#them pausing to explain the atmosphere change is. so so good

[touchstone-telephone]

TM59 cargo scene......

[loveyjelly]

Raw Roulette

CW // MDNI, SMUT, foursome, handjobs, blowjobs, piv, creampie, slight mentions of exhibitionism

(I changed the title because i love alliteration)

"Regretting inviting all of us over for dinner?" Rafayel teased, crawling over to you and trailing kisses from your collarbone to your neck. As much as you want to maintain your composure, you give in and let out a whine.

"Doesn't sound like it to me." Zayne smirked, as he kept your back pressed to his chest, both of you sitting up on your bed.

"Are you enjoying this?" Xavier's hand rested on your thigh, sitting on the edge of the bed and occupying the across Rafayel. He pushed the hem of your dress up to move his hands to your inner thigh.

The overwhelming sensation is starting a fire in your lower abdomen. "This wasn't supposed to happen." You sharply inhale, trying so hard to contain yourself. What would they think of you when they find out that you're enjoying being aroused by three men at the same time?

You didn't think that the night would end up with you being surrounded by barely clothed men vying for your attention, vying for you to make them feel good.

"Do you want us to stop?" Zayne's hot breath tickling your ear is getting you more worked up. Your breath hitched and you involuntarily squeezed your legs together, accidentally trapping Xavier's hands between your thighs. He gently moved one of your legs to separate them.

"Yes or no, Love. We need to hear it from you." Xavier's eyes still shined of innocence even in the dark lighting that matched the soon-to-be carnal atmosphere.

"Don't stop" You mumbled, unable to properly get your words out.

"Speak up, Princess." Rafayel took one of your hands and kissed the back of it.

"Please don't stop."

As if their brains synced together, they resumed with what they were doing except now there was nothing holding them back from having their way with you.

Rafayel started licking and sucking on your neck, marking you as if that was the only way he could make it obvious to the other two that he needs you more than they do.

Xavier's hands roamed across your thighs. He couldn't get enough of how they feel against his palm and how you shiver and gasp whenever his fingers would brush over your panties.

Zayne enjoyed when you arch your back from the pleasure since your ass pressed against his bulge every time you did. "Would you even be able to take all of us at the same time?"

"We can't make her too tired, she's going on a date with me tomorrow." Rafayel smirked as he watched the other two pause.

"Wait you said you were going to help me with a mission tomorrow." The grip Xavier had on your thigh tightened as he looked at you with a slight pout.

"And you promised me that we'd have lunch together at the restaurant near the hospital." Zayne's arm starts to snake around your waist, every inch of your back covering his chest.

"I didn't realize I had those plans all at the same date." Trying to explain yourself was a lot harder with the three of them looking at you, expecting you to either choose between them or come up with a compromise.

"I have an idea," Rafayel said. The grin on his face tells them that it was going to be something so outrageous. "Why don't we play Russian roulette with her pussy?"

"Elaborate" Zayne's interest was piqued. He's been waiting for your shared lunch for a few days now, no way was he going to let anyone else have your time but him.

"We take turns fucking her and the last man she cums on gets to have her precious time tomorrow."

"That sounds good to me, I'm surprised you were the one that came up with that idea." Xavier's soft but nonchalant tone made the comment sound more condescending.

"Are you okay with that?" Zayne looked for your approval. He didn't want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.

"Mhmm" You're already at your limit from the anticipation.

"Use your words, Miss" Rafayel coaxed.

"I'm okay with it" You obeyed, barely getting the words out without whimpering.

"You just don't want us to stop touching you, do you?" Xavier moved his hands to the soaked fabric of your panties. "Mmm already so wet for us, maybe we should let you cool down first."

"Yeah, if we keep going then you might cum as soon as you get one of our cocks inside you." Rafayel rubbed one of your arms as his lips tickled your neck while he spoke.

"I won't" You were just being delusional at this point. Having this many hands touching you and the filthy words being thrown around the room was enough to make you spill out.

"We're gonna hold you to that. Now, how do we pick which one goes first." Zayne's hands traveled from your waist up to your tits, earning a gasp from you.

"The last one that got here, should go first" Rafayel grinned at Xavier.

"For just 20 minutes!" He protested. "But I'm fine with that, I know she'll be a good girl and hold it in for me, won't you?" He gently grabbed your face to make you stare at his eyes as if it was to serve as an unspoken promise.

Xavier swiftly removed your underwear and immediately glided his fingers through your folds. Looking up at you again, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked off your slick like it was nectar.

"I can't take it anymore, please just let me have it." Your whole body shivered as Zayne started unzipping your dress, Rafayel helping him raise it above your head.

"Let you have what?" Xavier hasn't taken his eyes off you.

"I haven't heard her be this needy ever, I think I might get addicted to how you sound right now." You couldn't handle how Rafayel kept speaking while his lips are just a hair away from your neck.

Zayne remained quiet. He felt conflicted, you look so divine when your eyes are glazed with pure lust and ecstasy but he hated sharing you with the other two. He hated how they made you feel good too. Hearing you beg for Xavier just made him want to fuck you rough and raw in front of them and let them know that if you ever needed a good fuck, he'll be the one you'd call. Just him and no one else.

"Are you sure you want to skip that part?" Xavier asked. He loves eating you out but if you want him inside already then he can't deny you that. To him, your words are gospels that need to be fulfilled. If you want him to fuck you how you want it, then he's more than glad to do that as long as you don't cum.

Rafayel finally peeled himself off your side and reached something from your nightstand drawer. "I knew you'd have it here, maybe you were expecting this to happen." He handed you the bottle of lube and was stuck at your side again. "Go on, if you want him inside then you're going to have to help him out a little bit." 

Xavier was surprised Rafayel was helping you out when it came to him. He always saw him as a self serving diva or maybe he's doing it just for you.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, revealing his cock already so hard for you. "It's all yours, Princess. Come here." He pulled you away from the other men and positioned you on top of him, your hips hovered over his thighs to give you space for what you needed to do.

Xavier heard Zayne click his tongue and Rafayel sighs. He shifted his focus back to you, watching your hands as they shake while pouring the lube onto your hands.

"Relax, it's just me." His hand enveloped your wrist to stop it from shaking so much.

"We're here too" Rafayel grumbled and Zayne let out a soft chuckle at the comment. You turned your head to face him but Xavier used his free hand to cup your cheek and guide your sight back to him.

"He'll have his turn later. But for now, your attention is all mine." He leaned in and brought his lips to yours to give you a quick kiss for encouragement.

You heard Xavier's sharp inhale once his cock was in your palm. 

"Move your hand." He gently instructed, trying to focus on you despite the coldness of the lube and the warmth of your hand mixing.

The rustling of the sheets brought Xavier's attention to Zayne who is now getting closer to you again. "What? I can't let you two have all the fun" He places his hand flat on your shoulder blade, making you flinch from the sudden change in temperature.

"Don't overheat, Angel. You have a whole night to get through." He snuck up behind and planted a light kiss behind your ear.

"Don't leave me out!" Rafayel was right behind you but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he was pouting. "They might make the whole night all about them if we didn't interfere." He rested his head on your shoulder.

"Don't look at us like that, Xavier. We're just here to offer some...support." Something mischievous flashed in Zayne's eye. "No one said the others should stay back while it's someone's turn."

"Fuck" He muttered, the whole time your hand your hand stayed stroking his cock.

The banter between the three of them helped ease the tension that previously built up in your chest.

"Less nervous now, Love?" Zayne noticed that you weren't as shaky as before, stroking your hair and giving you a small smile.

"I can't wait any longer, can I put it inside?" Xavier got harder the more you stroked him. He felt like he couldn't breathe until you said yes to his plea.

You took your hand off his dick and nodded, preparing for what position he'd fuck you in. It was like you were their personalized and shared fuck doll. 

"I'm so sorry, Princess. I'm gonna have to be a little rough." Xavier was so worked up he couldn't even bother to ask anymore but he knew you'd tell him to stop if you weren't fine with it.

He flipped you over on your hands and knees. The view was a little embarrassing if you were going to be honest. The other two looked at you and you couldn't help but feel small.

"Didn't know you had that in you, Xavier" Rafayel mused. "Aw, little miss has watery eyes. Are you that needy for a good fucking?" He reached for your face and caressed your cheeks using his thumb.

"She deserves one." Xavier's tip was teasing your entrance.

"Xavier, please." You squeaked out.

"Oh, I can't wait until she's begging for me." Zayne grabbed one of your hands and placed your palm on top of his erection. "I'll have to settle with this for now."

Xavier slowly pushed his cock inside you, his movements got more urgent and firm but he still observed your reaction to know if he should continue.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he pushes himself in, making you take it up to the base. He started thrusting in a quick steady rhythm that made you grip the sheets. It had completely slipped your mind that your other hand was holding Zayne's dick.

"Easy there, Angel. Come on, you can please one more man, right?" He slowly guided your hand in an up and down rhythm that intentionally matched Xavier's thrust. He closed his eyes and pretended that he was fucking you already.

"Mind if I use this one?" Rafayel hooked his thumb inside your mouth prompting you to open it wider. "I know you'll take it so well." He scooted closer so you don't have to move, placing your free arm on his thighs for support.

"Ah, that's it. Take it at your own pace, Baby." Rafayel put his hand on the back of your head and enjoyed the sight of you swallowing his whole length. "Fucking impressive, you're so good at this." He praised your skills.

"You're clenching around me already." Xavier huffed.

"My turn." Zayne interrupted and put his hand on top of yours, stopping you from jerking him off. "I need to have this pretty little thing now." 

The three rotated positions. Like clockwork, you immediately had your hands on Rafayel's dick, stroking him at the same pace that Zayne had you do. Xavier had you in the same position as Rafayel but this time he's holding your hand.

"Mmm your mouth feels just as good, Princess." Xavier threw his head back from the immense pleasure. He never felt this good using his own hands. Maybe he can call you for help whenever he needs to masturbate.

You can hear Zayne's groans as he drilled your pussy like his life depended on it. "You're getting wetter. Don't tell me you're getting close."

Your moans are muffled by Xavier's cock, making it harder to tell Zayne that you're seconds away from cuming. You feel Zayne slow down. "Does my Angel want to cum?"

You couldn't answer back, you were too preoccupied. "Look at me" His voice was stern but still had a hint of gentleness behind it.

You took Xavier's dick out of your mouth and turned your head to look back at Zayne. He wished he could pause time right now. You looked so brilliant in your current pose. Your eyes are all watery, lips swollen, a mix drool and precum trickling from the side of your mouth, and two other men panting from the pleasure you gave them.

"I'll let you cum right now if you promise that you'll reschedule our lunch to a date that doesn't include other plans. Do I make myself clear, Angel?" His cock stayed buried deep inside you, it made it so hard to focus on what he was saying.

"I promise" You mumbled.

"Louder"

"I promise, Zayne. Please let me cum" You begged.

"Good girl. Now get ready to be fucked the way you deserve to be fucked." He starts thrusting again, his body remembering the tempo it was following earlier.

"Letting yourself lose just for her, how noble." Rafayel just had to poke fun at Zayne. Too bad he almost couldn't get the words out since he was panting like a dog that just played fetch for an hour.

"My Princess cuming on someone else's cock? I should've just forfeited earlier." Xavier tried to give you a cute pout but failed. Your mouth felt too good to joke around at the moment.

Zayne's cock was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. You can feel your orgasm building up, coming in waves in your lower abdomen.

"Just let it all out, Angel. I'm close too." He kept the beat of his thrust the same to help you get to your peak.

"Zayne!" You exclaimed as you arch your back from the satisfaction, sending shivers all over your body. Your limbs twitched and you had Xavier and Rafayel help you hold yourself up. He continued going in and out until you felt him grip your hips tight, his warm cum covering every existing inch of your walls.

"Did that feel too good, Baby?" Rafayel grabbed your face and lifted it up to meet his gaze. You nodded. "I can tell, you couldn't even focus on us anymore."

"It's okay, Princess. But now we'll have to be a little selfish." Xavier kissed your shoulder and pinned you down on your back, your head barely on the mattress.

"You ready?" He positioned himself on top of you, slapping his dick against your pussy.

"Ready" You whispered.

He slid his cock inside, pushing out Zayne's cum. "Feels good to be back."

"Don't forget about me" Rafayel's fingers grazed your throat. He gets out of the bed and stands near the top of your head.

Xavier figured out what Rafayel wanted to do. He grabbed your waist and pushed you out of the bed by a few inches.

"Perfect." Rafayel wrapped his hand on your throat and slowly let your mouth and tongue do their thing. He had to get you used to that position first.

Zayne laid down and reached for your hand. "You did so well, Angel." Taking the back of your hand and tenderly kissing it.

Meanwhile, Xavier was barely hanging on by a thread. The sweet sound your moans make alone could've made him cum but fucking you was an option so he took it.

The original game plan has been derailed but none of the boys could complain. The sound of your gasps, whimpers, and moans echoing off the walls were like music to their ears.

You didn't have to move as Rafayel moved his hips and used your throat as a pussy. "No matter what you do you always feel so good." He pushed his cock down the back of your throat and held it there for a few seconds just to hear you gag and gargle spit.

"Oh, does that turn you on more? I felt you clench." Xavier thrusted faster, ready to give you another orgasm.

Zayne loved this lewd side of you. It was like you were their personal fuck toy just for this night. He can't deny that he had fun fucking you in front of other people. You really do bring sides of him he didn't think he had.

You couldn't tell Xavier that you were about to cum. The next best way was to put your hand on his forearm and squeeze it.

"I'm about to cum too, Princess." He said, it's like he read your mind.

"Fuck, me too." Rafayel moaned. "Squeeze his arm if you want all of us to cum with you, Baby."

You squeeze Xavier's hand until your nails dig into his skin.

"She says yes." Xavier and Rafayel shared a smirk.

In just a few seconds, you let go and experience another round of ecstasy. Your senses were almost non-existent after being pounded and choked by multiple cocks.

