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weasleyreidstyles · 3 months

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Serendipity; Invisible String

series masterlist

i was going to include this in chapter seventeen to break up the angst a bit...but then i thought i'd just do it as its own separate piece so that they have a chance to explore their love without there being as much (because i couldn't help myself) angst overshadowing this pivotal moment for meadow and matty....there is also an important (not very subtle) easter egg regarding the storyline that will be delved into in a later chapter....anyway this takes place between chapter 16 & 17 xxx

warning: 18+ content, fingering, piv, soft smut, declarations of loooove!!

~∞~

After the Order members had left, with plans of meeting privately to discuss Professor Dumbledore's funeral and what they were supposed to do in the wake of the harrowing battle, Madam Pomfrey had made her way over to you to check on the wounds that littered your abdomen, and with a flick of her wand, they became faint lines of jagged silver as they scarred over. Shortly after that, she'd declared you okay and insisted that you get some rest in a proper bed. It was probably also to make space for the students, part of Dumbledore's Army, who had also been injured in the battle.

You and Mattheo left shortly after that, but not before Ron came up to you and wrapped you in a hug, tears leaking from his dull blue eyes. No words were needed, you knew what his actions meant. You held him tighter, even as his parents beckoned him to his brother's bed.

The castle halls are eerily silent as you walk hand in hand with Mattheo. Even the portraits don't stir at the harsh glow of his lit wand, as if they were grieving for the loss of Dumbledore in their own way. The two of you are the only disturbance in the still atmosphere, your soft breathes and light footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor.

Neither of you had wanted to venture near the Astronomy tower again, afraid that the sight of the now spotless hallways would spark harsh reminders of the bloodshed and carnage that had swept through them like a petulant disease only hours before. So wordlessly, Mattheo had begun leading you towards the dungeons, his body heat sheltering you from the chilly bite in the air.

The Slytherin common room was mysteriously desolate when you entered behind him. Not a soul to be found under the dim glow of the Black Lake's murky waters; only the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth and the gentle ripple of the current against the windows could be heard over your mingling breathes.

"Where is everyone?" You ask, cringing instantly as your voice becomes agonisingly loud in the silence, despite your words being spoken with quiet cadence.

"In bed I assume, or gone." Mattheo responded with a low rasp. "It wouldn't surprise me if news has already spread and parents are collecting their children to return home."

You respond with a soft "oh", as you follow him up the stairs to his dorm.

"Draco's gone." He continued as he unlocked the dark oak door leading to his dorm. "So are Blaise and Pansy. Enzo and Theo are still here, but they'll leave soon too."

"Why didn't you tell me anything before? I deserved to know that my friendships started out as a means to an end." You ask him as you enter his room. He's silent as he observes you from the threshold, brows creased in thought.

"I would've told you eventually. There was never a good enough time though. And it wasn't a means to an end, love." Your about to retort but he continues as if you hadn't opened your mouth to speak. "It felt like the right thing to do, to tell you when I did."

"To gain The Order's trust?" You ask, running a hand through your hair.

"Exactly. Though I doubt it's done much to sway them."

"What happens now?" You ask hesitantly, reaching and squeezing his hand.

Mattheo gently guides you to where his bed sits in the corner of his room, allowing you to find a comfortable position before he finds his own one behind you. He pulls your back to rest snugly against his chest, cradling your body to his own with strong, protecting arms as your heartbeats synced as one.

"I don't know, darling. But we'll face it together." He says as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you rest in stagnant silence, unsure of what tonight's happenings meant for the world as you knew it.

~∞~

A little while later, you turn to face him, restless anxiety clawing at your insides. Mattheo's curly, deep brunette hair has fallen haphazardly across his forehead and his onyx eyes, framed by glorious lashes, shine bright, despite all that they had witnessed in the past few hours. He has a soft smile painting his face as he admires you in tandem, although you can see his poorly hidden concern for you reflecting behind the tenderness. Each breath you take, he mirrors and your racing heart slows to a relaxing lull in your ears. Unhurriedly, you bring a hand up to his face and brush the loose curls away from his eyes, a tender look overtaking your fatigue.

"I meant what I said in the ward." He mumbles, voice betraying how exhausted he was, too.

"Yeah?" You ask, your smile widening imperceptibly. You fingers caress his face with featherlight strokes as you trace the freckles and scars that are scattered across his cheeks. Your eyes are now alight with teasing mischief as if daring him to say the words aloud, all sense of tiredness having left your face in the wake of it.

"Yes, Meadow." He responds with a quiet snicker as he pokes your side. His eyes glow with serene happiness as he watches you squirm and giggle, watches the despondency leave your pretty face. "Did you ever take me for a liar, sweetheart?"

"No." You say breathlessly as he continues to stroke at your trouser covered hips. "Never."

I want to hear you say it. You implore wordlessly. Please.

He kisses you then. It's not hard and rough and passionate like his caresses always are. Instead, it's soft and slow and entirely all consuming, like the very first time, but infinitely better. Every emotion he's ever felt for you coarses through your veins as his tongue clashes against your's.

"I love you." He says breathless and low against your lips. You kiss him with a newfound fervour, pouring your every thought and every emotion, intertwining your soul with his. Your magic practically explodes around you, casting a warm indigo glow about the dorm room, illuminating his features; guiding shadows in a dance across his face.

He looks at you in awe as you both admire the way his own magic seems to tangle seemlessly with it. Whorls of indigo and silver flicker in pretty patterns that seem to pour out around you like a smattering of a million tiny stars.

My incredible, smart girl. He tells you with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you, admiringly. You flush under his intense stare.

You undress each other with practiced fluidity until you are both blissfully nude; no barriers separating you from the other, all vulnerabilities splayed out in the open. He rolls on top of you and presses your hands above your head with one of his as his other trails lightly down your stomach, tracing the new lines of scars which seem to twinkle under the faux starlight. He presses soft kisses to the marred skin, words of love and adoration melting into you as he presses away the new insecurities without even trying.

He eventually works one finger, and then two inside you as his thumb strokes idle patterns against your clit. You mewl at his practiced ministrations as he fingers you, slow and rough, in the way he knows you love, despite never having said it out loud before.

The noises you make bring a delighted smirk to his pretty lips and he speeds up his movements almost unnoticeably to bring you close to release; teasing you through one orgasm before letting a second rush through you, all while drinking in every sound; every expression that you let overcome your flushed face.

It feels like an eternity later that he finally sheathes himself inside you, every ridge of his cock brushing sensually against your most sensitive spots as he sets a leisurely pace – starting slowly before he finds a particular rhythm that has the both of you moaning in unison. His arms are braced at either side of your head, careful not to snag on your hair which is haphazardly fanning out on the pillow beneath your head. The muscles in his biceps flex with every push and pull of his body, his core tense with the exertion of making you feel like you're walking on clouds.

Your own hands are on a journey of their own, travelling along the defined muscles of his abdomen and across his strong hips, until a particularly deep thrust from Mattheo causes you to claw at the soft skin of his back, willing him to come closer to you. The scars that litter his skin are blissfully joined by marks of your making, marks that he wishes could stay there forever in place of the others.

Where he's left love bites on your skin, you eagerly return the favour as best as you're able. Leaving deep purple marks across his chest and clavicle with your kiss-swollen lips that happily migrate from his body to his own lips as much as possible.

"I love you." You whisper against him and he lets out a barely restrained groan as he thrusts even harder into you at your admission. Satisfaction thrummed through his veins at the whiny sound you let out in response.

"Say that again." He says, pressing hard kisses to your chest, leaving more delicious marks in his wake.

"I love you, Mattheo Riddle." You repeat, a moan catching in your throat as you begin to reach your peak for a third time. "You have my whole heart. Break it. Crush it. Decimate it. Do what you must, but please know that it's yours. It will always be yours. I love you."

The both of you are pushed over the edge at that, clinging to eachother's bodies, which are slick with sweat. The euphoria causes your intertwining magic to surge around you again, and you both feel how it sparks at your very souls, the feeling never ceasing, only growing as you allow your love to manifest and flourish like its very own entity.

Neither of you want the intoxicating feeling to end, content in basking in the sensation, if only to prolong the immense amount of love that radiates from your magical cores.

"I love you, darling." He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, exhausted and spent, breathing in the scent of you; the soft floral hint of your perfume that seems to linger despite the raging battle you'd been in and the musky scent of the sweat that clings to your skin.

You press a kiss to his own shoulder as his body flops to land beside your's on top of ruffled emerald sheets. Your interwoven magic still permeates the air, seemingly in no hurry to dissipate any time soon and you can feel it, along with Mattheo's deep in your chest. By the look on his face, he's feeling its affects too.

"That was–" You mumble with a breathless giggle, fingers trailing patterns across his marked skin.

"All consuming." He agrees with a lethargic chuckle of his own before he's pulling your body into his again, magically rearranging the sheets so that the two of you are modestly covered.

"Can you feel something-" You start, but are unable to put this new sensation into words as he gazes down at you with soft eyes. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Different? Like my magic isn't entirely my own anymore?" He wonders aloud and you find that he's voiced your exact feelings.

"Yeah. Precisely like that, actually." You say. "It's like I've unconsciously absorbed your magic again. I'm sorry-"

His lips against your's prevent your apology from fully forming and he's looking at you with such a tender expression that makes you melt.

"I'm not sure it is your siphoning, love. It's different. I can feel your's too." He says with lightly furrowed brows.

"How strange." You mumble, a yawn escaping your lips. Mattheo manoeuvres you so that you're practically chest to chest as he lies on his back, letting your aching nipples brush against his strong pecks as he wraps his arms around you.

You breathe out a content sigh that causes a shudder to rush through him as it ghosts over the sensitive skin of his neck. The impact of your shared love and intertwining cores feels like a supernova swirling inside you.

The fate of the wizarding world, and your own fate, is a haze of unknown territory, but you were entirely certain of one thing; Mattheo held your heart in his hands, and he had no intention of ever letting it go.

~∞~

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #fluff #smut

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stariikis · 5 months

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | 𝐧.𝐫𝐤

synopsis ; not much to say, just perfectionist yn and former perfectionist riki knowing just how to comfort you :') i need a bf

pairing ; fencer!nishimurariki x fencer!reader genre ; fluff n comfort, established relationship, oneshot wc ; 1616

inspired by ; labyrinth - taylor swift

You’ve always been a perfectionist, and you forever will be.

Riki, darling, on the other hand… you can see his smirk through your fencing mask as you gain a point against him. Feeling proud on your behalf. He, too, is prone to beating himself up for the smallest of mistakes, but his only soft spot is reserved specially for you.

He grins, walking up to you on the piste and yanking off his mask roughly. “You’re the only one who can match up to my skills.”

He always says this, and you never believe him. It’s only because I’m his girlfriend, that he’s saying this.

“Hey,” your eyes go wide and your free hand — not holding your heavy blade, smacks his arm. “You don’t say that about your teammates.”

Looking indignant, he chuckles and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Fencing is an individual sport, though?”

You roll your eyes.

Gesturing for him to put his mask back on so you can start fencing again, you apologise to your poor referee. Your teammate and makeshift scorekeeper — Chaehwa — appears absolutely disgusted. Then again, she always wears his expression when she, quote unquote, has to “third-wheel you two.”

She blinks at you, turns around to another teammate, and signs for “help” with her hand. “Save me from these two, please, Minjeol.”

Minjeol laughs from the other side of the room, fencing jacket rolled up to her elbows as she crosses over the pistes. Taking a swig of her water, she comes up to pat Chaehwa’s back sympathetically.

Feigning annoyance, you glance back at Riki and walk back to your en-garde line. Through the mask he blinks at you warmly, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to your wobbly knees.

Minjeol has apparently taken over Chaehwa’s position, probably to save her from the wrath of the most well-known couple in school fencing each other. The captain and the vice-captain, so perfectly matched that it shocks the students who don’t know of them.

“En-garde.” You fall into the all-too-familiar stance. Riki does the same. “Pretz.”

“Allez!”

The rush of adrenaline that breezes through your body should have fuelled you enough to score a point against a very enthusiastic Riki. Should have prevented you from missing the chance to take his blade with your own and attack at once.

You should have seen it on his face, should have realised his ulterior motive of not attempting an immediate attack. Usually, he’s waaaay too eager to lunge at you as soon as the referee starts the bout. This time, you foolishly believed it was a genuine fault on his part that he didn’t do so.

But when you lunge forward in a fast and confident attack, Riki smiles devilishly and skitters backwards, giving you the illusion that he’s retreating. However, when you recover from your lunge and start to step forward, he parries your blade away and ripostes.

It all happens in an instant, and you’re left stumbling backwards as he loses his balance and almost collapses onto you. Dropping his blade and leaving it hanging by his body wire, his hands jolt out to stabilise you. Breathing heavily, he unclasps his wire from the weapon and checks you for injury.

“Are you okay?” He even tosses his mask to the side and grabs your shoulders in concern. His hubristic exudation — gone in an instant. His eyes scan you. His mind looks at you. It touches you so deeply that tears well up in your eyes and you stumble backwards even more.

Now, usually your tears are out of self-disappointment, pure frustration fuelling the tears leaking out your eyes. You’d try to hold them back, to no avail, and Riki would come over and take off your mask, wiping the tears away just as you wish you could wipe away your dismay.

And he does just that, with the belief that you’re internally reprimanding yourself for your errors in gameplay. His fingers run through your hair, slowly sliding off the hair-tie you used for your messy bun. An icky, sinking feeling fills your stomach when you see the sadness glazing over your boyfriend’s eyes.

He may seem overly self-confident, but he sure does know the feeling of a bad case of low self-esteem.

“You sure you want to cry here, my dear?” He leans down to whisper, thumb rubbing soothingly over your upper back. Though you had decided to wear slightly elevated sports shoes today, he still towers above you. “You want me to walk you to the restroom?”

He knows you so well, too well, it hurts your heart to even think.

When you don’t answer, your chest feeling clogged up with the sobs escaping you, he unhooks himself from the piste, and then unhooks you as well. He drags you away from the piste and leaves Minjeol standing uselessly by its side.

“Sorry,” he murmurs after handing you your Hydroflask and helping you remove your lame. “I shouldn’t have tricked you like that.”

That’s what he’s worried about? That. That is so incredibly annoying.

“I’m not upset about that,” you laugh, finally swiping away the last of your tears. “Really. I know it sounds like I’m lying but seriously, I’d rather you try your best than go easy on me. You know?”

Nodding earnestly, Riki sends a charming smile your way before unzipping your fencing jacket. “Then why were you crying? I mean, like, you couldn’t breathe — type of crying.”

You tilt your head but remain silent. And then it strikes you. As much as you were touched by Riki’s loving attention, you cannot doubt that you still have so much self-hatred broiling inside you, so much that now you can’t even tell it’s there when you break down.

So much that Riki can detect your emotions even before you can. He’s not even a master empath; usually he can’t pick up hints of irritation when he teases you. But now, he’s either strengthened his sympathising skills, or he’s grown so used to you crying over every miniscule thing.

“You know,” he slips your weapon into the blade cover for you, “I can read you.”

It hits a little too close to home, and you flinch at how well he can read your thoughts. Following that, he still somehow has the audacity to ask, “penny for your thoughts?”

Riki blinks at you, lips subconsciously forming a pout like they always do. It’s endearing and makes your heart ache endlessly. You don’t like this. You should not be feeling so down after every single training session. You’re the captain, for goodness sake. Your teammates are going to think you’re weak, sitting out every session just to cry to your boyfriend.

”I’m fine,” you say, a statement you want to engrave in your mind. A promise to yourself that it’s really the truth. Because it really, truly is. “I’m fine.”

Riki stares at you doubtfully through half-lidded eyes, but merely scoots closer to you on the floor. His hand reaches out to touch your knee. His lips lean in to gently touch your cheek, and you shiver upon the contact. Never has a training felt so warm and fuzzy.

After the kiss, you glance around the room, relieved to see nobody is looking your way. Maybe they’re already used to it, or maybe they’re secretly spectating and whispering behind your back. Either way, nobody’s making the effort to bother you and Riki.

“You know you’re doing well, right?” Riki whispers, so close you can feel his breath warm on your ear. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear, but can never ask to hear. But there’s still a lingering doubt deep in your soul. Ironic, isn’t it? It’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear and you still. don’t. believe it. Not one bit.

He goes on, “It’s amazing that you can even see where you go wrong. Sometimes I don’t even know how I’ve lost my point, and it’s pretty embarrassing.”

Pursing your lips to suppress a laugh, you mutter, “that’s your problem, not mine. Maybe I’m good but I’m not good enough.”

“But you are!” A mock-annoyed Riki grabs ahold of your hands and brings them close to his chest. The genuity lacing his voice and the way his eyes go wide in an attempt to help you believe in yourself — you just accept what he’s saying without any further thought.

What more is there to internally debate about anyway? If Riki believes, you believe too. You smile and he kisses you lightly again in return. If fencing is your hell, Riki is your heaven.

“You ready?” Minjeol raises her eyebrows at you as if confirming whether you’re really willing to repeat the cycle all over again. At first, you’re hesitant, uncertainty swamping over your every sense. But when Riki comes over to test guard and salute, the warm, encouraging smile painted on his face helps you nod with confidence.

“En-garde. Pretz. Allez!”

It’s been a while since I’ve done this.

You both charge towards each other, but you’re faster. A feign and a double-attack later, you’ve scored the winning point against Riki. The latter seems even happier than you for this, which is insanely cute to you. He walks up to you, mask already off and in his hands. Setting his aside, he leans to help you with yours and then presses a finger to his cheek.

“A kiss for your biggest supporter and mentor?” He laughs boyishly.

“Mentor!” You gasp, pretending to take offense. “Do you even deserve this?”

You press your lips against his cheek, trying not to take notice of the way his face goes pink.

Victory has never tasted so sweet.

thanks for reading!! and yes, i'm a fencer. and they're using the foil weapon teehee

some terminology used that you might need to know en-garde, pretz, allez - words used to start a bout en-garde - french for "on guard", a stance with knees bent used by fencers lame - the silver electric jacket worn on the outermost part of the body riposte - an attacking action used after a parry

i'll take this time to promote my chaptered nishimura riki fic, you in the rain. if you're a fan of wifty or taylor, be sure to check it out! hehe

more of my works >

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deceitfuldevout · 9 months

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Savior (Part 2)

Dark!Emmett x Reader

Word Count: +1,289

Warning(s): +18, Dub con, Non con, Kidnapping, Use of toys, Object insertion. Oral sex (f receiving), Emmett a lil freak.

Author's Notes(s): I've always had a feeling that Emmett would be secretly kinky, lmk what you think!

You've been held in captivity for three months now. Captured and kept like an animal, all by someone you once held to a high standard. Before this, you used to think of Emmett as this image of an all-American family man. To think that looks could be so deceiving.

His mood swings were like fire and water. Each day was different than the next. If it was a good supply run, he'd take his sweet time making love to you. But if it was bad? He'd rut into you like it was his last day on earth.

It wasn't hard for Emmett to drag you down into the factory's basement. Even after your ankle had healed, he was still much stronger. He kept you locked in what was once a supply closet-turned bedroom. It took him a while to gather the supplies needed to make it more comfortable. Like an owner decorating their pet's cage. He had kept you as his little plaything to use and abuse as he pleases.

Emmett would only take you out when it was absolutely necessary. Either for a quick bathe, or bathroom break. He'd make sure to replace the metal cuff around your ankle, for a leather collar around your neck. Every part of the routine was a humiliating reminder of where your place was. You were his property, to serve and to use. Emmett on the other hand, loved taking care of you.

Every morning would start out the same. You would always wakeup because of his early morning 'cravings'. A sudden feeling of thick digits sliding up and down your folds would stir from a deep slumber. His thick voice, still hoarse with sleep whispering in your ear, "Shh...pretty girl...'just wanna feel ya..." his cock already stiff against your backside.

You couldn't see anything in the dark. How on earth could he manage to get this far? The only thing you could do was feel around. You could tell it was Emmett's warm body presses flush against yours, He always made sure to strip himself naked every night, before joining you in bed. His leaking tip rubs itself on your lower back. He couldn't help the way you made him feel. Seeing you sleeping soundly in that slip-on he'd found, well, that stirred something in him.

You could feel his thick beard scratch your neck and shoulder as he starts to line himself up. He lets out a soft sigh, his breath is warm compared to the cool winter air. He cages your body with his, so that you won't get away. His fingers dig into your soft, supple hips. His calloused hands slide under your slip-on camisole, as his fingers graze the bare flesh. You would've been freezing if it weren't the heat emitting from his body. His bare chest now presses against yours. He sighs, "''M sorry baby...I couldn't help myself..." he moans while thrusting up and into your channel.

He always knew what spot to hit that made you crumble. His hand found it's way to your bundle of nerves. He starts to rub it, making your toes curl. He grunts against your shoulder, letting out a deep moan before finishing inside. Emmett climbs out of bed, his cock now slicks with your arousal. You didn't bother looking up, still annoyed that he hadn't waited until the sun was up. You grumble a few curse words before turning your back towards him. He chuckles at your adorable reaction, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before getting dressed.

Emmett woke up early to start his day off right. As soon as he reaches the convenience store, he wastes no time filling up his satchel. He takes note of the things you liked. Speaking of which, what did you like? He knows almost everything about you. All except your sex life. He thinks long and hard about it, maybe he should try spicing it up a bit.

You check the time on the digital clock, he's late. As much as you despise him, there was a part of you that worried of him not coming back. If something were to happen to him, what would you do? There was no way you could tell what was going on, not with the door being locked from the outside. Emmett was supposed to be home by now. Where the hell was he?! You hated having to worry about him. It made you feel all the more powerless.

An hour ago, he was supposed to come through the front door and ask for a kiss. Followed by you setting up the table and talking about today's activities. Emmett would then place the found dinner on the table. He would take his time, explaining how his day went. Suddenly the metal door clicks open. You scurry back onto the bed, pretending to sleep.

Emmett approaches the bedside, giving you a few light pecks, "Hey...pretty girl..." his voice is a soft whisper, "Did you sleep well?" he leans in, warmth radiates from his body. You glare at him, "You're late," trying your best to sound angry with him. He nods, "I know dear, and I'm sorry for that," he clutches the bag in hand, "I found a few things for 'ya," he states.

Emmett flips the bag over, emptying its contents, he doesn't bother looking up, "So you won't miss me," he already knows what your reaction would be. Your eyes widen at the collection.

There are an array of similar shaped dildos, silent vibrators, and plugs. Your thighs clench at the sight of it. You let out a deep breath, trying to control the rising nerves. Emmett speaks up, "I know women have their own needs, and if you ever want to--" "Don't," you grit your teeth. He understands now, the problem wasn't your sex life, it’s that you hated having sex with him. He doesn't blame you. How could he after everything you went though? He leaves without saying a word. It took you aback when Emmett decides to spend time away. Sometimes he would be gone for a few days straight without telling you. This was unlike him.

As soon as Emmett returns from another trip he walks straight towards his room. He pauses for a moment after hearing something, no, someone. It came from your room. He slowly opens the door, the sounds became much clearer.

There you were, laid back in bed with your eyes shut blissfully. Soft moans escape your lips as you pump the silicone phallus in and out your channel. Emmett held his breath. He was in awe from the sight of it. He slowly drags his mask down and out of the way. Noticing the faint smell of sex in the air.

