#where the green grass grows

[music-in-my-veins14]

Raise our kids where the good Lord's blessed Point our rocking chairs towards the west And plant our dreams where the peaceful river flows

#Where The Green Grass Grows #Tim McGraw #Lyrics

[simplerpics]

Looking forward to a green spring but not quite ready to let go of the rain.

#california #phonecamera #aesthetic #spring #where the green grass grows #outdoor aesthetic #hiking #1photoaday #landscapes #nature

[midnight-star-world]

#CountryMusic

Tim McGraw - Standing Room Only

So today on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would like to talk about the latest album from Country Music Superstar Tim McGraw. The new album is titled "Standing room only" and was released on Friday August 25th, 2023. But before we dive into the new 13 track album, let's talk about some of career of Tim first.

Songs we may remember from Tim are hits like "Don't take the girl", "It's your love" with Faith Hill, & "Just to see you smile". Other big hits are "Live like you were dying", "Where the green grass grows", & "I like it, I love it". But before we dive too far off track, let's talk about the new album up next.

There are a lot of good songs on this new project. Tim even co-wrote 1 song on this new CD. Songs you should check out include "Hold on to it", "Standing room only" which is the title track, & "Paper umbrellas" sounds like an old school song to me. Other songs you might want to check out are "Fool me again", "Small town king", & "Beautiful hurricane". "Cowboy junkie", which is an upbeat song in my opinion "Nashville CA/L.A. Tennessee" featuring Lori McKenna, & "Some songs change your world". But here are the true standouts in my opinion from the new album "Remember me well", "Her" is my song for Krysta on the project, & "Letter from Heaven". Let's see the rest of the track list now.

Track list.

Hold on to it.

Standing room only.

Paper umbrellas.

Remember me well.

Hey whiskey.

Her.

Fool me again.

Small town king.

Beautiful hurricane.

Cowboy junkie.

Nashville CA/L.A. Tennessee

Some songs change your world.

Letter from Heaven.

And that's a wrap for the track list. And on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would give this album a 4.5 out of 5 stars. There are a lot of good songs on this new CD. Hopefully Tim gets a lot of playtime with songs from this new album. Thanks for taking the time to read this review. See ya all next time.

#tim mcgraw #artist spotlight #Country #New Country #Music #New Music #Country Music #New Country Music #Don't Take the Girl #It's your Love #Faith Hill #Just to see you smile #Live like you were dying #Where the green grass grows #I like it #I love it #Hold on to it #Standing Room only #Paper Umbrellas #Remember me well #Hey Whiskey #Her #Fool Me again #Small Town King #Beautiful Hurricane #Cowboy Junkie #Nashville CA/L.A. Tennessee #lori mckenna #Some songs change your world #Letter from Heaven

[fluffleforce-mysdrym]

One of my favorite song lyrics is: 

And the camel’s buried in a big straw stack

Like, I feel that so much sometimes

#straw that broke the camel's back #which one #where the green grass grows #tim mcgraw

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#there's something really beautiful about experiencing the weather patterns of a new place #where i live now. its not like where i grew up. not like the foothills of Appalachia but its more familiar than the Chihuahuan desert was #when i go home to ohio everythings so green. so green. unimaginably green and the towns are in the woods. the hills roll #and trees billow deciduous and packed so tightly the treeline is like a wall of plant matter. here there are trees but they are tall and #evergreen. patchy in places like shrubs in the desert. the grass grows green but also pale tan and dead. houses are routed in valleys #between mountains. they're made of wood and not stucco but they still look strange and the landscape is crumpled together tall. and there's #water. it rains. days can be dreary and gray with drizzle. i forgot what thats like. when a single low stratus cloud blocks out thewhole sk #and fog clings to the trees. my school bus used to drive by a lake where thr fog was so thick i didnt kno how the driver could see the road #but somehow i forgot how much joy suspended water vapor gives me living in a place where when it rains it pours so hard the streets flood #and the greedy ground drinks the landscape dry. but there are new things as well. here smoke rolls up over thr mountains and gets stuck in #the valleys so that the weather forcast reads: Smoke for days on end. im used to tornado warnings and heat warnings and dust storm warnings #but ive never expected Smoke as a type of weather. and im sure there's more to experience. ive only been here like 3 weeks. its not as gree #as home. the storms dont seem to get quite so violent. the woods are so full of bears that its an active threat. but its not the desert #and while ill miss the shapes of desert plants and little lizards. when i look up at the pine and spruce trees i feel like i can breathe a #little easier. well see how i feel once the long cold winter sets in haha #but i dunno. part of me still longs for a violent thunderstorm. one where u can feel the temperature drop and u csn feel it building all da #one that bends the trees and smells like ozone. it was never like that in thr southwest and im not sure that happens here #but maybe thats just a desire for chaos and violence as a product of my pathological internal control. i cant be spontaneous so let nature #bring the fear to me. some of my favorite memories are watching lightning strikes #so it goes i suppose #unrelated #listen. is it fucked up to have ohio nostalgia? maybe so. but in my defense i grew up in the pretty part of ohio lol

[jonny-b-meowborn]

There was a lot happening in my dream today but the one thing I love a lot is that I was allowed to walk on all fours a bunch of times. And make doggy sounds. And in those moments people would talk to me more like I was a dog. I was still a person able to participate in whatever the plot of that dream was, but I was also a dog in a way. And the best thing was when near the end of that dream my bestie decided to try doing that too, just for me, and we ran around and played like dogs for a bit, it was great. Wish that was possible irl 😔

#okay also one really cool thing in this dream was a location we visited a lot #there was a lil forest hidden in my town in between some abandoned buildings #and in that forest there was a huge green mushroom that had smaller mushrooms growing on it #and we'd climb on the small shrooms and they were all bouncy #amd at the top the cap had grass and moss growing on it and connecting it with trees and rooftops around it #thats actually where i was a doggy the most of the time!! running on the mossy shroom and old buildings #lovely stuff #bee buzz

[theunsubtleknife]

If you see me listening to late 90s country no you don't

#im having a moment okay #where the green grass grows by tim McGraw will fix me

[ethe-realistic]

It’s whatever you want,

It’s a mirror in thought,

It’s a memory we made,

It’s the night we forgave,

#where the green grass may grow #where the lights go down low #what’s left to bestow?

[headspace-hotel]

The knowledge of some common plants

Since many people don't know most of the plants around them, this is information on some plants that are commonly seen in many places throughout the world

This is Lamium purpureum, also called Purple Deadnettle.

It's called deadnettle because it looks like a nettle but it doesn't sting you

This plant is a winter annual—it grows its leaves in the fall, lasts through the winter, and blooms and dies in the spring

Its pollen is reddish orange. If you see bees with their heads stained reddish orange, it is likely because they have visited Purple Deadnettle

This is Trifolium repens, white clover

It is a legume (belongs to the bean family) and fixes nitrogen using symbiosis with bacteria that live in little nodules on its roots, fertilizing the soil

It is a good companion plant for the other members of a lawn or garden since it is tough, adaptable, and improves soil quality. According to my professor it used to be in lawn mixes, until chemical companies wanted to sell a new herbicide that would kill broadleaved plants and spare grass, and it was slandered as a weed :(

It is native only to Europe and Central Asia, but in the lawns they are doing more good than harm most places

Honeybees love to visit clover

Four-leaf clovers are said to be lucky

This is Achillea millefolium, Common Yarrow

It has had a relationship with humans since Neanderthals were around, at least 60,000 years, since Neanderthals have been found buried with Yarrow

Its leaves have been used to stop bleeding throughout history, and its scientific name comes from how Achilles was said to have used Yarrow to stop the blood from the wounds of his soldiers. A leaf rolled into a ball has been used to stop nosebleeds

It is a native species all throughout Eurasia and North America

This is Cichorium intybus, known as Chicory

The leaves look a lot like dandelion leaves, until in mid-spring when it begins growing a woody green stem straight up into the air

Like many other weeds, it has a symbiotic relationship with humans, existing in a mix of domesticated or partially domesticated and wild populations

It is native to Eurasia, but widespread in North America on roadsides and disturbed places, where it descended from cultivated plants

Its root contains large amounts of inulin, which is used as a sweetener and fiber supplement (if you look at the ingredients on the granola bars that have extra fiber, they usually are partly made of chicory root) and has also been used as a coffee substitute

A large variety of bees like to feed upon it

This is Phytolacca americana, known as Pokeweed

It is easily identified by its huge leaves and its waxy, bright magenta stem

It can grow more than nine feet tall from a sprout in a single summer!

If you squish the berries, the juice inside is a shocking magenta that is so bright it almost burns your eyes. For this reason many Native American people used it for pink and purple dye.

It is a heavy metal hyperaccumulator, particularly good for removing cadmium from the soil

All parts of the plant are poisonous and will make you very sick if you eat them, however if the leaves are picked when very young and boiled 3 times, changing out the water each time, they can be eaten, and this is a traditional food in the rural American Southeast, but I don't want to chance it

British people have introduced it as a pretty, exotic ornamental plant. I think that is very funny considering that here it is a weed associated with places where poor people live, but maybe they're right and I need to look closer to see the beauty.

If you see magenta stains in bird poop it is because they ate pokeweed berries- birds can safely eat the berries whereas humans cannot

This is Plantago lanceolata, Ribwort Plantain

It grows in heavily disturbed soils, in fact it is considered an indicator of agricultural activity. It is successful in the poorest, heaviest and most compacted soil.

The leaves, seeds, and flower heads are said to be edible but the leaves are really stringy unless they are very young. Of course, it is important to be careful when eating wild plants, and make sure you have identified the plant correctly and the soil is not contaminated

I have also heard the strings in the leaves can be extracted and used for textile purposes

and that's some common plants you might often see throughout the world

#just remembered i had this in my drafts #i forget why i didn't post it immediately #anyway #plants #the ways of the plants

[pasukiyo]

BLOOD ON HIS CANVAS

coriolanus snow x f!reader word count; 2,085 warnings; coriolanus snow, manipulation, smut, little to no plot, just porn summary; she was a dove, forever meant to be trapped in his little cage. she knows this. and her body is his canvas, his to taint, to paint. and coriolanus snow will do whatever it takes to ensure he has full control.

 She doesn’t know. 

 And she’ll never know. 

 She’ll never know the things he’d done, the things he’d done to get to where he is now, the things he will do and what he was already planning to do again. She’ll never know he was a killer, that he’d kill anyone that stood between him and power. 

 She’ll never know that he’d kill her too, should she stand in his way. 

 Just like she’ll never know his love was never hers. 

 But she will know she belongs to him. And she will love him, blindly, and she’ll know that she won’t leave him, just like everyone else had. She’ll never know that everyone in Coriolanus Snow’s life has left him, and good, let it be that way. 

 There were some things better left in the darkness— and Coriolanus Snow was shrouded in it. It was better this way— he became President of Panem this way. He had all the power, money, and control in the world because of it, so who was he to change what was already perfect?

 All she will know is the same white walls, the same white marble floors, the same white curtains, the same perfectly cut green grass. She was a dove, too pretty to be let free of her cage. She may have been a bird, yes, but he’d cut her wings long ago, stripping her of her freedom. 

 And Coriolanus Snow would teach her to love it. 

 And he did by slowly cutting her off from the rest of the world, insisting Panem was much too dangerous for a pretty, little, untainted bird such as her. The Districts were full of animals, filthy beasts who would only do her harm, even his Capitol full of predators, men who couldn’t be trusted. He insisted he was the only one who could protect her, the only one who could keep her from harm. 

 And she believed him. 

 It was perfect how easy it was to trap her. It made him wonder how much more he could get away with. 

 Even now, as she slowly strode towards him in nothing but a white slip nightgown, the straps falling down like teardrops off her shoulders, he wondered how much more he could take from her. 

 After all, nothing was ever enough for Coriolanus Snow. 

 He stared as she approached, the perfectly untainted gown now pooled at her feet, her bare skin and every curve of her body now gazing back at him like a carefully crafted gift— just for him. Coriolanus made no moves to touch her, not yet, at least. 

 She was to understand that she was under his control, and not to let it be twisted the other way around. She was there to do whatever he pleased, to make him feel good. 

 She was his dove, his pretty, little play-thing. 

 Whether she should like it or not, he knew she loved it. 

