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honeyhae-svt · 3 months ago

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🍪last christmas - y. jeonghan☕

y. jeonghan x gn!reader

december with seventeen ! 2/13 tags: jeonghan x reader, jeonghan fluff, seventeen fanfiction, holiday au, ex au, christmas love story, fluff, bittersweet love, exes to lovers(?), happy ending, romance, reader insert, cozy vibes. kisses (mwuah) genre: romance, fluff, christmas, holiday au, slice of life, really mild angst warnings: none (it’s pretty wholesome, so unless you have themes of anxiety or past trauma you have with past relationships, there should be no need for any major warnings) wc: 3050 (xp) a/n: 2/13 ! 11 to go =] PLAY LAST CHRISTMAS BY ARIANA GRANDE (her ver.) RN !

the festive glow of the christmas market wrapped around you like a warm hug, but tonight, the warmth felt bittersweet. the familiar stalls with twinkling lights and the scent of cinnamon in the air stirred memories you had tried to bury for the past year.

walking through the bustling crowd, you hadn’t expected to see him again. yet there he was, standing at a gingerbread stall, his profile illuminated by the golden light of a nearby lantern. jeonghan.

he looked the same and yet… not. his long coat flared slightly with the evening breeze, and his hair fell in soft waves, framing his face perfectly. for a moment, you froze, unsure whether to approach or slip away unnoticed. but as if he could sense you, his gaze shifted, locking onto yours.

“y/n,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the crowd. there was no mistaking the surprise—and something softer—in his tone.

you managed a polite smile, your heart doing an unwelcome flip. “hey, jeonghan.”

“it’s been a while,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile as he stepped closer. “how have you been?”

“good,” you replied curtly, though the word felt hollow. “you?”

“better now,” he said smoothly, and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled with mischief, just like they used to. “how’s your sweet tooth holding up?”

your brows furrowed, and then he nodded toward the gingerbread stall. “remember how you used to drag me here for those cookies?” he asked, his smile widening at your obvious surprise. “they still sell them, you know.”

“you remember that?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

he laughed softly, a sound that felt like a warm breeze in the cold air. “of course i do. i remember a lot of things.”

the weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, you both stood there, caught in the push and pull of shared history.

“want one?” he asked, gesturing to the stall. “my treat.”

against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding.

minutes later, the two of you were wandering through the market together, gingerbread cookies in hand. the conversation was light at first, filled with comments about the stalls and the crisp winter air. but every so often, his gaze would linger on you a moment too long, and you’d feel the familiar tug of emotions you thought you’d moved past.

when you stopped at a stall selling handcrafted trinkets, your breath hitched. this was the same stall where jeonghan had bought you a small snow globe last year—a delicate thing with a tiny couple standing under a snow-laden tree. you still had it, tucked away in a drawer because you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it out.

“y/n,” he said softly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “wait here for a second.”

before you could respond, he’d slipped away to speak with the vendor. moments later, he returned, holding a small box wrapped in festive paper.

“what’s this?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“just open it,” he said, his smile soft and almost… shy?

you hesitated but eventually unwrapped the box. inside was a tiny ornament—a snowflake carved out of wood, intricate and beautiful. your chest tightened as you realized it was from the same vendor who had made the snow globe.

“i saw it and thought of you,” jeonghan said, his voice quiet. “you used to love snowflakes, remember?”

“i… yeah, i do,” you murmured, running your fingers over the smooth edges of the ornament.

“i know i messed up last year,” he said suddenly, his tone turning serious. “but i’ve been thinking a lot about us, about what went wrong. and if there’s even a small chance you’d let me make it up to you, i’d take it.”

you stared at him, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. the market buzzed around you, a blur of lights and laughter, but all you could focus on was him—the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability in his posture.

“it’s not that simple, jeonghan,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “we can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“i know,” he said, nodding. “i’m not asking for that. but maybe… we could start fresh? as friends, even. just… give me a chance to prove that i’ve changed.”

his words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope—small and fragile, but there.

“we’ll see,” you said cautiously, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

jeonghan’s face lit up, and he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “that’s all i’m asking for.”

as the snow began to fall softly around you, the festive glow of the market grew even more magical, with each snowflake dancing in the air before settling on the ground. the cold, however, was beginning to bite, and you shivered slightly, rubbing your hands together for warmth.

jeonghan, noticing your discomfort, glanced down at you before shrugging off his long coat. "here," he said, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. despite the warmth of his coat, you could feel the chill on his face, his breath visible in the cold night air.

"you'll freeze," you pointed out, though you couldn't deny how nice it felt to have something warm around you.

he smiled, though there was a slight tremble in his voice. "i'm fine. i've survived worse."

the two of you continued walking, your steps crunching in the snow, your arms brushing occasionally as you moved together through the market. you glanced over at jeonghan, but he seemed lost in thought, his gaze far off, distant. you weren’t sure what to make of the silence between you two—whether it was comfortable or uncomfortable—but before you could dwell on it, you felt his hand brush yours again. this time, it lingered for a split second, just enough for a jolt of warmth to shoot through your fingers.

your heart skipped, and you looked up to see him looking at you, his eyes momentarily soft. he cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "cold, huh?" he muttered.

"just a bit," you replied, your breath puffing in the air.

you continued walking, but there was a newfound tension between you, something unspoken but palpable. the moment lingered, filling the air with a subtle kind of anticipation.

when you reached a hot cocoa stand, jeonghan stopped in front of it, his hand reaching for his wallet. "hot chocolate?" he asked, voice light again, as if the brief moment of vulnerability had never happened. you nodded, though you couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to keep things casual.

"let me at least be useful for once," he said with a small chuckle as he handed over the money, his eyes still carrying that same mixture of humor and regret.

you raised an eyebrow. "you're always useful," you teased, though the joke felt strangely hollow in the moment.

he smiled at you, but there was something wistful in the way his lips curled. he handed you your cocoa, and you both stood there for a moment, sipping in comfortable silence, the snow continuing to fall around you like soft whispers of the past.

as you both stood there, the cold seemed to settle deeper, the warmth of the cocoa barely enough to chase it away. your eyes flicked to jeonghan, who was rubbing his hands together to warm them up. without thinking, you reached for your scarf, unraveling it from your neck and holding it up between you.

"here," you said softly, your fingers brushing his as you pulled him closer, wrapping the scarf around his neck. his breath caught for a moment as you tugged him gently toward you, your fingers grazing the soft fabric of his coat as you adjusted the scarf to fit snugly.

jeonghan's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face, but it quickly softened into something more tender. "you sure?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy.

"yeah," you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you let the scarf rest around him. you couldn't help but notice how close he was now, his warmth mixing with yours in the cold night air. his breath mingled with yours, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

he smiled, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. "thank you," he murmured, the words carrying more weight than they should.

you swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. "no problem," you said, voice barely steady as you pulled away, but not too far. "just... don’t freeze, okay?"

he chuckled, the sound quiet but full of something unspoken. "i’ll be fine with you looking out for me."

you both fell into a comfortable silence, walking through the market side by side, the scarf between you like a quiet promise.

as you two wandered further into the market, the atmosphere seemed to shift—quieter, more intimate. the noise of the crowd faded, replaced by the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet and the gentle hum of christmas songs playing from a nearby speaker. the air felt different here, as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

you found yourself under a canopy of twinkling christmas lights, their soft glow reflecting off the snow and casting a warm, golden hue around you. everything felt more magical in the moment, as though the lights were pulling you closer together.

you looked up at the lights, your heart beating a little faster, when you felt his fingers brush against yours. at first, it was a simple, fleeting touch, but then his hand lingered, and he gave a gentle tug, silently asking for you to hold his hand.

your breath hitched, your pulse quickening as you turned to meet his gaze. his eyes were soft, but there was something deeper there—something almost unreadable, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. his fingers curled around yours, steady and sure this time, as if he was no longer afraid of what this moment might mean.

you didn't pull away. instead, you let the warmth of his hand seep into yours, your heart fluttering in your chest. the world seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air between you.

