#the desire to be smothered between both of them at once

[hurrakka]

DSO's best agent and his apprentice reporting for duty

[wyvernest]

mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner. 

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold. 

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you. 

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately. 

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back. 

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight. 

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster. 

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.  

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.) 

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his. 

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers. 

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties. 

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust. 

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly. 

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts. 

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin. 

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing

TAGS

@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137

[wriothesleybear]

~a/n: here's part 2 of pussydrunk!Wriothesley. enjoy!😉😈

~warnings: pussy eating, somnophilia (with consent!), squirting, dumbification, slightly rough sex, snowballing, mating press, breeding, cockwarming, aftercare as usual, more pussydrunk!Wriothesley, x fem!reader, MDNI!

Pussydrunk!Wriothesley who wakes you up by eating you out and making you cum first thing in the morning. He likes this time to eat you out because you're more sensitive when waking up. He slowly licks and sucks on your clit while moving down to your hole. He loves hearing your sleepy moans and whines, legs twitching as you fall over the edge hard, like a wave crashing into you. He helps you come down from your high by rubbing your legs as he slowly ceases his licking which then turn into gentle kisses that he trails on your thighs. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley who curses into your pussy because you just taste so yummy to him. He believes there's nothing else that could beat your delicious taste. He tells you this, making you embarrassed and shy, but his reaction just makes him smirk. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley who grinds his cock against the bed while eating you out so he can get some stimulation on his cock. This causes him to groan which helps get you closer to your orgasm. Once you cum and squirt on his face, his hips move faster against the bed until he finally cums on the sheets. Once you both come down from your highs, he leans up and pulls you into a kiss. His tongue explores your mouth, making you taste yourself on tongue. He breaks the kiss, finally letting you breathe. Sitting on his knees, he pulls you closer to his crotch by your legs. He rubs his cock between your folds, teasing your hole with his cock head. He does this until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley whose head falls back, eyes closed as he finally sinks his cock into your warm, tight pussy. The warmth and tightness of your pussy around his cock makes him want to cum already. He takes his time and goes moves slowly at first, working you up to a faster pace. He places his hands on your hips, holding you as he quickens his pace. He loves seeing your body move as he pounds into you, alternating between watching your tits jiggle and your face contorting in pleasure. With one hand, he grabs onto your tit, squeezing it and groping it. His hand moves down to your stomach, going further down to your clit and begins rubbing circles on it. He doesn't stop his movements as you squirt on his cock. You moan "more", wanting him to pleasure you until you can't think anymore. He always gives you what you want. He grabs your thighs and presses them to your chest, squishing your tits as he puts you in a mating press. He pounds into you with deep, fast thrusts, hitting the sensitive parts in your pussy. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley who enjoys seeing you get dumb on his cock, babbling and tears running down your cheeks as the pleasure becomes too much and you once again squirt on his cock. You don't stop squirting as he continues his movements. With a clouded mind, you're somehow able to beg him to cum inside. He loves it when you beg for him to cum inside your pussy. It gets him closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, he finally fulfills your desires and fills your pussy up with his warm cum as he groans and bites onto your neck. He slowly grinds against you while riding out his high. His pelvis grinds against your clit, pushing you over the edge once again. For a couple of hours, he spends his time cumming in your pussy a few more times. So much that it overflows out of you, leaking onto the already messy sheets. When he finally pulls his cock out of your sore pussy, he switches back to eating you out, enjoying the taste of you and him. He makes you squirt one last time. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley who has you cockwarm him in the bath while he cleans you up, massaging your sore muscles and smothering you with kisses and praises.

[sakuralovespossums]

Laios x GN Reader

Both SFW and NSFW

My autistic himbo golden retriever husband 💗

I feel like Laios would be interested in someone who shares a similar fascination with monsters and dungeon knowledge or just has a really curious/analytical way of seeing things like him.

He likes your way of thinking outside of the box when it comes to planning or creating new monster dishes.

He always considers your personal inputs and advice and writes them down along with his ideas and trivia.

He would also easily fall for someone who cooks a lot. He always looks forward to eating his partner’s food whenever he returns from his adventures down in the dungeons.

He takes notes of your cooking styles and ingredients for later use when coming up with new monster dishes.

Tends to hold you tightly whenever you sleep together. His large frame spooning over your smaller one, nearly suffocating you in his firm and warm hold. He then sleepily mumbles and nibbles your shoulder and neck, thinking it’s the meal he’s eating in his dream.

You find his nibbling almost comfortable and are almost lulled to sleep by it until he suddenly bites you.

He’ll profusely apologize the next morning.

He really likes carrying you.

Sometimes he’ll just casually pick you up and walk to another spot with you tucked between his armpit like a sack of flour.

Other times, when he’s really invested in talking about his trivia or interests and needs something to hold onto, he’ll lift you up by your hips and excitedly ramble in your face.

You just stare at him with a warm smile, listening to him prattle away.

Sometimes he won’t even notice he’s still carrying you until you or someone else mentions it.

Laios isn’t that invested in sex. He’s got better things to occupy his mind like dungeon trivia and food. But he’s also not opposed to it.

He’s a soft dom in bed who prioritizes both his and his partner’s safety and pleasure. He doesn’t engage in sex much though, so he can be kinda clumsy and hesitant.

“Is this ok?”

“Sorry! Should I…..go in slower?”

“You seem…..aghh…..to really like…ugh.…my chest.”

Once he feels more comfortable and confident, he’ll take the lead more and move faster, becoming lost in it all. Your body, smell, voice. The way you hold onto him so desperately with such affection and trust only drives him deeper into you.

He takes time to explore and taste every part of you. He will eat you out or give you head like a dehydrated wanderer upon discovering a sacred river.

He likes eating you out/giving head not just out of sexual desire but also out of curiosity. He’s always interested in trying any thing he can eat/drink, and you are no exception.

The way he makes love is so overwhelming and smothering, yet never domineering or too intense. He wants you and all your parts to feel cared for.

He moans loudly, much to his embarrassment.

Post climax, I feel like he either stares up at the ceiling/sky for a while to slowly regain his bearings or he just instantly falls asleep. Either way he never lets go of you.

He is 100% the kind of person who tests out if eating certain foods will make your juices taste different.

“I heard that eating this dungeon fruit can sweeten the taste of your cum/semen!”

He tells you this in front of the others, much to their horror and your embarrassment.

At times he’ll stare at you for a while before giving you a quick kiss and walking away, leaving you a bit dumbfounded.

Other times he’ll pepper your whole face with a barrage of kisses. He does this most when you’re sitting in his lap.

I feel like Laios also makes sure to kiss other parts on your body where you least expect as his way of showing love to your other parts that are often ignored but deserve just as much attention as your face and lips do (ankles, wrists, nails, eyelids, ear lobes, knee caps, chin, etc.)

You try to surprise him with your own quick kisses but never can because of the height difference lmao.

He just stares confused at you standing on your tiptoes, your puckered up lips trying to reach his cheek.

“………….Oh! You wanna give me a kiss!”

Picks you up. Kiss. Puts you back down.

“There we go!”

Pets your head and walks off.

He can be dense and not catch onto the social mood of the moment, leading him to sometimes say things that may sound insensitive or inappropriate (same).

That’s just something you’ll have to accept and learn to recognize.

Just let him know when he’s said something that genuinely upset you and he’ll apologize.

[crypticminx]

No thoughts just daddy felix x reader 🎀

Being spoiled by Felix, PDA, p in v, Daddy kink, lots of name calling, slight dom Felix?? <33

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Felix Catton loves to take care of people. He’s kind, caring and always welcoming to those he allows into his life. After all, everyone knows that he’s a total sweetheart. However, his heart belongs to you.

For you, his special girl, he takes care of you differently. Spoiling you nonstop with luxurious outings, dresses than can make any other man’s bank account cry, large bouquets of exquisite roses—anything you could ever desire, he grants you. He adores pampering you, treating you like the princess you are.

And he’s courteous with his gifts, everything he hands to you is tucked away in a fancy box that that’s wrapped with pretty pink bows and a lovely handwritten card that reads “for my pretty little baby.”

When he’s away from you, he constantly checks up on you, he can’t bare to go without hearing the softness of your voice assuring him that everything is okay.

never going a second without making sure his beloved is well accounted for.

“How’s my sweet girl,” he’ll coo on the other end of the line, hearing you giggle, knowing that he’s making your face turn pink with blooming emotions. “Want me to send you anything, baby?”

And when the two of you are together, he always holds your hand. You clench it tight, fingers intertwining with one another as you dash hand in hand. His tall frame practically shields you away from anything because he loves to protect you just as he loves showing you off.

When you’re out in public, he doesn’t care about modesty—it’s rather the last thing that’s on his hot and bothered mind when has you sitting all pretty near him. he needs everyone to know that you’re his and that he’s the luckiest man to have you.

You’ll sit on his lap as he wraps his affectionate arms around your waist, pulling you into the depths of his chest as he smothers your smooth cheek with kisses. He loves having you so close to his body, the flowery aroma of your perfume makes his heart tingle and the softness of your hair that rests under his chin is almost ticklish.

“Such a pretty baby you are,” he says in between all his pecks as you smile from all the glee you can’t wipe from your smitten face. Of course, there’s people staring at the two of you, but it’s clear they’re jealous. Every other girl would die to have Felix Catton lovestruck for them.

Even the damn cigarette that dangles in your mouth gets lit by him and once you’ve inhaled enough nicotine for the time being, he always finishes it off before tossing it to the ground.

Being in the bedroom was a completely different story.

Often carrying you to his bedroom—the one that included a bed that was dying to have you fucked on, your dress from dinner nearly slipping off as Felix held you in his strong arms. His doe eyes practically turned into hearts, seeing how radiantly gorgeous you looked—his mouth was watering from a lustful type of hunger.

“Does my sweet girl wanna get fucked by daddy tonight? Hm?” You bite your tongue, finding no strength as you could feel your body grow limp. Knees turning weak, panties soaked like no tomorrow—you both knew the answer to that question. Simply nodding your head, batting your mascara coated lashes as your eyes twinkle, letting Felix know that was your way of saying yes.

Your fitted dress thrown to floor as he undresses himself, his perfectly toned body makes you flush as if it’s the first time laying eyes on his stunning figure. He throws you on the bed like a doll, pouncing on top of you as his fingers curl inside your wet, aching cunt. He hastily circles them in your inner walls, letting his fingers become immensely damp as he can’t get enough of seeing how wet he gets you.

