#also need to finalize my embroidery design
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Stargirl: Part Four
Following her last vision, Elain and Azriel navigate the surprise revelation and the frenzy that comes along with it.
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Well, well, well... my smutty little darling that was only ever supposed to be one part comes to an end. This last part was intended to be just a little dirty short thing but somehow it turned into a 6k word monster soooo???? idk i had fun writing this, I hope you have fun reading it and I'm so thrilled I could get this out just in time for the last day of @sjmromanceweek 💕💗💞
this can be read as a stand alone but if you'd like to see how elain's sexy little visions came to be, you can find the first part of stargirl here as well as all the other parts in my masterlist xx
18+ please, gratuitous smut and a little bit of breeding kink as a valentine's day treat 💌👀♥️
ENJOY XX
Read on AO3
Elain runs a trembling hand down the front of her dress as she takes a deep breath.
She’s wearing a beautiful ivory gown made of delicate lace that’s almost sheer. Only heavy clusters of floral embroidery cover her from the top of the bodice down to the middle of her thighs where it tapers off before picking up again to form a stunning train that trails dramatically behind her. The dress has long sleeves, also covered in embroidery, but her shoulders and decolletage are left bare - an intentional design choice that she and her seamstress had made with a certain someone in mind.
A veil is ever so carefully placed into the crown of Elain’s intricately woven hair by the practiced hands of the twins when a soft knock sounds from the bedroom door, interrupting the mindless chatter she’d been exchanging with Nuala and Cerridwen.
She catches sight of the male in the reflection of her mirror. His tall, lean frame occupies almost the entire doorway. He’s dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and a small dusk coloured rose is pinned to the lapel of his jacket. His violet eyes soften as they meet hers and the very corners of his lips turn up into a fond smile.
“He’s not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.” Rhysand says quietly. “You make for a beautiful bride, Elain.”
Elain ducks her head in thanks. The warmth of a blush creeps up her neck and blooms across her cheeks as the nerves that she’s been trying to keep at bay all morning finally settle low in her stomach at her brother-in-law’s sincere compliment and at the reminder of the male waiting for her in the garden.
She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Couldn’t believe that she was about to walk down the aisle to her mate.
…
It had been two years since she’d had that vision that had hinted at a truth she hadn’t been prepared to receive. A vision that had shown her this day - a mating ceremony to a dark haired Shadowsinger instead of the son of Autumn as the Cauldron had once suggested.
That single vision had come out of nowhere and thrown her entire life into a spiral.
She’d never forget sitting up in his bed, turning towards him and whispering those words that had turned their entire world upside down.
You’re my mate.
Azriel had only stared at her, still as a statue, as she fumbled over her words in a desperate attempt to explain to him exactly what she’d seen.
The offering of cake. A black ribbon binding her wrist to his.
He’d broken down moments later after finally finding his voice and asking her a few carefully curated questions to understand exactly what she’d seen. He’d clutched her tight to his chest as tears trickled from his eyes and into her hair. She’d never seen him like that before but she understood immediately that the overwhelming feeling that coursed through him was relief.
Relief from the knowledge that he hadn’t been forgotten by the Mother or the Cauldron. From knowing that he hadn’t been deemed unworthy of a mate because of all the blood he’d drawn over the centuries.
They’d gone to Feyre first, clumsily explaining what Elain had seen only to realise they would also need to confess to already having been spending time together. They told Rhys next and though it was perhaps naive of them, neither she nor Azriel had expected that the High Lord would react so poorly to the news.
For all the times that Elain had wished she could be with Azriel without needing to hide from the others, opening themselves up to the wrath of Rhysand for daring to mess with intercourt politics had resulted in a world of pain. He’d torn into Azriel for even thinking of pursuing a mated female, let alone a female mated to an Autumn Court male. For daring to bed her while her mate slept in the same house.
At the time, it had seemed that no matter how many times Elain tried to make it clear that the bond in question wasn’t even a real bond - that she had pursued Azriel just as much as he’d pursued her, that they’d never risked sleeping together when Lucien was in residence - her pleas fell on deaf ears. Rhys had stormed out of his office without sparing her a glance, only giving a stern warning to Azriel to stay the hell away from her.
They hadn’t stayed away from each other, of course. They’d simply resumed what they’d already been doing - sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the dead of night and only barely avoiding each other during the days.
There had been countless tears and numerous arguments. An entire war had almost been waged over their claim that the Cauldron had been wrong. Iit had taken almost an entire year of working with various High Lords, priestesses, and other contacts and associates of Rhysand to confirm that something had indeed gone wrong when Elain was submerged in the Cauldron - that a spell had been cast in an attempt to hide her bond to Azriel and guide her in another direction.
It had been confusing and messy and terrible for everyone involved but they had somehow come out on the other end, still together and still hopelessly in love. Now, there was a brand new element to their relationship. A bright, glowing tether that connected their bodies, their souls - already so tangible despite the fact that neither of them had formally accepted the bond.
Azriel, usually so reserved and attention avoidant, had surprised her when he insisted on even having a ceremony. She’d had to talk him out of going down the same path as Nesta and Cassian and after going back and forth too many times to count, Elain had eventually relented and they’d compromised on having the small garden ceremony that had come to her in that vision.
The title of mates had never meant much to her. She’d have chosen him a million times over where there’d been a predetermined connection between them or not. But she knew how much it meant to Azriel, knew that he considered the bond to be a blessing unlike any other.
It was why she attempted to look past the, quite frankly, insane behavior he’d been exhibiting over the past few months. Azriel had turned into something reminiscent of the girls that Elain had grown up with. The ones that became obsessive over their nuptials the second a ring was placed on their finger.
Just because she’d given in to his desire to have a ceremony, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t enjoyed torturing him from time to time when he was difficult about place settings or flowers.
“Never should’ve told you about that stupid vision,” Elain would taunt him, if only to feel the delicious trickle of arousal slither down her spine at the way his shoulders would stiffen and the promise of punishment would spark in his eyes.
Not that he’d ever actually deliver on that promise.
It was the one true point of contention between them. The stubborn male was intent on not formally accepting the bond before the ceremony and would hardly touch her, let alone fuck her, for fear of accidentally solidifying the bond between them before they could have it blessed by a priestess. And though she tried, there was no amount of teasing and taunting she could do that would get him to break.
He even went as far as to refuse food made by her whether she handed it directly to him or not.
It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.
Azriel had made up for some of it though, meeting her halfway by insisting on incorporating certain aspects of a human wedding - starting with a proposal that had come as a complete surprise a few weeks before they’d broken the curse.
They’d been in the garden one evening, Azriel more quiet than usual as he studied her from over the brim of a chipped tea cup that appeared like a dollhouse toy in the grasp of his large hands. She’d only looked up from her notebook when he gently lifted her feet from his lap and shifted until he was on his knees in the grass beside her.
He had said her name so softly, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar quality that they’d later identified as nervousness when they laughed together in bed later, recounting the moment while Elain lifted her hand above their faces until the low fae lights caught the surface of the sparkling sapphire that newly graced her ring finger.
…
That sapphire gleams brighter than ever on her finger as Rhysand steps towards her and offers her his arm.
“Ready?”
He’d come to them after they’d announced their intention to have a ceremony and asked if he could walk Elain down the aisle - a sign of peace and a way of offering them his blessing. Something that she knew meant the world to Azriel after the tense year he and Rhys had had.
“Ready.” Elain swallows, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow.
Apart from Rhys walking her down the aisle, most of what she’d seen in that vision remains the same. A harp plays as Rhys leads her out to the garden. Bright blooms of flowers are arranged on either side of a makeshift aisle. The sun shines and the Sidra glitters behind them. Nesta and Feyre smile brightly, tears gathering in the corner of their eyes. Cassian gives her a bright smile before clasping the broad shoulder of the handsome male standing next to him.
Elain’s breath catches in her chest when Azriel turns and his eyes land on her. She tries to keep from crying but there’s little she can do to stop the tears from falling when Azriel gives her a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen before, his own eyes shining with tears and admiration for his bride.
The sight of Azriel in his leathers was something Elain often dreamed of when she lay in bed at night, but it only takes one slow pass of her eyes over his body before she realises that the only thing better than Azriel in his leathers, is Azriel in a suit.
The suit is perfectly cut to his body and is befitting of a royal prince - the sash draped across his body, the medallions pinned to his chest - she realises that in a way, he really is dressed the part of a high ranking member of the Night Court and something about seeing him proudly dressed like this for her, makes her heart swell.
It feels like an eternity before she stands in front of him, before Rhys kisses her cheek and gives Azriel a hug. Before Azriel’s wonderfully familiar hands clasp around hers.
“Beautiful.” He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze as his eyes roam over her dress - the delicate lace that frames her exposed neck and shoulders. The embroidery that conceals the part of her that only he would ever see. He doesn’t bother to conceal his satisfied hum of approval as his gaze tracks back up the length of her body to her face.
The priestess takes over then, welcoming all their guests and guiding them through a short ceremony that culminates in an exchange of vows that leaves both of them with happy smiles and tear streaked faces.
They exchange rings after their vows - an homage to Elain’s human heritage but also something she’d quietly insisted on because the possessive part of her wanted him to have a physical marker that made it clear that he was taken to any female or male that dared to set their eyes on him.
Before she knows it, Nyx is teetering over to them, a small plate that holds one cinnamon bun haphazardly cradled in his small, chubby hands.
It’s the final point of difference from her vision - a small change she’d intentionally made to incorporate Azriel’s favourite of her homemade treats into their day. A nod to the day this had all started that only the two of them would understand.
She bends down and kisses Nyx on the forehead, gingerly taking the bun in her fingers before standing and bringing it to Azriel’s lips.
“Eat.” Elain murmurs.
Azriel’s lips close around the soft bun, teeth sinking into the sweet pastry. He swallows and Elain swears she feels the bond between them intensify. Unlike the uncomfortable pull she’d felt once upon a time, this is different. This time it’s desire and admiration and pure love that she feels when it tightens around her ribs.
By the way Azriel is looking at her, she knows he feels the same.
The ribbon is the next and final part of the ceremony. Feyre and Nesta both step forward to wrap a length of black satin around the couple’s wrists - sheepish looks on both of her sister’s faces. Rhysand and Cassian take over from their mates- tightening the ribbon and tying it into a firm bow.
“Remember, Az,” Cassian's eyes shine with mischief. “This stays on until you make her come hard enough to cause an avalanche on Ramiel.”
“Cassian!” Nesta groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, at the same exact time Feyre clasps her hands tight over Nyx’s ears even as she and Rhysand fail to stifle their laugh.
…
They don’t last long after the ceremony. It’s only a couple of turns around the small dancefloor and a few congratulatory conversations before the pull between them becomes too much to bear and Azriel bends down, his lips brushing over the delicate point of her ear as he quietly asks if she’s ready to leave.
He laughs at the eagerness with which Elain responds but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed - not when she’d felt the absence of his touch so thoroughly for over a month now.
She needed to be alone with him. Needed to get away before the desire got the best of them and put them at risk of doing something obscenely stupid like consummating their bond in the middle of this garden, in front of everyone they held close to their hearts.
After a very quick goodbye to their amused guests, Azriel whisks Elain into his arms and flies directly to the townhouse that Rhys had gifted them as a mating present, grumbling that they may as well have it seeing as they’d already spent the last year or two desecrating every part of it.
No words are exchanged as Azriel lands, still cradling Elain in his arms as he wanders up the path and opens the door, carrying her over the threshold once more.
It was funny really, when she looks back at how far they’d come since that very first time Azriel had flown her here, to this place they could now call home.
She’d been a shell of herself back then, clutching to her human life with a desperation that had almost broken her completely. Despite it all, she’d felt a split second moment of reprieve from the intensity of her grief when Azriel, little more than a stranger to her at the time, carried her over the threshold and set her down with such care before he led her out to the one place he somehow knew she might find some sense of normalcy.
She’d felt it then - upon seeing the kindness in his eyes and feeling the gentleness of his touch - the tiniest inkling of hope that maybe one day she could find happiness in this new place, in this new life.
Sure enough, that little drop of hope had been warranted because just a few years later, Elain is the happiest she’s ever been.
The signs had all been there from the start.
That single strand of hair that had snagged right over his heart should’ve told her all she needed to know.
He carries her upstairs, toeing open the door to the bedroom that once belonged solely to her and Elain’s jaw drops as Azriel finally sets her down and she peels her eyes away from his perfect face to take in the room.
She knew that Feyre and Mor had come by earlier to decorate but she didn’t expect all of this. Her usual lilac linens have been replaced by billowing white sheets. There’s blush coloured rose petals strewn across the bed that match the roses that had framed the aisle and candles were scattered around the room, casting the bed in romantic, flickering golden light.
Azriel’s free arm winds around her waist from behind and his lips follow the path of her shoulder up her neck as he pulls her back towards him. Elain tilts her head up to meet him halfway and his mouth travels along her jaw until his lips hover centimeters from hers.
She feels like every bit of her skin is on fire. She could never imagine that the level of her desire for Azriel would surpass what she felt for him in the past but she was sorely mistaken because what she feels in this moment makes her think that if he didn’t do something to quell the ache thrumming between her legs, she might just die.
“Azriel.” She breathes his name, turning towards him fully and breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between them.
“Elain.” He answers. His fingers press into the plush flesh of her hip, the very tips of them venturing low - teasing at the curve of her backside.
“My mate.” Elain says quietly, raising her hand to cup his face. Her thumb drags along his sharp cheekbone.
“My mate.” He repeats. The word is almost unfamiliar on his lips, like he still can’t quite believe the term is his to use. Azriel brings his lips to hers and her entire body is overcome with a desperate need. “My wife.”
Elain can’t help but whimper as her body curves into his by its own volition. She melts into his searing kiss.
“My husband.”
Azriel lets out a soft moan at that and a slight shift of his stance allows her to feel him hard against her hip.
Elain is suddenly nervous as she pulls away to look up at Azriel. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly shy, standing in front of him like an innocent, blushing bride even though they both knew that ship had sailed long ago. He stares back at her, candle light catching the flecks of green in his eyes.
She recognises the wonder there as he takes in the sight of her. It’s a perfect mirror to her own emotions. To the disbelief that they’d actually made it to this moment against all odds.
“Not sure how we’re supposed to consummate anything with our wrists bound together.” Elain frowns, her voice shaking slightly. “I won’t be able to get you out of this suit.”
“I think it’s more of a symbolic thing.” Azriel smiles, kissing her once more to ease her nerves. His fingers slip from her waist to their wrists, deftly plucking at the knot of black satin until it comes loose and their hands are freed. He sets the ribbon down and fixes her with a look that sends a shiver down her spine.
He motions for her to turn and then his hands are in her hair, gently removing pins until her hair falls in a gentle, albeit slightly messy, golden wave down her back. He gathers it to the side and more kisses are placed to the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder.
Azriel’s fingers find the buttons that run down the back of her dress and he begins to undo them slowly. Elain knows that he’s doing it on purpose. That even on this special day, he wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to have her beg.
But Elain, for once, won’t let him win. She somehow finds the will power to hold still as he undoes her dress and drags it down her arms and over her torso until it falls to the floor and she’s left standing in front of him in nothing except for the very expensive scrap of ivory lace that covers her sex and the shiny rings on her finger.
She reaches for his suit jacket and helps him maneuver out of it and then she steps around to his back to undo the buttons of his shirt around his wings. And maybe, just maybe, during the process of ridding him of his shirt, she lets her knuckles smooth over a part of the delicate membrane that has him gritting out her name in warning.
Elain grins, moving back around to his front to reach for the buttons of his fine pants - slowly undoing them as he kicks off his shoes just in time for her to slide his trousers and undershorts down his legs.
She can’t help the way her eyes linger on the proud length of him. On the small bead of moisture gathered at the tip that gleams in the glow of the candles, practically calling for her to put her lips on him. She’s so distracted that she barely even registers Azriel reaching back for the ribbon he’d placed on the desk a few minutes ago.
“I can think of better uses for this ribbon.” Azriel’s eyes flick up to meet hers as he smooths out the ribbon and dangles it from his fingertips.
“I can think of something even better.” Elain plucks the ribbon from his hands and backs him towards the bed with a single finger against his chest until he’s laying down. His eyes shimmer with amusement as she motions for him to put his hands above his head but he silently follows her instructions.
She kneels next to him, leans down and tries so very hard to ignore the sweet press of his lips to her sternum as her fingers make quick work of wrapping the ribbon around both of his wrists before securing the remaining length to the wooden posts of her headboard.
“You have the rest of our lives to touch me whenever and however you’d like. Let’s see how long you can last before you’re begging to touch your wife.”
She moves to settle herself on his lap but he stops her with a slight shift of his knees that sends her sliding further up his torso.
“On my tongue first.”
Elain bites down on her lower lip, her core already tightening in anticipation as she shifts further up and carefully places a knee above each of his shoulders, mindful of his wings.
“Look at you.” Azriel’s eyes are fixed on the damp lace covering her center. On the gleam of arousal that covers her inner thighs. “Such a mess already and I haven’t even begun.”
“So much talking.” Elain grumbles, her face flooding with heat at just how wet she was for him when all he’d done was take her dress off.
“Make me stop.” Azriel challenges. She huffs but slowly lowers her hips until the defined tip of his nose brushes over her, dragging her soaked underwear over her clit in a delicious slide of friction.
It’s far from the first time he’s had her like this but it is the first time he hasn’t been able to use his hands. It’s in this moment that Elain realises just how much she relies on him to guide her down to his face. To pull her hips closer and closer, to help her rock against him as she rides him. With his hands restrained, it all falls back on her to gain the confidence to use him like this.
“Sit.” The single word is laced with pure demand and she can sense that Azriel’s patience is slipping. His need to get his mouth on her overruling any of the previous gentleness he’d shown her this evening.
She does as she’s told and her hands fly out to grasp for purchase on her headboard at the first pass of Azriel’s mouth over the lace that covers her. He doesn’t give her a moment to catch her breath before he uses his teeth to tug the lace to the side as best as he can and then his tongue is on her, eagerly tasting her, consuming her with long, effortless strokes.
