep your eagle eye on this one, Mr Snow; you wouldn’t want her flying away with her teensy-weensy wings...”

Seeing as this friendly, albeit bizarre banter isn’t in your list of programmed interactions, you settle for the automated smile, careful not to let it falter.

“Of course, Dr Gaul. I’m not planning on letting her go anytime soon,” he responds just as playfully.

Thankfully, the exchange ends there, as you’re both called by party ushers to your table where the Plinth couple are sitting. Odd sitting at the table for what seems to be family and close friends only, but you keep your thoughts to yourself while the ceremony begins. The night goes on with well-wishing speeches from the Plinth senior’s closest friends and colleagues. Then, the dinner courses are served right after an honorary toast for the celebrant. Everything brought to the table by the servers looks expensive and sumptuous – all a grand display of opulence that is the seemingly infinite Plinth fortune.

And yet you find yourself only able to nibble at the food, having your appetite diminished by the stress of interacting with so many people in just less than two hours.

“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Coriolanus’s voice floats from beside you. His eyes are laced with worry as he asks, “Can I get you anything you’d like?”

Plus, having to deal with him dragging you from one place to another.

You shake your head once and assure him you’re fine. You partake of the food a little more when the dessert course comes around, much to his approval.

“I’d hate to see my sugarplum getting sick,” he says as he watches you eat a tiny forkful of birthday cake.

This you ignore in favour of savouring the cake’s decadent caramel frosting and rich custard filling, balanced with an airy lemon-and-orange-flower chiffon base. You figure if you can’t have fun tonight, the least you can do is enjoy the cake.

With the food out the way, more booze comes flowing, and it isn’t long before the orchestra plays a lively tune, and the dance floor gets filled with delighted, slightly inebriated guests waltzing and tapping to the beat, and while Strabo doesn’t join in, he and Ma both look thrilled to see everyone in high spirits, before they’re pulled separately into light chit-chat by their friends.

If Sejanus was here now, you’d both be sulking together in a corner of the grand hall sharing what would’ve been your third slice of cake, arguing over who gets the side with more frosting.

You take advantage of this moment to extricate yourself from everyone – mostly Coriolanus and his imposing presence – and excuse yourself to the powder room. Locking yourself inside a bathroom stall, you let out a drawn-out exhale of absolute relief.

Alone, finally.

You gaze wistfully at the bathroom window to your left. It’s too high for your reach, but you figure you could use one of the large potted plants as a booster and get as far away from this place as you possibly can, even if you had to go on foot.

Groaning to yourself, you stew in the fact that this freedom of yours from your deviously charming companion is short-lived. He’d soon be wondering where you’d gone, and he’d likely tear the place down just so he could find you. You doubt he’d appreciate it if he hears that you’ve locked yourself in a bathroom stall plotting your escape.

The dancing is on full blast as you step back into the grand hall. You make yourself as inconspicuous as you can, strategically darting between people to reach the open bar. You choose a bar stool that conceals you from everyone in the room and order a drink on impulse. The bartender is kind enough to humour your request for an alcohol-free concoction, which he serves with maraschino cherries on a toothpick.

“Rough night?” he asks as he wipes a glass, smiling sympathetically at you. With his greying hair and the lines on the corner of his eyes, he seems to be wearier than you are, probably from having to be at the beck and call of thirsty, snotty Capitol High Society all night.

“Very,” you sigh. “I hope it isn’t as rough as yours.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” he shakes his head with a chortle. “I had a lady just a few clicks ago demand I make the same drink four times because she wanted a Cosmo without the cranberry juice and the lime. Coulda just ordered a shot of vodka and Cointreau, but what do I know...”

You let out a suppressed, dry laugh. “I’m sorry you to had deal with that. Thanks for the drink, it’s delicious.”

“Eh. It’s nothin',’” he shrugs. A server enters behind the bar and whispers something to him, and he promptly takes his apron off and exits, but not before bidding you a good night. He is replaced by someone younger and more stern-looking, who resumes the abandoned task of wiping the other glasses.

Just as you’re about to bite a cherry off the toothpick, a sudden waft of roses floats in your vicinity, followed by a cold hand on your lower back and an airy baritone whisper over your ear.

“I was afraid you had walked out on me.”

Coriolanus Snow’s lopsided grin is inches away from your face as he leans against the counter beside you, his eyes eventually landing on the drink you’re still halfway through finishing.

“Hmm. What would my sugarplum be drinking liquid courage for?”

You shake your head. “This is alcohol-free.”

“Good.” He straightens his posture to full height and, bending to a stiff, formal bow, he extends a hand and asks, “Prunella Innis, may I please have the honour of this dance?”

You hesitate, but knowing that every move you make is now under public scrutiny, saying no and leaving him out to dry isn’t an option.

He sweeps you away to the dance floor as soon as your fingers touch his.

With the orchestra blaring their lovely rendition of Strauss II’s Voices of Spring, you both begin swaying lightly as you place your palms on his shoulder while his hands encase both sides of your waist.

Coriolanus beams down on you as his cobalt eyes search your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice mixed with a tiny tinge of concern. “I really hope I haven’t overwhelmed you, I know you never liked these kinds of parties.”

Your lips thin to a wry smile. “It’s a change of scenery, alright,” you admit. “What about you? You look like you’re having the time of your life.”

His eyes twinkle as he lets out a throaty chuckle. “That’s only because I brought good company with me.”

“Really? I thought this was your whole scene.”

“Well, if you keep going with me to the next ones, it might just be.”

His air of mischief continues even as the music ends and you join in applauding the musicians. When he doesn’t make a move to cart you off the dance floor, that’s when you figure out he isn’t done dancing with you just yet.

The orchestra begins their rendition of the Snowstorm waltz, so you both exchange a curtsy, as is the norm. With his hand clasping yours and his other hand on your waist, you begin to dance, spinning and waltzing to the beat. You’re aware you shouldn’t be making a big deal out of something as trivial as a dance, but you’re still unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find. You settle for staring at his tux collar and concentrating on your footwork.

Thank goodness those etiquette classes in your early teens are proving to be worth your uncle’s money.

Soon enough, your surroundings become a blur, and all you can see is him, beaming down at you as you dip, then pulling you flush to his chest so he can spin with you some more. His gaze is heavy, feverish, never leaving your face. You see a split-second flash of the entire hall, which throws you further into a daze, discovering that eyes are trained on you both and most of the dancers have vacated the floor to give you room. The heady smell of roses, courtesy of the one pinned to his lapel, blurs your sense of reality, and you beg, you pray, that you don’t hurl what little food you ate and make a fool out of yourself. He angles his head in time to another dip and he whispers to ear in a low voice.

“You’re so intoxicatingly beautiful.”

Then he pulls you close again, your foreheads almost touching as he drinks all of you in with those half-lidded blue eyes. A few more trots on the floor and the waltz ends, and you curtsy as he bows, trying not to show just how lightheaded you are and how shallow your breathing is despite the dance itself being undemanding. The animated applause that follows echoes in the hall, and you join in mechanically.

Guests come milling in pairs to fill the dance floor once more just as the next waltz plays. Coriolanus entwines his fingers with yours.

“Come with me,” he says vaguely, and you both manoeuvre your way through the dancers and ignore some of the whispering and the staring that follows you as you exit the grand hall through the several ceiling-to-ceiling doors made of glass panels. He leads you down to the marble staircase and into the hotel’s expansive inner gardens.

“I figured you needed the fresh air,” he says as soon as you both reach a wall beside a well-manicured hedge, away from leering eyes and all the gossiping.

Your posture sags against the stone wall, letting out an exhausted exhale. “Thank you,” you say.

He just watches you wordlessly, his hands behind his back, as you compose yourself. When your head clears, you become aware that you’ve strayed a tad too far from the grand hall and are a little too alone with him than you’d prefer. Eventually, you straighten, your decision to go back to the party already made.

But Coriolanus is on you the moment you do.

“I want to show you something,” he says.

He gives you no time to complain, and he all but drags you by the arm further into a dimmer section of the garden, where you can barely hear the music and the chatter from the grand hall. A few more steps and you reach a large stone greenhouse covered wall-to-wall in creeping wisteria. Surprisingly, it’s unlocked, so he easily pushes the opaque glass door open and ushers you in first, with him following closely behind.

“The roses are to your far right.”

You hear the door’s dull click as it closes.

You shouldn’t be here, you think. But you get to the edge of the greenhouse, anyway, where the nearly overwhelming odour of a mishmash of different types of roses invades your nostrils. Despite the very little light coming through the opaque glass panels of the enclosure, you see the flowers sprawled in between a narrow path leading to the back of the building. Just more stone and glass panels, no doors.

No exits. No escape.

Your heart leaps to your throat when you feel a warm breath tickle the back of your neck and a pair of arms snake around your form. Tensing up in an instant, your breath hitches when that warmth reaches your ear.

Coriolanus’s deep, hushed tone sends shivers down your spine.

“I’ve been dying to have you all to myself the moment you stepped out of that car.”

In the blink of an eye, he turns you around and captures your lips with his.

