#i had to sneak over to the window but then i ruined it by forgetting about stealth and fully sticking my head out between the gap

[alia-alia12]

By Chance

Part 3: A Name He Can't Forget

𖧹Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

𖧹Fluff, angst

𖧹1.3k

𖧹Masterlist

The afternoon sun streamed through the café’s large windows, casting golden light across the worn wooden tables. The familiar hum of quiet chatter filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.

Gojo sat alone in a corner booth, lazily stirring his rapidly cooling latte. His sunglasses rested on the table, forgotten, leaving his piercing blue eyes unfocused as he stared out the window.

It was a typical day—normal, quiet, routine.

But something about the stillness unsettled him, like the universe holding its breath before something important.

The soft chime of the bell above the café door drew his attention. His gaze snapped up just in time to see Shoko Ieiri saunter in, her hands shoved in the pockets of her worn leather jacket.

“Of course you’re here.” She smirked when she spotted him, making her way over.

Satoru sighed, resting his chin in his palm. “You here to ruin my peace or pay for my coffee?”

“Neither,” she shot back, sliding into the booth across from him. “I’m here with… news.”

His brow arched, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Shoko paused, studying him carefully in that way only she could. “Y/N’s back in town.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

Satoru blinked, the words not quite registering at first. Y/N’s back. Y/N is back.

He straightened, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. “What did you say?”

“Y/N,” Shoko repeated slowly, like she could see every thought racing through his head. “She’s back. I ran into her mom at the market the other day.”

He stared at her, breath caught in his throat. You were back.

“How long?” he managed to ask, voice strained.

“A week, maybe more?” Shoko shrugged. “She came back to settle her parents’ place. Staying for a while, from what I heard.”

A week.

You’d been back for a week.

His jaw tightened, his mind spinning with possibilities. Had you been avoiding him… or were you simply done with him?

He forced out a rough laugh, though it felt like something sharp lodged in his chest. “Guess she’s been… busy.”

Shoko frowned. “You didn’t know?”

“Nope.” He set his cup down harder than necessary, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “She didn’t tell me.”

He hated how bitter the words tasted.

Shoko’s expression softened, though she didn’t press him like she usually would. “She’s probably just getting settled,” she offered carefully.

But Satoru knew better.

You’d been back for a week. Seven days. 168 hours. You hadn’t called… hadn’t reached out… hadn’t even thought to tell him.

God, that fucking hurt.

He swallowed hard, forcing a smirk onto his face like armor. “Well, good for her. Glad she’s… doing well.”

Shoko sighed, recognizing his deflection but choosing to let it go—for now.

“I thought you’d want to know,” she said quietly before standing. “Take care of yourself, Satoru.”

He nodded stiffly, watching her leave as the bell above the door chimed softly behind her.

The café felt impossibly quiet after she left, like the air had been sucked from the room.

You were back. After all these years… after everything that had happened.

And you hadn’t said a word.

That night, Satoru lay awake in his dark apartment, staring at the ceiling. His mind replayed Shoko’s words over and over again, carving them into his memory like a scar he couldn’t ignore.

He couldn’t help wondering—did you ever think about him… the way he thought about you?

Or had you already moved on… leaving him behind for good?

__________________

The scent of aged paper and polished wood greeted you the moment you stepped inside Second Story Books.

For a brief second, time seemed to fold in on itself. You were twelve again, balancing a stack of books in your arms while your mom scolded you for sneaking another novel off the shelves during your shift.

Then you were sixteen again and your dad was scolding you and Satoru for spending your entire shift laying on the old couch in the back of the store, instead of restocking the books like you were supposed to be doing.

Everything looked... exactly the same.

The same worn hardwood floors, the same towering oak shelves, the same soft light spilling from the antique lamps your parents refused to replace. Even the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock near the register still echoed softly in the quiet shop.

Home.

You swallowed hard, running your fingers over the counter’s familiar surface. Scratches from years of use marked the edges—battle scars of countless stories exchanged, memories pressed between book spines like forgotten flowers.

You let out a shaky breath. You could do this.

The next few hours passed in a quiet blur of dusting shelves, restocking displays, and sweeping away cobwebs. You worked with practiced ease, the routine etched into your bones after years spent helping your parents run the place.

But no matter how busy your hands were, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering—to him.

You could still see Satoru here—grinning like he owned the place, sprawled on the reading chair in the corner with a book he definitely wasn’t planning to buy. He always claimed he was “keeping you company” during your shifts, though he usually ended up distracting you with ridiculous stories or teasing remarks.

You were inseparable back then.

And then... you left.

You sighed, shaking off the memories as you adjusted the last display near the front window. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t change anything.

As if on cue, the bell above the door chimed softly, startling you. You turned, expecting to see a late customer wandering in.

But the doorway stood empty, only a soft breeze slipping through before the door clicked shut again.

You frowned, brushing the feeling off as nerves. The past is just a memory, you reminded yourself.

Still, you couldn’t shake the strange sense of being watched—like the shop itself remembered everything you were trying so hard to forget.

The shop was quiet when you finally locked up, the familiar weight of the keys resting in your palm. The streets outside were bathed in soft amber light from the old streetlamps, casting long, familiar shadows.

You lingered by the front steps, breathing in the cool evening air. The breeze carried the faint scent of rain—and something else. Something... familiar.

Your gaze drifted toward the corner café across the street—the same café you used to meet Satoru at after your shifts, back when you both lived in a world untouched by time or distance.

The light inside glowed warmly, and for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a familiar figure through the window—tall, broad-shouldered, white-haired.

Your breath caught, heart pounding.

But when you blinked, the window was empty.

Just a memory... you told yourself. Just the past playing tricks.

Still, as you walked home under the soft glow of the streetlamps, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That maybe... someone had been watching after all.

[fingertipsmp3]

Who is yelling outside my house at 11:07pm

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter two. begging and begging

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.5k

warnings ⇢ curse words, yn overthinking and panicking like usual, second hand embarrassment (i had to stop and pace for a second but that’s me idk), a glimpse of daddy issues y’all its ingrained in me

authors note ⇢ hey……….. i personally am loving this story and hope you are too! i’ve compiled a bit of a taglist but i am very bad at keeping track or forgetting to add to my list so if you aren’t being tagged despite asking that of me, please remind me, preferably through private messaging since the comments can get kinda muddled to me 😭

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Logically, you know you’re not into JJ. He’s cute and funny, sure. But he’s no Jonah. Yet, his message made you nervous. Beyond nervous. You’ve never had any guy speak to you in such a flirty way. Or, send a text like that. You were used to pity compliments from other girls who felt it was their duty as girls who support other girls. So when you sneak out through your window frame and meet his eyes as he stands down on the grass with Kie and Sarah, you play it off as just being nervous. Which you are.

You’ve been at this for five minutes. The girls and JJ are trying to coax you into just coming down. But the distance looks insane from where you sit.

“I’m gonna die!” You whisper-yell down to them. They’re looking up at you with expectant looks, urging you to hop down.

“You’re not gonna die.” Kiara rolls her eyes but you can’t care for any of that as you take another peek down and scare yourself some more.

“My bones are going to shatter.”

“That sounds pretty cool, actually.” Sarah sends a smack to JJ’s chest, wanting him to shut up.

She looks up at you sweetly. “It’s really not a big drop, just put your hands out and jump. Trust, it’s easy.”

You slip down the steep roof part near your window and you let out a little yelp. Immediately, JJ gets to his feet and rushes to where you could possibly land and holds his arms out. This makes a bigger wave of embarrassment flush through you. He’s not the buffest and you’re sure you’re twice his size. To have him stumble and unable to catch you would ruin you. You’d beg your mother to let you go and live with your aunts back in California and never show your face in any Carolina. It’d be too risky to go to either.

The girls are yelling out to you. Something about being careful. That not being prepared for the jump will hurt. You’re panicking. Yelling out to them that you get it. JJ’s promising that he’ll catch you. Too much is going on at once.

“Your mother isn’t home.” The new voice breaks your chatter. The girls and JJ look up at you with wide eyes. You glance over from your window to another to see your step-father peeking his head out at the group and you. “You can just go out the front door.”

Kiara and JJ share a look as Sarah laughs. Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “You’re… you’re okay with this?”

He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “No. But you’re going to do it either way. I did a lot worse at your age than you’re doing now. Just… if your mom finds out, I didn’t know about any of this. Seriously, kid, I’ll throw you under the bus without a care.”

“Yo, your dads cool.”

“Step-dad.” You correct JJ. Usually, your mother would scold you for such a thing. There’s no step in a family, she would tell you. But it felt like a betrayal to your real father. You glance over at Anthony just in time to see a flicker of something pass through him.

He shrugs it off though, tapping the windowsill. “Just go through the front door before you break something.”

“Will—“ but you yell as you start slipping off the roof. The girls yell. JJ yells. You land in a thud, JJ’s arms wrapped around you as two tumble to the ground.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Anthony calls from the windowsill. When he gets no response, he waves his arm. “You’re fine. Don’t do drugs.” And he shuts the window.

You’re on your back now, looking up at the night sky. “Is she dead?” You hear Sarah ask.

“I wish I was.” You answer with a huff, your knees aching.

“Told you I’d catch you.” JJ hums with a smirk as he gets up off the floor, dusting off his cargo shorts and holding a hand out to you. “Come on. Pope’s drunk and you’re missing it.”

—

You’d never been to the boneyard before. Not to party, at least. Whenever there was a get together, a bonfire or a party, Scarlett would ask you to come with but you’d always say no. At some point, she stopped asking and you’d find out through Instagram that she was out with her cooler friends.

The bonfire is lit. There are people all over. People you’ve passed by all your years in Kildare but have never spoken to you. You felt the same towards the group you’re with but now… now they’re talking to you and laughing with you like they’ve all known each other for years.

You also never knew that Kook’s and Pogue’s could ever get along. But apparently they can when you’ve had a few cold ones. You’re sitting on a log with JJ on one side and John B on the other. Sarah’s sitting on John B’s lap, and you side eye it for a second, realizing that she and Topper really are done. You pay no mind to it afterwards and keep leaning up against JJ as he dramatically tells a story about his last time surfing, which was this morning, the kid living and breathing the sport.

Your eyes skim the grounds and your eyes immediately fall onto Rafe who’s standing around with his friends, beer at hand. Whatever his friends are saying is amusing him because he’s letting out a laugh, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes like he can’t believe it.

“She’s a pogue now.” JJ pulls you back into the group as he boasts about you. “Beat that Harlet girl.”

“Scarlett.” Sarah corrects the drunken guy.

“Whatever her name is. Can I say the b word?” He asks Kiara who shrugs lamely, taking a sip of her beer. “to beating bitches up!”

“JJ, why would you say that?”

“You just gave me permission!” He scoffs and turns back to you, hands squishing your cheeks and making you pucker up. “Look at that sexy shiner.”

You try to pull away from him with a laugh. If it were anyone else, the constant need to be touching you and being flirty would overwhelm you. But you’ve come to realize that he’s just an affectionate and flirtatious person. Plus, it’s very clear that he has his sights set on Kiara, with the longing looks he constantly sends her way.

“To my girlfriend!” JJ hollers far too loudly for your liking, eyes wide as you look at him, as he’s now dramatically standing on the log you were sitting on.

“N-not! Not his girlfriend!” You grab his hand and try to drag him to take a seat but he’s apparently a goddamn bulldozer when drunk.

Cleo and Pope are tending to the drunken guy when you find the chance to slip away. Luckily, you had brought yourself a sweater so walking down the shoreline at one in the morning isn’t the worst part of your night. It’s calm and cool now, the sound of chattering and music now becoming a distant noise, giving you the solace and warmth you need.

The path you’re on now is one you walked down with Scarlett by your side many times. It was never this late of course, always at a decent time with her dog on a leash before letting him run wild. You’d talk for hours. Despite the tension often felt from her remarks, you had a pleasant time. More than pleasant. Fun even. She’s a bad person. A mean person. A bully. But when it was just the two of you, she was just a girl. A girl with you. And you hate how easily she could have betrayed you.

A motion in the corner of your eye startles you out of your reminiscing thoughts. You see a figure rush between the trees and take notice of who it is. Rafe. If you were in a cartoon, you’d imagine a lightbulb drawn at the top of your head lit brightly. This was your shot. Your time to beg and beg until he agreed to take you under his wing.

With a small skip to your step, you follow after Rafe in between the few trees on the beach. You lose sight of him for a second before you spot him again. His back is facing you but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling to the ground. Carefully, you start approaching him.

“Hey,” you gently reach out and tap his shoulder. This startles him. And before you know it, you feel a thousand grains of sand in your eyes. You yell, hands immediately covering your eyes. “Oh my god! What the fuck?! What the fuck?!”

“Holy shit!” You hear him yell. The two of you are yelling now. You don't think you’ve ever heard such a big and tough man like him yell in the way he does. So high pitched. Or maybe that’s just you. But you’re in too much pain to pay any attention. “Why would you fucking creep up on me?!”

“I thought you weren’t okay!”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?!”

“Cause you were kneeling on the floor like a freak!”

“How does that make me a—“

“I think I'm going blind! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” You can’t help but cry out, unable to open your eyes fully because of the sand in them. “Why the fuck would you throw sand in my eyes?!”

“I thought I was being attacked!”

“I only touched your shoulder! Do you think an attacker would lightly tap your shoulder to attack you?! Take me to the hospital!” You’re screeching. You know this. But you can’t open your eyes and this means to panic. Or at least, it is to you.

He sighs, calming down. Or not. You can’t see anything, eyes shut tight. The way the sand grains feel in your eyes only drives you even deeper into a panic. “You don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Then the eye doctor!”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“Oh my god, I’m never gonna see anything ever again! Do you know how much I like to see things?!”

“I’m assuming a lot?”

“A lot! Oh my—“

“Stop saying ‘oh my god’. Fuck, do you have any other phrase?”

You scoff, eyes still covering your eyes which wouldn’t be able to open either way. “Just help me!”

“Fuck, fine! I’ll help you!” You jump when his hand grabs your wrist, tugging one of your hands off of your face. You figured he would tug and drag you behind him but you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s carefully guiding you through the thick trees and what seems to be back to the boneyard. When your feet hit asphalt, you’re sure you’re in the parking lot, taking you to his truck.

“Just… stay here.” He advises you as your back presses up against the cold touch of a vehicle. You heard a car door click open, some scrounging, the door shuts and he’s back in front of you. You’re not sure what he’s doing as he stands across from you, eyes still shut tight. It’s quiet for a moment except for the sound of distant waves crashing.

“Hello?” You reach out shakily, unsure of where exactly he is. Your hand meets his face in a light smack and he pushes your hand off.

“Get off of me.”

“What the fuck are you doing just standing there? Help me!”

You hear him sigh heavily, the sound of his shoes on asphalt. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but his hand taking a hold of your face, big hand sprawled over your chin and onto your cheeks, puckering your lips out softly isn’t it. It’s oddly tender for a man who’s supposed to be abrasive. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes for a second. Gonna flush ‘em out with water, alright?”

You have no words, you simply nod gently, opening your slightly burning eyes for him to flush them out. It takes a few gushes of water for your eyes to no longer feel grainy. The sleeve of your sweater is rubbing at your eyes tirelessly, the stinging unbearable. His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you away from your eyes again. “Stop doing that. It’s going to worsen it.”