Xavier and Rafayel let out several loud moans as they slow down their thrust after reaching their peak. Both of them slowly pull out and immediately reach out to you to make sure you're okay.

The content look in your eyes and smile was a good enough answer to their question.

Rafayel scooped you into his arms and placed you in the middle of your bed. "Take all the time you need to rest, okay? You did such an amazing job." He reassured you, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

Despite the guys being breathless and tired too, they still went out of their way to make sure you were well taken care of after. They'll also have to figure out how they'll fit into your schedule next week since the game didn't go as planned.

The thoughtful gestures, sweet words of affirmation, and future plans will have to wait because their favorite girl just fell asleep.

(Alexa, play Love Talk by WayV on loop)

(Technicallyyyy Rafayel won)

@queenashen

buy me coffee

[mssorceressupreme]

hiii i felt like ive read every single minho fic in existence & ive been dying from the lack of it so im hoping u can write ts 🙏🏼

fem!reader works for wicked and betrays the gladers w teresa (or not doesn’t matter). & instead of teresa talking to minho in that one scene, its reader. reader tries to explain that its for a good cause by being slightly stern n rude about it but breaks down for the first time and softens up when she realizes that it isn't right. reader then tries to make up with it by being a lil freaky…..,, (can be spice or smut idc)

HAHAHAH girl mans was literally in pain during that scene but ur so real 😩🤌🏼 literally tho I feel like the fandom is slowly dying and it hurts 😭😭 anyway, l hope I satisfied your prompt but I do apologise as I got slightly carried away at the end and added more to the plot 😭🫶🏼

——

Change | Minho x Reader

Summary: after betraying the gladers, you come face to face with one of them again. the one who captured your heart a long time ago, and you discover that feelings don’t go astray.

Warnings: spicy content, mild violence, mentions of blood and gunshots

——

You stood in the sterile lab, the cold, fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare in the white walls. The sound of machines humming filled the room, a constant reminder of the work you were doing here.

You paused from working on your lab report, glancing over at Teresa, who was intently focused on a computer screen, analysing data. “Do you regret it, Teresa?” You asked, “Betraying them?”

Teresa didn’t look up from the screen. “No,” she replied firmly, “We’re in the right, Y/N.”

You stared at her blankly, did she really not care about them?

“Don’t think too much about it, this is our job now. We’re here and not with them. They’re out there and it doesn’t matter anymore.” She continued, with a slightly gentler tone.

“Not all of them…” you mumbled.

Teresa looked up from her computer screen, she knew how much he meant to you back in the glade, about your secret infatuation with him. “The tests on Minho are looking good, he’s delivering promising results Y/N. If we continue testing, we’ll be closer to finding a cure.”

You nodded, but felt heavy with doubt. You had always believed in the cause, the need to find a cure and save humanity.

But seeing Minho captured and brought to the facility, subjected to tests and experiments, had stirred something inside you. Was this truly the way?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were crossing the line but you chose to ignore that for the sake of finding the cure.

It was still early in the day and you were due for a check in session with Minho in a few minutes. The first session, and the first time seeing him since he was held captive.

You couldn’t bring yourself to visit him previously, well, not until now, since it was mandatory for you to check in with your subject as a scientist.

“Well I’m off, got a meeting.” You began packing up your items.

“Good luck. See you for a coffee later?” Teresa smiled softly, and you nodded, showing a small smile before leaving the room.

——

In no time, you found yourself sitting in the cold, clinical meeting room, waiting for Minho to be brought in.

You fiddled with a pen, your mind racing. When the door finally opened, and Minho was escorted in, your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked worn, his usual fierce determination dulled by exhaustion and pain.

You sat at opposite ends of the table, the distance between you feeling both emotional and physical.

“Minho,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady.

Minho didn’t respond, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“You have to understand where Teresa and I are coming from…” You continued, “This is for a good cause. We’re trying to save the world.”

Again, he didn’t move a muscle nor did he respond. But you could feel the tension between the two of you, the atmosphere was uneasy. The guilt of bringing him here, away from the other gladers weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You felt your resolve wavering but you forced yourself to remain stern, “You know how much we need to find a cure. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

You sighed and continued. “There’s a girl here, her name is Cheyenne. You can help her Minho, we’re so close to finding a cure. You can help hundreds of infected people, think about it. It just takes a bit of sacrifice…”

Minho’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them. “By torturing and experimenting on people? How can you justify that.”

“There is no other way.” You sneered, “We’re doing the best we can.”

“Your best looks a lot like your worst.” He spat, clenching his fists through his handcuffs.

“At least we’re doing something about it! Unlike some people!” You slammed your pen on the table, frustrated with the amount of confusion running through your head.

Your head was thinking differently than your heart. You had certain thoughts, but out came opposing ones.

“You’re no better than WCKD,” He was spiteful, “You’re just like them.”

Your gaze softened, you shook your head slightly.

“The Y/N I know wouldn’t have done this.” He added, scoffing.

The weight of his accusation hit hard. You had always prided yourself on being different, empathetic, wanting to help people. But now, you felt the full force of your actions crashing down in you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I just wanted to help…I thought I was doing the right thing, but now, I don’t know anymore.” There had to be another way to cure humanity, this was straight up torture.

Minho’s expression softened slightly, seeing you break down for the first time. “If you really want to help, you need to stop this.”

You took a deep breath, the decision forming in your mind. You stood up and walked around the table, closing the distance between you. “I never wanted to hurt you, Minho.” You confessed, “I’ve always…loved you.”

He scanned your face, eyes darting from your eyes to lips, as you leaned in. Your lips brushing against his, before forcefully attaching.

Little did you know, that Minho too, shared your feelings. You had always admired him, his leadership, fearlessness, and the way he cared for other gladers, especially you.

Those moments where he paid extra close attention to you, wasn’t just because he cared for you like everyone else, but because he had feelings for you. You were always his first priority.

“Shuck, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long.” Minho mumbled into the kiss, as he pulled you onto his lap despite having his hands cuffed.

“Please forgive me Minho, I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I want to stop this, stop WCKD and find the others.” You were straddling him, and pulled away from the kiss.

His response was leaning in for another kiss. The kiss was filled with desperation and regret, a silent plea for forgiveness.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair lightly, while he pulled you closer to him, fully closing the gap between you.

He bit your lip slightly, you left out a soft moan in response. Your lips moved in sync, they became sloppy, desperate and hungry kisses. You craved more, you missed him badly, and this proximity was exactly what the both of you needed.

The fact that his was growing harder beneath you, and how wet you already were, made it evident that the both of you were touch deprived, and all your feelings had burst out in this session.

“Minho…” you moaned, as he began kissing your neck, finding your sweet spot and sucking on it until he left a mark.

“Looks like we’re both tagged now.” He smirked, his eyes still tired and weak, but a tinge of something else was shown, forgiveness.

You now couldn’t imagine how much the betrayal must’ve hurt him especially. But the past is in the past, you wanted to move forward and truly make up for your heinous actions.

You planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’m never going to let you get hurt, ever again.” You looked down at his handcuffs, and grazed your thumb above them, “I don’t have the keys to this on me…they should be in the lab somewhere.”

You got off his lap, “As much as I’d like to continue, we need to get you out of here,” determination hardening your voice, “I’m going to help you escape.”

Minho looked at her, taken aback by your sudden change of heart, “Why would you do that? Never-mind me…what will WCKD do to you if they find out?”

“I don’t care about WCKD anymore. I realise now that I can’t justify what we’ve done,” You replied, “And I’m not letting them hurt you again, I care about you Minho.”

He nodded firmly, “What can I do to help?”

——

You grabbed the handcuff keys from your lab, un-cuffing Minho swiftly. He shook his wrists and cupped your cheeks, giving you a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you.”

As you made your way through the compound, you led the way. Using your clearance to bypass security systems and unlock doors.

It was all havoc. Alarms sounding, people rushing to flee something, gunshots erupting. There had been a sudden attack on WCKD and the Last City, and you mentally thanked yourself for switching to the right side on time.

When you encountered guards, you fought together, defending Minho. Your movements synchronised and steady.

You grabbed a fallen guard’s weapon, tossing another to Minho. You defended each other fiercely, a silent understanding between you. The both of you weren’t just fighting for survival, you were fighting for each other.

As Minho rounded a corner, he bumped into Thomas and Newt, who were searching for him in the compound.

Minho reunited with the two of them, the three of them sharing a relieving hug. “Minho!” Thomas beamed.

You followed soon behind, seeing Minho embraced in a hug.

Thomas saw you and raised his weapon instinctively, and in the chaos, a shot rang out. Pain seared through your leg, and you crumpled to the ground.

“Y/N!” Minho shouted, dropping to his knees beside you. He turned to Thomas, “She’s with us again! She helped me escape.”

Thomas lowered his weapon, guilt washing over his face. “Sorry Y/N,” he stammered, his eyes regretful, “I didn’t know…it’s good, good to have you back with us.” He affirmed.

Minho carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you into his chest. “We’ve got to get out of here. She’s hurt.”

They moved quickly, Minho carrying you bridal style as you navigated through the compound. You clung to him, breaths shallowed and pained. The warmth of his body was comforting and reassuring against you.

“Hang on,” he whispered, “We’re almost there.”

When the four of you finally burst out the building, the cool night air hit you like a wave. You stumbled into the open, the dark sky stretching above you lot.

“You did it,” you murmured, a weak smile tugging at your lips, you had lost a lot of blood in your leg. “We did it.”

Minho held you tighter, his face close to yours. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, “We’re going to be okay.”

Thomas and Newt followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. They had all made it out, but your injury weighed heavily on them.

“We need to get her to safety,” Thomas said, his voice urgent, “I’ll get Brenda and the others to come to us.”

Minho nodded, his grip on you unwavering. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He promised.

As you moved away from the compound, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty of your future, you knew you were where you needed to be—by Minho’s side, fighting for a better tomorrow. Together, you would face whatever came next, your hearts united in your quests for freedom and redemption.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 18

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Oral (f.recieving), fingering, semi public, slightest of dirty talk.

Minors do not interract!!!

Aria

There's a 99% chance that an alien took over Chris's body in the past week. And the remaining 1% is that he's actually changing. Trying to change, at least, if we put it in a proper sense.

Getting one step closer to Chris feels like discovering a new part of him and a part of myself I buried down after my last relationship.

Blond, blue eyes, class topper and who looked like the perfect boyfriend, Luke was my ex who I met in business school during my first year. We were made for eachother, or so I thought. We dated for two years, until I walked into him having sex with my best friend on MY birthday.

What an amazing surprise. The bastard had been cheating on me since our 2nd anniversary, that betrayal felt like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to find yourself trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming.

I had grown distant from everyone since then, shutting myself from any relationships after that. Unable to see me suffer internally while not being myself in the outlook was why my parents asked me to get married to Chris, hoping it would make me forget everything.

The heartbreak I went through with Luke is a scar that refused to heal so fast or easily.

But I don't blame them. Some things were easier to be left than to explain and the in the end we have different perspectives of viewing the world. To their eyes settling down after business school was the solution.

Although unknown to my parents was also a certain lingering deadline between Chris and me, that I wasn't healed and still played a fake version of myself in front of others.

I was never destined for true love or a happy ending.

Our marriage was stable, predictable, and perhaps a bit too routine. I had grown accustomed to Chris's cold nature, his affection expressed in the form of providing comfort and security rather than warm embraces or whispered sweet nothings.

The security system in the mansion was tightened, Chris didn't bring up about that Victor guy again, so I didn't ask about it again. Assuming he had whatever of that under control.

But this past week, something had changed. It was in the small things—like how he would pause to ask about my day with genuine interest, or the way his fingers would linger just a bit longer when he brushed against my hand.

Or how today I'm roaming inside one of the biggest bookstores in the city, but is closed for the public because Chris wanted me to spend however long I wanted freely. He had rented the whole place for the entire day.

"Chris, this is too much," I said, turning to face him.

The soft lighting of the empty bookstore with no signs of staff but just the two of us created an intimate atmosphere, making the moment feel surreal. Chris was in a simple tee, jacket and denim trousers today, unlike his usual coat suit and dress shirt outfits, the casual attire adding to the sense that I was seeing a different side of him.

"It's not too much. I could have bought the place if you hadn't stopped me." He said smirking, giving me a view of his leathal dimple that made my stomach do a summersault.

That he would have. As COO of Aurelius, he will go beyond limits to get and do whatever he wanted.

"Well, good that you listened," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully. "Buying the entire bookstore might have been a bit over the top, even for you."

"I'll have you know sweetheart, I've bought things that are way more than a bookstore." A cocky eyebrow arched as he let out a deep chuckle.

"Like what?" I asked, crossing my arms joining his banter.

"The guys and I wanted to go to the Bahamas last summer but our yacht was under maintenance," He slipped his hands into his pockets, "So I bought another one."

My jaw fell unhinged, and eyes widening as I struggled to comprehend the audacity of his statement. "You...bought another yacht? Just like that?"

Chris nodded casually, his posture and expression relaxed as if discussing the purchase of a new pair of shoes.

"Yeah, it seemed like the logical solution at the time."

I couldn't help but laugh incredulously. "Logical solution? Most people would just postpone the trip or I don't know fly there."

"Well, it seemed like a good excuse to upgrade so I figured why not?" he said with a nonchalant shrug, his smirk widening.

"Sure," I slowly nodded, "But it doesn't mean you have to go to such extremes. Like this one right now," I countered, though I couldn't help but smile at his grand gesture.

"Extremes are kind of my thing, Aria," Chris said, leaning against a bookshelf, his buff bicep against the books made my stomach do another flip.

"You should know that by now."

"Yeah, I've noticed," I said, shaking my head, running my fingers through the spines of the Lord of the Rings series.

"You're like a bull in a china shop"

"I prefer 'strategic disruptor,'" he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Our eyes locked briefly for a second, then I turned away, browsing the shelves.

From Shakespeare to best selling authors today, having their own shelves of their books, the building was spacious and three floors high, giving any reader an experience of a lifetime.