“I’ve missed this.” He groans against her skin. His tongue dips inside her. “ I’ve missed you.”
She doesn’t have the words to admonish him. To tell him that he could’ve had her this whole time if only he hadn’t been so stubborn. But a month without having him like this has taken its toll and Elain finds that she’s utterly incapable of forming any words or sounds that aren’t a simple keening moan as she rolls her hips and chases the sensation quickly building low and intense in her stomach. Her thighs tremble, her fingers clench around the wooden posts of her bedframe and before she knows it, the wave of pleasure crests and she slumps forward - the already precarious rhythm of her hips falters as she comes hard and fast on his tongue.
Azriel’s mouth doesn’t stop working her until she pulls off of him completely but even then, she isn’t granted a single moment of reprieve besides a couple seconds to catch her breath.
He calls in his shadows and icy, invisible hands are firm around her waist, guiding her back down to where she’d started. Her hands find his cock as his shadows stay with her, slipping in between her legs and over her breasts in feather light caresses that have her aching for more despite just having come mere seconds ago.
Elain raises her eyes to look up at Azriel as she lowers her mouth to his cock. At the first slide of her tongue over his head, a particularly daring shadow slips inside her. The feeling of it is one she knows well, so similar to Azriel’s own fingers.
Elain pulls off of him for a second, glaring up at him. The menacing look she’d been going for is cut short when she gasps as the shadow still inside her presses hard against her upper wall.
“You said,” Azriel starts, eyes squeezing shut when she takes him in her mouth again. “You said I couldn’t touch you. You never said my shadows couldn’t.”
“Not fair.” Elain mumbles around the length of him, unwilling to stop the movement of her lips and tongue. She only takes him deeper, relishing in the way his hips lift to push himself further down her throat.
“Did you think I’d forgotten?” More of his shadows are in her hair now, tugging at her roots with delicious pressure. “All those times you’ve taunted me this past month? Did you think I would forget?”
She gives him a subtle shake of her head, hollowing her cheeks around him all the while.
She’d been praying that he wouldn’t forget, that he’d catalogue all those moments until he could finally deliver on that promise of punishment she’d seen gleaming in his eyes each time she’d deliberately taunt him with her words or actions.
“Touch me.” She doesn’t know how the tables have turned so quickly. How in a split second, she’s pulled off of him and has relinquished all control to him - begging him to touch her instead of the other way around as she’d initially planned. “Azriel, please.”
His shadows aren’t enough and too much time has passed. They’ve put it off too long and the thread between them has grown too taut. She wants his hands. His fingers. She wants him inside her.
Elain blinks and Azriel’s hands are free. She blinks again and she’s on her back in the exact spot he had just been. His hazel eyes burn into hers as his hands - those glorious, beautiful scarred hands - smooth over every inch of her body that’s within their reach.
“Please.” She begs again, unsure as to what she’s even asking for. All she knows is that there’s greater forces at play and her wants and desires are careening dangerously out of control.
“Okay.” Azriel nods and suddenly it’s clear as day to her that he’s experiencing the exact same thing on the other side of the bond glowing between them. There’s a new sense of urgency to his words. To his actions. His calloused thumbs drag over her nipples. “Okay, my love.”
He moves a hand inbetween her legs and pushes her thighs further apart and then she feels him, hot and heavy against her sex. He drags his cock over her twice, coating himself in the arousal he’s pulled from her. A moment later he’s inside her and Elains swears it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her entire life.
“It feels…” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s too overcome by a wave of emotions so intense that it wracks through her body. That thread between them that had seemed so tangible for the past month had suddenly solidified into something else entirely. She could feel it in her blood. In each and every nerve. Could feel him. Each of her emotions - all the joy and the pleasure and the relief - it was all amplified. Doubled. Because she could feel his twin emotions on the other side of this new connection.
It had snapped. The bond had finally snapped into place once and for all.
Elain laughs, high and bright, and full of disbelief because each time she had thought that what she felt for him couldn’t possibly be topped, she had been proven wrong.
“I know.” Azriel sweeps back the hair clinging to her sweat slick forehead and keeps his eyes on hers.
“It just…” Elain gasps, fingernails clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. To feel even more of him.
“I know.” Azriel repeats, lowering his mouth to hers in an all consuming kiss that renders her utterly useless. “I felt it, too.”
Azriel continues to whisper sweet nothings into her skin as he takes her, his hips meeting hers as he delivers long smooth strokes that have her crying his name.
“Want you to come with me, okay?” He says gently, waiting until her eyes focus on his and she nods that she had in fact heard him before he bends one of her knees to her chest and picks up his pace.
The new position has tears forming in the corner of her eyes from the sheer bliss that courses through her. It’s a feeling that’s only heightened when he brings a hand in between their bodies to thumb at her clit.
“I meant every word.” Azriel murmurs, his forehead pressed tight to hers. “You’re my sun, Elain.”
The smooth movement of his hips stutters and she knows he’s close.
I spent the first part of my life shrouded in darkness with only shadows for company. I thought I’d learnt what it was to live in the light of day again but I didn’t truly know what it meant to feel the warmth of the sun until you looked at me for the first time.
The beautiful words Azriel had said to her earlier in the garden echo in her head and she can’t stop the sob that escapes her at the reminder of the vows they’d made. At the promises they’d sworn - the declarations to love and to cherish each other for the rest of their long, immortal lives.
“I love you.” Her hands land on either side of his face and she holds him to her, kissing him deeply as he spills inside her. Her muscles contract around him, an endless pulsing sensation that makes her ears ring and her eyes go blurry.
He says it back to her - three words chanted over and over again in combination with her name as he fills her.
Her blood pounds through her veins and her heart feels like it’s going to explode out of her chest. No amount of reading and research into mating bonds would have prepared her for the magnanimity of what she felt in this moment.
It isn’t until Azriel pulls out of her and kneels in between her legs that her eyes focus and she regains any sense of who or where she is. He gently pries her legs further apart and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. She watches as he takes two of his fingers and collects the come smeared on her thighs. It coats his fingers and the sight of a small bit of it sliding off the knuckle of his middle finger and landing over the gold band on his ring finger is so beautifully filthy that it has her holding back a moan.
“Back where it belongs.” Azriel says the words with a satisfied, purely male smirk and Elain’s breath hitches as he slides his fingers back in her, fucking his spend back inside her. She shivers at the sensation of cold metal grazing her skin.
“Sometimes when I see you like this - your pretty cunt so wet and swollen, so full of my come that it drips out…” He pauses for a second, eyes fixated on the easy slip of his fingers in and out of her. “I wonder why I still take the tonic every morning.”
Elain summons the energy to prop herself up on her elbows so she can look at him. She’s shocked at his admission, at all that it entails.
“If you want me to call you daddy, Azriel, all you had to do was ask.”
It’s a weak attempt at humour, a pathetic attempt to buy her some time as she tries to figure out what to say.
Azriel’s head tips back and he laughs in that way that makes her heart ache with love for him.
“I’m serious, Elain.” He gives her a soft smile, his fingers still moving within her. “If you want that with me, I… I’d be honoured.”
“I need,” she gasps when his fingers curl inside her, pressing against the spot he knows will get her where he wants her to be. “To think.”
“Okay.” He agrees. “Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”
“After this…” Elain’s back arches off the bed and her legs threaten to close but Azriel holds her open for him with his other hand.
“After the frenzy.” He completes her thought for her and watches, completely enamored as her head tilts back and her slender fingers frantically clutch at the sweat soaked sheets.
“With a clear head.” She barely manages to get out the words. “We’ll talk about it.”
She’d need a clear head to discuss that particular subject because right now, with how unbelievably aroused she was at the idea of his fingers pushing his come back inside her - back where it belongs - she’d do just about anything he asked of her.
Azriel only leans forward, crowding her body with his as he once again sends her falling over the edge. Her moans are swallowed eagerly by his mouth.
“Always take me so well.” He praises her. “So beautiful each and every time you come for me.”
When she finally settles, utterly spent against the mattress, Azriel moves to pull back but Elain clambers to keep him with her and she finds herself startled by her own automatic reaction to him moving even a fraction of an inch away. She buries her face in his neck, drawing in the scent of him - that cedar scent that is now completely intertwined with notes of jasmine and honey- and the depth of her desire terrifies her.
Elain can’t fathom that there will be a time where she won’t need to feel the weight of him on top of her. Couldn’t imagine that there’d be a second of the foreseeable future in which she wouldn’t need to feel the warmth of his skin under the tips of her fingers. The possessive quality that already lived deep within her bones had grown into a whole new monster because even though she’s been told over and over again that it’s the males who get territorial once a mating bond has been accepted, the way in which she needs to have Azriel all to herself makes her feel confident that she could rip someone to shreds if they looked at him for even a second too long.
“I never want to leave this bed.” Elain sighs, fingers slipping down the expanse of his back as she arches upward, her breasts pressing against his chest. She’s delighted when the shift of her body allows her to feel him hard against her stomach again because despite her sore muscles and the tiredness seeping into her bones, she’s somehow immediately ready for him. Desperate to have him inside her once more.
“Too bad.” Azriel’s lips skate up the column of her throat until his lips are right over her ear. “Because I intend to fuck you on every single surface in this house.”
He sinks into her again and Elain is convinced once and for all that this frenzy might never end.
#elriel#elriel fic#sjmromanceweek2024#elain x azriel#elain archeron#azriel#so very nervous for this to go out bc i've been putting off finishing this for far far far too long#my writing#acotar fanfiction
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The Gamemaker's Apprentice
Level 12
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, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added
Masterlist
Level 12 Warnings:
The blackest of mails, like vanta-blackmail lolol,
Replay Level 11
Ready? Level 12 Start:
The satisfied hum on the other line almost makes you throw the receiver into the wall.
“You win, okay? Let my uncle go.” You’re unable to hide the tremor in your voice as you concede. Coriolanus lets a pause pass before responding.
“Sugarplum, I’m happy you finally see things my way, but I think that’s a conversation best had in person.”
“I think it’s fine just this way, Coriolanus.”
“Now, don’t be stubborn,” he admonishes. “I will have my driver pick you up from your home in thirty minutes and bring you to me. We have much to talk about.”
Good grief. Obviously, you’d rather put in your safe space and not face him now – hell, not ever – but he’s been holding all the cards since yesterday and his tone isn’t giving you room to argue at all.
“Nellie. Thirty minutes.”
His almost-warning is followed at once by the dial tone. Having no choice, you use the remaining time preparing to head out. The warm bath you take takes a little bit of the tension off, but by the time you get inside your ride to Hell, it returns tenfold, and nothing you do save the fidgeting on the hem of your coat gives you a modicum of comfort. You arrive at the luxury apartment building where a valet opens the car door for you, and the doorman escorts you to the private elevator.
And just like that, you find yourself ringing the doorbell of Coriolanus Snow’s – now apparently your fiancé’s – penthouse.
A maid opens the door for you and motions to take your coat, before leading you to the living room. She then disappears, presumably to call for the master of the house, leaving you standing in the middle, fiddling with the hem of your dress and half-wondering whether you should make a run for it.
“Good morning, sugarplum.”
Ah, the said master of the house.
You look up to see Coriolanus grinning at you from ear to ear, wearing a thick designer crimson bathrobe with golden damask embroidery with matching house slippers. You freeze in place, which he takes advantage of; he places his arms around you and plants a single, lingering kiss on your lips.
Pulling away as he nudges your chin, he says, “You’ve made me very happy by just coming here. Have breakfast with me; the chef should be almost done.”
If you hadn’t been at a disadvantage, you’d have reacted incredulously at the nerve, as if he’s invited you here for mere casual chitchat.
“I thought you said we were going to talk,” you say.
“And we shall,” he replies. He puts an arm around your waist and, steering you into the dining room, he adds, “But first, you need to eat. When was the last time you ate anything, sugarplum?”
The smell of bacon coming from the kitchen invades your senses, and to your absolute mortification, that’s when your stomach chooses to betray you by grumbling audibly. Coriolanus laughs heartily, and for a moment you’re reminded of the days you spent with him as friends – and yet here you are now, ensnared and trapped by that friendship which you now know was just a front.
“I can’t have my future wife starving herself and risking her health,” he says with a smirk, pulling back a chair for you to the left of what you assume is his seat at the head of the dining table.
The table has been set lavishly with silver cutlery and fine chinaware, and in a few moments, you’re both served by the maid a steaming cup of tea, followed by a plate of eggs benedict with arugula salad on the side.
Breakfast breezes by quietly, with your eyes fixed on your plate as you chew mechanically while he steals glances at you in between bites. He urges you to finish off your plate, which you comply with just to get the entire thing over with. Once he’s satisfied, he motions for the maid to clear the table and gives her one final order as she curtsies.
“Clean up, and then you’re free to go home for the day, as is the chef. My betrothed and I will need the privacy.”
You wish he’d stop referring to you like that, but it’s not like you have a choice in the matter.
Coriolanus takes you back to the living room by hand and offers you the loveseat. He then takes his place beside you with a contented sigh as he turns to face you with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the backrest.
Well-fed in his bathrobe and slippers, he paints this relaxed, almost cheerful picture you could only hope to achieve. You scoot a little more away from him as much as the two-seater couch allows you to.
He takes your trembling left hand in his cold ones and kisses the back of it before placing it on his knee as he speaks.
“We have so much to do, so much to talk about, but first, let’s discuss the matter of our story.”
Ah, yes. He can’t really tell the public about ‘winning your heart’ by way of coercion, can he?
“I told Mr and Mrs Plinth that I have good news for them, so they invited us for afternoon tea and dinner.”
With his grip impossible for you to wrench away from, your hand remains on his knee, clenched at the prospect of revealing this devastating news this quickly.
“But, why now?” you ask. “Can’t we…I don’t know, wait? Isn’t this a little bit too sudden?”
He tilts a corner of his lips as he responds, “The twelfth Hunger Games is just two weeks away, and the Capitol will surely be happy to know that the two gamemakers responsible for its success are now tying the knot. I plan on announcing our engagement as soon as it finishes. There is no better timing than this, sugarplum.”
How typical of Coriolanus Snow to use the Games to further publicise this farce of an engagement and shift the limelight to himself. All that aside, however, you have only one focus which he hadn’t yet touched.
“And what of my uncle? Has he been released?” you insistently probe.
“That depends entirely on your cooperation today, sugarplum,” he says as he draws circles absently on your hand which he still clasps. “If you follow my instructions, if you stick to our story, word per word, I might be inclined to let him go home by tonight, just like nothing happened. If not…”
His grin grows colder and wider – an ominous sign that this isn’t going to end well for you and your uncle if he doesn’t get his way.
“Your uncle will stay detained, and by tomorrow I will give the order to have him exiled somewhere in the Districts. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you take your pick, save District 3, of course.”
His other hand reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before asking, “So, will you be good today, and do exactly as I say?”
Numbly, you nod once. He just tuts and tugs your hand to bring you closer.
“Use your words, sugarplum,” he whispers.
So, you swallow that lump in your throat, your voice shaking as you say, “Yes, Coryo.”
As an approving smirk grows on his face and victory dances in his chilling blue eyes, you get an overwhelming feeling that you’re going to have to get used to saying that more often.
“Good girl,” he praises.
He gets to his feet at once with a quiet order for you to stay put as he exits the living room. Before you could even know what for, he returns after but a few moments clutching something with his hand you can’t see. You watch, confused and increasingly dumbstruck, when he bends on one knee. With your faces now level, he peers into your eyes as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands:
A red-velvet jewellery box, the lid of which he flips to unveil a ring; at its head is the largest emerald-cut diamond you’ve ever laid eyes on, with its white-golden band accented with smaller round diamonds at its shoulder.
Clearly pleased at your reaction, he uses your momentary stupefaction to explain, “I could’ve done this more properly and in a better setting in the near future, but I suppose this will have to do.”
Coriolanus pries the ring off its case and very gently slips it on your left ring finger, where it stays there in its glimmering radiance, weighing down your hand and almost mocking you with its implied permanence. As if to seal your fate further, he captures your lips with his in a searing kiss that raises the hair on your arms and the back of your neck. His tongue pushes past your lips insistently to make you respond – instead, you turn your head away and break it off. You’re breathless, partly because of the kiss, but mostly because this is now happening – you’re going to have to get used to kisses like these and you’re really now engaged to Coriolanus Snow – and any chance of getting away from him is smaller than it has ever been and will likely vanish entirely as soon as the Games is over.
He lets out a sigh of displeasure the moment you break the kiss.
“Sugarplum, when I said, ‘do everything I say,’ this is part of it,” he chastens, but he lets out another exhale and shifts to his previous carefree mood. “But like I said, I’m feeling a little more lenient at present, so I will let that slide.”
He then smooches your exposed cheek instead before adding, “Disobey me again today, however…” he trails off with a suppressed chuckle – a warning not to fuck up again in his eyes – and briefly stroking your cheek before settling down once more on the seat beside you.
From there, he begins giving you his instructions – how to act and react, how to respond to anticipated questions, and most importantly, how to defer to him when it comes to matters you haven’t brushed over. He gives you room for questions and objections, but to these, his explanations are clipped – and since he won’t allow opposition, you try to keep your dissent at bay no matter how much his orders appal you. He doesn’t stop pressing you until your performance is every bit as perfect in his eyes. You don’t finish until about half-past twelve, when he asks if you’d prefer going out to eat for lunch with him or have it ordered in; both of which you refuse at first, but you opt for the latter the moment you see his eyebrows start to furrow.
Once the food arrives, he says something about getting ready to go out for an important Sunday errand before sauntering away. He leaves the apartment, but not without a kiss on your forehead. You let enough time to pass for him to have left the building entirely before you run to the door and shake the knob open, only to find that he’d locked it from the outside, and no matter what you do with the keypads on the inside, it would not budge.
No way out of this glorified cage, it seems.
You get the inkling that you’re going to have to get used to being locked in this apartment from the outside more often.
“Oh, my goodness, Nellie, my dear!”
You’re encased in a huge, warm embrace the moment a delighted Ma Plinth sees you cross the threshold of their Corso home. You return the hug gladly, almost melting into her arms.
“Ma, I’m so happy to see you,” you whisper in an almost pained voice. You needed that hug so badly, you realise.
