#@m-chromatic

[storytellering]

r!dante screenshot redraw, ft white hair

[mosalahd]

he’s water sensitive

[hiddenfolk]

Idk whats happening here but I love clara

[punk-raphaelite]

Mid morning window reflections

[ne0nwithazero]

Uhhhhhj klieg, 27 for the ask game >:3 and F)?

27. What causes them to feel dread?

What DOESN'T cause Klieg to feel dread? 😭 As much as he tries to act calm, confident, and self-assured, this man is a massive ball of anxiety! I'd be here all day if I started listing everything that makes him nervous.

The biggest thing continues to be his Impostor syndrome, and he just exists every day fearing that someone will see him as a fraud and undeserving of his position, which is how he sees himself.

He feels undeserving of his position but also doesn't want to lose it because of how long it took him to get to a place where others actually see him.

As well as feeling like he'll never find anyone he can share his work with who happens to be as excited about it as he is... I guess it's why I like his dynamic with Rouxls so much, even if they're very silly and are mostly a comedic duo in the AU x)

Not only he gets to share, but he's also challenged to listen, which Klieg is often too self-absorbed to do (Not out of malice, he's just very fixated on what he likes <3

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

I love all my OCs, I don't think I ever made any effort to hide that! And I've mentioned a few times that all of them tend to reflect facets of my personality, and they have helped me cope and better interpret my feelings by projecting them onto someone who isn't myself.

I don't know if that makes sense to anyone? Think of that one Tumblr post that said something along the lines of teaching yourself self-love by making your favourite characters go through what you're going through, and reflect on how you wouldn't punish those characters for behaving in response to how they were treated.

But tangents aside, Klieg is also like that for me, though he's more of a way for me to deal with how lonely it can feel to be so enamoured with your work but not getting the response you wish you could have.

The impostor syndrome of wondering how I've come a place where there are people who enjoy my work and how I often feel undeserving of it, or wondering how long until it will take until people realize there are better artists out there, I suppose?

Not all negative things tho, my characters bring me much joy and Klieg is no exception! He's very eccentric and I just get so much happeniness out of drawing him enjoying his work!

Even if most times it's more fun drawing him dealing with the consequences of being stuck up and mean to others >:) All in good fun tho, I like Klieg's arc in the AU a lot

[2017gripe]

kurapikaaaa having so much fun w these

[moonknightproductions]

Playing around with a brush and some filters

[salmoniid]

HOLY SHIT?????????????????????

[ashtreelane]

did part of @m-chromatic s pallete challenge with @lovelettersbythesea s oc Paige !

[threezzyo]

꒰ ˒ wet 'n wild ∘︴satoru g.

↬ satoru can't take his eyes off of you in that skimpy blue bikini when you two go on a date at the waterpark.

⇢ nsfw. 18+. MDNI! ⇢ cw: satoru and reader are both college students. smut. semi-public sex. unprotected penetrative sex. messy and desperate sex. oral, m! recieving. missionary, against a plastic volcano lolol. slight exhibitionism ig? squirting. cumming inside. lots of praise. pet names- baby, darling, princess, sweetheart. super touchy (both of you). pervert satoru. sato literally worships you omg. lots of fluff as always!

∾ satoru gojo x fem!WOC!reader. modern au. no curse au. reader is a WOC! (you tan at the waterpark and he loves it). reader used to be a professional swimmer. anyways, just a boyfriend taking his stressed girlfriend away from college to have fun at the waterpark. its not his fault you're just so damn hot. wc- 2k

a/n: again! this is nsfw, so minors do not interact. both dividers are made by cafekitsune (tumblr)

you were the perfect partner for the waterpark. why? you knew how to swim and could save satoru from drowning, of course. and that you were his beloved girlfriend and needed a break after exams were over.

like the bright and energetic boyfriend he is, he must take you to bright and energetic places too. the 'summer surf' waterpark was equally as bright and energetic as satoru. the multicolored swimsuits provide a chromatic scenery, the prodigious plastic slides were vivid against the radiant cerulean clear sky. the scent of sunscreen and chlorine provides you with a sense of amenity- you grew up swimming your entire life.

"well, baby?" his defined arms snake around your waist, as you clutch your giant beach bag with all the necessities. the tickets were safe in your hand. "you scared of heights?"

"no way." you replied confidently. "in fact, you're going to be the scaredy cat." you smile cheekily.

satoru chuckles, pinching at the sides of your white coverup, over the tantalizing bikini set you said he'd love. "nope. but lets start small, please?"

you smile, handing the tickets to the attendant at the ticket booth. now gaining access into the park, satoru snatches your bag and carries it for himself as he proudly shows you off on his arm.

first up, your favorite attraction, the wave pool.

"ugh! everyone puts their towels on the seats and its impossible to find another one." you grumble, walking around on the hot pavement to find an empty lounge chair by the pool. "ooh, they're leaving." a small family packs their stuff and walks away from a single empty chair. you practically run towards it, buzzing with excitement to spend time with satoru in the wave pool.

satoru trails along behind you, idly waiting along to finally see the bikini you bought for him, (in your words).

"well, baby. i'm not waiting all day. come on, show me." he whines softly. "please." through his circular sunglasses, he glances up at you. he looks so cute with his chin on your shoulder, like a little puppy.

you grin, laughing as you pull off your coverup.

his eyes widen, taking in the sight of your statuesque figure, with your glimmering tan skin. oh, he can't wait to see you even more tan than this. "sweetheart, you look so hot. absolutely divine."

"you like?" you giggle, at his sweet comments. you give him a 360, striking a pose or two. "come on. lets put on sunscreen."

as a skincare fiend, you were obsessed with taking care of your skin. and knowing satoru has fair skin, which is more subject to sunburns, you bought the strongest one you could find.

satoru swears he's not normally like this, but with you squirting a dollop of sunscreen on your palms, slathering it up, and starting with rubbing it over your legs, he can't help but feel his swim trunks tighten. fuck, you're just so arousing, his mind can't help but go wild at the thoughts of spurts of his cum against your sweet, tanned skin. how it would look if your tits were marked up from his teeth. god, he might as well cream his pants now.

you hand the bottle of sunscreen to him. "sato, baby, please? just spread it over my back." you present your back to him, the strings holding your little getup seeming so fragile. and what if he accidentally (untied) brushed over the strings?

he bites away at the temptation, focusing on just applying the damn sunscreen. you stifle a giggle, already knowing his little dilemma. you just need to tease him a bit.

once you both applied sunscreen, you excitedly drag him to the wave pool. "its really fun." you say, "its better when you jump over the waves."

he's barely even listening to your spiel, just aching to get rid of his... problem. and he can't fuck you in such a place, a waterpark? where would you two even sneak off to fuck? the parking lot was crowded, anyone could tell if it was in the car. virtually everywhere was congested with kids screaming around or teenagers lining up for the tall waterslides.

the cool water feels artic on his skin, refreshing from the blazing heat downing upon him.

"its so cold!" you yelp, jumping away from the water.

your breasts slightly bounce as you do so, and satoru is very shamelessly ogling at you. fuck.

"pleasee, come here? warm me up." you ask him with your best puppy dog eyes, lips forming into a small pout to sell the deal a bit more.

satoru laughs, pushing his sordid thoughts away for now, to pull you into the pool.

