#Cursed cowlick child

[huorror]

interview

“...A visitor?”

It is not unusual to see visitors in the Parlor Car of the Astral Express. No, that’s not the unusual part. What is unusual is the morose young Foxian girl sitting on one of the couches, legs dangling off the side. Her dark eyebags hardly suit her otherwise youthful countenance and she seems to be mumbling to herself.

Ah, no use beating around the bush! The poor girl’s tail is on fire and she hardly seems to notice, much less care! It might not be burning the seat and there’s no smell of burning flesh, but surely it must hurt tremendously!

“Excuse me,” the hapless crew member can’t help but attempt to offer their assistance. “Do you perhaps need—”

The girl jolts out of her seat at the approach, ears and cowlick flopping as she bows deeply. The hat atop her head begins to slide off until she hurriedly puts it back in place.Standing up suddenly, her knees tremble like a newborn fawn. Her tail flicks (a sign of annoyance in Foxians, at odds with her timid demeanor), but the flame remains burning ever bright.

Her voice pitches upward, “I-I’m sorry, I’m in your way, aren’t I?! It’s just so relaxing here… b-but I can go back if you need me to!”

Oh dear.

The deep commanding voice of a man with no clear source resounds through the car, “Stand up for yourself, you spineless girl! You were here first! Don’t let a mere human push you around!”

“B-but Tail…” The girl mumbles, wringing her hands.

Oh… oh dear. She’s talking to her tail, which is on fire. A bona fide weirdo, this one. Whatever is going on here is far outside the scope of an average crew member, but they’ve already initiated the conversation. They’d never hear the end of it if they just left a visitor in trouble, especially when they can feel the Conductor glaring daggers.

An awkward customer service smile rises to the crew member’s face. For the sake of their paycheck, they must follow through…!

“Are you perhaps… having trouble relaxing in your daily life? Is there something you’re not content with, Miss…?”

“Oh!” The girl seems to realize she has neglected to give her name, tired eyes widening. “H-Huohuo! I’m Huohuo and this” —she gestures to her tail, who huffs in response— “is Tail. And um, to tell you the truth, I’ve actually… been trying to quit my job.” “Trying?” Tail scoffs. “Her resignation letter never gets anywhere even close to the desk! Can you even call that trying?”

“Your job? Where do you work?”

Looking so ragged for one so young, it definitely has to be retail.

“I—I’m a newbie judge of the Ten-Lords Commission. My job is subduing evil spirits.”

The crew member’s eyes nearly bulge out of their skull. She’s not just some weird kid with a talking tail, but one of the judges! A sudden rush of relief washes over them that they had not voiced their thoughts of her looking like a helpless child or that they found her tail quite unnerving.

 “Ten-Lords?! You must be very strong, Miss Huohuo!”

Huohuo waves her hands frantically, “N-No, not at all! I’m not cut out for the job at all! I’m afraid of evil spirits, but they still make me go out and catch heliobi anyway! I’m sure they just promoted me by accident! Besides, Madam Hanya and Madam Xueyi are always helping me out… I wish I was even half as brave as them…”

“Bah!” Tail spits. “Forget them, this wimp is always crying for my help! You should hear her, always crying, ‘Save me, save me!’ Without a powerful heliobus like me by her side, she would have been consumed by some weaker spirit long ago. I keep her out of trouble!”

“N-no, you’re the one who gets me into trouble! Every time I try to run away, you just send me right back towards the enemies!” Huohuo sighs and puts her head in her hands. “I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life as the Ten-Lords Commission’s resident scaredy-cat… There goes Huohuo, cursed one and chicken extraordinaire… None of the movies I’ve been watching have helped at all, either. I really should resign, after all.”

“Bahahaha! You really think those are gonna help you develop some guts?! Experience is what you need! And that means fighting!”

The host and parasite comedy duo continue bickering between themselves, crew member entirely forgotten. Taking advantage of the chance, they slip away quietly. Paycheck be damned, dealing with a Ten-Lords judge and her pet heliobus is way above their paygrade! If someone else wants to step in, by all means, be their guest!

By the time they’re several cars over, an anguished cry can be heard in the distance.

“Ahhh! My vacation time is over! I-I don’t wanna go back to work…”

[countesspetofi]

I had a little burst of energy today, and I inherited some bookcases recently from a neighbor who passed away, so I did some long-overdue unpacking of nonessentials. I bought this little girl at a school rummage sale when I was seven, which was long before most people on Tumblr were even a gleam in their father's eye. She used to sit on top of a little pedestal and spin slowly around to a music box that played the theme from The Way We Were and sounded kind of like this.

This is what I wanted to look like at that age, but I just didn't have the resources to pull off that level of Cursed Victorian Child. Plus, I had too many cowlicks for those bangs.

[ragesin]

CHARACTER STUDY.

—    basics.

▸     is your muse tall/short/average? Meliodas is short both in the demon and human range at 5′0″. He is capable of getting taller, but he hasn't grown since being cursed. Before his first death, the last time a growth spurt happened he gained about 1ft of height over 180 years, so a growth rate of 1 inch every 15 yrs. As of 4KOTA he's gained another inch, which he's rather happy about.

▸     are they okay with their height? It suits him just fine. It gets annoying at times when he gets mistaken as a child by people outside of his clan but he's long since come to terms with not being the tallest figure in the room. It's never been a factor in intimidation or putting someone in their place when he needed to.

▸     what’s their hair like? Golden blonde, like sunshine. Shoulder length. Thick yet soft texture, easy to run a hand through. Messy and unruly, curled toward the ends and at the nape, with bangs falling into his eyes. An ahoge ( cowlick ) is perched at the top, a stubborn lock of hair split in two. It's his charm point and near impervious to brushes.

▸     do they spend a lot of time on their hair/grooming? Not for a long time. He's always been the type of person who may give his hair a little brush up to make it look somewhat presentable depending on the occasion when he had the time or patience. Sometimes he will pull it back into a ponytail. Ever since his physical aging was frozen his hair growth remained static however, and thus he had no need to trim, cut, or shave anything. The hair would simply regenerate back to normal anyways if it did get cut, burned etc, negating the entire affair. Most days he just rinses it and lets it air dry.

▸     does your muse care about their appearance/what others think? Somewhat but not really. Meliodas dresses to his personal style and comfort level in general. He doesn’t care about his appearance beyond what’s kind of deemed ‘borderline acceptable’ for a given situation and he doesn’t care what others think about it. In the case of seeing someone he's answering to ( like Bartra ) or someone he’s interested in, he might decide to take some extra care.

—    preferences.

▸   indoors or outdoors?   outdoors ▸    rain or sunshine?     sunshine ▸    forest or beach?   forest ▸    precious metals or gems?   precious metals ▸    flowers or perfumes?  flowers ▸    personality or appearance?  not that he can't appreciate someone's appearance but 99% of the time personality will go a much farther distance with him. ▸    being alone or being in a crowd?   both, though it's largely dependent on his mood. ▸    order or anarchy?  order generally, though he's not unopposed to anarchy if it will suit his needs. ▸    painful truths or white lies?  telling white lies. receiving painful truths. ▸    science or magic?  magic ▸    peace or conflict? peace, though there was a time when he would've said conflict. ▸    night or day?  night ▸    dusk or dawn? dusk ▸    warmth or cold?  warmth ▸    many acquaintances or a few close friends?  a few close friends ▸    reading or playing a game?  playing a game

—    questionnaire.

▸     what are some of your muse’s bad habits? Alcoholism is a huge vice of his. Due to being a heavyweight drinker with a massive level of tolerance and his general constitution, Meliodas is generally unaffected when consuming alcohol not of the demon realm. He can easily clear a dozen barrels of ale without becoming tipsy. Repressing his emotions in a variety of unhealthy manners. Playing / messing around with his opponents in a fight. He also has some issues with impulse control, acting or talking before thinking something all the way through. He learned to mostly curb it for the most part since a young age, but he still sometimes slips up and can come off as quite insensitive or demeaning to a person or situation with his unfiltered thoughts. Communication, or the lack thereof, is also a big one. He tends to assume and then keep those assumptions to himself. He then can be unwilling to openly talk to the other person and get their true thoughts on a matter. It's caused him to misinterpret people's intentions or feelings in the past and has really negatively impacted his relationships, like with Zeldris and Elizabeth.

▸     has your muse lost anyone close to them?  how has it affected them? Personal hc but losing his mother took a toll on him that he still feels to this day, even though he's repressed a lot of those memories. It's a major factor as to why he refuses to consciously use his original magic and has a fear of it. He still feels regret and guilt over how things turned out with Zeldris, leaving them estranged from each other. It weighs heavily on him. When he thinks of his brother, he can only think of how he's only ever failed Zeldris, even in the times when he needed him the most. The loss of the goddess Elizabeth is a blow he will never heal from and it will never really cool with time, especially not since he's retraumatized every few decades or so ( which isn't that long to a demon, years pass but it feels like every two months ) with each subsequent incarnation and he isn't allowed to properly process his grief. His ability to grieve is totally fucked, further adding to his struggles with his emotions / self control and eroding away at his deteriorating mental state. And he's lost countless friends over the millennia, a result of him being willing to still make connections and allow himself to feel despite the wariness over making friends with the knowledge they'll one day die, which has contributed to the sense of loneliness he feels and a type of disconnection from the world which has accumulated over time.

▸     what are some fond memories your muse has? His mother, singing a lullaby, a soothing presence, her hand curled in his hair after a hard day of training, mourning a fate he was yet unaware of. His brother, so weak and helpless and defenseless, stumbling gait yet still trying to walk over to him with tiny arms outstretched while calling his name. His brother, grinning wide and eyes shining, face splattered with blood, successful after a vicious dragon hunt. A child, full of wonder and curiosity, who thinks the world of him, a small hand clasped in his, bubbling in excitement over what she might learn next. A goddess, kind eyes and kinder soul, a soft hand unafraid to take his and fingers laced together, gold mixing with silver, an impossible warmth as his cheek rests against her shoulder, his name as it falls from her mouth brushed with a love and tenderness someone like him did not deserve. A group of sinners, a bundle of chaos and discord that fits just right, the mug feels coarse under bruised fingers, laughter and jokes and smiles and everything is so warm in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.

▸     is it easy for your muse to kill? Yes and no. For all of his good, he’s a violent man. The act of killing is something he's long been desensitized to and was a point of indulgence for him for a period of his life. A deep instinctive desire for violence - to hurt and maim and kill - drives this, though he's worked really hard to keep that tampered down. He's grown to have a respect for life over time. This and his morals are the major thing keeping him in check, counteracting and conflicting with his nature, sometimes causing him to be reluctant, avoidant, and at times hesitate. He will kill if the situation calls for it but he generally tries his hardest to not fall back into bad habits and mindset of bloodlust.

▸     what’s it like when your muse breaks down?  If it's rage fueling it, building up inside him, then it comes harsh and fast. An explosion of molten fire that destroys everything around it. He'll scream, he'll tear up, he'll want to rip things apart. He's too focused on the trigger of his anger, too consumed by his rage that he's blinded to almost everything else, and the finesse he typically wields his powers with is nowhere to be found. The last time this happened only a weeping crater was all that was left of the kingdom of Danafar. With other emotions, it's more of a slow acting poison. A solitary affair. He may appear normal on the surface at first but he completely withdraws into himself, putting a chasm between him and others and isolates himself. Given his tendency to avoid opening up to others, he tends to shut down most interactions or is rather more apathetic than he usually is. Being alone is the priority. He's actively trying to turn off as much as his emotions as possible to be less affected by his thoughts spiralling out of control. If shaken enough, there may be silent tears running down his face. He is still water, no ripples, turbulent undercurrents. He's trying so very hard not to be himself, to be anything else until the feeling passes.

▸     is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life? Yes, though Meliodas has lost value in his life over time, trust is very important to him and he doesn't like to hand it over completely. If he's reached a point with someone where he truly feels he can place his life into their hands, then he won't hesitate to jump into the fire for them, all too willing to exchange his life to ensure their survival.

▸     what’s your muse like when they’re in love? To whoever has his affection, he's very passionate, attentive and committed, nursing a pure, unadulterated love and outwardly his actions doesn't shift that much. However, his love is not a gentle flame. It's akin to a conflagration. It can be taken to extreme degrees far past any level of common sense. Even if he's not selfish about it and he would desire the other person's happiness above his own even if he can't be a part of their life, he can't help but think mine. Mine to keep safe, to cherish, to adore and nothing will change that. He is intense, near obsessive, handing over everything he is ( all the jagged edges, bestial claws and fangs, warped blackened pieces ) and praying it is enough. He will love that person to the point of ruining himself. He just hopes he won't ruin them in the process.

