#but Marius when i get my HANDS ON YOU

[dxxtruction]

I've said this once, and I'll say it again, framing Armand as 'wanting Louis and Claudia dead' or 'planning their murder' makes 0 sense with any context the show provides us.

This still means he's 100% complicit (!!!). In fact, the very idea he could've prevented it at all puts the onus on him pretty highly. Compounded also on the fact that, as his lover, he had special obligations to Louis that he neglects by doing this, and the matter of racist intent that's involved in this that everyone's obligated to stand against on principle. Not to mention this is murder. Suppose one could say the very conditions set by the coven make one easily groomed to complicit-ness, but this is simply yet another explanation for things there's never any real excuse for (Don't be like Armand and try). But, it also begins to highlight why it's not a very good read of his character to blanket this as his sole doing, and as his desire at all to do. As it would completely ignore Santiago's much greater role in perpetration (Being the leader in creating, with the other coven members, the context for the complicit-ness to occur), as well as not considering the role the Laws, and ultra-violent dynamic of the coven, played into what Armand decides on. It ignores the whole narrative.

The option presented to Armand surrounding the trail was never his own making. The choice to take part in it at all is actually a lack of choice, because it doesn't actually concern his own choice in it. (Basically, he wouldn't ever come to it himself or willingly. Making it not validly consensual). It's likely as well the only reason he's directing it is because he'd know how to. He hadn't chose that part either, and frankly never really had to begin with. This is all especially true under coercion, or threat of violence - yes, even if he could act against it. The point is whether a victim of it believes there is threat, or that there could possibly be one, not whether it actually ever posed a real one.

When it comes to choice between the Coven or Louis, they exist as more options towards opposing obligations than anything else, and neither outcome, as he sees them going, is what he would actually choose were he to have a choice in it. Which he doesn't. (No one can choose outcomes, only predict them.)

Except, Armand could've created a choice for himself, but didn't. He could've found a way to prevent it, but didn't. He chose his own choiceless-ness, over making the potential for something he'd always prefer - and so would be a real and consensual choice - but didn't, because he didn't feel he would be able to have it the way he wanted. Paradoxically trapping himself into doing something he doesn't want, because he can't have what he wants. He not only becomes choiceless then, but wantless. Total self effacement. Reinforcing an enslavement that is now false. Living in Mauvaise foi - bad faith. (The Sartre cameo was foreshadowing of this exact thing.)

Perhaps he does this because he's become incapable of letting himself have that level of self, or awareness. Letting others decide his fate for him is all he can accept, when this is the only kind of self he knows. And/Or because the far worse option was simply the only one he could have any greater certainty in the outcomes with. There is also still the threat posed by a united force of the coven as well. This all points to Armand already being very easy to coerce into it, fact, he'd already been heavily coerced when he was groomed repeatedly to all this centuries prior.

The thing to understand though is he was never going to actually come to the trail, let alone having ever wanted Louis' demise, when what he really wanted was Louis all along. Only because there's an opposing threat presented to him, does he actively work against himself as he doesn't see to any alternative. (And Claudia was always a footnote in all this to him, a literal footnote in history, so wouldn't have factored into his decision much... don't read into this also being a footnote. RIP Claudia, miss you dearly.)

Also in coming to this choice-less decision, he knows nothing can prevent the coven from turning their backs on what they've already set their hearts on doing. They'd mutinied to get this. And, he knows as well he can't force Louis to love him, or for this matter, love him forever.

In having to decide on something, he appeases the thing that threatens him the most, which is the coven. And with a mere feeling of a threat from Louis, his obligations to him are taken as only thereafter fleeting. Though this doesn't mean he'd stopped loving him. Simply stopped acting out the biggest obligation to someone you do love - which is keeping them safe, and alive, if you can help it. (He is in love; doesn't act in love). So no, this doesn't mean he wants or orchestrates what the coven is forcing him to do - this makes no sense. But that, within the dynamics of the coven, which have changed to be against him, and the laws they seek to uphold with this change, there is a high-controlling obligatory threat to violence he must also accept to eliminate all threat to himself. Real or not.

Now, how real that threat is with his decision, is granted not the most plausible in a physical sense. (and factor that he could've come to a plan with Louis and it would be doubly true.) - but if you consider Armand as someone who wouldn't know how to fair well without other people, or at least desperately not want that, there's a certain level of threat still to suddenly becoming very isolated. And more importantly totally alone. This is the main threat to him, really. If he had, let's say, made a plan to run off with Louis, and he were to then leave him down the line, this would be a threat to him in the same way as losing the coven would. The coven provides a security that Louis could not in this sense - but it's just that. A security.

It's very: siding with an abusive parent/guardian because at least they provide a sense of some protection, or dare I say mercy, on you. Even when they're completely opposed to your wants/needs/autonomy.(etc.) (Notable etc. - he'd been fucking them all for years, like the lack of metaphor is so striking.)

He does end up making choice for himself in the end though, and that is resurrecting Louis + not saying the truth to Louis. He chose this WAY too late, but it's probably when outcomes started to change from how he thought they would go that he realized the errors in his thinking. That, given this, he also would never have known if Louis would leave him. And so rescuing Louis from this was an option the whole time to avoiding threat, if he had just seen he could've had that. That he could've had what he wanted and just chose that for himself. Even up to the very moment.

He's tragic in this way, but you almost don't want to view him like this because he'd reaped all the rewards over choices he never made. Choices he would've made if he were (... well, Lestat), but really a more self-respecting person who actually understood the thing he wanted, [love], and the trust it takes to have that. Because Armand chooses to lie, or obscure truths, he sets this relationship up to always have inevitably broken on lack of trust.

He is a perpetuator of manipulation, and does do things which mimic the neglectful and highly-controlled kind of abuse the coven was offering him, and past abusers were inflicting on him as well. Once he's to himself, with only an obligation to himself and to Louis as a companion - as was his want and choice - he therefore takes full responsibility for those choices he makes. He can't just be complicit in those things. You might almost want to excuse (not forgive) what comes before it, because the choice wasn't of his autonomous consent, and he was highly susceptible to fall into it - and for Louis I think he does (technically it's only his right to do as well*) - but even Louis can not excuse for things Armand of his own volition chose to do.

Because Louis has some self respect, and does understand love requires trust, he had to end things there. The fact Armand still wanted to fight for it anyway says a lot about his own development throughout all this time, and how it's not moved very much forward from where it started. To end off, I would think this sets him up for a lot of growth in later seasons. He's literally hit a wall, and has to now redirect his life.

*When I say 'technically' it's Louis right for the purposes of respecting this is fictional media this right only naturally extends to the community Louis represents: [Black people, Black queer men, Black abuse survivors, etc.]. These people do not have to side with Louis excusing it, and that should be respected always more than Louis own excusing of it wrt the shows text. In other words, there's no excusing it except through Louis eyes. That's how that has to work.

[armandyke]

I'm so excited for Marius to show up in the show so I can have a physical target for all my vitriolic hatred. right now I just feel like old man yells at cloud.

[arcadiiian]

i was wondering what the show was going to do with the whole "botticelli angel" thing and i actually could not be a bigger fan of how it was done . genuinely the whitewashed unrecognizable painting did something to me "no one has painted me in 400 years" was that even you!! or was that just all they saw you as!!! someone to project images of western beauty and desire on until the illusion could no longer hold up!!!!!!!

[bizarrebazaar13]

interview with the vampire is like if that “what doesn’t kill you makes you weird at intimacy” post was a show

[isaacathom]

im looking forward to next session of dnd in two weeks for lots of reasons but also because i think telling Euphemia that i had a vision that i killed her boss in a very like, personal and up close manner will go extremely well for me

[scruus]

playful slutty boys who send videos of them jerking off or fingering their tight hole on days you are busy in office. a lazy grin on their face with their legs spread wide apart for you to stare wide eyed through the screen while their hands rub up and down their sensitive chest, moaning out loud. they say the nastiest shit, “my hole is feeling so empty without you” or “my poor cock needs to be roughly slapped mommy”, while shamelessly wiggling their ass towards the camera. and when you get home all dizzy and extremely fucking horny, he sits on the couch all pretty in your hoodie with a tub of ice cream. eyes blinking innocently up at you, feigning the question, “what did i do?” before you drag their ass into bed to rail them hard.

ASMODEUS, CHILDE, suguwara, OIKAWA, atsumu, marius, GOJO, howl, KAEYA, venti, ayato, bakugou, DENKI, SAMPO

[eternallyei]

smut, painter men x f!reader

Painter men that’s so obsessed with your curves that he unconsciously draws details of it in his paintings every time his hands start speaking his mind.

He knows the curves of your waist by heart, he doesn’t even give any thoughts about how to paint the canvas. It’s so precise in his mind, as if he had been painting you for ages. Clearly it’s automatic, like his hands were stuck in a loop to draw you.

You’re his muse, his biggest inspiration days and nights. He daydreams and dreams about your delicate figure roaming around his studio. His cheeks flushing pink whenever you finally walk in the room.

He spends hours looking at your figure, your mimics, the way you frown when you get too concentrated in your work or lecture. When you show him something to have his opinion, your little face eager to get any reactions from your boyfriend.

The way your chest rise and falls when you breathe, fast or slow, anything is just enough to attract his attention. Just you, you only, he’s only ever muse, his most precious and most beautiful piece of art. All for him to paint in all of its meanings and colors.

“nngh.. please”

He smiles, remote tightly held in his defined hands while he presses buttons, the vibration only going stronger on your wet pussy. Eyes focused on the canva in front of him, concentrated on the emotions he’s painting into it, colors echoing the sound of your moans for only his ears to hear.

“stop squirming around like that, Miss.. w’dun wanna ruin such a piece of art now, do we ?”

Easier said than done when all he does is leave you drenched in sweat and your own cum on the sofa. You can just squirm in mixed pleasure and discomfort by the way the cold breeze hits your opened legs only for him to paint.

“i-ahh can’t.. anymore please.. ahh fuuck!”

It hits you, you cum yet again under his lust-dazed eyes piercing through your pleading and teary ones. He scoffs, his ears burning red at the envy but he isn’t done with the painting yet. Your words falling on deaf ears as he pushes the volume up more.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you can barely air a sound, and when you finally catch your breath, the lewdest moan escapes your throat. You swear if anyone passed by they’d think he’s torturing you. Well they wouldn’t be wrong but you asked for this.

He’s eyeing you, devouring you in small glances, a faint smirk glued to his lips. Only your pleads keep him from losing his mind, snapping him out of his pant for a bit.

If only this pant wasn’t so tight in the first place, but he needs just a few more strokes with his paintbrush. He’s too distracted by the way your face contorts in pleasure every time you cum on this sex-toy. Do you fucking love it more than his cock ?

“just a little more, baby..”

He sighs, barely holding a moan by the thought of painting you with his own sweet color. Fuck. He draws few more details and he jumps up his chair, almost throwing his brush and palette.

Hands quick to pull down his pants, holding his aching cock while his eyes stare at you in lust. He walks over to you, scanning your face to your chest rising up and down in distress for air, until he catches sight of your opened legs.

His favorite dessert fully undressed, a pinkish vibrator holding itself inside to try and pleasure you like he does. Thrown to the side and quickly replaced by his length, sliding between the spots that couldn’t be reached by the toy.

His dick is rock hard, it only takes him a few strokes to already cum inside your walls, but he hopes you weren’t expecting him to stop there because he was only getting a taste of what he was craving for a while long now.

It’s only the beginning and he’s going to make sure you’re painted more than any of his paintings. Whiter than any of the empty ones. Just to make sure he went to the end of his masterpiece.

— MARIUS RAFAYEL (albedo) —

— AND ANY OF YOUR FAVS ♡

came through my mind, was picturing the obsessive painting and it sounded cute at first lol until it turned into sth dirty..

likes, rb and comments are appreciated, thank you lovelies ♡

@eternallyei. please do not copy/translate/use as your own.