"satoru!" you yell, as you fell on your ass, the icy water sharp on your skin. "you fucker!" you whine, before pulling him down into the water.

"hey!" he gasps, shivering from the sudden cold.

"you deserved it!" you defend yourself, giggling as he rolls over onto you and places a kiss on your soft lips.

"lets go. see? there's a wave coming." he smiles, as you two tread a bit further down the wave pool.

you two have your fun at the wave pool, taking a seat together on your beach chair.

"satoruuu." you kiss his cheek. "lets buy ice cream."

"didn't you complain the entire time the water was too cold? and now you want ice cream?" he snickers, pulling out his wallet and handing you his card. "get me a chocolate cone?"

"well, yeah, but i really want a popsicle right now." you smile, plucking the card from his fingertips. "thanks, baby. whatever you want."

he grins to himself as he very shamelessly ogles at you as you walk to the nearby ice cream stand. your plump little butt just looked so beguiling, he just can't believe he's the only one who can tap your ass. god, he desperately needed to take care of his ...predicament.

you excitedly walk over to satoru, handing him his chocolate waffle cone, the ice cream already dripping from your fingers. "here you go, darling." you beam.

"thanks, princess." he kissed your cheek as you sit beside him. you smile, slowly licking off the chocolate drips off your fingers. its like you're doing this on purpose, the way you lick the dripping strawberry popsicle.

"so yummy." your words are so tantalizing, he's completely wrapped around your finger.

"fuck, sweetheart." he groans, grabbing your wrist. he pulls you in, whispering in your ear, "baby, please, lets just sneak off to somewhere private. i can't deal with this the entire day."

his boner, under his trunks, pokes at your side. you kiss your teeth, a bit disappointed. "thought you would last longer." you jive. "couldn't handle all the teasing? we didn't even go on any waterslides." you whisper, beaming up at him.

his eyes widen slightly, before narrowing them. his surprised expression is now gone, replaced with a sly little grin. "oh, you minx. you're coming with me and sucking me off. now."

you were always so bratty, and now you're all angelic and so good. sweet, pulchritudinous girl, on your knees so quickly.

"fuck, darling." he lets out a low groan as you pull down his trunks.

"shh. be quiet!" you whisper. you two were behind a plastic volcano prop for one of the attractions, the best hiding spot you could find. there was shade, and nobody was coming around this area.

in front of your face was his (really fucking long) dick. every vein and every curve just seemed so perfect. his pretty pink tip was already leaking. "satoru..." you shift a bit, to be more comfortable on the concrete floor.

"go on, baby. you can take it, can't you?" he grins, adjusting his sunglasses, and threading his nimble fingers in your hair. "come on, sweet girl. isn't this better than sucking that popsicle?"

"no, baby. your dick doesn't taste like strawberries." you wrinkle your nose, giggling. your breath directly hits his cock, twitching at the simplest movement.

"don't be such a brat, princess." he tugs on your hair harder. "suck."

you tug out your bottom lip, before pressing a soft kiss on his tip, a pearl of his precum collects on the tip of your tongue. you were so sloppy, the way you were suckling at his slit.

"fuck, sweetheart. jus' like that." he groans, guiding your mouth up and down on his dick.

you know just how to suck him off, being sloppy yet careful. slowly, you take him in your mouth, being mindful of your teeth. your dexterous fingers cup his balls, as your tongue traces over the shape of his veins, and his tip hitting the back of your throat. his low groans sounded so sinful, if your bikini wasn't wet from the pool, its wet because of him.

he smirks, bobbing your head on his shaft. tears prick your eyes as he fucks your throat.

his head falls back on the volcano as his hips thrust into your sweet mouth, his eyes landing on the sight of you- a teary mess with her two-toned lips wrapped around the base of his cock, eyes half-lidded with lust. the way your nose brushes on his trimmed pubes, he could die a happy man like this.

when satoru cums, he practically overflows your mouth. a deafening moan follows as his cum dribbles down the corner of your mouth. "sweetheart, fuck.." he whispers, watching you swallow it all. just like a good girl.

"yummy." you grin, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "my popsicle was tastier, though."

you thought you would be going to the waterpark to go on the massive waterslides and eating ice cream with satoru by the pools. never did you think you'd be getting fucked against a plastic volcano.

"satoru! baby, fuck!" you whimper, your head buried in his neck. your back was riding against the plastic prop, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. his hands were clawing into your ass, as he thrusts inside. you bit your lip to hide your moans.

he was very close to just ripping off that bikini bottom off of you, but he didn't want you parading around with your ass bare. so thong to the side it was. his breaths were haggard, just focusing on filling you up, getting closer with every jolt of his hips.

you had your beach towel draped around you both, but if anyone got too close, it would be very obvious to them what you two were doing.

even in such an uncomfortable position, with you clinging onto him, satoru wastes no time, pistoling into you like he was dying for a last gasp of air. "baby, fu-uck." you cry, nails digging into his back.

it was so messy, so desperate. you could feel your slick collect on the fabric of your bikini, as the tip of his long dick reaches the perfect spot, abusing it over and over again.

"shit, shit." his soft whines and groans are all you hear, just focused on both of you reaching an orgasm.

"sato-ru, baby, im gonna-" you bite back a loud moan, as one last thrust inside your waiting pussy sends you over the edge, spurting your liquids all over his thighs and dribbling down onto the ground.

"-cum." you finish your sentence, your breathing deep and ragged.

he finishes shortly after, fucking you through your orgasm.

he groans, almost dropping you as his cum floods your insides, shakily breathing as he presses a kiss on your cheek.

"i love seeing you like this." he whispers as he sets you on your feet, down on the ground. you quickly adjust your clothing, using your towel to wipe off the trails of cum down your thighs. "love seeing my cum on your skin." he whispers, kissing your cheek over and over again as he fixes your hair for you.

"can't believe you fucked me against a fucking plastic volcano, satoru gojo."

"oh, baby, i was about to take you in front of everyone on that little beach chair at the wave pool."

you furrow your brows, heat pooling in your core. that shouldn't sound appealing. (but it does.)

"you pervert!" you whisper-yell, smacking him with the beach towel.

"oh, sweetheart. i love that i know you so well." he says before kissing you, flashing a knowing grin as he pulls you to a more secluded spot.

PLESSSE show up under tags IM BEGGING

crossposted on ao3- miniminari !!! reblogs appreciated

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

Welcome to Round 4, the top 32 contenders! Only the best remain! With a fair few surprise hits that have beaten out some of the original top contenders.

On the left, the highest ranked in the qualifying rounds, the Red Dragon! It's the biggest chromatic dragon, so adults are roughly in the 30-90 foot (9.1-27.4 m) range. The spellcasters among them lean toward spells like "dominate person," as basically everything in thier culture is about domination and power play. They're prideful, powerful, the epitome of dragon kind to most, the classic fire breathing dragon!

BUT ON THE RIGHT! Having already slain a dragon and taken out a member of the top 32, we have the androsphinx! 10 ft (3 m) long, gruff and somewhat pessimistic with a noble heart, can control time from within its lair, guards ancient mysteries and secrets, and can summon feasts on command! They're also known for being gruff and blunt but generally trying to do the right thing.