[fountainpenguin]

Did I already make the “What if Elliot Decker marries Sara Murphy and has to deal with Murphy’s Law extended family forever and Amanda just pats his disbelieving shoulder in empathy” joke, or is that now buried under 1,000 draft posts?

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So! Hi. Potentially cursed by fae hair anon back (also Bronwyn anon just y'know as long as we're being honest,) so I've been paying close attention to my hair and trying to will it into submission since the lack of Welsh lakes with which to ask the fae for help is a hurdle I cannot overcome on account of there not being any Welsh lakes in the Upper Midwest of the US. I could hike over to Wales, WI where the road signs are in Welsh but it is also full of People Whom I Will Not Associate With on the basis of the prevailing political clusterfuck happening there. Also it's a 6 hour drive in what is gearing up to be A Winter (tm) and if I'm going to commit myself to a slog I may as well just save my pennies and get a passport (previous one was in deadname and I let it lapse for reasons that should contextually be obvious,) and go to Wales to attempt your suggested solution. HOWEVER More recently, I've noticed that the excessively straight hair has begun making itself even more obvious in one particular place: The Cowlick at the back of my head. I have discovered through Totally Scientific Means that no amount of brushing or combing is helping this; a new intensity to which it hated me before as if I let it get long enough it would eventually cave under its own weight and chill out sort of. At any rate I get up in the morning with this lock of hair fanned out behind my head. I brush it. It does not give up. I wear a beanie for hours on end. It remains undeterred. Eleanor, my not a hair expert, the only person whom I can possibly rely on. I have found the answer to my query of whom I upset. I exist as a fucking peacock. I pissed off Hera. Now, fortunately I have done a good deal of independent research on this particular subject and to my knowledge I have not insulted her or fucked Zeus and have Definitely Not borne a child because I'm fairly certain I would've had to be in the room for that that has not happened. So here's the depressing answer: my hair is subject to whatever I did to displease her and there is nothing I can do about it but ride this out and accept my fate because there are many many records of what happens when one challenges the gods or displays too much hubris. Spite may be my primary motivator, but I know when I'm outmatched. If it ever changes, I'll be sure to let you know that I have been released from my Hellenistic hair purgatory and will probably come off anon for that just as a treat.

Hmm. Okay. Perhaps you could consider a votive offering? You need to get a little metal or clay tablet and write across it "I, Wyn, make this offering to the gods to right the wrongs I have done, and beg them to ease their wrath upon my hair. If they do this I promise to build them a lil shrine." and then you take it to an appropriately godly water body and chuck it in. I'm pretty sure you do have to build the shrine if successful though or the whole thing starts again.

Alternatively, if that doesn't work, right, maybe we're looking at this wrong?

My husband, also straight-haired, also has a permanent cowlick at the back of his head. In HIS case, he has a double crown in his hair. Two crowns! Two of them whorls, it is. Which is very appropriate, because he's third in line to the throne if we ever revived the Welsh monarchy of the House of Gwynedd.

Are you perhaps a Lost Heir?

[breakyeol]

— WHAT HE LOST

So you got dumped. It sucks, but hey, at least you’ve got your best friends who always seem know exactly what to do to help make you feel better.

┗ Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: friends to lovers au, angst, fluff, smut

Words: 12.8k (I wish I was kidding)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, drinking, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of cheating, explicit sexual content ; dom(?)baekhyun, switch sub!chanyeol, switch!reader, their roles ended up being very blurred, you’re the bologna in a chanbaek sandwich, threesome, very mild dirty talk, teasing, oral (f. & m. receiving), gentle throat fucking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting, yeol just wants to be a good boy but baek just wants to break the headboard

A/N; the poll I did for this fanfic was so fun!!! I seriously love interacted with you guys and receiving your feedback! I definitely think it’s something I’d like to do again in the future! I hope you guys enjoy the results! PS, I low key suck at writing endings sorry loves. 

It’s half past two when you show up in front of their door, clothes soaked and heavy from the rain you hadn’t bothered to shield yourself from, heart bruised and aching from the ruthless beat down it had been forced to endure. It’s been a really long night.

Chanyeol is the one to finally open the door, face flushed and swollen, pink lips dry and pouted, dark hair unruly and disheveled with a ridiculous cowlick you would find incredibly amusing if not for the crushing weight of the night’s previous events still weighing heavily on your chest.

“Y/n?” He rasps, blinking hard twice, as if he hadn’t recognized you at first. You wouldn’t hold it against him, you probably look like a drowned rat in your current state.

A shaky grin pulls at your lips, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Yeol.”

His brows furrow and he swipes a large hand down the length of his face. “What time is it? What– what are you doing here?” There’s no malice in the question, only drowsy confusion as he tries to put the puzzle pieces together in his sleep hazed mind.

Instead of answering, you tip your chin forward and ask one of your own. “Mind if I come in? It feels like my fingers are about to fall off.”

All of a sudden his eyes pop open real wide and he gasps, as if just then realizing that you were standing outside his door in the freezing night air, drenched to the bone. He immediately ushers you inside, appearing genuinely distraught. “Jesus, you’re soaked. Did you walk here or something?”

Combing your wet hair out of your face, you offer a blunt nod of confirmation. “Yup.”

His jaw drops and he splutters in disbelief. “You walked here? In the pouring rain? Are you insane?! It’s the middle of the night! Something terrible could have happened to you! And you’re not even wearing a coat!” He gestures wildly at your waterlogged t-shirt and jeans, all drowsiness gone from his eyes.

“I’m fine, Chanyeol.” You sigh, moving past him and into the warmth of his apartment.

“Y/n, that really wasn’t smart. You should’ve called me.” He insists in that disapproving tone that reminds you of a parent scolding a petulant child.

You turn to him with raised brows, the vague outline of amusement tinging your words, “Would you have woken up?”

“You should’ve called until I did,” he shoots back without missing a beat, following close on your heel as you make your way into the living room and fall onto the couch with a soft grunt, “or you could’ve tried Baekhyun. Or literally done anything other than walk all the way here in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.”

He’s right, of course. It was dangerous walking alone at night, no matter how tough you think you are, bad things can happen to anyone. But the danger of walking the streets at night hadn’t been so much as a second thought when you left. There were far more prominent concerns plaguing your mind.

“Yeah, well.”

A beat of silence passes, and you feel the shift in Chanyeol’s gaze. You don’t dare to look over as he sinks into the space on the couch beside you, though all you really want is to lean into the comforting warmth of his body.

“Hey... are you alright?”

A painful lump forms in your throat at the question. “I—” you wince as your voice cracks, words falling dead on the tip of your tongue. Fuck. Why was it so hard to say?

“Y/n?”

The way he says your name nearly shatters the dam, and you just barely manage to pull yourself together enough to avoid turning into a sobbing mess on his couch. Snagging your lower lip roughly between your teeth, you offer a weak hum that pitches strangely in your throat– which most definitely does not go unnoticed by the boy who knows you too well for your own good.

Chanyeol’s concerned eyes sweep over your expression, those damn eyes that can see right through any mask you attempt to wear, before he speaks again in a voice so soft you could feel the steely grip around your heart ease. “Let me get you something dry to wear. Then we can make some hot cocoa and you can tell me what happened, okay?”

The idea of being dry and warm again was more than appealing enough for you to force the corners of your lips upward and manage a light nod of agreement. “Yeah.”

He shoots you a sweet smile, reaching over with a large hand to affectionately ruffle your wet hair and pushing himself off of the couch before you can retaliate. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, I don’t need you and all your drippiness flooding the apartment. I’m pretty sure you’ve already ruined our new couch.” He teases lightheartedly, that familiar bubbling laughter erupting from his lips as you swing your middle finger up at him.

You feel yourself deflate somewhat when he vanishes into his bedroom, leaving you alone once more. It was unusually quiet. Though understandable given the time, you aren’t used to the silence of the apartment and find yourself craving Chanyeol’s booming voice and Baekhyun’s obnoxious teasing. Without them, there’s nothing to distract your scrambled mind, and you can’t stop it from lingering on the frustration and sense of betrayal that torments your heart. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sink into the plush cushions, a soft groan escaping your tensed lips.

This. Sucks.

Luckily, you aren’t alone long enough to dwell on it too deeply.

Your head snaps up at the sound of a door thudding shut, a murmur of gratitude on the tip of your tongue, but you are surprised to see a very much still half asleep Baekhyun come stumbling into the living room, donning a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt that hugs the gentle swells of his chest. His eyes are barely open as he all but throws himself onto the couch, immediately curling up into your side. You only chuckle, nuzzling your nose into his cinnamon scented hair and petting down his unruly bed head as it tickles your chin.

“You’re wet.” Is the first thing he murmurs into the silence, voice thick and hoarse in his throat. You can’t suppress the shiver that ripples down the length of your spine as his warm breath washes over your icy skin, the sharp contrast in temperature startling to your senses.

“I didn’t notice.” You hum, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

“And cold.” He grumbles additionally, arms coiling tightly around the curve of your waist and tugging you flush against him. The heat of his body is more than welcome, and you’re happy to allow him to cuddle into you. It’s easy to find comfort in his familiar embrace.

“Chanyeol is getting me something else to wear.”

His head tips back at that, and you have to draw away to keep your noses from colliding. Hooded eyes drag slowly over your face, warm and searching. You swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze and quickly turn away, hoping he hadn’t seen the tell tale signs of your internal turmoil. But it seems both of your best friends are more observant than you give them credit for.

You jolt in surprise as he suddenly grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to face him again. The unexpected proximity has warmth rushing into your cheeks, and you clear your throat, eyes looking anywhere but his face. Nonetheless he still manages to read you like the pages of a children’s book.

“You’ve been crying.”

Instinctively, you try to put some distance between you and him, swatting his hand away and plastering an unconvincing scowl across your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips part, and you brace yourself, knowing by the look on his face alone that he’s going to push the matter.

“Ah, Baekhyun, you’re awake.” You let out a breath of relief as Chanyeol steps out of his room, a set of black sweats and a towel draped over his arm. Perfect timing. Baekhyun nearly topples over as you jump up from the couch, quickly making your way over to where the younger boy stands. “Y/n, I got y—”

“Thanks, I’ll go change.” You rush out, cutting him off abruptly as you pull the clothes from his arms. You manage a quick smile of gratitude before you’re hurrying past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door more harshly than you intended behind you.

Very subtle, y/n.

“Fuck.” You hiss through clenched teeth, silently cursing yourself out.

Moving towards the sink, you stare at your disheveled reflection in the mirror with a weak grimace. You knew you looked like a mess but damn. You really look like you’ve been put through the wringer tonight. Which, of course, you kind of had been, but still.

It takes longer than you anticipated to wriggle yourself out of your wet clothes, nearly falling on your ass more times than you care to admit out loud in your numerous attempts to peel off your jeans. But in the end, it was more than worth it to feel the soft, warm fabric of Chanyeol’s oversized clothes against your skin. The faded scent of his aftershave eases the tension in your shoulders, but you can’t fight the buzz of nerves that come to life in your stomach as you step back out the door.

The rich, sweet scent of hot chocolate is the first thing to greet you upon your return. Noting the emptiness of the living room, you come to the quick conclusion that they’re both most likely in the kitchen. On quiet feet, you shuffle over to the entrance, peeking your head around the wall. They’re facing away from you, leaning against the island and exchanging whispered words, voices just low enough that you can’t make out what they’re saying. Though, there’s little doubt in your mind that you’re the subject of their heated conversation.

Deciding to make your presence known, you clear your throat and step onto the cool tile. Two heads whip in your direction, startled. The looks on either of their faces makes you think of two children being caught doing something they definitely should not be. Exactly... what had they been talking about? 

Chanyeol is the first to move, plucking up the mug from the countertop and making his way over to you. “Extra marshmallows and extra whipped cream with a pinch of cinnamon,” he says, a soft smile on his lips and a warm blush on his cheeks, “just how you like it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, grateful for the warmth of the smooth white ceramic against your palms. “Thanks, yeol.”

“Let’s sit!” Baekhyun exclaims before you can even take a sip, hands finding your shoulders and steering you back towards the couch. You’re too focused on not spilling the contents of your cup to make any sort of objection.

It’s only when squeezed between their two bodies on their slightly too small couch, their concerned but curious eyes burning into the sides of your face, that you begin to wonder if it was the wisest idea to come here. But then remember just how badly you were craving a good hug and sigh, knowing if anyone was gonna give you one, it’d be one of these two dopey boys.

It’s obvious neither of them are going to speak first, probably not wanting to push you incase you weren’t ready to talk about it yet (though, the intensity of their stares were doing just that), so you decide to take the initiative before the awkward tension can get even more unbearable.

“We broke up.”

You bring the mug to your lips, taking a tentative sip of your gradually cooling hot chocolate as you allow them to absorb the new information.