You glare at him. The blurry version of him from how teary and red your eyes are. “It wouldn’t be bad in the first place if—“

“If you didn’t sneak up on me like a stalker.” His harsh words don’t deter you. His tone would have last week but not anymore. Normally, you'd feel a flutter of embarrassment or shame but after all that's happened in the past 48 hours, you can't find it in you to care.

“A stalker?! God, I just wanted to talk to you. You were kneeling over on the ground like you found a dead fucking puppy. Forgive me for wanting to check up on you.”

“This is a good lesson for you, kid—“

“Kid? Seriously?”

“A lesson to mind your own every now and then.”

You scoff but have no retort to throw back, tired and stinging eyes taking him in. His face is strong as usual, little to no emotion shown in them, even with the ridiculous sight of your extremely reddened eyes and roughed up face, he shows nothing. You wonder why he is the way he is for a second before snapping back into reality. “You owe me for this.”

“Is this that “make you hot“ bullshit?” He snorts out what you think is a laugh. But he would never so you can’t find it in you to stew over it.

“Yeah and wh—“

“I’m not making you hot.”

“Ugh, please! Look, I really need this! And you almost blinded me so you have to.”

“I don’t have to do shit. You put your nose in someone else’s business, that’s what leads to sand in your eyes.”

“Yeah, but—“ you try again but he easily shuts you up by putting a single hand up, palm to your face. A look of amusement flashes through his eyes when he realizes it actually worked and you’re too worked up to fight back. You’re about to speak and he’s about to decline and fight you again when another voice speaks up.

“Yo, fight club!” John B calls out to you, a sleeping Sarah on his back. Beside him, Pope and Cleo are placating a tearful JJ as he hangs off their shoulders between the two of them. Kiara is wearing a random hat that reads ‘Fish Fear Me’, probably stolen by JJ and now a trophy for her. “We’re leaving.”

You turn to speak to Rafe but he’s already gotten into his truck and with a loud sigh of defeat, you walk over to your new group of friends. Kiara brings her arm over your shoulder easily, putting the hat she had on top of your head with a bright smile. They’re talking about god knows what as your eyes turn back to Rafe’s truck one last time. And you’re not sure if you’re making it up but you swear your eyes meet through the slide glass before he drives off.

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taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 (if your name is red, im not able to tag you and im not sure why, sorry!!)

[ccazimi]

Nightingale (pt. 2)

Read pt. 1 here

CW: stepcest, period sex (oral, fingering), noncon/dubcon, wounding? (fingering with nails), namecalling (princess, pet, slut, etc.), squirting, fem reader, degradation, modern noncurse au, lmk if i missed anything else

WC: 4.5k

as usual, 18+, mdni

Morning sunlight streams into the window as you bite into the toast smothered in anko. Both your parents have already left to go to work, leaving just you finishing your meal and Yuuji scarfing down his next to you. Sukuna still hasn’t shown himself to your relief but you hasten your chewing to disappear into your room before he possibly decides to make an entrance.

You were almost scared to return home after your date last night, but luckily you didn’t run into Sukuna when you got back around 11 and let yourself in.

The date itself was pretty decent, especially for a first one. He’d taken you to a trendy new conveyor belt sushi restaurant, the night filled with laughter and playful banter that almost made you forget about what had happened right before.

Almost.

Unfortunately the awareness of its proof in your panties ruined your first ever kiss at the end of the night, effectively putting a damper on things when they started to heat up and he’d invited you back to his dorm at uni. You had been preparing for this night, for this moment, but suddenly it felt uncomfortable as you became even more conscious of the urge to peel off your undergarments and scrub your skin.

You politely declined, rambling on about how your parents expected you home or something. If he knew it was an excuse, luckily he didn’t mind and the drive to drop you home was still in good spirits.

If you blocked out all memories of Sukuna from yesterday, it was actually a pretty decent night.

You finish up your toast before moving onto the yogurt with chunks of fruit in it, just about to dive in when you hear his footsteps and make out the silhouette of his frame coming down the hallway.

Though your eyes are steadily trained on mixing the yogurt your body still tenses and the hammering in your chest urges you to leave.

“Good morning, Sukuna!” Yuuji greets his older brother with his usual sunny disposition that does nothing to ease the prickling on your skin. You can feel Sukuna’s eyes boring into you.

“What’s left to eat?” Sukuna asks lazily, pulling out a chair in front of you and taking a seat.

His voice was the last straw and you keep your eyes cast downward as you slowly stand up, holding the open container of yogurt.

“Eggs, toast, yogurt, coffee, some fruits. You goin’ to work today?” Yuuji replies through a mouth full of food.

“I am.” To your dismay, Sukuna turns his head in your direction before you can sneak away. “And where are you going?”

You swallowed. “I’m done with my food and I have some homework to catch up on….” You mumbled.

“Its bad manners to get up while we’re still eating.” Sukuna chides you. “Besides aren’t you gonna tell us how your date went last night?”

Just like Sukuna probably intended, Yuuji perked up at the mention and looked curiously at you. “Date? You went on a date? How’d it go?!” He asked excitedly.

You glared at Sukuna and that stupid smug grin on his face as you sat back down. His nerve never ceased to astound you.

“It went fine. We got dinner at that new conveyor belt sushi place.” You spooned some of the yogurt into your mouth.

“No one cares about that.” Sukuna reached over to pluck the yogurt from your hands despite your protests. “So did you fuck or not?”

You turn pink as Yuuji pipes up. “Sukuna, give her yogurt back and stop asking her questions like that.”

The question wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t know as well as Sukuna did that he’d effectively made sure you couldn’t have sex with your date last night even if you wanted to.

“The princess can get a new one.” He finished your yogurt in about two bites before setting the empty container back in front of you. “Yes or no?”

“We didn’t. Can you leave me alone now?” You answered a bit more sharply than you’d intended, causing Sukuna’s eyes to slant as you got up to get another yogurt from the fridge.

“Watch your tone.”

“Let it go, Sukuna. Besides you’re being a jerk anyways, what did you expect?” Yuuji defends you with pure intentions but still you feel a bit embarrassed as you remember what Sukuna said last night about his “white-knighting”.

He probably thought of you as sheltered, soft. Unable to defend yourself.

The thought irritated you more than it should and you promptly dismissed yourself after retrieving the yogurt, making your way past Sukuna and into your room.

The next day your date texts you asking if you want to go out again and while you do, luck just has it that your period starts so you schedule for next week instead. Two days pass by and between schoolwork, classes, and staying holed up in your room in pain, you didn’t see Sukuna all that much.

Three nights later you’re curled up on your bed in fetal position, unable to fall asleep thanks to the constant pinching in your belly. Not even the hot shower you took seemed to help, neither did the 500 mg of ibuprofen. You’re considering if you have it in you to get up and make some hot herbal tea when you hear the motorbike pull up to the house before shutting off and the front door unlocking.

Sukuna must be back from his shift.

You check the time on your phone. Its a bit after 1 am and with the quietness in the house you know both your parents and Yuuji would already be asleep right now, leaving only Sukuna awake and prowling about.

No tea tonight.

You curl up tighter as another especially sharp cramp pierces through your gut and you feel warm blood leak out into your pad, praying sleep will fall over you soon.

A few minutes later your hear footsteps coming up the stairs, your breath involuntarily pausing, waiting for him to walk by your room.

Except he doesn’t.

The doorknob starts to turn and your mind races at what he could possibly want or be doing at this hour. You bury your face into your pillow facing your back towards the door, shutting your eyes as you hear it open.

For a few seconds everything is perfectly still and you think he might have left.

Suddenly a peculiar sensation makes you jump- long fingers on your scalp, stroking through the length of your hair. The sensation makes your stomach curl and you snap your head around to tell him to fuck off.

“What do you want?” You hiss, biting your lip to hold in a wince as another brutal cramp rips through you.

The only light in your room is the pale moonlight streaming in, illuminating only contours of his face, the rest of his figured cloaked in shadows and barely visible where he was standing by your bed.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping.”

“Get out. I don’t want to deal with you right now.” The pain in your abdomen made you more irritable than usual, growling at him as you turn your face back into the covers.

You feel the bed dip under his weight, gasping as your face is grabbed by the chin and twisted back to look at him. “And who do you think you’re talking to? You’re feeling brave tonight, huh?”

Another cramp. You stay silent, hoping he’ll leave if you don’t provoke him further. Instead, he lets go of your face to swat you lightly. “Move.”

You want to deny him but between the pain and your fear of provoking him you do as he says, still facing away as you shift to the other side of the bed. Sukuna crawls in beside you under the sheets, scooting close as he lies down and pulls you in so that he’s spooning you.

Your chest is fluttering at the warmth of his body against yours more than you’d like and you conveniently blame it on the state of your period hormones.

“You know how much I hate that bratty attitude of yours…” He sighs against the back of your neck, rubbing his lips along as the hand on your hip pulls you even tighter.

“How was work?” You ask quietly, shifting tactics and hoping you could loosen the building heat by asking him normal and mundane questions.

“Good. It’s a nice restaurant, the kind you take a girl to for a first date.” He lifts his head a bit while his fingers begin trailing the length of your body, down over the tops of your thighs and back up to skim across your clothed abdomen. “Not a conveyer sushi belt place.”

“I liked it, okay? It was a good date.” You huff a bit defensively. “Besides I don’t think any college student has the money for kaiseki as a first date.”

Sukuna offers no response apart from a slight chuckle, though his fingers are growing bolder in their exploring in a way that has your breathing quickening slightly.

You tense as another cramp seizes your uterus but the pain is quickly overshadowed by the feeling of his hand abruptly slipping under the hem of your top and reaching up to cup your breast.

“What are you doing?” You whisper as your own hand comes up to pull his off while you shoot a worried glance to the door to your room still ajar behind you. “Wh-what if mom or dad…or Yuuji see-”

“So what if they do?” Sukuna nips playfully at the shell of your ear. “I’m just helping my little sister fall asleep…”

You suppress a shiver down your spine, disgust at his disturbing words settling down into unwanted sparks in your gut. Your hand loosens its grip on his and just as soon he squeezes your sore breast, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Could you at least close the door? In case someone walks by?” You plead quietly as another one of his arms wrap around to grope your chest with both hands. “Ow, ah-”

“Close the door? Why?” His fingers are kneading the tender tissue of your tits, making you wince. “What do you plan on doing with me?” He teases, pressing his hips up into your ass to make sure you can feel his hardening dick. “Gonna jerk me off with your panties again?”

Heat blooms across your cheek, once again caught between yourself and the repulsion that was slowly morphing into a dark desire that was only encouraged by the pads of his fingers tracing your areolas, nipples hardening under the touch.

Its just your period hormones you repeatedly try to reason with yourself again and almost on cue, your uterus contracts again. The cramps along with the pain from your aching breasts being massaged and the heat infecting your brain was all too much.

“S-stop, Sukuna…it hurts.” You say hoping it’ll convince him to ease up at the very least as you squirm against his hands on your chest.

“You’re so fucking fragile. I’m barely even squeezing them.”

“Well they’re already sore because I’m-” You hesitate for some reason. “..on my period.”

His movements pause and relief washes over you.

“I know.”

And just like that your stomach is up in knots again. “Huh?”

Suddenly the heat of his body against yours dissipates as he gets up from the bed before peeling back the layers of your blanket.

You’re about to protest when you catch a look at his expression, a large grin plastered on his face that was visible even in the faint moonlight.

Before you know it his hands are gripping your ankles, pulling you unceremoniously to the edge of the bed where he kneels by it on the ground.

“Sukuna? Stop it, what are you doing?” You whisper frantically trying to keep your voice quiet despite the growing panic at being unable to do anything but flail about helplessly in the sheets.

“Consider this another gift, princess. I’m gonna show you how a real man eats so that my little sis never settles for anything less from another man.”

“Eats? You can’t possibly mean-”

Oh, but clearly that was exactly what he meant, judging from how he was gripping the waistband of your pajamas to tug them down.

“Sukuna. I’m on my period, please not now, please can’t we do this after or something?” You realize you’re already crying as you desperately try to reason with him. “You won’t like the taste, its gross-”

More tears well in your eyes as you watch his sinister smile grow wider as he drinks in your disheveled state, begging him not to. “You clearly don’t know my tastes then.”

He yanks down your pajamas, dragging the waistband of your panties with it as you twist to stop him from taking them off.

He growls in agitation. “Stop making this difficult or I swear to god I’ll get scissors and cut these clothes off you.”

You still, meeting his eyes that somehow look redder than ever right now almost as if they were glowing.

He smiles as he pulls your clothing all the way down your legs, removing them and tossing your pajamas along with your panties and the pad on it to the side. “There you go. Just lay back and let your big brother make you feel good, okay?”

You shiver at his words, aware he was trying and succeeding at making you as uncomfortable about this as possible.

Cool air brushes over your wet pussy as he spreads your legs to hook them over his shoulders, drawing your awareness to your vulnerable position. Your screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to see his as he drinks in the sight over your bare and bleeding cunt. It was your first time being seen with anyone, the feeling of being so exposed like this making a potent mixture of humiliation and shame burn in you.

And you thought it couldn’t get worse than the last time.

“Open your eyes.”

Your lids flutter open at his voice, unexpectedly soft , though it still held a firm edge.

“There you go.”

You grip your sheets as you watch him lean in, realizing your clit was already throbbing in anticipation at the feel of his tongue.

The flat of his tongue presses against your clit and you gasp.

The feeling was even better than you’d imagined - soft, wet and hot. Not to mention you'd forgotten entirely about that piercing on his tongue- you'd never really noticed it till now and as the cold metal ball catches against your clit you realize the reason he probably got it.

Your fingers twist the sheets into fists as he licks a long stripe up from your sopping hole back up to your clit before latching his open mouth all the way on your pussy.

His eyes are piercing through you as you hold your breath when you feel a tongue slithering into your hole, tasting the mixture of blood and juices. A low groan vibrates from his throat as his lids relax and his tongue slides back out and he pulls away, dark red staining his lips as they curl into a smirk.

“Oh, you taste even better than I expected.” He leans closer, voice dropping with some sinister intent. “So good that I think you deserve to know what your cunt tastes like too.”

Your eyes widen as he bends in over you. “No-”

Wet lips are already crashing onto yours, swallowing your denial as his tongue pries its way through your lips and teeth. The sharp taste of yourself coated your tastebuds all at once - salty, warm, and metallic - making you cringe and try to break the kiss.

Sukuna’s tongue is pervasive, exploring the crevices of your mouth with a domineering harshness before finally pulling away, snapping tiny gossamer threads of saliva between the two of you.

“That was ….disgusting. What is wrong with you?!” You pant, trying to scrape off the taste from your tongue against your teeth.

He giggles, a low sound that makes your hairs stand up. “I’m gonna teach you to love ‘disgusting’.”

You look at him in horror before peeling away your eyes to the door frame, listening closely to make sure the house was still quiet.

You would never be able to recover from being caught in this position.