He watches as your body writhes against the toy. Your hips jerk a few times, a gush of arousal erupts from your opening. After a few slow thrusts you finally gave out. You laid back in bed with tired huffs, still inhaling the scent of Emmett's shirt. It seems as though he misjudged you, the entire time he'd been worried about you not wanting to be with him. When in reality, you were already his. To think, all this time he'd been so worried, "Baby..." he calls. You look up at him, shutting your legs closed.

He smirks, a hand already palming the growing tent in his pants, "Miss me?" there's a hint of amusement in his voice. You look back at him with a look of lust, giving a small nod. Your knees began to part, revealing the now glistening slick of your folds. Emmett couldn't stifle his moan. He gets on his knees, inspecting the affect he had on you. He did this to you. A feeling of pride swells in him, "You missed me?" to that you faintly nodded, still worn out by the few orgasms from earlier.

His face is right in front of your folds. He flattens his tongue against your slick entrance, giving it a long stoke before returning it to his mouth. He can practically taste how much you've missed him. He's missed you just as much. It just wasn't the same during these past few days. Emmett couldn't take it anymore. It was part of his nature to empty his load in a warm and welcoming cunt. He was simply wired that way. Hunt, mate, breed, and repeat.

Emmett delves his tongue deep inside your womanhood. His lips wrap themselves around your mound. His nose brushes against the now sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs twitch from how good it felt, throwing your head back and moaning. Oh, how you've missed this. He looks up at you, capturing the sight of you now playing with both breasts. Emmett gives your clit a few flicks with the tip of his tongue, before wrapping his lips around it. He suckles the now sensitive bundle of nerves.

His finger pads collect your arousal. He starts to thrust them in and out of your channel, soon picking up speed. He doesn't stop pumping his fingers until you've climaxed. Even after, Emmett keeps going until another wave of pleasure hits. Both of your hands tug at his hair, pulling him in. He loves when you do that.

He finally parts from your mound with a 'pop' sound, licking his lips before giving it a peck. Emmett can't keep his eyes off you. His heart leapt in his chest as he watches your tuckered-out form. Both of your legs are still parted. Your inner thighs are sore from the burn of his beard. He's still in awe. You've never looked more beautiful.

At that point, he's ruined you for anyone else. You'll never be able to get rid of him. Not in body, mind, or soul. You were going to be his forever, he'll make sure of it. Then an idea hits him. Emmett rushes out of the room, returning with a satchel in hand. He dumps its contents onto the bed. You inspect each item. You held a pair of panties in front of you, the fabric was missing on the crotch. He looks down to avoid your glare, as if he weren’t the one sporting an erection.

If he can snatch a vibrator off a store rack, then he can look you in the eyes dammit! You silently inspect each item, finally explaining to him of the ones you liked. Emmett couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He pockets the panties, maybe for another time.

#reader #dark fanfiction #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark fanfic #fem!reader #dark!fanfiction #my work #reader insert #dark fic

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balkanradfem · 6 months

Text

The story of a broken christmas toilet

So the first thing that happened to me on the christmas morning, is I went to the bathroom, and toilet didn't work - no water. Weirded out by this, I opened up the water tank, and the water poured in as soon as I messed with the floatie. I thought this fixed it, only to realize minutes later, that the toilet is now leaking water.

I've never fixed the toilet before, especially not a leaking one, opening up the tank and peering inside was the height of my knowledge. But, I was ready to figure it out. I tried to mess with the parts that were leaking and make them tighter, only to immediately make it leak worse. Panicked, I quickly found the valve that shuts down the water in the bathroom. Now the toilet doesn't leak, but I also can't use the shower or the basin.

Looking at more youtube videos, I concluded that the valve that lets water into the tank, has loosened and broken inside, and there was no fixing it, I'd have to buy a spare part. But as it was christmas, all stores were closed, and would be closed for tomorrow as well.

I had some wrenches I acquired while fixing my own bike, and none of them were big enough to dismantle the tank, but comparing the size, I could tell which sizes I did need. I would ask a friend if she could lend me the right tools, but as my friend wouldn't be visiting for a few days, I had to make do with a non-functional bathroom.

Luckily I love the old methods of washing - using a sponge to bubble up and then pouring heated water from a jug to rinse, that is a very gentle way to experience warm water. I would sometimes wash that way just to not have to use the boiler - because it's a great energy saver.

Anyway, my friend brought the tools to me, and I set on to dismantle the tank. She stood outside the bathroom saying 'I don't know anything about toilets', too intimidated to join in. But I wasn't having it, I called her in to look because, armed with my youtube knowledge, I recognized the broken part, and now knew for sure what I had to replace.

That afternoon, I headed to a hardware store, and since it way my first time there, I asked an employee if he could get me that exact part - I had the original with me. He told me they were 'all the same' and handed me the cheapest one. I pointed out it was important for the brass part to be the same width - and he said it was.

So I bought it, and upon installing it in my toilet, the toilet was now leaking from the outside, where the new part was fixed into the wall pipe. I got confused, dismantled it and put it back together a few times, but nothing worked, it only leaked worse each and every time. Devastated, I went to check how others were doing it, and if I maybe lost a part, or forgot to do something, or had to play with the pressure more, or maybe my arms weren't strong enough. But every other person was fastening it in the exact same way, I wasn't doing anything wrong.

I dismantled the thing again, and compared the new and the original part. The metal part that goes into the wall pipe seemed the same width, and I had to stare really long to notice, but there was the tiniest, millimeter difference in how big the waves in it were. Pissed, I went back to the store, to ask the employee if they had any correct replacement parts, and he had absolutely no idea, so I asked him to unpack multiple ones until I found the exact same size I was looking for. I had to go through the lengthy and annoying process of exchanging the part, but once I got home, I put it together in 20 seconds.

And it worked. My toilet works again. I can now fix toilets. Self-assigned plumber.

I had to do a lot of following my instincts and believing that I can notice what is wrong, and when someone who is supposed to be more expert than me, is giving me false info. Most of this was just about confidence! It is absolutely no-brainer to fasten one pipe to the other if they're the correct size, any kid could do it if shown even once.

If I can do this, even without prior knowledge or tools, with other people giving me negative amounts of help, then anyone can! Any house-repair we usually think m*n can do, are just putting puzzles together, created to be simple and intuitive, and we are very well equipped for it, all it takes is confidence and curiosity in how it works.

#plumbing #fixing toilets #women power #empowerment #feeling smart and capable #plumbing lvl 1 cleared #i am so annoyed that it was made hard for me #but i did it hehehehehe

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pumpkinbirth · 7 months

Note

For the build-a-birth prompt:

🤰2️⃣(surprise twin)🏙 (Alleyway) 🛑👖

( in a hurry to get back home but ultimately gives in / cant take it anymore)

"And...reason for leaving work early?"

Because I've been having contractions all morning and my water just fucking broke in the bathroom, that's why.

"N-not feeling well." I replied instead. The clearly uninterested and underpaid desk greeter didn't ask anything further, just stated blandly that this wouldn't count as paid time off.

"That's fine, it's fine, see you around." I said hurriedly, turning and leaving before she could say anything else. As soon as I set foot out the door I felt another contraction coming, but clenched my teeth and kept walking, my gait unsteady. All I had to do was make it to my apartment, where I'd left my phone like an idiot, call my boyfriend, and everything would be fine.

It'll all work out, I thought to try and soothe myself, he'll come, he'll take me to the hospital, I won't have to push on the sidew--wait fuck am I pushing??

Without realizing it I'd stopped to steady myself against a building, and my body had decided to take control, my feet spaced apart where I stood and a new pressure beginning to descend.

No, no, fuck...! Taking a deep breath and checking that no one was coming, I slipped into a nearby alley. I reached a trembling hand down under the hem of my pencil skirt, feeling what was almost certainly the bulge of my lips about to part for the head. Before I could talk myself out of it I gently pressed inward, groaning as I undid what progress my baby had attempted.

"Just wait, baby, please..." I murmured desperately, legs shaky as I started moving again. I kept to the alleyway, if I remembered right it'd act as a shortcut to my apartment. It also kept anyone from noticing every time I'd have to stop and keep myself from progressing any further, my panties ruined with my steadily leaking water as I pushed the head back again and again.

Eventually it became too much to bear, and I didn't even recognize what part of the city I'd found myself in. With a resigned sob I pressed my back to the wall, hoping nobody would hear or see me as I gave into what my body had been trying to do all day.

The contractions were stronger and nearly on top of each other now, and now that I wasn't resisting anymore it only took one push before my baby was crowning into my panties, the soaked fabric bulging out as I muffled a cry. My thighs shook as I stood with my feet further apart, my hands between my legs in anticipation of what was to come. Another good hard push yielded one shoulder, then the other, and soon my panties bagged out further as the rest of my baby was born.

I sagged against the building with exhaustion, carefully retrieving my baby and wrapping it in my work blazer. My belly and lower back still throbbed, but I chalked it up to residual pain, possibly the placenta making its exit. As I waited, though, it didn't seem to be letting up. In fact, my still firm belly visibly cramped with discomfort, and a familiar pressure could be felt deep inside.

"Oh n-no...no no, I can't aga--ahhn...!!" I moaned, heart racing as I braced against the wall once more. My blouse was soaked through, both with sweat and from my swollen tits leaking as I fought through another contraction. I couldn't believe it, not only did I end up having to give birth in an unfamiliar alley, but now I'd have to do it again.

"Please, baby, please come o-ouuUUT!" I wept, no longer caring if I was loud, I just wanted it to be born quickly so I could finally go home. Mercifully, it only took another few pushes until at last I held both babies in my arms, their cries echoing in the alley.

#pumpkin answers #pumpkin writes #pregnancy kink #labor kink #birth kink #public birth #birth denial #clothing birth #build a birth #surprise baby

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planet-dusk · 1 year

Text

authorized personnel only ∘ s.cb

your boyfriend is an ass man, and tonight you have a surprise in store for him.

⛓️ PAIRING :: seo changbin x f!reader

⛓️ GENRE :: smut

⛓️ WORD COUNT :: 2k

⛓️ WARNINGS :: first time, anal play, protected anal sex, toy usage (butt plugs), fingering, both soft and rough sex, choking (headlock), mc is called baby, love, doll

⛓️ NOTE :: 18+ minors dni. the characters don't represent real people. this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. fictional smut is not a reflection of real life; always communicate with your partner and practice consensual and safe sex ‹33

❗ don't edit, copy, translate, repost or otherwise steal my content.

SKZ MASTERLIST

To say Changbin loves your ass is an understatement.

He can’t keep his hands to himself. He’s rubbing and squeezing the ample flesh whenever he gets the chance. And you? You feed into his growing obsession with every calculated sway of your hips, having figured out this shortcut a long time ago. The destination: his face, your thighs shaking as you ride out your third orgasm of the night.

But not today. Today you have other plans.

“What’s this?”

Changbin's fingers brush over your clothed slit and come to a halt at the feeling of something solid hidden underneath your damp panties.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you whisper against his lips. “I think we should give it a try…”

The giddy grin on his face is nothing short of infectious. “Are you serious?”

“I’m ready.”

The words sound a lot less confident now you’re saying them out loud. You and Changbin bought an anal training kit several weeks ago and you’ve spent plenty a night testing it out. The first time you wore one of the plugs while he fucked you he’d almost blown his load as soon as he slid inside. It’d made you even more eager, wanting to see him lose his composure fully.

On the nights Changbin's away you imagine it’s his cock stretching your tight hole instead, vibrator pressed against your clit to take the edge off the slight burn. You’ve been working your way up through the set until you could comfortably take the largest plug. Almost as big as him.

Despite it, there’s a nervous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. What if he doesn’t fit? What if —

“Please, baby.” Changbin’s gravelly voice interrupts your train of thought. “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to tear off your clothes.”

The desperation on his face makes you giggle, some of your nerves bleeding away. “Who says I don’t want you to?”

“Clothes off. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, nearly ripping your underwear in his haste to help undress you. He gets rid of his own pants and his thick cock springs free against his stomach, already hard and leaking. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Do you want to be on top?” Changbin asks. “Set the pace?”

You shake your head. As the more experienced one you want him to take the lead on this. “I trust you to be gentle.”

“Lie down on your back, then. I want to see your face so I can check in on you.”

You smile at his concern and do as told, expecting him to remove the butt plug. His fingers trace your slit instead before one briefly dips inside your hole, earning a startled gasp from you.

“You’re so wet.” He sounds surprised. Awe-struck. Your face burns. “Need me to fuck your ass that bad?”

You do. You’d never thought you’d be into it but his enthusiasm is contagious. Changbin’s always been vocal about how much he loves fucking you on all fours, your ass up in the air for him to play with. He’d started out teasingly. Tentative. Circling your tight hole with his fingers or tongue during foreplay. At first it’d felt foreign but the odd sensation had quickly morphed into pleasure and spurred on by your appreciative whimpers he’d become bolder, until one night he’d pushed his thumb past your rim while his cock filled your needy cunt.

You’d never felt so full. Drool had gathered on the sheets, a direct result of how deep he was fucking you into the mattress. His praise had been reduced to clipped sentences telling you how tight you felt — how he could feel every ridge and outline of his cock through the thin wall separating it from his fingers. That alone had been enough to make you cum, blinding white behind your eyelids as he continued to move his thumb in tandem with his hips.

Before you knew it his anal fixation had become a mutual obsession. He’ll finger your ass while his tongue works your clit, enjoying how your neglected cunt drips and clenches around nothing. It’s a strange sensation — feeling full and empty at the same time. On other nights he’ll bury his face between your cheeks until you’re grinding back on his tongue with trembling legs.

But his fingers and tongue aren’t enough anymore. You need to feel all of him.

“Do you want me to beg for it? Please, daddy, fuck my ass.” You tug on his bicep and give him a sickly-sweet smile.

“You’re ruining the mood.” He scrunches his nose and you laugh.

Then he moves his hand back to the apex of your thighs, pinching your clit between his fingers and all thought flies out of the window.

“I need you nice and relaxed first,” he coos, swallowing your moans with his own mouth.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart under his expert touch. Still floaty and sluggish you watch him reach for the condoms and lube.

“Tell me how it feels, okay, baby?” He gently removes the plug and lines up his cock with your gaping hole. “I need you to tell me to go slow or stop if it hurts.”

You nod. You’ve gone quiet now some of your initial nervousness has returned. Anticipation builds in your gut and you’re thankful for Changbin’s hand rubbing soothing circles on the back of your thigh.

“Breathe for me, love.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and he pushes the flared head in slowly. Then he stills. He’s nearing the thickest part of him and you gasp at the fullness. He’s so much bigger than anything you’ve felt before, but there’s only the slight burn you’ve grown accustomed to. The pressure feels familiar now, in a way that has you craving more.

“Everything okay?” Changbin studies your face for any discomfort and when you give him a small nod he pushes in another inch. You can see he’s struggling to hold himself back, brow furrowed and the fingers on your thigh now pressing dents into the flesh.

“Please fuck me, Binnie.”

It's a real plea this time, and judging by his face he didn’t expect it. His expression morphs from surprise into something darker. You appreciate him being careful, but right now you need him to fucking move.

“Y/N —”

You’ve never heard him let out such a deep, guttural growl. It has your empty cunt flutter around thin air. There’s a second where he appears to brace himself. Then Changbin drives his hips flush against your ass, forcing all the air out of your lungs with a single thrust. Your thighs are caught between his body and your chest and you moan when he bottoms out, filling you up completely.

“So fucking tight,” Changbin rasps. His head spins. He's waited so long for this moment and now he gets to watch his cock sink into your tight hole, the muscle stretching around him and struggling to accommodate him. “You feel amazing.”

“Changbin, o my god…” Your jaw slacks, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he finally starts moving. He’s right — it feels amazing. Better than you thought it’d feel, his thick cock stretching you out and his fingers playing with your pussy like he’s done so many times before. The knot in your stomach tightens unexpectedly fast and you have to hold onto his strong arms to anchor yourself. It only takes a few grazes of his thumb on your clit before you unravel with a loud sob.

“This fast?” Changbin lets out a satisfied chuckle. “Maybe I should only fuck you in the ass from now on.”

You’re not even sure if you’d mind and you’re unable to protest when your brain’s this fuzzy and he’s tapping your clit playfully. His thrusts are deep and slow, still with a hint of lingering caution, a protective hand resting on the back of your thigh.

You want to see him break.

“Can you go harder?” Your hands grab at his shoulders, “Please, if you want. I can take it.”

Changbin pulls out instead, smirking at your whimpered protest. “And they say I’m the needy one.” He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “Turn around. On all fours. Anything for you, baby.”

You scramble to get into position, a valiant attempt which fails as soon as he breaches you again. Your arms tremble and give away under your own bodyweight, landing you face down into the pillows.

Changbin helps you up and wraps an arm around your neck. His chest is pressed against your back and his thick biceps forces your chin up, the pressure on your throat dizzying.

“Is this what you wanted all along? For me to fuck you rough and hard?”

You croak out a choked-off yes and then you’re pressed into the mattress again. Changbin drapes his body on top of yours. His arm is still wrapped around your neck as much as the new position allows while his other tightens on your hip. Your legs have given out now too so you let him manhandle you until he’s found the right angle to pound into you from behind.

The pace he sets is punishing, wet slaps of skin slick with arousal and lube every time his hips bump into yours. It’s electrifying. You’re drooling all over his forearm now and he loosens his hold to make sure you can breathe.

Between the thrusts and low grunts Changbin’s running his mouth, the first crack in his exterior. You’re surprised he’s lasted this long.

“Look at you, baby. You’re taking me so well… Letting me fuck your ass like this, such a good doll for me, my pretty little thing. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you? As long as I fuck you full of cock. You’re so desperate you don’t even care which hole I use… I’ll use them all… which one do you want me to use next, your mouth or that pretty cunt of yours?”

“Want — want you,” is all you manage to moan out, far beyond the point of coherent answers. He’s grinding his cock so deep into you it’s almost as if you can feel him in your guts, a pleasurable sort of pressure unlike anything you’ve felt before.

Judging by the low chuckle next to your ear your reply seems to satisfy him. “You’re making such a mess, love. Bet you’re so wet you’re soaking the sheets.” He slides his arm out from underneath you and tangles his fingers into your hair. “Drooling all over my arm, too. My needy girl. Fuck, I wish I could do this all night.”

There’s a tinge of desperation to his voice now and you know he’s close.

“Wanted this for so long — can’t believe we’re doing this,” he pants. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

You urge him on by angling your hips up and he slows down, cursing loudly at the sight and sitting back so you can work yourself over his cock. His hands are all over your ass, brushing and kneading the soft flesh.

He lets out a low groan. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.”

You turn your head to watch him over your shoulder, catching his blown-out gaze when he manages to drag it away from your ass for a second. Seeing him fucked out like this lights another fire deep in your core and you push back on him, tight against his pubic bone, then pulling away again until the head of his cock threatens to slip out.

You repeat your slow movements, determined to watch him crumble.

“The things you do to me…” His eyes flutter shut and he clutches your hips, his cock twitching, “you — baby, I’m —”

Changbin tenses and his body curls on top of yours, flattening you against the mattress. He falls to his side and pulls you with him. His arms wrap tight around you.

“That was amazing,” he breathes against your nape, still sounding a bit dazed.

“It really was,” you crane your neck around so you can see him. His full lips form a cute pout to give you a soft peck and you giggle into the kiss. “And to answer your question — mouth.”

Changbin chuckles, pulling you impossibly closer into his arms and nuzzling his face into your shoulder with a small huff and a smile. “You’re insatiable.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #changbin smut #changbin x reader #;skz longfic

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faghubby · 2 months

Text

Cum cuddle

"Look how big he is" Keri said showing me a pic of her holding his cock in her hand. I was naked cuddling next to her on the couch as she used her index and thumb to jerk me off.

"I could only take half down my throat. But he went slow when he fucked me. He laid me on my back and had my legs on his shoulders. I thought he was going to rip me in half. But when I got used to it I was begging for it all" she continued. I slid my hand over her satin blouse my finger tracing her bra thru the thin material.

"What are you doing?" She laughed. I looked into her eyes wanting her so bad. "Okay she" giggled. Unbuttoned her shirt. "Only the bra?" She warned me. As soon as she opened blouse though I came all over myself.

"Quick don't leak on the couch" Keri said pushing me to stand up. I grabbed my shirt and wiped the cum off my stomach. As I rushed off to the bathroom. As Keri laughed to herself. I felt ashamed I always did after I came. Keri had been cuckolding me for almost a year now. It had been 8 months since she even let me touch her in a sexual way. Instead she would find satistifaction in the arms of "real men". This had all started during a long weekend away. I had booked us in a romantic bed and breakfast on a lake. One morning we where headed to the lake to go swimming when we saw a man getting out of the water completely naked. Obviously had been skinny dipping. We hid behind a tree. Waiting for him to get dressed. But I noticed Keri kept peeking at him. Later back at our room I teased her about it.

"You kept checking him out" I laughed.

"So, he was big even with the water cold'' Keri shot back at me annoyed. I was trying to be playful I didn't want her to be upset.

"Baby, I didn't mean" I started but she was already in a mood. Fuck I thought had I messed up the whole weekend. She gave me the cold shoulder the rest of the day.

In the morning I woke up and Keri was gone. She must of woken up early and headed down to breakfast. I quickly got up an headed downstairs bit no Keri. There was no cell reception up here so I just sat and waited eating alone. Just as I was finishing Keri walked in with a tall man laughing.

"Here he is" she smiled. "Alex this is my husband Paul" she said introducing us. As they both grabbed a seat at the table. Both of there hair where wet.

"I got up early and went for a swim" Keri started "and ran into Alex here. He takes a dip every morning" she smiled. Was this the guy we had caught skinny dipping? I thought to myself. Alex was a nice guy who was up here to just recharge his batteries from the daily city pace. Soon we where all laughing and enjoying each other's company. Then me and Keri headed back to our room to change. We were planning on a hike around the lake. As soon as the door closed though Keri was all over me. She pushed me back on the bed. Then with confidence I had not experienced in bed she lowered herself sitting on my face. She ground into me as I licked and sucked her already wet pussy. She shuddered and came on my tounge then rolled off and laid beside me.

"I needed that" she sighed

"That wasn't about me though" I said rolling on top of her. Her eyes widened. She went to argue.

"Shh, it was Alex" I said softly. My throbbing dick teased her lips.

"No, i" Keri started.

"It's okay" I told her. As my dick slid inside her.

"Wait, you're not mad" she said pushing against my chest stopping me.

"Did you do anything?" I asked still rock hard trying to push into her.

"I don't think you would care if I did" she told me. I just smiled and she let go. I thrust into her. She let me fuck her she didn't even make a noise. I came quicker then usual.

"You got excited thinking about if I did do something?" Keri said "didn't you?"

"yes" I said barely above a whisper.

"I joined him, swimming today. And no I didn't wear a suit" she told me. My eyes wide. "Nothing happened we just enjoyed being free in nature" she told me. We showered and got dressed. We set out on our hike. About half way. Keri bought it up.

"How would you feel if I had done more then just swim?" She asked.

"I don't know" I told her

"Are you sure, what if I go swimming with him again tomorrow?" she asked. I looked down at the ground. She wanted my attention so she gently pushed me back against a tree. Pressing against me.

"What if I did more then swim?" She teased I knew she could feel me get hard in my shorts. "He is very big, might stretch me all out for you" she teased. I kissed her. "You want me to cheat on you don't you?" She asked. I just nodded.

"No tell me in words" she told me her hand reached into my shorts. Her hand cupped my balls thru my briefs.