He grins, taking his two fingers out of you, licking them in his salivating mouth before he looks down at your elated expression. “My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he inches himself in order for his cock to enter you, “always so wet for daddy.”

You whimper, feeling the pressure of his full length inside of you makes you ache with sensual pleasure. He lets out a hoarse groan, thrusting himself as he lets your pussy coat his cock.

“Yes daddy,” you squeak, finding it way too challenging to speak when he’s got you all riled up in the heat of the moment.

The bed creaks like no tomorrow, you’re practically bouncing up and down like you’re weightless when he’s got you pinned deep into the confines of the sheets. Your eyes fighting the urge to roll back as he hits every right spot.

“My perfect little girl,” he notes as he practically dwarfs you in comparison to size, he’s so big—in more ways than one—and the two of fit perfectly during your ravenous intercourse. It’s almost humorous.

“Mmm, daddy, m’gonna cum,” you can’t stop the sensitive pangs of ectasy begging to be released from the depths of your core as your boyfriend fucks You senselessly. His big, hard cock rocking you into submission.

“No no no,” he doesn’t beg you, he demands you. “Hold it just a little longer princess, do that for daddy.”

You nod as he amps up his pace, hearing your pretty moans flow around him as the two of you are sure everyone on campus can hear you.

But that’s what makes it fun, Felix wants them to know you belong to his. You’re his angel.

“Oh, fuck,” he croaks, letting himself release his cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim as you feel his cock twitch as you release your orgasm with him.

“Love filling you up,” he breaths out, finding it extremely attractive that you don’t have a problem with him not letting his cum go to waste. Besides, you’d never say no to him.

His sweaty palms roam around your naked body as the two of you break free from your love ridden state, sighing with delightful ease. He pulls you for skin to skin contact, laying on each other bare and full of vulnerability you can only display to one another,

“I love you,” he declares, kissing you softly.

And you love being spoiled by your daddy 🎀

[chuluoyi]

romeo and juliet

- fushiguro megumi x reader

you were both young when you first saw each other. years later, you and your gentle childhood friend fall in love... but you're betrothed to someone else.

genre/warnings: modern royal(?) au, childhood friends to lovers, soft!megumi, fluff, forbidden love, arranged marriage, mild angst, comfort

notes: i love this request!! but i don’t know if this turned out good🥲 honestly, this is what unholy matrimony would be if done right in another universe *snorts* anyways i hope i did this right! enjoy!

had to repost it 3x bcs it didn't show up in the tags😭 based on this request: “Hey, can I ask a Megumi x Reader with the plot related to “Love Story” by Taylor Swift?” thank you anon!

listen to: love story - taylor swift duh

general masterlist

Your father had always told you that you were promised to the Zen'in.

Ever since you were a child, he had groomed you to be the picture-perfect lady, and he always brought you to their ancestral home, a grand, maze-like estate you would always get lost in.

You were barely six back then, stumbling on your own feet as tears streamed down your face. You sought refuge in the gardens, hoping that someone would come to find you there eventually as you were tired of walking around.

And on that fateful day, the one who finally did was none other than the little Fushiguro Megumi, who looked at you with tilted head and confused eyes.

"Are you... okay?" he asked cautiously, and he was startled when your wide, teary eyes quickly focused on him. The next thing he knew, you immediately clung to his hand.

"I'm lost! Please help me!" you said with trembling voice, and Megumi merely blinked. This unknown girl suddenly latched onto him, well, who wouldn't be taken by surprise?

Yet, even as a child, Megumi knew how to treat someone right. Seeing you in distress, he immediately found a way to console you. "Okay... where are your parents? Let me take you back to them."

"I... don't know..."

He sighed. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears, and he didn't want that. He had to find another way. "Don't be scared. This place seems scary, but it's not."

You scrunched your face, tears already pooling in your eyes. "How is it not scary? There are so many windows and leaves! This is more like a jungle rather than a house!"

"Well..." Megumi wracked his head and a light bulb went off in his head when he caught the sight of the flowers. He pointed at a pot of roses. "Look, they're actually quite pretty, right?"

At that very moment, your focus was completely captured by the flourishing plant, and your eyes practically shimmered with delight.

Little Megumi thought then, that you were quite lovely.

And your friendship started then, as he took you by the arm to lead you to the main foyer.

Years flew by, and the only thing that made it bearable to pay a visit to the Zen'in was meeting Megumi. You both would explore various hidden corners and knew every nook and cranny of the place. And when you reached your teens, the "playing" was replaced by studying in the library together.

"Hrrrgh, why—can't—I—reach—"

You gritted your teeth in frustration as you attempted to pull the book from the top shelf, only to fail miserably. Your were too short. But you refused to surrender, standing on your tiptoes once more, you stretched your hand as far as it would go.

Suddenly, the scent of fresh roses filled the air, accompanied by a warm presence behind you. Your back made contact with him, and a longer hand effortlessly retrieved the book you desired.

"If you're having a hard time, ask me for help, dummy," Megumi shook his head and handed you the book. "Here."

"Thank you," you pouted. Despite the frequent close proximity between you two, you still found yourself feeling giddy.

Megumi was always like this though. He was curt, but he cares. He would often cheer you up whenever you father smothered you with the talk that he couldn't wait for the day you would be living at the Zen'in estate and became their bride. He would get you flowers, let you put your head on his shoulder, or quietly watch as you cried, offering his silent presence.

You really, really hoped that if you were to be married off to the Zen'in, it would be to Megumi. He was easily the boy you'd pick over Naoya, the son of the main branch of family. You were never close to him, the way he stared at you sure gave you the creeps.

"I can ask for your help anytime, right, Megumi?" you mused, observing his cool profile as he turned the page of the book he was reading.

He regarded you with the straightest face ever. "Of course. I have always helped you since we were kids. Why wouldn't I do that now?"

"Then..." you breathed. "Can you take me somewhere... anywhere, just away from all of this?"

Megumi stilled. He knew about the conflicts in your heart. He knew you hated being played as a pawn in your father's schemes, and he hated that too, because he simply didn't like how sad it made you.

And he hated that there was the looming possibility that you might be out of his reach far sooner than he thought.

"Sure," he answered. "Where do you wanna go?"

And then, you began to do just that. Sneaking out to the gardens, finding secret meeting spots in the town—because you were dead if anyone should know.

Before you knew it, you both had each other's hearts entirely in your hands—before you knew it, his face was mere inches from yours as you both concealed yourselves behind a large cluster of foliage in the Zen'in gardens, your father and the Zen'in clan head engrossed in a conversation just a few feet away.

Your clear, wide eyes blinked up at him, and Megumi gulped. At that moment, he realized once again that you, his childhood friend, were really stunning. And that you trusted him wholeheartedly enough to go with him and be found in this position, with him.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He was in love with you. Have been for a while now.

And so even with the great risk of being found out, he led you deeper into the woods, his arm wrapped around the small of your back, and with a soft tug, he planted the gentlest, sweetest kiss on your lips—your very first kiss. Everything was sealed then.

"So, do you say yes, or not?" he mumbled afterwards, his cheeks burst into the color of peach. Meanwhile you, still breathless, touched your lips in astonishment.

"You..." you couldn't help the grin that was blooming in your face. "You like me?"

He turned away. "Who wouldn't? After making me run after you, lead you to safe places, see you cry—"

"Okay, okay!" you giggled, and the sound was like music to his ears. "Then it's a yes!"

You were the happiest with him. Amidst the intrigues surrounding you and the Zen'in clan, the times you spent with him were your saving grace.

"Am I pretty?" you boldly twirled in front of him, after meeting up at the outskirts of the town in one of your escapades. Megumi watched you from head to toe, taking note of how your flare dress hugged your form so elegantly, and the straw hat that framed your head only made you look even more adorable.

He didn't immediately answer, and when he did, all with red cheeks, you smiled brightly, expecting a compliment.

"Don't do that. People are looking. You're embarrassing yourself."

You pouted. "So I'm not pretty..."

To your surprise, he suddenly plucked your hat and pulled you behind the pillar, and then the round hat was beside your head, hiding your face—

And he stole a kiss.

"Megumi!" you jolted, blood quickly rushed to your beautiful face. "This is public place!"

His soft chuckle only served to make your heart soar even higher.

You were living the dream, with the man of your dreams beside you. This love story no one knew, you were content with it.

"By this point, all there's left to do is run," you heaved between chuckles and his feathery kisses as the two of you hid away to have your thirst in the gardens. "Can't we just run, Megumi?"

"I would, if I could," he gazed at you with a steadfast resolve. "Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess, somehow."

This love is difficult. But it's real.

But so was your father. And his will. In the summer of your coming of age, it was decided that you were going to marry Zen'in Naoya.

Your love story with Megumi... would it end just like that?

"Please, don't go!" you begged. You could hardly believe this situation right now. What did he say? End things here—?

Megumi felt his heart clench. "It's been announced already. You are to marry him. We can... no longer do this."

"But!" you argued. "You s-said... you would find a way out of it somehow..."

Your eyes glazed over, and Megumi had to look away to keep his heart from breaking completely. "I'm sorry."

At the end of the day, he was still a mere son of the branch family and stood no chance against Naoya. If you were to become the bride of his cousin, even he had to respect that.

Your heart shattered into pieces. This day had been looming on the horizon, and you'd been aware of it for some time. Your father didn't exactly conceal his greed with how he insisted on your marriage to Naoya to secure your position as the clan's main wife, instead of Megumi.

Yet it still hurt. You didn’t expect your happiness to he this fleeting, and you were disappointed that Megumi didn’t exactly fight his way through this.

“It’s… for your own good,” he added, and grimaced when he saw how you started sobbing. “I don’t want to compromise your virtue. It'll get ugly fast if people think that we're having… dalliances. You deserve better—”

"Don't patronize me!" you yelled. "Don't t-try... to tell me how to feel!"

Frankly, you never cared about virtues or anything. Most of choices made in your life weren't yours, and if you could finally make a decision through jeopardizing your fickle reputation, then so be it.

"I love you too much to let that happen," Megumi said then, baring his own feelings, that he too, didn't want this any more than you did. "You know I would do anything for you."

"All there's left to do is run," you sniffled. "If you would do anything for me, you would run with me."

Just say yes, your little heart screamed. You stared at him through your wet lashes, desperately willing him to just forget all this nonsense about family, virtue, and just choose love—your love.

But he never did. That day, he decided to leave you. This love was indeed difficult, but you really thought it was real, and now you had never felt so alone.