Ma pulls away to cradle your face as if to get a better look at you. “Oh, it’s always a pleasure to have you,” she beams brightly before that smile turns into a small, worried frown. “How are you? Have you been eating and sleeping well, sweetheart? You’ve lost a little weight.”
“I have?” you mutter absently. Not that you really care what you look like right now; you’re just glad to be with a friendly presence for once in your Uncle Cas’s absence.
From behind you, however, Coriolanus places a cold hand on your shoulder, overwhelming the warmth Ma exudes.
“I’ve made it my personal mission to make sure she’s taking care of herself, Ma, but my sugarplum can be stubborn at times,” he says teasingly.
Ma lets out a lilting laugh before him in for an embrace. Once the maid has taken your coats, you follow the two into the lounge, paying their animated conversation very little mind as you go over in your head silently the things you’re supposed to say and the topics you’re supposed to avoid and defer to him. The three of you are eventually seated at a small round table by a tall window overlooking the Corso circle, where you’re served hot tea and an assortment of teacakes and pastries, which both Ma and Coriolanus urge you to eat as much as you’d like. Mr Plinth arrives shortly, so you and Coriolanus pay your respects by getting to your feet and greeting him. Plinth senior returns the gesture by shaking Coriolanus’s hand firmly and pulling him in for a brief one-armed hug and a clap on his back.
“Strapping young man, as always,” he comments with pride. Turning to you, you extend a hand to him as well, but he says, “None of that, my dear girl, we’re practically family!”
He gives you the same one-armed hug and smiles warmly at you, before motioning everyone to take their seat.
After he’s served some tea by the maid, thus begins the inquiry.
“So, Coriolanus, what is this news you bring? I can tell it’s something good,” Mr Plinth asks with a bright, expectant smile. Like he already knows what it is but he’s waiting for your companion to spill it. Ma wears the same look, sipping her tea but looking over her cup excitedly.
Coriolanus’s right laces with your left hand – the one bearing the token of imprisonment masquerading as an engagement ring – over the table where it’s clearly visible to the Plinth couple. You force yourself to smile at him like he had instructed, which he returns. He seems over the moon, a genuine display which you’re mildly surprised he’s still capable of, when he starts to explain.
“I suppose it could’ve waited until dinner, but I was too overjoyed at the news.” Pausing to lick his lips, his posture straightens as he continues, “Just the other night, Nellie made me the happiest man in the world by accepting my bid for her hand in marriage.”
Under duress, you inwardly add.
The gasp that Ma lets out is immediately drowned out by her husband’s loud ‘Ha!’ and if that doesn’t tell you he was expecting this bit of information, he says jovially, “I knew it, I kept telling everyone that you two children were bound to get there.”
Ma lets out a teary ‘oh’ while she clutches her chest, gushing over the way Coriolanus grips your hand and gently runs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. She bursts into quiet sobs while Strabo pats her on the back and holds her hand.
“Oh, you kids!” she exclaims amidst tears of apparent joy. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you two have finally decided to settle down together. It’s just so obvious you’re meant for each other.”
Strabo pulls a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and hands it over to his wife, who proceeds to wipe her tears demurely, and says, “About time, too! Congratulations, both of you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Coriolanus replies.
“I’m just glad Nellie finally gave you a chance! I was starting to think your famous charm had finally found its match, my boy,” Strabo teases.
Coriolanus’s eyes twinkle when he catches yours and kisses the back of your hand to further drive this image of a couple head-over-heels in love with each other that he wants to portray. And just like he wanted, you give him a smile, which is getting increasingly harder to do while you battle with your inner self to keep you from breaking character.
For Uncle Cas, you remind yourself.
Your fiancé goes along with the jest. “I’m certainly lucky she did, sir. I would’ve otherwise resorted to other measures to make sure she ends up with me.”
This earns a laugh from the married couple across the table, making them miss the rather knowing glint that passes over Coriolanus’s eyes.
Jokes are half-meant, so they say.
When the joyous tone dies down a bit, Mr Plinth brings up a topic that Coriolanus had anticipated and trained you with.
“What of Acacius? Does he know? Your uncle should be here as well, should he not?”
Those blue eyes tell you what you don’t need to be reminded of: don’t fuck it up.
With your hands on your lap, you slowly say, “He’s aware, sir, but it’s...a little complicated.”
“How so?”
“My uncle didn’t approve, and we’re currently not on speaking terms,” you explain with rehearsed ease. Just like he told you to.
Back at his apartment, he had ordered you to stay away from your uncle, which he claims is to corroborate with the story of him not approving the match. To you, however, it’s likely just to keep you and your uncle from planning ways of escaping his clutches.
As if on cue, Coriolanus holds both your hands on your lap and squeezes, making it look like he’s trying to comfort you.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Ma whispers empathetically.
“Well, that is absurd,” Mr Plinth nods to himself with his brows stitched together. “Acacius should know better than to interfere with the decision of two consenting adults! Quite frankly, I’m disappointed in him, given his speech back...” he seems to catch himself, possibly to refrain from mentioning a certain meeting you weren’t privy to.
“But, never mind that,” he amends. “Perhaps I should have a word with him.”
It’s Coriolanus who speaks this time. “I appreciate the gesture sir, but Nellie and I have decided to give Mr Innis time and space to come around. If that’s what he needs to accept our decision, we’re happy to give it to him.” Then he adds with a soft smile directed at you, attempting to lighten the mood, “The last thing I want is to put pressure on my future in-law.”
Mr Plinth hums to himself and bobs his head in affirmation. “You have a wise head on you, my boy. I think that’s for the better.” Turning to you, he says, “I’m sure your uncle just needs time to think. After all, it’s understandable – to him, you’re his daughter, and he loves his little girl too much he can’t bear the thought of losing you, even if it’s to a man who clearly loves you.”
“Thank you, sir,” you say.
Ma mirrors her husband’s words and adds, “Nellie, once he sees how genuine the love is between you two, I’m positive he’ll give you his blessing.”
Coriolanus thanks both for their support and takes this time to veer into another matter he’s rehearsed you with.
“I’d like to also announce, Ma, sir, that I’ve taken it upon myself to let my Nellie stay in my apartment for the time being, given the circumstances; this is my way of giving you a heads-up.”
Another one of his mandates which just cements your initial idea that he wants to keep you under his watchful eye to prevent you from running away. It’s despicable, but like anything he does, it’s efficient and well-thought-of. The idea, however, is met by silence, followed by the couple exchanging unsure looks. You can only hope that their more traditional views would mean they’d be against Coriolanus’s rather bold move.
Ma, who seems hesitant, asks him carefully, “Why would there be a need for Nellie to move into your home, Coriolanus? This...this is a huge, uh, step, even for engaged couples.”
Once more, Coriolanus’s eyes find yours, and he gives you this look that you interpret pretty well: ‘Do it exactly as I said.’
So you swallow any reservations in you and explain the ‘mutual’ decision.
“After I told Uncle Cas the news that Coriolanus and I got engaged that night, we got into an argument. He said a few things that didn’t sit well with me, so, I decided to just pack my things. I ran away yesterday at dawn. I didn’t think I could live with my uncle anymore, not when he couldn’t see fit to respect my choice.”
Lies. All lies. And you’re getting to be quite the good liar, yourself. Then again, you’re learning from one of the best out of all of them.
“Oh my,” Ma says as she places her fingers over her lips in distress. “I’m sorry, my sweet girl…” She reaches over to you to clasp your hand momentarily before letting go.
This is Coriolanus’s turn to interject. “I caught up to her that morning trying to board a train to her aunt in District 3.”
Ma lets out a gasp of shock and Mr Plinth raises his eyebrows in alarm. To appease the couple, you add, “I admit it was a brash move, but I had nowhere else to go.”
“Nellie,” Ma says in a chastising tone. “The Districts? It’s not safe, even if you have family there. You could’ve gone to us instead.”
“I’m sorry, Ma – ”
“Nevertheless,” Coriolanus cuts off, as he once more reaches for your hand over the table. “We talked it out, and I made a choice to offer her my place. I am willing to take her in, as is my duty as her future husband. Besides, better that, than gambling her safety in the Districts. I’d be more at ease if I knew she’s safe and I can protect her should the need arise.”
The Plinth couple, visibly concerned with your predicament, exchange looks, as they contemplate their verdict.
Please say no. Please say no.
Finally, The Plinth senior lets out an audible exhale and gives Coriolanus a firm nod.
Rats.
“A wise decision, then,” Strabo says with a smile of approval. “You have my wife and I’s full support, Coriolanus. I’m proud of you for stepping up, young man.”
The young man in question sighs in relief – another point on his proverbial scoreboard – as your insides wilt inwardly. To you, this just means you’d never get to interact with your Uncle Cas anytime soon, given that he’s now been painted as the villain in this fictional love story.
“Well, then, let’s not let this joyous day be eclipsed by mere unfortunate events,” Strabo declares. “We should be celebrating. You two youngsters, most especially!”
Ma continues to sip her tea and says cheerfully as her hand finds her husband’s, “Indeed, this is a wonderful occasion. Can you believe it, dear? It seems only like yesterday since Coriolanus announced over dinner that he’d set his eyes on Nellie, and now here we are!”
As you sip your tea in silence, your fiancé chuckles heartily over a bite of a chocolate macaron. “I know, Ma. Time does fly by. But so you don’t feel left out, sugarplum, I told them about a year ago that I planned on marrying you.”
You smile at him like a trained pet, but knowing he planned this a year ago, probably even more, is nothing but jarring.
“And have you talked about when the wedding will be?” Strabo inquires.
His honorary son and his wife seem to pass each other knowing smiles, before Coriolanus responds, “Yes, sir. I originally intended for us to marry by January, but we’re now leaning towards the end of the year, perhaps by December, if all goes well.”
By the end of the year. You’re not even close to graduating college yet.
A lighthearted conversation ensues until five thirty, with everyone entirely oblivious to your inner turmoil. When Ma excuses herself from the table so she can supervise making dinner herself, you volunteer to help – Ma looks extremely pleased at this – just so you can get away from the stifling presence and keen scrutiny of your so-called groom-to-be.
“Come, Nellie dear, it’s time we had a chat, just the two of us girls,” she says with her eyes crinkling as she links both your arms. Gratefully, you allow yourself to be steered away into the kitchen where those piercing blue eyes can’t reach you and it’s only Ma’s reassuring presence that’s keeping you company.
There are maids already awaiting their orders when you enter, but Ma instructs them to retire early for the night so she can have the entire kitchen to herself. Once they exit, Ma instructs you to chop some onions.
“We’re having copadia* tonight,” Ma whispers excitedly as she begins toasting some peeled almonds on a skillet.
Curious about the dish, you ask, “Won’t that take three or more hours to finish, Ma?”
But she just winks at you and whispers mischievously, “I have my ways.”
You do as you’re told, quite looking forward to watching Ma perform her magic on the food she makes. You’re halfway through the onions, seeing to it that they’re sliced evenly, and while Ma begins crushing the toasted almonds in a marble mortar and pestle, she peers into your eyes with an anxious look.
“Nellie, tell me something: how are you in all of this?”
Maybe it’s the way she asked so gently, kind of like how you imagine your own mother would if she was alive, or maybe it’s because of the pressure building up inside you that you can no longer contain, and without your Uncle Cas, you’ve no one else to confide to – whatever it is forces a rush of bottled up emotions in the form of sobs you can barely control, making you pause your task completely. Familiar warmth envelops you, and you find yourself in Ma’s arms as she whispers into your ears.
“There, there, dear child, it’s quite alright,” she coos, rubbing your back to soothe you. “Your uncle will come around, you’ll see. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed, too; I felt quite the same before my wedding, but Strabo’s a good man; as is Coriolanus. I know he’ll do anything and everything to make you happy. And I’m sure you’ll make the perfect wife for him, and a loving mother to your future children.”
The warmth you’re basking in vanishes completely with her last sentence, making you let go first. Ma cups your face to wipe your tears with her thumbs, her kind eyes glimmering with unshed tears at what she perceives as your dilemma.
No, you can’t possibly tell her the truth about the kind of man she just let into her home and her family – the knowledge alone would break her.
So, instead, you whisper your thanks, and she returns to her side on the kitchen island to continue pounding the almonds. Likewise, you pick up the knife and resume slicing the last onion.
“I’m sorry if this feels rather intrusive, Nellie dear, but I have to ask: are you pregnant?”
The knife in your hand misses your forefinger by about three millimetres.
“Oh, dear, careful, that was close – but my question stands, Nellie,” she says gently, pausing her task entirely. “You can tell me anything, sweetie, I hope you know that.”
Vehemently, you shake your head. “No, Ma, we haven’t…b-but, why do you ask?”
She looks over her shoulder, before leaning closer and saying with a softer voice, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but we may have been planning your reception since several months ago – don’t worry, we can make changes to anything you don’t like – but I brought it up because I distinctly remember Coriolanus being fine with the wedding dating a year after, at most. So, I was merely curious about the rush; that’s all.”
If they had been planning this accursed wedding behind your back, what other plans are they making and setting in motion? The kitchen suddenly doesn’t seem so welcoming anymore, and even Ma’s presence is beginning to feel foreign, if not hostile, altogether.
“Nellie, you’re sure you and Coriolanus haven’t…? I mean, I understand young couples these days no longer wait until their wedding night, and as I gather, he and you have been spending so much time together alone, so it’s okay if you’ve...slept together and protection slipped both your minds.”
Your skin prickles at just the thought. “Oh, Ma, please don’t worry,” you say; you even try your best to put on a reassuring smile, which you hope doesn’t come out as looking constipated. “I swear we haven’t.”
I would know.
“Alright, then,” she relents, nodding to herself. “Coriolanus is every bit the gentleman he appears to be, it seems. Oh silly me! I must look like such a busybody to you, barging in on your privacy like this; I’m sorry, dear.”
“It’s okay, Ma, I know you’re only looking out for me.”
Thankfully, she makes no more mention of anything related to the concept of procreation, and the conversation moves on to her methods of improving the ancient recipe.
From there on, the rest of the evening with the Plinths becomes predictable. There’s good food, as usual, which you attempt to enjoy; then there’s the inevitable shift to discussions of your work in the upcoming Games; finally, more talk of wedding preparations, which, although completely foreign to you, you feign interest in. This cycle goes on until tea after dinner and you still engage, now mildly desensitised to it all, watching Mr and Mrs Plinth interact with their found family. Somewhere along the conversation, someone has turned on the television, which is tuned in on this wildlife documentary of a lovely bird’s nest, with the mother and the father bird tending to their hatchling. Almost transfixed while the chatter goes on around you, you watch the lovely bird family as the camera pans to this white snake which had burrowed underneath the nest. It had just donned on likeness of the little hatchling after swallowing it whole, and it seemed to bide its time with the intent of devouring the mother and father bird as well. You can’t fault them for their nurturing nature – no one can – but there isn’t much one can do to help fix the now-infested nest, either.
As the night grinds to a halt, you say your farewells to the Plinth couple and obediently allow yourself to be carted off back to the car which will take you to your new living space – it’s hardly deserving to be called a ‘home’ – and Coriolanus lets out a drawn-out, self-satisfied sigh. Cupping your face from the side, he plants lingering kisses on your temple and on your cheek before whispering his praise: “You did exceptionally well today, sugarplum.”
You simply purse your lips the entire car ride.
He accompanies you from the car all the way to his penthouse door. Punching his keycard in, he ushers you inside and leads you to the bedroom beside his.
“This is your room now,” he says. “I’ve taken the liberty of moving some of your things from your old apartment. If they missed packing some of your clothes, I can always buy you new ones.”
Then he adds that he’ll be with you shortly after running an errand. What errand, he doesn’t elaborate, and you barely get enough time to look around the bedroom when you hear the apartment door close. He’s locked you in again, and this time, you don’t need even to confirm for yourself.
Snow lands on top.
The phrase he’s come to accept as the truth rings over and over Coriolanus Snow’s head before his day has even begun.
It started this morning at seven when everything began to fall into place for him. When things became right again, when all his years of planning, fantasising, and scheming, had finally bore fruit.
Prunella Innis had at last become his.
Well, you were already his, to begin with, but it’s nice to have you essentially admit it out loud. Overall, Coriolanus is relieved to find his winning streak still ongoing – the Games, the Plinths, your uncle’s work, and now, you, but even he admits this isn’t over. There is so much more work to be done, so many things to prepare for – all of it to so he can lock in your future with him, secure the Snow bloodline and move on to further his political ambitions.
The image in his head is clear it almost looks like a memory: you, standing beside him, timelessly beautiful as you always are, your arm clinging to his, your other resting on the shoulder of a blond-haired child, his son; his perfect, beautiful family wholeheartedly supporting him right before a herd of Capitol residents as they celebrate his inauguration as the President of Panem…
Every day is a day closer to this goal, and there is no one else left who might get in his way.
“Mr. Innis.”
Almost no one else.
Coriolanus made a promise to you this morning – that if you went along with the story he wants to portray to the Plinths, he’d have your uncle released – a promise he almost regrets making, seeing Acacius Innis in his cell, leaning back on his chair with his feet on the table looking perfectly nonplussed, even bored, like he’s merely waiting for his turn at the doctor’s office.
The thing is, you had exceeded his expectations by a mile, so what kind of husband would he be if he isn’t true to his word?
Coriolanus closes the door behind him. No one else, save his future in-law, has to be privy to the words he has to say.
“Snow,” Acacius greets with a curl of his lips. The chains binding his hands rattle as he rights his posture. “How’s the digging through my stuff going?”
Coriolanus almost raises an eyebrow at this nonchalant display, but he knows better. He simply takes the vacant seat facing the presumed former rebel.
“I did not come here to interrogate you, Mr Innis,” he says. “I came here out of respect for the man who singlehandedly raised and cared for my future wife. I’d like to thank you for protecting her all these years.”
Acacius crosses his arms and just shrugs half-heartedly. “I was doing a pretty good job with it, too. At least, until very recently.”
Now this, Coriolanus is genuinely perplexed with. Acacius Innis has always been adamant about securing your future, and in that, they share a common goal. Why the older man can’t see his way is beyond him.