[bathroomcorpse]

i just. he was gonna send that boy to college. he was gonna watch him grow up. he was going to give him the chance to do all the things he never got a chance to do himself. and you took that from him. AGAIN.

finished tva……… killing marius with hammers as we speak

[thecharacterchronicler]

The Bitter Taste Of My Fury (Part 4) || Coriolanus Snow X Reader || Smut

GIF is not mine, credits to the creator/owner ❤️

Outline: After a vicious attack from the rebels, Coriolanus lets some of his true feelings for you show.

Word count: 5’133

Warnings: death, murder, PTSD and explicit smut.

Author’s note: I wrote this forever ago and can’t seem to be 100% satisfied with it for some reason, I’m feeling awfully self conscious putting this out so please have mercy on me.

I made a few changes to the original story so that it would fit with my fanfic. (Making the quarter quell for which they sent two boys and two girls the 25th one instead of the 50th so that Coriolanus and his wife’s ages would fit into my plot.) I tried to make it readable as a one shot but keep in mind that it’s actually part of a multi-part series if you need/want more context.

It would help me out a lot with my next WIPs if you could answer the poll down below 🖤

((Part 1 - There Will Come A Ruler)) - ((Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top)) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable)) - (( Part 5 - Craving ))

Coriolanus risked a glance from behind the black curtain to survey the large amphitheater quickly - and noisily - filling up. It was his last speech before the day of the election, his last opportunity to convince the people of Panem that he would be a good president. He had been working on his text for weeks, the last few days he had even stayed up all night to practice and memorize it to the point that the words were constantly turning in his head. He was nervous and, even if he usually was pretty good at hiding it - he felt like all the citizens taking place in the room to listen to him would notice how much he was afraid of messing up.

“You’re supposed to go on stage in five minutes.” Minerva said, Coriolanus’s young assistant was stressed out, as per usual. “Excuse me Sir, but I couldn’t help but notice that your wife isn’t here… Yet ?”

The last time Coriolanus had seen you, you both got into an argument which ended with him, fucking you rougher than what he ever allowed himself to until then. Once he was done with you, you still seemed upset with him and the reason of the dispute still grated on his nerves. For the three following days, he had spent his nights at his office. He had been mulling over what your strong feelings about such a futile matter might mean. He had expected you to be unhappy with his decision to fire Marius, your driver, but he hadn’t thought you’d be so vocal about it, even daring to demand that he be rehired. He had fired a lot of his employees in the past and you had never complained about it once, but your personal driver seemed more important to you than all the others… Was it because you had an affair with him ? Was he the one to provide you with comfort and attention whenever Coriolanus worked late ? And what if he was the one who ended up getting you pregnant ? Surely he couldn’t accept that. His heir needed to be his.

“I sent Alastair to get her an hour ago, they should arrive any minute now.” He replied, his tone unexpectedly soft in contrast to his growing irritation. But he had faith that his own driver would drag you out of the manor himself if you refused to attend such an important event for your husband.

Coriolanus glanced in the amphitheater once again, scanning the crowd in search of your familiar face but still didn’t find it. He tugged on his collar, feeling more stressed than ever before. He knew every word to his speech, he knew exactly how to behave, how to move, how to smile to win this once and for all and yet, beads of nervous sweat were forming on his forehead, his tie suddenly too constricting for his rapid breathing.

When Minerva waved a hand at him, he had no choice but to take his place at the center of the stage, even if he still hadn’t spotted you among the crowd. It was unlikely of you to be late. And even less likely that his driver would be late… The applause and cheers from his audience as he walked out from behind the black curtain almost made him forget about it all though. For a brief moment, he felt the adrenaline buzzing in his body, making him believe that he was capable of anything and proving yet again that his place was there, on stage, at the center of everyone’s admirative attention.

He smiled, waved, spotted a few influential people seating in the first rows and made sure to make eye contact with each of them as he started his speech. His best one.

But no matter how perfect his tone was, how carefully chosen his words were, the crowd slowly began to grow agitated. A few heads turned to take a look at the doors, some noise coming from behind them and before he could even fathom what had happened, an intense blow pushed him back, making his ears ring.

The loud explosion made the foundations of the ampitheater tremble, windows shattered, pieces of the ceiling came crushing to the ground but the chaos that followed was by far the scariest part. People screamed in terror, rushing in every direction to get out, pushing and stepping over each other with no decorum left, the crowd had turned into a bunch of frightened animals and they all were individually fighting for their lives.

A door was opened and a thick dark smoke rapidly filled the room, making everyone cough and scream louder. Coriolanus pulled his collar over his mouth and nose, trying to filter the smoke he’d inhale and retreated behind the black curtain, knowing there would be a door for him to escape much more easily there, out of the frenzy and chaos of the crowd.

He rushed to the back, fleeing by the concealed door while his people kept fighting to escape the suffocating smoke. He looked around, trying to get his thoughts back in order to come up with a plan, he needed to find a way to warn your driver about what had happened, so that he could avoid bringing you straight into danger. Better yet, he could drive you far away from it.

He walked in hurried steps while the people who had managed to escape ran away, the magnificent and imposing capitol building menacing to completely shatter and tumble down into dust. Leaving and reaching the street outside was the best course of action to ensure his safety, but a part of him with visibly no instinct of survival, remained determined to look around in search of a phone or whatever device he could use to warn you. To make sure you’d be safe.

He reached the front desk of the town hall, searching among the fallen bricks and thick layers of rubble with the hope to find something that would work to contact your driver…

Alastair ?

Coriolanus blinked a few times, stopping his frenetic search of the desk to stare at the silhouette running to the doors, recognizing the bald head and small frame of his driver.

“Alastair ?!” He called, as loud as he could to be heard above the distant screams and cries. The man turned around to look at him, fear appearing in his eyes when he recognized his boss… So he kept running.

Coriolanus took off after him, his tall legs giving him a clear advantage to catch up on the older man. He pushed him aside, grabbing him by his collar and slammed him against a dangerously unstable pillar.

“Where is my wife ?” He asked, leveling his face with his so that he could stare at him with his most menacing look.

“The rebels, they attacked… It was an explosion.” Alastair mumbled, inconherently. Coriolanus purposely slammed him against the hard surface again, hoping the shock it caused to his head would bring him back to his senses.

“WHERE IS MY WIFE ?!” He shouted, making it clear that if he had to ask again he might knock him unconscious instead.

“I don’t know, it exploded… The smoke… I ran.”

“You left her ?!” Your husband asked him, rage dangerously starting to take over at the realization that the one he had trusted with your security had so easily left you behind to save his own life.

“I have a family.” Alastair justified, his voice weakening and his breathing coming out raucous and labored. What was that supposed to mean ? That he was more important than you because he had children ? Was he implying that you didn’t deserve to live as much as he did because you hadn’t gave him a heir yet ?

Coriolanus’s gaze fell to his hands, the ones he was holding tightly around his driver’s neck, squeezing with all the strength of his rage. The older man started choking, tried to fight his employer off but he wasn’t strong enough and the shock of the whole situation didn’t help him think rationally enough to hope win this fight for his life.

Tighter.

Alastair’s face became alarmingly pale.

Tighter.

Alastair’s lips turned blue.

Tighter.

Alastair’s body dropped down on the floor.

Dead.

Coriolanus took a step back, watching the limp figure on the ground with clear disgust but he wasn’t sure if he felt it because Alastair had abandoned you or for himself, for adding someone else’s blood to his already stained hands.

There was no time to ponder his actions anyway. The judgment of his morals would have to wait until he found you and got you to safety. It was all that mattered. So, while people were still running out of the falling apart building, he ran back in, straight towards the thick smoke.

He called your name, so desperate to hear your voice answering him but the fleeing crowd was way too loud and agitated for him to hope hearing it and let it lead him to you. But he kept shouting anyway.

Some of his employees found him, tried to convince him to turn around and leave before the ceiling would collapse on him but he refused, determined to find you, even with the smoke burning his lungs and irritating his eyes.

His head was spinning, if the first people he had ran into were wearing their formal attire, slowly he started recognizing the red academy uniforms he used to wear every day. Then, he noticed the colors of a rainbow dress, fading in the thick smoke in front of him. A long time ago, the person wearing it had ran to him to save him from a similar situation, now she seemed to be running away, impossible for him to catch.

Was she the one who had led this violent attack against him ? And now she was here, running around the debris like an untouchable wild animal just to taunt him ? Of course she did. All she ever wanted was to end him. Ruin his life. Ruin everything.

Real or not, he followed her path, desperate to see where she would lead him. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him though, the feeling of being an eighteen years old boy who knew nothing about anything anymore. A naive man, who thought his survival depended on other people rather than on himself.

“Coryo…” Your voice called, answering his calls.

He perked up with a renewed determination to make his way through the smoke and find you. Rainbow colors and blood red uniforms faded from his vision. You were close, so he kept shouting your name, frantically searching around him until he collided against you.

He knew your body well enough by now to instantly recognize you, no one fitted in his arms the way you did. He looked down at you, trying to decipher wether you were injured or not but the dust covering your skin and hair made it hard to spot any trace of blood. He turned around, wanting to go back on his footsteps now that your hand was secured in his but he stopped when he noticed you could barely keep up, limping and coughing after each wince of pain that deformed your face.

Without a word, he came back to you and picked you up, carrying you in his arms even if his lungs were about to give up too. If he was going to die today, so be it but not before he got you out of there.

A plea for help resounded next to you, the barely visible shape of a woman stuck under a heavy pillar outstretching an arm in your direction, begging for her life. Coriolanus looked at her but kept walking, collateral damages were inevitable.

Finally, the smoke started dissipating, replaced by fresh air that burned your lungs in an entirely different way. A large crowd had formed in the street, kept at good distance from the collapsing building by peacekeepers. Many pairs of curious eyes turned to you, recognizing the presidential candidate heroically carrying his wife away from a vicious rebel attack. Some peacekeepers approached, freeing your husband’s arms to carry you to safety. They brought you to a medical tent that had been set up, where professionals and volunteers were running around, trying to care for the many injured and wounded victims.

An oxygen mask was placed on your face, providing you with the air you so desperately needed while a young woman tried to make you as comfortable as possible despite her apparent overwhelm.

“I’ll find some oxygen for you too, Sir.” She promised Coriolanus but he shook his head, refusing.

“Take care of my wife first.” He asked, and the woman nodded before scurrying away.

Time seemed to slow down as Coriolanus spent countless hours in the armchair next to your hospital bed, watching over you, making sure you were taken well care of and mulling over his thirst for revenge. The rebels had crossed a line with this attack, they were clearly targeting him - and you - with it and that was simply unacceptable. His desire to become the new president of Panem was consuming him more than ever, thinking about the possibilities such a position would offer him to retaliate in kind against the districts. He could order the troops to bomb them, erase them from the map and the surface of the earth. He could decide of the fate of the very ones who committed the crime to try and kill him, he could set an example of what doom would be brought upon anyone who ever tried to hurt a Snow again… But he wasn’t president, yet.

However, his position as head gamemaker of the Hunger Games gave him quite a unique chance to keep the districts in check and remind them who truly held the power, after all, he had learned all the tricks from Doctor Gaul during the few years he had been working for her. He knew the only way to get his message to the rebels would be to answer in kind and make sure they’d know the fear of potentially loosing someone precious to them too…

A few days later, the doctors cleared you to go home so he decided to go back to his office and put his plan in motion.

As soon as he sat behind his desk, Minerva entered his office, holding a large file against her chest.

“I received the official report of the incident.” She announced, handing him the paper. He flipped the pages, brows furrowed and eyes rapidly darting across each paragraph.

“Twenty four deaths… And counting.” He read out loud.

“And I’m very sorry to tell you that I was informed that Alastair is among the victims.” She told him, which caused him to look at her, gravity etched on his face.

He had the perfect reaction. Not too emotional. Still professional. Believable.

“Do we know what happened to him exactly ?”