[half-facedfig]

TAG GAME!!!

Describe your current taste in music only using three emojis.

Mine:

🫠🇬🇧🪽

:)

@elle22love @ritacaroline @the-smifs @to-be-a-joint-and-not-to-roll @that-bluesybitch @therealj1mmyp4g3 @ibrokemybac @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @percys-lemons @pageydrinkstea @another-little-hippie @alderaanz @sluuttyplant @starlight-dazed @starrrnmoon @deitripper @desertangels70s @dschhh @firethatgrewsolow @freddiemercurydearie1991 @groovy-rockstars @grimydani @guringurasu @greensrew @hkatepllar @jarsfullofstarrs @jimmysdragonsuit13 @lemongrablothbrok @callmethehunter @chromations @chauffeurkashmir @bargainoriley @niconoize @n0quart3r @nature-and-music @m-faithfull @maziecrazycloud @moon-fashioned

Apologies if I missed anyone!

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.” ― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 5k

pairing— vampire slayer!dom!gn!reader x vampire!sub!gojo

cws/tags— enemies to enemies w/ benefits, S&M, predator/prey dynamic, knifeplay, bloodplay, blood as an aphrodisiac, heavy degradation (+use of “slut”), humiliation, biting & marking, oral + fingering (reader receiving), reader has AFAB anatomy but isn’t gendered, dry humping, hairpulling, inaccurate vampire lore, porn w/ plot, porn w/ (angsty) feelings, very description heavy

The passage of time had led you to this decisive moment. There he kneeled, ensnared by the circumstance of your bait, his once confident demeanour reduced to vulnerability. Wide-eyed and labouring breaths betrayed his desperation, his pale chest heaving under that billowing white shirt. 

You stood tall, your gaze an icy lance that pierced through the layers of cunning that once cloaked this despicable being. A vampire, an embodiment of the dark myths that have haunted humanity for centuries. In the story of your seasoned exploits, the ones you’d slain had been unfathomable monsters, grotesque aberrations. The raw power that you expected to emanate from a monster so ancient, so sinister, seemed to have dulled into something strangely human. His aura of malevolence was overshadowed by a pitiable aura of need. The haunting question dawned on the precipice of your thoughts: Could it be that even the darkest of beings can yearn, can ache for something beyond their cursed existence?

The tableau is one of stark contrasts—the resolute hunter and the feeble prey, the chilling void of the night and the warmth of desperate need. The air remained unbroken: You, the embodiment of unyielding purpose, and he, an enigma knelt before you, leaving the promise of revelation in his desperate, longing gaze.

The monster before you took on a hauntingly primal quality. A languid, serpentine motion as his tongue darted out, collecting the remnants of blood, your blood, that clung to his lips. The taste, metallic and potent as you knew it to be, was like the sweetest nectar to him. A guttural groan escaped his parted lips, a sound laden with both pleasure and pain; The very act of an existence marked by unending darkness and insatiable hunger. With deliberate slowness, his eyes shuttered closed, a brief surrender of ecstasy. His lashes casted long shadows against his pale, parchment-like skin. 

“Speak, monster,” you said in a cool, steady tone.

Time seemed to expand and contract, a canvas stretched taut, as he eventually broke the stillness.

“Oh, come on. Why the formalities?” he taunted in an airy whisper, a smug lilt to his tone. “Don’t you think we’re past that?”

His eyelids parted, revealing pupils dilated to a darkness. Those eyes, a chromatic anomaly amidst the desolation of his existence, were a cerulean that defied nature's palette. They were too blue, too vivid—a celestial fragment from the vast expanse of the heavens that had fallen into his wretched possession. 

“Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering.

His eyes drank you in with an uncanny hunger. “Gojo Satoru. Though, please, Satoru will do just fine.”

You tilted your head to one side, leaning down to inspect him with morbid fascination. He was disturbingly beautiful: Far too angelic in appearance, though you supposed it was a façade to lure in his prey. How ironic.

“Gojo Satoru,” you murmured, still inspecting him. Satoru shuddered at the way his name fell from your mouth, and he groaned again. “That’s a very human name, unfit for you… Though it’s your vampiric desperation that got you here, isn’t it?”

Satoru's response sliced through the charged atmosphere like a serrated blade. His lips parted in a breathy exhalation that transformed into a rueful laugh, a delicate sound that danced in the air. The corners of his mouth quirked into a crooked smile, a wry look that exposed his pointed fangs. 

“Was it yours, by the way?”

“The blood?”

“The blood. The blood in the chalice—that bait you left for me. Was it yours? Did you… alter it?”

You frowned and raised a brow. Instinctively, your hand moved to your belt, where your weapon of choice rested. The scabbard relinquished its hold with a whisper of leather, allowing the ornate silver dagger to emerge into the moonlit room. Your fingers curled around the hilt, finding solace in the familiarity of its weight. 

“Your final moments are rapidly approaching, and you question my methods for luring you here?” you asked bemusedly.

Satoru shrugged one shoulder, but his eyes snapped to focus on the blade. “I’m just making friendly conversation.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No,” he laughed again, hunger flashing in his eyes, “I’m not. Tell me, though.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “It’s mine. Unaltered.”

Satoru's throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, the sound resonating. He took a deep breath. “So, you just taste… like that, do you?”

“Like ‘that’?”

“Just so… sweet. Humans aren’t usually so sweet,” he clarified.

With a fluid motion, you idly twirled the dagger through the air. The blade's polished surface caught the moon's glow, transforming its silvery sheen into an almost-blue hue, the ornate dagger an extension of your intent. The blade's tip, sharpened to a lethal point, found its mark with an almost imperceptible pressure against Satoru's skin.

The chill of the metal against his neck was a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body. The sensation was immediate, a jolt of icy reality that underscored the gravity of your confrontation. His breath hitched, his pupils dilated more, the pulse of his veins thundering in tandem with the rhythm of his twisted excitement. 

“You disgust me,” you hissed, pressing the blade to his neck so that it was perilously close to breaking his skin.

The whine that escaped his lips was involuntary, a mixture of pain and desire that reverberated through the charged air. It was a reminder that his existence, no matter how abhorrent, was still woven with threads of need and yearning. He pressed closer to the flat of the blade—the dichotomy of his action hauntingly human. The cold metal met the feverish heat of his pale skin, his lips parted as he breathed heavily.

“Please,” the longing etched into his contorted expression spoke of desire both primal and inexplicable. “One last request before it’s over. Please.”

“You think you deserve a last request?” you challenged, eyes narrowed with scrutiny.

Satoru moistened his lips, eyes darting from you to around the room as he scrambled to provide you with an answer to your question. The room, with its moonlit corners and shadows, seemed to close in, the walls serving as both witnesses and silent participants in this exchange between hunter and hunted, captor and captive. The request that followed was both shocking and strangely intimate:

“I was human, once,” he began, “I wanted a good death for myself, once. Please, give me a shred of humanity to die with. Please, let me taste you before you kill me.”

It's a collision of desires—a yearning for connection, for a glimpse of the humanity he once possessed, and the chilling reminder of his vampiric nature.

You laughed coldly, sneering down at him. “And humanity is blood, is it?”

