#surrender my everything / ( povs ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redvexillum · 3 months ago

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Hot damn, I can't believe it took me this long to finally get around to answering this ask. I would like to dedicate this story to @todash-darkness and Ms. 🍑. Thank you for being my friends and always cheering me on even when I get whiny and say "writing too hard!"

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, rough s♡x, possessive!alastor, alastor is bad at feelings, dual pov, reader is a sweetheart, established relationship, alastor is allergic to feelings, rough ♡ral s♡x, finger♡ng, miscommunication, one sided (alastor) denial of feelings

In the vast, unfathomable uncertainties of Hell, Alastor’s mind was a sanctum guarded by his own design, his kingdom of carefully orchestrated chaos. He adored unpredictability, yes – but only when it danced to his tune, his rhythm, his control. Anything else, anything beyond his boundaries, was sacrilege.

There was no greater agony, no venom deeper, than the sensation of his world teetering beyond his grasp. His order, his routine ...demolishing right before his eyes.

One such certainty he held with unwavering conviction was this: your soul belonged to him, irrevocably. He had claimed you in ways that transcended mere words. Every part of you – your thoughts, your desires, your body, and even the delicate cadence of your laugh – was woven into his web, bound and stitched to his very being.

So why, then, were you here, laughing with that cur, the very embodiment of mediocrity beside you? Why did the melodic lilt of your voice drift toward that miserable fool’s ears instead of his? The sight of you smiling at such filth was an affront to everything he held sacred, and yet you persisted. You continued to share laughter with that loser, indulging his vapid words, his feeble presence.

From his seat on the single couch, Alastor’s grin cleaved his face, a mask of delight that undercut the roiling fury within. Around him, other souls babbled, meaningless, and insipid, but he paid them no heed. His gaze was fixed solely on you – typically nestled by his side, hanging on his every word as if he held the keys to your reality.

You, who would meet his stories with wide-eyed fascination, as if his very words spun magic into existence. You, who would follow him, entranced, into his realm.

But now, now...his hand dug into the flesh of the couch, claws piercing through its plush surface as he fought to restrain himself, to keep from dragging you to his side where you belonged. In his mind, he could feel the invisible chains around your neck, the ones you had so naively accepted, binding you to him to the moment you surrendered your soul – for a little of wretched Hellmutts, no less.

You were naive. Weak. Ridiculously innocent.

But you were his.

His eyes tracked every move you made, his gaze darkening with each soft smile that graced your lips for someone else, each glimmer in your eye cast in that foul creature’s direction. And then – then that trash, that waste of a soul, had the audacity to touch your shoulder.

Alastor’s heart stilled, a visceral freeze rippling through him as he watched your fingers lift, as if in slow motion, to meet that filthy hand.

And within him, something snapped.

An uncontrollable twitch seized his left eye, a slight tremor echoed in the clench of his jaw. Rage coursed through him, an intense, molten fury tightening every muscle until he vibrated with it. A violent energy was held back only by a grin that split his face, frozen, even as his eyes bore into you, unblinking.

Come to me, he thought, his voice a dark whisper in his mind, willing you to hear, to obey, Come here, darling. Come...

Yet, you didn’t hear him. Not a single glance in his direction, as if the tether binding you to him had snapped. You, with those disgustingly bright eyes, filled to the brim with such boundless, grating cheer – those eyes that never strayed from his, were now fixed on someone else. They were facing the wrong way.

The ownership he held over you was absolute, and he was certain there was nothing of value in this world next to your name – nothing but your soul. And that? Well, that belonged to him. You were his in every sense, a fact as unshakeable as death itself.

The thought simmered, rolling over in his mind like a storm. He’d planned to speak with you tonight, to remind you of the boundaries that came with selling your soul to him. A gentle “discussion” about your arrangement, perhaps a reminder of the dangers of your reckless naivety, especially around others’ wandering intentions. After all, what did you understand of the hunger that prowled in the depths of Hell?

But then you laughed. That joyous sound, brimming with warmth and energy – the very light he’d basked in so possessively – spilled from you for someone else. In that instant, something dark clawed up from within him, overriding every fragment of patience he thought he’d possessed.

The lights flickered; sinners looked up and whispered, confused, looking up as the room dipped into pitch-black darkness. And in that instant, Alastor’s hand seized you, pulling you into the shadows before anyone would notice.

The darkness folded around him, dragging you both from their prying eyes, and when he materialized in his room, any pretense of control shattered entirely.

You’d been talking to a gentleman about butcher shops in Cannibal Town, a respectable topic considering he was a proud consumer of sinner flesh. Though you yourself didn’t indulge, you knew Alastor had a certain...fondness for the taste. This stranger, to his credit, offered genuine recommendations – shops known for prime, fresh meat. You listened attentively, committing every word to memory, already imagining the gleam in Alastor’s eyes when you surprised him with a choice cut of fresh deer sinner’s flesh.

The best part? Each piece came with the sinner’s full consent. Nothing could be more natural, organic, and you supposed, humane in a macabre way, than that.

Your smile grew brighter as you pictured his reaction, and out of courtesy, you kept the conversation flowing. After all, Alastor had always instilled in you the importance of politeness, of maintaining grace, especially in the realms of Hell. When the man touched your shoulder and praised your kindness, you felt a warmth spread through you. Kindness was a rarity down here, and it was refreshing to be in the company of someone who appreciated it without ulterior motives.

But then the lights flickered, and instantly, the room plunged into darkness. Panic flared, voices rising in confusion, and before you could fully process what was happening, a cold hand clamped around your wrist. A sensation, chilling and immediate, enveloped you, and the world melted away.

When you blinked, you were in Alastor’s room.

The sudden brightness left you blinking against the light, your vision adjusting. But when you finally looked up, you were met with a sight that sent a shiver down your spine.

Alastor stood there; his eyes ablaze with a crimson fury that bordered on madness. His grin stretched wider than you’d ever seen, jagged and vicious, as if it had been carved from his very rage. His gaze cut through you like a knife, every muscle in his frame taut with anger. Twin streams of red trickled from the corners of his mouth, and in that silence, you could swear you heard the crackling of something deep within him breaking.