“The coroner said he died of asphyxiation from the smoke, like many others unfortunately.”

“It’s unfortunate indeed.” Coriolanus nodded, with a forced frown. “Make sure to send our condolences to his family.”

“Of course, Sir.” His assistant said, taking notes. “Anything else i can do ?”

“Yes… Call the press, I have an important announcement to make.” He stated, still more determined than ever to make everyone involved pay for what they did.

“And now, a message from Coriolanus Snow, head gamemaker of the Hunger Games and candidate for presidency.” The news anchor announced, as the camera zoomed in on your husband’s tired face, his brow furrowed and severity marking his traits.

“On Friday, people of the Capitol were the target of a terrible attack from an outlawed and violent group of radical people. We’ve lost precious lives and many of our citizens were gravely wounded during the attack.” Coriolanus spoke, solemnly, as the cameras shifted between different point of views of him. His voice was calm despite the rage displayed on his face. “Therefor, in retaliation, as head gamemaker, I have decided to make the 25th edition of the Hunger Games one that will remind everyone of the Capitol’s power… For this first quarter quell, each district will be required to send two boys and two girls into the arena.”

You watched your husband’s press conference on the television in the quiet and lonely living room of the manor, jaw dropping at his announcement. Was he taking advantage of the attack to give a lesson to the district, show his almighty power and advance his presidential campaign by gaining the Capitol’s support ? Or was he seeking out revenge for you ? Your chest tightened at the thought, could he care about you enough to be doing this for you ? Imagining you could be one of the reasons - among a thousand more important ones - for the punishment he decided to impose on the districts made your heart beat faster. With a husband so shy for words, a gesture like this one would speak volumes about how he truly felt.

You reached for the remote with a wince and turned the TV off, plunging the living room in darkness apart from the faint light coming from the crackling fire in the chimney. You stood with another wince, silently cursing at the doctors for sending you home without any meds to manage the pain you still felt so vividly in your body. If you had been a simple citizen, surely they would have kept you there longer, made sure that you were fully healed before letting you leave the private sector of the Capitol’s hospital but since the crowd of reporters, cameras and photographers was increasing with each passing day by the entrance of the hospital, they took the decision to send you home. Officially, it was meant to reassure Panem about the health of their potential future First Lady, show them you were as strong and courageous as your husband. But really, they just wanted to get rid of the public disturbing their other patients‘ peace.

You climbed the stairs leading to your bedroom slowly, and then sat at your vanity with a sigh. The reflection in front of you didn’t do justice to how you really felt. As soon as you had been discharged, a team invaded your room to make you look as flawless as you were always supposed to be, taking care of your hair, your makeup, your clothes, hiding any trace of the attack so that you could walk out, dazzling and smiling for the cameras. And of course you did just that. You managed to answer a few questions shouted at you with elegance and respect , offering sympathy to the ones who had suffered more than you did , smiling as some children handed you flowers and holding your head high just to let the rebels know that it would take more than this to bring Mrs Snow down.

But deep inside, you were a wreck. Images of the attack kept popping in your mind, you could still smell the smoke, feel it filling your lungs, suffocating you. You could still hear the screams, the cries, the shouts and the explosions. You could still feel the sharp pain in your shoulder when the column behind you collapsed and a heavy piece of marble hit you. You still had the bruises and the scratches on your skin from all the debris that flew in your face, even if they currently were hidden under a thick layer of makeup.

You slowly took it all off with a wipe, feeling almost relieved at the sight of the purple mark on your cheek and the other one on your neck, like a validation that you weren’t feeling so bad for nothing. You reached up to untie the sophisticated hairdo your beauty team had insisted on doing, but the sharp pain in your shoulder combined to the stiffness of your neck made it impossible to take more than two pins out before having to bring your arms down and take a deep breath to try and soothe the pain.

You had always considered yourself lucky to have such a big team of talented people to prepare you for every event you had to attend, sometimes they even got you ready and looking your best for simple shopping trips or private dinners if they expected you to be followed by reporters and photographers. But then, once the lights were out, the crowd long gone and the cameras pointed somewhere else, once you were back in the privacy and loneliness of your own home, then there wasn’t anyone to help you take off all this attire and help you be yourself again.

You were about to give up. At the moment, sleeping with twenty pins stabbing your scalp didn’t seem merely as painful as lifting your arm again did. But a movement in your mirror caught your attention. You lifted your eyes to the reflection, noticing a white silhouette, almost glowing in contrast to the darkness of your room, standing by the door, big blue eyes set on you.

You observed him quietly for a moment, unsure if he was really there or if it was yet another trick your mind was playing on you. Because you had a lot of visions of him lately. His face appearing in thick smoke. His voice shouting your name. His arms carrying you out of the chaos. His hand holding yours in the cold hospital room… You weren’t sure which memories were real or not. You couldn’t tell if he really had been by your side at the hospital this whole time or if you had just imagined his presence to reassure yourself. Were you imagining him there again so you wouldn’t feel so desperately lonely ?

“Let me help you with that.” He said, his tone softer than usual. He took the few steps in your direction, stopping behind you. You watched in the mirror as his fingers wandered in your hair in search of pins to take off, letting locks of hair fall down on your shoulders each time he removed one.

His touch was real. The heat you felt coming from his chest and radiating on your back was real. The expression of worry on his face every time he met your gaze in the reflection was real. He was real.

And instead of reassuring you like you thought it would, you suddenly felt invaded in your privacy to have him here, in your bedroom for the very first time. He shouldn’t see you like this, with your makeup off and your hair down, the bruises and the sorrow all too visible on your face. This wasn’t the image of the wife he had asked for. The wife who he wanted to impregnate. It was a pathetic reflection of a wounded and scared girl, wondering if she’ll ever be able to recover from such an horrific incident.

“I didn’t leave the hospital looking like this.” You felt compelled to say to justify how you looked in front of him, uncomfortable at the thought that it was the very first time he’d see you as you really were.

“I know, I watched the news from my office.” He simply said, focusing on finding the few last pins still tugging at your hair.

“And I watched your press conference.”

“What do you think about my idea for the quarter quell ?” His pale eyes found yours, silently gauging your reaction.

“I think a lot of people will love it, it’ll probably gain you many votes for the next round…”

“Probably but I meant what do you think about it ? Will it be a clear enough message to the districts that there will be hell to pay if they ever even think about hurting us again ?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Do you think all of Panem will now know that nobody hurts my wife without meeting the consequences ?”

You left out a breath, shocked by the rage you saw burning in his usually charming eyes. Either he was masterfully manipulative, wanting to make you believe that the decision he took to hold special games in retaliation was to avenge you, while it was, in fact, all about his career first. Either he really had done it for you, and the implications of such a revelation in regards to his true feelings for you were as terrifying to you as the first hypothesis was.

He remained quiet, removing his hands from your hair once he had pulled out the last pin and reached down to the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down with his pale eyes fixed to yours in the mirror.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he trying to help you ? The zipper being in your back, you probably would have struggled to reach it, but the way he was taking care of it, so torturously slow, the tip of his fingers grazing the soft skin he revealed on his path made you question his true motives.

He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your neck, exactly where your heart started pulsing wildly in reaction. He pulled the fabric of your dress down, until it pooled around your hips. You saw him take a look at your reflection in front of him, the sight of the bruise on your chest and the other one over your clavicle setting his fury ablaze. He balled his fists tightly, as if he was trying to contain himself so you turned around to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

You didn’t dare consider that the reason for his anger was because he cared about you enough… But the way he relaxed into your touch made you wonder if you should.

He kissed your lips. Softly. Gently. Almost reverently, as if he was taking the full measure of what he could have been deprived of for the rest of his life with a different outcome of the events of that night.

“I will kill them.” He declared, a cold determination in his tone you had never heard from him before. “I’ll kill every single person responsible for this.”

He moved his fingers over the purple bruise on your chest, a featherlight touch that still caused you a sting of pain, to mark his words.

You remembered a quote you had studied in school, it said something like “pain is the only thing that makes us feel alive.” And, since it was written in your book and taught by your professor, you had always considered it to be true… Until now. Now you knew that there wasn’t anything else on earth that could possibly make you feel more alive than Coriolanus Snow and the way he kissed you, touched you and filled you up. And no pain would be able to stop your determination of feeling alive tonight. Maybe his way to cope from the attack was to hunger for violence and blood, but yours was to live.

You leaned towards him and kissed him with more fervor than he did. He returned the kiss but kept some restraint from the usually hungry and rough way you were used to having him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He groaned, against your lips. “Not when you’re hurt and still recovering.”

“I’m not made of sugar.” You assured him, with a soft smile but he didn’t return it, moving away to look at you like he had seen a ghost. Did he have flashbacks of the attack too ? Or something else ? He’d probably never tell you anyway, because he shook it off before you could open your mouth and ask him if he was alright, worry leaving its place to resolve on his face.

He walked to your bed, stopping at the edge and scanning your nightstand carefully as he slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. Then, he looked around, his eyes taking a moment to consider each object, each piece of decoration in your bedroom. It was the first time he entered it and although the way he threw his shirt on the floor and began unfastening his belt suggested he had other plans than simply asking you for a tour, he still took in most of the details of the only place where you could find privacy in your own home.

You stood up, removing your dress too and feeling suddenly very exposed to him. Your room, your face without makeup, your hair undone, your bruised skin, everything you usually kept hidden from your husband was now on display for him to see and you felt self conscious about it.

“Lie down.” Coriolanus demanded, kicking his pants off, leaving him with nothing on but his bare body for you to stare at, his skin almost as white as the suits he liked to wear.

You obeyed, climbing on the bed from the opposite side from where he stood. You let your head fall down on your fluffy pillow, breathing a sigh of relief as you noticed how the many aches in your body were appeased by the comfortable mattress under you.

He climbed on the bed next to you and it felt somewhat strange to see him there, in your room, on your sheets, naked. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your underwear and gently pulled them down your legs, the lace fabric sending shiver down your spine on its way down your body.

He spread your legs open for him, and placed himself between them, sitting back on his knees. He looked at your bruises again so, instinctively, you tried to hide them with your arms and hands in fear that he might change his mind and leave you wanting. Thankfully, he had mercy for you and, even though he didnt seem quite sure about how to proceed this time - as if he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to tame his usual roughness - he slowly stroked the tip of his cock between your folds.

He guided it in circles, teasing your entrance every once in a while, pressing over your bud, spreading your growing wetness all over in its wake and you noticed how it made him harden too, his cock increasing in length and girth in his hand with each movement.

It didn’t take long for either of you to be ready for more. After all, it had been a whole week during which the only physical contacts you had shared was him holding your hand at the hospital or placing a chaste kiss on your forehead each time he had to leave you for a while, and that was if you hadn’t dreamed or imagined it.

No longer able to tease you, he ended up pushing his erected member inside you, finding its way in so easily it felt like you were made to fit him by now. He noticed it too, how easy it was for him to bury himself all the way in you until his balls were squeezed between your bodies and he sighed with contempt as your warm and wet pussy engulfed him fully.

You said his name in a panted breath, loving the way he filled you up with his hard cock and his eyes darted to yours, his gaze shining with lust. He moved, starting with short slides back and forth to make sure you could take it then, once he saw you close your eyes and bite your lip to conceal a moan, he got a bit rougher and faster, shoving himself back in with enough force to make the bed crack loudly.

“Yes!” You cried, as you felt his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot so deep inside you, sending such pleasure through your entire body that you already felt close to coming undone. If there was any pain in your bruised body, you didn’t feel it anymore. All your mind could focus on was the intensity of his thrusts inside of you and the ecstasy building in your core in reaction.

He moved to hover over you, the change of angle making his strong movements even more intense. A moan fell from your lips but he silenced it with a hungry kiss, his taut chest pressing against yours.

He gathered you in his arms, holding your body tightly against his as he kept relentlessly thrusting inside you, swallowing all the moans that escaped from your lips with his desperate kisses.