It takes a while for you to realise what he’s doing, so he takes advantage of your momentary unresponsiveness and slips his tongue inside your mouth. As he’s moving his tongue all over yours, your back hits a hard surface. He’s pinned you against the stone wall, his body hunched over as he presses himself on yours, giving you no space to slip through or to push him away. His hand wraps around the side of your head to change the angle, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Coriolanus Snow is kissing you, passionately and possessively, and he kisses like he’s running out of breath and you’re his only source of air.

And all you could do in your state of denial, paralysis, and fear is to close your eyes and wish he was Sejanus instead.

When he shifts his angle, you tilt your head to the side so you can catch your breath. Perhaps he sees this as an act of defiance, for he cups both your cheeks with a growl, making you face him, and goes back to kissing you just as fiercely as before. This time, you instinctively keep your lips shut, but a light nip of his teeth leaves you gasping in surprise, enabling him to tangle both your tongues.

Your hands manage to wedge between your bodies, so you push him away with all the strength you have. As he reluctantly pulls away, he has the gall to look affronted, but you could’ve slapped him, too, or clawed his eyes out for putting you in such a vulnerable position; only reason prevents you from lashing out.

“I’m sorry, sugarplum. I’ve had quite the drink tonight,” he whispers breathlessly, resting his forehead on your temple.

Liar. You can barely smell anything alcohol-related on him; just the sickening scent of the flowers he’s partial to. This is all just a part of the game to him, to make you feel isolated and powerless against him. A play for power and control, and one he’s currently winning.

“We should go, Coryo.” You hate how close to begging your voice sounds. “Please, it’s a school day tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

Fuck.

Of all the excuses, that’s what you come up with?

He begins planting butterfly kisses on your temple and your cheek.

“Not for my uncle,” you scramble to correct yourself. “He often has Saturday classes and I sometimes help.”

“Skip it. You’re my apprentice now. Mine,” he says sternly. He seems to immediately amend his tone by asking, “I mean, doesn’t he have interns for that?”

Damn it.

“Yes, he does.”

You could feel him smirk against your cheek, seemingly counting this as a win. With you still effectively trapped in between the wall and his unrelenting embrace, he takes your chin with his forefinger and thumb to make you face him and latches his lips on yours.

His hand finds its way to your back, brushing against the groove of your spine. He then grips the back of your neck and turns your head to the side, allowing him to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, before moving down to the column of your neck.

You cave in and beg as soon as you feel his tongue on your skin.

“Coryo, please...please stop...”

It comes out as a broken whimper, making you hate yourself even more. The dread you felt when you opened his gift, the way you had to put on a mask that you hate for people you don’t care for, the way you had to pretend to him that you don’t despise how he kept making you feel so exposed and defenceless the entire night – everything you’ve been bottling up since this morning seemed to come spilling into that plea, rendering you to feel even more helpless and alone. It takes every ounce of self-control in you not to burst into tears.

You’re not supposed to act this pathetically in front of him, but here you are.

His grip on you grows slack and he draws his head back to observe you, his jaw clenched in disapproval. You don’t care; you try to wriggle away from him, your bodies still too close for your liking. You still refuse to meet his eyes, because if you do, he might see right through your crumbling facade.

He sighs and takes a full step backwards, finally giving you space to breathe in relief.

He still finds the nerve to let out a restrained chuckle. “I’m sorry, I let my emotions get the better of me. You’re right; this is neither the time nor the place.”

Neither the time nor the place. Does that mean he’ll do it again? At this point, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Can we go back? Please?”

He takes your hand in his with a nod. Stepping outside the greenhouse, you both stop in your tracks as you spot another couple nearby, seemingly trying to stay hidden in the bushes and in the middle of making out. It’s Ursa and her fiancé. They both pull away from each other and Ursa waves at you spiritedly while her partner looks away in embarrassment. She then drags him by the arm to the now-vacant greenhouse, both of them bursting into a giddy laughing fit.

Coriolanus just smirks at the sight. With him refusing to let your hand go, you continue your trek back to the grand hall, where the party is still in full swing, and the guests are still drinking and dancing the night away.

Your feet are sore, your lips are numb, and your soul is drained.

Yet you still put on a good final show until the party ends as if nothing happened. By eleven thirty, Mr and Ma Plinth instruct Coriolanus to call it a night and get some rest, but not before he escorts you home. Like the dutiful Plinth heir he is, he gladly obliges, and that’s how you wind up with the same car ride as he, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it through with a butter knife.

Coriolanus breaks the silence.

“I will have a car escort you from your home the Citadel starting Monday,” he says matter-of-factly. “As per Dr Gaul’s instructions, you will be excused from any summer class you’ve enrolled in.”

“But I took those classes for extra credit,” you protest mildly.

He encases your hand on your lap. “You will be granted full credits for all of them if we succeed. This is, after all, for the cause, not only of the Citadel nor of the Capitol, but of all of Panem.

“This Monday, sugarplum, is the dawn of a new era.”

You refuse point-blank to look at him or even acknowledge the comment, but judging by the excitement in his tone, despite everything he’s forced you to do this night, you already know he’s smiling and extremely pleased with himself.

After long agonising minutes, the car pulls up before the Corso III lobby entrance, so you bid him good night, which he returns with a swift peck on your cheek. You don’t even look back at the car once you get out; you run straight to the elevator, lock your apartment door and head to the safety of your bedroom.

Your first of two tasks as soon as you lock the door is to rid yourself of everything that reminds you of that accursed party – the dress, the shoes, the clutch, the necklace – and chuck them all into a corner where you hope you’d never see them again. You have a half-mind to shower to get rid of his smell on you, but you’re so tired to the bone you move on to the second and last task of the night:

Curl up in your blankets and cry your heart out.

Enter Level 7

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!

Next Level will include a portion of the ball in Snowball's POV!! I wanted it to be here but then it'll get too long so...🫣 also reader is going to have to work this incoming Monday lol and more sympathetic I cannot be, esp with Snowball observing 😛

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

141 notes · View notes

fluffyprettykitty · 11 months

Text

sugar

Pairing: sugar daddy!Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1200 words

Outline: Showing off your gifts to your benefactors.

Warnings: no powers au, pool sex, some power play, fingerfucking, dirty talk, pet names, switch!Nat, dom!tony, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), impact play maybe, if i missed anything major please let me know!

Author’s Note: based on my previous hds on tonynat & also used the precious help of the love of my life @that-sarcastic-writer 🖤also my first time writing a sugar baby au.

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・Tony Stark Masterlist ・❥・Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

"Just give it a twirl," Natasha says sitting back on the couch and crossing her legs. "You look absolutely beautiful in it." She continues admiring your body and the way the diamond bikini they had just gifted you looked on you.

"Just perfection." Tony mused taking a sip from his whiskey glass, his stare hard on you. It has been almost two months since that arrangement of yours started. Tony and Natasha both well-established socialites and business moguls were apparently so willing to share an end goal: you.

Three months ago you had walked inside that very office to apply for an assistant's job and by the end of the week, you had ended up on a private jet, legs apart with two tongues toying relentlessly with your pussy. Life was just amazing like that.

"Thank you." You beam and make a little curtsey. "Looks wonderful. Though not that practical." You wink at them and continue to strut around slowly.

"Well, it's for private sessions..." Tony said shrugging.

"Maybe watching you wear that while writing down Tony's speeches will have him actually show up to work." Natasha retorted and chuckled. "You know he needs it."

"Oh, she's mean already. I like that." Natasha just scoffed at his reply and you came closer to her, walking right in front of her.

"Turn around and kneel, baby." The red-haired woman instructed you and you followed suit turning around slowly and begging to kneel elegantly on the floor, showing off your accustoming diamond butt plug adorned in Natasha's business symbol.

"Now that's what I like to see, baby."

"Quite beautiful indeed. How about you go there inside the pool and see how well you can swim in that bikini." Tony said pointing at the warm indoor pool, its cyan waters looked mighty inviting. You slowly got back up and walked over to the ladder. Gracefully you get inside the pool and sink yourself inside rising back up.

"Just perfect." Tony mused as he came closer to sit by the chair nearby while Natasha ripped her dress off her body, and jumped right into the pool in her black underwear.

She crushed her lips onto yours pushing you against the pool's wall and roughly kissing your face and neck. You glanced a little just to watch Tony already palming himself at the sight of you.

"Don't you dare take it off," Natasha warned you holding your chin up and using her free hand to feel how your body felt under the water.

"N-never." You breathed out and just like that Natasha's lips were on your nipples, the diamonds slightly pushed aside and she was licking it around. It was hard for you to keep your body up so you tried sitting on the ladder steps for a grip.

Natasha gets rougher with each kiss and grasp of your skin, caressing the diamonds ever so delicately before roughly squeezing the skin underneath. Your hands stay on the barrister of the ladder trying to hold on as her one hand begins to rub on your pussy under the water, a unique yet familiar sensation. The red-haired woman was obsessed with fucking you in that particular pool and though she never has let you know about its sentimental value you're more than happy to follow her through.

Tony comes closer, dressed in his fancy robe. "I'm not in the mood to get wet tonight. Let's take her to bed." Natasha stops just to glare at him and that's when her hands begin to work faster on you.

"I don't feel like using the bed tonight."

"Natasha." He looks at her so sternly that has your own pussy clenching and clenching on Natasha's fingers, fuck, you felt coming close to an orgasm already.

"Don't you dare make her dumb this early."

Natasha only smirks before she adds more pressure to your clit and uses her fingers expertly to elicit an echoing moan from you.

