#its made out of loom bands

[gh0st1nth3wa11s]

HI TALEBLR I DREW SPOOKER ,,,

[arolesbianism]

I love comparing bandori and sekai covers in a "I genuinely love both of these franchises and both of their music and want to think abt what each is going for in their covers and what they do that I like or don't like" sort of way but god damn do they make it hard when half of their overlap is with crusty dusty sekai covers and the more so recent stuff is mostly bandori's more low key instrumental stuff which I am Not a fan of so it's so hard to find a pair that doesn't feel like hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby in one way or another to me dhjdhdj

[mononijikayu]

puddin’ pop — kamo choso.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, opposites attract, female! reader, not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, smut, body praise, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, pet names (puddin' pop, sweetie and others....), societal prejudice, love, overflowing cuteness, slice of life, humor, light-hearted, being in love, romantic gestures, healthy relationship, tender affection, sexual intercourse, aftercare, boyfriend – girlfriend relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise and care, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of alcoholic consumption, mention of sexual intercourse, metal head bf! choso, pastel girlie! gf reader, pastel girlie gf! loves her metal head bf! choso so much, everyone if you're looking for love, make sure its as stinking cute and loving as this one, its what everyone deserves!!!;

WORD COUNT: 7.8k words.

NOTE: this entire thing was inspired by this art made by the lovely ushy on twitter!!! i was just dazzled and in love with the possibilities of who metal head bf choso could be like. i was enthralled. so, a lot of credit goes to ushy for creating such spectacular art that inspires me and others well!!! please check out ushy's art and support them too!!! anyway, this is the first time choso won the polls so im happy!!! i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

.・。.・゜��・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU BOTH WERE DIFFERENT. Because it compliments you both so well, almost like yin and yang. At least that’s what Choso likes to say. And you agree with him. Choso and you couldn't be more different on the surface.

You were the pastel princess of the campus, always draped in floral skirts, baby pink cardigans, and bows in your hair. Everywhere you went, you seemed to bring a little sunshine and joy, something that stood out against the often drab college environment. People on campus often teased you, calling you a "walking cotton candy" or a "flower fairy."

Your boyfriend Choso, on the other hand, was a looming presence. Tall and muscular, his arms were covered in dark tattoos of skulls, serpents, and symbols no one dared to ask the meaning of. He wore black band shirts—Slayer being a favorite—ripped jeans, and chunky boots. His piercings glinted under the sun, and his eyeliner gave him a perpetual brooding look. Kamo Choso was the guy you didn’t approach unless you had to.

And because of this, people always wondered how you two could possibly be together. You couldn’t have been anymore from different worlds, galaxies entirely. Whispers never failed to follow you both wherever you went on campus, speculating that you must be too sweet for him or that he was just putting on an act. No one could see how you fit until today. And if you were being honest, you could care less about their invalid opinions.

Today was Choso’s concert with his metal band, and you hadn’t seen each other all day due to classes. And you can tell that it was already getting to you. It was fine to text him and all, but you like having your boyfriend around. You like holding him and kissing his cheeks. And he was warm. And it was getting colder. As you stood chatting with some friends outside the student union, the heads started to turn.

“Is that Choso?” one of your friends whispered, wide-eyed.

You turned, and there he was, his black combat boots stomping across the quad toward you. Your face flushed, your eyes bright eyed. Your lips peaked into a smile. But you noticed the look on his face and you couldn’t help but blink.

His face was still set in that familiar grimace that made people nervous, but you could tell immediately something was different. His hands were hidden behind his back, and his eyes flicked to the ground every few steps, like he was nervous.

“Hey, sweetie.” Choso said, his voice a soft contrast to his intimidating appearance. You could feel people watching you both, but Choso didn’t seem to notice. He reached behind him and pulled out a black band T-shirt—one with a matching Slayer skull logo to the one he was wearing.

“Uh, I was wondering if you... y’know, wanted to match tonight?” he asked, his face flushing red under the tattoos. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, as if he wasn’t the lead guitarist of one of the loudest, most intense bands on campus. He was just your beloved boyfriend Choso, looking like a shy boy asking for a favor.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the people around you. You could feel their confusion, the gears in their heads turning as they tried to reconcile the image of the “scary goth guy” with the one standing before you, blushing and fumbling over his words.

You giggled, clicking heels as you stepped closer and took the shirt from him. “Of course, babe! I’d love to match with you tonight.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek, making his blush deepen as a soft, content smile spread across his face. “I’m thankful you thought of me at all, babe. Thank you so much.”

“I always think of you a lot, sweetie.” He says to you in reply, which only made you swoon even more as you let your body embrace his own as you squealed about how much you loved him. And he smiled, as though the world was the most beautiful place.

That was when everyone seemed to get it. They saw the way Kamo Choso looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world, how gentle he was with you despite his intimidating exterior. They realized that underneath all the black clothes, makeup, and tattoos, he was a gentle giant—soft, sweet, and completely devoted.

The campus finally understood why you worked. And yet all at once in the same breath, still not understand it at all. But you could hardly care.

As you slipped into the matching shirt, a wave of excitement ran through you. The black Slayer logo against your usual pastel aesthetic was jarring, but you loved the idea of supporting Choso in his world. Even if metal concerts weren’t your usual scene, being there for him made it all worth it.

You walked hand in hand toward the venue where his band would be performing later that evening. You enjoyed having his fingers intertwined with yours and his skin rubbing against you. You looked at him and grinned, which he returned. You both just enjoyed each other’s company, no matter what. Well, that’s what happens when you’re each other’s world.

Onlookers still stared, trying to wrap their heads around how the “campus goth king” and the “girly sunshine queen” made sense together. It wasn’t long before one of your friends caught up with you, curiosity bubbling over.

“Okay, I have to ask. How does this even work?” she asked, her eyes bouncing between Choso’s heavy chains and your flower-printed purse. “You guys are, like, total opposites.”

Choso chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. You smiled up at your beloved boyfriend, feeling the warmth in his gaze before answering. You didn’t even want to stop looking at him. Your boyfriend was the prettiest, loveliest boy you ever laid eyes on. And everytime you looked at him, you just fell more deeply in love. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple, really.” you started, glancing at him for confirmation. He nodded for you to continue. “We balance each other. He’s got this tough look and I’m more on the bright and bubbly side, but it’s what’s inside that really matters.”

Choso squeezed your hand and added, “She brings me a lot of peace. People think I’m all dark and broody, but if there was any color in me, its my sweetie, here. She’s the one who helps me stay grounded. And honestly, I don’t think I’d ever smile this much without her.” His eyes softened as he spoke, showing a rare vulnerability. “I just….love my sweetie, you know?”

Your friend’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, the pieces falling into place. “That’s actually... really sweet.” she admitted, looking at Choso with a bit less intimidation and a lot more curiosity. “I guess it’s just surprising because you both seem so different on the outside.”

You laughed, nudging Choso playfully. “Well, I’ve always believed it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?”

Choso smiled shyly, looking a little embarrassed but happy. “Yeah, and we love each other. Doesn’t matter if we’re all black or pastels. We’re happy together. That’s it.”

By now, more people around you were starting to take notice, seeing the softer side of Choso they’d probably never expected. It became clear to everyone that your differences weren’t a problem—they were the reason you worked so well together. You could be the sunshine in his life, and he could be the calm, steady presence in yours.

As you approached the venue together, You could see that Choso’s bandmates were setting up the stage. They were all dressed in their usual dark, edgy attire, but they greeted you with warmth and fondness. It’s been like this for as long as you remember. They’re really the nicest people you know. And you’re happy because it means your boyfriend will always be surrounded with good people. And because of that, you would be too.

“Looking good in that shirt!” one of the band members teased, smirking at Choso as if to say, You really got her to match you, huh?

Choso grinned sheepishly, clearly proud but trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, she’s supporting us tonight. Best girlfriend ever, right?”

You giggled and nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Only for you, my baby.”

Before the show started, you found your place in the crowd. It was always the same one. Choso alway insisted that you always be near him as possible to not only make sure he knows you were safe — but so he can always see you and wink at you. And then you would blow back a kiss each and every time. It’s your boyfriend’s favorite part of the show.

You take a sip of your drink. People smiled at you and greeted you. You were a regular at the shows already. But it was always surreal being surrounded by people dressed in all black, while you, with your pastel skirt peeking out from under the band shirt, stood out like a daisy in a field of midnight roses. And all of them were happy to see you there too. Choso’s shows were always such a happy, safe space for you. 

But as the music started, something magical happened.

The moment the first riff tore through the air, it was as though Kamo Choso transformed before your eyes. His quiet, reserved demeanor melted away, replaced by an electrifying energy that radiated from the stage. The powerful riffs and heavy beats pulsed through the venue, reverberating in your chest, and you could feel the intensity of every chord he struck. His hands, the same ones that were always so soft and tender when they held you, moved with precision and power across the strings, commanding the music with effortless grace.

Despite the raw energy of the performance, there was something oddly calming about watching him like this. Seeing him completely in his element, doing what he loved with such passion, brought you a quiet sense of pride.

Every note, every beat, seemed to echo the essence of who he was—fierce, strong, but also thoughtful and deeply connected to his art. And in that moment, it became clear just how much of himself he poured into his music. You could tell that the stage was where he felt most free, and watching him there made your heart swell.

As the concert progressed, the crowd was fully immersed in the music, their energy feeding off Choso’s commanding presence. But every now and then, amidst the chaos, his eyes would seek you out.

Between songs, during brief moments of stillness, he'd glance over in your direction, his gaze softening when he found you in the crowd. It was his silent way of making sure you were okay, that you were enjoying the show, and it warmed your heart to know that even in the middle of performing, he was still thinking of you.

And then, you noticed the shift in the crowd.

People started glancing between the two of you—first at Choso, then at you, as if they were piecing together something they hadn’t quite understood before. They saw the way he’d search for you with his eyes, the subtle smile that would tug at his lips when he spotted you. They saw how your face lit up, your cheers louder than anyone else's, a beacon of support and pride for him to latch onto. 

It was as if, in that moment, the connection between the two of you was undeniable. The bond you shared became as visible as the music that surrounded you, a harmony of its own. Choso’s fans, who had admired him for his talent and stage presence, were now witnessing a softer side of him—a side that belonged solely to you. The glances from the crowd turned from curiosity to understanding, like they finally saw the deeper layers of the person who held their admiration.

And as the music swelled and the concert reached its climax, you could feel it too: the unspoken love that bridged the gap between the stage and the audience, a love that was yours and his, seen in every stolen glance, heard in every note. In that moment, it was as if the whole room was in tune with the rhythm of your connection, an energy that transcended the music itself.

When the final song came to an end, Kamo Choso walked over to the edge of the stage, still holding his guitar, and mouthed, “I love you.” 

Your heart swelled as you mouthed it back, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You just love him so much, and it made you the happiest person alive.

After the show, a few students from campus came up to you both, clearly still surprised but now more accepting of your relationship. One girl, who you recognized from your sociology class, shyly approached you.

“You two are actually kind of... adorable together, you know?” she admitted. “I didn’t get it at first, but seeing you both... it makes sense now.”

You smiled, giving her a nod of appreciation. “Thanks. We may seem like opposites, but we’re perfect for each other.”

As you and Choso headed home later that night, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d shown everyone that love doesn’t have to look a certain way. It doesn’t matter if you’re a pastel-wearing girly girl or a tattooed metalhead. Love is about finding someone who understands you, who balances you, and who makes your life better just by being in it.

And that’s exactly what you and Choso had—something perfectly imperfect, something that made sense in all the ways that really mattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AFTER CLASSES SEPARATED YOU BOTH, YOU FINALLY CAME TOGETHER. You haven’t seen Choso since he got stuck for his violin recitals, so you were bored. It’s not like you weren’t doing anything in fashion classes, but you wanted to see him.

He was your energy boost. Just as much, he was your happy pill. And with a deadlock with your project, you needed to see him to freshen up. So, he finally had free time, he told you he’d come see you.

That’s also how you and Choso decided to go on a date, something simple yet special—just the two of you wandering through the city, hand in hand, without a care in the world. You were dressed in your usual soft pastels, a baby blue sundress fluttering around your legs as you walked, while Choso, in stark contrast, wore his typical all-black outfit. His band tee hung loosely over his broad frame, and his boots clunked with each step beside you.

As you entered the small café, people couldn’t help but glance in your direction, eyes widening at the sight of the unexpected pair. You were the picture of sweetness, like something out of a fairytale, while Choso looked like he just stepped off the stage of a rock concert. The two of you couldn’t be more different visually, yet anyone who took a closer look could see the way your fingers intertwined so naturally, how Choso’s eyes softened every time you spoke.

You found a cozy corner booth, and as you sat down, Choso immediately slid into the seat beside you rather than across from you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, and you smiled up at him, already feeling the warmth of his presence.

“What do you want, puddin’ pop?” you asked sweetly, your voice loud enough to catch the attention of the café staff nearby. The barista paused mid-order, eyes darting toward Choso, as if unsure she heard you right.

Choso, the ever-serious and brooding figure, glanced down at you with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. “Whatever you’re getting is fine, babe.” he murmured, his tough exterior melting away completely in your presence.

The barista, clearly stunned by the interaction, couldn’t hold back her curiosity when she came to take your order. “You two… are so cute together!” she said, hesitantly at first. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed, but… it works!”

You laughed, used to the surprise reactions by now. “Thank you! Yeah, we get that a lot.”

The barista smiled, her nerves relaxing as she took your order. As she left, you turned back to Choso, your grin wide and playful. “See? Even she thinks you’re sweet, puddin’ pop.”

Choso rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed how much he loved the nickname. “You and that nickname…” he muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t mind one bit.

“Well, you are my puddin’ pop, aren’t you?” you teased, leaning into his side. “You’re like pudding—soft and sweet—and a lollipop, ‘cause you’re a treat.”

Choso groaned playfully, covering his face with his free hand as if embarrassed, but the warmth in his voice gave him away. “You’re gonna make me lose all my street cred, you know that?”

You giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’ll always be the cool goth guy to everyone else, but you’re my sweet puddin’ pop.”

As the two of you enjoyed your time together, sipping on drinks and sharing pastries, people in the café couldn’t stop sneaking glances. They saw the stark differences in your appearance but couldn’t deny the undeniable connection between you.

Choso’s tough exterior was all but gone when he was with you, replaced with soft smiles and gentle touches. To them, it was unexpected, but to you, it was perfectly normal. Choso, for all his darkness and edge, was the sweetest person you’d ever met, and he showed it in every little way.

But that didn’t bother you. You and your beloved boyfriend continued to talk about things that interest the two of you. Recently, he told you about his progress in some violin concertos and you told him about your progress on your final project for the design class you were in. The world was an echo when your Choso was talking, after all.

As you left the café hand in hand, Choso gave you a loving glance. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like it was just meant for your ears.

You smiled up at him, heart fluttering. “I know. And that’s why you’ll always be my puddin’ pop.”

And as the two of you strolled through the city, the sight of the goth guy and the pastel princess, people couldn’t help but admire how well you fit together. You were a perfect, unexpected match—proof that love doesn’t have to look a certain way.

As you and Choso wandered through the city, you could feel the occasional glances from passersby, but by now, you were so used to it that you didn’t even pay them any mind. Choso, however, always kept his guard up just a little, glancing sideways at anyone who looked too long. Not out of annoyance, but more out of protectiveness. Even though he was soft with you, he still liked to make sure no one thought they could mess with his sunshine.

You led him into a little boutique that had caught your eye, one filled with pastel-colored dresses, accessories, and things that practically screamed “you.” As soon as you walked in, you heard a small group of girls gasp near the entrance. You caught a snippet of their whispered conversation:

“Oh my God, is that him? The goth guy from campus?”  

“Wait, that’s his girlfriend? I didn’t know they were actually dating. They’re so... different!”  

“But look how cute they are together!”

You giggled softly, squeezing Choso’s hand as he rolled his eyes, his face slightly red from the attention. He wasn’t much for the spotlight when it came to your relationship, but it was hard to avoid it when everyone seemed so fascinated by the contrast between you two.

As you browsed through the racks, you couldn’t help but pull out a pastel pink sweater with tiny hearts embroidered on it. “This is so cute!” you exclaimed, holding it up for Choso to see.

He gave it a look, raising an eyebrow. “It’s… definitely you, sweetie.” he said with a smirk, though his tone was affectionate.

“Of course it is! What do you think, puddin’ pop? Would you wear it if I bought a matching one for us?”

Choso let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I’ll stick with my black, sweetie. Thank you though."

You pouted playfully, nudging him. “Come on, just once? For me?”

Choso softened, and you could see the internal battle playing out on his face. You knew he’d do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stepping way out of his comfort zone. “Alright, fine sweetie.” he relented, sighing dramatically. “But only because you’re cute.”

Your eyes lit up, and you threw your arms around him in a quick hug. “You’re the best!”

The girl at the counter couldn’t stop staring as you and Choso approached to pay. She looked completely bewildered, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “I—I love your outfits….” she stammered, scanning the pastel sweater. “You two are really… um, adorable.”

Choso, clearly flustered, mumbled a quiet “Thanks!” while you beamed and responded. “Aren’t we? He’s my sweet puddin’ pop, after all.”

The cashier blinked in surprise, probably not expecting the goth guy who looked like he belonged in a metal band to be called something so cute. But as she handed you the bag, you caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was as if she’d just witnessed a secret that made perfect sense in some strange way.

After leaving the boutique, Choso let out a deep breath, clearly relieved to be out of the spotlight. “I can’t believe you convinced me to get a pink sweater.”

You giggled, taking his arm and leaning your head against it. “You’re gonna look so cute, though! I’ll take a picture of us together and keep it forever.”

Choso groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he shook his head. “Only for you. I swear, you’ve turned me into a complete softie, sweetie.”

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “But you’ve always been a softie. You’re just finally admitting it.”

He gave a soft, resigned laugh. “Yeah, yeah… whatever you say.”

The two of you continued your walk, eventually ending up at your favorite park. As you found a bench to sit on, the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the trees and flowers. It was quiet and peaceful, and you felt Choso’s arm wrap around your shoulders again, pulling you close.

For a moment, everything was perfect. You didn’t care about the stares or the whispers or the way people seemed to be so fascinated by the two of you. All that mattered was how you felt when you were with him—like the world was a little brighter, a little softer.

You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You know, no matter how many people are surprised by us, I still think we’re perfect together.”

Choso smiled down at you, his eyes filled with a warmth that only you got to see. “I know. I wouldn’t trade this for anything, sweetie.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, content in your own little world where opposites didn’t just attract—they completed each other.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU HAD FREE TIME, AND HE DID TOO. So, it was just right for him to come by and cuddle with you. It was a quiet evening when Kamo Choso walked into your apartment, his usual black boots clunking against the hardwood floor as he made his way to where you were curled up on the couch. You looked up from your book and smiled when you saw him, your pastel-colored socks contrasting with the dark, brooding aura he carried everywhere.

"Hey, puddin' pop." you greeted sweetly, holding your arms out for him.

Choso's lips twitched into a soft smile as he walked over to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He settled beside you, his arm casually draping around your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, but you could tell there was something on his mind.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, running his hand through his messy hair. “Hey… so, I, uh… I wrote a new song, sweetie.” he started, his deep voice a little unsure.

You sat up, instantly interested. “Really? That’s amazing! What’s it about?” 

His eyes darted away for a second, the usual confidence he exuded seeming to falter as his cheeks tinted pink. “Well… it’s about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart doing a little flip at his words. “Me? You wrote a song about me?”

He nodded, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I mean… I’ve been working on it for a while. It’s for the band. I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it, though, since, you know, you’re not really big on metal.”

Your heart practically melted at his bashful tone. Choso, the brooding goth guy who looked like he could crush someone with a glance, had written a song about you? It was like every romantic dream you never knew you had was suddenly real.

“Oh my gosh, puddin’ pop!” you squealed, your hands grabbing his arm in excitement. “I want to hear it! I don’t care if it’s metal, I’ll love it just because it’s from you!”

He chuckled, a little nervous but clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Are you sure? It’s kinda heavy, sweetie…”

You practically jumped up from the couch, tugging him along with you. “I’m sure! Come on, I need to hear this!”

Choso laughed as you dragged him to his guitar, which he had brought over for practice. He picked it up, settling it on his lap as you sat back down, eagerly waiting for him to start. The way your eyes sparkled made his heart swell with affection. He strummed a few notes, tuning the strings before looking at you with a small smile.

“Alright, sweetie….” he said softly, his voice gentle in contrast to the deep rumble of the guitar. “Just… keep an open mind, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, clasping your hands together as if you were about to witness the performance of a lifetime. Your eyes were shining brighter than ever before. Your face was focused on him, awestruck already. It’s as if you had decided that it was already the best song in the world (which to you, it was.)

Choso took a deep breath before he started playing, the guitar riff heavy and intense, but there was a surprising tenderness woven into the melody. It was raw, powerful, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that made your chest tighten. 

He began to sing, his voice low and gravelly, but the lyrics were… beautiful. They spoke of love, of safety, of someone who brought light into his dark world. Each word made your heart race faster as you realized just how deeply his love for you had inspired every note, every line.

Even though you weren’t as big into metal music as he was, you could feel the emotion behind each chord. It was him, pouring his heart into the music in a way only he could. You watched him, completely enraptured, as he sang about how you made him feel—how you were his bright spot, his calm amidst the storm.

When he finished, there was a brief silence, the air between you both charged with emotion. He glanced up at you, a little hesitant, waiting for your reaction. “So… what do you think, sweetie?” he asked quietly, his tough exterior cracking just a little as his vulnerability showed.

You didn’t even know how to put your feelings into words, so you did the only thing you could think of. You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Oh my sweet sweet puddin’ pop! That was beautiful! Oh my God, I can’t believe you wrote that for me! I love it, I love you!”

Choso’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest as he held you close. “You really liked it? Even though it’s, you know… metal?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, your smile wide and full of love. “It doesn’t matter what genre it is! You put your heart into it, and I could feel it. It was perfect.”

Choso’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m glad. I just… wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You’re everything, you know?”

You felt your heart swell, your love for him overflowing. “You’re everything to me too, puddin’ pop. I can’t believe you wrote me a song,” you gushed, still in awe of how deeply his love for you translated into everything he did.

Choso blushed again, clearly not used to being fawned over like this. “Well… you inspire me, sweetie.” he mumbled, his voice gruff but full of affection. “Always.”

You grinned, resting your head against his shoulder as he held you close. “I’ll always be your biggest fan, no matter what. Even if I’m not the biggest metalhead.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your hair. “That’s all I need.”

You stayed wrapped in Choso's arms for a while, the warmth of the moment lingering between the two of you. His heart was still pounding against your cheek, and it was clear that even for someone as stoic as him, sharing the song with you had meant the world.

"I can't believe you were nervous about showing me that, hm?" you whispered, tracing little circles on his chest. "It was so beautiful. The way you turned your love into music... you’re amazing, puddin’ pop."

Choso let out a soft, almost bashful chuckle. “Yeah, well… it’s easier to play it in front of a crowd than just for you. I wanted it to be perfect, sweetie.”

Your heart melted at his honesty, and you squeezed him a little tighter. "It was perfect. And it just makes me love you more."

Choso smiled softly, the tough-guy act completely dropped as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Good.” he said quietly. “Because I’ll probably write a dozen more songs about you.”

You laughed, your cheeks flushed with warmth. "Promise?" you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Promise, sweetie.” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and tender. 

There was something about Choso’s kisses that always made you feel like the world had stopped for just a second—like the two of you were the only ones who existed. And in moments like this, it didn’t matter if you didn’t share his love for metal music or if your pastel wardrobe clashed with his dark, edgy style.

When the kiss ended, you both settled back on the couch, with Choso resting his guitar against the wall. You nestled into his side, your fingers laced together. The silence between you was comfortable, but you could tell there was still something on his mind.

“I’m thinking about playing it at our next gig, sweetie.” he finally said, glancing down at you. “I’d want you there… if you’re up for it.”

Your eyes widened with excitement. “You want me there when you play it? Of course, I’d love to be there!”

Choso looked relieved by your enthusiasm, though there was still a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “It’ll be loud, though. Probably going to be louder than our last gig since it’s with other metal bands.”

You grinned, nudging him gently. “I’ll bring earplugs, don’t worry. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want to be there when you play our song, you know?”

Choso’s gaze softened, and he squeezed your hand. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetie. It’ll be the first time I’ve played a song that personal.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, now it’s personal to me too. I’ll be there, cheering you on in my pastel outfit, and I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m the one you’re singing about."

He chuckled, imagining the sight of you in the crowd, all sweetness and sunshine, while his band rocked out on stage. “You’ll definitely stand out, sweetie.” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Good! I want everyone to know I’m your biggest fan, puddin’ pop!” you replied with a grin.

Choso kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “You always have been.”

The rest of the night was spent in quiet contentment. You stayed wrapped up in each other, talking about his band, the upcoming concert, and the thought of hearing your song live for the first time. Choso shared little stories from his rehearsals, his voice full of excitement whenever he mentioned the moment he’d finally reveal the song to the audience—and to you.

“I’m already planning my outfit!” you joked, imagining what you’d wear to one of his gigs. “Something cute but not too out of place.”

Choso laughed, pulling you closer. “Wear whatever you want. I’ll be proud to have you there, no matter what.”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of love. “I’ll be there in the front row, cheering for you. And afterward, we’ll celebrate with a giant lollipop, since, you know, you’re my puddin’ pop.”

Choso groaned, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red, but the smile on his face didn’t fade. “You’re never gonna let that nickname go, are you?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Never. It’s part of the deal.”

He rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his voice was undeniable. “I guess I can live with it… as long as you keep being my inspiration.”

And with that, the two of you fell into a peaceful silence again, your hearts full of love. As the night continued, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were. Choso might’ve been tough on the outside, but underneath all of that was the sweetest, most caring person you’d ever met. And now, knowing he’d written a song about you, you felt even closer to him than ever before.

No matter how different you seemed on the outside, Choso’s love for you translated into everything he did—from his quiet moments with you to the powerful music he created. It was all a reflection of the way he saw you, and it made you fall even deeper in love with your sweet, tough, and tender-hearted puddin’ pop.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE FOR BOTH OF YOU SINCE ITS FINAL WEEK. Your metalhead boyfriend Choso finally arrives at your dorm, his presence immediately filling the room with warmth. He steps in close, his strong hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. His breath is warm on your skin as he leans down, his lips softly grazing the sensitive area around your ear. 

"Want to do it, sweetie?" he murmurs, his voice husky, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his lips because he knows your answer already. “I missed you….”

“I missed you too, puddin’ pop.” You whispered back, a sly smile on your lips. Your eyes lustfully gazing back at him. “So so so much….”

“Just how much, sweetie?”

“A lot.” You whispered as your fingers trailed onto your thighs and a little bit lower. Choso was already sure what he’d find down there. He knows you too well. His little sweetie. “Help me, puddin’ pop. I need you.”