“You’re shielding her from what, exactly?” he asks, an incredulous tone bleeding in his voice. “Achieving her true potential? From living a good life?”
“From nasty little cunts like you, that’s what,” the Innis patriarch sneers. “You see, Snow, I’ve been trying to keep her away from your grubby fingers since I saw you set your eyes on her on the night of her twentieth birthday.”
Coriolanus can’t help but twist his lips in the same contemptuous smile. “You’ve done your part. You don’t have to worry. I’ll take over her protection from here on out. This time, only I get to turn away the other ‘nasty little cunts’, as you put it so eloquently.”
A mirthless chuckle erupts from Innis senior. “Oh, yeah, you’ll do a great fucking job, I’m deeply reassured. I guess I should be more worried now about the people you’ll poison along the way.”
So, he knows. Even in duress, he can’t help the sarcasm. Coriolanus wonders if you’ll argue with him like this in the course of your marriage. That aside, he shouldn’t be surprised; the Innis prick, after all, has managed well in meddling with his affairs as of late.
“You know. How?”
“Which one? Highbottom, or Braun? Last time I checked, I’m what you call a math teacher, so, it was just like putting two and two together.” Acacius leans forward as if to drive his point. “I saw right through you, Snow, and although Nellie was late to it, she figured you out. She was smart enough to see who you really are underneath that fancy garb.”
That’s true, Coriolanus admits. It’s a trait he deeply admires in you.
“She got that from you,” he concludes.
“Oh, she got more than that from me,” Acacius says proudly.
“Clearly. She’s got your sharp tongue and your penchant for rebellion.”
“Good.” Acacius Innis laces his fingers as if he’s addressing a mere student. “And I’m assuming you’ll purge it all out of her. Anything that makes her who she is – save her brains, of course, because she’s the only one around here who can do what I can – but everything else, you’ll stamp out of her, so you can fit her into your perfect little world and put her in your high shelf like your perfect little doll. I suppose, compared to what you did to that Plinth boy, it’s a hell of an upgrade, isn’t it?”
Ah, so he’s deduced that, as well. Perhaps even before you did, given his free access to all the Citadel laboratories.
“You led her to the Citadel that day. You knew she’d make that connection herself.”
“Like you said: Nellie has my intuition.”
“Why did you do it?”
Acacius raises a derisive eyebrow. “You see, Snow, you’re not as clever as you make yourself out to be, because if you were, you’d have figured that out yourself. I raised that child like my own, but I’d rather her be dead than see her in the arms of an evil psychopath such as you.”
This time, it’s Coriolanus’s turn to get under the Innis prick’s skin, and he knows just where to strike a blow. Leaning forward to rub it in his face, he says, “Well, if I’m not as clever, Mr. Innis, she wouldn’t be living in my house right now, dutifully waiting for me to come home.”
An image of you lying in his bed in his choice of lingerie invades his mind, but he shuts that part of himself down. Plenty of time to indulge in that later.
If your uncle is fazed, however, he doesn’t show any outward signs.
“That must feel nice, right?” the Innis senior asks. “Having someone who loves you await your return? That must be how Sejanus felt as well. That kid was always writing to her. I risked a lot to make sure their letters don’t get intercepted, well except for one, which I think you have.”
“Ah, the letters. Is that how they avoided detection? Your little band of rebels doing all the leg work? I hope it was worth sacrificing your immunity for.”
“You did your research, I’m impressed. Have you cracked their code, yet?”
Unfortunately, no matter how hard Coriolanus tried, the code has since evaded him. A little roadblock, sure, but an inconsequential one in his eyes.
“The meaning of those letters doesn’t matter now,” he says dismissively. “Nellie is mine, and I think it’s in your best interests to accept that. After all, I’d like our children to have their grandfather around.”
The Innis senior just nods thoughtfully at his jab. What might make this old man crack, Coriolanus has yet to discover.
“But I also think it’s in your best interests to know that every letter they exchanged ended in the same gist: that they’ll be with each other soon to make a difference in this world. Nellie loved that boy you betrayed and, in consequence, executed.”
And then the meddling, cunning Innis prick smiles – the kind of smile Coriolanus loathes to his core – one that his old self has been given a lot to remind him just how powerless he was then. “You may have her, marry her, have children with her, but you’ll never have her heart. Which begs the question: do you truly own something if you don’t own it in every sense of the word?”
If Coriolanus Snow could just wrap his hands around the fucking prick’s throat, he would. At this point, he has to remind himself to keep his composure; he’d rather drink an entire bottle of rat poison than admit the Innis prick has hit a rather sensitive nerve.
He made you a promise.
So, he simply returns the venomous smile as best as he could and says, “Our plan is to be wed in six months’ time.”
“You mean ‘your’ plan,” Acacius says under his breath.
Coriolanus decides to ignore that. “We have decided that, due to your disapproval of our relationship, Nellie will stay with me and have no contact with you until you publicly announce your blessing. We would appreciate it if you’d attend both the engagement, which we should be announcing soon, and the marriage to show support and solidarity between our families. We’ll let you know when they’ll be.”
“I hope you get good cake. You already know her favourite,” Acacius says casually.
Seeing no further need to acknowledge him, Coriolanus finally gets to his feet.
“This isn’t over, Snow.”
Nor does he see the need to respond to that either. He wordlessly exits the cell and motions the peacekeeper standing on guard to remove Innis senior’s handcuffs. He’s fulfilled his promise to you, but perhaps he can think of other ways he can get Acacius Innis as far away as possible from ruining what he’s worked so hard to build (save killing him because that would just break you).
All Coriolanus needs now is for him to make a single misstep.
You groan audibly as you wrench the doors to your closet open.
Having come out of the shower from the guestroom’s private bathroom, you proceeded to raid the adjacent walk-in closet for your pyjamas, but you didn’t find a single pair of them anywhere. Everything else the movers didn’t seem to miss.
So, when you hear Coriolanus arrive, you step out of the room clad in only a bathrobe barely reaching your knees, hoping he knows where they put your pyjamas.
“Those looked old, so I bought you new sleep clothes instead,” he replies as he enters the guestroom closet. He pulls back the last cabinet door, which you’ve already checked.
“There’s nothing there but – ”
You stop midsentence as he pulls out a silk, crimson nightgown trimmed with black lace at the hem.
“I can’t sleep in that,” you protest.
Shrugging, he just throws the nightgown on the bed with a playful smirk and says, “Either that or keep the bathrobe on.”
At least he exits your room completely and closes the door behind him to give you privacy. Grumbling to yourself, you put on the nightgown to find that it’s a few inches shorter than the bathrobe. How bad can it be, you wonder? You’re just going to bed, anyway.
Even with the nightgown and the bed covers proving to be comfortable, sleep evades you for the next few hours. All you can think of as you toss and turn in your bed is Uncle Cas. Has Coriolanus upheld his end of the bargain? Has he ordered your uncle’s release? Is your uncle back at home and resting?
You place an ear to your door to listen for signs that Coriolanus is still awake. It’s awfully quiet outside, so you risk stepping out of the bedroom and noiselessly amble around the apartment for a single platinum-blond hair of him, but he isn’t in any of the open rooms you peek into.
“This suits you much better than the bathrobe, sugarplum.”
You gasp as you turn around, finding yourself inches away from bumping into Coriolanus Snow himself. He has to bend a little to peer into your face given his massive height, so you almost cower at the way he leans into your space. He’s gotten so close you catch a whiff of his usual rose perfume along with notes of something else you’ve never smelled on him before.
“Coryo, have you been drinking?” you ask.
He flashes you a smirk as he replies, “A little. I had a tough conversation a while ago.”
You can’t help but tilt your head curiously at him. Who and what could’ve ruffled the feathers of the great Coriolanus Snow?
“What happened to my uncle? Where is he?”
“Why would you want to know that? What purpose would it serve you?”
You almost groan in annoyance at him needlessly beating around the bush. You just had the roughest day in your life, being engaged to him, and you’re not sure you can handle a tipsy version of him. “Coryo, just...stop jerking me around and tell me. Please.”
He just hums, walks into the living room and plops down on the loveseat he seems to favour. He pats the empty space beside him and says, “Come and sit with me.”
So, you do, while keeping as much of a distance between you as much as the sofa can give.
“What would you give me in return, sugarplum?”
“What?”
“Quid pro quo,” he says with an increasingly wider smirk. “I can keep the knowledge to myself, but if you’re willing to make this interesting…”
Coriolanus inches towards you as he draws closer. Those blue hazy eyes are fixed on your lips, and you shudder inwardly as his meaning dawns on you.
“Kiss me,” he gruffly whispers. “Or I could just go to bed…it’s an office day tomorrow, after all…”
But you have to know what has become of Uncle Cas, right? So, you swallow that lump in your throat, close your eyes and place your lips over his.
Surprisingly, he remains stationary and even allows you to break the quick kiss.
“Your first kiss was him,” he then blurts out. It comes out almost accusatory.
Oh no.
“How was it?”
“W-what – ?”
“How was it?” He grabs your arms, seemingly determined to get an answer. “Show me.”
“This has nothing to do with – ”
“I said show me.”
The way he growls that command of his and the manner in which he almost shakes your form shows you he isn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. Whatever point he’s trying to make, he isn’t letting go of it anytime soon, so once more, you kiss him, letting your lips linger a little more on his before letting go.
Exactly the way Sejanus did.
Coriolanus Snow just managed to tarnish a cherished memory of yours without even lifting a finger.
And yet, he just scoffs like it’s nothing. You try to wrench your arm away, but this time, he initiates the kiss – a longer, deeper kiss, pushy, almost, with his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth. When you keep your lips shut, he pulls away.
“Remember that fight we had?” he whispers into your lips. “You said I took everything from Sejanus. Not everything, then. Not yet. You were Sejanus’s love. His girl.” Then, as if to further make a mockery of your dead first love, he lets out a deep, throaty laugh, continuing, “I wish he was alive today if only to see his first and only love in my arms, kissing me as he did on the day he last saw you.”
Humouring him by sitting on the same couch was a mistake. You struggle against his hold, but he just pulls you closer.
“Let me go – ”
You lean further away from his face, but you don’t get too far away, not when his grip on your arms is still vicelike.
“Now, I get to do so much more than he ever did with you...”
In a single swoop, Coriolanus manages to pin you underneath his frame on the loveseat with your legs awkwardly hanging on the side, earning a yelp from you. Your heartbeat is pounding so loud in your ears as his warm breaths fan the side of your face – he’s taken your arms and pinned them above your head while he leans over your shaking form. Your attempts to budge are met with a displeased growl over your ear.
“Coryo, stop – ” you manage to breathe out, but you’re instantly cut off.
He’s just encased your lips with his, and his tongue roams your mouth hungrily – with every move of his lips, yours is forced to move as well. When he’s had enough, that mouth and its heated kisses travel to your jaw, finally allowing you to breathe.
But instead of an exhale, a choked sob escapes you.
Coriolanus pulls away reluctantly, adjusting his grip on your arms as he peers into your tear-filled eyes.
Finally, he states matter-of-factly, “You’re a virgin.”
Despite your distress at the vulnerable position you’re in, you retort, “That’s none of your business.”
“But it is. You’ll be my wife soon. I suppose I can tell you about my past to make it easier for you. There’s that one in the back alley, that was my first; you already know that. Then, a few after that...whores...”
His head dips into your neck, and he goes on to whisper over your exposed skin, “I want you to know that while I fucked them, all I could think of was you.”
Ignoring your frantic plea, Coriolanus angles your head and proceeds to lick, suckle, and bite all over the column of your neck to your collarbones. His bites become increasingly harsher, and from above you, you feel him grasp both your wrists in one hand, while his other travels downwards, roaming the side of your body and reaching the hem of your nightgown. That hand slowly caresses your thigh, lifting the gown in the process. As if that isn’t enough, he bucks his hips into yours, trapping you further underneath him and almost suffocating you in his warmth.
“Please, Coryo, stop…please…”
Your pained sobbing and begging seem to get to him. Coriolanus pulls away at last, getting one more look at you before he admits, “You’re right. We’ll have plenty of time after the wedding.” He pauses before adding as an afterthought, “Oh, your uncle has been released and all his confiscated belongings have been returned to him. I’ll see to it that your bag is returned to me, as well.”
You don’t get to see his face with your eyes full of unshed tears, so you only vaguely see him draw close and feel the chaste kiss he plants on your trembling lips before he gets off you and releases you completely.
As soon as he does, you scamper back into your room and push the lock on the doorknob. Still gasping for air in between crying, your eyes automatically land on a shelf in the room. You don’t why, but somehow you know it’d be there:
Your little bunny plush.
Somehow, the sobbing dies down as you make a grab for it, thanking whoever packed your stuff for somehow picking it up and adding it to the pile. You drag yourself and the bunny plush to the bed and burrow under the sheets. You hug Bunny as close as you can, squeezing it harder than you’ve ever held it.
Your uncle had been released from his cell in the Citadel, so that’s one problem crossed out, at the very least.
Just when you’re about to close your eyes, however, your fingers manage to grope at something solid – almost the side of your palm, thin and square – inside your bunny plush.
Enter Level 13
Author notes:
Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!
*copadia - ancient Roman beef stew
Alrigt, more Snowball assholery xD there are so many things in this fic I'd like to make commentary on, but please comment whatchutink will happen next lol
#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
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Confession.
18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI
______________________________________
A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit and I finally decided to post it. I hope you like it.
This entire fic was inspired by this picture, but you can really imagine Josh how you prefer in this one. I also drew inspiration from that cursed audio of him whimpering that was circulating a while ago.
Word count: 7K
Pairing: Josh x female!reader
Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, language, sexual tension, oral (m!receiving).
Link to Part 2
Summary: An unexpected turn of events leads Josh to make an embarrassing confession.
_____________________________________
A sharp knock on your door made you jump out of your skin as you were tidying up the green room you were occupying.
"Y/N! Open the fucking door!" You heard a very familiar voice shout from the other side.
You thought the boys were already on stage by now, you thought you heard the last call at least five minutes ago.
What is he doing here?
The knocking continued, even harder than before, so you quickly ran to the door.
As soon as the lock clicked, Josh stormed inside and started rambling, words going at miles a minute.
He was already wearing his golden cape over the white jumpsuit with golden marine embroidery that you had designed just for him a couple of months prior, following his directions.
After a second, you stopped his ramblings, grasping his shoulders and shaking him slightly.
"JOSH!" You shouted over his words and he finally stopped.
"What's wrong? Why is your jumpsuit half unbuttoned? And why are you not on stage right now?" You fired these questions rapidly, to better understand the situation and he groaned.
"Well, that's clearly the fucking problem here!" He said, hands stroking his hair nervously as he gestured to the zipper.
"This damn zipper isn't working. And I can't go on stage in front of twenty thousand people like this, right? So that's why I am here." He whined.
He was standing next to the door, his exposed chest was glistening with sweat and rising and falling rapidly as he panted, stressed and nervous.
The zipper was blocked down past his navel, under the little belt that circled his waist, his happy trail was exposed.
You started to blush.
"I need your help, I tried everything. I can't pull it up or down. I thought about using candle wax but I am afraid to stain the fabric and the more I try to open or close it, the more I am afraid to break it. I tried to untangle the fabric from the inside but I couldn't. And I can't even change because it WON'T GO DOWN." He sounded really frustrated and said this while tugging at the zipper to prove his point.
"I am trapped, Y/N! I need your help" He whined in defeat leaning against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.
You couldn't help but look at his chest and feel a little tingle run down your spine.
I have to stay professional.
You thought, your eyes following his rising and falling chest.
You quickly recovered and tried to reassure him.
"Let's see what I can do to help you. If I can't do anything I am going to cut the zipper and I am going to stitch it again. You can wear another jumpsuit tonight." You said matter of factly, coming closer to where he was standing.
"Oh fuck" He exclaimed and he grasped his head between his hands.
"What?" You said, a confused expression slowly made its way on your face.
"I can't wear another one, they are all to the cleaners. This is the only one I have" he said in an apologetic tone and you panicked.
"I am in charge of the wardrobe. Who did allow that? I am sure I didn't." You replied confused and a bit angry.
"I did" he said with a guilty smile.
You glared at him and he giggled. That stupid giggle you loved in other contexts. Now, you positively hated him.
"I should make you go on stage like this, troublemaker" you hissed through clenched teeth.
"Please don't, help me, please" he was begging you now. You watched how he had his hands joined, bottom lip pushed out and puppy eyes.
As if it was really a problem for him. You knew that he didn't have any qualms about showing way too much of himself to the crowd, sometimes.
You glared at him, but you began to think about what you could do to help.
You grabbed the zipper and tried to push upwards and downwards delicately. Obviously it didn't work.
You knew what you had to do. The zipper probably wasn't working because some fabric had caught into it from the inside.
"Maybe the fabric of your boxers got caught inside the zipper, that's why it's not working" you said and he giggled again.
"That's impossible, mama" he said playfully and when he understood you didn't get it, he worded it for you.
"It's impossible because I'm not wearing any" he said in a whisper and you blushed.
Oh
Oh God
To make it work you had to stick your hands inside it and try to untangle it.
And there was no way you could do that without pushing your hands really close to his private parts.
Just when you were thinking of another solution, a voice sounded from the hallway.
"Three minutes to the stage, you are already late!" Someone shouted and he panicked.
"C'mon Y/N! Do something" he pleaded and you knew you had no other option.
You grabbed the zipper again and leaned closer to him. Your fingers slowly made their way on the fabric, around it and slowly dipped inside.
You noticed how his breathing stopped as your fingertips slowly grazed the hot skin of his tummy, his hair there tickling you lightly.
You tried to suppress the deep blush that was creeping onto your cheeks as your fingertips slowly traced the zipper on the inside, till you located the problem.
You were tracing your finger on the little bump of fabric that was causing the tangle when the door flew open and Jake pranced into the room.
He stopped dead in his tracks as he assessed the scene in front of his eyes, mistaking it completely.
You saw the smirk growing on his lips, his eyes never leaving your hand literally down his brother's pants as you quickly pulled it away.
"Well well well, have I interrupted something, here?" He said, in a playful mocking tone.
It was Josh's turn to speak now.
"Fuck off, Jacob. Y/N is helping me unstuck this damn zipper" he said harshly, panting slightly.