“Well, shit.” Baekhyun coughs. Chanyeol reaches behind you to smack the back of his head, hissing something about being insensitive but you’re already more than aware of how they feel about your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend.

Since you first started talking to him, neither of the boys were his biggest fan. To their credit, they tried their best to be supportive, but it was hard to miss the dampening of the mood whenever you brought him up and the glares they’d shoot in his direction when they thought you weren’t paying attention. You called them out on their passive aggressive behavior on a number of occasions, and they were always quick to defend themselves with the claim of getting ‘bad vibes’.

Looking back, you probably should’ve given their suspicions some deeper consideration.

But you had just liked him so much. It was hard for you to see past the handsome, charming exterior to what really laid beneath. Gilded boys had always been your weakness, always enchanting you with the prettiest of lies only to shatter you with their ugly truths.

You should have known better.

“Are you alright?”

You shrug, sucking your lower lip into your mouth with a heavy exhale from your nose. “I’m fine, really. I’m just... embarrassed, I guess.”

Baekhyun blinks at you in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed? He should be the embarrassed one for losing someone as amazing as you.”

“I’m embarrassed because—” you wince, bracing yourself for the response that you just know you’re about to receive, “because he dumped me.”

“What?!” Chanyeol erupts, nearly making you spill your hot cocoa from the sheer explosiveness of his reaction, “you let that literal piece of walking human trash—!”

“Chanyeol.”

At Baekhyun’s sharp interruption, the emotional younger immediately slumps, guilt painting his face as he looks at you with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You only smile, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“So,” Baekhyun begins cautiously, “what happened?”

No point beating around the bush now. “We were hanging out at his place. I found a pair of underwear that weren’t mine in his bedroom. Confronted him. He called me a clingy bitch and told me to get the fuck out and never come back.” You say this as nonchalantly as you can manage, but your hold on the cup tightens substantially and an unmistakable thickness rises in your throat. You curse yourself silently for feeling like shit over a guy who obviously couldn’t be bothered to give even half a shit about you.

“He cheated on you?” Chanyeol leaps up from the couch, eyes wide and furious. If you were to look close enough, you were almost certain you’d see fire burning within them.

“That fucker.” Baekhyun all but snarls, hands balling into tight fists. “What’s his address?”

“Baekhyun—” you sigh, leaning forward to set your hot chocolate down on the coffee table.

“No, I’m dead serious, what’s his address?” He pins you with a look that tells you he is very much not messing around. They were being ridiculous, angry over things they couldn’t change. It was pointless and harmful to dwell on things that had already happened. You’d much rather pick yourself up and move on than allow yourself to keep hurting over a stupid boy.

Of course, that’s easier said than done. And your best friends are not the types to just let things go. Not when the people they care about are wronged.

Chanyeol seems to be off in his own little world, ranting furiously to himself while cracking his knuckles in a way that is probably meant to be intimidating (though, to you, the giant puppy is anything but). “There’s no way I’m letting a piece of shit like him get away with this. God, I knew he was a scumbag the moment I laid eyes in him. I should’ve—”

“Guys, please.” Your voice cracks when you finally intervene, and that’s all it takes for their immediate anger to fizzle out.

The tension in their shoulders melts, their features softening drastically as they spot the glistening of tears in your eyes despite your feeble attempts to blink them away. In an instant, they’re cuddling back up against you, murmuring soft apologies and pleading for you not to cry over someone like him. But the dam is already broken, and salty tears are swelling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Everything you’d been holding back comes bubbling violently towards the surface. Sobs wrack your chest, and you cling onto the hands of either boy as they watch you helplessly.

Chanyeol, the big softie that he is, has to bite his lip to keep the tears threatening to swell in his own eyes at bay. He’s never been good at holding himself together when he sees you hurting. He feels everything with his entire being, his empathy for his friends and the people he cares about on another level. But that big, stupid heart of his is one of the many reasons you adore him.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, is not the most suave when it comes to comforting people. Most of the time he’ll try to crack jokes and make light of the situation, but he knew better than to break out his usual antics when you were in such a state. So he held his tongue, opting to wrap his hand around yours in hopes of comforting you in even the slightest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You groan once your sobs subside into sniffles and you feel the warm flush of embarrassment filtering into your cheeks at your own outburst. You really hated crying in front of people. So it wasn’t too often that your friends, or anybody for that matter, saw such a raw display from you. “It’s just so frustrating and humiliating, you know?”

There’s a moment of silence as you wipe the tears from your face with the hand not held in a death grip by Baekhyun. It’s the nice kind of silence though, the kind you don’t have to fill and don’t really want to, encasing the three of you in a little bubble of comfort. Of course, with these two, you can’t expect it to last long.

“If I ever see him again,” Chanyeol huffs, dropping his chin onto your shoulder, “it’s on sight.”

You laugh at that, the sound hoarse and nasally and just plain awful, but genuine nonetheless. Raising a hand, you comb it through his soft black locks in a show of gratitude.

“Baek?” You turn to him with a sniffle. He hums softly in acknowledgement, tracing comforting circles against the top of your hand. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“What? Is my hot cocoa not good enough for you?” He teases light-heartedly and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“It’s delicious. But I was thinking of something… a little stronger.”

A mischievous grin upturns the corners of his lips as he realizes what you’re suggesting. “I’ve got just what you need.”

“You know what, FUCK MEN. They’re all stupid. Who needs ‘em? Not me.”

“Yeah men are assholes!” Baekhyun agrees loudly, thrusting his empty shot glass in the air, before pausing and reconsidering his words. “Wait, I’m a man.”

“You and Yeol are the only exceptions.” You reassure, slapping your hand down on his shoulder. He grins widely at that, satisfied. “But every other man— they can all suck my dick,” you continue your tirade, swinging your hands around animatedly, “they’re all liars and cheats and idiots and I’ve had enough of they’re bullshit to last three lifetimes.”

Chanyeol giggles softly from where he’s situated on the floor between your legs which are draped lazily over either of his broad shoulders, his head resting on your thigh, obviously amused by your tipsy antics.

The first shot went down hard, more bitter than your resentment for your piece of shit ex-boyfriend. The second soothed the ache in your chest and allowed for the tension in your muscles to gradually ebb away. And the third? Well, you opted to take your time sipping on that one, not wanting to completely lose yourself in the intoxicating buzz.

You were never the biggest drinker, but sometimes a few shots of something a little stronger than beer helps take the edge off. Right now seems as good a time as any for some liquid courage.

“You wanna know the worst part?”

However, one of the biggest reasons you erred on the side of caution around alcohol was because you had a tendency to spill things that didn’t necessarily need to be exposed. Especially not to your tipsy best friends at three in the morning when emotions ran high and couldn’t be easily stifled.

“What?” Baekhyun leans closer, eyes wide and burning with curiosity at the sudden somberness of your voice. Chanyeol tilts his head back at the shift in tone, looking up at you through dark lashes.

“In the three years we were together,” the two boys strain their ears as your voice drops into a careful whisper, as if someone other than them was around to hear the secret you hadn’t dared to share with a single soul up until this point, “he only ate me out once.”

For a moment, you think the disbelief that flashes across their faces is because you’ve brought up something of a sexual nature. But that thought is quickly squashed.

“Once? In three years? Is he insane?!”

“Shows what kind of man he really is.” Baekhyun scoffs, clicking his tongue. “Did you go down on him?”

You nod in reluctant confirmation, still sober enough to feel the slightest pinch of shame at your admission.

“That’s not how it works! Sex is about give and take, balance,” Chanyeol enunciates the word carefully, and you can’t help the upward twitch of your lips at the seriousness of his expression and the passion behind his words, “You can’t just receive without giving anything back!”

“He said he didn’t like it. And he only did it that one time because we fought on my birthday two years ago and he felt bad.” You explain, pouting heavily as you recall all the times he refused to go down on you.

Baekhyun blanches, jaw dropping. “You haven’t been eaten out in two years? Oh, baby...” you can feel the empathy rolling off of them in thick waves as they allow the new information to really sink in.

“I know, I know! Please don’t make me think about it anymore.” You whine distraughtly, rubbing your hands roughly down your face as frustration and annoyance bubble up inside of you. “I’m already pent up enough as is. That selfish bastard— he couldn’t even make up for it with his stupid dick either. He was all talk when it came to things like that. He only ever cared about getting himself off. It didn’t matter if I felt good as long as he could get his dick wet. What bullshit! Do you even know how many orgasms I had to fake?!”

Everything you’d kept inside comes exploding out of you in a rush of fiery passion, refusing to remain bottled up for even a moment longer. But of course, the moment it’s out and unable to be taken back, you regret saying anything about it at all. Red hot embarrassment floods your senses and you sink in on yourself, slapping a hand over your offending lips.

Damnit. You really shouldn’t have taken that third shot.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. That was— I shouldn’t have—” you attempt to backtrack, mouth twisted into a grimace.

There’s an exchange of glances that you don’t see, too wrapped up in your own humiliation to notice.

Then, a gentle hand slides over your thigh and you jolt in surprise, head snapping up to find a very serious Baekhyun looking back at you. You’d never seen this kind of expression on his face before. It was different then his usual playful grin or teasing smirk. Darker, somehow... dangerous. Like he was looking right through you and seeing everything you’d kept so carefully bottled up inside. It incites within you a vulnerability you had long forgotten.

“When was the last time you came?”

The question catches you off guard, to say the very least.

“Shit, i-it’s not like I keep track.” You laugh weakly, trying not to focus on the warmth seeping into your lower belly or the proximity of their bodies. But then his fingers are feathering over the curve of your knee and your heart is picking up speed and you’re left wondering at which point this conversation took such a turn.

Between your legs, Chanyeol shifts and your gaze snap down just in time to see him turn to face you fully, something dark and unfamiliar stirring within those big brown eyes. On instinct, you try to close your legs, but the sheer largeness of his body nestled comfortably between them prevents you from doing anything of the sort.

There’s no ignoring the rush of heat that ignites in your core, the closeness too much for your body to process all at once, only fueled by the long neglected desire for some kind of release.

And the fact that all he needed to do was get just a little bit closer—

But those are most definitely not the types of thoughts you should be having about your best friends. No matter how attractive they are. No matter how good Baekhyun’s pretty hand feels, slowly edging it’s way higher and higher up your thigh. No matter how cute the look on Chanyeol’s face is, a searing blush turning his full cheeks a fiery shade of red that easily consumes the entirety of his handsome face.

Fuck. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Y/n…”

Oh god. Why did your name have to sound like that coming from his lips?

Baekhyun’s fingers find your chin, gently coaxing your attention away from the man kneeling before you and back onto him. Your breathing has become shallow and fast, the insufficient amount of oxygen making you feel somewhat lightheaded. But the sensation is not a wholly unwelcome one. Not when his own smooth, liquor stained breath is like ambrosia on your tongue— heavy and rich and dangerously tempting.

“That piece of shit couldn’t make you feel good, could he?”

“No.” You swallow around the word, willing your treacherous eyes away from the entrancing curve of his pink mouth.

“No…” he repeats softly, tracing his thumb lightly over the flesh of your lower lip, “but I can— we can.” He lowers his gaze, tempting yours to follow as he ticks a brow at the younger boy. “… can’t we, Chanyeol?”

“Yes.” Chanyeol breathes without a moment’s hesitation, nuzzling his nose against the inside of your knee, warm fingertips teasing the cool skin of your ankles before he’s quickly amending, “if it’s what you want.”

Baekhyun’s lips feather over the shell of your burning ear and you feel consumed.

“Do you want it?”

“This is crazy.” It’s a deliberate avoidance of the question and you both know it.

He cocks his head, the corner of his lip curling into a teasing little grin that makes you feel like he can read your mind. “Is it?”

Yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue. But you would be a dirty, filthy liar if you said it had never crossed your mind.

The thought of you and them.

Usually one... sometimes both.

But those had just been fleeting fantasies when nothing else could satiate the unrelenting heat in your belly, shameful fantasies that, for the most part, you kept locked up tight in the furthest corner of your mind and only let out at the darkest hour of the night, when the midnight winds carried away the trembling breaths of their names, a whispered secret shared only between you and the moon. Only then would you dare to bask in their phantom caresses, allow your mind to conjure up images of their faces, twisted in beautiful bliss.

It was a dangerous game you played, but god, it felt too good to be wrong.

Or maybe that was just you trying to rationalize getting off to the thought of your best friends.

After a few moments of you grappling for the right words, Baekhyun tentatively intervenes with the thick, tension-filled silence that had encased the space around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. No pressure from us, sweetheart. I understand two at once can be a bit... intimidating.”

Though he started out in a tone that suggested reassurance and understanding, that last phrase, donning an underlying pitch of provocation, gives you pause.