"I-I'm cumming." You breathe out, your body shaking. "I can't-" You squeal as the coil inside you tightens. "Fuck, I can't." It's getting too much for you now, you need to release yourself and you can't be waiting for them to agree on something.

"Fuck!" You yell out and your body starts shaking your back arching.

"You're a really mean person," Tony says looking sternly at Natasha.

"You are a very annoying person." She chuckled and removed her fingers from you. "Go ahead, carry her to the master chamber."

Tony raises an eyebrow as he reaches down for you and ungrasps your hands from the banisters. "You've been such a good girl, now come with me to the bed and I'll show how annoying I can become for Miss Romanoff right here."

You were pliant to his touch as he helped you get up wrapped a towel around you and helped you walk to the chambers. Natasha followed close behind.

"On the bed both of you," Tony ordered the minute you walked through the door and you both got on the bed. Natasha sat with her knees together looking at you and caressing your cheek. "Have I been bad, Daddy?" Natasha mused rubbing her legs together, her short dress left nothing to the imagination.

"Yes, terribly, so." He chuckled, loosening up his dress robe. "You know what that means." Of course that was only a game between the two, Tony could never be mad at Natasha for whatever she felt like doing to you. Plus Tony was the greatest observer you've ever met during sex. He had previously spent hours upon hours watching you both straddle each other.

"Unlimited fun," Natasha smirked and pushed you down on the bed getting on top of you, pining you down to the mattress with her strong thighs. Tony chuckled and took off his robe allowing it to hit the floor before coming closer to the bed.

"Now open your mouth, princess." He instructed and you dutifully obeyed opening your mouth wide. He pushed his velvet boxers down revealing his hard erection and stroke it three times.

"Now get it very wet for me baby." You reached out with your hand to guide his member inside your mouth and kitty licked his tip first with a very satisfied look i your eyes. Natasha started moving her hips above you slowly, the hard diamonds adding a stingy sensation against your skin that you knew they would leave a bruise for tomorrow.

"Are we going to ruin kitten tonight?" Natasha asked looking at you as Tony moved his hips to force his cock down your throat.

"Hm, maybe we could see how much she can take. We got her such a special gift anyway, would be a waste not to treat as a specialty."

"Very well then."

And when Tony started with you, it was like he could never let you go.

And oh boy were you in for a night of fun....

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#selenewrites #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #iron man x reader #iron man smut #black widow x reader #black widow smut #tonynat #natasha romanoff #tony stark

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orderforbrian · 1 year

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Day 6 - Time Travel for @jonmartinweek!

im late again but only bc i drew waayyy too much for this lol - i couldnt help it tho i really love those kid-centric aus where jon and martin's future kids come visit their s1 selves - they're just full of so many cute moments and little jokes 🤭 i'm also just a sucker for anything jmart kid related. plus watching s1 jon and martin, who have budged hardly an inch past absolute loathing, grapple with the fact they not only get married in the future but have KIDS too is soooooooo good 😆they get to talking and realize "oh god you really are my ideal partner ohno OHHH NOO"

[Start ID: Multiple images of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives as well as their future children for an AU. Jon is a thin Persian man with dark, curly hair streaked with grey and rectangular glasses. Martin is a fat, mixed Polish/Korean man with dark brown, wavy hair, browline glasses, and a beauty mark by his lip. 1st image: Jon and Martin are sitting at a wedding table decorated with flowers, a plate with half eaten cake, and a green napkin. Jon is wearing a white shirt with a dark green bowtie, his hair is slicked back into a low bun with some styled stray hairs. His black suit jacket covers the chair behind him. He has light beard and a gold column earring. Martin is wearing a white shirt with a dark blue bowtie, his hair is styled back as well and he wears a gold diamond drop earring. They sit side by side, noses almost touching - Jon smiles wholesomely at Martin, holding up a coupe glass of champagne, and Martin smiles back with his eyes closed, left hand resting around the base of his own coupe glass. Jon's left hand sits on top of Martin's, each hand has a gold band on the ring finger. The drawing looks like a polaroid, Jon's handwriting at the bottom says "Jonathan and Martin Blackwood-Sims. June 27th, 2023." Martin has placed a red heart sticker and written "J+M" in blue marker on the photo. 2nd image: Jon and Martin are older and pose with their children on their backs. Their children, Mina and Jules, have dark, curly hair like Jon's, Mina has a beauty mark by his right eye and Jules has one on her left lower cheek. In this image Mina has her hair tied back into two pigtails and is smiling with one tooth gone. She wears overalls with a scalloped shirt, a sensory bracelet on her right wrist, and sneakers. She is riding on Martin's back, gripping his shirt with one hand and lifting up the other one behind his head, laughing loudly. Martin side eyes her with mirth, his hair is more choppy and down past his shoulders, he has a patchy beard, and wears a simple lined shirt. In this image, Jules has her hair tied back into a ponytail and is wearing a t-shirt, jean shorts and sneakers with a star on them. She sticks her tongue out towards the camera and winks one eye, both her arms are laced around Jon's neck. Jon's hair is past his ears and he has a fully grown mustache and beard, he wears a collared short sleeve shirt. Underneath ths photo Jon writes "Picnic after 2nd year primary. Mina (7) Jules (8)." Martin has drawn a yellow sun and written in blue marker "too old!!" and a crying face. 3rd image: Mina and Jules (off frame) hold up multiple photographs to younger Jon and Martin (season 1). Martin is wearing a collared shirt and his hair is side parted, cut just past his ears. Jon has his hair slicked back aside from a couple large curls at the front and wears a suit jacket, collared shirt, tie, and vest. Martin and Jon stare down at the photos with flustered surprise, confusion, and disbelief, both blushing. Martin pinches one of the photos with his right hand. Jon holds his glasses in his right hand.

4th image is a 7 panel comic. Mina and Jules both wear glasses and school uniforms with a backpack, Mina wearing a tie and vest, her hair done in two braids, and Jules wearing a collared shirt and tie, her hair in a bob with two clips. 1st panel: Jules outstretches her hand while looking angry at Mina who is looking away with a huff. "We would've gotten here way sooner if you didn't have to stop and pet that dumb dog!!". 2nd panel: Jon crosses his arms and sneers at Martin, who is looking unimpressed and annoyed and holding a tea mug. "They get that from you...". 3rd panel: Mina points at Jules and retorts "Well if you weren't so impatient we wouldn't have gotten caught, stupid!!". 4th panel: Martin lifts up the tea mug to take a sip and shoots back to Jon, who frowns, "They get that from you...". 5th panel: Mina and Jules yell at each other with closed eyes and hunched shoulders, "UGH!!! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS ARGUING WITH ME!!!". 6th panel: A simplified drawing of Jon and Martin, one speech bubble connecting both of them saying "They get that from you". 7th panel: Jon and Martin whip around and stare at each other with offended anger, saying "ME?!".

5th image is of Mina and Jules in full color. They have the same descriptions as in the comic, the school uniform is a purple gray, the skirts plaid. Mina wears a green colored sensory bracelet and Jules wears a blue colored one. Mina has a nervous frown, a couple sweat marks coming off her head, while Jules smiles with quiet confidence, a couple gold sparkles by her head. They hold hands in the middle, Jules is slightly taller than Mina. Above Mina are the following words: Mina (Mia) *younger sibling *a bit shy *fave color is green *loves when Dad does her hair. Above Jules are the following words: Julia (Jules) *older (by 11 months) *more adventurous *fave color is blue *loves when Baba buys her ice cream. End ID.]

#jmart #jonmartin #teaholding #jonmartinweek2023 #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #order up! art tag #jmart kids #time travel au #kid au #the magnus archives #tma

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fredmcsm · 5 months

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Admins refs!

Finally done… only took me all week… feel free to ask questions about them! (please)

Funfacts:

- Xara is based off: the End, dragons, lizards, reptiles etc., bats. The people of the Oasis are fancy but still need to wear outfits suitable for living in a Mesa so it comes around to something like Xara wears.

- Fred is based off: the Overworld, birds, deer, bears, angels. People in Fred’s Keep are all farmers/builders/creatives and from what you see in-game of what they wear, it’s similar to what Fred likes to wear. He likes to be comfy ^_^

- Romeo is based off: the Nether, cats, goats, demons/imps. Romeoburg citizens which are of COURSE called Burgers, they all wear thicker clothing for the colder environment tucked away at the mountains & fjords. There’s a lot of leather and furs, and long hair.

Armour refs

I don’t really like these but the idea is there. I needed their armours to suit their fighting styles and their general aesthetics including the ones of their towns.

Quick weapon refs

- Ending Eye is a longbow and its arrows are the sharpest hit you’ll ever get from a bow, owie

- Hoemeo is Fred’s diamond hoe, named this as a joke and it stuck, Fred couldn’t think of another name. He thought it wasn’t going to ever need to be used as a weapon so it didn’t matter. All I can say is that Romeo is lucky he wasn’t the one who died because that would have been an embarrassing death message.

- Ruby is like minecraft zenith and is very good at killing Freds

The pets

- Bonbon is a smaller-than-average creeper that is diffused and acts like a therapy cat to Romeo. He didn’t get a normal cat because he’s Romeo.

- Jean is THE Ender Dragon and was raised from a baby dragon into fully-grown Jean. She is often badly behaved and will only listen to Xara, if anyone.