There were small lounges in two corners of each floor, cozy and inviting, with plush armchairs and warm lighting, perfect for curling up with a book. The air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and fresh ink, a fragrance that always brought me comfort.

"Thank you, for this" I turned back to him as I took a random book off a shelf, Chris's eyes were already on me, watching my every move.

"You don't have to thank me for everything," Chris walked towards to me, closing the distance, "You're worth it."

I felt my cheeks flush as well as the butterflies in my stomach frantically erupt, as if closing down a store for a day was the most natural thing in the world.

His words warmed something deep inside me, a place I had thought long frozen. The old Aria, the one who believed in grand gestures and romantic surprises, stirred within me. But I had to remind myself to be cautious; just a week of change could not erase the last months of indifference.

But we'll never know.

As we walked shelf after shelf, an exclusive copy of one my favourite books caught my eyes. I immediately went and took it in my hands, the cover of the book held me captive in my spot.

The title was embossed in gold, glistening under the lights. The rich, deep red background was adorned with intricate patterns of flowers and foliage, intertwining with dragons that seemed almost alive. Each petal and leaf was meticulously detailed, their colors vibrant against the dark, quilted texture behind them.

"Hmm?" Chris came behind me, he was carrying two baskets that were full of the newest thrillers and romance. I kind of felt bad for making him trail after me like a pack mule.

"This is the last one I promise. It's a special edition" I showed him the book, my eyes sparkling with excitement.

Chris glanced at the cover, his expression remaining stoic but with a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "A special edition? Looks like I'm not the only one around here with expensive tastes."

I chuckled, hugging the book to my chest. "Well, this is worth it. Look at the detail. It's a piece of art."

"Alright, if it makes you happy," He brought the basket up and I placed the book on the top of the stack, a wide smile spread across my face that refused to go away.

"Is this all you want? You're free to get as many as you like Aria. This whole place is yours." He said genuinely, his tone matter-of-fact. I shook my head, still smiling, a warm feeling spreading across my chest.

"As a slow reader these are going to keep me alive for a year or even more. They are enough."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "If you say so"

For a moment, I felt a rare connection with him. It wasn't about grand emotions or declarations; it was about this simple, shared experience. Chris might not be the most emotionally expressive person, but in his own way, he was trying.

And that effort meant more to me than any expensive gift ever could.

"Thank you," I said softly, squeezing his arm. "This really means a lot."

"Well, I hope you have a good place to put all these," he replied, a touch of sarcasm returning to his voice.

"Because my study is not turning into a library."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry, I have it covered."

After I got all the books I wanted, we made our way from the section and instead of going to the counter on the ground floor, Chris stopped walking and placed the baskets on a table, turning to me with a mischievous smirk spread playing on his lips.

I froze in my place, feeling my pulse race as he slowly strode towards me like a majestic wolf, his eyes on me. The way he moved, so confident and purposeful, sent a shiver down my spine.

"What are you up to?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the tremor in my voice.

Chris stopped just inches from me, his gaze intense. "Just thought we could take a moment to enjoy this place properly. No rush, right?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop me. "No rush," I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary. "Good...because,"

Before he finished, he lifted my chin and his mouth met mine, burying his tongue while his hand traced my cheek then sank in my hair. My fingers pressed on his arms as I melted into his taste of mint and sugar, it was an addiction.

I preferred vanilla and cinnamon but I suppose the taste of Chris is much better.

He pulled me closer to him, we were pressed against eachother and there, I felt him growing hard, excitement and anticipation rushed through my body. Chris's hand gently closed behind my neck as he deepend the kiss, slowly slowly striding and having me pressed against a shelf.

I opened my eyes and looked above him, ironically we were under the romance section. Chris removed his mouth from mine, his hand still around my neck, while his other hand went to the hem of my skirt, tracing the line.

"Because what?" I pulled back, arching a brow as I challenged him, my voice breathless yet defiant.

"Because," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "I want to make sure you have the best time."

His fingers slid up my thigh, sending shivers through me. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the firmness of his grip on my neck, made my heart race. Every touch, every movement, was deliberate and electrifying.

"Chris..." I whispered, my resolve wavering as his hand inched higher, the thrill of being in such a public, yet intimate setting and the chance someone might walk in on us only heightened the sensations coursing through me.

"Shh," he hushed me softly, his lips brushing against my earlobe, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"No rush, remember?"

His words echoed in my mind, the promise of slow, tantalizing pleasure as his hand reached the edge of my panties. I gasped, my body responding eagerly to his touch, leaving fire in their wake.

Chris's lips found mine again, more demanding this time. I could feel his desire, his need, and it mirrored my own. Our kiss deepened, becoming a battle of wills and passion, his hand tightened around my neck, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left me breathless.

With a smooth glid, he slid my panties to the side and a finger found its way through my wet folds. I jerked as he inserted another, a knowing smirk spread across his face looking at how easily and quickly wet and turned on I get.

Paced pumps, breathless kisses and pinned among the shelves of love stories and whispered promises, only added a layer of forbidden excitement to our encounter. He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit, making a soft moan gasp free out of me.

"Mmm... you're clenching me babydoll."

My lips parted, I wanted to say things but nothing came out at how good his fingers curled inside of me, my blood was on liquid fire. The only sensations were pleasure, want and pure need.

Time lost its meaning along with my senses, Chris had pushed my top up, his mouth was closed around my sensitive nipple and his digits pushed deeper inside me. He was licking, sucking, teasing, stretching and playing with me tearing moans, and cries from my throat.

He then sank onto his knees, parting my legs, circling my sensitized clit with the tip of his tongue. His chin grazed my skin as he kissed the nub, his breath fanning over me and burying his face in my heat, drawing my clit into his mouth and sucked.

"Oh my...oh my God..."

I instantly arched against the shelf, the books shook threatening to fall but thankfully they were pushed to the back. My hand went over my face to cover my squeals and whimpers escaping and echoing off the quiet walls, I felt his eyes watch me from beneath me.

Every thought was erased away from my brain as pleasure fogged like a mirror after a hot shower.

My hand fisted his hair as his teeth grazed over my swollen, tender clit, going from slow and languid licks, lapping away my arousal like a man possessed. My hips bucked, seeking for relief but Chris's strong fingers held me in place.

Chris had an uncanny ability to make me feel like I was seeing stars during the day, even when we were under a roof. His hands and mouth worked magic on me, leaving me breathless, trembling, and craving more.

The tingles of an orgasm began to build deep within me as he expertly moved his tongue over my clit, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me until I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. If I tried, I would surely implode.

The pressure finally erupted as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, making my body shudder uncontrollably. My thighs trembled as I came, my arousal dripping down my legs and onto his face. 

But Chris wasn't done with me yet. Not by a long shot. One moment I was arching against the shelf praying for the books not to fall on us as he tongue fucked me, the next I was on my back, pinned on the floor.

He switched positions just like that.

"You have quite an interesting taste in literature sweetheart," Chris murmured into my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

His words were teasing, but they carried a dark edge that made my pulse quicken. As he spoke, he pushed my skirt up, a cool air hitting my exposed and vulnerable self.

"Wha—what?" I stammered, my own voice sounded different to my ears. "Did you read—" Heat flushed up my cheeks when I realised he must have flipped through one of the romance books from the stack.

Oh God.

"I might have read a page or two," he admitted, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and full of intent. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a simple gesture that made my core throb with renewed need.

"And I thought, why not create our own scene?"

Before I could even form a response, Chris's mouth crashed down on mine in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. It was as if he was punishing me for the guilty pleasure of my reading material, but also claiming his approval in the most primal way possible.

He held my hips with a bruising force, I dimly heard the rasp of the zipper and then he hammered inside me in one powerful thrust. The sudden invasion made me gasp out, the sharp sound echoing softly in the confined space.

My nails dug into the carpet as I clung to him, one hand gripping his stiff bicep. God, I could never get used to the feel of him inside me.

So hot, so huge, so impossibly hard.

Every time he entered me, it felt like the first time, my body straining to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming, making my head spin and my body tremble.

A strong hand came over my mouth to silence my embarrassing moans, my eyes fluttered open, meeting Chris's intense gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched in a knowing smug smirk as he continued thrusting into me with relentless precision.

"Shh," he chuckled as he continued wrecking me. "You don't want someone to hear how much you love being fucked in your little haven, now do you?"

The fact that someone actually could walk in on us was disastrous but there was no time to process anything other than the feel and the heat of him against me, flesh against flesh as he shattered me apart, the pressure and pleasure was beyond ecstacy. 

The telltale tingles built inside me again, threatening to spill over as he took me apart piece by piece.

"Your pussy is made for me sweetheart. Fuck you're so tight." He growled,his voice thick with lust as he watched me writhe beneath him.

My body responded to his every word, my muscles clenching around his cock as the nerves in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. My heart pounded frantically against my ribcage, and I could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

I hadn't imagined Chris would surprise me with a whole day at a bookstore when he proposed we go out. And I definitely hadn't imagined we'd end up like this—fucking in the romance section, surrounded by books, with nothing but the tall shelves to seclude us from reality.

"God, Chris..." I gasped, my voice breaking as I felt the pressure reach its peak.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it baby," He groaned or chuckled. I couldn't say.

I was too lost in my world of lust, I forgot my own name. Everything else faded away until all that existed was the feel of him inside me, driving me to madness.

Tears leaked out of my eyes at the sensation, fingers clawing and mouth falling open in a reckless cries. Thrust after thrust, another toe-curling orgasm gushed through me like fire rushing and igniting in a pool of gasoline, bursting stars behind my eyes.

I fell into a boneless mess. 

Chris groaned and I felt his cock twitching uncontrollably as a hot load of cum gathered inside me. He slowed his movements, his breath coming in heavy pants as he rode out the last of his own release.

He leaned down, softly brushing his lips against mine, and I could feel the smile that lingered there—a smile of triumph, of satisfaction, of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me.

We hung there, breathless and tangled together, the aftershocks of my climax still rippling through me. My mind was still swimming in the aftermath, trying to process the sheer intensity of what had just happened, when I felt Chris begin to move.

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle as he got up, adjusting his clothes with a nonchalant ease. With just one casual swipe of his hand through his hair, he looked completely composed—flawless, even—as if he hadn't just fucked me into another dimension.

Meanwhile, I was a mess. My legs felt like jelly, barely able to hold me up as I struggled to regain my balance. Every nerve in my body was still buzzing, my core pulsing with a heartbeat all its own. I most definitely won't be able to walk tomorrow or probably right now.

My breath hitched lightly when I felt him clean me up with a tissue. A tender gesture that made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way.

Chris helped me get up and fixed my clothes, smoothing down my hair. His fingers brushed lightly over my tear-stained cheeks, lingering just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the feel of my skin. The silence between us spoke volumes. 

Chris wasn't one to use words carelessly, and in moments like this, his actions said more than any words ever could. I clung to him, still trying to find my footing, both physically and emotionally.

His eyes were on me, those burning brown eyes that seemed to see straight through me, and even though he didn't say a word, I could feel the intensity of his gaze.

We've had sex countless times by now, but every time it feels different—more intense, more profound. But this time, this was something else entirely. It was as if he had pushed me beyond my limits, only to pull me back again, leaving me reeling from the sheer force of it.

This was, hands down, the best one yet, and I could feel it in every aching muscle and every rapid heartbeat.

My eyes drifted down to the damp stain on the green carpet, a vivid reminder of just how lost I had been in the throes of pleasure. Embarrassment flooded me, my face flushing hot as I imagined the poor soul who would have to clean up after us.

I glared up at Chris, half-expecting him to share in my mortification, but instead, he just smirked, his expression completely unapologetic, not giving a flying fuck.

"Let's get your books home." He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking the book baskets from the table and walking me to towards the elevator to get to the ground floor.

I couldn't process how he went from fucking me on the floor like it was the last day on the planet to smiling casually as if he had been doing nothing but accompany me with my shopping spree.

Once we made it to the ground floor, Chris placed the baskets on the counter and the woman behind started scanning the books. He payed for them and I saw him leave a huge tip to the staff, again my face flushed crimson.

A young boy brought the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk, after settling in, we made our home.

"Enjoyed your day?" Chris's eyes were fixed on the road, but I knew he meant more than just the shopping.

"Every moment of it." I looked at him, those silver hoop earrings glinted in the daylight, drawing attention to his strong jawline.

Chris's eyes fell on me for a second, he nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

As we drove through the city streets, Chris's hand gently slipped with mine, the comfortable silence between us spoke volumes. The day had been filled with more than just books, it had been a day of connection, of tentative steps towards understanding each other better.

When we arrived to the mansion, Chris carried the bags inside, placing them on the living room coffee table. I followed him, feeling a sense of contentment that had been absent for so long.

He turned to me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I instinctively leaned into his palm, savoring the rare moment of tenderness.

"I don't want to leave, but um..." His words trailed off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck but I knew what he was going to say next.

My heart sank just a little bit.

"Go on," I said, his expression softed, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. "I'm gonna spend the all the time reading while you're at work."

I played a soft smile, knowing he had to go back to his responsibilities. Chris sighed, his thumb gently grazing my cheek.

"I'll try to be back soon." He said softly, a rare hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I know," my smile widened just a bit.

"Alright," He pulled me to another bruising kiss, breathing me in as he bit my bottom lip. "I'll see you later."

As he turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was the usual frustration of him having to rush off, but also a newfound appreciation for the tiny effort he was making to connect with me.

I watched him drive away, the mansion fell into a deep silence again as I went back inside and picked up the special edition book that had caught my eye earlier.

Running my fingers over the intricate cover, I felt a surge of gratitude for this day and for Chris's efforts to make it memorable.

I opened the book, ready to lose myself in its pages, knowing that Chris and I were slowly finding our way to each other, one small step at a time.