“Are you suggesting you don’t think I could handle the two of you?” There’s a low scoff to your words, a spark of competitiveness that only Byun Baekhyun himself could draw out of you igniting in your stomach.

He smiles at you innocently, walking two fingers up the length of your thigh. “Not at all.” Something about the glint in his eye tells you that that is exactly what he was suggesting.

A light pout touches your lips and you lower your gaze to the man on the floor. “Chanyeol?”

You don’t need to elaborate for him to understand what you’re asking, that familiar boyish grin curling across his face as he props his chin on top of your knee.

“I think you could handle me just fine.”

A shiver ricochets down your spine at the divine way the words drip from his lips, thick and honey like, sensual in their suggestive nature. You hold his burning stare for a few moments longer than you probably should have, feeling yourself slowly being devoured by the dark, ravenous hunger that swirls within it. This was a fire you were not accustomed to seeing ablaze in Chanyeol. You were used to the fire of his competitiveness, the searing flame of his imperishable passion.

But this— this was something new all together.

If you were to touch him, you wonder if you would be able to feel the savage heat of it against your fingertips.

At your sides, your hands itch to find out. But a gentle tug at the string of your- er, Chanyeol’s sweatpants pulls your mind away from that specific thought. You can’t help the shaky gasp that catches in your throat at the sight of Baekhyun’s hands hovering dangerously close to your heat. You can only watch, melting into a puddle of pure need as he twirls the string nonchalantly around his beautiful fingers, slipping his two middle digits into one of the loops and proceeding to curl them in a way that made your mind jump to highly inappropriate possibilities.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His teeth graze the shell of your ear and the wetness forming between your thighs increases tenfold as the smooth tenor of his voice thrums through your skull.

“I’d love for you to prove me wrong.”

You’re not sure who leaned in first. But the next thing you know, your lips are on his. There’s no time to dwell on the fact that you’re kissing your best friend, your mind rapidly growing hazy from the unexpected intensity. There’s a certain viciousness in his ministrations, a brutality to his lust that he breathes into your lungs and sends blazing through your veins. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

You can’t help the surprised moan that escapes you when he takes your tongue between his lips and sucks, a low content hum reverberating through his chest before he releases you with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Fuck,” he groans languidly, “You taste like chocolate, baby.”

Calloused hands are curling around your jaw before you can fully recuperate, drawing your attention away from Baekhyun just in time to see Chanyeol’s rapidly approaching face. His dark eyes are hooded and wanting, the faintest of pouts residing on his red-bitten mouth as he breathes in an almost whining tone, “I wanna taste.”

You can think of no reason to object.

His lips slip over yours with a gentleness that is almost staggering. Despite his impatience, there’s an underlying hesitance to his motions, an uncertainty that gives you the feeling that… he’s waiting for you to take the lead. And you do such with fervor.

Raising a hand, you slip gentle fingers up the length of his throat and give an experimental squeeze, not hard enough to do anything other than apply a bit of pressure, but just enough to get your message across.

I’m in charge.

The delighted moan he produces in response makes your lips curl devilishly.

But you’re not given the opportunity to relish in the hot rush of power long, a second pair of lips attaching to your throat making you waver. A hot tongue laves over your collarbone, followed by the sharp pressure of teeth and your jaw goes slack.

Did Baekhyun just bite you?

And… why didn’t you hate it?

Chanyeol takes your open mouth as an invitation, smoothly tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Fuck. He tastes like cinnamon and liquor, a combination you had no idea could be so addictive.

Mind dazed and sufficiently distracted, you don’t notice the hand slipping beneath the fabric of your sweats until a shock of pleasure bolts up your spine. You gasp, breaking the kiss as your eyes drop in order to see which of the two boys is the culprit. Baekhyun lets out a low groan, feathering gentle touches over the soaking fabric of your underwear.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.” He growls dangerously in your ear. “We’ve barely even started. Are you already that excited?”

You shudder involuntarily, only managing a hoarse moan when he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. He chuckles tauntingly, as if you’ve just proved his point, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed with the way his skilled fingers are stroking your clothed heat.

The heaviness of Chanyeol’s gaze boring into you, devouring every detail of your blissed expression, only serves in making the sensations all the more intense. You attempt to grind yourself down into Baekhyun’s touch, seeking more friction, only to whimper in dismay as he withdraws completely, leaving you cold, unsatisfied, and aching for more.

“Baekhyun—”

“Take them off.” The abruptness of the command has your breath catching in your throat and a telling warmth fluttering through your core. You weren’t accustomed to hearing Baekhyun’s voice like this, so different from his usually light hearted teasing and playful jibes that it throws you for a moment. He cocks a brow amid your stunned silence, licking over the seam of his lip. “What? You need help?”

Snapping yourself out of it, you swing your gaze over to Chanyeol, offering him a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Can’t say I’d mind it.”

“I’m happy to lend a hand.” He hums, shooting you a playful wink that has a wide smile breaking across your face. He makes quick work of your borrowed sweats, easily tugging the loose fabric down the length of your legs and casting it aside carelessly. You watch the way his eyes flit greedily over the expense of your bare thighs, relishing the low, strained groan that flutters from his gaping lips when his attention fixes on the thin, black, lacy material that separates him from your soaking pussy.

“Those, too,” you instruct softly, sinking your teeth into the inside of your cheek. He swallows, and goes to reach for them, only to draw back abruptly when you swat his hands away with a sound of disapproval, “uh-uh. Do it with your teeth.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitches, a severe blush rushing into his cheeks.

Beside you, Baekhyun grins wildly. “That’s my girl.”

You smirk to yourself at the praise, but don’t remove your eyes from Chanyeol’s for a single moment, absolutely loving the pretty shade of red his handsome face has taken on.

Slowly, he dips his head, not daring to break your gaze as he latches his teeth onto the thin black lace on your underwear and begins to drag them down the length of your legs. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, soothed by the press of his hot palms as they trail his descent down your thighs, over the curves of your knees, down your calves, until you are left bare and exposed before them.

Fuck. That was so hot.

“Cute, isn’t he?” Baekhyun hums playfully against your jaw, like the whisper of the devil in your ear. You let out a trembling breath as the younger boy presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, nodding with an airy sigh of ‘ so cute’. Baekhyun nips at the juncture of your throat, and you can only watch with bated breath as he reaches a hand between your thigh, dragging his long middle finger through your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Want your sweet Chanyeollie to eat your pretty cunt, baby? Hm? Want him to make you feel good?”

Your chest rises rapidly, fast, shallow breaths swirling into your lungs. His filthy words curl beneath your nose, thrumming in your ears, intoxicating and disorienting in their deadly temptation. Desperation tugs at every nerve in your body and your hips buck and roll, chasing his caress. Want pools, dark and heavy, in Chanyeol’s hooded eyes as he watches his friend’s teasing ministrations. He licks his lips, full and pink and glistening in the low light of their apartment and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Fuck yes.” The words are nothing less than a growl in the back of your throat, a sound you never thought yourself capable of producing.

Baekhyun suddenly reaches forward, weaving his fingers through Chanyeol’s thick hair and tugging him forward. The younger gives no resistance, bracing his hands on your lower thighs as he allows himself to be guided to you. His lips part, tongue peeking out, and your anticipation skyrockets. But then he stops just short, and all you’re left with is the faint caress of his warm breath to soothe the insatiable ache between your hips. You almost whimper.

Chanyeol’s nostrils flare, eyes sharpening in annoyance as he shoots a glare up in Baekhyun’s direction. He only grins and arches a brow. “What? You’re not gonna ask for it first? Where are your manners, Yeol?” He gasps mockingly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

You don’t expect Chanyeol to give in at first, not with how competitive he could be and especially not with Baekhyun acting so damn condescending. But then he does, and you forget how to breathe.

“Please, y/n,” he pants hotly against your skin, “I wanna taste you so bad. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good. Please. Fuck, please.” A low, needy groan trembles in the back of his throat, clinging to that last ravenous plea. He snags his lower lip between his teeth and you feel yourself throb. The man looks down right sinful, Baekhyun still clutching onto his inky locks, forcing a slight strain in his neck as he looks up at you with those damn eyes that make your stomach churn and your mind spin.

God, he’s so beautiful.

Overwhelmed with the need to touch him, you nudge Baekhyun’s hand out of the way and replace it with your own, immediately loving the feeling of Chanyeol’s soft hair sliding between your fingers. His eyes flutter under the gentleness of your grip, lips parting as he breathes a delicate sigh, gazing up at you expectantly.

“Come here, Yeolie.”

He’s more than happy to comply.

The first stroke of his tongue sends sparks of electricity shooting through your entire body, a silent gasp shaping your lips. He looks up at you through dark lashes, encouraged and invigorated by your responsiveness to him, licking eagerly at your cunt. Soft moans flutter through his chest, and you shiver at the faint vibrations that are sent pulsing through you.

“Fuck, Chan,” you hiss, rocking your hips forward when he laves over your clit. The friction makes your skin tremble, a dangerous heat rising beneath it. If you knew he was this good with his mouth, you would have jumped his bones a whole lot sooner.

Another moan builds in your chest, but it’s abruptly stifled when Baekhyun tangles a hand into your hair and pulls you into a kiss that doesn’t fail to knock the air out of your lungs. Having both of their mouths on you makes your head spin and you can’t decide which to focus on. You’ve never been with more than one person at the time and it’s slightly overwhelming to suddenly have two men— two gorgeous men at that, both eager and willing to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.

Warm fingers suddenly slip beneath the thick fabric of your sweatshirt, and you shiver as they glide over your skin, light and teasing in advance towards your chest. A tremor wracks your spine when he pinches a nipple, squeezing his digits around the shape of your breast. Your back arches unconsciously, and you feel him smirk. Distracted, you don’t feel the burn of Chanyeol’s impatient glare until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

Yelping in shock, you snap your gaze back down to the younger boy, disbelief coloring your features. He has the audacity to smirk at you, cocking a brow in a manner that has a mixture of annoyance and arousal flaring up in your gut. Any glimmer of smug accomplishment is quickly washed from his face when your hand shoots down and roughly grips the hair on the back of his head, yanking him upwards until your nose to nose.

“Watch your teeth, Yeolie.” You murmur darkly.

“Or what?” The corner of your mouth twitches at his gutsy response.

“Or I’ll make sure to edge you until you cry.”

His eyes widen at the threat and he swallows thickly. From your peripheral, you see the crotch of his grey sweatpants rise.

“Oh? But it looks like you’d like that.” A deep crimson flush rushes into his ears and tinges the tips of his ears and he lowers his eyes, unable to hold your mirthful gaze any longer. “I guess I’ll just have to think of a better punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes out airy and desperate, the natural rasp making the knot in your stomach tighten, “I promise I’ll be good.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” You search his blown pupils for any sign of dishonesty, but find only sincerity and intoxicating lust. Satisfied, you release your tight grip on his hair in favor of gently stroking your knuckles over his blushing cheek.

“Then be a good boy and show me what this pretty mouth,” you trace your thumb gently over the soft, pink flesh of his lower lip, “can really do.”

The moment he’s released from your entrancing gaze, his mouth is on you again, eating you out with a fervor you’ve never before experienced. Your hips buck against him, your head tipping back as you let out rasping groans.

“Fuck, Yeol. That’s it, baby. Good boy.” He moans against you as spill praise after praise, lapping hungrily at your soaking pussy.

“That was so fucking sexy.” Baekhyun growls roughly, kissing you hard once before he’s pulling away to speak again. “Watching you boss him around, take control like that…” his voice drawls into a low groan, “really does something to me.”

“Yeah?” You ask shakily, mind whirling as Chanyeol buries his tongue inside of you. Baekhyun grins, humming lightly in confirmation. “Maybe you should let me boss you around, too.”

“Not a chance.” He chuckles. “Maybe next time. But tonight…” your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so gently, “your mine, sweetheart.”

Next time. He said next time.

There’s going to be a next time.

The amount of joy you receive from those two simple words borders on irrational.

“I�� oh fuck!” You can only cry out in bliss as Chanyeol wraps his lips around your clit, sucking roughly. Your hips jerk and grind, moving on their own accord as he draws you closer and closer to your high. God, you’re so close you can taste it. Your trembling hands find purchase in his hair once more, desperate to hold onto something as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“You gonna cum all over Yeolie’s tongue, baby? You gonna cum for us?” Baekhyun coos encouragingly against your jaw, and you can only whimper and nod frantically, unable to speak when Chanyeol sinks a long finger into your wet cunt, fucking you skillfully with his digit while he focuses his mouth on abusing your throbbing clit until your reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess on their living room couch.

“Yes— oh god, yes.”

When the coil snaps, it snaps hard. You can only manage a strangled whimper when it crashes over you. How long had it been since you last come on something other than your own hand? Weeks? Months? You can’t recall. But honestly how much does it really matter when your best friend’s face is nestled snug between your thighs?

