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atyourmerci · 1 month

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☀︎To the light is to the darkness✩

Abby X reader X Ellie

Prologue to vengeance (can be read alone)

☀︎ ☀︎

Summary: Abby is your childhood best friend, you did everything together, taught each other everything. You were utterly infatuated with each other until Ellie Williams enters your world.

Warning: smut, MDNI, porn w lots of plot, innocence arc, mutual pining, lots of sexual tension, mutual masturbation (in the same room, together), fingering if you squint, useless lesbians, lesbian love triangle, abby needs a hug, phoebe bridgers as her own warning, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: okay so holy fuck did I get carried away with this one. I didn’t want to leave yall on a cliffhanger but this dynamic deserves more and I don’t want to rush through it. I hope yall enjoy. This chapter is mostly just abby but there will be lots more Ellie in the next chapter promise :)

✩ ✩

“Someone you couldn’t lose. You said we’re not together, so now when we kiss I have anger issues.”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

A relationship that felt more of interlacing two souls into one that resided in two structures. Shared autonomy of mind, breath, word, and body. Unspoken feelings, touches, and stares.

What started in green fields of pink flowers and brown roots ended in dark rooms and pining embraces. Hand shakes turning into interlaced fingers, laughter filled glances turning into tense stares, and experimental pecks turning into open mouthed pants.

The first time you meet abby was at school at 15. Bright eyed and bushy tailed still untainted from the reality of the world around you. You were quite shy in those years, keeping yourself away from the wild hairs of children ready to grow up and take charge. You were okay with the stability of childhood, the sticky sweet feeling of safety and uncharted terror.

Before Abby’s dad had died, before the muscles and long locks of golden blonde hair she was reserved too. Abby was wrapped in a bubble of comfort, a loving community that doted on her. She felt no need to join the crowd of chaos when she had everything she needed.

Well she thought she did…and then she met you.

In class you had your face shoved into a notebook doodling away of ferns and dandelions you had seen in the fields early that day. If it were up to you, you’d spend every last dying breath in the fields, soaking in sunlight and trailing your fingers through the rows of flowers.

Abby sat next to you in class, always too shy to speak up to you. You always seemed so busy, either reading, drawing, or with your head in the clouds, never truly listening to the lecture ahead. She admired your creativity, attention to detail, and the utter sense of unawareness to your surroundings. She wondered why you didn’t talk to the others, you were so inviting, so pretty. She once wished to look like you, how effortlessly magnificent you looked.

She grew too curious, over zealous at the thought of being close to you, understanding you. She knew she had to speak up.

“H-hey you draw pretty cool- I mean- it’s really good…what you draw.”

You had never taken more than a glance at the freckled girl until then. She always seemed just as busy as you, so you never bothered her.

You let out a bellied laugh at the now crimson red faced girl- completely embarrassed by her attempt at recognition.

And that was that. The two of you were inseparable, attached at the hip from then on out.

Abby seemed to understand your weird quirks and odd fascinations. Even when she didn’t, she was there open minded and wide eyed to hear your lengthy ramblings on about nothingness.

Sometimes it felt like you did most of the talking. Not that it was one sided or you wouldn’t let her butt in, but rather she was completely enamored by what you thought. Sometimes all she wanted to do was to hear you talk, you were her favorite person, the own mold of herself.

She wanted to think what you thought, feel what you felt, see the world through your eyes.

As the years went on you only seemed to grow closer to abby as she grew fonder of you.

Some could call it an obsession, the way you treated each other. Not a single thought went by that the other didn’t know. If you were there, so was abby. If you knew something, so did she.

Everyday she would follow you to the fields after school, your special escape you’d learn to share with the other half of your being.

You’d make her lay across the flower ridden fields so you could draw her glistening hair kissed by the whisk of wind. She let her hair grow longer since you’d ask to braid it for her every morning. She liked it short but she wanted to let you have room to make intricate designs and lace them with weeds you’d found.

Abby would playfully nudge you when you’d draw the hump on her nose in the drawings, but you loved it too much to not appreciate it. You loved all the things she couldn’t in herself.

You two spent hours out in the field daily, even when it rained you’d make her dance around like fairies as mud splattered across your shins. Anything you wanted, she’d do as long as it was with you.

That’s when you asked her to try kissing, she’d obliged.

“Have you ever…kissed anyone?” You ask staring off into the cloud painted sky, tall grass framing your bodies.

She lets out a breathy giggle, “no… you would know if I did.”

You shrug, shoulder crashing gently into hers, “I don’t know, maybe it was too embarrassing to say.”

She trails off, “h-have you?”

“No dumbass you would know…” you push your shoulder into her turning to give her a toothy smile, “what if I’m not good when a boy kisses me?”

Her eyes remained trained onto the pillowy cloud, “you can try on me- I-if you want to.”

It was a good idea, she wasn’t going to judge you, she was your best friend, she was only there to help.

“Okay.” And without a second thought your upper body shot up and lent over hers, pressing your lips into her plush pink ones. It was gentle, only a placement amongst the flesh, yet so charged. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and up to your throat, something you had only felt once before when you and abby went swimming.

Closeness you thought. Being close to someone causes that. How nice it was to be so close to your favorite person, maybe one day you could feel close to someone again.

After that you continued to experiment kissing. At sleepovers you’d talk about the boys you wanted to kiss, then show each other how you would kiss them. It turned into an innocent routine, pecking her before she would leave, kissing her in the fields when you felt the butterflies.

You’d told her about them- the fluttering in your stomach. Whenever you felt them she told you that she wanted to feel them too. Transferring them through the soft pink flesh, she’d say she’d feel them after.

Soon she’d tell you when she got them, to which you’d return the gesture back. As time went on, the butterflies came more often.

People were starting to notice the relationship, started talking about how close the two of you were. You’d shoo off the irrational comments and over zealous accusations, but abby never did. She just didn’t respond.

“Who am I to ask for more? But you’re breathing in my open mouth. You’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

Abby started spending the night daily, she practically lived in your room at that point. After her dad died your relationship grew stronger than ever. In such a treacherous time she clung to the only person who truly understood her. Many a nights she spent huddled into a ball in your lap weeping as you smoothed the hair behind her ear and rubbing circles into the grown muscles in her back.

Abby had taken to working her emotions out in physical labor. Now being a solider full time out of school she had grown muscular and more rough. Her heart was still the same for you, but had grown caged off to the people around you.

Her pleasantries for the rest of the community had grown stale, only allowing a few to get near her. But you… there was always an indefinite spot inside her for you.

Since abby was always around now, in the darkness of every night, privacy had flown right out the window. Not that you had minded- there wasn’t much of really anything abby didn’t know or hadn’t seen.

But when that eery sense of familiarity crept up, when the butterflies would come at night.

She had started out sleeping on the extra bed in your room. Before she had practically moved in she’d sleep with you, but since her stay turned to no vacancy she’d taken to given you the last sense of space, even when you hadn’t asked.

In the middle of darkness as the crickets chirped outside the window you’d tell her the feeling had come back, and she’d always agree, and the room would fall silent again.

“Abby?” You call out to a darkened room, illuminated by the shine of the moon.

“Yeah?” She’d call back from the other side.

“Do you ever…fix the feelings of the butterflies. Like make them go away?”

“Uh yeah- sometimes…when it gets bad.”

“I think mine are…bad right now,” it felt embarrassing almost, there was nothing she could do to help, fix your issue. Transferring the butterflies to abby only made them worse sometimes, and you were boiling.

“M-mine too,” she admits.

“You can fix it- if you need to.”

“A-re you going to stop yours?”

“Is that okay?” You say reluctantly into the tense air coating you. Every slight move felt with a million nerves.

“Mhmm,” she responds, a rustling heard coming from her direction.

Soft hums filled the air from the feeling of release you had allowed yourself in the presence of your best friend. Abby’s breathy moans would only follow quickly after your own, never before.

Dual release become a routine. Allowing the sticky sweet sensations of climaxing in the same bedroom of your other half. It became another thing you shared with her, another check on the list of the endeavors you’d participated in with her.

Talks of the butterflies and the unleashing of them never left those four chipping walls. Some things were meant for just Abby’s ears. All best friends must do the same. You’d never heard of others talk of sorts so you sealed your lips, a secret kept like a bird in a cage.

As you both had grown accustomed to the routine things gradually got more intense. Sometimes you couldn’t get the butterflies to fly away even when you tried for hours, panting out whimpers of frustration. Even when they would go away sometimes they would crept back in immediately, your body unable to be satiated.

Abby begun sleeping in the bed with you, to calm the frustrating unnerve you felt after no avail. She’d tell you she wish she could help you, make them go away. She’d do anything to make you happy.

That’s when you started touching yourselves next to each other. The routine was upheld for so long that it felt natural to do it even when she was right next to you. First fully covered, then in undergarments, to finally completely bare.

Seeing Abby’s bare flesh only made it worse. You weren’t stupid, the pieces were falling into place before your eyes. But you hadn’t seen anyone else naked before, maybe it would be the same. Her flesh so pale, her nipples shades of pale pink roses, and the hair that trailed down to her folds as golden as wheat. You had never seen something so magnificent, so beautifully crafted.

That was something you didn’t share with her. The drawings of her bare flesh. You made sure to memorize each chisel, line, and freckle to be as accurate as possible once you got to your notebook. With every piece of her revealed opening thousands of opportunities to draw her art. She was so fucking beautiful.

“When was the first time?” The auburn girl had asked you.

It all had meshed into a blur, what had happened and when it did. When you and abby had started sleeping together it started on opposite ends. Heat not close enough to sting your flesh but the air still tense enough to be cut clean with a blade. As time grew on and the routine becoming daily, the space between you started to close in. Knees brushing as your legs wavered, arms transferring sticky sweat in the blistering heat of arousal.

The inevitable placement of foreheads touching as you watched each other fall apart, watching the butterflies flutter out of her throat with every pant.

From what you could call the ‘beginning’ of sorts, rather an act of mercy, came from her.

You found yourself in the familiar position of unnerve. Rubbing aimless quick circles on your abused clit. It became a matter of principle at the point, needing to fulfill the urge even knowing the outcome would leave you more helpless than before. Abby’s butterflies were far gone, now rubbing lazy stripes down her slit in attempt to not let you feel alone. She never wanted you to feel like she wasn’t completely enthralled by your every move.

Your leg sprawled across her own, wide open, bucking your hips into the air as you let out frustrated grunts, eyes sealed shut in concentration. She just watched. She loved watching you touch yourself. Abby felt like the luckiest girl in the world getting to watch you, kiss you, feel you. She wanted to feel more of you, every atom in your body she’d kiss if you’d allow it.

“Let me help” she said, eyes trained on your open mouth.

Your brain was too fuzzy to even comprehend the depth of the act, so pent up and eager.

“Mhmm,” was all you could muster up. As her calloused fingers transferred from her skin to your abdomen, your body jolted up. You had never been touched by another. Not like this. She took her time running the tips of her fingers from your side to the mound, taking your hand and moving it your thigh so she could replace it with her own.

Something deep in your belly erupted when you felt her fingers meet your clit. A flock of doves released from their cage, a gasping goldfish meeting water. An exaggerated sigh of relief came out as a depraved moan. Every nerve in your body heightened by her gentle touch.

She drew cautious and attentive swipes across the newly swollen bud, watching for when your breath would hitch.

“You’re so warm,” she said studying your face as it contorted in pleasure. Your chin raised high, burying your scalp into the frilly pillows below. She had then studied the flesh around your neck, oh why had she never noticed that. How thin the skin was there, how close she could get to you in that space.

“I-it feels b-better when you do it,” you admit to her, water in her hands, hips grinding into the soft touch of her. “Y-yeah really?” She says, perking up, so pleased with knowing she could make you feel better. She’d do anything to make you feel better.

You let your stagnant hand run down her chiseled chest to meet her mound, her sticky slit pooling at her core. You meant to return the favor, an eye for an eye. “It’s okay- just let me help you.”

You shook your head in agreement, but let your hand rest on the pulsing flesh, you wanted to feel her like she felt you.

With every gentle circle she took you closer to release. It was so much faster when she did it. When you did it together before you would lie there for hours flicking at the raw skin to no avail, but in minutes she had you tipping at your edge.

Her strokes felt akin to the ones on your notebook, gentle and cautious direction, seeking a desirable outcome. You’d thought to picture this, able to recreate this on paper shielded from her eyes. What would she think if she saw them? Maybe you’d grown too fond of the other half of your heart.

“Abby!” You scream out, nearing your pending release.

“Y-yeah? D-does it feel okay- are you okay?” She perks up in concern, helplessly worried she had hurt you.

“Yes- Yes! It- it’s coming,” you pant out, body slick with sweat as your arousal pools below you. A sloppy mess of bodies interlaced with remorseless pleasure.

“Let me feel them, I want to feel them,” abby says inches from your face, intently watching the contortions of your face below her. The butterflies, oh how she wished she could flutter in your tummy as they do so effortlessly.

You cave shamelessly, pressing into the soft pink flesh. You try to keep them stable, but as you reach the cliffs edge you can’t help but moan pathetically into her throat. Your hips thrust into the calloused fingers, chasing the lasting feelings of her, escaping your doom and passing the burden through your lips onto hers.

You did draw of this, and every time after that. It became an obsession, mental images snapshotted to accuracy for replication later.

The routine increased in frequency and intensity. Exploring each other’s most sacred places. She would let you touch her sometimes, but only when she was touching you. Abby seemed more interested in your pleasure than her own. But she cared about you, she never wanted you unsettled. She wanted to be your salvation.

“I ask you how you’re doing and I let you lie. But we don’t have to talk about it, I can walk you home and practice method acting. I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning.”

“Does she make you feel them?”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

Ellie Williams was so…vulgar, erratic, a ticking time bomb. The pieces of the puzzle connected at last when you lied eyes on the auburn haired girl.

She had entered the WLF as gentle as a bomb to a building. Fiery hot attitude, a chip on her shoulder, and drowning green eyes. At first glance she utterly captivated your ever fleeting thoughts.

When she first walked through the corridors of the stadium your eyes fixed on her, staring rudely at her every move. “Who is that, the girl?” You ask the unfazed blonde next to you, too busy working at sharpening a blade, “names Ellie, they say she’s trouble. By the looks of her, checks out.”

“What did she do? Why is she here?” You continue your glare, taking note of the pink scare rippled along the crest of her eye.

You had never drawn anyone other than abby, but the girls features were so strong, the strokes would come naturally in your grasp. A secret muse possibly, even from a far.

“I don’t know- stay away from her. She reeks of trouble,” she’d remark, finishing off the blade and leading you off to a pending mission.

You tried, you really did. She was so compelling, and you? You were a bee to honey. Was she soft unlike her features? Did she speak of the world beyond her? Did she like to watch the clouds mesh into unlikely objects? Did she know of the butterflies and their ever present existence in your lungs?

Your notebook grew of only her, the short frayed hair, the pink scare, the freckles that littered her face. So effortlessly magnificent she was, unknowingly your own secret work of art.

Until abby found them.

Related to this work

Song lyrics: casual , waiting room , cool about it

Moodboard

If you enjoy the childhood best friend trope with abby highly recommend this fic by @kieranscaren she writes beautifully and gave me great inspiration for this work:)

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow @a-little-bit-of-everybody

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therealmrsgojo · 1 month

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Last Kiss

And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are

pairing: geto suguru x reader summary: geto suguru had no remorse for his decisions, yet deep down, there was a flicker of regret; if only he had changed his mind - about leaving you behind. content: MDNI, NSFW, canon compliant/divergence, fem!reader, established relationship, aged up characters; will be 18+, oral fem!receiving, mating press, heartbreak, longing, angst, regrets, death, inspired by a song called last kiss (taylor s.) wordcount: 10.7k

The room was filled with a serene silence - two bodies lay intertwined on the soft bed.

The air was thick with the sweet scent of passion and love, mingling with the subtle fragrance of lavender from the scented candles that flickered softly on the nightstand.

Moon shone brightly on the horizon, glimmering their skin as if blessing their love. Limbs were entangled in a graceful dance, each move a symbol of pure affection for one another.

Heartbeat as one, the world around faded into nothingness; the clock on the bedside table displayed 1:58.

Geto Suguru lay there, his heart overflowing with contentment as he gazed into your sleeping face. The soft glow of the moon cast a gentle light on your features, enhancing your beauty and filling him with awe. "So beautiful,"

He held you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his and the softness of your skin under his fingertips. Memorizing the rhythm of your breath, its gentle cadence brings him tranquility.

He traced the outline of your face with his finger, taking in every detail as if he were seeing you for the first time.

Your eyes were closed and he longed to get lost in them; lips gently brushed against his skin, emitting a comforting warmth. His arms around you gripped tighter, as if afraid that you would slip away from him.

At that moment, he was wholly consumed by you. The world outside didn't exist, and all the worries and hardships that awaited him in his reality faded away, the bitter aftertaste of the curses he had consumed the day before long forgotten.

The only thing that mattered to him was you, and the way your sweet scent lingered in his nose.

He saw you open your eyes, squinting as you tried to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. "Suguru?" you mumbled sleepily. "Is it morning yet?"

"No, sweetheart," he replied softly, brushing your hair back and cupping your cheeks. "It's just past midnight. We can still rest."

You let out a contented sigh, grateful you could stay in his arms a little longer. "Hmm, good to know," he heard you chuckle. "Don't want to do anything yet or later."

Suguru grinned at your lazy comment, admiring your sleepy expression. "What a sleepy girl," he teased, tracing your closed eyes with his fingers. He couldn't resist the urge to touch you, to feel the smoothness of your skin against his fingertips again.

His hands moved down to your nose, gently bumping it before traveling further down to your lips. You somewhat knew what his next steps would be.

As his lips met yours, you felt a surge of pleasure coursing through your body. His kisses were always so gentle and tender, yet so passionate at the same time. You kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his breath.

His tongue pushed against your lips, asking for entrance, and you eagerly obliged.

Your heart raced as you felt his lips move down to your neck, planting kisses and leaving behind small, purple bruises. "I'm sorry, baby," he slurred, his words muffled against your skin. "I need you so bad."

Now wide awake, you watched as he slowly tugged the duvet covers over your naked body, his lips trailing down to your chest.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, his delicate licks making it harden. His other hand teased and tweaked the other nipple, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Relax, pretty girl," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to take care of you. You don't need to do anything."

Suguru continued to suck on your nipples, twirling his tongue around them and moaning softly. His cock grew hard as he switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

"I want to taste you," he mumbled, his lips moving down to your stomach. His long fingers caressed your womanhood, eliciting a soft gasp from you. He positioned himself between your thighs, using his thumb to part your cunt and expose your clit. "Can I taste you, Y/N?"

"Yy-yes." You moaned as he began to lick and suck on your clit, his tongue moving in circles and causing waves of pleasure to wash over you. Your hands gripped the sheets as he continued to pleasure you, his fingers slipping inside you and making you writhe with pleasure.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts untouched by his warm mouth. He was licking every drop.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and then you were tumbling over it, your body convulsing with pleasure as Suguru continued to pleasure you with his mouth and hands.

"Mm, Suguru," as his skilled tongue continued to explore every inch of you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your eyes were now wide open, taking in every sensation as he delved deeper. His tongue continued lapping at your most sensitive areas, sending electrifying pulses of pleasure throughout your body.

As if that wasn't enough, his fingers began to apply gentle pressure, adding to the intensity. You felt your legs start to tremble uncontrollably as the pleasure built inside you. "Tastes so sweet."

You could feel yourself getting close to the brink of orgasm. Your breath quickened, and your cries became louder with each passing second. You knew that you were on the verge of release, and he seemed to sense it too.

"I'm close," With one final push, he pressed harder, driving you over and into a world of pure pleasure. As you exploded in ecstasy, your body shook with the force of your orgasm, and you cried out in delight.

Suguru continued to lavish and clean you, his tongue working tirelessly to taste your release. "So fcking sweet,"

Panting and gasping for breath, you feel him move his body on top of yours, his lips pressing against yours as he positions himself at your entrance.

You can feel your heart racing as your body responds to his touch. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you, and feel his body shudder with pleasure.

He lifts your legs and places them around his waist, slowly sinking his length inside you.

"My sweet girl," he whispered into your ear, his voice low and husky. "So warm." He moved in and out of you, his grunts and moans filling the air as he lost himself in the pleasure of your body.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrust harder and faster.

"Mm-more, Suguru," You arch your back and push your hips up to meet his, feeling his length still sliding in and out of you with increasing speed.

He responded by picking up the pace, repositioning himself deeper inside you, and placing your legs on top of his shoulders. He pressed you into the mattress, giving kisses to your face and neck as he continued to rail you, his movements becoming more urgent and intense.

"Shit, I'm going to come, doll." he cursed, his hands gripping your body tightly as he felt his orgasm building.

You could feel his length pulsing inside you, his release painting your walls white as he continued to move, putting back his spilled seed with each thrust making you gasp as you feel your second orgasm.

Basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, Suguru excused himself to the bathroom. You heard the sound of running water and assumed that he was cleaning himself up. A few moments later, he returned with a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

You watched as he approached you, eyes full of love and tenderness. His touch was gentle as he used the cloth to clean away any remnants.

He took his time, making sure to clean every inch of your body with utmost care.

He wiped away the last trace of sweat from your skin and looked up at you with a soft smile. "I love you so much," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, Suguru," you replied, your voice filled with emotion. You reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. You melted into the kiss, savoring the taste of him on your lips. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that only you could satisfy.