- Waffles is Waffles… ya. Silly immortal chicken who also has an immortal need to peck Romeo to death

- Nugget, the old Clydesdale horse who is just happy to be there, happy lad ^_^

OK thats all I think. PLZ ask me questions. I will be joyous OK BYE

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #xara mcsm #fred mcsm #romeo mcsm #mcsm admins #BOY THIS POST IS SO LONG ITS STARTING TO LAG #tumblr cant take the power of my uber autism it seems….#my art

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aloysiavirgata · 9 months

Note

Prompt: Scully likes to be called “good girl”

She’s over fifty now. Chipped, scarred, hollowed, violated. She’s been to too many funerals, too few weddings. She sits on the low wall of the porch drinking red wine from a stemless glass.

Scully’s wearing a skirt suit because she had a meeting at work and she still feels toughest, most competent, in a suit. She takes another swig of wine and lets her heels clatter to the porch.

“I think I’m going to retire,” she says, refilling her glass.

“You keep drinking like that and they’ll fire you,” Mulder says, uncorking another bottle just in case.

Scully waves a hand. “Fuck Ybarra,” she says, a little slurred.

Mulder gets up then, in his beat up cargo pants and his frayed Patagonia shirt. He moves between her knees, which she likes, because she’s polished and crisp and he’s got his stubble against her cheek.

“Shocking language, Dr. Scully,” he says into her moussed hair, her diamond solitaires. He curls his fingers at the base of her skull, thumbs her jaw.

“I really like the glasses,” she says, nipping at his earlobe. “You would have had a great time in academia if for no other reason than the number of women who would have hurled themselves at you.”

“I do all right,” he says. Mulder bunches her skirt up and discovers she’s wearing thigh highs instead of stockings.

“Well, well, well,” he says.

Scully smirks.

“A/C is blown in the conference room, which is one of the reasons I’m going to retire,” she says.

He pushes her panties aside, presses a finger against her labia. “Ybarra finds out this is what you wear to his uptight little meetings and he might rethink that vow of chastity.”

“I’m a rebel now, Mulder.” She shifts her hips to give him better access, sighing when he tongues her clavicle.

“Not you,” he mumbles into her jugular notch. “You’re still a good girl.”

It trips something in her when he calls her that, always has even though they’ve never talked about it. Never formally acknowledged it any more than the other things they never formally acknowledged. Still not married, her mother reminds her.

Scully gets wetter when he says it, feels his fingers push into her. Her heels press into his thighs as she rocks against his hand.

“So good,” he purrs into her neck, his forearm tight against her still-clothed belly.

She pushes her cheek right to his, her knees drawing up against his ribs. The elastic of her panties cuts into her thighs and she wants them off but the pain is good too.

She whimpers against his temple.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, his sandalwood voice against her mouth now, his fingers playing all her favorite notes.

“Mulder,” she gasps, not ready to be finished because she’s missed him and this is still too infrequent and she’s still fully dressed and there are fireflies rising in the meadow. Her wine glass falls next to her shoes.

But he knows her so well, knows what he’s doing, just says “Shhhh,” to her weak protests. “Be a good girl, Scully.”

She melts around him then, groaning, the elastic-lace tops of the thigh-highs slipping down as she squeezes his wrist between her thighs. Her skin is hot, sticky. Trembling.

“Christ,” she hisses, head bumping his chest.

Mulder pulls his fingers from between them, licks them.

She kisses him, tasting herself; it’s been ages since she was shy about anything.

“So what will you do when you retire?”

“Mmm. Maybe this. All day.” She kisses him again, his saltwater tongue.

Mulder runs his hands up her legs, smooths her thigh highs back into place. “Well, I’ll be breaking the air conditioning,” he says.

She runs her knuckles along his rough cheek. “Bad boy,” she murmurs, biting at his mouth.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #msr #prompt #unremarkable house

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pianostarinwonderland · 11 months

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TWST Valentines Cards 2023

Hell yeah, it's that time of the year again.

Going to make another post keeping record of this year's set of letters. Some cards haven't been found yet, so this post will be updated as I find more cards. If there is an asterisk beside a character's name, that means I only got the text itself but there may be errors and needs to be verified with the picture of the card itself. If any of you have pictures of letters that are either not there or need verification and don't mind showing to anyone, please send to me through DMs!

Since the cards freshly came out and some are still waiting for their own letters, all letters will be posted under the cut!

Riddle Rosehearts

My dear friend— Thank you for the lovely sweets. I'll have them on my study breaks. If they're good, perhaps I'll set them out at a tea party. You'll certainly be invited if I do. After all, there's no rule that states you can't join.

Trey Clover

Hello, friend— Thanks so much for the gift. It was exactly my taste, with just the right amount of sweetness. I can tell you thought a lot about what to get. I'll come up with a recipe based on these sweets sometime. I hope you'll taste test it for me.

Cater Diamond

Eyyy, friendo! Sweets aren't normally my jam, but the ones you picked out were PERF—and they looked great too! You must've put in some WORK picking them out. So, thanks! I'll make sure to do the same for you!

Ace Trappola

Heya, pal— I kinda freaked when I saw you left a present at my door—in a good way! You actually sent me sweets! You could've just given them to me in person, you know. I haven't had any yet, but I'm sure they'll be great! We should share them at lunch tomorrow.

Deuce Spade

My good friend— Thanks for the amazing gift! You got me those mega-popular sweets we just talked about, right? They were so good! It's kind of a shame I ate them all. Have you had any? I guess it'd be weird if I gifted you the same thing, but come shopping with me sometime and we can pick out some sweets for you.

Leona Kingscholar

Hey— You give me SWEETS? I swear, sometimes I don't know what goes through that noggin of yours. I'll be nice and say I appreciate the sentiment...this time. But don't expect any glowing food reviews.

Ruggie Bucchi

Hey, 'sup. I got the sweets you sent! It's always a good day when someone gifts me food. These are supposed to be real popular right now, yeah? They must've been hard to snag. Shyeheehee, that makes them doubly good! Thanks a ton!

Jack Howl

Hi, I was surprised when I smelled something sweet at my door. Consider your present received. I still can't believe you gave me such cutesy-looking sweets. Not that I'm unhappy about it, of course. I actually like candy and stuff. Thanks.

Azul Ashengrotto

My boon companion— Thank you for the heartfelt gift. I suppose I owe it to you to partake of these sweets. Don't worry. Once I've analyzed the flavor, I'll gift you something equally delicious. After all, fair's fair.

Jade Leech

My good friend— You've outdone yourself. Sweets that pair well with black tea? My deepest thanks. I'm flattered that you thought of me so when selecting them. You've inspired me. I'm going to spend my mountain hikes pondering just the right tea blend to suit your palate. I do hope you'll enjoy it.

Floyd Leech

Dear little shrimpy— I saw your present. You got me candy? That rules! I was JUST in the mood for something sweet. I might not be tomorrow though, so I think I'll polish them off today. Thanks.

Kalim Al-Asim

To my dear friend— Thanks for the present! What colorful and sparkly sweets. They look delicious! I just had an idea! How about we eat them together after school? Gifts like this taste better when shared, after all. I'll pick out a good tea to go with them. Can't wait to see you later!

Jamil Viper

Hello— I was surprised to see you gifted me sweets. At first I wondered if you were hinting for me to make you something similar... But when I pulled the gift out of the bag, I saw all the details you put into it, right down to the ribbon. It's clear this was a heartfelt gesture. I'll treasure these treats as I eat them. Thank you.

Vil Schoenheit

Dearest friend— Thank you for the gift. The sweets were dazzling and most attractive. Did you try to imagine what I'd like when picking them out? If so, you made an apt choice. I'll have something for you later in return.

Rook Hunt

Bonjour, and merci beaucoup! What a lovely batch of confections! They’re so darling that I’m tempted to stow them away in a brilliant bejeweled box. Ah, but I jest. I’ll enjoy every morsel of this gift you’ve so thoughtfully bestowed upon me.

Epel Felmier

Dear friend— Thanks for the gift! Sweets from the city have a real fancy vibe, don't they? I'll savor every bite. I know this isn't exactly a gift, but I just scored some coupons for the cafeteria. Wanna join me for lunch tomorrow? Just wait for me, and I'll find you!

Idia Shroud

@YOU huh? What the wha? im low-key scared here why would u give me sweets??? ig that sometimes i run low on sugar when ive been gaming too long and my aim becomes trash... ok sure, if this is ur way of looking out for me, ill take it

Ortho Shroud

Hello, Prefect― Thanks for the present! The sweets were very charming and cute, not to mention colorful. What neat designs! I'll make sure to save this as a special memory. I've run the data on their base ingredients, and hope to gift you some fitting sweets in return soon.

Malleus Draconia

To my dear friend— Thank you. Never did I envision someone presenting me with the gift of sweet treats. It would be a shame for me to eat them all by myself. I think I'll share them with you. Would you be willing to provide the tea to go with them?

Lilia Vanrouge

Greetings! Your present was delightful. The treats had a subtle sweetness that was perfect for a slightly mature fae like myself. I'll be making you a lovely treat in return, using a very special recipe of mine. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Silver

Salutations— Thanks for the gift. I read once that sugar can boost your concentration. Did you give me these to snack on when I'm about to nod off during my studies? That was very considerate of you. I think I'll try them out today.