Sukuna lowers himself, latching his mouth back onto your pussy and staring directly up into your eyes as his tongue begins to lap at your damp folds, dragging through them to collect all the juices and swallow. You stare at him with wide-eyes, completely enraptured by this incredible sensation, wondering how you’d gone without it for so long.

You’re already barely holding yourself together when he starts licking your swollen clit, the hard metal of his piercing rubbing over and over against it, blending deliciously with the warmth of his wet tongue.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold in the feverish moans that were rising from your chest. He notices, narrowing his eyes and increasing his pace, sucking and caressing the sensitive bundle of nerves till you’re biting down on your palm even though small whimpers still make their way out.

Every small flick of his tongue feels like jolts of lightning from your most sensitive spot and you don’t even realize you’re lifting your hips up higher, pressing your pussy into his mouth for more.

He stops for a second, removing his mouth to eye the wet mess he’d already made of your cunt. The sudden dissolving of pleasure from his tongue was almost painful, eliciting a frustrated noise from you as you looked up at him desperately.

“Feel good?” He asks, obviously taunting you like he didn’t already know the answer and just wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck, yes, it feels good.” You grit out, impatiently trying to lift your pussy back to his lips. “Keep going.”

“What’s the magic word?”

You clench your jaw, the pure neediness of your cunt straining against the agitation bubbling on your face. "Are you fucking seriou-"

You’re not given a chance to even try and fight back when he parts his lips ever so slightly and breathes out, the tendrils of his breath cool against your wet folds as it almost spelled out how swollen your clit was, coated in slick and saliva.

The feather-light sensation was too much, snapping the last threads of control leaving you thinking only through your agonizingly aroused cunt.

“Oh f-fuck, please Sukuna,” You whined. “Please make me c-cum.”

He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the addicting heat of his lips clamping back around your sex, watching intently as you begin to unravel with every careful move of his tongue. Lewd, sloppy noises fill the room and normally you’d be nervous about someone possibly waking up and hearing him slurping your pussy, but you’re too far gone, squeezing your thighs around his head instead.

You watch him through the tears filling your eyes as you feel your orgasm begin to build up - slowly and heavily. He looks like a monster, hungrily devouring you and the fresh blood leaking out, the sight of his head between your thighs and on your pussy only pushing your orgasm towards you with increasing intensity.

And before you know it you’re falling, drowning in the waves of pleasure rippling through you so strongly that your mouth is open in awe, soft moans burying into the flesh of your palm with tears rolling down your cheeks. Sukuna doesn’t let up, leading you through your orgasm with his mouth and even when you feel yourself start to come down his pace and pressure don’t decrease.

“S-Sukuna, I came.” You try to pull your hips away but he grips you tightly, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

Even with his mouth occupied you can see the glint in his eyes, smirking as his tongue continues its relentless assault on your sensitive clit. He changes up the pace and you whimper as he begins sucking on it, overstimulation drawing fresh tears at your lash line.

“Sukuna, ‘s too much - ah - , s-stop,” You try again weakly till you feel the bolts of pleasure igniting again at your clit.

His tongue goes back to stimulating it with increasing intensity as you feel your second orgasm begin to build.

“Oh god-” You tilt your pelvis up as the heat grows and grows until your fingers find their way into his hair, gripping the messy strands as you lift your hips and pull his head as tightly as you can into your pussy. “Fuck, fuck, oh my fucking-”

Your second orgasm crashes into you abruptly and without warning, leaving you breathless after it dissipates. His tongue slows down into slow languid strokes before stopping entirely and unlatching his mouth while you catch your breath. Sukuna’s face is shining, covered in juices and blood that you can feel running down from your entrance to your ass.

Your hole clenches, the need for your g-spot to be stimulated growing imminent now that you were sufficiently prepped from not one but two clitoral orgasms.

His eyes drag down to the movement and he smirks, licking his lips to clean them off. “Need something, pet?”

You try to close your thighs, only making him spread them wider as your post-nut clarity washes over you like a bucket of icy water being dumped on you.

“No. Let me go before I fucking scream for mom and dad.”

You can take care of yourself with your own fingers after he’s gone.

That smug look on his face doesn’t budge at your threat.

“You’re not gonna do that.” He tells you coolly.

“Fucking let me go-”

You’re about to try and kick him in the face when he slides a finger into your dripping entrance, curling it up to massage that spongy area of tissue that made your mind go blank and all the words melt off of your tongue in favor of an involuntary moan.

You look at him through glazed eyes, mouth parted as he rubs into your flesh, a new type of pleasure blooming and taking hold.

“You’re such a stupid slut.” He sneers, rubbing a finger against your sensitive walls before harshly shoving in another finger. “Don’t ever try those empty threats with me, you dumb little girl.”

“Ahh” You bite down on your lip, ashamed at how you melted into putty under his touch till the point even his demeaning words only fueled the pleasure.

“I bet your fingers never felt as good as mine do, huh?” With the way his fingers are positioned, you can start to feel the edges of his nails scraping against the tender flesh.

“N-no, oh fuck,” You babble mindlessly, all composure falling away with the steady pressure of his fingers against your walls being exacerbated by the stinging of those dark nails inside you. “No they don’t, Sukuna-”

“You like this you sick little slut?” His fingers begin pistoning up into you at a new angle, the sudden change of pace causing fresh moans to spill out of you, the wet sounds of crimson-stained fluids so messy and erratic you already know these sheets will be permanently stained.

“Y-yes, -nhgh- love it, I love it-”

Love it?

You were entirely out of your mind, even Sukuna knew by now if it wasn’t already clear from your watery and dazed eyes, the sweat clinging to your skin, how every muscle in your body was tensed up, the amount of wetness coating his fingers that couldn’t be just blood.

“This is really all it took for you to give in? Fuck, your virgin cunt must’ve been so miserable.” He curves his fingers up even more against your gummy walls now plushy and inflamed from how hard he’s finger fucking you with nails cutting themselves into the flesh. “Say it. Say that you’re pathetic.”

“Ah-” You bite in a yelp, vision blurry and eyes stinging from tears, only able to feel his fingers thrusting aggressively into you, the pleasure threaded with pain and a brand new wave of humiliation at his biting words as if you weren’t already mortified by how much apparently your body loved this. “P-please, Sukuna-”

“Say it.” He spits on your pussy, the wet wad of spit catching on your clit, making you whimper at the visceral sensation. “Say you’re my pathetic little plaything.”

His sadistic gaze burned into you and with the building pressure between your legs you felt like you were being compelled.

“I’m your p-pathetic, -ah- little plaything S-Sukuna,”

“Yeah? Still wanna call Mom and Dad? Have them see you cumming all over your big brother’s fingers like a filthy bitch?”

The words are like a match striking something in you and you moan so loudly that Sukuna leans over to clamp his other palm over your mouth, so close you can see the faint striated pattern in his blazing irises.

“Go on, then. Show me how much you love this.”

With that, hot liquid rushes out of you as you cum, seeping uncontrollably from your walls and gushing around his fingers and splattering out as he continues to drive them into you, juicing every last drop of your orgasm.

You come down, his hand over the lower half of your face lifting when your muffled moans become pants for air. Every muscle in your body is tired from being tensed and you bite your lip from the sharp pain when he pulls his fingers out from your abused cunt. Your walls are tighter than before, inflamed and puffy from the battering of his fingers. There’s a dull soreness, but at least the pain in your womb has subsided for now.

Sukuna lifts his fingers, admiring the mess of smeared blood, fluids, and tiny stringy bits of soft flesh clinging onto his nails. You gulp as he looks at you, scared he’s going to put them in your mouth to make you taste yourself.

“Please, don��t.”

He flashes you a cocky smile, clearly pleased at the apprehension he’d instilled in you before licking his fingers clean. You watch in repulsion, suddenly aware of the mess that was left on your skin and sheets and slide your legs back down to close yourself up from his view.

And of course with it was a growing disgust with what had just happened and how much you’d liked it.

Loved it.

You cringe, unable to be in Sukuna’s presence after humiliating yourself and coming undone like that in front of him, at his hands.

“I n-need to cleanup…” You mutter keeping your eyes trained on the dark ceiling above you, voice breaking as the weight of everything begins to come down on you.

“Good luck with that,” He replies indifferently as he stands. “You’re definitely gonna need new sheets.” Your heart tightens as you feel him moving around the side of the bed to stand beside you and bend down. “Goodnight, sis.” He presses a mockingly chaste kiss on your forehead with the lips that had just been eating out your pussy, leaving your stomach lurching and wanting to gag as he pulls away and walks out the door, once again leaving you in both physical and mental shambles.

[yiiyiiwrites]

| If I must be your ruin |

Summary: before the buildings ruin, Cassian knew that your love would fall the same but he was willing to fight that fate with his mate. (Some dad Cassian and uncle Azriel/Rhys too)

Cassian x summer court reader (forbidden romance) [acotar masterlist]

Before under the mountain:

Sneaking Cassian into the summer court because you prefer your silk sheets and comfy bed.

Cassian loves waking up to you in his arms, the salty breeze filtering through the open window. Veiled curtains fluttering around the bed frame, dangling shells clinking together and creating a song he hopes he never forgets.

Takes a while for both of you to take the relationship serious as you’re both forbidden from stepping in each other’s courts.

Swimming together during the full moon, taking a small boat out into the summer sea and diving from the deck.

That one time Cassian got caught and you had to flirt with the guards so that he could escape. You never heard the end of it, but it did lead to great make up sex. He teases you for it all the time.

Your older brothers don’t like Cassian because of what he did.

“It was one building! It was ugly anyways, did us all a favour.”

You’re also part of the reason for the buildings ruin, but Cassian has never mentioned it.

“I would tear down buildings for you.”

Meeting on the boundary of summer and winter, Cassian can’t step over the invisible court line. (After being caught previously it’s too risky for him and you).

So you launch into his arms not caring at the abrupt temperature change. He opens his jacket and pulls you into a crushing hug to keep you warm.

Slipping a shell in his pocket, so that he’s reminded of a piece of you when he puts his hands in there to warm up in the cold. (He doesn’t tell you that he got a seamstress to sew a shell into the lining of his pocket so that you’re always with him).

Sending Cassian a blood ruby when he’s angered you. He ends up with a collection of different cut red gems, that you both laugh about now. You only get more angry if he forgets the reason of why you sent them.

You made him a necklace with discarded fishing netting and a shard of sea glass you found washed ashore.

“If I must be your ruin,” Cassian said, hooking his finger under your chin and raising your gaze to his. “Then I will also be your salvation.”

Secret wedding, where he creates you a ring out of the first blood ruby you sent him (the only reason you sent it was because it was the exact same shade as his siphons, he got in a lot of trouble with Rhys too).

Your mating ceremony is halfway between both of your courts in dawn. Only you and cassian with a priestess that is your closet friend.

Your dress pearlescent silk, fluttering layers in the morning breeze. Pearls weaved into the waves of your hair.

“In this life and the next, my love.”

After under the mountain:

You’ve never seen Cassian under the mountain and that you are glad of.

The only thing you have of Cassian’s is a dagger, blood ruby set in the scabbard. Your ring is hidden away in the Dawn court with your priestess friend.

You’re convinced that Rhysand can scent his friend merged with yours. He even studied the dagger, but did not push any further.

It wasn’t your mate that ended up being your ruin, it was the things you had to do in order to survive.

Fifty years of yearning and you meet him back in dawn. Granted it took you a couple of years of freedom till you reached out to him. Closed yourself up in summer to try and rid yourself of the trauma.

Cassian bought you a small estate that looks out to the sea in the dawn court. Your shells and rubies decorating the driftwood mantelpiece.

Your mate is hesitant the first few visits as if he’s worried about scaring a wild animal. As if you’re made of glass.

You seek refuge in the dawn court and wait for your mates visits. The first person he brings to your shared home is Feyre. He knows that she’ll be the most understanding and will treat you with kindness.

The nightmares are few and far between when Cassian is there to hold you.

The sound of the sea crashing along the shore soothes your mind and helps you stay grounded. Your mate knows you too well.

When you do eventually get invited to Velaris, you’re surprised to see the small shells scattered around his bedroom. The ribbon from your mating ceremony in the drawer beside his bed.

The different ornate chests full of rubies tucked away at the back of his wardrobe.

Your family:

When you have children they are named after precious stones. The first a daughter Ruby, as fiery as the threat of summer and has drawn blood from her father (accidentally).

Ruby is a forced to be reckoned with when she gets older. “Well it’s not that bad, dad totalled a whole building,” Ruby smirked, eyes sliding to Feyre who bit back a laugh. “Who told you that?!” It’s turns out Rhys was the one that let that slip.

Ruby has no interest in fighting in the mountains, thinks her father and Azriel are brutes (but loves them anyways). She does however want to join the Valkyries. Very fond of Nesta and loves romance books too. Debates with Cassian on how they can help Illyrian women.

Cassian teaching Ruby to fly, she’s reluctant to learn but he takes a more softer approach and asks feyre to help out too.

Obsessed with Pegasus in the day court that she begs you to take her there whenever you have diplomatic work.

Asks Rhys to put in a good word with Helion so that she can study in the day courts library. Ruby sends Cassian war books that she’s read and add sticky tabs for parts she thinks her dad will like. Sends you precious stones with a note. “Whatever you do, do not call any of my future siblings after this one.”

A son Jett, who is so protective of his siblings and his mother when you fall pregnant with a third one. He doesn’t give too much away, his stony face unmoving as if he’s spent too much time with uncle Azriel enjoying the quiet (which he doesn’t get at home thanks to ruby).

Jett’s the only one that wants to train in the Illyrian mountains like his father and uncles. Grew up playing with a wooden sword before he even learnt to fight.

Cassian doesn’t let Jett go to the Illyrian mountains till he’s trained to a high standard. Knows his son will be a target for people to prove they are better than him. So wants to give him a fighting chance before he’s left to his own devices.

Play fights with Rhys as a kid and gets in a good few swipes before you and Feyre are telling them both to calm down.

Jett asking Cassian to tell him of his adventures putting away monsters in the prison before bed.

Azriel is the one to teach Jett to fly, Cassian too nervous as he falls each time. Jett can’t do it with too many distractions, values silence and figuring it out himself instead of people telling him what to do. He ends up going out alone and mastering it himself…which earns him a scolding from you and Cassian.

Pearl, she loves the ocean that her first steps were paddling in the shallow waves at the beach. Free spirited and loves to fish with Feyre and Rhys. Whether it be looking for shells or sea glass or searching for a crab in the rock pools.

Pearl is the only one without wings, you tell her it’s so that she can swim and follow the mermaids in the ocean. She’s a spitting image of you as a child and it’s like you’re meeting yourself again for the first time.

Pearl has no spatial awareness when it comes to wings. She’s always getting swatted by her siblings wings and she likes to play a game where she hides behind Cassian’s wings, all that can be heard is her giggles.

Azriel took Pearl flying because he didn’t want her to miss out when her siblings were learning to fly (he may have dropped her few times as he mentioned how many times Jett fell whilst learning…he always caught her maybe even dropped her again just to hear her little giggles).

His girls braiding his hair and adding little shells and strands of string. Cassian definitely learns how to do their hair too. He even massages your hair before he braids yours too and the girls whine asking him to do that to them as they undo the ribbon holding their braids.