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face as you pulled away. "I'm so lucky to have you," he said, his eyes shining with emotion.

"You earned it," you replied, a playful tease in your voice. "Especially after the way you fucked me like that." You couldn't help but grin as you saw him blush, the tip of his ears slightly red.

"You know I'll always give you everything you need, Y/N." he whispered.

Your boyfriend was the kind of lover who could make you forget your name with the way he moved, but despite his confidence in the bedroom, there was a surprising shyness to him that only you seemed to be able to coax out.

It was the little things you did that made him blush and stutter.

A gentle touch to the back of his neck, a whispered compliment in his ear, or even a coy smile as you looked up at him through your lashes - all of these things could turn him into a mess.

Seeing this vulnerable side of him was endearing for someone so confident and powerful in other aspects of his life.

"You always know just what to say," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't ask for a better lover than you."

Suguru's smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead softly. "You're my everything," he murmured. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Geto Suguru stood by the VIP lounge, watching you with amusement as you drunkenly danced happily with Shoko in the middle of the crowded bar.

His eyes never left your figure, following your every move, making sure that you would not be approached by anyone else. With a drink in his left hand, he chuckled softly at your carefree dance, your face red from the alcohol, enjoying the bar's lively atmosphere.

His legs were spread out wide, giving off an air of confidence and strength that seemed to radiate throughout the room.

People glanced over at him every now and then, drawn to his commanding presence. But he paid them no mind, his attention solely focused on you.

His babygirl.

Satoru held his phone on his right side to record your fun moment with Shoko, capturing and laughing as he cheered for the joyous scene. "Look at them,"

It was one of your slip-away-from-Yaga-nights, sneaking out to enjoy a drink or two on a Friday evening, knowing there would be no classes the next day.

Satoru, being the wealthy boy he was, always sponsored your getaways, generously denying any complaints from the rest of you.

"Aren't you going to dance?" Satoru's teasing voice broke through the haze, returning Suguru to reality.

Suguru's watchful gaze shifted from you to Satoru; as he had been keeping a protective eye on you all night, the mere thought of losing sight of you even for a moment made him uneasy.

"I don't dance." Suguru replied nonchalantly, "You all know that, so stop bugging me."

The Gojo heir laughed heartily, undeterred by Suguru's dismissive response. "Well, good luck saying no to your Y/N." He then stood up, going to the bar to fetch more drinks. "But don't make out on the couch," He hollered back playfully.

As if on cue, you began walking towards him, a smile on your lips and a bounce in your step. You expertly navigated through the sea of people, avoiding collisions with ease.

Shoko, who had been walking with you, saw Satoru and went in the opposite direction with him, leaving the two of you alone.

He couldn't help but admire your beauty and grace as he watched you approach.

The way your dress hugged your curves, the way your hair cascaded down your back in loose waves, the way your eyes sparkled with mirth and mischief… It was all too much for him to handle.

"Hi, pretty girl," he said, his eyes drinking up your form.

He extends his hand towards you, planting a smile on your face. You gracefully accepted his invitation and seated yourself on his lap.

His sturdy hand wrapped around you, feeling the plush of your thighs on his. Unable to resist himself, he placed kisses on your cheeks.

"Come on, Suguru," you said, pouting at him. "I want to dance with you."

At first, he hesitated, unsure of his answer. However, when he met your gaze and saw the glimmer of hope in your eyes, all of his reservations disappeared.

He gave in to your request with a slight nod, hearing you cheer and pump your fist in the air dramatically. Sighing, he let you lead him onto the dance floor.

Cheers and laughter erupted from Satoru and Shoko, who were clapping and encouraging. It was a momentous occasion, as it was the first time that Geto Suguru had danced since the getaways started.

He wasn't much for dancing, but for you, he did.

You danced with each other, your body pressed against him as you led the taller man with your movements. The music was upbeat and lively, and you could feel the energy coursing through your veins.

A slower song filled the room, and Suguru's eyes locked onto yours. He felt more drawn towards you if that's even possible. You were a sight for sore eyes to him.

Placing his hands on your waist, he pulls you closer to him. He could feel his heartbeat fasten as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, not caring about anyone else around.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, sealing the moment with a kiss.

Geto Suguru laughed when he caught you blushing as his father shook your hand warmly. His mother stood next to you, her fingers tenderly caressing your hair as if you were already a part of their family.

"What a stunning young lady," his mother exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red at the heartfelt compliment.

After holding onto his father's hands for a moment, you finally let go and lowered yourself into a deep bow. Your eyes glistened with a sense of gratitude as you spoke. "It brings me great pleasure to meet you both. I cannot thank you enough for bringing Suguru into this world."

Suguru's heart constricted with overwhelming emotions as he listened to your sincere words. He was aware of your deep love for him, but your expression of gratitude towards his parents for bringing him into this world was truly heart-rending.

He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out and quickly blinked them away to avoid showing his vulnerability.

"Your words are too kind, my dear child," replied with a warm smile. "Please, let's go and enjoy the supper that I have prepared for the both of you." His mother beamed affectionately and led the way into the grand Geto estate, adorned with cozy furnishings and decor.

The delightful dinner was spent in blissful contentment, with a wide range of dishes laid out meticulously on the table. The tantalizing aroma of the scrumptious, home-cooked food permeated the air, making your taste buds tingle with anticipation.

The flavors were exquisite, each dish bursting with its unique blend of spices and seasonings. You savored every bite, feeling grateful for the love and care that went into every dish.

The lively atmosphere was filled with jovial conversations, jokes, and heartwarming stories, as people shared their experiences and feelings.

Throughout the evening, Suguru's mom shared stories about his childhood years, much to his embarrassment. But you listened intently, laughing and smiling as they recounted tales of his mischievous antics and rebellious streak.

The memories of this beautiful evening were etched in your heart forever, reminding you of the warmth and love surrounding you.

"Suguru, when do you plan to stop being a sorcerer?" His father's tone was abrupt, catching you off guard. It appeared that his father was not particularly fond of Suguru's sorcery.

"Let's just talk about that when I go back, Dad. Not now." Suguru then turned towards you and gestured towards the door, indicating it was time for you to leave. "Thank you for the dinner, Mom and Dad. We'll be going now."

His gaze drifted away from you, avoiding any potential conflict that may arise from the topic at hand. "I'm sorry for that, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

You squeezed his hand, understanding his body language and respecting his wishes.

"I promise to visit you soon," You bid Suguru's mom farewell, hugging her tightly. You then bowed deeply to his father.

Suguru watched with a sense of delight as you walked hand in hand with his mom towards the door.

As you turned to leave, Suguru took your hand and whispered in your ear, "I love you. Thank you for coming with me and meeting them." You turned to face him, your eyes brimming with tears of happiness. "I love you too," you replied before leaning in for a tender kiss.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru's mom had stepped back a few paces and were now watching your encounter with awe.

She could see how deeply in love Suguru was with you and how much you meant to him. She had always wanted their son to find someone who would love and cherish him, and she could see that he had found that in you.

Finally reaching the estate's gate, Suguru's mother called out to you, "Take care, dear. We'll be waiting for your next visit."

You turned around and smiled, replying, "See you soon,"

Strolling hand in hand through the calm and quiet streets, the radiant moonlight shone down the path ahead, enveloping the two enamored souls in a warm and welcoming aura.

The silver light beams cast a gentle yet enchanting glow over the lovers as they continued their romantic stroll under the starry night sky.

You gazed up at Suguru; you couldn't help but remark how much he resembled his mother. "I love your mom, you look so much like her, Suguru, you just managed to get your father's height," you said with a smile.

"I can't wait to meet them again, maybe I should bring them in return right? I want to meet them soon again, they just bring so much happiness to me, it's like - " Before you could finish your sentence, Suguru cut you off with a chaste kiss, his lips silencing your ramblings.

"Marry me once we graduate, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Geto Suguru leaned in and planted a tender kiss on the back of your hand. He looked deeply into your eyes as you whispered, "So, you're leaving?"

"It's just a two-day mission, doll," he reassured you, sensing your unease. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soothing and reassuring. "Tengen-sama's Star Plasma Vessel needs some protection from us."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation, and pulled him in for a warm hug. You didn't want to let him go, but you knew that duty called, and as Jujutsu sorcerers, your responsibilities always came first. No matter what.

"Okay, please update me every time," you whispered, trying to hide the fear in your voice.

He turned back to look at you, his intense gaze locking with yours. "I'll be back before you know it, baby. And when I return, let's cuddle for hours," he said, his voice filled with determination.

You watched him stroll away with his hands tucked in his pockets, a sense of anxiety creeping up within you. This was the first time he would be responsible for protecting someone and not just killing curses like he used to.

You knew him well, and you knew that the weight of responsibility always hung heavily on his shoulders, which worried you deeply.

What was the worst thing that could happen?

It had been a year since the Star Plasma Vessel had been brutally killed.

Geto Suguru was a changed man, a shadow of his former self. His infectious smile was replaced by a permanent frown, and his eyes lacked the spark that once made them shine.

He had become detached from the world around him, lost in his thoughts, and unable to find consolation.

Despite your best efforts to help him, to talk to him, and to make him open up, nothing seemed to work.

You tried to distract him with different activities, take him out for dates, and even cook his favorite meals, but he remained closed and distant. You watched as he drifted further and further away from you.

You thought that time would heal his wounds, but it only made things worse.

The lack of his appetite, his disconnection, and his quietness were all new to you. The man you once knew was now a stranger, and you struggled to understand what had happened to him.

The thought of meeting his parents again soon became a blurred line as you wondered how they would react to seeing their son in this state.

As time passed, you noticed a change in his behavior. His physical urges became more frequent, and he would often seek you out when you were alone in your room.

At first, you welcomed his advances, hoping it would help him forget his pain. But as time passed, you began to realize it was only a temporary relief.

Every time you tried to talk to him, he would shut you off with kisses and passionate lovemaking, leaving you feeling frustrated and confused. You longed to connect with him deeper, understand what he was going through, and help him heal.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

You hoped that one day, he would find his way back to the person he once was, the person who was open and vulnerable with you, who trusted you with his heart.

The small, cramped room was far from the lively and vibrant spaces you and your boyfriend, Suguru, usually frequented before this all happened.

Instead of the warmth and comfort of each other's company, you were both surrounded by an eerie silence that only emphasized the coldness of the room.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of being utterly alone in this space despite standing before him. The darkness enveloped everything around you, making it difficult to see anything clearly.

The stillness of the air was deafening, and you can't help but feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

As the tears started to form in your eyes, you spoke up, "Don't touch me, unless you tell me your problems."

"I don't have any problems, Y/N," Suguru lied, avoiding your gaze. He couldn't let you see how miserable he was.

To him, you were the only constant thing in his life, and he didn't want to taint that. He feared you would see him in a different light if he opened up to you, and he didn't want to risk losing you.

Despite his efforts to shield you from his pain, you persisted. You shouted at him, begging him to open up to you. "I know something went wrong," you cried. "Why won't you tell me what it is? I can help you, Suguru. Please, just let me in."

"Y/N," Suguru's voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to burden you with my problems. You have enough on your plate as it is."

"Didn't we promise we would be there for each other?" You sobbed, your voice choking on your tears. "I'm still here for you, Suguru. Can't you see that? Please, just let me help you. Do you even still love me?"

You were a woman who could easily challenge and counter Satoru's witty remarks without breaking a sweat. The sight of you, who was always so put-together, now crumbling in front of him.

Seeing you, the love of his life, in tears, broke him down like nothing else could. It was too much for him to handle.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as he cried. "Of course I do. I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. "I never meant to hurt you. I promise I'll try to make this go away, okay? Just give me some time."

His warm fragrance envelops you as you hold onto him, his embrace secure and unwavering.

In the midst of this moment, you can't help but ponder if the rift between the two of you will ever fully heal.

If only you knew.

Geto Suguru saw two small children, twins, who were bruised and beaten, tied up with ropes, and covered in dirt. He could hardly believe his eyes.

"What's going on here?" his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Isn't it obvious?" replied one of the villagers. "These two cause the incidents we've been experiencing lately."

Suguru was completely caught off guard by the accusation thrown his way. He was taken aback, stunned even. He simply couldn't fathom that these two small, innocent-looking children standing before him could be capable of anything that would warrant such harsh treatment.

There was a gut-wrenching feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the children once again. Memories of Haibara Yu and Riko Amanai flooded his mind.

He couldn't anymore.

"Everyone, let's step outside."

"Like hell he did!" Satoru's rage boiled over at the mention of Suguru's alleged actions. The principal, Yaga, was visibly stressed and struggled to explain the situation to the two of you.

"Satoru, I don't understand what's going on, either," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

You were hyperventilating, trying to process the news. "H-his parents?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The thought of what Suguru had done was too much to bear.

"Y/N," Satoru's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you turned around to face him. His knuckles were white with anger, and you could see the fury in his eyes.

You turned away from the two men, your hand clutching your shirt as you tried to steady yourself. The last words of Suguru's mother echoed in your mind.

"Take care, dear. We'll be waiting for your next visit."

You had never seen them again after that day.

The thought of never seeing them again sent you reeling. The memories came back, and you fell to your knees, clutching your stomach as you almost vomited up the lunch you had just eaten. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to understand what was happening.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your sobs. Satoru's anger had dissipated, replaced by a look of concern and empathy for you. Yaga, too, looked worried, and you could see the weight of the situation on his shoulders.

"I'll talk to him," You said in between sobs. "Please,"

The unspoken truth answered you. Geto Suguru, the man you had trusted and loved for so long, was now a wanted criminal. He had been sentenced to death for his heinous actions, and he was nowhere to be found.

All you knew was that the situation was far from over and that the truth was yet to be revealed.

The hours passed, and you sent countless texts and missed calls to Suguru, demanding his answers.

Nothing came back from him.

You cried uncontrollably, holding yourself tightly as if to protect yourself from the harsh reality. Your face was now puffy and red from all the tears you shed, and you called out for his name, wishing that this was all a dream.

But deep down, you knew that he wouldn't come back. His parents wouldn't come back. If only you had known, you wouldn't let him go on his mission. You would have begged him to stay, to just spend the day with you.

But now, all you had was yourself, sitting amidst the dark walls of your room that you often shared with him and the weight of misery that surrounded you.

The only sounds you could hear were the sobs escaping your lips and the breath you no longer wanted to take.

Taking in the familiar surroundings that were once filled with hope that he would return to his old self like he promised you. But now, it all seemed impossible and shattered.

The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. You hardly noticed the changing light, so consumed were you by your own turmoil. Only when darkness finally descended did you snap out of your reverie, realizing with a start that you had missed the entire day.

You heard a gentle knock on your door and the voices of Satoru and Shoko calling out to you. But you didn't want to face them, didn't want to let them see the chaos that was consuming you. So you turned them away, retreating further into yourself.

You felt utterly paralyzed by the weight of it all, unable to move or even speak. You can't even imagine a life without him.

Spending hours crying your heart out, your mind was left in a state of turmoil, plagued by endless what-ifs that seemed to offer no reprieve.

"Please let this all be a dream." Exhaustion finally took over and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the comforting embrace of sleep.

Geto Suguru approached your window with utmost care, his movements calculated and soundless.

The night was still and silent, except for the occasional rustle of leaves and crickets chirping in the distance. The moon cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features and the intensity of his gaze.

As he arrived at your window, he paused, steadying his breathing as he peered inside. The sight of you curled up in a fetal position, hugging yourself tightly as you slept, caused his heart to stop.

He could feel the weight of guilt and remorse settling heavily on his chest, knowing that he was the source of your recent pain.

His eyes scanned your features, lingering on the faint glisten of dried tears still clung to your cheeks. It was a stark reminder of the hurt he had caused and the damage he had inflicted.

He struggled to control his own breath, forcing himself to inhale deeply in an attempt to calm his racing heart. The moment was fraught with tension and emotion, as he stood there silently, watching over you.

He felt a surge of protective instinct, wanting to shield you from further harm. But he knew that he was the last person who should be allowed to come near you.

His actions had caused irreparable damage, and he would have to endure the consequences.

"Y/N," He was captivated by the sight of you. His eyes lingered on every feature of your face, wanting to commit it all to memory. He listened to the sound of your breathing, a rhythm he had become so familiar with, and his heart clenched tightly at the thought of leaving you.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered as he knelt beside you. He wanted to hold you, to feel your warmth and your breath on his skin. He knew he couldn't, but his resolve weakened with each passing moment.

With heart-wrenching tenderness, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, his touch soft and warm. "My Y/N," he murmured, pulling back to gaze into your face. He ran his fingers gently over your cheek, forgetting his promise to himself not to touch you.

He knew that if you woke up, he would stay. He would change his mind, he knew, and there would be nothing to stop him once he saw the pleading look in your eyes. He knew that he would take you with him.

For a moment, he forgot about everything else. He forgot about the dangers that awaited him, the risks he had to take. All he could think about was you and his love for you.

You stirred slightly, causing his body to freeze again, but you remained asleep. He let out a small, defeated sigh. That's it.

"I love you." His lips wobbled slightly as he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, taking a few moments to savor your sweet scent before finally pulling away.

He stood up slowly, his hand trembling slightly as he placed an envelope on your desk with your name written on it.

His eyes roamed around the room, taking in every detail as if he wanted to engrave it forever in his memory. His gaze lingered on the Polaroids that adorned your mini-board, which you had collected over the years.

He picked one of them up, the edges worn from frequent handling, and his heart ached as he gazed at the picture of you blowing out your 19th birthday candle. It felt like he had been there only yesterday, by your side, celebrating your special day.

Suguru clutched it tightly in his hands, as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He placed the picture in his pocket and walked away, footsteps echoing through the empty room.

He fought the urge to turn around, knowing that if he did, he would run back to you as fast as he could. But he forced himself to keep walking, to leave you behind, because he knew there wouldn't be a way to repair the damage he had wrought.

"Suguru!" The sound of your own voice echoed in the silence of the night, waking you up abruptly. You gasped for air, your heart beating faster than ever before. You tried to slow your breathing, but it was difficult.

You felt like you were suffocating, like the air around you was too heavy to breathe with. You glanced around the room, trying to grasp the reality of your pain. The darkness made it impossible to see anything clearly, but you could feel the tears streaming down your face.

"Fuck." Realization hit you hard. You knew that you weren't dreaming, that this was real. Sobs escaped your throat, and you tried to muffle the sound with your hands. "When will this end?"

In the dim light, you noticed a white envelope on the bedside table, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the name written on it in familiar handwriting.

It was Geto Suguru's; you knew he was in your room.

You couldn't believe it. You bolted out of bed, your heart racing with fear and panic. You ran to the window and looked outside, hoping against hope that you could catch a glimpse of him, but there was nothing there except the darkness of the night.

"No, no, no." Your anger and frustration boiled over as you thought about how you could have missed him. "Why couldn't you wake me up?" you shouted, tears streaming down your face. You felt the weight of your helplessness and began to cry uncontrollably.

You check the hallway, barefoot and desperate for any sign of him. You know it's a long shot, but you can't help it. After a few moments, you realize that he's not there. You feel defeated and broken as you walk back to your room, locking the door behind you.

You sat down at your desk, wiping away your tears with shaking hands. You knew what you had to do—you had to read the letter. But the thought of it filled you with dread, for it would only mean that you accepted the fact that he was not yours anymore.

Your heart was heavy with dread, and you opened the envelope with trembling hands.

My dearest Y/N, I cannot express the depth of my love for you. You are my soulmate, my partner in every sense of the word. I have never and will never love anyone else as deeply and purely as I love you. You have been the light that shines in my darkness, the reason for my existence, and the beating of my heart. Every day, I thank the universe for bringing you into my life. You have been my rock, my support system, and my confidante, and I cannot imagine my life without you. However, as it pains me to say this, I can no longer ignore the fact that I am not the right person for you. You deserve so much more than what I can offer you. You deserve someone who can give you the love and support you need, be there for you, hold your hand in public, and stand beside you. I'm afraid that I am not that person. I am now a criminal. I know that you have been patient with me and endured my flaws with grace and kindness. You have done so much for me, but deep down, I know I cannot offer you the life you deserve. It breaks my heart to leave, but I want nothing but the best for you, and if that means letting you go, then I will do it. My greatest wish is that you will find the happiness you deserve. Please know that I will always cherish the memories that we have shared and that you will always hold a special place in my heart. I am sorry that I have burdened you so much with my decisions. I hope that one day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me, my sweet girl. You don't deserve to live a hard life with me. I will always love you. It will be only you. So, with a heavy heart, I say goodbye. Please know that I will always cherish the moments we shared, and I will always hold a special place for you in my heart. I can only hope that I will love you again in another life. Goodbye.

You hold the letter in your trembling hands, feeling your grip tighten around the parchment as if trying to hold on to the words written on it.

The texture of the paper feels delicate as if a mere touch could crumple it. You draw the letter closer to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but you can't help the overwhelming emotions.

You whisper his name softly as if he's standing right beside you. His words flow through your mind like a gentle stream, each sentence etched deeply into your heart and soul. You can feel the weight of his love and the ache of his departure in every word, as if he's pouring his heart out on the page.

"You idiot man," This might be the last time you hear from him, and the thought tears at your heartstrings. The reality of the situation is hard to accept, but you know that you must face it.