“Please.”

Jutting your chin out, your gaze seared downward. The intensity of your stare, unyielding and incisive, spoke of your unwavering resolve in the face of his plea. The retraction of the dagger was a calculated move—an action that rippled with implications.

As the blade sliced across the palm of your hand, your own blood welled forth, a crimson testament to your commitment to the path you'd chosen. The sting was a reminder of the sacrifices you were willing to make, and the offering of the blade, now smeared with your blood, was a bridge.

His reaction was immediate and visceral. The scent of your blood, intoxicatingly sweet to his heightened senses, seemed to fill the room; A siren's call. Satoru’s breathing grew heavy. His eyes locked onto the vivid liquid, reflecting a hunger that surpassed all others.

“Have your taste before I slaughter you, Satoru.”

As if drawn by an irresistible force, Satoru's compliance was immediate and unquestioning. As his tongue darted out to lick the smeared blood from the flat of the blade, the room seemed to hold its breath, a voyeur to this intimate ritual between predator and prey. The metallic glint of your blood met his tongue with an electric charge, a connection that transcended what he thought he had centuries of damned experience with. The blood's influence, as it coursed through the currents of his veins, was immediate and potent. 

The sweet nature of your blood sparked an undeniable fire within Satoru; A desire, once lurking in the shadows, that now surged to the forefront of his consciousness. The echoes of his moans, the rise and fall of his uneven breaths, served as evidence of the pure need he experienced. 

“You really are the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen,” you muttered, regarding him with sickly interest. Satoru's gaze—those magnificently blue eyes, like pools of sapphire—rose from the blade, still in his kneeling position, to meet yours. 

“That was hardly a taste,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your indignant silence was punctuated by the steady rhythm of dripping blood. Drip-drip-drip. You felt the warmth from the gash on your non-dominant hand curl around your fingers, falling with resonance onto the aged wooden floorboards. Drip-drip-drip. As your gaze swept across the space, the play of light and shadow painted the scene. Your attention fell upon a solitary chair nestled in the corner.

Without uttering a single word, your injured hand lifted and extended, your blood-stained fingers pointing with stark clarity towards the chair. Drip-drip. The gesture was a directive, an invitation, an unspoken promise. Satoru, his towering presence marked by the contrast of moonlight and shadows, heeded the call of your gesture. With a deliberate grace, he approached the chair, the sound of its legs scraping against the wooden floor, the very air itself holding its breath.

The surprise that unfurled within you was mirrored by the unexpected turn of events. As he dragged the chair closer, your pulse quickened, and you sat. Then, in a gesture that defied your expectations, he knelt before you once more, his handsome expression a mixture of reverence, his own expectation, his own unrivalled desire.

“You deserve less than I’m giving you,” you said lowly, “But enjoy yourself while you can.”

You extended your injured hand, the delicate appendage still weeping ruby-red tears. Satoru responded instinctively, cradling your wounded palm in his larger hands, their touch exuding a profound gentleness. As if guided by an innate sense of care, he brought your bloodied offering to his face, a visage that seemed both ravenous and reverent. The moment his tongue made contact with the open wound, a jolt of sensation shot through your body. The taste of your blood, infused with the sweet essence of your very being, flooded his senses. His eyes, once fixed on you, now fluttered closed, and a euphoric expression painted his features. As if overwhelmed by a wave of intense pleasure, his eyelids fluttered, and his irises seemed to lose focus, rolling upwards.

The world around Satoru seemed to dim, his focus narrowing to the essence that flowed from your wound. Each taste, each drop, acted like a potent aphrodisiac, igniting a fire that blazed within him. His body responded with a tremor, his pale hands involuntarily tightening their hold on your injured palm. His muffled groans, now a mixture of raw need and aching restraint, reverberated through your body.

Satoru’s soft, warm mouth enveloped the open wound, a fervent kiss that drew forth the crimson nectar. As he sucked on the source of this intoxicating sweetness, rivulets of blood painted intricate patterns on his lower face, a macabre, and yet strangely artistic, display. Despite his immense presence, he remained on his knees before your chair, his powerful form now a portrait of vulnerability. Satoru’s head, heavy with the weight of his longing, found its place on your lap, a gesture that radiated a delicate surrender. His silvery hair, like silk against your legs, contrasted starkly with the increasingly depraved display.

“You really are vile,” you breathed, the sting from the wound shooting up your arm.

Your grip on the dagger in your dominant hand tightened instinctively, and a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursed through you as his tongue lapped at your skin. Your senses keenly caught the subtle shifts in his body language, the telltale signs of his arousal and need. The feeling of his fingers tightening around your wounded hand, his thighs pressing and rubbing with a rhythmic urgency—a plea for something unattainable yet relentlessly craved.

With a languid grace, he shifted his kneeling position, his body settling. As if guided by some unseen force, he positioned himself so that he was seated on one of your boots. His head found its resting place on your thigh, and his mouth maintained its fervent dance upon your hand—his lips and tongue slid over your skin, causing a paradoxical sensation of tension and pleasure that set your nerves alight.

His body responded to the all-encompassing craving that had engulfed him with a feverish urgency. The torrent of desire coursing through him could no longer be suppressed, and his body moved of its own accord. In a desperate bid for release, he pressed his hard-on against your boot, the friction providing a fleeting respite from the intensity that consumed him. Desperate moans, heavy with frustration, escaped him, the sound an unbridled testament to the intensity of the moment.

Finally, his fangs sank into the tender palm of your hand with a swift, hypnotic movement. The moment his fangs pierced your skin, a rush of sensations cascaded through you and a gasp, half surprise and half excitement, tumbled from your lips. The pressure of his bite, a fierce declaration of his need, sent shockwaves through your body. 

"Did I say you could bite?" you hissed through gritted teeth. 

With a decisiveness born of instinct, your dominant hand moved with purpose. The edge of the dagger's blade found its place against the vulnerable curve of his neck, pressing into his pale skin as his own blood, darker and more tainted than yours, seeped onto the cool metal.

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a desperate apology. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please…” 

His lips sought redemption in a sequence of fervent kisses. They trailed across the delicate skin of your wrist, your knuckles, and the tips of your fingers. The gesture, if not for the lingering urgency of his movements, would have held a sweet tenderness, an attempt to mend what had been broken. Amid this tangled web of feelings, the grinding of his arousal against you persisted, a relentless echo of his desire. The moans that escaped him seemed to punctuate each kiss, a wretched symphony of need.

“You’re fucking pathetic. You should see yourself right now,” you scolded, “On your knees for me, grinding against my leg like a fucking feral animal.”

His body moved with a desperate rhythm, a primal need guiding his every motion. With each rutted thrust, he sought an elusive release, a respite from the smouldering longing between his thighs. His movements were fueled by a frenetic energy, his hips surging upward in a rhythm that spoke of desperation and longing. The dagger's lethal caress against his neck seemed only to further stoke the fire within him.

Gasping for air, Satoru’s breaths came in ragged intervals, but amidst the tumult, a single word slipped past his lips—a plea heavy with need. "Please."

“Please what? What are you even begging for, slut?” You laughed at him. “You wanna taste some more? You wanna cum for me?”