Before you could even form the words to ask why he seemed so upset, Alastor summoned the soul chain. A sickly green chain flickered into existence, snaking around his wrist, and in the next, you felt a sudden, brutal tug around your neck. Your teeth gritted at the sharp pull, and he yanked you forward until you were barely an inch away from him, his nose almost brushing yours as he bent down to meet your gaze.

The dial in his chest swung wildly, ticking back and forth like a metronome set to a frenzied beat.

“Uhm, Alast-” you started, confusion clouding your mind. You knew he was eccentric, yes, prone to outbursts and fits of emotion, but they always carried some purpose, a hidden logic that only he could fully understand.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, his voice frigid and sharp. The chain clinked as he pulled you even closer, the heat of his body blazing through the air between you.

“Y-you,” you stammered, searching his eyes, your hand trembling as you gently touched his sleeve. “It’s you.”

For a fleeting second, your answer seemed to calm the storm raging in his gaze, his crimson eyes softening back to their usual dark slits. “That’s right,” he whispered, his voice low and deceptively soft. “You belong to me.” His hand slid to your waist, his fingers digging in possessively. “And yet,” his voice dropped to a hiss, “you had the gall to let another sinner touch you.”

A wave of bewilderment washed over you, leaving you scrambling to make sense of his anger. Physical contact was far from uncommon in the hotel – just yesterday, Angel Dust had clapped you on the back after you told him a joke. Surely, Alastor wouldn’t be so enraged over something so trivial?

But Alastor pressed himself against you, his body taut and seething with an intensity that left you breathless. “My, my,” he murmured, voice pitched with a mocking chill, “thinking about that wretched sinner already? Right here, in my presence?”

“That’s not-” you started to protest, realizing with a sinking dread that you’d indeed just thought of Angel Dust. But surely, that alone wouldn’t justify this terrifying fury, this raw possessiveness radiating from Alastor?

He let out a bark of laughter, sharp and scathing, before pressing his forehead to yours, his lips grazing dangerously close to your own. “I own your soul, darling,” he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous, velvety edge. You felt his claws inching up your skirt, his fingers scraping against your bare thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I don’t share what is rightfully mine.”

Unexpectedly, his mouth crashed onto yours, urgent and bruising, teeth grazing with a hunger so fierce it stole the breath from your lungs. You whimpered against him as his sharp tooth nicked your lower lip, the sting mingling with the taste of blood as his hot tongue lapped over the wound, a low groan reverberating from his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his lips stained crimson with your blood, he gripped the front of your dress, his eyes blazing. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded again, his tone laced with desperation, as if even your words might not be enough to satisfy him.

“You. It’s always you, Alastor,” you whispered, your hands gently cupping his face, placing a soft, tender kiss on his lips – a striking contrast to the bruising passion he’d unleashed moments before. “The contract says forever, remember?” You tried a slight, playful grin, but his gaze held none of his usual amusement, his eyes fixated on yours with an almost haunted intensity.

“The contract,” he repeated slowly, his fingers loosening their grip on your dress. “Yes...that’s right.” His hands trembled for a fleeting moment before he forced them behind his back, his posture rigid. “I own your soul,” he said, voice hollow, “your servitude, I suppose.”

It was as if he were no longer fully present with you, his gaze dark and distant, a hint of revelation in his eyes that seemed to tear him apart even as he chased it. You could see it, how this realization – this twisted revelation – pained him, even though he seemed oblivious to its source.

You’d been here before, watched him spiral from bursts of passion to bitterness and then back to his lonely solitude. So, as always, you took that first step forward, drawing closer until your arms circled his waist. You smiled up at him, that bright, open smile he so often brushed off with sharp words, though you knew it softened him beneath the mask.

He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, a breath escaping as he murmured, “My, you're suddenly so clingy.” But you caught the waver in his voice, hiding behind his usual teasing edge.

“Because it’s you,” you replied simply, hands trailing up his back until they slid into his hair, guiding him down to meet you. “Besides, you haven’t kicked me to the curb yet, Alastor.” You giggled, only for the sound to be cut off as his lips claimed yours.

His movement slowed, each kiss lingering, his fingers finding the front of your shirt, hesitating there. “I don’t share,” he murmured against your mouth, his claws grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “This chain,” he whispered, tracing it with reverence, “it binds you to me. I own you.” With each word, he deftly unbuttoned your dress, his gaze smouldering as the fabric fell open.

“I know,” you answered softly, sinking beneath him as he lowered you to the hard floor, his arms and legs caging you in. “I haven’t forgotten,” you murmured, your fingers trailing down the front of his red-pinstriped suit, savouring the rough texture beneath your touch.

He stiffened, a flash of raw anger crossing his features. “Then why,” he snarled, his voice dripping with possessiveness, “why let that waste of breath near you? Why laugh, why smile, why seek his company when I was right there?” His words tumbled out, unbidden, raw and unrestrained.

At that moment, as his heated words filled the space between you, you caught a flicker of shame and horror in his eyes, as if he hadn’t meant to reveal this part of himself. But before he could pull away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring him to you.

“No one touches me like you do,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses along his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, until you kissed him fully. And I don’t think anyone else can make me smile until my cheeks hurt.” You laughed softly, fingers combing through his hair, each touch soft and grounding.

His response was immediate, his lips pressed against yours, his hips grinding against you with desperate fervour. His soft groans mixed with your sighs, and he gently took your wrists, guiding your hands back to the front of his pants. His lips never left yours, his hands tracing a slow, searing path as you undid his pants, feeling the heated weight of him pressing against your stomach as you freed him.

“Darling,” he hissed as our fingers wrapped around him, stroking from his tip down the length of his hardened cock, slow and tantalizing. The fire in his eyes darkened, his pupils widening to pools of obsidian as he shuddered beneath your touch. “How should I make you remember,” he murmured, voice a low growl, “that you belong to me always?”

His lips traced down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt to your waist with a deliberate slowness that made you ache. “Perhaps,” he breathed, his fingers pressing against the damp cloth covering you, feeling your desire seeping through, “I’ll make your body remember.”

Without hesitation, he tore your underwear away, his fingers grazing the slick curve of your inner thighs, drawing a gasp from you as his touch lingered there. “Enough times,” he muttered, his voice thick with want, “That you never forget who I am to you.”