------------------------

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If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[saturnville]

40 days n 40 nights.

pairing; shuri udaku x black!fem!reader (kalila)

warning; toxicity. language. emotional manipulation. allusions to smut. descriptions of smut 18+ content.

reference; 40 days n 40 nights — mariah the scientist, vory

overview; in which two exes reunite briefly after ending their toxic relationship.

tags (people who recently interacted with my shuri fics): @neeville @pocketsizedpanther @l-o-v-e-galore @cosmic-parker

Toxicity used to be as foreign concept. At one point, healthy was all she knew. Open, honest, respectful communication and treatment from her partner to herself. It was easily acceptable. It was what she needed to thrive; it was what she required.

Kalila felt like a fool when she lowered the walls that guarded her soft heart. The sweet nothings and gentle kisses that the lips of the Queen shared, altered her brain chemistry in a way she couldn’t explain.

No longer was she headstrong and adamant about what she deserved. She didn’t stand on business. No, she was weak in the knees for the Queen, the Panther, for her. Whatever to keep her majesty satisfied, she was prepared to give it all.

Naivety was her downfall.

What she failed to understand, was that the deep desire to please her at any cause, stripped her of her dignity, honor, and self-respect. Subject to mistreatment as a result, Kalila’s eyes began to open. The rose-colored glasses fell and reality sunk in. Her loyalty was taken advantage of. Her kindness was laughed at. The love she gave was not enough. She was not enough. She came to be nothing but a body to keep the bed warm while the Queen did what a Queen had the pleasure of doing; whatever she wanted.

It took months to build the courage to end the relationship. How easy could it be to remove oneself from the most intense union they’d found themselves in? The one where while the pros were numerous, the cons extended themselves past the acceptable limit.

The worst part was; she didn’t care. She had no interest in fighting to keep her, working to change. Kalila’s world crumbled. Her heart tore in two, her lungs constricted, and her mind fogged. Suddenly, substances were her lover and they fucked her good; to the point where she’d be in an orgasmic haze from the strategic stroking of her brain.

She mentally smacked herself each time she thought or her. The Queen, the Panther, Shuri. The best and worst thing to ever happen to her. Kalila wondered what she was up to. Probably living her life; on a flight to a new country where she’d serenade a woman into being her lover for the night before retreating the following morning, intrigued when the women followed her like a lost child. Kalila knew it all too well—it was once her.

The room spun. Substances and lack of sleep were a deadly combination. Kalila shook her head. 40 days and 40 nights of endless bullshit. All she had to do was let go. Could it be so hard?

Her music paused briefly at the indication of a text.

S. Udaku. Open the door.

Apparently so.

Kalila’s knees were weak as she stood in front of her. Her knees were weak, her heart pounding, and her most intimate parts jolted at the sight of her. She looked much different than she had a year ago. Her curls were much shorter—she’d cut them—now small tendrils on her head. She retired her tracksuit for a black suit with accompanying loafers. Kalila glanced at the wall clock. It was 9:41pm. Where’d she come from?

Shuri stepped into the apartment with an indescribable dominance that shifted the atmosphere. She was taller in stature, so her neck was lowered to glare into the eyes of Kalila. Both sets of brown eyes were deep and rich, but told different stories.

“What are you doing here?” Kalila’s voice was slow. The door closed behind her and and Kalila’s eyes followed Shuri as she stood in the middle of her apartment. Her long arms were crossed just underneath her belt, and her rings shone under the dim lights.

“Why’d you let me in?” Was the Queen’s response.

Because I missed you. Kalila’s eyes told it all before her mouth did. Shuri gave a humored chuckle, but the stoic look on her face didn’t change. Tight-lipped and unamused.

“Why are you here?” Kalila pressed once more. Shuri was now on the couch. Her long fingers flipped through the magazine on the coffee table. Essence. Then, they ghosted over the lit candle aside it. She didn’t flinch when the flame kissed her fingertips. Slowly, she leaned back against the couch, arm thrown over the back.

Shuri shrugged. “Was in the area. Wanted to say hello. Sit.” As if she was trained, Kalila sat beside her. This was what she wanted; to be next to her, in her presence once again. Why act shy now?

“I see you’re doing well. Business flourishing and all.”Kalila’s eyes snapped up. She started a marketing and consulting agency shortly after her college graduation. It was a rocky start, and Shuri had been there to connect her to the best in the business to assist in its development. Little did Kalila know, her efforts never ceased even once they split.

Kalila, however, was confused as to how she knew the way she was flourishing. At least on the outside. Then she had to remember, Shuri had every resource at her fingertips. Hell, she probably had someone keeping tabs on her at one point. She chose not to think about it further.

“Yeah, things are well.” Her answer was short. “Can you just…why are you here, Udaku? We are--there is no us anymore. You made it clear what you wanted five months ago, and it wasn't me. So, why are you here?" Her voice shook as she spoke, but she spoke with intention.

Shuri's chin raised and her eyebrow quipped. "I had a revelation. You didn't deserve what I put you through, and I'm aware of that. So, simply here to take accountability. That's it."

It was Kalila's turn to raise her eyebrow. It seemed too good to be true. Shuri sighed deeply and turned to face Kalila, whose distrust was written on her face.

"Do you trust me?" Shuri asked. Kalila's response was delayed. Did she? To protect her life, sure. But to protect and honor her emotions, her mental wellbeing, her heart? No, no she didn't.

"In some ways, yes. In others, no. And that's not my fault. It's yours/"

Ouch. Shuri nodded once. "Okay. Let me make it up to you." Those words were dangerous. They were the entryway back into the world of Shuri Udaku, and she wondered if she'd be able to take it.

Kalila spent time contemplating, and it did not go unseen by Shuri. So, the Queen asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

"How I don't want to be hurt by you again."

"I love you too much to hurt you again."

"That's what you said last time."

Silence.

"Let me prove it to you, yeah?" Her slender fingers danced across the roundness of Kalila's face. Fingertips grazed her lips until they fell down her neck. She gave it a soft squeeze. Kalila's eyes fluttered and she leaned into Shrui's body. Shuri took it as an opportunity to graze her lips over Kalila's, whose fell slack and a quiet whimper fell from them. Exactly where she wanted her.

Soon, clothes decorated the floor and their songs of pleasure were on repeat. High and low shifts in pitch and octave. Whistle register with voice cracks when it became too much. Sweaty bodies slipped and slid against one another. A glorious event.

"I love you," the Queen whispered breathlessly in Kalila's ear as she brought her to the edge. "I love you, I love you...it's just us. Always."

If only she stayed true to her word. Kalila woke up by herself. Every remainder of Shuri was eradicated. The only trace of her was the scent of her perfume; strong and dominant, just like her.

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table.

S. Udaku. I'll see you soon.

She knew what that meant. She'd return when she felt like it. That could be days or weeks. Kalila's eyes welled with tears. Another 40 days and 40 nights were wasted, just to start the process all over again.

[goodlucktai]

the way things change

tmnt 2007 word count: 2k post-movie / canon compliant b team & leo-centric

this was my main piece for the @turtlestogetherzine ! it was such a fun project that so many talented people came together on and if you haven’t already you should definitely check out everyone else’s AMAZING contributions !

title borrowed from rivers and roads by the head and the heart

read on ao3

x

Donnie and Mikey have always been something of a matching set. 

During their early years, they went everywhere together. Even when Mikey was at his most irritating and Donnie seemed two seconds away from disposing of him in brutal fashion—even though the two of them could be like night and day at the best of times—they were always on each other’s team first. 

Raph used to call them ‘the twins’ because they were both his younger brothers and they were both, in his own words, tag-teaming little twerps. The twin moniker caught on and even Splinter would use it occasionally. In the back of his mind, Leo still does.

Three weeks after the dust had settled over the remains of Winter Corp, he found himself thinking, Guess some things never change. 

“Donnie, a tablet at the breakfast table?” Leo asks dryly. “Really?” 

Blatant disregard like this for one of sensei’s longest-standing rules was usually much more Raph’s speed. 

Don pauses mid-scroll and thinks for a moment. 

“Mikey, what day is it?” he says eventually.

“It’s the eleventh, dude, you’re good,” is Mikey’s distracted reply. 

He’s making a game out of pouring as much cereal into his bowl as it will physically hold, which has amounted to a sizable mound of off-brand Lucky Charms. Leo is reluctantly curious to see what he’s going to do when he remembers he still needs to add milk. 

Donnie, for his part, immediately goes back to ignoring the rest of them as a whole. 

Raph puts his spoon down. “Explain what just happened.”

“It’s a prime number day,” Mikey says blithely, without looking up from the careful, exacting process of shaking another couple of marshmallow pieces out of the box. “Prime means primo screen-time.” 

Splinter is sipping his tea without refuting Mikey’s explanation, so that must be a thing now. Leo blinks, processing this. He can’t help remembering how it was before he went away, the strict ‘no electronics at the table’ policy, because mealtimes were family times. 

Raph directs his confusion down a different route. “Mike knows what prime numbers are? Since when?”

Donnie looks up from his tablet to angle a narrow look Raph’s way. His warm brown eyes are markedly cooler than before. He clearly didn’t appreciate the joke. 

He’s never been one to pick fights with his siblings. The Donatello Leo knows is a gentle soul, every bit as deadly as the rest of his family, but more inclined to mediate disputes than start one himself. 

So the last thing Leonardo expects is for him to take a page out of Raph’s book at eight in the morning. 

When Mikey starts tapping and humming, Leo can't help smiling a little. It’s a sound he missed in the jungle. 

“God, I can’t even hear myself think around here,” Raph grumbles. 

To Leo’s ears, it’s not unkind. Teasing, but good-natured. Leo knows what Raphael sounds like when he’s ticked off beyond all reason—when he’s angling for a fight and determined to get one, when he’ll say anything to get Leo to punch back—and this is very much not that. 

But something darts through Mikey’s expression that makes the big brother half of Leo’s brain sit up and pay attention. Donnie notices, too. 

“He has ADHD, asshole,” he snaps. “If it bothers you that much, put on some headphones or go away.”

The atmosphere changes on a dime. Splinter’s ears go up, whiskers slicked back. Raph looks as surprised as Leo feels.

“Donnie!” Leo says, more stunned than scolding. 

Donnie puts his tablet down, not quite hard enough to constitute a slam. “Are we really going to pretend that Mikey’s stimming is more annoying than listening to Raph when he’s in one of his moods?”

“Er, no.” Leo briefly looks to Splinter for guidance before he catches himself. “I mean—it’s just the way you said it.”

“The way I said it?” Donnie demands. 

“Dee, knock it off,” Mikey interjects unhappily. “You know I hate it when you guys put me in the middle.”

It pulls Donatello up short. He visibly grits his teeth, then bites out, “Can I be excused?” 

Splinter knows when to pick his battles. It’s a lesson all of his sons could stand to learn. 

“Take your plate, please,” the rat says. 

To Donnie’s credit, he doesn’t storm down the tunnel to the lab, even though it looks like he’d like to. The reinforced door shuts behind him with a decisive clang that rings through the lair. 

Leo feels wrong-footed by the entire exchange. Somehow, in the last three minutes, a comfortable family breakfast went entirely off the rails. 

Mikey isn’t humming anymore. The kitchen feels quieter than it should. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean—” Raph starts uncertainly. 

“Don’t be dumb, I know that,” Mikey says, not looking at anyone. He tips his dry cereal back into the box and then picks at his toast until he’s moved enough of it around that his plate appears halfway finished and he’s allowed to leave the table. 

He does so at a run, booking it to the lab. The door opens right up for him. It was locked the last time Leo tried it. 

And it’s locked the next time he tries it, too, half an hour later. 

“It’s me,” Leo calls, feeling a little foolish standing out in the hall. “Can I come in?”

Donnie’s voice answers immediately. “List the first ten prime numbers and I’ll think about it.”

Okay, this is Donnie with a grudge. Leo remembers enough of what that looks like to tread carefully. 

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Is Mikey okay?”

The door unlocks and Donnie rolls it open. He gives Leo an inscrutable look before he stands back to let him in. 

Mikey is parked in a huge bean bag chair in the corner, headphones on, drawing tablet propped against his knees. His ninja senses must have pinged when Leo walked in; he glances up right on cue and offers a hang-loose sign. Leo mirrors it, entirely because he knows it’ll make Mikey snicker. 

“He’s fine,” Donnie says unnecessarily, sitting down at his desk. “We look out for each other.” 

If that’s a jab, it’s a well-aimed one. 

“Yeah, I see that,” Leo says. “Look, I’m sorry if it sounded like I took Raph’s side back there. But you know that Raph doesn’t think Mikey’s stupid. He would be the first to break somebody’s jaw for implying that.”

“So that makes it okay to say whatever he wants to a neurodivergent teenager?” Don presses, eyes flashing. “But when I say something to Raph—”

Leo can feel himself losing his patience. “Donnie, come on. All I meant was that you shouldn’t pick fights when you know better.”

As soon as he says it he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Donnie spins his chair around to face the computer monitors, neatly severing his half of the conversation.

“Close the door behind you when you leave,” he says in a clipped tone. 

Across the room, Mikey is watching them with round eyes. He’s a few seconds from tossing his art aside and getting up to diffuse the fight. As much as he hates when his brothers put him in the middle, he has no problem putting himself there. 

It almost seems like Mikey isn’t sure if it’s safe to leave Donnie alone with this strange newcomer who looks a lot like the big brother who left them all behind. 

Leo breathes through the sharp pain that brings him and thinks, Fix this. 

He draws another chair over and sits down. Donnie’s shoulders go stiff but he doesn’t react otherwise. 

“Sorry,” Leo says quietly. 

It takes a minute but eventually Donnie nods, brown eyes full and troubled. 

“Me too,” he replies. “I know I’m being difficult. I’m just—I feel so angry all the time.”

Donnie isn’t Raph. He never had any problem with Leo’s authority. He had his own parts to play on the team, parts he took pride in—doctor, scientist, engineer. He was relieved to hand back that mantle of leadership, to step back into his curated role, but that doesn’t mean everything just returns to the way it was.