 Coriolanus let his gaze trail down her face to her neck, perfect and untainted, just as everything should be. He ventured down lower to her breasts and the valley between them where a faint mark on the side of her left tit stared at him and he leaned forward, a furrow in his brow as he reached over to touch her there. He could feel her shudder as his fingertips fell like a ghost over her skin, her flesh growing warm in his touch’s wake. 

 “What is this?” He asked her, unblinking and his eyes never leaving the faint mark tainting her skin. She gulped as she opened her mouth to answer, “from last night, darling. You… you left a mark on me, remember?”

 The memories from last night flashed in the back of Coriolanus’ mind, the taste of her skin on his tongue making his taste buds sing in delight, the high his arousal gave him making him see white. He remembered the way her flesh felt between his lips as he sucked on the side of her breast, how it felt between his teeth when he nipped her and etched his mark there. 

 For a moment, all was silent and she shivered, wondering if he’d punish her for this. When a few moments had passed, the blues of his irises slowly rolled up her body until their gazes met, and he pressed his lips to the mark in a soft kiss. It was like a shock, a jolt of electricity ripping through her like lightning and she shuddered, her lips trembling at the merest touch of his lips. His kiss was so tender, so soft and so different, it almost made her knees buckle right beneath her weight. 

 Coriolanus pressed another kiss to the mark on her skin, then another, and another. Tainted. Her skin was tainted with the phantom of his lips, as if her body was his canvas. The idea he possessed her in such a way gave him a high like no other, made him feel so in control, so powerful. 

 He hummed against her skin as his kisses trailed over to her right breast, his teeth nipping and lips sucking at her supple skin, her body falling limp in his arms as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his fingers into the small of her back. Her head tipped backwards and her lips fell agape as he etched more of his marks into her skin, tainting her, painting her. 

 She was a work of art, his work of art, and he would treat her as such. 

 “Cor— Coryo,” his shortened name tumbled from her lips in a pleased murmur, her fingernails on his shoulder and in his hair. Coriolanus peered up at her through hooded lids again as his kisses worked their way up to her nipple, watching her face as it twisted in pleasure, her brow furrowed in bliss. He rolled his tongue over the erect bud and sucked, his teeth grazing over it. A quake tumbled through her body like thunder and she trembled in his arms, fisting the hairs at the back of his head. 

 Finally, he released her nipple with a wet pop, pushing away from her to stand up, his hands on her waist. He peered down at her and her eyelids fluttered open and for a moment, just a single moment, their gazes met and Coriolanus felt something flutter at the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t quite put a name to. He wrapped a hand around her neck and pressed his palm flat to the back of her head to reel her lips into his before he let the feeling ruin the moment, insisting he could mull it over later. 

 His tongue was completely dominant over hers, in fact, she didn’t even try overpowering his. She knew he was in control, knew her place. 

 The thought had Coriolanus’ hands venturing down to her hips to turn them around, pushing her down into the plush mattress of the bed. He towered over her, casting a shadow over her face as he kissed her harder, his knee in between her legs, her arousal warm and wet against his clothed thigh. She whimpered when he pressed his leg closer against her and he pulled away, either of their chests heaving as they chased air back into their lungs. 

 A plea sat on the tip of her tongue and her lips trembled, desperate to ask for more but her words falling short, unable to catch her breath. Coriolanus only watched her, watched the tears form in her eyes and the way her breasts heaved up and down as she chased air back into her lungs while he stripped himself of his shirt, unbuckling his belt. He tossed either of these things to the side before undoing the buttons of his pants and he watched the way her eyes dared a glance down at him as he rid himself of his bottoms, leaving them both bare, nude in front of one another. 

 The sight seemed to steal her breath away once more. 

 A pathetic whisper of his name hardly managed to fall past her lips before Coriolanus was back on top of her, stealing her words with his kiss as she bucked into his touch. He could feel her heat against him, could feel the proof of her arousal, of her obedience as it rubbed against his cock. Without once breaking their kiss, he bucked into her, filling her up to the brim with one stroke of his hips. 

 She was the one to break their kiss this time as her lips fell agape and her head tilted back into the mattress, her back arching off of the bed until their chests were pressed together as a cry ripped through her. Coriolanus pressed his lips and eyelids together, willing the groan at the back of his throat back down despite how tight she was squeezing him, despite how much he relished her sounds. 

 “Cor… Coryo… Coriolanus,” she panted as he bucked his hips again, harder this time, as if testing her. She was mewling now, limp and pliant in his arms, submissive like a kitten. Coriolanus balled his fist and pressed it down into the mattress beside her head, using his opposite to grab at her neck, his thumb just barely putting down pressure on her throat. 

 And he bucked his hips, once again. 

 And he didn’t stop this time. 

 He was pounding her, pistoning his hips harder and faster with each thrust into her, her walls clenching down on him so tight, he couldn’t keep the groan that rumbled from his throat. Tears were streaming down her face as he worked her up and down and up and down the bed, feeling a knot begin to form at the pit of her belly. 

 Coriolanus could tell she was already close. He didn’t really care. 

 He was chasing his own high, fucking her harder and harder to push himself even closer to his limit. She was coming undone on his cock but Coriolanus showed no sign nor intent of stopping. She could come all she wanted to for all he cared. He didn’t care if she’d had enough, they weren’t done until he decided they were done. 

 So despite her whimpers that she was close again, he only thrusted harder, fucking her like they were animals, like he was feral, like he hated her. Coriolanus’ stresses and frustrations were being fucked back into her, and he was determined to fill her full of each and every one of them, as if giving them to her. 

 She was sobbing, fat tears of pleasure rolling down the sides of her face as he felt that high he so desperately craved on the horizon, so close he could taste it. Her cries permeated the bedroom, nearly making the walls shake but he didn’t care. He was so close, so, so, so close and oh, when he reached that high, it was like heaven on earth. 

 With a few last thrusts, he was pumping her full of his release, her skin not only his but her body, all of it, his as well. She was his possession, a canvas that was his to taint over and over again, as many times as he pleased. 

 She knew this all too well. 

 Coriolanus collapsed down on the bed beside her and he stared into the whites of the ceiling overhead as she crawled over to him, curling up to his side and resting her head against his chest. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders absentmindedly, his other folded behind his head. 

 Her skin was painted red with the marks his mouth had left on her, her every limb ached and her cunt sore and pulsing in his wake. He was all over her, etched and engraved inside every nook and cranny of her body. 

 She was his, completely and totally his. 

 She knew this. 

 And she loved it. 

 She loved him. 

 Coriolanus seemed to know this too, and he wondered if the flutter he had felt in his stomach earlier meant that he loved her too. He blinked as his vision began to blur and he squeezed his eyelids shut, letting himself relax further down into the mattress. 

 He wasn’t entirely sure what that feeling he felt in his belly meant. But he wouldn’t dare tell a single soul about it. Not even her. 

 After all, some things were better left in the darkness— and Coriolanus Snow was shrouded in it. 

a/n; so yeah the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie finally coming out has brought me back into my hunger games phase so... enjoy :) also sorry for any errors, i wrote this in an hour while in the bathtub LMAO

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tom blyth #president snow #coryo snow #tbosas #thg series #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader

[music-in-my-veins14]

I'm gonna live where the green grass grows Watch my corn pop up in rows Every night be tucked in close to you

#Where The Green Grass Grows #Tim McGraw #Lyrics

[m0llygunn]

boyfriend!eddie and reader having sex in the back of his van whilst it’s raining 😫

Hi! Thank you for the request! I got a little carried away with the love-y, poetic-y stuff but theres still all that smutty stuff too!

18+ only, please!

wc: 3.2k

✿⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☁︎˚｡⋆ ✿

It started slow then all at once. It was the kind of rain that warrants attention, the kind that demands you sit and watch. 

So that’s what you and Eddie had done. It was the safer option as well, to pull off the highway instead of pressing all the way home through the storm. Instead, you pressed through until you got to the old field just on the cusp of Hawkins that you two used to visit when you had first gotten together. 

It really was just a field. An old lot that you’re sure someone owns but hasn’t invested a lick of time into. Overgrown grass and a forested edge. Weeds and wildflowers weaved their way in and took claim to the land. The place is theirs but you and Eddie have been known to borrow it in the past. Not so much in the present. 

Just you, Eddie, and the wildflowers. 

It was where you first really hung out. In his van, doors propped open, letting the breeze in— it was where you got to know each other. It was home to the first time you held hands and the first time you shared a kiss. It was home to a lot of late nights where Hawkins seemed too overbearing and you both just needed to get away. 

In a sweet way, it was kind of like a home to where your love for each other sprouted. You and Eddie used to say that there were just as many wildflowers out in the field as there were kisses you’ve shared here. 

Beyond kisses, it was a place of innocence. 

When you and Eddie grew to that stage of your relationship, you spent more and more time in his room, growing more and more familiar with each other. Eventually, you stopped coming to the field. As time passed, the tire tracks in the grass faded and once again, the field was a place that only the wildflowers reigned. 

Today though— today, you pay the field a visit. 

Heavy rain on petals, dripping from their leaves like tear drops, you’re greeted by the weeping wildflowers, more abundantly spread on the land than you remembered. 

In the way the flowers appear to cry, it elicits a similar feeling inside you, like the swell of happy tears, born from being reunited with a lost friend. 

Eddie puts the van in park, reaching his hand back across the center console to squeeze your thigh. “We’ve got a lot of kisses to catch up on,” he says, meeting your gaze and nodding his head towards the plethora of brightly coloured speckles amongst the vast green. 

“Better get started then,” you laugh.

Like time had never passed, you and Eddie follow the same routine you used to. With a polite wave of his arm for you to go first and a gentle murmur of ‘ladies first’, you maneuver yourself to the back of the van with Eddie following suit. 

You both kick off your shoes and you take your seat, the place that Eddie has always set for you. He swings the back doors open, letting the mist of the rain and the dimmed rays from the clouded sky in. 

“Really raining, huh?” Eddie says as he settles next to you.

“Yeah, we needed it though. I would say the flowers needed it, but it looks like they’re doing just fine on their own,” you say fondly, scooting yourself to get a better view of the outside and coincidentally closer to Eddie. He does the same, shifting so he’s closer to you. 

He brings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you flush to his side.

“So, those kisses…” he says, grinning at you.

“Smooth, very smooth,” you smile, tilting your chin upwards to him as an invitation.

Eager as always, he wastes no time closing the distance between you two. 

Lips to lips, nose pressed against nose, he brings a hand to your jawline and he leans forward into you. Eager, very eager.

“Something tells me you want a little more than just kisses,” you laugh when he parts his lips from yours, trailing his pecks across your cheek and dipping them down to your neck. You practically feel his smirk against your skin.

“You know me so well,” he laughs softly, breath fanning over your skin. 

You run your hands down his chest, stopping at the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards. He pulls away enough to help you remove it, flashing you a grin in the process. He’s not going to say it, but you both know he’s not the only one who wants a little more than just kisses.

His shirt thrown to the side, you run your fingers over his bare chest. The breeze coming in, and your gentle touch work in tandem to sprout goosebumps over his skin. He shivers, shaking his head gently, making you huff a soft laugh. He flashes you another smile, this time, hands grabbing to lift up your shirt.

“Let’s see how you like it,” he teases.

He pulls the cotton of your shirt up and over your head and before he has the chance to touch you, you already feel the crawl of goosebumps over your skin, as well as a light mist from the rain blowing in. Shivering immediately, Eddie laughs softly, but doesn’t hesitate to bring you close to him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you warmed up,” he teases, making you laugh. 

His arms snaking behind your back, a quick tug on the clasp on your bra has it coming undone. He guides you downwards, helping you lay back onto the carpeted and blanket covered floor. 

Both arms caging you in, he hovers over you, letting you still feel his radiating warmth, but leaving just enough space between you two to free you from your bra. His mouth spreads into a smirk as soon as your hardened nipples come into his view, already perked and pebbled from the chill. 

“S’cold,” you whisper.

“Poor baby,” he coos.

He dips his face down, placing kisses to your collar bones and slowly working his way down. His hands rub your sides in long languid motions, careful friction with the intention of warming you up. At the same time, he presses his body to yours, sharing all of his warmth. 