Two fingers slipped inside, filling you in one firm stroke. The sensation sent a sharp tremor through you, and your breath hitched as your walls clenched around him. “Alastor...” His name fell from your lips in a shiver, and his eyes darkened at the sound, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Shh, darling,” he cooed, his voice a velvet command. His fingers moved slowly, plunging into you with an unhurried intensity, dragging your slice over every sensitive spot before plunging them back in. His head dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin as he pumped his fingers, his own arousal pressing hot and hard against your thigh. “Tonight, I’ll make certain you’ll never consider anyone else.”

Pleasure flooded through you, erasing everything except the feel of him, each pump of his fingers building heat within you. You wanted to tell him he was always in your mind, to confess that you’d never once thought of leaving his side. But words tangled and dissolved into moans, as if even trying to say them would break the spell.

Things like, I like you.

Things like, I cherish you.

Things like...

A gasp tore from you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak as he hummed in satisfaction, the wet sound of his fingers moving within you intensifying with each movement. You arched against him, hips moving of their own accord, desperate for more, clinging to every sensation.

And just as you teetered on the edge, his fingers slipped free, leaving you throbbing, gasping from the loss of him. He rose above you, his cock fully erect, tip glistening. He lifted his fingers, coated in your desire, to his face, watching with fascination as he pressed them together. A glistening thread stretching between them before he spread too far apart, breaking it with a hungry grin.

Then, without looking away, he brought them to his lips, sucking each finger clean with slow, deliberate motions, a satisfied groan slipping from his throat as he tasted you.

“Who do you belong to, darling?” he murmured, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazed down at you. His hands moved to pin your wrists above your head, pressing his hips forward, his cock nudging against your slick entrance, sending a shiver of pure heat coursing through you.

Your breath caught as he began to push in, the head of him stretching you with a slow, delicious pressure. Instinctively, you tried to shift your hips, to take him deeper, but his grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place. “Say it,” he whispered, his voice edged with a fierce tenderness, his eyes locked onto yours, demanding.

“You,” you whimpered, voice trembling, and Alastor rewarded you by sliding himself just a bit deeper, the stretch trying to accommodate him making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he crooned, his grin sharp, eyes narrowed to slivers of wicked delight. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing hot against your ear, the words like fire igniting every nerve, “tell me how much you want me. Go on.”

When you hesitated, struggling for breath, he drew his hips back, leaving you painfully empty. Every nerve in your body was alight, humming, craving more. Embarrassment coloured your cheeks, but the heat, the need, drove the words from you. “Please,” you whispered, voice soft and fragile, “please Alastor, I-I want you.” Your eyes closed, the vulnerability tightening in your chest, sending waves of desire flooding your veins.

The moment the words escaped your lips, Alastor surged forward, filling you to the hilt, his hips flush against yours, a shuddering groan escaping him. His length throbbed inside, stretching and filling you perfectly, leaving you breathless as he began a steady rhythm, each thrust pulling a whimper from your lips.

“That’s right,” he rasped, finally finding his pace as he withdrew and slammed back into you, your breasts bouncing with every relentless stroke. “Say you want me,” he breathed, his voice rough, almost breaking, with the intensity of his need.

One hand pinned your wrists above your head, firm and unyielding, while the other squeezed your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending electric shocks of pleasure through you. His hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, the wet, smacking sound of skin on skin mingling with the sharp cries and moans filling the air. Each one tore through you as you clung to him, helpless against the power of his thrusts.

“I want you,” you cried, voice trembling, head tilted back, your body limp and yielding beneath his strength. Every nerve was alive with a searing stretch, his cock grinding into your most sensitive spot as he drove deeper, forcing pleasure to crest higher and higher. His name fell from your lips in broken cries, each syllable dripping with the intensity of your desire.

With a raw groan, Alastor shifted, grasping your hips firmly as he rose onto his knees, lifting you with him. Your body arched upward, shoulders and head the only parts still anchored to the floor as he drove into you harder, faster, every thrust meeting no resistance. He slammed his hips against yours, the force of it stealing your breath, pushing you to the brink, an overwhelming spike of pleasure building with every powerful relentless motion.

Your lips parted, gasping, as his grunts filled your ears, his low, primal sounds mixing with the wet, sinful noises of your bodies colliding. The world around you faded to nothing but the feeling of him, the ecstasy of his touch, and the unstoppable climb toward a blinding, shattering release.

His eyes locked on the place where your bodies joined, a hunger darkening his gaze as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot, dragging every pulse of pleasure from deep within you. Your stomach tightened, thighs shaking, and as he drove in again, the pressure burst.

You came with a shattering cry, your fingers scraping at the wooden floor, desperate for anything to hold as your walls clenched around him, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through you.

He pulled out suddenly, letting your body drop as he rose to his knees, his cock slick and throbbing against your parted lips. His hand wrapped around his length, pumping himself with frenzied strokes as he looked down, his gaze fierce and covetous.

“I should mark you,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his cock grazing your lips as he leaned forward. “Make sure my colour stains that smile.” His grin was wild as his hand moved faster, his muscles tense, his breaths shallow and ragged.

You lifted your head, mouth open to take him in, your lips wrapping around the tip as your tongue swirled, savouring the mingling taste of him and your own desire. A moan tore from him, and he let his head drop back, his hands cradling the sides of your head, guiding himself deeper as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts. His length stretched your lips as he pressed to the back of your throat, the guttural sound of his groans and the slick noises filling the air.

Your own moans vibrated around him, spurring him on. His hips moved faster, his hands clinging tighter as his moans grew sharper, each thrust sending him closer. With one last hard thrust, he shuddered, and the first hot pulse of his release spilled down your throat. He withdrew, letting the rest spill over your lips, dripping down your chin in thick streams as he marked you. His eyes locked on your face, a wild satisfaction softening his gaze as he watched.

The warmth of his release lingered on your skin, drying as your breaths filled the space between you. Your tongue darted out, tasting the lingering saltiness on your lips, and he groaned, his cock twitching in his hand as he watched, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

As if coming back to himself, he gently cupped your face, wiping his release from your skin with his sleeve, his expression caught between wonder and something deeper. His touch was unexpectedly soft, eyes holding a vulnerability he rarely let surface, the unspoken question hanging between you as his gaze searched yours.