Donatello still resents his big brothers for abandoning him, each in their own way. He’s still bitter about all the extra weight he had to carry, without thanks or credit. He’s been stuck in place for the last two years, no outlet, no time for himself, and nobody on his team but Mikey, the one person Donnie has always been directly responsible for and could never bring himself to burden. He picked up an I.T. job he hated and stuck with it for longer than he should have, because he wouldn’t know how to quit something halfway if his life depended on it. His typically strong relationship with Raph—one that Leo’s secretly envied since they were kids—soured and left him without their hothead’s support. He had to figure out how to be a grown-up at the tender age of sixteen. 

Then Leo came back, expecting everything to be exactly how he left it. 

Of course Donnie’s angry. It’s no wonder he’s picking fights left and right. 

“You’re not being difficult, Don,” Leo says immediately, wishing, not for the first time, that Splinter had never sent him away. “If you want to scream and throw things at me, I think that would probably be more than fair.”

“I don’t want to do any of that,” Donnie replies wryly. He swivels his chair slightly, facing Leo again. There’s something grudgingly hopeful about him now—Leo’s little brother, trying to remember how to put his faith in Leo’s hands. 

It’s such a precious thing to hold. Leo can’t screw this up again. 

“You’ve worked out a pretty solid system while I was gone,” he says, bumping Donnie’s shoulder with his fist. “Can you show me the ropes?”

Give Donnie a chance to teach and he shines. Sure enough, he brightens a little. 

“We help April with acquisitions for her antique store on Thursdays. Do you want to come?” 

Leo heard about that from April. Apparently it’s more of a game than a chore, a city-wide scavenger hunt. He was hoping for an invitation but he wasn’t expecting one. He feels himself smile. 

Mikey, who has clearly been listening in, lowers his headphones and asks, “All four of us?”

That brings Donnie up short. Leo jumps in. 

“I told Raph I wanted us to do a team-building exercise sometime soon, and he said he’d be down for anything, as long as you two promised to go easy on him.” 

That’s exactly what he said, too—only he’d added, gruffly affectionate, ‘those tag-teaming little twerps.�� 

“Sound good?” Leo asks them warmly. 

Mikey beams. Donnie’s disagreeable outer shell begins to soften. By some miracle, Leo still knows how to do this. Two years wasn’t enough to overshadow a lifetime. 

It’s a privilege to sit in the lab, watching Donnie bring up files on his latest project, listening attentively to engineering and mechanics that go clean over his head. Mikey joins them at the desk and shows Leo the digital painting he’s been working on, chattering energetically about watercolor and composition and the new brush he’s obsessed with. 

Raph wanders in some time later with an apology in hand—drinks from the twins’ favorite coffee shop. He probably left right after breakfast to be back already. 

Donnie smiles after the first sip. Raph must have got it exactly right.

Leo lets his tea warm his hands and soaks up their company the way regular turtles bask in sunlight. 

Donnie and Mikey built a house in the empty space their brothers left behind. The door isn’t always open, but Leo and Raph can always knock. Maybe they could even live there together someday, once they remember how to be on each other’s team. 

Until then, Leo is willing to put in the work. It’s what he’s always done. 

He’ll do whatever it takes to get back home. 

[yuki2sksksk]

Saw a YouTube video of someone doing a 'What If Tanjirou meets another Hashira in the first episode' so here are my speculation;

Giyuu: Already in canon, Tanjirou and Nezuko are spared

Shinobu: Same as Giyuu with attacking Nezuko first but becomes immensely curious and bewildered when Nezuko protects Tanjirou. Thinks about Kanae and decides to let her curiosity wins her over. She probably make a deal with Tanjirou like "I'll recommend you a teacher for you to become a slayer in exchange for me to take your sister with me." Probably does experimenting on Nezuko because of her opposite demonic characteristics 💀 (a complicated situation, both sides trying to find the solution for a mutual agreement with Tanjirou refusing to leave Nezuko while Shinobu wants to poke her around with needles and stuff)

Kyojuro: Attacks without hesitation, stating bluntly to Tanjirou why Nezuko should be decapitated (unintentionally harsh) and does a double take when Nezuko protects Tanjirou. He might still stands on his ground but questions the whole situation. I can either see him still trying to slay Nezuko or spare her and takes Tanjirou as his student.

Mitsuri: Despite her soft and cheerful attitude, she shows little mercy when it comes to swinging her blades. She apologies first before diving into an attack. Very shock at seeing how Nezuko protects Tanjirou and starts complicating on what she should do next, to continue her mission or spare the siblings. She might needs to sit down and thinks for a moment. The outcome probably with her sparing them.

Muichiro: So honest with his words, insults Tanjirou at hoping for Nezuko to be good. Attacks but pauses when Nezuko is protecting Tanjirou. Maybe tilts his head and stares, asking Nezuko if she has ulterior motives. The most possible outcome of this situation is him to continue his mission and slays Nezuko, reminding himself that his responsibility as a slayer outweigh everything else.

Uzui: Doesn't filter his words when it comes to explaining to Tanjirou on why the boy is stupid enough to protect his demon sister. His eyes get wide when Nezuko protects Tanjirou and questions swimming around his mind. Either he decides to grasp onto the tiny possiblity that Nezuko can be good, or that he goes ahead to behead her. I see Uzui as a hopeful man clinging on to exciting possiblity of impossible situations, so he might takes Tanjirou as his student but keeps Nezuko lock or isolated away 💀

Gyomei: He thinks the situation is pitiful and hopeless, that Tanjirou is in too much despair to hope his sister still has the humanity in her. Even with blind eyes, Gyomei senses the change of the atmosphere when Nezuko stands over Tanjirou like a protection barrier between him and Tanjirou. He keeps wondering how such thing is possible, how a child like Nezuko decides to risk her life for her human brother that she probably never has memory of. He thinks of the chance that maybe she's being defensive over her food. Either he goes for a killing strike, or to have Tanjirou learning under his guidance while keeping close watch on Nezuko.

Obanai: Very harsh insults, thinks Nezuko has ulterior motive for protecting Tanjirou and beheads her 💀

Sanemi: We all know where this is going 💀 Kill first ask later.

[topgun-imagines]

An angst prompt?! Don’t tempt me with a good time

I would really love to see something with the line:

“i loved you, you used me.”

Calm filled the atmosphere. The first few days after Valentine’s Day were usually slow. After all, most people in relationships blew their flower budget before the 14th. This led to the shop being empty for most of the day. Your regulars still stopped by, men who would bring their partners flowers weekly and widowers bringing flowers to their passed-on loved ones.

These were the ones that gave you hope that love still existed. After the past few weeks, you weren’t so sure.

It was then that the small bell chimed above the door. You shovelled the last spoonful of leftover pasta into your mouth before you rushed out to the front to greet the customer. Distractedly, you fiddled with your apron as you walked around the corner. Oh, how you wished you would have been looking up.

When you lifted your head, there was a large, beaming smile on your face. It was gone within seconds.

Standing in front of you was Jake Seresin, the man who ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped all over it.

Your face hardened into stone in a matter of seconds. The pilot looked like a kicked puppy, but that didn’t stop the vicious words flowing from your mouth before you could stop them.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, damn near spitting on him. “Honestly, Seresin, what the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just walk in here like this after what you’ve done?”

Jake was standing in front of you, mouth gapping like a fish. During your rant, the pilot had no chance to explain himself, not that you would give him one anyway. You finally paused. At this point, steam was nearly pouring from your ears.

When he didn’t say anything, you raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, something that had changed since the break-up. That prompted him to speak. Your name was whispered quietly as he took a step forward.

With a scoff, you retreated behind your desk and began focusing once more on your pile of flower orders. It was then that he began speaking. From across your shop.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” That elicited a harsher scoff from you. Where did this man get the nerve?

“Hangman,” You never called him by his call-sign. That was enough for Jake to know that his chances were less than slim. “You do not get to do this. You do not get to come into my place of business to try and hash out your personal issues.” The only reason you paused was to suck in some air before you continued.

Ever so slowly, you set your pen down and walked around the counter. Once you were close enough, you jabbed your finger into his chest. “I loved you.” Your voice cracked and tears welled in your eyes.

Memories from the past came rushing back. Memories filled with nothing but laughter. Memories surrounding that one, fateful night. The night that you had come home, a week before Valentine’s Day, only for Jake to drop the bomb that he wanted a break. That he was no longer in love with you. As hard of a pill as it was to swallow, you had come to terms with the reality that Jake was never the man you thought he was. You had realized that everything, all the whispered ‘I love you’s’ and promises made meant nothing to him.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop your finger from shaking. Regardless of that, your voice was firm.

Jake wasn’t one for crying. Hell, he hardly ever showed emotion. But as he stood in front of you, watching the consequences of his actions play out, he couldn’t stop the single tear from rolling down his cheek at your next words.

“And you used me.”

Thank you for the request anon! Send in some angst from this list :)

[chroniclesofbts]

Call Me Home Part 6

Idol hybrid BTS x hybrid foreigner reader

Warnings: implied sexual themes, smut, angst, fluff, polyamorous relationship, name calling, night terrors, drug use to cause shifting, auctions

If you’re not 18+ please, do not interact.

As always, my works do not represent BTS in any way, this is purely a work of fiction.

Rushed down the hall and into the den, I am handed a green turtleneck to change into. I can hear Hoseok in the other room talking to the Therapist. My hands are shaking so much that I struggle to take off my current shirt. Jungkook takes the turtleneck out of my hands and gives it to Jimin. He grabs the bottom of the shirt I am wearing and waits for permission to help me. I nod, giving a small yes, before he pulls it off quickly. Jimin instantly puts the turtleneck on me, both of their eyes being respectful and not wandering. Jungkook grabs my hand softly and leads me to the living room where Hoseok is with the laptop. He glances up at me as we enter, smiling softly at my shaking form. He reaches his hand out for me to take, pulling me softly into his side.

"We can stay, if you want, or one of us can. Whatever you need, we are here for." Hoseok speaks to me, his face showing worry.

"Stay, please, I don't want to explain everything all over again. Wanted everyone here, but I guess I will have to explain again anyway." I whisper, feeling Taehyungs emotions weighing me down.

Footsteps coming down the stairs cause me to glance up, seeing the rest of the pack entering, eyes still showing their animals are present. They are dressed and holding Taehyung tightly, who is looking at his feet. He isn't hurt like I expected, just showing freshly bitten mating marks.

"We wouldn't make you go through it more than you needed to, Doe" Yoongi says, letting go of Taehyung and joining my other side.

"Let's begin our first session, now that everyone is present." The woman says through the computer.

"We met in the hospital, I was one of the ones who spoke to you before you left. Do you remember me?" She continues

I nod, feeling a squeeze to my thigh, "I do" I verbalize, earning a small chuff from Yoongi.

"It's good to see you again, how are you feeling?" She begins, asking all of the typical questions to start our session.

The session is going well, mostly a routine check in, until she asks about my home.

"Tell me a little bit about where you are from, where you grew up."

"I don't remember much about my family, I moved when I was young into the ranch." I spoke quietly, feeling the atmosphere changing. Yoongi and Hoseok tensing on either side of me, Taehyung's feeling distracting me as I meet his eyes.

"How old were you?" She pushes, refocusing me.

"8, I think?" I pause, "Maybe 7, the memories all blur together"

"Why did you move so young?" She continues without missing a beat.

"I am rare, small, worth good money" I shrugged, bumping shoulders with Hoseok. "My parents are both deer, so I am a purebreed, and I had the rare trait, it made sense I was the one to leave. We needed the money, my mom was getting older, so I took her place. My siblings had too many mixed genes from the ranch, I wasn't born there, was an accident" I mumbled, leaning into Hoseok's arms.

"And how long did you stay at the ranch"

"Until I was sold permanently" I replied, distantly, feeling my chest start to tighten.

"Tae, switch with me" Hoseok whispered while I was talking. Taehyung moved quick, pulling me into his lap, so softly that I was barely jostled.

"And how old were you then?" She pushed, taking not of the interactions between me and the pack.

"I was at the ranch for 6 years, I fought each client there and they got tired of me. My owner purchased me for cheap, I think, complained how I wasn't even worth what little he gave them for me"

And how long were you with him?"

"Until I ran away, after biting the client and being beaten, i stayed on the streets for a couple of years, trying to remain out of sight."

"And then you entered the program" She concluded

"I did, not really given a choice or much information, just caged and sedated. Shipped off to another country" I confirmed, causing Taehyung to squeeze me tighter and bury his head into my shoulder.

"And your heats?"

"I've never had one, was on medicine, the strong ones so I didn't get pregnant in the ranch or with a client. The took me off a few weeks before I left, hoping it would cause me to accept the clients easier. I just never got it after"

"That could be because your animal was protecting you, or the stress in the situation before you were given suppressants in the program. Would also explain why you were thrown into a false heat" She explained, writing more down.

"How are the nightmares?" She said, causing me to freeze and be thrown back into the memory from last nigh, my breath quickening. I can vaguely feel my name being said, the memory feeling all too real. My face is shoved into Taehyung's neck, the scent and memory mixing into reality. I can feel hands pulling me out of Taehyung's grasp, snarls and growls, before I am laying on my back on the couch, a weight over me. My scent gland exposed, a mouth latching and nipping. A hand hovering my mark from Taehyung, before slowly rubbing over it. My body falls slack, vision returning and finding Yoongi pressing me down, a comforting weight, and lapping at my unmarked gland. I turn slightly, eyes finding Namjoon, who is rubbing over the mark, sending jolts down my body.

"You're safe, here with us" Yoongi murmurs, lifting his head to find my eyes.