Sebek Zigvolt

Human— I've received your gift. It was agreeably sweet. In fact, it might've been sweet enough to make black coffee bearable... But I digress. Regardless, I was somewhat impressed with your choice. You have my thanks.

Grim

Dear hench-human— Mraaah! Is this ALL for me?! I've never seen such sparkly, yummy-lookin' candy before! I feel like a king! But I'd feel bad leavin' you out of this sugar extravaganza, so I GUESS you can have a small piece. I'm lookin' forward to more gifts, partner!

Dire Crowley

Dear esteemed student— Thank you for the delicious gift. And don’t bother telling me I was supposed to share it—I’ve already finished the whole package! If you wish for the staff to also partake, I suggest you acquire more treats. But don’t worry, I won’t say a word if you give the same gift twice. I’m kindhearted like that!

Divus Crewel

Dear pup— Is this a gift for the staff? Excellent. Now that I have some treats to sweeten my breaks, I'll be able to grade your exams with a much more critical eye. I can see the grimace on your face now. Relax, it was a joke. It's usually frowned upon for dogs to be the ones buying gifts, but since you're such a loyal pup, I'll let you off. I'm a generous trainer, after all.

Mozus Trein

Dear juvenile— I must wonder why you decided to get me a present. Is this your way of thanking me for my lecture the other day? If so, gifts are hardly necessary. It's a teacher's job to educate students with a thirst for knowledge. I can't accept any offerings from students, but the sentiment is much appreciated. I expect nothing but excellence from you moving forward.

Ashton Vargas

Dear student— Thanks for the present! Excessive sugar is a no-go when building a beautiful bod, but it'd be bad form to let your thoughtful gesture go to waste. Such is the price of popularity. I'll just have to accept that and work off everything I eat. Keep up those reps!

Sam

Yo, little imp! What is UP? Thanks so much for the gift! You've got a real eye for quality. I'll make sure to stock up on goods that'll pique your interest, so swing by the shop soon!

#twisted wonderland #twst #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia

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klaunee · 4 months

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Edit 2/12/2024: I wanted to add a disclaimer to my redesigns! I really appreciate all of the likes and comments that these have garnered, but I just want to add that these aren't intended to be "improvements" or "fixes" of the original designs in any way and were done as a character design exercise for my own entertainment. Looking back on them there's a lot I'd like to change about them and I'd never claim to be anything more than an amateur/hobbyist character designer messing around with these character concepts.

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

Alright I wasn't really feeling the other one I just did. I wanted to diverge a bit from it to better fit the other redesigns I did and do my own take on Al, which is why I made this one that's more shamelessly inspired by Cab Calloway.

I based him on Cab Calloway because I want him to have Mr. Calloway's charisma and showmanship to accentuate his role as a radio host. I feel like the canon Alastor is too subdued in terms of expressiveness, and of course this is part of what makes him unnerving, but I wanted to subvert that. This rendition would still be a gentleman, but he's much more animated in terms of his body movements and facial expressions. He's witty and has a great sense of humor. A big man with a big smile and a larger than life personality. Constantly schmoozing and sweet-talking other people. And yet there's just something off about him...

Copying my design notes from the other post and adding a few more.

Premise: A man who was born in a semi-rural part of the United States but moved to the big city at a young age. Became infatuated with the music and entertainment scenes of the city and idolized performers of the Jazz age, Vaudeville actors, and comedians. Decided to become a radio host himself after working at a local station and became renowned for his humor and wit. However, despite loving several parts of the big city, Alastor was disdainful of the rapid industrialization taking place and its effect on the environment he'd grown up in. In an attempt to make his broadcasts, which increasingly gained a more serious and environmentalist bent, reach more viewers, he delved into the occult and made pacts with demons. Unfortunately, his meddling with the occult drove him insane. Fortunately, however, his familiarity with black magic granted him increased powers when he showed up in Hell. Overall, a gentlemanly character with a suppressed madness that seeps out from time to time.

He's very tall. I wanted to make him uncanny looking while still retaining the gentlemanly appearance of the canon version and to do this I tried to give him an elongated silhouette. He's as tall as Angel Dust, if not taller when standing up, but he's constantly bending over either due to poor posture or to ingratiate himself to the shorter masses.

No more sexyman hourglass figure, I made him a bit broader to give him a bigger presence.

Cab's signature pencil moustache. I see a lot of people giving him one and I'm not sure if we share the same inspiration, but it's a cool look!

Overall a more desaturated, sepia palette than the rest of the cast for an old-timey look (I mean Angel Dust is old-timey too but... forget about it). Also to contrast with the red of Charlie's suit.

The black line parts of his antlers are meant to look like the velvet shedding deer undergo as well as power lines, with an eye in the center which resembles the flame between Baphomet's horns. This eye is where his "power" emanates from so to speak, like a radio signal.

Waveform design on his suit.

Design on his shirt meant to resemble a ribcage.

BIG ANTLERS! (less so in this version, more manageable)

Diamond design on the pants to indicate he is a trickster.

A long, deer-like neck and a deer-like yet human-like face to give him an uncanny look.

His right eye is a radio dial and he has a speaker in his mouth to produce that radio quality when he speaks.

I tried to make his suit look like a zoot suit for historical relevance, particularly the broad-shouldered ones worn by such performers as Cab Calloway. I made his pants high-waisted and pegged.

His staff is based on antique carbon microphones with the center modified to look like an inverted pentagram.

He practices black magic.

His entire body is covered in fur save for his face and ears, like a werewolf.

Thanks for reading!

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #redesign #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon

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aioliravioli-69 · 18 days

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Detective Noir AU

Alright, this au has been sitting around, waiting for me to finish it but chances are, I never will :((

So instead, I'll just post what I have so far

This was inspired by that one comment on the au post the author made(at this point you could consider me a stalker for the amount of hours I've scrolled through her feed💀)

First things first, none other than our main character himself, Detective Hollow!

I made him the detective in this one mainly because I was basing it off of the theory that if there was no heroine the keyholder would simply become the hero instead(don't remember where I read this but I'm guessing it was the webtoon comment section).

I also my have just really wanted to draw him in an overcoat

gonna be honest, I did little to no research going into this AU, the thing I most tried to learn about was the femme fatale so I could get a good view on how to design Buddy

Speaking of the femme fatale:

Seems like someone got caught in the spotlight!

And before you ask, yes, those are pants. Weird ones, but pants nonetheless. I swear, I hate lighting when it's from the front. Frontal lighting can go fuck itself. Please ignore the little help lines I put in

Honestly, Buddy's outfit was probably the hardest part of this one. I wanted him to look slutty, but I didn't want to make it TOO slutty, but I feel like I may have added WAYY too many folds in his pantsuit and I kinda messed up on the overcoat lol. The diamond on his chest was inspired by the diamond on the villainess key more than anything and I tried to incorporate that into his gloves too.

Anyway, have some potential outfit sketches I made:

the two I thought might come off as too slutty and

the ultimate winner of the outfit ideas

As you can see the diamond chest window and fur coat were a mut in this outfit and I'm pretty happy with the end result

Y'all know how the femme fatale usually has to seduce the main character a.k.a. the detective?

Well, y'all know me so have an extra just for you <33

But I'm not done just yet!

Remember how I said that I made Chase the hero because of the lack of a heroine in the story? Well...

I did some more surface level research(and I mean very surface level) and decided to adapt the trope of the girl-next-door archetype for him!!

Don't think it suits him, since they usually just sit pretty and wait for the detective to notice them, but they do have badass roles once in a while and I live for those!!!

The one Chase has taken on doesn't though sadly :')

I decided to go with Charlie Hollow for this one because it sounded more like something the timid and 'pure'(yuck I know, but sadly film noir movies often prop up comparisons between the femme fatale and the girl-next-door, this being one of them) girl next door would have

Overall I tried to make this one as cutesy as possible because, why not lol

Lastly(I apologise, I made this in a rush because I was running out of motivation)

The distance between Buddy and the detective sure did close QUICK-

Originally I was planning on adding Deacon as a police officer and now that I think about it I could technically fit Prunella in here as well, but I just don't have any willpower left to keep this thing alive

My art blocks been acting up recently and I can't even pick up the pencil without immediately wanting to put it down :((

I wish I could have continued this and maybe I will someday, but until then this'll just stay in my drafts

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rae-gar-targaryen · 1 year

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only smile in the dark [matt murdock x fem!reader]

A/N: Written for my darling Pheebs for our Discord’s Dicked-Down-December event.

Summary: You and your sometimes-antagonist, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, are snowed in together – in his apartment of all places – after he gets you out of a jam. Will the two of you survive the night? Or will you find some common ground?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!black cat!reader (reader is a cat burglar and a minor antagonist to Matt Murdock, based on Felicia Hardy)

Word Count: 5.9k of the warm blanket of being snowed-in with your vigilante nemesis, of traded quips and loose lips.

Warnings: p-in-v sex, so 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex, sensory overload, dirty talk, oral (fem!receiving) not-so-hateful hatefucking, mild enemies to lovers, mild bondage, sacrilegious dialogue.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You rolled your eyes beneath your Domino mask as you braced yourself for the approaching footsteps that carried the object of your annoyance from behind you and into your view, bent over the safe as you were, hand poised to deliver the final crack.