“We could be more,” you whispered, heart pounding as his fingers tilled on your skin, “if you want, Alastor.”

His movements halted, his gaze slowly focusing on yours, a flicker of confusion slipping beneath his usual veneer of confidence. “I already own your soul,” he murmured, his voice edged with something darker, guarded. “There is nothing more you could give me.” His words were resolute, as if trying to cling onto their simplicity, yet the way his brows furrowed, and his head tilted betrayed a hesitation – a lack of understanding for the weight of what you meant.

For all his power, Alastor had taken your heart without ever offering his own in return. The notion of “more” was something he danced around, something he coveted without daring to hold. He wanted you fiercely, hungrily even, but in ways he could still control – never in ways that would strip him bare and vulnerable.

You placed a gentle hand on his thigh, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. With a soft sigh, you felt the truth of it settle heavy between you; until he could meet you on level ground, until he was ready to open himself as wholly as he demanded of you, this fragile back-and-forth was all you’d have. This quiet ache, this unspoken ache, would remain hidden, cloaked in omissions and denials.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, either, this painful standoff. After all, there were things you held back too – things that lingered on the edge of every kiss, every touch, words that clung desperately to the walls of your heart, refusing to release themselves. The word that waited to change everything.

Things like, I like you.

Things like, I cherish you.

Things like...

I love you.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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marvelstan0905 · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could a kenji x female reader where we've both not been very intimate in a long time because kenji's career and ultraman has kept him really busy and one night reader confronts him about it and then they argue and then reader gives him silent treatment and he ends up eating her out

"Let me make it up to you"

BF!Kenji Sato X GF!Reader [Oneshot :Angst-Smut-Fluff]

TW:arguement/silent treatment/smut/eating out/oral(f!receiving)/afab reader/female bodied reader/fingering/petnames/shouting/mixed POV/not proofread yet/angst to smut/swearing

"God! Why can't you just give me a break Y/n!? I'm so overwhelmed and so busy!" Kenji snapped exasperated. The two of you had been fighting for a few minutes now. You just offered to cuddle for a little bit, just hoping that Kenji could let off some steam since getting really liked cuddles and his life's been so hectic. As the good girlfriend you were, you were just worried and concerned. You couldn't do much and that helpless feeling just didn't sit well for you. The least you could is be there for your boyfriend and offer him some comfort. "I just need space! Lots of it!"

"Kenji I'm just trying to give you comfort-"

"I don't want your comfort! You're so damn clingy! God. Can you just leave me alone?"Kenji sighed in annoyance. My heart pangs feeling a tightening feeling within your chest. It hurt. Raising my hands in surrender, I sighed. Those words stung. Is that really what he thought of me? I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and excuse it as the overwhelming and frustration he was feeling.

"I'll leave you alone." Was all you said before grabbing a hold of your jacket, purse and phone. With a harsh wipe of your cheeks, you left the house.

Kenji who was sitting on the couch with his back turned to the door sighed and ran a hand through his , already disheveled, raven hair. Kenji felt a heat and heaviness through his chest. He felt really guilty and bad. God what had he done?

"Way to go, Ken. Losing everybody and everything left and right. As always" Kenji exhaled before sliding his long calloused hands down his face.

Few Days Later

Silent treatment. No texts. No calls.

Just you like you promised, you would leave Kenji alone. Even when he did call and text, you wouldn't answer. As you made dinner in your cold, lonely apartment you heard the sound of keys jiggle in the door way. With a raised eyebrow, you grabbed the bat which Kenji gifted you and waited for the perpetrator to come through the hallway. As soon as I saw a shadow I swung with all my might.

"Baby! Wait! Y/n! It's me!" Kenji exclaimed raising his hands in surrender as he luckily dodged the powerful swing. God, he was glad he taught you how to swing but if he wasn't careful, he would've lost his head. With a sigh of relief and groan, you dropped the bat and turned to go back to making dinner with not a word. Kenji exhaled before following you into the kitchen. "H..How have you been, babe? I've called and texted you..alot."

Silence.

Kenji leaned against the counted adjacent to you and gently took a hold of your hand. With a scoff,you pulled your hand away. Kenji's frown deepened. His eyes had deep bags and he truly looked as if he hadn't slept in days. It didn't seem like he had eaten considering the dullness of his slightly sunken cheeks.

"Sweetie. Please? Can we talk? I'm so sorry. I really need to hear your voice. Even if you're gonna curse me out or whatever..just please"Kenji pleaded. Nothing. With a turn of a knob, you turned off the stove. Kenji couldn't stand the silence anymore. God, he couldn't. With a gentle grasp of your forearms , Kenji turned you to look at him. With a blank expression you turned to face him with eyes void of emotions. Even if you were still upset, you did love the bastard and would hear him out.

"Honey. I know I have no excuse for how I treated you, how I spoke to you, the horrible horrible words I said to you. I truly am sorry. I didn't know how good I had it till I didn't hear your voice or saw you anymore. You're everything to me and you just wanted my time and love but I was stupid and took my frustrations out on you. The only person who i truly have right now. Please...Please forgive me. Even if it's not now..I'm just begging to hear your voice" Kenji spoke sincerely. I sighed and crossed my arms. Those goddamn sad eyes. The man looked like a kicked puppy. Sad and lost.

With a gentle flick of his forehead, you mumbled out "Fine..I forgive you. Doesn't mean I'll forget it...atleast not yet. You really hurt my feelings. I was really just trying to help and spend time with you. You're really mean you know that right?"

Kenji felt like he finally take a breath of fresh air as he pulled you into his strong arms and placed a kiss onto your forehead. He felt so relieved to hear your voice. That beautiful voice. The voice that soothed all the storms in his heart. "I know. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Just..please don't leave. I love you so much"

"You're kinda stuck with me, idiot. Even if your behavior says otherwise. I love you too" I grumbled out whiles laying my head against his chest. Kenji felt the relieve wash over his body. With a grasp of your soft thighs in his large hands, Kenji picked you up and placed me onto the edge of the counter.

Kenji looked deep into my eyes and pressed his forehead against mine "I'm really sorry. Please forgive me. I'll make it up. I swear it. All the cuddles and kisses. I won't neglect you again, okay?"