"Yes, of course, whatever you say, brother. And I am going to believe this, right? I am not stupid, Joshua." Jake replied, his smirk still beaming.
The deep blush covering your cheeks wasn't helping the singer prove his point. You knew you looked very guilty right now.
"Y/N, you have to make it quick, you have two minutes left to fix the "help my brother with the zipper" thing that 's going on here." Jake said and winked towards you, grabbing a water bottle.
You cleared your throat and crossed your arms.
"Look, Jake, it really is stuck like that" you said, tugging uselessly at the zipper to prove your point.
"And, unless you want to be the one with a hand inside your brother's pants, you better let me do my job or he is coming on stage like this, OK? You threatened him by pointing your finger at him.
He quickly raised his hands and made a retching sound at the idea you just suggested.
"Well, I think I am going to give you some privacy." Jake said while chuckling and wiggling his eyebrows towards you. He left quickly before Josh could hit him.
As Jake opened the door a voice shouted "One minute to the stage!"
Your eyes widened and so did Josh's. You quickly resumed your position in front of him and you slowly traced the zipper with your fingers.
You slipped them inside the jumpsuit and found the problem.
You tried to tug lightly a few times but it didn't work. You felt how his breath hitched in his throat as the fabric slowly shifted against his bare skin and you blushed.
Your blush intensified as you noticed how the situation was affecting him.
Your hands were so close to his crotch that you knew he couldn't keep his mind from wondering what could happen if you pushed your hand lower.
Actually, you could see very well the effect those thoughts were having on him, in the growing erection he was sporting. You could also feel his gaze burning on your face, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes.
You grabbed the zipper with your other hand and tugged upwards. At the same time the hand that was tucked in his pants tugged downwards and the zipper unlatched.
The force with which you tugged at it caused your hand to dip lower in his pants and you both gasped at the same time.
Oh
Oh, fuck.
You were almost sure you had touched him in the process and, rapid as a lightning you pulled your hand out of the jumpsuit.
You couldn't look him in the eyes so you turned around to get a bottle of water for yourself.
You couldn't see his shocked and slightly aroused expression as he thought about what had just happened.
After a few seconds you heard him move and you heard the sound of the jumpsuit zipping up.
"Y/N, how do I look?" He asked you, admiring himself in the full length mirror and checking his hair.
You turned around to properly look at him and he looked ravishing, as always.
You were really proud of the work you had done while tailoring this jumpsuit. It was your favourite because it looked divine on him, it suited him perfectly. This meant that you could easily see every detail of his body. And, right now, the fabric was clinging to the very prominent bulge between his legs, making it impossible for you to focus properly on anything else.
You quickly averted your gaze and told him he looked great, ushering him out of the room to join his bandmates there.
In the hallway, the moment Jake made eye contact with you, he smirked and winked, making you blush with embarrassment and anger.
You didn't have time to tell him off because the moment Josh set foot in the hallway, they were quickly ushered to the stage.
You went back to the green room and leaned against the wall, trying to process the last ten minutes.
Thinking about what had just happened caused your heartbeat to quicken. You tidied the room and then sat on the couch, trying to calm down a bit.
After a while, you managed to regain your composure and decided to go check from the side of the stage if Josh had finally managed to destroy the only jumpsuit he had left and flash twenty thousand people with a visual of his bare dick.
Not that he minded, you knew that very well.
You walked along the same corridor the boys had been ushered from less than an hour ago and you reached the side of the stage where Jake was.
He was prancing around absolutely smashing it with his Gibson, as always.
As he spotted you, he winked and a menacing smug smirk twisted his features.
You knew he had something in mind, you had seen the very thought develop in his beautiful talented brain.
He kept eye contact with you as his hand moved a few times up and down the fretboard of his guitar, very suggestively, producing a moaning sound.
You knew he was mimicking the actions he thought he had seen his brother and you partake in inside the green room.
To put the cherry on top, you blushed wildly at his action, from embarrassment, but he mistook it for guilt and laughed at your expenses.
Smug bastard.
You decided to avert your eyes from his whoring demeanor only to land on his twin, who was already watching you.
He was still clothed, thank God, but the white fabric of his jumpsuit didn't conceal much. You could see, and so could everybody else, that the bulge was still there, and it was even more prominent than before.
You were about to go back to the green room when you noticed an imperceptible movement from Josh. The crowd in front of them didn't catch it, but you, standing there at the side of the stage, very much could.
He was grinding the tip of his erection against the mic stand, while singing.
It was almost non-existent at first, but he became more and more impatient as the time passed and his movements couldn't be mistaken from your point of view.
The moment his eyes landed on you, he did it again, but this time he let his head dangle backwards, exposing his sweaty throat and neck and keeping his mouth open in a display of a silent moan.
He swallowed and you had to forcefully avert your eyes from the indecent bobbing of his Adam apple.
He even brought his hands up and arched his back with a little satisfied smirk on his beautiful face.
You turned around and almost sprinted towards your green room, heartbeat going a mile a minute.
~
The concert was phantasmagorical as always.
When you heard the last pounds of Danny's drums you knew they were almost done.
But this time you knew you wouldn't leave the venue soon, like you always did, following the boys in hotels or on the tour bus.
This time the owners of the venue had organised an afterparty for the band and the crew and everyone was invited. The boys had previously asked you if you were going to come and you didn't want to tell them no. So, even if you didn't like afterparties very much you agreed.
After a while, you heard the boys approach your door in the corridor and you went to open it to tell them how incredible they had been on stage.
When you opened the door, Sam and Danny passed by quickly and waved to you, heading to their respective green rooms.
Behind them you spotted the twins and, when they saw you waving at them too, they winked to you in sinc.
Oh God. If alone they were trouble, together those two were an absolute menace.
You blushed and they snickered. Before you could hide into your green room, a black boot stopped the door from closing.
You knew who it was even before he entered.
Jake strutted inside, followed by Josh, still clad in the tight white jumpsuit. They were both sweaty. Jake's hair was clinging to his neck and throat and Josh curls were disheveled and damp from the exertion of performing.
"Are you coming to the afterparty, Y/N, right?" Jake said before gulping down half a water bottle in one go.
"You promised you would, so don't make up excuses or we are dragging you there by force" Josh said puffing his sweaty chest out, acting like a macho.
"Well, macho man, you are not dragging me anywhere, and remember that, even if you wanted to, you would have to catch me first." You told him playfully, making him and Jake laugh.
"Just kidding Y/N, I wouldn't drag you anywhere. I would never force you to do something you don't want to." He said truthfully.
"Plus, I am a bit afraid of you, if I have to be honest. You are always so calm and collected, you can hide very well what goes on in that little beautiful head of yours." He said, smirking.
"Still waters run deep, brother" you heard Jake utter with a knowing tone, smug smirk plastered on his plump pouty lips.
They exchanged a look you didn't understand, their twin telepathy was working at its finest.
"C'mon boys, you have ten minutes to shower and clean up before the party" you said looking at your watch.
They thanked you and headed to their green rooms.
You started to get ready, checking your almost non-existent make-up, your outfit and your hair.
You were about to exit when you heard a scream from the other side of the wall.
It was Josh.
You exited the room and simultaneously, his door flew open.
You could see very well that he was angry. You could also see very well that he was having the same problem with the jumpsuit as before. The zipper was stuck in the same spot as before, if possible even a little lower, exposing a whole lot of skin.
"Y/N!" He whined like a toddler.
"Didn't I told you that you had to be extra careful with this zipper?" You questioned him, already knowing that your multiple warnings had fallen on deaf ears, as always.
"Yes, but…" he started but was interrupted by another crew member.
"Guys, c'mon let's go. The party has started, you are the only people that are still missing" he said.
In the meanwhile, Jake had sauntered out of his room and was leaning against the wall across from you and his brother, smirking, with his hair still wet from the shower.
"Are you coming to the party like that, big brother?" Jake snickered pointing at his brother's state of undress.
"Not yet, Jakey, you go first and then we will join you as soon as Y/N fixes this damn zipper once and for all." The singer told him.
Jake's eyes landed on you, and he winked, coming closer, like a tiger stalking his prey.
You stayed frozen on the spot as he approached you.
The smell of his body wash was clouding your senses.
"Don't be late, it won't take much anyway, '' he said in a sultry manner, sounding cryptic as always. You pinpointed a bit of irony towards his brother state and you blushed.
"Fuck off, Jakey" Josh said grasping your wrist and leading you towards his room.
Jake left you two alone, but before leaving, he waved and winked.
Once you were inside the room, you closed the door and he groaned, fed up with the jumpsuit.
"I am not going to this party like this" he said, nothing but deadpanning.
"Josh, don't be dramatic, I am going to fix this zipper, I prosise, then you can go have fun" you tried to reassure him, but you understood there was something else bothering him.
You approached him and guided him against the wall to keep him still while you worked on the zipper.
The moment his back touched the wall with a low thud, he exhaled a little breathy whimper that could have gone almost unnoticed if the room wasn't so silent.
This time, having a bit more time to work on it, you crouched down on your knees to be eye-level with the problem.
He closed his eyes and leant his head back on the wall, squeezing his eyes and his fists at his sides.
As soon as your fingers skimmed on the zipper, he bit his lips, with his eyes still closed.
You decided to pay no mind to him and traced your fingers on the inside of the zipper noticing the problem immediately. In doing so you brushed your fingers timidly on his flushed skin.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He grasped your wrist and stopped you.
You gasped and searched his eyes. He drew a shuddering breath, then looked at you and regretted it immediately.
Seeing you like that, on your knees and with your big doe eyes looking up at him was worsening his state.
You tried to pay no mind to the prominent bulge in his pants, but you were falling miserably.
"Josh" you whispered "Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, absolutely not, it's not that…" he said and trailed off.
"What is it then? I am going to help you if I can" you reassured him and he laughed.
"Well it wouldn't be really professional from me" he said, hardly looking you in the eyes.
"Give it a try. The worst that can happen is that I am going to slap your pretty face, Joshua" you said playfully and he snorted out a laugh.
"What if that's something I'm into, Y/N?" He said with a glint in his eyes, resembling his carefree everyday self.
"Well, that's good for you I suppose. C'mon, spit it out, what's bothering you?" You asked him still on your knees, with his fingers wrapped around your wrist.
He didn't say anything at first, but his face was portraying his inner struggle very well.
You were about to continue fixing his zipper when he spoke.
"It's just that…" he stopped and shook his head.
Then he tried to go on, but shut up again.
You decided not to push him, letting him organize his ideas.
Then he spoke, looking directly at you.
"It's just that it's been a while" he said and you could see a little blush spread on the apples of his cheek.
A meek smile was adorning his beautiful lips.
You wanted to punch yourself because of the enormous amount of time it took you to really understand what he meant.
He mistook your embarrassment with confusion and decided to explain himself better.
"It's been a while since I had a beautiful girl with her hands inside my jumpsuit, let alone on her knees in front of me like you are now." He said, finally meeting your gaze.
You blushed wildly at his confession.
"And believe me, it's not that I didn't try to take the matter into my own hands, literally, but it just doesn't work anymore, I don't know why" he pointed out with a humorless laugh.
"What do you mean it doesn't work, Josh?" You asked him before you could stop yourself.
He opened and closed his mouth. For once in his life he didn't know what to say.
"In the sense that you do it and after it feels like you didn't and you feel the need to do it again or…" you voiced in a whisper trying to understand more.
He shook his head.
"I can't even finish Y/N. I feel like I am too wound up for it. I am anxious about it and anxiety worsens my state. To really enjoy it I should be relaxed, and right now I am absolutely not. I don't know what to do and I don't know who I should talk to about it. Telling my mother is absolutely out of the question.
Sam would make fun of me and Danny would be too embarrassed to speak." He said almost without breathing.
"Have you tried talking about it to your twin?" You suggested and he scoffed.
"I have tried but you won't like the answer." He said with a tired smile.
"What did he say?" You pressed him.
"He told me… never mind… forget about it. Just help me with this zipper so we can go have fun at the party." He said, yanking uselessly at the zipper, without meeting your gaze.
You straightened up to be eye level with him pointing a finger in his face.
"You are not going anywhere until you tell me what your brother suggested" you threatened him and he smirked.
"You won't like it" he said in a defiant manner trying to discourage you.
"Well, let me at least think for myself, Joshua," you retorted.
"Ok, but don't tell me I didn't warn you. He told me to ask for your help, Y/N." He said and you blushed under his fiery gaze.
You already knew that probably Jake's advice would involve something dirty and yourself, but hearing Josh say it caused a shiver to run down your spine.
Now you understood all the little jokes, winks and sneers Jake kept sending your way for a while.
"Just drop it Y/N, it doesn't matter, let's go to the party, I don't care if people see me like this. Already twenty thousand people have, I am not afraid of thirty more" He said grabbing your wrist and starting to walk towards the door
You resisted him.
You couldn't believe you were really considering it, but he was your friend and you couldn't just ignore his suffering and go on like it was nothing.
He had the courage to confess it to you so you wanted to help him.
He let go of your wrist and watched you closely, not understanding.
You turned towards the door and reached it.
Once you were in front of it, you heard his breath leave his lungs in a defeated huff. It was an almost imperceptible sound and you knew he didn't want you to hear it, but you did.
He thought you were going to leave.
Your hand reached for the key and, without a word, you turned it, closing the door.
You could feel his stare burning on the back of your head.
You didn't immediately turn around. You tried to heaven out your breath and stop the trembling of your hands, first.
When you turned, he was already watching you.
You moved and he backed away from you, until he was again with his back against the wall.
You were in front of him now.
You couldn't believe you were about to do this.
It's not that your mind had never indulged in such thoughts. How could you not. You had eyes, you couldn't deny that he was astonishingly beautiful.
But thinking about really touching him was making you nervous. What if you couldn't help him? What if that ruined your friendship and your working relationship with him?
He was staring at you, not even blinking, but his breathing was becoming ragged. A little whimpery noise escaped his lips and you couldn't think straight anymore.
Your hand pressed on his chest, delicately but firmly pinning him to the wall.
"Please" he whispered and you couldn't deny him.
Two of your fingers touched his chin and traced further down the hollow of his throat, his toned flushed chest painfully slow and you swore you saw him twitch in his pants.
You continued till his navel then stopped.
He swallowed, looking directly into your eyes but didn't say anything.
You were the one leading the game and you could decide everything.
Your fingers inched downwards and he whimpered softly into his throat.
You circled his navel and then began tracing his soft happy trail.
His eyes never left the movement of your fingers.
As you reached the zipper you felt him quiver.
You slowly dipped them inside and his lips parted with a silent gasp.
His skin was scorching hot and so soft underneath your cold fingertips.
You went further down and traced them on the edge of the patch of coarse pubic hair there.
You were about to dip your hand further down his pants when a thundering knock threatened to send the poor door to the ground.
"JOSHUA, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? YOU ARE NEEDED AT THE PARTY RIGHT ABOUT NOW. SO STOP ADMIRING YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN THERE" a booming voice you recognised as their manager's snarled from the other side.
You jumped away from him with both your hands on your mouth trying to cover any kind of sound.
"I AM ALMOST READY, GIVE ME A MINUTE" Josh shouted from the inside.
"You have thirty seconds, or I am bringing you down myself" you heard the other man threaten before running away.
Josh huffed, defeated.
"Let's go" He said without meeting your eyes
"You don't want to change? I can unstitch the zipper…" you tried to say but he interrupted you.
"No Y/N, let's go, don't worry" he motioned you outside and you followed him.
~
Thankfully, the party ended pretty quickly so it wasn't too late when the crew, the boys and you retreated back to the hotel that fortunately was on the other side of the road.
As you checked in, you noticed that your key number was different from the one of the other crew members. You understood that the hotel concierge had assigned you a room on the same floor as the guys.
As you reached your floor with the fastest lift you had ever seen, Sam, Danny and Jake went right, wishing you good night, while you and Josh, who was wearing a tshirt that he had borrowed from Danny to cover his modesty, headed left, following the numbers on the walls.
As you entered your room, you jumped face first on the bed, exhausted.
After a while a knock on your door startled you.
"Sorry, Y/N. It's me again" you heard Josh mumble from the other side of the door.
You opened it and ushered him inside.
He was still wearing the damaged jumpsuit.
"Right, let me grab my scissors so I can try to unstitch this without tearing up the fabric." You said, rummaging through your bag.
"Stay there" you said and approached him.
He was still nervous and fidgety, but once you came closer to him he tried to calm down.
You pushed him lightly to lean against the wall and his breathing picked up slightly.
The situation of the zipper was the same as before and so was the situation in his pants. He was positively straining against them.
You tried to concentrate on freeing him from the constriction of the jumpsuit.
Unceremoniously, you knelt down and stuck your fingers in the jumpsuit, bringing the white fabric away from his skin and closer to your face, to be able to work without cutting him.
Inevitably this caused the fabric to drag on his flushed skin, eliciting a strangled sound from deep in his chest.
"Sorry" you mumbled and then started working.
You managed to cut some threads and then you slowly moved downwards to unstitch the bottom of the zipper.
The break of a particular tight thread you were carefully yanking caused your wrist to brush inadvertently against his bulge and he almost doubled over with a pained groan.
He needs help, he can't relax like this, you thought blushing.
"I think you can free yourself from this burden now" you said referring to the damned jumpsuit, straightening up to look him in the eyes, with the torn half of the zipper in hand.
He looked even more handsome against that dark wooden wall. His tanned skin was very exposed thanks to the missing zipper and gleaming in contrast with the stark white of the jumpsuit.
You knew he wanted to say something, anything to convince you to help him, but he couldn't find the courage.
You could see the battle between feeling good at last and staying professional behind his soft deep brown eyes.
You decided to ease his stress and help him.
"Thank you Y/N, you are the only one who can put up with me without freaking out. Thank you for your patience with this thing" he said sheepishly, pointing at the jumpsuit.
He was about to turn around and go when you stopped him.
"Josh" you said and the hand he had on the door handle dropped.
"Hmm?" He said turning around slowly.
You were the fidgety one now, wringing your hands in front of you.
You both started talking at the same time.
"For what I said earlier…" he started
"Earlier in the green room…" your voices overlapped and you both blushed.