You struggle to come to terms with the reality of the situation, but one thing is clear: there is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.

Shoko was frantically searching for her lighter but to no avail. Just when she thought she had lost it, a voice interrupted her.

"Need a light?" Geto Suguru asked, walking towards the brown-haired woman. "Hey."

She was surprised by his sudden appearance and jolted lightly. She looked up at him with one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation.

He stood beside the brown-haired woman as she lit her cigarette. "Just testing my luck, I guess," he replied, his eyes fixed on her.

Shoko took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Luck with what?" she asked, eyes asked for an explanation, and he nodded in agreement.

Suguru stood beside her and returned her gaze. His eyes were pleading, and he spoke with urgency.

"Please keep me up with her," he said. "Without anyone else knowing,"

Shoko's eyes widened in surprise. "And why would I do that? She's suffering," she pointed out, limiting her words; she knew who he was exactly talking about, and she hesitated momentarily.

Suguru's face softened as he looked at her. "She's the strongest woman I know, and I know she'll overcome this. With you and Satoru around, she'll forget me. But I can't do that. I'll never survive without knowing if she's okay," he confessed. "You know this is for the best for her."

Shoko listened to Suguru in silence, considering his request. Her mind was racing, thinking of the possibilities. "What if she finds another?"

It was indirect, but Suguru knew clearly what she was referring to.

"It'll kill me, Shoko."

After a few moments, she took a deep breath and nodded. "One update, a year," she agreed, staring at him with pity.

The statement made Suguru smile, and he thanked her profusely while she dialed on her phone.

"Hey, Gojo? I found Geto,"

The news of Gojo and Shoko's encounter with Geto Suguru came like a bolt from the blue, leaving you feeling helpless and anxious.

In the aftermath of the letter, you found yourself sequestered in your room for several days, grappling with a profound sense of heartbreak. The weight of the world seemed to be crashing down on your shoulders.

Suddenly, a familiar voice reached your ears. Shoko's voice called out to you from behind the closed door. The sound was clear and distinct, and you could feel the urgency in her tone.

"Y/N," she called out with a hint of worry, "We're all concerned about your well-being and want to make sure you're okay. If you don't respond and open the door by tonight, we're breaking in to check on you."

As you gradually uncoiled from your fetal position, you managed to sit up slowly, feeling the weight of exhaustion upon your shoulders. You rubbed your bleary eyes, trying to shake off the somnolence that had clung to you.

It was only then you realized just how much time had passed. The days had blurred together, and you had lost track of it.

Standing up, you walked towards the mirror in your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of yourself; Your reflection only served to reinforce the sadness that you felt inside. You looked pale, devoid of any colors of life, with dark circles under your eyes.

Facing the world without Suguru was daunting.

You had previously been crying for what felt like an eternity, tears streaming down your face as you tried to process the overwhelming emotions that were consuming you. Your mind was a jumbled mess, thoughts and worries racing through your head at lightning speed.

Your hair was messy, strands sticking out in directions and tangled. You couldn't bring yourself to care about your appearance, not when your heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces.

It was hard to believe that everything had been relatively normal just a few days ago and that you might never see him again.

Although you did not agree with his actions, you still held a tiny understanding of his imperfections, and you made it a point to honor his choices, despite any reservations you may have had.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to find solid ground to stand on. An absolute wreckage.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to compose yourself before facing the outside world. You knew that Gojo and Shoko were also struggling hard, and you didn't want to add to their worries.

Gathering what's left of your courage, you slowly twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. To your surprise, Gojo was standing right before you; his tired eyes widened in shock at the sight of you.

Despite your pain, you managed to muster a small smile for your friend, hoping to convey some semblance of normalcy. But as soon as you looked into his eyes, you knew he could see right through your façade.

You cannot hide it from him, for he knows it all too well.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears. You knew you couldn't put on a brave face for long, so you decided to retreat to your room. "Hey, come in."

Their frantic footsteps echoed behind as they followed you closely and shut the door after entering. They were afraid that you would change your mind and lock yourself up again.

The sound of your shallow breaths echoed in the quiet room. You tried to control your breathing, to hide the pain that was eating away at your insides, but it was no use. Your body shook with each inhale, and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Um,"

"You don't have to tell us anything," Gojo's face showed concern as he approached you, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Just let us be with you."

You then felt Shoko's arms wrap tightly around your torso, pulling you into a sideways hug. You could feel her relief in the way her body relaxed against yours, and you heard her whisper, "Thank goodness." It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into her embrace, to feel the warmth and comfort that her presence brought.

It was difficult to express the pain and sadness you were all feeling, but you knew that you needed to talk about it, process your emotions, and find some semblance of peace.

"He left a letter," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "He said goodbye." The words caught in your throat, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It was still so fresh, the wound still so raw.

As you spoke, Satoru and Shoko listened intently, their expressions pained and sympathetic. It was clear that they were feeling the same things as you, struggling to come to terms with losing their friend.

"Oh, Y/N." And then, as if a dam had burst, the emotions flooded. Tears streamed down your faces, and you clung to each other, seeking solace in one another's embrace.

"Don't leave us, too," Satoru whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. It was a sentiment you all shared, a fear that in the wake of Suguru's defect, you would also lose each other in the same way.

The three of you cried and hugged together, the memories of your time with Suguru flooding back.

It was supposed to be the four of you, and now the group felt incomplete, a hole left where Suguru should have been.

As the tears subsided and the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the world, you all sat silently, lost in your thoughts.

It was a bittersweet moment filled with sorrow, anguish and hope.

As the night wore on, three teenagers huddled together in bed, their eyes heavy with exhaustion. The sound of their sobs echoed in their ears, a constant reminder of the harsh verity they were trying to escape.

They clung to each other tightly, seeking consolation and reassurance in each other's presence, hoping to find some respite from the pain that threatened to consume them.

Sleep eventually overtook them, and they drifted into a fitful slumber, still clutching each other tightly as they sought refuge from the outside world.

"Marry me once we graduate, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

The night air was cool and crisp as Geto Suguru stood in front of you, his voice wavering in nervousness as he posed his question.

Under the dim light of the lampost, the pavement seemed to come alive with a warm and gentle radiance, casting a soft glow on the surroundings.

The subtle interplay of light and shadows created a dreamy atmosphere as if the world around you were a painting that had come to life.

You looked into his eyes, getting lost in the hues of his pretty orbs, and teased him, "Are you sure? Well, I mean, I just met your parents, and you haven't met mine yet."

But Suguru was resolute, his velvet voice smooth as he replied, "I can't imagine anyone else being my wife or the mother of my children." As he cupped your warming cheeks, the mere mention of children caused your heart to race.

You semi-shouted at him, pouting as you tried to swat his hands away from your face, "Hey! I haven't even agreed yet, and you're already talking about children!"

Suguru's eyes crinkled with amusement as he gazed at your blushing face. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, his body melding with yours. "And I'll get us a lovely house," he said softly, "one that you can decorate to your heart's content. We'll even build a little tea shop in the backyard since you've always had a talent for them."

His warm breath tickled your ear as he continued, "We'll have a beautiful garden, too, and we can adopt a dog or two if you'd like." Suguru's voice was filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. "And then," he said, "Satoru and Shoko will come to visit us with little Y/Ns running around in the backyard."

Overwhelmed with emotions at his endearing statements, you hugged him back tightly, feeling your eyes tear up at the imagery he laid out for you. "S-Suguru,"

Maybe we can retire being sorcerers before we turn 30?" he suggested, a hopeful note in his voice. He reached out to wipe away the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"I promise I'll earn as much as I can so you will live a comfortable life," he continued, his voice tinged with determination. "You'll never lift your finger to work again, and I'll be the happiest man in the world to watch your hair turn white as we grow old together."

You felt the warmth of his lips on yours; tears streamed down your cheeks. He pulled back slightly and looked down at you, chuckling as he teased, "You're such a crybaby."

"Stop it," You smiled through the tears and added, "Fine. I'll marry you."

Geto Suguru's heart raced as he sat up in bed, his mind still reeling from the vivid dream that had just jolted him awake. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and he wiped them away with a trembling hand.

It was a memory he had once cherished, but now it haunted him, reminding him of the promises he had made and broken.

In his dream, he had seen you again - see the way your eyes sparkled with joy and contentment as he made promises to you that he knew he could never keep. However, now it all seemed like a distant memory, as the happiness that once adorned your face was nowhere to be seen.

He knew that he would never have you in his life again.

The dreams he had once held dear were now shattered - the children he had imagined with you would never be born, the cozy home where he had envisioned handling your tea shop would never be, or play with the dogs he had dreamed of. Satoru and Shoko, the names that once brought a smile to his lips, now only brought pain.

As he lay there, the sight of you growing old beside him played out in his mind. He knew that his words were now hollow promises, and the weight of this realization crushed his heart into a million pieces.

Tears flowed down his face as his body shook with sobs, and he cried out your name repeatedly. His regret and the realization that he could never unbind his past missteps consumed him.

His heart ached, longing to turn back the clock and make things right, but he knew it was impossible.

Utahime greeted you with a bright smile, wearing a birthday cap on her head. "Happy 22nd birthday, Y/N!" she exclaimed as she approached you with a cake.

Standing beside her, Gojo Satoru clapped his hands in triumphant celebration, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. He reached over and swiped his fingers across the luscious cake, leaving a trail of frosting on your cheek.

"Gojo!" Utahime chided him, though the playful antics of your friends brought a smile to your face as you laughed along. Utahime scolded him playfully as you laughed at the playful antics of your friends.

"Gojo Satoru," you shouted, trying to avoid his teasing attacks. "I swear Megumi is more mature than you are."

Shoko, who had been standing nearby, chimed in with a chuckle. "That goes without saying," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Y/N," she continued, gesturing towards your house's backyard. "Come with me, I have something to show you."

You smiled at her and followed her, still feeling the effects of Satoru's teasing. After graduating, you had recently bought a house, and you were finally able to call a place your own and create a space that reflected your unique personality and style.

Although the memories of your school days will remain etched in your mind forever, it is difficult for you to fathom the idea of living there again.

You took each step, and the ends of your shoulder-length hair gently brushed against the sides of your face. You remembered how it used to be longer, reaching down to the small of your back, but you had bravely decided to chop it off for a more manageable length. As you walked, you could feel your heart beating faster and faster, almost as if it was trying to escape from your chest.

Even though you were well aware of what would happen, the anticipation of the event still never failed to make you feel nervous.

Shoko approached you with a stunning bouquet of fresh crimson flowers, their sweet fragrance wafting towards you and filling your senses with delight. She spoke in a hushed tone while handing them over to you, "He says happy birthday."

Gratefully, you accepted the gift and looked at Shoko with a warm smile. "Thank you so much, Shoko," you said, admiring the vivid colours and delicate petals. After taking a deep breath to savour the sweet scent, you carefully cradled the flowers and said, "I'll put these in a vase first and follow you."

You ascended the stairs, your feet creaking against each step. You reached your room and unlocked the door with a sense of relief. On your desk stood a vase you had prepared earlier in the day. As you carefully arranged the flowers, your eyes were drawn to a framed picture resting against the wall.

It depicted a black-haired man, his hair tied up in a man-bun, grinning widely as he posed with you in the photo. Your heart ached as you gazed at the picture, memories flooding your mind and threatening to spill over in tears. You felt a pang of longing in your chest, wanting to reach out and tell him how much he still meant to you.

"Not today, girly," you told yourself firmly, blinking rapidly to dismiss the tears.

This has become an annual ritual since the day of your 20th birthday. Without fail, every year, a fresh and vibrant bouquet of stunning red roses would arrive at your doorstep, always at the same time, like clockwork. The gesture was an act of Geto Suguru, the man who still has your heart.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was up to now. Did he ever think of you the way you thought of him? You pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that dwelling on them would only lead to heartache.

You knew instinctively not to question the gesture, particularly since Shoko was involved. For she might be in trouble of being in contact with him.

The first time it happened, the gesture moved you to tears, but as the years passed, it grew into something you anticipated with great excitement, eagerly looking forward to the arrival of the cherished bouquet.

Shielding oneself from harsh reality is often the safest and most prudent course of action. By not acknowledging the truth, one can prevent oneself from being hurt by it.

Deep in your heart, you just knew that it was his way of expressing his eternal love for you, and it never failed to make your heart flutter with emotion.

"I hope you're doing okay." As you finished arranging the flowers, you stepped back to admire your handiwork, smiling as you whispered, "Thank you, Suguru."

His name is bitter on your lips once again, with your wound that cannot be mended even with time; tears start welling up in your eyes as you turn around and walk towards your door to be with your awaiting friends.

Geto Suguru felt his heart racing as he paced back and forth in his dimly lit room.

Tomorrow would be your 25th birthday, and he was eagerly waiting for his instructions about your flowers, which he usually gave by now. But for the past couple of days, he hadn't heard back from Shoko, who was responsible for delivering them to you.

Despite trying to contact her several times through messages and missed calls, Suguru received no response, which made him increasingly anxious. He couldn't help but wonder, what if he failed to send the flowers this year? It was the only thing he allowed himself to do for you, and now it seemed like it was falling apart.

He sat on the bed, staring longingly at your smiling face on his phone screen, and suddenly, Shoko's name flashed on the screen. He quickly accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. "Shoko, I've been--"

"Geto," Shoko cut him off, her voice trembling with emotion. She took a deep breath and said, "I apologize for not getting back to you. Things have been hectic for me. I'm sorry to tell you this, but…she's gone."

The words hit Suguru like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Gone?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, gone?"

"It was a special grade curse on one of her missions." The two individuals had a quiet moment before the connection was abruptly cut off.

The phone slipped from Suguru's trembling hand and hit the floor with a deafening clang. The sound reverberated through the barren room like an ominous bell tolling in the distance.

Overwhelmed by a visceral surge of emotions, Suguru collapsed onto his knees, struggling to catch his breath as he wept uncontrollably.

His body convulsed with each convulsive sob, and he clenched his fists so tightly that the tendons on the back of his hands stood out like cords.

"No, no!" He clenched his fists so tightly that sweat started trickling down his palms. "Bb-baby." He had convinced himself that leaving you behind was the right decision, but as he cried, he wished he could turn back time and take you with him instead.

Geto Suguru stood solemnly at the freshly placed grave, feeling the weight of his grief like a physical ache in his chest. The trees swayed gently in the background, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, creating a peaceful atmosphere that was at odds with his pain.

With a heavy heart, he reached out to wipe off the dirt from the marker, making sure to clean the words engraved on it.

Y/N L/N Too well loved to ever be forgotten. May you rest in peace, angel.

Sitting beside the grave, he took a deep breath and reached for the bento box he had brought. "I've bought your favourite food, my sweet girl," he said softly, holding back his tears. With trembling hands, he opened the box and placed it gently in the grave.

Suguru continued to speak, his voice quivering with emotion, "That's absolutely correct. You are an angel, my beautiful angel." he said, his voice filled with sadness.

"I'm sorry," he added, his voice choking on his tears. "I'm sure you hated me so much. I deserve that for leaving you behind… and I'll live the rest of my life in regret because I should've snatched you away, baby."

His tears flowed freely now as he continued to speak. "Mimiko and Nanako would have loved you," he said, his voice breaking. "I told them about how kind you were, and they always admired your pictures in my room. It was painful, but it must have been more painful for you. I hate myself for allowing this. I hate myself twice as much as you hated me."

Suguru put his hands on his face, sobbing uncontrollably. All the pent-up years of restraining himself from approaching you after receiving a single picture from Shoko had freed themselves, as had all the pent-up frustrations about how he missed and longed for you.

"Can you hear me, baby?" he asked, his voice barely audible. I'm so sorry, okay? This is all my fault. This happened because of me. It was all me."

He paused for a moment, wiping away his tears. "Did they put socks on your shoes?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "I know how whiny and cold you get if you don't have them while you sleep there."

The moment those words left his mouth, fresh tears welled up in his sorrowful eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

The gentle wind carried the scent of blooming flowers and the sun's warmth as it caressed the tear-streaked face of Geto Suguru, who stood heartbroken.

"I love you," With a quivering voice, he whispered, "I love you forever." His words were heavy with grief, and his heart was filled with a sense of loss that seemed infinite.

Gojo Satoru spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Suguru."

Geto Suguru looked up, clutching his bloodied arms tightly. He felt the pain surging through his body, a constant reminder of his injury. As he watched the white-haired man approach him and sit down, he braced himself for the worst.

He deserves it.

"She never hated you," Gojo whispered, his words cutting through the silence. Suguru stared at him in disbelief, wondering how he could be so naive.

He might have made you cry almost every night, but Gojo knew the truth: "She loved you until her last breath."

Suguru's eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest; hurting him more than his physical one.

He knew that he had wounded you deeply and always thought you hated him for it. But now, hearing Gojo's words, he realized he had been wrong all along.

Tears started to well up in his eyes, and he struggled to keep them from falling. He had always loathed himself for what he had done to you, but now, for the first time since he parted ways from you, he felt happy even at the steps of his death.

I want to see you soon Y/N. I'll see you soon.

He smiled at his best friend, replying the last words in his mouth. "At least hit me with some curses at my end."

I'll see you soon.

note: I contemplated a lot about whether I should write this or not, knowing there are tons of cannon stories like this rewritten for him. Geto Suguru's story was just too much. Thinking that he was bound to his demise from the start still makes me emotional. His impact on me made me mourn for him - and that enough was my deciding factor to write his story in my own version.

thank you for taking the time to read this,

Aurora.

475 notes · View notes

lalacliffthorne · 4 months

Text

💜 starshine pt. VI 💜

Rhys x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: when after more than a century, things finally begin falling into place.

notes: I can't believe how long this took - both writing this next part and the actual things happening *facepalms*. and these twoooo 😭💕. I can't. they make me feel so mushy and happy and all giddy and warm. and all of you, loving this so much, make me feel even more mushy and happy and giddy, so thank you so much for staying with me on this!! if everything goes to plan, this is actually the second to last chapter, and we are, finally, getting somewhere ;)

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With a sharp inhale, my eyes snapped open, and my breath staggered.

The sheets were clinging to my skin, damp with cold sweat, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs as blood rushed through my ears and my gaze darted over a high, dark ceiling and for a second, panic and a dull pain rose in my chest, my body frozen still.

Then I realised that a weight was resting over my stomach and a scent was flooding my senses, so achingly familiar, my muscles melted.

Quickly, I turned my head, and my lungs squeezed.

In the silvery light of the moon shining through the windows, I could see Rhys' dark shape stretched out on the mattress next to me, the dips and planes of his muscular back rising and falling slowly with his even breaths. His head was resting on the pillow next to me, his face turned my way, brows smoothed over and eyes closed, his dark hair unruly and tousled, swirls of darkness stretching over his broad shoulders and down the arm that was loosely resting over my waist, his skin radiating warmth through my thin nightgown.

My heart soared before free falling, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting against the echoes of screams and laughter in my ears, the feeling of cruel darkness and bound magic and hands slipping away into nothingness.

Suddenly, the air felt too stiffled, too stale, too reminiscent of the nightmare that had been reality.

Hastily, I slid out from under Rhys' arm, pushing the covers to the side and slipping off the mattress, my feet quick on the cool floorboards as I darted over to the huge windows soundlessly, tearing at them until they were open and a soft, cool breeze brushed over my skin.

My heart squeezed tightly, and I breathed in, quick and deep, the scent of sweet petals and night leaving an ache growing in my chest as my gaze darted over the garden below that was bathed in starlight, flowers glowing and faeries floating over the water reflecting the galaxies above.

My fingers curled around the window handle before loosening, and something in my chest quivered when I let my forehead sink against the cool wooden frame and squeezed my eyes shut.

I could still feel the heavyness on my chest, the ache pulsing under my ribs as images flashed before my eyes, and something closed around my throat.

Sliding my hand off the window, I looked over my shoulder towards the bed, and the ache in my chest soared at the dark shape still motionless on the mattress, breathing evenly.

Fighting against the sudden pressure in my throat, I moved, quickly slipping past the bed and out of the room.

The house was silent as I hastened soundlessly down the stairs, my long sleek nightgown swishing around my ankles as I slipped past the table and opened one of the big windows leading out onto the terrace. The gentle night breeze whispered over my bare arms and shoulders, and I squeezed out into the night, the stone of the terrace cold under my feet as I moved down the steps before it was replaced by cool, soft grass.

Faeries were swishing through the glowing flowers, darting towards me and showering me in golden dust, tittering softly and curiously before whizzing away again.

Slowly, my steps calmed, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air, feeling flowers and high grass brush my hands, warmth slowly spreading through me that seemed to stem from the earth itself.

Next to the pond that reflected the galaxies twinkling over the mountains, I let myself plop down into the soft grass, stretching out and staring up into the sky. My palms pressed against the earth, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft hum of energy that slowly travelled through me, golden light lazily flooding through my veines until my chest squeezed and my breath shuddered.

My heart tipped over; I opened my eyes, and movement at the edge of my field of vision made me turn my head.

Something rose and pulsed gently under my ribs when I saw the dark figure standing on the terrace.

Even from a distance, I caught the moment violet eyes clocked me by the pond, bare shoulders sinking a little, swishes of darkness whispering into nothingness as Rhys' gaze pierced mine. Then he moved, beginning to slowly walk down the steps.