"I think it's best for the rest of you to mark her, so her animal feels completed in the den, but nothing else for now. It's too dangerous to trigger a heat, marking her will comfort her animal and help her to be pulled from her nightmares quicker. Slow the episodes down too. She should have been comforted by her first mate, being marked usually soothes my clients. But I have never seen a pack this size with a client. Start slowly, one mark a day until her animal calms down. You'll know when she is ready for more. I would like to see you 3 times a week, and talk about your dreams. Once you are comfortable, until then we can talk about your feeling with your pack." She concludes her session with Jin and Hoseok, while I continue to calm down, sagging in Yoongi's hold. Once the call ends, Taehyung pushes his way on top of me and latches down on my mark, his animal upset they couldn't comfort me. His mouth soothing the sting, his body molding against mine as he tends to the fresh wound. My eyes flutter at the sensations, the calm of the room and the stress from the call pulling me under. The last thing I remember is being lifted and carried, the smell of the den lulling me fully to sleep.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, I am currently back to work at both jobs and didn't realize how little time I would have, on top of how tiring it is after being on leave for so long

Taglist (open):

@dachshunddame @minjianhyung @minhanbyeol @m00njinnie @famousdelusionobservation @danielle143 @dragons-flare @kimsaerom @butterymin

[bubble-popping]

day 57 last bit I have of dragon Dream and wolf Punz :]

By the time the tray was empty, Punz felt more full than he had in years. Dream placed it back on the cart then slid off the bed to stretch his back, wings reaching high above his head and tail going rigid as audible pops were heard. He went to sit at his vanity table and reached over to pull at a strip of tapestry to his right a few times. Though curious, Punz remained quiet, much preferring to gather the thick blanket around his form and nuzzle the warmth. It was odd, Dream's scent. Sweet like honey with a distinct undertone of roses. Not what they expected for dragon hybrid royalty, but very pleasant nonetheless. In fact, Dream's entire room didn't seem to fit his title.

With the light of the sun shining through the open window, they could better make out all the details. Pictures of friends and family lined the walls, the dirty laundry from last night strewn across the floor, a cluttered mess of papers and books on his work desk. It all looked... painfully normal. Like Dream was the same as any other young man his age.

Not that Punz knew what that meant. His life had been anything but normal.

"How was your sleep? I hope I didn't smother you. Should've warned you I'm a cuddler." Dream glanced back at them in the midst of brushing his long hair.

"Huh? Oh, it wasn't a big deal. I slept okay." He didn't need to know it was the most restful sleep Punz had gotten in a long time.

"That's good to hear. Your room will be made up by the end of the day, so either way you'll get your own space soon."

Not too long since the last one, another knock came at the door.

"Come in, Calla!" Dream answered. A deer hybrid entered the room only to pause upon seeing Punz. He blinked, head tilting in question.

As if sensing his confusion, Dream piped up, "That's Punz, my personal guard. Punz, this is Callahan, a dear friend and excellent tailor. He's here to take your measurements so we can get a proper wardrobe started."

"Ah, that makes sense." They reluctantly unraveled their self from the cocoon of blankets and got to their feet. Callahan promptly began taking his measurements, wrapping a measuring tape around his limbs and torso in several different places.

"Make sure to send the measurements to Sapnap when you're done, Calla. He'll need ceremonial armor as soon as possible."

"Ceremonial armor?" They absent-mindedly asked aloud. That wasn't good. This atmosphere was too calm, too casual; they were losing their training.

"For my coronation. All guards will have special armor, but personal guards in particular must be dressed their very best," Dream explained as he collected his golden hair into a neat braid.

Soon enough, Callahan finished taking measurements and bowed to them before leaving the room. Afterwards, Dream stood from his vanity, braid tied off with a juniper-colored ribbon at his lower back, to open his closet.

"You'll have to wear my clothes again today. I'll see if there's anything you can wear."

Eventually, Dream emerged from his closet once more already dressed for the day in a poofy dark green top trimmed with gold and light tan pants, and an outfit in hand for Punz. Just like last night, they went into the bathroom to change. He'd given them a white blouse with bees and flowers embroidered on the hems and buttons in the back. The pants were black slacks that reached higher in the front than the back, giving their tail ample room to lay naturally.

[bootleg-parable]

Guilty Tango ; A Parable Progression

It was another Tuesday.

Somehow, this book had yet to grow old, and here User sat, reading it for the seventh time since his arrival to the office. Something about the writing always reeled him in. Something about the atmosphere, the characters, the irony. It was a good book to get lost in. With ease, it always took his mind off of everything else when he needed it, and it kept him from constantly bothering–

“User?”

. . .Teller.

Two hands settled gently upon User’s shoulders and spun him 180 to be facing away from the desk at which he was sitting. User closed the book and rested it in his lap as he looked up to meet an expecting smile. He stared into the glowing opacity of Teller’s glasses as blankly as he could manage. He often wondered what the older man’s eyes looked like beneath the shining glass shields, but alas, there was no way around them, and User wasn’t one to pry.

“Did you need something?” He asked quietly, and briefly he turned his chair’s swivel to put the book on the desk. He had the feeling he’d be leaving it soon.

Teller took hold of User’s arms. “I am officially–” He paused to hoist the other to his feet. User did not protest. “Off the clock.”

“And only one hour later than yesterday. You must be so proud."

“Ahem. I. . .I apologise. Sometimes things get a little too busy around here.”

And yet User has never seen another person in this office building aside from Teller and-

...

He didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m here, now.” Teller’s glove brushing up against the unwrapped side of User’s face made him bristle. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

User squinted. “I was kidding, Teller.” He swatted the eldest’s hand away. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“The way that you looked at me said otherwise.”

User’s facial expressions didn’t typically change. He didn’t think it had then, either. But perhaps Teller saw something that User didn't feel or care enough to realise. Even so, nothing came to mind, and he knew that Teller was insistent, almost to a charmingly annoying degree.

He only shrugged. Teller frowned with nothing more to say, and User, admittedly, was growing cold under that empty stare of his. Another reason why he wished that Teller would take those glasses off at least once. It was uncanny to look at his face and see nothing but two strips of beaming white glass where eyes should be. Glasses didn’t come like that. . .But he supposed he wouldn’t really know. He couldn’t remember anything before the office, and any memory that sprung to life in his mind always died and vanished soon after. Nothing was left for him. Not while he was here.

Is this even the real world? Surely it couldn't be. Not if Teller was capable of "respawning" in every instance after death. But maybe all of these people weren't actually Teller. Perhaps it was a title. Perhaps User never met the man he thinks he has.

In his spiral of thought, User didn’t even notice that Teller had gotten alarmingly close to him, with a grasp on his arms again, and was humming a tune to the both of them as he swayed in place. User stumbled, startled, and once his mind kicked back into functionality, it only got worse. Teller was trying to dance with him. User didn’t fancy the idea all too much.

“No–” He stuttered, leaning back to put distance between them. His voice got closer and closer to a whisper the more that he spoke. “Teller, I can’t– I don’t know how to dance.”

Teller only grinned. “How painfully stereotypical of you.”

User had seen this before. Every reset followed the same set of events, no matter how much time it took to reach certain ones. They couldn’t do this. User was trying to stop the loop, not entertain it. Oh, but how was he going to explain this to Teller without just hurting his feelings? Or without spilling the truth of this reality to him? Was there any way around this without looking like the bad guy? Maybe that’s something he’d just have to live with.

“Shit.”

He was so bad at it, too. You’d think with how many times he’d repeated this exact moment that he might’ve been better at dancing. But he kept tripping up. He stepped on Teller more than once now, but as always, the other’s patience was endless. Maybe User could just step away. Maybe Teller wouldn’t be bothered.

But what if he would?

“Sorry–”

He stepped on his friend again. Damn it, why couldn't he get this down?

“You are a terrible dancer, dear boy.” Teller insulted, but he laughed, and in that, User knew he was only teasing.

He tried to hide his embarrassed smile in Teller’s coat. He didn’t need to be seen grinning like that. He didn’t want to get close to this version of this man. It would make his death a lot easier to take if User couldn’t prevent it- to know that they were never as close as his previous selves were.

Hm.

Teller was so warm. It never occurred to User that he’s never actually hugged Teller until it was too late. Every embrace was never returned. Instead he always spent his final moments in a loop hanging on to something dead. Someone dead. This might not have been a hug, per say, but it was a welcome change of pace. To be this close to Teller while he was still alive.

While he was. . .

“Let go.” He pulled himself free. Teller might have blinked with surprise, but User couldn’t tell. He tried to think of something to cover up his abruptness. “I told you, I can’t dance.”

“I can tell,” Teller shot back. User couldn’t read it as playful or not anymore. That made him ache. “I stopped counting your fumbles after the tenth one, snrk–”

Teller didn’t usually take things personally.

That was a relief, and User sighed to acknowledge that. Teller rubbed the other’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m only poking fun at you, User.” He reassured, having taken the sigh as despondency. “You were doing fine.”

User gave him a look. There were far more troubling things to get twisted up about. Teller’s silly little insult was far from being one of them. And speaking of which, he had plans to write out. He couldn’t stand around humouring this game anymore. Lucky for him, Teller picked up on User’s wanting to be left alone.

“If you need me, simply shout for me,” He announced his departure as he started off down the hall. “I will be in the library, reorganising.”

User nodded once and watched him disappear around a corner. He didn’t like being alone very much, even less so knowing that Teller was alone. Anything could happen. He didn’t know if that damned 8-Ball would wait for everything to play out as it typically did. Maybe it had fun watching User scramble around for solutions with the time provided. Maybe it would catch him off guard and take Teller away from him while he wasn’t looking. There wouldn't be any light steps taken about this subject. Even if the end never truly was the end, User didn't want it to happen.

There were so many ways that this could all go wrong.

There were so many loops that all came to the same conclusion, no matter how hard he tried.

There were so many memories that only he retained and couldn't share.

User didn’t like being alone very much. . .

. . . There was a sound from the library. A loud, devastating sound. Something in User’s stomach dropped, and before he could even process the situation or his feelings, he was already mindlessly running down the hall. His heart was racing.

He was right.

The worst had come ages before the suspected deadline.

Teller.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Erik being affectionate….you’ve officially gotten me hooked <3 I’m also currently pretty sick so the last Erik ask was SO GOOD- I don’t wanna rush you since I see you already have some rqs but could you maybe do more affectionate Erik 👀 ❤️

Hope you’re feeling a lil better Moodie💕💕 Seems like a lot of sicknesses and allergies are going around lately :(

Erik’s heart pounded as the orchestra’s sound crescendoed, then quieted to silence with his guidance as the conductor. This was the closest to a perfect performance he had ever reached— every student had played their part beautifully, and the atmosphere in the room was filled with breathless wonder, broken by rounds of applause. Most importantly of all, you were there.

Erik turned, catching your eye in the audience, and bowed. The students behind him also stood and bowed, and he lead them off the stage. The audience slowly dispersed, the students’ loved ones waiting in the lobby to congratulate them on the performance. You waited too, excited to talk to Erik.

It didn’t take long for him and some of his students to leave the back room and come into the lobby. The students were glowing with happiness, and Erik looked so proud, complimenting them on the performance. Once he saw you, though, Erik grinned— grinned!— and walked over to you immediately, taking your hands in theirs.

Your heart caught in your throat at his expression; it was rare to see him so happy, so full of life. Your own smile only grew as they leaned close and nuzzled his nose against yours, thanking you for coming to the performance.

“It was absolutely beautiful! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” You assured him.

He looked deep into your eyes, voice serious, “Still, it would have been nothing without you here.”

Before you could respond, a few students began giggling and making kissy noises at the two of you. Erik pulled back, embarrassed at the public display of emotion, and glared at them. The students dispersed quickly to avoid a scolding, still giggling amongst themselves.

You snorted and linked your arm with Erik’s. “Come on, handsome, let’s go home. Unless you’d like to go out to eat first?”

“Home,” he decides, cheeks still pink and lips pressed in a thin line.

“Okay,” you lean in and kiss his cheek, smiling fondly at the way their flush spreads to the tips of his ears.

The two of you make your way home, and finally get to change from stuffy formal clothes to more comfortable loungewear and pajamas. Erik smiles, seeing you curled up on the couch and curls up next to you, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

You hum happily, leaning into his touch. He’s usually not so cuddly.

“Thank you again, for… for coming with me, to see the performance,” he pauses, and thinks perhaps he was being a bit too vulnerable. How could he possibly explain the way your presence changed the music? Changed his conducting? The way music had never made his heart soar like that before, the way you made his heart soar. His angel, his muse. “…It means a lot to the students, you know.”

“Your students don’t even know me that well!” You protest, giggling.

He just wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. It just makes you squirm and giggle more. Even if he can’t figure out how to say what he means, he hopes you’ll still understand.

[doberbutts]

Hi! Very sorry about the vague bitesports ask - I wasn’t actually aware that there were multiple types!

Could you start by explaining a bit more about what you and Fenris do for mondioring?

Oh, sure, but I think first you should acquaint yourself with the rulebook: https://www.fci.be/medias/UTI-REG-MON-en-4624.pdf

(This is a PDF file, it will download, that is intentional and not a virus I promise, I have literally this exact file from this exact link saved on both my phone and my laptop)

Your original questions were:

What is the overall goal of the sport/what is the dog specifically being trained to do? Are there competitions, and if so, how are they judged?

In regards to mondioring, mondioring is a competitive protection dog sport based off of french ring, which was based off of belgian ring, which was based off of the belgian border patrol program. However mondioring itself was always intended to be a sport, not a military or police program or something to determine breed-worthiness. It was developed as a fun handler's challenge instead of anything else.

As a side note, I think this is why mondio tends to have the most relaxed atmosphere as well as tends to draw the least amount of really intensely bigoted people of all the bitesports. I'm not saying they don't exist in mondio, in fact I can name a few names right now that are rather notorious for it. But it's very unlike IGP (the most popular bitesport within the US) where you can't go a week without tripping over a nazi, a sexual predator, or a domestic abuser... occasionally all of them in the same person... being outed and then immediately defended by the wider sport-going population. I also find it tends to be more friendly to women, racial minorities, disability, and marginalized genders and sexualities- which was reflected in a recent poll done by the USMRA that stated that while it's mostly half and half, it's technically women-led in the US with 51.6% of competitors identifying as women and the rest identifying as men.