As soon as you give him the slightest confirmation, he effortlessly scoops you up, cradling you in his arms like you weigh nothing. His lips never leave your skin as he walks you towards the bedroom, each kiss a little more insistent, a little more needy. Between the kisses, he leans in close to your ear, whispering the dirtiest, most wicked things, his words making your skin tingle.

As Choso carries you, his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of heat with every kiss. His grip tightens slightly around your waist, the tension building with each step toward the bedroom. The way he whispers into your ear, voice low and raspy, sends shivers through your entire body. His words are teasing, laced with promises that make your mind race, each one more wicked than the last.

He lays you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, eyes dark with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. His hands roam your body, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. His kisses grow deeper, his whispers more urgent, as his desire for you becomes undeniable. 

"You're mine tonight, sweetie." he breathes, his voice thick with lust.

You smiled. “I always was, puddin’ pop.”

Choso’s lips crash against yours, the intensity building as his hands explore your body with purpose, claiming every inch of you. His touch is firm yet careful, as though he’s memorizing the way you react to each kiss, each graze of his fingertips. His words, laced with that rough edge, never stop. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day, sweetie.” he mutters between kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he trails his lips back down to your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

He pins your wrists gently above your head, holding you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity. He leans down again, his lips brushing your ear as he growls softly, “I want to hear you say my name… over and over.”

His words send a rush of heat through your body as he lowers himself, every movement slow, teasing, deliberate, until the anticipation becomes almost unbearable. The room feels electric, the air between you charged with desire, as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most enticing things.

Choso’s hands slide down your arms, his grip firm yet tender as he keeps you pinned beneath him. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss before trailing back to your neck, down to your collarbone, teasing with every move. The way he takes his time with you, savoring each reaction, has you breathless.

"You're so perfect for me, sweetie." he whispers, his voice thick with lust and affection. "I love watching you like this."

His hands move lower, fingers tracing your sides, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours. He kisses you deeply again, the kind of kiss that makes your head spin, before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m not stopping until you’re completely mine tonight, sweetie.” he growls softly, his words dripping with intensity. The way he says it sends a rush of anticipation through your entire body, making you ache for his touch even more. 

Without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself further, his kisses moving lower, trailing heat in their wake. Every touch, every word leaves you feeling completely consumed by him, the world around you fading away until it's just you and him, tangled together in this moment that feels both endless and electrifying.

Choso’s kisses become more intense, his pace deliberate yet teasing, as if he’s relishing the control he has over every inch of your body. His hands trace slow, burning paths along your skin, each touch igniting a fire inside you. He knows exactly how to make you melt beneath him, every movement calculated yet filled with raw passion. 

He leans back up, his eyes locking onto yours, dark with desire. "I love how you react to me, sweetie." he murmurs, voice dripping with a mix of dominance and affection. "The way your body responds... it drives me wild."

His fingers trail lightly across your chest before grabbing hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, his breath ragged with anticipation. His lips return to your ear, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name tonight."

The way he says it sends shockwaves through your body, the desire in his voice leaving you aching for more. His hands grip you tighter as he kisses you deeply, his passion consuming you entirely. Every whispered promise, every soft growl, every lingering touch leaves you yearning for more, completely lost in the moment, knowing he’s not letting up until you’re both completely spent.

"You’re mine, just mine." he growls, his voice low and possessive, making it clear that he’s going to fulfill every wicked promise he’s made tonight.

Choso’s lips crash against yours once more, each kiss more urgent and consuming, as if he’s claiming you entirely. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your body beneath his, the heat between you growing unbearable. The intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch, his gaze full of need, raw desire, and something deeper — a craving that goes beyond the physical.

He presses his body closer, his breath hot against your skin as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most intimate words in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t know how much I need you right now, god…..” he murmurs, his words laced with desperation and control.

His touch becomes rougher, more insistent, as he moves in rhythm with the tension building between you. Every kiss, every graze of his fingertips, pulls you deeper into the moment, making you forget everything else. It’s just you and him, the weight of his body pressing down on you, the way his voice rasps your name in between breaths, each sound sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Say my name, sweetie." he growls, his voice husky, lips hovering near your ear. "I want to hear it. I want to hear how much you need me."

“Cho, cho—” You choked in pleasure as he continued to find him satiating you with pleasure over and over. “Baby, p–puddin’ pop. Please. Oh—”

You feel yourself slipping, losing control as his words become more possessive, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. The room feels smaller, the air heavy with heat and desire as Choso claims you again and again, each time more intense than the last.

And just as you think you can’t take any more, he leans down, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers, “You’re mine. Only mine. Sweetie, you know that right?” His words linger in the air, echoing through the haze of pleasure that surrounds you both, sealing the night with a promise only the two of you can understand.

“I do, I do.” You moaned out in a frenzy. “Baby, my puddin’ pop, I do. O–only, uh…only yours!”

Choso’s pace quickens, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s on the verge of losing control himself. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, the weight of his body grounding you while pushing you to the edge of sensation. His lips are everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, your lips—claiming you with every kiss, every touch. 

Your breaths come in ragged gasps as the tension builds between you, the heat reaching an unbearable peak. He groans softly, his voice thick with need as he whispers, "I’m right there with you... just let go for me." His words are a command and a plea all at once, and the sound of his voice is enough to push you to the brink.

With a final, shuddering thrust, the world around you seems to fall away, the pressure inside you finally releasing in a wave of pure ecstasy. Choso’s name tumbles from your lips, over and over, exactly the way he wanted. His own breath hitches as he follows you into that climax, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as his body tenses against yours, the pleasure overwhelming him too.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure, holding you tightly as if he never wants to let go. His fingers gently stroke your skin now, soft and soothing in contrast to the intense passion you just shared. 

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of your mingled breathing filling the room, the intensity of the moment settling into a soft, shared intimacy. Choso presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper as he says, “You’re everything I need, sweetie.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. epilogue

As the intensity fades and the world starts to come back into focus, Kamo Choso gently eases himself beside you, his arms never leaving your body. His expression softens, all the hunger and fire replaced with tenderness as he looks at you, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek.

"You did so good, sweetie." he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch is slow, deliberate, as he strokes your hair, helping you come down from the high. He wraps the blanket around both of you, pulling you into his chest, his body warm and comforting against yours. 

He reaches for a water bottle on your bedside table, offering it to you with a small smile. "Drink up, hm?" he says gently, knowing how much you need it. After you take a sip, he tenderly kisses your temple, his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. 

The atmosphere shifts into something soft and intimate, his hands carefully massaging your sore muscles, making sure you feel cared for. His voice is low, murmuring sweet reassurances, "I've got you… I’ll take care of you."

Once he's satisfied that you're comfortable, Choso shifts so you're nestled in his arms, your head resting on his chest. He stays close, his fingers gently stroking through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. There's a certain peace in the quiet moments after everything, and you feel completely safe with him, wrapped up in his warmth.

"You know I’m not going anywhere tonight, right?" he says softly, his voice laced with affection. He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his arms tightening around you protectively. "I’ll be here, all night, right next to you."

The two of you lie there, tangled in each other, as the night settles around you. The outside world doesn’t matter anymore—just the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

As sleep starts to pull you in, Choso whispers, “I love you, sweetie.” his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. And in that moment, everything feels perfect, knowing he’ll be right there when you wake up. Your beloved metalhead boyfriend.

[gojonanami]

BLOODSUCKER - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp? ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, blood kink, gojo has fangs, biting, marking, bloodsucking, fingering (f!receiving), swearing, semi-public sex, sex against a car, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, baby), ✴︎ wc: 2,704

“Can I have a bite?” He whispers, lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending a warm flush down your body — and why did he smell so intoxicating? 

The night had gone on normally enough — yet another Halloween party you had been dragged to (after you had lost a bet and ended up being the designated driver for the evening) in another coordinated themed costume — this time for the Barbie movie. Yet another throng of costumed drunks and weirdos you had to wade through while your friends had their fun. And you thought the night would be boring. 

Oh, you were so wrong. 

He saw you first. You were only sure of that, after, because you remembered the prickling of your skin when his ice blue irises had found you lounging in the loft area upstairs — where most people had begun to clear out of after the keg had arrived downstairs. You had let your hair out of your wig, your head aching from the weight of the hair on your head and the cheap elastic band trying to work its way into your forehead. 

You unlocked your phone, looking at yourself in your camera, pouting at the state of your hair — unkempt and unruly from the wig, but you only could do what you could. 

“Great, now I can be a scary Barbie,” you murmur, locking your phone, as you pocket it. 

“Oh, you’re not scary,” and your head snaps up, eyes finding those pools of still blue that looked like you could drown in them — and you very well would. His lips were curled in a small smile, his skin looked pale in the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you be a little scary,” 

“Satoru,” your lips twist, fuck, you thought he’d never show up to this party — you had avoided him flawlessly since your breakup — if you could even call it that. You never official — you were never anything, just a situation that was more than a booty call, but less than a relationship. Every invitation was only accepted with assurance and recon that Satoru would not attend, every exit strategy was planned, and every move was carefully made. 

Except this one. 

“Oh, you recognize me?” he gasps in mock surprise, lips in that shit eating grin you had loved to kiss off of him, but now, all it did was make you want to slap him, “surprised you did after you’ve avoided me for so long, sweetheart,” 

“And apparently you’re the one with brain damage because we broke up — don’t call me that,” you sigh, eyes glancing down at his outfit — a black and white suit with a high collar, as his mouth moved as he spoke, you caught sight of fangs on his teeth, and his eyes glinted with a crimson tint dipped in an ocean of blue, “your costume is fitting — you definitely did suck the life out of our relationship,” 

“Bitter doesn’t suit you, baby,” your eye twitches, as he dares closer, eyes glinting in the low light of the kitchen, “plus y’know, you always did the best sucking,” 

Your traitorous cheeks flush, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes betray you by flickering downwards, “fuck off—“ 

“Oh, I know you want me to fuck something — don’t think it’s off though,” he looms closer, licking his lips, as he smiles — and your heart forgets to beat — did he always smell this good? He smelt of musk, wood, and everything warm and honeyed — the scent melted over you, plying your resistance with sweetness in contrast to his vulgarity, “look at you, haven’t even touched you and you’re so pliant, where’s that mouth now?” And his thumbs drag down your lips, pulling at the bottom one — “looks better wrapped around my cock, doesn’t it?” 

And his words snap you from your trance, slapping his hand away, “didn’t expect an apology from you, but I thought you’d do better than this shit,” 

“Can you blame me for missing you, pretty?” He pouts, “thought you loved me more than that,” 

“And I thought you loved me enough to commit but looks like we both are wrong,” you roll your eyes, “go find someone else to fuck with, Gojo,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Aw, baby, don’t act so unfamiliar, you had my dick in you after all, you can still call me Satoru,” and then there’s a cheer in the living room that cuts off your retort, as he turns to look. 

And that’s your cue to leave, you slip away from him, grabbing your jacket, making an Irish exit, slipping through the throng of people partying. You manage to get down the street, the streets quiet now, the sounds of the party growing more distant by the second. A sense of dread settled over you the more you walked, forming a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach. The streetlights flickered above you, the wind cutting through your jacket as you pulled it closer around you. Your car was close, right past this wooded backyard, trees lining what seemed to be an abandoned home. There was only a few more yards — and then you heard a twig snap — your head snapped around to look behind you. 

And that was your mistake. 

A hand clamped over your mouth, as you gasped against it, another tight around your middle, your scream was muffled against the palm. And then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Boo,” before he lets you go, and you whirl around, smacking Satoru against his chest, hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your heart was pumping, hard, nearly banging against your ribs, body still shaking with adrenaline, “what the fuck - that’s not fucking funny,” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny — it was supposed to be spooky,” he grins, unaffected by your anger, as your fingers clench into fists, “you didn’t give me a treat so I had to play a trick. It’s the rules of Halloween, pretty,” 

“It wasn’t spooky, it was fucking scary—“ you move to hit him again, and he catches your hand by the wrist, and he’s pulling you close, “let me go, Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you feel your knees knocking together, the world shifting beneath your feet, “I’m sorry for frightening you, sweetheart,” and he’s helping you walk over to your car, “just wanted to make sure you get to your car safely,” 

Why were you letting him help you? Why was your body leaning against his? Why were you letting his arm slink around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip? But those same questions sunk away into the inky abyss of your mind, as thoughts blurred over each other, and all you can think about was him.  

“Satoru,” you murmur, as you stumble against him, and he catches you by your waist, steadying you, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” your head rests against his chest, but you felt so comfortable, so…content. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he purred, his words only intoxicated you further, drizzled like melted molasses down your throat, “that spook I gave you earlier really took it out of you, but,” his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours — and they glowed, a shiny blue that unnerved you, “should I show you something really scary?” 

“Satoru, what—“ and he’s kissing you, lips sliding against yours — he tastes familiar, hint of candy corn that he was always a fiend for, but he tastes even sweeter than that, headier too — before he parts, “what are you doing?” 

“Showing you just how much I missed you,” he hums, thumb gliding over the length of your cheek, “y’know how hard it was for me without you? Wouldn’t be able to sleep. I could only think about how I had screwed thing up. Would take these long walks at night when I couldn’t sleep,” and his fingers trace down your jawline, before reaching your neck, his thumb resting against your pulse, “turns out those walks were good for one thing,” 

“And what’s that?” You murmur, still utterly distracted by his touch. 

And he brushes his lips against your neck, teeth grazing against your pulse, “Finding a way to keep you — forever,” and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, as his arms press your body to his, your hands sliding up his chest, caged in by his form, “can I have a bite?” he whispers, lips against your ear now, sending a flush across your cheeks, “just wanna mark you again, like i used to, make you mine,” 

For a moment, the curtain snaps back, mask slipping, as your eyes flutter open without the rosy glasses he had slipped over your eyes, “I’m not yours,” and you only see him — the true him — for a moment. 

His muscles tighten, fingers digging into your sides harshly, gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, his gaze is dark, navy instead of the usual cerulean with a ring of red that pierces through your skin, but his teeth — his teeth scare you the most — his fangs aren’t fake, his tongue sliding against them both, as he flashed an unnerving smile at you that sends your blood running cold.  

But not colder than his. 

“Satoru — what—“ and his lips find yours again, sending a headiness throughout your body, from your head to the tips of your toes, “I-“ 

“Just let me have this, just this one night,” he murmurs, words as smooth as glass and as needy as need itself, “please,” 

And you’re the one pulling him to you, back against the cool metal of your car, and your fingers cup his face, pulling him against your lips. He tastes like want, his tongue parts your lips, as his fingers slide up your dress, sending goosebumps up your thighs, “Fuck, all it takes for you, huh?” He murmurs, and his fangs nibble at your bottom lip making you gasp, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, until he reaches your neck. 

“Been thinking about this for far too long, sweetheart,” 

two fingers drag down your neck first, as he tilts your head for easy access, and you shiver at his touch — was he colder than before? “I’m going to be doing a lot more than marking you like I did before,” his lips press a delicate kiss to your neck, “need to taste it,” 

And his fangs drag over your soft flesh, before he finally bites you. Your mouth hangs open in a sharp gasp as his fangs pierce your skin, and your head lolls back, as pleasure floods your body. You feel your warm blood dripping from your neck, slipping down your skin, as he sucks from you. 

He pulls away for a moment to look at you, your scarlet blood dripping from his mouth, painting his pale pink lips burgundy, as his tongue darts out to catch the blood slipping down your chin. 

“You taste like everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his nose against the nape of your neck, “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, aren’t you?” 

You whimper, “Satoru, feels so good,” and he’s kissing you again, letting you taste your own blood on his lips, it only makes you want him even more. But this isn’t right, something wasn’t right—

“Just give in, sweetheart,” he’s dragging your hands down your sides, squeezing your hips, as his palms rest under your thighs, “let me make you feel good,” 

And he lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around your waist, as his large palm slides up your thigh, hiking your dress up. He grins, looking at your soaked panties, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp and squirm, “wonder if you taste even sweeter down here, baby?” 

You whine louder, as his fingers slide into the waistband of your underwear and snaps it against your skin, “Your blood is pumping harder than ever, bet it tastes even better like that — full of your fear, full of your pleasure,” his fingers are sliding your drenched panties down, “fuck, you’re a little freak, bet you got wet when I grabbed you, can’t all be from the last few minutes,” 

And his lithe finger sinking into you, as your lips part in a gasp as he bullies your walls, “So tight for me,” he groans, as his finger curls against you, making you moan, and his teeth graze against your neck, before sinking in. You both moan in tandem, as he drinks more of your blood, as a second finger parts into your folds, your release dripping down his palm. He’s stretching you out — fingers pistoning in and out, Pleasure courses up and down your body, toes curling, as all you can hear is the sucking of his fangs and the squelch of his fingers in your cunt. 

And then he hits that spot, and you’re cumming, slick dripping down your thighs as you moan, as your hips move against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. He pulls your fangs from your neck, letting your blood drip down your neck. 

He tilts your head back, letting him look at your fluttering eyelashes and fucked out expression, lips parted, as your blood paints your skin a beautiful maroon. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” he’s pulling his fingers from you, as you gasp from the emptiness. He places them in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, “think I may get addicted baby, gotta have more of you — doesn’t matter if it’s your blood or your cum,” 

And you hear the clink of your belt buckle and sound of his zipper, as he frees his cock, rubbing against your dripping pussy, “Gonna let your ex fuck you against your car? Gotta have you baby, but if I take you now, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you go,” he’s teasing the head of his cock against your pussy lips, “do you still want me to do it?”

You whine, back arching against the hard surface of the car, “please, I need you,” your fingers wrap around his neck, his lips against yours, “Satoru—“ 

And he’s sinking his cock into you, as he’s lifting your legs to your ears, ankles by his ears as his hips flush against your ass, “Fuck, can you feel me kissing the deepest part of you?” His hips roll into you now, slowly at first, again and again, as your walls throb around him, the car groans and your ankles ache against his slow thrusts, “best cunt I’ve ever had, and all fucking mine now,” 

“Toru, please, more—“ 

And he barks a laugh, sweat slipping down your forehead, his balls slapping against your ass, “so needy f’me, you’re mine aren’t you? Say you’re mine,” he’s grunting as your walls flutter around him, and he knows you’re close—

Your orgasm washes over you, toes curling, and he leans forward, fangs sinking into you, as he fucks you through it. The blood he drinks makes your head dizzy with pleasure, until he pulls away, letting your blood drip from his lips. And he’s grunting, hips stuttering as he bottoms out — making you gasp and whine again. Until he’s cumming inside you, painting your walls white, emptying his load into you. He’s fucking his cum inside your cunt.

And he’s easing your legs down as the two of you come down, his face buried in the nape of your neck, licking at the blood dripping from his bites — your neck beginning to ache and sting now. 

“So pretty, so perfect,” he coos, his lips curling still red from your blood, as he’s curling his arms around your waist, “gotta take you home so I can taste you all over again.” 

“No, I can’t. This was a one time thing—“ 

And he’s tilting your chin up, eyes flashing dangerously, as his lips curl, “I told you, I’m not going to let you go, besides,” he turns your head towards your rear view mirror, your eyes beginning to glint red, “I have to let you have a bite of me later,” and you can feel your blood run cold, “it’s only fair, isn’t it, sweetheart?” 

✴︎ a/n: was possessed to write this by the halloween spirits -- also i have a thing for bloodsucking now unfortunately. have a spooky season :)

✴︎ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @happymangospot, @hiimarandin, @bunsunee, @5-xiaoo,

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 5th

könig x cumming in panties

he’d cornered you when he knew you couldn’t bring yourself to run from him. könig was sick like that.

he’d been depriving you all week. you weren’t too sure on the why, but you figured he was punishing you for something. or maybe he wasn’t, maybe könig had just wanted to toy with you, get you all desperate just for his own twisted entertainment.

on monday, he’d had you speared on his cock— but not allowed to move, and overall not allowed to cum, removing you from his lap when he was finished with his work at the desk and never revisiting, leaving you empty and needy whilst he beats off in the shower. tuesday he’d insisted on teaching you self defensive moves, pinning you with your knees up and dragging his heavy bulge over your puffy slit through your leggings until you’d soaked through the material, and then getting up like it had never happened and even having the audacity to berate you for being distracted.

wednesday, he’d forced his way into your shower and you thought you’d finally get some relief— instead he’d crowded you against the cold tiles, ran his hands over your body greedily, fondled you and kissed you enough to get you whiny — before pulling away, continuing on with his shower as you stand pressed to the tiles panting in disbelief, and climbing out alone. thursday, he’d ignored you completely — which only made you want him and his approval more. it had reached friday, and you were at your breaking point. not only had you reached physical desperation, but you felt emotionally needy and fragile beyond belief too, breath hitching in your throat when you spotted him by the gymnasium on base.

when he spotted you wandering over, his eyes lit up through his hood and he smiled. he smiled and you thought thank god, it’s over. your knees are weak and trembling by the time you reach him, hands clutching his black military issued shirt. “kö,” it comes out as a sweet whine. he tilts his head, hulking frame looming over you as he cups your cheeks gently.

“hmm?” he hums lovingly and you inhale shakily, your own hand laying over his.

“its aching— need you, please. have twenty minutes until my meeting n’i won’t be able to focus.” you press yourself to him, all but begging with tears in your eyes.

“t’aww, schatz.” he whispers hoarsely, taking your waist and walking you backwards into a hallway that no one ever seems to go down. “i can give you something, yes?” he cooes and you nod so furiously you think your head might come off.

he crowds you to a wall, so that if anyone was to enter the hallway, their vision would be obstructed by his giant frame anyway. you don’t know how he’s done it, but he pulls out his cock and it’s already fully hard, thick and pretty in his grasp. he stands with his legs spread wider to lower himself a little, the height difference almost obscene and he runs a thumb over his tip, full balls resting on the waistband of his cargos. you whimper, just from the sight of it.

a low hum leaves his throat and he lets his tip graze your stomach, dragging lazily across the material of your shirt, smearing the slightest bit of precum onto it. “please.” you whisper, teary eyes searching for permission. he tsks, and pulls your skirt up to sit around your waist, gently but slightly impatiently tapping your inner thigh so that you’ll stop pressing them together tightly.

“you missed me, little one?” he questions, pressing his tip harshly over your pantie-covered clit, rubbing it in circles making you buckle.

“mhm, missed you a lot.” your hips jerk off the wall, humping back against his tip. each time you squirm, you can hear the obscene wetness in your panties making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles harshly, pulling back.

“poor thing.” he responds cooly, accent thick and low. he pulls down the waist band of your panties and stuffs his cock inside making you grip at his clothes so that you don’t totally collapse. gripping your hips, he begins to slowly thrust. the height difference is a slight hinderance, and he’s hunched over you, but once he gets the angle right you’re whimpering helplessly, his cock sliding back and forth over your soaked slit and never once inside.

he has the audacity to laugh, strong arm bracing the wall beside your head as he leans over you, his hood tickling your cheek. “what if someone were to come down this hall, hmm? see my cock stuffed in your little panties. that pussy all needy for the colonel. you would probably like that, yes? you like to show off.” your brain was hazy but the last part rung an alarm in your head. was that what this was about? was he still punishing you?

“just wanna— wanna cum!” you cry, and you’re not aware of the mascara pooling beneath your eyes until he harshly wipes the tears with his fingers and pulls away. you groan, devastated, bleary eyes watching him rub the wetness from your tears against his own shaft. he grabs your wrist, roughly and maybe a little desperately and guides your hand to pull your waistband down a little more, exposing your needy cunt to him.

“hold this. like this.” he sneers and you do, not having the capacity to question him let alone argue. he stops touching you completely, focused on fisting at his own cock, tip aimed down your panties and you sniffle, staring up at him pitifully. you longed to touch him, have him praise you, kiss you — but all he did was stare down his nose at you with his hood still firmly in place as he jerked himself off.

your pleas and wobbling bottom lip only seemed to push him further, and soon — he was cursing, pressing you to the wall with his weight and unloading his balls into your thin delicate panties. you whimper sensitively, looking down at the way his hot seed seeps into the baby pink panties. your brain is mush by this point, and you stare up at him obediently, albeit sadly.

he recovers, jagged pants leaving him as he stands back up to his full height, tucking himself back into his pants. he takes the material of your panties and pulls them firmly back up, his cum pressing against your folds. his big warm hand comes up, rubbing you over your panties to make sure his cum has spread around and you moan at the touch, but as soon as it came it leaves— the hand grabbing your jaw for a moment and looking at you before he steps back, eyeing you with his hands now clasped behind his back. he watches you fumble to adjust your clothes and pull your skirt down, hands and thighs shaking.

“keep that in there all of today. i will come to visit you later on.” with that, he coldly steps aside. oh, he was mean. “off to your meeting. cannot be late now, liebling.”

[daenysthedreamersblog]

KNUCKLE VELVET

Nothing in my heart is hoping you'll come back

Too cold to know what I don't have without you

summary: your main goal in life was to take care of your family, and you had been... until a new peacekeeper comes to your district leaving death and pain wherever he stepped

pairings: peacekeeper!coryo x reader

warnings: MDNI! violence, death, blood, coercion/ manipulation, swearing, power imbalance, hitting, choking, dub-con, oral sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, guns.

notes: omggg so this actually was supposed to be a completely different story when i started, but it took a side turn and ended here. its not nearly as dark (so sorry) as i originally intended but hoping where i lacked in darkness i made up for in heartbreak so hope u all still enjoy :)

Death had been your shadow since you could remember, or at least it had felt that way since you were a young child. You saw it for the first time when you nearly drowned in the lake with you sister, it stared at you while you choked on your own short life. It had taken your mother, infected your father, it loomed over you incessantly like a cruel god. You tried hard to keep it at bay, to run from it, make it lose your scent, but it was obsessive, possessive of you. It would come for you some day.

And in a crowded, too-loud, scorching room you saw your death in his beautiful face.

With delicately furrowed brows you shoved the heel of your hand into the dough the ache ever present in your left wrist. You ignored it, focusing on kneading the dough.

Your father was a baker, or at least he had been before he had fallen ill. It wasn't anything special, mostly selling what he could out of your childhood home or trading it for supplies. You got by, your family got by, better than most he always reminded you. It was fine, an easy job, a distracting mundane task that sometimes supplied leftovers you couldn't complain about. So here you were, kneading bread when he no longer could.

You placed the towel over the bowl and wiped your hands off on your apron as footsteps creaked from behind.

"Started without me?" Your sister yawned walking into the kitchen eyeing the three bowls of rising dough.

"Couldn't sleep." You untied your apron and placed it on the counter as she tucked her chin into your shoulder.

She sighed, "You worry too much."

You did, someone had to, but you bite your tongue. "You can clean then." You chuckled walking away from her.

"We should do something tonight." She is already moving the dishes around and wiping off the counters as you look over your shoulder at her, your hand on the wall. "Would be nice to get out of here for a few hours."

You smile, "Sure." And then you disappear down the hallway to your father's room. He's in bed, half asleep when you sit down near his feet making sure he was breathing. "Are you hungry?" You roll your wrist in your hand as you ask him.

His head turns to take you in, "No."

"Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes." His eyes dart to the left and you know he's lying. You sigh as you walk forward pulling open the drawer to find it empty.