Days went by longer after that. Now that it had been announced to the public, as per Naoya’s will, you would move into the Zen’in estate until the day of your marriage. You resented and barely knew him, and your gut feeling was proven true when he smirked before you, pulling you into one of the hidden compartments of this godforsaken place.

“Don’t think I didn’t know about what you and he were up to,” he spat viciously. “You should’ve already known that you are always meant to be my wife—and what did you do? You’re putting me to shame as you and that lesser bastard run around.”

“He would always be better than you,” you bitterly scoffed.

“Get it through your head already, you’re to become my wife, and that’s final.”

“You can’t do anything if I don’t want to anyway. Beware of upcoming scandals in the future.”

And with that, came the first day of your misery. Naoya locked you up in that desolate place.

You were missing.

Megumi had noticed it for quite a while. Even if you were no longer his, his heart still longed for yours, and ultimately he wanted to make sure if you were okay. You moving in into his home should increase the chances of him seeing you, and yet, it was as if you had disappeared into the thin air.

It was an understatement to say that he was just worried. He knew Naoya wasn’t exactly the kindest in this household, but he really expected him to at least treat you right.

He still remembered how the tears fell from your beautiful eyes, telling him not to go. Megumi was as heartbroken as you, if not more. He had the choice when you asked him to run, yet he willingly stopped and did what he believed to be the right thing.

Was this still the right thing though?

As the maids hurried past, yelling something that vaguely sounded like your name and the phrase "starving herself!", Megumi felt his blood run cold. Without hesitation, he forcefully grabbed one of them, demanding answers.

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

The maid merely cowered with worry and fear. “Master Naoya… specifically instructed us not to let the miss pass freely…”

Megumi didn’t quite recall what he did, but he couldn't forget the frantic pounding of his heart as he rushed through the gardens to find you in the small room tucked away in the farthest corner of the vast compound, near the servants' dormitory. He practically tore the door off its hinges when he opened it.

You abruptly spun around to face the commotion, thinking that it may be your shitty fiancé, utterly bewildered.

Megumi scrutinized you closely, and gradually, he could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface.

You were pale, your hair was a disheveled mess, but what truly infuriated him was the sight of your broken nails and the dried blood. All he could think of was that you probably tried to claw your way out of this place.

"Megumi?" your voice sounded too hoarse to his liking. You looked at him as if you couldn't believe he was real. His heart shattered.

He shouldn't have left you. He should've run with you. You shouldn't have to be alone and hurt like this.

"Save me," you croaked with small voice, eyes brimming with unshed tears and fear.

That did it. When he heard the approaching rapid footsteps, he made the swiftest, life-changing decision of his life.

He caught a hold of your arm, and pinned you to the wall. And when the entirety of the household arrived in your doorstep, Naoya included, he made it a show as if the two of you were having the most scandalous tryst of the town.

"This ends here," he grunted, casting a glare at his rotten cousin. "I'm marrying her."

"I got tired of waiting, you know," you giggled, peering at your beloved's sullen face. "My faith faded at one point."

Megumi hummed, clasping his hand in yours. "I'm sorry."

You rolled your eyes, staring at the clear waters under the cruise. "I kept waiting, but you never came... and when you did, you caused us to make the headlines."

Your wedding to Megumi was both the grand event and scandal of the year. The sudden change of groom on such short notice triggered disapproving glances from most of the people you knew in this infuriating town, but frankly, you didn't care.

"I thought you wouldn't fight for me at all,” you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers.

"I've always believed that if it would make you happy in the end, I would be fine with it," Megumi said, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as the wind swept by.

"And then? What made you finally let go of that righteous, self-sacrificing thoughts?"

The softest smile was graced his lips. "I love you, and that's all I really know."

You didn't give a damn about what anyone else had to say because, in this moment—as you sailed on your honeymoon cruise, and throughout this love story, from your childhood and forevermore, he is the prince, and you are his princess.

[minhosbitterriver]

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭��𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees. 

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none. 

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work. 

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity. 

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly. 

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan. 

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward. 

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment. 

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance. 

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe. 

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through. 

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was. 

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read: 

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat. 

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared. 

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?" 

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached. 

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend. 

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy. 

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

[smuttysabina]

Commission: A Touch Forceful

(Girlcock QuarterJade & Leslie x Janet & Valkyrae, 3.5k words) Tags: Commission, WARNING: NONCONSENSUAL SEX, The R-word shows up a lot (twas requested), Big throbbing girlcocks, Hand fetish, Foot fetish, This one is pretty harsh ngl, Creampies, Double penetration, Sloppy seconds, Brutal sex, I cannot say the two girls are having a good time lol, Wow I got paid for this?

"Well this sucks" "I mean, does is it though?" Valkyrae groans and looks over at the friend perched next to her on the bed, as starkly naked as she is, "Yes Janet, because being a free-use slut for several hours sucks!" "I mean, does it though?" Rae's retort is cut off as the bedroom door creaks open and their first and final customers enter the room; Jodi and Leslie, both nude, both with massive penises swaying between their legs. Jodi's cock was slighter shorter than her fellow's, but made up for it by being far girthier, while Leslie's dick was thickly hooded with foreskin. The pair of them give their waiting friends falsely reassuring smiles, they all know how this was going to go down. "Well this is wonderful..." "I mean-" "Would you shut the fuck up, Janet?!"

Rae lets out a pained gasp as Jodi grasps her hair and hauls her off the bed and onto the floor, shoving her head against the side of the mattress. She moans in terror as Jodi rubs her hefty meat against her face, the bitch already panting with desire, more than eager to violate her friend. Rae groans as Jodi finally pushes her bulbous tip against her lips, forcing her jaw uncomfortably wide as her dick slowly fills her mouth until it is hitting the back of her throat. She can hear Janet screaming nearby as Leslie simply shoves her member into Janet's bare asshole, forcing her long meat agonizingly into her friend's guts. Not that Rae had much time to worry about her friend's travails, as Jodi was busy trying to cram her cock down her throat, to little success. Jodi snarls in frustration, "Open your mouth, wider you filthy fucking whore!" She slaps Rae across the face until tears run down her cheeks, blindly humping her face as she tries to force her dick deeper inside of Rae. Growing frustrated, Jodi halts her assault long enough to pull a coughing Rae back up onto the bed, holding her head back over the side of the furniture as she lines up her dripping meat once more. This time Jodi was able to start pushing her meat down her friend's throat, as Rae's legs kick at the air in distress as her airway is blocked off. Now Jodi was able to use Rae's throat like a pussy, and she wastes no time in roughly fucking it is if she were intent on impregnating her stomach. Grunting like a beast in heat, Jodi finally lets out a primal groan, her thick balls smothering Rae's nose as they pulsate, unloading their thick load into the slut. Rae convulses as the cock cream spews down her throat, her face growing purple as she struggles to breath, forced to swallow every last drop of Jodi's cum.

Just as Rae was about to pass out, Jodi relents and unstoppers her friend's throat, her cock now thoroughly coated with spittle, allowing Rae to gasp and gag as she tries to recover from her rough handling. Sneering contemptuously, Jodi slaps Rae a few more times, "See, all you had to do was open up you stupid bitch!" before stalking off to join Leslie, who was still quite busy ravaging Janet's tender asshole. Whose owner had yet to cease screeching in agony as her butt was brutally pounded, clawing at the sheets with her delicate hands as she struggled to escape from her tormentor. Her relief was soon to arrive however, as Leslie pinned the writhing slut for long enough to get a solid rhythm of thrusts that allowed her to finally climax. Janet howls as Leslie's turgid load sloshes into her guts, with Leslie's cock painfully impaling her to the fullest as she shudders atop her. Janet whimpers as Leslie drags her dick out of her abused hole, her asshole bruised and left gaping, the cool air stinging her sensitive flesh.

Jodi gives Leslie's handiwork an approving look, before asking, "Switch?" Leslie grins in reply, "Thanks for stretching out Rae's throat, I've always wanted to face-fuck that whore." Jodi smirks, "The pleasure was mine, and I'm looking forward to fucking your load out of-" The pair are interrupted as Rae starts to noisily puke up the creampie Jodi had so graciously filled her stomach with, reams of semen erupting from her lips as she spasmodically clutches at the sheets. The two make noises of exaggerated disgust at the mess their friend was making, before cheerfully going their separate ways to their new partners. Janet lays moaning upon the scrambled covers, clutching at her abused ass, she whimpers as Jodi joins her on the bed, begging her friend to not use her already injured ass. Jodi merrily agrees, so long as Janet bends over like a good piece of fuck meat and begs for it like a good slut. Janet hurries to comply, hoisting her rear into the air and spreading her cheeks, mewling insincerely for Jodi's cock. Jodi licks her lips as she presses her meaty head against her friend's moist entrance, before pausing, and admiring the ruin Leslie had wrought upon Janet's blown out hole; globular strings of cum still clung to her innards... Jodi sighs, before announcing, "I lied," and sadistically shoving her dick into Janet's wounded ass. Janet shrieks like a banshee as her butt is stretched even wider by Jodi's fat cock, though this time her ass was at least lubricated by Leslie's filthy semen.

The owner of said sloppy seconds was currently trying to get Rae to clean off her cock, but Leslie's habitual unwashed stench had not been improved much by her time in Janet's guts; so Rae was occupied with gagging and hurling the dregs of Jodi's loads. Eventually, Leslie cajoled Rae into licking clean her foul, hooded tip, sobbing as she lapped at the filthy fluids coating Leslie's cock. Meanwhile Jodi is violently plowing Janet as she howls in pain and sobs into the sheets, sadistically fucking Leslie's slimy load out of her. Piqued by her own partner's lack of enthusiasm, Leslie gives up on trying to get Rae to suck her off properly and instead moves on to something more fuckable; namely Rae's feet. Leaving the bitch to gag and spit into the puddle of semenal puke, Leslie hops onto the bed and manhandles her friend's feet until they are pushed together, toes touching as if in prayer. Which Rae is no doubt doing as Leslie squishes her cock into the cavity formed by her feet and starts to vigorously fuck them. The degenerate pants perversely as she humps Rae's extremities, relishing in their soft soles and rough heels until she groaningly spews a stinking load of semen over them; shuddering so much that a decent portion of her seed ends up splattering over Rae's back and butt. Nearby, Jodi has reached her own peak, and is busy refilling Janet's guts with thick reams of jizz, even as her partner screams and begs for mercy.