"Yesm I love for you to let him have you" I moaned as I came in my pants. Keri rubbed my balls milking out all of my sperm. There was a big wet spot on the front of my shorts. The rest of the way back. Keri kept talking about having sex with other people.

"I would do it for you, bit I could never be okay with you having another woman." She told me. I confessed my cuckolding fetish. Having to explain cuckolding what was to my lovely bride as well. And how I loved how he had a much bigger cock.

By the time we had made it back to the cottage Keri had laid out a plan. I was to wait in our room tomorrow until she returned from her swimming date. We enjoyed the rest of the day together. That night Keri asked more about cuckolding and my fetishes. With no good internet connection she relied on me for information. She smiled alittle when I told her how much I had enjoyed her making me cum in my pants.

Keri had me orally please her again that night but denied me acress to her. Even telling me not to masterbate. Keri even saying Masterbate made my dick jerk. I lifted off to sleep. Again I woke alone. It was hours later that Keri came back to the room. She came straight to the bed and pulled off my briefs. I was naked as she kissed me. And played with my throbbing dick.

"It seems even smaller somehow" Keri told me. She guided my hand into her shorts she wore no underwear her pussy was wet and slimy

"He was amazing. He was even bigger then we thought" she told me. I exploded all over her hand and my stomach. With in seconds. Keri laughed outloud.

"That was fast" she laughed. We got in the shower together and in great detail she told me how he had grabbed her and held her in the air as he fucked her. How she had screamed so loud she was sure everyone must of heard. All while she teased my body. I came a second time before we got out of the shower. I had her lay on the bed where I rubbed lotion over every inch of her body. When I finished Keri saw I was hard yet again.

"You really like this don't you" she teased. I just moaned. She again made me wait but teasing me keeping me on edge until the next morning after she met Alex again. This time she sucked his cock and he fucked her from behind. We had to get on the road. So I was still hard when I drove away. Out of the mountains and internet again Keri browsed through websites as I drove.

"Paul, I am going to find real men to satisfy me from now on" she stated. "You are small, no stamina, and let's face it not very take charge type' I didn't argue just agreeded. Keri asked hundreds of questions now thst she was learning what other men like me wanted.

Chastity, panties, humiliation, pegging, cocksucking, fluffing, watching? The list went on and on I tried to answer as truthfully as I could. Unsure on some things.

it was decided mostly by her that I would never be inside her again. And I could expect handjobs as my new sexual release. Keri also started making dating profiles for herself especially to ,yet men who wanted a married woman. Within days Keri had already set up dates.

I helped her get dressed and ready to meet these men. Learning to paint her nails or style her hair. Also picking out and buying lingerie for her to wear for them. Keri would have me use her vibrator on her or orally please her if they used a condom on her if they failed to satisfy her when she got home. This happened about 50% of the time. Then she would jerk me off as she told me everything they did to her. Like this night Keri was usuallu dressed but would have me completely naked during our cuddle time.

I was still naked bit cleaned off when I returned from the bathroom.

"Do you miss touching me?" Keri asked she had removed her blouse. Her red lace bra seemed about to burst as her breast heaved as she spoke. She spread her legs. Her panties in a ball on the table.

"If you clean him from me I will let you do whatever you want" she told me. We had discussed this I had no interest in eating a creampie.

But I was tempted, I wanted her.

"Try it one minute, if you don't like it you can still have me" Keri told me. She spread her legs further her skirt rode up exposing her pussy. Dried cum visible on her thigh. I hesitated

"30 seconds, take or leave it" Keri said starting to close her legs I dropped and pulled her knees apart. I had to get this over with and dove in. I could taste him straight away. Keri ran her hands through my hair her leg slid between mine and she teased my balls with her foot. The mixed juices of Keri and her lover flowed across my tounge. As Keri rested her calf against my throbbing member. I didn't even realize I was humping her leg like a dog in heat. As I consumed, no devoured her. I didn't know how long I was between her legs. The flavor became more just Keri. As she pulled my hair and came on my tounge. At the same time I pushed hard against her leg and came all over her as well. Keri stroked my hair as I just laid there with my head on her lap.

"That was amazing" Keri told me. "Do you still want to have me" she giggled her foot rubbing my empty balls and soft dick. We sat there awhile. Before we got up and got cleaned up and headed to bed. Keri cuddled up to me.

"You know you will do that everytime from now on" she reached into my underwear to find me hard as hse told me. As she slowly stroked me until I came in my briefs again. She had me sleep in my messy underwear. As she held me until I fell asleep.

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roosterbruiser · 11 months

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟔.𝟖𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“Don’t wig out yet, baby. Let’s chat before I book it to the bus barn, huh? I can spare a few minutes for my best girl,” Bradley sighs, crouching down and squatting beside you. He knows you won’t be able to move Jake off of you by yourself now that he’s dead weight--you’re stuck. “Don’t think you’re gonna get anywhere anytime soon.”

Sweet Hell, it feels good to let the mask slip, Bradley thinks. To be honest. To openly enjoy the petrification instead of pretending that he cares about you and your feelings. There’s no hiding this divine pleasure in watching you squirm, in watching your helpless figure and your stricken expression.

You’re staring at him, more stunned and more horrified with every aching second that passes the two of you by, with blood matted on your eyelashes as Jake bleeds out over your body. And as soon as he says it, you realize it. It washes over you like the angry waves of the lake: yes, you’re stuck. Jake is on top of you, consciousness fading, mouth wide open with shock and agony still. His blood is pooling all over you, leaking into your hair and into your mouth.

That’s when the hysteria begins. It is sitting on the edge of your body, watching you as if it is a snake waiting to strike. And then it bubbles over--then you begin to wriggle from beneath Jake, fighting to get out from underneath him. But Jake moans--a distant, crumpled thing that is enough to tell you that he is hurting, you’re hurting him. You cease all movements, swallowing hard--all that bloody saliva slink down your throat and pool in your belly in a puddle of ice water.

Okay. I can’t move. You think hard. But he’s alive. For now, he’s alive.

“Bradley,” you whisper, voice quivering. “Please…please…it’s me. It’s--it’s me--Gale. Nightingale. It’s me, Bradley, it’s me! I’m not gonna--what are you? Don’t do this--!”

“Dolly can’t get her sentences straight,” Bradley says softly, laughing. He nods at you. “Try again.”

Sobbing, you shake your head.

“Why are you…why are you doing this, Bradley? I thought--!”

“--You really don’t understand?” Bradley asks. He smiles softly, petting your hair again. You’re too stunned to bat him away, to thrash your head in the opposite direction. “Good golly miss dolly, I gotta bash your ears now, huh?”

When you don’t answer, Bradley sits down on the ground, the ax just beside him. He keeps his palm on your face, smiling softly as he smooths the blood away from your chin and cheeks and into your hair. And there you are, your heart beating out of your chest and your mind fuzzier than the television at your grandmother’s house, staring up at him with big and sad eyes.

Craning your neck, you turn--the shotgun is up against the wall. You wouldn’t be able to reach it in time even if Jake wasn’t holding you down. And even if you could throw Jake off, the ax is just by Bradley. You couldn’t outrun him--not in your prime state, which you most certainly are not in now.

Prickles tickle the column of your spine when you look back at Bradley.

“I shot you,” you whisper to him. “I--I got you. Right outside the doors. I know I did--I heard you.”

Glancing at his arm, you double-check--yes, the sediment and gravel is still there. That wasn’t where you shot him. It couldn’t be. It would be red and oozing and more severe--especially at such a close range.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, he turns so you can see the top of his hip. He pulls his shirt up and yes--there it is. A red, oozing buckshot wound. Severe from the close-range shot of your shotgun.

“Thought it’d be a nifty idea--the whole tripping over Coyote story,” Bradley says. “‘Cause you did get me--but you’re just not as good of a shot as you think you are, dolly. Had to rough myself up in case I started bleeding through my shirt. Really play the part, right?”

And you don’t respond, fat tears streaming down your face. Bradley tuts, thumbing a few of them away. Without another word, he brings his thumbs to his lips and slowly pushes it down onto his tongue. Terror holds your lungs hostage as he suckles your tears.

As the salt melts on Bradley’s tongue, he grins. He can practically taste your fear--it’s as fulfilling to him as nectar is to you. But he’s always preferred salt over sugar.

“What’s happening?” You ask, choking on your sobs. “What happened to you, Bradley?”

“Dolly, Bradley’s long gone now. Been fading ever since I got that specks-wearing fella. Shit, I’ll tell you, though--that boy is a fighter. Kept making it back in.” Brows furrowed, you say nothing. You don’t know what the fuck is going on. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Bradley taunts, pinching your nose. “Dolly, I’m not him. Well--I mean, I’m him,” Bradley says, gesturing to his body. Then he points to his temple. “But I’m not him.”

Vision blurring with pink-tinted tears, you sob again.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, weeping openly. “You must be out of your fucking mind!”

“I guess you could say Bradley is out of his mind,” he says, grinning. “Best to believe me, dolly.”

But you know. You know that this isn’t Bradley. It’s suddenly as clear as a glass windowpane on a cool, spring morning after the rain has passed. The man crouched beside you is Bradley by appearance, yes, with his broad shoulders and powerful legs and short shorts, but he’s not really here. No. Because he would never hurt you. How could he? He’s the boy who would ask you to dip your finger in his coffee to sweeten it. It would be blasphemous if you even thought for one moment that he would harm you.

The realization washes over your face, contorts your expression.

“There she goes. She gets it now. Good girl,” Bradley coos, his voice low and velvety. “Didn’t you feel it? Didn’t you feel it when he was gone?”

Sobbing, you shake your head.

“Who are you?” You ask, trembling.

Jake is growing heavier on your body--it’s difficult to breathe now.

“You know who I am,” he says, nodding gently. “You read all about me in the papers, didn’t you? The maniac. That’s what they called me--right? The guy who killed all the camp counselors and the camp nurse at Camp Arcadia. Some no good devil-worshiper.”

Mind spinning, lungs aching, you shake your head.

“But you’re dead,” you whisper. “They found your…they found your body there with the others. Thirty years ago.”

He takes a long, hard look at you. It is not one particularly seeped in malice, not one that sends a chill down your tailbone. It’s a long, hard look at your face as if he’s playing the part of upset father and you’re the unruly daughter who came in past her curfew.

“I know you felt me,” he whispers to you. “I came to you in the night.”

Eyebrows furrowed, you’re just about to refute this claim, just about to scream out for help! when the truth tickles your cheeks as it lands just before your eyes.

Oh. The nightmares. Every night that you were not in bed with Bradley, every time you finally fell asleep, he was there waiting. He stalked you. He found you. He terrified you.

“Your fear was so sweet,” Bradley coos. “Tangled up in your sheets, frozen, sweating bullets. You let me get so close to you. I would’ve devoured you if I’d had the time.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper meekly.

A tired sobs rips out of your lungs.

“See, now, Bradley did take care of that part all by himself,” he says, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t have to do much convincing. He was really far gone for you, dolly. Did you know that? I’d bet you’re the reason he kept fighting it--poor fool. Didn’t even know what he was fighting.”

Bile climbs your throat.

“You’re a fucking monster!”

He grins.

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m just a man who made a deal with the Devil.”

You shake your head at him, shivering, trembling.

“There’s no such thing,” you spit. “You’re trying to scare me.”

“All those bad things that happen in the world, happening here, and you don’t believe there’s something behind it?” He asks, brows perched. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Last time I came around, nurse’s were still religious. None of this agnostic nonsense.”

“There’s no Devil,” you whisper--thought you feel like you’re losing your conviction as the energy drains from your body. “You’re a--a conman.”

He sighs.

“How do you think I came back?” He whispers. “At random? God’s will?”

You don’t know. You don’t know. All you know is that the person before you is not Bradley.

“You’re lying,” you whisper.

“Let’s not yank each other’s chain. Total honesty, alright? Scout’s honor,” Bradley says, crossing his heart. “It was destiny. The storm. The tree. Our pal Jake here finding the axes--finding my ax.” Bradley thumps Jake on the back--he doesn’t moan. He doesn’t make any sound at all--and he doesn’t move. “Bradley cutting his hand--giving me his blood. And, God, so much of it.”

Bradley’s a bleeder. Oh, God. You remember it so vividly--the blood as it dripped down his arm, his sheepish smile, his quiet apologies.

“You…” You cough--blood spurts out of your mouth and sprays Bradley’s knee. You know, with your entire chest and everything inside of it, that it is not your blood. “Why Bradley?”

He stares down at you--all the flecks of gold in his sweet, big eyes are gone. And behind those eyes, just behind the crystal film, is nothing. Void of life. Void of kindness. Void of warmth. They’re just two black holes in his face, rimmed with pretty lashes.

“You know, I always like it when people were sad. Scared. The best was when people were sad and scared, you know? I didn’t know why I liked it--I just knew that I got a good and funny feeling whenever I could hear my baby sister crying in her crib. I used to pinch her in the night--just to make her wail. And then I’d listen and listen until her voice got hoarse. When she thought I was gone, or when she was all cried out--I’d jump out at her. Get right up in her face and scream.” He sighs. You’re shivering as he speaks, throat dry. He’s smiling fondly in remembrance, left eye twitching softly. “People like Bradley are always a little sad and a little scared.”

“People like him?” You whisper.

He nods.

“Orphans. Lovesick orphans,” he whispers. “He kept me full.”

Closing your eyes, you struggle to move. But you can’t--you’re perfectly, completely pinned down to the floor.

“What about me?” You whisper brokenly. Defeat begins its descent in your body--numbing your fingers and toes, lulling your head to the side, pressing against your eyelids. “Why didn’t you choose me?”

Now he furrows his brows.

“Well, you were hardly ever scared,” he says. “At least when you were awake you weren’t. I couldn’t get you to draw any blood when you were asleep. Hell, I couldn’t ever get you to hold the ax either.”

Sighing, almost completely still, you just stare at him. He stares at you, too.

“I’m scared all the time,” you whisper helplessly.

He shakes his head.

“You’re not,” he answers. “Or else I’d be inside of you.”

Recoiling, you shake your head.

“You’re sick,” you whisper.

“I mean, there were even some hard times, right? Had to slice that Mable girl when I was heading for Jake. Tear her bible up good so she would stop sniffing around. What good is a church girl without her scripture?”

Chills cover your arms and legs--finally overpowering the warm blood on your body as it dries on your skin.

“But why Jake?” You whisper brokenly. “Why him?”

“Because he’s the best shot. Because he was in the way of you,” Bradley answers, brows furrowed. “And you’re something special. Well--you were before you went all the way with Bradley. That’s why this is so perfect--the guy you didn’t pick is holding you down.”

You cough--your lungs are deflating.

“Why was I special?” It’s all you can manage to choke out.

“Virgin blood is strong--pure. Untainted. That’s what…that’s what happened last time, you see. Nurse Abbott was waiting until marriage. I picked ‘em off one-by-one until she was alone…” Bradley says, staring at your face, watching his own reflection in your tearful eyes. He sighs. “And then--!”

“--She killed you. She was the one who did it, wasn’t she?” You whisper, sneering. Your lip trembles. “She killed you.”

Bradley’s lip twitches--his smile doesn’t falter.

“No bullshitting, right? Yes. She…she did,” he answers. “I killed her, too, though. That’s an important part to the story, dolly. And I’ve really been feeling like the universe wanted me to come back and finish what I started. So…that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He picks up the ax, holds it so it reflects off the sunlight. And then he grins at you.

“No,” you whimper weakly. You’re trembling all over, lungs empty, ribs crushed, head aching, throat choked. But something sinks in your gut when he stands, holding the ax against himself. “Please…please--!”

“I love it when you beg for it,” he whispers to you. You stop speaking, just staring up at him, dazed with grief as the reality of right now blankets you. You’re going to die. He seems to see it in your face, smell it in the air. He smiles again. “I’m gonna go back to the bus now. Phoenix will let me in--I’ll get her first. She’ll go fast, I bet. Give in quick. Might have to work hard to get Coyote, though. He seemed pretty determined to keep those kids safe, didn’t he? I wonder if he’ll fight as hard as Fanboy did.”

“He’ll kill you,” you whisper, sobbing. “He’ll kill you!”

“He wouldn’t kill Bradley,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Neither would you.”

Saying nothing, you just stare up at him.

“And when I’ve finished the kiddos off, I’ll come back for you,” he says, pointing the ax at you. It nearly touches your nose. “Saving the best for last.”

Before he leaves, he walks into the kitchen. Something changes--the music stops. He’s started the tape over. Running Up That Hill begins again.

When he reappears, he grins at you.

“See you in a jiff,” he promises.

With that, he’s off. Stepping over Jake’s body and yours, he galivants across the blood-soaked wooden floor and heads for the doors. And then he’s gone--a gust of hot, summer air caressing your face.

Now all you can hear is the sound of your own sobs--they echo in the mess hall, vibrate across the picnic tables, and land uneasily on Jake’s back.

Alone. You’re alone now. All your friends are dead--or they’re going to be dead soon.

Everything in your body--every ache, every muscle, every bone, every nerve--is telling you to close your eyes. Give in. Let go. Wait for it to come. Breathe until you cannot anymore. Think about what flowers you will want at your funeral and hope your father remembers that you hate carnations.

“Is he gone?”

Jolting, you look at Jake--your vision is tinted pink from the blood in your eyes, from the tears. And the heaviness of his body suddenly becomes a bit lighter--lighter like he is lifting himself just barely.

“Jake?” You whisper.

There’s not response for a minute. And for a fleeting few moments, as you gaze down at his eyes that are still closed and his lips that are still shut, you think you’re losing your mind. Making this up. Imagining him here so you won’t have to die all by yourself.

But then his lashes flutter--a tiny groan falls out of his mouth.

“He’s…he’s gone, right?”

And then, without warning, Jake suddenly rolls off your body. It is a quick movement--like he’s using the last of his strength, like he’s doing this final thing for you.

The pain that shoots through his body when he lands on his back is excruciating. It is so excruciating, so blinding, that he almost can’t stop himself from screaming. But he does--he does for you. He breathes through his nose roughly, sobbing softly.

“Jake…” you whisper, suddenly able to move. You scramble to sit up, covered in gore still, leaning over him. “Jake, I--Jake, I thought you were dead.”

And before you can even get over the sudden shock of Jake being alive, of Jake moving off your body, your hands are moving before you give them explicit permission to. You’re pulling on his shoulders, trying to get him to move onto his belly again so you can staunch his wound, but he cries out.

“Stop, Gale!” He begs, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m trying to help--!”

Suddenly, his eyes are open and pouring into yours. And God, there are those green eyes. Greener than grass. Greener than keylimes. Greener than moss. Greener than the earth. He’s looking right at you, the one who’s trying to save him, and you suddenly understand that he doesn’t want to be saved by you.

“Let me help…help you for once,” Jake whispers. “You go.”

Two stray tears stream down his face.

He’s thinking about everything that Bradley said, how he taunted you, how still he had to be so Bradley didn’t really finish him off. He’s thinking about that bus full of kids, thinking about Payback, Fanboy, Bob, Paul. He’s thinking about it all and how you’re going to have to do this by yourself. And he’s going to stay here. He has to stay here--he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t walk. He can’t even feel his toes. He has to stay here.

“Jake,” you mutter, beginning to weep. “I can’t--I can’t leave you here.”

It’s an impossible decision--one that is tearing your heart to bits as you hover over him.

He’s trembling--it feels like you’re rubbing noses with death again as saliva gathers underneath your tongue.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please…go. There’s no time, baby, there’s no…”

“Jake,” you weep. “I didn’t listen to you! It’s him--it’s…it’s…”

You won’t know who to say it is. It’s Bradley, but it’s not. But you can’t get yourself to say that it is Damien Gwyar--the original maniac, the one who slayed everyone all those years ago.

“I love you, baby,” Jake mutters. A few tears stream down his face. “I’d die if I…if I didn’t tell you that before I…before I…”

Die, Jake thinks. Before I die.

“I love you,” you sob. And you mean it--you really, truly do. Even if it is muddled, if it’s complicated, if it’s wrong, if it’s right, if you’re exhausted, if it’s true--you mean it. “I love you, Jake. You idiot.”

And you can’t say anything else, just collapsing against his chest to sob again. And against his blood-soaked shirt, on this blood-soaked floor, you let all the tears and snot run and run until you feel like you’re entirely empty.

With the final bit of his strength, he reaches up--ignoring the searing burning--and holds both of your cheeks. And your cheeks, so wet and sticky and familiar, nearly make his throat close. He wishes he had held you more. He hopes he gets to hold you again.

“Knew it,” he whispers, a sad smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you weep. “Jake, I’m so sorry--I didn’t know what-what to do. I didn’t know what to do and-and--!”

“--It’s okay,” he whispers. His bottom lip wobbles. “Get your gun, Nightingale.”

Like his word is Lord, you do get the gun. Your legs are wobbling and you can hardly walk, can hardly wrap your fingers around it, but you do. And then you return to his crumpled form, sinking to your knees and looking down at him.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” you repeat brokenly. “Jake, I’m so sorry. I’m so…I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been better. I should’ve--I could’ve--!”

But even when you say it--knowing it’s the truth--you also know that Bradley must be getting close to the bus barn. He might even be opening the doors now. He might even be halfway through Phoenix, her screams loud and the blood--

“Shhh,” he whispers. “No time.”

“I can save you,” you whisper. “God, please let me save you! Let me have this!”

You’re begging.

Jake shakes his head.

“Go,” Jake whispers back. He strokes your hair very softly, tries to remember the way it feels in his hands. And then he pushes you softly.

Hastily, and with great anguish, you kiss his lips. All you can taste is blood, but you keep kissing him. You kiss and cry and he kisses back as his blood pools around him on the floor. He’s dizzy and you’re exhausted to the point of near-delusion.

Then you stand up.

“I’m coming back for you,” you promise him.

You really mean it, too. Whether he is alive or dead, whether you’ll bandage him or cover him with a sheet, you’re coming back for him. You will not leave Jake alone here. Not in your lifetime.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers brokenly. He’s staring up at you, quivering. “You’ve gotta…you’ve gotta fight.”

“People keep telling me that,” you whisper.

His jaw is locked in place when he speaks again. You hope, with everything in your heart, that this is not the last time you’ll ever see him looking at you the way he is now.

“You give ‘im Hell.”

You give ‘im Hell.

You’re still sobbing when you walk outside again. The heat is abrasive, the sun is beating down, you’re sticky with blood, but your legs are working and you’re moving towards the bus barn. Right now, in this precise moment when your heart is pounding out of your chest, it’s all you can focus on. You have to get from here to here.

And there he is--Bradley. He’s standing just outside the bus, the bus barn door wide open and letting the sunlight pour in. But the bus doors are still closed.

You don’t understand why this is happening, but it is. It really, truly is. It’s here, right before your eyes. Gone is the man that you love, the one who came inside of you only a few days ago. And standing in his place is whatever the fuck is beckoning everyone off the bus.

“I had to…I had to hurt him,” Bradley sobs. He’s good at this--there’s real tears streaming down his face, snot dripping out from his nose and onto his mustache. He’s holding his palm against the bus, still gripping the ax. “God, I think I…I think I killed him! But he was coming for Gale…”

“What happened to Gale?” Coyote asks, reaching for the handle to open the bus doors. He’s panting already, panicked. Bradley has a lot of blood on him--splattered all over his face and clothes. And when he ripped the bus barn door open, he was sobbing. “Shit, is she…oh my, God…”

Everyone on the bus is looking at Bradley: a man who has seemingly lost everything in the span of only a little while. The tape to lure Jake into the mess hall has restarted, blood has been spilled, and Bradley is sobbing outside the bus from the loss of you.