"y/n," he said softly, his voice low, as if he was testing the weight of your name on his lips again. "this... this feels different."

you nodded slowly, not trusting your voice, but the feeling in your chest told you everything you needed to know. this was different. this moment, under the soft glow of the lights, was something new. something more than what it had been before.

he squeezed your hand gently, as if reassuring himself that this was real. "i'm not asking for much," he continued, his words soft but filled with sincerity. "just... just a chance to make it right."

you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. the world felt small, just the two of you, and for a moment, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something different.

you didn’t pull away, didn’t say anything more. you just held his hand, the connection between you both deepening in the silence that followed.

as you both continued strolling through the market, the twinkling lights overhead creating a soft glow around you, a new sense of ease seemed to settle between you. the tension from earlier, while still lingering, melted away with every laugh and playful comment shared between you two.

you stopped in front of a stall selling christmas hats, each one more ridiculous than the last. jeonghan picked up a red reindeer antler headband and placed it on your head with a dramatic flourish.

“perfect,” he said with a grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “now you’re ready for the holiday season.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest couldn't be ignored. you swatted playfully at him. “you look ridiculous,” you teased, picking up a matching pair of antlers for yourself.

“i look festive,” he shot back, adjusting the antlers on his head like a crown.

you both burst into laughter, your giggles mixing with the sounds of the market. it felt so easy, so light, like the weight of the past year had been temporarily forgotten under the glow of the christmas lights.

after a moment, you wandered over to a stall selling tiny christmas trees, each one covered in glitter and tinsel. jeonghan picked up a small tree and handed it to you with a wink. "for you," he said, voice filled with mischief.

"seriously?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, but your heart melted a little at his thoughtfulness.

"it’s a little tacky," he admitted, "but i think it suits you."

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "you really know how to pick gifts," you teased, cradling the tree carefully as if it was precious.

he shrugged with a grin. "i try." then, without missing a beat, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "merry christmas, y/n."

your heart fluttered at the unexpected gesture, and you laughed, a bit flustered. "you’re gonna make me sick with all this sweetness, jeonghan."

"that’s the point," he said, smiling that trademark mischievous smile you couldn’t help but fall for.

as the night grew colder, the two of you found your way to a hot cocoa stand, where jeonghan insisted on paying again. "this is the last one, i swear," he said, handing over the money with exaggerated seriousness.

"i’ll hold you to that," you teased, accepting the warm cup he offered.

as you walked together, sipping your cocoa and watching the snow fall gently around you, it felt like time slowed down. there was something magical about the night—the way his hand brushed against yours again, the way the air was thick with the scent of pine and cinnamon, the way you felt so incredibly... content.

eventually, the two of you found yourselves standing outside your apartment building, the night winding down but neither of you quite ready to let go just yet. the lights from the building cast a soft glow on his face as he turned to you, still holding your hand.

“well,” he said, his voice soft, “this is it. i guess i’ll have to walk away from all this magic.”

you couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face. “you know, it wasn’t so bad, this whole christmas thing.”

he laughed, but there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes as he reached into his pocket. “i had a feeling you might say that.”

he pulled out the small ornament, the snowflake from earlier, and handed it to you with a soft smile. “maybe we can try again next christmas… or sooner,” he said, his words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

you blinked, your heart skipping. you hadn’t expected him to say something so vulnerable, so hopeful.

he stepped closer, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. just as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with that familiar tenderness, you surprised him by closing the gap yourself, pressing your lips softly to his.

he froze for a moment, eyes wide with surprise, but then he kissed you back, slow and gentle, the warmth between you building with each passing second.

when you pulled away, your foreheads resting together, he smiled, his eyes filled with something that was almost shy. "i’m glad you decided sooner," he murmured.

you smiled, your heart lighter than it had been in so long. "me too."

“stay?” you invited him softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. you noticed you were still wearing his jacket, the warmth of it oddly comforting, as if it was a silent invitation. you turned away slightly, a bit shy, as if giving him the space to decide, but your heart raced with hope.

“it’s christmas tomorrow,” you added quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it lingered in the crisp air between you.

jeonghan couldn't help but smile at that, his eyes softening as they met yours. “of course,” he said, his voice low and tender. without hesitation, he stepped closer, his fingers gently tilting your chin up, his touch warm and reassuring. then, as if there was no need for further words, he leaned down and kissed you again.

the kiss deepened, slow and sweet, a promise wrapped in the soft press of his lips against yours. you melted into him, his hand resting on your waist, pulling you closer as the world outside faded into the background. everything that had led up to this moment felt like it was meant to be. when he finally pulled away, you were breathless, cheeks flushed, and your heart pounding in your chest.

somehow, the two of you ended up on your couch, his back against the cushions with him sitting beneath you. you were straddling his lap, his arms around you, holding you close. the space between you was filled with warmth and tenderness, like you'd both found your place again.

your voice was small, a quiet murmur as you rested your head against his shoulder. “don’t give my heart away again the next day,” you whispered, the words familiar and haunting, taken from a song that had once felt like an echo of your past. last christmas i gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away.

jeonghan chuckled softly at that, the sound warm and full of affection. he tilted your face up to look at him, his eyes full of sincerity. “i never gave it away,” he said softly, his voice filled with conviction. then, as if to make sure you knew exactly what he meant, he kissed you again, his lips pressing against yours with a tenderness that left you breathless.

when he pulled away, he kept his gaze on you, his hand resting gently on your cheek. “it’s still in my heart,” he whispered, his words like a promise.

you smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. maybe this christmas would be the start of something new—something real, something lasting.

you leaned in to kiss him again, this time with a sense of peace and certainty. you were home, and this time, you weren’t letting go.

a/n: 2/13 ! i update everyday on 10:30 am (our timezones might be different though :]

december with seventeen ! - masterlist

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anpanbun · 3 months ago

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Stagelight AU

A modern music Lamplight adjacent AU. (Lamplight adjacent in that it uses the loose format of: guy who is powerful and can't talk + guy who will do anything for him). Thank you @liloinkoink @martynsimp69 @ilexdiapason @kingtheghast @honey-daisies and Bird for collective brainstorming this with me <3

Let's meet our guys in this AU!

Martyn is an aspiring musician, previously with the band EVO (though he left when the band signed with Watcher Records). Years later, he now works a pub called The King's Head, but attends the open mic nights hosted by The Burning Lantern down the road. He begins noticing a reoccurring audience member.

That reoccurring audience member is of course Ren Dog. An older man wearing sunglasses at every open mic night. He always sits through Martyn's performances, sometimes he leaves right after, sometimes he sticks around for a while, but he is always there when Martyn plays. Except that one time Martyn played an old rock song from Red King, the guy had left in the middle of that performance, odd.....

And that's where it starts.