Leaving her friend to wail into the sheets and clutch at her brutalized anus, Jodi rejoins Leslie as the other girl is hauling Rae's butt into the air, already eager to pleasure her cock once more. Rae groans as she feels Leslie's bulbous tip pressing against her entrance, wincing as Leslie's starts to force herself inside of her pussy. Rae's attention is drawn elsewhere though as Jodi prods her face with her cock, causing Rae to baulk as she notices the bloody cum-filth coating it. Jodi callously slaps her, "Clean it. Clean it off, and perhaps I won't rape your asshole. Well? Begin you slut." Rae whines as she unenthusiastically licks the mess left by Janet's ruined ass off of Jodi's twitching shaft; only hurrying to finish when Jodi smacks her a few more times to encourage her. All the while Rae trembles and shakes as Leslie pokes her guts with her long cock, barely able to take more than half of it as Leslie grows ever more frustrated. Luckily for her though, Jodi has a clever idea of what will satisfy both of them, though probably not Rae. After some wrangling, Leslie lays back, pulling Rae with her so that her entire body weight now presses on her ropey meat, gradually forcing it deeper, but then Jodi kneels in front of Rae's open legs. Some understanding flashes through Rae, and she immediately starts to plead, but Jodi simply smirks, "What? I told you I would spare your asshole, so now I have to use your cunt, it's not my fault Leslie and I have to share your worthless fuck-hole."

Rae blubbers as Jodi slowly attempts to cram her cock into Rae's already full cunt, even as Leslie continues to mindlessly try and stretch Rae's pussy out even more. Rae shrieks in pain, shaking her head in denial as if that would stop Jodi from slowly forcing her thick tip in alongside Leslie's slick shaft. Rae screams as her perineum tears in a sick parody of birth, as Jodi's cock shoves itself into her pussy until it is resting alongside Leslie's. Overcome by shock, Rae passes out, which was likely for the best as Jodi and Leslie proceed to use her cunt like a cheap fleshlight, pumping furiously away at their unconscious friend. Their slimy cocks slide against one another as the fuck Rae, and overcome by lust, their owners' start to sloppily make out as they share their friend. Wet sloshing noises echo around the room as they both start to leak copiously, and Rae's abused cunt drenches them with fluids in an attempt to reduce the damage they are inflicting upon it. After ten minutes of unrelenting sex, Leslie finishes first, baptizing Jodi's dick with turgid semen as she moans shrilly, lost in the sensation of her climax. Jodi follows soon after, grunting like a boar in rut as she fucks Leslie's cock almost as much as Rae's cunt, before finally spewing her own load into Rae until it leaks out and down Leslie's quivering balls. When Jodi pulls out, a slurry of congealed cum slops out afterwards, Rae's slack hole burping obscenely as it tries to close itself. Together, she and Leslie shove Rae on her side, leaving her passed out with her cunt drooling a foul mixture of sexual juices onto the soaked sheets.

The pair by this point were a touch exhausted from their depraved exercise, but their cocks still bulged with obscene excitement; and with Rae now thoroughly used, that just left... Janet whimpers as her friends kneel next to her, their dicks still dripping from their sojourn inside of Rae's wrecked pussy. Janet's bruised asshole is still leaking Jodi's seed, but she has otherwise been left unspoiled, until now at least. But after the heady pleasure of breaking Rae, the two would prefer something a little less stimulating; this time. "Stroke it," Jodi demands, thrusting her cock emphatically, "stroke us off or we'll break your cunt like we did with Rae." Moaning in horror, Janet hurries to comply, and soon the other two girls were moaning as well, though this time with pleasure. Janet's pretty hands slide up and down their cocks with an enthusiasm born of desperation, her dainty fingers curling seductively around their slippery meat. Her perfect digits squeeze and massage their womanhoods, until Leslie's cock is slobbering precum, and even Jodi is groaning and humping the air. To everyone's surprise, it is Jodi who finishes first, gasping erratically, she curls forward as her diminished load spurts all over Janet's face; who closes her eyes and grimaces as she is painted with watery semen. Aroused by the sight of Janet receiving a facial, it is not long before Leslie's seed leaks out all over Janet's clenched fingers; now that Jodi was finished, Janet could jerk Leslie off with both of her hands. Janet screws up her face as the stinking mess slowly slides down her wrists, her friend's gooey cum squelching as she opens and closes her hands.

Unfortunately for Janet, her travails were not yet finished. Jodi gives Leslie a knowing look, before asking, "Want to fuck her face this time? I feel like raping her cunt instead of her ass for once." Leslie giggles in acquiesce, already more than excited to get stroked off with her own cum while she fills Janet's face. Janet however whines in protest waving hands in a warding gesture, Jodi had promised that she wouldn't fuck her pussy! Jodi was inclined to remind her that she wouldn't break her, just fuck her, but the sight of Leslie's thick semen coating Janet's hands fills her mind with degenerate thoughts. She had always loved the sloppy sensation of her friend's jizz on her cock, so why not take it a step further and enjoy it in other ways as well...? Jodi gives in to the perverse urges, voluntarily allowing herself to indulge in her darkest fantasies for the rest of this fuck-fest. She pulls one of Janet's hands up to her face, and locking eyes with Leslie, Jodi licks her smelly load off of Janet's skin. Leslie's cock bulges with arousal, and the pervert joins in the fun, eating their shared load off of Janet's other hand, whose owner shivers as the two rapacious bitches lick and suckle upon her fingers. Soon they are messily making out, smearing their cum-laced spittle across one another's lips as Janet's watches with undisguised, if relieved, disgust. But the pair had not forgotten about their last pet, and as Jodi murmurs something in Leslie's ears they both look evilly at her. "You're right Janjan," Jodi smiles, "You did a good job stroking us so this time I'm going to violate your feet; if you aren't squealing like a whore then I will break your pussy, got it?" Janet can only blubber in acquiesce.

Jodi is panting like a degenerate as she squishes Janet's dainty feet together, on her knees humping her delicate toes as the slut whines noisily. Janet moans like a pornstar as her friend debases herself dirtying her soles, her vulnerable cunt on full display as she lays on her back; watching with trepidation as Leslie strokes herself voyeurishly. But she needn't worry much, as Leslie instead positions herself behind Jodi, her long member already leaking with excitement, as she lines it up. Jodi groans as Leslie's huge cock slips into her ass, her own monstrous member emitting a slurry of precum as her prostate is stimulated. Leslie for her part is already orgasming, the novelty of using her friend's asshole already too much for her sensitive dick. Leslie presses herself against Jodi, their sweaty skin sticking together as she waits for her fellow streamer's reaction. Jodi was in rapture, a naturally sadistic dominatrix, giving into her more "submissive" side had driven her wild with lust, and so naturally she demanded more. "Rape me Leslie," Jodi growls, "Rape me until you're satisfied, use me until you're empty!" What remained of Leslie's restraints snaps, and she begins to plow Jodi even harder than she had even Rae; she had always wanted to fuck Jodi, and now she had been given permission to go wild. Janet watches with fascinated horror as Jodi's belly bulges repeatedly as Leslie jackhammers her friend, as fresh semen slops out of Jodi's cock and all over her feet. Jodi's load explodes all over Janet, covering her with thick streamers of jizz as Leslie fucks Jodi's load out of her, not even pausing as her friend shudders with overstimulation. Nor does Leslie stop for the next hour, rapaciously plowing Jodi's guts as she howls her name, filling her with load after load until her stomach is bloated from all the cum inside of it. Jodi had climaxed almost continuously, forcing Janet to pleasure her with her feet and hands and mouth as her jizz had spewed all over her until she was almost coated in stinking semen.

Leslie only stops raping Jodi's asshole when she notices her seductively sucking and licking her own cum off of Janet's extremities. Leslie joins her friend in cleaning up the fruits of her labor as Janet moans and shivers as the pair clean up Jodi's massive mess. She is more than happy though that the pair were not violating her own holes anymore, at least now the bitches were fucking each other rather than good girls like her! Janet has little time to gloat however as Leslie finally pulls out of Jodi, whose asshole sputters thick stinking jizz down her thighs before she turns around and forces Janet's face into her butt. Janet gags as she chokes down the vile meal, and her delicate hands are forced to stroke Jodi's dripping cock once more. Jodi herself is far from lax, as Leslie slaps her filthy member against her face, as she greedily opens her mouth, lapping at the sticky meat. Shuddering, Leslie forces her flexible meat down Jodi's throat, she had always wanted to fuck her friend's face, and Jodi does not disappoint, taking it all like a woman should. She doesn't even gag as Leslie's sweaty balls slap against her chin, she even shoves her groomed fingers up Leslie's ass to stimulate her prostate. Torrents of jizz spew down Jodi's throat as Leslie pumps her stomach full of turgid sperm, as she unceasingly fucks her mouth even as Jodi's face turns purple from lack of air. Eventually, Leslie tires of her sport, and when she pulls out a welter of semen follows her back up, as Jodi pukes her load all over her cock.

After some rather messy cleanup, where poor Janet was once more forced to have her throat used to clean off Leslie's cock, Leslie returns to brutally plowing Jodi in every position imaginable. All the while the perverted pair indulge in their depraved fetishes by constantly licking and kissing Janet's feet and hands, smearing them with cum before cleaning them off. Janet can only writhe in unwanted pleasure as her extremities are worshipped, though she much prefers this to having her cunt destroyed like Rae's... Who at this point was feigning unconscious, and surreptitiously attempting to shove her prolapsed cervix back into her cunt; which unfortunately for her does not go unnoticed. By this point Jodi looked as if she were pregnant, her innards so bloated with semen her tummy was bright red and grotesquely swollen, and was in urgent need to unburden herself. Groaning, Jodi stops sucking Leslie's cum off of Janet's and orders her to drag Rae over, it's time that bitch got back to work serving as their cum dump. Desperate to protect her friend, Janet refuses, and screams in horror as Jodi drags her beneath her and shoves her thick slobbering dick into her cunt. It seems like Jodi and Leslie will get to break Janet's pussy after all today...

Rae should enjoy having to suck Janet's blown-out cunt clean, speaking of, while Jodi is busy raping Janet, Leslie hauls a struggling Rae over and deposits her by the rutting pair. Jodi grunts in satisfaction before stopping, and together the two pull Janet and Rae off of the bed and force them to their knees, slapping their faces with their dripping cocks. The unlucky girls have their faces pushed together, as the other streamers warn them to stay put as they start to stroke their load out onto their poor friends. Groaning, Jodi and Leslie verbally and physically abuse them, slapping them and threatening them with brutal rape if they did not swallow every last drop of their cum. Sobbing, Janet and Rae have no choice but to comply as ropes of chunky semen splatter onto their faces, their skin painted with white as they drink the cum that leaks into their open mouths.