His kisses get lower and lower until he’s sucking harshly on your chest, each press of his mouth like a spark of warmth in your bloodstream. He’s doing a good job of keeping his promise to warm you up. 

His mouth connects to your nipple, the heat of his mouth like a sweet relief that encompasses your whole body, all the way down to your core. 

Your hands weave into his hair as his tongue swirls and sucks. When he switches sides, taking your other nipple into his mouth, you hardly have the mind to feel the way the dampness of your skin nearly frosts in the air. No, instead, your hips cant upwards, seeking relief elsewhere now. 

“Eddie,” you hum, tugging lightly at the roots of his hair.

He hums back with a raised inflection in his tone— asking you what you need without parting his mouth from you. You lift your hips again, the denim of your jeans meeting his lower belly with the way he’s positioned over you.

He removes his mouth from your chest with a wet ‘pop’ before looking up at you with a cute smile and contradictory dark eyes. 

“Feeling warmer?” he asks through his grin. 

“More,” you whisper pleadingly. 

His smile deepens, eyes dancing in amusement as he passes his hands down your sides a final time, pushing himself up and giving himself the space he needs to remove both of your remaining clothes. 

“You know,” he starts. His hands work at your pants, undoing them, while he spares you quick glances, a certain mischievousness lingering in each look your way. “They say if you ever meet somebody who might have hypothermia, you’re supposed to cuddle with them naked.” 

“Funny,” you huff quietly, trying to stop the way your lips demand to tug up. You lift your hips for him as he shimmies your jeans down your body. 

He meets your gaze once again with raised brows. “I’m serious, saw it on one of those survival shows,” he says as he throws your pants to the side. 

You match his gaze, raising your brows to mirror his. “Eddie, you’ve already got me down to my underwear, don’t think I need any more convincing,” you reply with nothing but adoration for him in your voice. He laughs, and you beckon him forward, sitting up just enough to reach his pants, tugging the belt undone. Eddie helps you with the rest, freeing himself from both his denim and boxers. 

“Hope nobody comes out here or they’re gonna see a whole lotta ass,” he says as he tosses his clothes next to yours. 

You bring your hands to the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down and Eddie quickly takes over, pulling them the rest of the way down your legs and adding them to the pile of clothes.

“Nobody comes out here,” 

“You’re only saying that ‘cause it’s not your ass on the line, it’s mine,” he laughs as he situates himself, guiding your knees outwards to make space for himself. His hardened cock demands your attention as it bobs in front of you, but you catch his gaze.

“They’d be lucky to see your ass,” you smile sweetly at him, knowing it’s the truth— that if someone did come out here, he’s the one in the direct line of sight, not you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiles back, rolling his eyes. You huff a laugh through your nose, pulling him closer to you, making kissy lips at him. He indulges you, leaning forward and sweeping you up in a kiss that he’s quick to deepen. 

With his body hovering over yours, he moves his forearm to rest on the floor under your shoulder to keep himself steady. His free hand snakes between the two of you, sliding along your lower belly until he reaches your mound. His fingers quickly breach your folds, gliding towards your already slicked hole. Groaning into the kiss, he gathers your wetness on his fingertips before moving back up to your clit. 

Slow circles on your sensitive button, your breath hitches. At the same time, your hips buck— your body's way of demanding more. 

The kiss becomes sloppy, wet, and full of your heavy pants. Eventually, you lose the capacity to move your lips against his as he continues his movements, speeding them up ever so slightly. Your chest rises and falls with your quickened breaths as he works you past just relief and well into the territory of explicit pleasure, heat blooming heavily in your lower belly. 

“Need you t-t—“ you stutter, your own ragged breath interrupting your speech. 

“Need me to what, baby?” Eddie asks, relishing in the way he has you worked up like this, nearly so far gone that you can hardly speak.

“Inside. You,” you moan, trying to gather your wits. “Please.”

“My girl wants to cum on my cock?” he says tauntingly, loving the sight of you like this. He speeds up his fingers and your hips stutter, the emptiness inside of you becoming too much to bear. 

“Please,”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for it. Think you’re warmed up enough?” he taunts again, keeping his unrelenting pace on your clit. 

“Mhm,” you hum in a strangled breath. “Please, Eddie.”

His movements on your clit stop and are replaced with the throb of need. Before your whined breath can carry up from your lungs, through your throat, and out your mouth, his cock is at your entrance pushing in, quickly bottoming out inside of you. He steals every ounce of your breath, pushing it from you in a heavy mewl, his own deep groan sounding in your ear as he leans in closer to you. 

“Fuck, how’s that feel, baby?” he asks.

You suck in a breath, whining softly, and he presses a kiss to your cheek. He hums, encouraging you to answer his question.

“Feels good, Eddie.” you moan.

“Yeah?”

“Always feels good.”

Eddie presses another kiss to your cheek, followed by a quick peck to your lips before shifting. Taking both your knees in his hands, he tilts your hips upwards giving himself better leverage. As he does, he cock perfectly pushes against your g spot, knocking you breathless once again. 

“Just like that, huh?” he rasps, watching you as you take steadying breaths, eyes already fluttering. You nod your head fervently, desperately needing him to move. 

Meeting his gaze, he smiles softly, knowing exactly what you need. 

Slowly but surely, he pulls his hips back from yours. Pushing back in, the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot again and you sigh contendently as your eyes flutter unrelentingly in your pleasure.

He finds a steady pace that has you moaning and mewling. Every stroke bringing you closer to the edge, the chilly breeze is a thing of the past. The way the rain patters against the van and the gentle sounds of the wind whispering through the air doesn’t breach your consciousness in the slightest. The only thing on your mind is Eddie— and when he brings his hand to your clit, continuing those pleasure filled little circles, your mind is reduced to nothing but a puddle of love for him and how he’s making you feel.  

“F-fuck, feels so good,” he stutters, picking up his pace. 

You feel the heat simmering in your belly and you know any second you're about to reach your peak. Grasping forward, you anchor yourself to Eddie with a desperate hand wrapping around his arm, clutching onto him with everything you have.

His breathing is ragged, grunts and groans decorating each thrust into you. Skin on skin, the sticky slapping and the wet obscenities with each pump give nature's sounds that echo through the field a run for their money. 

He picks up his speed on your clit, abruptly pushing you right over the edge. Your body tenses, pulses, and stutters under him, washing you over in the euphoria of your high. Eddie’s not far behind as he chases you into the waters of pleasure. 

With your hips jerking kinetically from his fingers on your clit, he relents his movements, pressing his hand to your hip, anchoring himself to you much as you had done to him. As his fingers press into your skin, his pace starts to become uneven. 

With a low groan, he thrusts deeply into you, his hips meeting yours completely. The depth of his reach and sudden contact on your sensitive clit has you jolting, adding a second wave to your dwindling orgasm. Your muscles tense harshly, fluttering around him, making him nearly whine as he comes undone. Drawing from you once again, he continues slow, shallow thrusts, working himself through his release. 

Your orgasm subsiding, you hum happily, still feeling the tingly remnants of pleasure in your body all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. Eddie collapses besides you, not going far at all, mere inches from being halfways on top of you. 

Reaching your hand over his back, you're met with his wet skin, more damp than just sweat, and you retract your touch out of surprise. 

“S’just rain,” he mumbles into your skin. You return your touch, gliding it down the expanse of his drenched skin. You use your hand to slick it off from him.

“Didn’t know you were getting rained on,” you say, shaking the water from your hand before settling it back down against his back, cuddling closer to him. 

“It’s only water,” he replies, lifting his head to see you, a grin pulled across his rosy face. 

You both lie like that for a while, sharing whispers and each other's company before separating enough to put yourselves back together. In the moment you hadn’t noticed just how much rain was blowing in through the open doors. Only after the fact did you realize the way the carpet was heavily dotted with wet drops and how both yours and Eddie’s legs were coated in a misted dew. Eddie got the brunt of the rain, his whole backside dripping wet. 

You helped him dry off, giving him kisses for his sacrifice despite him telling you it was well worth it. Once you were both redressed, you wrapped the two of you in one of the fuzzy blankets you keep back here. 

“Why’d we stop coming here?” Eddie asks, pulling you in tighter to his side. 

Tilting your face up towards him, you raise your brows as you meet his gaze. “Because you started only bringing me to your bed,” you reply, hiding your smile by pursing your lips. He laughs, face lights up with amusement, a deep smirk spreading across his face because he knows you’re right. 

“Well, this was fucking amazing, I think we should do this more often,” he jest, pinching at your side. You squirm but he rubs his hand over the affected area, soothing the pinch and the tickles away.

With a warning raise of your brows, despite your unwavering smile, he takes the hint, placing a quick kiss to your cheek like a sugar coated apology. 

You agree with him, you should come back here more often, but you don’t indulge him in that information just yet. Instead you redirect your gaze over the kingdom of wildflowers in front of you. 

The rain, slowing to a drizzle, your eyes reap over the field, taking in the small details you used to be so well acquainted with. It’s both nostalgic and bittersweet. It’s the same place you once knew, yet, at the same time, it’s entirely different. 

It’s a tender wash of feelings. The field flourished without you. Similarly, you and Eddie flourished without the field. It was a funny thing to come back like this— like both you and Eddie, and the field greeted each other so dearly, with heavy rain drops that felt like tears, only to show off the ways in which you’ve both grown since you’ve been apart. 

Growing is a part of life, as it is a part of love, both of which you’ve become familiar with ever since you met Eddie. Before, you thought love was supposed to be fiery crimson and vibrant magenta, heavily embellished with love hearts and fireworks. As time has gone on, you’ve grown to understand that love has shades. Love can be vivid and flashy and extravagant, but it can also be the simple things. 

Right now, love is an overgrown field, hued blue from the overcast sky, with green grass sprinkled in pink, orange, yellow, and red confetti. Love is rosy cheeks and rain misted skin. Love is simple, natural. Love is you, Eddie, and the wildflowers. 

✿⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☁︎˚｡⋆ ✿

Thank you! hope you like it <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

Etho cannot deny that in some way, the ocean is messing with his friends, and that he noticed far too late.

It targets Gem first, long before it goes after anyone else, so subtly it’s almost undetectable. Here’s the way he notices: her little boat is cute, but the mangrove wood on the trim seems old and rotten in some places, murky river water staining the paint that coats the sides. The lighthouse, when built, seems washed out, as if the color has been sucked from the stone that forms it. Etho finds this strange, but refuses to jump to conclusions- Gem is still his little sibling with the same warm smile, so he lets it be for now.

It’s really when the fishing craze begins where Etho starts having doubts about the normalcy of things. Grian is in no way an average person most of the time, but this level of dedication is new and sort of suspicious. It starts with the mending book, which is fine, since he’s decided to avoid villager trading this season. Etho comes over sometimes and jokes about the luck of the sea. Here is where it gets weird, though: when he comes over to make that joke again, Grian turns his head, oh so slowly, expression serious and eyes blank as he replies.

“The ocean will provide the book. It’s the next one, I know it.”

It takes a little more effort than it should for Etho to not turn tail and run. The tambre of his friend’s voice is off-kilter and strange, almost hollow in the way it echoes. And it’s the way he doesn’t say mending, he just says the book- Etho can’t help but feel like he isn’t fishing for enchantments anymore. The air smells of rot and slime. He swallows bile, gives a little uh-huh as a reply, and leaves as soon as he can.

Then there’s Pearl and Beef, obsessed with salmon, of all things. Pearl’s thing seems like a one-off, but Doc tells him that Beef has taken the joke about “big salmon” a little too far, claiming he’s gotten emails from them that have threatened the goat directly. Etho doesn’t really know what to make of that, or Pearl’s salmon head, or the continuous slapping of fish on noteblocks that’s driving him insane.

But he knows this: he’s never really liked fishing before, not for its intended use, anyway. It’s good to have in a death game, but not once has Etho found the monotonous motions of fishing appealing. Grian said it best himself: he used to think fishing was lame. And he did. Does. He thinks it’s lame. He thinks all of this stuff about the river and the boats and the ocean and the salmon and the rot is all really weird and not at all cool. He’s only here to make sure his friends are okay. Not to fish, because he doesn’t want to, just to keep Magic Mountain in line.