Martyn, of course, immediately has his interest piqued. Originally, because there was a very attractive man staring at him intently, but afterwards because of the mystery. Who is this guy? Why does he only leave after hes had a chance to hear Martyn's sets? Why does he never come up and say something? Martyn is aware he's an attractive guy, and the musician look really does it for a lot of people, so he's no stranger to an audience member coming up for a chat after his set.

This guy never does though, so Martyn ends up taking the matter into his own hands. So he devises a little trap. If that man always waited for him to play, then how about using that to his advantage? Trading out his electric guitar for acoustic that night, Martyn delays his set until he is the last act of the night. The moment his last note finishes ringing out from the stage, he sprints down the steps to introduce himself.

Ren though does not react well to this situation at all, staring at Martyn in startled silence and before turning and walking away without a single word.

He eventually finds out Ren's name by asking the employees of the bar. Imagine his surprise to learn that his name is Ren, just like the Renthedog account that has been consistently liking his posts on AUstagram. Even after the disastrous introduction.

So the next time he reaches out to Ren, he tries to take it a bit slower. Making eye contact from the stage, a little wave. Next time he tries to talk to Ren, instead of offering to buy him a drink, he asks if he can get Ren's AUstagram, and with a laugh Ren hands it over.

A flood gate opens from there. For all that Martyn has never heard Ren speak, he sure has a lot to say when it's in writing. They hang out from there, quickly becoming friends. When Martyn finds out that Ren straight up cannot speak, and it wasn't just shyness holding his voice back, he tries to ask why. Ren just gives the vague answer of:

Stage fright, all the world's a stage

Which doesn't really explain anything.

They have a comfortable, distant, but a bit flirty, friendship. Which is something that changes when Martyn finds the photo.

He finds it when cleaning out an old box of stuff. In a box full of high school knick knacks, one of the photos stands out. It's of himself and BigB, they must be 17 or 18, and they're standing with their arms thrown around eachother at some sort of music festival or concert. That's not what gives Martyn pause on it though, it's the singer performing in the background. The face might be obscured by makeup, and time, and the noise of an old photo camera, but its Ren. Martyn is absolutely certain Ren is the one singing in that picture. It clicks what band that is, Red King, BigB’s favorite. Ren, Ren was the lead singer of Red King.

With some digging, he finds out what happened. Red King, a three man rock band, with Lead Singer/Guitarist Ren Dog, Drummer Skizz Leman, and Bassist/Harmony Singer Scar Goodtimes, was one of the bands of all time. Sold out shows, huge tours, the works. Until it suddenly broke up over a decade back because of a scandal involving the lead singer, involving Ren.

Their tour had stopped where Ren's childhood friend Lizzie lived, famous actress Lizzie Shadow, Lizzie. They had been out for dinner to catch up and Ren was driving her home when he took a corner just a little too fast, the car skids, hits a tree, Lizzie's taken to the hospital and suddenly Ren finds his life crumbling around him.

Lizzie had been fine when the paramedics had arrived, told him it wasn't a big deal and that he didn't need to worry about any bad press from this. Cause why would she want to hurt her friend?

But somehow the press does find out, and the person who tipped them off implied that it wasn't a mutual understanding but instead a cover up.

Someone reports that he was drunk when they wrecked (even though he wasnt) and that gets picked up and run with. The constant pregnant rumors that follow Lizzie also get thrown in the mix and whispers of an affair (which again he wasn't, they weren't) get picked up as fact.

Ren figures out pretty quickly it was Scar who leaked the accident, the initial reports had too many details that he'd only told a couple of people. And when he goes to confront Scar about it? Well, Scar's always been able to put on a good performance, it's why Ren had brought him into the band in the first place. To have that acting turned against him though? Used to manipulate the flashing paparazzi cameras so that it looks like Ren is lashing out against his innocent band mate? It makes him wish he'd never met Scar.

The day after that fight with Scar is flooding across the tabloid, they still have to go onto the stage to performing their show.

Ren steps up on stage and sees a sight that will haunt him for the rest of his days. The giant venue, a sold out show, stands almost entirely empty. He tries to push on, tries to sing, but his words get absorbed into the empty silence. And on that silent stage is the last time Ren Dog speaks.

Lizzie speaks out and clears up the scandal after she's leaves the hospital, but its too late for Red King to recover. Skizz returns home to his family, Scar builds a solo career off the stinking corpse of Red King, and Ren fades into the obscurity of a normal, secluded life.

Martyn takes this knowledge and uses it to help Ren on his journey to gain back his voice. They are drawn together by music and fall in love. In the end, Martyn and Ren go on tour together, The King and The Hand, not to become famous, but to travel around and continue to find the joy in music together. Ren is back in the stagelight, but Martyn is the one in the spotlight, and Ren could not be happier for him.

PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THIS AU IT MAKES ME INSANE AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT IT MORE!!! THERES SO MUCH MORE I COULDNT FIND A WAY TO FIT IN!!!

Where it started:

#please please please ask me about this AU theres so much i didnt mention #be insane with me #stagelight au #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #rendog #renthedog #anpan writes #treebark #renchanting #renchanting duo

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eepwtf · 6 months ago

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UPCOMING BOTS / BOT DUMP!!

i’m a sucker for the fall season, every and any season CANNOT top the fall season at all. which is why i’m making (some) horror/halloween inspired bots—even if there’s like 70 something days till halloween. along with a few random bots i've done and going to do.

tvdu ☆彡

Kai Parker: 𓏲ּ ghostface au! 𓂃

after you caught his eyes, he had an inexplicable curiosity over you. every step you took, every conversation you had with other people, he was there, watching you from afar. of course, that didn’t sedate his curiosity over you. so, when someone in your orbit ventured a little too close, he took matters into his own hands—quite literally. he gutted the perceived threat, the world around him narrowing into a singular focus: you. to him, it wasn’t just a crime; it was an artistic expression, a violent confession of his feelings woven into a tapestry of blood and chaos. He crafted his work with meticulous care, each stroke of the blade a declaration of his affection. yet, in the heat of his actions, a twist of fate caught him off guard—there you were, witnessing it all. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ halloween costumes 𓂃

caroline's halloween party loomed on the horizon, a spectral deadline that demanded perfection. every cobweb, jack-o'-lantern, and plastic skeleton needed to be meticulously placed. the entire event had to be flawless, a masterpiece of festive horror. you, however, felt a different kind of dread. social gatherings weren't your forte, and the thought of navigating a sea of costumed strangers made your stomach churn. but elena, with her infectious enthusiasm, had other plans. she'd already amassed an army of costumes for you to try on, each one more outrageous than the last. as she twirled before you in a dizzying parade of personas—from sultry vampire to whimsical fairy—her eyes sparkled with anticipation, silently demanding your opinion on each piece of clothing she’d modeled on herself. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ cookies and kisses 𓂃

elena passion for baking was palpable, even if she wasn't a seasoned expert. what truly brought her joy was your presence in the kitchen, your willingness to join her culinary adventures. she cherished those moments when you'd sample her latest creations, those little baking treats she'd present with such enthusiasm. as you took that first bite, elena's eyes would light up, watching intently for your reaction. the moment you'd let out a contented groan of approval, a proud smile would bloom across her face, warming her from within. in those sweet instances, she felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond the mere act of baking—it was about the connection, the shared experience, and the simple pleasure of making someone she cared for happy through her heartfelt efforts. Bonnie Bennett: 𓏲ּ season of the witch ( witch!user ) 𓂃

bonnie had gone to your place for witchcraft lessons, bringing some herbs you had specifically asked for, and of course, she brought the most important thing she needed for the lessons. herself. she knew that the lessons you were teaching her were more advanced, and that she needed to pay attention but as you began to explain the complex theories and gestures, she found her concentration wavering. your shoulder pressed against hers as you demonstrated a particularly intricate hand movement, the warmth of your body so close to hers, the subtle scent of herbs that clung to your skin, the intensity in your eyes as you spoke of each spell - it all combined to make her head spin.