You can't look away from it. "I'll get more."

"She is right, you worry too much." He taps his foot against your thigh, "How's my bread?" He ask you to distract you from the tiredness in his voice, from the pale color in his skin, from the fact that he was dying. All you wished then was to take his illness onto yourself so he nor your sister had to suffer.

Once all the bread is made and prepared to be sold, your sister and you leave in the night. You slip on a blue dress and small grey cardigan taking off down the gravel road towards town. Fresh summer air clears the flour from your lungs as you walk next to her arms linked at the elbow a lightness in your step as you try to forget the woes at home.

"Does that band still play?" You asked as the building comes into sight various individuals moving in and out if it.

"Yeah." Her voice is solemn. "They're good but..." It wasn't the same since they lost their singer. She had died in the games, or at least that's what everyone said but you didn't remember, you didn't watch the games if you could help it. Then everyone had moved on like they always did.

You and your sister entered the warm room littered with people from your district and off duty peacekeepers. Most of them were friendly, and the ones that weren't rarely came here on their nights off so you let your shoulders relax. You watched the band perform a few songs with mason jars filled with clear alcohol, even indulging your sister in a couple dances when a familiar face caught your eye, one that had helped you far too often than you deserved. "Last drink?" You nodded your head to the bar. "Don't go too far."

She waved you off still swaying to the tune of the guitar as you disappeared through the crowd. You kept your head down clutching the empty jars as you walked. He was talking as he walked in a perpendicular direction perfectly lining up with where you needed to hit him. You threw a glance over your shoulder the same time your body collided with his, glass jars falling to the floor with a violent crack. "I'm so-Oh." His eyes meet yours as you bend at the knees to try and pick up the broken pieces.

"Medicine." You whisper out when it's just the two of you near the floor. "My father. I need...Please."

He rubs a hand over his face, "I'll try, but...I'll try."

You look at his face knowing he sees the desperation there, "Thank you."

"Need any help?"

Your eyes shoot up quickly staring at a beautiful death.

You've never seen him before, you would know with his clear blue eyes and white blonde hair shining out above the crowd like a beacon. He's standing across from the mess staring down at you, "It was an accident-!"

"You're bleeding." He says drawing your attention to the sudden stinging pain across your palm, the red liquid bubbling up from the fresh cut.

You shake your head, "It's fine."

"We should get that cleaned up." You open your mouth to protest, but he only slips his hand under your arm helping you up. "I insist." You glance back at your friend, Gavin, who often did help you with various needs your father had in exchanged for baked goods, and then you looked back at the other peacekeeper dragging you away.

He leads you towards the back as the band continues to play a loud song. "Sit." He points to an empty barrel, "I'll be right back." And then he disappears back out into the crowd. You glance around the empty room filled with supplies and unused musical equipment. Tentatively, you climb onto the barrel to sit admiring the gash along your hand, the bleeding was slowing, but it did look rather nasty. "They didn't have much," Your eyes shoot up, following him until he stands in front of you with a wet rag and a few bandages. "But it's better than nothing."

"You're new." You observe as he takes your bleeding hand.

He presses the rag to the wound the wince slipping out, "Got in yesterday."

He starts to try and clean it. "Do you like it here?" He scoffs to himself causing the corners of your mouth to turn up. "Dumb question." He glances up at you face close enough your can see the shades of blue in his eyes.

"It has it's charms." He dries off your hand before finding the large gauze pad to tape around it.

"Where were you from?" You regret it as you ask, as a sudden darkness comes over him throwing the room into silence the music a distant thrumming from beyond. You watch him tape up your hand with cheap supplies until it covers the cut neatly. "Thank you."

He doesn't drop your hand, "Are you always clumsy?" He traces the small scar on your pinky.

"Occupational hazard." You watch his face as he looks at you once more the question in his pretty eyes. "I bake, had a few run in with knives."

His mouth quirks up, "I hope you don't often run into knives or off duty peacekeepers."

You take your hand back, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You could...Make a habit of it." He stares down at you his thigh suddenly warm against your knee. "At least certain ones."

You take a sharp breath, "We both know that's not a good idea." You slide off the barrel, chest forced against his as you move and then your sliding past him. "Thank you, again. I should go find my sister."

"See you around clumsy girl."

The blush bites at your cheeks and you hope he can't see it in this light, but you suspect he does as something flashes across his face. You don't stick around to find out as you head back into the crowd. You find your sister talking with another peacekeeper, "I'm gunna head home." You show her your hand.

"Be safe." She smiles going back to her brown haired friend. You glance over you shoulder finding that man who helped you watching you, you should tear your eyes away from him, but he should as well, but here he was, staring brazenly at you something burns under your skin.

You blink shaking your head and turn to leave, tugging the cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you walk home alone. You often did, you never encountered any trouble, but something felt off. The hair on your neck stood up the whole way home like something-someone was watching you.

You turned to look, but nothing was there.

The sun drenches the kitchen in an orange glow as you carefully measure out flour failing to keep it balanced with only one good hand. You scowl down at your bandaged palm as you dump the contents into the bowl. You should just wait for your sister and make her do it, but you opted to let her sleep in to throw yourself into a distraction.

What if he wasn't able to get anymore medicine?

Were you supposed to watch as your father withered away and let death come into your home once more?

You're so lost in thought you don't even hear the front door open until it shuts.

He's standing there in front of the closed door taking up every space he wanted to, and doing it beautifully. You struggle to form the question, to string together a sentence to convey your confusion. He answers anyways, "I wanted to check on you." He motioned with a finger to your hand.

You glance behind him, "How did you kn-!"

He steps further inside before you can finish, taking in the sight of your kitchen/makeshift bakery. "Do you need any help while I'm here?" You know your expression must exhibit the shock still running through your veins as he stands in your home because he smiles softly and rolls up his sleeves, "I'm sure it would be easier than kneading with only one hand."

You submit and take a step back, "Sure uh..." You motion to the bowl, "It needs two more cups of flour." You watch him walk forward, too clean for the room despite the grim coating the tips of his fingers. "You can wash your hands in there." You point to the sink.

"How is your hand?" He asked as he runs his long fingers through cool water.

You glance down at the now tarnished bandage across your palm. "Only stings sometimes." You look back up at him, "My left one gives me more trouble."

He turns off the sink and uses a rag to dry his hands off. "Why's that?"

You watch him with careful eyes move around your kitchen to collect the supplies he made you abandon. "Just years of abusing it." He eyes your left wrist and then scoops out flour. You have to show him how to measure it out properly but he gets it for the most part. You feel yourself relax watching him add it all to the bowl and mixing it.

"Now what?" He asked over his shoulder.

"We let it rise." You walk over to throw a clean rag over the bowl.

"How long?"

You can't help the smile. "A minimum of five hours."

He put his fist against his hips, "Well what do you do while you wait?"

"Make more dough."

So you do. You stand next to him this time walking him through each ingredient helping by throwing in the teaspoon of salt for him. You find yourself laughing as the time slips away, as you sprinkle out the flour for him to knead the dough into. You enjoy the way his body feels near yours, how his arm accidentally brushes against you. He isn't the best, but you had a feeling he never did something like this before, and he was helping.

He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, "How are you not more buff?"

You flex your right arm, "I think I'm quite scary."

He smirks down at you bringing his hand up to wrap around your bicep, "Terrifying." His hand burns your skin as you stare up at him, as blue eyes drink up your face like cool water on this horrid summer day. He's too close, he's too warm and you watch the droplet of sweat slide down his temple.

Your mouth waters. You blink and step back, "I usually don't make this much in one day."

"So you're using me?" He jokes as you slide the tin to cook the bread in.

"Something like that." Your cheeks are flushed and you gently take the loaf from him to place in the tin. "My sister can do the rest. You probably should head back before you get in trouble."

He nodded, "I brought you something." You open your mouth to protest not wanting to push your luck with all his generosity, but he digs into his pocket anyway pulling out fresh medical grade bandages no doubt from his peacekeeper base.

"Oh I can't." You whisper.

"I insist." He takes your hand anyways your body moving forward slightly. "I feel awful about being the reason you got cut up."

You glance up at him as he takes the old wrap off. "You didn't..."

He only smiles to himself as he cleans off the cut because maybe he was. You remembered hitting Gavin on purpose, remembered picking up shattered glass over hushed conversation, and then he was standing over you fresh blood leaking from your hand. It didn't matter, not truly, at least not to you. It would heal and fade and barely be a memory.

His thumb slides over the freshly clean bandage across your hand, "If you need anything..." Your eyes meet as he holds onto your hand, you want to tell him theres no need. Well there was but he couldn't know that, it would get everyone involved killed.

"You've been kind enough."

"Hmm." His other hand comes up, fingers brushing away flour coated hair from your face. "I don't mind."

You nearly sigh as his fingers trail down your face, "Thank you." You whisper out his fingers holding your chin between them.

"Clumsy girl." Something darkens in his eyes as his body lets off too much heat leaning down towards you.

Your breath catches feeling the warmth of his own against your face. You're not supposed to do this, he's not supposed to do this, but you can't seem to care as a slickness forms between your legs. Your lips part and he's quick to press his thumb into your bottom one the tip poking into your mouth antiseptic and flour leaking onto your tongue.

The floorboards down the hallway creak, and he drops your hand the same time you step away from him. With a blazing blush you try to kindly smile at him to avoid the feelings crawling up your spine, to avoid whatever awkwardness might arise.

He dips his head in farewell and leaves before anyone sees him in your kitchen.

Your sister muses beside you as you move around the small stand tidying it up to busy your hands. The frayed edges of the bandages were a good indication that the wound was healing but you kept it wrapped tight while you had something decent covering it. You trace the line of dust colored tape remembering the feel of his warm palm pressed underneath and you hate the skip in your chest.

You glance up eyes meeting Gavin and all pulse inducing thoughts vanish. He frowns as he shakes his head, your heart plummets realizing he won't be able to get your father any medicine. He's gone the next second as your thoughts pound down on you with every worse case scenario flying through it. You go to look at your sister, but she's speaking with someone.

The peacekeeper she had been with the other night is handing your sister money a tender smile in his lips as he pushes too much into her hand. "My Ma will love these." He points to the loaves he wants. "She misses district cooking, says the flour in the Capitol doesn't taste the same." His eyes find your surprised ones and he only motions to the loaf, "Your sister told me all about your famous sourdough, so I had to come try it out."

"Sejanus." She tells you.

"Thank you." You nod studying him, "Your mother is in the Capitol?"

Sejanus's eyes grow distant. "Yeah." He doesn't continue and you know better than to push.

"Sejanus." You look towards the familiar voice your new blonde acquaintance walking up to his side. "Is he bothering you?" He jokes.

"Quite the opposite." It's your sister that responds an innocent pink tint in her cheeks.

The blonde smirks at you, "I'll wrap these up for you so you both can be on your way." You pulled the loaf back and turned around to wrap it up for him.

"How long have you known Gavin?" You tried not to straighten up even though you felt your body locking up at the mention of him.

"Who?" It sounded so stupid coming out of your mouth, too high pitched as your fingers fumbled with the tie on the bread. You never called him by his name, it was easier to pretend you didn't know him at all.

"Gavin." You turned cradling the loaf in your arms. Your eyes scanned the market, you saw your sister and Sejanus conversing off to the side leaving you alone in interrogation.

You chuckled awkwardly handing over the bread. "I don't know who that is."

But his hand came around yours as you held it out for him, long fingers trapping yours a shock going up your bones wherever skin met skin. "Hmm. Must have been a mistake then."

You offered him a smile, "Do you want anything?" You needed to changed the subject, if he saw you with Gavin somehow besides when you ran into him, if he knew... "Don't you want a little taste of all your hard work?"

"I didn't bring any money." He slipped the bread into his hands.

But you were being rash as you sliced a piece for him, "Here, free sample." You watched him take it, "Don't tell anyone I let you have one."

He popped it into his mouth, "It'll be our little secret clumsy girl."

You turned away to hide your blush as your sister returned, "We should go out again tonight." She tried to phrase it as a question, but her voice was too loud and you had a feeling her and that boy planned it all.

You glanced back at them, at those pretty blue eyes, and your worries seemed to be a little bit smaller. She nudged your leg but you didn't need much convincing wanting to let her have as much joy while she still could, "Fine."

She lets you borrow another dress, a dark green one that falls above your knees flowers knitted along the bodice. You hate that your stomach is in knots as you walk with her, you hate that you're interested in what you will find, interested in him. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help being intrigued how he made your heart race.

She slides through the crowd with you holding your hand with a rough grip to drag you with purpose. She knew where she was going. "Sejanus!" She beams dropping you hand and rushing towards him.

"I got you guys drinks already." He says holding out two mason jars of clear liquor.

You take it graciously and peer around the room suddenly feeling like you were intruding on whatever your sister was planning for her night. So you push around them and climb onto one of the empty barrel chairs and sip on your drink watching the couples spinning around the dance floor.

"I think Sejanus has a little crush on your sister." You feel his chest against your back first as his words float down to you both of you watching the pair laughing together in serene oblivion. You fight the urge to lean back into him.

You take another drink to calm your nerves as his fingers splay along the table near you. "Is he nice?"

His mouth in near your ear now, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Nicer than me."

You swallow turning your head slightly to take in his face so close to your own, "Are you nice?"

"I'm gentle when I want to be." His eyes take in your lips and then float back up again. You tug at your bottom lip the room suddenly beginning to feel too warm, too small. "Dance with me." He pulls back straightening up.

"Oh that's not-!"

But he has your hand in his, and he's helping you to your feet leading you away to the dance floor moving you around until his other hand lands on your hip pulling you in close. The song is slow, but you barely hear it as your breaths come in too loud with his chest pressed against yours. You let him lead watching the small smirk spread across pretty pink lips as your feet move in tandem with his, "Look at that." He chuckles, "My clumsy girl knows how to dance."

My clumsy girl.

It makes your stomach flutter and you know you should stomp out whatever was growing there, but you let him come closer, let his thumb trail across your left wrist to feel your quickened pulse. "Does it always hurt?" He asked.

"No." You can't look away from him even as his eyes are trained on your weak wrist. "Only when I use it too much."

"Hmm." He stills. Then he's slowly bringing your left wrist towards his mouth to plant a single kiss to the veins running underneath it.

Your face burns, your skin burns, you're overwhelmed by the heat.

Someone shouted and your head whipped around as bodies slammed into one another a fight breaking out in the middle of the room. You took a step forward to find your sister but the hand wrapped around your left wrist is dragging you back, yanking too hard where he shouldn't. He was pulling you from the crowd away from the brawl and people shouting, you looked over your shoulder seeing Sejanus sheltering your sister away as well. The side door flew open and slammed shut making you jump by the sudden loudness as the noise of The Hob became distantly quiet.

You turn towards him in the dark alley and can only get a single breath in before he's moving towards you, backing you up against the brick wall, caging you in.

"What are-!"

He swallows your words with a punishing kiss. You're mind goes blank. You feel his hands under your jaw cradling your face, his tongue grazes your bottom lip begging, baiting for you to open but the shock seals you shut. You taste the moonshine on his mouth, the stale flavor of minty military toothpaste and your hands finally go to his chest to push yourself away from him.

"We can't."

He only digs himself further into you smashing your mouths together once more. This time its his teeth that sink into your bottom lip roughly, sharply, until the taste of rust takes over everything else. You gasp in pain as he uses that to shove his tongue into your mouth. He tilts your face up more melding your mouths together and for a moment you do get lost in it, in the blind overwhelming passion, but theres something else there you don't turn your head towards as he grips you too tightly, like he doesn't want you to slip away into the night.

You kiss him back, you even tangle your fingers in his clothes savoring the way he consumed you.

His hand goes to your waist inching up your ribs with every devilish swipe of his tongue. Your eyes fly open as his thumb slides across the underside of your breast. Your hand goes to his wrist to still him, but he grabs it to pin it to the wall above your head.

"Ouch," You whisper out as he bends the joint too far. "You're hurting me."

His lips ghost down your neck, "Sorry," Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze your carotid. "Can't seem to help myself."

"We-we should stop." You try to get your hand back but he's holding it too tight. "Someone could see us."

He goes still, finally pulling his head up to stare down at you. "Like who." It isn't a question and your brows furrow, "Are you worried your little boyfriend Gavin will see?"

"Wh-What?" You almost laugh. "I don't even-!"

His hand wraps around your throat, not hard, but enough to shut you up. "You're lying. I know theres something going on between you two, I saw the way he looked at you that night, and again at the market, all forlorn and devastated."

"He's nobody." It hurt you to say that after his kindness all these years.

"At least we agree on that." He yanks your jaw forward to sneer down at you, "I don't like sharing clumsy girl." He drops your hand and lets go of your face letting you roll the weak joint around.

You glance up at him, "Why are you being like this?"

He doesn't look at you just watches as he shifts his foot around, "I'll walk you home." He grabs you by the bicep pulling you from the alley and leading you home.

The walk home is silent as you trudge slightly a step behind him suddenly aware of how naive you had been to become tangled with him. He was a peacekeeper, a pawn for the Capitol, why did you ever think he could be something else too? Yet, you still felt something fluttering as your eyes took in his tall frame, remembering running hands along his muscled chest as he kissed you.

"Thank you." You tell him as he deposits you at your door. He did make sure you got out safely during the fight, and walked you home when he didn't need to. You met his blue eyes, maybe there was more to him than rough edges.

He doesn't respond only takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly sucking on the throbbing wound along your lip until you groan out in pain again, and even then he keeps kissing you, keeps biting you until he finally steps back. His eyes look you up and down before he turns around and heads back into the darkness.

You watch his figure disappear, you stand there for a moment staring at the space he had occupied tracing the bruising lip he had given you still tasting the sweat, and spit, and blood.

You turn your face to the sun letting the early rays drench your skin. It was quiet out here, away from the district, only the birds and bugs to keep you company while the rest of the world slid away from existence.

You let the grass sway against your feet as you curled your legs underneath you staring down at your freshly uncovered hand. It had healed, but the small pinkish scar ran along your palm. You traced it with a sigh unsure where to place everything you were feeling regarding the man who has now given you two wounds.

As if on queue the ground is being crushed by boots and you whip your head to the side watching him approach you. He stops a few feet away a bunch of dying dandelions in his hand, "Your sister told me you might be out here." You hug your legs to your chest as you watch him step forward more. "I wanted to come apologize. I don't know what came over me. I think I had too much to drink and got angry about something stupid." He stops in front of you, blocking the sun holding out the bundle of yellow weeds. "These are for you."

You study his face, sunlight leaking out around his head like a halo casting his shadow over your body, and then you hold out your hand for him to place them in.

"Angry about what?"

He takes it as a sign and sits down next to you. You glance down at the dandelions. "I would have rather given you roses," He reaches out tucking hair behind your ear making you look at him; you know that wasn't what he had been upset about. His hand trails down your face brushing softly along your bottom lip. You wince slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"We're not supposed..." You trail off the words seeming ridiculous in your head, but you weren't supposed to be together.

He inches closer to you until his leg is touching yours, "I know."

It didn't seem like it would stop either of you as you feel yourself leaning into his touch, "Just don't do it again." You find yourself saying taking his excuses and letting him cup your face to lean in towards you. Your breath hitches as his whole hand slides along your jaw, body heat radiates off him like the oven in your kitchen after a day worth of baking and you melt into it. You let him turn your body, let him lay it down on the bed of grass.

His bottom lip brushes yours and you close your eyes. You're aware of everywhere his hands are touching you, your hip, your jaw, aware of his thigh against the front of yours. His tongue licks upward hitting your top teeth and you sigh into his mouth as fingers dig into flesh, as your hands come up to his chest, as he kisses you slipping his tongue into your mouth, slowly, exploring the texture and groove of your mouth. Your hands twist into clothing, his grip hardening as you kiss him back gently, tentatively, like you know you shouldn't but you can't help it.

His hand covers your breast, kneading flesh through your clothes and you find your fingers around his wrist, the protest climbing in your throat, but it struggles to come out as his thumb passes over your nipples. It's overwhelming and raw and wrong. None of it makes sense, not as his mouth kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucking the sensitive flesh as he rolls your nipple through fabric.

You feel his smile against your neck as you moan dragging his fingers down your body to slip under the hem of your dress. Your hand flies to his wrist again as he climbs up your thigh, he lets you wrap your fingers around his arm, "Shh..." He mutters into your skin. "Let me." He kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me make you feel good." He kisses you collarbone and slowly your fingers are slipping off of him. "Good girl." He traces the fabric of your underwear, sliding his fingers under the side as your toes curl into grass.

With another soft kiss he pushes two fingers inside of you. You close your eyes turning your head as you take a deep breath feeling him curling inside of you, feeling him push in deeper.

"Look at me." He whispers as his hand begins to move in and out of you at a gentle pace. You slowly turn your head, the heat staining your cheeks red as you take in his face. "Do you like this?" You bite your lip nodding your head as he strokes a sweet spot inside of you. "Tell me." He mumbles onto your lips.

Your mouth parts in a gasp as his palm presses down onto your clit and he's swallowing your pleasure. "It feels good."

"What feels good?" He's moving faster, his hand thrusting harder into you. He licks into your mouth caressing the moan out of you, "What feels good clumsy girl?"

"You!" You pant into his open mouth sweat glistening off your pounding chest.

He pulls back to stare down at you, "You gunna cum for me?" You squeeze your eyes shut, back arching into him the pressure building in your stomach as his hand shifts to press his thumb down on your clit to move in tandem with his hand. You feel your legs shaking beneath him, "You are. You must." He sighs contently and it's enough to throw you over the edge, heels digging into the ground, hands gripping his shirt as you clamp down around his hand. You have your eyes squeezed so tight the sun blinds you when you finally open them, as the orgasm blows over you like the breeze pushing the blades of grass.

You don't even realize he pulled his hand out until he's standing over you feet planted on either side of your spread thighs.

"What are-!"

His soaked hand is running along his cock, stroking himself over you. "Just lie there." He tells you with his tongue between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucks his fist to your exposed body. You want to look away, not stare, not pay attention to the lewd sounds his hand was making as it slid up and down his hard length.

But you can't help it. Not as he pants out curses, not as he drinks in your body, your face like a man starved for water. You meet his eyes, dark and focused on you and find yourself mesmerized by him.

"Take them off." He grunts out motioning to your drenched panties. "Now." You're still shaking from the orgasm, at least you think, as you slide them down your legs. "Show me." He moves his hand faster as your brows furrow slightly. He presses down on your thigh with a hard boot and you bite your cheek to cover the whine of pain, "Show me."

You let your head relax onto the grass as you part your legs for him to stare at your bare cunt. You watch clouds go by in the blue sky listening to him groan as he fucks his hand to the sight of your naked girlhood. You fist the bottom of your dress chewing on your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly hot ropes of cum splatter across your bare chest and dress as he slowly keeps pumping his fist letting every drop leak onto you.

The world is darker as he blocks the sun once more, like a fallen angel losing its light as his cum dries on your sweaty skin. He tucks himself away before kneeling down across your torso. He runs two fingers through the clumps of white along to tops of your breast, stares at it, then stares at you. "Open." Your lips part slowly and he's pushing his fingers into your mouth shoving cum onto the back of your tongue. "Lick it off." Something strange creeps up your spine, something you are not sure you like, as your tongue swirls around his fingers taking the salty substance down your throat. "My clumsy girl." He flattens his fingers out, pressing your tongue down and then he pulls them out. He runs his hand along your chest once more smearing everything across bare skin, watching it shine in sunlight along your naked chest, slipping it under the top of your dress to coat it along your breast. He takes his hand back, admiring his work, and wipes his hand off on your clothes.

He picks your underwear off the ground and tucks them away. Then he's walking past you, leaving you lying there.

The sun feels colder as it hits your body, as you trace the boot shaped indent he had left in your leg.

A week passes by and you never see him. You find yourself searching for him involuntarily wherever you go. You glance out of your kitchen window to see if he's walking up to your home, you peer around the market to see if he's paroling the perimeter with the other peacekeepers, you even find an excuse to pass by the base to see if he's just beyond the fences.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, you weren't sure why it tugged at something inside of you, you weren't sure why deep down in your subconscious you felt...relief.

You didn't study that feeling too much.

Maybe he had left, shipped off somewhere else far away from you. Maybe he had gotten what he wanted from you and now he would move on to the next naive girl. You hated that he possibly viewed you as naive, you hated that you knew it was true. You had been naive. You always tried so hard to be smart with your heart, but the first glance at a pair of pretty blue eyes had made you forget, made you clumsy.

You shook your head as your fist pounded dough, falling in love with a man like that would be stupid. Falling in love with him would be like falling in love with darkness; frighting and consuming unless the moon was out. You didn't even know darkness's name.

No, you had just let him touch you far more than you should have simply because you enjoyed the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you completely to keep you with him. You liked the way he made you feel like you were wanted, like you were his. You didn't want to be his...well maybe in a different world that had a different answer.

There was something else there, something horrid that chilled your bones whenever he looked at you in certain lights. You found your relief sitting right next to that feeling.

The door creaks open and your head spins so fast hoping he's finally come to see you.

Your heart sinks, "Gavin." You blink to hide worry, "You shouldn't be here."

He comes into the room more, "I know, I'm sorry. I felt awful about.."

"It's not your fault." You offer him a reassuring smile even though its fake. You tried to understand, but mostly you felt angry.

He sighs leaning against the counter across from you, "Well I had to keep trying." He digs into his pocket before sliding the vial over to you. You stare at it too shocked to move, "I was only able to get one but-!"

You're running around the counter to hug him, "Thank you." He pats your back as you pull back to beam up at him like life had somehow been shoved back into you. You step back grabbing up the vial to tuck away.

"Just make it last a month." He tells you, "I don't know when I'll be able to get more."

You nod heading to a cabinet and pulling down two loaves of bread to give to him as payment. You push them across the counter at him, "Thank you." You repeat because thats all you feel; gratitude and hope.

He scoops up the bread, "Your sister has been hanging around that Sejanus a lot."

You sigh, "I know...he seems nice." You smirk over at him, "But you know how peacekeepers can be."

"Oh I know." He chuckles but nods. "He's a good guy, hotheaded about stuff he shouldn't be, but he's alright." He knocks his knuckles against the counter, "I should head out. Take care kiddo." Gavin walks to the door leaving you in better spirts than he came.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, sitting by your father's bedside after giving him half a dose of the medicine. He doesn't ask where you got it from, and you don't tell him. You know he suspects how but he never brings it up choosing to let you both live in the bliss of unknowns. You wait until he falls asleep to leave his bedside closing the door to leave him in peace.

It's dark outside as you close the curtains on all the windows before picking up the boxes of trash you needed to take outside. You sigh heavily as you hoist them up onto your hip and push the door open.

The outside is quiet and moonless, dark and empty, an amber street light offering the only glow along your home to guide you on the path around the house. Once everything is out of your hands you finally hear the crunch of gravel, the hair on the back of you neck stands up.

You stare out at the darkness feeling it stare back.

"Hello?"