You closed your legs around his hips, holding on to him as tightly as he was holding on to you. His thrusts lost their speed and intensity, but he still hit exactly where you needed him, making you whimper and moan with pleasure. His grip tightened and so did yours, both of you determined to never let each other go, him holding you like you might vanish at any moment and you holding him like your life depended on it.

He groaned, spilling his seed inside you with one powerful push. You dug your nails in his back, as his movements slowed down and your body contracted, your mind swimming in bliss.

He was panting, from his efforts and from the feverish kisses he kept giving you through it all. And yet he captured your lips with his again, in a much softer - almost loving - kiss. Then he set you free from his embrace, rolling on his side next to you and you istantly felt cold without the weight and warmth of his body on top of yours.

You shivered and he noticed, pulling the sheet over your numb body. You looked at him, wondering if he’ll stay the night. It would be the very first time you’d get to sleep with your husband. If the idea would have been dreadful to you just a year ago, now you wanted nothing more than to press your spent body against his and feel his presence as you drift off to sleep, knowing that you are safe with him by your side.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[revasserium]

nxx #1 - waking up with you

artem.

you wake up to find him watching you, the summer sky of his eyes fixed on you as you smile and yawn and curl closer. “sleep well?” he asks, his voice still husky and rough, the silk and gravel of a jazz singer in a smoke-filled bar, delicious and intoxicating. he asks you about your dreams, traces soft, abstract lines into the bare skin of your waist, smiles at the way you get shy when you realize what a mess your hair is, tugs you back when you try to pull away from him to straighten it out — he says, “no��� let be it,” he says, “it looks good like this… just like this…”, he says, “sometimes… i think i’m still dreaming when i wake up next to you,”, he says, “look at me…” and he smiles, cups your cheek, holds you still as you stare back at him, searching his eyes only to find love and love and love.

luke.

you wake up to find him watching you, though he’s still clearly barely awake himself — there’s a shy, lazy grin caught on his lips and he slips over to slip his arm around your waist to pull you closer, nuzzle into your cheek if only to make you laugh. “hey! what’s so funny?” he asks, a pout already pressed between his lips, his eyes drawn large and puppy-like, but you smile and shake your head, tell him that it’s nothing, kiss the tip of his nose just to see him blush before he dives on top of you, pinning you beneath him with a bright laugh, “ah, so that’s how you wanna play?” he says, his honeycomb hair falling to frame his face and you — you stare up at him, breathless. he has the decency to blush again before collapsing at your side and tugging you closer, “mm… it’s too early for that, isn’t it?” he asks, looping his arm around your middle and pulling you close, “let’s sleep in for just a bit longer, hm?”

vyn.

you wake up to find him watching you, his cheek propped up on the heel of his hand, his eyes like twin stars, bright and burning and inquisitive, “ah… good morning, my sleeping beauty,” he says, smiling as you bury your face in your pillow to stifle a yawn, feeling you cheeks heat at the thought of him watching you sleep for god knows how long and — were you drooling? he laughs as you peer up at him over the top of your pillow, your hair a birds nest sitting atop your head — he reaches out to muss it up even more, a fond smile gracing his lips as he leans in. he kisses both your eyelids before pulling back, “good dreams, i hope? you were smiling a lot so…” he cocks his head to watch you, ever the scientist as you are ever the butterfly, pinned to the cushion beneath him. “s-something like that…” you say, averting your eyes as you try not to recall the details of your less-than-kosher dream of him, but he only leans in, his smile widening slightly as he pulls you closer, “mm… tell me about it… and maybe… we’ll be able to make some of those dreams come true, hm?”

marius.

you wake up to find him asleep — or so you think, but the grin on his lips tells you otherwise, and when you try to pull away, a pair of arms reaches out to tug you back against his warm chest, his hold on you tight and steady as you feel him nosing into the back of your neck, “ah… jiejie… how mean — trying to leave me before i wake up…” you laugh to yourself before flipping over to meet his dazzling, gemstone gaze, pursing your lips as you take him in, “if you were asleep, how’d you know i was trying to leave?” you ask, but he only crinkles his nose and leans in to bury his face in the crook of your neck, whining even as you feel him smirk against your skin — “so mean, jiejie… bullying me on a weekend morning… after everything that happened last night…” you feel yourself go hot at his words, thinking back to last night — to the heat and friction, to the give and take. you swallow as he chuckles, pulling back to pin you with those saturday night eyes of his — “don’t you think you owe me just a little, hm?” he asks, pulling you beneath him and pinning you there, “didn’t you promise you’d make me feel good too?” and you can barely nod before he’s grazing his lips along the bare skin of your shoulder, letting out a soft, wanton moan, “so… how about we start… right now?”

tot MARIUS reqs are officially open u__u

[chalkscene]

tears of themis ⇢ WOULD YOU KISS ME FOR $10 OR THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD FOR $700?

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

“i have a question,” you tell LUKE. he’s sat on the couch, playing some new video game which he immediately pauses to acknowledge you. “okay, shoot.” “would you kiss the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars or me for only 10 dollars?” before luke can school his features, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as memories from your childhood flash in his mind. ever since you were kids, you’ve always had the most random trivia and inquiries ready to share with him—his heart swells at the thought of you not having changed at all. going back to your question, luke normally would’ve been deep in thought searching for an answer but he’s always had it in him. so with loving eyes, he meets your expectant ones. “you know i’d kiss you for free.”

ARTEM looks up from his paperwork, paying you his undivided attention now. “come again?” you’re halfway through repeating the question when he cuts you off with a chuckle, “i heard you the first time.” you know he’s just too nice to dismiss you but if you spend another minute thinking about your case, you’re going to lose your mind. “so, what’s your answer?” “i’d kiss you,” he replies without skipping a beat and his lips curl into a smile. you mirror his expression before glancing at the door then back at your boyfriend. “can you kiss me now?” you pout, “i need motivation.” artem shakes his head at your antics but he adores them. he gets up from his seat en route to your side of the office, leaning in to grant your request when celestine barges into the room, “artem- oh.” artem immediately straightens up and clears his throat as he takes a step back from your desk, “yes?” whatever celestine’s come to see him for is soon forgotten, clearly enjoying the sight she walked into. the whole firm knows about your relationship with artem so you remain unfazed—unlike stellis’ notable lawyer whose cheeks are blushing furiously, unable to meet your colleague in the eye.

“missed your pretty face,” MARIUS says in greeting the moment you open the door. half an hour ago, he called to let you know he was on his way to your apartment. now here he is, leaning in for a kiss which is immediately followed by a sigh of pleasure at the feeling of your mouth on his. “you say that as if i’m not your lockscreen,” you tease when you pull away. “i can’t kiss my phone though.” he winks then dips his head lower for another peck but you stop him with a finger over his lips. marius’ eye brows shoot up in surprise, coaxing a giggle out of you. with a cheeky smile, you ask, “would you kiss me for 10 dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars?” “what kinda question is that?” he scoffs and rolls his eyes at its absurdity before his familiar cockiness once again takes over his features. “miss, i’d pay to kiss you.”

“is something on your mind?” VYN’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts—well, thought. you’ve had this random question plaguing your brain for a while now. “what is it?” vyn asks again. “well…” you begin, trying to form the words before you utter them, “i was curious…” “go on.” “would you kiss me for 10 dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars?” vyn doesn’t respond right away, blinking at you as he is momentarily dumbfounded. but it’s not long before you sense the gears in his mind turning. you’re not sure if it’s due to the nature of his job as a psychiatrist but vyn is never not thinking—you truly believe he’s actually taking the question seriously. soon enough, he gives you his answer. “my rose,” he says as he tenderly takes your hand in his, “your kisses are priceless.”

[valkyrayn]

Ride Your King // Marius x Fem!Reader

Tags: light bondage, filthy talking, pussy eating, squirting, blowjob, cock riding, fingering, marking, scratching, praise kink, loud sex, rough fucking, huge cock, breeding kink, multiple rounds, fucking on the: floor, table, wall, bathtub, morning sex, fluff at the end--filthy self-indulgent porn

posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments there

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“…how long are you going to keep me tied up?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a seductive smirk playing on his lips—oh, he’s absolutely loving this. You watch your fiance with a matching smirk, he’s sat on the floor with his legs spread in front of him, wrists bound behind his back by a silk scarf, his white shirt unbuttoned, damp with his sweat. He looks sinful, like a devil brought solely into your presence to seduce and pleasure you. 

And for that reason alone, he needs to be restrained. You want to be in control this time.

“Until you make me cum,” you reply, sporting a confidence that you never knew you had but that’s what being with Marius does to you. 

You hear him chuckle, his eyes dark with lust as he takes a full view of your body from top to bottom—clad in see-through lingerie, courtesy of him, with its lacy hem resting high above your knees. It’s so revealing you might as well not be wearing anything. He takes a deep breath, satisfied with your choice of clothing and looks up at you with a grin on his face. 

“With my cock or with my mouth…which one do you want first?” He asks so casually. He tilts his head slightly to the side to get a better view of you. “Your choice, my Queen.”

A small whimper escapes you, feeling your cunt throb at his words, immediately providing images in your head on how this is going to end later—with you writhing under him and begging for more… 

Marius’ eyes widen when you suddenly get on all fours on the floor, crawling towards him with a playful smirk on your lips. For someone so confident just a few seconds ago, he’s immediately flustered. “Jiejie…”

You can see his cock twitch behind his pants without you even touching him yet. The sight of him looking so desperate and needy for you makes you wet; feeling yourself begin to soak through the material of the lingerie that he’s bought for you. 

Mustering all the confidence you have, you lean down and start unzipping his pants with your teeth, all while keeping your eyes locked with his. 

He hisses through his teeth, lifting his hips off the floor, desperately trying to get closer to you only for you to push him back down by putting your weight on him. 

“Don’t be rude, Marius…good boys must be patient. Are you a good boy?”

He inhaled deeply. “Only if you want me to be…”

You click your tongue as you slowly slip your hand down his pants, earning another hiss from him the second your fingers make contact with his cock. “Babe…shit…” He curses under his breath when you finally pull his cock out, hot and heavy in your hand—the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Your small fingers can’t even wrap fully around him, swearing it has gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. 

You look at it with fascination, tracing the vein on the underside with your thumb, up to the tip, pink and leaking with precum. You latch onto the head with your lips before it could drip, licking it off with your tongue, relishing in the sweet salty taste of him while he’s struggling to keep himself composed. 

You release him with a pop but keep your hand around him as you stroke him gently. 

“Be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so…” His hips jerk upwards when you once again wrap your lips around him, taking him in inch by inch until your jaw hurts. His girth is simply too much for your small mouth—no amount of practice could get you to take him in whole, not without his help. So you settle for sealing your lips tightly around him, as deep as you can and swirl your tongue around him to stimulate him even further. You know how desperately he wants to grab you by the hair right now, to push you down even deeper, to fuck your throat until you gag—and heaven knows how much you want it too but you can’t give in just yet. 

You lift your head slightly to look at him and gods above, the sight of him alone can make you cum. His whole shirt is now unbuttoned–you can see the blush blooming on his cheeks up to his ears and despite the blasting air conditioner, he is sweating, covering his beautifully sculpted body with a thin sheen of perspiration. Your eyes follow that one droplet of sweat trailing down his neck, disappearing between his heaving chest—the expensive material of his white shirt is now sticking to his skin.

“Nngh…jiejie please…” You hear him say in between grunts.

Locking eyes with him, you give an inward lick before pulling your mouth off only to immediately go back in, sealing your lips around the head of his cock and licking between the slit to swallow more of his leaking precum. “Fuck, baby–!”

Fuck is right. His cock feels so fucking good in your mouth, you can’t help but moan as you swallow more of him, feeling it twitch when it finally touches the back of your throat. You only manage to keep him in there for a few seconds before yanking your head off to breathe, leaving a trail of saliva hanging between you and his tip. 