Resting my cheek on the grass, I watched as he came towards me, movements smooth and elegant, his tousled hair black like ink in the night, violet eyes reflecting the silver and purple above. His pants were sitting low on his hips, and something twisted in my stomach at the sight of shifting muscles disappearing into black fabric.

The silk of his pants swished against my skin when Rhys crouched down and let himself plop down onto the ground next to me. Then his shoulder brushed against mine and he stretched out on the grass, one of his hands sliding up to rest on his stomach. His body dwarfed mine even shoulder to shoulder, my feet barely level with his shins, and I stared at the side of his face as his gaze dragged slowly over the night sky above, something dipping and swerving, squeezing and fluttering in my chest as my eyes flickered over his nose and lips, the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones, and suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat.

“What happened?”

Rhys' quiet voice, deep and a little raspy with sleep, tore me out of the pulsing feeling under my ribs, and when I blinked, he turned his head to look at me.

I tried to swallow against the flutter in my throat, the ache in my chest that staring at him had awakened. Rhys seemed to misinterpret my silence, one corner of his lips tipping up gently as his gaze slowly moved over my face.

“As far as I know, you don't usually wake up in the middle of the night to lay around on the cold ground.” There was a soft twinkle in his eyes, but it couldn't hide the barely there crease between his brows, and something dipped in my chest when my shoulder brushed his and I felt a clenching sensation in my chest that wasn´t mine.

I blinked again, and the soft ache under my ribs pulsed.

“I had a dream.”

Rhys' gaze moved over my face. Then his quiet voice vibrated through me, gentle and even.

“What kind of dream?”

Something closed around my throat like an iron fist, and I stared at him, feeling a weight settle on my chest and pressure rise in my throat and eyes.

“The mountain,”, I whispered.

Rhys blinked, and I could see the muscles in his shoulder shifting, growing still.

“It used to be worse.” I tried a lopsided smile, but it felt weak, and a little uneven. “But it still comes back, once in a while.”

Rhys stared at me. Then he mumbled softly: “What do you dream of?”

Something started skipping painfully under my ribs.

“I see the faeries.” My whispered words were barely audible as my gaze dragged over Rhys' face, trying to ingrain every angle into my memory as pressure began to rise in my throat. “Caught and chained, tortured and mutilated in the revel. And I can't help them. I'm caught in the crowd, and I try to move, but no matter how much I fight, it's like I'm watching from outside my own body. And their pain breaks me apart.” My voice was weak, the images rising in front of my eyes causing the ache in my chest to grow.

“And then I see you.” My whisper broke as the pressure in my throat became unbearable, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Rhys' face, even as my vision blurred and my lips quivered.

“And she's torturing you, and I can't move. I can't get to you. And I try to tell you, scream at you that I'll get you out, but I can't speak.” My breath trembled as the ache in my chest spread, taking over every inch of my body until my voice broke and I felt something hot run over my cheek.

“And then I wake up, and I'm alone. Seeing you, finding you, was all a dream. And I can't feel you.” I inhaled quickly, hotly, my chin trembling. “You're gone.”

Through blurry eyes, I saw Rhys stare at me, still, frozen. Then a muscle in his cheek shifted, and he rolled onto his side; his warm, calloused hand slipped up my neck to cradle the side of my face, and Rhys leaned down to press his forehead against mine.

“I'm here.” His deep, husky voice travelled through me, vibrating with sorrow yet so steady and firm, my breath shuddered.

My eyes squeezed shut as the ache in my chest rose and overwhelmed me, and I twisted, wrapping my arms around Rhys' shoulders, clinging to him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck and felt hot tears roll over my cheeks, the ache in my chest pulsing.

“Look at you,”, Rhys mumbled hoarsely, his hands sliding over my waist as he slipped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his chest. “Really thinking it'd be that easy to get rid of me.”

A wet laugh bubbled in my chest.

“Wouldn't it?”

“No.” Rhys' mumble was steady, if only a little rough when he dropped his nose into the crook of my neck, causing a gentle shiver to travel over my spine. “You know I'm too much of a selfish bastard for that.”

I inhaled shudderingly, feeling my lips rise weakly as I whispered into his skin: “No, you're not.”

“I am.” A calloused hand slid up over my back, the arm around my waist pulling me in tighter as Rhys curled around me and buried his nose at my shoulder, his low voice vibrating through me as he mumbled steadily: “Even if my soul was dragged from this world, I would still claw my way back to you.”

Something rose in my chest, wild and violent, and my eyes opened, a curtain of tears leaving the world blurry as Rhys' quiet voice washed through me.

“No one will ever keep me from you, take me away from you again. Wherever I go, it'll only be with you.”

My heart soared before giving out, and I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders, feeling my leg slide over his waist as his tall body curved around mine.

“Sounds impractical,”, I whispered thickly, my breath hitching and causing my voice to break a little.

Rhys' lips curved against my skin.

“We'll make it work.” His quiet words vibrated through me, steady and soft. “I'll just have to follow you like I always have.”

My chest tightened harsly as warmth pulsed through me, and I whispered, soft and weak: “What if I go somewhere you can't follow?”

Rhys slid his arms closer around me, burying his nose against my skin as he mumbled back hoarsely: “There's no place in this world, or beyond, that you could go where I wouldn't follow.” I could feel him swallow, then he added softly: “I'll always find a way to you.”

My heart tightened as my breath caught in my throat, and I clung tighter to him, feeling his body shielding mine as I curled into his chest and turned my head to bury my face in his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, my body shuddering with my exhale and the weight of tears pressing on my throat.

“Why?” The whispered words were trembling, thick, spilling past my lips before I could stop them, fueled by the ache rising under my ribs. But Rhys just swallowed, his deep voice soft in a hoarse mumble.

“You know why.”

My heart twisted and rose, higher and higher. My breath caught in my throat, and my lips quivered as I hastily burrowed my face in his neck and tried to breathe against the ache pulsing under my ribs.

The breeze whispered through the trees, faeries floating over the pond as the stars twinkled in the sky. Rhys held me until my lids were heavy, tears dried on my cheeks, my heart thrumming steadily against my ribs. Then he gathered me in his arms and moved to stand.

Something rose under my ribs, and when I pulled back just a little, my arms still slung around his neck, Rhys dropped his forehead against mine, his breath fanning over my skin as he turned.

My heart swelled in a flutter, and I clung to him, his arms holding me steady as Rhys started to walk back towards the house. I curled my arms around his shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling warmth pulse through me, strong, steady, Rhys' nose brushing my cheek when he pressed his forehead against my temple, carrying me up the stairs.

☆

I woke with the gentle morning breeze brushing over my skin, the scent of daybreak dew and fresh air filling my lungs, and my body buried in a warm chest, with the heavy weight of arms slung around me tightly and a scent in my nose that, even in the haze of sleep, made something tumble under my ribs.

My breath hitched softly, and I opened my eyes. My gaze focused on sunkissed golden skin and dark twisting tattoos over strong collarbones, and a muscled arm cushioning my head.

My heart toppled, and something in my stomach dipped.

You know why.

Rhys' hoarse voice echoed through my head, and suddenly, the flutter in my chest grew until there was a soft ache pulsing under my ribs.

Feeling a weight on my throat, I turned, sliding out of Rhys' arms as carefully as possible. My heart was thrumming against my ribs when I slipped out of the room, and trying to fight against the chaotic whirlwind in my head and chest, I moved down the stairs.

Golden morning light filtered through the windows facing the front garden, painting patterns onto the carpet and the books filling the shelves. I dragged open the window doors leading out onto to the terrace, breathing in deeply as my gaze moved over the garden dipped in the first golden sunrays, fairies whizzing through the air, carrying dew drops, giggling and tittering, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs.

Filling the kettle and putting it onto the stove, I pulled a pot from the cabinet, and a cup. Then, my hands no longer busy, I slowly turned, leaning back against the counter as my fingers flew over the cold marble, up to the ends of my hair before settling for fiddling with the thin strap of my nightgown as I stared into the garden, my heart pounding in my chest.

You know why.

Something in my stomach tumbled.

I did.

I had for a while, had felt the thought looming, bright and powerful somewhere under the surface. The beginnings of a realization, a vague shape, like an unspoken thought, a distant knowledge that I refused to grasp.

Because acknowledging it, just thinking it out loud would mean something so big, so terrifying it made something squeeze in my chest.

An explanation as to why Rhys had kept coming back to me. For the way he stared at me, the twinkle in those violet eyes, for that rising feeling in my chest I couldn't place and that radiated from him, for the closeness, the touching, the blatant flirting and the things he said, casually, easily, so so sure.

It made something rise in my chest.

There was something, a reason, a realization, just under the surface. And it terrified me.

Because what if I was wrong?

What if what Rhys was supposedly feeling was just fleeting, or not at all what I made it out to be?

What if what I was seeing was what I wanted to see – and not what was really there?

Something closed tightly around my chest as the flutter in my chest rose, soared higher and higher.

It would mean a broken heart.

My breath shuddered, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gods, I'd been an idiot. Not realising, maybe refusing to see how my soul reacted to the male with the stars in his eyes, how my whole being seemed to respond to him.

I had fallen. Maybe slowly over the span of a century, maybe with a crash the first time I'd met him and felt him behind those walls.

Something squeezed under my ribs. It twisted before rippling away soundlessly, and a trembling breath left me as I opened my eyes and stared out into the garden, wide-eyed and utterly terrified.

I loved him.

Maybe, it had always been there, lurking under the surface, in the way my breath seemed to hitch whenever I stared at him and he smiled.

I loved him. Was in love with him. So fiercely, so deeply, so all-consuming that it made my chest thrum, caused my heart to twist and soar, until the feeling filled my body. Slowly, creepingly, it had taken up every part of my soul and my being. Had made him a part of me, his pain, his anger, his sorrow, his happiness, all mine in a way nothing had ever been before. Had made him beginning and end and everything in between.

I loved Rhys.

“Shit,”, I whispered softly.

There was a low, deep chuckle behind me; and I jumped and whirled around.

Rhys crunched his brows against the light, purple eyes tired and twinkling, his voice, rough with sleep, vibrating through me when he mumbled with a smirk: “Ouch. Not usually the way I'm greeted.”

My fingers dug into the counter as I stared at him in shock, trying to breathe, my eyes wide and my heart pounding against my ribs. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, which I hadn´t thought physically possible, his hair was tousled and muscles were shifting under his bare skin as he moved past the table and rubbed his eyes.

Suddenly, heat was washing over me, and I tried to tear my gaze away, pull myself together. But my body refused to listen, stayed frozen in the spot as I stared at him wide-eyed, my breath hitching harshly, and Rhys slowed to a stop. His gaze flickered over my face, and a soft crease formed between his brows.

“Darling?”

Maybe my shields had never been any good, and he'd been able to sneak past them all this time. Or maybe, the feelings whirling in my chest, the chaos and panic in my mind, were simply too loud, too strong, bursting through me, echoing outwards at a volume that meant he didn't even need to be in my mind to hear them.

Either way, Rhys stilled. Became frozen in the spot as he stared at me. Then his eyes shifted.

Turned swirling and bright like the galaxies in the night sky as the crease between his brows melted away into nothingness and he exhaled like he'd been waiting for a century.

“All this time.” His soft voice was hoarse as his gaze dragged over my face, slightly feverish, drinking me in. “And you still didn't see.”

My heart dropped and I could feel my lips part – then something in my chest shifted, and soundlessly, a wall crumbled.

A barrier of the mind, built around the male a few feet away, slowly collapsing into itself.

My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes darted up and widened as something in my chest rose.

I could feel everything.

Emotions so strong, they took my breath. Twined together so firmly, they were barely discernable, desperation, adoration, want, need, twisting together into something hot and rising, growing into something all consuming.

I'd always felt Rhys, but never like this; had never felt his emotions, so deep and powerful and clear that they turned my doubts and fears to stardust, the ache in my chest blowing away into the sky, until my breath shuddered and my heart settled.

I inhaled softly, feeling my lips part as the emotions that weren't my own pulsed in my chest, steady, firm, unrestrained. Then I raised my head, and Rhys swallowed, his iris a night sky as his gaze dragged over mine, deep and feverish and swallowing me whole as he mumbled hoarsely: “There it is.”

A soft, breathy giggle bubbled in my throat as I stared at him, feeling pressure building in my throat and a flutter rising in my chest, growing with every second.

My fingers shook a little as I took a hesitant step forward, followed by another, and another, my eyes darting over Rhys' face, my heart swelling. He had grown completely still, like the smallest move could scare me away, like there wasn't something pounding against my ribs and swelling in my throat, causing tears to rise into my eyes as I lifted a hand and placed my palm on his chest.

The feeling of Rhys´ warm skin sent a shiver down my skin, just like the quick, racing beat of his heart as I stared up at him, feeling my bottom lip wobble a little even as I started to smile, slow and beaming. Then I opened myself and the whirlwind under my ribs.

Rhys' eyes widened.

A shuddering breath ran through him, and his hand flew up to cover mine, fingers curling around mine, holding on almost desperately, like he was afraid I'd pull away, break the thrum of emotion flooding through me into his body. Then a soft sound broke from his chest, and Rhys moved, forward and forward until my arm was trapped between us and the whole of his body pressed against mine, his free hand sliding up to cradle my face, and my heart caught in my throat when he dropped his head to press his forehead against mine.

The flutter in my chest rose, and I quickly squeezed my eyes shut and breathed out shakingly.

Rhys made a soft, hoarse sound deep in his throat, his hand slipping down the side of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he pressed closer, and my heart shuddered. I could feel his body towering over mine, the way the muscles in his biceps shifted when his fingers slid closer around my hand, his warm chest pressing against mine -

Heat twinged low in my stomach, and my fingers curled against his chest.

A gentle shudder ran over Rhys' warm skin, and my breath hitched when he dipped his head to the side, his nose brushing against mine.

My heart rose into my throat, and I swallowed, my hand uncurling slowly as I slid my palm down his chest. I could feel his muscles tensing under my touch as a shiver ran over his skin, his fingers twisting into my hair, and a tingle travelled down my spine when Rhys slowly nudged his nose against mine.

Something dropped very low in my stomach, heat rising up my body.

I swallowed, my free hand rising to cling to Rhys' side, and when I pulled my head back a little, just enough to look at him, his breath grazing my skin, my heart rose.

Rhys' eyes were glazed over with a heat that made something twist in my stomach. His iris was hazy and a few shades darker under heavy lids, a muscle in his jaw shifting and throat working, and his gaze was molten where it was glued to my lips.

My breath caught in my throat.

Even when Rhys had stared for too long before, something heated in his eyes, it had always been brimming under the surface, never quite so obvious.

Now, nothing was hidden. His breath was uneven, his lips parted and throat working, and his eyes, heavy lidded and dark, were swirling, feverish, wanting -

Rhys' fingers curled into my hair, and my body shuddered, something whirling and rising under my ribs as I dug my fingers into his skin and raised my chin without having control over it, Rhys' hot breath grazing over my skin when my nose nudged against his.

A deep sound rose in Rhys' chest, his eyes shifting into something even deeper and darker, and his hand slid into my hair when he dipped his head, his nose brushing against the side of mine, tantalizingly slow. Something clenched harshly in my stomach when I felt his hot breath grazing my lips, and a tingling shiver ran down my spine when I sank back down onto my heels and Rhys followed me, calloused hands pulling me closer and head dipping to -

"Hello?", a melodious, happy voice chirped from the terrace, and my heart jumped; my eyes flew open as I lightly pushed at Rhys' chest and whirled around, and Mor walked through the open window doors.

"Anyone he-", her gaze met mine, and she slowed to a stop, one corner of her lips quirking cheekily.

"Am I interrupting?"

My heart missed a beat, and I hastily looked back over my shoulder, only to find Rhys' eyes on me like maybe, they had never left. There was a twinkle slowly spreading through his iris, and my heart rose in a flutter, because something had changed, obviously, something in that thrum against my ribs, and yet -

I narrowed my eyes in a soft glower, and Rhys slowly started to smile, lazy and brilliant.

"What are you doing here, Morrigan?" His deep voice rumbled through me even with him a foot away, his twinkling eyes never leaving my face.

Mor crunched her brows, seemingly completely unbothered as she turned in a circle with a flourish.

"Well, you hadn't even told us this place existed until yesterday, and -", she looked over her shoulder, smiling brightly, "I was curious." Her twinkling amber eyes found mine, and her smile softened, though the light in her eyes seemed to brighten. "It's beautiful."

Something rose under my chest as my gaze flickered towards the garden without me being able to help it, my breath catching in my throat. "It is."

I could feel the weight of eyes on me, a tingle travelling over the side of my face, and I blinked, clearing my throat and grinning sheepishly at Mor. "Sorry, didn't really expect anyone -"

"Obviously." Mor's lips twitched into a smirk as her eyes moved from Rhys, lounging against the counter in only pyjama pants and staring at me, towards my long nightgown, and I winced and quickly crossed my bare arms in front of my chest, feeling heat rising in my cheeks as I crunched my nose.

"You want some tea?"

"You know, actually,", Mor turned fully towards me and raised her brows, "I also came here because I thought it could be fun if I showed you the city today?" Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have some one on one time, if Rhys isn't too bothered by that." She winked at me.

"Why would I be bothered?" Rhys' eyes stayed on my face, one corner of his lips curving upwards.

"Well, you did keep her from us for more than a century, without telling us about her even once; which, by the way, is ridiculous." Mor's lips curved. "It's almost like you were afraid we'd steal her away from you or something -"

"Can we get breakfast?", I quickly interrupted, because Rhys' eyes had started to twinkle in a way that made shivers dance down my spine and something twitch in my stomach.

Mor turned her gaze away from Rhys, her knowing smirk bleeding into a genuine, beaming smile when she widened her eyes.

"Obviously! I'll show you all the good places, and more; do you have your dress yet?"

I blinked, then I turned my head towards her and crunched my brows.

"What dress?"

Mor parted her lips. Then she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, turning towards her cousin with an exasperated look.

"Rhys, you prat; you haven't told her?"

Rhys stared at me, his violet eyes twinkling when he said, deep voice absentminded: "Was busy."

Mor huffed, her lips quirking. "I bet you were."

Rhys just lightly rolled his eyes, and I quickly mouthed prat?, causing him to glare softly at me.

Don´t you dare.

Feeling a slow, beaming smile take over my face, I widened my eyes and mouthed prat, and Rhys huffed, his lips curving until a wide grin made his cheeks crease.

Mor cleared her throat, and I quickly tore my eyes away from Rhys' face, feeling heat bleed into my cheeks when my gaze met Morrigan's, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Haven't told me what?", I said quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly and fighting against the blush growing on my face.

Mor sighed, but her lips curved as she raised her brows. "Summer Solstice."

My heart rose in a flutter, and my gaze darted towards Rhys as my lips parted.

"You - you celebrate that here?"

"Well, not on a huge scale like Summer and Day,", Mor waved her hand dismissingly, "but Rhys has started throwing a party every year still, because, well -", she smirked, "any excuse for a party is a good one."

Rhys' lips curved softly as his eyes pierced mine, a twinkle in their violet depths that made my breath hitch.

"Anyway, he holds it at the River House -"

I blinked before raising my brows.

"Another house?" I felt my eyes widen slightly as my head whipped around and I stared at Mor before quickly looking back at Rhys in disbelief, but he just shrugged, his smirk feline.

"Anyway, when we started doing the celebration, we decided to hold it there because the garden is just beautiful this time of year, though,", Mor turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes almost wistful, "definitely not as beautiful as this one."

My breath hitched as my gaze followed hers, and something fluttered against my ribs.

"The longest day of the year."

Rhys' voice made my heart dip, quiet like only I was meant to hear, and I blinked before tearing my eyes away from the garden, something rising in my chest when I found his twinkling eyes on my face.

"I know." I felt my lips curve softly even as I suppressed the urge to swallow, my eyes moving over his face. "The fairies dance through it, all night long."

Rhys' gaze pierced mine, deep, twinkling, like maybe, he could see the memories of midsummer nights in a wild garden and a dress whirling around my ankles.

"Maybe they'll dance with us if you're there."

I stared at him, and my heart began to slowly flutter against my ribs, more wildly with every second as I started to smile slowly.

"Is that your way of asking if I'll come?"

Rhys stared at me, something swirling in his eyes when he mumbled, slow, deep, steady: "Will you come?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked. Then I widened my eyes and whispered cheekily: "I don't think I have a dress."

Rhys' gaze heated. But before he could open his mouth, Mor chimed in, beaming happily.

"We can get you one! Today; I mean, it is in two days, but I'll take you to the best dressmaker of the city, you'll love it; and she'll have it done in time!"

I felt my lips part quickly, but before I could even make a sound, there was a soft huff; a familiar scent washed over me, and fingers slipped under my chin, closing my mouth again.

"Don't even think about it."

My heart jumped and eyes darted up, and Rhys' lips curved.

I huffed and twisted my neck to get a better look at him, feeling my brows crunch in protest, but Rhys just sent me a wink. "You know arguing is pointless. I´ll get you a dress one way or the other."

Glowering up at him even as something jumped high in my chest, I narrowed my eyes even further when he smirked and dipped his head to mumble: "Just say thank you."

His warm breath brushed over my nose, and my heart dipped.

Staring up at him, I scowled gently. Then I turned my head and sent Mor a brilliant, cheeky smile. "Thank you, Mor."

Rhys huffed, sending me a glare, and Mor smirked and winked.

"My pleasure." She raised her brows and clapped her hands. "Alright, let´s go! Though you,", her lips quirked, "might want to change first."