The muscles of your legs seize and tremble beneath the force of your release, only held open by Chanyeol’s strong hands. He is unrelenting even as you come undone around him, tongue rolling over your clit, finger curling against your walls as his heady, hooded eyes devour you. You only manage to get him to detach him from you when you give a weak tug at his hair, the post-orgasm sensitivity proving too much for your body to handle.

“F– fuck.” You shiver, panting as tendrils of residual pleasure lick at your senses, the cold phantom of his tongue making you clench around nothing but empty air is pathetic greed. “Fuck, come here.”

Chanyeol is quick to rise onto his knees, obedient as ever, letting out a soft gasp of surprise as you cup his face and draw him into a heated kiss. He melts into you, large hands finding purchase on your thighs (which are still shaking) and caressing them soothingly.

“Thank you,” you breathe against his mouth, “thank you. Thank you.”

You feel him smiling as you continue to express your gratitude in gentle words spoken between deep, passionate kisses and it’s not long before his smile turns into something wide and toothy and uncontainable and he’s bursting into a fit of giggles as you resort to peppering the rest of his face in playful kisses.

“Easy now, sweetheart. Save the aftercare for when we’re  done, yeah?” Baekhyun’s lilting hum draws your attention, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“We’re not done?”

His brows jump, that familiar lopsided smirk offsetting his pretty lips. “Are you kidding me? We’ve got two years worth of orgasms to make up for. We’re nowhere near finished.” A shiver of excitement ricochets down your spine at the promise laced into his words, and you have to bite your lip to keep a wide grin at bay.

Suddenly, Baekhyun rises from the couch and it’s with immense effort that you refrain from staring directly at the prominent bulge straining against the thin fabric of his plaid pajama pants. Swallowing thickly, you look up at him as he extends a hand. “Come on. The bedroom is  much more comfortable to get your brains fucked out in. Speaking from experience.” You scoff at the sleazy smirk he shoots you, but slide your hand into his nonetheless.

The moment you’re on your feet, your knees buckle and you nearly topple. Luckily for you, Chanyeol has remarkable reflexes (when it counts) and catches you by the waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Shit, Yeol. You really did a number on her.” Baekhyun remarks teasingly. A feverish blush rises up your neck and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up.”

He bites the corner of his lip, gives you a heated once over that leaves your skin burning and trembling, before spinning on his heels sauntering in the direction of his bedroom door. He stops in the frame for a brief moment and shoots you a sultry wink from over his shoulder. “Come make me.”

Fuck.

Chanyeol let’s out a yelp of surprise as you lace your fingers through his and tug him hurriedly in the direction of his roommate’s bedroom. The very second that you’re through the door, lips connect with yours, stealing the very air from your lungs and obliterating any last remaining bit of your sanity. Hands seize your half naked body, eagerly exploring the expanse of your feverish skin. They tug at the hindering fabric of your sweatshirt, until all at once it is being pulled over your head and cast off carelessly somewhere in the darkness. You don’t even shiver, the heat of their bodies surrounding you and warding off the cool air.

Chanyeol takes the opportunity to slide a hand beneath your chin and tilt your head back so that it rests on his shoulder, the tip of his tongue flicking over your lips until they part, welcoming him in. Reaching back, you grab hold of his hips, tugging them forward and guiding them in a slow grinding motion against your ass. He moans hotly at the frictions, kiss turning sloppy as pleasure rushes through him.

You’re distinctly aware of the pressure of Baekhyun’s own mouth beginning a slow descent, starting from your jaw, gliding down the length of your throat, pausing to lick and suck at your sensitive nipples, kissing with a staggering tenderness over your belly. Then you hear his knees hit the floor. All at once, his tongue flattens against your clit, and you have to break away from Chanyeol as your body jolts violently in response. There’s still lingering sensitivity from your first orgasm, amplifying the pleasure tenfold.

And god, it’s so good.

“F– fuck, Baek—” your voice breaks off into a trembling whimper, hips bucking as he sinks a finger into your heat. Followed shortly thereafter by a second. Then a third. The stretch has you keening, leaning the full weight of your body against Chanyeol’s sturdy chest. He’s the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. Had you been left to your own devices, you would have already collapsed.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for us, baby.” Baekhyun hums with a lightness entirely unfitting for the current situation, nipping at the inside of your thigh. He supplies you with a slow, calculated thrust, biting his lip harshly as he watches your glistening arousal coat his digits. “Fucking hell, your soaking.”

You whimper shakily, head tipping back as Chanyeol nips and sucks at the juncture of your throat, his large hands gliding over the shape of your body as if he intends to commit it to memory— caressing every curve, fondling every edge, touching you, worshipping you with a reverence that pours into your very soul. You’ve never been touched like this before. Most men just think they have a right to you the second your clothes are off (some even before that). There’s no respect, no appreciation, nothing but dirty lust.

But this— this is different. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put into words. The way he’s touching you, like you’re a precious work of art, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel… beautiful. Something you rarely, if ever, felt when you were with your ex.

Baekhyun swirls his tongue around your clit and simultaneously curls his fingers, successfully stroking that long neglected bundle of nerves inside of you. The sensations it sets off inside of you are intense and overwhelming, and within seconds you’re coming for a second time. This orgasm comes completely unexpectedly and without any real warning outside of the breakneck explosion of pleasure that has stars scattering across your vision.

“Baek—!” you can only manage a broken yelp of his name as your body convulses above him, wracked and disoriented by the sudden, explosive burst of ecstasy. Now your shivering, trembling and gasping violently, but not from the cold. He watches in wonder as you unravel, clenching so tightly around his fingers that he can only begin to imagine what you’ll feel like coming around his cock. Shit, he can’t wait to be inside of you. He’s throbbing at the mere thought of it.

Chanyeol’s no better off, barely holding himself back from rutting against you like some kind of animal. But he wants to impress you, show you he has some semblance of self control even when it feels like he might burst in his pants at any given moment. He wants to be good for you. So for now, he can only watch with bated breath, painfully hard in his sweats, as your face contorts into an expression of pure bliss. God, you look so beautiful like this he almost can’t stand it. How could anyone let someone like you go?

“Holy f-fuck.” You whimper, attempting to catch your breath as your high begins to fade. Baekhyun has plastered a cocky grin across his face by the time you look down at him, though his eyes still sparkle with something indecipherable.

“That was a good one.” He says, carefully retracting his fingers from your heat as Chanyeol hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose behind your ear comfortingly when you shudder and whine at the emptiness. “We’re gonna break her at this rate.” 

“Not a chance,” you interject firmly, albeit somewhat breathlessly, “I’m a lot tougher than you think.” It’s the truth, but the quiver in your voice begs to differ. 

“So you can handle another one?” Baekhyun asks, rising to his full height. 

You hold his fiery gaze. “I can handle anything you give me.” 

Something in his eyes darkens. “Careful, sweetheart. You have… no idea the kind of filthy, depraved things I want to do to you.” His voice drops an octave, and, despite having already come twice (twice as many times as you were used to), your greedy cunt still throbs with need. 

Boldly, you extend a hand, caressing over his clothed length, and feel a surge of pride when he inhales sharply, hard gaze faltering. 

Leaning forward, you feather your lips over his, teasing. It’s a dangerous game you're playing, you know that. But you’re enjoying it far too much to stop now.

“Show me.”

Those two little words are all it takes to break Byun Baekhyun. 

“Bed. Now.” 

Perhaps you’re just a little too eager to comply, barely biting back a grin of excitement as you turn tail and scramble to his king sized bed. 

The disheveled sheets welcome you into their embrace, still warm in the spot Baekhyun had occupied prior your unannounced visit. They smell of him, you notice, the coconut of his shampoo, the milk & honey of his body wash, the soft vanilla of his perfume. You recognize the latter as the bottle he “borrowed” from you a few months back and had yet to return. Not that you really mind. You secretly like the fact that he smells like you. 

Chanyeol is first to round the side of the bed, ridding himself of his clothes along the way. Shirt first, then pants, and you can’t help but giggle as he hops clumsily out of his boxers, nearly bumping into the nightstand before he falls gracelessly onto the mattress beside you, offering up a sheepish grin. 

“Sexy, aren’t I?” Sarcasm bleeds through his tone, embarrassment hot on his cheeks, though it’s quickly soothed as you draw him into a gentle kiss. 

“Excruciatingly.” You enunciate teasingly, nipping at the tip of his nose. 

The bed dips around your ankles, and you peer down to see a very primal looking Baekhyun crawling towards you, like a predator honing in on his prey. The carnal hunger pooling in his hooded eyes hits you straight in the chest, and for a moment you forget how to breathe. 

Slotting himself between your hips, you could easily make out every inch of his length resting against your stomach, hot and hard and throbbing. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone inside of you this badly. His head lowers to your throat and he sets your skin ablaze with open mouthed kisses. Chanyeol makes sure the opposite side of your neck isn’t neglected long, feeling the erratic pulsing of your carotid artery beneath the slow strokes of his tongue. Your head falls back into the pillows, a sigh fluttering from your lips as you’re bathed in their affections. 

Baekhyun slips a hand beneath your knee, hooking it over his hip. Your lungs tremble with excitement when he slides his tip slowly through your wet folds. 

“I’m gonna fuck you until you see stars.” 

“I already have,” you smirk lazily in response, snagging the corner of your lip between your teeth, “Twice.” 

He doesn’t seem discouraged, curving a hand around the shape of your jaw and feathering his mouth over yours as his eyes glint with something sinful and electrifying. “Then I’m gonna show you the goddamn galaxy.” 

There’s no time to respond before his hips are rolling forward, filling you to the hilt with one smooth stroke. A breathless gasp trembles from his throat, “fuck.” 

“Does she feel good?” The question that escapes Chanyeol is weak and needy, strained and rough, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He almost sounds like he’s struggling, battling with himself internally as he watches his best friend’s cock disappear inside of our cunt with a lewd squelch. The searing heat of his gaze makes you whine in pathetic desperation, no longer unable to form coherent words to express your desire. 

“Fucking Christ, Yeol. She’s so tight a-and wet— ah, fucking perfect.” Baekhyun’s shoulders arch, a tremor rippling down his spine as your walls constrict around him, squeezing so tightly he almost loses himself then and there. But he manages to hold back, bracing a hand on your hip as he pushes himself up right. 

“Baek, please.” 

There’s no need for elaboration. He knows exactly what you’re asking for. And hell, he’s more than happy to provide. 

The first thrust of his hips has your back arching off of the mattress, mouth opening in silent bliss. The pace he sets is punishing, fast and deep and rough. His blunt nails dig harshly into the flesh of your hips, but you relish in it, pain and pleasure coming together to create the perfect cocktail. The lingering sensitivity from your two previous orgasms only serves to heighten the ecstasy that you're experiencing. And with Chanyeol pressed against your side, large, calloused hands and gentle lips making sure each and every inch of you is receiving attention, it doesn’t take long at all before you feel that coil in your stomach tightening. 

“I’m not gonna last.” You moan weakly, clinging to Chanyeol like he’s your one and only lifeline. 

“Fuck, come on, beautiful. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” Baekhyun growls, snapping his hips roughly into yours. You cry out desperately when Chanyeol trails a hand down your body, circling a careful finger around your clit. 

“Oh god, please. Please, Yeol. Harder. Baek— fuck, please.” You’re on the verge of tears, muscles shuddering violently as the white hot pleasure pulses through your veins. 

“Who are you begging, sweetheart?” Baekhyun grins down at you devilishly, licking at his teeth as his eyes glow with something dangerous and powerful. Your stomach whirls, and you nearly headbutt Chanyeol when your body lurches, entirely overwhelmed. It’s so much— too much— but, somehow, not enough. 

Your legs squeeze around Baekhyun’s hips, heels pressing into the swells of his ass, urging him deeper as you implore him wordlessly for more. You want everything, however selfish that may sound. You want it all. Every last piece of him. 

This time around, you’re more than grateful that he can read you so well. 

Simultaneously, the two boys fiercen their ministrations: Baekhyun, fucking himself into you so hard that the headboard is slamming into the wall; Chanyeol, applying enough pressure to your sensitive clit that your sanity nearly flies out the window. Within seconds, entangled in the staggering heat of their bodies, you come undone. 

Damn. Baekhyun wasn’t kidding about showing you the galaxy. 

Never in your life have you experienced an orgasm like this. One that tears through your very being like a raging tsunami. You feel it rippling through every cell, igniting every nerve ending in fiery ecstasy. 

Baekhyun is barely able to hold himself together as you unravel beneath him, his entire body trembling and sweating with the effort of fighting back his own high, which is threatening to break over him at any given second. The mere sight of you is almost enough to do him in, but he wants to make sure to ride you through yours before he allows himself even a taste of his own. Harder said than done when you look so good and feel ever better, clenching and pulsing around him and god he’s about to lose his fucking mind. 