Marius’ eyes are rolled to the back of his skull, teeth biting his lower lip and nails sinking into his palms, willing himself not to cum even when he so desperately wants to. Knowing him, he’s already planning a hundred ways to get back at you after this and honestly, you’re excited for what’s to come. 

Releasing your grip around his dick, you smile at him innocently before standing up, leaving him flustered and breathless. Marius struggles with his restraints, trying to free himself, the regret finally sinking in for letting you tie him up in the first place because all he wants is to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked. To bury his cock so deep inside all your holes and have you begging for more like you always do.

“Babe…what did I say about being patient?”

You seductively lift the hem of your lingerie dress, showing your soaking cunt, putting on a small show for him by rubbing your clit with one hand. The erotic display is making his cock even harder and you watch as it twitches, begging to be sat on. You pull away your fingers, showing him how wet you are before leaning down to smear it against his pecs. “Behave or I’m not letting you fuck me…” 

Like an obedient pet, Marius immediately stops struggling, looking up at you with dark eyes slightly covered by his hair. You can sense his frustration but you know he’s just as turned on as you.

You step closer to him, bending down to whisper next to his ear. “Will you make me cum with your mouth, Marius?” 

He smirks. “You ask as if I don’t already do that for you every morning, babe.”

Smart mouth; time to put it to good use. You roll your eyes and stand up, positioning your cunt in front of him, slowly pushing yourself against his mouth as you thread your fingers through his hair below you. He doesn’t waste any time, immediately latching onto your pussy before you can even prepare yourself, causing you to fall forward then grabbing onto the door of the wardrobe to keep yourself upright. 

“Oh my fucking god, Marius—” Your fingers tighten around him to keep yourself steady as you push your hips closer to him. 

He pulls back to spit on your cunt before diving back in—pushing his tongue in and out of your hole, feeling your walls clench around him, filling your ears with wet schlicking sound of him eating out your pussy sloppily. He licks a stripe in between your folds, relishing at the taste of your creamy cunt. And then he wraps his lips around your little nub, suckling on it gently and swirling his tongue around it—sending waves of intense pleasure throughout your body. 

Marius knows all your sweet spots. The spot behind your ear he likes to caress that makes you sigh his name breathlessly. The spot inside your pussy that he likes to ram into with his cock because every time without fail, it makes your knees buckle as you come undone with a scream. 

The little nub of your cunt that he loves to tease with his tongue because it gives you such an intense pleasure you end up squirting all over him like a fountain. 

“God…Marius I’m cumming—”

He shoves his tongue back inside even deeper—the sudden intrusion pushes you instantly to the edge, making you gush uncontrollably into his mouth. 

His tongue is caught in between your quivering walls, so he proceeds to swirl it around inside you, savouring your taste and prolonging your orgasm until he’s all but drenched in your release. 

When you’re done, you step back with your barely stable legs and look down at him. His shirt is completely drenched now, your juices dripping from his chin and down his neck travelling all the way down his abs, flexing as he begins to move again to adjust his hands behind him.

The realisation finally sunk in that he had made you cum with his mouth alone, without the help of his fingers. Almost as if he could read your mind, “What’s wrong, babe? Missing my fingers already?” he laughs as he flips his hair back to keep it out of his face. 

“No…”

“Let me go and I’ll show you how good my fingers feel inside you? Remember you need to prep before you can take me…”

A small noise came out of you at the thought. He’s right, it takes a lot of prep and foreplay for you to be able to fully take him in, and he always makes sure that you are ready before he even sheathes it inside you. 

But no, you’ve decided that today, you will finally get used to his size. You want to feel the stretch of your pussy as it accommodates him. 

“Mmmm…you’ve done enough. Just sit tight and enjoy…”

Marius’ eyes widened at that, but immediately followed by a proud smile. His cock stands stiff between his legs, his balls heavy with cum waiting to unload inside you. He relaxes his shoulders and leans back against the wardrobe behind him, cocking his eyebrow at you as an invitation to sit on him.

“Well then. Why don’t you come here and ride your King.”

His deep voice reignites the fire deep within your womb, making your cunt throb with the desperate need to be filled by him.

And so you position yourself above him, lifting the hem of your skirt just slightly so you can press the tip of his cock against your dripping entrance. He watches you intently, fighting the voice inside his head telling him to just push his hips up so he can finally be inside you. 

Set in a squatting position above him, you finally, slowly push yourself down on him. “Oh fuck—” you curse under your breath at the feeling of his cock stretching your tight cunt, feeling every ridge and vein against your walls. You’re grateful for the foreplay because at least you’re lubricated enough to help him slide his way through and finally, finally—with a long satisfied moan, his cock is now fully inside you.

You lean forward and grab both sides of his face with your hands before kissing him, licking and biting as you slowly move your hips. He moans against your mouth, his impatience kicking in and then he’s suddenly pushing his hips up to meet you halfway—making you scream.

“Marius!” 

“Fuck baby—I need you to move…please…”

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you pull yourself up slowly, leaving only his tip inside you just so you can hear him groan in frustration. Leaning down, you gently kiss him on the lips. “So impatient…” 

And then you slam your hips back down, taking him in fully, mind reeling at how big he feels inside you. “Oh my god…” You start moving your hips faster, bouncing yourself on his cock, filling the room with the sound of your ass smacking against his thighs. String of curses leave his lips when you start grinding even harder, taking him in deeper. 

“Touch yourself…let me see you play with that pussy while you ride me.” 

As if entranced, you lift the hem of your skirt with one hand and start rubbing your clit with the other—making you gasp upon contact, the sensation sending electric throughout your body. But it doesn’t feel the same as having his fingers inside you. His long slender fingers, the way they would skillfully play with your clit and slide into you…you need his hands. 

Just as you’re about to reach out behind him to untie his bounds, you suddenly feel his large hands on your hips, making you snap your head up to look at him with eyes wide in surprise that he’s escaped from the restraints. With a shit-eating grin, he slides his body down to lie flat on his back and with his hands still tightly gripping onto your hips he then starts fucking up into you with no mercy. 

“Shit—Marius! Ah—too deep!” You scream, planting your palms against his chest as you fall forward from his rough thrusting. One of his hands move from your hips to rip the top of your lingerie off to fully expose your breasts to him so he can watch them bounce as he begins to fuck you even faster. “Marius what the fuck—”

He latches onto one of your nipples and starts suckling while his right hand starts kneading the other, so plump and soft in his grasp. Loud moans leave you with abandon, the perks of finally moving in together, isolated from the rest of the world, away from the ears of people. There isn’t a need for soundproof walls because you two are the only residents in this entire floor.

A high-pitched scream is ripped out of you when his cock presses against that sweet spot inside your pussy, sending you gushing around him as if a dam has been broken.

“That’s it…baby. Cum for me…drench me just like that…” 

“Fuck oh my god—Mar…” Your whole body twitches and trembles on top of him as you ride the wave of your orgasm, leaving your whole body sensitive even to the slightest brush of wind against your skin. 

His abs and thighs are drenched with your release so he wipes them with his shirt before they could drip onto the floor. While he waits for you to fully regain your strength, he makes a move to remove his entire pants before carrying you off the floor—with his cock still plugged inside you. 

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face against the crook of his neck as you let yourself be carried onto the corner of the room, before he slowly places you down onto the desk, right on top of the floor plan layout that he had drawn just this morning. 

Marius presses his hands against the underside of your thighs to keep your legs apart as he tantalisingly slides his stiff cock in and out of you. Meanwhile, you’re still drunk and incoherent, yet to fully recover from your release. 

“You’re creaming so much around my cock, jiejie…so fucking wet for me…” 

He watches with fascination at the way your cream is smeared on his dick every time he pulls out. He runs his fingers through your hair before yanking your head back, rough enough to make you gasp—and then he’s leaving open mouth kisses up your neck towards the back of your ear. “Mmmngghh…babe…” you sigh when he licks the spot behind your ear, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Am I allowed to cum now? I’ve been a very good boy…”

Suddenly he’s pushing his fingers inside your mouth and you wrap your tongue around them instinctively, sighing as he slowly pulls them out and drags them down your body—leaving wet trails of your saliva down between the valley of your breasts and towards your waiting pussy. He pulls his cock out of you, leaving you empty and lets it stand erect between you. And before you can whine in frustration, your body jerks when his fingers suddenly make contact with your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. 

Marius flicks your nub with his thumb as he sinks two of his long slender fingers inside you—the sensation of having your hole stretched makes your eyes roll back. 

“Will you let me fill you up, baby? Hmm?” He pushes in deeper, spreading them apart inside you. “Can you feel that? Your pretty little pussy is begging for my cum—it’s clenching around my fingers…” He hooks his fingers upwards making your body jerk against him, scrunching the paper beneath you. No words come out of you, just moans and pathetic whimpers, willing your body at his mercy. 

“Yes please…want—”

“Mmm you want to be fucked so bad don’t you…To fill you up…” He starts pumping his fingers, in—and out. “...with load after load…” A third finger goes in, stretching your walls even wider. “...until you’re leaking…and dripping…all over the floor with my cum…”

“Marius…please…”

Without warning, he suddenly pulls out his fingers from you and immediately sheathes his stiff cock inside you—ripping out a scream from your lungs. Marius pushes your thighs apart even wider, holding tight onto your ankles as he starts fucking your wet heat with abandon. You grab onto the sides of the table, nails sinking into the wood to hold yourself steady as you take his rough fucking like a champ. 

“My god…your pussy feels so fucking good…so fucking good…” He growls, somehow going even harder and faster, making your tits bounce wildly at every slam of his hips against your ass. He’s watching you through the curtains of his unkempt hair, damp with sweat and your release—eyes dark and blown with lust, promising a night full of hard, nasty and obscene fucking until your body is begging for respite.

Goosebumps rise all over your arms, nearing your edge as you begin to clench around his cock even tighter. The table moves and screeches against the tiles beneath you, knocking everything else off the table at the same time—pencils and papers rolling onto the floor. The sound of your squelching pussy and the wet smack of skin against skin fills your ear, stimulating you even further towards insanity. 

Whimpers turn into moans and moans turn into screams. Marius grabs you by the hair again and pulls your body up before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you roughly, sucking and biting your lips—only releasing you when you start gasping for air. Occasionally his necklace would brush against your skin, pulling you back into a state of awareness every time your vision starts turning white.

Your arms are wrapped around him, fingers sinking into his back, leaving scratches deep enough to mark him. Meanwhile, he’s sucking into the skin above your collarbones, branding you with several angry red marks.

His cock begins to twitch erratically within your walls, signalling that he’s close to release. 

“Watch me fuck my load inside you—” He folds your body forward so you can look at where your body is connected, his huge cock pumping in and out in quick rough thrusts, jamming himself so deep until he finally explodes inside you, spraying your walls with his scalding hot spend. Immediately after, you start gushing around him. 

Your body convulses against him, the wave of orgasm comes crashing on you like a ton of bricks, so intense to a point of blacking out. Marius is not doing any better but he manages to hold onto your weight with one arm, pumping his cock with his other hand ensuring every single drop of his cum ends up inside you. Your gushing release is not helping in the matter, causing everything to overflow out of you, dripping between the crack of your ass and onto the paper beneath you. 

The floor plan drawing is now ruined with splotches of wet marks, a combination of both of your fluids, seeped into the paper. 

“Marius…the floor plan—“

He pulls you off the table and pushes your body against the wall beside you, tits and cheek pressed against the cold surface. Marius’ huge body pins you from behind, cock heavy and resting against your ass, twitching and ready for more. He slides his hand towards your pussy so he can splay your folds with his fingers, teasing your clit as he slowly eases his cock back inside you from behind, dragging out the most salacious moan out of you. 

With your forearms on either side of your head against the wall, you stick your ass out instinctively to meet his thrusts, hips steadied by his large hands as he begins to jam himself even deeper. Your combined fluids fall freely down your thighs, both your ass and his hips completely soaked with slick. 