The couple shared kisses and cute nuzzles. They still hadn't properly talked it out but this was definetly the start of talking it out and sorting it out. Kenju nestled his head into his girlfriend's neck and breathed in her scent. God, he missed her feel, touch, smell and taste. Now, probably was the most ideal but the man was hungry and he hadn't had a proper meal in a few days. With a teasing nibble to his girlfriend's neck, Kenji slid his hands down and underneath the oversized t-shirt his girlfriend wore.

"You know..I missed you so much. So so much " Kenji whispered mischievously whiles sliding his large fingers up her thighs, sliding his fingers in between her legs whiles caressing her inner thighs. You raised a brow, but didn't protest. You did miss his touch and..talents.

⚠️SMUT STARTS BELOW HERE⚠️

"Mhmm. I missed you too, baby but what are you up to?" I questioned skeptically his hands inched closer to my clothed heat. Kenji pulled me closer and spread my legs wider.

"I'm making it up to you. I have to start somewhere, right? I really wanna show how sorry I am, baby."Kenji breathed lowly, with faux innocence. His methodic and skilled habds, ripped your thin panties off and disregarded them somewhere on the floor. With a yelp, you closed your thighs feeling the cool air against your core.

"B-Babe! H-Hey! Thats the 20th pair you've ripped up! C'mon!" I whined whiles shakily holding my thighs together. I was shaking from anticipation and slight frustration.

"Oh I'm sorry,baby. Guess I don't know my own strength. Guess you'll need something to warm you up. I know the perfect thing" Your boyfriend rasped, 'apologetically' as he forced open those soft thighs, plush legs of yours and held them open. His beautiful mauve eyes had darkened, completely dilating as his eyes laid on your glistening lips. "Aww, how cute. You missed me that much? You're so wet already"

With a denying scoff, you looked away with a sheepish flush on your cheeks. "S-Shut up. Put that tongue and mouth to good use"

"Okay. Okay. I'm getting to it. Let's get something straight though.. I'm in charge" Kenji whispered firmly into your ear before nibbling onto your earlobe. My breath hitched and my blood ran hot. God, he was so hot. Your boyfriend gently but firmly pushed you onto your back on the kitchen counter before holding your legs open by the knees. "Mhmm you smell so good. I missed you, my love. So much"

Kenji uttered as he took a deep inhale of the scent of your arousal. With a small whimper, you could only nod. He's already got you tongue tied. My breath hitched.

"W-Will you be gentle?" I breathed whiles leaning into the kisses that he peppered my neck. It had been a while since we made love. His hands teased at my entrance.

Kenji smirks against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "Gentle? I don't make promises like that, darling. But I'll make sure you feel every inch of my cock as I fill you up." His fingers tease your entrance, circling the sensitive bud before pushing inside.

"T-Thought you always keep promises?" I gasped feeling his long fingers stretching my velvelty walls open. He gives a low chuckle, his fingers curling inside of you.

"I do try to keep my promises. But I also like to keep things interesting. Plus I'm making up to you, babe" His thumb begins to circle your clit as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, stretching you wide.

"I-Im not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, huh?" I mewled whiles spreading my legs. I gasped as I felt his long, warm tongue at my entrance. Kenji smirks up at you, his tongue sliding up to your clit, teasing it with every flick.

"Oh, I hope not. I want you to feel me inside of you for days." His fingers continue to fuck you hard and fast, driving you closer and closer to the edge. That's it. All Kenji wanted and needed. To make you feel good, to be with you, to hear you.

"D-Dear christ..K-Kenji that's vulgar" I moaned as my walls convulsed around his fingers. I flushed feeling the tip of his tongue slide through my pussy lips.

Kenji chuckled, his fingers thrusting deep inside you as he begins to fuck you harder. "I never claimed I was gonna be a gentleman today, my love. I like it dirty and rough. You know that? I wanna make you feel so good and make up for the time we missed"

His tongue laps at your entrance, licking up your juices as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"C-Clearly" I moaned. My moans rose in volume and pitch as my hands tugged at his hair "H-How dirty can that m-mouth get?" He smirks against you, his tongue flicking against your clit. God, Kenji was enjoying this. He missed his your taste and scent.

"I'll show you just how dirty this mouth can get. Im gonna make a mess of you"Kenji promises as he begins to suck on your clit, his fingers thrusting hard and fast inside of you.

"God...mhm!" I moaned as my body began to wirthe and squirm beneath him. It felt so good. God I could feel his long fingers stretching me out and brushing against my sensitive walls."G-God I m-missed you!"

His voice is husky and rough as he continues to suck and lick at your clit, his fingers pistoning in and out at a punishing pace. "I know, baby. I missed you more. Let me hear that voice of yours" Kenji demands as he smirks up at you, his hand still working you hard. That beautiful voice of yours. Those days without hearing you, without feeling you, without tasting you were PURE torture. "Oh, I'm just getting started."

"K-Kenji..i-im uh..close" I purred as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I was so close. So close to that euphoric finish line. His fingers curl up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you.He chuckles against you, his tongue continuing to swirl around your clit. I moaned.

Eventually I ended up screaming as I climaxed. I was in heaven seeing literal stars. I cursed making a mess all over his fingers as I screamed"O-Oh God! F-Fuxk! K-Kenji!"

Kenji's fingers continue to move inside of you, slowing down now that you've climaxed, though he doesn't remove them just yet. "Good girl. Now for round 2" His voice is husky with desire, his tongue coming out to lick at your juices still dripping from you. I squirmed beneath him as I felt my body calming down from the high. I was so sensitive.

"I love you so much. Now let me make it up to you"

#ken sato #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #ultraman 2024 #emi ultraman #ultraman rising #ultraman #kenji sato masterlist #ultraman masterlist #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x chubby reader #kenji sato smut #ken sato smut #kenji sato x plus size reader

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halaboyz · 5 months ago

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did you like her in the morning?, yunho

ateez bf! yunho x fem! reader angst angst angst angst (pre-breakup) wc: 1.5k warnings: desperation idk, mentions of cheating, a whole lot of cursing, mention of k-word and d-word for the sake of the argument a/n: you voted for him YOU GOT IT ! this has two POVs, the other one (the actual arranged marriage) is here ! i think this hurts more idk !!! don't ask me ,, i alternately use jeong and yunho in the dialogues bc "jeong!!" feels a little bit more powerful and "yunho" seemed soft so don't bash my head for that !!