When I moved back down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed and tying off my braid, Mor was crouched in the middle of the garden, watching the faeries that seemed a little weary but curious when she beamed at them.

"You know she's going to put you through trying on dozens of dresses?"

My heart skipped, and my gaze darted towards where Rhys was leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and one corner of his lips curving as his eyes raked over my face.

"So?" I felt my lips quirk.

Rhys' iris twinkled.

"A lot of it will be Night Court fashion." His gaze dragged slowly over my body, one corner of his lips curving into a slow, lazy smirk. "It usually means little fabric."

I stared at him as heat pooled low in my stomach, and suddenly, something started fluttering against my ribs violently.

Slowly, I began to walk backwards towards the terrace, sending him a growing, mischievous smile.

"If you want to see me scantily clad, you just have to ask."

Rhys' gaze darted up, his gaze narrowing in and growing dark and heated, and feeling my heart catch in my throat, I smiled beamingly and turned around with a breathed laugh, hopping out onto the terrace to meet Mor at the foot of the steps.

☆

Feeling a breeze brush some hair into my face, I breathed out softly, the warmth of sunlight dappled over my face making my lips curve without my doing.

"So..."

I blinked before opening my eyes and lowering my head, and Mor crunched her nose, looking at me curiously. "What's so special about Summer Solstice?"

We were sitting on the steps of a fountain, the water splashing and bubbling in our backs, a thin paper bag between us on the grey cobblestone, smelling of the buttery pastry I had bought in a shop in one of the countless alleys.

Mor had kept her promise, taking me for breakfast in a small café right at the Sidra. Then she had pulled me into the maze of alleys, streets and squares.

First, she'd taken me to the workshop of her favorite dressmaker, located in a beautiful townhouse in the Rainbow, the artist's district. It belonged to tall, slim High Fae who was clearly familiar with Morrigan, and who had, very happily, pulled all the stops when Mor had winked at her.

Mor had made me try different silhouettes, and I had wandered the aisles and aisles with fabrics, my breath catching at the colors and stitchings. We'd agreed after a while, and when we left the shop, there was a rough sketch and fabric sitting on the dressmaker's desk and my heart was beating against my throat.

Now, the afternoon sun was shining in the sky over the small park that stretched over a little hill surrounded by tall sandstone buildings, their roofs glittering in the light. Trees rose into the sky, offering shade, sunlight was dappled in swaying patterns onto the grass and cool stone of the fountain where we had decided to take a little break, and my feet were aching and my heart was full.

I needed a second to tear my eyes away from the sight of the city stretched out before the mountains. Then I blinked and crunched my brows, looking over at her.

"What do you mean?"

One corner of Mor's lips curved gently. "You just... you looked so surprised."

I felt my heart rise in a soft flutter against my ribs, and I hesitated for a second, then I turned my head and gently narrowed my eyes at her curiously.

"How long have you been... celebrating it like this?"

Mor furrowed her brows, shrugging softly as she plucked a piece off her pastry.

"Not long actually. I think Rhys decided to make it a new tradition not quite a century ago, fairly out of,", she blinked, her words slowing as her eyes suddenly began to twinkle softly, "thin air..."

I stared at her, a quick flutter beginning to build in my chest.

"What does it mean to you again?" Mor stared at me, her lips curving.

"It's..." I swallowed softly. "It's a celebration. Held by the fairies, every Summer Solstice. They gather and dance, from evening until deep into the night. All of them, sprites, pixies, nymphs, wraiths, all coming together, celebrating light and life and -" My breath hitched. "Magic."

Mor's warm eyes were glittering.

"You think he -" My voice broke off, my breath catching in my throat.

"Started celebrating it here because of you?" Mor's lips tipped upwards, and she blinked and raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling in the light. "That does sound awfully like him."

Feeling my heart pounding against my ribs, I stared at her, something suddenly tingling in my stomach.

Mor's smile widened a little. Then she blinked.

"You know, he never told us about you." She raised a brow, her iris sparkling. "Not once."

I huffed gently.

"I know." Shaking my head softly, I turned my head, crunching my brows gently as I blinked into the sunlight. "He told me about that, after I got mad because he turned up, winnowing in even though he was badly wounded and exhausted,", a breath left me, "idiot."

Mor giggled, and I felt my lips curve.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor´s gaze flicker over my face, warm and bright. Her throat worked. Then she whispered softly: "Thank you."

I blinked. Something in my chest rose and tightened as my gaze darted towards her, and Mor breathed out, her smile a little uneven when she stared back at me.

"I've known Rhys practically my whole life." She furrowed her brows gently, her eyes swimming with emotion. "He's always carried - a lot of weight on his shoulders, and it just got more when he became High Lord. He always took on everything, had to be strong, for everyone. He lets us know when things are heavy, but - he never fully lets us in." She huffed. "He doesn't want to burden us." Shaking her head gently, she hesitated before looking over at me, one corner of her lips rising gently.

"But then he started disappearing, just for a few hours, sometimes more, sometimes less. He never told us where he was going;", she raised her brows, "I always assumed he was just - taking a breather somewhere, taking some time by himself. But whenever he got back, he had that light in his eyes." Her iris started to twinkle as she stared at me.

"That was you." She blinked, her voice a little hoarse when she whispered: "You saved him. Because you saw something in him he lost the ability to see. And because when you showed him that, he believed you. Because he saw something in you too. That same thing that makes him stare at you like you put the stars into the sky." She swallowed gently, and her eyes flickered over my face. "It's like with you, he can just be."

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, something suddenly tight in my chest.

"He told you all of that?", I whispered.

Mor's lips quirked gently.

"Not everything. But enough." Her gaze flickered over my face. "He told us about you only after he came back from -" She broke off, her eyes welling with grief. Then she looked back up at me, her iris shimmering as she raised a corner of her lips.

"He was - a wreck, when he got here. But you - you kept him afloat. He was waiting for you. It felt like he was holding his breath. And then you turned up and..." She breathed a brilliant smile. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Mor sniffled and beamed. "It's like he's come back to life, in a way he's never been before. Like something has - settled, fallen into place."

Something welled over in my chest, and I turned my gaze ahead, fighting to swallow against the pressure in my throat as I stared down the hill and over the roofs of the city, glittering in the sun, trees swaying gently in the breeze.

"Yeah,", I whispered.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze move over my face, bright and warm. Then she turned back ahead as well, and together, we stared over the city.

"It's beautiful,", I mumbled softly.

Mor´s lips curved upwards, her voice a little hoarse when she mumbled back: "It's the Court of Dreams."

☆

The sun was disappearing beyond the mountains, painting the skies pink and violet, the first stars twinkling high above when I slipped through the gate and breathed in the scent of flowers and grass and warm evening air.

Mor had dropped me off at the winding street before winnowing away, pulling me into a hug so tight, my ribs cracked, but I had just squeezed her back, feeling the scent of her perfume rising into my nose and her hair tickling my skin.

Slowly making my way around the house, I inhaled deeply, feeling warmth spread through my chest when I saw fairies whizzing through the air over the pond, giggling and chasing each other.

"You took your time."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Rhys, lounging on the steps leading up to the terrace, watched me, his violet eyes reflecting the stars blinking in the sky when he lightly raised a brow. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, leaving me here all by myself -"

A soft snorted laugh built in my chest, and I sent him a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you were perfectly fine entertaining yourself for once."

"I wasn't. I got so bored I actually went to do some work."

Giggling softly, I gently kicked his leg before plopping down next to him, breathing in deeply. His scent rose into my lungs, and my heart missed a beat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' twinkling iris flicker over my face. "Did Mor drag you from shop to shop until you fainted from exhaustion?"

I crunched my brows and looked over at him. "Why, do you think I look the part?"

Rhys' lips curved.

"Did you find a dress?" His gaze drank me in as a crease formed in his cheek, and I stared back, my breath catching and my heart thrumming against my ribs.

"Yeah." My voice was a little soft, a little breathless as I tried not to stare at the curve of Rhys' lips and the small dip in his cheek, his skin glowing in the sunset.

"And?" His voice trickled over me, slow, deep, matching the volume of mine as his gaze dragged over my face, heated, swirling.

I felt my lips tick up as I shrugged one shoulder gently, innocently. "What?"

Rhys stared at me, his arm brushing against my back, sending tingling shivers down my body, and slowly, one corner of his lips curved. "Where is it?"

I huffed softly. "Not yet made."

"Shame." Rhys' eyes were twinkling. "You could let me take a peak."

I widened my eyes and whispered with a bright, cheeky smile: "Where's the fun in that?"

Rhys slowly started to smile brilliantly, his eyes crinkling, and my breath caught in my throat.

For a second, we stared at each other, something trumming in my chest and twisting in my stomach, then Rhys blinked, his eyes never leaving mine as he mumbled: "I think I might have to take the couch tonight."

I could feel my brows crunch in confusion. "Why?"

A deep crease formed in Rhys' cheek, his iris twinkling as his gaze dragged over my face. "Because I'm not sure I would be able to control myself if I saw you in that flimsy nightgown again."

My heart dipped, and suddenly, something hot trickled down my spine.

"I could leave it off."

Rhys' iris hazed over, a rough sound breaking from his throat, and I hastily bit onto the inside of my cheek as a laugh bubbled in my chest, mixing with a rising, fluttering feeling.

"Beast,", Rhys mumbled, his husky voice leaving something twisting down in my stomach.

I shrugged, feeling my lips curve as I turned my gaze back towards the garden. "I mean, if you can't handle it -"

Rhys' gaze narrowed in on my face, became deep and twinkling, and something toppled in my chest as I nearly bit down onto my lip, wondering what on earth I had been thinking.

Swallowing it down, I looked over my shoulder, and Rhys stared at me, gaze molten and dark as slowly, a slight smirk made his lips curve, playful and mischievous.

"Is that a challenge, darling?"

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart swerved sharply.

I blinked, then I shrugged softly, smiling back cheekily. "I don't know, is it?"

Rhys breathed a deep chuckle and leaned forward, and I felt myself freeze when his warm breath brushed over my lips. Then he gently nudged his nose against the side of mine and mumbled, his lips almost brushing my cheek: "Careful." He pulled back just enough to stare at me, his violet iris reflecting the sky as they dragged over mine, twinkling. "I don't lose."

"First time for everything,", I whispered back breathily, feeling my heart rise into my throat, and Rhys slowly started to smile.

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife @brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries @corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638 @ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger @secretlyhers @icey--stars @awritingtree @cult-of-enji-todoroki @oksloan3 @emotional-loner @azrielslefttoe @ladybirdbeetle7 @brujitafantomatico @jurdanpotter

#rhysand #rhys #rhys x reader #starshine #rhys imagine #rhys/reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand/reader #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotar x reader #lalacliffthorne

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keeksandgigz · 4 months

Note

hi i am here with a horny thot. 😈

eddie buying witchy one of those dildos made of rose quartz and making her fuck herself with it while he watches.

MARIAH THE WAY I RAN TO MY LAPTOP

Horny hours indeed omg

"Eddie this is stupid" you say, huffing at the sight of the suggestively shaped crystal on your counter.

He claimed he had a surprise for you. He had you close your eyes while he stood behind you. He put it in front of you while you opened your eyes, a puzzled look on your face.

"It's rose quartz, witchy. S'gonna make your pussy love me so much, huh?" he's relentless in the way that he touches you. The way he knows that if he grazes your shoulders with the tips of his fingers he can have you whimpering in a matter of seconds.

Hands, fingers, mouth, tongue.

"It looks... cold" you look at it with a raised eyebrow, a bit offended at the idea that Eddie has boiled down your witchy interests down to sex. A pink rose quartz dildo on the kitchen counter.

"Warm it up then" he says, biting your earlobe. You sigh. He always has to win.

And so you guide him to your room, shedding yourself of your clothes in the process, aside from a pair of black knit knee socks that your pervert of a boyfriend seems to enjoy a little too much.

He perches himself on the pink brocade armchair in the corner of your room, the rose quartz tight in your hand.

"Need me to warm you up, witchy?" he asks, smug and annoying as always. A devilish smile on his lips as you shyly lay yourself down on your silk sheets, back against your headboard.

You don't need to be warmed up. You'd been ready to go since that morning, when he'd worn a cutoff shirt with a pair of sweats that were hung low on his tummy, letting his happy trail peek through the fabric.

You shake your head.

His demeanor is different than his recent submissiveness. Eyes dark and alert, contrasting yours- hazy and half- lidded.

"Gimme a show then, my pretty witch" he commands, his hands gripping the armrests of the seat as he watches you run the crystal down your body. The coldness of the surface makes your skin jump, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your eyes don't leave his for a moment, as it reaches the apex of your thighs, you shudder at the cold object, and at how sensitive you are.

It is by no means as big as your boyfriend is, but the idea of the heavy object being inside you makes your clench around the feeling of nothingness.

"God, witchy, you're so fucking hot like this." He's palming himself through his jeans, the impatience of seeing you play with the crystal seems to be eating him alive.

"C'mon put it in" he urges, as his belt clinks open, and almost like a pavlovian training, your mouth opens a little bit. Enough for him to notice.

"My strong and powerful witchy brought down by me taking my cock out. Aren't you sweet" he chuckles, taking his dick out, letting it rest against his tummy.

His chin moves, urging you to put the crystal in. A wordless command, no more playing around. You oblige, and the feeling of it filling you up, with the cold surface of the object against the warmth of your walls provides a pleasurable contrast as you begin to fuck yourself with it.

"How's that feel, witchy? Is your pussy falling in love yet, or do I gotta give it a couple kisses first?" he taunts you, beginning to touch himself at the sight of you relentlessly fucking yourself.

You don't like the way that it's not curved, unable to hit the spot you so deeply crave. So you whine, the stretch of it so delicious you can't help but keep going, albeit it not being enough.

"Eddie- oh- please" you hiccup, looking at the way he's stroking himself, head thrown in pleasure as you're tempted to take advantage of his distraction to use your magic, to match up the thrusting movements of your hand to match up his. Perfectly in sync.

You decide against it, as his distraction is only momentary. His eyes are fixed on yours once again. A sheen of sweat on his naked torso, a lusty Adonis, as you try to thrust the quartz further inside you, eliciting a weak moan from your mouth, as an unabashed hand comes down to play with yourself.

A broken moan coming from your boyfriend, hooded eyes looking at you through his sweaty bangs.

"Witchy, you should see yourself. You look like a fucking goddess, Jesus Christ" he whispers through gritted teeth as he lets his cock go, standing up and walking towards you.

You stop with him, intrigued by the change in action. You stare at him with glassy eyes, begging him to make you feel better than the quartz inside you.

"Let's see how in love that pussy is, shall we?" he chuckles, dipping his hand in between your legs, taking the object out. You shiver at the feeling and the feeling of being empty.

A low whistle comes from Eddie.

"God, she must love me, huh? This thing is soaked. M'flattered, witchy" he says, examining the crystal.

You can't do nothing but shake, as he stands there and ponders.

"Open up that mouth, messy girl. Gotta keep it busy while I fuck you."

God i don't know what this is I'm so sorry

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x witchy!reader #witchyverse #moots🫶🏻#mariah 🪐#keeksgetsasks!

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shidouryusm · 7 months

Text

Im not coming home

Gojo Satoru x reader

Content- angsty angst, just a lot of pain, reference to recent manga,

A.N -> i wrote this in a bus all teary faced with a concerned old uncle looking at me. I need my blue eyed boyfriend so bad. This is me mourning I haven’t been able to do it properly all day. Im sorry pls dont kill me. Not proofread this is a heat of the moment writing literally 😭

“See you guys tomorrow”, you say softly before sprinting out of the building. As if your body clock instantly knows when to chime in and draw you back to your nest.

You briskly get out of the room, offering a small wave to Shoko who just entered. Her concerned eyes following your trail.

The sun was floating in the horizon, the ground painted asphalt from the dying colours of the twilight and the air filled with intangible thickness of cold. In the midst of it, you walked. You walk with a rising tornado of emotions bubbling inside you, contrast to the drying winter.

You walked through the bustle of Roppongi. The town was back from the shambles it was two months prior. Always finding a way to bounce back into its original upheaval.

Amongst the skyscrapers decorating Roppongi, you eyes wander to the little sweet shop- selling the ever famous kikufuku — sweet cream filled mochi with Zunda paste. Satoru’s ever favourite.

“baby, this isn’t just a sweet.” Satoru gasps indignantly upon hearing your allegations of getting a cavity from it — “It’s a delicacy. Zunda and sweet cream— a work of culinary that you need to appreciate by savouring it as much as you can”, you roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend plops another mochi in one bite. “Well that doesn’t mean you can double it up as lunch , Toru. you need to eat some actual meal”

“In that case, I can eat yo— I’m sorry” gojo quickly moves away as you swivel the huge cushion towards him, sweet chuckles erupting from his chest as you look at him poutedly.

The little playback of the memory cracked a little smile on your face — the shop ever so reminiscent of your little late night trips with Satoru whenever you both feel insomniac.

You walk over to the shop, feet reflexively carrying you towards the whirlwind of memories you have with him.

The sun had already settled beneath the darkness when you arrived home. The huge compound of area void of any presence. You enter the room, turning the lights on as you settle on the table. The small bag of kikufuku carefully placed on it.

“I’m home” you say without any conscious thought behind.

How can you? When these words never failed to emerge a 6’3 white-haired nuisance, his large hands encircling your waist, his nose breathing in your scent as you get slightly levitated into the air from the insane height difference. The small whispers of “I love you”s and “I miss you”s exchanged in the small gap between your faces — as if it were eternities since you both met each other. Those cerulean eyes of his mirroring your pools with affection and love that ran miles after miles.

Followed by little kisses pressed to your cheeks, then to your eyes and lastly placed on your lips. Those soft rhythm of his lips like promises of eternity.

Your chest twists in pain like you hugged a teddy bear fashioned with sharp daggers, slicing through your soul.

A sharp throb of your heart against your ribs as if it’s begging to be freed and chase the one it’s destined to beat for always. Your body turns numb, the tears like rivulets against your cheek— while you let them flow freely after a day long facade. Your shaky hands wander aimlessly into the air, pleading to find the silhouette, the comfort, the warmth of his body.

A part of your soul seemed to die everyday since then and today another sliver of it withered into nothingness.

Your voice broken like the shards of mirror reverberates across the large room that no one but you occupy, “im home, ‘toru. Where are you?”

The bag of kikufuku lays on the table as it is but Satoru hasn’t arrived home.

A.N 2 -> Yall pls dont be mad this is my way to cope. Even though I wrote this Im clutching on to the littol hope that he will return. If not then understand gege snuffed the life out of me as well

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eulalielatibule · 7 months

Text

The Purrfect Pair

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Black Cat!Hybrid!FemReader

Word Count: 1,600

Warnings: AU, Soulmates, power dynamics, pet play, reader has powers, mentions of grief, fluff, use of honorifics: Mistress and Kitten

Summary: The Scarlet Witch has arrived which means her familiar must finally reunite with her.

Author's Note: Ahhh I'm so excited for this! I did a ton of research for this fic and I really like it. I intend for it to be a series as I would love to explore how Wanda and her Kitten get along and what trouble they get into!

If you enjoy, please reblog and comment!

Darkness.

Nothingness.

An empty void.

You were asleep one minute, the next something flickered inside your brain. You woke up and stretched out, a little yawn leaving you; you had no idea how many thousands of years you had been asleep. You shook your sleepiness off, your black furry ears twitching in excitement.

Wanda Maximoff.

That was the name that filled your head. That was the person who you were to find.

Your owner was finally here, the one and only Scarlet Witch.

🐈‍⬛

Wanda exhaled, watching as her breath fogged up in the chilled mountain air. The tea cup she was holding kept her hands and the tip of her nose warm, and she sipped the sweet beverage with a hum.

After everything that happened in Westview, she had to get away from everything. Too much sadness has been filling her life, and now that she had the new status of being the Scarlet Witch? Well she had to learn how to deal with all the power and responsibility that held too.

It was a lot of stress, and what better place to deal with stress than a cottage in the mountains?

The woman had been spending her time finessing her powers and learning how to control it. She had help from Doctor Strange and Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme, which she was grateful for. She felt like she was finally getting a hang of herself.

But there was a feeling she couldn't quite shake off.

There was something missing, a piece of her that she had to find.

Wanda was used to loss, having lost pretty much everyone important to her. This was different however. She didn't lose something, it was more like she had to reunite with someone.

As she was lost in thought, electricity filled the air. The witch broke out of her zone and looked up at the sky- it was still clear like normal- No sign of a storm. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and her red magic began sparking from her fingers unexpectedly.

What was happening?

As anxiety coursed through her, a bright light appeared a few feet in front of Wanda. Standing up, she watched with caution as the light dimmed away, revealing in its place a woman.

Everything about you was normal. You had on some comfortable clothes- a brown knitted sweater, jeans, boots. Your hair was styled out of your face and you had an excited smile on your face.

The thing that startled Wanda?

Your cat ears and long, fuzzy tail.

"Are you Wanda Maximoff?" Was the first thing out of your mouth.

"Depends- who are you?" Wanda asked, her hands twitching as her magic swirled around her fingers. You gave her your name and bowed, making Wanda quirk an eyebrow.

"I have been looking for you for so long, Mistress. I can't believe you're finally here."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The redhead dropped her hands now, but still stood on guard. This was very bizarre and she needed answers.