The sight of your cunt creaming around him pushes him to the brink almost instantly and with stuttering hips and one particularly hard slam of his hips against your ass, he explodes again deep within you. You whimper breathlessly in pleasure, drooling on yourself as you relish at the feeling of his hot semen filling your womb. 

“Nnnghh babe…we’re making such a mess.” You hear him say, keeping your hips in place as he pulls out of you suddenly to watch his spend leak out of you. There’s so much of it, and you feel so full of him—feeling it exit your body profusely, dripping messily onto the, thankfully, marbled floor. 

Still, he’s nowhere near done with you. 

“Time to clean up!” He chuckles lightly and then he’s throwing you over his shoulder, making you yelp in surprise but make no effort to resist. You’re just grateful that it’s finally time to clean up and rest. 

Unfortunately for you, you thought wrong. 

After stripping you both completely naked, Marius bends you over the bathtub and starts fucking you once again, sliding in so easily with the help of his previous loads inside you. The sound of the water running filling up the tub is drowned out by the obscene wet sound of his balls slapping against your pussy. Your tits bounce heavily from the force of his hard fucking, nipples grazing against the cold porcelain, making them even more erect and swollen, overstimulating you to the point of crying in extreme pleasure. 

“Marius…oh my god…so good…please…want…” You look so debauched, with tears streaming down your face as you breathe with your mouth open almost as if the oxygen isn’t getting to your lungs fast enough. 

Your delirious ramblings made him chuckle. He’s completely fucked you dumb that words fail you and yet all you want is more of him inside you. You’ll never have enough of him and him of you. He’s practically sex on legs, his mere presence and voice can make you come untouched. Most days when he makes love to you, it’s gentle and romantic, pampering and spoiling you with pleasure like a Queen. On some particularly unhinged days like today, he’ll fuck you like a whore, unforgiving and rough, until the sun is up and until you’re filled to the absolute brim with his cum and then maybe, he’ll stop. 

The man’s stamina is something that needs to be studied, because what the fuck. 

Marius pulls your body upright, lifting up your right leg and then starts fucking you where you stand, penetrating you even deeper with his cock in that position. He circles his hand around your neck, pulling your body taut against him so he can nibble on your earlobe. “Can you take more, jiejie…hmm?”

His hand moves from your neck to massage your breast, pinching and pulling on your nipple and then doing the same to the other one. You mewl under his touch, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. 

“...please, yes. I can…want…more…”

“Fuck…” He growls against your ear, his movements quickly becoming more aggressive, determined to fuck you until your cunt remembers his shape. He lifts your leg up even higher, thankful for your flexibility because at this angle he gets to penetrate you even deeper, until the tip of his dick touches the opening of your womb. His large hand presses onto the spot just below your stomach, squeezing it slightly, mind going feral at the prospect of filling you up again for the nth time that night. Maybe you’re going insane but you swear your belly feels slightly distended every time he thrusts inside you. 

Feeling the pressure growing in the pit of your stomach, you turn your head slightly and watch him through half lidded eyes; his brows furrowed, eyes focused on his cock going in and out of you, his hair damp with sweat, cheeks red and sweat dripping down his chin from the heat—he looks so fucking sexy, especially when he’s reduced to that because of you. 

He notices you looking at him, and winks at you—but immediately throws his head back when your walls start to clamp tighter around him. His jaw clenches, pecs tightening as he will himself not to come undone just yet but you’re not making it easier for him as you deliberately begin to push your ass towards him, sliding him even deeper inside your tight walls. 

“Shit…you little minx…”

“The bathtub is filling up…” 

“Mmmm…you know what else is filling up?” He grins, rotating his hips to adjust himself in an angle before spearing straight into that sweet spot inside you, reaching a depth that makes your heart stop for a split second. You both moan loudly, coming undone together in explosive orgasms—your voice pitching to a hoarse scream as your cunt squeezes around him, coaxing every drop of cum from his balls. 

You’re so sickeningly full of him that every plunge pushes more and more of his cum out, past your joined flesh until it drips onto the floor. Some of it leaks down the inside of your thigh so he pulls out, scoops it up with the tip of his cock and pushes it back inside you, not letting any more go to waste. “Mmm…let’s keep it all inside yeah? Good girl…” He slumps against you, grinning against your neck. 

It’s difficult to think straight when you’re still in the midst of your orgasm so you nod lightly and rest your head against him, your body weak and trembling. 

Still plugged inside you, he wraps his arms around you from the back and kisses the top of your head before leaning over to turn off the tap, just in time before the water overflows. 

When he finally pulls out of you, you turn around and slide down his body, trailing your nails down his abs as you sink to your knees in front of him before wrapping your fingers around his cock. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and you hear him hiss the moment your tongue wraps around his cock. You begin to suck him off sloppily, his hips stuttering as he cums again at record speed, spurting semen inside the hot caverns of your mouth to which you swallow obediently. You moan happily around him, sending vibrations throughout his body, making him moan your name to the ceiling in pleasure. 

You pull him out of your mouth and continue stroking him with your small hand, watching his cock twitch as it shoots more cum onto your face and bare tits, drenching you with his scent. The smell of sex hangs heavily in the air, absolutely not helping at calming down your libido.

When he’s done, and you’ve drained every single drop of cum out of him, or so you thought, you lightly tap his cock against your breasts, smearing the fluids all over your skin just to get a reaction out of him. 

“You know babe…it’s almost as if you don’t want me to stop fucking you—” He laughs before scooping you off the floor and then gently places you inside the tub. Your body is welcomed by the warm temperature of the water, rewarding a brief respite that your body desperately needs after the sex marathon it went through. 

Marius slides in behind you, adjusting you to sit in between his legs so you can lean back against him. He runs his fingers through your hair and starts gently massaging your head before moving down to the same to your shoulders. You hum contentedly as you relax under his touch, soft and gentle, a huge contrast from all the manhandling previously. 

He lifts your arm and entwines his fingers with yours, his hand so big compared to yours. He brings your hand towards his lips and kisses your ring before dipping in to kiss the side of your head. “My wife…”

You chuckle softly. “Nuh-uh, not yet…”

He laughs and pokes your cheek playfully. “I just did things to you that are exclusively husband and wife things…”

You turn around and give him a look. “But you’ve been doing those ‘things’ to me even before you put this ring on my finger so—” 

“Okay fine, you don’t have to call me out like that…” He whines and buries his face against the crook of your neck, nuzzling like a cat. “I guess I’ve always considered you my wife…mine and mine only…” His voice is muffled but you hear him clearly. He’s so sweet it makes your heart clench. 

You pull away from him and crane your neck to plant a soft kiss on his pouty lips. Big baby. 

“I’m yours, Marius. And you’re mine. My big giant baby…” You kiss him on the cheek. “Always so needy…’ And then the tip of his nose. “Who just so happens to be very handsome…” Between his brows. “...and extremely sexy...” 

“Just like you.”

“Shhh…this is about you.”

“Mmmm yes please, praise me more.”

You clear your throat. “With an extremely big…giant…”

“...cock.” 

“...heart.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, feeling his stiff cock pressing against your back. His hands start kneading your breasts, causing your body to burn with desire once more almost instantly. 

“Marius…”

“I love you…need you…again…” He breathes against your skin, his touches making you melt against him willingly, ready for pleasure. He lifts your hips up, positions his cock against your hole and then gently sinks you down on him—stretching your cunt so deliciously. 

The warm water sloshes around you, threatening to flow over the bathtub as he begins to bounce you on his cock. You grip onto the sides of the tub to hold yourself steady as he pistons into you from below, the position allowing him to reach deeper inside you and it feels so fucking good.

It’s only an hour later and when your fingers have turned into prunes did you finally finish bathing, for real. 

In the comfort of your bed, you snuggle against the heat of his body, cheek pressed on his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat. Soon after, with the exhaustion finally creeping in, you are both lulled into a deep slumber, safe and comfy in each other's arms.

When the gentle ray of sunshine hits your eye in the morning, you are stirred awake by Marius’ large hand squeezing onto the fat of your thigh. His eyes are still closed so he’s either still asleep or at least pretending to be. You reach up slowly to flick his eyelashes, too long for his own good as if he even needs them—and then poke his nose playfully. 

“Good morning…” You whisper softly, in a sing-songy tone and then watch as his mouth curls into a smirk. 

“Morning babe…” He responds, his morning voice husky and deep. He wraps his strong arm around you and pulls you close, pressing his morning erection against your clothed pussy. You mewl involuntarily, noticing how he’s already pulled his cock out of his briefs because you feel how hot and heavy he is against you. 

This is mornings with Marius. You’re either stirred awake by him eating your pussy or with his erection pressed against you, twitching and begging for attention. You have no complaints though, since you’re as needy as he is—your libidos are never fully satiated. So mornings like these help you to at least get it out of your system so you can go to work without thinking about wanting to get railed in the middle of typing a report. 

Marius moves closer to you and pulls your panties aside then starts rubbing his tip in between your folds, smearing them with precum. You wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself against him, so he can sink his cock inside you, joining your flesh once again. 

The morning sex is always gentle, as he will rock his hips against you, fucking you slowly while he wraps you in a tight embrace. It does however turn into something hot and heavy a few minutes later, with you gripping onto the sheet as you are washed over with back arching, toe curling orgasms, yes plural, because Marius is just too fucking good at using his cock to let you leave the bed with just one. 

It finally ends with him unloading inside you, filling your womb with a copious amount of cum until you leak messily onto the sheets, staining it white. Luckily for you, he’s learned how to do laundry and he promises to be the one to wash it whenever this happens.

On a hilarious note, you can imagine Payton jumping with joy at the thought of not having to wash whatever suspicious stains on Marius’ sheets ever again ever since you both decide to move out of the mansion. Bless the old man. 

——

a/n: are yall breathing cus i most certainly am not lmao dm me with your thoughts and share me more brainrot 💜

[dreadfuldevotee]

I'd like to discuss the elephant in the room. Why did we get zero Loumand sex scenes? We got hints and implications, but season 1 was pretty explicit. Do we think that that's a creative choice or something else is happening?

I'm glad I ended up ruminating on this for about a week because episode 7 & 8 really solidified my opinion on it.

I do wanna start by saying that it's very clear to me that there was supposed to be more explicit scenes between them. There has been some thoughts tossed around that censorship happened with the 9 pm timeslot (as opposed to the 10 pm timeslot of S1). I believed this hearing Assad and Jacob talk about the BDSM dynamic between Louis and Armand, but what really sold me on this was Production Designer Mara LePere-Schloop talking about the bedroom set and more specifically about their beautifully carved custom headboard. (If you're a production nerd like me or just want to know more about the design philosophy of IWTV I recommend giving the entire thing a listen!).

I think there are several reasons I think as to why they decided to leave any more explicit scenes on the cutting room floor but above them all is: you cannot separate Armand's sexuality from his abuse. I am really against pulling a "well if you read the books" card but reading just the first couple chapters of "The Vampire Armand" makes me understand so much about not only Armand as a character, but the care being taken to his adaptation. It's clear to me that alongside Rolin & Co.'s commitment to not watering him down to a one-dimensional villain they are also trying to not fall into Anne Rice's tendency to romanticize his trauma.

Sex and sexuality is not the same pillar of Louis and Armand's relationship it was in Louis and Lestat's and so I don't believe their story suffers from the lack of on-screen sex. But I also firmly believe that maybe we don't need to be slutting out the character who we literally just watched talk about how he doesn't remember his life before being sex trafficked. And even when he was "freed" he was still being repeatedly assaulted at the hands of, and under the eye Marius de Romanus. Like it is extremely important to remember that Armand's craving for dominion in his relationships is a manifestation of trauma that deserves the same level of care and depth given to every other trauma portrayed in this show.