“He got her,” Bradley sobs. “He…He got Gale. I wasn’t quick enough. He just--he threw her on the ground, cracked her head open. Oh, God…the crack. It was--it was--!”

Bradley cuts himself off with his own choked sobs.

Phoenix’s fingernails dig into the bus seat. She can hardly hear Bradley, can hardly hear anything, feel anything. But she hears him say it. You’re gone, she thinks. You’re dead now, too.

Just as Coyote is about to open the bus doors, just as he is about to let Bradley on and grieve and sob and ask for the full story and just as Phoenix is about to spring to the mess hall to find you, everyone hears a gun cock in utter and complete unison.

And suddenly, you’re here. You’re standing in the doorway, drenched in blood, hair matted against your head. You’re holding the shotgun, legs wobbling but feet planted firmly, and aiming it directly at Bradley. You’re alive--most gloriously alive.

“Don’t open those doors!” You announce. Your voice echoes. “Get the fuck away from the bus!”

“Gale…” Bradley says, feigning shock. His heart is pounding, but he decides to keep it going. Don’t let the curtains close. He turns towards you, stumbles a few steps--he’s still holding the ax. “Gale, I--I thought you were dead! I thought--I thought Jake killed you!”

“Don’t listen to him,” you scream. “You…you fuck!”

Coyote and Phoenix watch in horror, their eyebrows furrowed.

“What the fuck is going on?” Coyote asks.

Phoenix is staring at Bradley as he stumbles towards you. He’s gripping the ax with such conviction, tears still streaming down his face. And from where she’s standing, she can only see a quarter of his face. But she sees it exactly when you do: a wink. Barely there, hardly evident, but real.

And it suddenly clicks--washes over her like a wave of warm, salty water.

“Bradley is the killer,” she whispers. She grips Coyote’s arm, quivering. “Bradley is the…oh my, God.”

“I thought you were gone,” Bradley weeps. And with his back turned to the bus, he grins at you--entirely sure no one will see him. “I’m so--I’m so sorry I left you.”

“Don’t come any closer!” You scream. Your hands are shaking.

“I’m just trying to help you,” he sobs, smile growing wider and wider. “C’mere, doll, I’m so sorry I left you with that--with that monster!”

He grows nearer and nearer with every step.

From your peripherals, you see movement on the bus--Coyote reaching for the handle to open the bus doors.

“Don’t open the fucking doors!” You demand, voice echoing in the barn. “Just--no matter what, don’t do it! Okay?”

Coyote freezes. His stomach is turning itself inside out as all the children group at the back of the bus and watch you point a gun at Mister Rooster.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Bradley whispers to you. “I’m saving you for last.”

“I will fucking kill you!” You scream--voice hoarse. Tears are pouring down your cheeks. “I’ll kill you if you step closer to me! I’ve shot you before and I’ll sure as Hell do it again!”

He’s only a few feet in front of you now.

“You can’t,” he whispers to you. He’s standing with his chest--Bradley’s chest--pressed against the barrels of your shotgun. He grins at you. “You won’t.”

Arms nearly going limp, you open your mouth to retaliate--but nothing comes. Nothing at all. You’re choking on air, staring evil right in the face, and you cannot pull the trigger because it is wearing the skin of the man you adore so.

He knows it already.

Coyote and Phoenix watch in horror as your finger slips from the trigger. And the horror extends to the entire bus, making all the kids clutch the seats and each other, when Bradley suddenly swings the ax.

It comes so quickly that you hardly have time to duck--the blade catches the top of your shoulder, slicing your skin open. Hot blood oozes from the wound as you fall to your hands and knees, scrambling for the gun you dropped.

Bradley’s quicker than you--kicking it aside again before he grabs hold of your hair. He wraps it tightly in his fist and pulls up until you’re screaming in pain, almost delirious with it as you swing your arms to hit him.

“She needs help,” Phoenix says, panting. “Oh my--fuck, she needs help!”

“She doesn’t want us to open the doors!” Coyote says, eyes wide as he watches Bradley drag you forward as you swing your arms fruitlessly. “What should we--fuck, what should we do?”

“You really couldn’t have just stayed put, huh?” Bradley sneers, throwing you against the dirt floor. You don’t have much fight left in you--he can tell. He straddles you, pins your arms against the ground. Even your squirming does nothing. “I wanted to save you for the end, dolly.”

And you’re panicking now, screaming and fighting to get out from under him. Your heart is in your throat and your stomach is falling and you keep bucking your hips up to no avail. Again--you’re stuck. Pinned.

But this time--this time something is different. This isn’t Jake and he isn’t hurt. This is Damien and he’s setting the ax down. He’s wrapping his hands around the column of your throat as you thrash viciously, kicking your heels into the dirt. And then, with the hands that caressed you so lovingly only a little while ago, he’s choking you.

“It’ll do,” he grunts, pushing down on the soft middle of your throat. His fingers are hot as the blood caking your skin begins to crumble off beneath his grip. “You got bloody enough.”

You’ve never been choked before--not in any capacity. You work with a few girls with stories about it; strange older cousins they were left alone with, angry older brothers who used to babysit them, violent ex-husbands who didn’t like them to talk back, strangers in the night hiding in bushes, lovers in the bedroom who kissed it better. Before this very moment, you’ve never known what it means to not be able to breathe.

Grabbing fistfulls of dirt as Bradley’s knees dig into your arms, your vision is already beginning to blacken. And every time you buck your hips, Bradley weighs down on you harder.

“I wanna watch all that light blink off,” Bradley mutters, teeth grit. He’s still smiling softly, pushing down harder and harder. “Dirty, dirty girl.”

It is precisely when he says this that you realize that this is it. You are going to die. He is not going to let up and you told everyone to stay on the bus. And his is the last face you’ll ever see. And even though he’s taking your life--you can feel it draining from your stunted lungs and your purple lips--you’re glad that it’s a familiar one. In a strange, strange way, you wish that he would hold your hand through it.

“Do something!” Phoenix sobs.

Coyote hustles to the front of the bus, searching desperately for a clue of what to do. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know what he can do.

“I don’t know what to do!”

Eyes lulling to the side, muscles going numb beneath your hot skin, you see something in the haze--something bizarre. It’s Bob. He’s lying on the dirt floor beside you, watching you. His face is pink and pale and he’s wearing his glasses that are no longer broken. He doesn’t say anything at all. He just lies beside you, looks into your eyes, and moves to lay his hand on your shoulder. His hand is warm.

Entire body growing warm, heart sinking in your gut, you know that this must be dying.

Yes, this is it. My brain is being deprived of oxygen. I’m hallucinating. There are no ghosts here. Bob is gone and it will stay that way.

And then, sudden as a firework popping in the near distance, there’s a loud noise. It’s loud enough to make Bradley jump, falter--his grip slips down your throat. You can breathe, only for a moment, as Coyote lays on the horn of the bus.

All the blood comes rushing back to your limbs, all that warmth and numbness begins to fade. You know you only have one moment--just one moment to get away and you have to use it.

Because you’re covered in slick blood, because Bradley got spooked, because Coyote laid on the horn, you’re able to slip your right hand out from underneath Bradley. And in one swift and precise movement, you jam your thumb into his eye. It isn’t enough to cause permanent damage--but it is enough to make him jerk off and away from you.

“Go! Go, Gale!” Phoenix screams, pounding on the windows. “Run!”

Scrambling, taking deep breaths and coughing, you get to your feet in an instant. And before you can even think about it, you’re grabbing the ax. And then you’re grabbing the shotgun while Bradley writhes, holding both hands over his eye as blood drips down his cheek.

“You stupid bitch!” He wails. “You fucking cunt! My fucking eye!”

You’re running as fast as your legs can carry you--outside, into the heat, away from camp, and through the oak trees. You’re running as far as you can, you decide, even if your lungs are screaming and you’re still sputtering.

But Jesus Christ--you’re alive. The sun is on your face and your hair is billowing in the wind and the frogs are crying on the water and you’re alive. You didn’t die. He didn’t do it. Bob is gone.

Bradley, still holding his injured eye, stumbles to his feet. And in his haze, blood wetting his hand, he looks around for you. You’re gone--so is his ax and so is your gun.

“Fucking bitch! I’m gonna fucking get you!”

He glances at the bus--Coyote is standing in the windshield with his arms crossed over his broad chest. And before Bradley can do anything, Coyote holds up the kitchen knife in his hand--it gleams in the sunlight.

“You’re all gonna fucking die tonight!” Bradley screams.

You’re running for a long time--at least that’s what it feels like. Your arms are heavy and you’re losing blood and you can hardly see because of the bright sun. Everything hurts and you’re fuzzy, but you know you have to keep going. Keep fighting.

Behind you, you don’t hear any signs of being chased. Not yet. No snapping twigs, no rustling leaves, no grunts, no groans. You’re certain it won’t last long.

“Nightingale!” Bradley bellows, entering the woods. “Let’s just cut to the good part, dolly!”

Whimpering, you run harder and faster. Your whole body is on fire, but you hold tight to the ax and the gun. But you’re tipping over an edge, close to collapsing. So you duck behind the thick trunk of a tree, pressing your back against it.

Your heart thumps in your ears as blood rushes across your temples. You’re panting, panicking. What are you going to do? How are you going to get away? But--no. You can’t get away. You can’t run. You have to fight.

Just as your heart begins to calm, just as your breathing starts to slow, you suddenly hear it.

Hounds of Love is playing now--the tape scratched and skipping, distorted on the loudspeaker. It’s echoing all across camp.

The hounds of love are hunting

I've always been a coward

“Gale!” Bradley screams, stumbling in the woods. He knows he’s hot on your trail--he can smell how afraid you are right now. “C’mon, dolly! Come on out and let’s finish this! I know you’re tired. You’re so close to giving up--I can feel it. So, just give up. Put your neck into my palms and rest. Close your eyes and let it happen! Don’t you want to see your boys again? Bradley and Bob? Mickey and Reuben?”

He’s close--his voice is loud and clear.

Your fingers are numb with panic.

“You were supposed to save all of ‘em! They were counting on you…everybody was. Bob most of all--he wasn’t afraid until he woke up and saw the infection was spreading, dolly. But he thought you had him…he thought you were gonna help him.”

It's coming for me through the trees

Oh, help me, someone

Help me, please

Closing your eyes, you try to go deaf to his words.

No. No. No.

And when you fidget, a twig snaps beneath your feet. So you quickly lean down and rip your shoes off--leaving you in your bloody socks. But then you take them off, too--just to feel the soil and the thorns beneath your feet.

Bradley looks around the woods--the sun breaks through the canopy of leaves from up above. No sign of you, but he knows he’s close. He has to be close. You can’t have made it far--not after what he did to you in the bus barn.

From nothing real

I just can't deal with this

I'm still afraid to be there

“We were all counting on you. Your name--it’s actually the last thing that Fanboy said before he bit it. Well, before I took off the top of his head. He must’ve been panicking--scrambling, I guess. Couldn’t think of any other name but yours, dolly.”

Clamping your hand over your mouth, you stifle your sobs.

He’s lying, you tell yourself. He has to be.

Bradley’s getting angry--it’s bubbling up inside of him in that ugly, ugly way. He sighs loudly, finally moving his hand from his eye. Blood drips off his chin and into the mud.

“You’re a sad, sad little girl who can’t save anyone! You’re a sorry fucking excuse for a nurse! And a fucking coward at that! You’re hiding from me, running away from all those people you’re supposed to protect!”

I've always been a coward

And never know what's good for me

“I’m gonna head back to camp now,” Bradley taunts. “I’ll pick ‘em off--make ‘em scream for you. You’ll hear it. Wherever you are…you’ll hear it, dolly. Believe me that.”

You have to move. You know it. Even if it’s a bluff--even if it’s a trap.

So, with what strength and ammo you have left, you cock the gun. Bradley hears it--zeroing in on your location. You’re only a few paces before him, hiding behind a thick-trunked oak tree.

“There you are,” he whispers as he begins to slowly walk towards you. “Good girl.”

Shivering, you round the corner. Bradley is only a few feet in front of you, glowing beneath the afternoon sunlight. His eye is bleeding--his lashes matted with blood.

“You’re not getting those kids,” you whisper to him. You’re pointing the gun at him, the ax on the ground beside you. Your feet are planted firmly. “You’re not getting back to that camp.”

Oh, help me, darling

Help me, please

Heart pounding, pulse thumping, you stare at Bradley.

“You don’t have much say in the matter, do you?” He asks. He comes closer, knowing full and well that you won’t pull the trigger. Again, his chest grazes the barrels. He looks into your eyes--registers all your exhaustion. He doesn’t know how you’re still standing. “Just let go, Nightingale. Just give in.”

He moves slowly--you watch him, eyes glossed over, as he wraps his hand around the barrels. You don’t move to stop him--not even when your heart jumps into your throat.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. You swallow hard. “I’m so tired.”

He looks at you long and hard as he pushes the barrels up towards the sky--you don’t stop him again. He steps closer to you.

“I know,” he whispers. “Don’t you miss him? You didn’t even know when he left, dolly.”

Pain ripples across your chest, your heart constricting.

It's in the trees

It's coming

“What happens if I let go?” You whisper.

Bradley blinks at you.

“You’ll sleep,” he tells you.

Sleep. It sounds so good. So enticing. Dangerously handsome.

“Is he…” you whisper, sniffing hard as tears prickle your eyes. “Is he sleeping?”

He knows you mean Bradley--the real, actual Bradley.

“Your side is so cold,” he whispers. “Come to bed.”

Come to bed. You want to. You want to so badly.

But then you think of Bob’s broken glasses. Jake’s bloody handprints on your face. Mable’s weight on your shoulders. Phoenix holding Bob’s body. Coyote telling you the children won’t be touched. Fanboy and Payback dying together.

“I’m tired,” you mutter. A few tears run down your face as your lip wobbles. “I’m too tired to keep going.”

Hold me down

It's coming for me through the trees

He comes closer to you, vibrating with excitement.

Before you can stop it, his hand is on your hip. You know it isn’t Bradley--but it looks like him. It feels like him. You don’t push his hand away.

“Wanna go out with a bang?” He asks, grinning. He presses himself against you, his hips rutting against yours.

Shakily, your finger falls on the trigger.

“Yes,” you mutter to him. His hand falls on your throat again. “I wanna go out with a bang.”

And then the gunshot rings out. It sends birds fleeing, punctures your eardrum, makes Bradley recoil. And before he can retaliate, before he can wrap his hands around your throat--the tree branch, the one the bullet severed, falls onto his head.

He crumples beneath it with a sharp intake of breath, pinning him onto the ground.

“Gale, you--!”

Quickly, you step over him, breathing hard.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “You’re not Bradley.”

And with that, you bring the butt of the shotgun down against his forehead until his eyes are closed and his body is still.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: DAMN WTF.....I LOVE KATE BUSH

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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gingerbreadmonsters · 1 month

Text

glass jaw

or: bruised, the apple of my black eye.

graphic blood, violence, and injury warnings, cutesy gory found vampire family shenanigans. i went to the haunted theme park in the middle of the woods at midnight, and all i got was this candy apple of temptation. what's up with that? alexis being the world’s best big sister in just over 8600 words.

warnings for gratuitous blood, violence and gore, graphic descriptions of injury and intent to grievously harm, and, like, one teeny tiny moment of cannibalism. i strongly encourage you to mind the warnings, and to stop reading at ANY point if you feel uncomfortable. reader discretion is advised. minors dni, 18+ only. please consider yourself warned.

longtime readers may be aware of my sinophone!solaires hc, so ENGLISH SPEAKING READERS - for the love of GOD please check this pronunciation guide i made for the mandarin you're about to see. i PROMISE it'll help!! 💕💕💕

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s a shame. The room was quite tidy when they started – ugh, don’t say it’s got onto the upholstery again. Vampiric blood is impossible to get out of silk, and it costs a fortune to get it professionally cleaned. At least the wooden panelling in here is dark enough to hide most of the spatter.

(Thankfully, baba’s off entertaining the little ankle biters at the moment – and something about a meeting with an old friend, later on? He didn’t say when he was coming back, but it can’t be soon. Hopefully they’ll be able to deal with most of the mess before he gets back. Damned old man never wants them to have any fun.)

How long has it been? Seconds? Hours? It’s difficult to tell. She’d only come in here to sit down, feet hurting from her patrol at Wonderworld, wanting to just lie across the sofa and scroll mindlessly on her phone for an hour or two. She'd almost succeeded, too – until the furious pacing from the other side of the house had got closer and closer.

Vincent had spotted her through the doorway, carelessly cracked open, and… well. He must have had a pretty horrible day.

He’d surprised her, hurling the glass of water in his hands at her head with a sudden hiss. She’d only barely caught it in her peripheral vision, jerking back against the sofa just in time to let it whistle past her face and shatter against the far wall.

No words necessary. Vincent had snarled at her, slamming the door shut behind him, and she’d known exactly what he wanted.

It’s a habit of theirs. A bad one, maybe, but knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to break.

Heavy bodies hitting the floor, skin and spit and bone, this time it might be different. Her shin slamming into his ribs, his elbow smashing into her jaw. Blood clots underneath elegantly manicured nails, and the splinters of what used to be a wisdom tooth are spat onto the side table. It’ll grow back.

Gravity. The inescapable pull. Space bends and folds at the mercy of an impossibly strong grip, worlds and stars and planets collide, and the precious children of William Solaire once again destroy each other.

You might think that it’s madness. That it’s like some crazed, bloodthirsty, animal state that descends upon them, that it’s like they’re totally different people. You’d be wrong. Both of them are perfectly, boringly sane when it happens. There’s no madness here, no delusion – just a brother and a sister who hate and hate and hate.

She’s entirely rational when she tries to sever his spinal column with her teeth, he’s not confused about why he’s trying to rip her arm from its socket. It's never an accident. Tearing each other apart comes naturally.

Cruel spikes of broken glass glitter in Vincent's hair, the smashed mirror above the mantelpiece reflecting the thousand shallow cuts that now litter his scalp, leaking bright, scarlet blood down the back of his neck. Her forearm aches from the impact, the force of a vampiric skull smashing through the glass and into the bricks behind having radiating up through her hand, where her fingers were twisted into Vincent's hair – mostly for grip, but also to keep him from biting them off completely.

It hadn't quite worked, but whatever. She glances down at the ragged chunk of her wrist that isn't there any more, shredded fibres hanging loose, and glares at Vincent as he finishes chewing his mouthful of skin and veins and raw, twitching muscle.

He grins, wide and pretty, fangs slick and gums stained with her blood. “New perfume?”

Bastard. Like he didn't steal it off her vanity this morning, like she couldn’t fucking smell it on him when he came downstairs for breakfast.

“Depends,” she replies, and lets the fistful of dark, meticulously-conditioned and carefully-styled hair still in her hand fall to the floor. “New haircut?”

Vincent's eyes narrow, black and predatory, and, as always, she feels her mouth start to water. He's imagining what it’ll feel like to kick her through the picture window and watch her impact the paved surface of the driveway below, and she's imagining what it'll be like to dig her fingernails inside his stomach and claw out all of the softness she can find.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, the cleansing rage. Nothing but fury, white-hot and shameful as it roars alive under her skin, until she's scraped raw inside and out. The same manic look paints itself across their faces, the same sadistic glee that only comes with doing something you know you shouldn’t.

Well, they're both just as bad as each other. Perhaps it runs in the family.

She lunges, teeth bared, grabbing his shirt to try and slam him back into the brickwork – but like lightning, he lurches to the side and uses her momentum to grab her waist and hurl her bodily into the wall. Wood splinters and flecks of glass go flying as they claw at each other, blood spatter dripping down the window panes and soaking into the finely-patterned carpet.

Her ears ring when Vincent seizes the back of her head and slams her face-first into the doorframe, but she gets her own back as her broken nose puts itself back together, watching the side of Vincent’s chest collapse when she clubs him hard in the side with a metal candelabra. Sweet revenge.

Gasping for breath, he dodges out of the way of her fist and grabs her arm, pulling her painfully into the front of the heavy, wooden console table. She manages to catch his ankle with her foot as she goes, though, hooking it out from under him and shoving him down to the floor. His other hand is still locked around her wrist, so he yanks on her arm to twist himself around, landing heavily on his back instead of his front.

Luckily, she manages to keep her balance, but he can see it coming now – instead of the satisfying crunch she was hoping for, he barely manages to jerk his head out of the way so the sole of her slipper impacts the carpet instead of his eye socket. It sends a spike of pain up her shin, but she ignores it in favour of shielding her head, so the impact of him kicking her backwards into the bookcases doesn't stun her too much.

It’s kind of hilarious, when you think about it. Other families don’t cause thousands of dollars of property damage trying to violently maim and murder each other when they get bored, do they?

In hindsight, it seems almost inevitable they’d turn out like this. For a long time after Vincent’s turning, they’d fought almost constantly, and nobody had ever been able to quite understand why.

It used to be unbearable, having them in the same room together. Bitter glares and cutting remarks, sniping and biting at each other from across the table. Ba always complained about how they gave him headaches – the static whine of furious, mutual hatred, the pressure of all that blinding intensity in one place, with nowhere else to go but him.

He never took sides, and it stung every time. In her head, she knows he was right to. There aren’t the words to describe how much worse that would have made it. But deep inside, she couldn’t help the sick, dizzy feeling of her Maker abandoning her, leaving her – a necessary, instinctive fear of being cast out from the safety of his world and the shelter of his presence.

She’s his blood, she’s his, she’s his. They’re a family.

You can’t say that either of the two of them is entirely innocent. Alexis knows that there are parts of her that Vincent’s right to hate, and there are parts of him that she’s right to hate, too. They’ve both done terrible, awful things, too many to name, to other people and each other alike. Anyone else would say that one is just as awful as the other, and that with the way they’re carrying on, neither of them is making it any better whatsoever.

A boring answer, in short.

Because it’s not actually about that, is it? There’s something else too, something too tender and complicated for them to ever really unravel, the sugary decay of undeath that turns their spit to venom and their hunger to thirst. Vincent’s all the things she left behind, and she’s all the things he never had, and it’s all bundled up with the howling wasteland of the world that neither of them should ever have left.

Everyone regrets their Turning, whether they say so or not. Some regret it more than others, it’s true, but nobody gets away unscathed. The only reason it’s ever been a problem is because the House of Solaire tend to take their regrets out on each other.

(She rakes her nails across Vincent’s pretty face, deep, intentional gouges that would surely scar if he couldn’t sew himself back together so fast. He drives his foot into her knee in return, forcing the joint to fold in on itself the wrong way, and the world goes white with agony for the split second before it begins to heal.)

Sometimes, people wonder how they fixed it. How they get along so much better now, like a real brother and sister should. They never actually ask, and nobody will ever tell, but she isn’t stupid enough not to know what they’re thinking.

It shouldn’t be real. They bicker and pinch and steal each other’s clothes – she takes his keys from the drawer and drives his car instead of hers because it’s nicer, and she deliberately won’t leave him any money for petrol. He plays his music far too loudly in the room next door when he knows she’s got work to do, and eats her snacks out of the fridge without remorse, even if they’re labelled. Annoying, yes, but hardly the curse-yelling, death-threatening carnage their house used to be.