Sure enough, onto your field of view came the crimson boots (and everything else attached to them) of your – was arch-nemesis too dramatic? – your whatever he was… Erstwhile annoyance. Masked menace. Devastating devil. – No, not devastating. Stop it.

You spun on your heel, flipping the long hair of the silver wig over your shoulder.

“Hi, Devil-Boy,” you curled your fingers in a flirtatious little wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He scoffed, stopping in front of you and crossing his arms over his chest. You could just imagine the disapproval in his eyes behind the foggy cherry glass of the mask.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he gestured to the grandiose room. Here. The study in Fisk’s Hell’s Kitchen-based secondary office. Where you had made your mark to pick up some valuable information for a client (and maybe some valuable stones in the safe – call it a finder’s fee – for yourself). You'd certainly made a name for yourself as one of the most proficient cat burglars – ugh, you'd hated that phrase … try proficient diamond thief – in the city.

You prided yourself on remaining undetected. On the quick inside time for your deliverables. But, well, sometimes… unfortunate incidents occurred.

“And you should?” you raised an eyebrow at your current unfortunate incident, replete with horned mask. You propped a hip against the desk of this ostentatious office, pretending to examine your manicured nails through the black leather of your gloves. “Tell me, Red-Dead, what’s the going rate for your oh-so-noble vigilantism? I guarantee it isn't as high as for my services. So let's not waste my time. Is this the part where you ask me, ‘What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?’”

The devil from your dreams, whom you'd had the unfortunate misfortune to run into on several nights just like this one stepped toward you. Head slightly inclined, as though he were a bull gearing up to charge. And if you had been one of those arms-dealing goons he beat up on the regular, or perhaps a Russian mobster, or a Fisk goon, you might have felt intimidated.

No. Your run-ins with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had been much more – could you call them pleasant? He had broken up a few of your smaller-time heists, letting you off with a slap on the wrist after a tussle that had left you weak in the knees. And who wouldn’t be? After trading quips and blows – don’t think about ‘blows’ – with a man whose firm thighs between your own felt as though they could crack walnuts when you had rolled on top of him during a prior fight. Whose suit made his chest look that much more expansive.

No, your exchanges were coy and cloying. And they ended much the same: in a half-hearted tease of a fight that left you with an ache between your legs and his sinful, syrupy voice warning you that he "wouldn't let you off so easy next time" reverberating through your ears for the rest of the night. That left you with the lingering temptation to slide your hands beneath your expensive covers when you were safely back in your lush apartment, imagining his hands instead of yours gliding through your glistening folds. Imagining his voice, still in your ear.

Wondering if he was imagining you. If he dreamt of the way you teasingly left a trail of crimson lipstick smeared up the cheek of his mask as you dragged your lips there, murmuring that this was no way to treat a lady. If he imagined the way you flexed your fingers, like a cat's claws, up the expanse of his chest when you bested him in a fight, wishing you could feel the drag of your nails along his skin instead of his armoured suit. If the click of your heeled boots as you sauntered through an open window – tossing him a wink before slipping away into the night – reverberated in his mind.

You supposed you would never know.

The energy between the two of you had always been thick, like dusky clouds impregnated with rain in a summer storm – waiting to fall, waiting to devastate. Stuffed with the smell of sagebrush and cleansing promise.

And if you’d managed a successful little robbery? Well, were you disappointed if he didn’t show up to chase you off with pulled punches and heaving chest? –

“Oh no, sweetheart,” He smiled, snapping you from your risqué reveries with a sardonic grin of bared teeth beneath his mask. “I know what kind of girl you are. And I know what you’re doing in a place like this. No need to ask.”

“That's disappointing. Of all the so-called heroes running around this city in Spandex, like a bunch of moral high ground losers, I don't know why I ended up with you. And I don’t know why you insist on trying to get in my way,” you hissed through the bared teeth of a forced grin. “I’m a perfectly reasonable girl, Devil. I don’t get in your way. You shouldn’t get in mine.”

“Honey, this isn’t Spandex.” He half-heartedly made to reach for you with an outstretched hand – which you swatted in kind, procuring a small blade with your other hand and bringing it to his throat.

He swallowed, the edge of your blade snicking against the skin of his throat as he swallowed.

“I can’t just,” he began, swallowing once more before swatting at your wrist with a gloved hand, knocking the blade away from his throat, and boxing you into the desk, “I can’t just let you take shit that doesn’t belong to you. And girls like you don’t play nice.”

“You could, Devil. And so could I,” you shrugged, meeting the glass eyepieces of his mask with wide, doe eyes of your own, fluttering your lashes. “I’d be ever-so-grateful if you just let this one slide?” You glanced out the window, inclining your head at the thick, fluttering flakes that were starting to fall in the New York chill. “I’ve gotta get home, and, baby, it’s cold outside.”

"You –" the Devil stopped himself, tilting his head like a dog listening to a whistle only he could hear, full lips parting as he took in whatever it was he was hearing.

"D-" you began, curious about his sudden pause, trying not to prickle like a skittish cat.

"Shut. Up.," he hissed, snatching your wrist and tugging you from your spot by the desk, marching you past the exposed face of the safe you had been stopped from cracking, and toward the wide window of the office. "They're here."

"Who's here?" You questioned, attempting to tug your wrist free from his tightening hold, to no avail.

The Daredevil appraised you, the tilt of his mask indicating a sweeping survey of your person before continuing,

"Fisk's men. All of them. And they're looking for you. I think you've been set up, sweetheart… Yeah, that's," he swallowed. "That's a lot of heartbeats downstairs. And outside." More to himself than you.

You raised a brow at him again, sardonic. Heartbeats? Doing your best to bite down the panic currently climbing within you with the thin veneer of a sneering grin.

"Then let go of me and let me get out of here," you tugged at your wrist in his grip.

"That's not gonna work, kitten," he responded, wryly. "We've only got a few seconds. I can get you outta here, but you've gotta trust me."

"Trust you?" You hissed, "The guy who tries to turn me in after every little tango? How about …" you tapped a spare finger to your chin, as though deep in thought, "hell no."

"We don't have time for this," he pleaded. "I'm not gonna sell you out to Fisk," he sneered the name through a curled lip. "I'd rather rot."

You studied him for the barest moment, the tenseness in his shoulders at the approaching threat. The warmth of his grip around you, even though the gloves. The clear, demonstrable distaste for Fisk evident in his voice, in the exposed lower-half of his face, the set of his jaw. How he’d always let you go before.

"Fine," you whispered. "I'm trusting you. On a probationary basis. Get me somewhere safe."

Which was how you found yourself stealing away on snow-covered rooftops, the packed powder muffling your steps, and all traces of your journey wiped away in the weather. As you shivered in your bodysuit behind the man leading you through a rooftop window and into an expansive loft space. An apartment.

You strode into the open space of a living room, eyeing the wide windows and exposed brick.

“Nice digs, Devil,” you whistled. “This, like, your safe-house?”

“No,” his voice echoed not-so-distantly behind you as he also made his way down the stairs and into the common area. “Though that would have been much smarter.”

“Don’t tell me you live here?” You whirled around as you watched the Devil remove his gloves, tossing them into a trunk and exposing fine-boned, long-fingered hands, shrugging his shoulders at you, turning his head as if to gesture to the now-storm outside.

“Not up to your standards?” He mocked. “Sorry. It’s not exactly the Plaza. But it was close by. And no one will know you’re here.”

You perched yourself on the edge of his couch, feeling distinctly out of place in a lived-in place with your catsuit, wig, and mask. A clash of ideals. Not unlike you and the man before you.

“Is it wise,” you arched your brow at him, voice acerbic, “to bring someone like me into your home …?”

You leaned forward on the couch, eyeing a stack of mail and papers on the coffee table. And though the Devil seemed to be observing your plain-sight snooping, he made no move to stop you. You leaned forward,

“Matt Murdock,” you finished, reading the name off of the envelopes. Why was that name familiar to you?

The Devil – Matt Murdock – removed his helmet, allowing you to take in the man behind the mask. Pretty dark hair, matted by the helmet, a strong jaw, full lips. Fringed lashes framing hazel eyes that seemed to … look right past you.

Oh.

“Well I suppose my identity remains intact,” you tried to gently tease, removing your Domino mask and your wig, settling yourself into his couch, as he made to remove the rest of his stiff armour.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, kitten,” he turned to face you again, breezing past you through the space and clattering with a tea kettle, of all things.

While the kettle brewed, he scooped a Braille paper from the countertop, slapping it down in front of you, and reading your father’s last name from the headline.

“And here you are,” he finished, “the daughter of a tycoon who likes to get her rocks off stealing Upper East Siders’ jewelry. Moonlighting as a cat burglar. I’ve known since we met.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes trailing over Matt’s form. The evenness of his voice. He was confident, assured. No question in his assessment of you. You’d balk at it, at the fear that should prickle through you at knowing who you were. But… he hadn’t done anything with that information til now, had he?

“In that alleyway behind that stuffy old coot’s apartment?” You queried.

“Oh, sure,” he eased. “Girl like you doesn’t often go to that part of town. I recognized your perfume. And the way you sound walking in heels. Like I said, we’ve met before.”