I think people have gotten too comfortable calling IWTV a romance when it has always been Gothic Horror. Romance and sex are pivotal to the story but I have found the demands for sex scenes this season a bit absurd and also? unfounded? Loustat share more kisses on screen but there are two sex scenes and both are very plot relevant. I truly figured we were all in agreement that the eroticism of this show is found in the various displays of power, and the dynamics it creates and not the actual clapping of ass-cheeks...which also wasn't happening in S1 either. S2 does not suffer because of the lack of sex-scenes, but the likelihood if it suffering trying to make one work is

[im-a-killer-queen]

Yesterday I saw Aquaman and the lost kingdom and I fell in love with Orm again so I’m gonna leave this here.

Orm Marius x Reader

Warnings: no proof read, fem!reader, curly!hair!reader, chubby!reader.

Author note: I think I’m gonna start writing more about him, there are barely any fics of him and he deserves them.

Part 2

So i head canon that as an evolution trait under the water, no one in Atlantis has curly hair, because of the friction and all of that.

So imagine the first time Orm goes to the surface after helping Arthur.

He is walking, admiring the view, completely mesmerized when his eyes meets you.

Your hair is the first thing his eyes see, and he is curious about it, he walks towards you like he was in a trance.

He looks at your face and he swears he has never seen someone as beautiful and exotic as you.

He admires your plush thighs and tummy, your body is different from any Atlantean woman, he is used to slim bodies and looking at yours felt like looking at a work of art.

Before he knew it he was in front of you, staring at you shinny eyes.

You look around and then at him.

“E-excuse me, are you okay?” At first you were scared, now that he was close you didn’t feel that he was a threat but still, you felt a bit uncomfortable.

He suddenly comes back to reality and takes a step back.

“I apologize, didn’t want to bother you, just…” he took air, you were talking to him and your voice was more beautiful than any siren song.

“You are beautiful” he breathed out in a whisper.

“Sorry?”

He chuckles awkwardly “It’s just… I’m lost” he finally gets himself together “Im new here and just wanted to ask for your help but… it’s just…” he points at you hair.

Your hand flies there, to see if everything is okay “is there something wrong with my hair?”

“No!” You get startled “it’s… different” you frown in confusion “the form, you know…” he moves his finger in circular motions.

“My curls?” You ask?

“Yes, I’ve never seen that before”

“Really? I mean not everyone has them but…” you stop and chuckle “are you trying to flirt with me or something?”

“Flirt?” He looked like a lost puppy.

You shake your head.

“Never mind” you say “where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere I can buy a greasy cheese burger” he smiles

You chuckle.

“There is a good place in the seafront”

He nods slowly, still staring at you.

You stare back and turn you head a bit to try and make him realize he is staring.

He comes back to reality once more and he closes his eyes a bit ashamed then chuckle.

“I’m sorry… again, I just really like you hair, I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“It’s okay” You laugh, he is very strange but he is polite and he just seems genuinely lost.

“I’ll show you the place”

“That would be great” he smiles.

After five minutes walking you get there, he apologized one more time during the walk and told you he was gonna stay around for a few weeks.

Once you got there you told him to give you his number.

“My… number?”

“Yes, phone number”

“I don’t have that”

“Oh” you look around not knowing what to say.

“You live in the village?” He asks.

“Yes” you smile.

“I’ll see you around then” he says determined.

“See you”

You leave him there and go back to your life.

You thought you would never see him again and it would end like a weird and funny story to tell your friends.

Little did you know that atalantis prince was completely smitten for you.

He was ready to swallow all his pride and ask Arthur for help so he doesn’t seem like a creepy weirdo again.

He knew you were his favorite thing in the surface and he was going to marry you.

[theoxenfree]

OF FLESH SIN

vampire priest x reader | 2.6k | 18+

you're the child of a monastery groundskeeper and come to find out that one of the senior clergy, father marius, was brutally maimed in his chambers overnight. you're approached by the monastery's new recruit: father shaw; who claims he had witnessed the scene of the crime and invites you to his chambers to tell the tale.

warnings; dark content bc of descriptions of gore and violence towards the end, obsessive behaviors, theological themes, probs inaccurate representation of monastery life lmao, outdated + deragatory mention of psychiatric care to fit the narrative, very brief mention of animal death, classism (mc getting shit on for being poor and coming from an "uneducated" family), kinda honestly cheesy if you think about it, roughly proofread, vampires are monsters y'all—that's the only way I write them

shouldn't have to say it, but: none of this is indicative of my personal viewpoints. it's just fiction, folks.

second prompt fulfilled for my lil' october writing project! this won the second poll! please reblog + leave feedback to be kind and help a sister out 🥹💕

Father Marius died in quite some awful way last night, as reported to you by the nuns hanging fresh washed garments on the clothesline in the waning, purpling daylight.

“A look of horror! Utter terror! So frightened that his jaw had become dislocated in forever a scream,” shivered one young nun, Lucy; recently a convert from the slums. “I, well, I didn't see it myself. Neither did the rest of us, actually. They say it was that new Father Shaw who found him at dawn.”

You had been raking gravel out of the yard, tiny stones kicked off of the path into the kempt lawn by prancing horses and wagon wheels, when Lucy and the other nun, Esme, had caught your attention with their hard, dense gossip. They regarded your approach with less caution than they would have had with their other sisters, as gossip was deemed inappropriate, a violation, a flickering serpent’s tongue carrying covert temptations leading to luscious sins and debauchery.

They saw you—poor, morose, the groundskeeper's only child and reminder of loveless trysts—and thought nothing of snaking you into their prattle. You were not the sort to divulge anyone's secrets without gain, without reward, and you knew that the nuns kept nothing to their names once they took their vows and donned their habits.

“Father Shaw,” you continued the discussion with some intrigue, mostly from the fact that he was very new, very young, and modestly handsome, “why was he awake so early? Why was he in Father Marius’ chambers? Curious to me.”

Neither of them gave much caution to your questions, shrugging as if to dismiss your ambivalence and accusatory tone. You were bold in the way that the faithless and lost always tended to be: asking senseless things, always concerned with the wrongdoings of others, always suspicious, always inquiring—forever inquiring.

“Oh, my, you're so defensive,” Esme fanned a yellow bedspread out with an oncoming breeze, catching the wind beneath the fabric so it billowed and rippled midair. “If that’s how you're going to be, then: why does your father stumble around the yard at night with a lantern, swinging around a pistol like a madman? Won't he hurt someone?”

Because he's a godless, superstitious drunk. Perhaps, even, a bit disturbed in his mind, but you couldn't bear to think that way, that he might be the type to need his head locked in a metal cage, gagged, arms bound, and padlocked in some damp, distant corner of an asylum.

“He's a good man,” you relented, taking your hands from the top of the smoothed out, worn handle of the rake and resumed your task. The gravel made an awful, grinding sound as the teeth of the rake collected pieces of stone and led it back to the rest. “He's served this monastery well. I don't mean offense about Father Shaw, I'm simply curious about what transpired is all.”

“No offense taken,” came a voice from behind, startling both the twittering nuns and yourself at the same time. They saw it to be Father Shaw standing there, hands cuffed behind his back with a particularly demure disposition, hiked their skirts and whisked themselves away back inside. “Ah, am I really such a frightful figure? I couldn't really find an opening during your conversation to invite myself in. I apologize.”

You were of a similar fretful nature, quickening your clawing and the reach of the rake. “Nay, Father. I think it's simply because you're a strange man to them still. A handsome face, a warm voice, mysterious; give them time, they'll come around.”

“Have you?” Father Shaw asked, taking measured strides in a half-circle around to your front. He concentrated on where the teeth of your instrument struck next, tips temporarily wedged into the soft dirt before being ripped up with chunks of earth and gray gravel. “It wouldn't do for me if you… were still ill at ease with me as well. I consider you my one, true friend in this place.”

Your father held a certain destestation towards Father Shaw that you'd never witnessed before, saying nothing else than that something was terribly wrong with him and not to place yourself in a position to be alone with him. This you attributed to his unsoundness, but it was always the sudden flicker a sharp breath against candlelight—a jarring shift in his demeanor when he spoke about the Father, neurotic and prone to throwing things about the cottage interior, that caused you to pay some mind to what he told you.

“And, you're a great friend of mine as well,” you hoped you sounded coherent and paced your words evenly enough. “I'm sorry if you thought I was accusing you of something, sir. I really meant nothing to it.”

Father Shaw’s lips sprawled tight and pale into a fond smile, never showing his teeth, though the imprint of them seemed massive and the skin of his lips startlingly thin across them. “I know. You have nothing to fear. My feelings were not affected. If you'd like, come to my chambers later, we may pray together first, and I'll tell you everything you wish to know about what I saw to sate your curiosity.”

“That seems improper, sir.” You said.

“How so?”

“Inviting someone to your chambers at night seems an unbecoming venture for a pious man of status, such as yourself,” you continued, now standing upright beside your rake, “if any of the sisters were to witness it, worse another priest, aren't you afraid you'd be horribly chastised? Even worse, excommunicated altogether?”

Although Father Shaw’s dark eyes reflected no light, holding such demanding depth to them that it was hard to keep your bearings whenever you realized you'd been staring, his entire face was alight in amusement.

“Wherever did you learn to speak like that?” he asked candidly, still glowing despite his pallor. “Forgive me when I say, but your father is not an educated man. I mean no offense, please don't look at me in such a way. You are so well spoken, I only wish to know more about you.”

“I've lived here my entire life,” you told him. “The nuns taught me how to read.”

He looked impressed. “You can read?”

“I can!” From a near distance, you could make out your father’s haddard form, bent sideways on a walking cane and limping towards the pair of you. You looked up at the priest’s smooth face. “It'd be best for you to leave before my father can speak to you. He isn't the kindest soul after a long day.

Father Shaw didn't react with any semblance of worry, but agreed that there were other things needing to be done and began away. Just as he passed you on his way towards the monastery, he let his hand rest atop of your shoulder and leaned you towards him to whisper in your ear: “come to me tonight. I'll be waiting for you.”

There was something so luxurious and cooling about his voice; fine silks sitting in the shade during autumn gliding across your bare skin, wrapping your neck, your chest, your nether parts. His voice was a fine, chilly mist after the first rains in spring which felt refreshing and new after a glacial winter, yet still had capacity to soak you to the bone. It was a nighttime breeze caressing your cheek, sweeping through the hairs of your scalp, making your skin burst all over with bumps.

“I don't like the way he looks at you,” said your father with a mouthful of porridge you'd seasoned with herbs of the season. It was wonderfully fragrant and warm during nights that were still a bit too uncomfortable to sip anything cold. “He looks at you like you're a slab of meat! Some prize after a hunt. I don't like him, love. Not one bit. You'd do well to stay to mind yourself and do your chores and nothing else, y’hear?”

After dinner, you cleaned up, swept the floors with hard bristles, and snuffed all the lights except for the fireplace where your father sat in his old chair, fiddling with his favorite pistol.

“It's time for bed, old man.” You watched him fit a couple of small bullets into the loading chamber. They glinted against the orange flames. “Goodness. What have you gotten this time? Something new?”

“Aye!” he grinned, nearly toothless and in a sickly sort of way. “Went to market the other day while the nuns bullied you and picked out some fine bullets from the silversmith,” he cracked the two halves of the pistol shut. “Better to be prepared.”

You waited until sometime later once he was finally asleep, possibly after midnight, before leaving the humble cottage sitting on the fringes of the massive monastery yard and rushing across the grounds to get inside.

Once, they'd kept a guard dog on the property, one of those meaner breeds that were used for gambling, but the poor thing wound up shot dead in the middle of the night by a traveling friar who'd come to seek refuge at the monastery. The sisters, and yourself, were horribly distraught by the entire ordeal and all vetoed the consideration of bringing another dog here.

Since then, it was no task for you (or anyone else) to get inside the building and shuffle along the shadows through the corridors. At night, the place stirred with patient insects, feral rodents large and small in the pantry, and hungry owls tamely whining from the rafters when something startled them away from their hunt of vermin.