“Fuck, please… I need you… I need you so badly, please,” he whined, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, his head still resting on your thigh.

“You want more? More blood?”

“Y-yes, but… more you. I just, fuck… Need more of you,” he panted.

The sound of his own confession served as a catalyst, the final thread that unravelled his restraint. With a loud and unfiltered moan, Satoru fell apart on his knees before you. His hips jerked against you with a frantic urgency as he whimpered. The tension that had been building, coil by coil, snapped like a taut band, releasing a flood of euphoria that consumed him entirely. At that moment, there was no room for thought, only the unadulterated pleasure that surged through his veins. The pleasure, a heady mix of physical release and emotional surrender, overtook his senses, rendering his mind blank and his body malleable under its power. His mouth parted in a silent exhalation of bliss, boring witness to the depth of his pleasure. 

Even in the aftermath of his release, his body continued to move in a slow, rhythmic grind against you as the aftershocks of cumming reverberated through him. The room seemed to shimmer with the echoes of his moans.

Your bloody fingers laced into his silky, white hair. With a firm tug, you lifted his head, his body draped across your leg in surrender to the aftermath of his climax. The tip of the dagger's blade traced a deliberate path along his jaw; The steel's cool touch acted as a focal point, drawing his attention to you in his post-orgasm daze. The sensation pierced through the fog of pleasure, reorienting him.

“Vampires are supposed to be scary, Satoru. Where’s the beast I came to slaughter tonight?” you taunted, a lopsided grin splitting your features. Caressing his face with the flat of the dagger’s blade in your dominant hand, your grip on his hair tightened—he winced and whined in pain, much to your satisfaction.

“I’m… I-I am still a monster,” he mumbled in weak protest. “I’m still a monster, even if I need you… Oh, God, how I need you…” 

His white, billowing shirt, once pristine, now clung to his skin with a sheen of sweat. The fabric, once airy and light, had transformed into a second skin, moulded to the contours of his form by the heat of his actions. The shirt, rendered translucent by the moisture, hinted at the contours beneath—the rise and fall of his chest, the sculpted lines of his handsome body.

"You're a fucking mess, y'know that? A mess so pathetic, it's disgusting," you remarked, your voice a mixture of exasperation and a touch of distant amusement. 

Just before he could retort, you acted swiftly, clapping your injured hand over his mouth. The surprise on his face was palpable, a mix of alarm and intrigue as he found his voice silenced. The sensation of your touch against his lips seemed to ignite a response within him, a mixture of surprise and a familiar yearning. Despite the unexpectedness of the action, his instincts seemed to guide him. His tongue, quick and warm, darted out to taste your blood once more. A groan escaped his lips. His body responded with a shudder, a ripple of pleasure that coursed through his frame.

“Dumb fucking slut,” you laughed quietly. “I’ve been so good to you, and you’re talking back. I’ll teach you manners before I slay you tonight.”

A muffled moan, laden with a mixture of need and surrender, escaped from behind your bloody palm that covered his mouth. The sound seemed to hang in the air. His gaze, fixed upon you with half-lidded eyes, held a certain vulnerability. You leaned in closer, your proximity a tantalizing promise. His half-lidded gaze met yours.

"You need to taste me? Let's see how badly." 

The words held a challenge, a daring invitation. The proximity between your lips, the touch of your hand against his skin, the dangerous lilt to your voice—it made him crave so much that he ached for you. Satoru's back arched like a bowstring, his head tilting back slightly as he let out a small, soft moan. You removed your hand from his mouth and retracted the dagger’s blade that had been held against his neck. 

In a frenzy born of unbridled desire, Satoru's actions took on a new urgency. His hands, no longer restrained by inhibition, sought purchase against the buttons on your trousers. Fingers that trembled with need fumbled against the fabric, the movements driven by a hunger that consumed him entirely. Each button undone marked a step closer to a line crossed, and the air crackled with the intensity of his actions.

With your trousers discarded, his hands found their place on your bare thighs, his touch both tentative and determined. He shifted between your legs, his form kneeling before you while you remained seated in the chair. His positioning spoke of a certain vulnerability, a submission he had adopted in your presence. His hands traced a path across the expanse of your bare skin, a map of desire that unfolded beneath his touch. Beginning at the inside of your knee, his movements were deliberate and unhurried, a slow exploration of the terrain he now navigated.

“Thank you… Oh, thank you, I need this so badly,” he murmured.

Your breathing had grown laboured, a lazy smile tugging at your lips as you watched. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you?”

“Yes. God, yes, please… I just need you,” Satoru whispered.

The dagger in your dominant hand clattered to the floor, and both of your hands took root in his white hair instead. The sensation of your hands in Satoru’s hair seemed to awaken a primal response, his body shivering and trembling beneath your touch. His closeness, his lips against your skin, painted a vivid picture of his passion. His kisses, once deliberate and slow, had transformed into something more. They were now passionate, desperate—an unfiltered expression lust.

His mouth moved with an animalistic need, tracing a fiery path up your thigh. The pressure of his fingers, his grip bordering on painful, mirrored the urgency that had taken hold of him. The threat of his fangs grazed against your sensitive skin, and your hands gripped his hair harder. Satoru was lost in the sensations that pulsed through him, his body a vessel for the consuming ecstasy that had taken hold. His lips, once soft and reverent, were now a reflection of his unfiltered need—a need that was unashamedly on display, stripped of all pretence.

As his jaw moved against your skin, the strength of his bite left indelible marks, and the lines between pleasure and pain blurred to become one. The room echoed with his cries, each whine and moan a declaration of his longing. Your name, a desperate refrain, punctuated his every sound, the syllables a litany of desire. Saliva glistened on your thigh as his teeth left behind a trail of marks and bruises. His grip on your thighs, unyielding and possessive, held you captive. The drool that trailed down his chin, mingling with his moans, was a visual testament to the intensity of his lust. The sound of his needy moans, louder than ever before, echoed in the air. His teeth digging deeper into your skin were causing bleeding that added to the pleasure.

You let out a sharp exhale, the sound escaping through clenched teeth, your body reacting to the dual sensations. A low groan followed, a mixture of discomfort and an unexpected yearning, escaping from deep within you. Your hips, an unconscious reaction to the intimate contact, shifted towards him—a movement that made him whine needily. The warmth of his tongue against your skin, the wetness that traced the path of the blood and saliva, painted a vivid picture of your shared bloodlust.

"God, I want you so bad... So bad. Oh, please... Please... Don't hold back... Let yourself have me... Let yourself have me..." the words were a broken mantra that emerged from his lips, the syllables heavy with longing.

“H-Have you?” you groaned.

His bites became harsher, leaving even deeper marks in your flesh. But your moans were having the opposite effect, driving him closer to that sweet insanity. 

"Oh, God... Please, please... Please..." he begged in a fractured voice.

As his tongue swept over the wounds he had created, an intense heat spread across your skin, merging with the dampness of the blood that trickled forth. Iron lingered in the air, mingling with the primal scent of exertion and urgency. With an unyielding grip, his fingers clenched around your thighs, the strength of his hold leaving imprints. Your senses wavered between the stinging sensation where his nails dug into your flesh and the surreal touch of his mouth at work.