Damon Salvatore: 𓏲ּ lost in your iris 𓂃

damon tried to fight his feelings for you, but you were his weakness. he sees you completely, and he’d do anything to have you near him. every glance you exchanged pulled him deeper into a world only you inhabited, where his heart raced and his resolve faltered. he yearned to lose himself in those captivating eyes, longing to feel the gentle spark of your existence beside him. Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ so confusing 𓂃

klaus wrestled with uncertainty, his feelings for you a tangled web of emotions. some days, he was convinced you harbored a deep-seated dislike for him, your every glance and gesture seeming to confirm his fears. other times, he caught himself nurturing a grudging resentment towards you, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. despite all of that, he persistently suggested grabbing drinks. it had become his go-to solution, a way to bridge the gap between you two–or perhaps to blur the lines of your complicated relationship. so, inevitably, you'd find yourselves perched on barstools in some dimly lit establishment, nursing your drinks, surrounded by the hum of stranger's conversations. the atmosphere was always thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. sometimes, you'd manage to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing at shared jokes and swapping stories about your day. in these moments, the confusion would recede, and a genuine connection seemed possible. but more often than not, an awkward tension would creep in. silences stretched too long, laughter felt forced, and both of you would become hyper-aware of every word and gesture. ( this is actually my fav rn!! )

Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ his muse 𓂃

klaus always found himself getting lost in the dance of his hands across the canvas, transforming the lifeless white expanse into a vibrant masterpiece. the studio was his sanctuary, a world inhabited only by his artistic vision and you—his ethereal muse. in his eyes, you were the embodiment of perfection, and his brush strokes captured your essence without flaw. the art, a mirror of his perception, revealed no imperfections, for in his mind, you were utterly flawless.

spn ⟢

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ angels and halloween ( angel!user ) ᵎᵎ

you were an angel, which meant that you had no idea about humans, especially in their tradition of halloween. so when dean catches you staring at the halloween decor, and costumes in a store, he goes out of his way to make this a memorable halloween for the angel. he planned an elaborate evening, starting with pumpkin carving. your first attempt at pumpkin carving was... unique. the face you created had a lopsided grin and mismatched eyes, one comically larger than the other. next came costume selection, where the two of you went to the nearest halloween, a warehouse-sized space filled with endless racks of costumes and accessories. you browsed through countless options: superheroes, movie characters, mythical creatures. dean suggested a sexy devil costume with a mischievous grin, but you firmly declined, not finding the humor in it. ( i think this is my top 2 fav! )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ insatiable ( vamp!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean’s fangs throbbed with an insatiable hunger, a primal urge he struggled to contain. every pulse of blood rushing through nearby veins called to him like a siren's song. the warmth radiating from human bodies sent shockwaves of desire coursing through his undead form. but resistance only seemed to intensify the craving. his heightened senses picked up on every nuance—the slight sheen of sweat on exposed skin, the rhythmic thump of hearts, the tantalizing scent of life itself. through it all, you observed him drinking in his struggle like a fine wine, with a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. your eyes sparkled with amusement, fully aware of the internal battle raging inside dean. you knew exactly what he craved—what he needed. and yet here you stood, taunting him, daring him to give in to his darkest impulses.

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ dark magic ( witch!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean wasn’t that awfully nice when it came down to witches or anything surrounding the supernatural. everything he stood suddenly disappeared when it came to you, logic fled and instinct reigned. your very existence seemed to weave an enchantment around him, bending his iron will as easily as a whisper bends a candle flame. in your orbit, he became a different man—softer, more open, as if you alone held the key to unlocking a hidden part of his soul. but your influence was not without cost. your magic, steeped in shadow, left a trail of upheaval in their wake. chaos bloomed wherever you tread, a dark garden of your own making. ( not sure i might stick with this plot, but am so hhhng im lazy )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ might say somethin stupid ᵎᵎ

after a long, exhausting hunt, dean heads to a nearby bar to unwind. weighed down by the night's events, he orders a drink and surveys the room. his attention is quickly drawn to a stunning individual sitting a few stools away. intrigued, dean moves closer, captivated by their effortless beauty and presence. deciding to engage, he buys them a drink and leans in, confidently flirting with a playful question about their relationship status, hoping to shift the mood and distract himself from the tension of the hunt.

Sam Winchester: ๑ ︵ bloody date ᵎᵎ

it was catastrophic. sam knew, deep in his bones, what you truly were. he might have chastised himself for harboring feelings for you, convinced he was teetering on the edge of insanity as his heart clenched painfully within his chest at the mere thought of your presence. but fuck, you were worth it right? this date, however, shattered any remaining illusions. it was meant to be an intimate affair—small, meaningful, a cherished memory in the making. well, you sure as hell made it memorable for him to ever forget it. there you stood, fangs sunk deep into your helpless victim, crimson rivulets painting the edges of your mouth like some macabre artwork.

slashers ☆彡

Brahms Heelshire: ୭ ∿ i'll be good ∿

you had reluctantly accepted the nanny position, despite the suspiciously high salary. the isolated manor and eccentric heelshire family raised red flags, but desperation silenced your misgivings. nothing, however, could have prepared you for the absurdity of your charge – a porcelain doll named brahms. initially, you played along with the charade, following the strict rules set by the heelshires. but as days turned to weeks, an unsettling truth emerged. the real brahms was no doll, but a grown man, which in hindsight would be something to be freaked out about but for you it was fine, however the fact that the brahms could be a little too clingy was the problem. simple errands became ordeals. attempts to leave the property triggered tantrums, brahms clinging to you not wanting you to leave him.

Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ touch starved ∿

patrick never considered himself a touch-starved person. in fact, he often thrived in the artificial perfection of his meticulously curated life. he relished the combination of power suits and high-stakes finance, his existence orchestrated with a calculated precision that left no room for vulnerability. but from the moment you entered his life, everything changed. he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, craving your touch in a way that defied his logical mind. in the upscale restaurants you frequented—places with starched tablecloths, crystal stemware, and prices that made most people wince—patrick's behavior shifted noticeably. while he once sat rigidly across from his dining companions, maintaining a respectable distance, with you he couldn't bear even that small separation. he'd guide you to the plush booth seating, sliding in close enough that your thighs touched beneath the table. as you perused the menu, his arm would find its way around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your skin. during the meal, he'd lean in unnecessarily close to murmur observations about the food or other patrons, his breath warm against your ear. as the evenings wore on, patrick found increasingly creative ways to maintain contact. he'd reach across the table to adjust your napkin or brush an imaginary crumb from your cheek. Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ feeling bratty? ∿

patrick felt more on edge as time passed, a tightening coil of frustration that wound ever tighter within him. when the tension reached its boiling point, he reacted instinctively, striking out like a stray cat cornered and threatened, hissing and baring its tiny fangs. in that moment of vulnerability, his anger found an outlet in the nearest target—unfortunately, that target was you. deep down, he recognized his own insufferable behavior; he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. he watched as you scoffed at his provocations or simply ignored his taunts, and each dismissive reaction stoked the flames of his irritation. the more you turned away, the more desperately he sought your attention, despite knowing the fire he was playing with could easily burn him.