You live in Dawn during winter and spring, as you can’t handle the cold weather. Summer and autumn in Velaris, a top floor apartment in the art district overlooking a lake. It’s smaller than your home in dawn, but you spend more time outside on the rooftop patio than inside.

Your children visiting your brothers in Summer during the hottest time of the year so that they can see where you grew up.

Ruby rejects her mate, an Illyrian brute that doesn’t value her intellect or cares for her opinion. She falls in love with a scholar from the day court and lives out the rest of her life there. She doesn’t visit you and cassian for a few years thinking that you are not happy with the rejection as she knows that mates are sacred. But you make it known that her happiness is all that matters.

Jett’s mate, a peregryne in the aerial legion. They meet across the battle field during war and spend years trying to find each other. Nothing but letters going back and forth whilst they fulfil their respective duties.

Pearl meets her mate in the Summer court. A way finder, he was pulling a fishing net up in the middle of the sea when he saw Pearl swimming by.

Hope you liked….I thought about this way too much after thinking of it ages ago :)

[bumblesimagines]

maybe we should forget this even happened.

i'm just going to... leave.

Robb Stark

i'm just going to... leave.

maybe we should forget this even happened.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

As a child, you often wondered if Catelyn Stark had a sixth sense. She always seemed to know when you and Robb were up to no good, whether it was sneaking out of Winterfell or trying to convince the cooks for more sweets. There'd always been a knowing look in her eye and the way she'd smile at you and Robb, one single brow raising and hands coming to rest on her waist. 'Now, what are you boys up to?' She'd ask, but you and Robb knew by then the plan was ruined.

And now? Well, now you prayed her sixth sense had grown faulty because if you were caught in bed with the heir to Winterfell, you could only pray to the old gods the Starks would be merciful enough to only send you to the Wall. 

You moved carefully and slowly, sliding the fur blankets off your body and exposing your bare skin to the cold air wafting in through the cracked open window. Your nose crinkled as the wood supporting the bed creaked and groaned loudly, barely sparing a glance over your shoulder at the sleeping man before standing and hurrying to collect your clothes off the floor. You'd done this dance plenty of times over the years, mainly with drunken flings, but this time you weren't slipping away from a brothel worker or a maiden. This time you were slipping away from your best friend. 

Hurriedly tucking your shirt into your pants to avoid the risk of looking suspicious while leaving the room, you spun on your heel and searched the stone floor for your coat. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" A groggy voice questioned and you tensed completely, fingers curling around the top of your pants. The old gods despised you, you were certain of it. "The hunting trip is tomorrow, (Y/N)."

"I'm aware of that." For a man who'd just awoken to find his closest childhood companion getting dressed after a drunken night together, Robb started far too calm for your liking. Perhaps reality hadn't set in completely or whatever he'd drunk the night prior still had some sort of effect on him. 

"Look at me." He murmured, and when you remained with your back turned to him, he spoke again in his 'future Lord of Winterfell' tone that he scarcely used when you were alone with him. "Look at me, (Y/N)."

"My father will wonder where I ran off to, Robb." You told him with a quiet sigh and reluctantly turned around to face him. He certainly looked wide awake to you. His light-colored eyes gazed at you with what you swore was amusement and he reached his arm out to lazily pat the empty side of the bed in a silent invitation, or order. You dug your teeth into the inside of your bottom lip. If either of his parents even caught a glimpse of him, they'd spiral into a lecture that'd end in a threat of sending you away. 

"Come." He groaned, his impatience reminding you of his younger, more brutish sister. "Your family can wait."

"Why are you acting as if any of this is normal, Robb? I cannot be caught in your quarters while you look like that. Maybe- Maybe we should forget this even happened. It was a mistake that will not happen again-"

"You were the one that kissed me." Robb's lips formed a frown and he pushed himself up, bushy brows knitting tightly together. You despised making Robb upset, especially when his pretty eyes were as expressive as words, but it was necessary. You inhaled and forced yourself to look away from him, finally noticing your coat draped over a chair and across the room. You silently moved and slipped it on, properly concealing yourself from the cold and turning to face the man. "Do you not even wish to talk-"

"No, Robb. I'm... I'm just going to... leave. And we'll pretend as if nothing occurred, alright? You'll go back to being the heir of Winterfell and I'll go back to being the kennel master's son, just as it should and always will be."

[covetyou]

🤭 reader is def borrowing condoms from Dieter (she spent so long debating with herself but she also really wanted Frankies dick). But would Dee be curious and follow to see who she's with? 👀 Maybe try to invite himself to join, or hang out outside the trailer? 🥵💦

Would this morally dubious clown follow someone to watch 'em do the nasty? I think we all know the answer here 😌

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Frankie Morales x fat contortionist f!reader (x Dieter Bravo) rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: voyerism, jealousy, bi Dieter, protected PIV, recreational drug use/reference, Max Phillips makes another cameo word count: 1.2k summary: When the trailer's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'.

A/N: Dieter's POV. takes place after for one night only and fools just wanna have fun.

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Bravo had evaded Max by the skin of his teeth - no sooner had his trailer door shut behind him, running around the back pulling his pants over his dick and balls, and Max was there in the clearing, shouting bloody murder for him before pounding on the door. Before any more inaccurate accusations and threats to his life could be made, Bravo the Clown had snuck away into the night, seething.

This was his night ruined.

The condoms were one thing, but this being a family friend show? Psh, his ass it was. He watched greased up men sliding against each other on the regular, and there was that married couple who practically eye fucked each other whenever they performed. Not to mention you, Sparkles, with your ass hanging out every show as you twisted and bulged and looked so damn sinful he'd had more than one back stage wank over the years. Nothing he did was any less family friendly than that and yet here he was, getting chased down by an angry mob of one simply for wanting to relax a little before a show. And maybe a bit during too.

And after, not forgetting the joint still clutched in his fingers. He'd have to find somewhere more discreet to smoke it now that he had Max hot on his ass, but first he needed a light. His was still on the floor of his trailer, because of you.

Maybe that's why he finds himself walking toward your trailer, it being your fault he's currently without a light after all. He knows you like those stupid little candles, a complete fire hazard in a place like this if you ask him - one knock and the whole polyester spectacle is going up in a cloud of sequins and smoke. It's not at all because he knows what you're doing in there, without him. Not at all. He respects you. He could absolutely, totally leave you to your privacy.

It's not his fault if he's concerned for your safety when he hears your incoherent screams from some way away. He's not going to knock of course, but it doesn't hurt to just check in through the window, does it? It's what any good friend would do. A little rocking trailer should never deter anyone from checking in on their friends.

Okay, so maybe it's rocking quite a bit by the time he gets there, sneaking under one window to get to another he knows is right by your bed. Your screaming and moaning is even louder here, right by the open window. He can hear a wet slapping noise too, and before he lets his imagination run wild, he pokes his head up to look in through the open window and straight at the spectacle in front of him.

And holy fuck, it doesn't disappoint.

You're getting absolutely rammed from behind, your thighs jiggling and shaking with each thrust from the man behind you. His face is pinched, staring right down to where he disappears into you over and over, and the rippling of your ass against his thighs. You're scrambling up and down and up again on your forearms as you try, and fail, to take the intensity of it, your voice rising an octave every time he buries himself in you, until he inevitably hits the factory reset and you make a deep, keening groan before starting all over again. Dieter knows that noise - he makes you make that noise. It's the noise you make when your toes curl and you're about to make a mess all over everything. Like right now, your toes curling over and over in a way he's never seen, because he's never seen it from this far away before.

And, fuck, this is jealousy, isn't it? That should be Dieter in there, fucking the ever living daylights out of you. Instead he's stood on the other side of the window looking in at a man that should be him, but is definitely younger and fitter than he is. Still, he doesn't see what this man has on him - messy hair, a little pooch of his belly just like Dieter, scruff on his jaw. Entirely unremarkable, if you ask -

Until that man pulls out fully, unveiling his cock before slamming it home once more.

Suddenly, he's jealous of both of you. Jealous of him for getting to fuck you - and in your trailer too. You'd only ever let him in there once, and it was maybe the most comfortable he'd ever been. And jealous of you for taking that monster of a cock that, quite frankly, should be too much for one person to take. You could take a hand (and a half, on a good day) of course, but fuck, had you never heard about sharing?

Dieter shared his condoms with you, and now you were keeping this all to yourself. What he wouldn't give to be in there, lying next to you as you got fucked to oblivion by this guy you seem to have picked straight from the crowd. He'd quiet your screams with his cock in your mouth, or let you suck on his balls while he waited his turning for a fucking. Even better, he'd lick your pretty cunt while that cock demolished your hole, just so he could taste both of you at once.

Still, the best he can do is watch the condom, his condom, on the man's cock as it slides in and out of you - the closest thing to being between the two of you he'll be - while listening to your screams as they hit a crescendo. Your tits swing beneath you, your belly rippling with the force of the fucking you're receiving. The mans fingers - the asshole - are digging into your plush hips, sinking into the fat there and holding on for dear life, likely leaving bruises that Dieter will have to see for days and try not to get hard about.

The man grunts and groans now, telling you how perfect you are and how hard he's going to come, because you're so, so, so perfect - Dieter fucking knows. He knew it first.

Then, you're coming. Shaking, and moaning, falling forward onto your mattress with your hips still held in the air, making a complete mess of your sheets in the process, screaming Frankie into the air, your trailer positively fucking rattling now as the man - fucking Frankie - finds it in himself to go even harder, battering your cervix so deliciously painfully that he knows your eyes are rolling in your head, even if he can't see them.

And it's over, and everything is still again, and the quiet feels so very loud as you sigh and giggle into fucking Frankie's mouth, and he pulls that massive cock, dripping, out of you and throws away his fucking condom.

His joint is crumpled in his hand, Bravo the Clown's search for a light fucking useless now, just as the symbol of his fucked night falls to the ground outside your trailer ready for you to find in the morning.

Family friendly his ass.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Between Waves and Wishes

Hii I hope you enjoy this summer romance between Charles and the reader, with her being Pierre's younger sister :)

As Pierre's little sister, you've known the Leclerc's for most of your life, from going to their races to vacationing together. You being the only girl and the youngest always sucked, that's why you skipped the last vacations together, until this one, since you've moved away for uni and your parents have insisted that you come.

A week on the beautiful coast of the south of France sounds like the perfect trip, except for the fact that you need to spend time with Charles. Charles had only grown more attractive over the years. His easy smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and the effortless charm he exuded made it impossible for you to forget the crush you harboured since childhood. But the thought of him liking you back was absurd. He was Pierre's best friend, three years older than you, and his ex-girlfriends looked like they had walked straight off a runway. You were convinced you didn’t stand a chance.

The sun hung lazily in the blue sky as the waves crashed against the rocky shore of the French Riviera. The villa was everything one could dream of—sprawling, luxurious, and perched perfectly to overlook the Mediterranean Sea. You stood on the balcony, your gaze fixed on the horizon, a vain attempt to steady the turmoil within you.

The first couple of days were relatively easy. The villa's size allowed you to avoid Charles without much effort. You busied yourself with exploring the town, taking in the quaint streets and local markets, or hiding away in your room, pretending to be engrossed in a book. But Charles, with his perceptiveness, seemed to notice your attempts at evasion.

“Hey, we missed you at dinner last night,” he said casually one morning, catching you off guard as you tried to sneak out to the beach.

You forced a smile. “I wasn’t feeling too well. Didn’t want to spoil the fun.”

He frowned, concern etching his features. “Are you alright now?”

“Yeah, just needed some rest.”

His eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to read between the lines. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure,” you replied, turning away before your resolve could crumble under his gaze.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid him. He seemed to be everywhere—on the terrace when you went for a morning coffee, by the pool when you sought solace in the sun, and even in the kitchen when you attempted a late-night snack. Each encounter was filled with a mix of awkward small talk and lingering glances, making your heart ache with unspoken words.

Midweek, a storm rolled in, forcing everyone to stay indoors. You found refuge in the library, nestled in a corner with a book. The rain pelted against the windows, a fitting backdrop to your internal chaos. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Charles enter the room until he spoke.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, startled. “It’s a free country.”

He took a seat across from you, his presence overwhelming the space. For a while, silence stretched between you, only the sound of rain filling the void.

“Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, leaning forward. “Did I do something to upset you?”

The genuine concern in his eyes made it hard to keep up the facade. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” he pressed.

You closed your book, setting it aside. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” His gaze never wavered.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

The words hung in the air between you. You wanted to spill everything, to tell him how much it hurt to be around him, knowing you could never have him. But the fear of rejection, of ruining the fragile balance, kept you silent.

Charles leaned back, his expression softening. “I’ve missed you, you know. You used to come a lot to our races and you've missed a few vacations.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be that way again.”

You looked away, the pain too raw. “Things change, Charles.”

“They don’t have to,” he said quietly. “Not if we don’t want them to.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes almost too much to bear. “You don’t understand,” you whispered. “You’ll never see me the way I see you.”

He was silent for a moment, then stood up and walked over to you. He knelt down, taking your hand in his. “And how do you see me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was it. The moment of truth. “I see you as someone I could never have,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “Someone who could never want me the way I want them.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his eyes locked on yours. “What if you’re wrong?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“What if I’ve been feeling the same way all this time?” His voice was low, steady. “What if I’ve wanted to be with you, but I held back because I thought you saw me only as Pierre’s friend?”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Could it really be true? “But… your exes… they’re nothing like me. You always seemed to go for—”

“People who weren’t you,” he interrupted gently. “Because being with someone else was easier than facing how I felt about you.”

“But Pierre—”

“Pierre wants you to be happy,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know it won’t be easy, but I can’t keep pretending anymore. I don’t want to.”

Your heart ached with hope and fear in equal measure. “What if this changes everything?”

“It will,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t have to be for the worse.”

You swallowed hard, the enormity of the moment crashing down on you. “Charles, I don’t know if I can risk losing Pierre’s trust.”

“He’s your brother, and he loves you. He’ll understand.” Charles’s eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. “I love you. I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It was everything you’d ever wanted to hear, yet the fear of the unknown still gnawed at you. But looking into Charles’s eyes, you saw the truth, the sincerity, and the depth of his feelings.

You took a deep breath. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling like a release.

His face lit up with a joy that made your heart soar. He stood, gently pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you. The warmth of his embrace felt like home, and you melted into him, all the doubts and fears dissolving in his hold.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “We’ll figure it out together,” he murmured.

You nodded, your heart full. “Together.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that was tender and sweet, filled with all the years of longing and unspoken feelings. It was a promise, a beginning, and an end to the doubts that had plagued you.