(Which either means there was no nonbinary option on the poll or what nonbinary people took the poll were not comfortable identifying as such, which tbh is fair, bc as said bitesports tend to be a hellscape for anyone who's not cishet white and abled- I know I have two nb ppl in my club but they also id as nb women so that may also skew results if not polled correctly)

The goal of mondio is, put simply, good and correct work in increasingly challenging and ever-changing environments. Mondio differs from other sports because each trial is different. They are themed and each theme can completely change the picture. Unlike in sports like agility, or even sports like IGP and french ring, where the jumps always look roughly the same and the retrieves are always dumbbells and there's always a pause table and it's a specific pattern that maybe the individual method of going about the pattern changes from field to field, the total picture always looks roughly the same to the dog... in mondio, the exercises are always the same in the vaguest sense but the means of going about them are different.

For instance, we just had USMRA nationals, which was a pirates theme. That means that the jumps looked like pieces of ships sticking out of "water" (grass), the distractions to see if the dog would break its stay included the decoys having a sword fight, cannons and splashes of water went off constantly, the retrieves were things like toy treasure chests, glass bottles with paper inside, swords, and gold coins... The work that the dog has to do remains the same- you must stay, you must retrieve, you must jump, you must bite- but this becomes more a test of how well your dog has generalized these behaviors and how strong your dog's nerve are environmentally than of precision or perfection.

That is also why you can still place on the winner's podium even if you don't qualify on a passing score. This is recognized to be difficult, so those who don't DQ are still praised for trying. Failure has the attitude of "you gave it your best! now you know what to work on for your next try!"

It also means the judge is looking more for overall correctness rather than dinging you for every possible infraction (usually)

Finally, having done both IGP (with Creed) and mondio (with Creed and with Fenris), I'd say that mondio is less mentally stressful on the dog when it comes to protection itself. There is less focus on defense and aggression and more focus on prey and play. While some exists (face attack, defense of handler), the best way I've ever heard it put is that mondio is much more of a conversation between the decoy and the dog where they are sparring partners instead of mortal enemies.

Creed genuinely wanted to hurt the decoys who worked him, and got angry at the thought of being held back from doing so, and technically that is very correct for a doberman to displace such defensiveness and anger in their protection. Fenris does want to keep biting the decoy, but it is more because he finds this to be a very fun and deeply pleasurable thing to do rather than any feelings of actually wanting to cause harm. I also have been very careful not to work him on decoys that will bring this out of him, even though I do think it is correct for the breed to be like that, because his breeder assures me that when the time is right he will with the defense he needs. I have no need for a civil dog, and what little protection in my day-to-day I've required he's more than satisfied, so to me as long as he passes his temperament tests as an adult and is competitive in sport, I don't really need him to be another Creed.

[cutiedwaekki]

so good

— life is so good

summary : just seungmin and hyunjin being roommate ... with a certain obssesion

a/n : this is a special birthday special fic for my dear lovely ew friend aka @nana-kom

Everyone say happy birthday to her !!

Enjoy ♡

(^з^)-☆

Hyunjin stood before the door of his dorm room with his heart thumping. He tightly held the strap of his duffel bag, the nervous excitement coursing through him with each step.

A new life. A new university. A fresh start.

But the things filling his mind weren’t classes or professors.

It was his roommate.

Please don’t be weird. Or messy. Or loud.

After inhaling deeply, he turned the handle and opened the door.

The room was almost empty except for a well-made bed and an open suitcase on the desk. Clothes were folded with military precision, a laptop plugged in and whirring.

At the desk sat a boy.

Soft features. Brown eyes. He looked so cute and so cold at the same time. A still intensity that thinned the air around it. He unpacked his things with meticulous precision, as if each item had its own dedicated space, and throwing off that balance would be a crime not unlike treason.

Hyunjin paused to force a smile. "Hey, I’m Hyunjin."

The boy hardly looked at him. "Seungmin."

Nothing else. No smile. No warmth.

Hyunjin blinked, taken aback at a loss for response. He tossed his bag onto the bed, attempting to brighten the atmosphere. “Well, I guess we’re going to be in each other’s faces for the year, huh?”

A small, uninterested hum. "Seems that way."

The space between them felt stiff, distanced. Beneath Seungmin’s cold demeanor, however, was something else. Something calculated. Watchful.

And Hyunjin could not take his eyes off of him.

(^з^)-☆

At first, their on-screen interactions were few. A courteous nod here, a cursory exchange there. But as time went on, Hyunjin found himself attracted to Seungmin in a way he couldn’t exactly explain.

It started with small things. The way Seungmin always seemed to linger on him, a moment too long. The quiet way he moved, always in control, always watching.

Then came the food.

One night, as Hyunjin kept himself from falling asleep over his books, a cold can of soda slid over the desk towards him.

He looked up, surprised and found Seungmin standing there, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched him.

–“You looked like you were about to faint,” Seungmin said. His voice was flat, but not unkind.

It was a bold move and it surprised Hyunjin, who smiled. "Wow, you do have a heart."

Seungmin shook his head and scoffed. "Don’t push it."

That moment was a shift. A crack in the ice.

It became more frequent. A plate of food materializing next to him when he skipped a meal. An extra serving, casually handed to him by Seungmin, voice neutral but eyes hopeful.

At first Hyunjin didn’t think much of it. He was just eating a little more here, a little more there.

That moment was a shift.

A crack in the ice.

(^з^)-☆

That began to happen more frequently. A plate of food appearing next to him in moments he didn’t eat. Seungmin passing him a serving and, while his voice is neutral, his eyes are pleased.

Initially Hyunjin brushed it off. He was just eating a little bit more, giving himself treats and things.

Andthen the changes began.

It was subtle at first.

His jeans tight when he sat down. A bit more space occupied on the couch. His image in the mirror ,his faces fuller, his stomach softer.

At first, he brushed it off. He’s comfortable at home, college life is busy, maybe he’s not "working out as much" but the gravity hung differently this time, more palpable, more intentional.

And Seungmin noticed.

There were no words spoken, but his eyes said all. Watching. Absorbing every minute adjustment with an intensity that curled Hyunjin’s stomach not in fear, but in something else.

Satisfaction.

(^з^)-☆

One afternoon, Hyunjin had difficulty squeezing into a hoodie that had once hung off him. The fabric pulled tighter than before, the hem rising up against his belly. When he turned, he caught Seungmin’s eye in the mirror black-eyed, intent.

–“You’re eating well,” Seungmin said softly.

Hyunjin swallowed. “I guess …” He pulled down the hoodie, though it seemed to cover little of the burgeoning softness around his waist.

Seungmin reached closer, fingers barely grazing the fabric but enough for Hyunjin’s entire body to feel electrified.

–“Oh, you look so good,” Seungmin said, voice unreadable.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched. He wasn’t sure why. "Thanks."

Seungmin’s lips twisted, eyes following down to Hyunjin’s stomach. "It suits you."

The words sent a peculiar warmth coursing through Hyunjin’s body. He turned away quickly, feigning a search for his shoes. But when he tried to dismiss it, he found that a part of him, deep inside, enjoyed it.

(^з^)-☆

Weeks passed. Then months.

And the change was unmistakable.

His belly firmed up, his thighs grew thicker, his cheeks softened. His old clothes hardly fit, seams straining, waistbands digging into his expanding stomach.

Friends began commenting, half-teasing, half-curious.

–“Man, if you keep eating like this, we’re gonna have to roll you to class,” some joked.

Hyunjin joked about it, but the reality stung.

Seungmin, though, never made fun. He only watched. And encouraged.

One night, after a gluttonous meal, they were sitting together on the couch. The space between them had become smaller—not just because a couch flanked the two, but because Hyunjin occupied more of it now.

Seungmin’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. "You look so full."

The breath skipped in Hyunjin’s throat as Seungmin’s fingers slid along the dip of his belly. The reaching out was light, almost reverent.

–“I… I can’t figure out how to stop,” Hyunjin confessed, his voice trembling.

A slow smirk grew bigger on Seungmin's face. "You don’t have to."

Hyunjin shivered. "Why?"

Seungmin moved closer, warm breath tickling Hyunjin’s earlobe.

–“Because I enjoy watching you lose control.”

Hyunjin exhaled shakily. "I… I think I like it too."

(^з^)-☆

The change was not merely evident — it was palpable.

Now, every movement was different. Sitting down was the waistband of his jeans pressing on his stomach. He huffed a little climbing stairs. His shirts strained across his chest and gut in ways they never had before.

And Seungmin was noticing everything.

–“You’re going to eat more, right?” Seungmin said one night, eyeing Hyunjin as he lingered over an additional plate of food.

Hyunjin chewed on his lip. “I don’t know—I’ve been gaining a little —”

Seungmin leaned back, an unreadable expression on his face. "So? It looks good on you."

A simple comment. Casual. Dismissive.

But it stayed in Hyunjin’s mind.

So, he took the extra plate. When Seungmin silently offered him dessert afterward, he didn’t turn it down.

One meal turned into many.

It came sooner than he anticipated.

(^з^)-☆

One morning, he squeezed into a pair of jeans and felt them cling to his thighs. He sucked in his stomach, making the button close, but the pressure was real.

His hoodies, no longer falling loosely around him but draping and riding up over the growing curve of his stomach.

One morning, he passed a mirror in the hallway and stopped.

That can’t be me…

But it was.

His features had denatured into softer lines, his arms thickened. His belly, previously flat and toned, now shewed a slight bulge at the bottom of his shirt.

As he passed by, Seungmin stopped beside him. He examined Hyunjin from top to bottom, his face impassive.

–“You’re finally seeing it,” he said quietly.

Hyunjin swallowed, fingers clawing into his hoodie. "It’s not that bad…"

Seungmin hummed. "I never said it was."

Then he was pulling at the hem of Hyunjin’s hoodie like it was the most natural thing in the world, giving just a patch of bare skin.

–“You’re just filling out,” he said, voice low, smooth. "And it makes you even more beautiful."

Hyunjin’s breath caught.

And before he could ask Seungmin turned away walking away leaving him alone to stare at his reflection.

(^з^)-☆

It wasn’t just the clothes.

It was the way he moved , slower, heavier. The way he sunk lower into chairs, the pressure of his thighs touching when he sat.

It was the little things.

Just like the way his serving sizes had gotten larger, not because he was hungrier, but because it became the norm.

Just like he began to take elevators instead of stairs, shunning anything that made him breathless.

Just like Seungmin never made him push, but never let him stagnate, either.

–“Take mine,” Seungmin would tell him, pushing over whatever food he had left.

–“You didn’t eat much today,” he’d whisper, setting the evening snack next to Hyunjin.

The first time he’d shuffled the cells of Hyunjin’s brain, he brought in a little thing a cliché and with it he whispered, “You don’t have to think about it so much,” and then as Hyunjin chewed, he’d always be in the corner of his brain, whispering, "Just take a bite."

And the worst part?

He began to believe him.

(^з^)-☆

Hyunjin had been sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and had just picked a drink off the nightstand. He lunged forward, without thought

And his gut pressed against his thighs, a solid weight that hadn’t previously existed.

Hyunjin froze.

His face burned. The feeling was inescapable, the evidence of his gain in front of him, indisputable.

His hand floated in midair and then slowly pulled back.

Seungmin, who had quietly been reading at his desk, looked up. He watched Hyunjin — watched the way he froze, the way understanding fell over him.

–"Are you okay?" Even though there was something knowing about Seungmin’s voice when he asked.

Hyunjin swallowed hard. “I just… I feel like I’ve gained too much.”

Seungmin closed his book and stood up. He slowly went over and sat next to Hyunjin on the bed. Their thighs rubbed against each other—Hyunjin’s softer, Seungmin’s leaner.

Seungmin tilted his head and looked him over. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Hyunjin cleaved a nervous laugh. "It is, isn’t it?"

Seungmin’s eyes fell to Hyunjin’s belly, to how his hoodie pulled tautly over it.

Then, slowly, with purpose, he touched his hand to the soft curve.

Hyunjin inhaled sharply.

Seungmin’s touch was assertive, his fingers fanned slightly across the fabric, as though memorizing its feel. His thumb ghosted over Hyunjin’s side, mapping the way his body had grown.

–“You’re warm,” Seungmin murmured, nearly to himself. "Soft."

Hyunjin’s breath hitched. “I that I should probably exercise again …”

Seungmin’s fingers sunk in ever so slightly deeper, a wordless answer.

Then he leaned in, lips nearly touching Hyunjin’s ear.

—"Or..." Seungmin whispered, "you could just let it happen"

Hyunjin’s eyes drifted shut for an instant, his pulse thumping.

Because the terrifying part?

He didn’t want to stop.

Definitly not.

(^з^)-☆

Then , he don't remember clearly how he got into this sitation ...

A strange heaviness.

A fog in his mind.

Hyunjin peeled his eyes open—he was resting on Seungmin’s lap.

His body—massive. His belly, so round, so heavy, resting against his fat thighs. His shirt — too small, stretched to its breaking point. His breath—short, labored.

Seungmin was there. Holding him. Feeding him.

A fork at his lips, something rich and decadent on it. He didn’t think when he opened his mouth like an invitation, allowing Seungmin to slide it in.

–“Good boy,” Seungmin said, low, approving. His other hand located Hyunjin’s swollen belly, fingers sinking into the soft skin. "So full. So heavy."

The feeling was too much, Hyunjin moaned softly. His body felt slow, powerless, weighed down by its own gravity.

And Seungmin loved it.

–“This was what you were made for,” Seungmin whispered, rubbing lazy circles over Hyunjin’s too-full belly. "For me."

Hyunjin was trying to protest, to speak , but another bite was already at his lips. And he took it.

Because he wanted to.

Because he couldn’t stop.

Because he didn’t want to.

His eyes fluttered closed, his body melting into Seungmin’s embrace.

Then–

Hyunjin woke up with a gasp.

The room was dark. His body , light. His stomach ... flat. His breathing was quick, panic hitting in his chest.

Was it real?

His hands reached out for his gut, where the weight had been so perfect.

Gone.

Slowly, he turned.

Seungmin was awake. Sitting up in bed. Watching him.

Their eyes met.