"You don't know who I am?" This time you were the one confused, your ears twitching and your head tilted slightly to one side. "Wanda, I'm your familiar."

"My– what? Can you please just explain what you're doing here? What do you mean, my 'familiar'?"

You approached the woman slowly. "You're the Scarlet Witch. Thousands of years ago I was bound to you as your companion for eternity. I was created to help you, guide you, and service you in whatever you need."

Wanda blinked slowly as she processed what you said. She knew that the myth of the Scarlet Witch was centuries of years old and that she had a lot of learning to do about it- well, herself- yet she had never heard of a familiar. But all her caution faded when she dove into your mind, searching for any kind of malicious intent.

All she found was your complete devotion and love for her.

It made something inside of the witch spark and she couldn't help but smile a bit. So this was why she was feeling so incomplete lately.

"Come here, sweetheart." Wanda spoke softly, a hand extended for you to take.

Her pet name for you made your belly flutter and your tail twitch happily. You happily took her hand and stepped closer, and Wanda gently cupped your face into her warm hands with a soft hum.

"Thank you for coming all this way to find me. Let me get you some tea and maybe a snack and you can tell me more about yourself?" Her thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks as you gazed up at her with sparkly eyes. You simply nodded which made Wanda chuckle softly at how sweet you were.

She took your hand in one of hers, the other picking up her mug, and she led you inside her little cottage. You noticed how it was a little bare inside, only the necessities and a few cozy items. You couldn't help but frown at the thought of your mistress not having the very best of everything.

Wanda took you into the kitchen and took out another mug for you before pouring some tea into each mug.

"Don't worry about me, I don't mind being a bit minimalistic." Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment- how could you forget she could read minds??

"I– I'm sorry mistress, I hope I didn't offend." Your head tucked down. You heard Wanda's chuckle and then she was tilting your chin up to look her in the eyes.

"Don't apologize, kitten. I know that it isn't exactly homey in here. I never liked much clutter, but seeing that you'll be living here now I can conjure up some things for you."

"Live– I can live here? Really?" Your ears twitched as excitement came over you.

"Well of course, I can't let my little familiar live outside." She spoke with such conviction that you felt butterflies in your stomach. There was a little smirk on Wanda's lips and you knew that she knew how she was affecting you which just made you even more excited.

Soon Wanda was handing you a cup of chai and the two of you were sitting on her couch. "When you came here it was like you entered through a portal. I'm guessing you have powers too?" She asked as she set her tea on the table in front of her. You took a sip of the sweet liquid then nodded, licking your lips.

"I do, I'm not a witch though. I can teleport, shapeshift, I can also turn invisible. Not being human means I am also stronger than normal. And since I am bound to you, I can feel what you feel." You explained and Wanda quirked a brow.

"What can you shapeshift into?" You grinned and set your own cup down before closing your eyes, and a second later you were changed into a little black cat. Wanda giggled as you headbutted her hand, giving you little scritches behind your ear. You licked her hand before sitting back and changing into your human form again.

"I can also hide my ears and tail, but I don't like to do that unless I'll be around humans."

"I don't blame you, your ears and tail are very cute." Her words made you grin proudly, the two of you continued to chat and you finished your tea.

🐈‍⬛

The rest of the day was filled with you helping Wanda around the cottage and outside. Thanks to your strength you chopped up maybe too much wood to build a fire. Not that Wanda minded- she loved how cute and eager to please you were. And you used your teleportation to pop into a market and get some food and other necessities.

Wanda was already loving having you around. Thanks to the bond the two of you had, you had an instant connection and it felt like you two had known each other all your lives. Plus living in the mountains often got lonely- and while she had gotten used to solitude, being a lone wolf wasn't something she wanted forever.

She wanted a forever partner, someone to share her life with. And maybe with you, she was getting a second chance at that.

"Mistress, may I lay with you?" Your sweet voice shook Wanda out of her thoughts. She smiled when she noticed you were done building the fire and she nodded, patting the cushion next to her.

"Yes, Kitten, come here." At her approval you quickly made your way over and laid on the couch next to her, your head in her lap. Her slim fingers ran over your hair, stroking it. She could hear soft purrs coming from you and it made her heart bloom with affection.

"I am so glad I found you today, Mistress. I've missed you." You spoke softly, a small pout on your lips. It was hard living without her for as long as you did, but it was all worth it to lay in her lap like you were now.

"I'm glad too, Kitten. I promise I'm here now, and you won't be lonely ever again." Her words were just as soft as yours as she leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes, the excitement of the day wearing you out.

Wanda flicked her wrist, her powers grabbing a blanket from her- your- bedroom and laid it over the both of you.

Her own words echoed in her mind: You won't be lonely ever again. And Wanda couldn't help but think that maybe it was true for herself as well.

#Wanda Maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x poc!reader #wanda maximoff x woc!reader #my writing #au: the purrfect pair

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inklore · 8 months

Text

sweet serial killer

premise: it doesn’t matter if he’s killing you or you're killing someone else. you’re putty in his hands right now, and you’re both fucked.

pairing: ethan landry x (f)reader

word count: 1.7k

contents: piv, more psychotic feelings than anything, choking, mentions of knife and blood play, murders, dirty talk, stalking, au since this is not in correlation with the film, pain kink.

note: this is my first time writing for this little fucked up curly q even though i have drafts upon drafts of ideas for him, which i'll gladly write if ya'll want more.

haunted hoedown day three.

You should be surprised.

You should be pissed.

Scared.

Running for your life.

Something. Anything.

Other than standing in front of a murderer, your knuckles curling around the edge of the dresser your ass is pushed against. Your excelled heart rate pounding in your ears the closer he steps to you, leaving no room for you to breathe without touching him. Without smelling him. Stealing each other's air.

Your eyes should be mapping out a quick exit. Coming up with a plan to get the hell out of here. Not looking into his. Not seeing the deep hue of nothingness that is abnormal to see in a sane person's eyes. The dilation of pupils letting you know that he’s got a plan either way. No matter how you take what he just told you.

“I’m ghostface.”

The darkness in his eyes tells you you can run, but you won’t get far. You can tell someone, but we both know you won’t because I see you.

It’s why you haven’t moved. Why an escape is the last thing on your mind. Because your eyes are casting that same darkness right back at him.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

His words are like a fire engulfing you, more dangerous than the performance of normality you constantly put on. The sweet, rich girl whose parents gave her a free ride to college, who dote on her like a prized show pony because she’s the perfect child—the perfect daughter.

The one thing in their lives they didn’t screw up.

Being born screwed up and hiding it well, no fault of their own.

Known psychopaths rarely get what they want. They might, for a little while. But the lavishes never last. There's always more you need, more you want. And there are only so many people in this world who will give you what you want out of fear.

Fear leads to trouble. Fear leads to getting caught. Turned in. Turned upon.

Hidden psychopaths, however, have an advantage. A perfected way of being that makes them seem like the nicest people you’ve ever met. The person you can run to. Trust. Count on. The person you wish you could be.

That’s how you get what you want.

That’s how you make the high of deceiving, hurting, and killing last.

And if rich parents who like to hire nannies have taught you anything, it's that it is very easy to pretend. To perfect this little act. To be perceived as loving and being able to love when really all you want to do is gouge the person next to you’s eyes out.

You have a system. A routine. You never let your crown slip. You never let anyone see you for what you truly are. You’d lose everything. Lavishes gone. That control you have gone.

You didn’t care about being loved or feared.

Feelings meant nothing to you.

But watching the emotions of pain enacted on someone's face when you caused it? Nothing compared to it.

Besides, maybe the way Ethan is looking at you right now.

The look someone gets when they look into a mirror and like the monster they see looking back at them.

Part of you should have known. Should have seen this coming with the way his eyes were always already on yours when you looked his way in class. Or that night you caught him following you around campus, but you pretended you didn’t see him—much like the night he caught you red handed, literally, with blood staining your nails, and your pre-rehearsed explanation only making his eyes grow wider and fill with darkness, he quickly smiled away.

And the nail that should have been pounded into the coffin when your roommate got attacked and all Ghostface did was wave his shiny little knife in your face, a gloved hand around your throat, and then disappeared down the fire escape. And the next day, when everyone was making your skin crawl from sympathy hugs and the fake tears that were glossing your eyes, Ethan had only given you dark looks from across the courtyard.

Brows low and casting a shadow over his eyes in class.

You should have known then.

You’re usually so much better at reading people, trying to understand their normality to copy it. Use it against them.

But Ethan wasn’t normal. That much was clear.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he chuckles under his breath as he shrugs, “this perfect little daddies girl, the girl everyone wants to sleep with, is crazy.” A slow smile lifts the corner of his mouth, “so many nights I’ve followed you, and you’ve kept your facade going. Even when no one was watching. Until the night I ran into you in the hall, the night I knew. I could see it written all over your face.”

He leans in closer, his curls ghosting over your forehead. His voice a whisper, “but you’re not very good at hiding your messes, so I did it for you. I saved us both the trouble. You getting caught and me—well, Ghostface—taking credit for a kill so messy. And when I gave you my little present, that pesky roommate of yours gone, I could see it in your eyes. That trust. That you would have been happy with me either killing you or fucking you.”

Your breath halts in your lungs, burning the back of your throat from the noise you let out when Ethan grabs it. Squeezing just enough to make it hard to swallow and to make that growing hunger move past your belly and throb between your legs.

“Which is it now? Do you want to be fucked or killed?”

Your lips try to form words, but the hand around your throat mingled with that perfected crown falling and shattering to the ground has your darkness making itself known more than just in the fire that’s so clearly burning in your eyes—the gasps that sound like weak whimpers, the warmth of your body against Ethan’s, the way your insides feel like molten lava when you consider both objectives—your mind is clouded with a pleasure you’ve only ever felt when you’ve watched the agony of pain fade out someone's light completely, your nails smelling of copper for days after.

If Ethan pulled out his knife right now and put it to your throat, you’d come before he made the first cut.

And as he says, “if I went downstairs and grabbed one of your fans and brought them up here and slit their throat for you, would you like that? Would you prefer that instead?”

Your body shivers from his words, from the free hand that's running down your hip to the apex of your inner thigh—your sorry excuse for a skirt giving him more than enough access to press his thumb to the growing wet patch on the outside of your underwear. The pad of his finger pressing in and adding just the right amount of pressure to your aching clit to make your eyes flutter.

“Or is it your insides you want me to see?”

The involuntary whimper of his name, the motion of your hips trying to rub yourself against the miniscule touch between your legs, his last words, and the accuracy of it all are the finality for both of you.

The thing that finally lets you both know that it doesn’t matter if he’s killing you, or you’re killing someone else, or blood is spilt for you, you’re putty in his hands right now, and you’re both fucked.

So when his lips come down on yours, it’s hard and rough and lacking any sort of passion.

Any sort of fake pleasure you’ve always had to give to past lovers.

There's nothing fake about the heat inside of you. The sauna of depravity that Ethan is pulling out of you—devouring it with bloody teeth that match your own hunger. Your own fucked up way of getting off. Of feeling something.

When Ethan starts to descend to his knees, leaving a trail of bites along your neck that feel too hard and imprinting to not be a personal vendetta of anger, of want, of a need to make you feel pain, to want it from him—you stop him.

Yanking his curls so hard, he’s hissing against your mouth. Your fingers move in a flash of pushed away fabric, buttons, and zippers to free him and wrap a hand around his cock. Giving it a couple pumps. Watching the way his mouth parts and his lips curl in pleasure when you tighten and twist around the head.

Wordlessly telling him what you want when you turn away, pushing your ass out for him as you bend yourself over the dresser.

If you didn’t have him inside of you one way or another, you know you’d lose your patience. Know that darkness would simmer away into something worse, something that would leave the both of you in more agony than pleasure.

You needed him.

And by the sound Ethan makes when he thrusts into you—hard, without warning—you know he needs you too. Know that he’s probably gotten off to the thought of you bloodied and underneath him, his knife pressed to your throat, threatening to make you bleed if you didn’t let him come inside of you. If you didn’t let him lick the wounds he wants to create against your flesh.

The pace he sets is rough.

Harsh against your body that rubs against the rigid edge of the dresser. His nails dig into your hips as he pulls you back onto him, as he grabs the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your skull.

The palm that snakes around to your neck pulls you up and against his front, putting your body at a new angle that has your muscles stretching in pain and making your eyes roll back. The noises of pleasure and pain like a fucked up hymn.

“That night I was in your apartment, your life in my hands, do you know how much self control I had to have to not slice this pretty throat?” His teeth graze against the skin below your ear, his own groans and hitches of breath making you feel lightheaded. “To not make you bleed and spread it against my cock and make you jerk it off. Make you use your mouth to lick me clean.”

It’s those words and the lack of air his palm is allowing your lungs to intake that make you come. That has the gasp falling from your mouth sounding like something dying, something begging for life.

Portraying the opposite of his words. Of why you’re coming. Of why the rush has you going lax against him and smiling.

#ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion x reader #scream smut #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ghostface smut #ethan landry one shot #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fic #hauntedhoedown

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 3]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 3)

ie. Detention begins, and the topic of Winter Break plans comes into question.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

The first detention went about as well as you could have hoped.

You sorted paperwork, mindlessly graded the very same pop quizzes that had nearly given Deuce an aneurism just that morning, and shined all the stupid glassware that was needed to make all the stupid potions. It was grueling. And to think—you’d been doing this shit for fun not a month ago. What had been wrong with you?

“Maybe it was the Stockholm Syndrome,” you muttered irritably under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir,” you grumbled, and went back to organizing all of your tormentor’s seemingly endless collection of bits and bobs.

Professor Crewel looked over at you, his face twisted up like he wanted to say something. But after a moment of awkward silence, he just ducked his head back down to his paperwork and carried on without saying a thing.

The next afternoon didn’t look like it was shaping up to be much better. You shined, he scribbled, and you wished for nothing more than the sweet release of death. The quiet was disconcerting. Say what you will about all the time you’d spent holed up in this office before The Incident, but ‘silence’ had never been an issue. Even Crewel’s snide little barbs would be better than this—this nothingness.

‘You’re not even worth insulting anymore,’ your brain supplied helpfully. ‘Wow. Isn’t that a trip?’

“Are you almost finished?”

You startled a bit. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to you all day. You glanced pointedly from him, to the walls upon walls of vials, and then back.

“No, sir.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, like this entire situation was just all sorts of unpleasant for him. And not like, you know, he’d been the one to lock you into the school equivalent of prison labor for the next four weeks.

He closed the ledger he was working on with a pointed snap and stood from his chair with a grand swirl of his fur coat.

“You can be finished for the day,” he said, leaning forward to rifle around in the top drawer of his desk. “It’s already late, and you should start making your way back to your dorm before it gets too dark.”

You fought and won against the intense to desire to roll your eyes. The path back to Ramshackle was no easier to traverse in the black of night than it was in the bright light of the afternoon. And besides, it’s not like you were particularly worried about anything happening to you out there. The monsters at this school prowled its halls no matter the time of day. If anything, nighttime meant less potentially murderous magicians out on the loose. No one but you was stupid enough to try and go toe-to-toe with a wandering Tsunotarou.

“And take these with you.”

You startled once more as something was pressed into your hands. It was a familiar box—sleek and artfully colored with matte backgrounds and swirls of golden lettering etched across its face. These were the fancy cookies.

Thankfully, the spite in your belly was enough to gobble up whatever lingering love you had for the treats. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you passed them back to Professor Crewel with a tight smile.

“Thank you,” you said, pointedly reaching into your own backpack to procure a nearly wrapped pouch of Annie’s homemade pastries. “But I’m all set.”

His dark eyes lingered on your stash of chocolate chip cookies in a way that made you think he was going to demand you throw them away, and maybe start ranting hypocritically about the dangers of bringing food of any kind into an alchemical lab. His jaw ticked and you had the distinct impression that he was grinding his teeth.

Instead, Professor Crewel just sighed and returned the treats to his desk drawer.

“Of course,” he huffed, looking a bit dejected, and collapsed back into his chair without his usual elegance. Huh. Maybe you’d just foiled his plans to try and poison you or something. “Good evening, Prefect.”

The next afternoon, he did not mention the cookies. However, on your way out the door at the end of the night, you noticed that he’d placed the box near the coatrack—not quite on top of your belongings, but close enough.

And then it was there again the night after that.

And then again, and again.

“How’s the internment going?”

You heard a dull thwack and some angry shushing. Mister Rogerson’s laughter was muffled through the phone’s speaker, and you had a feeling that Annie had just tried to beat him with her shoe.

“It’s alright,” you snickered into your hand. “Prison is prison.”

“You know,” Mister Rogerson huffed. “I still say all of this is horribly unfair.”

You shrugged, and then remembered he couldn’t very well see that through a phone call, and sighed. “It could be worse.”

“Could it?” he asked, a clear frown in his voice.

You dutifully did not mention anything about Overblots and just sighed again. “I mean, probably.”

There was a bit of a scuffle on the other end and you heard little snippets of Annie’s kind trill. There was more laughter. It sounded warm—cozy. You glanced around at the grey, soot-stained walls of Ramshackle and tried not to feel sorry for yourself. Grim rolled over in his sleep and burrowed into your hip with a contented little mewl, which did help a bit.

“Annie wants to know if you got her care package,” Mister Rogerson said after a moment, sounding a bit like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. “And if you’ve thought at all about our offer to host you over the winter holidays.”

“I did, thank you,” you smiled. “It was all delicious.”

“And the break?” he asked after a moment.

“Crowley sent me some angry letter about taking care of the fairies that live in the kitchen stoves,” you said. “So I’ll have to see about that.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Mister Rogerson pressed, a bit of concern slipping into his otherwise laidback drawl. “Please?”

“Okay,” you smiled, feeling like you’d managed to steal a bit of that bubbly glow of theirs and tuck it away tight enough that even the chilly shadows of your new home wouldn’t be able to taint it. “I will.”

“Take care of the fairies in the boiler?”

“Yes,” said Crowley, with deadpan sincerity.

The other members of the staff looked on in silence—a lovely range of ‘fed up’ to ‘outright contempt’ twisting their faces.

“Well I thought it was an excellent idea,” he huffed, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest.

“No wonder this child hates you,” Trein hissed under his breath and worked his fingers into his temples like maybe if he drilled hard enough he could kill the Crowley-Induced-Migraine before it began.

The Old Crow gasped.

“How dare you—”

“And you,” Trein interrupted, turning on Crewel with a sneer. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish with any of this, Divus? An entire month’s worth of disciplinary action for one infarction? I thought you were better than, well,” a pointed glower at the raving Headmaster who was nearly collapsed in tears before them, “that.”

Crewel’s lips curled into a bitter snarl, but the aging historian before him was far from cowed.

“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped. “This is a matter between the Prefect and I, and their willful disobedience when it comes to following the rules of this institution.”

“Is that so,” Trein hummed, arching a brow in obvious skepticism. “But then again, what would I know anything about raising unruly children? I only have two lovely, successful, daughters of my own. Remind me, when was the last time you allotted even an ounce of affection to anything that wasn’t one of your purebred mongrels? Or your own ego?”

Crewel stepped forward with a scowl that was more a restrained baring of teeth.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” he sneered.

“Say what you will,” Mozus Trein tutted, and glared down his nose at the pair of them—Crewel with his poorly cloaked rage and Crowley who still refused to stop wailing about the injustices of it all. “But both of my children will be coming home for the holidays. Voluntarily.”

“Oooh,” Sam trilled, uncurling himself from the shadows for the first time all afternoon. “Get ‘em, Mozus.”

You ended up staying at Ramshackle over the break, if only because you couldn’t tell at this point if ‘oven fairies’ were a real thing, and if they were and they did starve, you’d feel absolutely terrible. Your rap sheet in this word was already a mile long—you didn’t need to add homicide to the list.

And then, of course, you ended up being kidnapped by Jamil and his smooth-talking self not a day in, so your act of goodwill really was all for naught.

You paced around your luxurious little guestroom cell, phone in hand. There wasn’t a lot of charge left on it, but you definitely had enough to make a call or two. Mister Rogerson would come help you, you knew he would. But… the problem was that you were kind of becoming a Blot expert at this point, and from the looks of things, Jamil Viper was about to go apeshit and melt into Enraged Ink Monster Number Four. Sure, the guy may have kidnapped you. But he also made great curry, and really didn’t seem that bad underneath it all. Just... quiet. And fed up with living a life of forced servitude and mediocrity. Which, y’know, totally fair.

You paced and paced.

“They have to be reported to the proper authorities,” Mister Rogerson had said. “And dealt with accordingly.”

“They’d be taken away?” you’d whispered.

“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can.”

You grit your teeth and called Ace and Deuce instead.

They were immediately no help at all and Jamil ended up Overblotting anyways.

“Y’know,” Grim grouched, shivering into your side after Evil Jamil had yeeted you off into The Unknown and Freezing Corners of Sandy Hell. “You really should start charging for these things. We could probably make a lot of money or something.”

“That’s a great idea,” Azul nodded along, and you wanted to beat the shit out of them both.

In the end, you saved the day. As usual.

Jamil was de-inked. He was still a miserable wad of repressed hatred, but at least he was being open about it now. Everyone was alive. Azul promised to only bill you his usual rate for assistance rather than the holiday upcharge. Kalim held a feast, as per usual. And Ace and Deuce showed up at the tail end of it all, which was incredibly sweet of them and also on track with their usual brand of stupidity.