Your body is slammed backward against your home before you're crumpling to the ground. A hand wraps around your arm to pull you to your feet to shove you back against the wall.

Your heart skips. "You're a liar." He snarls in your face before shoving your head back with the palm of his hand. "I hate liars."

"I-I di-!"

He slaps you across the face, it snaps to the side in a stinging blow. "You said he was nobody." You're too shocked to respond, to ask. "Why the fuck was he here?" Ice trickled down your body as you realize he had saw Gavin here today.

You slowly turn your head, "You never came...I looked for you."

An owl hoots off in the trees as his silence engulfs you. He holds your face between his thumb and finger before coming closer whispering onto your lips, "And then you were all over him like the little slut you are." You stare up at the black sky, "Don't even deny it I saw the two of you hugging in your little hovel."

"It's not what it looks like."

He lets go of your face only to slap it the other direction blood filling your mouth as your lip split all over again. He takes a step back and you try to regain control of your breathing.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me again."

"No you told me not to." He grabs you by the hair and flings you to the ground. "And I don't need to listen to you." Your knees hit the dirt first and you try to move, try to shove away, but his hand is twisted in your hair holding you in place in front of him. "You want to act like a slut." You hear him unzipping his pants. "You'll get treated like one."

You let your eyes close and ignore the sounds of him, ignore what is about to happen, ignore that just a few days ago you had wanted this, wanted him. He tugs on your chin and you let him open your mouth to push himself into it until he hits the back of your throat. His hand hits the wall as he sits there on your tongue for just a moment the taste of him dripping down your throat, it taste like the sweat you had seen slide down his forehead in your kitchen, taste like the scent of him when he bandaged your hand and his body had been so close. You despise how good it is, despise that your body warms. He pulls back and slides his cock back into your mouth over and over and over again until fresh tears spill down your face, as spit covers your chin. He pushes your head back, your hands coming up to grip his thighs fighting the urge to touch him more, fighting the urge to bite down to make him stop.

"Fuck." He breaths and a soft moan leaves your throat causing him to laugh at you. "Like my cock that much huh?" He slams himself deep into your mouth growling as your head hits the wall behind you with the force, "Such a fucking whore."

You don't, you can't, you won't.

But your tongue darts out and your nails dig into his thighs and he's fucking your mouth until he spills down your throat.

"Don't swallow it." He commands pressing his forehead into his arm against the wall. You don't because he told you not to as his cock twitches against your tongue until it begins to soften. He pulls it out and tucks himself away before bending down to gaze at your ruddy tear stained face. "How does it taste?" He pushes hair away from your cheeks smiling as you don't respond his cum pooling in your mouth. He shuffles to the side before running something along your hands, "You feel that?" Your fingers trace the ridges, the grooves, recognizing the shape fear pouring out you. "Yeah that's right. I would hate for something bad to happen to you...or your sister." Your eyes try to stay on his face instead of the gun in his hands. "Don't ever fucking lie to me again." A thumb strokes your bottom lip, "Okay you can swallow now."

You gulp it down, letting the remnants of him slide down your throat as your dignity sat in the dirt between your knees. For a moment you stare at each other, his face half covered in darkness, half illuminated by lamp lights, and for some reason you just want him to kiss you again, hold you. His knuckle brushes the corner of your mouth wiping away whatever cum was trailing down your face. He stands up helping you back onto your feet.

You want to tell him to leave you alone as a tear slides out of your eye, but he cups your face. He leans down, brushing his lips along yours. "My clumsy girl."

"I...I'm not..." You close your eyes wondering which part of the sentence you were trying to disagree with, but he kisses you. He tucks his hand into the base of your skull pulling you closer to him and you find yourself giving into the sensation, giving into him. It consumes you, he consumes you, delving into your mouth, tasting the salty tears, the remains of him still wedged between teeth. You can't even break away from him, he has to be the one to pull away first.

"Don't make me hurt you again." He says it so gently you almost agree with him.

You pull back slightly to stare up at his face coated in the night sky. You feel paralyzed in his arms like a fear shaped boot broke through your vertebrae as the question muddled your brain.

How does this end?

"Sejanus!" You sister's voice floats through the room and your groaning as you stand up soothing the ache in your knees. "What brings you out here?"

Your heart stops in your chest as blue eyes meet yours. You hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stare at him, as he stares at you the room tunneling in on him. You can't even hear Sejanus's reply to the question, but he's digging into his pocket for money as your sister moves around the kitchen.

Your mouth feels dry as your eyes look towards the room your father slept in the same time his does. "How is your father?" You snap back to Sejanus who is now looking at you. "Your sister mentioned he was ill."

"He's fine." You clear your throat moving behind your counter.

"What happened to him?"

You're not sure where to look. "He had to work in the mines...it messed with his lungs."

"I'm so sorry." Sejanus says and you genuinely believe him. "I'm supposed to attend medic training maybe I could find some way to help him."

"How kind of you." Your sister replies as she wraps up loaves he overpaid for and suddenly walking outside with him leaving you alone in the kitchen with this man.

The room feels like its squeezing in on you as he drinks in your frightened expression. He moves, coming around the counter to be standing a few inches from you. You watch his hand come up to trace his fingers along your cheek. "Did you like it?" He whispers against your head. "Don't pretend you didn't." Blue eyes flicker around your face and he begins to chuckle at what he finds there, "I bet you fucking touched yourself to the taste of my cock in your mouth, came so hard with my cum still on your molars." He came close, breath fanning around your face, "You would do the same around my cock isn't that right?"

A tear slipped down your cheek in defeat.

"Say it." He cooed hand sliding down your body to grip at the flesh of your ass pulling your body flush against his. "Fucking tell me." He growled teeth against your own.

"I did." You whisper bile rising in your throat as you remembered sliding your hand, still slick from your spit on his cock, between your legs when you came back in the house. "I did."

"Hmm." He takes your left hand running his nail along your ulnar bone. Then he's stepping away from you, turning around, and leaving without another word.

You slide down the wall with your head in your hands confused, overwhelmed, ashamed. There was only one thing to do to stop this tidal wave of psychological torture you were inflicting on yourself.

You wait for the next hanging, you wait for the next distraction when everyone's heads are turned away, and then you slip out into the night quietly making your way to the peacekeepers base. It's sweltering hot as you crouch behind buildings and slip between broken fences to get where you need to go. You feel sweat dripping down your back, sliding down the side of your temple as you keep to the shadows waiting...waiting...

You used to know his schedule so well, but you had become distracted, sloppy and now you weren't sure if you would even see him tonight to plead for his help. This was stupid, this was silly even if you did find Gavin what were you to say? This devious blue eyed man was stalking you, harassing you? You had let him. You had let him into your home, into your life, let him defile you knowing it was wrong, knowing you were courting death. Even if Gavin believed you his commander would just find a way to make it your fault and get you in trouble somehow.

Your shoulders deflated. You felt stuck.

You glance beyond the wall at the medical building. How simple would it be to slip inside and pull what you needed while no one was watching.

You're moving before you can talk yourself out of it, slipping inside the unguarded door to the thankfully empty room. It smells clean with neat unoccupied beds lining the wall and you wonder how much good they could do if they actually offered to help the district's people. It motivates you to start searching, digging through draws to find anything that could help your father. You feel adrenaline rushing through you making your vision too focused as you sift through vials of medicine that wasn't what you needed, your heart is racing, pounding in your ears as the quiet outside beats down on you.

You pause, it's too quiet. You got inside too easy. It shouldn't be this easy. The hair on your neck stands up a feeling you only got when-!

Flood lights creep into the window shining against his beautifully wicked face as the tears slide down your unblinking eyes. You couldn't look away as he slowly walks forward. He comes near you, face pressed into the side of your hair. "Little thief."

You feel him push hair off your neck to trace your jaw. "I didn't st-!"

His hand is around your throat quicker than a snake's strike and he's shoving you until your back hits the metal cabinet against the wall. "You as bad a liar as you are a thief." You claw up his arm as he stares you down, "I wanted to see you tonight, walked all the way to your little hovel just to find out you weren't there." He squeezes harder as your vision pulses at the edges, "Is this a little rendezvous for you and that stupid boy?" You furrow your brows in pain, in confusion so he slams your head back against the cabinet your ears ringing. "Don't play dumb I know you came here for him." He came forward, "You belong to me."

You fingers loosen on his forearm as you plead with your eyes. I know, I know. You try to tell him so he lets you go, lets you breath.

He does and you gasp for air, blinded by it, overwhelmed with oxygen you don't even realize he's shoving his hand inside of you. "Stop!" You croak out. "Please." But it's too breathy as he presses his forehead to yours curling his fingers as you plead into his open mouth. "I didn't-I didn't do..." You trail of into a moan as his palm presses down against your clit.

Blue eyes stare you down and for a moment you forget he's angry, you forget you're scared.

He yanks you from the wall and shoves you face down into one of medical beds. It groans as your hand tries to force yourself up but its too weak so you're flinging backwards towards him as he hoist your dress up. "Don't." You plead. "Don't do this." You swallow, "He used to help my father. I'm sorry. I-I only want you please, not-not him."

He leans down, kissing your shoulder. "Then don't you want this?" You feel his hard length press against your body.

"Not like this." You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the metal frame of the bed.

"How would you have me then?" His mouth grazes up your neck. "In your little bed spread open for me?" His mouth presses against your ear, "Or would you want to be top? Up against a wall? Out in the grass and dirt on all fours like an animal?"

His teeth dig into your ear lobe, "I-I want to look at you." You had imagined it, on the nights you came to the images of him above you, rocking into you with gentle ease. It was candle lit and sweet and everything he never had truly been. You tried to turn to look at him, "I want to know your name."

"No." He pulls away from you. You lay there for a moment wondering if this was all some sick way to scare you, that he wouldn't actually do anything. "Don't worry. I don't want you like this either." He shifts around and soon enough cold metal is skimming across your inner thigh.

"Wh-!"

He pushes the gun into you before you can breath. You cry out at the intrusion, your back arches as something burns from inside of you that you know you shouldn't like. He pulls it back slightly to push it in again and again and again thrusting the weapon in and out of you until you start panting. "Please." You whimper unsure what you're pleading for and he's too quick to slide his hand underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit as he fucks you into this thin mattress with his gun. You're a mess, your feet struggling to hold you as your climax builds rapidly. You feel yourself clench around it fisting the sheets, groaning into them to muffle the sounds.

You fucking moan.

You're not even sure if its in pain or enjoyment. "Like that huh?" He asked pressing down onto your clit hard, the ridges on the gun hitting some strange delicious angle. "Like me fucking you with my gun." You squeeze your eyes tight feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you even push your hips back to take more of it. He growls, "Gods you're a sick fucking slut for it."

Maybe you were delirious, maybe you were everything he said you were, maybe it was the fact he could kill you right now with one slip of his finger, but your orgasm slams into and your gushing around his gun like some pathetic whore fingers twisting into sheets. You're overwhelmed with it, the darkness around you blending together as it takes you under and spits you out. You feel him yank it out of you and set it carefully on the bed beside you.

You feel wrong, you feel empty as you lay there against the bed in a post orgasm bliss and all you want to do is cry. "Come here." The bed dips as he sits next to you, his arm wrapping under your body.

"Let me go!" You sob but he flips you around to cradle your shaking body in his arms. "Let me go." You try again, weaker this time as your body leans into his, as his hand strokes down the side of your head. "Let me go..." You close your eyes as more tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

He never does.

He holds you for a while, his chin resting atop of your head while he caresses your body in his arms until the sky outside the windows starts to split into purples and pinks. He unravels himself from you guiding you to your feet, and without a single glance he walks out of the room. You stare after him loneliness engulfing you in its grey flame.

You drag yourself out of the building and back home, your own disgusting pleasure sliding between your thighs the entire walk.

You go to your father's room taking up the seat beside his bed and close your eyes for a second. "You're sad." He said quietly.

"I'm tired." You sigh.

He chuckles, "Same thing." You meet his gaze, "Does this have anything to do with that peacekeeper?" You sit up straighter unintentionally. "He came by earlier looking for you." You can barely hear what else your father says as you stand up going to the bedside drawer. You catch snippets of him warning you, telling you to be careful, but your eyes narrow on the empty drawer.

The empty drawer.

"He was in here?" It cracks on the way out.

But the front door flies open and your sister is standing in the bedroom doorway out of breath and frantic. Your eyes meet and you know something horrible has happened because of you.

Death was breathing down your neck.

The wind blows your unbound hair back as you stare shocked at his shackled feet dangling in a suspended moment in time. You can't bring yourself to look at his face, at that sweet face that had always helped you time and time again. It was pale now, bruised and cold, and dead.

He was dead.

Gavin was dead, hanging there like he had been nothing.

The tears leaked down your face.

"It didn't make sense at first." He starts. You don't even jump at his voice behind you, nor do you move as he comes closer to you. "Why you purposely ran into him that night we met, or why he was watching you in the market, or why he came by your home, but then you said he had helped your father." You take a shaking breath, "Your sick father." You felt him behind you now, "I found all those empty vials in your home, the same vials you were probably trying to steal from the medical building." You hear him digging into his pocket pulling out an empty clear vial and throwing it at your feet.

The last of your father's medicine.

"I-I needed..." You choke out terrified. Because it was empty, because it was supposed to last you another month if you stretched it, but now it was gone and so was any chance of getting more.

"Daddy needed it more."

You slowly turned to look at him, "He didn't deserve this." You can feel his body hanging heavily like the rope was tied to your own hands. You had practically kicked the stool out from under his own feet that sent him hanging.

"No, he didn't." He cocks his head to the side. He steps closer to you tucking hair behind your ear and his gun looms behind him like a twisted guardian angel.

You stare up at him, "You're a monster."

He leaned down and snarled into your mouth, "Yes I am."

He was never going to stop, he was never going to leave you alone.

You shove him roughly and take off flying past the hanging tree, flying past Gavin's dangling body and into the woods behind it. You run further and further into the woods, you know he probably is faster, more trained than you, but you don't stop, you can't stop. Green and brown blur past you as you sprint through the forest. You try to look over your shoulder to see how far away he is, but you're too busy dodging trees, jumping over loose logs.

Then your foot snags of vines and your tumbling into the dirt. Your left hand takes the brunt of the fall and you bite down the cry turning swiftly ready to kick him away from you, but he never comes.

You sit up frantically looking around for him, but he's no where.

It's too quiet, so quiet the sound of your pounding heart blares into you, so quiet you hear the bullet as it whizzes past your head. It hits the tree behind you, splintering wood, and you don't wait as you scramble to your feet to keep running. You don't look back, you don't look down, you just keep running even as your body groans in weary pain, even as the next gun shot sounds off around you.

He was hunting you like the prey he always saw you as.

You pump your arms faster, push your legs harder zig-zagging your way through the trees as bullets hit the trunks around you. You're running faster than you can breath the only noise in your head was the fear pumping through your veins. Your lungs burned hotter every breath that spat out of your mouth as branches smacked off your face, arms, skin, blood splattering in its wake as you ran. You kept running, you kept running even though it hurt more than the idea of giving up.

You threw yourself behind a tree shoving your palm into your mouth to quiet the rattling gasp you took.

He wasn't far, you could hear leaves crunching underneath heavy boots.

You stifled the whimper.

He was whistling to himself as he slowly walked through the woods soft rain drops plopping down on the leaves above. "Clumsy girl," He sang as thunder clapped overhead. "No need to hide from me." His foot slowly snapped over twigs causing you to jump as he neared you.

You hear him shift and then the bullet hit the tree bark shattering around you as you take off again, but this time he's shooting at your feet dirt splattering across bare ankles. He's not shooting at you, he's herding you. And you had fallen for it.

His arm wraps around your neck yanking you backwards and slams you against a tree wet hair slapping across your skin, and then you're staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. He peers at you, "Why'd you run?" You spit at his feet causing him to laugh as he lowers the gun grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. "Why'd you run?" He presses in close, his nose digging into your cheek and you try to gasp at the firmness between his legs, but nothing comes out. You stare upward at the canopy of leaves as it goes in and out of panicked focus, as the life is choked out of you. Lighting cracks across the sky, rain drops hitting your purple face.

He lets go, lets you finally take a breath, lets your vision return to take in his devoid face.

There's nothing there but blue emptiness.

"You killed him." Your voice cracks. "He was just-!"

He takes you by the hair and throws you to the ground. You start to claw at him, kick at him to get him away from you, but he knows your weak spots all too well having studied every bad habit you had willingly showed him and grabs your right hand to pin it into the dirt. With as much strength as you can muster in it you slap him with your poor left hand pain ricocheting down the tendon. In one swift movement he plants his boot on your left wrist and presses down until you feel the fragile bones snap.

He doesn't cover your mouth as you scream, as pain blinds you, as you writhe under him sobbing rain pouring down now around you turning the ground into mud. He pushes hair off of your face, attempting to be tender after breaking your pathetic wrist drinking in the sounds of you agony like a God of pain, like crushing your bones was a form of foreplay. You roll your head away to take in the sight of your mangled hand twisted in all the wrong directions. It feels numb, you feel numb.

Then you are both staring at each other trying to breath. He watches your chest heave, you watch his mouth part eyes finally meeting. You're afraid to speak, afraid to move. Rain melts your skin as you lay there suspended in a moment of disbelief the distant pain washing away into the dirt beneath you.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I'm afraid of you."

"Wrong answer."

He flips you over to lay you in the wet dirt as he climbs over you his belt buckle ringing in your ears, his gun thrown carelessly into the mud. No, no, no you panic as his hand pushes your skull into the ground smearing it to the side of your face, as you feel him between your legs. You frantically look around and with pain suffocating you, your broken left hand wraps around his gun and you slam it backwards into his head.

He tumbles off of you as you stagger upward pointing the gun at him wavering on your feet.

He laughs at you. "Well go on then." He nurses the bruise forming on his temple. You're shaking as you hold the weapon at him barely able to keep it upright, but he climbs to his feet. "No... we both know you're not capable of that."

"You don't know anything about me." You try to seethe, but it comes out feebly.

"Don't I?" He cocks his head to the side. "I know if you kill me you'll hang for it, and then your father will die too." He takes a step forward until the gun is pressed into his chest. "And who will be there to comfort your dear sister."

You dare let yourself smirk, "Sejanus. You said he was nicer than you."

His features falter for a millisecond, but then the mask is back. "Which we both know isn't nice at all."

Your finger quivers against the trigger. "Anybody is better than you."

His hand reels, and you think he's going to knock the gun from your hand but instead he slaps you across the face the gun firing into the sky. The force of the blow sends you back into the ground, but you're already moving again despite the sting in your cheek, the blood and dirt in your mouth, running through the storm crashing down onto everything. You see the break in the trees, the dark blue expanse of freedom if you could just get to it.

You gasp coming to an abrupt halt.

You look down.

You watch in a calm shock as blood blooms like a rose across your dress.

The pain never registers, not soon enough as your knee gives out first and you collapse back onto the ground watching him tower over you. You press your hand into the wound feeling the stinging anguish it causes while he watches your broken body bleed out on the forest bed. You were going to die, and all you could do was stare up at him while you hemorrhaged.

He turned on his heel and walked away leaving you to die alone.

You started crying then, crying and holding your weeping wound as the realization of it all crept into you.

"Come back." You sobbed out. "Come back." You whispered, rain and tears drenching your face.

Something flapped above you the black bird taking flight screaming your words out into the woods. "Come back." They called, "Come back." You watched them soar above you smudging together through the water in your eyes. It became a sad quiet song to drift you off into nothing if you let it. You didn't know how far into the woods you were exactly, but maybe someone heard the gunshots, maybe you could get up and try to make it home. Your body felt warm from the blood coating you and you figured you'd never make it home ever again.

You waited for Death.

Boots pounded into the dirt coming up towards you quickly scooping up your limp body and running with it. You groaned in pain trying to look up at him but gave up as your body dangled in his arms. He clambered up wooden steps and soon a door was slammed behind you quieting the storm outside.

You finally looked at him as he gently set you on the floorboards. He tears your dress down the middle examining the bleeding wound, and then he's digging. You scream, your vision going away at the sheer excruciating pain of it, you hope you'll just pass out soon but you feel his fingers inside your stomach, hear every wet noise as blood pours out of you.

You barely register the small ping as it hits the floor beside you. You relish the relief even as his hands press your shredded dress fabric into the bullet hole.

"Breathe." He tells you. "Just breathe."

"You shot me."

His brows are furrowed as he pulls the bloody clothes away and stands up rummaging through things. "I need to close it." Stuff clatters to the ground as the shiver racks through you. He comes back hold a fishing hook and line. You try to brace for it as it pierced your skin, as he tries to close the hole he caused. You flinch but the pain is secondary to everything going on around you, all you can seem to focus on is his face.

"You would be beautiful if you weren't so evil."

A ghost of a smile from him, "So, I'm your villain then?"

"Why else are you doing this?"

The muscle in his eye twitched and maybe because you're going to die he actually answers. "My whole life, all I've wanted was power." He pulls the line through your skin again as your teeth chatter. "With you..." He had power over you, he had control and ownership from the first moment he saw you, commanded you and you submitted so easily. He pushed the hook back through.

You weakly smile, "I must be pretty special huh?"

Something crosses his face, something you don't examine too closely. It's gone within seconds his hands tying off the stitch, "You're nothing."

He leans back studying the hack job of a suture he attempted on you, watches blood still slowly trickle out of it as you continue to shake in shock. "Yeah well...my blood is on your hands."

He stares down at his maroon stained fingers and then meets your gaze. He moves for you scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back out of the door. It's still raining as he walks with your limp body, mud squishing underneath his feet and then water, you hear splashing as he wades through the shallow water with you until his chest is submerged. "Are you going to drown me after all that trouble?"

You stare up at grey clouds as your body floats along the gentle waves. He laughs lightly, "No." He stares down at you running a wet hand along your cheek dirt coming away. "I'm cleaning the blood off."

You let him. You let yourself float lifeless in the dark water as lightning scatters across the clouds. You blink. You breath. You try to stay alive as your wrist throbs, as blood continues to spread out beneath you.

His hands are far gentler than they've ever been as they skid across skin cleansing you of all his sins. You can't stop looking at him, as rain drips off his lashes onto your lips quenching a thirst you know shouldn't be there. He looked so peaceful, kind even, the hero in this twisted story and you figured you had died on that cabin floor. Light was going to split the heavens and take your body, or maybe the ground would open up to drag you into hell.

Water sloshed in your ears. Maybe you would be stuck in this in between of your death, forever wounded, with him.

"Will you tell me your name?" You whisper as rays of sun peak out from behind treacherous skies.

He swallows as he begins moving back to shore, "If you don't die I'll tell you my name."

You close your eyes, body swaying with each long cold step he takes back to that cabin. You knew he wouldn't take you home, not until he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for murdering you. He uses a knitted blanket to dry you off and sets you back on the floor. No, you hadn't died yet as the chilling pain racked through your bones, "Am I gunna die?"

"I don't know." He kneels by your side. "I don't know." The rain still softly patters down against the roof as he watches you breath, "Why'd you run?" He whispers.

Your ribs burn as they expand, as they try to get oxygen to your struggling heart. And maybe because you're going to die you actually answer. Your lips part, mouth dry and numb, as tears slide across your face. "Because I'm afraid of what it makes me."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you." You watch his teeth grid, watch his fingers flex. But nothing else. "Will you hold me..." Your breath rattles, "While I go."

He pauses for quite a while, so long that you let your eyes close. The floor boards creak as he shifts, as his body lays down next to yours, as his arm tucks under your head and he pulls you close to his warm chest. You listen to his heart as yours slows. "I'm leaving." He starts, "I leave for officer training in the morning and I'm never coming back."

"Good." You nod. You'll never see him again, and yet it brings new tears to your eyes.

His fingers trace the curve of your ear, "Look at me." You tilt your head up to him and he leans down softly pressing his lips to yours. You pull your face from him letting the shaky breath leave you, and then you kiss him again.

He opens you up gently swirling his tongue into your mouth, caressing your own in its own embrace as his hands shift your body. You whine out in pain, but he doesn't stop until he's hovering over you. You don't stop him either. He kisses across your jaw, down your throttled neck, licking the hand print bruise he had left there. You wrap your good hand around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you as his own kneads into your breast. He keeps moving lower wrapping his mouth around your peaked nipple lavishing it with his tongue, sucking and biting it so tenderly it makes your back arch into him for the cost of more pain.

He moves down more until his head is between your thighs, prying your burning muscles open, kissing your clit first before running his tongue along it. "Look at you," He peers between your legs chuckling to himself, "And I'm your villain." You run your hand along his buzzed hair moaning for it, for him as he traces delicate circles into your clit fingers pushing inside of you making pleasure consume you so much you hardly remember your wounds.

He makes you forget them too easily. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks against it pressing down hard with his tongue until you see stars, until he has you completely undone by him. You moan out into the air as you cum against his face feeling him licking at you as you ride through it.

He picks his head up climbing back up your body, he stills taking in the botched wound in your stomach. He runs his tongue along it before kissing it ever so softly.

"Why did you save me?" You ask as you stare up at him listening to him unbuckle his belt once more. "Why did you come back?"

He blinks, "Because you asked me to."

You feel him plant himself between your legs, "Would you stay," A shaky breath. "If I asked you to." You had wanted and feared this and now you're not sure if you could ever want anything else.

He pushed inside of you slowly, stretching you open in sweet agony and relief. It's blinding and painful and nothing could have ever prepared you for how it would fill you completely. You breath into his open mouth on yours, feeling him slide in deeper, deeper, deeper until you're more full of him than yourself. "No."

Then he shifts to pull back, to slam back into you as you cry out in pain. Not at him, at everything else. You stare up at him the hard metal of his dogtags hitting against your face with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back, legs coming around him to pull him closer, feel his warm skin on your own. He nips at your bottom lip and you don't care that it hurts anymore, you don't care that he hurt you at all. He feels too good inside of you. His hand sneaks between your bodies to press into your clit, "Cum on my cock." He groans into your feverish skin the rough chain cooling your skin.

"Tell me your name." You moan tilting your hips for him. "I want-I want..." You want to know it, know him.

He only fucks you harder, unforgivably harder that has you squeezing your eyes in pain and ecstasy. He bites down on your jaw, digs his teeth into your jugular, taking piece after piece of you. He breaks skin, he splits you apart seam by seam until theres nothing left of you. You would let him crush you, break you if he wanted, as long as he didn't let go. You groan out as his tongue laps at the wounds he gave you, as his fingers dig into your waist to thrust into you hard until you finally cum around his cock pounding into you.

"My clumsy girl," He smiles into your collarbone. You're nodding, your arching your back for him, letting your pleasure consume you as his cock hits every deep rooted thing inside of you. You don't even realize he started moving faster, pounding into you harder. His hands grab you by the ribs and he's spilling inside you thrusting slowly as he pushes everything deeper. Until finally he stops moving.

You don't move, you can't. "I was supposed to win." Your chest hits his with every heavy breath, with every sacred word, "And then they died and I got sent here." Your throat feels incredibly dry. "It still isn't enough, I want more." He stares down at your right hand, then slowly traces the white gash along it from the night you met him. "Come with me." Your brows scrunch in confusion at his whispered confessional, "Come with me." He repeats again running his finger back over the scar.