"...Can we talk?" Yunho calls over the phone a few minutes of silence after the line got connected. He sounded awfully serious, yet so soft-spoken.

"Of course, Love. What time do you get home?" You coo, staying calm amidst the anxiety building up. "I've also got groceries I just picked up to cook so if you want to eat something, tell me,"

"No, y/n. I meant now. Can we talk now?" You hear him sigh, and you could make out in your head that he was slightly shaking his head and massaging his forehead.

"Okay, since you seem so head-straight about it. What is it?" You surrender, putting your groceries down and sitting on the couch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. We just need to talk," Yunho quickly shuts you down, as if he was in a rush to let everything out. "I... I'm not going home."

"..Okay? We'll see each other tomorrow night though, right?"

"No, I meant I'm not going home. Anymore." And silence. It wasn't even supported with any explanation. Any kind, any type. As if you were just to accept what he's saying.

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"I'm not going to go home anymore, y/n. Not anymore." It was that simple. It was just like that. Told like news, and he wasn't even fazed while you were nearly on your knees to understand.

"Love, I don't understand. What do you mean you're not coming home? Hmm?" Your voice wavered as you begged for him to say something.

"I'm not going home anymore, y/n. What's so hard to understand?" He exasperatingly replies, making you furrow your brows.

"I asked what you fucking meant! Make me understand, Yunho! You can't just drop a bomb like this and act like I'm the dumb one here!" You exclaim through the phone, jumping on your feet and then going back and forth the living room and the front door. "I know we're not getting along the past few weeks but god, Yunho. Let's at least work it out,"

"I'm getting engaged, y/n." You wait. You wait, and wait, and wait. For further excuses. Further explanations. Anything. If you thought that the words 'I'm not going home anymore,' was a bomb, this was self-destruction. You shouldn't have asked, huh?

But when it was followed with nothing but silence and his sighs, you scoff in disbelief.

"...That's it?" You just... held on. He was being ridiculously funny that an insignificant, lifeless laugh comes out of you.

"Dad set us up."

"So, that's it?" You reply quickly when all he does was take his time sculpting an acceptable answer, but he was greatly failing at it. So when you replied that quickly, he doesn't try anymore. "Come home, Yunho."

"No, y/n."

"Come home and fucking explain looking at me in the eyes, Yunho. I'm not going to make any engagement happen if you're not going to come home, Jeong. So come home if you really want that and, end us. I'll even pack your things with my own two fucking hands," And you were stern. Yet you mean the other way around.

Just to prove something, you don't want him to come home. So that no engagement was going to happen in your territory. As you end the call in a hurry, you fall down to your knees as you sob, it was better to sob all by yourself than have Yunho standing in front of you in minutes, hours...

To which he is.

As you were hugging your knees, unable to move from your place on the floor leaning on the couch, you hear your front door opening to your horror.

Yunho, standing tall and mighty before you, as if he even dropped everything just to come home. To come home and end everything; to come home and ruin you.

He stared right at you, love long left his eyes. It was clear through your teary eyes, and it wasn't as hard for him to let go as it was with you.

"You want to leave so bad you really came home, huh?" A chuckle of some sort leaves your lips, wiping your tears.

"Are we going to make things hard for the both of us, y/n?" He starts, and he doesn't break eye contact as he slowly steps closer to you. Close enough to hear him better, far enough not to reach him to hold him back.

"It's not hard for me though, Yunho." You say out, coming as a whisper that shakes. "It's not hard for me holding on to you, Yunho. I've loved you all these years and we've had rough patches too, but it was never hard for me to always, always choose you."

You've come to think Yunho's silence was a tinge of hesitation, or so you hope. Because Yunho doesn't respond.

"You don't look like you're having a hard time too, only that we meant totally different things." You chuckle lifelessly, sniffing. "You don't look like you're having a hard time letting go of the woman you dated for five years."

"Y/n. Stop it. It wasn't an easy decision,"

"Wasn't an easy decision, for whom, Jeong?!" You've risen up to your feet to step closer to him and have him a good look of your disheveled appearance. "You're twenty-five for fuck's sake! Would your dad kill you if you went against him for once?!"

Your pushes were harsh and so you wanted it to be painful as well. But god you wished these number of pushes that hurt him amounted to the pain you were also carrying.

"Would you die if you fought for us once, Jeong?!" Yunho tries grabbing your arms but you only broke away. "You gave them the right of the decision, but how about me, Jeong?! How about me?! Am I invisible or something?! Because for all I know, I'm still fucking here!" Falling to your demise as your knees hit the floor once again.

And Yunho just watches.

"...I'm still here, Yunho..." Your hands grab his index finger ever so desperately to hold on to him. It was like hanging to your life. Because everyone knows he was your life. He was someone you'd choose a hundred times over, return to earth for, and die a million times for.

Yet he can't do anything for you. He can't fight for you, he can't stay for you, he can't.

"I wish you'd fight for us like how I do, Yunho..." You sob helplessly, leaning your forehead into his hand that you held.

Yunho watches. Just watches. You had no idea how he felt, or what he was thinking. You don't even get to think about that. You were overwhelmed with your own, so how could you even think of him now?

"We were meant to end this way or that way, y/n," Yunho mumbles, head turning to his side to avoid looking at you.

"...So you took the way you'd ruin me best," You nod unknowingly, hands slowly slipping away from his finger. "Okay."

Yunho looks at you, and how your hands slowly dropped.

"Leave." It barely leaves your lips. You don't want him to, of course, but you were done.

You were done fighting for someone who can't do the same for you. You were done holding on to something you're only slipping away on.

With courage, you meet his eyes once again as you stretch your neck up in dejection. And for the first time when Yunho step inside your shared apartment, you saw emotion in his eyes.

That is, of empathy.

He looked at you as if you were such a pitiful thing, in denial of what he made you.

In ruins. Who was taking each of her broken parts and hugging it all in desperation to keep it and everything together.

He made you like that. And now was he thinking that this is the reason why he took the easy way out.

Because if you took much longer to stay, to find more reasons to love each other, and someday just find you or Yunho in this position of yours, in despair, in shambles, and probably much even worse, he'll take the easy way out. He always will.