As the rain continued to patter against the windows, you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

I've literally been crying all day and all I want is jj to come thru my window and comfort me 🫡🫡

you drew stars around my scars

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!reader

warnings: talks of verbal fighting, bad relationship with parents

summary: after being grounded by your parents, your boyfriend shows up to comfort you.

authors note: thank you so much for the request! i really appreciate it :) i’m so sorry to hear that but if you ever want to talk, i’m always free, even just to listen! i hope i didn’t do too bad on this and i hope you enjoy. i love writing these so please!! more requests!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you’d been crying for what felt like hours on end. you hated being grounded. it meant you couldn’t even go see your best friends or your boyfriend.

that had only began to make you sob harder. though you had seen jj just before you’d come home earlier in the day and received the news, you missed him so much.

you were used to seeing him every day for hours, even spending your nights or weekends with him. and now you couldn’t see him for a full month. all because your annoying ap teacher dropped you to a C for being absent during a test?

you had explained to your parents multiple times that it’d shoot right back up to an A when you retake it next week, but of course they didn’t listen. they never do.

you wiped your eyes with the inside sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing. jj’s hoodie. you held back even more tears.

before you could lay down and get comfortable to try to head to bed, there was a sequence of knocks at your window. you sniffled and got up off the bed, wearily walking over to the glass, finding your boyfriend waving obnoxiously at you.

you quickly undid the lock and helped him push it open. “hi baby,” he said with a big smile. you watched it falter when he saw your face. “hey, what’s wrong? why are you crying?”

you moved out of the way to allow him inside. he immediately kicked off his boots and shut the window behind himself, locking it then turning to you. his eyes scanned your face as another tear fell.

he gently grabbed your hand and led you to the bed, taking a seat on the side of it then pulling you to stand between his spread legs so you were at eye level with each other. “what’s wrong, sweet girl? what happened?”

his hands gently cradled your face while his thumbs lightly swiped at the tears falling down your pink cheeks. you only sobbed harder and quickly wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your body flush against his.

he was quick to return it, his arms wrapping around your waist to meet at your lower back. “you’re okay, baby. i’ve got you,” he cooed softly.

you sobbed into his neck, your body shaking against his. “my—my parents grounded me,” you finally said.

he rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back. “‘s okay, sweetheart. we’re not gonna forget about you,” he smiled against your shoulder. “what happened this time?”

“my stupid ap b—bio teacher gave me a C and—and they saw it and flipped,” you cried. “i don’t wanna be grounded, j.”

he turned his head to kiss at your neck gently, squeezing you even tighter. “i know, baby. how long you grounded for?”

“a month,” you whined. “i can’t do a month, jj. i can’t not see you for a—a month.”

sobs wracked your body at the thought of not seeing him for that long. he left more soft kisses against your skin before pulling you back slightly so you could look him in the eyes. “a silly little rule your parents made won’t ruin anything, sweet girl. i’ll come visit you every night, ok? maybe i’ll even try to sneak you out with me.”

he placed a gentle kiss to your lips. “promise?” you asked, voice shaking.

the blonde held out his pinky with a toothy grin. “i promise, baby.”

[honeyyhivee]

they don't have to know ⠀ྀི

⠀ྀི in which, you and satoru gojo can't let one another go no matter what ྀི

cw ྀི minors dni! black!fem reader in mind but read as you please, petnames (baby, princess), toxic relationships/toxic reader, explicit smut w/ a bit of plot, p in v, riding, dirty talk, semi public (in a car), overstimming, swearing

word count & thoughts ྀི 823, lowercase intended, my first post on here so be nice, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated

“i’m very much grown, thank you!“

“grown and fuckin’ married… or did you forget?” that man, your husband nagged on. being in a marriage with someone you had mixed feelings for wasn’t on your bucket list. especially with a man you once loved so much. dating and even the beginning of the marriage was so beautiful but, you both wanted different things and found that out after marriage. things changed once he did you wrong, you grew this need for revenge. after he’d badly messed things up with you with his infidelity, you ended up sleeping with an old friend of yours. a friend that he knew as well.

satoru gojo. while it was supposed to be a one time thing, you found yourself sneaking out to different cities just to see satoru. you knew, he was sneaking around too. you both figured each other out fairly quickly. despite trying to talk each other out of these bad situations, you guys always found some loopy way back towards each other.

“baby, i don’t know… it’s getting harder and harder for us to keep doing this. what if we did make things right? what if we leave and be together?” satoru started as they both sat in his car, in an empty parking lot near the countryside. “i don’t want to ruin what we have. labels and shit… you know, we might lose something… might make things more complicated.” your words made him tilt his head with confusion.

“complicated? like sneaking all the way here so that neither of us get caught isn’t complicated enough? one of these days they’ll have to know.”

you scoffed at his words, shaking your head with this grin on your face. “yeah, mr. i’ll tell her today. hey, did you tell your girl the last time we saw each other? when you said it was the last time?” the look on his face told you his answer, he couldn’t lie to you if he tried. “this is supposed to be our last time.” satoru muttered. “you serious? ‘toru, can i be honest with you?” he turned his head to you, giving you full eye contact.

“i don’t want to let you go… i can’t, baby… but i don’t want to hurt her.” he admitted, before you spoke. “shit… this is so stressful.” you huffed and laid your head back. “yeah…”

the two of you glanced at each other again, satoru ready for you to break things off, you ready for satoru to do the same.

instead, like always, you ended up in the back seat of his car. both sweaty as you tried your best to ride him without hitting your head on the ceiling of the car. the car windows had been rolled down a bit to let out the hot air and all that could be heard was your moans and his voice. his hands gripped at the flesh of your ass as he looked up at you.

“you’re so- so good f’me… fuck, princess…” his praise gave you more strength, bouncing on his hard length that always filled you up so deliciously. you squeezed around him so perfectly, it always takes everything in him to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head.

was that why you couldn’t let each other go? you satisfied one another in ways you’d never expect. his big hand slapped your ass roughly causing a louder moan to be ripped from you as you mindlessly fucked yourself on his cock.

your juices all over him and his seat when he had the chance, he gripped your waist, holding you down on him but moving your hips. following him, you began to grind your hips on him while he took one of your breasts in his mouth.

“god, ‘toru-” you tried keeping a steady pace but from all the riding, your body was shaky. with him sucking on your nipple, looking you in the eyes best he could while doing so, the stimulation brought you closer and closer to another climax. he felt you getting close, you were so close.

maybe the bliss was clouding his mind but he couldn’t just stop this with you, not when you always looked so pretty above and below him. the very look on your face brought him closer to his high. he wanted to talk to you more, get you there faster but when you uttered his name in his ear, he couldn’t help but hold your waist onto him so he could fuck you the way he needed.

whimpers began to leave your lips, the pleasure overtaking your body. this is why you both kept coming to each other. “fuckk, i love you, princess.” at this pace, it wasn’t long before he filled up the condom around him. after coming down from your climax, you laid your head against his trying to catch your breath.

“satoru… what did you say a moment ago?”

© honeyyhivee (2024) don't use or steal my work, thanks!

[ihatedtoadmit]

The Windows To My Soul [6]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Everything comes crashing down, and somehow the explanation for it makes sense to your jumbled brain.

author's note: Since I had this written already and I'll get busy, I'm feeding you guys with a double update. Please don't forget to take your delulu pills, unlike me.

↳ Masterlist ↳ Next chapter ↳ Previous chapter

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The next time my eyes opened, I was alone on the couch, the room plunged into darkness.

For a few seconds I just laid there, blinking at the dark ceiling, not knowing why I woke up so suddenly. I wasn’t particularly thirsty, my bladder wasn’t full and not even my leg was cramping viciously, as if it was out for my blood.

But then the pain registered in my brain.

It was that same, dull ache in my ribcage, just amplified twofold. It was a miserable constant throughout my whole chest, pulsing with every heartbeat, as if the two synced up and became one. Not only that, but it gradually started seeping into my left arm and neck, as if it was a slow working poison.

I sat up slowly, my back cracking along, something I had sadly grown used to after a few years. One of my hands raised up to my chest, just above where my erratic heart lied, massaging the area fruitlessly.

Why did I have such a useless, shitty body? It broke down every chance it got, ruining my little happiness in life constantly.

I sighed, carding a hand through my hair and swinging my feet over the edge of the couch, just sitting there, zoning out in the pitch black room. The pain was bad, maybe even worse if I was honest with myself for a second or two, but I could tolerate it if I really tried.

So tried, I did.

I quietly shuffled around the room after standing up, holding my arms out in front of myself as a safety precaution, knowing how clumsy I could get sometimes. I could hardly see anything, with the windows being completely covered and all. But thankfully, I somehow made my way to the front door without tripping over anything -a miracle in itself, mind you-. Now it was time to search for my bag and– ah, there it was. Fishing my phone out of it, I turned on the flashlight and used it to find my little sketchbook and pencil case I usually took with myself on my travels. They were similar to my headphones: something I couldn’t live with, their presence providing me with a blanket of safety.

Having successfully located and retrieved said items, I quietly sneaked back to the living room and sat down on the ground at the coffee table, knees popping and cracking as I bent them to be by my side.

I could use my phone's flashlight to doodle around no problem, so that was what I decided to go with. But only after ensuring my mask was on and my headphones were sitting over my ears snugly, then connecting the device to my phone via Bluetooth and disabling ambient awareness after I had retrieved it from the same lil coffee table. I needed to blast music into my ears, to not let any thought form or process in my mind, lest they consume me alive.

Lines formed on the paper as I was listening to Volcano by Han on repeat, soon turning into little skzoo figures goofing and fooling around. Some were tiny, held in a hand safely, while some were bigger, more backpack-sized. Scenarios that never happened were imagined on the paper, along with ones that were recorded and put up onto the internet. Sometimes, a ninth animal could be seen amongst them, as I was unable to stop myself from drawing my own character, even in the presence of the boys.

Time flew by without me noticing, my goal reached as I could shut the thought of misery and pain out of my head.

But then someone grabbed my shoulder, causing me to let out a small scream and throw my pen away into the 4th dimension.

I jerked my head to their direction instinctually, connecting eyes with Chan, someone who was rightfully looking surprised and maybe even scared. There was definitely a little scared in there. I quickly took my headphones off, the loud music only heard for a second before it automatically paused -pros of having smart headphones- and I immediately apologised to the startled male.

"Naur, naur, it's okay, sorry for startling ya. When did you wake up? It's still pretty early in the morning." "Oh, not too long ago." - I lied, not wanting to be a bother still. "I see. But still, you should go back to sleep if ya can."

I gently shook my head at his proposal, the ache in my body too great to ignore and enter the lands of dreams.

He hummed in response, yet his eyebrows furrowed slightly for just a second. I noticed them, even as he masked it with a light smile and changed the topic to what I had been doing, eyes already scanning over my pages filled to the brim with loose-lined sketches.

Realising I was literally drawing their stuff, skzoo, I quickly shut my notebook closed, embarrassed enough to consider digging myself a hole somewhere. I couldn't show it to them, no, never. Besides, they were mere sketches, nothing too spectacular.

Despite all those thoughts circling in my head, Chan whined and begged me to show him, having probably already seen it was related to his idol group. But I didn't budge, not even as he poked my sides and decided to tickle me in the earliest hours of the day.

Like, damn, he really fucking tickled my sides. The man showed no mercy, even though he knew what state I was in, having been the one who kept putting ice packs on it.

And I was just left there, wheezing and dying as silently as I could, not wanting to wake the others up in my losing battle for air.

But as luck would have it, they soon started waking up and decided to join us anyway. Well, him, really, as I was the victim of the two aussies now, left completely at their mercy.

Thankfully, the two soon stopped, probably due to my still very much injured arm and allowed me to catch my breath. And I did, desperately inhaling as much as I could as I laid there on my back, my breath hitching with every sharp pain that could be felt in my chest. It was as if a searing hot metal was pressed into my skin, the feeling moving in a strangely rule-abiding pattern. I shut my eyes closed, jaw tightly held together as I rolled over, not wanting to be seen grimacing, the feeling now slowly ebbing off and easing up a tad.

Soon the initial shock wore off and I could quickly sit up, my face not showing any signs of discomfort even as the hurting place now felt raw and throbbed relentlessly in sync with my racing heartbeat.

"Don't get me wrong, I would never pass on a good tickle session, but what was the occasion?" - Felix asked, laying partly on top of Chan, the two acting calm thankfully. "Oh yea, Eevee doesn't wanna show me her art. Even though I saw a Bbokari in there too." - Chan casually replied, having the gall to even pout, as if he didn't just release the little devil on me.

I stared at him incredulously, feeling wounded and betrayed.

Sure enough, Felix whipped his head over to my direction, eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite identify, yet it still caused a shiver to run down my spine. Without a second of a doubt I lunged at my sketchbook, holding it close to my chest and scrambling off of the floor before the man could take it from me.

He was very, very close to it though.

The sunshine incarnate pleaded with me, his voice turning whiny and higher pitched than usual, but it didn't work on me. I continued to run, run to my little bag and hide my little sketchbook in there, out of anyone’s desperate reach.

Somehow, by some miracle, I succeeded, zipping it back up right as Felix slammed into me.

Good thing I was already sitting, otherwise I would have fallen to the ground with full force. I would not have appreciated that.

"But Eeveeee, lemme seeee, pleaseeeee!!" "Naur." "Eeeveeeee, please please pleaseeee?" "F-felix-..." "Come on, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

I could only stare at him, at the famous idol, who had the body of a sculpture crafted by the gods themselves, just… whine and plead to see my shitty art.

"These…are only sketches, Felix. Really not something worthy to be begging for. Ask Hyunjin to draw you some next time."

His expression shifted, eyebrows pulled together and lips set into a slight frown.

"I want to see your art. Not Hyunjin's, Picasso's or anyone else's. Why would you say that?" "Because theirs is better. It's a simple fact."

He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length, eyes fixated on me with a fierce fire burning inside.

"Don't say that, ever again. Jesus, you're just like Channie hyung."

His lips were slightly arched down and his nose was scrunched up, but I could only stare and etch the sight into my memory. He looked so genuinely offended at what I had said that I found myself at a loss for words, unable to argue.

Not getting any reaction, he pulled me up by my uninjured hand and led me back to the couch, where everyone else was already sitting, much to my surprise. Jisung's eyes lit up and he beckoned us over, wiggling his way into my lap somehow -only after putting my beloved headphones away, since they were in his stubborn way-. Felix was no better, practically attached to me with how he was hugging me and all.

I looked down at them; they were cheerfully chatting with the others as if this whole thing was completely normal, even though it felt like a fever dream, if anything. Not even the others were that phased by our position, at max you could see amusement dancing on their faces.

It was just so confusing to me, as I looked between the two and the others.

I had no choice but to silently accept it. I guess I had two cuddly cats now or something. Well, technically a quokka and a chicken, if I wanted to be extremely accurate.

"Right, Eevee, we're gonna order some food, eat and then get you checked by a doctor, ‘kay? Is there something you wanna eat in particular?" - Chan spoke up, breaking me out of my short daze. "Oh, uh, no thank you. I'm not hungry." "What, no, you have to eat something!" - Jisung's raised voice earned the attention of the others, heads turning to our direction. "Sungie is right, eat at least a lil bit." - Felix murmured into my ear. "But I'm fine, I usually don't eat breakfast." - I replied, earning some gasps and not so happy grunts.

Before I could even defend myself, Minho sent me the nastiest glare I had ever seen, making me shrink into myself and hide behind Felix and Jisung. Everyone started speaking in korean, while the two in my hold lectured me about the importances of eating breakfast. They were strict and didn't let me speak up, only when relaying my answers about allergies and food preferences to the others.

Yeah, no, these men literally just ordered me food and didn't let me even argue about it.