"Where?" You croak.

He brushes his thumb over it once more, "The Capitol."

The images flash across your mind as you watch him. You by his side in pretty clothing sitting in a warm glorious home with food that wasn't leftover stale bread. Images of lounging on soft couches with his arms around you, with kisses sweeter than sugar and sunlight on your naked skin. He doted and cared and made you matter. And after years of constantly caring for others around you, it was an addicting daydream.

But it's gone like smoke on a mirror. You could only see death in his face, and as sweet and tempting that death would be it would be anything but. He wouldn't kill you softly. He wanted you in a cage for only his enjoyment and control and it would break you down until you no longer existed. He didn't truly care, he just wanted to prove he could, prove that he already had.

Blue eyes meet yours, your answer to him being read there as he finally pulls out of you the hollowness ringing through your soul. He stands up, tucking himself away before rummaging through the house he brought you inside of, then he comes back kneeling by your limp left hand. He gingerly takes it and ever so slowly begins to wrap it up tightly to set the bones back in place. You too numbed by the pain to register it, so you watch his face while he tends to your wounds. Then he sets it back on the ground but you grab his fingers before he lets go completely.

You tug on his ring finger. Stay, You say with your eyes in more ways than one, Stay. He could be free here, away from a haunted past that had made him vengeful and power hungry.

He doesn't say anything. He just lays down next to you, pulling you close once more as your eyes shut, as you drift off into nothing within his arms.

By morning he's gone.

You lay on that cabin floor as the truth sinks in. You're not dead, and he's gone.

He was gone. You were happy about it. You glanced around the cabin eyeing the white shirt spread out for you the silver chain draped across it. You reach for it fingers wrapping around his dog-tags.

You trace his name.

You tug the shirt on your body slipping the dog-tags around your neck and with the little strength you have, you stand up. It takes you a while but you leave the cabin tenderly walking back towards the damp shore. You wade out into the water, like he had done with you broken body, and lean back until you were floating weightless on your back, staring up at the bright sun.

He wanted his power, and he never would find that here; it would never be enough for his starving rotted soul. For some reason your heart hurt more than the ever bullet did.

You wished for his shadows. You wished for his death.

Your father died when winter came, it was too cold, and without medicine, once the winter fever set in he never had a chance.

Your sister does all the baking now. Your left hand never healed properly making it too difficult to use it, you try to help her in other ways, but baking reminds you of him and makes the wounds burn even though they were healed, you hate that they healed. You hate him.

You run your hand along the chain around your neck, the dog-tags tucked deep beneath your clothes. All you had left of him was that precious metal and a gunshot wound, and as you watch him sworn in as president, as your sister sells bread beside you, you hope one day Death sends a baker to destroy Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hi friends!! hope u enjoyed!! this story legit was so fucking hard to write. it had a whole different concept and characters and everything but it just never clicked with me even tho i had so many ideas but i couldn't figure out how to move through it fluidly. i rewrote this whole thing SO many times bc i couldn't connect with it, had to take a break, and finally ended up here with a version that wasn't what i set out for it to be, but ended up enjoying it a lot more ? i think hormones got to me and i just made it really sad instead of vicious :) but anyways!! love u all so much!!

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

alright sleep token and 141 type collab because brain rot (tldr: 141 are a masked man rock band)

soap always wanted to be in a band. gaz thought it was something cool to try. price played drums in highschool. and ghost of course introduced the aire of mystic that made them really take off.

def have a good fanbase of punks and their girlfriends. they get a lot of interest because of the unique sound and also. hot guys in masks brain go brrrrrrrrr...

totally see gaz and soap interacting with the crowd and the pretty girls that catch their eyes. totally singing something like "show me those pretty white jaws" and caressing someones throat in the crowd (actual sleep token lyric... this was a dream to think about). def have people trying to figure out their identities so they can try to call them up.

gaz for sure finds a girl at a little bar showing in the beginning that he tracks down in daylight to ask her on a little date. ends up being surprised by her with tickets to his own bands concert. needs to show him the appeal of her favorite member. ends up having soap and ghost beat the shit out of him after the concert to have a good excuse for flaking. def puts tidbits in one of the songs about her that she totally freaks about because "shes exactly his type!" yeah baby you are.

ghost probably writes a lot of the lyrics for their songs. def is thinking of some birdie that he thinks is "the one that got away" when he writes shit like "i'm still full of the love you want / i reach for you on faith alone." happens to see her at one of their concerts and obviously she doesnt know its him, mask in all, but he still gets her vip tickets or ones in the nosebleeds. takes more of a part in crowd pleasing, confusing the fuck out of soap and gaz.

price is more of the stressed punk dad. keeping gaz and soap contained while helping ghost with lyrics and keeping up with everything else with the band is a lot but he loves his boys. def got a few piercings when he was younger that he will not share with the class no matter how much soap begs (eyebrow and three cartilage.... but also be creative). def still has a septum piercing he pretends is a fake (only ghost knows).

price convinces ghost to give it a go with this bird he writes about. just let him come with ghost to scope her out again. scare off any new boyfriend looming around the corner. needs to be sure his boy is well taken care of.

sleep token songs mentioned: jaws and the love you want

def writing about this again sleep token type 141.... shewwww. def didnt get their vibe completely right but no one can do sleep token like sleep token yk (masked british men have me in a 'chokehold' :) )

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 21

Part 1 Part 20

Steve’s dragging his feet on their way out the door, not that Eddie can blame him. He’s practically been vivisected by that thing twice now, and Eddie can’t blame him for not wanting to see it again.

Eddie wants to sandwich Steve in the middle. He’s listing on his feet, and his skin’s ashy and pale from all the blood loss. But he’d shoved Will in-between them like usual, and that was that.

He keeps his pace slow and measured without making it obvious he’s doing it. Steve will kick up a fuss if he realizes it’s to accommodate him. He keeps his ears peeled.

They’re walking around in a hellscape, weaponless. Just like old times.

They don’t make it to the quarry. They’ve barely made it anywhere at all when there’s a scream that sounds alarmingly human.

It, of course, comes from the woods. The trees tower over them, casting looming shadows. They all freeze like dear in the crosshairs of a car’s headlights.

It’s quiet.

So, so quiet.

Then, “Nancy?” muffled, like it’s being screamed through a straw. “Nancy, are you there?”

“Jonathan,” Will says, taking off into the woods, Steve right behind him because “Nancy” can’t mean anyone other than Nancy Wheeler.

“No, no don’t,” Eddie says, knowing it’s too late. “Son of a bitch!” The trees cast shadows, long and menacing as they swallow Steve and Will up. Eddie runs. “Oh, this is so stupid, this is so stupid.”

“Follow my voice!” Jonathan calls again. Eddie does.

He doesn’t hear the clicking of the Demogorgon until he sees it. Will and Steve are frozen, watching it stalk toward where Nancy Wheeler is crouched, peering into a pulsing red light between two trees.

Steve turns toward Eddie, eyes wild. “Keep the kid alive, Munson.”

Eddie’s stomach lurches violently enough that bile fills his mouth. Because Steve is standing there, weaponless and injured. There’s ash coating his hair, band-aids plastered to his forehead, dirt caking his pants to his thighs. A fallen angel in the making.

“No,” he whispers, voice gaining volume as his words gain speed. “No, no, don’t do this to me.” He takes a step toward Steve, not caring at the twig snapping beneath his foot. “Come on, come one, I dare you to stay alive.”

Steve smiles with his whole face. Blood drips down from beneath the bandages on his forehead. It looks black in the shadowed wood. “I didn’t pick dare he says.”

Then, beautiful, brave, fucking stupid Steve Harrington runs at the Demogorgon, screaming as he punches it in the back of its head.

“Come get me, you fucker,” Steve spits. The Demogorgon’s face splits open, and it screeches, guttural.

“Steve?” Nancy calls. Her hands stuck in the red light now, but she’s just sitting there, staring at Steve like she’s never seen him before.

The last thing Eddie sees of Steve Harrington is his back as he bolts through the trees, the Demogorgon following close behind.

“Eddie,” Will cries. He’s tugging Eddie relentlessly toward where Nancy’s still crouched. They’re stumbling over every root and rock because Eddie refuses to look away from the spot Steve had been. If he looks away, that’ll be it. Steve will be gone.

But then the kid shoves him, hard, and he falls. Nancy Wheeler latches onto his arm hard. Just as unrelenting as Will’s grip on his waist.

They’re pulled through the pulsing red hole in the world. It’s a squeezing, almost violent pressure, that pops along with his eardrums once they’re free.

It’s nighttime in the real world. He doesn’t realize the shadows of that place had been wrong until he seems the right once more. His breath comes easy, clear of ash and that pulsing red. He doesn’t care.

Eddie turns back to where they’d come, but it’s just fucking bark. Innate fucking wood. He slams the heel of his palm on it, trying to find any give at all.

“Will?” Jonathan says, voice breaking. Eddie doesn’t care, barely registers it at all.

“No,” Eddie cries. He doesn’t feel his nails give as he starts clawing at the thing, like he can scratch his way back to where he’s supposed to be. “No, no, no!”

He doesn’t stop until someone pulls him bodily back and away. He struggles like an animal in a trap. Doesn’t stop until another set of arms box him in, holding him back.

He sags, bringing all three of them to the ground. His throat feels raw, like he’s been screaming. Maybe he has.

He lands partially on other bodies, feels them shove him off. Doesn’t care. Just stares at the bark where Steve Harrington isn’t until Will calls, “Eddie?”

He turns on hands and knees. The ground is cold, but Eddie barely feels it. Will’s in his brother’s arms, face pressed into Jonathan’s chest, one eye watching Eddie, wide and trusting.

Nancy is on her butt in the dirt, mouth still parted in shock as she looks at the same spot Eddie was just staring at. She’s wearing a brown jacket with pristine white trim, hair in a perky ponytail. Eddie wants to yank it clean off her head.

Beside Nancy, her redheaded friend sits, squinting suspiciously between Eddie, and Will, and Nancy, then back to Eddie, like she can’t figure out who’s fault this is.

It’s Eddie’s. He sinks his fingers into the dirt, clutching it in his fingers, even as his messed-up pinkie screams. He barely feels it past the shock.

He can still see Steve Harrington’s back as he turned away for the last time.

“I’ve got to go back,” Eddie says, looking up at Nancy imploringly. “How do I go back?”

Nancy shakes her head, shaking loose a few tears that trail down her cheeks. “I don’t—” she says, swallowing. “I don’t know.”

Eddie makes a sound like a wounded dog, full of unwanted pain and impotent rage.

“Why the hell would we go back?” Nancy’s friend asks.

It’s like the words are the last cut needed to break him. Eddie starts sobbing, barely hears Will’s answer over his own devastation.

“It’s Steve,” he says. “He’s still there.”

Part 22

[starlightsearches]

track 8 with eddie!

all i ask is that it’s sub!eddie 🤞

Brat

So I lied earlier about deleting all of the requests for the mixtape milestone 😬 i did get rid of the some of the requests i hadn't started, but i couldn't let go of the ones i drafted, which is good news, because inspiration struck for this one!

Ex-boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, pussy eating, bratty eddie but he gets put in his place super quick, bondage, not a happy ending if you want them to get back together, language, and i think that's it!

You never thought you'd be back on Eddie Munson's doorstep.

Hands hanging heavy at your sides, a little taste of a summer breeze teasing at the hem of your skirt. You'd been full of a strange mixture of righteous fury and sick anticipation on the drive over but it's all gone now, a choking feeling in your throat when you lift up your hand to knock.

And you still can't do it.

Your eyes rake over his completely uninteresting door (are there even interesting doors?)— pockmarked with random dents and dings and sticky residue from long gone flyers—but you study it like it's the Mona Lisa, like it's got the meaning of life hidden somewhere in its peeling paint.

Fuck that. You didn't come here for the meaning of life.

Your knuckles meet the cool metal, once, then twice. The door flies open before you get a chance to drop your hand.

Eddie was waiting for you on the other side.

Heat floods through your entire body—and not the good kind—the oily feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Had he been watching you through the peep hole?

He leans casually up in the door frame, arm stretched long above his mess of curls. The smile on his lips is so familiar it makes you ache.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Eddie looks good. Better than the last time you saw him—a little over a month ago, although not much as changed. Kind of stubbly, kind of toned. Still very, very hot.

There's no need to feel guilty for thinking it, but that doesn't stop your stomach from sinking as you drag your eyes down the white t-shirt he wears, band logo faded and the sleeves cut off, knees poking out of the rips in his jeans.

It should be ridiculous—a fucking caricature of a cool guy with his artful rips and the tats littering his arms. A Halloween costume on anybody else. But not on Eddie.

You push past him, like you push past the thought about how tight he wears his jeans. "Don't call me that."

He follows you into the living room of his shitty little apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. "What can I call you, then? Sugar tits?"

He doesn't even pretend to whither under your stare, although you feel like you cut glass with the look you give him.

"I thought I told you not to call me at all. Where is it?"

He's standing too close, looming over you with a little smirk. You can feel how hot his skin is. Feel the warm puff of breath from his nose on your cheeks. "Where's what, gorgeous?"

He never called stuff like that when you were together. Baby was his favorite. Princess when he was feeling sassy. Honey, but only on the rarest occasions, the sweetest mornings. That one always made you weak at the knees.

"The box of my stuff," —you're mad at him, at this, and it hits you hard, has you jamming a finger into his sternum, feeling the wiry muscle of his chest underneath the tee—"the one you left me three desperate messages about."

That humbles him a little bit. A very little bit, but enough to make Eddie shut his mouth for once. He points down the hall behind you.

"Bedroom."

You know the way, but let him lead. It's colder in his apartment than it was outside, the hair on your arms standing up, and you hold yourself a little tighter, cussing yourself out for leaving your jacket in the car.

"You look good," he calls back without turning in your direction, eyes on the clutter covering every inch of the floor, maybe hoping you won't notice the edge in his voice, “going out tonight?"

That was the plan—before this. "Yeah."

"Who with?"

Eddie doesn't even have enough shame in him to look embarrassed about asking, staring at you openly, like he has any right to know anything about your life now that he's not in it.

"You don't know them," you answer, and he laughs.

"Come on, sweetheart. Your friends are my friends."

And yeah, that used to be the case. Robin still called you up some weekends, inviting you out to girls' nights in a sad little tone. You made up excuses every time, but she still called.

Whatever. They were Eddie's friends first.

"Well, I made new ones."

Eddie runs his tongue over his bottom lip, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What’re their names?”

Jesus, he's such an ass.

"Just a bunch of guys I met outside a liquor store. Said they'd buy me shots tonight if I let them motorboat me in the parking lot."

"Har-har," Eddie rolls his eyes, but you didn't miss the look. His concern for you makes you itch. "Seriously, princess, just wanna know if you're keeping good company."

"Well, I'm not. Can I get my stuff now?"

And maybe you feel kind of bad for lying to him, but you can't let him know the truth—that it'll just be you and a couple girls from work. A few glasses of wine and some gossip. Hell, you'll probably be in bed before midnight.

Eddie digs around at the bottom of his closet, producing a cardboard box littered with garbage—a stack of magazines, some stupid teddy bear he won for you at an arcade, and a couple of bras you'd never be able to wear anymore with the way Eddie's spit is probably permanently fused in the fabric.

A wasted trip.

You try to take the box from him, but Eddie's grip doesn't budge.

"I can carry it out to your car, sweetheart," he says, standing up tall, "unless those biker guys are out there waitin' for you."

"I never said they were bikers," you respond, adjusting your grip on the box, pulling it tighter to your chest. It just has Eddie taking another step closer, big, warm hands sliding over yours.

"Good, 'cause I don't think bikers are your type."

He's whispering a little, lowering his voice all sexy in the way that always used to get you into bed with him.

Not this time.

"Oh fuck you, Eddie. What would you know about my type?"

"Uh, at least a little, honey," he laughs, smiling wide and boyish—so confident, self-assured.

"Don't—" you snatch the box out of his hands, "call me honey."

That's the landmine he's been waiting for you to step on. Eddie looks at you, ready to mash all your buttons until he figures out which ones will have you on him. You wish he wasn't so close to the right combination.

He stalks closer, trapping you up against the closet door, both hands planted above your head. You can't feel anything below your knees.

Voice low, breath wet up against your ear, Eddie says, "what are you gonna do about it, honey?"

The box falls with a whump, spilling all your shit across Eddie's bedroom floor. It's nothing compared sound of your body slammed against the door when your lips finally meet his.

You don't know who started it—whether it was your hands tangled up in his hair or him pinning you in place with his hips. You just know you don't want it to stop.

Eddie's running hot—hot hands at your waist and stubbly skin scratching up your jaw and his whole, hot body pressing up against you, moving just the way you like.

Liked.

You push his hands away with both of yours, trapping them against his sides, but it's not enough to stop him, his mouth at your neck.

"Come on, honey," he whispers, "I said I was sorry."

"I don't want an apology, Eddie."

He tries again, fingertips just brushing against your hips. He looks at you, eyes a little sad, a little too honest.

"Then what can I do to get you back?"

Fuck him. You didn't come here for that either. There's only one thing you want from Eddie Munson, and it's not a box full of bras.

"Get on your knees."

You're surprised his bones don't break with the speed he falls to the floor, thumping against the carpet. Hands already pushing up the hem of your skirt, face pressed low against your stomach. Maybe he's missed this as much as you.

"God, baby," he whispers against your thighs, fingers snaking under the hip of your lacy underwear, "knew you couldn't stay away."

Your knee juts out against his sternum, pushing him back.

"Stop that."

The look on his face is a little stupid, jaw dropped open and his brows furrowed. You were never like this when you were together, always deferring to him in one way or another. But you’re not together anymore.

You crouch down to his level, tracing the tips of your nails over the distended veins in his neck. Eddie's lids flutter, and then fall closed when your lips run over the same path, hand stroking faintly down his arm.

"You don't get to touch me, Eddie," you tell him, and he starts to nod, until his eyes flicker open again and he gets a good look at you, zeroed in on your tits and the low-cut of your dress.

"I- I don't, I mean . . . how?"

You slip the black bandana from his back pocket, give his ass a little squeeze. "Don't worry, honey, I'll help you out."

Eddie doesn't fight you when you push his wrists together, wrapping the cloth around them. He just stares, like he's trying to make sure this isn't a dream, his throat trembling when you pull the knot tight, letting the coarse fabric bite into his skin. You can almost hear a moan on his lips. But maybe you just imagined that.

Besides, you're not worried about what he likes right now.

Back on your feet, you rest your shoulders against the door, jutting your hips out toward him. Eddie looks up at you, big eyes wider than you've ever seen them, wiggling his wrists a little to see if there's any give.

You raise a brow, nudging at the ripped knee of his jeans with your bare toes. "Well?"

Whatever doubts Eddie may have had, they're out the window the second he sees you lifting up your skirt, revealing more and more of the soft skin of your thighs, the black lace you're wearing underneath it.

"Jesus, honey," he shuffles forward until his face is sandwiched between your thighs again, "you wear these for me?"

There's a little laugh on your lips, if only to cover up the way your breath hitches at the way he kisses at your skin, squeezing you between his teeth.

Even without his hands, Eddie Munson is dangerous.

You shift your legs wider so he can fit better, plant a hand in his hair and pull him closer to where you want him.

"Not a chance, Munson. You think the next guy will like them?"

Eddie can't answer. Not vocally at least. His mouth is busy, tongue splitting your lips, before he stops to rub slow circles over your clit through the fabric. Like he's trying to tell you that there's not gonna be a next guy.

Fuck. You thought you were stronger than that, but maybe he's right.

Because, for all his faults, Eddie really knows how to eat pussy. Even without the use of his hands he's got you shaking—better than the feel of his fingers splitting you open, maybe even better than when he'd rip your underwear off you and dive in, nothing to separate you from the pleasure Eddie loved to give.

Your underwear are soaked, and not just from his spit, the sloppy way Eddie devours you, big eyes dark, looking up at you past the bunched up hem of your skirt. He's got you dripping, a little desperate.

Or more than a little.

Eddie's whispering when he pulls back enough he can speak, and you're shocked you can even hear him with the way he's talking directly into your pussy, and through the buzzing in your ears.

"Come on, princess. Let me taste you."

You snake your free hand down—because you want to, not because he asked, pulling the sticky wet fabric to the side. Eddie whistles low and soft when he sees your glistening cunt, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine when it meets your feverish skin.

He moves back in, slower this time, savoring the taste of you, his tongue peeking into your dripping hole and circling the edges, collecting your cum, drinking you up.

You press tighter against him to improve the angle, one leg coming up to rest on his broad shoulder. Eddie groans and the vibrations go straight to your clit.

Fuck, you're close. Close in a way you haven't been since you slammed the door to this apartment all those weeks ago—the kind of close you'd been looking for with your hand between your legs ever since, losing the feeling every time you were reminded that you should be thinking about anyone but Eddie.

But how could you manage? Head like this was hard to find.

Eddie knows that, the fucker, lips circled around your clit, sucking at you like his life depends on it. Your vision goes dark, eyes rolling back of their own accord. The only thing louder than your moans is the sound of Eddie's sloppy mouth working at your core.

You grind your hips down against his face, riding his mouth when the feeling overtakes you, body buzzing as those little uh uh uhs spill from your lips. Shock waves like fireworks traveling through you with each stroke of his tongue.

Fuck.

Eddie doesn't slow down, still abusing your poor clit, sucking at your puffy lips, trying to drain you of all those moans from you until you've got to drag him away by his hair or else he's gonna make you cum again.

And then you'll never want to leave.

Eddie looks up at you, face shiny, and he smiles.

"How was that?"

And it's almost as thrilling as that orgasm, the way his brain so clearly shuts down and stalls when you shift your clothes back to where they were, unphased, patting his cheek with a patronizing little look.

"Passable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans."

Eddie doesn't have quite enough balance to get back on his feet with his wrists still tied, so he shuffles after you on his knees, tripping on clutter and knocking shit over.

"Wait a second, what about me?"

He waves his hands in front of his face, like you might have forgotten that you tied him up, like it wasn’t the highlight of your day.

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, princess."

You don't even bother to look back, and the satisfaction that washes over you probably feels better than heroin.

You're in the living room before you hear Eddie call out again.

"Hey! You forgot all your stuff!"

He doesn't get a response to that one, either. The last Eddie hears from you is the slamming of his front door.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 5: Xiao x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5839

Warnings: afab!reader, Traveler reader, rough sex, feral, biting/marking, outdoors, piv, creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus

A/N: There's nothing in canon that says Xiao's karmic debt can't be soothed with pussy so ...

⭐

Shrieking a shrill cry of defeat, the small band of Hilichurls turn tail and make a hasty break for it away from the nearby road, heading further out into the reclusive safety of Liyue’s wet marshlands. You watch them go to make sure they won’t try to regroup and come after you again before slowly relaxing out of your fighting stance. Well, that took care of that. 

Straightening up, you sheathe your sword at your hip and breathe out a terse sigh. They were getting far too close to Wangshu Inn, the silhouette of the impressive monument looming up out the faint mist in the near distance. You could see it clearly from where you were standing which meant the  Hilichurls in this area were starting to get braver. 

But the road here was much too busy with an endless procession of traveling merchants and people making their way to or from Mondstadt for them to be left to their own devices for very long. They’d probably come back eventually, driven by hunger and the promise of easy targets, and they might even bring reinforcements with them the next time when you weren’t here to deal with the problem. You should tell Xiao about this. 

Your heart gives a dull throb inside your chest at the thought of the elusive Yaksha and you catch yourself starting to anxiously fiddle with the grip of your blade. It seemed that every time you were lucky enough to encounter him you walked away from it with a stronger sense of connection than before and it was starting to get a little embarrassing. Good thing you’d left Paimon back at the inn to await your return while you ran an errand for Verr Goldet, so at least she wouldn’t be here to witness your steady descent into lovesickness. You’d never hear the end of it if she ever caught you making puppy eyes at him. 

Feeling unusually self conscious, you walk across the grassy, sloping hill to step into the shade of a small copse of trees and underbrush where you could call upon him in relative privacy. You were sure he’d appreciate that too, though you didn’t doubt he would heed your summons no matter where you were when you uttered his name. He’d already shown you multiple times now that he was always listening and that the unnamed bond between you two reached much farther than any mere stretch of land could hope to impede no matter its distance. 

So you stand there under the rustling canopy of close cropped trees, feeling the wind in your hair as you draw a deep breath to ground yourself. It wasn’t that the thought of seeing him made you nervous, per say, but the flutter of butterflies in your stomach was undeniable. You wanted to make sure you were ready. 

Or as ready as you could be, anyway. 

“Xiao, are you there?” 

A single heartbeat passes before you feel the displacement in the air, the faint stirring of energy that momentarily spikes before receding back to nothing again. It seems to make the wind pick up just enough to tease at your hair a little more briskly than before but that too quickly settles back down. All at once you can feel his presence standing behind you and you turn to greet him with a smile only to come up short when you abruptly stop dead in your tracks. 

Something wasn’t right. 

You innately understand that as soon as you set eyes on him and the once silly, romantic notions that had set you abuzz promptly morph into chilly uncertainty. His posture is stiff and visibly locked, as if he were physically holding himself in check, and the fact he does not look at you only further solidifies that impression. Rather he keeps his head down, attention focused on the ground while a faint shudder works through his slight frame. 

Your pulse immediately starts to gallop out of control. What was going on here? 

“Traveler.” He grits out with no shortage of effort, and you quickly take an impulsive step towards him. 

“Xiao? Are you alright?” 

“Don’t!” 

Jolting to a sudden halt with your hand half of the way up to reach for him, you just stare at Xiao in wide eyed disbelief. You’d never seen him like this, had certainly never heard him raise his voice to snap at anyone quite like that before, and the fact he’d directed it at you? It almost breaks your heart. 

“I’m sorry.” You relent, keeping your voice soft and even so as not to spook him any more than you evidently already had. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I didn’t mean to overstep. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

He viciously seethes through his gnashing teeth, narrow shoulders hunching slightly with the apparent effort of keeping himself upright. You can see the vague tremble in his legs from where you’re stood watching him, as if they were threatening to give out under his weight at any moment, and you start to wonder if he was hurt. But try as you might, your frantically searching gaze can’t spot the tall tell signs of any wounds on him. No blood, either. Not even a smudge of dirt on his perfectly clean white shirt. 

Groaning a tortured sound, Xiao abruptly pulls in on himself and hunches forward as his hand comes up to cup his face. It looks like he’s about to either violently regurgitate everything in his stomach or pass out, possibly even both, and you almost steel your resolve to close the distance regardless of what he had to say about it. But then he finally manages to speak again. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this … the karmic debt — nghn! It’s acting up again, Traveler. I don’t know why. It was slowly getting better recently but now …” 

Understanding washes over you and eases some of the anxiety riddled concern that grips you in a chokehold. You only knew a very small amount of the symptomatic pain Xiao had to live with as a result of his long life spent accumulating the karma of those he felled with his jade cut spear, but you were at least knowledgeable enough to grasp what was happening. Just an agonizing flare up, that’s all. It was much preferable to him being injured and you unable to help him when he didn’t want you getting any closer. This, at least, you should be able to handle. 