But Grian says it again: Etho walked up here and was like ‘this is lame’, now look at him! Etho, in turn, looks at his hands. When did he start fishing? Was the sun always that high in the sky? Did the ocean always sing like that? Was there always a magnetic force to the waves at the shore, pulling him closer with every lap of sea foam? Was the lighthouse always this beautiful?

No, no it wasn’t. He knows this. Something is very, very wrong. There’s something in the water that’s making his friends lose it, and there’s something supernatural that’s trying to pull him in. He needs to get out of here, back to the jungle, with its nice green grass and earthy smells-

To his right, Etho hears his death call. The bell rings, the swan sings, and the water keeps lapping at his feet. It’s too late, he knows it, in the way that his hands are gripping the fishing pole with white knuckles, in the way the lilypads seem to grow under his feet to get him closer to the great deep blue. The music continues, the serenade settling into his bones, giving him an eerie sense of calm.

In the magnetic pull of the moment, he doesn’t even realize he’s crying.

#woosh writes #hermitcraft #ethoslab #grian #geminitay #oceans calling au #<- that’s the tag I’m using for this- l will edit the other fics tag to have this later #anyways I’m So Fucking Normal about this

[gh0st-in-green-c0nverse]

sea salt

percy jackson & gn! reader — reader comes back to camp after a long summer away

tw - implied alcoholism (not of reader but of a parent)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Just call it fall. No one calls it autumn.”

The curb digs into the backs of your thighs, shorts not doing much for the growing chill.

“I call it autumn.”

“hm. Weird.”

There’s a girl who lives down the street from you, by the stop sign on the corner. She has eyes like chocolate and ribbons in her hair. Her name is—

“Penny, I don’t get why the leaves here never turn. They go from green to brown. It’s stupid.”

She takes a long, contemplative sip from her juicebox. “Weather ain’t cut out for it. It gets real pretty upstate, though. That’s where you’re going tomorrow, right?”

A beat. Right, the ‘boarding school’ you go to every school year.

“Yeah. Right. The scenery’s beautiful.” Penny takes another loud sip. “Apple?”

“Grape.” She shows you the box as if you needed proof. You wrinkle your nose.

“That’s—"

clang!

“Penny!!!!” Someone screeches. It echoes, bounces around the neighborhood in the fading light.

Her brother rounds the corner, bicycle helmet dangling from one hand, blood dripping down his knees.

“Holy hell,” Penny swears. She stands with an apologetic glance. “Have fun upstate. Send me pictures of the le—"

“Penny!!!”

You laugh. “I will! You better go tend to him. He’s clearly in critical condition.”

She rolls her eyes. “How dire.” But she jogs over to him anyways.

One by one, the streetlights flicker on. There’s a melancholy that comes with the dusk that you can’t shake.

Penny’s left her juicebox.

You start home.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

It feels like you’re suffocating the second you step through the front door.

It’s simple. Get the taxi money from the drawer in the kitchen, go back to your room, stay there until you can leave tomorrow. Just this one thing.

Just this last thing.

The floorboards creak as you walk through the kitchen. There are glass bottles and crumpled cans on the counter. You toss them in the bin and make a mental note to stay away from Dad.

The drawer sticks the first time you pull on it, so you pull again, harder. It scrapes open.

You grab a twenty and some change and concurrently nick yourself on the stapler. Blood wells. You hiss through your teeth.

Dad is in the living room on the couch, knocked out. His breath is sour.

You tiptoe upstairs. Just one more night. Then you can leave again.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The door slams shut behind you.

You shoulder the duffel bag and close the trunk of the car.

“You sure this is where?” The taxi driver is a stern looking lady. Her hair is streaked with gray.

“Yep, I’m sure.”

You’re at the base of the hill.

“Really? Because there’s nothing here.”

“I’m meeting someone here,” you say, attempting a sure smile. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

She stares at you for a moment, eyes narrowing. “‘Kay.”

The taxi sputters off.

You’ve never understood why they made the entrance to camp so damn steep. This sucks, this sucks, this sucks, muttered with every footfall.

The grass is making your ankles itch.

It’s all worth it when you cross the camp boundary, though. You can feel it, like a shift in the air. You breathe it in, feel the pressure in your chest start to dissipate.

Someone calls your name, excited and breathless. You turn and immediately are sent stumbling back by a blur of orange.

They smell like cut grass and salt. Not like sweaty salt, but like sea salt. It’s nice.

“Hey, Percy.”

He laughs into your shoulder, arms wrapped around your back.

“Hi.”

You let your head rest against his. Gods, you’ve missed this place. You’ve missed him.

Your eyes sting. The orange fabric at his shoulders bunches as you hug him tighter. He rocks back and forth on his feet but lets you cling to him.

You’re the one who pulls away first.

“You okay?” He murmurs.

He could feel the tremble of your fingers when they were laced behind his back.

“Yeah. Why?”

Percy searches for something in your eyes. You’re not sure what though. Maybe an excuse to pry about the watery sheen to them.

He doesn’t pry, though. Instead, he leads you back to the pavilion, hand in hand.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

By the time you’ve settled in, the sun is dipping below the pine trees. Yesterday at this time, you were on the curb with Penny. Now, you sit before a roaring campfire, the gloom of dusk chased away by kids giggling and music playing.

The smoke is sweet smelling. It draws spirals in the sky, dusty gray stark against orange streaks.

You’re somewhere off to the side of the benches. It’s too loud right next to the flames.

Percy’s shoulder is barely brushing yours.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay here for the summer.” His voice is quiet. It dissolves sweetly with the smoke.

“Me too.”

You can feel him turn to look at you, curls ghosting the shell of your ear.

“I missed you.”

You turn to look at him, to really look at him. There’s something sad behind his eyes, but it’s barely there. It flickers in the firelight. Maybe it’s what he saw in yours.

“Me too. It’s good to be back.”

You link your pinky with his and he smiles at you, sickeningly sweet.

It really is good to be back.

The fire roars. You let your head drop to his shoulder. Percy drops his head too, his cheek to your temple.

That night, you text Penny.

hey. you were right; the leaves are really pretty upstate. hope your brother survived. x

#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fics #percy jackon and the olympians

[love-that-we-were-in]

pretty as a vine (sweet as a grape)

pairing: luke castellan x reader summary: luke castellan might be everyone's favorite councilor over the summer. he might be a little too sweet for you in the fall. word count: 1.7k warnings: none

authors note: thank you to @wlntrsldler for letting me steal this concept from you even if making luke a real tried and true loser was a struggle. hope y'all enjoy!!

It was rare to see Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy without his signature smile on his face; always ready to help, always ready to please. 

You’d only had a handful of conversations with Luke Castellan, passing words in the height of hectic summer heat. Most of them in the middle of the night, when all the campers should be tucked away in the cabins, but you’d take the brief moments of quiet to wander the grounds with a lit cigarette hanging off your lips. 

Luke would approach you every time, always the same way, a pink flush on his cheeks and a quiet, timid voice telling you that he had to enforce the rules, that he had to send you back to your cabin because it was past curfew.

You’d roll your eyes, lick your lips, wave the smoke obscuring your view of him away playfully and promise to head back after this one. He’d nod and walk away, and you’d pretend not to notice his silhouette hidden behind one of the trees, not quite obscured enough by the lack of lighting to go wholly unnoticed, waiting for you to make your way back to where you’re supposed to be. 

He was sweet, too sweet, sometimes. Making sure you were safe, that nothing bad would happen to you even after taking his supposed leave. It was cute, really, how he acted around you underneath the starlight, always so nervous and flustered, like he’d never seen a woman before. You supposed, confined to the parameters of camp for so many years, he really hadn’t seen many of them.

It’s something you carry with you this year, watching as summer fades into fall, how camp suddenly empties. You’re not sure what to make of it, how still everything seems now, how the usual noise dampens into almost nothing and you itch for the hurriedness of July to return. 

You’re lucky, really, to have spent so long exploring the world beyond camp, seeing what growing up had to offer as if it were normal. A lot of the kids you see now, they haven’t experienced a half of what you have, trading high school for battling dragons at someone else’s request, and it shows each year like clockwork. 

If you’re honest, hidden behind the treeline near the lake, camp makes you uneasy like this. Less busy, less extreme - walking the thin line between a place to train and a place to live - and it has you more on edge than before. It could be that you’ve grown accustomed to the bustle of the Boston streets. It might just be that Luke has been hiding just beyond view since you lit your cigarette.

“I know, I know,” you say when he finally approaches. He stumbles, familiar flush blotching the skin of his neck, climbing the tips of his ears. “Just let me finish this one.” 

He nods and you wait for him to walk away, follow his usual path back into the forest. He doesn’t, standing on the damp grass nearby without saying a word, and you look at him again. 

You’re used to seeing Luke Castellan in different forms - it’s part of how he lives. Nervous and unsure and so confident with a sword that it’s a little insane that he’s the same person during training as is standing in front of you now. 

He’s got this little dip to his shoulders, fingers tapping against his own thigh as you stare at him. His curls are slightly longer than when summer started, curling around his ears and resting just above his brows. He’s got a sweatshirt on, dark green and oversized, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip the longer you take to look away. 

“You can head back,” you say eventually, flicking ash to the ground at your feet. “I promise to be good and go straight to bed.” 

It’s not meant to be anything, merely an assurance. But there’s this way Luke reacts to it, how his fingers stop tapping in favor of clenching his first, how he breathes deeper for a few breaths, how he swallows around nothing, that ignites something under your skin. Makes you want to push that little bit further. 

“You really need to stop coming out after curfew,” he mumbles in the end, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his sweater. It’s soft and a little warm and you wonder if it’s the humidity or Luke himself that’s responsible. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You’re sweet, Castellan,” you crush the butt of your cigarette out, brushing past him to start the trek back to your cabin. “It’s kind of adorable.” 

You hear him suck in a breath. You don’t hear his footsteps directly behind you as you walk through the foliage. You kind of wish you’d turned around to see the blush rise on his cheeks. 

Maybe you will next time.

*

Next time doesn’t come for weeks. It gives you space to observe Luke now, when he’s being pulled in fewer directions, when there’s lower expectations. You learn that neither of those things exist where Luke is concerned; that he has this inability to not be helpful, to not put himself forward when no one else will. He somehow takes up more responsibilities as fall gets underway, smiling wide when you know you’d be stretched thin. 

It’s admirable, to a point, and you want to know how he does it.

A few years ago, you convinced yourself Luke was only on when the sun shone brightest. Watching him demonstrate a throw to a young Athena kid, you think he might be the sun itself. 

“Nice arm,” is what you greet him with when the little girl runs off, ball in hand. He pauses his hands where they rest on the fabric of his pants, still slightly bent at the knees from helping and lips parted as he glances up at you. “She seemed happy.” 

“She just needed some help with the technique.”

He shrugs and stands to actually face you. 

Mid-afternoon at camp has never really sat well with you. Always slower, sun burning and campers left to fill their own time before dinner. You’ve never really known what to do with it; Luke squints at the grounds before you as if he’s searching for who needs him next.

“Do you ever take a break?” Is what you say when the silence drags on for too long. 

Luke blinks, lips parting. A group of Hephaestus kids laugh from down by the lake. You wait. 

“I go to bed at midnight.”

“And what time do you wake up?” You kick at the grass below your feet, taking in how Luke stumbles for an answer, brown eyes darting each way as if it’ll fall from the sky. 

“The apollo kids really love watching the sunrise,” he chokes out in the end, digging his hands into his pockets. You wonder if he thinks it makes his nerves less obvious. “It’s a really nice sunrise.” 

“Come watch it with me tomorrow.”

You say it partly for the reaction itself. That same quick breath Luke takes each time you say something that shocks him, the red tint to his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the harsh movement of his adams’ apple. You kind of also really want to see how Luke Castellan changes between day and night - if it’s a version of him you just haven’t read yet. 

You don’t mention that you’ll have to force yourself out of bed, unused to early rising. 

He nods, three quick nods like he thinks you’ll take it back if he’s not enthusiastic enough. 

You smile then. “I’ll see you later, Luke.”

*

He meets you where he usually does, further north than anyone tends to go at any hour, let alone this early. There’s less hesitation to his steps than a few nights ago, your invitation dangling between you both something like a promise. 