"Y/N, forget about it, it was absolutely unprofessional on my part, even rude. I am really sorry if I have upset you" he said genuinely concerned looking down at the floor.
"Josh, it's ok, don't worry, I am not upset at all" you said and he smiled.
He thanked you, wished you goodnight and was about to exit when you stopped him with a hand on his bicep.
"Josh, wait…" you whispered.
He slowly turned around and smiled at you. His usual beaming smile was blinding you now, and intimidating you at the same time.
"Let me…" you tried to say but you stopped, embarrassed
You exhaled and then went on.
"Let me help you, you can't stay like that" you whispered without meeting his eyes.
"You don't have to, I will figure something out, you have already done enough for me tonight." He said truthfully.
"Ok, bye Josh, have a goodnight" you waved at him and he exited.
~
You got ready for bed, but you couldn't sleep. You kept tossing and turning around uselessly thinking very unholy things about the man sharing your wall right now, who, to make matters worse, happened to be your boss.
You were about to stand and make a cup of tea, to help you calm down, when you heard the water running and a muffled groan on the other side of the wall.
Then nothing.
After a few seconds, you heard it again, this time it was a curse and a long drawn out whimper.
You couldn't mistake what he was doing, or at least, trying to do.
Those noises erased even the last bit of sleep that your brain possessed and turned you on beyond belief.
Your panties were sticking to your skin now and you almost slipped one hand into them for a quick needed solo session, but you stopped.
He sounded like he was in pain. He wasn't having fun doing that, like he should be. You couldn't let him feel like that. You wanted to help him, or at least try to.
You stood and, without a thought, a second later you were knocking softly at his door.
Nothing
You knocked again and you heard some commotion coming from the other side.
You heard the peep-hole open then close and he finally opened the door.
"Y/N? Is everything ok?" He asked. He had only a towel on, his curls damp and unruly.
"Yes…well, no. I couldn't sleep and I heard you were awake too and I wanted to know if you wanted to watch a film with me" you blatantly lied to him, but what else could you do? Or say?
"Hi Josh, I heard you were trying to masturbate in the shower and I wanted to help you?" No way, you really couldn't tell him that.
He smiled softly and let you in.
"Of course, go sit on the bed, I am going to change and I'll join you in a minute" he said softly, going to the bathroom to change.
You sat against the headboard and waited for him, wringing your hands together and torturing your bottom lip with your teeth, until it was almost bleeding.
After a while, he came back clad into a soft worn white tshirt and grey shorts. He climbed on the bed and sat, mirroring your position.
"Do you have any idea on which film you want to see, Y/N?" He said, patting your bare thigh.
This made you shiver, but you masked it with a shrug.
"No, Josh, I trust you with the choice" you said, feeling his hand burn on your bare skin.
You two set on a movie that was already playing on some channel. He had already seen it and granted you it was good.
You watched it in silence for a while.
You were slowly drifting off to sleep, with your head on his shoulder, but a sex scene came on the screen and, suddenly, you were wide awake again.
You felt him tense but you didn't say anything.
You heard him shift as the scene progressed and an imperceptible whine left his lips because his movement caused the cotton of his shorts to caress his still strained cock.
He thought you were sleeping so he slowly lowered you on the pillow and stood. He started to pad towards the bathroom but you stopped him with a call of his name.
"Josh" you whispered and he stopped but didn't turn.
You stood and reached him.
He turned and leant against the wall, head in his hands, panting.
You couldn't wait anymore.
You wanted to make him feel good.
You grabbed his wrists and lowered them to his sides. He looked at you then, with big shiny eyes. He looked so young and tired. His expression was painful and conflicted.
"Stop me if this is something you don't want." You whispered into his ear, placing a trembling hand on his chest and meeting his nervous gaze.
"Y/N, I don't want you to do this" he tried to say but, as you pressed him a bit more against the wall, he shivered and a breathy impatient whine left his lips.
"Shh Josh, just tell me what you need, nobody will know about this" you whispered.
"Please…" he whispered back.
You slowly lifted his tshirt exposing his tanned chest and then you discarded it on the floor.
His gaze was smoldering.
"Please what, Joshua?" You whispered, encouraging.
He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, locking gazes with you. You saw a new fervor inside them.
"Please, touch me" he huffed out.
You repeated the same actions that their manager had interrupted before into the green room.
You placed two fingers on his chin, and slowly dragged them down, on his neck, between his pecs and on his tummy. You swirled them slowly around his navel and trailed them even lower, following his happy trail and stopping against the hem of his shorts.
He was panting now, his heavy breathing was the only sound filling the room.
You moved even closer to him to whisper into his ear. In doing so you placed a trembling hand on his chest, right on his heart. It was beating furiously underneath your palm and it only spurred you on.
"Is it ok if I take these off?" You asked, tracing your finger on the waistband of his shorts.
"Please" he whispered.
You knelt down and started kissing the flushed skin right above the waistband. You sucked a faint mark there and he rewarded you with a breathy moan of your name.
You hooked a finger into the waistband and started to pull his shorts down, slowly.
"Fuck" he groaned as the fabric touched his sensitive skin.
As your fingers moved the cotton downwards, you felt him shiver, goosebumps rising on the soft skin of his hips.
The grey fabric pooled at his feet and a relieved moan left his lips as his erection was freed from that constriction.
Your eyes were trained on him and your mouth watered.
He was rock hard and twitching against his tummy, the skin was flushed and the head was an angry shade of red and already leaking.
White drops of precum were adorning his sensitive tip. He was beautiful.
The mere contact with the slightly cooler air of the room, caused his hips to buck forward, in search of friction.
"Hand or mouth, Josh?" You asked and he groaned.
"Whatever you want, Y/N, whatever" he all but sobbed, and you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to taste him.
You decided for a combination of both and you went to work.
You slowly wetted your lips and swirled the hot tip of your tongue on his head, wrapping your hand slowly around him.
He moaned, loudly, and you whimpered. His skin was scorching hot and his salty taste was heavenly.
The sudden contact with your warm tongue caused him to almost lose his balance. You spotted an armchair, close to where you were kneeling and motioned for him to take a seat.
"Josh, sit down" you said and he nodded.
When he sat down, you resumed your position between his legs and he twitched.
"Lay back and relax" you told him and he obliged without a single word.
You took the tip between your lips and slowly made out with it, swirling your tongue around the foreskin, paying extra attention to the little spot under his head that had his hands claw at the arm rests.
"Oh my… fuck, Y/N" he whined and you stopped, letting him regain his breath.
"When was the last time you came, Josh?" You asked and he blushed.
"Fuck, almost a month ago, I think" he confessed.
In response, you placed your hands on his thighs and took him into your mouth. He doubled over with a loud curse.
With every sucking motion, he was letting out a whimper, signaling to you that he was close.
As you kept pleasuring him, his hips started bucking upwards every time you took him deeper into your mouth.
You tried to fight your gag reflex as he hit the back of your throat a few times. Tears were starting to prickle at the corners of your eyes but you didn't care.
You locked gazes with him and he warned you through gritted teeth.
"Y/N, you better stop if you don't want me to…" he started but trailed off when he felt you swallow around him, the muscles of your throat clenching around him.
"Shit, Y/N, I am cumming." He groaned and a second later you felt his hot release trickle down your throat.
His taste made you feel hazy and lightheaded.
He kept moaning and whining low in his chest as your mouth stayed on him through his entire orgasm.
He let out a shuddering breath but was still hard inside your mouth.
His eyes were shiny and watery, his expression was completely fucked out as he met your gaze.
You kept your mouth on him, despite the soreness of your jaw and started sucking again, gently.
"Fuckfuckfuck" he whispered as both his hands grasped your hair.
You kept swirling your tongue around his shaft, tracing every ridge and vein and sucking relentlessly but gently, positively making him lose his mind.
He couldn't keep quiet, choruses of pleas filled the room and, when your hand started kneading softly at his balls, he came again suddenly without warning and with a wailing satisfied scream.
You swallowed his warm release again without a second thought, savouring every last drop of him.
This time you released him slowly and he shivered at the loss of the warmth that your mouth was providing him.
Without a word, you straightened up, wiped your chin with the back of your hand and left him there, still twitching, naked and bewildered, wondering if what happened was real or a figment of his wicked imagination.
#greta van fleet#greta van fic#greta van smut#gvf fic#josh gvf#josh kiszka smut#josh kiszka x reader#josh kiszka
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“They say looks can kill, and I might try.”
— Taylor Swift, “Vigilante Shit”
an outfit for my beloved Wanda if she ends up going to the 2024 Hellfire Gala (if there is one at all tbh)!! I wasn't personally a fan of her 2023 look, so I decided to try my hand at designing a look of my own despite knowing jack shit about fashion. design breakdown, inspiration photos, and just general rambling under the cut :)
main inspo:
top row: left by REEM ACRA, right by unknown
middle row: sketches by Kevin Wada
bottom row: garments by Zita Moldovan (website)
--
hehe, this is the part where I ramble about my design process!! I will confess, it took me four full sketches before I finally managed to purge the "high fantasy fairy queen dress" brainrot from my mind and arrive at a concept that actually felt like Wanda. given that as of her 2023 solo run, she's a self-employed business owner, a twist on a suit felt appropriate!! it's elegant, it's dramatic, it's sexy, it's powerful, and it's also a garment that, like, real people could wear?? which, I know this is a comic book and she also has magic, but, like. girl deserves a fit that's also reasonably comfortable. girl deserves pockets (I didn't showcase them, but the pants absolutely have humongous magic pockets.) talking fabric, I will confess that I really don't know much, but I picture the red fabric being pretty thick silk and the black fabric possibly being velvet? the shoes are beaded pretty much all over with the same crystal material as the crown.
as I continued to refine my concept, I looked to Kevin Wada's 2015 redesign for Wanda's last solo run for more inspiration. that's how I arrived at concepts such as the use of beaded accessories, floral embroidery, and especially the plunging neckline. I also knew I wanted to pay homage to Wanda's heritage without being stereotypical, so I decided to look to Zita Moldovan, a Romani designer whose site is linked above, to see how she incorporated her culture into her work. (as an aside, there's this other dress from her Romany Dreams collection that I would LOVE to draw Wanda in at some point, but that was not this project. maybe soon.) the dress I included in my (very, very trimmed down) inspo board was my primary reference as I drew the pattern for the pant part of the pantsuit. (I attempted multiple versions where the pattern was in color, but it wound up looking really muddy, so I opted for the slightly more subtle version you see here.) the pose for the final piece doesn't showcase the epaulette well (or the crown pin, which was another reference to the Kevin Wada design), so here's a bonus sketch that came out of the "design" part of this whole project that shows them both better:
anyone who has followed my art knows that I generally draw my Wanda with a high ponytail, but I decided to spice things up and draw her with a half-up like she has circa Uncanny Avengers #27 (this is when she and Jericho are being so very sweet together). the golden hoop earrings are another thing I carried over from my general Wanda design, and the makeup is just a quick thing I came up with on the fly. it's not the spiciest, I know, but I decided there was enough going on elsewhere that she didn't need a crazy makeup look as well. the full-finger ring is specifically a reference to her very first appearance in X-Men #4, where she calls upon her power by pointing her right index finger. I thought it would be cool to accentuate that finger as a result!!
and there you have it--a tribute to Kevin Wada and Zita Moldovan from an artist who knows nothing about fashion but does have severe enough blorbo brainrot to attempt to design an outfit regardless :D
shoutout to @jookpubstock for once again enabling my shenanigans :)
#ari does art#marvel#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff#romani wanda maximoff#jewish wanda maximoff#alba flores as wanda maximoff#marvel fanart#hellfire gala#digital art#artists on tumblr
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GOD the way you draw Eridan's capes is so good!!!! do you take inspiration from anything or does it just come to you in visions?
Thank you!!! I'm actually pretty interested in fashion (only on the level of a hobbyist, haha), so I do actually look at a lot of capes (#1 clothing fad we need to bring back imo). In the case of eridan's disgrub outfit, it's drawing inspiration from two main places: the first is that Eridan is specifically noted to model himself off great despots of history (so, going for an evil military vibe), and because in the roleplay, he's started leaning into his Prince of Hope stuff (so, going for kind of a regal/royalty kind of look). I also read like, an embarrassing amount of otome isekai manga/manwha, so i have a million be-caped prettyboys floating around my unconscious
longer explanation below:
And on top of these inspirations, the main consideration is, like, what I'm trying to convey with the character design, which I touched on above - Eridan deliberately dresses like Dualscar in canon
(Hence the rings, the cape, the striped pants)
The dweebishness of his outfit kind of overshadows the fact that, by troll standards, Eridan actually looks FUCKING TERRIFYING - it's outright noted in Gamzee's introduction that he shouldn't stay on the beach, as sea dwellers are outright dangerous
The first thing anyone's going to see when looking at Eridan, even from a distance, is going to be his massive violet cape in his sea dweller blood color
And on top of that, Eridan is literally an orphaner, like Dualscar.
By troll standards, Eridan is BAD FUCKING NEWS, like Karkat probably shit himself when Vriska added her new kismesis to the group chat (and when he brought along his moirail, the heir fucking apparent LOL). And he dresses like that on purpose - he pretty blatantly advertises that his appearance is something to run scared from. And also Dualscar and Eridan are pirates. So
The final outfit I landed on for the Disgrub combines these elements as best I can - military, pirate, prince, and supervillain. You can easily imagine more straps and gold decorations and embroidery and such if I weren't too lazy to draw it out.
So at least he can look scary before he opens his mouth.
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Vampire Heart Draculaura Review Part 4 of 4
In this final part of my review, I’ll be comparing her a bit more to some other Monster High vampires.
Including my G1 Elissabat (who really needs her hair de-glued) and I’ve had her hair “restyled” like that ever since I got her just because I liked how she wore it up in the flashbacks in “Frights, Camera, Action.”
The picture above has mini-dress Draculaura with Elissabat, the true Vampire Queen. Luckily she’s pretty cool with this Draculaura playing dress up, as long as she gets to try on her outfit too.
Also, I had never undressed my Eissabat before and didn’t know these were two separate pieces!
And here is she is!!! I kept her puff purple sleeves to make it fit more with her color scheme. It’s not a bad look at all and I would have loved to have seen a true Vampire Queen Eissabat Collector doll.
Something like this, but even more dramatic. Give her some large vampire wings, layers of bows and bats and deep purples, a better looking tiara to house the vampire’s heart than what she wore in the movie, the works!
I think her boots look better under the dress than Draculaura’s though.
Her purples and large bell skirt gown are also kinda reminding me of this collector Barbie:
The true Vampire Queen….
….and now
Jump scare!
I wanted to compare G2’s hair play Draculaura (my favorite of my G2 Draculaura) due to the light pink steaks in her hair (as I thought it was the same light pink Saran) and her “darker face-up.” Turns out, it is actually a shade darker than Vampire Heart Draculaura’s and her makeup is not as dark as I remembered.
The difference in these dolls are night day, so onto something a bit closer.
Draculaura’s 50 dollar Amazon Exclusive collector doll vs Amazon’s Exclusive Collector 90/100 dollar doll.
I never thought I’d say this, but I actually way prefer the new doll over the old one in every way except for the lack of diary in the current release.
I was actually never a huge fan of the Collector Draculaura’s eyes (they look better far away and look like they were designed by Tim Burton) or her extra long body (I did like the chest articulation though, but thought an ever TALLER Draculaura looked odd), and prefer the new face up and eyelashes on the newer doll.
It does look like they have that same really light pink Saran.
They both have crumby stands that don’t hold the doll very well (at least Collector Draculaura’s is beautifully detailed).
And surprisingly non of these lace/lattice patterns were present on Vampire Heart’s Draculaura’s skirt. The embroidery on Collector Draculaura is still unmatched though, and she’s still an extremely lovely doll.
Buuuuut, she surprisingly has more in common with Haunte Couture Draculaura than Vampire Heart’s and visa versa.
She’s like the in between of Vampire Heart’s and Haunte Couture (similar colors to Vampire Heart’s, buuuut the same layered skirt with bat wing edges, heel/sole to her shoes, and a cape that attaches to her wrists…and I guess hats and rooted eyelashes that Haunt Couture has).
Well, Draculaura likes to reuse and update pieces of her wardrobe from her long life.
“Come play with us Vampire Heart Draculaura.”
For fun, I compared OG Draculaura (whose hair has been degreased with LA’s Totally Awesome, but she just needs to be retro-brighted and I haven’t had time to do that).
She has the much skinner eyes of the OG Draculaura than the more “show accurate” Creeproduction Draculaura, but has the darker pink skin tone of the Creeproduction.
Well, I think that’s everyone, let’s get you to the Vampire Heart ball, or whatever ball your vampires are celebrating this week.
Huh. Looks like Valentine has offered to dance with you Draculaura. I wonder if he’s reformed in this timeline too….
Wait, now the famous movie star -and nothing else- Elissabat wants to dance with you instead. I’m sure Lord Stoker will be glad at all the attention you’re receiving….such a graceful model Vampi-
Tripped over Fangelica….it looks like she’s in this timeline too…
Anyways, all bow down to the Vampire Queen, the most beautiful of Monster High’s Skullector’s dolls (to date and my opinion).
….seriously I really want a diary to go with her…stop leaving those out Mattel!!