As Han was listing off all the japanese food he loved the most -mainly for breakfast- and how he wanted me to try them out too, that same, searing pain appeared in my chest. I clenched my jaw shut, teeth grinding together painfully as I tried my best to not show any discomfort on my face. I lowered my head slightly, hoping that Felix and Jisung would shield me from everyone's view.

It hurt.

The feeling radiated and seeped into my arm too, making me unable to pinpoint its source anymore. The limb felt numb, my fingers unable to feel the soft fabric of Jisung's shirt anymore. My breathing wanted to pick up, but I forced it to remain as unchanged as I could, hoping I would succeed.

My pulse was an entirely different beast though.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I looked down at the dark-haired boy in my hold; that now familiar, worried expression sitting on his face.

God damn it me, stop worrying them!

I put on a smile and nodded, hoping to convince him, even though they couldn’t see the expression from the mask that covered half of my face. I hoped to ease Felix’s nerves too with these actions, because he was looking at me the same way, causing the flower of worry to bloom in my chest.

"Your pulse says otherwise. And your hold on me."

Fuck. I didn't even realise I tightened my hold on his waist.

"I'm, uh, I just don't like doctors. I'm nervous about the visit."

It wasn't even a lie anyway, I really did dislike doctors, especially because I would most probably understand nothing from the conversation, since we were in Japan and it was harder to find an english-speaker person here than you would think.

My answer seemed to have placated them, because they settled back against me -the notion of gentle fingers drawing shapes on me not going unnoticed- and continued chatting. I joined in occasionally, whenever they directed a question at me specifically. But otherwise, I was back in my little shell, observing them and zoning out.

Because I was still not okay.

But soon enough, the food arrived and everyone bounded over to the dining table, loudly bickering and joking around. I was dragged there too -quite literally-, finding myself sitting between Minho and Seungmin. How, I had no clue. But their glares and menacing reputation must have had a say in it, if I had to guess.

The table was full of different types of foods, everyone able to find something that fit their taste easily. Before I could even think about what to choose, food started piling up on my plate, my own hands not even fully holding my utensil. Naturally, that meant it was the doing of the two men sitting next to me, Seungmin even explaining what was what innocently. I blinked at him and Minho, confusion most probably sitting on my face.

Nobody did anything about it though, as they just continued on as if nothing was wrong.

With a last, confused and tired blink I nodded back at Seungmin in thanks, picking up my chopsticks and messily eating -this sadly meant i had to pull my mask down to my chin, strengthening my racing pulse-. Messily, because my arm was slightly trembling and while I could use chopsticks, I wasn't a pro at it. And I was nervous as fuck. And also still not that hungry.

But somehow I managed to finish eating, without staining any of my clothes. Okay, well, the hoodie was still mine, something that kept slipping from my mind. The food was divine -i loved japanese food after all-, but I couldn't enjoy it well.

My neck, chest and left arm felt as if they were about to burst into flames and become ash, as if someone was prodding around with a sharp, ablaze rod and then pouring icy water on it afterwards, scarring the flesh permanently.

It felt stifling.

"Hey, you okay there Eevee?" - a soft voice asked from my right, my eyes finding a worried looking Seungmin there. "Oh, uhm, y-yeah, I'm just. Full, yeah, thank you for the food. It was really good. I'll, I'll be right back though."

I waited for a response after I rambled out my answer, gaining a slow nod.

Good enough.

I clumsily stood up, hitting my hip into the chair slightly in my haste, but it didn't matter.

I just needed to get away.

The moment the bathroom door was closed, I wrestled Hyunjin's sweater off and looked into the mirror.

There was a pattern on my chest and left arm, one even barely forming on the sides of my neck.

They were smaller and not connected, but the strange ink glistened on my skin with iridescent colours in swirls and lines, drawing out different, beautiful shapes. One was around my heart and breast, gentle feathers covering the skin and ribs resting beneath. The other was more sharp around the edges, yet the cherry blossoms softened up the picture just right on my bicep.

I–...

I had never gotten any tattoos in my entire life.

What the fuck was all this then?!

As I was about to rub at the mysterious ink, the pain flared up and made me dizzy, forcing me to grip the sink with all the strength I could muster up, lest I fell sideways into the bathtub.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment a knock could be heard, my lightheaded self barely registering the sound.

"Eevee, are you alright in there? You've been inside for an awful while…"

Shit, it was Felix.

I quickly gathered up the last wisps of my strength and went to the door, opening it up just enough for me to peek through. I still didn't have a shirt on after all.

"Y-yeah uh… about that. Can I have a weird question?" "Uhm, sure?" "What would you do if tattoos you had never before seen in your life randomly appeared on your skin?" "Huh?"

The man just looked confused and stunned amidst his worry, and rightfully so. I showed him my arm, extending it out through the gap. He gingerly held the injured limb in his tiny hands, running a few fingers over the newly appeared ink in fascination.

Before he could comment on it, I leaned against the nearby wall a bit too loudly, making him look up and let out a loud gasp.

"Eevee, are you in pain?! Hey, talk to me. Look at me, that's it. Where does it hurt?" - Felix asked as he forced himself into the room much to my dismay, taking my head into his hands and looking into my eyes. "My chest and arm…m-my…neck t-too" - it was all I could say without my voice fully breaking, the pain becoming worse and worse with every second. "Alright, okay, sit tight while I grab Chan hyung, okay? Don't go anywhere!"

And with that, he was out of my sight, his gentle warmth leaving as well. The air suddenly felt too thin, too warm and I had no choice but to slowly slide down the wall onto the ground, sitting there with increasingly hazier eyesight. Oh, and I still had my contact lenses in, that definitely didn't help with that situation at all.

A searing pain travelled through my neck, as if my carotid artery was about to burst into tiny pieces, as if its only goal was to leave me bleeding out on the cold tile floor.

It was as if no matter how much I breathed, no air entered my lungs.

Two figures then appeared in my vision, their sentences a bit muffled and far away sounding. But after a few seconds I could make out that it was Chan and Felix, their worry practically palpable in the scorching air.

"Eevee, can you stand? Eevee! Hey, don't fall asleep, stay with us. I'll… I'll carry you now, okay? Hold on tight!" - Chan said, carefully and hastily gathering me into his arms, Felix draping the red hoodie over my vulnerable form.

Chan's steps were short and quick, shouting out things I didn't understand. Felix was running next to him, talking to me, but only half of it was truly registering in my brain, and that was a generous estimation.

Chan's steps suddenly halted, making me look up at him. He was staring ahead, eyes wide and jaw tight. Following his gaze, I was met with an unknown man, formally clothed and dishevelled looking.

He was talking frantically, breath a bit short, as if he was in a hurry. I didn't understand any of it, of course, but I felt like none of the words were directed at me anyway.

Although when I heard someone mutter the word 'Soulmates…?', I looked at them, confused.

It was Chan once again, his eyes darting between me and everyone else.

The conversation kept going, but it was starting to turn into an argument between several people. The others had arrived as well, gathering around us. I didn't get what it was about, not until Felix uttered 'You're our soulmate?' as he looked at me.

Only then did my delirious eyes notice the others' stares, the gesturing at me, Chan's tightening grip on me.

It was so obvious looking back at it.

But…

"How? I'm..."

The last thing my brain registered were arms holding me tightly and panicked shouting surrounding me.

Next chapter

Taglist: @skzstaykatsy @vampcharxter @linlinaert @yoongibelike

[maybeelse]

Untitled Story about Sororicide

Is this the most fucked up thing I've ever written? Of course not. But it's a solid attempt. I originally posted it on my twitter alt. '22 was a weird year.

2.3k words of incestuous rot and oozing decay and squirmy conflicted feelings. Enjoy.

Your sister died with your knife through her neck, out by the drainage ditch with only the distant cry of cicadas and the reek of half-smoked weed to comfort her passing, and your parents buried her in ground far holier than anything like her could ever deserve, but that didn't stop her from visiting you every night.

At first her body was cold and hard against you as she slipped beneath the covers and held your mouth shut to stop you from screaming. Her fingers were clumsy and jerky as they probed between your legs, and her always-husky voice was a jumbled nightmare. You didn't sleep well on those chilly autumn nights, nor the cold winter that followed, when your sister trekked fresh snow inside every night—and oh, how your parents screamed at you for ruining the carpet! They couldn't understand why you always woke in a soggy bed reeking of dirt and meat, why your body couldn't manage to keep its blood inside—

After a while they stopped caring (about your room, about the smell, about you—about anything but first their pills and then those strange shining powders, medicines no doctor ever prescribed them), and after a while the spring's thaw began to change your sister. She warmed up, though no flowers blossomed from her breasts and no birds played in her hair's tangled branches—her warmth was a softer thing, a squishy oozing thing that bloomed in all the colors of forgotten roadkill and dripped with well-fed maggots and burst in little clouds which ticked your nose with a smell as sweet as her drugs ever had.

That was when her voice came back.

Through it all, through every night when you lay awake against her, through that long autumn when she taught you not to struggle against her in death just as she had taught you not to struggle against her in life and that winter where you struggled to sleep as her cold seeped into your bones and your grades went from troubled to worse and you started to wonder whether your parent's drugs would taste as sweet as their neglect never had, her turgid cock went unused. Sometimes it would press against your ass or dip between your thighs, but never with the hungry intentionality with which she used it in life: it was simply there, forgotten, a relic of a former age—and perhaps you thought that was a mercy, in a way. You certainly didn't let yourself miss it.

That changed too, though not until the very end.

On that hot spring night when she let her voice dribble out into your ears again, a night when you didn't even bother trying to close the windows, desperate for any trace of breeze and any chance that her stink wouldn't cling too badly to you the next day, she didn't crawl into your bed to pin you down and make you feel things you desperately wanted to forget.

She stood just outside the window.

“Hey, little sis,” she said, “there's something you need to see.”

You shook your head beneath sheets that lost their safety long before her body's fluids filled them with holes, a futile denial in the face of someone (something) that had never cared for your consent.

“What, are you scared to sneak out? It'll be fine, sis, mom and dad won't bother us.”

Her voice was soft and wet, oozing like honey and thrumming like a wasp's wings; it should have been mocking, should have been that horrible husky drawl that she always affected in life, but it wasn't.

And then she decided she was tired of waiting and dragged you out by your hair.

Just as she said, just as you knew, your shriek didn't stir your parents one bit—and then she shoved her rotting, stinking hand into your mouth as she threw you over her shoulder, and that shut you up for long enough.

After a while she let you down, let you walk alongside her (with your hand gripped in hers, feeling impossibly pristine and so very tiny alongside her rotting bulk), and the dew-damp soil was soft beneath your feet. Half-grown plants tickled your ankles and grass squished between your toes and for a fleeting moment the world seemed beautiful—just two sisters going on a midnight walk, drifting through the humid spring night as if you hadn't killed her and she hadn't made you.

Just for a moment, though.

Then the two of you were there, standing by the side of an empty highway—vast and dark, a trench drawn across the world and filled with screaming ghosts. One of the places killing your home, sucking away the life to fill distant cities and leaving nothing but mouldering decay in its wake—

Decay like your destination, a sad little mound of flesh heaped beside the highway's margin.

Perhaps once a racoon, or perhaps something larger, a heaped mass of tubes and fur and shattered bones, framed by a bloody stain stretching away across the asphalt. A few flies buzzed around it; a night-flying crow eyed the two of you from its perch on a moon-drenched tree.

“See, sis?”

She squatted down next to it, her tattered dress falling in a way that left nothing to your imagination; immodest and disgusting. At least the air was nice.

Her flesh squished like soft cheese as she plunged her hands into the pile, feeling around for something. You couldn't help but gag at the sound—somehow this fresh dead meat felt more real than her steadily advancing rot, this innocent animal's death more meaningful than the moldy gash that opened in her throat every time she moved her head.

In the distance an owl hooted and a dog cried and you tried to occupy yourself with them, tried to fill your mind with thoughts wholly disconnected from the monster beside you.

“Ah! There it is ...”

You shivered as she spoke. The feeling of her words seeping into you was worse than the sad little mound of flesh she wrapped your hands around, a rancid honey-slick pressure that the blood still oozing from the roadkill's heart could never compare to—and, worst of all, the way your body flushed as she loomed over you, suddenly burning with bloody heat.

“Look!”

She pulled you back into her, her cock pressing wetly against your back, and reached for the heart in your hands—

It spasmed at her touch, a bloody beat covering your fast and chest with little red splotches, and her laughter answered your startled shriek.

“Little scaredy-cat ...”

She stroked the heart again as it pushed the last of its blood out onto your filthy hands, and then it just sat there wheezing with futile effort—

It was almost beautiful, really, once you focused on it.

Such a tiny thing, yet such an important one. Once it must have pulsed frantically as its former owner ran and jumped and struggled to survive; and there it was in your hands, the muscle pulsing in time with its twin in your chest, a fuzzy coat of mold only just beginning to rise across it.

How long did you stand there before your big sister spoke, her rotting voice pulling you from your trance? You couldn't say.

“I knew you'd understand, sis,” she said, her voice full of something between satisfaction and pride, “now let's get you back home. You need your sleep.”

The walk back was quiet and gentle. She even carried you for the last half of it, as your exhausted body struggled to stay upright. Noxious liquids seeped from her rotten flesh to ruin your clothes and stain your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to care until the next morning, when you spent far too long in the shower trying and failing to scrub the thick smell of rot off your skin.

She didn't join you in your bed that night, nor for several nights after.

Your body, so used to her presence and her unwelcome touches, didn't let you sleep in more than fitful bursts; and that pent-up place between your legs drew your attention more and more as her absence denied you the release that she had so often forced upon you.

It was so fucking embarrassing, really!

The deepening summer heat saw her absences grow more common, and her presences more baffling. Instead of leaving your aching body smeared with putrid ooze and your own fluids, she led you to deaths far removed from the private guilt that bound you together: to roadkill, to the half-eaten corpses of coyote's prey, to poisoned cattle and the toxic fullness of a runoff-filled pond and, once, to a forgotten human corpse's splattered brain and discarded shotgun.

Everywhere there was death, and everywhere there was sprouting decay, and everywhere her touch breathed new motion into these ruined things: flesh remembered itself in the blossoming of decay, maggot-eaten eyes blinked up at you through lacy lids, and flies swarmed angrily as their meals began to move.

It was wrong. It was impossible. It was, as you gradually came to realize, beautiful.

You found yourself longing for her nighttime visits with a fresh convert's fervid joy, counting the days between each time you saw her—this strange new person growing from your big sister's rotting corpse as she slowly replaced her liquifying flesh with carved wood and sculpted mycelia, with turtle-shell panels and woven bone. What she did on her nights without you was as much of a mystery as what she did during the days, when she always used to fade away from your bed like a bad dream, but each time she returned to you changed.

You wandered too, through those long sticky summer days when sweat soaked your clothing no matter how little you moved and hungry insects attended your every motion, returning to the corpses that your sister had shown you and searching for fresh ones, for places where vibrant decay might blossom unnoticed—the gaping mouths of empty stripmalls and slowly collapsing farmhouses, the acidifying rivers and struggling junkyards.

Everywhere you looked you found it, woven through the world like mycelial threads spreading through a ripening corpse; you learned where to look, and you learned how to draw it out when you arrived too early. For a time you and your trusty knife even played at being an angel of mercy.