Everything had turned out great!

Except…

“How was your break?” Mister Rogerson asked. “We missed you over here!”

“It was great,” you lied, images of black tar running from narrowed eyes and the suffocating sensation of dark magic flooding your throat. “It was great.”

You walked into detention on Monday afternoon feeling like shit warmed over. And looking like it too, you would guess, seeing the way Crewel’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead.

You stayed silent throughout the whole thing, quietly sorting bottles and blends, and trying to keep your mind off the fact that you had very nearly died. Again. You could feel Crewel’s eyes on you throughout the entire ordeal, tracking you in a way that reminded you of someone watching a car crash that they just couldn’t quite force themselves to look away from.

“Prefect,” he called as your were half-way through shrugging on your coat at the end of the evening.

“Yes, sir?” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from the floor.

He was silent for one moment, two, three.

“…Get some rest tonight,” he ordered. It sounded like a cop out—like he’d wanted to say something else but hadn’t had the words for it.

You sighed again, bone deep and weary. “Yes, sir.”

You did not, in fact, rest that night. A horrible cocktail of nightmares tugged at your brain from dusk ‘til dawn, and you woke up feeling worse than you had when you’d gone to sleep.

You barely forced yourself to go to detention, and only because you knew it would only get worse if you tried to skip out. However, when the door to Crewel’s office creaked open, you were not met by a head of neatly dyed black-and-white hair, but a yowling mass of flying fur and limbs that immediately sent you sprawling to the floor.

Jasper and Badun yelped and cried in the ways that all excited dogs cry, and laved your face with so many kisses you couldn’t have counted them even if you tried. Your hands went into their soft scruffs on instinct, and you had to fight valiantly not to burst into tears.

There was a hand at your back then, urging you towards the comfy, plush, chair that you’d once called yours. You plopped gracelessly against the opulent cushions, and the pair of delighted dogs quickly bounded up to join you—squishing their too-large bodies into your lap and across the armrests. The duo buried their noses into your shoulder, your hip, any nook and cranny they could reach. And you felt warm for the first time since the holidays.

When you woke up later (hours? Days? You couldn’t tell), you and Jasper and Badun were all still bundled together in that chair—the three of you tucked in gently beneath the soft furs of a very familiar black and white coat.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@juulranch @thenyxsky @kalims @theneurodivergentdummy @pen-observing @afternoon-read @ai-dev @anasianplate @marvelous-maxi @inkkedreamz @honey-deerling @fabitheraven @rebloging-everything @vasiliki-koshka @cassidycampfire @youaskedfurret @asimpleazur @iwannabeacrow @hatsunemiku2025 @ambievert @clappincobracheeks @horcrux-alchemist @crypticbibliophile @nyotnyota @ally-glow @yourimaginaryfriiendd @hamdehlesmis @scarapeep @https-casanova @niki-chan15 @insomnia-space @rabioa @ailynyan @posionapplecider @5sos-wdw @nightskylark @the-dumber-scaramouche @sxftiebee @stingywiththeirusername @peachy-centipede @da-disappointment @nekogal16 @zero-nightshade @duskimoo @queenaveryrules @mys-harmony @cerisescherries / @existingcurrently @littlemusicfox25 @spaceyrunes @un-petit-peu-confused @destinationdesignation @medleycharm @chocolateduckdinosaur @barryatsumu @ttwinrytwo @cerisescherries @imaginedfantasies @whathappenedtobees @trixeraptops @obaniori @cleos-stuff @thededly2 @fuckingfaraway @kttyfngs @ernavielle

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #NRC Staff #NRC Staff x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting #But maybe getting a lil better #Heroes vs. Villains #Crewel x Reader #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 3

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smuttysabina · 6 months

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Incandescent

(Rose x Male Reader, 3k Words) Tags: Femdom, oodles of fluff, some fun sex, some trauma is involved, kinda artsy, some physical as well as mental abuse

A/N This is a quick little story I spun up after I imagined Rose ranting while dominating you, enjoy!

Darkness cocoons you as tightly as any restraint, filling your senses, drowning your eyes in an endless nothingness that devours your sanity. The strongest prisons are the ones we make for ourselves, and the dark provides all the material you would ever need. Which is not to say that your fetters did not also exist in the mundane realm of existence outside of your thoughts, softly clinking metal binds your wrists and ankles to the stolid slab that supports you. The sound of the metal whispering against itself was the only indication of the passing of time; the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears already ignored as your brain probes for threats in the ceaseless night. You shiver in numbing terror as your mind concocts all manner of horrors for your stress-addled body to react to; anything was preferable to unending nothingness of unthoughts. Mankind had always feared the abyss of twilight, not from the dangers it might hold, but from what it awakened within; the agony of introspection. Little wonder then that we have always cleaved towards the light for comfort, not realizing that the greatest threat is often the one we can see the clearest. The door scrapes open behind you, casting dazzling shadows upon the walls that your eyes eagerly devour even as they bring tears of overstimulation. A voice as soft and sweet as honey drips into your ears,

"Now what do we have here?"

Your skin nearly tears itself from your bones in surprise, as a velvety hand gently caresses your bare shoulder, its owner's footsteps so quiet you had not heard their approach. Or perhaps, the pounding of blood in your ears had covered her movements; perhaps she wasn't even real... Murmured curses sound as the new arrival scrabbles around on the wall, her nails a cacophony to your sound-starved ears. The faint click of plastic soon follows, and your senses explode with pain as light sears into your brain, causing you to scream in astonished pain. You blink rapidly, squinting against the glare, the pale shape floating in front of you gradually shifting into a sleek white evening dress, adorning a radiant goddess. The beguiling beauty idly slurps on her drink as she waits for your cognition to return, her blonde hair tied back in a business-like manner. The light haloing her is intense, pouring down in a cone in front of you; the harsh buzz of it grating on your hearing. She gives a quaint smile when she notices sanity returning to your gaze, sloshing her drink around in studied amusement as you come to truly realize your predicament. Rose leans against the table and sighs, motioning towards the ceiling,

"Do you know how many times I've asked them to change out these lights? You would think with all the millions we've made for them, the least those imbeciles could do is at least replace this garbage with something nicer. Oh well, I imagine you didn't come here to listen to me rant about company politics; actually, why are you here at all? Don't answer, it was a rhetorical question. You got caught wandering where you shouldn't, so who do you belong to, hm? Not Jennie, that's for certain, you still seem reasonably sane and entirely undrained of all vitality. Perhaps you're one of Lisa's little toys, was she being too demanding of you as usual? Or are you Jisoo's... that must be it, she probably let you stumble around while she was busy elsewhere; typical. Ah well, now you are mine to play with, punishing you should prove to be an enjoyable way to destress..."

Horror dawns upon you as the idol distractedly rambles on, her fierce gaze boring into you as she talks. You stutter out a question through parched lips, your voice rasping from disuse. Rose pauses, and with another distracted sigh, pokes the straw of her drink into your mouth, allowing you to gulp down the refreshingly sweet liquid. She yanks the drink away from you after several seconds, but after examining the depleted state of her beverage she gracefully allows you to finish it off. A raised eyebrow prompts you to repeat your question, "Why?"

"Why what? Why do this? Because I can, because I enjoy breaking people until they worship me, because it's fun," a sleazy smile briefly appears, "And to be completely honest, because it arouses me immensely. Yes, it's very depraved I know, truly I am the weird one because I enjoy a little sadism with my sex. Any more burning questions? We have a little time until I finish my- oh right; well it's going to be rather gratifying sticking this straw in places it doesn't belong. Hm, what made me so angry? Oh my poor little dear, I'm not angry, just extremely irritated; I suppose if your interested I could torture you with mind-numbingly boring tales of lawyering... Oh you are cute, you think you're playing for time do you?" Rose traces her hand down your chest, making you shiver at her gentle touch, "You see, I find that the most agonizing thing for those I dominate is the waiting. You just keep hoping that the moment will never come, always worried that the next minute will be the one when I truly dig in. So I think a little..." she leans forward to breath into your ear, "Anticipation will make this more fun, yes?"

You let out a low moan as Rose's hand ends its journey and firmly grasps your genitals, giving them a squeeze in promise of the torments to come before withdrawing. Rose suddenly whirls, stalking back to her perch on the table; her hand automatically reaching for her drink before remembering once more that it is empty. She languidly waves at you, indicating that it is your turn to entertain, or simply suffer in silence. Rose pointedly settles a finger on the light switch, she knows. Terrified by the thought of being alone in the dark, completely at Rose's mercy, you rack your brain for anything forestall the darkness. "Why are you feeling so irritated?"

Rose grimaces, slowly returning to stand in front of you, placing her foot on the slab she lets out a slow breath; before promptly slapping you twice, "Now that, was a poor question, dear pet, now I am inclined to simply skip straight to the more intimate methods of teaching submission. Perhaps next time you'll learn to be more of an adroit conversationalist... Hm, why am I hurting you? I thought we established that already, now be silent or I'll fetch the ball gag- Oh, you meant why am I a sadist?" Rose pinches your chin, tapping on your face as she ponders whether she should answer the query. It is to your great relief that she appears willing to do so, forestalling your inevitable punishment, "That, is a long story, and would require a great deal of backstory, but I am a product of my vocation. Idol training requires some... demeaning concessions, so perhaps I am simply taking out my frustrations on all of you."

"That's the easy answer," your mouth foolishly spouts before you silence it.

Rose seems pleased by your boldness however, playfully squishing your lips together, "Is it though? Perhaps, the simpler answer is the best one; but still, such courage does require a reward..." Rose seductively hooks a finger over the top of her dress, before slowly pulling it down, revealing her breasts, pale skin glistening in the light. Your body automatically responds to such stimulation, your manhood hardening, your breath quickening as it pumps oxygen into your muscles in anticipation of sex. You manage to hold on to your sanity however, your mind still too riven with paranoia, to give fully into your primal urge to breed. Rose cocks her head at your reaction, "You know, most people would be humping the air right now; the girls too, not just the boys. I've seen more bitches than you've ever met sobbing as they beg me to impregnate them; it's sickening really. It's no wonder I have to discipline such degenerates, right? And the worst part of it," Rose pauses, considering whether she should continue before shrugging to herself, "The worst part is how much they adore me for it. They love me even before I break them; even my supposed "haters" are slobbering over themselves with devotion after only a few minutes in my presence. None of them hate me for it, none of them despise me for forcing them to demean themselves in the most perverse ways possible," Rose slips her hand down your neck, nails digging slightly into your chest, drawing white lines across your skin, "Will you hate me then, before the end? Your fear is palpable, but will you look up at me with loathing when I finally break you?"

To say that you are greatly concerned at the mental state of the idol sharing the room with you would be an understatement. You shudder at the thought of what horrors she would inflict upon you; evidently Rose is well versed in the art of pain. More horrifying yet, your body seems strangely aroused by that, depravedly hungering for its own destruction if it meant a chance to impregnate the sexual goddess. Her eyes bore intensely into your own, and you feel her claws starting to hook into you; something was needed to distract her... You gulp, "I'll try, but um, how do the other girls deal with it?"

Rose snorts in amused contempt, "You sure know how to inspire confidence in a woman, pet. But I'll indulge you, we don't. All of us idols are fucked up," Rose counts them off on her fingers, "Twice is a freaking breeding cult, Itzy are simply insane, IVE are spoiled rotten, Loona are is cracked as their fans, Red Velvet are literal whores, Aespa enjoy getting passed around like baubles, and don't even get me started about the boy groups... Oh and Blackpink, I would say we're the worst of the whole bunch," Rose distractedly sits on the slab as she rants, occasionally slapping your thighs for emphasis, "Do you know what Lisa did today? Of course you don't, you've been locked down here, alone in the dark. We were in a meeting with the idiots who run this place, and they were begging on their knees for us not to leave the company. Now they looked like they hated us for forcing them to demean themselves like that; well most of them did, some were enjoying it. But then Lisa, that crazy bitch, you know what she does?"

You cough, "She uh, fucked them?"

Rose blinks at your interruption, before snorting, "Good guess, but no, not yet at least; I imagine it will come to that eventually. No, Lisa just looked at these pitiful business men pawing at our feet, and then she pissed on them. Oh I am completely serious, she just pissed on them and giggled. I don't think I've ever seen Jisoo laugh that hard, and Jennie nearly choked on her coffee! To be honest, I also joined in, but at that point it was more about sending a message than anything else. So you see, all of us are bent in one way or another; especially us. Lisa is literally a nymphomaniac, she has a full-scale mental breakdown after a single day without sex. Jennie's sex drive is so monstrous she can fuck for weeks without stopping; you think I'm joking but I'm not. And dear Jisoo... she just loves showering her pets with so much love they drown in it; she's probably the least crazy of all of us. Hm, and me? Oh come now, no doubt you can already tell the direction my vices run..." Rose flicks a switch, causing the slab to tilt horizontal. She grabs your neck and leans in for a savage kiss, "So tell me pet, do I seem even remotely sane?"

"Um, yes?"

Rose laughs so hard she staggers, holding on to the slab for support as she howls. It takes some time to compose herself, but when she does it is to your relief that her dark mood looks to have dissipated. She gives you something approaching a fond smile and gives you the courage to push your luck, "See? Maybe you just needed some wholesome venting and not torture-sex after all!" Rose's smile grows more genuine, and she reaches behind her back, toying with something. With a suddenness that surprises you, Rose's dress cascades to the ground, leaving her entirely naked. Your eyes balloon as you drink in the awesome sight of an idol's body, her tender breasts, her taut stomach, and most importantly, the pair of lips gleaming mere inches away from your face. You feel something trickle down your shaft, as you gawp at the beautiful girl standing ever so close to you. Rose glances at your crotch with studied humor, she gives your meat a flick as she climbs up onto the slab, straddling your face.

"While the venting was nice, I still do desire some sex; so for your sake you had best pleasure me enough to keep me wholesome. Or don't, we're going to reach the point where I need to start getting truly inventive to keep you up eventually, so why not start early?" Rose promptly plants her pussy on your mouth, "So let's see if that tongue of yours is as skilled at pleasing as it is at talking. Be sure to give it your all, pet, I don't intend for you to be conscious by the time this is over, so spare nothing." After that she relaxes on your face for a while, glancing down at you on occasion as she idly gropes herself. For your part you spend the time drowning in her juices, frantically licking and sucking at the delicious flesh in your mouth. Eventually however, she orders you to stop, "Wow... you are fucking terrible at this, its so bad its honestly impressive. Are you a virgin? Though that's really not much of an excuse. Hm, that's the first of your chances to satisfy me gone, let's hope the next one goes better," Rose scoots backwards, dragging her pussy lips across your chest until they slide over your erect cock, "I was pleasantly surprised to see you hadn't cum when I stripped for you, perhaps that indicates you have more stamina than usual..." With a complete lack of fanfare, Rose sits on your cock in a single smooth motion, devouring every inch of you with ease. Your balls pulse in response, and she lets out a disappointed sigh, "Well I guess not, oh well."

Rose starts to ride you, uncaring of how sensitive you were following an orgasm; making a mess on your crotch as your seed leaks out of her. After several minutes of such excessive pleasure, you climax once more; Rose doesn't even bother slowing down. Only when you start to flag does she even start to pay attention to anything other than her own enjoyment, "You know, as much as you amuse me with all of your philosophizing, and even after all that wonderfully justifying on my part; at the end of the day I'm really just a cruel bitch, aren't I?" With a devilish smirk, Rose leans over, and flicks of the light. The abyss embraces you once more, but this time, you know there is something sharing it with you. You cringe, paranoid of all the horrors Rose will inflict upon you in darkness. She giggles, "Oh you are simply adorable dear pet, I should do this sort of thing more often, sensory deprivation truly brings out the animal in us..." Her hand is suddenly clamped around your neck, pinching off the blood flow to your brain, "So get it up again, or don't, I like it when you resist," A rain of stinging slaps and pinches descends upon, her abuse landing seemingly at random; often she pauses in her efforts until you are shivering with anticipation. Most terrifying of all, was how hard it made you, your cock becoming erect with fear. Rose laughs with delight as you climax once more, "God you are such a fucking quick-shot, you're lucky to have a girl like me to tolerate your pathetic cock. Do try to not black out too early, I might just keep fucking you anyways."

Ensconced in the endless gloom, you are completely vulnerable to Rose's attentions. She pinches and slaps, kneads and squeezes, licks and gnaws, sucking on your flesh until it bruises. You are lost in a world of unexpected pain and sensation, the only constant in your universe is the warm wetness around your cock. The heat surrounding your manhood seems to devour your misery, your suffering fueling a burning lust that somehow manages to keep you erect even after several orgasms. The heat of Rose's body imprints itself into your mind; no longer were you alone, now she was there as well. The ceaseless slap of flesh reaches a crescendo, Rose's sudden gasp painfully loud, as a fresh source of warmth spreads from your crotch. Her heaving breaths grow closer until they caress your face, and she murmurs, "Do you hate me now, pet?" Your body is a pattern of bruises and aches, your skin sensitive to the merest touch, your manhood a beacon of pleasurable agony; so you answer honestly,

"No."

Rose whistles softly, "Well I suppose I will just have to try harder then. Scream as much as you'd like, there's only the two of us in here"

You merely smile as a fresh round of abuse begins; how could you hate such a goddess? How could you hate Rose after she filled the empty void with such exquisite stimulation, banishing the horrors of nothingness. No longer would you fear the twilight of your mind, because Rose would always be there with you, dispelling the shadows, incandescent in the dark.

#smut #blackpink smut #rose smut #kpop smut

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beloved-nyx · 3 months

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𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑

The Lamb is devoid of sin, full of purity and devotion to the Divine. So why is the Lamb always the one to die at the end?

ft. Yan Priest/Cult Leader x GN! Reader

content. Suggestive themes, Religious Imagery, Reader has Religious Trauma, Reader is Called "My Lamb", Reader is In A Cult, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Blood, Reader Dies at the End, General Yandere Themes, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

notes. Ummm Yikes bro this was kinda fun to write ngl. Anyway this is still like my second time writing Yandere but I didn't really push on the romance, more like I focused on the horror aspect of this. Anyway uhhh I am NOT catholic so please forgive me pookies I wrote this using my limited knowledge that I learned from a catholic school I attended when I was like in middle school.

The Lamb is a symbol of childlike innocence, of purity and selfless sacrifice.

You had heard these words whispered every time you stepped out of your small, cramped room as your savior smiled down at you and proclaimed those sacred words.

You were sacred, he told you.

A gift to the world, he told you.

The only good thing in this cruel, wretched place, he told you.

You clung onto his words like they were Divine Word. You clung onto him like he was Divine Word.

You wanted to retch, to slap your naive, innocent self as you looked into the mirror.

You were dressed like royalty, white silk covering your body and jewels of ruby draped around your neck like a noose. Gold bracelets decorated your arms, and you wonder if this is what listening to Divine Words–no, what listening to the words of a mad man brings you too.

“You look divine, my little lamb. Fit for the gods.”

You shake out of your stupor, eyes widening as your gaze meets black, lifeless eyes. Black eyes the color of nothingness. Black eyes the color of a starless sky.

You wonder if the Devil’s eyes are as black as his.

His steps are light, graceful and elegant as he makes his way towards you. His white hair-a stark contrast to his dark eyes, is braided, hanging loosely on his shoulder. His lips are curled, and he’s probably happy. No–of course he’s happy, he never looked as happy as he is today.

Cold fingers curl around your neck, and you can feel his lips next to your ear as he whispers, “White looks good on you, my lamb.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your fingers curl, halfmoon marks etched into your palm from digging your nails into the soft flesh. You want to claw his hand off your neck.

He doesn’t deign to give you a response, and you can feel his hands roaming downwards towards your chest, your stomach, lower and lower and you squeeze your eyes shut.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The Ram is a symbol of sacrifice as well. But the Ram is not as sweet as a sheep. They do not represent innocence but violence. They represent not of sweet submission but of cruel rebellion.

You tried escaping once, when you realized that you were nothing but fodder for the Divine.

It was meaningless, sure. They were going to find you, take you away and strip the measly rights of freedom they had given you before.

But that didn’t matter when freedom was so close to becoming yours.

You had planned for your escape for days. As your captor smiled down at you with his lifeless eyes, proclaiming your sanctity, you drew up drafts of escape plans and dreamt of seeing the stars.

You were so, so naive.

“How careless of you, my lamb. Don’t you know what may have befallen you outside of this sacred ground?”

You glare up at him. “Nothing worse than being locked up here like an animal!” His eyes darken at those words, but he chooses silence as his weapon. Fine, you think bitterly. I don’t need his words anyway.

That night, your dreams of freedom crumbled like chalk.

He had taken you away to a more separate wing of the place he called a “church”, and had looked at you in a way a mother would look disapprovingly at a child.

“Atone, and maybe the Gods will cast their mercy onto you, my lamb.”

Fuck the Gods. If you ever came out of this place alive, you would make them beg for your mercy.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

They say that sacrifice is a symbolism for what life has to offer. About the sacredness of life. Of the sanctity of the divine. Of how little we all are compared to the world around us.

They had to drag you towards the altar as you kicked and screamed and shouted profanities.

You didn’t want this. You never wanted this. But it didn’t matter, did it? All that mattered was the word of the Divine, and your captor who looked down at you with a sort of giddy look in his eyes that made you wish you had sunk a dagger into your neck instead of giving him the sweet satisfaction of…this.