“I’m not gonna bite,” you say when he stops just short of the rock you’ve claimed. You glance over at where he’s just feet away, bright orange camp tee peeking out from his grey hoodie. “It’s too early for that.”

“Oh.” 

There’s some shuffling before Luke is perching himself on the stone next to you. He’s close enough to touch from here, the makeshift seat just barely big enough for two people to share, and you take in how he tucks his hands into his pockets, makes himself take up as little room as possible. 

Outside of his swordsmanship, you’ve never seen Luke take up much space at all.

“This is nice,” he says eventually, the sun starting to peer over the lake. 

There’s something almost beautiful about what the sunrise does for him, you realise. Neither of you have moved, Luke’s gaze still locked on the horizon, but you’ve transferred your attention to him. You’ve seen the lake enough times. You’ve never seen Luke Castellan’s chest rising and falling with each steady breath, or the way his eyes turn a little gold when the sun hits them just right. How he relaxes in the autumn chill.

“You’re really pretty, Luke.”

It slips past your lips before it fully forms in your mind. His head snaps to the side, cheeks flushing and lips parted. You hadn’t meant to say it, too caught up in the slow start to the morning, but it’s out there and you don’t want to take it back.

“Such a pretty boy,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

“I-“ Luke starts, before clearing his throat. You see his hands twitch in his pockets. “What?” 

You twist on the rock underneath you, lifting your legs so they’re crossed, knees brushing the edge of Luke’s thigh. His eyes drop at the movement.

This should feel weird at camp. You’d fallen into the habit of flirting back in Boston, something to fill the gaps and score you a cigarette when you really needed help to get them. Never like this though - like the moment was delicate and its shattering was solely in your hands. 

The ability to shatter Luke Castellan, Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy, rests on your shoulders in an early sunrise.

When his breath hitches as you push yourself closer, you think you’d like to watch him shatter in the sunlight. 

Pretty doesn’t even come close when it happens.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

[strawberrystepmom]

i'd crawl home to her

pairing: hades!geto suguru x persephone f!reader

word count: 10.8k

about: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.

contents: cw dark content - kidnapping, possessive leaning on yandere behavior, stockholm syndrome to a degree, lore accordant misogyny (ugh i know). this is a retelling of the hades and persephone myth, it is not exact to the prior iterations - creative liberties, etc. reader is quite naive but has her own personality and genuinely cares for suguru. piv sex, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, virginity loss. zeus gojo, hecate shoko. weird happy ending bc ofc this is something EYE wrote.

notes: i was personally asked to repost this and figured finishing the story and posting it full length would be the best way. this is the full and final version of what was formerly known as crawling. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy it.

floral divider is thanks to @/saradika

Earth’s sun rises with you, Suguru concludes on his fourteenth morning outside his bleak domicile.

Perched high above the meadow you tend every morning, the sun rising higher in the sky with every step you take across soft green grass, he watches. The backlight drenches you until you’re a mere silhouette, hard even for his superhuman vision to make out. 

He doesn’t need the sunlight to do anything but glow across every curve and dip of you - his mind can easily paint the rest of the picture.

You live behind his eyes every time he closes them.

He luxuriates in the feeling of shutting them to imagine you while he’s in this form, something inhuman that may belong among your trees and your blossoms. Something unlike who he really is. 

Opening his eyes as he hears branches creak beneath where he rests, he readies himself to swoop into the landing you are approaching. 

Sighing with each step, the gentle sweep of the hem of your dress across your feet tethers you back to your reality. The grass tickles the bottoms of your bare feet and you squint as you peer into the distance ahead, unable to make out more than vague shapes of flora. 

A golden cage with crawling vines along the bars is still a cage, one to which your mother holds the only key. You are reminded of this impenetrable truth with every muffled step that grows quicker as you notice something in your clearing. 

A bird, larger than any you’ve ever seen, rests atop the grass with its wing twisted at an unnatural angle. The sight makes you gasp and you begin to sprint, filled with concern. The dryads haven’t yet arrived to tend the meadow with you - you’re alone. 

You’re unprotected. 

You’re his.

A pathetic caw leaves the large bird’s beak as you approach. The sound is strangled and makes your heart squeeze, mind immediately reeling imagining the suffering this animal must be going through. 

Despite being kept under lock and key, this meadow is your domain and nothing will hurt as long as you are here. You vowed long ago to make this so. 

You sink to your knees beside the bird. Suguru sees the tips of your fingers before he sees anything else, the beady eyes of the body he’s inhabiting keeping him from taking in too much of you at once. 

“You poor thing,” you speak without a trace of irony or false sympathy. Your voice is more beautiful than any melody he has overheard the dryads cast into the sky and relief washes over him as the sound. “What’s happened to you?”

He caws again, the sound stronger this time and you smile. Perhaps he’s feeling better, you ponder as his shift away from you and shut. His soul shutters with anticipation as you lean over him. 

This bird is unlike any wildlife you’ve ever tended to in your lands, large and inky in color. You are more accustomed to robins or the occasional duck, things as gentle as the life you lead. Ducks don’t even have claws, Suguru thinks as you stroke a pattern across his beak with your index finger, suddenly too aware of his own talons in this form. 

Those same talons twitch and you frown, moving from his beak to gently petting his head. 

“Are you in any pain?”

The concern you hold for Suguru makes him feel a bit hazy, your mind too precious and concerned with helping him to notice the rapidly browning grass surrounding the two of you. 

He eventually kills everything he touches, smothering the light out of every last brightened corner in his life. It makes him feel guilty knowing you’ll just be one more light to extinguish but he can’t allow this to continue.

This want he has for you - the need growing into a pit as endless as the one he alone casts souls into. 

You are his. 

A soft gasp leaves you as the once injured wing of the bird you sit next to appears to be healed untouched. No longer bent and dangling, the strength returning as the bird lifts his head. Fear paralyzes you when you recognize something distinctly human in the darkened eyes that glance up in your direction. 

This is no bird of your lands.

Adrenaline rushes but you stay, watching the bird twitch as he begins to transform into something inexplicable before your eyes. Feathers give way to hair, a beak to a face. You draw your fingers back as wings become hands but they’re captured quickly between cool fingers much larger than yours. 

Fear blankets your mind and you gape at Suguru as he transforms into a man - nude, bare to the sunlight. You can make out every defined plane muscle and scar, the sight as terrifying as it is alluring. You know all too well who has trapped you between his talons. 

“Why are you here?”

Despite the terror in your widened eyes, desire flickers within them. Suguru notices you do not flinch or stray as he reaches out and caresses your jaw with his fingertips in the same pattern you were gently etching across his beak. 

“For you.”

Almost as if you are no longer in control of your own body, you melt into his touch and your eyes grow heavy. His large palm cups your cheek and he gently pinches the soft round between his index finger and thumb.

He wishes you’d come willingly but he can’t be certain and will not leave room for error. 

Your eyes flutter shut gently, your body slackening as the magic he used to coerce you to sleep takes hold. Bundling you against his bare chest, a victorious smile crosses his handsome features.

You are his, wrapped in his embrace, and he holds you as delicately as a fragile newborn as the ground shakes beneath the two of you.

“Let’s return home,” he mutters down at you knowing there will be no response. Your breathing is steady, little puffs of air leaving your barely open lips. He presses his palm against your cheek, your throat, your chest. 

He resists the urge to map you out knowing he’ll have plenty of time to do so as soon as the two of you have settled in the underworld. 

The God above answered when your mother cried out to the heavens and Earth herself the first evening you did not return to your mother. 

Your routine has been the same for many of your living years - trudging back to your family estate with muddy feet and eyes you have to force open to stay awake through the evening meal you used to share with her. Days spent beneath the sun turning to evenings withering beneath another light altogether.

Satoru set his cerulean gaze on the lands below, the verdant rolling hills of Demeter's domain, and he knew without a second thought the encroacher who had been there. Brown grass in the shape of footprints led straight to your clearing - where he knew Suguru trapped you.

His need had become insatiable, a fear they’d all kept to themselves for far too long.

Lounging across an ornate chaise in the social room of Demeter’s estate, Satoru eyes her home carefully. Everything here is so polished, so prim. It’s a wonder she has ever let you get your hands dirty at all, her little blossom ripe to be plucked straight from her stem. 

“Go to him,” Demeter begs the god with teary eyes, his snowy hair framing his unnervingly handsome face. “Please make him return her to me.”

Satoru chuckles and lifts a chalice to his lips, the two legged land nymphs and servants that also serve the woman across from him tittering anxiously. They’re lucky to be witnessing the handsome god in front of them, they’ve all remarked several times over. He sips and lets the taste of the richest wine this world has to offer drench his taste buds before smacking his lips appreciatively. 

A lazy grin crosses his features which infuriates your mother. 

“You know I can’t do that, Demeter,” he holds the chalice out to the waiting hands of a servant who graciously accepts with a measured smile. “I’m as unwelcome in his domain as he is in mine.”

Suguru simultaneously watches the conversation through a looking glass hanging on the wall of his quarters and you as you sleep, an enchanted rest he created with a spell he has not yet decided when to break. 

This transition will be easier for you if you rest, he decided when he concocted the plan to bring you here in the first place. He rips his gaze away from the glass before him and wistfully gazes at your little form. Your soft breaths, your little hums and yawns. The way you shift against him when he joins you at your side, looking for warmth he cannot give.

He balls his fists and returns to his watching.

“He kidnapped my daughter!” Your mother shouts, back of her hand pressed to her forehead as an unimpressed Satoru raises his brow unenthusiastically. “Do you have proof?”

Suguru can’t help but smirk, shaking his head at his old friend. He wishes things could’ve been different between them but Satoru belonged amongst the clouds, a god and friend to all. He finds himself exactly where he belongs - in the darkness below, the unknown depths at which mortal life ends and everything else begins.

His attention shifts as you do in his bed, little mutters spilling from your lips in a rapid enough pace he grows concerned and stands over the edge. His hair is so long it nearly graces the edge of the bundled blankets below him and he listens to your soft voice intently, as if nothing else matters. As if he weren’t just eavesdropping a mother’s desperate plea for the safe return of her child.

“Where am I?”

Suguru believes he can make out the words spilling from your lips and your eyes flutter open. He sinks to his knees beside you, a large hand cupping your cheek. He cannot tell if you are unafraid or just too unaware to shrink at his touch. I’ll take my chances, he thinks as he grabs your other hand with his free one.

“You’re home and safe, my treasure.”

Looking around the dimly lit room, your brow furrows and he softens at the sight. You delight him, in your soft and beautiful glory, and he wants you so badly it’s going to consume him. It already has.

Nodding at his words, your eyes begin to focus and you feel hands upon you. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been sleeping, it could be hours or months, but you feel rested and whole. Your fingers do not hurt nor are they blistered, your feet are warm and dry.

“Are you…him?” 

You ask and Suguru leans further onto the bed until his chest is pressed against the blankets, his face resting against the bundle of them directly over your stomach and chest. He shakes his head gently, still cupping your face. He uses his hold to point your chin downward so that your eyes meet his. 

“Who?”

A gentle sigh escapes you and you lean into his touch, head heavy with fatigue. You are still not completely aware of your surroundings but you can think back to the times as a child your mother warned you of a man who offered nothing but darkness.

“You are the light of this world, my child.” She would warn you as you sat upon her lap and let her brush and manipulate her hair into the style she liked best. “Don’t ever let darkness consume you. Do not let him reach you.”

You giggle softly and your sleepy gaze dances over the handsome face of the man next to you. Angular and sharp, yet something distinctly and indescribably boyish lives inside of his eyes. Perhaps it's an internal softness, a fondness for you, turning outward.

“The God of the Underworld,” you whisper and he feels your palm pressed against his where he holds your other hand. “You’re Suguru, aren’t you?”

For a moment, he wonders how far a lie could take him. He could keep you here in his quarters forever, never revealing himself as anything more than a concerned traveler that found you passed out in the meadow. He could lie. He could transform himself again just to eliminate all risk of you leaving.

He could chain you to the bed. He could keep you here, never to let the sun’s rays grace your skin again. He could pluck those beautiful butterfly wings straight from your soul and cage you.

Instead he shakes his head and offers a small smile.

“You’re right, it’s me.”

You laugh again, still groggy and he wonders silently what you find so funny until he hears the raised voice of your mother from the screen behind him once more.