Some nights you even led your big sister to a particularly fine specimen yourself. Her approval felt better than her touch ever did.

When she came to you at summer's peak, slipping in through the window on feet that had long since rotted and grown anew, you were all aflutter—you'd found not one but two corpses! Human ones! A pair who died together, victims of the same ever-more-tainted drugs that would surely claim your parents before too long, bodies still fresh but fast going to seed. You couldn't wait to show them to her.

But as she slumped down onto your bed you could tell that something was different.

“Hey, little sis,” her voice ran into your ears an oil-slick spreading across a virgin beach, “mind if I just, if I just ...”

She slumped down onto your bed, still, a pile of disparate parts, and you stood there watching in your stained sneakers and cute little dress.

After a while you crawled in beside her.

In the heat the room filled with your smell and hers, sticky and sweet and metallic, shot through with the strange tones of the things she's found, the things she's added to herself, all the additions that completed her as her flesh dripped away and her decay grew—

Her body was so hot against your back, full of all of summer's heat: the heat of all the processes advancing within her, of refuse breaking down into fresh soil and corpses dissolving in bacterial flame as the their decay advances into its final stages. A febrile heat that, you knew then and know now, would leave nothing alive when it finally faded.

“Little sis, hey, I ...”

She moved in a fumbling rush, just as she used to when she was newly dead and when the winter's chill curled in her bones like a thousand icy chains, rolling you onto your back with hands far bonier than you had ever known hers to be. She was beautiful there, crouched over you as her body burned itself out: beautiful like a shooting star, like a burning house.

“I, I'm not going to be around much longer, sis.” Something squirmed regretfully in her empty eye sockets; you started to speak and she shushed you. “I can't be, you know that by now. But there's something I want to leave you with.”

You stared up into those empty eyes, and something that was not her tongue flicked out to paint her lips in moist greens and purples and a smear of noxious black, and she descended you couldn't help but shift your body to welcome her, to press against all the ways her body was squishy and hard, to feel her inside you one last time, flesh pressing against flesh with all the sickening rightness of maggots squirming out of bursting eyes and the breath leaving a body for the very last time—

You moaned as she filled you, already dripping and falling away to nothing inside you, a rush of flesh thrusting into you as it broke away from her, and she caught your moan with her lips and that thing which was hardly pretended to be a tongue, stinking like baking roadkill and as sweet as her praise ever was, burning with all the heat of her body melting onto yours—

“Taste me, little sis,” she whispered through the putrid kiss, tongue pressing through your lips' futile resistance and into a mouth already spasming with revulsion at the taste of it, your body's disgust that your mind could neither share nor suppress. “Taste me and I'll always be with you.”

[rottenblur]

My modern Romeo|J.MILLER

part three

Summary: When Joel ghosts you after a drunk makeout you had enough. Risking your life, breaking into his house was worth it to get the last word in. Only if you knew alot more than a conversation was gonna happen.

Warnings: thigh riding, joel teaching you how to touch dick??? Smut. Messy fucking situation. SMUT IN A BED!!! Kissing, makeout. Hickeys.

“You’ve been told listening to your heart rather than your brain gets you nowhere in this world, yet your feet still bring you to the walls of jackson.”

It had been three weeks since you last seen Joel, kissed him.

You were worried, had he got caught? Would you ever seen him again, did he want to see you again?

It was late, 2am on a Friday and you weren’t with him. It was eating you up alive, did he forget about me? Was all he wanted from me was to get it dick hard?

You throw the book you were reading, one that you could barely focus on due to lack of Joel. Three weeks of being bossed around by your family, your group was ruining your will from the outside in.

I gotta do something about this, if he doesn’t wanna see me, i wanna hear him say it to my face you think to yourself.

Its the least he could do, after making you like him so so long, crave him.

He can’t get kiss you then never see you again, can he?

Three weeks of walking to the so very prized field, waiting for hours just for him to not show.

You get off your bed, throw on a sweater not bothering to dress up for him. Fuck it.

You start on the route to jackson, a route you were warned about by group members. Yet Joel had told you a million times exactly how he sneaks out, to meet you, you knew where you we going, or you hoped.

It was a far walk, a reason Tommy used a horse and not his own damned legs. It’s hard to not get into your thoughts when your aching legs aren’t adding positivity to your thoughts.

What if everything you thought was true? Would you ever see him again? You loved him, did you? Did you even know what love is? Fuck it, doesn’t matter.

You reach the hill before jackson, the enchanting view of it. All the houses, the life that thrives from there made you overwhelmed. How could you be mad at him for not wanting to leave here, a overwhelming amount of guilt washes over you.

A guilt you should listen to but you don’t. You couldn’t, you’d rather die trying to see him then never see him again.

You’ve been told listening to your heart rather than your brain gets you nowhere in this world, yet your feet still bring you to the walls of jackson.

Joel had told you about a place where the wall needs to be repaired, how he sneaks out when he doesn’t have a reason to leave. Thank god for him.

You squeeze yourself through the broken wall, barely fitting through, how the fuck does he fit.

You make sure you’re out of sight from the patrol towers and make your way through a line of houses.

The faint sounds of barn animals is the only sound in the dead of night in jackson.

On the front of every house a last name is engraved in each mailbox, do they get mail? You only heard pre apocalypse stories about how people would send letters to each other worldwide, it fascinated you, maybe you would ask him about it.

Twenty minutes of scurrying through six rows of houses, till you come across a large house with worn down white paints on the steps. A black mailbox with “J.MILLER” engraved into it near some white fencing. Bingo.

You look around, checking to see if anyone was around before stepping onto the worn down steps, squeaking beneath your feet.

You take a deep breath before reaching for the door knob, twisting it. Fuck. It’s locked. Of course it’s locked, why wouldn’t it be?

Stepping over towards the window near the entrance you pull it up, slowly and carefully trying not to make any noise.

You throw yourself inside of it and close it behind you. You glance around the room, it smells like old coffee and pine. Him.

Walking around on the old wood floor, you walk towards the steps slowly stepping on each one trying to make it squeak as little as possible.

God what the absolute fuck were you thinking. You were so upset at him, and yourself for him leaving you alone for so long, you didn’t plan what you would actually do when you got here.

Reaching the top step, you try to make out the dark hallway. A few rooms covering the top floor, you walk up to a door and hope it’s his bedroom.

Never would you think in this world people would be living so comfortably, in such big houses, filled with furniture.

Shit, you had furniture if a bed on the floor and a bookshelf counted. A half empty bookshelf from giving away most of your life to this man. Whatever, maybe it could be worth it.

You turn the door knob easing it open slowly, not to wake him. Lucky guess, there he was. An arm tucked underneath his head, laid onto a pillow. You step closer, his room was exactly how you imagined it. Not exactly, but very close you didn’t think it would be this domestic.

It looked like he was alive. A real fucking human, alive not just living surviving however they could, at what major cost.

The wolves were living not fucking alive, they were gruesome with at the lengths they would go to, for survival. You were taught how to survive, not nurture nor love. That comes back to you when you realize what you were doing, breaking into his community just to get the last word what the fuck.

Brushing those thoughts out of your head and approaching the bed, his other arm laid onto his waist, his bare waist. You gulp down your shame and reach out a arm, covering his mouth.

His eyes bolt open with a worried look, he furrows his brows and searches your face in the darkness in recognition. He mumbles into your hand.

You remove your hand, his brows still tightly clenched together.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

You tilt your head.

“Oh hello to you to? Jesus don’t gotta curse at me.”

“You could have gotten shot? Did you think of that?”

He sits up.

You sit down on the bed next to him.

“Obviously i did, where have you been asshole?”

He pitches his nose bridge and slumps over.

“Shit happened since i saw you last.”

He looks at you, the glimmer of moon light shines on dark bruises and open cuts covering his soft face.

“Oh fuck, who did that are you okay??” You touch his face, he winces and pulls your hand away.

“I’m okay. It’s nothin’ darlin’- fuck.” He shakes his head and says your name.

You stand up, turning on the christmas lights that litter his ceiling. Getting a better look at his face, it was bad, beat to plup bad.

“Jesus Joel that’s not okay. You were gone and i had to come all this way and you’re fucking beat up?”

He stands up, picks up a shirt off the floor and throws it on shaking his head.

“Okay, you make out with me then just disappear? I risk my life for you and you won’t talk to me?”

You walk up to him trying to size him up, knowing he’s double your size. Fuck that.

“I can explain, uh i just-“

He studders, and places his hands on your arms.

God he looks like he wants to cry.

“You just got your dick wet and decided you didn’t want me anymore?” You snap back.

He looks down.

“I just can’t control myself around you anymore, it’s for the better.”

You take his hands off you.

“For the better my ass. Wasn’t you that said that thing about lying? You should listen to yourself.”

He looks at you, you can see his pride slipping away from his soft brown eyes.

“I got into a fight cause i was so fucking mad at myself for missing you so much.”

You start to understand, maybe you felt a little bad.

“I feel bad that your first real—I don’t know what you would call us, romance? Is so forbidden. You should be able to see someone everyday, not just weekly.”

He shakes his head and takes a step away, you stop him.

You grab his arm and pull him towards you, he looks at you, down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“I needed you so fucking bad Joel.”

You step onto your tippy toes and kiss him, pulling away to see his reaction, he looks at you with those fucking puppy eyes.

He pulls you back into the kiss, deepening it and pulling you closer. He steps back, his legs hitting the bed frame, then pulling you on top of him onto the bed.

Your first real kiss with him, on a fucking bed. Is this real?

He holds your face with one hand, the other placed carefully on your waist. You regret your outfit choice now.

You pull away, he looks confused then you take your gun holster off your hip and place it onto the bedside table.

You straddle him, avoiding his lips and going down to his neck. You didn’t know what you were doing, or if it even felt good fuck man he was the first person you ever made out with.

Yet the way his hips rutted up against you and whimpers left his mouth told you everything. You kiss and suck up and down his neck, grunts of “fuck” and “oh thats so fuckin’ good” left his mouth till you pulled away to look at him. His fucked out face, bruised patches on his neck matched the same hue of his face.

“Oh fuck did i hurt you?”

“Huh?” He looks confused.

“Your neck, its bruised? I didn’t know I could do that.”

He just laughs and shakes his head.

“Shit, you gave me hickeys? You don’t know what a hickey is darlin’?” He squints his eyes at you.

You shake your head.

“I mean you’re the first guy I’ve made out with.”

He looks shocked, and kinda guilty.

“Fuck, really?”

You nod and trace your fingers along his bruised neck, down to his shirt collar.

“You want it off?” He looks at you with a grin.

“That okay?” You ask him nervously.

He reached to the bottom hem of his shirt and pulls up and off. Fuck. He looked even better with the lights on, his happy trail littering his stomach leading down to a patch of curly hair peaking out of his boxers.

He watches your eyes scan his body, pulling you into a kiss, his hand moving from your waist down to your hips.

His fingers burned into your skin with pleasure, god you wished he could touch you forever.

The kiss picks up in pace, so does his hips. Rutting into you, holding your hips tight to the hardness in his boxers. It was embarrassing how fucking wet you were.

A whimper slips out and into his mouth, he feels the vibrations on his lips, on his tongue.

He pulls away, slowly rutting against you with a groan.

“You like that? Make you feel good?” He asks you in a hungry voice.

You nod and hold back a whimper almost escaping your mouth.

“You wanna try something else? Make me feel good?”

Of course you wanted to make him feel good. You liked him, if you knew what love was maybe you loved him.

You nod, he scoots your hips back a little bit, resting on the top of his thighs. He pulls the waistband of his boxers back, his length snaps back hitting his belly button. It was fucking huge.

It was leaking and the tip was tan to match the length, thick veins littered his girth.

Your eyes open wide and the fire in your panties grew.

“You wanna touch it?”

You nod and squeeze your fist onto his dark blue blanket.

“Spit on your hand.”

His words are demanding but his eyes are dazed and glossy.

You spit on your hand, he grabs it and wraps it around him.

“You’re hands barely wrap ‘round it darlin’”

He grins, move your hand up to his tip brushing your thumb on it, collecting the precum. He brings the precum down, moving your hand up and down at a slow pace.

“Am i doing okay?” You almost whispered out.

He picks up the pace and removes his hand, leaving your hand to do all the work. It was making you needy. You wanted him, you wanted all of him.

“Mh just like that, fuck that’s good.”

You look away from your hand and up to him, his gaze is lost and his head is thrown back onto the bed.

A string of grunts and mumbles leaves his throat, encouraging you to move your hand faster, grip him tighter.

You start slowing rutting your hips onto his thigh, the rough denim of your jeans against his thick bare leg.

“You like this darlin’? Getting yourself off on my thigh, so fuckin’-“ a whimper leaves his throat and he continues “-so fucking cute baby.”

His tip is leaking profusely onto the top of your hand, aiding to the wetness seeping out of your jeans. The more you hips more, the faster, the rougher. The harder you grip him, jerking him faster.

Between the two of you there’s almost a single thought, almost. Both Chasing a high, a desperate one, no one has ever made you feel this way before.

He starts rutting into your hand, rougher groans leaking from his throat, just as you reach your high, he does. Leaking white strings all over your hand, and onto his hips. A fucking mess, the two of you are.

He pulls his head off the bed and looks at you, fucked out glossy eyes, so fucking fulfilled. If it wasn’t for his face littered with bruises, you’d think he was the happiest man alive.

“Ah fuck, there’s shit in the bathroom if you wanna clean yourself up.” He leans in and kisses your lips.

A gentle, soft plush kiss.

You get off him with achy knees recollecting your thoughts, your brain as a whole.

“Fuck, you made a mess all over my thigh.” You watch him reach down, collecting some on his fingers and sucking on them.

A stupid fucking grin rushes to his face, a adorable grin.

You walk over to the bathroom, wet a face cloth with warm water and wipe off your hands, looking at your watch smeared with cum. Fuck. It’s already four in the god damn morning.

You bring out another face cloth, throwing the other into a laundry basket thrown into his bathroom.

He accepts it with a smile, cleaning himself up, disregarding his boxers for new ones.

“Cute ass.” You say smiling and sitting onto the bed, watching him clothe himself.

He laughs back at you, a forced one. So fucking sassy.

“You know, i’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout that since i met you.”

You shake your head as he walks up to you.

He places a kiss onto your neck, not one. Kissing up and down your neck with gentle kisses.

“It’s fucking late. I should really go, don’t want your boys on me, do I?”

He shakes his head, that god damn sad look in his eye made you want to stay forever, it was intoxicating.

“Friday? I mean it. I don’t know what i was thinking, i really fucking missed you.” He places a kiss onto your forehead, hugging you. A genuine comforting hug, a drug. You drink in his scent before getting up to leave.

Maybe it was love. Maybe you did love him.

My masterlist

Taglist: @paleidiot @slvbl @princessanglophile

AN!!!! God damn this took a while, my writing schedule has been so fucked up recently. Send request or questions to my inbox! I hope yall liked this

[lunarfleur]

Promise ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @hiyaitssans @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @ggucafe

Warnings: low-key toxic relationship

A/N: inspired by Promise by Laufey. There’s some translated Spanish in here (not from Google Translate) so please lmk if anything of it is wrong 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is x gender neutral reader!