In fact, you could almost say they’re too well-behaved. They stay up late together in the living room, surrounded by every phone and laptop and tablet they can find, refreshing and refreshing the stupid ticket lottery website for the concert Vincent wants to go to of the band that she hates. They wear as many layers as they can stand and bring those UV umbrellas that block out the sunlight, so they can go out in the daytime and queue up for that pop-up event downtown that she’s been dying to go to.

Even the endless, complicated trappings of polite vampiric society are standard fare for them now. Vincent doesn’t complain when he has to stand by her vanity for twenty minutes passing her hairpin after hairpin, and Alexis waits by the front door to do his tie for him, because she’s better at doing the complicated knots that go in and out of fashion. They dress up nicely for every society ball, kissing each other on the cheek and fetching each other drinks and dancing the volta just like everybody else.

She lends him whatever jewellery he wants out of her jewellery box because it’s prettier than his. He pesters their father into letting them go to Disneyland in the evening when it’s dark and they won’t get sunburnt, three days in a row when they should be working because it’s her birthday and she wants to take pictures in front of the castle and eat the special coloured candyfloss they always have at this time of year. They proofread each other’s work documents and curl up under the same blanket on the sofa and leave their shoes next to each other by the door every day.

Shiny, red, and utterly forbidden – a devil’s deal is a wonderful thing. The apple seed of temptation took root in her sour, bloated stomach, and a shallow grave blossomed into a beautiful family tree.

It makes baba so happy that they get along now, and that makes them happy too. They’re never going to tell anyone how they do it. Isn’t there some saying about magic and secrets?

(Her arm isn’t quite back in its socket yet, shoulder screaming in pain, but it won’t stop her trying to choke Vincent unconscious against the bookcase. He spits a warm mouthful of blood and venom into her face in thanks, and knees her hard in the stomach.)

Vampiric houses are famously secretive, especially the older ones. It pretty much comes with the territory – the diet alone tends to be rather off-putting for outsiders, to say nothing of the other… well, the other habits that vampirism bestows. Generally, vampires prefer to keep the company of their own kind, and the intrinsic bond between maker and progeny is a rather powerful reason to stay.

Clans have always been compared to families in that way, and the House of Solaire takes it very seriously indeed. More so than most, although it’s not an uncommon thing. Turnings tend to isolate a person from their human friends and family. It would be remiss of their new clan, surely, not to step in and fill that void however they can?

As different as some things are, there’s no escaping human nature. If William’s taught them anything about surviving in this world, about protecting their family, it’s that nothing is off-limits. Whatever is necessary, they do without question. Knowledge, money, sex, power. Blood is blood, always. How else would the Solaire name have prospered for so long? How else will it continue?

Perhaps it’s cliche, but it’s true. Old blood means old money, and it doesn’t get much older than vampiric blood. Her world is a world of private invitations, expensive dresses, and strategic gossip – whatever you could imagine about the secretive lives of a shadowy vampiric aristocracy, it’s probably true. Champagne was made to be whispered over, after all. Long lives mean plenty of time to develop some rather particular tastes, and an instinctive thirst for blood does lend itself well to a certain nonchalance about the insides of a human body.

She’d been surprised at first, an uncomfortable revulsion that she’d had to unlearn, but she’d got used to it eventually. Vincent had too, and although it took him a little longer, he’s almost as good at playing this game as she is. Say what you will about the House of Solaire, but they are very, very good at what they do.

Nothing breeds rumours like success, and William Solaire is truly blessed. A golden name, a golden fortune, and two golden children to match.

There were always going to be rumours, certainly. Of what they might be doing behind closed doors, their ambitions for the future of their house, the secrets that lie at the heart of it. Of fresh scars in strange places, the truth of their allegiance to their father, of brothers and sisters doing things that brothers and sisters shouldn’t be doing.

You couldn’t prove any of it, obviously, and nobody ever says the words out loud. But she hears them all the same, ringing in her ears as she kisses her father on the cheek at breakfast, filling up her mind as she steals Vincent’s jacket out of his room to go shopping, and she smiles wider than ever before – because if they really knew what was happening behind the gates of Wonderworld, they’d have much more to talk about than wondering what William could possibly be holding over their heads to make them finally behave.

(In all honesty, it’s somehow more and less than you’d think. That’s not the point she’s trying to make right now, but it’s worth saying, all the same.)

They’re never, ever going to let it slip. Nobody’s ever going to know about the way she forces her brother back down onto the floor, driving her elbow into his face, feeling cartilage crack and splinter as he falls backwards in a spray of blood. He tries to scramble away, one hand reflexively covering his face, but he’s too slow - her foot comes down hard on his shin, and the scream he lets out isn’t quite loud enough to cover the sound of bone shattering under her slipper.

Vincent tries to drag himself away, fingernails tearing at the carpet, and she plants her foot on his chest to keep him in place. The break in his nose is almost fixed, crimson blood splattered all over his face, but it seems like his attention has… shifted.

That can’t be right.

He’s not that stupid, surely. What else could he be thinking of, when she could so easily crush his heart in a split second? He’s focusing on something else, but it doesn’t seem to be her – is it behind her? Is there something she can’t see? Why isn’t he paying attention?

And then, for some unknowable reason, apropos of apparently nothing… he smiles.

“What?” she spits, pressing down harder and feeling his ribs creak under the ball of her foot. “What is it?”

Infuriatingly, he chokes on a laugh, thick blood bubbling in his throat as it heals, and gestures weakly up at the wall behind her. His eyes are fixed on something there too – no, not the wall, it’s the—

“You little – fucking hell!”

She barely manages to dodge the chandelier as it comes crashing down on her head, feeling the room spin as Vincent yanks on the ceiling chain hard with a burst of psychokinesis. He manages to throw himself in the opposite direction, hand shielding his eyes as the metal hits the floor and the room fills with the deafening sound of shattering crystal.

Both of them hiss as they’re pelted with broken crystal, slicing tiny, stinging ribbons into their skin that seal up almost as soon as they appear. Shit, that hurts.

“Zhidi!”

She glares at her stupid little brother, half-crouched behind the arm of the sofa. “You’re fucking fixing that.”

“Why?” he snickers, pretending to pout, and she’s so tempted to just drag him out into the hallway by the hair and sling him down the stairs before he can finish the thought. “You’re so much better at magic than me, lili…”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, crossing her arms in the face of his unapologetic grin, “which means you need the practice more.”

Vincent groans, downcast. “But he’ll be so mad if I do it wrong!”

He huffs when she just sticks her tongue out at him in return, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Can’t you just do half, and I’ll copy?”

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes the debris from her slippers and picks her way over to the window. It takes some concentration, but she runs a hand over the splintered mess of the frame, watching as it sews itself back together. “This is my half.”

“But it’s so hard!” he whines, little brat that he is, and she hates how the obvious manipulation still tugs at her heartstrings. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa now, hands extended over the sparkling rubble of the chandelier. “You make it look so easy, jiejie…”

Alexis sighs, and begrudgingly reaches down to ruffle his hair. Tiny flakes of mirrored glass fall onto the carpet around him as she does it, slicing little papercuts into the tips of her fingers.

“You do all the light fixtures and the mirror, and I’ll do the rest.”

He looks up at her, suspicious. “Half the mirror.”

“Two thirds.”

“Three fifths.”

“Two thirds, and I don’t tell ba you dropped the chandelier.”

“Deal,” he graciously concedes, and they pinkie promise.

She rolls her eyes and pretends she can’t see him grin, knowing full well she’s being far too soft on him. “If he blames it on me, I swear I’ll key your goddamn Volante and make you watch.”

“What? No!” Vincent gasps, looking betrayed. “Don’t you know how much that cost?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says sweetly, “which is why you’re not going to fuck it up, are you?”

He mutters something unflattering in French under his breath, and she snaps her fingers accusingly in his direction. “What was that, didi?”

“Nothing.”

She smiles winningly, before waving her hand and dragging all the books up off the floor and back into the bookcase. “That’s what I thought.”

They clean up in silence for a little while, their earlier animosity dissolving unnoticed into dust. It’s slow going – neither of them are especially gifted with magic, or have very much of it at their disposal, so they have to keep stopping every few minutes or so to recover.

Before long, they’re both out of breath and exhausted, smashed crystal still crunching beneath their feet and coughing up white plumes of plaster dust.

“When’s he even coming back, anyway?” Vincent asks, peering at the tall jade vase he’s trying to coax back together. “Tonight?”

She nods over her shoulder, trying to stitch the long gash in the sofa cushion closed and failing miserably at getting the complicated pattern to match up again. “He didn’t say when, but it can’t b—”

“Fuck.”

Vincent cuts her off, staring down at his phone as it buzzes, before looking up at her with a grimace and turning the screen to face her.

I’ll be home in ten minutes. I’m sure nothing will be broken or out of place when I get back.

Of course he’s coming home earlier than they thought. Of course. Why wouldn’t he?

“What should we do?”

Christ, he’ll be furious once he sees what they’ve done to this room. If they really, really hurry, they might be able to get away with at least a little bit of it, right?

With a huff of exertion, magic builds beneath her palms, and all the fragments of mirrored glass scattered across the room start to shiver as she prepares to sew them all back together. The mantelpiece needs to be fixed, and there’s a whole section of the doorframe that’s almost totally gone, and she doesn’t even want to think about the horrible, gaping wounds in the wooden panelling that need to be repaired and relacquered…

“Come here,” she mutters to Vincent, beckoning him over to her and pressing her palms flat to his chest. He closes his eyes and nods, resting the tips of his fingers at her temples, and they slowly, carefully, start to reach out to each other.

Her threads brush clumsily against his, once then twice then three times, the connection weak and fluttering as they try to concentrate. She stretches as far as she can, searching for that familiar feeling, anticipating the sickening lurch in her stomach that she knows is surely going to come any second, the momentary freefall as her core latches on to his.

When it happens, it takes her by surprise – her knees buckle for just a moment, and she sways slightly from side to side. Vincent rests his forehead against hers to try and keep upright, and she feels his wordless reassurance through the fledgling bond.

How does he do it? Vincent’s only a few inches taller than her, even less so when she’s in heels, and yet he always seems to tower over her – the looming shadow in the corner of her eye, the impossible weight of his gaze on her through the crowd.

The perfect height for dancing, their father had said, laughing gently as they stumbled through a clumsy waltz around the living room. She’d stepped on Vincent’s toes almost as many times as he’d tripped over the hem of her long dress, a poor stand-in for the real one she’d be wearing at the summer ball in a few months’ time. Elbows up, xiaozhi. They will not be so forgiving in Marseille as I am, you know.

Magic pools beneath her skin as she siphons it greedily through the bond, flooding her core with Vincent’s stolen power, and she luxuriates in the sensation for a long, languid moment. Then, she grits her teeth, and focuses.

With the extra rush of his magic, it’s almost laughable how fast she manages to race through most of the remaining cleanup – the blood dripping down the windowpane vanishes, the claw marks in the carpet disappear, and even the mirror above the mantelpiece clicks neatly back together as if it were never broken. The slashes across the back of Vincent’s shirt close up, and all the little chunks of bloody cartilage stuck in her hair vanish without a trace.

Her brother staggers in her arms as she keeps pulling on their bond, and she manages to ease them both down onto the sofa without too much fuss, still trying to get as much of the chandelier fixed as she can. About half of the crystal is back in place, but the chain just won’t – she can’t quite—

“Enough!”

Vincent breaks away from her with a sharp, sudden breath, slumping backwards onto the newly-repaired cushions and clutching weakly at his skull. “Too much, lijie, too much…”

He gestures vaguely towards the door with one hand in what she thinks might be thirst, and she runs out into the hallway and downstairs to the kitchen as fast as she can to get some blood out of the fridge. There’s already a glass on the counter that he must have got out earlier, so she fills it up with the half-empty bottle of O positive.

Sharing their magic always does this, but once he gets enough blood in him, he should be fine in about twenty minutes or so. It’s a lot like bridging, that way. Their cores will be synchronised for a little while, and they’ll be more keenly aware of each other’s magic, but that doesn’t really mean much when their senses are already so sharp.

A vampire’s core isn’t magically rich enough to do a huge amount all at once, so sharing magic like this is generally their best bet for doing things quickly. It lets them make the most of their limited reserves – rather than working individually, one of them can keep feeding the other magic as they concentrate on the whole picture.

Her steps are quiet but urgent as she runs back upstairs with the blood, slippered feet sliding a little on the kitchen tile. How much longer have they got until ba gets back, again?

When she pushes the door open, Vincent hasn’t moved, still sprawled across the sofa with a hand pressed over his eyes. Gently, she folds the fingers of his other hand around the glass, and he mumbles out a slurred thanks as he gulps the whole thing down in almost one swallow.

She’s just about to try the chandelier again, threads uncomfortably sore and stretched, when there’s a sudden sound from downstairs. The faintest jangling of keys, the scrape of tiny metal pins in the cylinder as the lock turns, and all of a sudden—

“Hui jia le.”

Downstairs in the foyer, he doesn’t have to shout. He already knows they can hear him.

Vincent curses silently, staggering up off the sofa and disappearing off to his room as she flings whatever magic she can at the chandelier chain. If she can just get it to stay together until he goes out again, they can probably recover enough magic between them to be able to fix it properly, right?

“Lili?” Ba’s voice is soft yet confused, the quiet sounds of him taking his shoes off and hanging up his overcoat, wondering why they’re not saying anything. “Xiaozhi, where are you?”

The question is entirely redundant – they all know that he can feel exactly where in the house they are. Vincent isn’t saying anything, so should she keep quiet as well…?

No, it’ll be too suspicious if neither of them goes and sees him, so she throws one last worried glance at the chandelier and hurries out of the room. When she gets to the top of the stairs, he’s just putting his slippers on, and she does her best to keep her heart slow and her smile easy when he looks up and notices her.

“There you are,” murmurs baba, and holds out his arms for her.

Is it embarrassing, how quickly she scrambles down the stairs and throws herself at him? He laughs, strong hands catching her waist and lifting her clear off the floor in a brief, joyful circle. “Ah, I have missed you, chérie.”

“Missed you too,” she says into his shirt, curling happily into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, fondly kissing the top of her head. The Maker’s bond between them sings at their closeness, warm and comforting as it bubbles in her chest, and she feels him smile even though she can’t see it.

“Vincent is upstairs?”

“He, um…”

The words freeze on her tongue as she tries to figure out a half-truth that she’ll actually be able to say – she can’t lie outright, but she can say something that’s technically true, even if it’s not the whole story.

“Headache,” she mumbles noncommittally, and crosses her fingers that he won’t push it.

Ba hums quietly in acknowledgement, seemingly in acceptance. “I see. Was the patrol alright?”

He smooths his hand over her back in wide, slow circles, just the right amount of pressure. “No trouble, I hope.”

She shakes her head, and tries her best to relax. “Just some unempowered kids, looking for somewhere to have a bonfire. It was easy.”

There’d been about six or seven of them piled into some beaten-up old thing, driving down the abandoned road that leads to the gates of Wonderworld, clearly not sure where they were going. Even if she hadn’t spotted the dim headlights through the trees, or heard that god-awful music from the speakers inside, she probably could have smelt them coming – whatever they were drinking, it seemed less like moonshine and more like rubbing alcohol. If they go blind, it’s not her fault.

They’d stopped just before the gates, about to get out when she’d suddenly appeared by the driver’s-side window. He’d been surprised to see her, tapping at the glass until he rolled it down, and she’d taken the opportunity to have a little fun with it before she’d have to trance them.

Mm, you boys are out late, she’d drawled, leaning forwards and resting her arms along the edge of the window. Can I… help you, with anything?

She’s not stupid – she knows exactly what she looks like, and she knows exactly what to do with it. There’s always college students from the nearby towns sneaking into the woods at night, and they fall for it every single time.

Ah, it really had been cute. She’d had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way all of their eyes suddenly couldn’t stay on her face, conspicuously flicking back up to her eyes whenever she moved.

Just, uh…

The one driving had really, really tried, shifting awkwardly in his seat as she tilted her head to look down at him. Just lookin’ around, ma’am, nothin’ serious…

Nothing serious? She’d smirked at that, careful not to let them see the sharp tips of her fangs as she reached out to gently brush a stray lock of blonde hair out of his face. Honey, you’ll break my heart, with talk like that.

His friend in the passenger seat still hadn’t stopped staring, slack-jawed, and she’d pushed herself up on her tiptoes to stretch her arm out towards him, pressing the tip of her fingernail under his chin to snap his mouth shut. Oh, it was like something out of a movie! She’d always wanted to do that in real life.

I can think of somewhere you’ll like.

Foolishly, they’d all been very liberal with their eye contact – trancing them had been as easy as anything.

As soon as I stop talking, you’re going to turn this car around and drive all the way back to the freeway, and you’re going to drive all the way to the next city before looking for somewhere to have your little party. You won’t remember this conversation at all, you won’t remember ever meeting anyone here, and you won’t remember anything about me.

She’d smiled nice and wide, scarlet eyes burning into each of them in turn, listening to their terrified hearts race at the monstrous sight of her. Isn’t that right, hm?

They’d nodded in unison, the driver’s hands already back to the wheel, and she’d blown them a kiss as they drove away and disappeared back into the trees. Ah, humans.

“Well, that’s good.”

Ba’s voice shakes her from the memory, slowly guiding her away from the door and towards the kitchen. “That reminds me – you should have heard the little ones tonight, my goodness…”

“Really?” She’s curious, not having met them before. “What did they say?”

Deft fingers pull the carafe of A positive out of the fridge door, and he blinks down at the bare countertop for a second before reaching up and taking a glass out of the cupboard.

“The Aguilars are… they are unchanged, shall we say.”

It makes sense. He’d been over at the Aguilar estate tonight to meet their new blood informally, before the Summit in a few months’ time when they’ll be properly introduced. The family is always very friendly, and she gets on very well with the aunties there.

Poor Vincent doesn’t like them as much as she does, but that’s mostly to do with that god-awful girl – a cousin from one of the branching bloodlines, she’s fairly sure – who’s had a crush on him ever since he was Turned, and who follows him around incessantly whenever they’re at the same parties. It’s hilarious to watch him try to shake her off, and the look of relief on his face when she finally steps in and makes up some lie about how he promised to dance with her is well worth the hour of complaining he’ll do later in the car on the way home.

The only thing is that it’s a big family. Much bigger than theirs, and it can be rather overwhelming when it gets loud. Obviously, ba doesn’t like to say anything about it, but she can feel his headaches building in the back of her own skull – his stronger senses mean he’s a lot more sensitive to the noise than she and Vincent are.

Still, they’re far more pleasant company than the House of Bennett. The only one who can make that family bearable to be around is cousin Porter, and that’s only because he likes to add a little of his own blood to the drinks so that they actually feel like they’re alcoholic.

She nods, leaning back against the sink. “Chatty, I take it.”

“Little… ah, what is it?” Sipping his glass of blood as he leans against the kitchen table, he gestures vaguely in the air with one hand. “Little pitchers that have big ears.”

It really shouldn’t be a surprise. Big houses mean more gossip, and freshly Turned vampires do love to put their shiny new senses to use.

She shrugs. “As long as they’re not spilling state secrets yet, it’ll be fine.”

“If the state tells its secrets to the House of Aguilar, we are already doomed, mon ange.”

They both laugh, washed in the pale light streaming through the windows, and baba closes his eyes as he reaches up to gently pull the fa zan from his hair.

He likes to tie it back when he goes out, partly to stop the wind from tangling it, and partly because it’s the way he says gentlemen used to be when he was young. Over the years, he’s amassed an almost staggering collection of little clips and ribbons and pins – a not insignificant number as gifts from her and Vincent – that he likes, but he generally just wears it down when he’s at home and there aren’t guests.

The moonlight turns the edges of his black hair to silver as he shakes his head with a relieved sigh, running his fingers through it quickly to smooth it out before flicking it back behind him. He likes to keep it long, at least several inches below his shoulder, and she’s always been so jealous of how he seems to make every hairstyle he tries seem so effortlessly elegant.

“Still,” he continues with a wicked smile, “you will see for yourself when we see them next. I think they will have many things to discuss with you, perhaps.”

He tips his head languidly to the side as he pushes his phone across the table, the screen lit up with a photo of Vincent from last summer. If she remembers correctly, it’s from when they were taking a break at the summer house down by the coast – he’s shirtless, knee deep in the water, turning back to the camera with a rakish grin, dark hair already wet from the splash fight they’d been having and fangs glittering in the moonlight from above.

In short, he looks painfully, achingly handsome. Scandalised, she smacks her father in the shoulder and gasps theatrically, like she can’t believe what he’s done.

“You didn’t!”

“I certainly did.”

“He’ll die!” she whisper-shouts, trying desperately not to laugh too hard. “He’s already having trouble outrunning marriage proposals from one of them, and you’re setting the new blood on him too?”

Ba just shakes his head, imperious, looking down his nose at her like he’s imparting some grave wisdom. “They asked to see a picture of my progenies.”

“So it had to be that picture?”

“I showed your picture as well.”

Resigned, she buries her face in her hands. “I dread to think.”

“Oh, you are so dramatic, chérie,” he laments, and he even has the gall to click his tongue in faux-disapproval when she narrows her eyes at him. “See? The picture is nice!”

It takes him a second to find it, but it’s just as bad as she feared – it’s from the same holiday as Vincent’s photo, probably taken later that night. She’s wearing that nice floaty sundress she bought in Singapore, barefoot in the sand as she blows a kiss to the camera, lips still stained with blood from whatever scarlet cocktail she’s holding in her other hand.

This was exactly his plan, in other words, and she’s going to fucking murder him in his sleep. If any of those upstart little ankle biters tries to chat her up, it won’t be pretty – the last one got a cake fork stabbed straight through his hand and several inches into the table beneath it, and the one before that still visibly trembles at the sound of her stilettos clicking softly against the floor.

“If I kill an Aguilar new blood at the summer ball, it’s your fault,” she mutters threateningly, hissing and baring her fangs at him when he reaches out to take her face in his hands and draw her closer. “I mean it!”

“Of course you do, xiao gong zhu,” he murmurs indulgently, and kisses her forehead. “You are telling me, so it must be true.”

Upstairs, the sound of floorboards creaking, fabric rustling. Vincent.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” ba adds nonchalantly, “about broken things.”

Shit. She blinks, innocent as anything as she beats back the guilty urge inside her that yearns to spill the truth. “What’s broken?”

“Lili.”

He raises an eyebrow, discreetly tapping the shell of his ear, and she strains to figure out what he’s hearing. “I am old, baobei. Not stupid.”

If she listens, really listens, she can just about make something out. Another noise, something much quieter – a sort of stiff, metallic creaking from upstairs, on the other side of the house to Vincent’s bedroom…

Her smile wavers as ba swans serenely past her, disappearing out into the hallway, deft fingers picking up his fa zan from the table as he goes past. “It is nothing, surely. Perhaps you will bring Vincent something for his head while I am changing?”

God fucking damn it – she might be able to fix the chandelier without him noticing, but what are the odds? He’s meeting that friend tonight, and if he’s going to change now then it probably won't be long until he goes out, but there’s no way of knowing if it’ll hold until then.

Scowling, she pours another glass of blood for Vincent, and one more for herself, before reluctantly trudging upstairs.

It's a fact of life, or at least a fact of vampirism: you can’t really have any secrets from your Maker, and that’s even without the whole truth-compulsion thing. No matter what you do, your Maker is always aware of what you’re feeling, when you’re feeling it.

The emotional bond never goes away, though the strength of its effects ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s so faint as to be almost nonexistent, a tiny shiver down the spine – and sometimes it’s almost overwhelming in its intensity, foreign emotions bursting out of nowhere like fireworks, blindingly bright and terrifyingly loud.