He’s panting and groaning, rolling his hips deeply into yours, keeping himself teetering dangerously on that edge. But it’s you, your voice whimpering his name, your fluttering, teary eyes barely able to keep themselves open looking up at him, that finally breaks him. He bucks into you sharply, hips spluttering, body shaking as he spills himself. It’s sudden and it’s messy and it’s the most goddamn beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

The moment he’s finished, he collapses on top of you, completely out of breath and red in the face; thoroughly fucked out. But that doesn’t stop him from bathing you in whispered praises. 

“You’re so amazing. You did so well. You’re so beautiful.” 

His words warm your heart, which is just barely beginning to return to a more natural rhythm. They lick the wounds from the nights previous events, soothe the ache that was long forgotten in the thralls of your best friends’ soothing touch. 

Baekhyun pulls out of you carefully, and you have to physically stop yourself from pouting at the emptiness and loss of the weight and warmth of his body as he rolls off of you, flopping onto the mattress at your side with a huff of hazy laughter. 

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, a dopey smile plastered across his face as he tosses an arm over his eyes, “that was amazing.”

“So fucking amazing.” You emphasize, trying uselessly to catch your breath.

It’s only when you feel something nudging at your opposite hip that you're able to refocus your bleary mind on the unfinished task. You turn, finding the adorable scrunched face of Chanyeol, cheeks red, eyes wanting. 

The younger boy chews on his lower lip, swallowing a groan. He’s trying his best not to come off as too desperate, but you see right through him. You see how hard he is, veins thick and throbbing beneath the angry red skin, his flushed tip weeping with precum. Honestly, you’re surprised he hasn’t touched himself yet. It looks like it hurts. 

Licking your lips, you can’t help but to wonder what he might taste like, how he’d feel against your tongue, the kinds of sounds he’d make when his body was overwhelmed with pleasure. You bet he’s loud when he comes. Fuck, that deep, raspy voice would sound so good moaning your name. 

… perhaps you are feeling just a little greedy. 

“Yeol,” he snaps to attention at the wispy call of his name, inhaling sharply when your fingers graze his thigh, “come here.” 

He blinks in confusion, not understanding what you want him to do. Recognizing the lost puppy dog look, you chuckle before elaborating in far more blunt terms to avoid further misunderstanding; 

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” 

If he were to open his eyes any wider, you were certain they’d fall straight out of his head. “I– I can’t– you just—” he stutters clumsily, shaking his head, but you can feel his body practically trembling in excitement at the implication of your words.

“Please. You’ve been so good for me. I wanna make you feel good, too, baby.” You coo, tugging at his knee once more before leaning up to graze your lips over the shell of his flushed ear. “Let me make you feel good, Yeolie.” 

He shivers violently, a strangled moan breaking from his swollen mouth, and you smirk to yourself, knowing you’ve got him. He seems nervous as he pushes himself up and crawls to kneel next to your head before hesitating, blinking as he tries to figure the right way to position himself. 

He’s cute when he’s concentrating. 

“Like this—” you chime in. Chanyeol gasps and flushes a deep red when you guide him forward until his knees are on either side of your head, his hard length swinging proudly above your nose. 

Reaching up, you take his large hands in yours, interlacing your fingers. “If I tap on the back of your hand—” you demonstrate, “it means stop, okay? You have to stop immediately when I do that because I won’t be able to speak.” 

He nods, expression serious, “I understand. I’ll stop if you tap on my hand.” 

“Good,” you pause, a gentle smile upturning the corners of your mouth, “I trust you.” 

His breath hitches. “Thank you.” 

Instead of responding, you tip your chin up and trace your tongue over the underside of his cock. His hips stutter forward, a surprised moan escaping him at the unexpected contact. 

“Stop teasing and feed her your cock, Chanyeol. Can’t you see how bad she wants it?” Baekhyun chuckles mockingly, sliding a lithe hand around your jaw and squeezing, forcing your mouth open even wider. Chanyeol looks down at you through blown pupils, chest heaving, lust practically radiating from his every pore. But it’s only when you offer a nod of reassurance and a look that you hope gives of even the faintest of glimpses into your immense desire for this, for him, does he finally move. 

With a tenderness only Park Chanyeol could possess in a position such as this, he guides himself between your awaiting lips. You moan unabashedly as the bittersweet taste of him hits your tongue, tipping your chin up to make more of him in. A shuddering moan pulses from his chest, pitched and broken on red bitten lips. The sound is somehow even more beautiful than you imagined. 

Languidly, you swirl your tongue around his weeping tip, eliciting a strained whisper of your name as the grip he has on your hands tightens substantially. He offers a slow, shallow thrust, his head dropping forward as his length slides deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. The pressure of your tongue against the underside of his cock and the heavy reverberations of your soft, encouraging moans invigorate him to set a careful rhythm, hips stroking gently forward. 

Your knuckles dig into the messy sheets as he pivots his weight forward, and you quickly relax your jaw when you feel him inching closer to your throat with every thrust. Chanyeol is even more considerate than you thought he’d be, pulling out far enough between steady strokes that you can swallow lungfuls of oxygen before sliding smoothly back in, deeper and deeper each time. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes, mouth straining in order to accommodate his impressive girth. But hell, it’s worth it. Totally worth it.

His breathing became harsh and labored, filling his lungs with sharp, ragged inhales that shudder through the deep cavity of his chest. “F– fuck, y/n,” he groans hoarsely, head dipping as his eyes squeeze shut, “your mouth is— s- so good.” 

Your core tightens around nothing at the rasping whimper, the faint caress of his warm breath rousing goosebumps across the damp skin of your belly. The subconscious clenching of your thighs is wholly unintentional, but it does not go unnoticed. 

Chanyeol lets out a choked gasp as a hand slides into his hair, his upper body suddenly forced downwards. 

“Come on, Yeolie,” Baekhyun coos tauntingly in his ear, “you were the one going on and on about balance. So why don’t you provide some… ‘give and take’, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” he barely whispers, but you still feel a rush of hot breath over your core and moan throatily around his cock. He tenses and shudders in response to the delicious rush of vibrations, tightening his grip on your hands as Baekhyun guides him lower. 

Honestly, you aren’t sure at first if you have another one in you. Three orgasms in one night was unimaginable before tonight. Four seemed simply unrealistic. Your poor pussy is still pulsing and trembling from the last. But the moment Chanyeol flicks his tongue over your clit, the most delicate of kitten licks, you know that you do. 

This time though, it’s like molten metal boiling in the pit of your stomach, a wholly unfamiliar sensation. Each press of his lips and roll of his tongue fans the fire blazing through your veins. You try your best to keep up, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue, but it’s difficult when it feels like your brain is short circuiting. The pleasure is fiercer, more intense, rolling over you in thick, devastating waves. You’re reduced to little more a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, barely able to keep yourself from choking on his cock. 

Chanyeol’s hips buck frantically as your throat constricts, his own ministrations getting rougher and sloppier the closer he gets. You feel his teeth against your clit, then two long fingers slipping through your slicks folds and fucking themselves into your pussy. Baekhyun can only groan hotly at how easily you take his digits, squeezing his opposite hand around the base of his hard dick. 

“I’m gonna come,” Chanyeol whimpers hurriedly, “oh fuck I’m gonna come.” 

Suddenly, his hips pulse and your bottom lip make contact with the flat of his pelvis. It takes every ounce of control you have over your body to push back your gag reflex, but the way he trembles and breaks above you is undoubtedly worth the strain. A jumbled mess of words tumble from his lips as he comes, though only your name and a select few curses are intelligible between the deep, violent moans that burst from his chest. 

Tears fall from the corners of your eyes as he fucks himself into your mouth, motions stuttered and sloppy. But you swallow around him eagerly as he fills your throat with his release, which only serves in prolonging his orgasm until he’s shivering and whining and hell— each sound, each tremble has the coil in your stomach squeezing tighter and tighter. 

All the while, Baekhyun’s fingers are loyally exploring your silken walls until he once again discovers that small bundle of nerves that make your head spin. Combined with Chanyeol moaning and growling against your clit— you're a dead woman. 

This final orgasm is the equivalent of having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Every hair on your body jumps to stand at attention, oxygen suddenly igniting into flames in your lungs. You scream around Chanyeol’s cock, back bowing off the mattress, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. It’s so intense you honestly feel like you might pass out. But it’s so good, too good —fuck, it’s the best you’ve ever had!— and you want to relish in every mind numbing moment. 

All at once, Chanyeol is gone from between your lips and you gasp, a rush of cool air like a glass of ice water in the torrid desert flooding into your lungs and soothing the angry blaze. 

“Holy shit.” 

You’re too gone in the high to make out who the strained whisper had come from, or to notice the sudden substantial amount of wetness painting the insides of your thighs and seeping into the sheets below. Your brain feels thoroughly scrambled, effectively stupefied by the prodigious pleasure and you can do nothing but bask in it. 

“Have you ever done that before?” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize that the question is directed at you. 

“Hmm?” You hum blearily, not bothering to try and lift your head. 

“Squirting,” Baekhyun clarifies, voice thick with wonder, “have you ever done that before?” 

“Squirting? No, I’ve never—” your head snaps up, eyes bulging, “I squirted?!” 

If the excessive arousal currently coating (and dripping from) Chanyeol’s astonished face and the unusually large wet spot staining the sheets is anything to go by, the answer is a clear yes. 

Panic strikes your chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I- I am so—”

“Don’t apologize! Don’t you dare apologize.” Baekhyun abruptly cuts you off, splaying a hand over your belly. “That has to be the most— amazing thing I have ever seen. No girl has ever squirted on me before. I’m honestly honored.” 

“Baekhyun, please.” You whine, pulling a pillow over your feverish face and snapping your legs shut. 

“I’m serious!” He yelps indignantly, tugging the pillow away from you and tossing it to the side despite your noisy complaints. Two strong hands find either of your thighs and pry them apart in spite of your stubborn resistance, revealing the slippery mess you made on the sheets below. 

Heat rushes up your neck as Chanyeol falls into position between them like it’s the most natural thing in the entire world and begins licking at your wet skin. The muscles of your thighs shake and tighten uncontrollably under the intimate ministrations, the post orgasm sensitivity extending beyond your core and into each of your limbs. 

“Chan,” you whimper remorsefully, clenching your fingers in the duvet, “I can’t. I can’t.” 

He smiles against your skin, licks turning into gentle kisses that make your heart flutter and melt in ways it definitely should not in response to your best friend’s big, sweet eyes. Then again— this entire situation is remarkably unconventional in regards to a typical friendship. Not that you’re complaining because really, how could you? Four orgasms? In one night? Unheard of. A part of you wonders if they were actually just trying to kill you. 

While Chanyeol bathes you in his limitless affection, Baekhyun vanishes from your side and into the attached bathroom, returning only moments later with a towel saturated with hot water. You hum gratefully as he carefully scrubs away the sheen of sweat and sticky arousal clinging to your skin. And he’s considerate, too? Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

“You guys are going to ruin all other men for me, fucking hell.” You huff out a hoarse chuckle. Chanyeol suddenly flops down beside you, nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder. 

“Who needs other men when you have us?” He rebukes, large hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. 

You can honestly find no reason to disagree. 

“Guys,” Baekhyun chimes once finished scrubbing you down, “let’s move to Chanyeol’s room. I need to throw these sheets in the washer before they get crusty. Made that mistake once. Never again.” 

“I would totally do that but I’m pretty sure my legs are numb.” 

“Ain’t no thang, pretty lady. I’ve got you.” Chanyeol chirps gallantly, slipping his arms beneath your legs and back. Before you can make any kind of protest, you’re being swooped off the bed and pressed into a warm chest. Shrieks of laughter peel from your lips as the gentle giant spins, and you throw your arms around his neck just for extra precaution. 

“Yeolie,” Baekhyun whines mockingly, stomping his foot childishly as he plasters an exaggerated pout across his face, “you never pick me up and twirl me around like a pretty princess.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you tease, extending a leg and pressing your toes against his chest, “only room for one pretty princess in this apartment.” 

“Oh, okay. I see how it is.” He scoffs as he stumbles back and falls dramatically back onto the mattress, hand splayed over his heart like you had somehow managed to wound him. 

“Speaking of washing,” Chanyeol chirps, glancing down at you, “How does a warm bath sound?” 

“Like heaven.” You groan. “Baek, feel free to join us after you're done doing your laundry.” You shoot him a mirthful grin as Chanyeol pivots and carries you out of the room that bears the musky, filthy scent of sex. 