#monster high#monster high doll#aleta’s toys#doll collecting#monster high dolls#dollbr#monster high draculaura#draculaura#monster high g1#monster high gen 1#monster high review#doll review#toy review#vampire heart#draculaura vampire heart#dolls#vampire heart draculaura#monster high collector#doll collector
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Tired of people going 'all goth fashion is super easy to diy and everyone should do that instead' because like... yes a lot of it is but some very much not. So some thoughts on how much I'd recommend diying various goth fashion stuff as someone who does a lot of it:
Simple jewellery is definitely much better to diy and particularly chains and stuff. I remember going to dangerfield one time and they had a chain with a bat ornament on in for 20 dollars 🤣 ... you can get a bunch of chain from the hardware store pretty cheaply and the exact same bat pendant on it I had got like 20 off etsy for 5 dollars. It usually doesn't take that long and extra tools e.g. pliers are helpful but not necessary - 10/10 absolutely recommend for all goths or other people interested in gothic fashion
Same thing goes for distressed clothing/fishnet shirts there are tons of tutorials for that kind of stuff, and it generally doesn't require that much time, experience or materials 10/10
Minor clothing modifications e.g. some tailoring, adding/removing parts, mending damaged old clothing, changing buttons - this is something that is really useful in everyday life, usually doesn't take that long and is very useful for turning normal clothing into more spooky stuff 9/10
Designs on clothes or patches: if you get some fabric paint, screen printing ink, bleach or even acrylic you can paint designs onto clothing pretty easily. Personally I like dilute screen printing ink as it gives the nicest surface, but it can be a bit of a pain to use as you have to do a lot of layers, and it doesn't colour the fabric intuitively in the way that fabric paint or acrylic do 8/10 - would recommend very strongly to anyone who enjoys art, and recommend trying at least once to people who don't enjoy art as much (you can always make stencils), but it does take a long time and you need some materials. Also, for patches particularly for small bands it can be better to order them from the band to support the artist, but also lots of bands don't have patches or merch or international shipping to some countries makes it not accessible
Embroidery: often looks really good and professional in a way that painted designs don't, takes absolutely ages. 7/10 - would recommend very highly for people who enjoy textile stuff and maybe trying a bit for everyone but yeah if you don't enjoy it it's a pain
Smaller articles of clothing: I've made some waistcoats and shirts and stuff which have been pretty fun and it's really good to be able to do specific designs you wouldn't be able to buy (e.g. my skeleton one) and get stuff to fit right. They were all hand sewn and took a pretty long time (however you can also do it while listening to online classes or whatever), + a bit of time to learn techniques and stuff. Definitely a cheaper than buying them 6.5/10 - do it if you enjoy textile art stuff but will probably be a really painful experience if you don't and you're hand sewing. Also useful if you've got sizing or dimensions that mean you just... can't buy stuff that'll fit which is how I got into sewing
More complex sewing: I've made 2 (well, finished one and 98% of the way through another) long spooky coats and one cape with really complicated edges and embroidery and stuff. Coat 1 was entirely by hand out of not great fabric and took absolutely ages but was definitely vastly cheaper than buying it from the store, and it fit well and everything. With the cape, I got repetitive strain injury in my thumb that still is a bit of a problem 3 years later! With the final coat it was mostly by machine and then touching some stuff up by hand e.g. edges of the lining, making the eyelets and stuff, but it still took ages. Also, something I never see people talking about with diy goth clothing is how hard it is to get the materials - there were only 3 black brocade fabrics available in my city - One was really bad quality and I tried to make a shirt out of it, but it kept falling apart. One was 150 dollars a meter. The one I ended up using was really nice and reasonably priced, but I got the last 2.5 meters of it so it almost wasn't an option. So when people talk about diying clothing being cheaper it can actually not be that much because a clothing business can get fabrics in bulk + unless your city is really big there are probably not many options, so there's also shipping costs if you then need to order fabric. Out of curiosity I compared how much the coat cost in terms of materials to the price of a similar looking coat off dracula clothing which is a pretty well known and apparently quality materials and ethically made goth fashion shop and it came out a bit cheaper but not massively so (not counting shipping...) so 3.5/10 - fun to do if you enjoy textile art as a hobby, not even vaguely a practical alternative to buying a coat
And then there's other stuff like more complicated jewellery making and leather work which idk much about
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Hi there. I’m going insane and it’s your fault. Like I discovered your absolute emotional masterpiece of a fanfic the other day and it’s all I think about anymore I’m so obsessed; I downloaded tumblr bc of you and I don’t really know how this site works but I do know how to click the ask button so that’s your problem now. I got words for you
First off: HOLy the writing and the voices are so good??? Like the characters say things the way their irl counterparts would say it? How?? Teach me your ways? Actually tho what did you do to learn to do that, is it innate, do you practice?
Second: “He wouldn’t have known the sight of Tango’s pale skin flushing bright red all the way down his chest.” That sentence just kinda stuck out to me from the last chapter… for some reason... anyways (idk what my point is here but it sure has got me thinking thoughts :P )
Third: I said I was obsessed, and I think it was an understatement. I didn’t study for my chem final because of this (still got an A tho so dw) and I went to bed for three days straight thinking about it and I woke up every morning thinking about it. (It took a solid hour to snap myself out of it when I actually needed to get work done lol) And on the plane ride home for break I drew some things so I’ll just leave these here if you don’t mind (umm ignore the tango faces on the first page and his left hand on the second, there's something Wrong™ about them I gotta practice, ok?)
idk if the formatting is good or whatever but here they are
As you can see I love love love the scene after the nightmare. If I remember correctly, Tango started wearing the gloves to protect his claws so they could heal after he escaped, and then when Jimmy gets hurt he just instinctively gives them to him?? Hello, the symbolism??? Tango just surrenders his own protection, both physically, because he would rather protect Jimmy, but also emotionally bc it immediately reveals what he considers a flaw in himself, monstrous, hideous. And Jimmy sees him throw the walls up again, “He quickly shoves the gloves at Jimmy, moving to get up. “I’ll uh, I’ll get another pair tomorrow-”” but Jimmy won’t let him, instead looks at what could be considered Tango’s entire soul —his trauma, his Hels origin, the feral, blaze side of him, the side that lies and hides and lashes out at any who get too close, the “ugliest” parts of him —and loves him despite it? Even sees the beauty in him? Yea, no, I’m normal about that—
Anyways idk how long these things are supposed to be but I have a couple more thoughts so you’re still stuck with me. Ummm let’s see… I adore your impulse design. So I’m taking that, thanks. (If that’s ok) also was thinking about how Jimmy would wear shirts with the wings getting in the way (see bottom of 2nd pic), and then thought maybe that’s why he’s so good at embroidery or sewing in general, cuz he has to make custom clothes. And then I thought what if he made some *cough* outfits and had Tango judge them… or asked for help putting on/taking off a particularly difficult shirt... haven’t had time to draw that yet but ya know… one day. Aaaaand the blaze rods could theoretically make a pretty cool fire crown when Tango's angry, also blazes do damage when you touch them, but I don't think you get set on fire? So it must be the blaze rods themselves doing damage, so I imagine when Tango's fighting they swirl around him both to attack whoever gets too close and to block any incoming projectiles (see middle left of 1st pic). +gradients on the blaze rods :]
Last thing, I showed my sister the fic last night and she’s already read through it twice so you’ve infected two of us. We were theorizing on what’ll happen next chapter. We both think that the others will piece together, to some extent, Tango’s backstory before they figure out how to remove the collar, what with the cuffs he wears, the comments Atlas made about a farm, Atlas’s mentioning about using Jimmy that way for his feathers, etc etc. and the comment that Tango can hear everything? Yea, no, when that collar comes off he’s gonna be distraught, I’m wagering that everything immediately bursts into flames around him or something (cuz that’d be cool). I think he'll probably try to run away, too, but we'll see
Anyways, that’s not all my thoughts but this is getting pretty long, so maybe I’ll send another ask later if that’s alright. Have a good day! Post again soon! Please. Please I'm begging you. For my sanity plea-
(actually tho take ur time. quality is worth it, and this is nothing but quality)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg welcome. this was genuinely SUCH a lovely ask to read, but i wanna take the time to properly answer it so i’m gonna continue under the cut cause boy can i ramble
first off: HELLO, you got a tumblr bc of HTP?? incredible. i’m honored that this gay angsty little block man au was your introduction to the hellsite (affectionate). and don’t worry, i welcome asks no matter the length (tho i might not get to everything in a timely manner)
second of all: i’m SO happy you enjoyed my character voices. that’s definitely something that’s taken a bit of practice, especially for more understated characters that don’t have super obvious or unique vocal traits/vernaculars. i find it helpful to a) have spent a decent amount of time watching the source material and b) always go over my dialogue with the character’s voice in my mind, and see if it sounds like something they’d actually say. ofc, sometimes liberties can be taken based on the plot/setting of a fic but generally i spend a lot of time and effort on getting character voices right, so i appreciate the appreciation <3
thirdly: i like that particular sentence too ;0
fourth: THAT ART THO??? oh man. impulse looks amazing (i’ve always loved demon!impulse and gotta credit @lunarcrown for bringing that vision to life 💃) and the wings are SO well done, like you conveyed that leathery thin bat skin texture perfectly. the various tangos are SICK, i luuuuv seeing him in full blaze rage mode, using those blaze rods to their full effect. and those hands… goddamn. not only do i respect the hand anatomy but the ROSES… the shackles and their metallic texture… the gradient on tango’s claws… chef’s kiss 💋👌 and THANK YOUUU the post-nightmare scene was one of my favorites from that chapter, and you’ve summed it up beautifully.
moving on: as with all of lunar’s designs, she’s happy to inspire so BEHOLD, DEMON IMPULSE UPON YE (that’s a yes from both of us LOL) i love ur idea about jimmy making custom shirts to work around his wings, that’s one of those little details i never put much thought into but it fits so nicely with him being into embroidery. so jimmy def makes a lot of his own clothes (and occasionally some for tango), co-signed and approved. and ur on the right track about tango’s blaze rods- most of his defensive fire comes directly from them, doing that crazy swirly fireball thing that actual blaze do, but he does also have the ability to produce fire from his hands, he just doesn’t do it often. it takes a bit more concentration and practice, and he spent so long trying not to use his abilities that it doesn’t come second nature to him anymore. he was way more of a fire starter as a kid in hels.
last but not least: AWW it’s so sweet u got ur sister into the au (lord knows i’ve dragged mine into many a fandom 😂) glad y’all enjoyed it so much, AND now u have someone to theorize with 👀 i won’t say anything more on the matter other than i hope to get the next chapter out over the next couple weeks, so stay tuned…
#hels to pay au#HTP ask#HTP gift art#seriously thanks so much for sending this in i loved reading it
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The Plushū Diaries
This is a long post about the plushie I made as a beginner and just me venting about the process. Just skip this is you don't like long posts. Also I will probably mix up UK and US English a lot here. The usual Internet learning experience.
Canto 1- I can (not) make a plushie myself
So... As you may gather from the existence of this blog, I love Ryōshū a very normal amount. And like many other PM fans, I wanted a plushie of my best girl.
Two problems arise.
Independently made plushies made by commission are EXPENSIVE (For a very valid reason, this things take AGES to make and require a lot of work and skill.).
And
All the "Mass" produced ones by indie designers that I saw had animal ears or features, which I don't really like.
So, Sunday at around 10:00 pm, I, in all my wisdom, say to myself "I want it! So I'll make it!" I already had some material from a previous failed attempt, so might as well use them.
I dug up the doll skeleton and the body I had and stuffed that thing. By then it was already late and I had to work on Monday so, to bed I went.
Canto 2- The Real Start
By morning on the following day, I had already gotten over the Idea of making a plushie myself. Too much work. Too little skill. Like any other good little ADHD demon, I am allergic to completing my own projects and I jump from new idea to new idea too quickly to get anything done.
So, imagine my shock when at 11:00 pm I get that little itch to just make the thing. That little night owl brain magic that happens when everyone else is asleep and you are just now deciding to be productive.
So I grab the body, my embroidery thread and a bathtub of coffee and I just started.
Luckily I already had a pattern that a friend printed out for me two years ago. But then, the mistakes also started.
Mistake 1- Improv
I had no idea what I wanted to make. I had a design that I had painted In photoshop before but I didn't have that materials nor skills for that. So I made a simpler one on the spot. I don't own a printer. I don't have transfer paper. So... like a person with a very aesthetically pleasing smooth brain, I just drew the design STRAIGHT ON THE FABRIC with BRIGHT red pen.
Mistake 2 - The bright red pen
At the start it wasn't much of an issue just something to mark the design because I don't have a tearaway stabilizer.
By the end of this saga, those smooth clear lines had bled SO MUCH I could no longer tell the difference between te guide and random stains. Oh! And you can also see the guidelines from the outside of the doll. Cool.
Mistake, the third - The felt hair
This doesn't seem like a mistake, but trust me, It will haunt the narrative.
Mistake forever after - Hubris
It took... around 1 hour to line up everything correctly on the embroidery ring? Why? Because I am stupid, that's why.
During this first day I decided that I didn't need to use pins. I could just put it on the ring by eyeballing it. How bad can it be?
I was a fool. There's a reason why professionals use them, and there's a reason why some people sew some pieces temporarily during certain steps of the process before finally attaching them together. Pins truly are unsung heroes.
Canto 3- The unembroidered
So... embroidery. Embroidery is hard. Symmetrical embroidery is hard. Symmetrical embroidery with bleeding guidelines and no stabilizer is HARD. Symmetrical embroidery with bleeding guidelines, no stabilizer and you are a total beginner is maddening.
I watched someone do it by hand on YouTube before and I tried to mimic the process as much as I could. It didn't help much. Youtube tutorials can only do so much to compensate my lack of experience.
By the time I had done one eye I was already seeing problems. My stitches were all scattered to the four winds. They were all going in different directions. Some of them were too far apart or too close to others. The lines in the back of the doll were piling up and there were more knots in the thread than in your average omegaverse fic.
I went colour by colour. First black since I needed it to line the hair and it was the most used colour, then white just for the little highlights and finally red.
(Funny thing, the number of this red thread of this brand is 666 wich is kinda funny for miss hellscreen over here.)
After the red thread it finally started to look kinda decent (by beginner standards)
Canto 4 - Revenge of the felt hair
After all the embroidery was done it was finally time to get her off the ring and sew the parts together.
For those unaware, the regular soft plushie material, Minky, is really lightweight and very thin. Felt... isn't thin. And when you are sewing a plushie head with may parts and layers, all those millimeters of fabric pile up really quickly. One layer of felt is easy to pierce with a needle. Five layers? Not so much. Several needles were broken in the process of joining the front of the head with the back. I do not own a sewing machine. I did all of this shit by hand.
Thank god for the tetanus vaccine. When I say this little creature has my blood, sweat and tears, I MEAN IT.
The curse of the felt hair didn't end there.
Now that the head was done, it was time to stuff it.
Naturally, I had to rip parts of the stuffing to get it inside the head and around the skeleton. This sent bits and pieces of the thing flying everywhere. My room is FILTHY. And the felt hair got the worst of it. All those little dusts and microfibers stuck to it like a fly in a web. As I write this I am still trying to rip out bits of stuffing without damaging the felt. It is horrible. My girl is DIRTY.
(Also, plushie heads take WAY more stuffing than I thought. Holy shit.)
Finally, on the last day, it was time to attach the body to the head and sew the back of the hair. (I should have done that before but... more layers of felt. Broken needles. You know... nheeeeeee)
So, with a lot of fear in my heart I ladder stitched those bastards together and mocked up a decent enough pattern for the back of the hair. And just like that.... she is done.
Canto 5- The Plushie Defining
So... what did I learn?
Use pins. Stitch things temporarily with an obvious visible line that you can cut out after and test things before committing to a permanent stitch. If you are a beginner, like me, and are afraid to sew pieces together because you don't want to ruin your embroidered parts that you spent SO LONG working on, do this before.
Fuck felt.
Don't use a bright red pen.
Mess up. Make your plushie. Make it ugly. If you hate making bodies like me, buy one made and practice the head. Despite everything, I love my asymmetrical girl a lot. Like... I made this little bastard. She is MINE and I made her. This never stops being magical. It's a nice feeling.
And I did it without specific materials.
Some cheap threads, a body you can probably make too, some felt I found at the discount bin and random needles. That was all. No tearaway stabilizer, no sewing machine, no printer, no embroidery machine. The minky fabric is the only thing that was more of an investment. The rest is pretty accessible.
Do you know that post that says "Everything worth doing is worth doing poorly." Yeah, that applies to artistic projects. Go for it! Just... don't start with something hard like a human... Christ sake that was a nightmare.
I'm probably still gonna get a better plushie of her in the future, but for now, this is my baby.
Goodnight Tri-state area.
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hi! 2 things:
- what color is the pocket on the final cherry blossom shirt? i know you said there might be tweaks to the final design, so i’m curious if that’ll be different!
- the mock-ups you just posted have me frothing at the mouth, especially the floral ones and especially especially, as you can imagine by my first point, the black cherry blossom one! oh and the rose/snake one is also super cool!!!
the pocket is still white with the stripe!
the tweaks we made were switching to buttons, reworking the sizing slightly on the pocket embroidery, and reworking the placement on the whale shirt
these photos have not been fully edited yet and some need to be retaken bc they're not properly focused but here's some flat lays of the final designs for you
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This is a personal project that I'll be embroidering and sewing by hand.
Okay so I'm planning the 20cm test before finishing the 10cm tests just because it takes a while to polish off the digital planning. Gives me something to do when I can't access my embroidery stuff. I have three characters in mind just because I'm currently limited to yellow/blonde hair + pale completion with fabric. I'm only gonna pick one to do for now. Doing an established character just in case I grow a pair and decide to sell it if the project turns out okay. Three different characters from three different fandoms+ rambling under the cut. I'll most likely be posting progress for whoever is picked like with most of my projects so if there's any bias for who anyone wants to see lmk. The possible test subjects are Satan (OBM) Raphael (WHB) and Nazuna Nito (Enstars)
Used my fandom blogs @ for the drawings out of habit. Oh and these all have some type of animal ears because I think it's cute. I wanna use snaps magnets or velcro to hold everything in place but I'm not sure yet.
Satan - Obey Me
The only one who looks halfway decent because I've been drawing him since 2021. My goal is to make a large scale Thirteen plushie with a lamb theme similar to the middle Satan. I also really don't like it when people delude Tanny to cat guy but I am a cat guy so he's most likely getting optional kitten ears if picked. The plain bows would just be plain embroidery but if the lamb design is picked I'll be embroidering fabric on top of fabric. I don't know what the methods called. I'm not a professional. I have an idea on how to make Satan's tail but would be weird to explain??? Possibly my favorite but that's just because the Obey Me brain worms run deep. Also the only one I feel confident in making clothes for.