For young vampires, it’s a lot to get used to. Some take years to become accustomed to the bond, while others are oddly comforted by it. New Makers are often surprised by the strength of as well – it goes both ways, but generally the Maker feels more of their progeny’s emotions than the other way around. Nobody's really sure why.

More complicated feelings don’t come through especially clearly, apparently a little bit difficult for the bond to transmit, or perhaps for the other body to decipher. But simpler, more basic emotions are very, very easy. You might even say they’re too easy, in fact. Things like fear, sadness, joy – and, well…

He must already know what they’ve been up to. That sort of anger, the instinctive viciousness that comes so easily to them. They all know from experience how quickly that can wash over the bond, twisting and curling as it spreads like dark ink through water. After a while, it stops being so intrusive – it’s just how it works, and it’s not as though they can stop it. It’s possible to tune it out, and before long it generally goes away.

But a Maker with two progenies, both of whom are busy winding each other up at the same time? Who never seem to know when to quit, chasing that addictive, acidic feedback loop of rage that only ever seems to push them higher?

Ba doesn’t mind what they get up to, per se, as long as they keep it discreet and clean up after themselves. But even so, it’s not difficult to see how it could be… distracting.

He definitely knows what they were doing, is the point. And he clearly knows that there’s something they broke that she hasn’t been able to fix yet. She just needs to make sure it’s all neat and tidy by the time he gets back later, and hopefully they can all pretend that it never happened.

“What.”

Vincent glares at her from under his duvet when she pushes the door open with her foot, crimson eyes staring out from the blackness as she gets closer and closer. The lights are off and the blackout curtains are closed, so it’s almost entirely dark, but she can make out the shape of the bed well enough.

“Blood.”

She holds out one of the glasses, not breaking eye contact until a single hand slithers out from under the duvet and takes it from her.

He doesn’t seem to have thought about how he’s going to drink it, lying flat on his stomach and sprawled sideways across the bed, and she snickers under her breath as he blinks stupidly at the glass. With a flourish, she takes the second straw out of her own glass and drops it into his, sticking her tongue out gleefully at him when he mumbles something unintelligible into the mattress beneath him.

She shrugs – it’s close enough. “You’re welcome.”

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, she watches in amusement as he drags himself forwards under the duvet so he can get the straw in his mouth without having to lift his head, occasionally poking the mound of blankets that claims to be her brother in the side to see if he can feel it or not.

(He can. She knows. It’s just funny.)

Because she’s very generous, she gets up to grab a few of the books off his desk, stacking them up by the side of the bed, level with where his face is. He complains when she takes the glass back out of his hand, but acquiesces as soon as she puts it back down on the books, army crawling towards the end of the straw that’s now level with the top of the mattress and haughtily sticking it in his mouth.

“Better?”

The Vincent-shaped duvet creature next to her slurps loudly at his glass of blood, and doesn’t say anything.

She’d use telepathy, but she needs to save all the magic she can get. Quickly, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, turning the brightness down all the way and typing a message in her notes app to show him.

He knows something’s broken, and the chandelier chain isn’t going to last long if I don’t go and fix it. Do you have enough magic to help yet?

“No,” Vincent grumbles, and coughs pointedly.

Great. How much longer?

He coughs again, baleful red eyes turning to look witheringly up at her from his blanket nest, and she doesn’t have to be able to see his hands to know the gesture he’s making at her.

Fine, she types, as sarcastically as it’s possible to be when you can’t say anything out loud, but if he hears, I’m blaming you. Distract him.

Obediently, he starts moving around again, making sure the sound of mattress springs and sheets rustling is loud enough for her to slip out of the door and towards the drawing room they ruined earlier. Luckily, it’s in the opposite direction to baba’s room, but she still holds her breath and tiptoes as quietly as she can in case he—

“Lili?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

She whips around, totally innocently, to see her father beckoning her down the stairs as several sets of cufflinks rattle in his palm. “Come and help me choose.”

Helpless to protest, she’s forced to follow him down into the foyer, umming and ahhing over which cufflinks she thinks will suit his outfit the best. In her head, though, she can’t stop worrying about that damned chandelier, the creaking sound from upstairs that she’s sure is getting louder, the increasing amount of magic she’ll need to fix it as it surely gets worse and worse…

“A good choice as always, mon ange.”

She startles slightly as baba nods approvingly, smoothly taking the silver pair she’d mindlessly chosen and putting them on, before leaving the rest in the dish on the low console table. “I won’t be back until the morning, so you will look after Vincent, won’t you?”

Hastily, she nods. “Yeah, I will, I will.”

“Alright.” He rests his hands gently on her upper arms as he kisses both her cheeks, before taking his car keys out of his pocket and heading out of the front door. “See you later, chérie. I love you very much.”

“Love you too!”

She waits the agonisingly long half-second it takes for the door to close behind him before racing back upstairs, and she hears Vincent, still clutching his half-empty glass, scrambling out of his room at the same time. They nearly crash face-first into each other in their haste, yanking the drawing room door open and tumbling through it as fast as they can.

“I thought your head still hurt?” she says quizzically to Vincent, watching his hands trembling faintly around his glass, but he just makes a face.

“The alternative’s worse,” he replies, and she nods. He’s right.

She reaches for her core, willing the magic to come – it’s slow and it’s weak, but she yanks on her threads as hard as she can to try and summon it to her fingertips. The chandelier sways ominously above them as she screws her eyes shut to concentrate, and she can feel Vincent’s aura flicker next to her as he does the same thing. Come on, come on…

She’s nearly there, power surging under her skin and ready to be channelled outwards, when there’s a sudden—

“Shit!”

The magic fizzles uselessly away as her eyes fly open to see Vincent, clutching his head in pain, cursing as the front of his shirt is drenched in blood. There’s shattered glass all over the floor from where he’s dropped his drink, and she chokes down the irritated vampiric growl that rises in her throat. “Fucking hell, xiaodi!”

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!” he moans, slightly unsteady on his feet, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Look, at least it’s not the—”

Something moves, just at the very edge of her vision.

Above her head, the room plunges into blackout as something snaps.

“Move–!!”

She barely manages to shove Vincent away from her before the heavy metal body of the chandelier comes crashing down on her head. It’s not heavy enough to knock her out, but the surprise is enough that all she can do is stand there as 15 kilos of brass and crystal and electrics falls directly on top of her and shatters.

He skitters backwards, recoiling from the spray of tiny crystal shards that covers the floor for the second time today, nearly tripping over the leg of the side table as he goes. A thousand stinging papercuts split their skin, sealing themselves up and leaving tiny droplets of crimson blood dripping down their arms and faces.

Without even noticing, she instinctively catches one of the twisted metal arms of the chandelier that must have been sheared off when it impacted her skull, raw edge snagged painfully in her hair as it slides neatly down into her arms.

They’re so fucked.

They both freeze guiltily as a floorboard creaks outside in the hallway, far too close to be a coincidence, and she winces as there’s a polite knock, knock, knock at the door.

“We—” She chokes, breathing in a hacking lungful of debris, voice cracking slightly from her dry throat. “We’re in so much trouble.”

Vincent stares wide-eyed at her through the sudden dark, blood dripping slowly from his chin and soaking into the carpet..

“Yeah,” he mumbles distantly, “probably.”

The drawing room door swings open, and both their heads snap towards the open doorway so fast it would give a human whiplash. There, silhouetted against the light, car keys still jangling in his palm and running an exasperated hand through his long hair—

“What,” hisses William Solaire, raising an irate eyebrow at his children, covered in glittering crystal dust and leaking blood into a very expensive carpet, “did I say about breaking things again?”

The clan always sticks together. Family comes first – nothing and nobody could make them betray each other, and they’d rather die than leave one of their own behind. It’s the central tenet of their existence, the core fact of their messy, gory lives.

Some things are just… true. The earth is round, the sky is blue, and there is no power known to men or gods that could turn the House of Solaire against itself.

Baba shifts his weight slightly, eyes narrowing accusingly.

And very, very slowly, Alexis and Vincent both point at each other.

link to the glass jaw pronunciation guide

main masterlist

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted vincent #redacted william #redacted alexis #redacted solaire clan #redacted porter #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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velvet-paradox · 10 months

Text

Ache

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: König x Female reader Summary: You get a concussion and poor König is beside himself and the 141 are trying their best to get you to remember. Length: LONG; I am so NOT sorry btw ;) Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, reader has a little freak out, flashbacks, sad boy König, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, detailed smut. Tagging: @synnersaint @isikforyourthoughts @stuckimaginationuniverse @howaboutlunch @pookie90 @undeadfreak47 @pokerfaceftw @dracofxckingluciusmalfoy @panty-h03 @0151imagayone

p.s. I used Google translate for the words below Bis später = see you later Bitte = please Verdammte Scheiße = holy shit

ENJOY!!!

König is worried. Fidgeting in this sterile room, everything is so white and so clean, not a speck of dust on any surface, tidy desks and stiff furniture that begs to be sat on or it'll turn into stone. He paced the room, heavy boots pounding mopped up linoleum.

His gear is still stained, hadn't bothered to wash off the combat. There wasn't any time. He had to get that EVAC out to your location as soon as possible, he'd have to apologize to driver when he found him. He was in a rush and overwhelmed with panic, he didn't truly mean to knock the woman down trying to get you into the back of the van.

But you were in danger, hurt, unconscious.

Those sorry motherfuckers had harmed his precious girl, the only one to make him smile, to make him genuinely laugh. You took him as is, all broken pieces and shattered dreams. You'd fight his demons if you could, you told him so night after night, stroking his head against your chest or stomach.

You were his grounding point. The calm to his storm.

Therefor he couldn't risk you being in this state, a flashbang had knocked you all to the ground, deafening ringing, chaos and bloodshed soon to follow. König didn't realize until the damage was done and the smoke had cleared that you were crumpled against the South wall, completely out with a trickle of blood leaking from your ear.

He made some sort of animal-like sound, it didn't even register that he'd never made that sort of noise before until he reached you, crushing and grabbing your vest to sit you up. Your head was limp like a cloth doll, König was graceful in holding you steady, checking your vitals and manually opening your eyes.

"Come in Actual! I need an EVAC immediately!"

You looked so small in that hospital bed, fragile. Foreign.

He knew you as a hellcat, fiery and hot to the touch. Ready to fight or fuck at any given chance. This version of you made him nervous. Scared him. And Colonel König does not get scared.

He checked his watch again, the rhythm of the monitors you were hooked up to only agitated him further, so that meant more pacing, more worrying his bottom lip that tasted of blood. Skin chewed up raw.

König leaned on the end of your bed making it creak under his weight. He could punch through a wall right about now, gnaw on the fucking plaster, rip off door jams and spit out nuts and bolts. Under his watch this had happened and he would never forgive himself. His eyes watered briefly before he pushed off the bedframe, your head wrapped gauze, shrapnel had made little scratches across your forehead and cheek.

Please be okay my darling girl… I can't much anymore…

König stirred awake, he'd picked up and moved the heavy chair from the window to your bedside, crossing his arms and resting his cheek on them as he watched you sleep. Your steady breathing had matched the heart monitor, smooth and calm and that's what had lulled him to sleep.

His back would fucking kill later but he wasn't too bothered. He'd do anything for you.

You made a weird face and groaned, shifting your shoulders before blinking yourself awake.

König's tank had never been so full with relief. He straightened himself up, touching your hand without the IV in it. "Oh thank God mein liebe; I was so worried. How are you feeling?"

His eyes danced over your face as you wet your lips.

"Like shit. Did I get hit by a fucking truck or what?" Your voice cracked and König was quick to jump up and fill a paper cup that was childlike in his shaking hands. He helped you to take small sips.

"Something like that. Unpredictable flashbangs with do that. Lucky we got out when we did."

"What?" You blinked up at him.

"Flashbangs. You know. Poof!" König made an explosion gesture by his helmet. "Nasty things. Effective, but still very nasty."

"I don't know what that is," you paused then and looked around the room with open eyes, clarity slipping through the cracks as you gripped the cup, brows furrowed. "I don't-- where am I? What am I doing here?"

König touched the top of your bed, concern in his emerald eyes. "My darling Ferret, you were injured in combat. Nothing broken but you were knocked unconcsous, we brought you in as soon as possible. Are you--," König didn't want to hear your answer but he didn't like to mess around the bush. Best to rip off the band-aid. "Do you know me? Do you not recognize me?"

You swallowed as your eyes grew glassy. You shook your head.

"Should I?"

His heart broke.

"It's me. My name is König , I am your commanding officer. You and the boys are-"

"Boys? I have boys? Am I mother?! Whose mother am I?" You screeched and spilled what was left of your water as you tossed off your sheet and began inspecting your stomach.

"No no. Calm down Ferret, you are no ones mother. Yet. I meant the boys of the 141, our company, Captain Price, L.T., Gaz, MacTavish… any o' them ring a bell?"

"No. Oh my God… who am I? König who am I?"

You really started to panic then, crying and kicking off the rest of your blankets, your heartrate was increasing alarming fast. König tried to shush you, calm you down, but it was no use, you just freaked out even more. You gained the attention of the nurses who came bursting into the room, pushing him out of the way as you screamed and tried to pull out the iv.

Chaos. König didn't know what to do and it was all a blur until one of the nurses in burgandy scrubs had grabbed his tac vest, forecefully and dragged him to the door.

"Colonel! Sir! We've got this, you need to leave."

Your shouts of protest were terrifying as you writhed on the bed in confusion and pain. There were too many of them, like ants swarming a downed enemy.

"Sir! Please, she'll be fine. I need you out. Now," König only frowned but took the steps necessary. "Do it for her."

The door slammed shut in his face then and all he could do was stand there and watch the blinds be slid down.

….

König growled and cursed something fierce all the way back to his dorm room, boots heavy and reminding him that much more that he would be going to bed alone tonight. With a huff he kicked his door closed, stripped off his helmet and hood. Piece by piece, he tore his gear angrily off, missing the laundry basket altogether.

His bed protested his weight as he rubbed at his face, aware that his gloves smeared what was left of his grease paint and gun residue. He hung his head, tapping his boots when he steepled his fingers beneath his chin.

He squinted down and grabbed a foreign object just by the end of his bed. Little by little, maroon in color lace looked so small in his hands.

It was one of your fancy bras.

König chuckled at the sight of it, a little light in his pitch dark tunnel. Without shame and without guilt, he fisted the light material before shoving it to his nose. It still smelled like you after several weeks and he closed his eyes.

"Bis später!" Had come from his mouth, waving off Ghost and Sergeant McTavish. He was grateful to be in his space, with his things, able to recharge after spending damn near all of his energy bank. If he were part machine, which sometimes he felt that way with how hard and focused he worked; there would be a flashing LOW BATTERY sign on his forehead.

He sighed against the door frame, barely ducking underneath it when he looked up at some sudden movement. He balked. You, you slinky attractive little devil had slipped past the guards, slunk into his room and into his bed. Growing voices made the big man struggle to get his whole body inside to block out your own, slamming the door behind him. Gloved hands still on the knob.

"Verdammte Scheiße! What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, what does it look like?" You shrugged as carelessly as you pleased. As drained as he was, he always had enough energy for your antics. A bare arm patted the bed next to you, a coy little smile on your face.

"I thought we've talked about this, no? We need to be careful about us." König said as he sat down, taking his gloves off and setting them on the floor by his nightstand.

"I'm tired of being careful, aren't you?" You grabbed his warm fingers, looking up at him.

"Yes but--"

"But what? Whose gonna' stop you? The big bad ex-KorTac boogeyman with the pretty eyes and enough documented kills to make any Narco envious and not to mention that big ol' hog--"

"Shut your face, right now!" König clamped a hand over your mouth, even though he was smiling behind his mask, bashful but a little boosted by your vulgar description. He didn't need to give the base anymore to talk about.

Your wet tongue startled his palm as you laughed, music to his ears as leaned his body against you.

"Oh come on, I'm surprised it even fits. Damn thing is the size of my arm!"

"It is not, stop that." König scolded you, a failed attempt to keep you quiet even though he was enjoying your praise.

"Oh yes it is!" You chuckled and pressed your sheet covered chest against his arm. "You should probably get a weapons clearance slip for that thing!"

"That's it!" König tackled you on the bed, his gear shifting with his weight, pinning you down. You wiggled and laughed beneath him, he silently asked how'd he get to be the one on top of you, making you laugh, smile. Men like him didn't get pretty things like you. He suspected and believed his old KorTac buddies that he'd end up settling for what he thought he deserved. Pocket lint and a sex doll. Not at all the real body of yours, looking at him like he hung the fucking moon and if he you would only keep looking at him like this, make him feel like he swallowed bees, calmed the anger and wolfish tendencies; he just might try it.

König sat back on his haunches. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

His heart stopped with your cheeky answer. "My whole damn life."

….

He dreamt of you that night. Surprised even to himself that he could calm himself down, even after a long and hot shower. He was exhausted. Scrubbing that same dirt and grime, that filth off his skin that stained your own. Maybe it was the emotions of it all, everything cresting, crumbling like bricks in his hands as you couldn't even remember him.

Maybe that's why he cried.

And maybe that's why he slept so good.

He tucked your bra underneath his pillow before he left his room the next morning, safe keeping and all that. He gave the neatly made bed a gentle pat before catching a ride with some very green, very eager-to-please rookies on a golf cart to the hospital.

"Colonel!" He stopped at the distinct voice of Captain Price, he could practically feel the mans' boots on the definitely needed to be replaced tiles beneath his own feet. "Colonel, I'm glad I caught you, old man-"

"I am not old," König squinted at Price's crinkled eyes, lost in a teasing smile. "In fact, you're older by four years, fifteen days and seven hours."

"How do you know that?" John Price paused.

"I read your file." König shrugged. He had a photographic memory, could remember coordinates from a stint in Kosovo, the delicatessen's not far from Vatican City, the look on your face after your first kiss, what color your toenails were that summer on the West Coast with the rest of the 141.

"Very well, lad. I uh just spoke with Y/N's doctors, she's been sedated, had a bit of a rough night last night, so they said. She's awake but nothing seems to spark her memory just yet."

König bit at his lips, he should've been there with you. The thought of you being alone and afraid, scared to death of all those around you being pumped through with who knows what.

"She'll come back to us big man," Price's hand on his arm was warm and the little squeeze he gave him felt genuine. "I know you two are close; just how close I haven't determined but I assume it's a heartfelt one. One that maybe goes a little more than the base and ranks."

"That's none of your business, Captain." König ground his teeth.

"You're right but I should let you know there's a little bet and a rumor going on that it's beyond professional," König straightened his back at that, shifting his weight. "Don't shoot the messanger, but the pot has gotten pretty full and I like winning."

Price chuckled as he walked away, leaving König to think more than just about you.

Your room is quiet expect for the whirling machine hooked up to your hand, your breathing is smooth when he enters, the steady beat of your heartbeat. He knew you were beloved on base and by all the bouquets of flowers, balloons and 'GET WELL SOON FERRET!' cards that surrounded your bed and side tables, he once again felt lucky to even breathe the same air as you, let alone become bedfellows and lovers.

He felt bad he came empty handed.

Until you rolled your head over to see him, a piss-poor attempt to make himself small.

"It's you." Your voice was a little scratchy and he'd hoped it was from a little nap and not from screaming in the middle of the night.

"Hallo mein-- I mean Y/N," your given name sounded strange in his mouth when he cleared his throat and crept a little more into the room. Your eyes never left him. "How are you feeling now? I talked with Price in the hallway."

"It's strange, I know you said the other day that we know each other and when I'm looking at you, like this, I feel like I should," you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, gears working against you as you laid there, eventually staring up at the ceiling. "I feel like I should know who I am and I don't. I should know you, apparently, but I don't. I don't remember anything!" you whined and palmed your glassy eyes, sniffling and huffing and all König could do was worry and reach out to touch your shoulder. "What if I never do? What if I become somebody else?"

"Don't do that, bitte. Please my dear," his gloved hand grasped your wrist and you let him, let him pull down your hands, locking eyes.

"You're taking a page out of my book and you're going to worry yourself sick. You'll come back to us." To me.

He wished and prayed that you would as he stayed with you for a little over an hour before you grew tired and again on his way to the mess hall and once more before bed.

….

"If you get hurt jus' remember lass, this was yer idea to begin wit'!" Johnny said with a grin, wobbling quite a bit on König's shoulders as he reached out to grapple with your hands.

"You know you're a lot heavier than you look." König grumbled through straight teeth, holding on to the Scotsman's' hefty thighs.

The sun was high that day on the Coast, a well needed and earned r&r retreat for the 141.

"Don't tell me you're backing out already, Johnny!" You teased, fitting your fingers through his as you moved on Simon's shoulders in the water opposite of them.

You looked incredible, wet and sandy, smiling as if you didn't just have someone else's blood on your hands three days prior somewhere in Bolivia. You two hadn't even kissed yet, just a lot of sexual tension and flirty exchanges when no one was looking or listening.

"I'm just lettin' you know wee one, I'm not above playing unfairly now."

"We'll see about that, you ready down there L.T.?"

"Ready when you are, kid."

Game on.

The guys joked about never hearing König laugh before, after your successful best two out of three chicken matches in the ocean. He felt insecure about it, covering his already covered mouth from his hood. Ghost and Johnny drank back to back beers while you saddled up next to him with a turkey sandwich and some fruit.

"I like it."

König looked over at you, sitting extra close in the sand as you dug your feet into the sand, a complimentary red on your toes as they swiftly disappeared and you ate a berry.

"Pardon?"

"Your laugh," you said inching closer so your leg touched his. "I like it. You should do it more often."

König scoffed and stole a grape from your plate, tossing it up in the air. "Say something funny then."

"I wanna' kiss you right now."

He choked on his spit and laughed again, to get König off guard was no easy task and yet you were flying through in fucking technicolor.

"Now that is funny."

"Who said I'm joking?"

As you watched your L.T. and Johnny pack up their truck, you had made sure to wave them off and as they turned out of the parking lot, with that same hand you grabbed the front of König's shirt, leaned up as far as those cute toes of yours could tip-toe and kissed him right on the mouth.

….

" 'ow about this one, we're just outside the Museum of Antioquia in Medellín, does this look familiar at all, kid? Anything abou' it? Anything at all?"

"I mean… that's obviously us. It's pretty foggy still honestly… so no."

"Alright no worries, love. How about this one? The Courtauld Gallery, we just had to go according to you to see your favorite painting."

"Am I an art major or something?"

"No. You just appreciate fine works of art I suppose."

König didn't mean to instantly get hard at Ghost's choice of words. He turned his back to you and your visitors, walking, uncomfortably so, towards the window with his hands behind his back.

You had said those same words to him once.

You two had gotten caught in an ice storm and not just any ice storm either, the kind where wherever you're at… that's where you're going be for the foreseeable future. Luckily for the both of you, the safe house had been recently restocked and insulated, thick plastic on the windows ruffled and protested the pounding wind outside. The freezing cold had slithered its icy tentacles through the cracks around the door making the fire you'd built in the little stove flutter and crack.

You only wore your underclothes, tight black thermals under your gear, frost and snow melting off your boots side by side by the front door. You crouched and added a few logs, eyeing him as he came into the living room with two mugs of tea.

He thought you were excited about the warmth from the cups but you had something a lot hotter in mind.

Thermals littered the floor, your whines and cries for more sang beautifully with the crackling fire nearby. You didn't even make it to the bed.