With firm urgency, you guided his face to your cunt, an unspoken directive that he obeyed without hesitation. As your fingers threaded through his hair, a mixture of tugs and pulls that mirrored the ebb and flow of your need, his name escaped your lips like a prayer. In response, a resonant moan spilt from his lips, a reflection of your name, as if he were returning your prayer in kind. Completely at your mercy, his obedience was an unspoken offering, his face moving to kiss the softest skin of your inner thighs. 

Satoru’s breath was hot enough that you could feel him breathe against you, as if the fabric of your underwear was a mere afterthought. Inhaling through his nose, the combined sent of your blood, and your arousal pooling between your thighs, made his eyes shutter closed, moaning. His fingers quivered with anticipation, his nails scratching your thighs as he licked a flat, broad stripe across your clothed pussy. He tilted his head and rhythmically moved his lips against you so the fabric was soaked with your wetness and his spit. Oh, how he yearned to taste everything you would offer him, making it run down your thighs just so he could lap it up.

His mouth became a haven of sensations, each deliberate nudge of his nose against your clit igniting a cascade of sparks that danced along your nerve endings. The friction created by his touch caused a cascade of moans to spill from your lips. His devotion was palpable in the way he knelt before you, an embodiment of desire and submission that bordered on divine: His open mouth, his cheeks rosy, his eyes sealed shut in a state of blissful surrender. 

“Fuck, maybe there’s a use f-for you, after all,” you murmured.

One of his hands slid your underwear out of the way. The moment hung in suspended animation, a pause that held as he halted his other movements to marvel at you. The vision before him was a masterpiece; You were a masterpiece.

Satoru’s long, pretty fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through the velvety slickness, before bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them. He whined praise at the taste, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes that shined with reverence. His eyes, those pools of cool blue, met yours in a gaze that transcended words, brimming reverence that could only be equated to worship. 

He carefully pushed a finger inside you, looking up at you hungrily as he felt your walls hugging the digit. Your breath trembled and hitched, a shaky exhale escaping your lips as you indulged in the feeling—a primal yearning that coiled hotly like a serpent in your abdomen. With steadfast devotion, he turned his attention to your sensitivity, his mouth finding purchase on your clit. The skilled wetness of his tongue traced deliberate circles around the tender bundle of nerves, each flicker of contact a jolt of sensation that reverberated through your core. A plaintive whine emerged from him, the vibration a tantalising echo that melded with your own moans.

Another finger joined the first, the slow glide in and out of your depths accompanied by a lust that seemed to resonate through your entire being. Your body responded, a silent plea that spurred his rhythm, the pumping of his fingers sending shockwaves of heat rippling through you.

Satoru's presence in the moment was visceral, his desire manifesting audibly as he pressed his face against your dripping centre. The noises that escaped his lips, a cascade of moans and whimpers, melded with the wet sounds of your shared pleasure. His fingers were adept, plunging into your pussy with a rhythmic thrust that strummed a chord deep within your core. With each push, his fingers curved and curled, a deliberate manipulation that seemed to coax the most exquisite sensations from your body. The taste of you, an intoxicating blend of your essence and arousal, consumed him wholly. His gaze, though hazy, still found you, his pretty eyes locking onto yours with lustful adoration.

You came undone on his fingers with a moan of his name, his mouth was flooded with the taste of you, as his fingers, slick with the evidence of your ecstasy, bore witness to your release. Your nails dragged against his scalp deliciously, twisting his soft hair, inciting a drawn-out groan from deep within him. He kept you riding that high, guiding you through the bliss he had manipulated. Your body was tingling all over, waves of pleasure radiating through you as you gasped. Every drop of cum, every trace of your arousal, became an offering that he ardently consumed, letting no taste of you go unadored.

As he finally withdrew his fingers, the absence was palpable, but his attention didn't waver; Instead, it shifted to a new focus. Your thighs trembled, but his hands became gentle instruments of comfort and affection to soothe you. He massaged and caressed the tender skin, his lips following a path his fingers traced, each kiss a sweet tribute to you. The chorus of murmured gratitude that escaped his lips lingered in the heavy air as you caught your bearings. 

“Thank you, thank you… You taste so perfect, so perfect…” Satoru said, with his voice still broken and raspy from his intense moaning. "Thank you," he repeated, the phrase becoming a mantra. 

The timbre of his voice was a blend of vulnerability and sincerity, each utterance a token of his appreciation for you. The emotions that had coursed through him, the moans and gasps that had marked his need, seemed to linger in the remnants of his voice.

"Perfect," he continued, his words resonating with a kind of awe that transcended mere description. "Beyond sweet," he concluded.

You looked down upon him kneeling between your thighs, your hands still in his hair, with a mixture of awe and reluctance. Satoru, this enigmatic creature, had been laid bare before you. The dichotomy of his nature, of his humanity and his vampiric instincts, hung in the air like a question unanswered. What had you done to him?

“You can kill me now, and I’ll die human,” he murmured.

Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?

a/n: I guess you could say he's your #1 fang... Buh-dump tch! LOL, I hope you enjoyed. Be grateful I didn't include Twilight refs, bc I was tempted to. Happy Kinktober, lovelies :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[honeydisiacc]

nerd talk: how i did the riso thingy

the riso effect is achieved through riso printing, printing by layer with CMYK. a lovechild of screen printing/photocopying. it starts with the lightest color to darkest, in this case; yellow (Y), magenta (M), cyan (C), and lastly black (K). the same principle even applies to markers and watercolors

somewhat fun fact from what I've learned so far: while CMYK is subtractive, replicating riso digitally works best with ADDITIVE blending modes (darken, multiply, color burn, linear burn, etc)

crazy (i was crazy once—), right :D ? obviously there's no "correct way" to do it, so i suggest experimenting to fit your preferences <3

here's the separate layers. i cheated a little since i wasn't sure what i was doing (or if it would even WORK), the lineart isn't layered but hey ! the coloring sure is 😅😅

here's the colors together without the lineart. riso prints tend to look "misaligned" so i did the same thing (kinda looks like chromatic aberration 😬😬😬 whatever !!!)

psst.... color palette is from this post!

opacity matters as well ! to get the desired color, i had to experiment and constantly adjust the opacity of each layer 💀💀 (i did say "the workflow is deffo slowing me down atm" thats because i intended to make a color chart FIRST AND FOREMOST !!! GRRR)

(an example of a color chart would be like this. i'd like to make one with my chosen color palette but noooo instead I eyeballed everything 💀💀 i was excited. sue me)

anyways ! sorry not sorry for infodumping. and im not an expert. however, riso is one of my recent favorite things to learn about. its a lengthy process to do it with illustrations imo. for my graphic design projects however? i might use this technique :D

[thefairywithboots]

I'm Gonna Put You Down For A While (Robert Plant x Fem!OC)

Hi! So I'm back with some more Robert/Evanna. I just got the random inspiration for an idea for these two late at night, and bust it out overnight. It's not as good as my usual stuff but smut and angst is what I have the most fun writing. So I hope someone enjoys it. :)

Takes place in early 1970. Evanna has been seeing Robert Plant for the past four months, and the more she spends time with him, the more she feels herself falling for him. But Robert does not want to be in a committed relationship with anyone and wants to keep things casual between the two of them. Evanna respects this decision and decides to stop sleeping with him. But quitting the Golden God is not easy.