“Wait you’re just gonna— but I—“ Baekhyun wavers, looking between your retreating figures and his stupid dirty sheets before letting out a groan of frustration and scurrying after you. “Fuck it. I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

“Is your bathtub big enough to fit three people?” You question, gaze landing on Baekhyun’s cute ass as he jogs ahead. 

Chanyeol shrugs, humming thoughtfully. “We can squeeze.” 

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“We can definitely squeeze.”

[vigilantaes]

BATGIRL 02     🞂    FILE 001     🞂    APPEARANCE.

i usually do a little headcanon roundup like this about my current muses’s appearance and little details that i like to incorporate so here’s this obligatory post! no particular order, just random headcanon stuff.

cass has a medium-light skintone… think something like this (i grabbed this from a makeup foundation product page so it’s the before LOL). doesn’t have any notable beauty marks, the ones she has throughout her body are pretty small and unnoticable unless you’re up in her face. the most notable part of her skin is that she has a lot of scars.

 on her face, she has a noticable slash on her left cheekbone, another along the left side of her jawline, and some lighter, faded ones under her chin and on her bottom lip. on her neck, she has a noticable slash. 

on her body, she has... so many. too many to keep count as she gets more and some heal. the most notable include gunshot entry scars-  a few on her back and a few on her thighs. some are a lot more faded than others, but most are stretched and abnormally large since she received those in childhood. she’s grown since then.

her hair is dark brown, fine in texture, and very straight. she has a big issue with flyaway hair’s and cowlicks. 

as a child she had long hair, but sometime after running away from her father she cut her hair much shorter. 

the length can range from just past her shoulders to below her ears because honestly? this girl cuts her own hair. it’s never perfect. she tends to have rough layers that resemble a shag, adding to her usual messy look

 i debated on her eye color for a WHILE because she could basically have anything coming from a white dad and a chinese mother. the most common eye color is brown which is what i was going to settle on, but i didn’t want cass to look ONLY like her mother (just mostly) so i decided to go with hazel. a medium brown with some green mixed in there.

cass has insomnia and cptsd which means she does NOT sleep well! you know what that means? eyebags and dark circles! cursed to forever look tired. 

her nose is on the flatter side and is a little wider from the front. she’s probably gotten her nose broken once or twice but i think she got lucky and it’s not too crooked.

:prayerhands: Please wear some chapstick. Her lips are always dry as SHIT and she bites the dead skin off. never remembers the chapstick in her utility belt ever cuz it ends up underneath the smoke pellets never to be seen again.

i know she’s usually drawn with a rounder face shape but honestly i kinda imagine more of an oval shape?? somethin longer like that. has some cheekbones goin on. the works.

i imagine her to be on the shorter side at 5′1″. little bat. 

if she wasn’t as muscular as she is, she’d be considered pretty petite. she’s on the flatter side on her chest, a to b cup. does not have a big butt but it’s a nice butt. up there with nightwings.

proportions wise, she’s got long legs. thighs are probably the bulkiest part of her, since she prioritizes cardio, and not by a lot.

she’s pretty muscular and firm but on the leaner side. she doesn’t tend to bulk up since her body absolutely burns through the food she eats so it’s difficult for her to gain weight even though she wants to for that MUSCLE.

[aromantic-misguide-to-romance]

Obey Me! Hair headcanon - non-brothers

Betareading thanks to Xanlee! Brothers version here.

Diavolo

he tends to mess it with his hand out of habit and lets it stick out as it pleases, so that’s why it looks spiky

but it is surprisingly pleasant to the touch

his hair is completely average though, as opposed to his royal status

medium softness, medium strength, medium fluffiness, nothing stands out aside from a few cowlicks

quite easy to take care of – it goes back to the right place even if messed with, doesn’t get knots unless left for a long time, but it doesn’t hold styling particularly well

it’s resilient and hard to damage so he doesn’t need too much hair care

isn’t affected by humid weather

but it gets a surprisingly golden shine in sunlight

Barbatos

keeps it short for a reason

and you can see that reason in that long streak of lighter coloured hair

it gets messy and starts curling and sticking out if left to grow, it gets split hairs as well

and it starts reacting to humidity if too long

but if it’s cut too short it starts sticking out too

what he has is the optimal length he can control it and keep it in order

once subdued, his hair stays as it’s styled, but defeating the bed hair in the morning can be time-consuming

his hair is a bit coarse to the touch, just a tiny bit though – it might look smooth due to the straight and flat hairstyle, but it gets damaged pretty easily and he rarely has time to take care of it properly

all he needs is for it to look presentable, which it does

Simeon

his hair might look like soft floof, but that isn’t exactly the case

much stronger and much more resilient than you’d expect from the light curl

always a bit messy – it might not seem like his hair is exceptionally rebellious considering the slightly wavy look, but it absolutely is

however, he hides his hair’s rebellion quite well with this hairstyle

but if you tried to style it? Nope, that’s impossible

try to subdue it and each strand will jump right back into its old place, sticking out as usual

the best you’ll get is a bird’s nest style

so just let it be, his hair is the least troublesome if left unbothered – it fortunately doesn’t get knots

combing it often is a necessity but it goes back to its messy look immediately

that’s also why humid weather doesn’t make any particular difference here

Luke

his hair is just so soft and smooth

no wonder everyone wants to pat his head – it really feels nice to pet his hair when it’s just so fluffy and soft and, and

he doesn’t enjoy that fact, as he hates it when people treat him like a child or... a dog

he brushes and combs it religiously into place so that it doesn’t give away how fluffy it is

fortunately it’s not a bad case – it likes to stay orderly for most of the time

though he never manages to comb it into perfect flatness, his mane is just too dense for that – each hair might be thin and delicate, but he has plenty of them, truly a lot and densely packed

doesn’t seem like humid weather affects it too much though

fortunately – imagine what would be if it went full floof because of just a little bit of humidity on a rainy day

Solomon

he wasn’t always grey-haired, his hair just greyed as the time passed – while the process is slow, his hair will turn white in time

his hair might look a bit spiky, but it’s really fluffy and soft if touched

and very easy to style – run your hand through it and it will stay like that, sticking out

...or maybe don’t do that if you don’t want to be cursed

his hair gets miserable in humid weather – no curl, it just gets heavy as it absorbs water

anyway, it takes just a moment to put his hair into order, but it only takes a moment for his hair to get messy too, so he runs a comb through it quite a few times a day, whenever needed

it’s not that he’s embarrassed about his hair, but you can’t just run around looking so unprofessional when you’re a mighty sorcerer and trying to appear pact-worthy

[bitchapalooza]

Hetalia actor AU(yes, inspired by the BNHA actor AU specifically)

• Alfred and Matthew are irl twins that got their start in acting as children. They both at first tried out for the roles of Northern and Southern Italy but they were seen to be better fits for the North American brothers. That and their Italian accents were not the best. No one cared they have an Italian uncle. Literally no one asked them. In fact their bad accents prompted the casting list to go more international faster than it already was. They both look exactly the same without the addition of the cowlick or ahoge so it's pretty good Matthew grew his hair out for this role. Otherwise they'd constantly have to correct everyone like they used to in the other shows they worked on.

• Arthur thought he was auditioning for the newest James Bond movie but turns out his agent tricked him. Arthur ended up liking it however and stayed. He managed to drag his son Peter in to audition for the role of Sealand, as Peter wanted to get into acting in something bigger than school plays. His character may be annoyed by his son's character but irl you can catch Arthur being a loving and caring father. Peter however is embarrassed to be around him, just as many kids are to their parents. Arthur is much more relaxed than the character he plays. And Peter isn't as annoying as Sealand is. He's actually always on his phone or doing homework when not working.

• Francis did not know a lick of English when he auditioned. He went into this blind. And yet he got the part after staying up 3 nights in a row beforehand listening to the Google translated script(from English to French and back) to memorize it that way. Presently he may be on par with a 10 year old's basic knowledge of English but that doesn't stop him from frequently speaking only French on set when no one else but Yao and half the writing staff understand him. He even only does his interviews in French because WHY put effort into a second language??? Y'all he's the epitome of lazy.

• Ivan is the prankster on set. He teams up with Kiku, Basch, Peter, Alfred, and Mathias very frequently to prank everyone else in the cast. He also purposefully messes up his lines when his character is being creepy. He'll say the weirdest shit while in the most intense scenes. During the magical pipe of pain scene, Ivan caused almost 20 retakes because he kept making bad innuendos causing everyone to lose their shit. He's the exact opposite of his character.

• Roderich really is a former pianist and former child actor coming back to acting because gosh he missed it. He's actually SUPER irresponsible with his money despite the character he plays. The first paycheck from the show he spent on a bulk of 200 rubber ducks just so he could set them up in his bedroom on his and his wife's 3rd anniversary. All for a chuckle. And to get a use out of them. That was an impulse buy. And he does not regret it. The scenes where Austria is playing the piano really is Roderich playing it, and he asks there to be almost no sound editing to those takes whatsoever. He's extremely forgetful so the staff has resorted to sticky noting his lines into the scene then green screening it out later. He's a good actor but someone help this man's poor memory.

• Timo basically already was Finland before ever auditioning. His friends already called him the dad of their group to begin with. He's a sweet guy and he bakes cookies and other sweets the night before just to bring them in to the set the next morning for not just the cast but the entire film crew too; he has two ovens for this and really knows how to speed bake. He just wants to make sure everyone's morning is as good as his own is. He's just a darling. Everyone is glad Berwald recommended Timo for the part of Finland and even happier that he got the role.

• Gilbert is a brunette with brown eyes irl so no one recognizes him without the white wig or red contacts. Fans meet him and are like "You remind me of that Prussia guy from Hetalia! You'd make a great cosplay of him!" and he just accepts it every time by this point. Every convention he goes to, every interview he does he is in costume. At least he isn't constantly bombarded by fans like Ludwig or Ivan are.

• Feliciano is a very mature and professional guy despite the bubbly and goofy character he plays. Feliciano does have his relaxed and fun moments though, learning to let go from his time acting as North Italy. He's a really pleasant guy to be friends with but it can be a little tough to break through his shell. He's kind of shy, different from North Italy's friendly nature.

• Lovino is a nice guy. He's kind but not super kind, but also not an asshole. He does a lot a Instagram live streams after episode recordings, mostly of him hanging out with the other actors. He and Feliciano get along well but Lovino tends to hang around Ludwig more because he feels so bad for how he screams at him and insults him on set, even though its purely for the show. He apologizes immediately after filming is finished.

• Ludwig is pretty orderly but he isn't exactly mature. He's the one to recite bad jokes and puns to everyone, his favorites being dad jokes. No one likes this. At all. He's a fun loving guy that everyone can get along with. He has fun acting. He's very grateful Gilbert pointed him in the direction of the auditions.

• Kiku is glad his very first acting gig will probably be one of his most successful and popular. He's freshly graduated from college and completely chaotic. He's got a degree in business he's never going to use. He collects weird Japanese products as well as gifting them to his coworkers every Christmas without fail. He once walked into Ivan's trailer and tossed a whole bag of hard boiled eggs at him and ran off. The eggs all had individual faces drawn onto them. Ivan still does not know why he did this and he's honestly too afraid to ask at this point.

• The actor for Chibitalia also plays chibi Romano! His name is Emilio and he's Lovino's nephew. Emilio is a sweetie that pretty much stole everyone's heart. He loves working on the show, especially when he gets to curse and not get in trouble for it.

• Holy Roman Empire's actor was originally a kid who had no prior experience in acting neither had he really been near a camera before. He ended up freezing up his first day. He was recasted by Ludwig's son Otto, especially since Otto had been around a film set dozens of times before. The dad jokes really escalated once Otto was brought on set....

This is all I'm going to do for now without the post getting too long. Plus I'm tired and have a headache. But I really wanted to get this out lol I spent 3 hours figuring this all out with a really bad glaucoma headache please at least appreciate this for my eyes' sake lmao

[bluerosewritings]

Tarts and Kisses | Riddle x Fem!Reader

[Originally posted on “The Heart Mirror” on Wattpad]

Riddle stared at his phone, biting his lip. The red head wasn't usually one for late nights - if things were going his way, he would have finished going over his notes half an hour ago and would now be sleeping. Unfortunately, things were not going his way.

Because of rule 373 of the Queen of Hearts - 'if one is unable to be near the person of their affection, they must partake in a form of communication at the 9th hour of the 5th night' - the two of you always called each other at nine o'clock every Friday. The two of you had also decided to alternate who called who each week, this week being your turn to call.

Yet you hadn't called.

At first, Riddle had brushed it off as you being distracted. Sure, he was a little annoyed that you hadn't properly adhered to the rules, but whenever you hadn't in the past you usually had a proper reason.

So when Riddle watched the clock hit ten, he began to worry. Surely you wouldn't have taken this long to call? As menial as the calls were, you'd told him often how you "loved just hearing his voice". Maybe you fell asleep? But wouldn't you have told him how tired you were?