And you didn't deserve that now, nor will you ever.

"Leave," So you glue all your broken parts and glare at the man you loved, you once ever so loved, stern in tone and harsh in glare. "And like I said, I'll even pack all of your things for you. So leave, Jeong."

You may or may not have, still, prayed for him to stay. For the last one.

But when he doesn't, and your met with his back scrambling to the front door and closing it, you can't help another surge of tears flow as your broken parts get much more broken than it was before.

So much for gluing it back together for a mere thirty seconds.

He left in thirty seconds.

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kashedelic · 30 days ago

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FORGOTTEN - sylus x reader

SUMMARY: Don't expect a lot from someone who hasn't explained a lot about how they don't want a lot from you.

NOTES: sylus x reader, first person pov, question marks for the relationship, angst, girl u got side-chicked, reader is NOT mc, not as angsty as I could make it icl.

wc: 2497

a/n: i got a boat load of things to be doing, but sometimes sylus needs to come first. someone please tag me in a good Sylus fic that'll heal btw, even if this wasn't angsty as I could have made it I still need to be giggling over something

Be sure to like, reblog, or even follow! Your support means everything to me and helps more people to find this story! Thank you for reading!

Love is a simple yet complex thing. It makes days feel like waltzes, despite the darkness itching at the seams and cracks of the world. It tells a tale of mellow, warm days, where the sun doesn’t burn but heals. That’s how it felt to be in love

That’s why, when I awoke each morning with darkness still pooling in my apartment - the billowy shadows, albeit smaller now with the faint morning light of the N109 Zone, dancing against the walls - and the sound of a crow at my window, I was okay. The ebony feathers and gleaming ruby eyes visible through the glass were my proof. I was not forgotten.

Opening the window, the crow cocked its head inquisitively, as though asking, Let me in, please!

“Come in,” I said, sliding the window open. The crow swooped in and perched on my bed frame.

“Running errands already, huh, Mephisto?” I chuckled dryly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes. I gently scratched beneath its beak, earning a positive response from the bird.

With a sigh, I gathered my strength and moved to my closet, pulling out low-waisted baggy cargos and a fitted ribbed top. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “Tell Sylus he better be working when I get there - not passed out at his desk again.”

The image of Sylus asleep, cheek pressed against his knuckles, with soft snores escaping his lips, tugged my mouth into a smile. He could try to be inconspicuous, but on mornings when work demanded an early rise, his stoic demeanor softened into vulnerability. To others, it might not have seemed like much, but to me, it was enough to get moving.

When I reached the estate, Luke and Kieran waved me in, clearly still settling into the morning. Kieran was slumped on a couch while Luke mumbled something about not getting enough sleep and missing cereal. Familiar with their antics, I proceeded, leaving them to their misery.

“Sylus,” I called, a smile spreading across my face as I found him awake and working. “G’morning, boss.” The title slipped off my tongue easily - a term that had lost its seriousness, now laced with humor between us. Though our interactions were often work-related, there was a growing sense of familiarity. Shared jokes and casual banter hinted at something deeper.

He glanced up, a corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Good morning to you, too. Has the allure of work coffee dragged you in early?” His voice carried that low timbre that always caught me off guard.

I dropped into a leather armchair, resting my head in my hand. “Tempting, but no. I had a visitor this morning - a certain crow who seems to think I’m slacking.”

His smirk grew more pronounced. “Oh, is that so?”

“Don’t act coy,” I huffed.

“Caught red-handed,” he admitted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Waking up early is one thing, but I should have a reason to wake up too, don’t you think?”

“Sylus, you’ve got a mountain of work to do,” I said, flustered, waving off his teasing.

“Work always waits for the boss, doesn’t it?” he quipped back.

After a bit more banter, I decided coffee was in order. Rising from the armchair, I motioned toward the door. “I’m craving that cafe in Linkon. Knowing you, you probably want something. So, are you coming with me, or should I grab something for the both of us?”

“Don’t leave without me,” Sylus replied quickly. “I could use a side adventure with you.”

Rolling my eyes to mask my nerves, I snorted. “Then hurry up. And by the way, the twins are out of commission, so we’ll probably have to take the car ourselves.”

As we drove toward Linkon, the air felt lighter, the stark contrast between N109’s industrial shadows and the bustling streets beyond. Yet Sylus’s words lingered in my mind, as his often did, planting seeds of thought that stayed with me, unshaken.

When we entered the coffee shop, I noticed his gaze linger. His face fell, not in fear, but in shock.

“Sylus, did you see something?” I asked, my voice soft, laced with earnest concern.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed before he blinked and turned to me. “I… No, it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed gently.

He nodded, but the weight in his tone betrayed him. Something was wrong.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? As your… assistant, you know at the very least?” The word was humbling on my tongue. Would saying "friend" be more appropriate? It would definitely be plausible, but friends don't necessarily pick and prod the way we have. To say "friends" undermines everything else that was bubbling, and I don’t want that.

Sighing at his hum, I let our outing continue. There was less banter, but it was a manageable experience.

The next morning, something felt off. Sylus’s usual sharp wit was dulled, his attention drifting elsewhere. Even the crow, who had become my constant visitor in the mornings, was absent. Days passed, and our exchanges grew quieter, the once effortless banter replaced by an unspoken tension.

It was clear as day: Sylus was scheming and plotting on his own, or at the very least, I wasn’t looped in. Kieran and Luke had no issue with Sylus's behavior, but there was something amiss. It seemed as though his attention had been pulled from me to focus on whatever was troubling him. Sure, I had no issue allowing for space - I mean, it wasn’t like we were together - but I was worried. There wasn’t any animosity between us, yet the trifling silence between us seemed to be a little more than that.

Days passed on and on, and it seemed that his stressed attitudes were lifting for more elated moods. It seemed as though a recovery was bound, but perhaps not for me. It seemed as though his ride was coming to an end, and mine? It was only beginning.

The burst of a gunshot, followed by its sharp echo, jolted me upright from my chair. My pulse quickened as I glanced toward the source of the sound, the commotion carrying through the otherwise quiet estate. I was used to the sound of bullets firing, close-range or far-range, but to hear it inside the estate, let alone where Sylus was? What for?