Unfortunately for Janet and Rae, Jodi and Leslie still have an hour of free-use left...

[avocado-writing]

I will forfeit all my worldly possessions for some gortash nsfw, you’re amazing keep up the good work!

cws: hate sex. gn!reader x gortash. enjoy!

you fucking hate him. oh, you hate him.

you make sure he knows it every time you run your nails down his back, rake them, really; leaving hot red welts in their wake. you want him to cry out in pain. instead he hisses in pleasure and buries himself in your further.

it is delicious. it is torture. it is heavenly.

when he’d suggested you’d work together, you’d swallowed your pride and done it for the good of baldur’s gate. the people loved him after all, even if it was all due to his campaign of faux grandeur. ‘a man of the people’. as if. if he was in a lineup and you had to choose the person who you thought had crawled out of the hells, you’d pick him every single time.

but still, despite it all, despite his devilish upbringing and baneite loyalties, there was a bigger enemy to face, and he was a powerful ally.

so ally you did.

it started off innocent enough, him calling meetings with you, just you. strategising, he reasoned. no point in not sharing information. you looked at him with disdain over his map of the city, he just arched a brow.

you hated yourself for having a reaction to it, burning white hot in the pit of your stomach. a mix of rage and lust. when everyone was asleep that night at the elfsong, you shoved your hand between your legs to ease the pressure he had built up, cursing him as you came.

his honeyed words dripped on you. dulled your senses to the lurid colours of his purulent personality. he was evil. viciously so. no good to be next to in the long run.

yet when he hooked the finger of his gauntlet under your chin and brought you in for a kiss, you did not pull away. you met his challenge head on. you teethed at his tongue when it slipped between your lips. you wanted him to know you’d take what you needed from him and hate him as you went. he wanted you to know he didn’t care and would enjoy it anyway.

and now: this.

his hand slipping up your thigh during your meeting until he cups your sex. you near-snarling in return and ripping at his fine clothes, hungering for the meat of his body. you are no aesthete. there is no use in pretending you care about what your tear away - he surely has the best tailors in this city at his beck and call, and it goes some way to soothing your wounded ego when his gown is in scraps from your ardour.

and it is wounded, of course, because you debase yourself like this.

he sits you on top of the map of the city, lays you out over it, and fucks you. there’s a poetry to your bodies combining on top of your shared home. he thrusts and you growl in the back of your throat, smothering his smug smile by forcing him into a near-violent kiss. hate him. you hate him.

his cock slides into your body, thick and hard, and despite your better judgement there is a little thrill in knowing that you get this powerful man to have such a reaction. that the roseate of his cheeks and heave of his chest is because he desires you with his whole being. you purr when his head dips between your legs and he ravishes you with his tongue, just as clever when it fucks as it is when he speaks.

you want to take him apart piece by piece. as he thrusts down into you, dark and dangerous eyes boring into yours without missing a beat, you know he wants to do the exact same in return. reduce you both to parts. jigsaw them together and let the combination of the two of you rule this city, rule the brain, rule the world.

every time you couple, you let yourself get lost in the idea of it for just a moment. the idea of him. the idea of him and you.

but when it is over and you are both sated, your mind and sense return. you cannot trust this man, even after he has been inside of you, when he knows the most intimate etchings of your soul.

so you bid him goodnight, and no more. he is once again an enemy held as close as a friend.

“until next time,” says Gortash with an easy smile, and you want to tell him there will be no ‘next time’ - but it would be a lie neither of you would believe.

[chaifootsteps]

there are so many little hints that support Blitzfizz and feel like foreshadowing

Blitzo's love letter to him, the way he still so clearly carries a torch for him and never let it go (and the way they have a bond because these two are actual childhood friends). The way he keeps calling Fizz a sellout to cope with his jealousy but it's also because he thinks Fizz deserves better than Mammon. The way Fizz feels smothered and overprotected by Ozzie. The way they both have relationships with a massive class difference. Even the way they made up ridiculously quickly once they both knew the other wanted to see them the whole time. The shot of Fizz and Ozzie kissing and when they part, Blitzo is between them. The way Fizz's "anyone who judges royals is just as bad" reads a lot better if we assume he's just projecting his own relationship insecurities onto Blitzo. The way Blitzo makes total heart eyes at him when Fizz makes him part of his routine in 'Look at This' and the way he blushes when Fizz is showing him blindfolds in Full Moon (just the general way he looks at Fizz with the most adoration and desire he's shown to anyone in the show - far more than he's ever managed to look at Stolas with)

it wouldn't make up for all of s2's writing problems but it genuinely would be a good plot twist/development if Blitzfizz happened. because the show hasn't really done much of anything to make it convincing why it should be stol1tz instead - Blitz will always hold Fizz in his heart, admires and adores him, but we have no idea what would be missing from his life if Stolas wasn't in it.

If anything it would be a net positive because he wouldn't be expected to clean up Stolas' messes anymore or deal with all his passive-aggressive 'I'm never wrong' BS. The whole redemption through accountability thing works far better with Blitzfizz because Blitzo did hurt him. It was an accident but it still had a major effect on Fizz. meanwhile the only damage Blitzo has done to Stolas is in Stolas' head - by Stolas' own admission Blitzo didn't mean to hurt him and it didn't mean anything; it was just his own delusions about what was happening that resulted in him getting his poor owl fee fees hurt

I think HB holds some kind of record for the amount of things that feel like foreshadowing, only to be discarded immediately, and Blitz and Fizz's relationship is definitely one of them. Everything about it just feels inevitable, but nope, sad crying owl.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Would you ever write an Edward story where he cheats on Bella post Breaking Dawn or they break up because he falls in love with another human after her? Like a few years down the line, he starts to miss Bella’s human scent, softness, etc. and then he meets another singer or someone whose mind he can’t read and becomes obsessed with them. And it’s angsty because they realize he doesn’t really like vampire Bella and what attracted him to her was her “humanness” so now that it’s gone, he loses interest.

Ichor

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x human!witch!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Warnings: major regret, kinda feel bad for bella while writing this 😅, falling out of love, for the sake of this story reneesme doesn't exist, kinda creepy stalker vibe from edward?, but what else do you expect from him 😂, sorry this is short :( been suffering from major writer's block

Words: 1443

There was no warmth of life to Bella, not anymore. Edward had fought against Bella's desire to be like him, an immortal. With her warmth went that oh so sweet honeysuckle scent of her singer blood. He missed nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and listening to her blood coarse through her veins. Everything was cold and hard and unwelcoming now that she was like the rest of the Cullens.

And while he was able to physically love her without restraint now, there was a gnawing dissatisfaction that burned a hole deep inside of him.

He tried smothering it, not let it grow and feed off his lingering thoughts. Just a harmless, passing thought. They'd taken vows, to love one another for the rest of their immortal lives in front of all their friends and family. Edward thought he got his happily ever after with Bella, his singer.

Never did he imagine that he would miss her mortality so much and so greatly. Profound was his distress over this realization as he experienced grief for Bella's human life once more. This time it lingered. Resting on the precipice of his consciousness.

Try as he may, it creeps into his mind whenever he holds onto her golden gaze. Grateful that Bella's special ability wasn't telepathy like him. It would break her heart if she heard the doubting thoughts that grew louder each passing day.

Edward didn't know the exact start date of this swift change in his mentality toward someone he'd loved and cherished so much that he was willing to face both the wolves and the Volturi in order to protect her.

Immense shame rendered him speechless, unable to seek help or advice from his brothers. He'd never kept such a large secret before from them. They'd always held a sympathetic ear for Edward but. . . if he told them about this, Emmett and Jasper might add onto his guilt. Bella was their sister-in-law. His brothers have proven that they genuinely care for her and accept her as part of the Cullen clan.

The world around him was crumbling. Nothing for him to stabilize himself.

Errands that took him away from town were like a breath of fresh air to his undernourished lungs- well, metaphorically.

His outings lasted longer and longer each time. The distance he put between himself and Bella growing larger.

Until something odder happened to him.

He smelled the blood of a singer once more. Each inhalation a spasming jolt shot through him. A burst of honeyed, reduced him to damn near salivating. Edward had almost forgotten the scent. Almost mistook it for something else.

Akin to an apex predator, he's easily guided to the source of such an alluring aroma that has him blind-sided. He doesn't care in that moment who lay at the end of the trail or of the consequences that may befall him from this encounter.

If it hadn't been for your singer blood, you would have blended in with the rest of the crowd in Port Angeles. A typical human female hanging out with her friends; just like many others that night. Unaware of the glowing eyes of the animal stalking her.

But you weren't like your other friends. With his vampire eyes, he saw the glow of your skin; your aura was blinding. Even Bella's presence wasn't as bright as when he laid eyes on you. His honeypot.

He frantically rifles through the crowd's thoughts, tossing them away when they didn't belong to you.

In pursuing you, Edward was essentially damning himself. Each step he took closer to you was like walking into danger itself. A moth to a flame. For the first time in a long time, Edward felt utterly helpless. Weak even.

Then he heard the ring of your thoughts.

And he smiles to himself, listening in as you contemplate leaving early to go home and finish the book you'd started the other day. How it was getting to the good part. Torn that you were also having fun with your friends though.

Subtly watching you from a hiding spot, Edward simply closes his eyes and focuses on the flow of your thoughts in an attempt to get to know you better. Another human girl with the delicious blood of a god.

Bella checks the time on her phone again.

2 am

Edward had left eight hours ago, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going or taking his phone with him. His behavior was growing more concerning. She'd asked Jasper and Emmett if they had noticed this odd turn in Edward and they too agree that something was up with him. Alice did her best to offer a positive take on the issue. Not even Carlisle or Esme had an answer.

Not too long ago Edward had been so attentive to her, relishing in sharing immortality with her.

Deciding to wait in their shared little cottage home, Bella leaves the main Cullen estate and takes to the small pebbled path that led to her home. She remembers how happy they were when Carlisle gifted the cottage to them when they came back from their honeymoon.

Her fingers lazily trail along the rugged bark of trees. Nails lightly dragging across it.

Their life was perfect now. She fit into his world. So. . . why the sudden distance? This was going on to four months now and the decline was becoming more evident.

Her other hand is anxiously drawn to her chest in an effort to comfort her. Bella could hear the cracks in their marriage and overall relationship.

Edward growls in irritation with himself. What an idiot he was following you home. Stupid that he put everything on the line just to be around you a little bit longer.

He kept bargaining with himself that he was only going to stay for an hour. An hour turned into two, then three. . . Until he was perched atop of a tree across the street from your house.

Exasperated he runs a hand across his face, making his way up the brick steps of the cottage.