“It’s alright, Xiao. Please don’t apologize for something you have no control over. I’m not going to hold it against you or let this change how I feel about you. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“But - -!” Snarling, he gives his head an aggressive shake as if to clear it of some great fog. “I’m dangerous like this, Traveler! I — I should go. You’re not safe as long as I’m here.” 

“That’s not true.” You insist, gentle yet firm as you take a slow, cautious step forward. For better or worse he seems to be a bit too caught up in the attack plaguing his body and he doesn’t appear to notice, so you make careful work of creeping closer to him one pace at a time. “I trust you, Xiao. I always have and I always will. Please don’t go. I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.” 

“Help? How do you expect to help someone like me?” The Yaksha croaks an awful sound as he yanks his hand away and snaps his head up to bark at you. “This is my punishment! I don’t deserve your - -“

He cuts off with a sudden jerk, eyes going big and round when you slide your hands up to cup his cheeks between your palms. The two of you are almost perfectly level with one another, allowing you to unhesitatingly meet his gaze straight on and show him that you weren’t afraid. 

“That’s not true and you know it. Or at least, I hope you do?” 

Inquisitively tipping your head, you watch him rapidly search your face with quick, jerky eye movements — for what, you do not know — before hesitantly trying to shirk away. You hold fast though, squishing his soft cheeks to keep him in place. No way were you going to let him escape that easily. 

“I’m sorry I called for you at such a bad time but please stay. I know it’s hard, and I can tell you’d rather isolate yourself right now,” You try again, hoping the sincerity of your pleas will get through to him. “At least let me try to help you through it though. I’ll do whatever you need me to, Xiao. Just tell me how to make this better.” 

His mouth warbles open as if to speak again but nothing comes out. He just stares at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, standing before him with your hands gently cradling his face. But this close proximity allows you to see exactly how much this is affecting him, from the visible tension that makes the skin around his eyes look taut and waxy, to the tortured line of his brows. He’s covered in a fine sheet of sweat, too. 

If you didn’t know any better you’d think Xiao was actually sick and you have to remind yourself that this was not something a doctor could cure. What ailed him wasn’t the sort of illness that would respond to medicines infused in herbal teas or even that of tightly packed pills, but rather it was something that likely only resided in his heart and on his soul. There was no miracle elixir for this sort of pain. 

Shuddering fiercely, Xiao at last brings himself to stir out of his trance-like state and he weakly tips forward with a halting motion. You realize his mouth is slowly angling towards yours in a far off, dreamy sort of way but his gaze never so much as falters from your eyes while he does it. His haunted stare reads of desperate longing and unimaginable pain in equal parts, and you can’t quite bring yourself to show your surprise when he was looking at you like that. 

All you can do is accept the featherlight kiss he hesitantly places on your mouth even when your heart jackhammers up into your throat. He reminded you a bit too much of a skittish animal in that moment, something wounded and perhaps even a little scared, and that stops you from giving it a bigger reaction than the simple brush of your lips when you kiss him back. You were glad to accept him, all of him, both the good and the bad. The gentle side of him that you were most accustomed to seeing as well as the merciless avenger that stalks through the shadows of Liyue’s nights, and you were determined to show him that.

And he seems to understand what you’re trying to convey to him because he hisses a faltering groan into the scant space between you two. His lips tremble slightly when they work over yours as if he were trying to speak again but still nothing comes out. Encouragingly, you slide your hands down off his cheeks and reach back to pull Xiao further against you, hoping your welcoming body language might be enough to soothe some of the anguish he was enduring. 

He stumbles into you with the motion, slight though it had been, and his stiffly poised hands come up to grab onto your waist, squeezing you hard enough to bruise. You don’t give this a reaction either, merely wincing at the pain while you hold him tight and murmur gentle nothings against his ear. Issuing a low, rumbling growl in response, Xiao digs his fingers into the soft give of your middle and leans his weight further into you until you have no choice but to stumble back a step. 

“Traveler … you don’t understand how — nghn, how dangerous this is. I could hurt you.” 

“But you won’t. I know you won’t, Xiao.” 

Another rumbling snarl rises in his chest, bleeding into you where you’re pressed right up against him to set your nerves vibrating. You aren’t sure what to make of it or how to convince him that you could handle whatever he threw at you if he’d just allow himself to let go instead of holding onto it so tightly. 

But then he suddenly drags his shaking hands lower to latch onto your hips and he lifts you so abruptly you can’t quite stop the gasp that rattles out of you. Your feet barely have enough time to leave the ground before he’s stumbling forward to shove you back into the sturdy trunk of a tree, the rough bark scratching and digging into your spine. You barely even notice it though as he presses himself flush to you and settles his hips between your legs to pin you there. 

Panting even harder than before, Xiao turns his face and hurriedly finds your lips to kiss you again, except this time it’s much less hesitant. There’s a voracious hunger in him now that he seems to think can be sated if he just feasts from your mouth enough. You aren’t so sure that’s true or that it will fix anything, but you don’t hesitate to throw your arms around his neck as you kiss him back with abandon. If this had even an infinitesimally small chance of easing some of the pain he was forced to suffer you were happy to do it. 

Responding with a haggard sound of relief, Xiao fully sinks into you until your back starts to ache in protest where it’s forced to bend against the contours of the tree. It didn’t exactly bode well for how the rest of this encounter was going to play out if you were already getting banged up this much, but you pay it little mind in the heat of the moment. You’d figure out how to explain all the scrapes and bruises you were sure to walk away from this with later. For now you just focus on the frantic push and pull of his mouth, and the groping squeezes he gives your hips while your own excitement steadily builds, meeting him head on. 

It takes you a prolonged moment to realize he’s trying to hike your dress up, fumbling with the material as if he wasn’t quite sure if he should be doing that or not. One moment his fingers are impatiently tugging at it to get the skirt out of the way and the next he’s roughly smoothing it back down to clutch it in a death grip instead. You quickly grow tired of his polite indecision though and, still kissing him, you reach down to squeeze a hand between your body’s. 

Blindly snagging at the fabric, you yank it up in a single motion and rip one side of it right out of his grip. With nowhere else to go now, his palm possessively curls around your bare waist to give it a tight, pinching squeeze that makes you start to feel lightheaded. Groaning softly against his lips, you struggle to pull back so you can knock your head against the tree, panting up at the dancing leaves overhead. 

“Xiao - -!” 

“I’m sorry.” He rushes to say even as his mouth descends upon the vulnerable line of your throat to kiss and nip at the skin there. “I’m sorry, Traveler. I shouldn’t — be doing this.” 

You take a breath to tell him that was a ridiculous and unnecessary thing to say, but before you can get the words out the hand not currently pulling on your bloomers flies up to grab at your top. One good yank is all it takes for one side of the bodice to come down, spilling your breast out into the open, and you choke on a haggard sound of pleasure. 

The nipple was already tentatively pebbled with excitement but it just stiffens into an even tighter bud when it hits the cool air full on. And Xiao barely even gives you enough time to register that sensation before he curls himself down over your chest so he can catch that straining peak in his mouth. No warning, no questions asked. You just suddenly feel a quick, sharp suck at the tit and you shudder fiercely as you writhe back against the tree. 

Ever conscious of the fact that this was happening outside where someone could happen upon the scene at any given moment when you were only just concealed within the copse, you turn your head to look back at the road. You can see it clearly from where you were standing but you hoped anyone who might happen to pass by wouldn’t be able to see through the tightly cloistered branches, at least not enough to tell what was happening. 

But you trusted Xiao even in this state to be aware of any approaching interlopers, and you quickly turn your attention back around to him. His svelte frame continues to tremble and heave against yours even while he’s burying his face in your chest, as if the roiling pangs of agony were still gripping him tight, but now that he had something else to focus on it seemed to be a little bit more bearable for him. You were exceedingly grateful for that, seething softly through your teeth when you reach down to tenderly cradle his head against your breast. 

“Don’t hold back, Xiao. It’s okay. I’m here for you, I promise. Just let it out.” 

Issuing a vibrating growl around your nipple, he gives his head a brief shake and shoves his mouth deeper into the plushy give. He harmlessly gums at your teat for a brief moment but then his teeth come down around the areola in a quick bite, sinking into the flesh to draw it towards the back of his throat, and you let out a startled yelp. It does more to excite you than deter you though, and you fitfully squirm in place where he’s got you pinned against the unmoving trunk while he works to suckle your breast to straining sensitivity. 

The building tension in your loins steadily mounts with his ministrations until you finally can’t take it anymore, reaching up to tug the other half of your dress down. Your neglected tit hits the air with the same rush of sensation as the first, making you squeeze your thighs together in a blithe attempt to lessen some of the sticky discomfort there. 

Luckily Xiao isn’t so far gone not to notice though, and he finally pulls off your now aching, spit coated teat so he can redirect his mouth to the other. A sudden ‘oh!’ bursts out of you when he latches on, nipping at the fleshy bud, and you slowly tip your chin down to look at your chest. You’re immediately wracked by a sharp tremor when you see how puffy and flushed the abandoned nipple has become, the lingering indent from his teeth still marring the skin. 

Gods, he was going to have you all marked up by the time he was finished. 

But that thought doesn’t alarm you half as much as it probably should, and you groan softly into the static charged air as you needily grind your cunt against the front of his pants. The rigid bulge there is unmistakable when it twitches against you, straining out as if with a mind of its own to seek the entrance of your body. 

That seems to be what finally makes him stir from your breast, and he slowly lets the swollen bud slip past his lips as he pulls back to look at you. Neither of you says a word while you stand there, panting heavily against one another, but the message is still heard loud and clear. 

All at once both of you are moving, and Xiao roughly spins you around to face the tree as you fumble to get your dress pulled up around your waist. He only stops long enough to yank your bloomers down around your knees and then he’s grabbing hold of your hips so he can pull you back against him, shoving his cock up against your cunt from behind. You let out a frazzled, eager moan at the pressure, mindlessly pushing back on him to drag your pussy across his pants and the stiff outline of him within while he hurriedly fumbles with the sash around his waist.  

The noisy clatter of various accouterments falling to the ground sounds deafening in your ringing ears and it’s quickly followed by your sword when he rips it off you to toss it aside. Both of you are in such a rush that you’re only vaguely aware of him slipping a hand between you to free himself and then he’s suddenly pushing into you with his cock. Your body initially tries to fight it, not quite fully prepped for the spear of his unrelentingly hard length, but Xiao just leans his weight into your back to aid the process. 

And he fully slides into you with a sharp little snap of his narrow hips, forcing your inner sleeve to accept him in a sudden rush of fleshy traction. You jolt at the abrupt glide of him into your body, the blinding starburst of friction that comes with it, eyes rolling back as you outright groan in pleasure. 

Either spurred on by the sound or too lost in the hazy relief that comes with having your hot, wet guts squeezing him tight, Xiao doesn’t even give you a moment to adjust. He’s just immediately driving into you, slamming in and out to make your ass clap against the flat planes of his pelvis, and the force of it pushes you forward to lean heavily against the tree. 

Gripping the rough bark hard enough to make your fingers hurt, you blearily glance down to watch your tits heavily bounce with each and every thrust of his cock while it carves out a space within you deep inside your cunt. It’s an almost obscene sight, especially when the nipples were so fat and puffy after the attention he’d shown them with his mouth, but it’s also indescribably arousing in that moment. 

You clench around him, struggling to keep your voice down when he was threatening to knock loose a myriad of delighted wails and screams. Viciously seething in response, Xiao locks his arms around your middle to hold you tight against him as he curls his chin over your shoulder, growling a faint sound of pleasure against your cheek. 

“T - Traveler …!” 

“It’s okay, Xiao. Nghnn! Just, ahhn … let it all out. I - I’ve got you!” 

That didn’t seem entirely accurate when you were completely at his mercy like this, but he rumbles a soft groan anyway as he nuzzles his nose against your wildly pounding pulse. It’s only when his quick paced, pistoning thrusts seem to knock something loose within you, making your cunt positively flood and your knees threaten to buckle, do you realize how animalistic this really is. It was like he’d completely detached from his higher functioning mind and now the only thing he could focus on was the need to fuck you, claim you, possibly even breed you. It was hard not to feel a little in over your head in that sense but he felt far too good slamming into your squelching cunt for you to second guess any of it. 

You were going to cum soon if he kept it up for much longer and that alone was more than enough incentive for you to disregard that this was perhaps not an ideal situation to be in. 

“Ohh! God!” Sensitively wheezing, you drop your head between your outstretched arms to watch your tits bounce and observe the wide, somewhat awkward spread of your legs. 

Xiao was forcing you up onto the tips of your toes with the sheer power behind his thrusts, and you had no way of escaping it even if you’d wanted to when he had you locked against the front of him like this. He was mindless with it, a wild, growling beast that showed no signs of reaching his limit anytime soon. 

But then you hear it. The soft whiny of a horse not very far off in the distance, and your attention snaps up with a jolt. Craning your neck around, you can just make out a small procession of merchant carts pulled by stock horses coming up on the road and your entire body seizes at the threat of being noticed by them. Xiao groans heavily at the new tension running through you but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if he can’t, and you squeak a nervous little sound as you reach back to smack at his hunching shoulder. 

You’d hoped to get his attention but he just snarls a bestial sound before sliding his arm up and across your neck to lock you in place. The following rush of movement that happens is such a blur you can barely process it. All you know is that he bodily yanks you back from the tree and twists, half lifting you so he can then drop you down onto the ground. 

Hitting the grass with an undignified ‘oof!’, you don’t even get a chance to protest what he’s doing before Xiao is on top of you, planting himself across your back. Keeping his forearm wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but just to keep you prone and still, he quickly finds the necessary position so he can push inside you again and he does so with a vigorous snap of his hips. The sudden, forceful stretch of your cunt brings you up on your hands with a harried gasp but he’s quick to slide his other hand around to cover your mouth. 

Full on wailing into his gloved palm when he starts to pound into you again, you disorientedly force your gaze to look out through the entanglement of underbrush and branches to glance at the road again. It’s only a small window which makes it hard to see, but you can just make out the passing merchants. That they seem totally oblivious to your presence in the trees only comes as a small relief when Xiao was wildly pounding you into the dirt only some few paces away and the slightest slip of your voice could have alerted them. The chance of discovery was much too great, especially when the vigorous plap, plap, plap, plap of his lower stomach smacking into your upturned ass sounded so incredibly loud. 

But it’s like he either doesn’t notice or he simply doesn’t care, and he fiercely hunches over you in a possessive gesture while he fucks you silly. Valiantly squirming under his slight weight, you desperately dig your nails into the ground until you feel the dirt and grass start to come up under them. It was hard to breathe with his hand over your mouth but there was nothing you could do about it except take it. 

And he snarls over you the whole time while he bites at your exposed shoulders to leave you covered in marks that you weren’t sure how to explain to Paimon later. Even the soaring rush of endorphins pumping through your system isn’t enough to fully ease your mind, and you wince every time he takes another nip at you. This would look really bad if you were caught now, when he looked like an insatiable maniac heaving on top of you like this. 

And yet by some stroke of luck the small party of merchants passes by your little hiding spot seemingly unaware of what was taking place just off the road. It takes them a long stretch of minutes to fully come and go, but at last Xiao finally lets up his hold on your face so you can suck in a much needed, faltering breath of fresh air. You feel dizzy with it, swaying unsteadily there on the ground as he gingerly untangles himself from you so he can push up to hover over your prone form. 

The fact that he still doesn’t cease his constant thrusting into your wetly clicking cunt makes you groan a deeply frazzled sound against the grass, struggling to keep your head on straight. It felt like you were right on the edge of oblivion, so close to cumming you could practically taste it on the back of your tongue, but it had quickly receded like low tide at the first sight of those traveling merchants. 

Now that the danger has passed, though, it seems to roar back to life with a vengeance, and you squeal a delirious sound when Xiao hooks his fingers in the bend of your elbow so he can yank it back behind you. He quickly repeats the process on the other side, using a potent combination of his sheer strength and the firm pressure of his cock where it’s wedged deep inside you to pull your upper body off the ground. 

Tits swaying heavily from the top of your dress, you have no choice but to get your knees braced underneath you to accommodate the new position he pulls you into, feeling your bloomers stretch out between your ankles. And he immediately picks right back up where he’d left off, mercilessly snapping his hips to drive his length in and out of you again. It sends you lurching in his hold, mewling a high strung sound of ecstasy into the air while he uses his hold to yank you back against him. It felt like he was going to break you in half like this. 

“Sssh - Xiao! Ohh! I - I’m getting close … don’t stop!” 

The only response you get from him is a vicious, throaty growl, his fingers tightening around your elbows. You’re sure you’ll find splotchy bruises blooming there later, but you hardly care about that right now. It was almost impossible to be concerned about anything at all when your cunt was gradually tightening around him, the thrumming tension in your body giving way to a warning tremor so fierce it would have bowled you over if he hadn’t been keeping you upright. 

And then he abruptly yanks you further back, forcing your spine into an even more dramatic arch as you're made to straighten up. The shift makes your breasts bounce even harder, and you’re keenly aware of how stiff and aching the nipples are as they cut through the air. The internal pressure doubles and then triples alarmingly fast, almost making you feel sick with it when your orgasm starts to bear down on you. 

But you hang there in the balance, precariously toeing the edge in a blinding surge of cramping muscles and vibrating nerves until Xiao suddenly sinks his teeth into your shoulder. That sharp burst of pain sends you careening over the edge and you jerk against his hold, wailing up at the sky as you shake and judder through your release. You hear him seethe right next to your ear, the sound muffled by your flesh where he’s still got his teeth in you, but there’s no mistaking the tense recoil that works through him only a second later. 

All at once your squeezing cunt is flooded with hot, sticky warmth that seems to seep deep into your very bones. You’re vaguely aware of his cock flexing inside you, painting your guts creamy and white, but you’re a little too far gone in your own pleasure to worry about that right now. The crashing waves of fast pumping ecstasy just keep slamming into you, again and again to pull his thick spend even further into your body until your eyes start to roll back in doped out bliss. 

When you finally start to come down from it with a stretched thin, warbling moan another moment later you find him hunched right up against you while he tenderly licks at the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. Whether to clean or to soothe, you’re not sure which, but you lean back into him with a deeply gratified sigh all the same. 

“Do you feel any better now?” You whisper into the heavy silence as you kneel there in the dirt with him, feeling the sticky ooze of his load slowly dribbling out of you. You’d have to clean up soon, and probably find someone who could sell you a contraceptive herb but … for right now you were content just to stay there with him like that. 

“I am. Thank you, Traveler.” He murmurs, lips brushing against your skin when he speaks. Placing his mouth on the pulsing wound he’d left you with, Xiao gently kisses it as if in apology before speaking again in a cautiously slow tone. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Which part?” 

“All of it, but … but especially this.” Sighing a terse breath, he slides his hand down your front to dip between your legs and run a finger through your sticky slit. You can tell just as he can by the consistency alone that it’s not merely your own arousal coating you, and you grimace at the sensation. 

“Probably not, but what’s done is already done. Don’t worry, Xiao. I’ll take care of it.” 

You start to pull away from him but he holds you fast, arms tightening around you to keep you in place. “That doesn’t seem fair to you though. Can I at least help you? Like you helped me.”

Turning your head, you pin him with a playfully rueful look. “And how do you think you can do that?” 

Momentarily dropping his gaze, Xiao seems to think about that for a moment before slowly untangling his limbs from yours so he can ease back on his haunches. You're just curious enough to find out what he’s thinking that you let him get you turned around and seated on the grass, watching him carefully while he tugs your bloomers the rest of the way off. 

Golden eyes briefly lift to regard you for a moment and then he’s leaning down to bend over your cunt, mouth falling open while he does it to let his tongue unfurl. And as he takes a first hungry swipe through your cunt, licking up a sticky glob of his own spend where it was beading along the crease of your body, you find that you really don’t have the heart to tell him that that wasn’t going to suffice. 

Instead you tip your head back with a low, softly faltering moan and jut your pussy out to better offer it up to his mouth. You’d get this sorted out in due time but you were keen to enjoy it for just a little bit longer first.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[aswaki]

i could take matthew no prep (i am half his size and delusional)

- 🐠

aahh stop because im tiny (its so weird to be saying this) so i think about this a lot too. imagine taking him in full and raw as well!!! (but safe sex!!! i'm on pills!!!) matthew would so fucking cocky if he knows you want to take him on, no prep, raw, and all. he likes knowing you're shorter than he was since he was usually the small guy in the group. he'd be so obsessed when showing off his strength and skills with you. (and you love it!)

seok matthew x reader | flashfic | explicit (minors dni)

contains: fem!reader, brat!reader, dom!matthew, size difference (reader mentioned being smaller/shorter), no prep, rough sex, pet names ("pretty girl", "good girl", "brat")

“i promise, i can take it!” you exclaimed, fluttering your lashes. they moved as if they were butterfly wings trying to impress a potential mate. sensual, alluring, pretty.

“i need you.” you were so horny. you could take anything. you’d literally do anything.

matthew was concerned at first since you were pleading to go straight at it— to just have his dick inside you —but the incessant begging dissolved all traces of it. 

“you don’t need anything— you want it.” his hand circled your wrist to stop you as you made an attempt to reach the band of his sweatpants. you whimpered when he touched you.

“oh no, pretty girl, you don’t get to touch.” he continued to speak. the tone of his voice was so low that it made your insides flip. your gazes met. you could see his gaze darkening. on matthew’s end, he could see excitement swirling in your eyes as he got rough with you.

“please,” that was all you could say before matthew suddenly pushed you to the bed. given your size and his strength, it made this easy to do. things happened so fast that it amazed you that you didn’t get a whiplash.

the pillows cushioned your fall. his body loomed over you while you were laying down. his boxers were discarded quickly as his sweats were. it revealed how his erection stood, almost angrily. your mouth almost watered at the sight. you wanted to grab it, to feel his intimidating cock like you were taming it.

“no touching. only i get to feel you,” matthew said like he could read your mind. before you knew it, your dress was bunched up to your waist. your damp panties were exposed to him. you would be embarrassed by how wet you were but your arousal didn’t make you give a fuck about anything at the moment.

matthew used his teeth to drag your panties. the feel of his lips and teeth bloomed goosebumps across the flesh it trailed down. noises left your mouth as the cool air hit your pussy. you bucked your hips at the sensations— he wasn’t even inside of you.

his hand finally did get to touch you as he gripped your hip. he lined himself to your entrance and thrusted his cock in. his lips parted, enjoying how good it felt to be in you.

your whines got worse as his girth stretched you out with no warning or whatsoever.

“take it like a good girl and stop whining,” he warned you as he pushed his entire length in. your walls quickly clamped around his cock. tears threatened to spill out of your eyes. you didn’t want them to fall. you had to hold on to the end of your promise (“i can take it!”).

by now you should have been accustomed to his size but it’s been a while since you’ve done this and he was just so big. his name left your lips repeatedly like an incantation so that your tightness would be malleable to his girth.

before you closed your eyes, you could see matthew smirking down at you. cockiness written on his face as he moved inside of you.

“what happened, huh, pretty girl? you wanted this so bad five minutes ago.” his words were kind but his tone held a sneer to it.

you reached out to touch his chest— to relish his closeness? to make him stop? you didn’t know. all you knew was that you wanted to touch him so you did.

want. want. want. it was all about your wants.

“what do you not understand, brat? i said- no touching,” matthew said gruffly. each word was punctuated with sharp, brutal thrusts. you gasped when he grabbed your wrists. you wriggled as he placed your hands above you, trying to be free from his hold.

“no m-” your words were drowned out by your moans as pleasure washed over you. matthew's hand left your hip. instead, he let his free digit be in contact with your clit. his finger circled it as his cock slid inside of you. your body shivered.

the both of you knew that you actually liked him being rough with you; how he can manhandle you with ease. your faux defiance were futile to his ears.

“you said you could take it, so prove it.”

[fandomxo00]

Imagine this:

Slowly showing Logan how to use a Rainbow Loom, you get distracted

note: it gets hot again because it's logan, less crafting more kissing but its fineeeeeee - unedited

There was a long list of reasons why Logan loved you, not many things fluctuated on that list, but your little rubber bands were on it. They also got everywhere, even if you were careful, they'd wound in the carpet, stuck to a shirt in a shoe. But on the other hand, he loved watching you work, he loved seeing the concentration on your face as you try to place the small bands on the little clear plastic pegs. He didn’t really understand how putting the rubber bands on pegs made bracelets, but you also crafted all the time so of course he eventually learned how to do it.

But it had taken months of watching you do it, in the couple years you've been together, your crafts and hobbies go around like clockwork, for a period time it's painting and crafts, then it's writing or avid reading. This was one of the messier hobbies you had, aside from painting. You taught him how to make a simple bracelet in the span of a combined 6 months of practicing. Now he was trying to figure out how to make a bit of a more complex bracelet on the loom.

Your lumberjack of a boyfriend with sat on the couch in one of his red flannels, a cigar hanging from the side of his mouth, a furrow in his eyebrows, as he tried to keep the small plastic between his large, callused fingers. Wincing as the corner of his nails jammed into the pegs, gritting his teeth around his cigar. “You need your glasses baby?” You asked. 

“No.” Logan grumbled, before setting down the Rainbow loom. “This shit’s impossible though.”

“No, it’s not.” You chuckled, a pink handled crotchet looking hook with a sliver metal tip, the end had a tool to remove the peg bars and move them around if need be.

Your knees were up to your stomach, the loom resting against them, the foot stand kicked up to your right to hold your box of bands. Logan sat on the other side of the couch, he sighed, moving in closer to you. When you started crafting you tended to not really touch him anymore, something that he didn't particularly enjoy. Now that he was in a relationship, he was bit touched starved. Especially when you could go prolonged periods of times without being touched. But when went out of his way to ask for attention, you usually climbed all over him. So he knew if he asked, you'd give in, so he decidingly closed the plastic jewelry box filled with your specialty bands.

Your attention always drawn to him when he touched that box, "Be careful." You urged, as Logan's large body scooted in closer to your own, his elbow relaxing on your knees you glanced into his eyes. "Hmm?" You hummed, scanning his eyes as he leant over your knees to softly kiss your lips. You set down your loom as your hand came to his cheek, as Logan deepened the kiss, lightly groaning into your mouth. With saliva slick lips he leant back, his hand spanning over your knee before pulling your leg over his thighs. He rubbed your calves up and down as you reached for your loom. You started from where you left off, hooking the bands into each other. Logan found the concentration on your face to be wildly sexy; You'd bite at your lip lightly, your eyebrows dipped, your nose crinkling if you messed up. You lightly mumbled to yourself to make sure you were doing the right thing before glancing up at Logan. "You're being creepy again." You remarked with a playfullness reflected in your eyes.

"Shut up." Logan grunted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as his other hand soothed up your thighs. You looked into his deep hazel eyes that made your tummy roll as your hand reached out for his. Your smaller hand trailing over his large fingers, your forefinger skimming his rough knuckles and veiny hands. "Put your bands away."