You lifted yourself from the couch easily, swooping past Matt to kick off your heeled boots by the door. You may as well make yourself comfortable, follow his lead, if he wasn’t going to kick you out into the snow or otherwise turn you in. Easing into his kitchen to remove the now-whistling kettle from the heat, processing where you might know Matt Murdock from.

“We didn’t go on a date, surely? I might have remembered. You’re certainly handsome, though I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

Matt chuckled at that, a dry, wry rumble from his throat, as he scruffed the back of his sweaty neck with his palm, using his other hand to unstick the clinging fabric of his undersuit from his skin.

“No,” he snorted. “We didn’t go out. I’d definitely remember if we had,” he accepted the cup of tea you now passed him.

“Then …” you eyed him over the rim of your own mug, which boasted, in loud text “World’s Best Lawyer.”

It clicked.

“Matt Murdock,” you breathed, “the attorney with a hard-on for bringing down Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you were –”

“At the gala. That political event for bigwigs who wanted to raise money for their campaigns to sweep crime out of Hell’s Kitchen. We met,” his sentences were punctuated. “Briefly. Your dress was killer, by the way.”

“How…?” You made to ask just how the blind, humble pro bono lawyer from the nighttime news could exactly tell that you looked killer in your Yves Saint Laurent gown. Or how he could pull off that ninja shit night after night.

“Devil’s gotta have his secrets, sweetheart,” he eased, fixing you with a cheeky wink.

Trying to figure the Devil – Matt Murdock – was like trying to catch light in your fingertips as though it were a tangible thing. Toying with dust motes that appeared when you opened the blinds in a dark room. Impossible, devastating, however pretty it may be. And Matt was a do-gooder. Trying to make the city better.

Whereas, you…

A bored little rich girl whose job wasn’t exactly above-board. No, the light seemed to be ever out of your reach – dooming you to a life of shadow. Of secrecy. So, you could respect that he wanted to keep his.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t tell me. I can take the couch, then. I’ll be outta your hair by morning”

You made to settle yourself into the cushions, as though you were queuing him to leave.

“Please, sweetheart,” Matt urged, coming to stand before you now, his hands making their way to your hips.

And it was different from the ways in which he had touched you before – different from your traded blows and quips. Different from the way he would swat at your ass playfully during a fight. Different from the playful tension laden in his voice when he encountered you before. And yet – it was the same. As though all of those run-ins were building to something.

And yeah, it was no secret you enjoyed teasing the Devil. Enjoyed taunting him, toying with him, allowing your touch to linger too long when you departed from him on any given evening. But Matt?

You eyed the crucifix peeking its way from his tight undershirt.

What an altar boy, you thought. No way he would actually want someone like you. Someone who toyed with people with bored, careless fingertips. Someone who broke things because she wanted to.

You allowed yourself to be brought into Matt’s arms,

“At least take the bed,” he urged, finally. “I’ll find you some sweats.”

You snorted at that.

“You just wanna get me out of my suit,” you teased. Eager to restore the balance to what you knew – the quipping banter of antagonists, and not this … blooming flush between the two of you, reflected on the apples of his cheeks at your quip. At the thought of getting you naked.

“I mean,” he recovered. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”

“I suspect,” you murmured, trailing your fingers over the peaks of Matt’s face, while his hands tightened on your waist, “that you’re smoother than you let on, Matthew Murdock.”

Matt’s lips met yours then, causing your eyes to flutter shut and snatching the breath from your lungs. He kissed you as though you were sacrosanct. As though the movement of his lips over yours was a prayer he had recited hundreds of times, and would recite hundreds more. At your gasp, he slid his tongue into your mouth, his hands coming to cup your face as he kissed you.

You allowed your hands to roam his body, to feel the firmness of his chest unencumbered by the Devil suit, to appreciate the warmth, the realness of his beating heart beneath the skin of your palms through his thin shirt.

You could barely contain yourself, as the storm raged outside, it building inside of you with every pass of Matt’s hands along your form, with every press of his lips to yours. And it seemed the same was true for Matt.

His hands found his way to the front of your catsuit, easing the zipper down with a smooth, zinging slide, allowing his fingertips to ease in to trail along the skin as it became exposed.

Oh. And if the heat of the room hadn’t been building before, you could certainly feel it now, as you allowed yourself to explore Matt in kind, whimpering at the touch of his hands along the curves of your breasts, the ridges of your ribs. Pulling your lips from his and allowing your eyes to wander as your hands trailed to his waist and to the front of his pants, stroking the outline of his hardness there with tentative touch.

"Not here," Matt's lips left your skin from where they had since been working on your neck, murmuring into your throat. At your quizzical groan, he continued. "Don't be petulant, sweetheart. I'm going to fuck you. Just not here."

In a flurry of feverish movement and stripped layers, Matt had ushered you into his bedroom, urging you down onto his mattress, his lips never leaving yours as he guided you on top of him, with nothing but your panties and a feverish grin as you rolled your hips over Matt’s, relishing in the feel of him, as you knew he was doing to you.

You scratched along his skin with your nails, kissing and sucking his neck as you continued to grind yourself on Matt’s clothed cock.

Quick as a flash, Matt flipped the two of you, a groan catching in his throat at the feel of the weight of you beneath him now, pulling your lips from him and allowing himself to appreciate you, in his bed, in his home …

Matt's fingers stroke along the peak of your cheekbone in a reverent way, a way befitting of a devout man. But the silken touch is also wrong -- it doesn't bely that he's not the sort of man who wraps a hand around your throat when he fucks you (he would), or like he's not the sort of man who gets down on his knees to unravel you with his clever, silver tongue (he is).

But the clean baritone of his voice an ever- pleasant rumble that caressed and ensnared you. Every time you meet. But especially now.

“I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart.”

You could melt. That's the Devil you were expecting.

Matt had removed his shirt, arms crossed as he lifted the fabric from his delightfully muscled torso. Your fingers keen to follow as you trace the planes of his chest.

Your nails caught along the edge of his nipples as your palms skated their way upward, reveling in the choked gasp that ripped its way through his throat at the feeling.

Matt cupped your face with firm hands, guiding you down into his plush, satin-y comforter as his mouth devoured yours. The fabric sang along your skin as you allowed yourself to sink beneath his spell – a servant to the Devil’s whims, as Matt’s hands trailed along your body.With clever tongue – which really could only benefit him as an attorney, right? – and teasing touch, he seemed intent on unraveling you without so much as posing a question. Matt’s heated fingers made their way along your own bare chest, exposed to the wintery-coolness of the room, your nipples pebbling.

You choked on gasps as he made his way down your body, his mouth trailing from yours, to your neck, pressing kisses to your breasts and laving his tongue around your nipple before rendering one with a particularly cruel suck, departing with lips more swollen than before, the popping noise echoing in both of your ears.

And you wondered if the heaving of your chest, the headiness of your breath, was overwhelming to him. In the way that he was overwhelming to you.

Overwhelming was a good word for it. As thick fingers drew their way across the seam of lace adorning your clothed slit, causing you to wriggle in his grasp, the reciprocal shudder from Matt’s body was all the confirmation you needed. He was just as turned on as you.

Turned on by the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. Wrecked by the sound of your gasps in his ears. Besotted with the taste of you beneath his tongue. Intoxicated by the feeling of your mouth on his.

He had been afraid this would happen with you. Had he learned nothing from before? With Ele– not the time.

And Matt felt everything to an impossible degree, he knew. But if only he knew how it was almost flattering to have it confirmed for you ... if the way he was now slowly bucking his hips into the bedspread when you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged was any indication. Seeking friction that would feel far rougher, far better, than it had any business feeling, thanks to his heightened senses.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he murmured, keening into your tugging touch while he worked his way down the planes and curves of your body.

Grinding himself into the bed as he went, as he buried himself in the cleft of your thighs, the flash of his hot tongue like cracking summer lightning, jolting through you from the very center as he licked a long, sweet stripe along the seam of your clothed cunt.

And it seemed reciprocal, you noted, as he rolled his hips into his bedspread in kind – taking in the feel of you beneath his fingertips as your hips and thighs rolled and writhed beneath his attentions as he continued to lick you. The song of your whimpers sweetly ringing through your ears as he felt himself harden in his boxers.

Thick fingers traced the slick, heated flesh of your center as you felt Matt draw the lace away from you, your arousal clinging to your panties in glistening strands as he pulled them to the side with something like reverence. Fully baring you to him.

And if you’d thought the first hinting taste of his mouth on you, your clothed cunt, was heavenly – saintlike and sweet, you had never imagined he could make you feel like this – The lavish, attention with which he was now devouring you, your bared slit. Matt's mouth worked your pussy, like singing a hymn, like an apostle breaking his fast – a man of singular focus. Possessed by the scent of your arousal, the taste of your slick on his tongue as he continued to work you.

It was enough to make you infatuated. Obsessed with the devil you longed to know.

The feel of him was like the slow drip and drizzle of honey, the snap of cinnamon – warm, sweet, and tingling. Swirling tongue and sickly heat.

"Come on, devil, give it to me bad," you purred, teasing the man beneath you with a buck of your hips, reveling in the sensation and rolling them up, seeking the friction you craved, your hands still in his hair. Losing yourself in the repetitive feel of heady, sweet attentions of his tongue.