He shouldn't have followed you back to your home. Now he had that knowledge of your address.

That meant. . .

So consumed in his inner turmoil, Edward was caught off guard by Bella's voice "Where have you been?"

His eyes round in alarm, the only tipoff to his surprise. "Hunting." Well. . . kind of true.

That was not the answer she wanted. Bella's brows furrow with her disdain. "Edward, what's going on? And don't say that nothing is going on because even the rest of the family has seen the change in you."

Hell, why was he thinking about your fragrance? Likening it to standing at the threshold of the divine and savoring the ambrosial nectar that flowed through the veins of gods.

Had Bella's smelled like that? He couldn't recall.

He forcefully pulls himself back to address Bella. He couldn't keep lying to her. Bella deserved the truth. But it would hurt her once the words left his mouth. It would make everything more real to verbally acknowledge it.

"Bella. . ." Edward must have looked scared and pathetic in that moment. He could see his reflection in her golden eyes. Eyes he'd groan to begrudge. "I really don't know what's going on myself. . . but. . ." Sighing, he ignores the consequences that would follow. "I miss your humanness, Bella. Your softness. The warmth of your embraces. Your scent. . . It's-you're just- just not the same. And those were the parts that I fell in love with. Your humanity was what defined you. That delicate balance of strength and vulnerability that all comes with being mortal."

While he'd kept his tone as gentle as possible, that did little to stop the breaking of Bella's face as her lips curl and tremble. The delicate arch of her brows twitch in an attempt for restraint for despite all the emotions she was feeling, Bella's tear ducts no longer produced tears. As with all vampires.

A tremor passes through Bella. The essence of heartbreak etched itself on her face. "D-Do you still love me?"

In a moment of cowardice, Edward averts his gaze from her making the sorrow she felt boil into fury.

"Answer me, Edward. Do you still love me?" Her hands ball up into fists at her sides.

He struggles to find the words to encapsulate the complexities of his emotions.

The quietude of the cottage seemed to amplify the tension that hung between them.

Bella grits down on the back of her teeth, a burning force behind her eyes that made her desperate to cry. "After everything Edward. . ."

"I'm sorry Bella. . ."

[itsabouttimex2]

Monkiefam: Part One

Transformation Troubles

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

“It’s for your own safety, kiddo.”

Those words ring in your mind as you stare out of the window, watching as your “father” trains your “brother”. You idly watch them clash, deftly swinging their staffs, blocking, counter-attacking, and breaking through each other’s defenses. Wukong stands leagues above MK, even though the kid is learning fast. You’ve gotten used to the sight of the monkey demon correcting his mentee’s stance, shifting his arms and legs, hauling him off the ground and dusting his clothes off when he knocks him down. Once, you would’ve stood in wide-eyed awe, caught on every fluid strike and powerful swing. Now, it’s become so commonplace that you barely bat an eye.

You only really start to pay attention when they start rapidly shifting between several forms from the 72 Transformations technique.

Although your “family” had allowed you to partake in basic training exercises like stretches and warmups, anything beyond that was strictly off-limits to you. As MK mastered skill after skill and bolstered his arsenal of techniques, you were stuck inside, only able to watch him grow. All to keep you safe, in their own words. One was a monkey demon and one was an inheritor to the legacy and powers of said monkey demon. They were powerful and mystical, and you were a regular human, short-lived and fragile. Weaker, slower, squishier.

But more than smart enough to learn a few of their tricks.

And brave enough to try one out.

“If you wanna change your body, you gotta change your thinking first, bud.”Wukong had instructed MK with these words not too long ago. From a hawk to a tiger to even something as small as a butterfly, Sun Wukong had already mastered all 72 and MK was well on his way to learning to do so himself.

You only had one in mind to start with. If you wanted to ever escape the smothering clutches of these two warriors, you weren’t going to be able to do it with any kind of mindless force. Being able to take the form of a hawk might’ve sounded useful, but the Monkey King could easily outspeed you. A tiger? Both of them could take the same form, and were much stronger to boot. Picking something like a spider would easily keep MK away, but wouldn’t deter Wukong in the slightest.

So instead, you settled on the monkey. Then, you had plausible deniability on your side. You could shrug it off as ‘wanting to be more like him’ or ‘wanting to see what it was like’ if Wukong asked you why you’d been practicing transformations at all. MK wouldn’t need any sort of explanation from you, because he’d probably just get excited about you learning such a technique.

You have your plan. And your reasoning, if things go poorly. All that’s left to do is to get started.

Change your thinking.

Wild, exuberant energy. Skillful jumps and leaps. Dexterous limbs and powerful bodies. Unbridled curiosity. Devotion to your troop.

An innate desire to revel in freedom.

At first, you had worried that the transformation might hurt. But then the whole world flashes gold and your body shifts and reshapes, and you feel better than you ever have before. A burst of adrenaline rushes through you, glowing sparks of white hot energy coursing your veins. You lie there on the floor for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure as the searing ecstasy of success flows through your shifted body.

And then there’s a knock on the door. You try to scramble to your feet, only to trip over your unfamiliar appendages. You slip and lightly thud against the floor, which only worries your captor more.

“You doing okay in there, bud? Training ran a little long, huh?”

You can’t respond. You try to respond, but nothing akin to speech comes out. Only silk-soft chittering. Then it hits you.

You aren’t a gorilla, a chimpanzee, an orangutan.

“Are you still mad that we won’t let you train with us? Am I getting the silent treatment now, kid?”

No, you’ve shifted into one of the little monkeys that flourish on Flower Fruit Mountain.

“Aww, don’t be too upset, alright? Hey, I’ll have MK bring us some of those noodles the two of you like, okay? The three of us can eat together.”

And you don’t know how to turn back.

“Y/N?”

You only have a few seconds to register the concern in his voice before the door between the two of you flies off the handles, broken down by a single kick from Wukong. He crosses the threshold into your room, looking around not only in worry, but tentative anger. If you had broken out again, he was going to…

You look up. He looks down.

There’s only a couple of seconds where he’s confused, head tilted curiously to the side at the sight of the little monkey in front of him. Then, recognition writes itself across his face.

His eyes widen in adoration as the end of his tail curls into a sort of heart. He dashes forward and snatches you off the ground with a huge grin, holding you up to his face. He nuzzles you against himself, brushing his cheek against your own. He only pauses to call out to his student.

“MK, bud, you gotta come see this!”

Once you hear excited footsteps pounding down the halls, you know that you’re in for a long day.

[renlyslittlerose]

This was somewhat inspired by a conversation I had with @bunnywan, alongside my own bout of insomnia that's been kicking my skinny little ass the last couple weeks~ ✨

Basically, Obi-Wan can't sleep without his Padawan there to smother him with affection~

****

Obi-Wan had never been one to seek out physical affection.

It wasn’t as if he were averse to it. A casual hug here, the brush of shoulders there, the occasional peck on the cheek when greeting an old friend - these were acceptable and even somewhat desired when in the company of those he enjoyed. But he’d never gone out and sought those sorts of things; never craved the warmth of someone else’s arms wrapped around him, their breath spreading across his cheek, their heartbeat heard and felt as it steadily thundered against both their breasts.

Obi-Wan enjoyed his personal space.

That was, until he met Anakin.

The boy had no concept of the word personal space, let alone the means by which to apply them in his day to day. He desired to be close to those around him, seeking out their affections both in word and deed. He held Obi-Wan’s hand as they walked the halls, only dropping it once they passed Padawans of a similar age. When they sat together Anakin would press up against Obi-Wan’s side, curling up like a lothcat as he leaned his entire weight until Obi-Wan was forced to push back - just a little, just enough to make it a game between them. He’d kiss Obi-Wan’s cheek and expect the same in return. And when times grew idle and quiet just before bed, Obi-Wan would undo and then braid Anakin’s tendril of hair just behind his ear, calloused fingers working though the ever lengthening hairs as Anakin rambled on about his day.

As Anakin grew he remained affectionate. Hand holding turned into their shoulders brushing as they walked, black cotton robes blending with Obi-Wan’s cream ones as they strode through the halls together. When they sat side by side their thighs would press together, and when across their knees brushed. Hair braiding turned to careful brushing, Obi-Wan’s hands replaced with a comb as he tried to detangle Anakin’s knotted curls, all the while Anakin sat between his legs and spoke as he’d done years before.

When their relationship shifted, long held suppression finally giving in to gasps of pleasure and firm grips along sweat slick backs, Anakin’s affection only grew. He held Obi-Wan closely as they kissed and moved together, pressing their forms in as tight as he could, not contented with even an inch between them. He’d press his face against Obi-Wan’s neck and bite, grip his body until pale skin bruised and blemished, sink into Obi-Wan’s willing body and stay tucked deep inside until the satisfying ache gave way to pain that skittered and burned. Debauched words would spill from his lips; of staying inside for forever; of painting their messed in each other's guts until they were stained by one another, and until their existence were etched upon their bones and became the marrow that made them.

And slowly but surely, day by day, year by year, Anakin’s obsession became Obi-Wan’s.

And no more so was this dependency felt, then when they couldn’t share a bed.

He found himself craving Anakin’s closeness - to feel his breath along his skin, his heat along his shoulder, his spit inside his mouth. He wanted him near in all ways, wrapped up with him if not in person than in the Force, their bond strengthening until it was impossible to break.

Without Anakin near him, surrounding him and holding on to him, Obi-Wan felt lost.

Whenever they were separated for any extended period of time, Obi-Wan knew he was in for a sleepless few days or weeks. Without Anakin practically strangling him in his sleep - his arms wrapped tight around his torso or neck, legs tangled with his own, Anakin’s drool slipping down his neck and sticking to his shoulders - Obi-Wan struggled to find the sweet release of sleep. Even when exhausted, it wouldn’t come easily, Obi-Wan’s mind tumbling and turning around in his mind, kicking up a racket that wasn’t able to be quieted without the familiar heartbeat of another.

Obi-Wan would lie awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling with his blankets tangled up around him as he wished for the weight of Anakin next to him. Even his well practiced meditations ceased to work, Obi-Wan’s mind never quieting long enough for him to find the release he sought.

He gave up about six months into the war, and instead became unwillingly addicted to caf and relied on the buttresses of the Force to see him through the days or weeks he was without Anakin. Bags under his eyes became an unwelcome but familiar presence in his life, as did excessive yawning and a practice hand-wave away whenever a fellow Jedi or Clone asked if he was alright.

It helped that everyone else was just as tired as he was, though for different reasons.

So when the inevitable reunion did happen, Obi-Wan knew just how to celebrate.