"Why?" You asked, giving him a doe-eyed innocent look as he lifted his eyebrows, leaning back over your knees to connect your lips in a hot open-mouthed kiss. Logan had a way of just making everything so sexy, completely encapturing in his essence, in his kiss. Not removing your lips from his, your hand fumbled to the side as you closed your boxes of bands, latching the handles. Then setting your loom to the side you crawled over to Logan's lap, as he moved back to breath. His hands coming to splay your hips as he pulled you in close, your body fixing to his like it was meant to be there, you gave him a wry smile, "Why do crafts make you horny?"

"Don' think it's the crafts baby." Logan sighed, moving his face into your neck, the feeling of his hot breath on your skin sending goosebumps down your spine. Your hand soothed up the side of his neck before backwards, before you tickled the hair at the nape of his neck, clutching his soft brunette hair between your fingers as you pulled him into another kiss.

Moving back as you started smiling against his lips, "What could it possibly be?" You joked, mumbling against his mouth, feeling his own grin against your skin. Logan moved forward to capture your lips in a slow longing kiss, before his teeth came to nip at your bottom lip. A flush running all over your cheeks, you push the heat into his neck as Logan's hand ground your hips against his.

"You." Logan growled, his nose pressing against your neck, before his hand came to the back of your head. Lifting your head back up as he cupped your hair in his hand as he interlocked your lips. All of his composure crumbled as you gave him a long wanton moan.

tags:@themareverine @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @onlybunss @squishyfruitloop @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[xanderisbraindead]

How to get scene accessories!

Accessories are pretty important especially in scene but you don’t have to exclusively go to hot topic or spencers, you have other options. GET CREATIVE. ANYTHING CAN BE SCENE!! THIS IS JUST TO GUIDE YOU!! THINK OUTSIDE OF THE BOX!!!

Kandi! It might take you time to learn to like do an even peyote cuff but you can do singles and stuff off the gate. When coupled with pearler beads, you can make cute necklaces. Try loom bands too, those are cute

Clay! My favorite necklace atm is a clay replica of a dropdead necklace. Flatten some air dry clay and shape a pendant. Do i need to elaborate on this? You can also make hair clips like this in theory

Party city has very colorful fingerless fishnet gloves, bandanas, tutus, boas (?the feather things), those bead necklaces?? They also have like studded cuffs for $6. I assume this would go for other party supply stores too. Stores after Halloween will have cool things.

Resale sites. You can find anything on there. Ebay has cheaper studded belts than hot topic like $11 vs $25. You could also probably find those band bracelets on ebay, depop, mercari.

Misc.- don’t forget you can paint studded belts or cuffs, cant find one you want specifically? Spray paint it. Same with shoes, get some old vans and paint them. Want a cute phone case? Paint it. Shout out to my kitty brainz phone case.

Like i said in the beginning, This isnt law, its just to help you get ideas flowing. Also, be patient, you wont build a wardrobe overnight. Tiktok has made it seem like you can just adopt a fashion style out of thin air but you rlly cant. Sometimes it may seem frustrating bc you want things now, but you need to be patient. Good things come to those who wait.

Link to the clothing post

[goblinontour]

CinemaScope

no camera dolly needed for this film

series masterlist

warnings: soft!dom!alex, smut, oral (m/f receiving), piv

word count: 6.9k

La Frette Studios - France, 2017

The chateau loomed before you, its grandeur almost surreal against the bright and clear sky. It resembled a castle in a way. Yet, the most captivating sight was Alex, leaning in the doorway, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watched you take it all in.

He’d let his beard grow out, maybe a bit too much. Thicker and more unruly than usual. It was obvious that he hadn’t bothered to trim it much lately, and while it filled in well around his chin and jawline, the sides of his face remained stubbornly patchy. It gave him a slightly dishevelled look that suited him somehow, adding a ruggedness that made him appear older. 

But when you really looked at him, past the facial hair and the glasses he stubbornly never seemed to want to take off, that familiar baby face of his was still there, hiding beneath the surface. Speaking of glasses, he had these new ones he got on his last trip to this place, when he fell in love with it and decided he had to record here. They had become a near-constant fixture on his face. 

His shirt was a different story. Probably should’ve been thrown out ages ago. The neckline was frayed, barely holding on by a thread from how ripped it had gotten over time from years of wear. But he clung to it, letting it become part of this character he’d built, a mix of his obsessions and eccentricities. You didn’t mind, though. It was all just part of who he was, part of the Alex you adored.

You had never minded his quirks. If anything, you found them endearing. They were part of what made him who he was, and you loved every bit of it. So, as you stood there, taking in the sight of him, in this almost-castle in the French countryside, you couldn’t help but smile. He was all yours.

He had explained how they’d shipped all their equipment here, preparing for the new album recording in France. You’d barely listened, too thrilled at the thought of having him all to yourself for a few precious days before the band arrived.

“Ready to come inside?” he called out, his voice pulling you from your reverie. You nodded, walking towards him, the gravel crunching softly under your feet.

Inside, the chateau was a labyrinth of rooms filled with tech you had no clue about and high ceilings. Alex gave you a brief tour, but your mind was elsewhere, already imagining the mess you’d make the place. No distractions, just the two of you. In a fucking castle. In the middle of nowhere France. 

As you reached the heart of the building, Alex turned to you, his eyes softening. “It’s just us for now.” he said, his voice low and inviting. You felt a flutter of excitement. The space felt almost too grand for what you knew would happen sooner or later. You had just a few days until you’d have to leave and you’d be apart for who knows how long it would take them to finish everything up. 

He led you to a cosy enough sitting room, its large windows overlooking the sprawling gardens. Instruments were arranged all over the place, waiting for the creative process to begin, but for now, it was just background noise.

“Did I tell you I wanna get into directing some stuff?” Alex asked, his voice casual as he perched on the arm of the chair where you’d settled in.

“You didn’t.” you replied, looking up at him, curiosity piqued.

He leaned forward slightly, fingers idly playing with the hair on his chin, smoothing it down as he spoke. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. There’s something about creating a visual narrative that really excites me. But…” He trailed off, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll need some practice.”

“Hmm?” you murmured, encouraging him to continue. There was something in his tone that made you suspect he had a plan in mind.

He slid off the arm of the chair, walking over to where his bag lay discarded on the floor. You watched as he crouched down, rifling through its contents with a kind of casual focus that was so typically him. After a moment, he straightened up, holding something in his hand. A relatively small, very old looking camera. Turning back to you, he flashed a grin, his eyes gleaming. 

“I wanted to ask if you’d help me out.” he said, his voice dropping to that smooth, almost conspiratorial tone he used when he was up to something. He walked back over, standing in front of you, the camera dangling from his fingers. “If you would be so kind as to be ma muse.” he added, his attempt at French charmingly imperfect, still laced with his unmistakable Sheffield accent.

You couldn’t help but smile at his request, the idea of him directing something suddenly feeling so perfectly suited to him. “What exactly are you planning, Turner?” you asked, a playful lilt in your voice.

He tilted his head slightly, contemplating how to respond. “Well,” he began, slipping into that thoughtful demeanour, “I’ve got this place, right? This castle…in the middle of nowhere. And I’ve got you.” He gave you a pointed look, his expression softening. “Seems like the perfect setting for something quite...cinematic.”

You laughed softly, the idea of turning these few days of solitude into something more intentional, more ‘creative’, appealing to you. “So, what kind of ‘directing’ are we talking about?” you teased, already half-knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Nothing too complicated.” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Just…capturing you. Us. The way we are right now, in this moment.” He paused, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. “Think of it as…documenting our time together. Something we can look back on when we’re apart.”

The flutter of excitement from earlier intensified, mixing with a warmth that spread through your chest. You could picture it, all the intimate moments you’d share regardless, immortalised on film, something tangible to hold onto during the long stretches when you couldn’t be together.

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation build as he moved to adjust the camera in his hands. “Alright, director.” you said, leaning back into the chair, your eyes still on him. “Where do we start?”

He grinned, the excitement in his eyes mirrored in yours. “Let’s start right here.” he said, bringing the camera up to eye level, the lens focusing on you. “Just be yourself. That’s all I need.”

He began filming, the camera capturing every detail as you sat there. You held his gaze, feeling a mix of curiosity and nerves. After a moment, you broke into a soft laugh. “I’m not an actress, you know.” you said, your voice light, though your words lingered with a bit of self-consciousness. 

Alex chuckled softly as he lowered the camera slightly, peering at you over the top with a playful glint in his eye. “That’s alright,” he said, his tone playful, “I’ll give you some directions then. How’s that sound?”

“Alright.” you agreed, placing your hands on your knees as you sat up a little straighter, preparing yourself for whatever he had in mind.

He glanced around the room before his eyes settled on the large, almost floor-to-ceiling French windows that stretched along the wall behind you. “Start by opening those up.” he instructed, nodding toward them. “Go and open up the windows for me, dolly.”

You stood, feeling the camera following your every move, but paused for a moment, turning to face him fully. “What’s up with that nickname?” you asked, a playful challenge in your voice. He’d been calling you ‘dolly’ for the past couple of weeks now, seemingly out of nowhere.

He shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “I just like it.” he replied, as if that was enough explanation. “It suits you.” He brought the camera back up, aiming it at you once more. “Now, you should probably follow the director’s orders, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but there was a smile on your face as you turned back toward the windows. The nickname had grown on you, and though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you liked the way it sounded coming from him. 

The windows were tall and elegant, the kind you’d expect to find in a place like this, and as you reached for the handles, you couldn’t resist looking back at him over your shoulder. He was still filming, his focus entirely on you. You grasped the handles, feeling the cool metal under your palms, and slowly pushed the windows open, letting the outside world seep into the room.

“What was that for?” you asked, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. 

He lowered the camera just enough to meet your gaze directly, his expression still playful but now laced with a subtle edge. “I want to make sure that, if anyone walks by, they’ll hear you later.” he said. 

The implication of his words sent a thrill down your spine. The game had begun, and you were more than ready to play along.

“Now,” he continued, his tone commanding but still soft, “Undress yourself. But make it pretty.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you toyed with the little bow at the front of your blouse. “So, you’re saying I’m not already pretty?” you asked, drawing out the words, knowing full well what you were doing.

He gave you a look, that look, the kind that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. “Just keep going.” he murmured, his voice holding that edge of authority you found impossible to resist.

Slowly, you pulled on the strings of the bow, feeling the tension release as it came undone. You could sense the lens of the camera following your every movement, and it made you even more aware of how you were presenting yourself. You grasped the hem of your blouse, your fingers brushing against your skin as you began to lift it over your head. The fabric slid up, revealing the lacy bra underneath, delicately sitting against your skin.

A low whistle escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction. You could hear the soft whir of the camera lens adjusting, zooming in closer, no doubt focusing on your chest.

“Are you zooming in on my boobs, you old perv?” you teased, half laughing, enjoying the banter as much as the moment itself.

“Hey, hey, easy there. Play nice.” he shot back, though there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.

You held his gaze, the game now fully in motion, both of you aware of the dance you were performing, each step thought out, each word a part of the intricate choreography between you. 

With a playful smirk, you reached for the waistband of your pants, fingers slipping under the fabric. You made a show of it, moving slowly, sliding the material down your legs with deliberate care, knowing his eyes, and the camera, were on you the entire time. You stepped out of the pants, letting them fall to the floor beside you, then turned back toward the chair.

You sat down gracefully, crossing one leg over the other, feeling the cool leather against your skin. Your hands moved with purpose, sliding up your body, grazing over your hips, up your stomach, and finally, to your chest. You pushed your breasts together, leaning forward just enough to give him the best possible view, the kind that would make the lens zoom in on its own if it could. He followed your every move, the camera capturing each subtle shift, every rise and fall of your breath. The thrill of being watched, of knowing exactly how much control you had over the scene, sent a rush of heat through you.

You reached behind your back, fingers deftly finding the clasp of your bra. With a flick, it came undone, the fabric loosening around you. You caught it in your hand, holding it up as it swung in the air before tossing it toward him. Even with the camera in hand, Alex managed to keep it steady, his other hand effortlessly catching the bra midair before tossing it over his shoulder with a grin.

“What now, mister director?” you asked, leaning back in the chair, your hands gripping the armrests, chest pushed out, fully exposed.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes still on you, but his tone shifted, deeper and more serious. “You can call me Alexander.”

You smiled, enjoying the game even more. “My dear Alexander,” you began, voice dripping with mock formality, “I think it’s your turn.”

“Is it now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the shift in dynamics. “Really?”

“Well…” you said, a playful edge to your voice, “I wanna have something to look back on too.” A grin spread across your face as an idea formed. “Give me the camera.” you demanded, holding out your hand expectantly.

He hesitated for a moment, looking at you with a mix of amusement and mock reluctance. “Just so you know,” he said as he handed the camera over, “You’re not getting any directing credits.”

“Sure, sure.” you said, waving off his words. “Now, get on with it and get naked. I don’t need it to be ‘pretty’.”

He stepped back a bit, but you quickly stopped him. “No, no. Step back a little more.” you instructed, adjusting the focus as he complied, moving further away so you could catch him fully in the frame.

He grabbed the hem of his tattered t-shirt, and with one smooth motion, pulled it over his head. The fabric caught on the rip at the neckline, and he spun it around on his finger with a flourish, giving you a cheeky grin before tossing it in your direction, mimicking how you’d thrown your bra at him earlier.

He held out his hand, signalling for the camera, but you shook your head, holding it just out of his grasp. “Nuh-uh. Pants too.” you insisted. 

“Right…égalité.” he muttered with a smirk, his fingers already fiddling with the buckle of his belt. It took him a moment to get the hang of it, but soon he was sliding the belt out from the loops, whipping it between his hands with a satisfying snap a couple of times before stepping closer to you.

You were about to interrupt him again, but he shot you a look. “Don’t boss me around.” he warned, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

With that, he placed the belt on the back of the chair, right next to where you sat. “Keeping it close…just in case.” he added with a wink before walking back to his spot, that same smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he began to take off his pants.

You watched through the camera. They were loose on him, too loose, a good few sizes too big, barely hanging onto his hips without the belt’s help. But they were still obscuring your view of the parts you really wanted to see. 

He unbuttoned and unzipped them, letting the heavy fabric slide down his legs and pool around his ankles. But then, as he stepped out of them and stood tall again, your focus was drawn down, your breath catching in your throat. With the camera zoomed in on the bulge straining against the thin fabric of his underwear, the outline was unmistakable.

He rested a hand on his hip, that familiar smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you. But you didn’t see that. Your attention was entirely on what the camera’s viewfinder showed you. Every detail magnified, every inch of him hard and ready beneath the material that barely concealed him.

“Wow.” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes still glued to the screen. 

His smirk widened, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “What?”

You finally pulled your gaze away from the viewfinder, looking up at him. “If I had a dick, I’d be hard right now looking at you.” you admitted, half-joking, but the way your voice wavered at the end betrayed just how affected you were.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound filling the room and somehow making the air between you both thicker. “Well, that’s good to know.” he teased, reaching out to take the camera from your hands. This time, you didn’t resist, letting him take it with ease.

He flipped it around, aiming it at you. The change in perspective made your breath hitch as he loomed over you, the weight of his presence pressing down, making you feel small, vulnerable under his gaze.

He shifted closer, one hand still holding the camera while the other reached out to you, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, then slowly slid down, skimming over your lips. He paused there, the rough pad of his thumb lingering on your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly. “Open wide.” he murmured, his voice husky with intent.

You obeyed, parting your lips, heart pounding as his thumb slipped into your mouth. The camera wobbled slightly as he adjusted his grip, trying to find the right angle to capture both of you. His eyes flicked from the lens back to you, a gleam of satisfaction in them as he extended his arm out, struggling to hopefully get everything in the frame.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, his face inches from yours. He spat into your mouth, the action slow, a display of control and intimacy. His thumb still rested on your lip as he watched your reaction, the camera forgotten for a moment as his gaze bore into you. 

Alex shifted the camera’s focus back to capturing just you, the lens zooming in closer, capturing every detail of your expression. He was meticulous, making sure the angle was just right. “I’m gonna do it again.” he said, his voice steady but tinged with a playful command. “Just to be sure I get it right.”

You nodded slightly, your heart pounding in anticipation. Slowly, you stuck your tongue out, offering yourself up to him without hesitation. His eyes darkened as he leaned in, the smirk on his face replaced by something more intense.

This time, the spit was harsher, more forceful as it landed on your tongue. Before you had a chance to close your mouth, before you could even think to swallow, he acted. In a swift motion, Alex slid two fingers into your mouth, pushing them past your lips and deeper, further than you expected. 

The sudden invasion made your eyes widen, your breath catching as he pressed down on your tongue, guiding his fingers toward the back of your throat. The sensation was overwhelming, your senses bombarded all at once by the taste of him, the roughness of his skin, the force of his touch.

You instinctively wrapped your lips around his fingers, the warmth of your mouth enveloping them as you tried to adjust to the feeling, to the sheer boldness of his. He watched you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression one of satisfaction as he eased his fingers deeper, coaxing you into submission.

“Ah, there we go, there we go…” he murmured, his voice low and approving, each word sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers pressed further, testing your limits, the slight stretch making your eyes water. “You look very pretty.” he added, his tone soft but commanding, as if he were admiring a piece of art he’d just perfected.

He pushed just a little deeper, his breath hitching slightly as he watched your reaction, the way you took him in. “Très jolie.” he whispered, the French words rolling off his tongue with a quiet reverence, as if he were acknowledging your effort.

He slid his fingers out of your mouth slowly, the sensation leaving a lingering tingle on your lips. As they slipped free, he gave you a quick, almost playful tap on the cheek. A silent acknowledgment, a “good job” without the words. The gesture was brief, but it sent a warm flush through you, a feeling of pride curling in your stomach.

He adjusted his grip on the camera, holding it steady in one hand as he hooked his thumb into the waistband of his underwear. He shuffled out of them, the fabric sliding down his legs until it pooled around his ankles. Your eyes were locked on him, watching intently as his cock bobbed up once it was freed, thick and hard, the skin flushed with need.

Instinctively, you reached out, your hand moving to touch him, to feel the heat of him in your palm. But before you could make contact, he pulled back slightly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he grasped himself instead. The sight of him holding his cock, stroking it lightly while still keeping the camera trained on you, sent a fresh wave of wetness rushing through you.

“Get down.” he instructed, his voice firm. 

You scrambled to obey, quickly slipping off the chair and dropping to your knees in front of him. The cool floor was a stark contrast to the heat building inside you, but you barely noticed, too focused on him, on the way he looked down at you, the camera capturing every moment.

Your hands rested on your knees, a deliberate choice as you remembered his earlier words: “Make it pretty”. You held his gaze, your heart racing, as you waited for his next move, eager to show him just how well you could follow instructions.

Alex guided his cock to your lips, the tip brushing over them with intentional slowness, teasing you, testing your restraint. The weight of it, the heat, made your lips part instinctively, but he didn’t let you take him in just yet. He lingered there, savouring the moment before he spoke, his voice a low command, “You can suck it now.”

You didn’t hesitate, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the pulsing warmth beneath your fingers. You leaned forward, letting your lips slide over the head, taking him into your mouth. The taste of him filled your senses as you sucked gently, hollowing your cheeks to create a soft, warm pressure. You glanced up at him, seeking approval, but he tapped a finger on the camera he held just above you.

“Look there.” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You shifted your gaze to the lens, the cold glass reflecting your flushed face as you focused on pleasing him. For a moment, he let you take control, your hand moving in time with your mouth as you worked him over, exploring the smooth, velvety skin, the way he pulsed against your tongue. You could hear his breathing change, a quiet approval that fueled your movements.

But then, his hand brushed yours away, taking hold of his cock himself. You felt a surge of anticipation as he took over, his hips thrusting forward in a steady, unyielding rhythm. He drove himself deeper into your mouth, pushing past your comfort zone, until you felt the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. The sudden force made you choke, your throat constricting around him as you fought to keep up, to take him as deeply as he wanted.

A few tears welled up in your eyes, escaping down your cheeks as you struggled to adjust, to breathe around the fullness of him. Sensing your struggle, he pulled out abruptly, the sudden emptiness almost as jarring as the force of his thrusts.

“What’s the matter, dolly?” he asked, his voice laced with mock concern as he used his fingers to wipe away the stray tears that clung to your lashes.

“Wasn’t ready.” you managed to gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened, but only slightly. “Be ready…action.” he ordered as he guided himself back to your mouth, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips once more. “Take it properly. Make me proud.”

You swallowed down your nerves, opening wide and bracing yourself as he slid back in. This time, you were prepared, your throat relaxing as best as it could to accommodate him. His grip tightened in your hair as he began to thrust again, deep and demanding, each movement forcing you to take more of him, to push yourself further for his satisfaction.

He began to fuck into your mouth with a steady rhythm, brushing the back of your throat with every thrust. It wasn’t too fast or rough, just enough to make your throat tickle each time he reached that sensitive spot. The sensation was overwhelming but in a way that made you want more, made you want to take him deeper, to prove you could handle it.

But just as you found a rhythm, just as your body started to adjust, he pulled out abruptly. The sudden emptiness made you gasp for air again, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. A thin strand of spit still connected you to him, a glistening thread that hung in the air between you. Alex smirked as he reached down, breaking the strand off with his hand, watching as it fell away.

He shifted the camera, angling it down at his cock, capturing the wetness your mouth had left on him. He stroked himself slowly, letting the lens see every detail, every glistening drop, every slick slide of his hand over his length. 

“That was good.” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice satisfied as he stopped the recording momentarily.

He set the camera down on the small coffee table nearby, placing it carefully as if it were something precious. Then he turned away, walking through the room with an almost aimless air, his gaze drifting over the furniture, the walls, as if he were inspecting something, or maybe just lost in thought.

You seized the opportunity, reaching for the camera with a quiet determination. You couldn’t resist, not with the way he’d looked, not with the lingering taste of him still on your lips. You brought the camera up, filming him as he moved, the lens capturing the lines of his body, the tension in his muscles, the way he carried himself with that same effortlessness.

He noticed the camera on him and turned around, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. “Where do you wanna fuck?” he asked, his tone casual, like it was just another decision to be made.

You met his gaze through the viewfinder, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You tell me, mister director,” you teased, drawing out the last words before adding, “Alexander.”

The name lingered in the air between you, and you saw the flash of something in his eyes. Approval. Desire. Maybe a bit of both. He took a step closer, his expression shifting as the roles reversed again, the director now back in control.

“Okay.” he said with a thoughtful nod, acting like he was making a very important decision. “I want to fuck you on the piano.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What piano?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“There’s the big one in the other room.” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before you could ask anything else, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take the camera from you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that the anticipation between you hummed like electricity.

“Come on.” he urged with a smirk, stepping back just enough to let you move past him. “Ladies first.”

You hesitated only for a moment before you started walking, the idea of what was to come spurring you forward. As you walked, you couldn’t resist the urge to look back over your shoulder. He was right behind you, but instead of keeping pace, he had slowed down, deliberately falling behind so he could get a better angle. 

The camera was trained on you, the lens fixed on your ass as you moved through the room. His eyes, too, were glued to the sight of you, the weight of his gaze a palpable thing, making your skin tingle. The way he watched you, the way he filmed you, was almost as intimate as his touch, as he was capturing every moment, every movement for himself, for later.

The anticipation curled tighter inside you, your breath hitching as you felt the growing heat of his attention. You couldn’t help but sway your hips a little more with each step, knowing he was watching, knowing the camera was catching every detail. You reached the doorway to the other room and paused, looking back at him again, your lips curving into a playful smile as you caught him red-handed.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, though the question was more a statement of fact than anything else.

He didn’t answer, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was enough to tell you that he was, indeed, enjoying every second of it. He motioned for you to keep going, the camera still focused on you, capturing the way the light played off your skin as you led the way to the piano, your pulse quickening with each step.

You stepped up to the piano, eyes drawn to it and the way it was dominating the space. Curious, you pressed a couple of the ivory keys, the sound that emerged surprisingly not too horrible to your untrained ears, though it was clear you had no idea what you were doing. Music had never been your forte, despite quite literally dating a musician. 

Alex followed close behind, and as you turned to face him, he carefully closed the fall board over the keys with a soft click, ensuring there would be no more accidental notes interrupting what was about to happen. He placed the camera down gently on the closed lid, abandoning it for a moment as he focused on a more important task.

His hands found your hips, the touch firm and almost possessive as he pulled you against him, sliding back to cup your ass in his palms. He squeezed, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp softly, the sensation shooting straight through you. Then he kissed you, his lips capturing yours with an urgency that made your knees weaken, his tongue slipping into your mouth, claiming you as he pulled you even closer. You could feel his fingers teasing the lace trim of your panties, slipping just underneath the fabric, feeling the soft skin beneath. 

He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours as he whispered, “You know I always think you’re pretty, right?”

The words were simple, but the way he said them made your heart skip a beat. You barely had time to nod before he was guiding you backward, his hands steady and sure as he led you toward the edge of the piano. The cool wood pressed against your skin as he continued to nudge you back, his hands never leaving your body.

“Sit.” he encouraged, his voice a quiet command that sent a thrill down your spine.

With a gentle push, he encouraged you to sit on it, helping you up. The edge dug slightly into the back of your thighs as you shuffled back, moving until you were sitting properly. The piano’s surface was smooth beneath you, a stark contrast to the rough need simmering. He stood between your legs, his gaze fixed on you, his hands still on your hips. 

He grabbed the camera once more, bringing it up to capture every detail of the moment as his hand slid down your chest. His touch was slow, tracing the curve of your breasts, before pushing you back gently, encouraging you to lie down on the cool, polished surface. The slight pressure of his hand guided you, your back meeting the smooth wood. 

His hand moved lower, fingertips brushing over your stomach until they reached the hem of your panties. He paused there, his eyes following the movement of his hand as he toyed with the tiny pink bow in the middle, twisting it between his fingers with a playful smirk. The sight of his large hand playing with that delicate detail made your breath hitch, anticipation building as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to tug them down your legs.

As they reached your ankles, he caught them before they could fall to the floor. Carefully, he placed the white lace on the surface next to you, adding to the visual allure of the scene.

Satisfied with the arrangement, he put the camera down again, ready to focus on you, needing both hands free to devote all of his attention to you. But you reached for it before he could. You couldn’t resist the urge to take control for a moment, to see the world through the lens as he saw it. 

He didn't seem to mind. In fact, the corner of his mouth lifted in a small, approving smirk as he lowered himself to kiss the inside of your thigh. You adjusted the camera, pointing it down at him as he leaned in, his lips making contact with the inside of your thigh.

The sensation of his beard against your skin was both rough and tantalisingly soft. You could feel the rasp of it as he kissed his way up your inner thigh. 

When his lips finally met your core, he left a soft kiss there. The intimacy of the moment was magnified through the lens, the camera capturing the way he looked up at you, as he held your gaze through the viewfinder. 