Rating: Mature (very smutty, minors please dni!)

Warnings: Angst, smut, counter sex, high sex. Hurt/no comfort.

@bijouxcarys @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @jimmysdragonsuit13

@callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76

@m-faithfull @dzdndcnfsd @friccinfricks

@elliotts-personal-property @jimmypage7 @teaforqne @chromations

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future fics. :)

After spending four years in a relationship in which affection was withheld from her as a form of punishment, there was one thing that Evanna was sure of: she hated being toyed with. 

Robert had made it clear from the beginning that he wasn’t looking for anything long term and had wanted to keep things between him and Evanna casual. She was okay with that at first; the man had thousands of groupies at his disposal, ready to fulfill his every desire. Why would he want to be tied down to one woman? 

But Evanna did not like being used for pleasure and discarded. Every time she went to bed with him, she could feel a piece of her soul leaving her and being attached to him. 

She was speeding towards inevitable heartbreak, and she knew it. 

She eventually decided to break things off before it ended in tears and yelling like things had ended with Geoffrey.  

The contrast between the two of them was like day and night. When Evanna thought back on her relationship with her ex, she was filled with memories of coldness and paranoia - as if she were walking on eggshells that would someday cause him to explode on her again. But with Robert, he was like a bright ray of sunshine that warmed her from the years of being frozen to the bone. Being wrapped in his arms made her feel safe and loved. 

The idea of walking away from that feeling made her feel like an iron fist was clenching at her heart. The coldness was threatening to take her over again… 

Evanna was setting up her camera in the photographer’s pit several hours before the concert. Hyper-focusing on her job used to help her stay distracted from her personal life problems, but after falling into Robert’s arms - into his bed, multiple times over the past four months - she felt like this was only making her problems worse.  

Still, the quietness of the empty venue gave her a chance to try and clear her thoughts. 

That was, until she felt a familiar warmth as a pair of hands planted themselves on her hips. She mentally groaned, turning around to find her face against Robert’s chest. She had to tilt her head back to look into his face to find him grinning down at her.  

“Shouldn’t you be backstage warming up?” she asked him while taking a step back to free herself from his intoxicating spell. 

Robert let out a quiet chuckle. “I’ll be fine, darlin’. I’d rather be warmin’ you up.” He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. She gasped, her hands flattening against his chest. He was wearing a button-down black shirt, and she could feel his warmth practically searing her through the fabric.  

“I have to work, Robert…”  

“Not for the next couple of hours,” he said while leaning in to give her neck and ear a playful nip. She could hear the rational part of her brain screaming at her, reminding her of her decision to stop giving her body to him if they were not in a serious relationship. But she couldn’t help herself. It felt so good. He felt so good, just with his kisses alone. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want anything serious…” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t still enjoy each other,” he said, an infuriatingly smug smirk playing across his beautiful face. 

He led her to the side of the stage, propping her up on the platform and peppering kisses along her jaw and neck. She let out a heavy sigh, feeling tempted to just let him kiss her worries away.  

But she couldn’t. Not knowing that it would eventually lead to her eventual heartache. 

She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him away. He gave her a confused expression. 

“Robert… I can’t do this…” 

He took a strand of her auburn hair and twirled it between his fingers. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked the question in such a gentle manner, she almost felt guilty for pushing him away. He had let her know from the beginning what the nature of their relationship would be. It wasn’t as if he had led her on to believe he wanted anything more than sex.  

It’s your own fault for developing feelings, she told herself. 

“No… it’s not you… I just… don’t want to continue having sex if there’s nothing else there,” she explained, unable to look him in the face as she kept her head down. 

She could feel Robert soften, even as she wasn’t looking at his expression. “Did I not make you feel good?” 

She furrowed her brow in bemusement. Is that really what he thought? That he hadn’t satisfied her? 

“What? Of course you did. It was… the best sex I ever had…” She felt her cheeks burn as she admitted that to him. She could feel his hand gently stroke her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his. She didn’t want to tell him the real reason: that he had made her feel too good, and that every time he entered her, she felt a piece of her soul leave her and cling to him. 

He placed a hand on her cheek, and she couldn’t stop herself from melting at his touch. He was so warm. 

“We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to,” he said while leaning in to murmur in her ear. Even as he spoke these words, his voice was low and seductive, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs. 

Despite her insistence that she distance herself from him, she felt an emptiness in her heart as he finally had to pull away to get ready for the concert. She turned her attention back to her camera as the venue started to crowd. 

Back when Evanna’s relationship with Geoffrey had been mentally and emotionally draining her due to his constant emotional abuse, music had been a balm for her soul, healing her and wrapping her in an embrace that seemed to soothe every bit of hurt that he had caused her. 

Now, it would have had that same effect on her if Robert had not been on vocals.  

His voice had a way of seducing everyone in the crowd, of captivating the most unwitting spectator. Before, while Led Zeppelin’s music had felt like an embrace and comfort against the pain that Geoffrey was causing her, now it felt like an embrace but in a different way. It felt like he was making love to her all over again but with his voice. She knew that the same moans and shrieks that he made on stage were the same noises he made while she rode his cock. 

As did probably half the girls who were watching him backstage right now, she thought to herself bitterly. 

One of the roadies beckoned her to come backstage to get closer shots of the band. Evanna followed him.  

Evanna focused on getting closer shots of each individual member, zooming her lens in to capture their faces. She saved Robert for last, though she felt tempted to skip him all together. 

She let the music carry her away, her attention switching between Jonesy’s basslines to one of Jimmy’s guitar solos to some wildly aggressive drum solo that Bonzo was doing.  

Jimmy was in the middle of one of his ten-minute guitar solos during Dazed and Confused when one of the groupies were passing around a joint. Evanna stared at the long stick, thinking about how it was a very bad idea before taking a drag out of it. Perhaps it was due to her lack of experience with taking drugs, but she was pretty sure this was very strong weed. 

Someone had brought out a couple of sofas from the dressing rooms to the side of the stage and Evanna soon found herself sitting next to Robert and several other girls. The joint was passed to Robert, and he took a drag, seeming to be a lot more seasoned than she was when it came to marijuana. 

The thoughts she had earlier of distancing herself from Robert completely vanished as she stared at him through her marijuana-induced haze. His golden hair seemed to dance all around him like the rays of the Sun. His face was so beautiful, she thought. He was a Sun God whom she wanted to worship and bow at his feet like he had done with her so many times before in bed. 

She clung to his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder possessively. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders before bringing her lips up to meet his. They kissed passionately, and she was seemingly oblivious to the groupies giving her envious looks. 

Robert eventually had to pull away to go back on stage after Jimmy’s guitar solo was over. He was obviously buzzed from the joint but sang beautifully regardless.  

Everyone and everything were so beautiful, Evanna realized. The colors and stage lights were coming to life before her very eyes. Robert transformed into a deity as bright and as beautiful as the Sun. Jimmy transformed into his dark, Moon-like counterpart. Jonesy and Bonzo’s rhythm section ingrained itself into her very blood, causing the music to pulse through her veins. 