Anakin’s laughter broke through the hum of the ship around them. He stumbled into Obi-Wan’s room on the Negotiator, footsteps heavy across the metal floor as he whirled around to look at Obi-Wan. He had a cut along his jaw, already scabbed over but still purple from the bruising, and his hair was even more messy than normal, Obi-Wan knowing that he’d neglected to take care of himself more than usual. Yet he still looked comforting - long limbs perfect for holding on to, broad chest firm and warm, voice soft and delicate as it bounced around Obi-Wan’s body and soothed the aches he had with a charming laugh or an easy sigh.

With greedy hands he began pulling at Anakin’s robes, fingers making quick work even as Anakin peppered his neck and jaw with kisses, laughter still spilling out from between his lips. But when Anakin made move to grab at Obi-Wan’s cock, he slapped his hand away and pushed him toward the bed.

“We’re not doing that right now,” Obi-Wan chided.

“How come?” Anakin asked, a pout on his lips even as he undressed the rest of the way, keeping his hands to himself.

He felt as if he could collapse into the depths of sleep right then and there, his entire body hurting with exhaustion. Anakin’s presence was only exacerbating his fatigue, as if his mere presence signaled something in the primordial muck of his body, letting him know that sweet relief would soon be coming.

“Because I’m exhausted,” Obi-Wan replied as he made his own quick work of his clothes. Once nude, he approached Anakin and pushed him down on to the narrow cot. Normally the cramped space wasn’t ideal, the pair having to be mindful of their elbows and knees and where they were in relation to one another. But today it was perfect - closed in and intimate, keeping them tucked tight together.

Grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed, Obi-Wan let Anakin settle before he joined him. Squeezing up against Anakin, Obi-Wan threw the blanket over them both before grabbing Anakin and holding him close. Immediately Anakin’s scent enveloped him - the musk of his skin, the leathers of his tabards, the military issues soaps. His skin was hot, his hands broad and firm along Obi-Wan’s back, callouses and metal soothing as they ran along his back.

If Obi-Wan pressed in close enough, he could almost feel Anakin’s heartbeat against his own, the two syncing up until they were one in the same.

Tucking his chin over Anakin’s shoulder, Obi-Wan rolled them over, pushing Anakin into the thin mattress as he melded their bodies together. Anakin moved with ease, laughter lighter and fluttering until it fell into a satisfied sigh.

“Missed you,” Anakin mumbled, his lips soft against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan didn’t even have the strength to reply in turn and instead fell into the sweet release of sleep, wrapped tight around the body of the only person who could give him such tranquility.

[ourolite2]

ᨳິ petites idées!　　nsfw, smut. various genshin characters.　different animal alignments *round of applause* themes — gn!reader (w/ barely any specified anatomical context), hinted backshots/riding, obsessive/servile behavior, overstimulation/edging, cock warming, edging, brat taming (on both ends), subtle manipulation, restraints, usage of toys, immense dirty talk, slight corruption, mentions of going unconscious, mentions of straps, somnophilia (written consensually), + thigh humping- GYATT, there’s a lot… ༄

✦ 𝒟om doggo personalities who are experimental softies and pleasers who would do anything to ensure your satisfaction if you cajole them with the correct treats. Because these loyal little things desires will go miles for your recognition, it’s safe to assume that they’re a couple of sycophantic servants with their minds hellbent on quaffing down whatever is between your plush thighs, their poochie eyes soused with zeal as they lick you until your cum dissipates on their taste buds. They would be unduly stimulating, considering that you’d reach the pinnacle of pleasure once their tongue adulates your body as a reward for treating them with such kindness. Though it’s needless to say that they’re not all sunshines and rainbows, for some could be punishingly desperate if you haven’t returned the adoration, feeling a sense of regret pile onto their heart. They’d question your love for them, tears embellishing their miffed expressions as your walls fail to grasp around them considering how possessively they’ll pound inside of you, not caring about you being on your sixth orgasm — they’d just fuck you through another again and again and again. As long as you sincerely understand how much your attention means to them.

✧ “Feels good? Want more? C’mon, puppy.. do a trick for me? Shake? That’s a good pup.. Now, cum?” CHONGYUN, Neuvillette, CHILDE, Amber, ITTO, Navia, KAVEH, Yoimiya, EI, Furina, Kokomi, Candace, GOROU, + Thoma ordered you breathlessly and hopelessly as they watched your ass shake and undulate on their strap/dick, a spate of breathless moans eluding your lips during the process. Once the command has been established, your body would had practically collapsed onto the silk-infused duvets if it wasn’t from them holding you upwards so you could cum cooperatively and sequentially.

✦ 𝒮ub puppy personalities who will give their viability in order to retreat such amorous praises from you, so it’s safe to conclude that they’re just as obsequious as their dominant counterparts. Their adulation, overprotection and servile attributes deserve high-quality treats that would leave them compliant for the rest of the seasons. Although they’re practically brainwashed into maintaining your pleasure, whether it's with lecherous experiments that leave their vulnerabilities exposed for you to exploit and taint or smothering you with amaranthine gifts that they know you’d relish in, a puppy is still a puppy. It’s your job to give them more attention than anticipated, otherwise they’ll rebelliously defy you, purposely cumming without permission merely because you’ve demanded them to hold it. Their devotional minds are easily tempted into disorder, but they’re also prone to correction since their primary goal in life is to make you happy. Spewing panty apologies as you fuck them relentlesly, their whines and blabbers far from comprehensible, but you knew that this was more than enough to make them capitulate.

✧ “Mmnh- No, don’t wanna sit. Aren’t I your pretty puppy? M’ I a good puppy? I wanna- wanna.. up? Up, please? Please?” GOROU, Ayaka, Kokomi, NEUVILLETTE, Xingqiu, ITTO, Charlotte, + Ganyu implored somewhat comprehensively as spittle cascaded from the corner of their mouth, frantically grinding their hips against your crotch since they’re completely tempted to begin bouncing on your dick/strap like before. However, it would take much more than just polished, dewy, pleading eyes gleaming down at you to convince you to make them cum, let alone repetitive begging that should’ve been muted hours ago.

✦ 𝒟om feline personalities who innately presided over you once you’ve confirmed that you were theirs, therefore are outwardly self-possessed and assertive. While also experimentalists due to their insatiable curiosity, they’ll selfishly coax you into trying new things with them, their dilated, tantalizing eyes enrapturing you during the process. It would be a crime to tell such a guileless plea no, but your chafed wrists and desiccated throat wished you ruminated your words with healthier care. They expect to be lionized incessantly, even when your vocal cords lack the capability to produce anything that doesn’t resemble streams of whimper-like moans, even when they fail to grant you a millisecond of their time, even when you’re stuffed with a bullet vibrator that was on the highest setting available. You’d think that these personalities were insouciant towards your well-being, which discloses an intense suggestion of narcissism, but there’s an impending punishment awaiting for you if you were to speak of someone who isn’t nearly as important as them. Beseech them with mewls if you desire forgiveness, or else your skin will go pallid with the amount of cum suffusing with it, whether it’s theirs, which likely isn’t, or yours.

✧ “You call that apologizing? You’re still too comprehensible… Prove yourself better than that, little dove. Give me what I want, then I’ll have my pretty fingers in your pretty hole.” SCARAMOUCHE, Yelan, AL-HAITHAM, Wanderer, ZHONGLI, Lumine, Lynette, ROSARIA, Ayato, Beidou, YAE MIKO, CYNO, Tighnari, NINGGUANG, + Lisa retorts tauntingly as the vibrations of the toy intensified causing your legs to quake incessantly, your lips spew with squeaks, and your tears to prick harsher than the prickles of cacti. Instead of providing for any necessary comfort, they simply assisted your upcoming, and rather forced, orgasm by fucking you thoughtlessly with the cum-drenched bullet.

✦ 𝒮ub kitty personalities whose imprudence is genetically unbearable since these brats tend to overstep your boundaries solely because you told them not to do such. However, if you overlook their overbearing arrogance and overwhelming urges to poke at your wrong nerves, they’re simply adorable little things who wish to be doted on and coddled by you every second of their day, hence the excessive need to go overboard just for a lick of your attention. From innumerably rutting against silk-infused pillows with their doors ajar, their mewls disrupting your ability to focus on your work, to embellishing your tip/clit with taunting kitten licks before leaving you exasperated and needy. Have you considered teaching them a thing or two about patience? Forcefully shoving your dick/strap inside of them and ensuring that their moments are limited in order for you to tend to your work, disregarding the meaningless, ironic puppy-like whines against your shoulder, or the simmering sensations on your back as the regretful kitty in question excavated their claws into your back?

✧ “Mm-Master, let me cum... M’ a good kitty, right? I don’t… can’t- mmuh, pleaseplease.. C’mon? C’mon.. come on!” SCARAMOUCHE, Venti, LYNEY, Childe, Hu Tao, WANDERER, Venti, Eula, Zhongli, Wriothesley, HEIZOU, Mona, + Kaeya pleaded impatiently as your dick/strap fucked into them relentlessly resulting in them losing balance to the point where the only stability available is your hands which were grasping needily onto their waist. Each and every time cum threatened to spill from them, you’d halt your actions, which induced the blubbers and writhes significantly from the toy in desperate need of fulfillment as much as they’re deprived of punishment.

✦ 𝒟om rabbit personalities who are the clingiest when it comes to you and only you. Even with their timidity, they would bury it under the fabric of your shirt by hiding their heads underneath it, desiring to kiss along your mesmerizing skin without looking up at your puckish expression. Although they’re also willing to please and learn, they’re lack of understanding in certain fields causes hesitation, so you’re like guiding these poor souls. You’ve managed to misconstrue their brain into believing a plethora of artless ideals defines something rather lecherous, such as binkying in their lap as you ride/scissor them for ages, cum spluttering from your pretty pussy/tip as they spittle broken apologies and pleas due to understimulation. Meanwhile you’re the one that should be dying of thirst with the way those rabid sweethearts fuck you dry, whispering degrading nothings you’ve taught them to use in hopes they’ll eventually remmeber that it’s merely apart of foreplay. There’s not enough aftercare in the world to assist them, considering your first time with one of these individuals led to being fucked unconscious.

✧ “Mmmph- conejito… pl-please don’t sleep n-now, need you… want inside! Jusa lil’ more? Can’t.. just so mesmerizing when you cum all over my dick/strap..” VENTI, Chongyun (on them damn chilis), Hu Tao, XIAO, Lyney, + HEIZOU cried out subconsciously as they proceeded to weakly rut against your inanimate body, their mind muffled and muddled with a hazy lechery that could only be described as voracious. Even around the moment they were gradually comprehending your state, they had yet to snap out of it, even while the back of their mind is squealing to stop.