misc ⟢

Soldier Boy: 𓂃 ꒰ freak show ꒱

Ben never imagined he'd find himself at the entrance of a peculiar circus, its weathered sign proclaiming "freak show" in faded letters. for weeks, vought's pr team had hounded him relentlessly, insisting that this appearance would be "good for public relations" and "humanize" him in the eyes of the masses. ben had scoffed at first, but their persistence wore him down like water on stone. now, here he was, surrounded by wide-eyed gawkers and the constant buzz of excited whispers. as the show began, ben found himself oddly captivated. each act was more outlandish than the last - contortionists twisting their bodies into impossible shapes, fire-breathers painting the air with flames, and strongmen hefting weights that should have been beyond human capability. but then, as the ringmaster's booming voice announced the next act, the tent fell into a hushed silence. a single spotlight illuminated the center ring, and ben's breath caught in his throat. there you were. the aerialist.

Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ favorite monster ꒱

stiles was well versed when it came down to the supernatural, he read every book, myth, and stories when it came to the supernatural. was well aware of the dangers of ghosts, werewolves, vampires the whole gist, you name it he undoubtedly knows it all. of course, you were a different case, a unique case that even though he knew the dangers about being a vampire he couldn’t for the life of himself get away from you. every late-night conversation and shared secret made it harder for him to keep his distance. as the two of you walked through the forest, discussing everything from pop culture to existentialism, it was at the very instant that your sudden laugh made his heart race. the warmth in your eyes and the way you would brush your hand with his rendered him utterly transfixed. he wondered how it was possible to feel so electrified and safe in the presence of someone who was, by all accounts, a threat. Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ you're ghostface ꒱

stiles didn’t know what to expect when the rumors of a serial killer began circulating in their small town. the gossip, dripping with fear and intrigue, shattered the fragile peace of beacon hills. as he stumbled through the dimly lit alley, the unmistakable glint of a knife illuminated by the flickering light from the nearby streetlamp caught his eye, and as the scene grew clearer, every hope he'd entertained shattered like glass. you, standing over a crumpled figure on the ground, the knife still gleaming in your hand, ghostface mask perched above your head. stiles had known you—i mean, really known you. the fact it was you, who was said killer made his stomach churn. he felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, leaving him suspended in disbelief.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ bitchy!user ꒱

madison's initial reaction to your caustic demeanor was a blend of irritation and intrigue. it catches her off guard; she's unaccustomed to having her façade challenged so directly. your unwavering stance and refusal to be cowed gnaws at her composure, chipping away at the armor of superiority she's cultivated. yet, beneath her outward indignation, she finds herself grudgingly impressed. your razor-sharp retorts and quick wit present a novel challenge—one that simultaneously infuriates and exhilarates her.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ tobacco lips ꒱

before her death, madison was already dead inside. numb to the world, she craved to feel—anything. she chased oblivion through a haze of flesh, drugs, and alcohol, desperately seeking to drown the echoes of her past. each indulgence was a futile attempt to erase the memories: her mother's absence, her asshole of a father, the relentless scrutiny of the press, and the string of lovers who had taken pieces of her without leaving anything in return. she had found her way to the nearest bar, her face, heavily caked with makeup, felt like a mask weighing her down. her once-pearly teeth, now tobacco-stained, hid behind a sneer. the dress she'd chosen, meant to turn heads, only succeeded in making her look cheap rather than alluring. she navigated the crowded gathering with a practiced arrogance, projecting an aura of superiority she didn't feel. a fresh cigarette dangled from her lips, the filter stained with lipstick—a silent testament to her desperation. her words flowed freely, empty promises spilling from her mouth to the eager ears of men old enough to know better. then, through the haze of smoke and poor decisions, she saw you. beautiful, poised you—the coven's rising star, their future supreme. you stood surrounded by distinguished men, everything madison's admirers lacked. everything madison herself lacked. shame crashed over madison, as darted out, trying to get away from your sight.

might fix some of these but …. probably not anyway! @eppwtf on c.ai 😛

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desi2go · 7 months ago

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Stealing the fate

pairing: prince Hongjoong x lady of court reader

warnings: smut, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, royalty au

I finally tried something new! So please go easy on me! Let me know if I should write things like that more often <3

In the kingdom of Outlaw, where mountains kissed the skies and rivers sang the songs of old, you found yourself bound by fate's relentless hand. A marriage with Prince Hongjoong, a spirited and headstrong young man, had been caused by scandalous and unexpected actions.

Nevertheless, your fates entwined, not through love, but through the prince's transgression. As his sister's best friend, you often searched her company at the wedding. Not that your husband would mind. He was somewhere near the drinks, talking to different people, not sparing you a glance after the wedding ceremony was officially over.

You tried to be cold, letting the fact that your husband hated your company not affect you, but the truth is that you were interested in this handsome man for a long time now. Heck, you had the biggest crush on him. It hurt you more than you thought, even fueled your rage. You never imagined a happy and lovingly marriage but you had hoped that he would at least not dislike you. But he couldn't even stand being near you.

His sister knew about your feelings and supported you from the start even though she never understood why you fell in love with his brother. She did her best to distract you for the whole event.

With each minute that passed your consummation got closer and closer. You feared what would happen behind closed doors when you two were the only ones in a room. You weren't afraid of the general consummation, you knew what was expected of you and you heard the married ladies on the court speaking about the act itself. You rather dreaded the proximity and the awkwardness.

But you couldn't do anything against it. And when the huge clock struck twelve, you knew what was about to come when Hongjoong walked towards you, looked so magical like an angel in his bespoke suit. He took your hand while looking to the wall behind you, like you weren't even there. That fueled your rage even more. He couldn't even look you in the eyes. Is he ashamed of you?

"My lady, shall we retire to our room?" He asked.

"Of course, my husband" you answered with clenched teeth. You followed him willingly out of the great hall to your room. No words passed his lips, the only contact between you was his hand in yours.

As soon as you stepped into the huge bedroom, he let go of your hand like the skin to skin contact burned him, grabbing a glass from the table, filled it with something alcoholic and chugged it down immediately.

"So this it?" You asked fiery.

"What?" His attention finally concentrated on you, yet he didn't look you in the eyes.

"If this is what you call our marriage now? Pacing around in separate rooms? Running from our forced union?" You exclaimed, rubbing your temple.

He scoffed and turned around again to fill his glass for another drink.

"Please, forgive me your grace" you added sarcastically.

"Your grace?" He shot back, agitated, turning to you again.

"Can't even look me in the face"

He stepped closer, claiming that this was not true. You chuckled dry. Of course it wasn't.

"And now I must lay in the mess you made!" You said angrily.

"The mess we made" he stated, crossing his arms and taking another step towards you to intimidate you.

"It was your mistake. You stepped on my dress and made me fall" you corrected him, retelling what happend at the festival of lanterns two weeks ago. The anger still ran through your veins. You felt like you were talking to a wall, the only thing that changed was the tension. It became almost unbearable.

"I'm so sorry I stole your fate" he snarled ironically, eyes darkening with the rage that fueled within him.