Raphael - What in Hell is Bad
Look. We aren't gonna talk about why I'm playing the horny demon game. I don't understand why I play either. Anyway. I love Raphael's design too bad I wanna choke him in the most violent lest sexual way possible. This design would involve a lot of sewing fabric on fabric which I really don't mind. I have an idea on how to make little bandages that a kinda wanna tryout. The only thing is I'd like to add beads to the embroidery for his piercings. A bit of a price to pay for only doing one eye but I think it's worth it. This one specifically will also be good practice for using metallic embroidery thread. I'm torn between bunny and the fake horns??? Raphael is just annoying angry rabbit chewing on power cords coded. The only problem is I'd probably wanna make the other two dick heads eventually and *vague choking gestures* why are those freaks so damn pretty. Overall a lot of fun different textures to play with. The only thing is I probably won't post much about making him aside from helpful design components because dude is from a R18 game.
Nazuna Nito - Ensemble Stars
I actually already own a few Enstars plushies and plan on making both Jin and Akiomi for the larger scale tests. So. Yea. I don't think I need anymore??? The first is the easiest with the whole bunny thing. Probably gonna sew the fabric for the stomach art on and embroider around it. Second is loosely based on Nazuna's first 5* event card. It was the event that was going on when I started playing Enstars. Trying to figure out the game while playing Love it Love it still haunts my nightmares. The final one is based on his recent scout 5* I need to work on coloring gemstones but I think it'd translate nicely to embroidery. This design is gonna be the easiest out of this bunch. The most complicated thing will probably be color matching embroidery thread.
#I'll decide to add fandom tags later#do I want the main tag to know my sins? probably not.#🐑 screaming into a cave
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Bard's Broken Heart
I present: 1 motif of what I’m calling “Bard’s Broken Heart Lace”
OK, not quite, but still a cool design.
Inspired by this post from Tumblr user @loki-is-my-kink-awakening
https://www.tumblr.com/loki-is-my-kink-awakening/723753602720661504/oh-my-gods-are-these-the-hearts-hidden-on?source=share
Who noticed that the trim on Jaskier’s shirt in Season 3 Netflix Witcher is little hearts! And a reply (sorry OP, I can’t find it now) noted that they’re very symbolically, hearts that are divided!
So anyway, I got crafting-obsessed and had to try to figure out how it was made and attempt to recreate it.
Which lead to research on historical lace-making and needlework.
[Disclaimers: this is all my best guesses as an amateur crafter, not a historical expert.
I know my stitching is uneven, especially the pin-picots, which I just learned last week]
by the way, crafters or fic writers looking for historical fibercraft reference, check out Project Gutenberg’s (free!) The Encyclopedia of Needlework by Thérèse de Dillmont https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/20776/pg20776-images.html
SO much fascinating stuff!
First, based on the clearest photos I can find (ie not very) I’m guessing the actual trim was machine-made, because a) the stitching is really even and smooth and tiny, b) handmade lace would be extremely expensive, and c) TV/Movie costuming needs multiples of every garment, especially for something like a delicate chemise Jaskier wears running all around the continent for a whole season.
My first guess and attempt was crochet, which wasn’t it, then thought it might be tatting or bobbin lace, which also weren’t right once I looked up images.
I finally settled on whitework cut-work embroidery with some needle lace techniques for the edging. Which I think gave me a kind of close facsimile. This one is about 1-½ x the size of what he wears (because that’s the limit of my aging hand steadiness, crafting magnifiers, and the materials I had.)
This one motif took me probably two hours, including many screwups and tangles. Not including drafting, blocking and snapshots. With the right materials and one done for practice (as it was only my second project in whitework and first try at needle lace!) one heart would take around an hour. For someone whose lifelong job, all day every day, was embroidering lace trim, they’d probably manage a meter/yard or two of the actual size trim, which I’m guessing is how much is on that shirt.
So in-universe, this still wouldn’t be a cheap piece of clothing, with at least a full day of skilled craftswomen wages for just the lace, plus finely woven, printed fabric that (I think, historically, that would have been block printed by hand), and additional seamster time to make it up. Modern-day equivalent would probably be easily USD $1000 if not 2x that. Our boy is making good money as a now-famous bard! (I suppose in a universe with magic, it could have been magiked, or magically duplicated after an expert created a template, but I suspect that would cost as much as handcrafting anyhow)
If I get bored and the crafting bug hits me again, I might try to make a whole edging this, maybe on a handkerchief.
Now, what do I do with one lace heart? I settled on starching it and attaching a safety pin back, so I guess if I ever go to a convention I can wear it as a pin so fellow Witchercrafters and Jaskier fans know how much of a nerd I really am.
I could write up direx with step by step pictures if anyone else really wants to try it.
#the witcher#fanart#fan crafts#netflix the witcher#witcher season 3#needle crafts#costume details#lacemaking#witchercraft#jaskier
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Hi Hello I actually make things sometimes
I don't know if anyone who follows me is interested in this stuff bc I very rarely post things from my own life, but I decided to be a little more active on here besides reblogging funny shit regarding my current hyperfixation.
So, here is the (incomplete) crafting diary of a neurodivergent trans person surviving christmas with the family and the dark and dreadful times (winter) in general by making shit! with my hands!
First: fiber stuff
I picked up tablet weaving over the last few months of 2023 and made my first pair of somewhat mistake-free shoelaces over the holidays! Only got the pattern completely right on the second try with the red but both laces now get to add a fun little detail to my shoes.
Next I tried a more complicated pattern and experimented a lot, hence the irregular pattern and troubleshooting at the start of the band. I'm now repurposing it as a camera strap and I learned a lot from it tho.
My current setup is basic cardboard tablets (I had to make extra ones so I had enough for the last band with 30 cards), tying the warp to something sturdy like a bookshelf, and sitting down with a backstrap belt on the other side of the room. I used thin wool yarn for this, which stuck to itself quite a lot, but not too much to be unmanagable, and I really like how the finished product feels.
If anyone's interested, I could make a longer post on how I made the shoelaces, I think it's a very beginner friendly project.
I managed to get my hands on a drop spindle and gave that a try, but I ran out of wool after making a very small amount of very chunky yarn and am currently working out where to best get sth local. It was fun tho!
I also finally finished the knitted scarf that has been in my wip pile for... approximately three years? I started it when I was still in school, feels like an eternity ago. It's just a simple (although very long) red wool scarf, but it keeps me nice and warm in this cold, harsh- *checks weather* ...5°C and neverending rain.
Next up: woodworking!
Noodled around with my grandpa's old dremel that we still had lying around, which resulted in this truly terrifying weapon:
Behold! I named it Toothling. It's great for poking friends and family when they least expect it.
This was more of a test run to see if it all still works and to try out doing small scale work with wood, now I gotta think of something fun to make. (I say, as if I didn't already have 50 different ideas)
Before that fuckery, I made this magnetic dice box/rolling tray for my lovely partner's birthday.
Though I don't feel like I can take credit for working the CNC magic on this, I did all the hands-on work with the sanding, assembling the magnets, shellac coating, and whatnot. I'm pretty sure wood is some sort of fruit tree, since it smells strongly of what I suspect might be plum or cherry.
Last but sure as fuck not least: embroidery
This I actually get professional instruction for at uni. I've kinda lost patience for it atm, but mostly because I cannot resist making unnecessarily complicated pieces with tiny little stitches and then am forced to finish it because I do actually kinda need to pass this class. My lecturer keeps telling me not to go so detailed, yet I have proven resistant to her good advice. But, I figured if I have to make two full pieces of embroidery to be graded on and put hours of work into, I might as well choose designs that I can turn into patches for my jacket:
Catha and Ruidus! I love me some big moon little moon imagery. The prompt was to incorporate most of the techniques/stitches we've learned so far. Added the little gold chain stitch around ruidus for the arcane latticework. It came out a little wonky shape wise, but I love it nonetheless.
And my most recent wip, a stained glass window design with the Ninth House skull and Gideon's sword behind it, to feed my current Locked Tomb obsession.
And that's it!
#fibre crafts#embroidery#tablet weaving#tablet weave#weaving#wool#handcrafted#woodworking#if you wanna call it that#Eli has a life#and needs sth to do so i pick up random crafts i see people do on the internet#critical role#locked tomb#art#dnd
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Notes on Self-care
I would like to talk about self-care. Some self-care is remembering that you as a human have some of the same needs as a complicated house plant. This means getting good food, water, and sunlight. Yes, humans need sunlight for vitamin production, specifically vitamin d. Beyond a few food sources where modern practices add it in, most of the vitamin d the human body needs, is acquired through sunlight interacting with our skin. At minimum, please work on feeding your body the food, water, and sunlight it needs to function well. This is the minimum of taking care of yourself. Then there is getting enough physical activity to keep bodies healthy. Good exercise is finding ways to keep moving. Not just bid muscles like arms and legs, but fingers can benefit from being kept busy.
Health and self-care is more than caring for the physical body. Mental and emotional health is important as well. One reason I keep writing guided meditations, is it helps to exercise and calm your minds. I believe that part of my job as a volunteer minister is to help with mental and emotional health as well as providing space for spiritual work. Puzzles and crafts are great for keeping minds sharp and help with keeping hands flexible and strong. The requirement is materials you can access and something you enjoy. For me that is all kinds of needlework, embroidery, knitting, crochet, mending. You might also try origami, tradition paper folding, gardening/helping with landscaping or cooking as suggestions.
Also, I will say it out loud. There is no shame in needing medication for your mental health or your physical health. Some people do not produce enough insulin to keep their blood sugar from getting too high. Others do not produce enough neurotransmitters, chemicals like serotonin that help regulate brain function, to keep their moods balanced. I rather you all take the prescriptions the doctors give you to keep you healthy.
Finally, personal connections are important. Healthy non-toxic relationships are important to humans as we are a pack creature. It is usually described as tribal, but the meaning is the same. Individualism is a lie designed sold to us, when communities have been the norm since the beginning of civilization. Sharing talents and supporting each other helps us all be better people. This also means being able to say no and set boundaries to what we can and will do for others and having that respected.
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Solarpunk Aesthetic Week Plans
In full honesty, this list isn't going to be complete--I'll likely think of something else I want to do after I make this post, and similarly I might not be able to get to everything on this list (storyboarding/animating a short film capstone project in 8 weeks does that to someone).
But! As one of the co-hosts of @solarpunkaestheticweek, what am I planning to do to celebrate the event?
In a dream world, I'll get a cool jean vest and maybe an embroidery practicing kit to make the battle jacket of my dreams. This would also involve learning how to use fabric paint (and obtaining fabric paint, unless Mom has some stocked in the garage)
I do have some old jeans lying around that have holes in them. Maybe I can practice making patches/embroidery with those?
I want to try sewing a little bit, but I don't have 'tons of cloth to make a hooded cloak' kind of money right now. Buuut I do have fabric stashed away that I was using to make face masks, so I might just. make myself more face masks. There were some patterns I hadn't made yet that could be fun, but I've also seen people make butterfly/moth face masks and that would be fun if I can figure it out!
I've gotta design concepts for a solar-powered community fridge for a group project, so I'll definitely share those here when I finish!
I wanna do some guerrilla gardening (of the 'sprinkling seeds and hope something happens) variety. Don't know where, though...
It would be fun to learn some recipes! Maybe I'll teach myself how to make cookies, if we have the ingredients around.
Art and writing stuff! Maybe I'll continue my solarpunk zombie apocalypse story (and finally get around to drawing the characters), maybe I'll start some other short story (I had an idea for a guerrilla gardening one...). I'd also always considered making a zine on native wildflowers in Florida, though I'd need to research how zines are made.
At the very least, I'd like to go out on a walk at least once this week and chill in nature. 'Nature' being the neighborhood park, but it's something.
#out of queue#solarpunk aesthetic week#ani rambles#solarpunk aesthetic week is in FOUR DAYS!!!! what do you wanna do for it?
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IMW Chapter 5
Ensuring she left no incriminating notes behind, Marinette took a final glance around her childhood room. She reached for Kaalki's glasses and called out, "Voyage!" Grabbing her suitcase, Ladybug stepped through the portal and arrived in her design studio. Jagged Stone had arranged this space for her when he asked her to design and create his full tour outfits. He believed she would need a dedicated place for her work, offering her the studio as payment because he felt her prices were too low for his rock-and-roll image. The best part was that her parents were unaware of its existence. Only Marinette, Jagged, and Penny knew about this hidden sanctuary. Jagged owned the flat, refusing to accept rent and covering the utilities himself.
The studio was a two-story apartment with an expansive open floor plan. A beautiful kitchen stood to the left of the large living room, while a spacious bedroom and bathroom were situated nearby. Tinted windows overlooked the Seine, even granting a view of the Couffaine boat house on clear nights. Adjacent to the front door, a staircase several workbenches not only for embroidery but also for creating accessories. She could now expand her list of offerings to include these products. Additionally, a state-of-the-art graphics table allowed her to design posters and other computer-aided design projects. The studio encompassed everything she needed for her business, including ample space for fabric storage.
For months, Marinette had been retreating to this sanctuary after her sewing machine and materials were confiscated from her room. She began transferring her belongings to the studio, starting with her sketchbooks when they attempted to take those away as well. This place ensured she could continue working on her commissions. She was immensely grateful to Jagged and made a mental note to thank him when he returned to town.
Dumping her suitcase in the bedroom, Marinette carefully concealed the miracle box in the false wall she had created in the panic room next to her bed. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her plush queen-size bed, allowing sleep to whisk her away as the Kwamis flitted about the room.
After ensuring that Marinette was asleep, the kwamis gathered around Tikki with curiosity evident on their faces.
"Tikki, what was that shift in your presence earlier?" Wayzz asked, voicing the thoughts of the others. "It was strong enough that we all felt it."
Tikki hesitated for a moment, casting a careful gaze at her fellow kwamis. She took a deep breath before responding. "What you felt earlier was me helping with her spiritual awakening. My chosen has undergone a metamorphosis into a true holder and unlocked her natural magic."
The words hung in the air, causing the other kwamis to gasp in surprise. "But that... that's impossible," Wayzz replied, echoing the disbelief of the group.
"I know, and if it were any of my previous wielders, I would agree with you. But it has happened. I felt her magic awaken while she was transformed, and her suit has changed. However..." Tikki trailed off, her voice filled with uncertainty.
"But what, Tikki?" Barkk inquired, eager for more information.
"When Marinette's magic awakened, it wasn't a type I recognized. It was creation magic, but it also had elements of destruction. From the very beginning, when Master Fu gave me my miraculous and we first transformed, and even now, I know without a doubt that Marinette is a true Ladybug. But I think there's more to it," Tikki explained.
"Tikki, are you saying that she's not just a true Ladybug, but a true Black Cat? That's impossible! You and Plagg never blessed the same soul. And considering the fact that she can create full-sized clones with only a little help from Mullo, she would be a true Ladybug and Mouse," Wayzz rebutted, trying to make sense of the situation.
"After what happened tonight, I no longer think Marinette is a true holder at all. If I'm right, she's something far more rare and exceptional. She will be a better holder and guardian than anyone else, even across the multiverse. She's a once-in-a-lifetime, completely unique being. But before I can be certain, I need to talk to Plagg," Tikki concluded.
The kwamis were left utterly perplexed by Tikki's revelation. How could Marinette not be a true holder? She was able to use both powers from the beginning, and only true souls blessed by the miraculous could do that since they carried a part of the miraculous within their souls. Except for one kwami, none of them could grasp what Tikki was suggesting.
"For now, let's get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day for all of us as we begin her practical magic training," Tikki suggested, trying to bring the conversation to a close. The kwamis returned to their box, with Tikki curling up on Marinette's neck, unnoticed by the others. Longg, however, couldn't take his eyes off their slumbering guardian. Before retreating into the box, he whispered two words to himself, "Natural Soul."
Across town, in the Agreste Mansion, a certain black cat kwami couldn't help but smile at the thought of his ring soon being reclaimed by pigtails. If what he had felt earlier was accurate, it wouldn't be long now. He would finally be free from the burden of this man-child he once called his Kit. Plagg was unlike other kwamis; he always paid attention to his holders' actions while transformed, despite pretending not to. It was his way of testing them, as he had seen too many wielders become corrupted by having his power at their fingertips. He knew exactly what Adrien had done—the way his hands and eyes wandered over Ladybug's suit mid-combat, the intentional brushes against her butt and breasts, all under the guise of saving her from harm. Even though those actions had resulted in him getting mind-controlled, Plagg was disgusted by Adrien's behaviour.
But now, if Pigtails had truly awakened her magic... there were ways to circumvent the requirement of both miraculous being active simultaneously for balance to be maintained. Plagg could only hope. As he slept, he purred contentedly, dreaming of the day he would be reunited with his chosen.
Morning arrived, and Marinette woke up, gazing at the unfamiliar ceiling. She tried to recall where she had seen it before, as it definitely wasn't her skylight. Then it hit her: she was in her studio, in her bedroom, lying on her comfortable baby blue bed sheets on her queen-size bed. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was 6 am and time to get up. Carefully, she picked up Tikki, her kwami, and gently placed her on one of the beds, giving her a little pat on the head.
Walking into the kitchen, Marinette gathered the ingredients for French bread and put four loaves into the oven. They would be ready in about 20 minutes, giving her just enough time. Marinette was 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighed around 80 pounds, which was underweight for her age and height. After her parents, Tom and Sabine, started punishing her by taking away meals, Marinette had slipped into underweight territory. However, with the help of the kwamis, who made sure she ate every day, she had regained some of her health and reached a weight of around 100 pounds.
By the time she finished making breakfast for the kwamis, Marinette glanced at the clock again. It was now 6:50, and she started preparing her own sandwich. A smile spread across her face as she received a response to her emancipation email. The reply stated that the court date was scheduled for a week later and that Miss Gamora Lusinia had legal guardianship over her until then. Miss Lusinia's involvement ensured a speedy court date, and the evidence Marinette had gathered, including emails between her parents and the mayor regarding her sudden weight loss, assured her that her emancipation would be granted, as her lawyers had confirmed in their response emails.
#maribat#marinette dupen chang#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#jason todd#dick grayson#hellishere7980#miraculous fanworks#miraculous incorrect quotes#miraculous lb#miraculous ladybug#ml kwamis#tom dupain#sabine cheng#betrayal#marinette is ready to kick ass
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