A slow, knowing smile curled the corner of Seungmin’s lips.

–"Go back to sleep, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin gulps, heart throbs.

Because deep down .... He wanted to.

[friendlyneighborhoodsynthezoid]

Pirate Batch! Echo- Part 3

Coruscant didn’t sound so bad to Echo. He’d been there several times, and he had fond memories of shore leave with his squad before…

Before.

But clearly things had changed. Echo guessed that Coruscant was not a popular place to go if you wanted to stay under the radar. At least, that was the impression he was left with as he watched the reactions of the Havoc Marauder’s crew.

In the wake of Hunter’s announcement, the entire group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Eyes darted around to one another’s faces; many throats were cleared. After several long, strained seconds, the tense atmosphere was broken, surprisingly by Crosshair. He snorted and stood up from the table abruptly. The hissing sound he made could have been considered a laugh, but not one with any sort of mirth. “We’re all going to die,” Crosshair said, before stalking out of the room. The others simply watched him go.

Then the spell broke. Wrecker stood and slapped Echo on the back- nearly sending his nose through the wooden tabletop- and began clearing dishes. In no time, he stacked everything up and disappeared towards the galley.

Next to go was Hunter, who had a perturbed look on his face as he muttered, “I’d better go make sure Cross doesn’t kill anything,” he gave them all a nod and an apologetic smile and left to follow the wayward crewman.

Last to leave were Tech and Phee. They had spent the last few dragging moments talking quietly about something Echo didn’t bother to overhear. Before he left, Tech paused his conversation and turned back to Echo.

“I imagine this reaction is not what you would anticipate, Echo,” Tech said. He did look mildly regretful, which Echo was starting to realize was about as much as could be expected from Tech. “I assure you we have good reason. I promise I will explain everything to you shortly. For now, I must simply implore you to trust us. You may claim a hammock, if you like, or return to my office if you prefer. I will be along to check on you shortly, once a few matters have been settled.” With that, he and Phee left.

 Echo didn’t appreciate being sent to his room like a misbehaving child, much less being ‘checked on,’ but he supposed that there was something he was missing. Tech certainly seemed to think so. Out of uncertainty- or perhaps spite- Echo didn’t move from the table. Everyone had jobs to do or important conversations or something of some importance at least. Meanwhile he was simply here. Because there was no where else he could be.

He didn’t know how long he sat there at the deserted table, enjoying his impromptu pity party- he seemed to have a lot of those these days- when a motion caught his attention from the corner or his eye. He turned to see the scraggly tooka, Gonky, wobbling up to him. Echo stared at the tooka. The tooka stared back. It meowed. At least, Echo thought it was a meow. It could have been hacking up a hairball or wailing like a sea spirit for all Echo could tell. Clearly there was something very wrong with this tooka. The tooka butted its head against Echo’s metal shin and then took couple steps back and leapt up to land on his lap. Gonky settled himself on the astonished Echo’s legs and purred. Echo was torn between pulling the thing off him or letting himself enjoy the sensation of a living thing being near him. Even if it was a horrible orange tooka that seemed to be missing an ear, some fur, and most of its braincells.

Well, Echo mused, bitterly running his hand across his own hairless scalp, we might have some of that in common. Echo hooked his metal arm underneath the creature and heaved it up to lay across his shoulders the way he’d seen Wrecker do earlier that day. Finally finding the motivation to overcome his odd inertia, he stood up and clomped his way back towards Tech’s ‘office.’ The man had offered, after all and Echo did not fancy encountering a wild Crosshair in the crew quarters at some ungodly hour of the night.

Echo settled himself in the office hammock. It was a nice one. He wondered how frequently Tech left this room when there wasn’t a weird stray Echo inhabiting it. From the general state of the place, he guessed not often.

Echo tried not to feel to discouraged that his mind started to blur with fatigue the moment he lay down, transferring Gonky to lie on his stomach. After all, what did it matter if he was useless now? He could only hope that the crew of the Havoc Marauder would manage to get to Rex, and that maybe – just maybe- that would somehow make everything better. Rex had to know something, didn’t he? If he were honest with himself, it was a faint hope. So, he simply lay and petted Gonky’s scraggly head while he waited for things to make sense again.

__

He must have dozed off. When he woke up, he was staring directly into a pair of sharp and angry eyes. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out in alarm. Crosshair was perched on the edge of Tech’s desk, face alarmingly close to Echo’s and glaring as if he planned to set Echo’s skull ablaze by sheer will. Gonky awoke and hissed at the man. Crosshair tore his eyes from Echo’s just long enough to switch targets and hiss back at the cat. Gonky mewled and cowered beneath Echo’s metal knees.

Suddenly, the door opened with a bang and Wrecker tromped in. The giant man wasted no time in coming right up to them and hauling Crosshair off the desk by the back of his coat.

“Hunter said he wasn’t a security risk Cross. You can lay off the stalking now,” Wrecker set Crosshair down in the doorway, carefully positioning himself between Crosshair and Echo. Crosshair held Wreckers gaze defiantly, before taking a reluctant step away. Before he was out of sight, he cast one more glare straight into Echo’s soul. I’m watching you, was the clear message in his eyes, I do not trust you. Then he was gone.

“Be a person!” Wrecker shouted after him.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Wrecker said, turning back to where Echo was extricating himself from the hammock, “he’s just jumpy around new people. Eventually he’ll get over it. Or not. We’ll see.” Wrecker snorted.

Echo tried to match the man’s humor, but he was pretty sure his smile was more a pained grimace than anything else. He forced a weak chuckle. “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much in the way of respectable company if even the captain has a skull tattoo over half his karking face.” Maker, please let him have judged Wrecker right…

He had. Wrecker burst out laughing, startling Gonky out of the hammock and sending the tooka bolting from the room.

“HA!” Wrecker boomed. “I told him it was a dumb tattoo!” he calmed somewhat and grinned widely at Echo, “Yer not wrong, mate. But word to the wise,” he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially- though Echo noticed that his whisper was still not much quieter than his regular voice.

“I learned its best just to encourage him. He’ll get real defensive about it if you mention it. Goes on and on about his ‘image’. Fun to watch Cross bug him ‘bout it, not that he has much of a leg to stand on,” Wrecker held his hand up on top of his head like tooka ears and gave a small hiss, “not exactly approachable either, is he?”

Echo laughed truly this time, and it felt… good. He breathed a bit easier for it, as if something heavy had been lifted from his chest. “Then it’s a good thing they’ve got you, isn’t it?” he tried.

Wrecker nodded happily. “That’s right! I’m here for-” he screwed up his brow in deep concentration- “Die-plo-ma-cy, I am! At least, when I’m not busy cracking skulls.”

Wrecker led Echo out of the office as they chatted, his presence alleviating some of Echo’s anxiety about wandering around on the ship. Echo decided he liked Wrecker, even if he was loud. He reminded him vaguely of someone he may have known once, before…

Before.

That reminded him. “Tech said he’d talk to me about Coruscant.”

Wrecker stopped walking, and Echo halted as well. The giant had led them among more hammocks to a corner of the compartment that must have been his bunk. Echo’s cursory inspection deduced that the place was a health hazard, an armory, and a child’s bedroom all rolled up into one. He thought he spotted something made of red and black fabric nestled among blankets and cannonballs. Something with a face?

Wrecker sat down on the floor and Echo copied him, electing to ignore their strange surroundings for the moment.

“Tech said I could fill ya in,” Wrecker started, “he’s either arguing with Hunter or snogging Phee, and either way I’d rather not bug him.”

“Tech and Phee?” Echo interrupted before he could stop himself.

Wrecker only laughed. “That’s what we said too!” he half-shouted. “And to be honest its more likely he’s off telling her about some fascinating new frog species or something. I dunno. Whatever works for them. We don’t pry. But he did send me to tell ya the game plan.”

“Coruscant’s not so friendly to folks like us these days. The Empire likes it there, and it likes us dead. We find it best to stick to the outer islands when we can. But we think your buddy Rex is there with his little Underground,” Echo’s ears perked up, and Wrecker continued, “apparently the best way to fight the Empire is from under its nose. I generally prefer a good explosion, but we help out where we can.”

“Phee said she’d take care of the Marauder for us while we slip in to check on things. If all goes to plan, we’ll either find Rex or we’ll find someone to get message to him. On that note,” Wrecker gave him a curious look, “what is it you want us to tell him ‘bout you?”

Echo hadn’t thought this far ahead. He had no idea what he wanted to say to Rex, especially if Rex thought he was dead for who knows how long. Wrecker seemed to sense his uncertainty.

“Don’t worry about it yet,” Wrecker said kindly, “we can’t be giving him too many details till we’re face to face anyway. How about a code or something’? Something he’ll recognize as from you?”

A tough question. Did he even remember enough to make a good code? As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. The words came spilling from him before his conscious mind could interfere.

“Tell him… not all Dominoes fall.”

[blackjackkent]

A few for the usual two and then a bonus because I love him now I'm getting to know him better!

Hector:

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

What embarrasses them?

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Rakha:

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

What makes their stomach turn?

Caden!:

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

(Uncommon Questions for OCs and Their Creators)

Hector!

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

I've speculated that Rasaad's tendency to miss jokes is a more general Selunite thing, and Hector was not really brought up in an atmosphere of tremendous humor. So he's more often the straight man to other people's jokes. However - he's not immune to laughter, although his tends to be rather more restrained and low-key; this is, however, another thing that Karlach has helped instill more deeply in him, since she is nothing if not boisterous. She brings out a goofy side of him that doesn't really exist with other people and it's very cute. <3

18. What embarrasses them?

This is my recurring refrain with questions about Hector, but he is most embarrassed when he feels like his emotional control cracks or he can't keep hold of himself in a difficult situation. This happens fairly regularly over the course of the game because terrible things are happening to him, with a prime example being his meltdown in the House of Healing in Act 2; by late Act 3 he starts to toughen up a bit, but more importantly becomes more comfortable with the moments when he can't.

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Hm. This is challenging cos idk if *I* even have a good answer for this, let alone any idea what Hector's idea would be. But I picture him being asked the question and immediately going straightbacked, hands behind him like he's doing a recitation in a lecture hall, and furrowing his brow up with deep concentration.

"Romantic... hm. Gods' blood, not so easy a word to define in the end, is it? I suspect any definition I might give would be woefully incomplete. But it's... well, what Karlach and I have, no? A relationship with a specific defined partner--" Here he pauses, then adds cautiously, "or partners-- which involves a certain..." He blushes. "Intimacy. Physical or emotional. With that person or persons alone."

("Fuck, soldier, do you need to make it sound so clinical?"

"Look, I'm trying to be precise!"

"He's always like this, like he swallowed an encyclopedia, with a dictionary for a chaser." )

A pause. "Platonic... would be an umbrella term for anything not romantic. And familial a group within that group, people bound by blood or by choice on a level that affects their identity."

("Ok, I won't lie, soldier, that was pretty good."

"The dictionary tasted fantastic.")

-----

Rakha!

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

This depends entirely on whether there's something pretty and magical she can sit and look at. If the Weave is doing interesting things she can be convinced to do nothing but look at it for quite a while. iPad-baby ass Durge.

If there are people nearby it's a lot harder, because then the murder urge is twitching at her to get up and do something violent.

If neither is true, she does get restless after only a couple minutes if there isn't something to occupy her attention.

(Though it's hard to say - a lot of my thoughts about her might be about to change drastically for the last half of Act 3 given how Things have played out. XD )

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

This is a tie between her night dancing with Wyll and one of her earliest conversations with Lae'zel ("attack with purpose"). The dancing scene is a memory of peace and safety with Wyll and his love for her which has been a bulwark against challenges in her own mind, and the conversation with Lae'zel has been a lodestone for her decision-making for pretty much the entire game.

16. What makes their stomach turn?

Heh... herself? In a way she has a pretty strong stomach; nothing in the standard line like gore really upsets her much given her nature (although again, that might be about to change). It's when she does stuff that she afterwards regrets that it maybe makes her feel sick to her stomach - partly because of what she did and perhaps even more because of the helplessness to prevent it.

Again, will be interesting to see what the answer to this question looks like in a few weeks.

-----

Caden!

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Any reference to Candlekeep is a surefire nostalgia trigger for Caden. He was very happy and very sheltered there, and the moment he left it with Gorion at the start of BG1, all of that calm happiness was shattered basically forever. He finds a new sort by the end of his story, comfortably settled in Faenya-Dail with Aerie and their descendants, but he had to go through a hell of a lot of crap to get there.

The nostalgia itself is a mixed blessing. He likes remembering his old home and he wouldn't want to lose the memories, and he feels Gorion and the other Candlekeepers made him the man that he is in many ways. But those memories are also tinged with a lot of loss and sadness for a long time; it's only after his adventuring days are done and he really feels like he has a home again that he's able to look back on it with more equanimity.

39. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

Lololololol.

Yeah... basically Caden's defining feature beyond ANYTHING else is his willingness to trust just about anyone, often despite numerous signals to the contrary. This has gotten him (and his friends) into trouble on many occasions and definitely becomes a running joke, but it is nevertheless an important part of his identity that he meets new people without judgment until he absolutely can't ignore problems anymore. (It was also the reason he suffered the worst betrayals of his life, so it's definitely been a double-edged sword, but overall his friends would all agree that he wouldn't be Caden without this.)

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

There is a point in BG2 where Caden has to tell a story to entertain a couple of sahuagin (iirc - I'm having trouble finding the liveblog post at the moment) and tells the story of his own battle with Sarevok in the previous game. He also sounds pretty depressed about it, though, so it's hard to say if that would be his go-to story in most scenarios.

I think people *ask* him a lot about his adventures in Baldur's Gate and Amn, but I think he probably avoids specifics, particularly about Irenicus, except when talking with very close friends. Instead, he likes to focus his stories on the colorful characters he's met in his travels, and particularly his companions.

In scenarios where he's under pressure, he defaults to inappropriate sarcasm a lot of the time. :P (One of my favorite instances of this.)