He didn’t hesitate as he began to lick at you, his tongue moving with an unhurried precision that made your whole body tense with pleasure. His hands held your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he worked. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but writhe beneath him, your back arching slightly off the piano as the pressure built inside you.

You managed to gasp out a question between breathless moans. “When do we get to the climax of the plot?”

He paused just long enough to lift his head, a smirk playing on his glistening lips. “Have patience, baby,” he murmured, “I need this.”

With that, he dove back in, his mouth reclaiming its place against your core. This time, his movements were more intense, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at you with a hunger that left you gasping. 

Each stroke of his tongue, each subtle change in pressure, was designed to drive you wild, to draw out your pleasure until you were trembling under him. The heat in his eyes matched the fire in your belly. You couldn’t look away. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as you instinctively tried to buck against him, your body desperate for more, for everything. 

The need in his eyes mirrored the need building inside you, the pressure mounting. It was almost unbearable, the way he kept you on the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink without letting you fall over. But even as the desperation clawed at you, you couldn’t help but give in, letting him take what he needed. 

Alex snatched the camera back from you with a quick motion, the lens focusing intently as he pulled back, capturing the view of the wet mess that had pooled at your entrance. His fingers moved over the slick, glistening folds, spreading the moisture around with a slowness that made you squirm.

“Will you talk to me in French while you fuck me?” you teased.

He glanced up, a smirk on his lips. “I don’t even know how you say ‘fuck’ in French.” he replied with a playful shrug, his gaze shifting back to the viewfinder.

As he spoke, he guided his cock to your pussy, his eyes locked on the camera as he filmed the moment. He positioned himself carefully, his thick head pressing against your entrance as he started to push inside. The lens captured every detail, the way he stretched you, the slow motion of his cock sliding into you.

“Fuck.” he moaned as he finally entered you, the sound of his voice mixed with the low, guttural pleasure he felt from the tight, warm embrace of your body. 

He continued to film, holding the camera as steady as he could as he began to thrust, the details of your connection laid bare for the lens to see. The combination of his body’s rhythm and the camera’s unblinking gaze made the scene even more intense, every sound and sight magnified as he lost himself in the feeling of you, in the undeniable connection between you both.

“Oh god.” Alex groaned.

In his haze, he set the camera down, but the action was rougher than intended, the device slamming onto the piano with a loud thud. Neither of you cared, too caught up in the moment.

He reached for you, strong hands pulling you up from the smooth surface of the piano until your chest was flush against his. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles locking behind him as you clung to his shoulders. His grip on you was firm, one arm wrapped tightly around your back while the other supported you under your thigh. 

Without a word, he started moving back, his cock still buried deep inside you. The room seemed to spin slightly, your senses overloaded as he carried you with ease. As he walked away, he reached out to turn the camera slightly from where it had landed, a half-hearted attempt to capture more of what was happening. But you could see the shift in his focus, the way he no longer cared as much about the filming. He was too consumed by the feel of you wrapped around him.

He moved until his back hit the wall with a solid thud, the impact making you gasp against his neck. With his body braced against the wall, his hands freed up to grip your hips tightly, he began to thrust into you again. The change in angle meant he could get deeper. And you clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you moaned his name. 

The pace he set was relentless now, fast and rough, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His breath was hot and heavy against your skin, his groans filling your ear as he pounded into you, each thrust bringing you both closer to release.

It consumed you both, everything narrowing down to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of your breathless moans, and the way your bodies moved together. The tension built with every stroke, every frantic heartbeat, until there was nothing left but the inevitable release that came crashing down over you both.

You buried your head under his chin, seeking comfort in his closeness and he took the opportunity to press his face in your hair, his breath mingling with the scent of your skin. The moment was a blur, highlighted by his body shuddering as he let out a soft groan, the warmth of his release flooding inside you. You could feel the wet mess already beginning to slide down your legs, mingling with the sweat that dripped down both your thighs and his, though it was hard to tell what was what in the heat of the moment. He couldn’t discern whether it was his cum or simply sweat dampening his legs, but he didn’t care either way.

His knees nearly gave out, and for a moment, it seemed like he might drop you. But he quickly adjusted his grip with a grunt, his arms tightening around you as he carefully lowered himself to the floor. You landed on his lap, the sudden shift making you acutely aware of the pulsing warmth of his cock, which had slipped out but was still pressing against your thigh, making you aware of every subtle twitch. 

Despite the mess and the precariousness of the position, he didn’t move you. His breathing was ragged, the exertion of the moment evident in every breath he took. As he steadied himself, catching his breath, he looked down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion.

“And…cut.” he said, his voice a little breathless but still carrying that familiar authoritative tone. The command was as much a signal of the end of the recording session as it was a release of the tension that had built up. The camera was still rolling, capturing the aftermath of the scene. 

a/n: i don’t like how this turned out. i guess it’s alright but meh.

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[strxnged]

TIGHNARI: # deliver me.

word count. 3k. genre. adventure, pining.

overview. news of your patrol squad's brutal defeat by eremites reaches tighnari's ears. he wastes no time searching for you to save you—but in the end, who will be saving who?

warnings. blood, action sequences, tighnari & y/n both being badass AND down bad for each other. read at your own discretion.

Tighnari shifted his weight to his other leg, trying to focus himself on his work at hand. A dark cloud had been looming over his mind all day. It had obscured his path to understanding the recent outbreak of withering zones all across the forest; he seemed to have hit a roadblock in what to anticipate in coming weeks. Some information from forest logs pointed to the archon’s situation, and other clues pointed to misconduct of both Akedemiya researchers and bands of Eremites. Still others seemed to lead him somewhere deeper, somewhere within the very Ley Lines of Teyvat. But there was more that was bothering him today which he could not lay his finger on.

“General Watchleader, sir!” 

He looked up to see a Forest Watcher at his doorway. 

“Come quick,” she said. “Something’s happened to this morning’s patrol squad.”

Tighnari wasted no time following her to the infirmary hut, where but one Forest Watcher was lying wounded on one of the beds. It was indeed one of the Rangers that had been sent out this morning, along with you and two others, who he did not see now.

“Kamran, what happened?”

The poor man clutched his bleeding side, which was dressed mildly with a makeshift bandage from his scarf. Tighnari gently removed this to treat the Ranger’s wound, listening to his tale.

“Eremites, General Watchleader. We were ambushed, and they—they had no mercy. The two others died, sir, and our patrol chief told me to get out of there. I made it out by the hair on my neck. Or rather, my side—yahhh!” Kamran yelped as Tighnari applied an ointment along the edge of the wound.

“Sit still, Kamran.” Tighanari tried to steady his hands. He’d elected you chief of this patrol—and so, it was his fault if you were dead. He might not ever forgive himself for this. He should have sent stronger defense along. He should have seen this coming. 

Damn, he might have lost you, now, and might never get the chance to tell you what you meant to him.

He tightened a liquid bandage over Kamran’s wound. “Tell me, Ranger: where did this occur?”

<*+`,.>

Tighnari’s boots were laden with mud by the time he and two others had reached the reported location. Rain was falling hard, emphasizing his growing dread and causing his ears to fold back. Finding nothing initially, one of the other Forest Rangers suggested they split up.

“Hold that thought, Ranger,” he said, kneeling at the sign of discolored mud. On closer inspection, he realized: “Blood.”

None of them could locate directional footprints near this point, but there was a clear indication of a fight, one that ended quickly. The three swept the riverbank for more clues with no luck. But upon a tree Tighnari noted a fresh gash around half of its trunk. It looked like one your knives might have made it, though it was higher than you would have naturally reached.

Perhaps you had been carried. Perhaps they kept you alive.

“We go West,” Tighnari declared. “Iraj, take the Southernmost route! Shirin, you take the Northernmost one!”

“Sir,” they nodded, gathering in front of him.

“Don’t stand there. Lives still may be saved today!”

And off they ran, all three praying he would be right.

Tighnari was relieved when he found another fresh cut in a tree several paces West, indicative of your survival past the ambush. He later found the ground to be firmer, and the marks of several footprints created a reliable trail. Now he had a feeling he was drawing closer—but at the same time, a feeling he might still be too late.

The discovery of one of your blades in the dirt a bit further along concurred.

It had occurred to him quite soon after Kamran’s arrival that this may be a trap for Tighnari. The Forest Rangers of Gandharva Ville had had a rocky relationship with Eremites, and being known as the leader placed a target on his back. However, he feared more the blood of the Rangers on his hands than any of the enemies of the forest he may face. He had no doubt now that it was a trap, but knowing it served him very little. He’d sent the others further away so that they might not have to get involved; he only hoped they hadn’t come near enough to locate the camp. 

Only then did he hear distant chatter. It sounded like Eremites, no doubt, and additionally, the whining tone of Treasure Hoarders. As he approached the camp, he quieted his paces and kept to the shadows, eyes peeled to the men and women around the wet firepit with their weapons at the ready. 

Tighnari crept around the outskirts of the camp, far enough away that any rustle in the trees would be indistinguishable from the storm. He spied you, soon enough, sitting in a crude wooden cage similar to ones he’d seen at other Treasure Hoarder camps before. Guilt sank his heart to his stomach. He would get you out of this mess, no matter what.

Tighnari aimed his bow at the back of the Eremite guarding your cage, considering. If he alerted the camp of his presence, he would have to face all of them at once. If he lured some away, however…

He pointed and shot his arrow to the trees near the path, and watched a few shout and scramble over in that direction. He snickered to himself. Knuckleheads.

Back at the camp, he could just make out you standing in your cage, peering over in that same direction. He refocused, noticing how muddy your face and back were.

There would be no easy way to save you, he knew. But hesitating would make things harder, and so he crept closer to the camp. The mud was slippery and thick here, gathering a slight stream downhill. If he had sprinted for you, he would have wiped out and given himself away. 

Ah. That would work.

Tighnari at last sent an arrow at the Eremite leaning on your cage, and she staggered to her feet, whirling around. “He’s there!” she shouted shrilly, and soon, a larger portion of the camp was racing towards him. He simply jogged a few steps away, turned, and readied his weapon.

Sure enough, each Treasure Hoarder and Eremite that ran close enough slid on their heel and landed on their ass. Defeating them with a few well aimed shots was no problem. A cryo-thrower tossed a solution from further away, and Tighnari just managed to dive out of the way. Gathering his elemental energy, he sent three shots at the foe and made a dash for the camp.

“Welcome, Tree-Hugger. Eat this.” A kick from an undetected Eremite struck him clean across the face and he stumbled backwards.

“My,” he said, simply. “No need to play dirty.”

“You don’t know when to drop the act, do you?” the Eremite said. She slashed her dual hydro-blades at her, and just barely missed his chest as he dodged. “You’re dead.”

He dodged another attack. He wouldn’t be able to defeat her from this close a range. He’d been hoping to emancipate you before dealing with the rest, but it seemed he had no choice.

Or, at least, that’s what he was thinking, until the Clearwater grunted and froze in place, before crumbling to her knees.

He noticed the handle of a blade stuck deep into her shoulder. Not just any blade. Your blade.

“C’mon, ‘Nari, get me out of here before I scream. They’re awfully loud bastards.”

He chuckled, noticing you watching him from the cage. Truly an ineffective sport and ineffective piece of technology, trapping someone without taking away their weapons in such a wide-barred, single-person cage. He wondered if you might have shimmied out between the wood had you not been surrounded by Treasure Hoarders.

“Alright, alright. Be patient, Patrol Chief.”

You groaned as he went to make work of the lock. “You can’t be serious. You don’t even have the key.”

“I can pick locks,” he said matter of factly, “you know.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, well, I can do this—” He halted as you wrapped your hands around two parallel wooden beams and pulled them apart, successfully snapping them and opening yourself your own doorway out. You tossed the splintered beams to the ground and dusted off your hands. 

“You could have done that before I got here and saved me the trouble,” Tighnari quipped, watching you step out. “Now, then, I do apologize you landed in this mess all because—”

“It’s not your fault, Tighnari. I can be responsible for my own ass sometimes.”

Tighnari curled his lips unashamedly.

“Don’t respond to that,” you said, trudging over to the female Eremite to draw your knife out of her shoulder. You wiped the blood off with the inner elbow of your sleeve, peering into the sky. “So, how’d you find out what happened?”

Tighnari followed you, checking you over for injuries. “Kamran stumbled into camp and I was alerted,” he said, and then deemed you to be in one shape and acquiesced to your resistance.

“That coward.” You huffed and shook your head. “I don’t know what he told you, but he ran off almost immediately. And he was supposed to be our combat support. Our analyst didn’t make it.”

“Not your fault.”

“It ain’t yours either, ‘Nari. Eremites can just be ruthless. I knew they wanted you, but I was hoping Kamran wouldn’t be able to find the way back so that I could handle it myself.”

“Patrol Chief, you were still in your cage when I made it here,” he said. “I don’t think it was going as well as you claim it was.”

The Clearwater Eremite groaned, writhing on the ground. Tighnari gave her a good kick in the side. You raised your eyebrows at him. “I was just waiting for the sun to come out. It seemed awfully inconvenient to deal with the situation in the pouring rain.” You pointed into the sky. “A bit of sun’s coming out now. I would have gotten out by now with or without your help.”

“No ‘thank you’?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not when you put yourself in danger like that.”

Tighnari shook his ears with a resigned sigh. “Well, at least it’s all over now.”

“Not yet it ain’t,” a voice boomed. The two of you whirled around to see a burly Eremite clomping into the camp. Tighnari did not recognize him from the ones he dealt with earlier. He was larger, more handsomely clothed, and angrier. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Of course you have,” Tighnari muttered.

“You should be more afraid, tree hugger,” demanded the Eremite.

“No need,” he replied, readying his bow unwaveringly.

The Eremite laughed heartily and drew a long, narrow blade, eyeing both of you with evident bloodlust. You clasped the hilt of your dagger in your belt, but Tighnari raised an arm in front of you.

“Fight me all you want, but leave them out of this.” At this you started to protest but a severe look from Tighnari silenced you at once.

“Someone’s protective of his pet,” the Eremite responded. He stepped closer, dragging the tip of his blade in the mud. “Seems we were right.”

Tighnari’s face was dark. You were grateful not to be on the receiving end of that look. “You Eremites wish you had any kind of sense. Luring me here was a mistake.” 

He fired an arrow at the man’s chest, knocking him back and angering him further. You stepped out of the way as Tighnari had instructed you, watching him dive towards the edge of the camp to avoid a swipe of the Eremite’s blade. You wanted to help, but you didn’t want to complicate things.

Tighnari shouted, tossing a Dendro bomb at the Eremite’s feet. He stumbled back—only to charge at Tighnari with greater force. You could just barely hear him swearing under the thundering rain, dodging the blade again. It went on for several minutes; you watched with great interest, only bothered by the fact that you weren’t part of it. It seemed that the General Watchleader was attempting to exhaust the roaring Eremite, but it was taking a while. Both Tighnari and the Eremite’s movements were becoming sloppier. The Eremite showed no sign of letting up, however; he looked like he’d been waiting for this his whole life.

In a moment that seemed to last several seconds, you saw Tighnari’s foot slip a little in the grass, causing him to stumble a little. You did not hesitate to reach your arm back and fling your dagger at the Eremite. 

It sunk into his back a moment too late—the Eremite had landed a deadly strike on Tighnari.

Tighnari fell to his knees as the Eremite crumpled into the grass, groaning.

“Damn it, Tighnari!” you ran over to your leader, kneeling next to him.

“My love…” He fought to keep his eyes open. “I apologize. I thought I could—” He cut himself off, holding one hand to his mouth to cough hard. His other hand was clutching his chest. Blood came from both locations.

“‘Nari,” you whispered.

Neither of you had the time to process the use of such a term between you. You could feel his shoulders in your hands, tremble and falter. Your heart stopped as he fell forward into your arms. Your thoughts blurred as you ripped the Eremite’s scarf from his neck and tied it around his chest, trying to hold enough pressure to his collarbone to stop the bleeding. Once you were satisfied with the tautness, you took a full, deep breath, dragged him to a standing position by his armpits, and pulled him onto your back.

“Shit. You’re heavy, asshole,” you breathed. It was going to be a long walk back to Gandharva Ville. And you were not going to think about him calling you his “love.”

<*+`,.>

Tighnari came to in a very comfortable bed with a very uncomfortable pain in his chest. He could barely breathe. It was like he’d been stabbed in the lungs.

Oh. He had been. The events of the Eremite camp sharpened in his memory. He’d been trying to lead the Eremite far enough from you that you could escape. But he didn’t remember anything after being stabbed. Where were you?

His vision was peppered with dots but he forced them to focus. He was in the infirmary, no doubt. But whoever had treated his injury had done an egregious job, and he did not attempt any movement. His mouth tasted like iron. Like blood.

Tighnari heard a fuss across the room and footsteps ran into his direction. You leaned over him with evident worry. And red eyes.

“You’re awake,” you said with a tense sigh.

“No shit.”

You stared at him. Your face, previously clouded in misgiving, reconfigured to a relieved smile. “You’re quite awake,” you said.

“Haven’t you got,” he said, taking short breaths between words, “anything else to say?”

“Yeah. You’re awake thanks to me.”

He opened his mouth to voice a retort, but his throat clenched and he turned his head to cough. “I should have given you… lessons… on how to treat a chest wound.”

“I figured it out myself.”

He tilted his face back to look you in the eyes. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry, ‘Nari,” you said. “But at the same time, you could have been dead. You could have been dead because you didn’t let me help.” Tighnari noticed a tear escape your eye, which you wiped away immediately with the heel of your palm. “Asshole,” you added as an affable afterthought.

Tighnari studied your face, feeling emotions threaten his own expression. He wiggled his fingers, testing the pain. Satisfied that it was bearable, he reached up to your collar and pulled you towards him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into your ear, “for saving me. You did well.” 

You seemed to hesitate. Then, ever-so-gently, you rested your head next to his and placed a careful hand on his shoulder. You were warm, and he didn’t know you were capable of such tender affection.

As you stood up straight again, you flicked his forehead with all your might.

He gasped, and then howled as his hand involuntary jerking up to his head caused his chest to strain and ache. “Ow! That was unnecessary!”

“You’re welcome, Tighnari,” you announced with your back to him. He did not fail to notice the redness of your ears.

He clicked his tongue. “You used the wrong ointment on my wound, Patrol Chief.” He took a deep breath, wincing again. “Is this Padisarah itching cream?”

You scoffed. “You can treat your wounds yourself from now on.” With that, you marched through the door of the hut, leaving Tighnari quite immobile on the bed.

He allowed himself a small smile. Alas, neither of you were dead. And something told him he would get the chance to tell you what you meant to him.

author's note. thanks for reading. if you enjoyed, a reblog would mean the world!

[lanitalay]

A Winter Night Made Fire

Lucien x reader (he's not mated to Elain in this)

a/n: I really cant stop writing about wanting beron dead lol

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none, its a lil angsty but only if you squint

The days seemed longer. Whenever he was away they dragged on for ages. Time, so much time passed between each of his visits. You understood, somewhat. He was emissary, first for Spring, then for Night, now… Now you weren’t sure where he was or who’s agenda he was furthering.  

You used to travel too. Only a few fae know the real reason you stay in Winter, despite the bitter cold. Because of his newfound allegiance to the Band of Exiles, Lucien isn’t included in that list. 

It stings. Knowing that the last time you saw him was Starfall, six months ago. 

The letters you receive from home don’t mention him. Even if he wanted to write, he doesn’t know where you are. With a long breath you try to forget that you don’t know where he is, either. 

Azriel had sent  you here to monitor Autumn and Spring. You were to report any movement in the southern courts. Anything, no matter how trivial. So far you’d gathered that Beron was meeting with Tamlin once a month. Your sources say he leaves unhappy each time. 

The daylight in Winter is shorter than the rest of Prythian. Nights are incredibly long and, if no one is warming your bed, lonely as well. You spend as much time as possible reading correspondence, writing letters, coordinating meetings. Trying to stay one step ahead of them, of whatever it is that Beron is masterminding. It’s in the air. Whispers carrying rumors of unrest. 

It felt like the threat of conflict loomed in perpetuity on this land. The war with Hybern was less than three years ago. But Koschei… Lucien would probably be of use right now with his knowledge. 

But he wasn’t to be trusted. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

You know it's too late when you can’t see the moon from your window, so you clean up all of the precious information and place it in the scattered hiding spots in your room. Before closing the curtains, you look at the snow covered hills that seem to go on forever. If you hadn’t been looking at those same hills for months, you might think they are breathtaking. 

The next morning Vivianne greets you at breakfast with a smile. “Good morning, did you sleep well?” 

You touch your face, wondering if your exhaustion is that obvious. “I was up late reading, didn’t get much sleep at all.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could say that you could rest, but we have a guest arriving today and Kallias asked if you could receive him since you already know each other, it might make him more comfortable to see a friendly face.”

You scrunch your brows, this was the first you’d heard of a visitor. “Who is visiting?” 

“Lucien Vanserra.” 

You take a beat too long to respond. “Oh.” 

“You do know him, don’t you? He’s also emissary for Night so I just assumed.” 

“Yes- yes, I know him. I just have not seen him in a while.” The Mother worked in mysterious ways. You could not tell her outright that Lucien was not necessarily part of the Night Court, or any court, without spoiling the opportunity to learn why. 

What did he want? Why did he leave? 

So an hour later you are by Kallias’ side as Lucien, whom you used to call yours, is escorted through the greeting hall. It's an encounter of stoic faces. Seemingly no one is particularly happy to be here. You go through the formal protocols with a gritted jaw. Both of his hands seem intact, he could have written. Sure, he didn’t know where you were but he could have asked. He could have given signs of life. 

“Thank you again for hosting me on short notice, but it is pertinent that we meet.” 

“Of course, would you like y/n to join us?” 

Without even glancing your way he says “no.”

You vowed to yourself you’d chew his head off later, when no prying eyes would see. It was only fair you sit out the meeting, you told yourself as you walked the length of the hall towards the library, your assignment is classified. As far as Kallias and Vivianne know, you are just an emissary. 

You see him again at dinner. Even though the food is delicious, you cannot stomach eating any of it. Not when he’s sitting across from you, the portrait of nonchalance. It surprises you when he breaks the silence. “Winter seems to suit you, y/n.” 

Stabbing his hands with your fork would be so easy, he’s right there… But no, you compose yourself before answering.

“Thank you, Vivianne and Kallias have been very gracious.”

“I wonder why Rhysand sent you here, doesn’t Morrigan usually handle emissary duties for this court?” 

You nudge him under the table. This was inappropriate conversation. “She does, but she’s been held up in the Continent for some time.” 

“Ah.” 

Vivianne speaks next. “Did you meet in the Night court?”

You answer before he can. “No.”

The High Lord and Lady look at you expectantly. “Well the first time we met was in the Autumn Court, when we were children. A lifetime ago, really.” 

“That’s right, I forget you are originally from Autumn.” 

“Lord y/l/n was a member of my fathers council.” Lucien clarifies.

“Were you friends back then?” Kallias asks, clearly trying to understand your dynamic. If only he knew how, for most of your life, Lucien was… You couldn’t bring yourself to even think about it. 

“I apologize, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to retire for the night.” You get up and Vivianne asks “what’s wrong?”

“I think the lack of sleep is catching up to me. I’ll be better by morning.”

When you reach your room, you know that trying to sleep is futile with the way your heart is beating. You pace around the bed as you try to calm down, try to find some peace. But knowing he’s most likely staying in this very wing, in this very hall… After being apart from him for so long- A knock at the door brings you back. You hope it's Vivianne but deep down you know it isn’t. 

He knocks again. You know he’ll knock all night if he has to. 

When you open the door he’s about to knock again, fist raised in a staunch effort. 

“What?” You roll your eyes as you say it, lips immediately falling in a flat line. He has the nerve to smirk before asking “can I come in?”

You step to the side and resist the urge to trip him as he walks. 

Torture, this distance between you is nothing short of it. He has been your most trusted ally, your best friend, on several occasions more than that… But six months and no word. That had never happened before. Not even when he was in Spring. Not even when Amarantha ruled.

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” 

“How have you been?” 

Your arms cross over your chest as you widen your eyes at him. “Fine, now explain.” 

He sighs. “It will take a while.” 

“Then give me a summary.” 

He closes the distance between you slightly, so his words come out in almost a whisper. “We are working to overthrow Beron. I’m here securing the allegiance of the bordering courts. In the meeting Kallias agreed to support us and with that Beron is surrounded. We move next week.” 

You must have heard wrong. “What?”

“We are expecting little resistance from Autumn, most likely the few guards that Eris hasn’t been able to sway but they will be easy to defeat. We have the numbers, y/n. We could go home.”

Your hand juts out before you can think about what you’re doing. A clean slap lands across his face. In your ire you can’t feel bad about it. “Are you insane? You know who I receive my orders from. I must report anything I learn and I can promise you that Rhysand won't like that you disappeared to form a coup. Did you even think this through? Or did Eris persuade you?”

His hand is on his cheek as he waits for you to finish. 

“What support do you have from Spring? Huh? Tamlin in his beast form? And Winter? I know that the most they can offer is a few archery squadrons and Summer is too preoccupied with Adriata to even think about sending anything your way. So what exactly is your plan? Secrecy doesn’t seem to be a priority and a lot can happen in a week. It’s just like you to do this too. You’re gone for months and when you return it's for more court bullshit.”

“Are you done?” 

You huff and storm to the other side of the room, where the window overlooks the hills. 

“You know it was only a matter of time, y/n.” He’s standing behind you now, chin almost resting on your shoulder. 

“It’s dangerous Lu… and for what? What will change if Eris is High Lord? Everything else will stay the same.”

His head comes to rest in the crook of your shoulder and his arms begin to snake at your waist. “Things will change, slowly at first but they’ll change.” 

“Why do you want to go back? After everything that happened…” you can’t keep a coherent thought with him touching you like that.

“I’m tired of being an exile. I miss Autumn and its villages. I- they deserve better too.” 

“Why not ask Rhysand for help? Feyre would do anything for you and their numbers are better than all the southern courts combined-”

“This isn’t his battle. We don’t need his help and we certainly don’t need to be indebted to him.” Your hands tangle with his and you squeeze them, relishing the fact that he was here. 

“Come with me. Let's go home, y/n.”

Suddenly you cannot come up with a reason to say no. You miss Autumn too. The crisp air, the cinnamon flavored candies, the cabins that smelled of fire and apples and yams. Nothing felt like home, not really. You knew it had nothing to do with the land itself, but everything to do with the male wrapped around you. 

“I’ll go if you promise to stay by my side. Where you go, I go.” 

He chuckled. “You missed me that much?” 

You scoff. “Yes, you doofus.” 

“Where I go, you go.” He seals the promise with a kiss on your shoulder. 

You begin to melt. “I’m sorry about slapping you.” 

Lucien spins you in his arms so you are facing him. “It 's alright. I deserved it after disappearing on you like that.”

“You did. But I feel a little bad.” So you stand on your tip toes and his cheek, then the corner of his mouth and then his nose. 

He groans, heat biting at his fingertips. “Don’t tease.” 

You chuckle and give in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that quickly becomes desperate.