As you reached towards the altar, your captors hand reached to cup your chin, and you thrashed in his grip.

“Open your mouth.”

He didn’t even give you a moment for you to refuse before he pried your mouth open and made you choke on wine that looked too much for blood to your liking and stained your white clothing red in the process.

You didn’t want this. You never wanted this.

But when did your choice ever matter?

You think they drugged you. They probably did. As they lift you up to the altar, they’re cloaked silhouettes hiding their faces and humanity, you look up to your captor with pleading eyes.

His lifeless eyes meet yours.

And he grins like the Devil.

“You were always too pure for this world anyway, my lamb.” His voice is like silk, lulling you to sleep as his eyes never blink, never look away from yours.

“At least now you will be protected from the sin of this world. At least now, in the afterlife, you will be mine forever.”

You wonder if God deserted you just like you deserted him.

You wonder if God was ever there for you in the first place.

The tip of a blade pierces flesh, and you think dully if you're now actually free. If you can now look at the stars finally.

“You will never be free from me.”

#yandere male #yandere oc #yandere priest #yandere cult #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x you #yandere male x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere priest x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #❛❛𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋.𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄—ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹❞#um ehe

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Tag, You're It: Part Three

(Poly 141 x F! Reader) 18+

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+ WordCount: 4.3k Tags: F! Reader, Minors DNI, Dirty talk, Consent checks, Voyeurism, Blowjobs, Deep throating, Praise kink, Restraints, Blindfolds, Boot riding, Aftercare Warnings: Nothing except filthy rotten smut A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter, hopefully the content itself makes up for the length ;w;

Where Gaz got the blindfold, you have no idea. Where he got the idea of the blindfold, however, is crystal clear.

Price.

When Gaz had draped the fabric across your eyes it had shielded the already dark world around you into nothingness, had forced you to rely entirely on his touch as he guided you on wobbly legs to an unknown destination. The sergeant had dragged you off for what seemed like miles, forcing your stumbling feet ahead of him. All the while his voice had been harsh, playing the villain. Yet his touch was gentle, thumb tracing the arch of your nape under his gloved thumb as he directed you. The tenderness of him despite his orders is a balm against your fluttering heartbeat, nerves alight with the remnants of your ruined climax lurk in your core, tugging taut at your muscles, wanting more, more.

You had bitched at him of course, playing along but making your unhappiness clearly known at not being allowed to finish on his hand. Infuriatingly, Gaz had barely answered you, offering mocking, teasing little hums and sweet, pitying endearments at your complaints before at last opening a door somewhere ahead of you and escorting you inside.

Now, he’s gone, and in his place you hear footsteps pace around you, circling you, drawing ever closer like they’re circling the drain with you at the center. The sound shudders through you, sets your breath catching in your chest where you kneel on the concrete floor, hands zip-tied behind your back, the world dark and enigmatic around you. You listen to the slow, steady pace of boots against concrete, as if the person circling you wants you to hear them, drawing out your anxiety in the face of blindness.

At last, they stop behind you, the toes barely brushing against your own shoes.

“Should have known better than to run, sweetheart.” Price gravels above you, behind you. You jolt at the sound of his voice, a wealth of arousal pooling low in your stomach at the mere sound of him. He doesn’t touch you, not yet, watches you stay entirely still for him. Patient, waiting, deferent to his command. “I can’t have little mice running around my base.”

His hand settles on your nape, and you almost want to arch into the touch, sigh and let your head fall back into the familiar grasp of his palm. The warmth of it feels almost sharp against your cold skin, and it only electrifies your pulse in wanting, needed anticipation. Yet you hold back, restrain yourself to the part of the victim, of a hostage helpless to his whims. Instead, you offer a little whimper as his hand curls with just a small amount of pressure into the soft flesh there.

“Shhh.” He gentles you, and the hand goes soft again. The air in your chest feels unbalanced, confused, and in this blindness you don’t know what to expect of him. Out of all your lovers, Price has always been the best at masking his intentions, catapulting you into heart hammering insecurity as he conceals his next move. He lets you wait it out, shift expectantly until the strings inside you snap, launch you forward into him with a desperate fervor.

Now, however, you refuse to go down so easily.

“Took you a while to catch me, cap.” You quip back, ignoring the slight waver in your voice torn between excitement and anxiety. “Not scared of mice, are you?”

You think you hear a snicker somewhere beyond the two of you, but the sound is muffled by the low, threatening rumble of displeasure from the man above you. You lean your head forward when he presses his thumb against your nape, unable to bite back a smile at your small victory of irritating him with your bratty comeback.

“Cheeky.” He observes, and once more his tone is unbothered, stoic in a way that simmers low in your stomach. “Do you think we’d let you run around so much if we knew you’d be hard to capture?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the pressure from Price’s grip warns you otherwise. His voice dips to a low, grinding tremor that you feel settle inside you with the promise of ruin.

“Unfortunately for you love, there’s no escape anymore.”

You shudder.

There’s a quiet pause from Price then as he releases you, and you feel rather than hear him circle around you to stand at your front. An ungloved hand catches your chin and tilts you up as if you can somehow meet his eyes.

“Color, love.” He asks then, the soft murmur of his voice suddenly gentle.

“Green.” You offer after a beat, tender in your response, and you feel your reward in the form of Price’s knuckles grazing your cheek affectionately before he pulls away.

“I noticed you sassing my sergeant on the way here.” Price tells you darkly, and you straighten a little at that, at his implications at your misbehavior. You’ve played this game before, know exactly where it leads, and the promise of what lays ahead thrums low in your stomach, feeding the distant flame of your previously denied orgasm. Price pauses long enough to let his words sink in, to let your heartbeat stammer higher in your chest with anticipation.

“The one thing I cannot tolerate is insubordination.”

You choke back a gasp at the sudden downturn of his voice, the tone you’ve only ever heard during interrogations, in the realm of his cold, restrained fury. It’s the same tone that makes you shift where you stand in observance, feeling a forbidden and vicious desire murmur through you, a reminder of this man’s brutality, the force of his retribution. You can’t stem the arousal from hearing him during those moments, and now that it’s turned on you, with his form standing above you, with you helpless at his feet, makes a fresh rush of wetness coat your thighs with your desire.

There’s a smile that tugs at your lips then, and you nearly tremble in excitement, teething your lip as your retort bites against your tongue. Price notices, cups the sides of your face in his grasp to look down at the mischievous smirk that he sees there.

“Something to say, soldier?” He asks idly, and you hear a familiar tone of bemusement on his words.

“Permission to speak, sir?” You ask, tone a little mocking, and Price snorts a huff of laughter.

“Granted.”

You wet your lips, try to imagine the sight of Price’s eyes tracing the motion. You wish you could see him, could touch him, but there’s a certain thrill in this, of being bound, blinded, helpless at his feet.

“I always knew you liked having your subordinates under you.” You breathe at last, and in Price’s silence you hear a muffled sound behind him, a choked little noise that you can’t fully discern from the flutter of your own heartbeat.

Then, the sound of his zipper, and gods above you feel your mouth water at the sound, all but leaning forward and ready for him. Yet Price only chuckles down at you with your enthusiasm, the grasp on your face tightening, keeping you exactly where you are even as you try to squirm forward, mouth dropping open expectantly.

“Look at you.” He chuffs, and you feel your thighs clench at the sound of his hands stroking down his cock, remaining tantalizing and just out of reach. “I was going to tell you to find a better use for that mouth, love, but it looks like you read my mind. Needy.”

Yes. Yes. You think deliriously, trying to scoot forward, straining for it shamelessly, only for Price’s hand to slide to your nape, holding you back. The blindfold against your vision cloaks the world in darkness, fires your senses into a rapid overdrive that leaves you wanting, desperate, a little whine forming on your lips as he refuses to allow you to taste him.

“Beg.”

The order pulses through you like a gunshot, setting every nerve ending alight with arousal until it simmers downwards, blood rushing south and settling at the aching apex of your thighs. It doesn’t take long for you to comply, feeling need bubble up acutely inside you until it escapes as the form of a plea.

“Please.”

It’s shameful, the way you fold instantly. You want to put up more of a fight, to try and play the role assigned to you, but the reward of your efforts is so very close, the nearness of it leeching the struggle from your limbs as you tilt your head up towards him, head lolling limply into his arm.

“Please, captain.” You try again when he doesn’t respond. “Let me suck you off. I-I want it.”

Price huffs at you, the sound almost in disbelief with how quickly you caved. Not that you could help it, not with him, not with any of them.

“Alright love.” He returns gently, and you shiver, arch forward as the tip of him brushes against your parted lips. “Remember, no teeth.”

You don’t need to be reminded, and when Price pushes past your lips you groan around him, feel your thighs clench in a desperate attempt to stem the untamable lust that dampens your underwear. The taste of Price is familiar, good, the weight of him heavy on your tongue and you moan, the sound reverberating around the girth of him. Price bites down on a little noise, never one to be loud, only offering growling little grunts and gasps as he delivers his desire onto you.

“That’s it.” Price sighs, his fingers kneading into the flesh of your nape, using the leverage to draw you back, pressing you forward with a low, lazy roll of his hips. He’s enjoying the sensation of you, his length only half hard but rising to mast quickly in the wet, slick slide of your mouth. “Good girl.”

You make a little noise at that, a pleased little hum at the way he offers you praise, happy and content, right where you need to be. Here, at his feet, helpless to the whims of his lust, knowing your captain will take care of you, will use you as he sees fit, will have you whimpering and teary eyed by the end of this as you shake and tremble against him.

He’s a little salty, a little briny on your tongue, but the weight of him, the length and breadth of his cock feels right, like it’s meant to belong here as he idly thrusts into your mouth. He’s different than Ghost. Where Ghost fucks you hard enough to feel him knock against the back of your throat, Price is thick, heavy in your mouth, spreading you wide enough that you have to crane your jaw to accommodate him. You do so glady, senses a little hazy as you moan, lose yourself in the feeling of his pelvis pushing up against your jaw.

“Made for this, weren’t you?” He chuffs down at you, amused at the way you fall apart for him so readily. “Proper little toy for us, aren’t you love?”

You nod around him, you can’t help it. There’s a sinfully sweet addiction to the girth of him pushing past your lips, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel precum bead on your tongue. It’s just as much the feeling of pleasuring him as it is getting lost in it, in the familiar slide of his cock on your tongue, pressing down so your mouth falls open in a wanton little moan.

Price curses at that, and with little hesitation he uses the firm, scruffing grasp on your neck to push you down, his hips stilling with considerable restraint until he pushes the tip of him all the way to the back of your throat. You breathe in, holding your breath at the fullness of him blocks the air you want to suck in as a wet little gasp. He twitches in your throat, and you let him, listening to the ragged inhale he draws in, that releases as a firm, steadying sigh. You keep still for him, feeling the weight of his hand on your nape, fingers just a little bruising in a way that feels good.

Eventually you feel your heart race a little higher, feel a distant touch of panic fizzle in your veins. You try to draw back, but Price’s hand keeps you exactly where you are. There’s a growl that builds in his throat as you instinctively swallow around him, throat tightening around the head of his cock. When he doesn’t let up you begin to squirm, eyes beading with tears of exertion. Yet all price offers down at you is a single, devastating command.

“Stay.”

You loosen instinctively, shoulders dropping, head nodding just a little forward, as far as Price’s grip on your will allow. The command is final, and your time spent under Price’s authority has you instantly accepting it, growing limp in his grasp as he holds his cock in your throat with a low, breathy groan.

A wet little gasp escapes you as Price finally pulls out, saliva dribbling down your chin as you tilt your head back into his hand, finding comfort in the familiar press of his palm. It takes you only a few moments to catch your breath before you blindly try to press forward again, feeling the leaking head of Price’s cock graze against your bottom lip before it’s pulled away. When you loose a little whine of protest Price merely chuckles down at you, a little dark, but entirely fond.

“Never satisfied, are you?” He asks teasingly, and before you can swallow and summon a reply Price shifts so that the toe of his boot presses between the apex of your folded legs. You suck in a sharp breath, automatically clenching at even the slightest pressure against your core, face warming and brow knotting as you experimentally rock down onto Price’s shoe.

Pleasure blooms outward from your core, hips shivering at the dull, firm pressure that grazes against your clit through your pants. A shuddering, gasping noise falls from you, and with your mouth open Price gently presses himself back inside, the hand on your nape gently smoothing a thumb against your jaw.

“Go on then.” He offers, and oh, you can hear the strain in his voice, hear the little sound he makes when you circle his slit with your tongue. It’s delicious in the best of ways, and the temptation of coaxing further noises from your captain has you sinking down on him with renewed effort, relishing the wet slide of his shaft as it glides across your tongue.

You want to touch him, want to press your hands against his thighs, circle your fist around his cock and listen to the sound he makes as you slowly drag your grip upwards. The memory of the softness of Price’s stomach, the strong angle of his hips is enough to make your eyes roll back a little under your blindfold, ecstasy blooming in brilliant colors against your senses.

Yet then Price leans just a touch forward, raising his boot just an inch to press more tightly against your clit. He pulls back at the exact second that your head drops forward, your voice strained and breathless.

“F-fuck, Price-” You manage with a little shudder and roll of your hips.

“Needy little darling.” He coos, and you flush warmly at that, at both the tender praise and the slightly mocking undertone that makes you realize just how perverted this is, trying to get off on the barest hint of pressure against your dripping, empty pussy.

You decide to be cheeky, raising up on your knees to avoid him. Price only chuckles in amusement and shifts his hand so it presses on your shoulder with a firm “Down.” That has you lowering back onto his boot. You gasp at the sudden pressure, and before you can stop yourself you breathe a wrecked, shocked little curse at the tremble that murmurs outward from your core.

“That’s it.” Price encourages as you buck forward on reflex with a choked little groan, sinking down and shamelessly rubbing your crotch onto the firm surface of his boot. It makes your cheeks burn with a touch of humiliation, one that’s softened by the steadying grip of your captain above you. Besides, the low burn of your previously denied orgasm still flickers inside you, licking at your insides and setting your veins into a red hot arousal that seeks tinder to fuel your need.

The friction of Price’s boot soothes the lingering ache in you, twists it into a coiling, unsatisfied desire that has you groan breathlessly around his cock. You make a point to arch your spine, the dip of it a pretty curve that has your captain huff down a little sound of approval in between his grunts as he rocks into your mouth.

“Gorgeous when you’re desperate, love.” He rumbles down at you and you moan at that, imagining the sight you must make. Blindfolded, arms folded behind you, hips bucking down onto the toe of Price’s boot while you groan and mewl around the heaviness of his cock on your tongue. It’s lewd at best, completely depraved at worst, and the thought alone has your hips jolt as pleasure laces sharply up the base of your spine.

You’ve given up on the shame of trying to get off like this, too desperate to care, just like Price says. Your need curls in a deep, tightening band of pleasure low beneath your belly, and with each rock of your hips you feel it tightening further still, the distant but imminent promise of your release beckoning to you from afar.

You’re so blinded by euphoria you nearly forget about Price’s cock, only for him to once more press you all the way down and lodge himself in your throat. You swallow reflexively around him, and Price groans deeply, his smoky voice curling and whispering across your senses. You want to drown yourself in it, feel the cloud of his deep tenor engulf you, swallow you whole. You know the sound of him blind, know all of them by touch alone, and the distant but hypnotizing memory of being surrounded on all sides by these men is enough to make your voice rise a little, cry out in a mixture of want and pleasure.

“Shh, easy.” Price offers as you shudder, his knuckles graze across your wet cheek. When did you start crying? You feel warm tears of pleasure welling and wetting the blindfold across your eyes, flushing your face further as you lose yourself between the sensation of Price’s warm cock rocking past your lips, and the writhing buck of your hips down onto his boot, chasing release.

“That’s it, take what you need. You’ve been so good for us.” Price murmurs breathlessly, voice strained but deeply aroused, his hips beginning to pick up speed as he pursues his own climax. You still, allowing him to fuck into your mouth the way he wants, craning upwards so he grazes the roof of your mouth. Price approves with a sharp grunt, and you feel his cock twitch against your tongue.

“Fuck.” He snarls sharply, hips stuttering for a moment before resuming their rhythm. One hand cups your skull, fingers pressing a touch harshly against your flesh to keep you in place as Price uses you to creep slowly up on the edge of his release. “Bloody gorgeous, darling.”

Your cunt throbs at his words, clenching tightly as you shift, angle yourself to rub your clit directly onto the toe of his boot. The groan you let out is wet, saliva and precum pooling in your mouth around his cock. The world narrows down to only the sensation of Price rocking into you, and you rocking onto him as you fuck yourself onto his boot.

Yet there’s another sound beyond your and Price’s joint groans and the slick squelch as he presses himself forward. If you listen, you can hear another noise from off to your right- a low, stifled grunt paired with the sounds of wet strokes of a fist.

You’re being watched.

Gaz, Soap, Ghost, they’re all observing the proceedings quietly from just beyond you both, aroused at the display and seeing to their own pleasure with long, firm strokes on their cocks. Masturbating to the shameless sight of you fucking yourself down onto Price’s shoe, groaning openly as he thrusts towards the back of your throat, seeing you helpless at his feet and wanting more.

Of course. Why blindfold you otherwise? You’d get distracted by the sight of them, the glint of Soap’s keen, bright stare- the smug, self-pleasured smile of Gaz seeing you delivered to his captain- and Ghost, with the bruising intensity of his stare, no doubt with his arms crossed but the tent of his pants bulging. Waiting.

The idea of the boys just waiting for their captain to finish having his way with you, fucking into your mouth with quick, firm, shallow thrusts, and waiting to have their seconds is enough to make you bite out a curse. Pleasure unfolds brightly at your core, the tightening, coiling band of bliss threatening to snap you in two with its intensity.

Price seems to notice how close you are by the almost frantic grind of your hips down onto him, his hand curling with an almost bruising grip at the base of your skull.

“Going to cum, sergeant?” He grits out, and you whine, not able to nod around him with the way he has you angled. Yet the sound is enough, because Price releases a low groan and echoes down at you a single, shattering command.

“Cum.”

Price pulls back at the exact second you come undone, feeling ecstasy whiplash against your coiled muscles and race along the underside of your skin. Your orgasm is sudden, hard, making you fold and clench in on yourself, sinking impossibly further down onto Price’s boot with a shuddering series of moans and whimpers. Your cunt clenches helplessly around nothing, empty but no less doused in the blissful satisfaction of your long denied climax. The aftershocks ripple down your form, collecting in the thrumming, pulsing heat of your core as you desperately try to find your breath.

“Bloody hell.” A voice mutters quietly beyond your blinded vision. Soap.

When you finally catch your breath you raise your head, tilting forward towards Price so you can finish the task set out before you, his own orgasm unfinished. Yet instead all you find is Price's grip on you vanishing completely, removing his boot from the inside of your thighs. Instantly, you begin reeling without his touch, still a touch overwhelmed, a little noise of confusion dragging in your chest.

It doesn’t take long for hands to appear at your face, gently tugging the blindfold off and revealing the dim lighting of the empty interrogation room. You blink at the sudden brightness, limbs heavy and skin too warm. It’s only once your vision clears that the sight of Price flickers into view above, his expression gentle, but the lust in his eyes scarcely concealed.

“Broken?” He asks in that gruff but concerned way of his, hands cupping either side of your face as boots begin to pad over towards you both. When your eyes flicker down to Price’s cock, you see it still standing proudly. Yet Price seems to pay it no mind, focusing instead on you.

“Only in the best of ways.” You reply, voice a little hoarse but still pleased as you smile at him. Price smiles back, amusement clear in his stare before it shifts, nods to someone behind you. You nearly flinch at the sound of a blade getting flicked open, but don’t have time to question it before the ties around your wrists are cut and discarded. You sigh in relief, roll your shoulders and wince at the soreness there.

You blink as you’re tugged away from Price’s grasp, hauled backwards until your ass meets the floor and your back presses against a solid chest. Arms descend around to your front, tucking you further into a form that smells faintly like explosive powder and sweat.

“Don’t get greedy, Soap.” Ghost admonishes lightly as the sergeant’s legs splay around you. Yet Soap only offers an offended little grunt in return, allowing you to sink into the comforting warmth of him.

You relax into the safety of his arms, knowing for now that this chase is finally at its end, that all that is left is the blissful indulgence of the men around you as they bring you down from the exhilarating adrenaline rush of your capture.

So you sigh, lean onto Soap, accept the water bottle Gaz passes to you, gulping it down and washing away the taste of Price on your tongue.

It’s Ghost who gently nudges you, forcing you to crane your head up towards his form towering over yours, backlit by the dim overhead light above.

“How copy?” He asks redundantly, as if he somehow doesn’t trust your answer to Price. You know it’s just to assuage his own nerves, make sure that the four of them haven’t exerted you too far.

“Right as rain, LT.” You answer back, leaning into his gloved hand when he offers it. You swear you can feel the sigh of him there, relieved but muted, entirely affectionate.

There’s silence for a few moments, one that’s filled only with your even breathing and the dull thump of your calming heartbeat. It’s broken only when Gaz drawls out a low, loaded question.

“Soooo….” He offers, and when you look at him his eyes sparkle with a combination of mischief and rampant desire.

“Round two?”

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#captain price x reader #john price x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #x reader #reader insert #fic: tag you're it… See all #Honestly dislike the quality of this chap!! Feels too bland #Hopefully folks enjoy anyways

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