Evanna knew that she had to take as many pictures as possible while the colors were this beautiful. She circled the stage, snapping as many pictures as possible. She grinned, thinking to herself ‘this is my best work yet!’ 

Robert excitedly announced John Bonham as the percussionist before Jimmy and Jonesy started out the riff of Moby Dick. He quickly rushed over to Evanna, taking her by the arm and leading her to his dressing room. Every thought of staying to get pictures of Bonzo, as well as staying away from Robert to protect her own heart, was out the window. She didn’t protest as Robert led her away to his dressing room, lost in a kiss as their hands were exploring everywhere. 

By the time they reached his dressing room, they wasted no time. She quickly got rid of her jeans before sitting up on the counter. Robert unbuttoned his tight bell bottoms before pulling them down to his knees. He gripped her hips before pulling her against him. He kissed her as he slid himself into her. 

Evanna threw her head back and moaned in sheer ecstasy as she felt that sharp sting of him stretching her. The world around her seemed to swim as she clenched around him as he slowly started thrusting. Her hands clutched at his shoulders to steady herself as their pace quickly sped into their familiar erotic dance. They moved in sync with one another, their moans and grunts loud and unapologetic. 

“Evanna…” Gods, she loved the way he moaned her name, as he tasted each syllable on his tongue. She panted and buried her hands into his hair as she pulled him closer to her, pressing her forehead against him as his thrusts became deeper and quicker. Being this close to him felt like she was making love to the Sun itself. His heat and radiance felt like it was searing her skin, and his golden hair was making a curtain around them both, wrapping her in the golden rays of the Sun while she was being ravished by it at the same time. 

She felt a sharp stinging in her clit as he thrust into her deeper, causing her to clench hard around him. 

“Fuck, Robert, don’t stop…!” she whined as her back arched against the mirror on the wall.  

She could feel a low growl in his chest as he unbuttoned her blouse while keeping the pace of his thrusts. He seemed visibly annoyed by the black lace brassiere that was creating a barrier between his mouth and her breasts. She could feel him fumble around for the clasp and push the thin lace away to tease her nipple with his teeth and tongue.  

She moaned louder, winding her hands through his hair, trying to keep the Sun on her for as long as possible, not caring that she would end up badly burned afterwards. The rush she felt from him being inside her was worth the price she would eventually pay. Because like the Sun, she knew he could never fully be hers, she realized with an ache in her heart. 

She moaned in time with each of his thrusts. Bonzo only had a few minutes left of his drum solo, so they would have to make things quick. As his thrusts became deeper and more deliberate, he took her nipples into his mouth, sucking and tugging on them with his teeth, turning them into taut points.  

“Robert, I’m getting close-“ 

He shushed her, kissing her softly before holding her hips more firmly against his so that he could thrust into her so deep, the tip of his cock brushed against her cervix. 

She cried out as she held onto him tightly, which only pulled him deeper into her. She could feel his balls tighten against her, the sound of their skin slapping against each other filling the room. She quietly prayed that no one would walk in on them, though even if they did, she knew that neither of them would be able to bring themselves to stop. 

Robert’s face buried into her neck as his pace became faster, causing her to clench around him again. She felt his breath against her neck as he murmured something that sounded like “unghh, come with me…” 

She panted as her hands convulsed in his hair, her face contorting with pleasure as her back arched. They both climaxed together - two orgasms that were so powerful, it was as if the Sun had exhausted itself as the explosion engulfed her, heat searing her skin, melting away her resolve until her soul lay naked before him as they both rode out the waves of pleasure. 

His name as well as a string of curses came rolling off her tongue as she clung to him in the aftermath. 

She had never come undone so easily with anyone else. Not even her ex. Fuck, she couldn’t even remember that guy’s name in this moment. 

Robert’s face was still buried in her neck, his teeth sinking into her neck when he came inside her. But she had been so caught up in the throes of her own orgasm, she hardly felt the pain. 

When they finally stopped moving, she was panting heavily, trying to catch her breath. He was still inside her, as if she was too warm and comfortable to ever want to leave. Bonzo could be heard reaching the end of his drum solo, so they only had a few more minutes. 

He whimpered something into her now bruised neck: “I love you.” 

Evanna flinched, thinking that she must have misheard him. 

“What did you say?” The haze of the joint she smoked earlier was wearing off, and she was no longer having psychedelic visions. The aftermath of their encounter was still in full effect, however. 

Robert raised his head to look at her, resembling a confused lion cub. His face was pale, as if just realizing that he said that out loud. 

He pulled out of her suddenly, leaving her with an empty and cold feeling.  

“I’m sorry, Evie, I didn’t mean…” 

Evanna’s brow furrowed. He never called her by her nickname. He had always used her full name, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted with even a syllable of it.  

She reached for him, but he pulled away, tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping them back up. 

“Robert, please-“ She didn’t know how to finish that plea. Please don’t leave her? She had known from the beginning that he had never promised her anything.  

She reached for him again, but he pulled away, unable to meet her eyes. She felt her heart break in her chest. 

“I need to go back out…” he whispered while keeping his eyes averted to the ground. 

“Robert, please don’t feel sorry… I… I lo-“ 

“Don’t,” he cut her off, this time meeting her eyes even though it pained him to do so. “Don’t say anything you’ll end up regretting.” 

She shook her head and took a step closer to him. “I don’t regret you.” 

He gave her a pained look before slowly raising his hand as if he wanted to stroke her cheek but pulled his hand away at the last moment. 

“Do you regret me?” she asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “No.” 

“Did you mean what you said?” 

Robert opened his mouth but then closed it, a pained look in his eyes as his mouth formed in a tight line. “Look, I’m not… built for relationships, okay? It will just end like it did with-“ He cut himself off and looked away from her. 

Jimmy and Jonesy were back out on stage now, performing the end of the song. Robert turned to leave. 

Evanna grabbed his hand. “Robert, I-“ 

“Evie, I have to get back onstage.” 

“Why are you calling me that!?” 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Everyone calls you that.” 

“I know, but you never do! You…” She tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to come forth. Everything she had known was going to eventually happen was happening. “Why are you acting like this…?” 

Robert took a deep breath. “Look, maybe you were right about us needing to stop sleeping with each other.” 

“Funny how you say that after you just finished fucking me!” 

One of the roadies pounded on the door. “Plant! They need you back onstage!” 

Robert turned to face Evanna, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t think…” He couldn’t finish his sentence without confessing to feelings that he obviously did not want to have. “I need to get back…” 

He turned and left the dressing room, leaving Evanna in there with her disheveled clothes and hair. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks despite her attempt to fight them. Her heart ached in her chest as she adjusted her clothes back to their original state. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling this way, from having her heart be drawn to the man who she knew deep down could never give her what she truly wanted. 

The words he had murmured into her neck had hurt her the most because she genuinely did not know if he meant them or not. And if he hadn’t, then it only broke her heart more because she had. She had felt this way ever since he had offered her his shoulder to cry on four months ago. It hadn’t happened immediately, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had fallen so deeply in love with him, and nothing could pull her out of it. 

[abbreviated-calibrations]

It's the ideal rat palette dude. You know what you gotta do.

I present to you Neil, who bangs out the tunes

This palette challenge belongs to @m-chromatic!