"Oh God König!" you panted against his shoulder as he rutted against you on the floor, creaking under his heavy weight. His cock fit perfectly once he'd gotten you off on his fingers first, it was proper to make you cum first.

He might be a little ruthless and rough around the edges but the man has manners! He rolled his eyes in pure delight when you arched up into his chest, nipples hard and legs trembling, spread enough to fit his frame between them. "You feel so fucking good. I knew you would-- aha just like that baby, fuck!"

Your head thunked against the floor, König was quick to fit one of his hands beneath it, in case it happened again. He had secretly wished it would, if only he could last a little bit longer. Your wet, gummy walls fought and milked his cock like no other, bringing him back in with a soft hug.

"Yeah? You like that huh? I'm practically devouring you, molding you to-o me." König grunted and groaned something in his native tongue before taking a bite out of your neck, loving it as you grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, his thrusting hips when he soothed it over with his gentler kisses.

"I want it. I want you so bad," he shivered at your words, his cock throbbing and threatening to explode so soon. He couldn't help it! He'd been eager for months to just maybe get a smooch from you and yet here you both are, making love on the floor in some safehouse by a fire. "I can't believe you're inside me right now. Why did we wait so long? It's so fucking good."

You whined and moved your legs higher up his waist, your knees digging into his ribs. König grabbed your leg and brought it up further, changing the angle and hitting something deep, so so deep and primal that you literally shouted his name, eyes wild and mouth agape as if you couldn't believe it was real.

Your neck bent to look at where his cock was disappearing, in and out in great, thick thrusts. Words were lost on you as all that came out of your throat was gasps for breath.

"Guess you like that too, yes?"

"YES!"

König barely had time to chuckle at your shouts, begging for more and more, it was all so hot and erotic and when you came he growled your name. He pulled out just in time to cum along the inside of your thighs, tapping the crown of it into his spend, smearing it around.

"Oh baby… you are a fucking work of art."

….

"What about some fresh air, kid? Might do ya' some good, instead o' breathin' in all this medicinal shit." L.T.'s suggestion brought König back to the present, he made a face and adjusted himself before turning around.

Ghost gave him a shrug. It had been five days after all.

"Yeah. Why not? Can't hurt, right?" You agreed. "Will you come with me?"

"She's talkin' to you, big boy." Simon voiced, startling König into a different position.

"Me? You want me to--"

"Will you?"

Simon smiled and left you to get dressed for the outside world since the accident.

König made sure to cover your eyes once you walked out into the sun, you tucked yourself into his side automatically, mumbling that it was too damn bright. He chuckled and kept you close, an arm around your shoulders as you walked the grounds.

"Can I ask you something?" You were picking at your nail beds, a nasty habit you tried to break your Freshman year of college and miserably failed.

"Shoot."

"Are we like… together? Like a couple? Simon and some of the other guys' made it seem like we're close. Like-- really close. Is that like a rumor thing or should I know something that I don't?"

König stopped, his boots kicking up gravel. "It's complicated. I am your commanding officer. Your superior. That would be inappropriate."

"Is it inappropriate or true?" you asked, stuffing your hands into a well worn hoodie. "Or both?"

König sighed, moving closer to you when a group of four young recruits jogged by. "Both."

You pursed your lips and looked around the busy base. The group of recruits that had given him a ride to see you drove by quickly, giving you both a solid but quick salute while a Staff Sergeant barked orders a few yards away.

"Is it serious?"

König cleared his throat and crossed his arms nervously. "The short answer? Yes. The long answer… is also yes."

You smiled brightly and shielded your eyes once more from the sun and from looking up at him. He swore his eyes crossed with how cute you looked, making that squinty face. You seemed content with his answer and started walking again, asking where you two had met.

"Maybe you should ask Soap about all that. Sorry, I mean Sergeant McTavish. Johnny. He sorta' is the reason for us being, well for us being close." König suggested, moving the bottom of his hood out of the way of a thick spoonful of a Rocky Road milkshake just off base.

"Well I'm asking you." You pointed your own spoon at him, apologizing when a few pieces of chocolate flung onto his forearms across the table. "Sorry."

"No worries. I rather like chocolate." König smiled.

"Tell me. Please? It might trigger something useful." You began to pout and oh no you don't, don't you dare tremble that bottom lip of yours. Oh, he could just lunge across this comically small table, break the umbrella above your heads in half and grab you and just kiss you, tell you how much you mean to him, how this limbo bullshit was driving him crazy!

König wasn't a man known for flowery words, motivational speaking and the like but he knew you so it wasn't out of his comfort to explain in detail how you did in fact meet. He talked and talked, milkshakes long gone, fries gone cold but salvaged for a midnight snack.

Once back on base König stopped in the hallway that splits from rank when you grab his hand.

"Can I come with you?"

"Come with me where?"

You swallow and look around the unusually vacant split. "To your room. Maybe it'll help. I mean, if we're together," you hushed and got closer to his side. "Maybe it'll help."

König smiled beneath his hood, wolfish and he knew how sharp his teeth were against the plump flesh of his bottom lip. "Sure. Come on."

….

"These are little… explicit." You chuckle while fidgeting with an old digital camera in his arsenal. The SD card is almost full, he knows this but he can't risk transferring them to another device. He'd stain his career if he got his tablets mixed up and not so safe or savory pictures of you and him together, were to make the rounds. The last thing this place needs is a scandal.

You tilted your head at one, zooming in and then thrusted it at his chest. "This is… are those… zip ties?"

König took the camera and knew exactly which picture you'd landed on. His mouth watered at the memory.

"Ah yes. This is the night you broke me."

"What does that mean?" You asked and sat down next to him on the bed.

A funny little jolt surged through his belly, warming his cheeks and hands as you two looked at the digital screen.

"Um uh well, I was gone on a mission in Copenhagen, it was only supposed to be a two week set up and recon, I could do those in my sleep but there was some miscommunication on their end and long story short I was gone for almost a month," König explained, thoughtfully looking at himself on the screen. "I used the SAT phone to keep in touch. We'd been together a steady two months before deployment and I didn't get a chance to give you a proper goodbye. So I promised you could have me any way you wanted."

"And I wanted to restrain you?"

"You wanted control over the situation. Over me." And you did. "Wow. I didn't think I was the dominant type. Or that a guy like you would allow it."

König barked out laughing, almost dropping it, which would have been devastating, but he managed to fumble it onto the soft mattress below instead. "Oh mein cutie, you are a terror when you get into one of your moods. Trust me. And to be fair; you've done a lot worse."

König was pleased the security officers left him alone for the night, no more nightly checks and lights out for the older man. He'd paid his dues but sometimes some fresh faced recruit would want all their other supervisors to know they'd checked on everyone, including the Colonel himself and Captain Price just a few doors down.

You'd fallen asleep after going over a handful of more photos, some more tasteful then others. Some cute, your smiling face as he slept with his large, scarred back facing you. Candids of König cleaning one of his weapons, examining knives. Holding hands. Your head on his lap. You fast asleep in one of his ratty old shirts. Obscene ones of just how fucked out he made you, gaping and leaking his spend. A few with just his fingers saturated with his cum.

You looked so comfortable and cute all curled up on his covers, hands tucked under your head. He couldn't help himself and mimicked your position as best he could, wincing and apologizing in a low whisper that he was sorry he kicked your knee. You groaned in your sleep and patted his hand.

König didn't remember falling asleep but he was suddenly incredibly warm, hot even, sweating beneath his hood and t-shirt he shifted but felt he couldn't move. He blinked and caught you holding on to him, damn near piggy-backing him. You mumbled something against the back of his head, fingers twitching and grabbing at the thin fabric.

"…König."

He flinched at the way your voice said his name. Hushed and broken, his attempt to turn around and face you failed and you grabbed him tighter. He touched your hands on his arm.

"Y/N it's ok it's me."

"Oh no… where are you? I can't see-" You whined and jerked around behind him. If only you could hear him, see him, feel him try to calm you down from whatever it was you were dreaming out. König was used to fretting and getting himself all worked up into a lather, this time he did manage to roll over, getting up onto an elbow he held both of your hands in just one of his.

"My love, wake up. If you can hear me, wake up, you can wake up now."

Your face pinched and thrashed, your neck craning at a painful angle as if you were possessed until your eyebrows finally released, your fingers unballing and then you opened your eyes. One at a time. Blinking into the inky blackness of the room.

There was just enough light coming the sunlight above König's bed, the angle nice and gentle on your face. You finally looked at him.

He tried his best to soften his eyes, let you know you were safe and in good hands not in the arms of some stranger, which all of the base had been as of late. He let go of your hands when your jugular jerked.

"König."

"Are you okay now?"

"Where am I?" you asked and he cast down his eyes to the rising and falling of your chest. "Am I still dreaming?"

"No. You're awake now. You can pinch me if you'd like."

He waited for your answer before you reached up and cupped his face, touching the masks' edge, circling around one of the eye holes before tearing up. "I believe you, baby."

Oh. Oh. OH!

"Baby…"

You sniffled and König wanted to pinch himself, make sure he wasn't the one dreaming that you'd come back to him. "I missed you."

"Oh mein liebe, you have no idea how much I've missed you." König surged and gathered you up into his arms, hooking his whole arm between your legs to bring you as close to his chest as humanly possible. He smelled your hair, rubbed his clothed cheek against yours. His hands under your shirt.

"How long was I out?"

Your voice was so light and innocent, sitting on his bed with the covers around your shoulders. He'd fixed you some tea, not the exact way Simon had taught him but close enough.

"Almost a week."

You frowned again and König couldn't help but take your hands in his, assuring you it was alright, that you were in the clear and should definitely seek the med staffs' guidance.

"A week?! Oh my God. I've been banged before but not like that."

König attempted to stifle his laugh, chuckling harder after you whacked his arm. "Bitte bitte, I surrender."

"You better! I've been M.I.A. and you're making fun of me."

Your pouting face was so damn cute König moved in front of you after bouncing his thumb on your bottom lip, holding out his hand. "I'm not making fun of you honey, it's just the way you said it."

"Yeah yeah, wait 'til you get knocked the fuck out and we'll see whose making fun then, hmm?"

"You would make fun of me?"

"In a heartbeat." Your sneer and banter held no weight and the both of you knew that. You were back to your usual self, a little froggy sur but you knew who you were, who he was, where you were and what was going on.

The head nurse in the med bay was excited to see you up and walking around, coherent and well aware of what had happened. She checked your vitals, looked at your eyes, felt around your cranium for any undiscovered lumps or bruising from being knocked back against that cement wall.

You were cleared.

She sent you off with a note and a stern 'now get some rest!'. König bounced his legs while he waited next to you, recognizing that she was the same nurse who had tossed him out that first night. She winked at him before letting you both leave.

"God I have missed you mein cutie, my little precious thing." König sang into your neck once back in his quarters, he hadn't let his hand slip from your hip since leaving the nurses station. He held you hostage in his lap in his bed, petting your face and rubbing your arms.

"How much?"

"So so much," König cooed at you, shivering from your touch as your arms circled around his neck, you snuck your fingers beneath his hood, toying with the strands of hair you could tug on. "More than I crave a hunt, a kill. Man or beast. Nothing satisfies me more than you do, my love."

"I know I've been out of it but… does that mean--"

"Oh my dear thing. Bitte! You think my mind was elsewhere while you were coasting through life? Nein nein nein, I put my needs behind yours."

"You haven't… so you must be pretty bricked up then?"

König tilted his head at that. "Not you getting medically cleared and ready for a good fucking straight away."

"She said to get some good rest, did she not?" You bit your lip and twisted the hem of his mask. "What better way then to make sure I'm fully rested then that?"

"My love… don't poke the bear."

"Is the bear in hibernation?"

He chuckled at that, letting you lean forward, pressing your foreheads together, breathing each other in. "It's summer time my dear… the bears are out of hiding."

Your eyes burned into his, as coy and cool as you tried to play it, all your intentions were naked and clear. "Are you going to be my bear tonight, König?"

….

Now usually when you were in one of these moods König wouldn't even bat an eyelash, click his teeth or spit at the thought of tossing you around, fisting your hair and making you squeal. In turn you'd leave marks and brusies only he knew were there, hidden beneath his gear. But this was different. You were in a delicate state, though medically cleared he wasn't about to go about fucking you senseless.

No. You needed to be handled gently.

So that's what he did.

Shimmying out of his clothes while you did the same, reaching out for him he went down easily, caging you in. You hummed and lifted the base of his mask, hiding beneath it with him, stealing a few chaste kisses before slipping your tongue into his mouth. König groaned and crushed his body into yours.

"Missed you so much, my love." König straightened up on his arms, looking down at you with heart eyes.

"Show me. Show me how much you missed me, baby. Bears give hugs, don't they?"

König chuckled, his hood swaying with puffs of his laughter. "My little play thing, bitte. Please. I am not a bear."

"Sure you are big guy," you cooed and moved to grab one of his hands, ghosting it over your collar, on the ball of your shoulder, settling it palm side down on your chest. "You're my big bear, aren't you?"

Oh hell… he couldn't say no to that face. With a huff he gave in, he'll admit it later that is did warm his heart that you thought of him that way. A protector. A caregiver. He'd been chosen to take care of you and König didn't agree with failure.

After a few more kisses he rolled away from you, shushing you when you whined with the loss of his body heat and weight. He curled himself behind you, easily hefting you up and over so your back was to his front, being very careful of his genitals. He calculated how far apart your legs should be, fitting them over his thick thighs like butterfly wings, making you jerk at the cool air hitting your wet cunt.

König carefully began to grope over your body, humming with delight when your hips wiggled, your toes digging into the sheets, your hands barely holding onto your tits. He teased you first, getting you warmed up, snickering as your breathing became labored, looking down your body as he played you like a professional musician.

"Please baby, please finger me already," you keened and gasped when he cupped your entire mound, feeling it pulse against his fingers. "I need to feel you."

"Ah ah ah. Already begging, what a needy little thing you are my love. Are my hands on you not enough?" König taunted, moving both of his hands to spread you open. You inhaled sharply, both of you watching as his fingers inched closer and closer to your clit.

"O-o f course but-- oh!"

He switched his tactics and instantly shoved his middle finger inside you, knuckle deep.

"Aww poor thing is fucking tight. Almost like the first time, ja? Been without for a week and already so slick," König peered over your shoulder, throbbing when he saw how hard you grabbed at your chest, playing with your nipples at his advancement. "You're so perfect."

"I'm so empty, please König, mein König."

"Empty you say? One finger is not enough for you? Nein nein you can handle another finger perhaps, maybe… three?"

You rolled your head to the side, looking back at him, an almost pained expression on your beautiful face. "Bitte."

"Oh fuck." Not you speaking his language.

You didn't make a sound when another finger plunged deep into your hole, holding himself back from just outright making a sloppy mess of your pussy, soak his fingers down to the fucking wrist. No no, he was going to treat you with kid gloves. Delicate work. He pulled them out to the second knuckle before twisting them back in, stretching you out.

Only then did you crack and keen, bucking your hips to take them in even deeper, finding that precious little spongy spot that drove you wild.

"Oh fuck yeah."

"That's what my little cub needed, ja? Should I go faster, hmmm? Get you all nice and wet to take my cock."

"Yeah yeah yeah," you nodded franticly, still squeezing and pinching yourself while he finger fucked you. "Get me wet baby, make me cum. Wanna' cum for you."

"You always wanna' cum for me. Wait until the rest of that pretty little head of yours comes all the way back, oh my love, the things you're going to remember, one should be so jealous. But I am afraid mein liebeling you will not be drenching my fingers tonight. Oh no."

"But I--"

"Tut tut little thing, you'll get to cum. That is a promise. But you will be coming on my cock instead, now roll over, ja like that, there we go. Look at you, I didn't have to explain what I meant. See, that memory of yours is coming back faster than we thought!"

König spooned you, cuddling you from behind and lifting your top leg up and over his hip while he told you to stay still, hold tight, to listen to him as he began guiding and sliding the already pre-cum slick crown of his cock between the apex of your thighs, against your sex, popping and nudging up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

You begged. Oh did you beg, he'd barely pushed it in when your arm came flying back, grabbing the back of his head, molding it to the back of your neck. When you pushed back on him König had to shut his eyes, lost in the feeling of sinking into you again. Grateful. Thankful. Pleasure bloomed as your pussy did around his thick cock.

"You're so precious like this, little thing. Mein cutie, mein sweeetness." König cupped your jaw and had you look back at him, dancing his hips into your rear, splitting you open just a little more. You hiccupped a gasp, locking eyes as you moved together as one.

"I needed this, oh shit did I need this. Several days without you was fucking torture verdammt, squeeze down like that again, fucks sake." "Is my big bear getting close?" You joked, your giggles turning into moans and curses as you gripped the back of his hood even tighter.

"Is that what you want? Want me to cum inside you, fill up your little hole?"

"Yes."

"Oh! What a filthy little thing you are, wishing to be filled up. You know my love," König slapped your outer thigh before gripping it tightly, your skin sagging with the weight they held and brought you even closer, his trimmed short and curlys getting wetter by the minute stuck to your rear. "You keep begging for it I just might have to hold you down and breed you. How about that, hmm?"

The noise you made made him whine against your neck.

"Goodness! Is that what you want?"

It took a minute for your voice to catch up to your nodding head, swallowing thickly. "Yes! Oh my God that's so fucking hot."

"You like that idea?"

You bit your lip and smiled so innocently.

You were so pretty all he could think about was breaking you in half. For a man of König's size and weight, he's very nimble and can move faster than you can think. He had you on your front in a few seconds, hoisting up your hips, dragging you back just enough. "If that's what you want… tap me if it is too much, my love. Promise me."

"Yes."

He slapped your ass. "That's not what I said."

"Yes! Yes I promise."

König smiled when you moved your head and hair to the side, then gave him a thumbs up.

Any position he was in with you felt incredible, the sounds you made, the obscenities' you called out, the grunts and tangled English weaved with German on his end were perfect. But there was something about fucking you like this he couldn't handle, he knew he had five, maybe six minutes tops before he'd lose his shit and bust his load.

You were practically sobbing at the pace, a literal face down ass up situation as you couldn't hold your body up any longer. The hard slap of skin on skin, you were panting and gripping the sheets in your hands König thought for a moment you might just tear the damn thing in half. When you turned to look at him over your shoulder he damn near came right then. Eyes glassy, eyelashes wet and clumped together, lips pouty and full.

Of course you had to bit your bottom lip at him looking like a holy hell mess.

König shook his head and swore in German, lurching over your back, his sweat keeping him glued to you as he lifted his hood and sloppily kissed you. You cried out when he did, wailing that you were close, that you going to cum. König clumsily reached below you and started rubbing your clit.

"Faster faster, fuck that's it. Oh my… König. Mein König!" Your body dropped as you came, pulsing your gummy walls around him, he was pretty much using you as fleshlight at that point. Your body loose and limber, pliant and soft in the best way possible.

"That's it baby, are you gonna' cum inside me? Don't waste it." You drunkenly laughed, pushing back when you got your voice back.

"Oh I'm not wasting a damn thing, my love." König pulled you back once more, angling himself with one foot on the bed, fucking into you deeper. You were lucky he was still being careful because the intrusive thought of really giving it to you, harshly, harder and pushing your face into the bed was not an option. Not this time anyway. "You're gonna' be a good girl and take what I give you, ja? You want my load so badly, so fucking badly don't you? We're not wasting a drop, anything-- fuck you're so wet baby… anything leaking is going right back in. Understand?"

"Yes! I want it I want all of it. Don't take it out don't take it out." You whined and without him even asking, your had crossed your wrists behind you back, giving up control, submitting.

König wasn't lying.

He did in fact spill inside you, throbbing rope after rope into your cunt. König hung his head, panting, counting his heartbeat before he eased his way out of your hole. Mesmerized by the sight of a glob or two dripping out he slowly and very, oh so carefully guided back into you. You squirmed, sore for sure as he looked you over.

"Are you alright, my love?"

The thumbs up you gave him was all the assurance he needed. He chuckled lowly, the ache he felt for you, warmed him through as he smoothed a hand down your back.

#könig #konig x reader #konig x female reader #konig imagine #konig fanfiction #könig x reader #konig cod #konig fan fic #possible part two #you know i love the big man

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blueraineshadows · 1 year

Text

Her Gryffindor

Part 3 of my Leander series

Part 1 - It's Not a Date 🌶🔥

Part 2 - I Don't Kiss and Tell 🌶❤️

Leander Prewett x F!MC 🔥🌶❤️🔞 NSFW

She couldn't find Sebastian anywhere and the panic was starting to set in. She hadn't seen Leander either and her mind was creating all sorts of awful scenarios. She didn't want either of them to get hurt.

MC wasn't one for tears. They were a sign of weakness and she tried to avoid it if she could, she had learnt at a very young age to hide her weaknesses to avoid being bullied. It was a habit long practised. However, right now, she could feel the burn of tears at the backs of her eyes.

It was an unfortunate side effect of being close to someone, she realised. When you let them in, there was the potential to get hurt. Holding people at arm's length prevented it but, the closeness she now shared with her friends was something she would fight for, hurt for. They were worth it.

The sun was setting. She had missed dinner, but she wasn't hungry. Feeling tired, her throat still aching after the choking experience in the forest, she made her way to the Slytherin common room. The great snake door slithered into place and she entered, the cool ambience soothing as she descended the staircase.

Imelda rushed towards her as soon as she entered the common room. "Finally," she said, taking her arm. "Where on earth have you been?"

"I was looking for..." MC trailed off. Sebastian was sitting on the sofa, head in his hands. Ominis was beside him, his face set in cold disapproval. MC's stomach clenched.

"What happened?" She asked. She looked at Imelda and Imelda winced.

"They had a fight," she said. "Sebastian and Leander. And not a fight with wands either, although it did start that way. It ended with fists."

MC stared at Sebastian, but he wouldn't look up at her. She looked back at Imelda. "Where's Leander?"

"Not sure," she admitted. "The fight was in the Viaduct Courtyard after dinner. We broke it up before any professors came along. I think Garreth took Leander away."

MC sighed, but Imelda wasn't finished. "Erm, everyone knows. About you and Leander. There was a lot of shouted insults..." She trailed off, throwing an evil glare Sebastian's way.

MC moved towards Sebastian, standing before him. Still, he would not look up at her. "Look at me," she demanded.

Ominis sighed. "Don't be a fool, Sebastian."

Sebastian looked up at her. MC sucked in a swift breath. His face was fairly banged up, Leander had certainly given his fair share of hits. She folded her arms, resisting the urge to take a closer look at his bruises and cuts. "What were you thinking?"

"He wasn't thinking, that's the point," Ominis muttered. "Lashes out first, to hell with the consequences."

Sebastian glared up at her, face hard, cold. "What were you thinking? Letting that filthy Gryffindor put his hands on you."

MC flinched. "I didn't realise I needed your permission," she snapped. "Last time I checked it was my body."

Sebastian stood in one fluid motion. "Last time I checked you were mine to touch, now you're putting it out to him, of all fucking people MC. It's disgusting!"

Her hand flew up without even thinking about it. The slap she delivered to his cheek resounded sharply across the common room, his head swinging viciously to the side. Her palm stung from the impact and she wrung her hand, wincing, her breaths coming in quick gulps.

Both Imelda and Ominis gasped in surprise.

"Bastard," MC hissed. Those tears that had threatened earlier welled up in her eyes, hot and fast. She tried to gulp them back, but it was no good. They spilled free.