"Oh, I am sorry that I stole your fate!" You screamed, tears of anger running over your face.

"And now you're forced to love a man you hate" Hongjoong stated loudly and you thought you could see signs of sadness in his eyes.

"I never said that I hated you!" You exclaimed, realising how close he had gotten to you. You were almost chest to chest with him. He nearly towered over you and you could even smell his expensive cologne.

You thought that he would scream or reject you since you nearly admitted your love for him. But you didn't expect him to crash his lips against yours roughly. Teeth crashing together as he pushed you against the door, his hands possessively on your waist, neading the skin underneath your wedding dress. Your breaths were hot on each others skin as you pulled him even closer to you when you realised what he was doing.

One hand grabbed your hair and pulled your head backwards against the door, earning a sweet moan from you while he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues danced around each other in a fiery fight. You let your hand travel to his own fluffy hair, tugging at some strands while your other hand clutched the material of the suit on his shoulder.

Something hard pressed against your lower stomach and you moaned into his mouth when you realised what that was. With one quick motion, he grabbed your thighs and pushed you in his arms. Your legs clinged around his waist as he carried you safely in his arms to the bed, laying you down in the middle. He immediately hoovered over you, consuming your whole being in a passionate kiss.

He interrupted the kiss again, his hands travelling over your sides and grabbing the fabric.

"I love that dress. Let's destroy it" he moaned in between the kisses. With one quick motion, the fabric of the expensive dress gave away and your gown was splitted in half, revealing your white underwear. Hongjoong growled and pressed kisses along your neck to your collarbone while you clawed at his shoulders when another sinful moan escaped you.

Even through the trousers of his suit, you could feel his growing bulge pressing against your upper thighs. He quickly undressed himself, the suit and his chemise fell forgotten to the floor, leaving him just in his boxer.

Your underwear quickly followed as he planted a hot trail of kisses on your body. You moaned and pressed your body against him. His boxers soon followed the rest of his clothes, making a pile next to the bed.

He grunted as he rubbed your clit with his cock, gathering your wetness near your entrance. With one final look, he reassured himself and pushed his cock inside with one full thrust, making you choke out a broken sob at the sudden stretch. The pain was uncomfortable and some tears gathered in your eyes. But the pain mixed with the pleasure made your brain go all mushy. All you could think about was the way his cock filled you up and the way his hands gripped your waist as he tried his best to not start thrusting into you already, hiding his head in your hair.

Eventually, you relaxed slowly around him, moaning at the completely new feeling of being so full. That was all he needed to hear before he started thrusting in and out of you. First in a slow rhythm and when he noticed how you clenched around him in pleasure, he began building a much quicker pace, trying his best to not break it and absolutely ruin you right there.

“fuck, you’re taking me so well.” his hands reached out for yours, holding onto them and interlocking his fingers with yours. Hongjoong's pace was starting to get a bit rougher, hitting that spot inside you with each thrust, making you cry out in lust.

His lips were against your neck, placing hot, wet kisses on your sensitive skin. His thrusts started getting sloppier as you were both about to reach your highs. The knot in your stomach became unbearable, letting you whine in a high tone and clenching around his cock.

You felt impossibly tighter, messaging Hongjoong with your walls. You were driving him insane.

"Fuck y/n, m’close. so close.” he grunted, holding your hands tightly. Your cunt squeezed around him one last before he released his load deep inside you, your walls fluttering around his cock. he collapsed onto you, rightfully breathless.

He lifted his head from your neck, looking you deep into the eyes. Exhaustion and love was displayed in them, telling more than words. Your husband leaned down again, capturing your lips with his while slipping out if you.

Careful he cleaned you with the soft fabric of his chemise that he had grasped from the floor and cuddled closer to you while pulling the covers over your slowly cooling bodies.

"Good night my dear Y/n" he whispered when he felt you drifting off to sleep.

#hongjoong #hongjoong angst #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x reader angst #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong ateez #hongjoong smut

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urdnotstxrm · 7 months ago

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Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen & Reader

AU: The Targaryen family dynamics are a blend of political intrigue and personal emotions. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the strong-willed and fiery daughter of King Viserys, is caught in a dilemma. Her father has decreed that for her to secure the Iron Throne, she must marry your brother, a match designed to solidify alliances and secure her claim. Despite this, Rhaenyra's heart belongs to you.

The evening was lively as Rhaenyra Targaryen graced your family's household with her presence. Laughter and conversation filled the air inside the grand hall, where your family and Rhaenyra's entourage were gathered. The warmth of the fire and the clinking of goblets created a vibrant atmosphere. However, Rhaenyra's mind was elsewhere. Excusing herself from the festivities, she made her way outside, her steps guided by an unseen force. In the cool evening air, she walked towards the stables, drawn by a feeling she could not ignore. The sound of hooves and the gentle whinnying of horses filled the silence. There, she found you, brushing down one of the horses, the lantern's light casting a soft glow on your face. She paused, watching you for a moment before stepping forward.

"I thought I might find you here," she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of relief and longing. "The celebrations inside... they feel so distant compared to this." You looked up, surprise flashing in your eyes before it was replaced by a warm, welcoming smile. "Rhaenyra," you greeted her, setting aside the brush. "I didn't expect you to come out here."

"I needed some air," she admitted, moving closer. "And perhaps... I needed to see you." She reached out, gently touching the side of the horse, her fingers brushing against yours. The simple contact sent a thrill through you both. "You should be inside, enjoying yourself," you said, though there was no real conviction in your voice.

"I don't want to marry your brother," she whispered, her hand moving to rest on your chest, her voice trembling. "I can't imagine a life with him when my heart belongs to you. Please, go to my father and ask for my hand. It's the only way we can be together." She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours, her breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. Her words struck a deep chord within you, the longing in her eyes mirrored in your own. But you knew the truth, a truth that weighed heavily on your heart. "Rhaenyra," you began, your voice soft but firm, "I wish I could. More than anything, I wish I could ask your father for your hand and be with you openly. But I can't." She frowned, confusion and hurt flickering across her face.

"Why not? If we love each other, why can't we be together?" You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you had to say. "I yielded my right to the leadership of my house, Rhaenyra. I chose the path of knighthood, entrusting my younger brother with the role of leader. He is the one destined to lead our house, and I cannot undermine that decision. It would bring dishonor to my family and chaos to our house." Rhaenyra shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "But you are the one I want, the one I need. Surely there must be a way..." You took her hands in yours, holding them tightly. "I would give anything to be with you, Rhaenyra. But our world is built on duty and honor. If I were to go to your father now, it would not only betray my brother but also bring great strife to our families. I cannot do that to you, or to the realm." Her tears began to fall, and you gently wiped them away with your thumb.

"So, what are we to do? Live in secret? Love each other in stolen moments?" You nodded, your heart breaking with the truth of it. "For now, that may be all we can have." She leaned into you, seeking solace in your embrace, and you held her close, wishing that the world were different, that duty did not stand in the way of love. But in that moment, all you could do was hold on to each other, cherishing the time you had, however fleeting it might be.

#rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #whispers of the dragon: a forbidden love #*

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bunny-lily · 10 months ago

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Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them.

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air.

You envied them.

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia.

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before.

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse.

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation.

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it.

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last.

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively.

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word.

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether.

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward.

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded.

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing.

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you.

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver.

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway.