A particularly clever lick-and-suck tore a moan from your throat, prompting Matt to part from you, to pause the moment to allow himself to savor all of his senses – his own chest heaving and cheeks flushed with the attention he had wrought on you.

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your thigh, chasing it with a nip of teeth. “Only if you’ll be sweet.”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling against the feathery plush of the Devil – Matthew’s – pillow, “I said I would, didn’t I?” You puffed, exasperation coloring your voice, rolling your hips again.

You made to tug Matthew up to you, urging his hips with the legs you had wrapped around him, trying to tug him with willing arms and wanton fingertips.

It punched the air from your lungs when Matthew struck – like a coiled viper wrapping its body around its prey – warm, dangerously snug, as he rolled his body up and over yours, gripping your wrists in one of his firm hands, bringing them up and over your head, rendering you helpless to him.

And the feel of him above you, heated and firm, a wall of muscle leaving you immobile beneath him – reciprocal to him, as he relished in your softness, your pliance. Like a curving crescent moon bends for the sky.

“Close your eyes, kitten,” he purred, his lips gracing the shell of your ear, a tempest rumbling in his chest, urging its way through his voice.

And you had no choice to obey.

Allowing your eyelids to flutter shut as you acquiesced to your other senses overtaking you, the silken feel of one of Matthew’s – was it a tie? Something he’d wear to court? – traipsing over the bare skin of your arms. Up, up, up as it closed around the wrists still held over your head. Matthew was tying you to his headboard. And you were letting him.

You were sure Matt didn't mind. You could just imagine the sharp half-grin that quirked onto his face at the feel of you tied to his bed, his skin beneath yours. His smile was cold, quick, assured. Devilish.

You had accepted earlier in the night that you would never truly know all of Matt Murdock. Whether he was the Devil, or not. That there were parts of his personhood he wouldn't deign to share. Those things weren't for you, after all. But you couldn't quite bring yourself to care at this moment, when he shared what was simultaneously everything and enough, as he held you on the edge after licking your pussy like a man starved, his hardness pressing to your center through his boxers as he loomed over you now.

The rasp of his hands trailing up the smooth skin of your torso sang beneath his palms; the faintest of whispers to you, but a chorus of amorous intention to Matt Murdock's perfect ears.

"Tell me everything you feel," Matt whispered, snugly affixing the knot to your wrists, pressing a kiss to the tender skin there and affirming they weren’t bound too tightly.

“And what do you feel Matt?" you couldn't resist the urge to sass back as you indulged in the sight of your now-paramour peeling his boxers from his body, taking his length into his own hand and stroking himself to the sight of you tied to his bed.

"I feel … Everything. But I wanna hear it from you,” Matt took your sass as acquiescence, allowing his free hand to rove the planes and curves of your stomach and waist, to drag themselves through the wetness gathered at your center –retreating with your slick on his fingers. “I won't give you what you want until you tell me what I want to know," he paused, allowing your eyes to linger on him before he sucked his own finger into his full lips to taste you once more.

“You’re like honey, honey.”

Your residual whimper at the sinful sight before you was something Matt was sure he would re-play in his mind over and over on the nights he had trouble sleeping – he had a lot of those.

“I’ll tell you, baby,” you assured. “Please, just fuck me.”

And who was Matt to refuse such a polite request? Your legs spread for him, the crotch of your panties tugged to the side, the sound of your heaving chest, your blood thrumming beneath your veins, heated and singing for him. Of your wrists straining against his necktie – how much more could a man take?

Matt took himself into his hand once more, spreading the glistening lips of your pussy and guiding himself into your heat, rolling his hips to allow himself to be seated fully inside of your tightness – a broken groan shattering its way through his throat, his lashes fluttering.

You whimpered at the fullness of him inside of you.

“You feel…,” Matt trailed off, his breath hitching, as you rolled your hips to meet his, cunning and keyed.

“Like heaven?” You teased, voice full of mirth, and perhaps a bit of pride at rendering the man above you speechless.

“That’s sacrilegious,” Matt breathed, as he began to thrust into you in earnest.

“What’s a little light sacrilege between sinners, Devil?” You hiccupped, your wrists straining as you urged to grasp any part of the man above you, the drag of him inside of you more than you could bear, the heat between the two of you, the tingling pleasure inside of you, building – ever-building…

“Yeah?” Matt breathed, “You want me to make you see God?”

“Forget it.” You would have been embarrassed at the keening whine that Matt’s attentions were wringing from you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give any semblance of a damn, so long as he kept doing that. “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, “who wants that when I have the devil in my bed?"

"You like that," Matt murmured in your ear, as he thrummed at your clit in time with his trusts.

It wasn't a question.

Mesmerized, stupefied, you stuttered a cracked, “Y-yes.” You tugged your wrists against where they’re tied to the bed, your senses leaving you as you longed to touch him, to push, to give back to him as good as you were getting. You weren’t used to being in the passenger seat.

"You like that I'm bad, as long as I'm good to you, that how it works?" Matt crooned.

“Fuck, Matt,” you whined, “stop toying with me and make me come,” you pleaded.

“Yeah?” he parroted, “You mean like you toy with me? Can you be a good girl? You're supposed to tell me what you feel." Clearly referencing the way you were still straining your wrists at your bonds, raising an eyebrow at your defiance. Nevertheless, he would acquiesce.

Matt’s thumb was circling your clit in time with his thrusts before breaking from you, skating his heated palm up your body to your heaving tits, pinching your nipple as he continued to fuck you toward your peak.

“Mhmm,” you whined, your head tilting back, pressed into Matt’s pillows. Pressed into his sheets – the scent of you, the essence of you, embedding itself there – certain, Matt thought, to haunt him for many nights after this one.

"You feel …" your breath hitched at the ferocity of his thrusts, doing your best to keep your voice even, the edge of a whine skirting it. Though you were sure Matt could tell. "You feel so good, baby. You're so good. I l-love the way your cock feels inside of me. M-make me come, Matty, please?"

And who was he to refuse such a request? Your praises flooded Matt's ears, prickling in his blood, as he turned his attention back to your clit then, reveling in the feel of you tightening around him as he fucked you to your approaching climax.

“C’mon, kitten,” he urged, “c’mon then,” relinquishing your hip from his bruising grip, he brought his hand up, gripping your throat to feel the reverberation of your release through the song of your skin, melting into his. The clever fingers of his other hand stroking your clit as you shattered beneath him, your release soaking his cock, your pussy like a vice around him as you worked your way through the blinding heat of your orgasm. Matthew’s release following at the overwhelming sensation of you, the wet heat of constricting his every sense as he allowed himself to let go. Discipline melding to desire as he filled you. Fucking himself into you through his own orgasm.

“Whoa,” you exhaled, as Matthew allowed himself to slump over you as his pulsing release gently subsided, the flutter of your lashes along his skin as he shuffled his now heavy and tired arms up to release you from his headboard.

He rolled to the side of you, skin sliding against satin sheets as he pulled you to him.

“And to think,” you murmured, massaging the skin of your wrists and pressing a kiss to Matthew’s temple, settling in beside him, “we could have been doing that the entire time.

He hmm’d into your skin in agreement, nuzzling your neck with his nose, pressing a kiss to the tender skin beneath your ear.

“Getting here was fun,” he acquiesced, allowing you to feel the curve of his smiling lips against the skin of your neck. "There's a fine line between –"

"Don't you dare say 'love and hate,'" you groaned.

Matthew smiled again, rolling to press his lips to yours in a teasing kiss.

"I was going to say 'between fucking and fighting,' but if you love me…"

"Shut up," you shoved his shoulder, knowing he could appreciate a little extra force behind your touch. "I hate you, Matthew."

He stilled, and you worried for the briefest moment that you had gone too far. You didn't actually hate him, after all. Surely, he had to know that…

"Say it again," his hands cupped your face gently as his mossy eyes glimmered in the low light of his room. "My name, sweetheart. Say it again?"

"Matthew," you sighed, trailing your hands through his hair, pleased with the silken feel of his strands between delicate fingers, as though he was always meant to be touched by you. You eased up to press a kiss to his lips. "Mystifying, magnificent, magnanimous Matthew."

He sighed in contentment, before quirking his lips at you, tilting his head into your touch, "And what does that make you?"

"Murderous," you quipped, flashing a toothy grin that he could hear through the falling darkness in his bedroom, through the heated drip in your voice. "And what'll you do about it, devil-boy?"

“You know I’ll catch you,” he breathed, allowing himself to ease beside you, the heavy weight of his limbs, of the feeling of you, soothing him. Your collective easy breathing allowing him to begin to lull…

The last thing Matthew heard was your sardonic singsong, “Promises, promises…” toying in his ears as he drifted off to sleep, the weighted heat of you in his arms – real, full, and flush.

And when Matt awoke, in the early hours of the morning, to the frigid, crisp smell of fresh-fallen snow, he felt it, singing in his nose through the glass of the windows in his apartment. Untouched, unblemished. And he felt – emptiness. His apartment was devoid of heat, of pulse – other than his own. As Matt realized that you had gone sometime in the night. The fresh-fallen snow covering your tracks from the fire escape as you had slipped away. Through his fingers, yet again.

He scrubbed his face with his hand, his phone pinging with a notification as he urged his software to read the text,

“See you real soon, Devil. Next time I tie you up.”

Oh, Foggy was never going to believe this.

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