“Luke, Kieran? The hell was that?” I shouted from where I stood, concern pinching my eyebrows together. Luke and Kieran immediately appeared in the doorway, both uncharacteristically composed but clearly aware of my concern.

"Relax," Luke said, hands raised in an almost placating gesture. "It was nothing - you know boss, if he was shooting himself, he’d be able to heal himself back up. Lickity split."

"Nothing to worry about," Kieran chimed in, his tone steady, though the glance he exchanged with his brother was enough to prick at my nerves. Dolts.

“Yeah, but neither of you are answering my question. Who’s shooting right now?” Sylus was way capable of managing himself; heck, to say he couldn't would be lying straight through my teeth. He was the esteemed leader of Onychinus, who could miraculously (and freakishly, of course) mend himself back together. He feared nothing. He feared no one. He was the one feared.

Finally putting a brain cell to use, Luke placed a hand on his hip while another scratched his chin. “Not sure, but… could be something with that Hunter Association girl.”

My face morphed from concern and annoyance to confusion. Hunter Association girl? I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who?”

“You don’t know? Boss found the Hunter Association girl he was looking for?” Luke scratched his hood, creating a party of confusion between him and me. Kieran was also slowly joining the group as the conversation ensued. No, I wasn’t heartbroken right away. No, I wasn’t jealous. Yes, I was perplexed.

He was looking for someone, and he didn’t tell me?

Surely, he had a reason for doing so, but I could only pray that maybe, as an assistant, I would be informed of operations Onychinus was leading. Unless, of course, they were personal feats. Then, there would be a clear boundary that would make it evident I didn’t need to meddle in whatever Sylus was orchestrating.

Friend, but wasn’t I at least a friend? Could he not confide in me there? I mean, there was a part of him that I had unlocked over the previous years. Surely those bits and pieces of Sylus I got to learn through my own very eyes would at least trust me enough to tell me what the hell he was doing? Right?

Be levelled.

There is always more than what meets the eye.

Be levelled.

I slowly nodded, but the tension in my chest didn’t dissipate. “I did not know of her, but if you say it’s alright, I’ll take your word. You two better pray that I won’t be having to clean blood later, otherwise, you two…” I trailed a clenched fist with a thumb out at my neck with a menacing hiss imitating a knife at a throat. I knew better than to be vulnerable, let alone in front of the twins, and the best way to handle hurt in this moment was to pretend it didn’t exist with humor. The twins frantically saluted with an incoherent plea for their lives before dashing out. I returned to my work, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

I had to clean up, and it was worse than I thought.

Despite my weak attempts at swallowing the questions gnawing at my chest, every passing second listed another question to my list. I was a student of heartache and worry, and my summative was to understand where I would lay with Sylus in the coming days.

After I had finished my reading, the silence was deafening, and I could hear it alluring me to see what had developed since the shot. It had been hours since the initial bullet, and the assistant part (definitely not the confused, aching part) of me wanted to know if there was anything for me to take care of or, you know, any answers for those questions.

I noted that both the mystery girl and Sylus weren’t in the estate anymore, but I saw the blood. This line of work built up a tolerance for gore and grim, but it still wasn’t pleasant. It seemed as if someone had haphazardly tried to clean it up, but I wished I had never overheard the conversations between them as they returned.

As the days pursued, I noticed a shift in Sylus’s routine. A woman I hadn’t seen before appeared in the halls, a faint shadow following Sylus’s movements. Truly, it would have been easier if she wasn’t prancing around the estate, because then I wouldn’t have to be a first-hand witness to seeing how he looked at her. It takes no fool to see that he looked at her with a warm gleam in his eye. A gleam that wasn’t his evol, but a look that drank her whole, his eyebrows raised and only furrowing at her witty remarks. I never meant to notice, but it seemed like he was breathing easier, yet his muscles were itching to grab her.

To crave someone.

My heart was slowly revolting in my chest, plotting an anarchy against my mind. A loud demand that I seek closure. My story was over, but I begged, “Let me be broken,” my pitiful mind whispering in surrender.

Sylus, who usually moved like a lone wolf through the estate, now seemed tethered to her. She occupied the guest room, accompanied him on errands, and their dynamic seemed effortless - something I would never relate to. Under the assumption that all that is sweet takes time, I patiently waited for him; supported him; cared for him. The banter I had once shared with him now played out between them, and my tongue was left scratchy from the lack of words falling off it.

It wasn’t jealousy I felt, not exactly. It was the quiet unease of witnessing something intimate from the outside, knowing I was no longer the one who fit into the empty spaces. I was a puzzle piece to replace; a hastily drawn picture on a piece of paper, cut out to only fill in for the missing piece.

Still, I couldn’t deny how easily they seemed to get along. She wasn’t intrusive or overbearing; she blended into the environment, a piece that completed the puzzle of Sylus’s world. Watching her settle into the rhythm of things only served to emphasize my growing sense of distance, and it was vividly clear to me that she was the puzzle piece he was hunting for.

When the announcement came that Sylus and Ms. Hunter - as he would call her - would be attending an auction together, an event critical to our operations, it wasn’t a surprise. But Lord, did it sting. I had been by his side countless times for situations like this, yet now I was relegated to the periphery.

The day of the auction was oddly quiet. He was enamored by her. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The dress he had tailored for her, the jewels that hung on her skin - they made her look stunning. If the case was different, I would have complimented her myself, but the depth of pain hurting within me begged me to stay back. As they left together, I busied myself with the tasks left behind, avoiding the gnawing thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. The image of them - so perfect for one another - haunted my mind. Hours stretched on, and by the time they returned, their closeness was undeniable.

It hurt.

I promised myself to be level-headed, but all that had occurred was the feelings I had so helplessly grasped onto being sent to the gullies. I could neither leave nor stay. A sickening game where I would run in circles by myself. Since when did I become so dependent on him? I thought my individuality was what brought me here.

There’s a single pitch that no soul dares to experience. A sound so sharp it rips your heart out - not to serve it on a silver platter, but to hurl it onto a pile of others, drowning in the same feeling: sorrow. It’s the cacophony of thoughts rattling your chest, keeping it pumping with blood, yet leaving it aching. Sorrow doesn’t only break; it strengthens, but it’s through love that one nurtures.