“How could you even insinuate my daughter would leave with a beast like that?” She shouts, snotty sniffles punctuating her words. “A man so vile you cast him out yourself, Satoru, and yet you allow the most delicate thing on this planet to be sullied by his hand.”

Suguru shakes his head and turns his attention back to you, watching as you glance across the room to make sense of your surroundings. How are you so trusting?

“It’s a little dark here.”

He nods, eyeing the sconces on the walls for a moment before saying a name you can’t quite make out in your state. A servant enters the room and he asks that they turn a small knob on each of the fixtures and they do so with a nod, exiting as quickly as they entered the room. The light is still far dimmer than the sunlight you are used to but it helps you further examine the features of the man next to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes flutter shut again, the magic taking its hold over you as Suguru grasps your hand tightly between his. He needs to break the spell completely but he will let you rest, he reasons as you gently fall back into a deep sleep. It pains him to break contact with you, letting go of your hand but keeping your cheek cupped in his palm until he feels satisfied. 

Your mother continues to shout behind him. His interest is only piqued when Satoru speaks, turning his head to glance over his shoulder.

“I will see if I can speak with him, Demeter. You rest until then. Looks like you need it.”

Suguru freezes in place, wondering exactly what his old friend has planned. Perhaps it’s a deterrent from further outbursts from the goddess screeching at him. Reluctantly, he lets you go and rises to his feet and rushes toward the door where one of his most trusted servants is posted outside.

Pulling the door open, he peaks around the corner and the woman in waiting gazes at him expectantly. 

“Yes, my lord?”

Suguru offers a measured glance, dark hair falling over his shoulder as he leans. 

“Please prepare a raven, I have a letter to send.”

Things have been tense since your arrival and Demeter's angry cry to the other gods for your return. Even the lowest of his servants feels strange seeing a sunbeam trailing through the corridors, each of them surprised at how easily you seem to have taken to the human embodiment of darkness itself, although they’d never speak the thought aloud. It’s as if you’re hiding your fear of him, no alarm despite the fact he eyes you hungrily every time your back is turned. 

“My lord?”

The unlucky servant currently standing in his proximity knew the look as soon as he saw it, glancing at the back of your head as if he could look directly through your skull and into your thoughts. The only wish of the God of the Underworld would be to find himself in your thoughts as you are in his.

Despite how easily he loses himself in observing you, Suguru’s brows raise as he shifts his attention from where you gather your skirt in your hands, carefully appraising his estate to the servant approaching him gingerly. Their posture is slumped with anxiety, shoulders rounded forward.  

“You have a visitor.”

Raised brows furrow, the skin between pinching. Folding his arms over his chest, the god lets a sigh he’s unable to stifle escape and turns his back to you reluctantly. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s just that he would rather not leave any of this up to chance. He risked so much bringing you here - why would he leave anything up to chance when fate has deemed it so that you are to be together?

Glancing over his shoulder to where you stand, still curiously staring at the vines that crawl along the columns that make up the structure of the property. The sidelong glance shows him that you are still within an arm's reach and he turns his attention toward the servant. 

“Who is it?”

The servant shakes their head and the pinched skin between his eyebrows further puckers as a frown crawls across his features. The words don’t have his usual bite, despite the frustration on his face, and the servant feels as though they can speak until they see you turn toward Geto’s back from over his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, Lord Geto?” 

Suguru’s attention is pulled away immediately when he hears your voice from a few feet away, your hands grazing the petals of flowers growing despite this unnatural habitat. The ground is dark and cold, no light to warm the soil, yet yellow daffodils spring through the near black dirt. 

“What is it, my treasure?”

In an instant he is by your side, gazing down at the yellow petals that dot the otherwise dark ground. The servants hadn’t mentioned to him that flowers were beginning to bloom again, instead he noticed it now, watching you bend at the waist to grasp delicate yellow petals between your thumb and index finger. 

“Have these always grown here?” Nodding his head at your question, his long hair fans against his chest and you gaze up at him through your lashes curiously. “Yes but it has been a long time since they’ve bloomed.”

Despite knowing he took you against your will, it’s difficult for you to find contempt for the man given how kindly he has treated you. He has given you a space to call your own and expects only your companionship in return. No tilling fields, no guarding the dryads, simply being allowed to exist for the first time in your life without paying a toll to do so.

This is a stark contrast to the life you were plucked from - working sunrise to sunset to appease your unappeasable mother. 

If you miss your home, you haven’t told him so yet. The thought has crossed his mind that you are only playing to his sensibilities, trying to outsmart an old god with your clever youthful ways, but he sees the genuine warmth in your smile when it appears. Aimed at servants, even the damned begging for his forgiveness, your compassionate nature shines through. 

Despite the fact this is not a place meant for one as beautiful as you, he only hopes there will come a time when you his home as a place the two of you are meant to share. The way you eye the daffodils only allows hope to grow inside of him, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you as you pluck the yellow flower from its stem and hold it in his direction with an uncertain smile.

“You won’t be able to keep her here for much longer, Suguru.”

Another voice draws his attention from you and he clenches his jaw, molars grinding together so roughly the joints begin to ache. Shoko, he thinks. Fuck. You stand and gasp, recognizing the woman yourself although you cannot begin to fathom what this visit could mean for you. 

“Good to see you, old friend.” The Goddess of Magic pats his shoulder as she breezes past him to your side, chocolate colored hair parted to expose her face.

You can recall seeing it numerous times throughout your childhood, attending feasts at your mothers’ home on more than one occasion. She’s as beautiful as she is powerful and you can hardly hide your confusion wondering why she would be here, extending a hand in your direction. 

Suguru looms from over your other shoulder, eyes practically blazing as he looks toward the scene unfolding in front of him. She’d come to take you and he simply would not allow it, stepping closer until he stands directly behind you and braces a hand on your shoulder. 

“What business do you have here, Shoko?”

She laughs at his informality and shakes her head, grasping your hand for a moment before dropping it. Looking between them, you swallow thickly and she sighs watching your eyes immediately look upward at Suguru, looking for answers. 

He looks back down at you in the way one may view a treasured pet. She realizes in that moment, as Satoru had warned her, his obsession had won and disrupted the careful balance of the heavens.

“My business is currently gazing up at you as if she’s afraid to look away, my lord.” 

The words strike you between the ribs and you quickly avert your gaze, fixing it on the single flower in your hand. Anger practically pours off of Suguru as he looks over his shoulder at the servant still waiting and nods them over to where the three of you stand. 

“Please return her to her quarters,” he commands and you scoff in protest. Eyes wide, you feel him gently push you in the direction of the servant. Without thinking, you press your heels into the ground you stand on and turn to face him.

“I believe I should be present to find out my own fate.”

The servant gasps bearing witness to your first act of defiance since your arrival. You wait for a flash of anger to cross the Lord of the Underworld’s face but it never comes, a fond smile the sight you see instead. 

“Your fate has already been decided.” The finality in his tone makes you feel captured, mirroring the emotions that swirled through your mind on the day he took you. “You needn’t worry about all of this.”

Lifting his hand from your shoulder, he pets your hair gently before giving you another gentle push in the direction of the waiting servant. This time, you are too stunned to argue and you’re whisked away in an instant. Left only to glance over your shoulder at him, you feel hot tears spill out of the corners of your eyes but you find it difficult to explain why.

Geto’s gaze follows you until you are back inside of the estate and out of his view completely, the goddess staring at him expectantly in a means to end his lovesick antics. It’s beneath him to act like this, as if he’s a parched man and you are a cool stream. 

“Are you aware that her mother is prepared to tip the realms upside down if it means she’ll be returned?”

Shoko doesn’t bother to hide the judgment dripping from every word and he rolls his eyes in response, arms folded over his chest. It’s always a treat to see her longtime friend act as if he were young again, petulantly sulking because his favorite toy needs to be put back in her box. 

“Let her return, Suguru.”

He says nothing, his friend turning to him with an unimpressed glance.

“No young goddess is worth war. I assumed you would’ve figured that out by now.”

He decided long ago that you are worth ripping this realm apart for.

Weeks have passed since the last time you graced Suguru with your presence.

Shoko's visit created unexpected tension between the two of you and he wonders what he could have done to upset you enough that you have completely frozen him out while he takes long strides through the courtyard, eyes falling to the ground below him to see once blooming yellow flowers droop sadly.

They need you just as badly as he does.

"Please call for her again," he mutters to the servant that walks with their head pointed downward to his left. "Explain that is an order and no longer an invitation."

Suguru's discerning gaze doesn't leave the ground but he hears the footfalls that tell him his orders will be fulfilled without question, as expected.

Upon bringing you here, he decided he'd use the gentle approach with you. No reprimand, no demands, just gentle redirection and letting you come out of your shell at your own pace. Those first few weeks were blissful, you'd wait outside his chamber door until he arose to walk along the grounds with you. You refused to touch him, uncertain of where boundaries lie, but you remained curious enough that occasionally your arm would brush against his.

He'd have to claim other duties needed attending to get away from the near suffocating rush of blood from his head to his cock, length stiff and uncomfortable beneath his robes.

Part of him misses that feeling, the rush and flutter of what he has justified in his own mind as love. It certainly must be, he reasons, given the way he has miserably through his own kingdom for weeks while you've refused meals and visitors. Even damning has become uninteresting without the promise of the sun's radiant light across his face once the dirty work is done. You are his sun, his world, his everything.

Why don't you feel the same about him?

A sickening feeling settles in his gut as he wonders if you are communicating with your mother behind his back. Perhaps Shoko's visit brought you the means to do so, a plan to run and hide and stay away. His fist clenches at the thought and he clears his throat, an uncomfortable thickness coating his tongue. That is a possibility he will not, cannot, allow.

Footfalls draw his attention upward and he notices you walking alongside the servant he sent to fetch you. The look on your face is unreadable, you think, but he plucks you out like a ripe little pomegranate with little effort.

You're throwing a fit as a young goddess does. You're old enough to know better, an adult, but young enough not to care and looking the Lord of the Underworld in his face with a pout makes a feline smile spread across his face.

He's so handsome you almost stop in your tracks but you choose to avert your gaze instead, pretending dying vegetation has captured your attention for the first time in days. Suguru chuckles at your insolence, the dangerous man as unintimidated as one can be.

"She rises," he says flatly and he can almost see your shoulders deflate as you continue to refuse to meet his eyes. "Come, come. Let's discuss what's bothering you."

The servant leads you to his side before being dismissed with a wag of his head and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He's everything you remembered seeing a few weeks ago but you cannot shake the way that his dismissal on the day of your goddess visitor upset you. You believed he saw you as more than a pawn, a person rather than a vague outline for his own desires, but you began to question his intentions that day and have ever since.

"Are you happy here?"

The question makes you turn your face toward him, pout falling. Never in your life have you been asked to consider your own happiness.

In your realm, your happiness is directly tied to how happy you make your mother. How hard you work, how harmonious your meadows are, how productive you can be. You struggle to recall the last time anyone besides the dryad, who you technically had and have dominion over, bothered to ask you about yourself.

The act leaves you speechless, his face pointed downward in your direction. You dare to glance up at him and the elegant slope of his nose, his dark eyes narrowed but radiating a warmth you never imagined a man enshrouded in such darkness down to the cape of hair caressing his shoulders would be capable of.

Moving closer to him, you let your arm brush against the sleeve of his robe and he attempts to keep his face stoic despite the sheer gift of your touch. He must keep his cards close to his chest in case you've found a way out - he cannot afford to spare any vulnerability.

"I think that I could be, my lord."

You're choosing your words carefully and he knows it. He watches as you swallow and your face twists, bottom lip quivering. Despite his better judgement he reaches out for you, cupping your soft cheeks between his cool hands. You don't attempt to dodge him or stray, meeting his eyes.

"If I wanted to be forced to meet demands, though, I would have already returned home."

He knows all too well the demands of which you speak, his years spent watching you from below giving him knowledge of the fact you've never been happy locked away while your mother holds the key to your freedom.

"I understand," he starts, dropping his grip on your face and bringing his hands to his sides. It's not that he does not wish to give you the freedom you desire, it's that he cannot do so and please his own desires as well. "Do you wish to return home?"