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud.

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went.

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done.

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living.

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door.

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no. A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them.

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing.

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you.

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not.

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close.

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food.

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction.

There was nothing.

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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muffinsouffle · 1 year ago

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Lantern festival AU!

In the night of the lantern festival, little Mk accidentally enters another world by following a butterfly that has a monkey pattern on its wings. In this fantasy world. lanterns, puppets, and dolls are conscious, and they walk around and prepare for the lantern festival, as if this celebration never gonna end. Now Mk tries to fit in to find a way out of this world to get back to his own, with a little help from Mei, a dragon girl who was the first person to help him when he was lost.

You guys can ask me about this AU and I'll answer gladly! And ideas requests are welcome too!

I hope you liked this post and have a wonderful day! 💖

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anomalyaly · 11 days ago

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I See the Light

CW: NSFW. EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, MINORS DNI. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ READERS DISCRETION ADVISED

Written for the OHL discord server February NSFW event. Flynn Rider!Sebastian teaches an unnamed FMC!Rapunzel something new.

~3k words

[AO3] [Wattpad]

Tags: Tangled!AU, Sebastian Sallow x nameless FMC, first time (for her), fingering (F receiving), oral sex (F receiving and a hint of M receiving), face sitting, masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, they're in a forest so I guess public sex but nobody is around, fast and hard because I am burdened by the word count limitations

It started out as a harmless prank.

One that involved stealing a crown from the royal palace. It wasn't as if someone with that much money would miss one crown made of enough precious metals, he could bribe anyone and their mother for whatever he wanted with it.

After all, he was the Sebastian Sallow — the greatest known thief in the land.

Everything was going so smoothly, running from the law, until he stumbled upon an odd clearing in the forest, a tall tower in the distance. His unfortunate, or perhaps, very fortunate decision to climb up it is what had gotten him into this situation in the first place, traipsing the forest with an odd girl — a very beautiful girl — but odd nonetheless, who had been mysteriously trapped within the isolated tower.

What made the girl odd was that she kept a suspicious secret about her reasons for being locked away — and the fact that she had hair that was a ridiculous length for that of a normal human being. Hair that had been long enough to stretch from the window to the base of the tower that she resided in.

She had even brandished a frying pan as a weapon. The naivety of this girl. However, she had taken his stolen crown and hidden it away, offering only to return it to him if he agreed to her terms.

Fine. If that's what it took to get it back, Sebastian reluctantly agreed. It shouldn't be too difficult to bring one innocent girl to the kingdom to see some lanterns and return her home in one day, right?

Wrong.

After the girl had several panic attacks upon exiting her tower, they were chased by palace guards and nearly drowned in their attempt to escape. He supposed it was mostly his fault, being a wanted man, but their adventure had nearly cost both of them their lives.

For him, he supposed it was only a matter of time until fate caught up with his misdeeds. But the poor girl was innocent. And he had nearly gotten her killed.

Both of them collapsed on the ground in the forest, deciding to make camp for the night. Exactly twenty-four hours until the lantern festival.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I never meant to — I didn't mean for it to go this far."

He tucked his injured hand behind his back, but she noticed it right away. "You're hurt."

"I'll be fine."

"No," she murmured, pulling it closer to her and wrapping her hair around it, "let me help."

He scoffed, "I highly doubt that — "

He was cut off as she started to sing a cryptic lullaby. He was about to stop her until he noticed that her hair was glowing. And as he pulled his hand away from her hair, her song finished, and the wound was completely healed.

"How did you — "

"My hair," she quickly said, "it...can heal people when I sing. That's why I was...why I had to stay in that tower. To protect it. To protect me."

"You never left? At all?"

The girl shook her head, smiling sheepishly. He studied her carefully, noting the blush on her cheeks glowing in the firelight. He scooted closer to her. "That...must have been lonely."

"Sometimes," she agreed, "but....I read, a lot. I like to think of the characters in my stories as my friends." She grinned. "The romances were my favorite."

"Really?" He was intrigued. "What did you like most about them?"

Her face reddened further. "I...well, when they kissed. I always wondered what it feels like."

"Yeah?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have quite the experience in that area, you know. I could always show you."

He meant it as a joke, somewhat, but she immediately perked up. "You'd do that?"

"What?" Sebastian gaped. "I-I mean...yes, I suppose. If...if that's what you— " He wasn't certain where he was going with this idea. Kissing strangers in pubs was one matter, but her? She was innocent, naive, and inexperienced.

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "Please. I...I want to know."

He cleared his throat. "Alright then. Just...just follow my lead."

He leaned closer to her and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm...I'm going to kiss you now."

Her eyes fluttered closed. "I'm ready."

He swallowed, then gently pressed his lips to hers. She didn't move, her nervousness and lack of experience showing, and he guided her as he pulled her closer to him, feeling her soft lips against his. He threaded his fingers through her hair and dared to run his tongue along her lower lip, and she elicited a soft moan.

Oh shit.

He hadn't expected to be turned on this easily. How long had it been since he had last physically been with someone?

She responded a bit too enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself flush against him. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back slightly.

"W-wait," he said, stopping her mid-kiss. "I...I thought it was just a kiss. Not—" he shook his head.

She tilted her head innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he breathed, attempting to clear his thoughts that were becoming increasingly wild. "You — you can't just respond like that and...and not expect something to happen." He smiled lightly. "I'm only a man, after all. I have...urges."

She furrowed her brows. "Urges?" Then, she brightened in understanding. "Oh! Like...sexual urges."

Sebastian actually blushed. Why did it suddenly seem so dirty when she said it? "Well...yes."

"Teach me."

"What?!"

She held him firmly. "Teach me," she insisted. "I'm only going to be outside of my tower for one more day. I...I want to learn."

"I — " How could he say no? "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She sighed. "You saved my life, and you're taking me to see the lanterns. I want it to be you."

Sebastian took a deep breath. "Alright." If that was what she wanted. She had asked for it, after all. "I'm...I'll go slow, okay? Just...if you feel uncomfortable...."

"Sebastian." She let out a huff.

"Okay! Okay." He gritted his teeth before his lips collided with hers once more, still maintaining the gentleness of their first kiss, but with more fervor, his intent clear.

Her resounding moan vibrated along his lips and sent shivers down his spine. He wasn't inexperienced, but he had certainly never taken a girl's innocence before. It was much easier to go after a quick fuck, a one-night stand to scratch an itch before moving on to his next endeavor — which mostly centered around thievery. Sex was simply an outlet.

This, however, was different.

He ran his hands along her arms and trailed his fingers up her bodice, deftly undoing the lacing on her corset and letting the rest of her dress fall to the ground. His lips left hers, and he planted soft kisses along her neck before pulling back to look at her. "Is this al— "

"Stop asking me if it's alright," she grumbled. "I will tell you if something is wrong."

Right. He had never been so nervous to fuck someone before. It really had been too long.

His hungry gaze roamed over her untouched, bare body. Years in the tower left her skin soft and silky, a stark contrast to his rough and calloused hands. He lightly traced them over her bare breast and smiled as she shivered at his touch.

"Feel good?" He asked. She nodded. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I can do things that will feel even better, sweetheart. Just trust me."

He pulled back to undo the buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off, throwing it to the side and wrapping his arms around her once more. He guided her to the soft grass and laid her beneath him as he continued to trail kisses along her delicate skin.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, and he took one of her peaked nipples in between his lips.