Sebastian stood still, stunned. Then, slowly he swung his head back to look at her. His cheek was reddened where she had struck him, adding to the already colourful array of bruises. His eye was watering on that side, leaking down his cheek as if he was crying too.

He said nothing, just stared as he wiped his cheek dry with his hand. MC choked back her tears, backing away from him. She couldn't stand this. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid.

Imelda moved towards her. "MC..."

MC held up her hands. "No, please," she sobbed. "Don't touch me. I need...I'm sorry. I can't do this."

With one more heart broken look at Sebastian, she ran for the stairs. She had to get out.

....*....

Leander hissed as Garreth wiped a cotton pad soaked in potion over the split on his eyebrow. Sebastian had thrown a few good punches, but Leander had tackled him down to the ground pretty fast. He grew up wrestling with an older brother, he knew how to fight when he needed to.

Garreth gave him a rueful smile. "I guess there won't be any need for sneaking around anymore after this," he said.

Leander gave him a grim smile. "That's if she will even speak to me. I made a bit of a mess of Sallow's face."

"He did kind of deserve it though," Garreth said. He dabbed at the cut again, and not that gently. Leander swiped the pad from his fingers and did it himself. Garreth grimaced. "I don't think he will be coming back for another pop at you, though. Nice moves there, mate. I'm impressed!"

"I can't believe she told him and didn't warn me," Leander said. "I haven't seen her all day."

Garreth shrugged. "Maybe she didn't get a chance to. Sebastian was rather wound up, maybe they argued too. I'm sure she will talk to you about it, mate. Try not to worry."

It was late when Leander finally went to bed. He wasn't even tired but thought he had better try. Tomorrow was the last exam, and he should get some sleep. He wondered if MC was okay. He missed her, ached for her, worried that this was the beginning of the end.

Feeling restless, and drawn to the desire of being near her, he dressed and slipped quietly from the Gryffindor common room. Walking the castle at night was oddly peaceful, and he arrived at MC's secret room in no time. He thought about leaving a note for her there, a point of contact in the hope that she wouldn't slip from his grasp.

There was no need for a note. She was there, sitting huddled against the cushions by the light of a single candle, her face blotchy and tear streaked. She looked up in surprise to see him in the doorway.

"Leander," she whispered.

His brow creased in concern as he entered the room. "Are you alright?"

She stared up at him, and then her face crumbled, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. She held her arms up to him and he immediately hurried to her. He dropped to his knees and pulled her into his embrace, cradling her head against him.

Her fingers clutched at his robe as she sobbed against his chest. He rocked her, smoothed his hand over her hair and pressed light kisses onto her head. He hated seeing her like this. She was strong, stubborn, fiery, and seeing her so sad broke his heart.

"It's alright," he whispered. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. It's going to be okay."

Her tears slowed and she wiped at her cheeks. She lifted her head and studied his face, her fingers tentative as she explored the cut and bruising to his jaw. "Does it hurt?" She whispered.

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," she said. "You didn't deserve this."

"It's not your fault," he said. He took her chin in his fingers, his thumb brushing her lips. "I just hope it hasn't changed anything between us."

"No," she said, immediately. She shook her head and held his face in her hands. She held his gaze, her eyes shining from her tears. "I'm not letting you go."

His heart fluttered in his chest. He soothed her tears from her cheeks and bent to press a soft kiss to her mouth. She kissed him back, so soft and gentle. When she looked at him again, the intensity in her gaze stole his breath.

Something was different. Her kisses were slow, seductive even, and she kept eye contact with him as she slowly removed his clothes. Her kisses were soft as she pressed them to his throat, his shoulders, her hands smooth and sensual as she caressed him.

She pressed her nakedness against him, arching upwards as though hungry for the contact as he lay above her. He kissed away her tears, his mouth lovingly pressing kisses over her breasts, his hands cupping them and relishing her soft moans.

She rolled them both, straddling him, rolling her hips against him, her gaze burning into his. He smoothed his hands over her hips, tracing the exquisite curve of her waist. She guided him inside of her, arching as she took him deeper. He groaned, squeezing her perfect backside as she began to move.

There was no urgency, just a slow build of desire, he moaned, whispering to tell her how good she felt, how much he wanted her. His hips rocked to meet her sensual rhythm, his hands holding her firmly by the hips.

Afterwards, they lay together, wrapped closely in each other's arms, and he pressed soft kisses to her hair. There was no doubt. He loved her. He could feel it, like a warm blaze in his chest. It almost hurt, how precious and amazing she felt here in his arms. It didn't matter if she didn't feel the same, he would still love her.

They didn't return to their common rooms that night, they made a make shift bed on the rug and slept in each other's arms. Nothing had felt more right.

....*....

MC picked at a slice of toast, her stomach a ball of lead. Today was the last day of exams. School was almost over. It was bittersweet. She looked across the Great Hall towards the Gryffindor table, Leander's eyes finding hers immediately, his soft smile loosened the tension a little, and she smiled back.

Something had shifted between them, something soft, fragile, and she felt the need to protect it. She sighed and gave up on the toast. A gentle hand reached for hers and gave it a squeeze. She looked down at the slim, pale hand and instinctively leant her shoulder against Ominis. His calm, steady presence beside her was a comfort.

"He will come around, MC," he said, quietly. "Even if I have to nag him from dawn till night. You know what he is like, brash, stubborn, foolish. But underneath, he loves you. I think that's half the trouble."

MC frowned and squeezed his hand. "He's an idiot. Why didn't he say anything sooner if he wanted more from me? Maybe I would have given it a try, I don't know. I always thought it wasn't like that. But, its too late now. I have feelings...I like Leander, Ominis. I want to try with him."

Ominis smiled. "Then be happy, MC," he said. "But don't get too swept up in your new romance. I will expect to see you once we graduate. I am going to miss our morning chats."

Oh gods, she felt the burn of tears again. She sucked them back and lay her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Ominis, you're my family now. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

....*....

It was done. MC had done everything she possibly could have when it came to exams, and now she was free. She walked the grounds of the castle, the warm summer sun on her back. She had organised a room in Hogsmeade, a temporary place to lay her head while she figured out a more permanent solution. The shop was doing well, so she had an income.

Hogwarts had been the first real place she could call a home, with people she cared for. It was going to be a wrench to leave here, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to take that leap. It was scary.

Sebastian was ignoring her. It hurt, there was no way to hide from that. But she wasn't going to go running to him this time. She loved him, missed him, but she had forgiven him so much over the years. This time he needed to earn it. He needed to be sorry. She was not going to apologise for falling for someone else.

Yes. This softness in her heart, this glow that lingered after Prewett had touched her, it was a delicate little flame that was being nurtured by every long look he gave her. His hands stirred it, his kiss made it flare hotly, but most of all, his presence was a comfort that she was easing in to.

As she made her way towards the Summoners Court board, she saw him playing a game with his sister. Muriel's giggles drifting across the lawn as her ball rolled off the board and Leander laughed, bending to help her have another go at it.

"Room for one more?" She asked. They both turned to her. Muriel smiled brightly and clapped her hands. "MC, it's you! Yes, please come and help me beat my oaf of a brother," she said. She grabbed her hand and dragged her up onto the boards.

MC met Leander's gaze, her smile for him a delicate curve, a secret exchange of awareness between them. He didn't touch her, just smiled, the soft smile he reserved only for her.

"Maybe we could make this a little more interesting," he said. "Winner gets a prize?"

"Oo, what's the prize?" Muriel asked. She looked between the two of them and a sly grin curved her lips. "How about you two play and the winner gets a snog?"

MC smirked at Leander. "Isn't that how this all started in the first place?"

Muriel frowned. "How what started?"

Leander blushed and dipped his head. "I still say you lost on purpose."

Muriel gasped. "Merlin, you two have already snogged haven't you?"

Leander ruffled her hair. "None of your business," he grumbled. "Come on, let's play. Winner gets a box of treats from Honeydukes."

MC was amused at his bashfulness. She hadn't thought he might be shy about public displays of affection. She decided to take matters into her own hands though, and moved to slip her arm around his waist. He looked down at her in surprise, his cheeks darkening further.

She looked up at him, uncaring of who saw, and winked. She looked at Muriel and smiled. "You were right about his hugs, Muriel," she said. "They really are the best."

Muriel did a little dance and clapped her hands. "My brother and the Hero of Hogwarts," she squealed. She rushed to wrap her arms about them both, the three of them squished into an embrace. MC laughed in delight, returning the sweet girls affection. When her eyes met Leander's she almost couldn't breathe at what she saw in them.

Suddenly, life after Hogwarts didn't seem so scary after all. She smiled, and tried to convey the warmth in her heart as she gazed back at him. The words were there, buried deep, but she wasn't ready to voice them yet. She was savouring them, learning to appreciate what they meant. But, she would tell him. She just needed to be ready.

....*....

The 7th years were gathered in the Great Hall, the headmaster and Professor Weasley on the platform preparing to hand out the slim envelopes containing their futures, their NEWT grades.

MC wiped her hands on her hips nervously. So, she owned a shop, she wasn't preparing for some huge career, but those results would show if she really had earned her right to be here. Her throat was dry. Fear was a tricky thing, and usually she faced it head on, solid and true. Today she wasn't so sure.

A steady hand on her lower back made her sigh. She looked up at Leander and managed a tight smile. "I just know you will have the best grades," she said. "You're a bit of a nerd after all."

He chuckled. "Thanks, I think," he said.

She bit her lip as she looked up at him. "Oh, it's definitely a compliment, Leander. Nerds are very attractive in my opinion."

They stood holding their envelopes, staring at them. "You first," she said.

Leander nodded and ripped the pale cream envelope open, pulling out the parchment and scanning the page. MC held her breath. Then he laughed. "Fuck! I did it!"

She hurried to look at his results. He was right. He had smashed it, despite her dragging him off and distracting him. There was another envelope inside and he pulled that out, a confused frown on his face. When he opened this one he paled, and then a bright flush soon followed.

"I've been accepted on to the professor training program," he gasped. His hands shook. "I can understudy here, at Hogwarts..."

He had to stop, swallowing hard. MC felt her heart squeeze for him. It was what he had wanted. And a selfish part of her was inwardly screaming. He would be close to her, she could see him everyday once term started again.

Ignoring the other students in the hall, the staff, everything, she threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off his feet. She squeezed him so hard he grunted, his arms coming around her waist. "You deserve this," she whispered fiercely. "I am so proud of you."

He was choked. He merely nodded and looked at the acceptance letter again, shaking his head. He mentally shook himself and gave her a nudge. "Now you, open yours," he said.

She stared at her envelope and hesitated. She thrust it towards him. "I can't," she said, flushing.

He pushed it gently back towards her. "Come on now," he said. "Surely some of that Gryffindor bravery has rubbed off on you. You've got this."

He was right. With a deep breath, she opened her envelope and stared at her own results. Her lip trembled. Top marks across the board, even in Arithmancy, and she owed that to him. She nodded, words escaping her. He took the parchment to see, and then it was her turn for a bone crushing hug.

It might not have meant a whole lot to some, but those results were the proof that she belonged in this world. She had earned every last one with her very blood. But she hadn't done it alone. Her friends had helped her. A tight sadness clenched her heart, missing the one who had always been at her side since day one.

She looked up at Leander. "Give me a minute?"

"Of course," he said.

She slipped from his arms with the promise to meet back up with him shortly. She clutched her results in her hand and moved through the hall, chatting quickly with some friends and sharing their congratulations, but there was one face she needed to see.

She caught the back of Sebastian leaving the hall, alone. She hurried after him. He'd always had a quick stride, but she jogged to catch him up, reaching for his arm. He halted, his surprised gaze meeting hers.

She held up her parchment. "I did it," she said, softly. His eyes dropped to her grades, scanning them quickly. "I just wanted to thank you. I couldn't have done half of it without you, and I appreciate it. I didnt want you to leave without knowing that."

He nodded, his eyes guarded. "You're welcome," he said. "And you shouldn't be surprised. You are a brilliant witch, MC. One of the best." His smile was small, sad.

"What about you?" She asked.

He shrugged, easy, carefree. "I did alright, enough to see me right with the Ministry."

"I didn't doubt you for a second," she said. She turned awkwardly, a little nod to him as she made to leave.

His hand caught her robe and she paused, looking back. He stared at her a moment before pulling her in for a tight hug. He buried his face into her hair. "I'm sorry, for everything," he said. His fingers were in her hair, sliding through to hold the back of her neck. "Be happy, MC. That's all I ask."

She swallowed thickly and returned his hold on her. "As long as you promise me the same," she murmured. "I love you, Sebastian."

"Not how you love him, though," he said, pulling back from her. He brushed his fingers under her chin, his smile beautiful. He bent to press a light kiss to the tip of her nose and smirked playfully. "Just remember though, if it doesn't work out with your Gryffindor, you could always come and find me. You know I can never say no to you."

She blushed and swiped at his hand, a laugh bubbling up her throat. "You're a bloody nightmare, Sallow," she sighed.

He grinned and stepped away from her, hands sliding into his pockets. "Don't be a stranger, MC. Come and visit us in London. You're always welcome."

"I will," she said. "As I said to Ominis, you're my family now. You're stuck with me."

She watched him walk away, robe billowing out behind him, the familiar swagger of his step making her smile fondly. He was a rogue, and she would miss him. But, she had her own path to tread now, and she needed to get back to it.

....*....

Summer was in full force and slipping by quickly. It had been busy around the family farm, and Leander had been lending a hand, helping with the harvest and around the house. But today, he was waiting at the train station. MC was coming for her promised visit, and his heart ached to see her. The frequent owls they had exchanged wasn't enough. He craved her skin, the mischievous flash of her eyes.

When she stepped from the carriage, her hair swept up, soft strands framing that perfect face, he stilled. Her beauty slammed into him, the days apart had only magnified what he had been missing. A strong surge of imposter syndrome swept over him and he was rooted to the spot, heart hammering. Why was she here to see him?

She turned, eyes searching, and then she saw him, her lips lifting into the smile that he could never resist. She ran, her heels clicking on the platform, she dropped her suitcase without a care and launched herself at him. He unfroze his limbs in time to catch her, sweeping her up off her feet and burying his face into her soft sweetness.

Fuck, he had missed her.

She leant back, cupping his face in her hands. "I've missed you, Gryffindor," she said. She pressed her lips softly against his, searching his mouth, moaning quietly into his kiss. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "All the way here, all I could think about was how I want you to sneak me off somewhere and fuck me until I can't breathe."

He gasped, desire flooding through him, his cheeks colouring up at her words, and right here on the train platform no less! Her smirk was wicked and she kissed him again. "Not lost for words are you? Or, have you gone off me now?"

"No fucking chance," he said. "You know, I always thought Slytherins were meant to be cold and ruthless, but you are hotter than a firecracker!"

She smirked, wickedly. "Get me alone and I can play ruthless if you want me to, I do like a good tease."

He let out a desperate groan, his cock already aching to be buried inside of her. He put her feet back down on the ground and kissed her forehead. He took hold of her hand. "Let's get you home."

....*....

The Prewett home was cosy chaos. That was the only way MC could describe it. It looked lived in, loved, and his family were equally as charming. She sat at the kitchen table, a large mug of tea in front of her and a plate that was literally a mountain of homemade cookies.

Mrs Prewett was fussing around her, ensuring her every comfort. Leander had been right about her being small, and he had already received a slap for patting her on the head over lunch. MC had smothered her giggle, and Muriel had been her little partner in crime when it came to getting a blush out of Leander over the table.

She had been made to feel most welcome, not even the brief second of silence at the revelation she was a Slytherin had dampened the mood. The Prewett's were not judgemental in the slightest.

George, his brother, was even taller than Leander, his arms and neck strong from labouring on the farm. He bent to take a cookie from the plate and gave her a little wink. "What are you doing with our Lee then, MC? He is definitely duelling above his weight with you," he chuckled. "I can't believe he had the nuts to go after a Slytherin."

Mrs Prewett gave a little cry of protest and smacked his leg with her tea towel. "Watch your language in my kitchen, thank you very much," she scolded. "And in front of our guest too!"

"Your brother is very charming, actually," MC said. She thought about the night in Hogsmeade, when she had made him chase after her, his reward her kiss. "Let's just say he was relentless and I was powerless to refuse."

George quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds intriguing, do tell," he grinned.

"Right, that's it. Tea break is over," Mrs Prewett sighed. She gave George a nudge towards the door. "Go on, back to work."

MC pressed her lips together, fighting her smile as George was shooed out of the kitchen, his hand making a grab for one more cookie as he went.

Mrs Prewett gave her an apologetic look. "Forgive my firstborn," she said. "Like all the boys in this family, their mouths tend to land them in hot water more often than not."

MC smiled. "No apology needed," she said. "My skin is thicker than it looks, and I'm not afraid of a bit of banter."

Mrs Prewett settled into the chair adjacent to her. She gave MC a scrutinising look. "My Leander has done nothing but talk about you since he got home from school, it's rather sweet if you ask me," she said. "He was always such a shy, awkward boy. He seems different somehow, more confident. You make him happy."

MC blushed and lowered her gaze, she fiddled with her mug. "He makes me happy, too."

Mrs Prewett's smile was knowing. She gave MC's hand a little pat, and leant in to speak quietly. "I was watching you both at lunch, the little looks you two share. I remember what that feels like, dear," she said, warmly. "I've put you up in the spare room, but don't worry about the creaky floorboards. Mr Prewett sleeps like a log, and I know how to turn a blind eye." She tapped the side of her nose and winked.

MC gasped in surprise. "Oh...I..."

Mrs Prewett chuckled and stood, waving off her protest. She went to fetch the tea pot. "Top up?" She filled MC's mug. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Just make sure you're taking the potion. No babies just yet, plenty of time for them after you two have enjoyed time alone together."

MC gaped and shifted in her seat awkwardly. Babies? Potions? Mrs Prewett speaking to her about intimate things? She'd never had a mother, never had these talks with anyone other than gossip in girls bathrooms, or the school nurse.

Mrs Prewett seemed to see her discomfort and she put her hand on her shoulder. "Sorry, did I embarrass you? Forgive me," she said. "I can be a little blunt sometimes I suppose. But, Leander told me about you, that you are an orphan. If you ever need a woman to talk to, please, come to me. I know how scary things can be when you're trying to find your way. My door is open to you, to both of you. Whatever makes my boy happy, makes me happy. And you put the best kind of smile on his face."

MC stared at her. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. In less than a day she had been accepted with open arms. It was staggering. "Th...thank you," she whispered.

Mrs Prewett squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Right then, let me get a glass of something cool for Lee, shall we? He's working hard out there in that sun, you can take it to him, spend some time with your man."

....*....

Still a little overwhelmed, MC wandered across the yard towards the sound of an axe hitting wood. Leander was swinging it, chopping fire wood, a pile of split logs gathered beside him. MC paused in her step. He was shirtless, sweating, she stared at the ripple of lean muscle as he swung the axe down. A little sound left her throat and she was tempted to take a gulp of his drink that she held in her hand, because Merlin! She was suddenly parched.

She moved closer and he paused, smiling as she held out the glass. He took it and drank deeply, his throat working, beads of sweat trickling down his neck.

"Give me that," she demanded. She took the glass and put it on a nearby wall and grabbed his hand. "Come on, now, Prewett."

"What...where?" He stuttered. "I need to finish those logs."

"Sod the logs, I want you. Now," she gasped. She eyed him hungrily. "Fucking hell, you're so..."

She groaned and pulled him in for a kiss. "Where..." She was panting. "Before I lose my shit in your mother's garden."

He chuckled and dragged her down past a shed, the pair of them giggling as they ran down a dirt path and into the shadowed cool of a barn. There were huge bails of hay stored in there and he led her around into a secluded corner, backing her up against the bales, his mouth hot and hungry on hers.

She slid her hands over his sweaty chest, moaning, grinding her hips hungrily against him. "Gods," she groaned. "This is fucking hot, I love you like this, all sweaty and filthy."

His mouth was on her neck, sucking deeply, and she slid her hands inside his trousers, seeking his hardness. He squeezed her backside, sliding up her skirt, and she wrapped a leg around his waist.

It was frantic, breathless, he thrust hard and fast and she dragged her nails up his sweaty back, her own back scraping against the prickly hay bales.

He knew what she liked now, his hands seeking out her pleasure, and she came apart under his care, biting her lip against the climax that ripped through her. She clung to him, she had missed this, the connection their bodies made. They just clicked together, the bond growing ever thicker. She was beginning to wonder why she had ever hesitated over him.

She bit his lower lip and urged his own release out of him, watching as he gave it to her, his cock buried deliciously deep. Oh, fuck, she had it bad. For the first time in her life, she thought she would be willing to put her heart in someone else's hands.

....*....

It was late, the moon was high and the sky was a blanket of stars. Leander leant his head against MC's where it was settled against him. She was sat between his legs, back to his chest, his arms securely around her as they sat on the roof. They had climbed out the window on to it, something he had been doing ever since he had been able to.

The wide spread of rolling countryside spread out before them, his father's fields and beyond draped in shadow. The night was still warm, and they were in nothing but their nightclothes, and he was savouring the moment. It was pretty damn close to perfect.

She shifted a little, tilting her face up to his. He smiled and kissed her forehead. She was toying with one of his hands, stroking her finger tips along his knuckles like she always did.

"I love you, Gryffindor," she said, softly. "I hope you realise that."

Her words were so soft, he thought he might have misheard her. The roof felt like it shifted underneath him and he thought he might topple off, his arms tightening around her instinctively. "You...really?" He stared at her, stunned.

She smiled and shifted to take his face into her hands, she put her nose against his. "I love you," she said, louder this time. Then she tilted her head back, a laugh spilling from her lips, she called out. "I love Leander Prewett!"

He grabbed her closer, pressing a hand to her mouth as she giggled. "Shush, you'll wake everyone!"

"I don't care," she said. "I want the whole world to know. I love you."

He thought he was going to cry. His throat closed up. "Girls like you don't love boys like me," he choked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked. "Now you listen to me, Prewett. You're smart, generous, kind, and you make me happy. Not to mention the way you make me feel when you fuck me the way you do, mmmm...gods, its so good."

He stared, heart pounding. He brought his fingers to her face. "But, you are so beautiful, so powerful, you could have anyone you wanted," he said.

"And I choose you," she said, simply. Then she frowned. "What's the matter with you? Are you trying to talk me out of it or something?"

"Gods, no!" He said, holding her tighter. "I'm never going to let you go, not ever. I love you too, so much. I just didn't think you would feel the same way about me, but that didn't mean I would stop. I would love you wherever you were, because you're you."

She smiled and kissed him, sliding her arms around his neck. Immediately, their passion began to burn, and she shifted again, trying to press up against him. Their balanced wobbled and they froze. He gasped. "Maybe we should get off the roof," he suggested.

She giggled. "Yes, because falling off is not in my plans for tonight."

"Oh, really?" He asked. He slid his hand downwards, dipping them under the hem of her pyjama top to seek out a deliciously soft breast. "And what are these plans? I'm afraid there are no graveyards around here to seduce me in."

"I thought we could take a blanket out to that barn we were in earlier," she whispered. She sucked his lower lip. "You can take me for a roll in the hay, farm boy. What do you think?"

He moaned appreciatively, kissing her, aching for her. "Anything for the girl I love."

Thank you for reading. I hope that my fic shines a little light on this side character. It has been a fun ride learning about who he could be, and how MC would fall for him. ❤️

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #leander prewett #leander prewett smut #mc x leander prewett #leander prewett x mc #blueraineshadows

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