Your feet were a light sound on the masonry below, padded by thin leather soles which alerted you to your enthusiasm as the thwap thwap thwap became louder, aggressive as you closed in on a wall and turned down another hallway for a sturdy wood door at the end of it.

As your knuckles rapped, hoping the sound wouldn't disturb the animals’ nighttime caroling, a swift darkness moved across the floor from behind the door, briefly blocking out the soft light seeping out from underneath.

The next moment, you were being pulled inside and sat at a small table tucked to the side of Father Shaw’s rather generous room. It was a simple space, sparsely furnished for the barest of comforts—only for what was needed to live—but what had been made for him was of exquisite craftsmanship, some made of teakwood, which Shaw assured you was remarkably durable and highly resistant to rotting.

“It's wonderful for boats,” he said, pouring a light amber colored brew from a metal kettle he'd heated a short while ago. “It’s good for all elements, really. Exceptional longevity. I've heard it has become a popular option in the city for burying the deceased.”

“Will Father Marius be buried in a teakwood coffin, then?” you asked, sipping politely from the cup even though you had no appetite for it. You already felt ill at ease enough having disobeyed your father by sneaking into a priest's personal chambers at night. The things the sisters would say about you—

“He will be entombed underneath the monastery with the rest who have served here and passed. I believe that is all stone down there, my dear.” Father Shaw smiled tepidly, kettle aside, no tea of his own. “But, I know that your curiosity led you here to me with questions, yes? About the state I found Father Marius in, yes?”

You tried to disguise your intrigue by drinking more of the tea, of whatever it was he had given you, and listened to the sounds of your fingertips sticking to the porcelain from sweat and steam.

“If you wouldn't mind sharing…”

“I wouldn't!” he leaned on his arms on the table, closer towards you as though with a secret. “As I've said, you are truly the only soul here who I can confide in. You are not a sheep. And you do not fear sin as the rest do. So, you can ask me anything and I'll tell you everything.”

“Tell me about Father Marius, then.”

Father Shaw reached across the table for one of your hands; his far larger, fingers much longer and colder than your own and held it as he recounted the event.

“Dreadful sight, it was. It was, oh, perhaps sometime after three o'clock when I heard a massive racket. A struggle. When I knocked, all of the noise subsided at once and there was complete stillness. Silence, my dear, silence so deep, dark, and damning that I knew something awful had happened.

“I didn't knock again, I was too afraid to! But, Father Marius was getting on in age, so I couldn't just stand by, either. I kicked the door in—just once was all it took—and I rushed inside to see the room was a complete mess. A fight had clearly taken place, and the walls—oh, the walls—”

His remorse was carefully placed, stiff, and uncertain and he couldn't be seen in the vastness of his black gaze. You were moved by the vulnerability he was trying to show you, going as far to abandon your drink to place your warm hand on top of his.

“The walls, my dear, were a mess of blood. Something vicious and awful had happened in that room. But, then, I found Father Marius lying there on the ground next to a broken window. I think he'd tried to throw himself through it. His face was shredded to pieces, his eyes gouged. When I got closer, I noticed that his tongue had been severed from his head!”

You were holding Father Shaw’s hands in a bloodless grip, face ashen, teeth chattering behind your lips. “What on earth! That is not only horror, but cruelty!”

“Oh, my love, it gets worse!” Father Shaw held you mesmerized in his gaze, the conviction and anguish with which he told his story. “Closer still, Father Marius’ face was locked in one of pure terror, I've—I’ve never seen a human react in quite a way such as that before, to fear. The man unhinged his own jaw in a hideous scream, and it seemed to me he was skeletal. By that, it's like he was, well, quite dry.

“So, I crouched down so much lower and inspected him all over. Do you want to know what I found?”

“Yes.” You spoke breathlessly.

Father Shaw had moved out of his seat and was on one knee in front of you, both of his frigid hands on your face to smooth across your cheeks, pushing away pieces of hair obscuring some part of you he'd wanted to see.

“My love, I saw marks in his neck. Two, beautifully, wonderfully symmetrical marks that were far too clean to be of any animal that we know of. The bite was clean, it was patient and cunning. And the fangs that had sunk into his tender flesh had drained him of blood, of the very essence that kept his heart beating until the very last.”

“Sir—” your stomach plummeted, falling forever, when he smiled, teeth longer than any humans should be shown through to you. He wouldn't let you go when you went to move out of his hands, away from him. “Father Shaw, please—”

“I wish you could have seen it, my love. It was a breathtaking sight and I long for someone else to admire the beauty of my work alongside me.”

It was unthinkable that a vampire could walk on these holy grounds and in the bright of day, yet Father Shaw had for countless days. Evil held you sweetly by the cheek and in your hair, kissed you with a corpse’s cold lips, and laved the skin of your skin with a long, serpentine tongue.

“O’, my merciful lord…”

Father Shaw bent your head back with a fistful of hair and spoke from your throat:

“There is no God, only me. Come into the endless night with me, my love.”

[sweetfictionalworld]

A New Beginning (Orm Marius x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Orm finds a new life on the surface.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Breeding Kink, Creampie.

Author's notes: Watching Aquaman The Lost Kingdom and my beloved Orm again hit me with a wave of inspiration. Can't believe it's been five years since I last wrote about him. I know this won't get many notes, cause he isn't a very popular character, but I don't care. I finally got some inspiration again.

Standing on the balcony, you looked across the green landscape and smiled as Orm wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he murmured into your neck as he placed feather-light kisses on your skin.

Blushing, you leaned your head to the side and sighed blissfully as his lips traveled down your skin and you started reminiscing about how you met.

"Here you go, Sir."

You put down the cheeseburger in front of Orm and he looked up at you with those curious, blue eyes you'd grown accustomed to seeing every day. Eyes that made your belly flutter from the first day he looked at you.

"Thank you, y/n," Orm said and smiled. "And I've told you. Please, call me Orm."

You smiled shyly and fluttered your eyes down as you nodded. "You know, Orm. You've come here every day for a month now, eating the same thing. How on earth do you stay in such good shape?"

Orm shrugged his shoulders. "Good metabolism, I guess."

You let out a soft chuckle and walked away to the next table. Orm watched as you worked, jealous of the other men receiving that beautiful smile of yours. It wasn't just the cheeseburger pulling him back here every day. Ever since that first day you served him, he had been lost in your smile. At first, he hated you for it, hated himself for allowing a human to have this power over him. But over time, he came to like these humans and their ordinary life. You humans weren't so bad after all. And you...Orm wetted his lips. Should he muster the courage to ask you out? Orm frowned. When did he become so shy and uncertain of himself? When he was King, he had no problem getting women. Or perhaps, the true reason for that was because he had been King...

You took a deep breath and smoothed down your apron as you looked over at Orm's table. You studied the short, soft curls on his neck, imagining running your fingers through them...Your eyes landed on his broad shoulders and arms, wondering what he looked like underneath his clothes. You lowered your gaze and a shy smile grazed your features. You wanted to ask him out so badly, but wasn't sure he felt the same way about you. Sure, he had given you looks indicating that he did. But who knew? You'd definitely been wrong about these things in the past. Perhaps, you were being delusional? After all, what would a handsome man like him see in you?

"Y/n?"

You were drawn back to reality by Orm's voice. You fluttered your eyes and looked up at him, pushing your thoughts to the back of your mind. You smiled and cleared your voice.

"Yes?"

"I..." Orm looked down at the floor and rubbed the back of his head. He almost looked...nervous?" "I was wondering, if you would like to go out with me sometime?"

A pang of heat washed over you and you stared at the man in front of you, your eyes blinking slowly as if time slowed down. Orm saw the look in your eyes and knew he'd made a terrible mistake.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"I would love to go out with you!"

It was Orm's time to stare at you, his mouth half-open in shock.

"Really?"

You nodded and smiled. "Really."

Orm's hands traveled down your stomach and slid underneath your nightgown, a low growl rumbling in his chest as his fingers ran across the thin fabric of your underwear. His touch sent a warm spark of arousal through your clit. Moaning softly, you leaned back against his warm, naked chest, your hips bucking gently against his hand, searching for the pleasure you knew was waiting.

"I want a child with you, y/n," Orm whispered and pushed his fingers underneath your panties, groaning when he felt how wet you already were for him. His cock twitched in response, growing hard inside his pajama pants. He loved how in tune your body was with his, always responding so delightfully to his touches.

Your heart leaped at his words, making you unaware of the pleasure his fingers were rubbing on your clit. Turning around, you cupped his face and looked into his kind, blue eyes.

"Are you sure?" you asked, your sparkling eyes betraying your happiness. You knew he would be an amazing dad, but you never knew if the family life was something he wanted. Not until he'd asked you to marry him. Then you had hope that someday he wanted to have children with you.

"Yes. I've never been more certain about anything in my entire life," Orm said and grabbed your legs, lifted you up, and wrapped them around his waist. Truth be told, seeing Arthur with Mera and their son had awakened a longing in him. And he swore to be the kind of father he never had, a caring, loving dad who would do anything for his family.

Orm carried you silently into the bedroom and dropped you down onto the bed, his eyes burning with an intense passion you hadn't seen in him before as he looked intensely into your eyes. Your eyes traveled down his muscular body. Damn, you would never get used to how incredibly well-shaped his body was. He looked like one of those ancient God statues carved in marble.

Orm couldn't control himself anymore, the sight of the shape of your tempting breasts and hard nipples beneath the fabric of your silk nightgown making his dick twitch greedily.

"I will fill you up so many times you'll be dripping for days and my child is growing inside your belly," he grumbled through his tensed jaw and ripped your underwear off of you.

"Orm?!" Your eyes widened as you stared up at your husband, your lower belly filling with an uncontrollable, pulsing heat. What was up with him? You'd never seen him like this before.

Orm only growled and pulled his pants down, his gaze never leaving yours as he stepped out of the pants and crawled on top of you. He grabbed your legs and pushed inside you in one swift movement, making you gasp and clutch onto his lower arms. Orm groaned at your tightness and started thrusting into you deeply at a hard, relentless pace.

"Fuck!" you moaned in a breathy gasp, your nails digging into Orm's arms as he pounded you so roughly that the bed rocked and creaked. His cock hit that sweet spot deep inside you, creating a wave of pleasure searing through your core at every thrust. Feeling the force of an overwhelming orgasm approaching, you tilted your head back, your lips slightly parted as you closed your eyes and surrendered to the sensations flowing through your body.

Orm looked down at the pleasured expression on your face as he thrust into you, felt the tightening of your walls, and knew you were close. Straightening up on his knees, he grabbed your hips and thrust even deeper inside you, his breath quickened and chest glistening with sweat.

You gasped when Orm changed his position, and his thrusts grew harder and deeper. Opening your eyes, you looked up into his eyes filled with so much want and need.

"Please, Orm...fill me up. Put a baby in my belly," you whispered through his pounding thrusts.

Orm's eyes widened and darkened at your words, and you could feel his cock swelling impossibly big inside you.

"Fuck...," Orm grunted quietly and thrust faster until he pumped into you a final time, emptying his full load inside you. Throwing his head back, he growled as his hips bucked erratically, pumping every drop of seed he had to offer deep inside your belly.

"Oh, Orm...," you moaned as he came inside you, his swelling cock pushing you over the edge of climax. Lifting your hips, you cried out with pleasure as you clenched around him, your pussy milking his cock like a vice.

Looking down, Orm watched as his cock twitched inside you, filling you up with every last drop until you were full, and it began to drizzle out around his cock still lodged inside of you. The erotic sight made him rock hard again, his dick swelling inside your still twitching walls.

Your eyes widened when you felt his cock swell inside you, and a new wave of arousal spiked through your belly. Your pussy clenched in response, and Orm smirked down at you, an amused chuckle rumbling through his chest.

"I love you, y/n."

Smiling back, you cupped his face. "I love you too, Orm."

Orm quirked an eyebrow and smirked anew. "Ready for round two?"

You giggled softly and pulled him down for a kiss. "Always."

Thank you for taking your time to read ♡