He asks and you shake your head quickly, firm in your decision to remain here despite things feeling uneasy with Suguru. Locking yourself in your room and spending all of your time alone is better than what awaits you above, the wrath of your mother promising you'll be working in the fields for the rest of your life.

"Lady Shoko promised me safe passage if I wanted to return but I would prefer to stay here if you will allow it."

That smile crosses his face once again and you can't help but mirror it, cheeks heating knowing it's meant for you. In the time the two of you have spent together you can't seem to recall a single time you've seen him smile, much less like that, at anyone else and it sends a swarm of butterflies drifting through your stomach and chest.

"Of course, my treasure," he reaches up to cup your face once again and you gingerly lean into the kind touch, cheek rubbing against the heel of his palm. "As I've told you, this is your home."

Your home. Not his domain, not a place he's graciously allowing you to take residence until he decides his plans for you.

Nodding between his hands, you offer a smile of your own that fades as his face suddenly turns serious.

"This is your home but all homes have rules," he reminds and you nod, eyes wide. His rules cannot be any more confining than the ones you previously dwelled under.

"You are not to contact Lady Shoko without informing me first, understood?"

Uncertainty dances across your face and he tightens his grip on your cheeks for a moment, dipping his head so that your noses nearly touch.

"It's for your safety only," he comforts, spurred on by the way your posture has tensed as you consider what he's saying. "We cannot trust she won't inform your mother and she won't drag you back with her by your hair."

Doubt falls away from your face at mention of your mother and it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from smirking at how quickly you give in at the mere mention of what you left in the first place. Nodding, you accept his words without question and he's reminded of why he's so terribly fond of you in the first place.

"I understand," you mutter, mirroring his previous words to you and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk as he dips his head low enough that your noses do touch this time, the tip of his brushing gently against yours.

"I'll pay any cost to keep you safe and that's why I had you sent away during my conversation with Lady Shoko," he apologizes and you believe he's earnest given the way he looks down through heavily lidded and lashed eyes. "I won't make that mistake again. You do deserve to decide your own fate."

He keeps the fact your fate has long been decided to himself, the illusion of choice more important than actually having choice itself. You smile sweetly, nodding between his palms, making your noses brush once again.

"Thank you, Lord Geto."

He shakes his head, backing away from you. The smile on your face dims with the loss of him so close and you send a message to your fingertips to stay at your side - you haven't been given permission to touch him as badly as you want to.

It's isn't the first time you've considered how he'd feel between your palms. Would he be cool to the touch, as his own hands are? Would he let you explore each divot and crease of his body, your eyes roving and your imagination doing the same? Would he allow you to kiss him, lips brushing against lips, noses brushing once again?

Heat you feel fearful of blooms in your gut and you look away, cheeks warm. You hope he can't tell what you're thinking as you wait for him to respond.

"Suguru," he corrects. "I'm always Suguru to you."

He swears he sees the yellow daffodils at his feet spring to life with the warmth of your gaze when you avert your eyes from him to the ground, girlish embarrassment keeping you from looking a god in the eye. Chuckling, he reaches for you again and pulls your face toward him, pressing his cool lips against your forehead.

You gasp and he drops his hand, squeezing yours that lies at your side before turning to leave but not before tossing another glance in your direction over his shoulder.

"Let's do this again soon. I've missed it terribly."

You nod a response, too shaken to speak.

"What do you bring before me?"

Suguru never looks more grand than when he sits on this throne of bone, the picture of repose with his legs spread wide enough that his robes fall between them. His arms rest on either side of the chair, generally, but right now he rests his chin between the thumb and finger of one hand watching while his servants bring forth another soul for his judgement.

You watch from your own spot in the crowd, flanked by guards, simultaneously curious and horrified at how easy this is for him. He is judgement and you simply get to witness the process of life created above being squandered down below due to its own misdeeds.

He has been doing it for a long, long time, you remind yourself if only to quell the way your stomach turns as he denies another lost soul passage.

The job he's performing isn't entirely unlike yours - the ability to bring forth life, even if it is just simple vegetation and flora, a gift you were born with. Flowers bloom where you walk, trees grow leaves to shield you from the sun. You're the sole reason little yellow daffodils have once again sprung up across the grounds, the servants marveling at life dwelling the halls of the otherwise dismal realm.

"My lady?"

Your eyes flit from where the man you are so enraptured by sits to your left, one of his servants kneeling at your side. You greet them with a smile and they shrink slightly, uncertain of how to react to the unweighted offering. A smile means something down here and usually it isn't anything good, a lesson you haven't yet had to learn given the way the Lord of the Underworld reciprocates the sunny glances you give him.

"Lord Geto has asked that you join him in his chambers momentarily."

That isn't what you were expecting to be told and it must show on your face, smile falling into a small "o" shape as you look down at your unimpressive robes. You took care to look nice today, of course, but you don't feel as though you should appear before him looking like this.

"I'll escort you," the servant offers and you nod, still uncertain of what will be happening behind the heavy, closed doors when he has you alone.

The two of you haven't truly been alone until this point. There's always a servant, a courier, a guest. You aren't sure one can ever be truly alone in a place like this that dwells with the damned but you rise to your feet anyway, bowing your head as you walk through the crowd and toward the corridor that leads to your destination.

His chambers are empty when you arrive but you are ushered through the doors anyway, jumping as they shut with a heavy slam behind you.

Just like that, you are left to your own devices.

The already cavernous space seems even larger when you're standing in it, eyes darting from the walls to the ceiling to the bed itself. You remember, vaguely, spending time there. You can almost recall the way the linens felt against your skin, cool and comforting. You know he touched you then, held your hands and your whimpering form if you'd wake up in the night disoriented and fearful.

It couldn't have been more than months ago but it feels like a lifetime, you're a different woman than you were the first time you rested beneath those sheets but you will always remember his kindness.

Gingerly, you step out of your spot and begin to pace around the room with your hands clasped behind your back. Your footsteps fade into background noise as you look around and wonder when he will join you, still feeling anxious about why he called you there in the first place.

Part of you hopes he will finally kiss you in the privacy of his chambers. That he'll finally do what you've felt he's on the precipice of doing for weeks, gentle brushes of your hand and his body against yours sending you reeling and running back to your own quarters to catch your breath.

Without noticing, your fingers flit to your lower lip and you rub it gently, imagining what it would be like to be kissed by a man for the first time. This is no mere man, though, this is a god.

You want to be kissed by a god.

Giddiness makes you giggle to yourself, your fingertips still rubbing an idle pattern across your lower lip as the door opens behind you. Dropping your hands to your sides, you turn toward the open doors with a smile as Suguru steps into the room.

He smiles at the sight of you too and your palms bead with sweat as he approaches you, towering a head above your own and tilts his head to the side.

"Do you remember the last time you were in here?"

Despite recalling the fuzzy outlines of what occurred during the weeks you were too tired to move just moments ago, you shake your head. You'd like to hear own retelling of the events if he'd be generous enough give it to you. He chuckles and brings his hands to your biceps, holding them gently.

"You slept for weeks," he reminds, smile still spread across his features. You don't have to know his own magic is the reason that you slept and he has no intention of informing you of such. "I sat by the bed and kept watch, I wanted to make sure personally no harm would come to you."

It's romantic, you think, the way that he cares for me.

It can't simply be the thrill of being away from home any longer that makes your stomach flutter in his presence. It isn't the forbidden fun of doing something you know your mother would hate, frolicking in a realm that doesn't belong to her at the side of a man with more power than you can imagine.

You are feeling something dangerously real and it emboldens you to bend your arms upward and grasp his wrists in your palms. His smile dims into a sultry smirk and you return it with a moon-eyed look of your own.

"I wish I remembered more about it," you mumble. His hands slide from your arms toward your face and he gently rests them on either side of your neck, thumbs resting on the delicate column of your throat.

"We have plenty of time to make memories you do remember in here," he offers and you giggle nervously. "That's not why I asked you here, though."

Your smile dims as you look at him curiously, hands still wrapped around his wrists. His smirk falls and his face becomes unreadable, eyes darkening.

"Do you believe me a monster after witnessing my work?"

Those words aren't what you were expecting to hear following his prior ones but you shake your head with urgency, tightening your hold on his wrists.

"Of course not, Suguru," you let his name slip past your lips and he squeezes the sides of your neck in response. Your eyes flutter and you stutter. "W-we all have jobs we must do even if they're ugly."

He nods once.

"I knew you'd understand."

Nothing further is elaborated but you don't mind, basking in his praise of you while watching him carefully. You look over his lips, his cheekbones, his dark eyebrows that seem knit together in concern.

"Is something the matter?"

Your voice is delicate when you ask, sweet a spring breeze it has been far too long he's felt caress his skin, and he chuckles darkly.

"I've been called away to meet with your mother and Lord Gojo."

Frozen, your eyes widen and he moves to soothe you, pulling you into his chest and pressing your cheek against his robes. Your arms fall to your sides but you move to wrap them around his waist instead, burying your face and inhaling the sharp, clean scent of him.

He smells nothing like the death you've experienced in the meadows, a bird or a faun, at times an unfortunate wanderer. He carries none of the smell of decay or ruin. Not of the rot of dead flowers, earthy and pungent enough you have to turn your head away to clear your nostrils.

Just clean, simple, pure. You inhale and savor.

"They haven't asked that you accompany me and I am making no plans to bring you."

This should concern her, he thinks. Your fate is once again being decided without your presence but you don't seem nearly as offended this time as you were the last.

"I'd rather stay here, if that's alright," you mumble against his chest and he squeezes you. This is the answer he desired, perhaps even expected, but it delights him. You made it there on your own without any gentle direction.

"Of course it is," his big hands rub your back as he soothes you. "I'll ensure you're taken care of while I'm away. You will want for nothing, I promise."

His assurances settle in your chest warmly and you unbury your face from his robes, looking up. Without thinking, you crane your neck as long as it will stretch and stand on your tip toes, pressing your lips against his chastely.

The last thing he expected was for you to be this bold but he presses his lips against yours in return nevertheless. The kiss is merely a peck, a rubbing of skin on skin instead of the tongue and teeth and saliva he'd love to share with you, but it's a message. Return home safe dances across his lips sure as your soft skin grazes them and he misses the feeling as soon as you step down, feet flat on the ground below.

Smiling down at you, he presses his lips against your forehead the same way he always does when he's about to take his leave and you deflate almost visibly knowing this means the two of you will be separated for an unknown amount of time.

"No harm will come to you nor will any decision be made without you present, understand?"

He's making a promise he can't keep yet you nod, eyes searching his face for any inkling of what could be coming.

"I must go immediately but I will return to you as soon as I'm able."

You sigh, the sound light as air, and he chuckles despite himself. Holding you for a moment longer, he kisses your forehead one final time before creating space between the two of you. You watch him head toward the door with a frown, lips still tingling with the touch of a god.

"You can stay here until I return," he mentions breezily as if the two of you are discussing meal plans and not the potential of violence that awaits him in the earthen realm. "These quarters are your own now."

You nod, looking around.

"I'll see you soon."

He exits the doors in a rush, muttering under his breath while shutting them tightly behind him. The small army he has requested to flank the doors while he's gone approaches him, standing at rest while they await their orders.

"She is not to leave this room except to take meals or explore the grounds. At least four of you must remain with her at all times."

The guards nod in unison at his orders knowing their options are obey or die and you stand blissfully unaware on the other side of the door of the fact you've just been locked into a cell until he can figure out how to keep you here permanently.

"We can't keep going this long between seeing one another, Suguru."

Geto hums unenthusiastically, stomping through the entry of your mother's sprawling estate while Lord Gojo joins him at his side, jovially sipping from the same chalice that has remained full for his entire stay on the grounds. He's certain the nymphs utterly dote on his old friend, tittering over his pretty eyes and hair, the same way everyone does.

"If it were up to me we would not meet at all, Satoru, but I appreciate your warm welcome."

Gojo clutches his chest with his free hand and cackles, tipping his head back as he matches Geto's pace with ease. The sunlight that pours into the open marble halls burns the darkened eyes of the man who was summoned here for no reason other than to be threatened and he finds his patience thinning with every word he is being forced to listen to.

"You wound me, old friend. Have you forgotten how much fun we used to have?"

Suguru snorts.

"Unfortunately, no."