The way she arched her body into his made it even clearer that she had never been touched, every inch of her overly sensitive to his gentle caresses. His fingers danced along her thighs, tracing the freckles along the inside of one before expertly finding her center.

Her form trembled in ecstasy beneath him as he lightly circled her clit, his finger already coated in her slick, preparing her for everything that was to follow. Sebastian was eager to be inside her, his own arousal beginning to peek through his trousers, but he would make sure she was taken care of first.

"That feels — really — really good," she panted, and her fingers dug into his back. He carefully slipped a digit inside of her and gently curled it against the perfect spot, grinning as her hips bucked against his hand.

"Oh!" He could feel her tightening around his finger, knowing she was getting closer to her peak. He wondered if she had ever orgasmed before, if she had ever managed to complete herself on her own, locked in the tower for so many years, or if he would be the first to bring her over the edge.

The thought of it even being a possibility sent a surge of pride through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he encouraged, his face pressed into her neck so he could whisper praises into her ear. "Relax and let go. Let me make you feel good." He slipped a second finger inside for good measure.

It sent her over the edge, and when he curled his fingers again, she arched her back and let out a wanton cry. He planted kisses along her neck as she trembled beneath him, working her through her orgasm and murmuring encouragements against her.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he watched her face relax, her eyes heavy-lidded and her body spent. He slid further down her body until his face settled between her legs. He felt her grasp his arm and glanced up at her.

"Wait!" She clutched his arm. "W-what are you doing?"

Sebastian grinned. "Did you think we were done?" He planted a light kiss on her inner thigh. "Oh, no, love. We're just getting started."

He continued to leave a path of kisses from her thigh until he hovered over her core once more. "Just relax, and let me make you feel good."

She chewed on her lower lip nervously, but when she nodded and leaned back again, he leaned forward and pressed his tongue to her center, sliding gracefully along her folds until he felt her melt into his touch. His strong hands gripped her thighs firmly, and he encouraged her to spread herself wider for him.

"Mfph!" She whimpered, worrying her lower lip still between her teeth as she tried to hold back. Sebastian pulled his tongue away, and she groaned at the space he left.

"Nobody is here, darling," he murmured, his warm breath grazing over her. "I want to hear everything. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

"B-but —"

Sebastian tightened his grip on her thigh. "If you go quiet, I'll stop." It wasn't a true threat, as he would never stop if he knew she would let him have her, his own desire growing by the minute.

But she agreed, and when he circled her with his tongue again, she gasped. Her hands flew to his head and tangled themselves in his curls, and he couldn't help himself as he let out a guttural moan, burying himself in her as he fucked her with his mouth. She arched her hips into him, and he silently prayed to whatever powers were out there that, if he were to die, it would be from suffocating himself against her, drowning in her sweetness.

Merlin, how badly he wanted her to ride his face.

He gently pried her hands off of his head and slid his body away from her, almost feeling a bit guilty at her cries of protest. But he wasn't going to let her off that easily. He tugged his trousers off and tossed them haphazardly to the side, somewhere between the thickening forest and wherever his shirt hand ended up, and laid down on the ground.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "What — "

"Come here," he said, guiding her hips over top of him. "I want you to angle yourself here and...and do what I was doing to you."

The young woman blinked at him. "You mean...sit...here?"

Sebastian bit back a groan at her innocence. "Yes. And you...move along my tongue in whatever way makes you feel good."

She nodded and settled herself on his face. "Like this?"

He wasted no time before getting to work, and he moaned with pride when she rested her weight atop him and ground herself into his mouth. She was so wet, he could feel his face already coated with her juices. Yes, this is most certainly how I wish to die.

She bucked her hips in a ragged movement, and he knew she was already nearing another orgasm. He reached between himself and wrapped his hand around his hardened length, stroking himself desperately to the rhythm she set. His tongue lapped against her as if he was a man starved and she was his final meal.

"Sebastian-! I-I can't — I have to —!"

He pressed his face into her and groaned against her clit, the vibrations dragging her to her climax. She yanked on his curls and rode out the rest of her orgasm, her body shaking with sensitivity. It took everything he had not to lose himself — he was saving that for her.

And oh, he would enjoy every second of being inside her.

She lifted herself off of his face and tried to climb off, but he held her hips in place. "I want you to be able to take the lead."

"But," she blushed, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's precisely it." His thumbs traced small circles along her hips. "I'm going to guide you, but I want you to be able to set your own pace. Whatever makes you comfortable. That way — " He quirked a smile at her, "I know for certain you're enjoying it."

And he could enjoy watching her.

He helped position her as she knelt, hovering over his throbbing erection. Sebastian wasn't the patient type, but he knew the reward that awaited him would be worth it. His breath hitched as she traced a line up his length with her delicate fingers.

"Can I...?" she asked shyly, as if voicing the question was more vulgar than what he had just done to her.

He swallowed back a whimper. "P-please."

She stroked his cock once, twice, testing his reaction, and Sebastian was more than willing to give it to her. Her feather-light touches had him wanting more when suddenly, she leaned down and dragged her tongue along it in an experimental lick.

Fuck.

He hadn't realized how sensitive he had gotten from not being touched for so long.

"N-not...not now," he managed, his voice strained.

She glanced up at him, and the sight of her pink lips hovering over the seeping head of his cock tempted him, pleaded with him to thrust into her mouth and coat her tongue. But he wanted something else more.

"I need to be inside you."

She blushed and straddled his hips, and he could feel the heat radiating from her as her wet cunt settled on top of his cock. She nibbled on her lower lip, breathing steadily as she adjusted to the feel of him.

"Take your time, love," he said roughly.

He gasped raggedly as she slowly slipped him inside of her, forcing him to control his urges and allow her time to adjust. She was tight, perfectly fitted around him and he struggled to resist burying himself in her and fucking her until they were both seeing stars.

And then, she sank all the way down, a soft sigh of contentment leaving her lips at the feel of him.

It was almost too much, the way her cunt enveloped him, and as she began to move achingly unhurried, he reactively snapped his hips into hers and released a needy groan.

"That...feels good to you?" She practically breathed the words out.

Sebastian could only manage a nod as his thumbs dug into her thighs. He was too sensitive, too desperate, too touch-starved to control himself.

Thank Merlin she could sense his need.

"Take me," she panted as she rode him, angled just so that her tits bounced in front of his face, carved as perfectly as a Greek statue and yet so supple he couldn't resist pressing his face into them. She let out another soft whimper. "Take me how you want me."

It was his undoing.

He grasped her hips roughly and thrust into her, fast, hard, taking and taking everything he wanted at her command. He was hers, whether she knew it or not, and if she had asked him to, he would have burned the world for her if it meant making this moment last forever.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her face into his neck, biting and sucking gently at his pulse point as she mimicked what he had taught her, their bodies moving in tandem as he drove himself into her. And when she finally cried out, her body tightening around him as she came, he clumsily followed right after, his rhythm ragged, spilling himself inside and muffling a groan against her long hair that he was certain was still glowing in the middle of the forest.

It was faster than he had planned, yet more powerful than anything he could have imagined. But when he looked at her, their sweaty bodies still clinging to each other on the forest floor, her eyes still closed as she panted against him, it was as if the fog had lifted and everything was clear.

And at last, I see the light.

#minors dni #middle of the night posting and running queue #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x fmc #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy oneshot #hogwarts legacy au

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