✦ 𝒮ub bunnies whose excitement and impatience is unbridled once you’ve mentioned that you were willing to please them when it’s needed, which ends up being hourly considering a rabbit’s inconceivable libido. In general, they need loads of attention considering how snoopy and energetic they are, let alone a tad brattish if they don’t receive what they want instantaneously. Though, when it came to it, much like their dominant counterparts, they were extremely modest during the first few weeks of training. Determining their favorite positions, beloved spots they adore being pleased with, or even going as far as coaxing them into behaving uncharacteristically if they want to make you proud. However, while being harebrained and impatient, they would bypass the preliminaries completely and lead as if they’ve invented foreplay, sloppily and selfishly binkying and grinding their hips against the surface of your thigh while you’re asleep. The overwhelming idea of you awakening and abasing them, which they weren’t even fond of before meeting you, was arousing them to the point where they brainlessly spittled their desires like forbidden affirmations.

✧ “A-And then—hmah! Sssh.. So much cum will be stuffed inside my mm-mouth. You’ll f-fuck my mouth, lips… c-call me mean names like.. b-boring bunny…” KABUKIMONO, Aether, Sucrose, Kazuha, Freminet, KAVEH, Shenhe, Nilou, LADY FURINA, Ei, + Layla + Xiao spluttered mindlessly as they humped the slight arch in your back considering that they’re straddling you, and yet you have yet to wake up, or so they assumed. With every grasp of your waist and aggressive thrust sent to your back, which was adorned by a series of rhythmic, sharp whines, your body jerked along with the bed, causing you to smile sadistically to yourself.

⑅ ourolite productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

[ladylilithprime]

Day 3: Royalty

HE WOULD PROBABLY never admit it within Dean's hearing, would probably end up nicked with a silver knife if he did, but Sam could at least admit in the relative privacy of his own head that his brother may have had a point with upgrading their personal mattresses and linens from "Bunker basics" to memory foam and 100% modal sheets and pillow cases. The fabric felt gloriously soft against his skin and the mattress and pillows cradled his body softly enough for comfort while still being firm support. It felt almost like being royalty or something! And if he ever said so, once the initial suspicions of literal bodysnatching were laid to rest, Dean would be insufferably smug.

"I promise I will not inform him," Castiel murmured, a bit unnecessarily, and Sam spared a quiet corner of his brain to be glad he was face down in the pillows right at that moment so the angel wouldn't see his blush. Not that Castiel wouldn't know anyway; relative mental privacy, and all that. At least if he didn't see it, the angel was usually willing to pretend he didn't know about the various embarrassing reactions Sam's body tended to have around him.

...Usually.

A firm press at a particular spot between his spine and shoulderblade made him gasp sharply in pain, followed by a low moan as the press moved and twisted, digging into the knotted muscle and coaxing it to release and relax. The firm and steady hands moved outward along the length of his left arm, massaging the muscles and encouraging them - and Sam along with them - to go limp with pleasure. When Castiel reached his hand he paused, then slowly lifted Sam's hand in both of his, and Sam felt heat flush from his blushing face all through his body as Castiel's lips brushed over his knuckles. A spark and skitter of Grace along his skin whispered the healing touch over a papercut Sam had forgotten he even had, now swept away by Castiel's dedicated attentions.

He breathed, grateful that his face was pressed between the two pillows so as not to smother himself, and willed himself not to squirm as he wondered what Castiel was thinking.

"I am thinking of you, Sam," Castiel said, voice low and gravel-rough above him, sending a shiver up Sam's spine. "I am admiring the strength you possess, in body and otherwise. Strength of mind in your intelligence and cleverness. Strength of heart in your care and compassion. Strength of will in your determination and that hard-won, careful control you keep over yourself...." He trailed off, fingers stroking over Sam's own and lower across the palm and then the pulse point at the underside of his wrist. "I would never seek to take that control from you, even as I desire to see you surrender it to passion and pleasure.

"I could spend centuries worshipping you, Sam Winchester," Castiel breathed in gentle reverence, bare centimeters above Sam's faintly trembling body as his fingers stroked featherlight touches up from wrist back to his shoulder. "It is exquisit torment that I am permitted mere minutes at a time, in so innocent a fashion."

Sam swallowed, choking back the moan that had nothing at all to do with the massage. Cas....

A knock on the door frame, familiar and usually welcome, interrupted the moment. Sam groaned into the pillows for an entirely different reason as Castiel sat up straighter and turned to look at Dean, though he kept his hands on Sam's shoulder. "Did you need something, Dean?"

"Just checking in," Dean said, his tone too casual. It put Sam on edge. "What's up in here?"

"Are you not familiar with massage, Dean?" Castiel asked in that curious tone Sam recognized from a different night and a different question. "It is very beneficial for continued physical and mental health."

"You might wanna try it sometime," Sam mumbled into the pillow, like a good little brother, and bit the inside of his cheek against a whimper as Castiel's thumb stroked along the line of his shoulderblade.

"You gonna give him a happy ending while you're at it?" Dean asked with an audible smirk that had Sam lifting his right hand to flip his brother off.

"Quite aside from my intention to ensure that Sam is protected from reaching a premature end to his life--" Again, hung in the brief but pointed pause. "--are you quite sure you wish to ask that question and receive the answer?"

Silence. Sam tried not to hold his breath. Castiel's thumb was still caressing his shoulderblade. At length, Dean coughed and cleared his throat.

"Dinner in two hours," he muttered. Sam heard footsteps shuffling back into the hallway, and then the snik of the door firmly closing.

"Now then," Castiel hummed as he turned back towards Sam. "Shall we continue?"

Sam moaned, and melted.

[wordsandrobots]

So I do kind of want to write something about the ending of Gundam ZZ, having now finished my rewatch. But as an aside to that, I wanted to note a few thoughts about how Judau is presented, or, rather, how he isn't presented in a romantic context by the show.

Because both Amuro and Kamille definitely have romantic aspects to their arcs. Amuro has his crush on Matilda and Fraw Bow's (unrequited) crush on him, while Kamille's relationships with Four and Fa are key to his development throughout Zeta. It's treated as part of them 'growing into manhood', in that highly tedious way of exposing a lot of uninterrogated sexism, that we nevertheless have to accept as part of the framework within which these stories were written.

But Judau doesn't have anything like that. He and Haman's rivalry is not really presented in romantic or sexual terms, at least, not directly. Haman is *scared* of Judau and transforms that into a desire to control him, and while her control of several other characters is coded in romantic terms (capital R Romantic, no less, when it comes to Mashymre), their particular dynamic is instead rooted in a push and pull over their differing world-views. Judau's embrace of straightforward emotionally-driven action is critically at odds with the puppet-mastery Haman aspires to and exposes the loneliness and pessimism beneath her approach. She's not in love with him; she's fucking furious this no-account kid could come along and be a shining example of an empathic, caring newtype, right as she'd given up on that as a possibility for humanity's future.

And with Chara, and Judau getting smothered in boobs, the titillation is entirely on her side. It's not even played as him being embarrassed by it, which, while it clearly plays into the joke about Chara being unattractive owing to her overly-sexual aspects, is still notable when there are pretty much zero examples of Judau caring about girls in that way at all. Or, in fact, girls caring about him that way.

Roux and Elle's bickering is notably devoid of any 'we want the same guy' aspects. I shall go further and say that Gundam Wiki ascribing Roux as Judau's love interest is bunk: they never once have romantic interactions and there are other good, character-based explanations for them picking the same path at the end. She and Elle butt heads for the same reason there is tension between Roux and the Shangri-La kids from the start. She's more grown-up and more invested in being the grown-up in the room, which rubs everyone else the wrong way.

Elle, meanwhile, does seem to have strong feelings for Judau but whether these should be considered romantic is actually a surprisingly slippery question. That is, obviously that's the natural read in the sense of being completely typical, but there's a sequence in the final episode that positions her feelings slightly differently.

Under a cut due to spoilers and two teenagers slapping each other.

Right before Judau heads out for his climactic confrontation with Haman, Elle tries to talk him down, since he could very well be killed. He won't listen and Beecha tries to make Elle stop, leading to her backhanding him, him slapping her, and the two of them accepting that they can't do anything except be there in the hope Judau will come back home safe.

Setting aside the gender weighting on the slapping, the part that makes Beecha really angry is Elle asking how he can let Judau go alone because, despite Beecha often disliking playing second fiddle to the other boy, he doesn't like the idea of Judau going alone either. It's just at this point, they're down to one other remaining mobile suit and the priority is protecting the ship.

Beecha is clearly miserable about this too and his contribution here is helping Elle come to terms with the situation. What interests me is that this places Elle's emotions on the same level as his, that of a deeply concerned friend who, regardless of their differences, don't want to see any harm come to Judau. Beecha is implied to have (romantic) feelings for Elle and gets annoyed at her paying more attention to Judau, but here he's the one to express the bulk of the shared emotions. In essence, the text renders everything platonic while underscoring how the Shangri-La gang have grown closer over the course of the show.

Either that, or you go the other way and read this as Beecha's jealousy coming from his own crush on Judau, and conclude he and Elle are reaching the same conclusion about a shared romantic connection to a third person. I don't think that's likely as the intention, although who knows? Certainly Judau shows no negative reaction to an earlier comment by Roux about Beecha being cute, so maybe this is another case where polyamory was the solution.

(And if this isn't a perfect summary of what kind of relationship Roux and Judau have, I don't know what is. That's not romance; that's the cosmos' peanut gallery in the making.)

Irrespective, I find it interesting how the show forecloses romantic possibilities around Judau, not by having them hook up with other people ala Fraw (crucially, there's no hint Elle and Beecha actually do form a couple), or by killing them off, but simply by placing the friendship of the group above everything else. At the end, while Kamille and Fa dance on the shore, Judau's big moment is being reunited with his sister ahead of leaving to get some greater perspective on the world.

I do wonder if this is part of Judau being a more immature character than Amuro or Kamille. After all, the point is that he doesn't 'grow up', doesn't shed his driving anger or the idea of trying to save everyone, instead carrying forward the possibility that things can change in spite of all the 'damn adults' who've harmed the world. He manages to embody Amuro's original idealism about the future without succumbing to the sin of 'doing something he can't take back' over the course of the battles he's forced into.

Again, it's either that or we add another tick in the 'asexual protagonists' column, which would also be perfectly groovy.