They did have fun at one point in time before a war and their responsibilities turned a friendship into something uneasy - a constant power play between the man gifted with the divine dominion over everyone and everything and the man doomed to herd them after they've done their earthly wrongs. It hardly seemed fair but as you said, sometimes jobs must be done no matter how ugly they are.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I do not blame you for your misdeeds in regards to the young goddess. She is very pretty."

The mention of you makes Suguru bristle and the other god just shrugs, chuckling as he sips more wine and the two of them finally approach where your mother rests among her nymphs with her arms folded over her chest. If looks could kill, the Lord of the Underworld would surely find himself one of the damned.

"Nice of you to join us, Lord Geto. Finally able to carve enough time out of your schedule of torturing my daughter to show up?"

He offers a polite bow of his head, refusing to speak any further. A servant offers him wine and he refuses, raising a palm.

"So now you refuse an offering of wine? You truly have no sense, that's one thing about you that is perpetually true."

Satoru chuckles at his side, amused by your mother's undressing of the fellow god before her, and he recalls just how long all of you have known each other. Since you were young gods and goddesses, much like you who hasn't seemed to realize you are his captive and not his prize as he keeps insinuating.

"My demands are simple so I will not keep you for any longer than I must," your mother starts and Suguru's eyes flick upward to examine her. The two of you resemble each other enough that it's striking but you lack her venom, something he's grateful for having been bit by the snake more than once so to speak. "My daughter will be returned to me by next sunset and there will be no harm to you or your realm."

Finally, the man breaks his silence and he shakes his head with a chuckle, raven colored mane fanning around him with each movement.

"And if I refuse?"

Your mother chuckles in like, leaning forward in her sitting position. A man is smart enoguh to know when he's about to be bitten again so he takes a few steps backward.

For being a gentle Goddess of the Harvest, she sure is rotten.

"Then there will be repercussions."

He nods.

"She's happy where she's at. Come take her if you'd like to try."

Moving to turn on his heel and exit, he's stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He knows it belongs to Satoru and he sighs, tensing his shoulders to shrug him off to no avail.

"Now don't be hasty, Suguru. There is a lot at stake here."

The only thing he can think of is what's at stake being you. He could agree, send you back to this realm to pick and grow and dig until your fingers bleed. He could watch you as he has for all these years, cold and alone wondering when he'd have the opportunity to make you his own.

"If there's so much at stake, come claim what you desire so badly."

Satoru drops his hand and turns his head to look at Demeter, shrugging. His friend takes his leave, exiting through the corridor he just entered through

"There's your answer," he sniffs. "I did all I could."

If death himself is willing to die for you, there isn't much more than Satoru can do besides sit back and wonder what about you has become so enchanting to the man he'd risk it all for another taste of his little prisoner.

It has only been days since the last time you saw Suguru but you grow restless within his chambers despite the comfort they bring you.

You snuggle into his bedding, the familiar scent of him bringing only temporary ease to the pain in your heart his departure has brought, and wonder how his meeting is going but your mind drifts to things far less worrisome than if you'll be forced to return home or not.

Oddly enough, your mind settles on thinking about the man that Geto mentioned before his departure.

Lord Gojo is someone you've met a few times and you've always found him to be jovial if not a bit grating at times, flirting with the nymphs and servants without a care in the world despite his massive power. You take a moment to consider the differences between the two men, one wearing his power like a halo and the other like a noose.

You can't help but wonder if it's a difference in who they are in their hearts that led them to such opposing views of their power, perhaps even the world at large. You make a note to ask Suguru more when he returns, stretching your legs beneath the blankets over them with a frown.

The chamber doors open and you sit up, smiling as Suguru enters but your face falls noticing the droll look across his. You don't move to further cover yourself, allowing him see your bare flesh in person for the first time but the view doesn't spur the look off of his face.

"My treasure," he starts before sinking to his knees at the side of the bed. "You need to listen to everything I'm saying, okay?"

You remember this sight all too well, big hands capturing one of your own but you're grateful to be cognizant this time. He allows himself the luxury of one moment to look over you - your soft skin, your pebbled nipples topping perfect breasts, the delicate divot of your bellybutton - but the moment is fleeting as he meets your eyes and you understand the situation must be serious.

"I am willing to send the realm into disarray to keep you but I have to know that you want to be here with me and nowhere else."

Granting you a moment to think, he watches your face carefully for any sign of uncertainty. The faintest trace will mean that he failed, all of this was for nothing, but it hasn't appeared yet. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek in your small palm and he exhales, smiling serenely.

"Can you promise me freedom, Suguru?"

Pondering your words, fear seeps into his limbs but he decides to, for once, give you an honest answer. No deception, no hint of trickery despite how easy it would be for him to keep you here as his captive and not his lover. He could lock you away, post all the guards outside your door for all eternity and you'd never leave but he wants you to want him. To need him. To desire him.

"I cannot promise you freedom but I can promise you devotion like you've never experienced."

You nod and lean toward him, lips brushing against his once again. The intent is far less chaste than the first time, the heat you always feel stir inside of you when you look at him for just long enough sending fire through your limbs. Pulling away from his face for a moment, you smile and reach for his shoulders to pull him into the bed with you, to which he obliges. Kneeling above you, he searches your face and you brush his hair off of his face and over his shoulder.

"Then I promise you the same."

The confirmation he needs leaves your lips and he can hold back no longer, hungrily enveloping your lips in a kiss that you eagerly accept. It would take more time than you currently have to consider when you began to fall for this man who plucked you from your home and dropped you into a world not meant for you, so you simply choose to focus on the way his hands feel across your bare flesh.

They're as cold as you expected they'd be but it isn't unwelcome, deft fingers dancing along the underside of your soft breast while he dots your jaw and neck with sensual kisses that make your head feel the same way it does after you've enjoyed dandelion wine with the dryad back home - lighter than air and heavier than lead.

Groaning, he begins to rut his hips gently against your bare mound and you reach for the tie fastening his robes over his waist, fingers moving to untie the knot as quickly as you can. You don't expect to feel him pressed against you so quickly, the searing heat of his heavy cock sliding through your already slippery folds and catching on your sensitive clit in a way that makes you gasp.

"I-I've never done this before," you confess as if it's a sin, your stomach in your throat. He leaves his task of lavishing attention on your neck for a moment to meet your eyes, smiling in a way that makes your thighs clench around his torso.

"I'll take good care of you."

He will and he does, returning to kissing a path down your neck until he reaches your breasts, taking one pert nipple into his mouth with a lewd moan. The sound of him laving his tongue over the sensitive spot makes you arch your back, his cock still rubbing you just short of where you need him most and you whine. He releases your nipple from his mouth, the bud shining with his saliva, and cups your face.

"Patience. I'll make it worth your wait."

Switching to your opposite nipple, your back arches again, forcing more of your breast into his eager mouth. He loves seeing you already on the precipice of coming apart, fortunate to be the first and only man to ever see your lust heavy gaze.

You tear me apart, he thinks as he gazes up at you with your lashes resting against your cheek and your mouth open in a beautiful display just for him. Releasing your nipple, his hands trail down your torso and he moans, aloud, at the feeling of the hair covering your mound beneath his fingers. It's as luxurious as the rest of you and he promises on a day when less is at stake, he'll give you the attention you truly deserve. He'll bury his face in the thatch of hair and even lower, giving your cunt as many kisses as he wishes to give your pretty mouth, but with an uncertain future time is of the essence and he doesn't want to hesitate in claiming you.

Tentatively, he traces his finger along the seam of your pussy and you hiss at the teasing, canting your hips messily into his touch. This is true need, the sum of your want greater than any mishap that your clumsiness could cause, and he smirks against the top of your breast and watches your face contort in pleasure as he spreads your lips with his index finger and thumb of one hand, using his middle finger to rub methodical circles over your clit.

"Is that alright?"

He asks and all you can manage is a nod and a pant, walls flexing with each circle his finger turns over the engorged bud. Your head continues to swim and your eyes shut, your chin tipping toward the ceiling but he cannot allow you not to witness your own undoing. Using his free hand, he cups your chin gently and tips your face back down to give you a full glance at his sticky finger working its way to your entrance.

A squeak leaves you as he gently spreads the wetness seeping out of you from your cunt upward toward your clit, the slick feeling of his just his finger making your eyes roll backward in your head. This is nothing you've ever felt before but it's everything you've imagined, the gentle way he keeps kissing your breast as he finally works one finger into you making you moan. Open mouthed, hot faced, chest heaving - the exact noise he wants to hear you make for all eternity.

"Feels good?" He asks, dark eyes meeting yours as they open while he thumbs at your clit messily. Your walls constrict around his finger and it makes his already painfully swollen cock jump when he imagines how you'll feel wrapped around him like a glove.

Hips moving on their own, you try to match the pace of his finger plunging in and out of you but struggle and he takes control, hand dropping your chin and sliding down your torso to hold your hip. He helps you rock your hips gently, soft mumbles and moans leaving your lips and he knows what's about to happen before you do, cunt locking his finger inside of you.

"Oh Suguru," you pant, gnawing your lower lip and shutting your eyes tightly as you cum so hard your thighs shake with the force. He smiles against your breast and positions himself so that he's on his knees, hand that was just playing with your pussy running along his length to spread his silky pre-cum and your arousal along every inch.

Watching, your eyes widen when he slides his tip through your folds before positioning himself at your opening. He leans over your body, resting on his forearm and kisses you as he moves to enter. Blunt tip slipping inside of you, you gasp but only out of dizzying pleasure.

The noises encourage him to bury another inch, slowly giving himself over to every slick, warm part of you and you gasp in unison as he continues to bury himself deeper and deeper, finally bottoming out with a deep groan right above the shell of your ear.

"Mine," he whispers and you nod, chin resting against his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

There's surely no disputing it now as he begins to gently thrust, hips moving in a small, merciful rhythm.

"Yours," you whimper back, kissing the expanse of his shoulder blade between staccato moans. He feels too much, too big, too hot but you can't deny that it feels good, your walls flexing around his length as if you were made just for him.

The sensuality of the moment makes him realize he's coming close to his own orgasm and he reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit, each touch making you squeeze around him tighter and tighter until you hold him in place once again, cumming for him twice and giving him unspoken permission to do the same.

He spills himself inside of you, the heat making you whine and he chuckles while trying to catch his breath.

"Still want to stay?" He asks, face still pressed into your neck and you nod, wrapping your tired legs around his waist to trap him against you.

A square piece of white sheet dotted with small spots of blood is dropped in front of your mother by a messenger sent from the Underworld courtesy of your beloved and she shakes with rage upon immediate understanding of the meaning of what's laying on the marble before her.

You are no longer her daughter, her prized little lamb, you belong to him.

The threat of war was just that - a threat.

Autumn and winter both passed without further questioning aside from a few additional visits from Shoko who has become your reluctant ally if not friend and confidante. She has kept you as informed as you need to be about the happenings above but, at your own request, keeps the rest to herself. You're blissfully unaware and fine with it.

Your mother's refusal to invade the Underworld with her own thin resources and Satoru's refusal to send any of his own troops after a now sullied goddess rendered all attempts to return you home as futile but you do return, on your own accord, to your meadow the day before you know your duties to bring forth the fertile season begin.

"And you're sure that you will be alright on your own?"

You nod, Suguru refusing to let go of your hand while Shoko watches him unamused. It's one thing to watch your friend fall in love, it's another to watch him behave like a lovesick child with no other choice.

"Let her go, Suguru. She has work to do."

He glares in the direction of the goddess who shrugs as if to say "it wasn't my choice" about your decision to return to fulfill your duties each spring. You know things cannot run without you here and he agreed knowing how much it means to you, letting you live barefoot in the sunlight for three months of the year.

His flowers stay in bloom even while you're gone, yellow painting his walk every morning while you're away.

"I'll see you soon, okay? Don't miss me too much."

Returning to your work came naturally, watching life spring forth from you as comforting as the sound of your own heartbeat and you can't hide your smile looking overhead to watch your very own protector in the form of a blackbird flying in wide circles above you.

"You think that's him?" A dryad asks innocently and you nod, gaze still fixed above despite your hands already working their magic on the yellow and brown grass below your feet.

"It is."

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #kendall writes #first full length on this blog lalalalalalalalalalalaaaaaa