I made a promise

To distance myself

“Baby, don’t you dare do this to me.”

You stood out like a sore thumb in his bedroom, his hoodie hanging loosely from your body. Your hands sat limp at your sides, watching Miles’s expression change.

“Miles, this…isn’t working.”

“What? We been working perfectly fine.”

His eyes bore into you, giving a silent plea. You watched as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, the same eyes you’ve grown to love.

But he knew you were right. He was so busy all the time, doing things that were beyond dangerous. He’d flake out on dates constantly. Some days, you’d wake in his bedroom at 3:00 am, completely alone.

“I’ll be better,” he always said.

“I’m sorry Miles.”

“But-but I love you, you know I do.”

“I know, Miles. This just isn’t right.”

“No me dejes, please.”

(Don’t leave me, please.)

“I’ll see you soon.”

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about how we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

——————————————————————————

“Miles, man, how you doin?”

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

Miles didn’t answer. For a little over 2 weeks, he did nothing but stare at his ceiling. His bed, somehow, still smelled like you. There was a hoodie draped over his desk chair, the same one you wore when you left him.

He wasn’t upset with you. No matter how much he ignored it, he still knew he was ruining it, ruining you. Someone was bound to get hurt. More than anything, he was glad it was him.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose

It was for the better, right?

In the 8 months you had been dating, you always somehow managed to end up missing Miles more than you could love him. Too many nights, you woke up alone. Too many of your texts had been left on read. No matter how many times he came back, he always left again.

You still had his hoodie, his favorite one. It no longer smelled like him, was no longer warm like him. It was nothing more than a reminder of everything you did, and everything Miles couldn’t do.

So, it was for the better, right?

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

Yet, you couldn’t forget about the nights he’d come back to you. Sneaking in through your window, trying his hardest not to wake you as he slipped into your bed.

Every time he held you, it was tight and close and warm. Every time he kissed you, it was sweet and loving. So many nights, you sat in his lap, kissing the night away until neither of you could breath.

“I’m yours, amor.”

I've done the math

There's no solution

We'll never last

Why can't I let go of this?

——————————————————————————

So I broke my promise

“Hi, Miles.”

I called you last night

“Y/N?”

I shouldn't have, I wouldn't have

“Hi.”

If it weren't for the sight of a boy

“What-what is it?”

Who looked just like you

“I’m sorry, really.”

“It’s alright. You deserved better.”

“But I-”

“Don’t. It’s ‘aight. You should be out there, living your life. It ain’t fair the way I made you worry about me.”

“I can’t stop, though. Funny as it is, I’d rather live my life worrying with you than not worry at all without you.”

Standing out on Melrose Avenue

“Volver conmigo. Please, I swear I’ll be better this time.”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

“Miles, those 8 months were-”

“Awful. I know.”

“You said you’d be better. You never were. How do I know you’re not just gonna break the promise again.”

“Cause, before, I guess I didn’t realize how much I had to lose.”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

It was all for the better. Right?

[silenceofthecookies]

Top shelf - Rocinante x reader (GN)

Genderneutral reader Warnings: none Word count: 713

More and more clouds were rolling in, blocking out the bright rays of the sun. Judging by the color, it would rain soon. With a sigh, you walked to your closet and grabbed one of your sweaters. It seemed summer was officially over, and fall was coming. The thought saddened you a little. For 3 months, you had enjoyed the rays of sunshine on your skin, sitting in front of the fan, having an excuse every single day to go swim... but now, that was all over.  

Not wanting to ruin your mood, you started thinking about everything good about fall. The beautiful colors of the falling leaves. A nice hot beverage to warm you up from the inside. Soft blankets to sit under. Nobody forcing you to go outside because ‘it’s such nice weather’. And how could you forget? Sitting side by side with your lover, his coat wrapped around both of you.  

There was something safe about sitting together with Rocinante like that. You were never sure if it was his height, the warmth of his body and his coat, or the way he’d always casually sneak his arm around you to hold you close.  

A cold wind coming through the open window snapped you out of your thoughts. You closed the window and left your room, hoping to find the person who had been occupying your thoughts for the past few minutes. You found him pretty easily, standing outside to smoke. You smiled and opened the door, peeking only your head out, wanting to stay in the warmth of your home.  

“Cora, I’m a little cold so I’m gonna make hot cocoa. Do you want some?” It was as much a question as it was a subtle hint. ‘I’m cold, so come snuggle me’.   Rocinante only nodded in response, still pretending to be mute in case someone overheard. 

Satisfied with the answer, you walked towards the kitchen, ready to make some hot cocoa. First you opened the fridge, noticing the milk was on the top shelf. You grabbed the little stool you had in the kitchen, just for occasions like these. The house was made for Rocinante’s size after all, and you were smaller. Once you got the milk, you went to grab two big mugs. Noticing the bottom shelf of the cupboard was empty, you groaned. You looked at your trusty stool, but realized that you’d have to get something bigger to reach the mugs. The chairs at the dining table would do.  

As you were pulling the chair to the cupboard, Rocinante entered. He smiled as you struggled with the size of his house. From the moment you had moved in with him, it had been an obstacle. But no matter how often he had offered to grab things for you, you’d always insisted on doing it yourself, climbing onto everything in the kitchen to get what you wanted.  

“Babe.”  

You were standing on the counter, your back facing him, holding on to the shelf you were looking into. Rocinante recognized the tone in your voice, and already was struggling to suppress his laughter. You slowly turned to face him, holding the bag of cocoa powder in one hand, while holding on to the shelf with the other.  

“Can you stop putting everything on the top shelf?!”  

Rocinante couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughing loudly at your outburst. He had been putting everything on the top shelves on purpose as a way of teasing you. For weeks now, he had been waiting for you to notice. And your reaction was worth it. Seeing you standing on the counter, a little frown on your face, holding on to the bag of cocoa powder. You looked so small. And so done with his shit.  

Noticing your struggle to safely climb off the counter, Rocinante walked towards you and picked you up, pulling you into a hug.  

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just that you look cute climbing on everything like that.”   “I am not cute!”   “If you say so. Now, let’s make that hot cocoa, you went through so much effort to grab everything, after all.” Rocinante couldn’t stifle his laughter anymore at the end of the sentence, laughing loudly while still holding you against his chest.  “Oh fuck you, Roci”  

[yiiyiiwrites]

🔥 | Autumn Equinox | Eris

Summary: You're a witch living in the Autumn court forest, Eris is tasked with making sure you're not up to anything bad. But the baddest thing you've done is fall in love with him. How you share your morning with Eris during the Autumn equinox and showing him your rituals 1985words

Eris Vanserra x Witch reader

Also Have one for [Cassian] & [Azriel] & Lucien coming soon

Acotar masterlist

The bells chimed as he walked through the door to your little cottage, a clothed pouch gripped tightly in his hand. Eris Vanserra, eldest son of Autumn and the thief that stole your heart. You don't know how he'd crept into your thoughts so easily and remained till he could sneak away to visit you again.

Always so well put together, not a single crease in his tailored clothes. The emerald green overcoat making his copper hair stand out, it fell freely over his shoulders and curled at the end. Amber eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, hands tucked behind him, but a smile tugged the corner of his lips.

"I'm here for the monthly check," he said, circling the tiny kitchen until he stopped in front of you. His hands found place on your hips and he closed the remaining sliver of distance between you and him.

You backed into the kitchen counters, head arching up to meet his amber eyes. His touch burning, you gripped the soft velvet lapels of his overcoat and pulled him down, lips pressing against his.

"Does that conclude your check, General?" You said leaning away from him as he tried to chase your movements, nose trailing your cheek.

"I may need some more time to compile my report," he said stepping back, a dusting of dried lavender brushed over the top of his head and he shook the petals from his silky hair.

The last time he'd visited, Eris had picked the last blossom of flowers from your garden. Binding them with string, loop holding them up from the pins in the wooden beams on the ceiling. Saving you from standing on the rickety stool, that he'd told you to get rid of every time it caught his attention.

A fog still hung around the lower trunks of the forest trees, the rising sun painting the sky in a golden glow. Windows misted, the drizzle of rain running down the glass pane.

"Happy equinox, my beloved."

Your heart skipped a beat whenever he used that term of endearment. Knowing that he could hear the change in your heart rate, only spurring him on to use the word more often. Liking how you blushed and met his gaze, unwavering and unafraid of getting burnt.

"Worship me then, my love," you replied, pushing him into a chair with one finger. Sharp nail leaving a crescent mark in the soft velvet of his overcoat.

The court feared you, but Beron kept you caged to the forest. Letting you practice your magic and using it for his own gain. Tied to the lands and unable to step into the heart of the court, you made the most of your assigned time with Eris, the one person that didn't fear your power.

"I'm afraid I can only worship you this morning, the rest of my day is fulfilling my duties," he said laying the pouch on the dining table and untying the string to lay the contents out.

It was easy to forget the burdens and responsibilities that weighed on his shoulders. The little cottage offering you both a place of refuge and your own space to create just for yourselves. No outside influences ruining the life you'd built together. Eris was the only person that visited frequently, a few times one of his younger brothers had stepped in for him and you'd longed for the eldest.

"Oh, you brought them. You picked them on you way?" You asked sliding a mini brass cauldron across the table to him. He nodded, shuffling the browning leaves on the cloth in front him. He mirrored your movements, placing the leaves in his cauldron and glancing back at you for instruction.

The cool breeze filtered through the open window, Eris's copper hair dancing behind him like crackling flames. He combed his fingers through his long locks and pinned them back. A few strands falling like silk over his pale face.

"What are we...." The gulf of a flame cuts his words short, the orange glow rising high as it devours the leaves in your cauldron. His amber eyes darken, a flicker of the same fire within them.

"Light it," you said, nodding to his cauldron. "It's a releasing ritual, think of the things you need to let go, that are no longer working for you or are holding you back." Your lips soften to a smile, your gaze lowering the flame of your own and focusing on your own thoughts you wished to expel. "Release it, so you can move on."

You felt the warmth of his magic, but did not gaze at his flame. That was his ritual alone, his to lay waste to all the things holding him back. Not everything was in your control, but small things like this led to powerful change.

Inhaling a trembling breath, you exhaled a calm and steady one. Your body lighter, mind clearer as nothing but ash laid at the bottom of your cauldron. The smoke rising from the curved rim merged with the soothing scent of cinnamon and oak clouding your senses.

Eris's gaze snapped to you, back straightening as he righted himself and released a deep breath of his own. You didn't ask how he felt, you could see the lightness in the slight relaxing of his shoulders and soft jaw smoothing the pulse of tension away.

"Ready for the next phase, my love?" Remember you always have a choice," you said reminding him that he could stand down if it got too much for him.

Not everyone was ready to face themselves and let the old them go, a constant cycle of transformation, enough to keep people in the past and clinging to that scrap of safety. You were well versed on the spinning wheel, the good and bad that spun and offered you a new beginning and sometimes a painful ending. How else were you supposed to grow if you did not welcome the unknown?

"I'm ready."

Eris wasn't afraid to leap, to take your hand and trust that you'd have his best interest at heart. Each time he'd left your home, you'd performed a protective spell to see him to safety out of the woods and deep down you hoped it'd extend to the court and protect him from his father, his brothers.

You lead Eris to the living area, sinking into the plump sofa and fluffing a cushion for him before he could sit back. Dried herbs and flowers covered the small table, you'd spent weeks preparing enough for the both of you.

"Now we need to cleanse, but we're going to bundle up some of these to burn." You gathered up rosemary, lavender and peppermint, closing your hand around to keep them together. "Pick which ones you like the scent of or that call to you."

Eris's hand hovered over the stems and petals, he picked a few up and brought them closer testing their scent. The first one he chose, Lavender the scent he associated with you. He'd admitted that it had clung to him whenever he'd left like he was still in a daze in your cottage. A few sprigs of purple were left on his sleeve sometimes reminding him of you.

You helped each other tie the bundles together with some twine, two rings keeping it intact. His finger brushing against yours every now and then as if he couldn't go without your touch.

Fire, like the Autumn court was vital to your magic tied to the forest. The bundles lit with flames, the smoke cleansing and washing away the dirt and ash you'd burnt in the cauldron. You waved it through the air and walked through the scented fog, drawing up and down, around your figure until it burnt down to your fingertips.

Eris's magic consumed the dried herbs and petals quickly. He took the remnants of yours and held it above the crown of your head, slowly circling you and kneeling at your feet to cleanse all of you.

You cupped his face in your hands, the pad of your thumb tracing his sharp cheekbone. Leaning down you kissed him and leant away, pressing your forehead to his.

"Is this worshipping enough for you, me beloved?" He said rising from his knees and wrapping his fingers around your wrists. You knew time was not on your side today, the little you had left crumbling away.

"One more ritual, my love," you murmured against his lips, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss him once again. He hummed as you pulled back, letting you guide him to the other side of the room.

You sunk to your knees, Eris doing the same. The platform raised on the floor, your altar. Dried oranges hung in a stringed line against the wall, orange candles in differing heights scattered the wooden surface. You'd collected some leaves, acorns and fruit to offer to the Goddess of Harvest, the one you thanked every year on the autumn equinox.

Eris had seen the seasonal changes of your altar, sometimes even helped you find things to place on it. He'd brought you back seashells from the summer court for the summer solstice, roses from spring for the spring equinox and a vial of snow for the winter solstice. Little things you'd never witnessed stuck in one court.

You'd kept a seashell by your bed, listening to the waves as you cupped it to your ear. A dusky pink rose still full of life, where you'd spelled it to last till your last breath. You treasured the gifts Eris gave, hoping that what you offered to him was enough.

Closing your eyes, you felt the familiar warmth slip into your clasped hands, you stole a glance to Eris beside you, whose eyes were also shut. "Goddess of harvest, we thank you for guiding us through this year and helping us grow. Through hard work and consistency we have thrived, asking once again for you to look over us as we navigate a new path. We shred ourselves of old thoughts and shadowselves, to welcome in the good, the light."

Eris squeezed your hand, gratitude surging through you as the weight of his hand reassured you of all the good. The light in him, that he rarely showed to others. You hoped one day you wouldn't be confined to the forests and he wouldn't have to conceal his true self.

"This candle is a symbol for the light we are open to receiving," you whispered, opening your eyes you're met with a flame dancing on the wick before you. The light he gave you.

You picked up an acorn from the altar and slipped it in the pocket of his Eris's lining. "It's for good luck." You often gave him small objects for luck or protection, he'd joked about not having enough shelf space for any more stones or crystals.

"Thank you," he said rising from the floor. He offered you a hand and helped you stand with him. "Afraid our time is up." The hard lines settled on his face, lips straight and pursed as he put his mask back on.

"Let me walk with you," you said, arm sliding around his back as you walked out the door with him.

The sun had risen, fog parting as you traipsed through the tall grass. In the depth of the forest, you were able to roam freely, the outskirts however is where you could not step over, as if there was an invisible wall keeping you from the heart of the court. The core of it your garden, no one dared to enter it so it gave you the opportunity to spend extra time with Eris as he walked back to his duties.

And you would watch him step over the boundary and wonder if you'd ever be able to follow him.

Since its nearly autumn equinox I wanted to do some prompts for it :) there's other characters to come - Yiiyii