Unable to take it any longer, Riddle left his room. As he passed by the dorm lounge, he caught a glimpse of Trey out the corner of his eye.

"You're back late, Trey," Riddle said, slowing down his pace, "are you finished with the food for tomorrow's Unbirthday Party?"

"Hmm? Oh, Riddle. Thought you'd be asleep by now." Trey replied.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm on my way to check on (y/n)," Riddle frowned, "she missed our Friday call, and I... need to make sure that she has a proper reason."

Trey smiled, knowing how soft Riddle could be when it came to enforcing rules on you. Then realisation dawned on him.

"Ah, Riddle, she won't be in her dorm," Trey explained, "I asked her to help me with the last of the Unbirthday Party food, but we had an accident... nothing major. But it probably distracted her."

"I see... thank you, Trey. Make sure nothing happens while I'm gone."

"W-Wait, Riddle...!"

—

You pushed the tart to the back of the fridge. After closing the door, you looked over at the other treats lined up on the cafeteria kitchen's windowsill. Trey had said that they would be better there instead of the fridge.

Next, you walked over to the oven and peered at the tray of cookies. Rows of hearts, spades, clovers, diamonds and roses were hardening nicely from what you could tell. Since you'd left them until last, Trey had said to just let them cool and he'd ice them in the morning. That just left...

You turned around and grimaced. The giant pile of flour and the wrapping they exploded from taunted you. Where did they keep the broom again...?

Before you could begin your search, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your body. You turned around to see who it was only to have a pair of lips crash against yours mid-turn.

At first you panicked, then your eyes noticed a familiar heart-shaped cowlick. Relieved, you relax into the kiss, wrapping your own arms around your boyfriend. When you sadly pull apart, Riddle presses a kiss on your cheek. You smile and nuzzle your face into his neck, allowing him to press a third kiss on the top of your head.

"You worried me." Riddle mumbled, stroking the back of your head.

"Worried?" You frowned. "Why?"

Riddle sighed. "(y/n), it's nearly 11."

"Wait, what?" You pulled away from the hug and went over to your bag. Once you fished your phone out, you cringed at the time on the display. "Oh, Riddle, I'm so sorry..."

"As you had a genuine reason, I'll let you off the hook this time," Riddle said kissing your other cheek, "however, next time it'll be off with your head. Understand?"

You giggled. "Yes, my Queen."

Before you could lean in for another, the oven timer went off. Remembering the cookies, you cursed and grabbed the oven mitts.

Riddle watches as you start unloading the cookies onto a cooling tray, his eyes brightening with amusement as you start moving the rose-shaped ones.

"Did you do these one?" He asks.

"That obvious?" You chuckle, feeling your cheeks light up slightly.

Riddle shakes his head, smiling. "We don't usually have rose-shaped cookies for the Unbirthday Party, so I figured you must have thought of it instead of Trey. They're cute."

"T-Thanks." You stammer.

You push the rack backwards towards the rest of the treats. Riddle takes the oven mitts off you and puts them away as you make room for all of them.

"Is everything meant to be on the side?" Riddle asks when he's back by your side.

You nod. "Trey said only the tarts had to go in the fridge. Everything else was better off on the side to cool - I was just making sure the cookies were easy to reach, since they need to be iced in the morning..."

Riddle hums in response. "If you want, I could help you move everything to Heartslabyul. That way-"

"No!" Riddle looks at you, confused. "I-I mean, I don't wanna risk dropping anything! Since, y'know, w-we won't have any time to remake it..."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded quickly.

"Very well..." He said, not full believing you but deciding not to push it. Maybe you were just tired.

You sighed in relief. Riddle already seeing the rose cookies was already a bit of a let down, but as long as he didn't see what was in the fridge, it wasn't all for nothing.

Your eyes caught sight of the flour pile again. "Oh, shoot, I forgot about that... Riddle, do you know where they keep the cleaning broom?"

Riddle followed your line of vision and saw the pile. It was almost up to his ankles, with parts of their bags sticking out. This must of been the accident Trey was talking about - flour bags all exploding on the ground.

He took a look at your face and decided it was best not to ask. Now that he got a good look at you, there were bags under your eyes. You really were tired.

"Allow me." Taking out his magic pen, Riddle chanted a short spell.

The flour and paper bags lifted off the floor. With another flick of his wrist, two of the bins opened and the levitating items sorted themselves into them.

You let out a sigh of relief and kissed your boyfriend's cheek. "Thanks. I really didn't want to deal with that..."

Riddle chuckled, catching your hand in his. "I could tell. Was there anything else? Or can I walk you back to your dorm now?"

"You may." You say with a smile.

You threaded your fingers between his as the two of you set off. While you tried to listen to what you boyfriend was telling you, a mix of tiredness and thoughts of tomorrow were making it near impossible. Even as you kissed Riddle goodnight and waved him off, all you could think about was his future smile at your present.

—

The horns sounded off. "Our great leader! The Crimson Ruler! Announcing Dorm Head Riddle!"

"Dorm Head Riddle! Hip hip hooray!"

He really did look like royalty, you thought, watching Riddle walk down to the head table, crown balanced on his head and cape fluttering behind him. As according to the laws of the Queen of Hearts, Trey as vice dorm leader was to his left and you as his girlfriend were to his right. Not wanting to risk any chance of him seeing your gift, you shifted your legs slightly to block the bag as best as you could, Riddle luckily being too preoccupied with checking the decorations to notice your fidgeting.

"You all have your teacups?" Cater nudged you and you quickly grabbed your teacup's handle. "Today is nobody's birthday, so to this Unbirthday Party! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Rang out across the field.

You took a sip - earl grey for this month - and looked over at Riddle. His gaze was directed towards the selection of tarts Trey had made; berries and cream, raspberry almond crumb, brown butter apple. You saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes. Figuring now was the perfect time, you placed down your cup.

You pulled the bag onto your lap. "Riddle?"

Riddle turned to you. "Yes?"

Surprise lit up his face when you emptied the bag. Carefully, you held out a strawberry tart towards him. The tart was slightly smaller than the others, with the strawberry slices carefully arranged into the shape of a heart.

"Sorry if I seemed a little off yesterday," you said as he takes the tart off you, "I just didn't want you to find out. You're always so kind to me, helping me out even when we weren't dating... I wanted to do something for you in return."

A soft smile grew on Riddle's face. You swear you could feel your heart jump out of your chest when you two made eye contact, the adoration in his eyes making you melt. The kiss he pressed against your cheek didn't help.

"Thank you." Riddle seemed to whisper in your ear.

Riddle pulled away and placed the tart on a plate. Carefully, he took out a knife and cut out a slice, placing it on his plate.

"Shouldn't Ace do that for you?" You asked, remembering the Queen of Hearts rule 41.

"I'd rather do it myself." Riddle replied, prompting a small blush grew on your cheeks.

While Riddle tried to keep his adult composure, inside he was like a gleeful child. Cutting away part of the tart, Riddle couldn't stop his heart rate growing at the thought of you making this especially for him. It tasted different from Trey's - a little heavier, but somehow sweeter. So sweet. It was addicting.

He glanced over at you. You were watching him nervously, smiling when he caught your eye. Spearing another part of the tart, he brought it to your lips.

"Say 'aah'." Riddle wasn't usually one for public affection, but he felt it was only right to share the tart with you. The red glow on your face was nice too.

The tart hadn't tasted exactly how you thought it would, but watching Riddle immediately return to finish off the slice before cutting off another. As he offered you another taste, you wondered if Trey would let you help with baking again.

[dadj]

🚼 !

send me a 🚼 and a ship i’ll use a doll-maker or picrew (Draw) to design what i think a child between our two muses would look like

[Meet Ricard! Named after Momma’s dearly departed papa.

Cursed with dad’s cowlick & extra bushy untamed brows but blessed with mom’s star eyes he is ready to scour the beaches for all sort of ocean critters and a vast variety of sea shells. He brings them home for his mom so they can craft together with them. (the shells... not the critters)

He also begged for a fluffy jacket like dad, but loves mom’s color scheme for it bring him comfort and refuses to wear anything but reds and black/greys He may be a bit of a crybaby like dad was/still kinda is. ahaha RIP.

Thankfully not that feral but loves being outside as much as possible. ]

[frischkasekuchen]

Dreamtalia Carrie AU

Credits:

Kyokyo866: Reve, Nevo, World(Nicholas) and Dreamtalia in general

Thriftlita: Vanya

Hetalia: Hidekaz Himaruya

Carrie: Stephen King

Warning:

Swearing

Religion

Religious abuse

Child abuse

Self-harm

Starring:

Reve and World(Nicholas) as Carrie White

Nevo as Margaret White

Germany as Tommy Ross

Canada as Sue Snell

Vanya as Miss Desjardin

(Author's Note: I've finished reading the book a while ago so I wrote something to celebrate- also I think this'll be my last piece until after my exams..)

(Note: the way i’ve written thoughts in parentheses is mimicking how Stephen King wrote telepathic communication and thoughts in Carrie- he only used apostrophes)

Carrie Memory- Father

Reve was humiliatingly trying to slip on the lacy stocking for he had bought to go with the dress Nicholas made for him. He was hobbling on one foot- knocking into nearly everything in Nicholas’ bedroom.

Nicholas snickered,

( christ, you look funny)

at this point Reve looked like he was wrestling a boa constrictor- and losing.

“And-And-Annnnnnnnd-'' Reve teetered backwards, “Got it!” The left stocking slipped on as he fell on the bed.

Nicholas let out a loud “HA!” as Reve fussed the skirt of the dress out of his face. He pushed himself out and stomped over to Nicholas, who slammed his mouth shut.

Reve pouted, “Shaddup! Who’re you laughin’ at?”

“You-!” he squeaked.

“You ass-” Reve blurted out. He went over to his white open-foot 2-inch heels and gloves. Slipping on the opera gloves were easier than the stockings, they latched on to his arms with a ‘SNAP’, they covered his scars easily. Next were the shoes, he slipped them on and he tightened them with a ‘SNAP’ as well, much more comfortable than the mary-janes he was offered earlier. He walked over to the full-body mirror and looked his entire outfit over. Reve began to worry, he went over to the dresser and sat down on a stool to let Nicholas fix his hair.

Reve’s face grimaced as his head became a jambalaya of worries.

( what if he doesn’t like how i look do you think the dress is weird nicky do you think it’s wei)

Nicholas hummed a hymn softly as he tried to soothe Reve.

( i think you good like you steal someone’s date you could steal all the boys from their dates that’s what i think)

Reve shrinked.

(what if this is a big joke what if luddie and mattie come hooting and hollering at my get-up what if he calls me a fag i don’t wanna be what if stands me up o god o god)

Nicholas smirked.

(i’ll tear out his tongue and feed it to mattie for being a big fat liar i’ll throw his ride into the gym that’s what i’ll do)

Reve gave a playful smile in turn.

(naughty nicky o no don’t do that that kills people)

The door to Nicholas’ bedroom slammed open to reveal his darling father.

“Red,” Papa said, glaring daggers into Nicholas’ uniform. “‘Course it’d be red.”

“I’m wearing blue and white- not just red.” Nicholas scoffed as he helped Reve put on a faux-flower armband Ludwig had given him. He finished combing down all of Reve’s hair save for a cowlick that refuses to go down.

(i think you should go downstairs reve this will turn sour go downstairs and wait for me)

(no i won’t let that windbag hurt you i’m staying i’m not leav)

“Take off that uniform- burn it.” Papa said sharply, approaching. “You can stay home- we can pray for forgiveness.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Pray. That’s final, papa. We have to get ready for prom.” Nicholas said. Oh that’s what he said to ‘pa, the ultimate curse word- worse than the Eff Word. Nicholas pulled Reve up to his feet from the stool and draped a shawl across his shoulders.

(leave reve go downstairs and wait for vanya i don’t want you to hear this)

Papa stayed still and stunned as though he had been slapped. “.......Take off that uniform, burn it, there’s still-”

“No. I. Said. No. Go fuck yourself, ‘cause after prom- I’m coming to pack up.”

He smacked himself- hard, leaving a red mark. It looked like a scar, a bunch of scratches. Nicholas paid no mind. With a blank stare he turned to the wall rushed at it- head forward.

He slammed into the wall with a loud ‘THUD’, he burst into tears and screamed. Reve jumped and his face scrunched up, he took hold of his wrist and stroked it- knowing what was under the gloves.

(what why you don’t hurt yourself like that no no leave nicky out of this you don’t hurt yourself in front of others no no you do that alone alone in private i know i do stupid bad man)

Nicholas still did not falter.

Papa then stared at Reve- like an angry father meeting his daughter’s secret boyfriend, climbing through her bedroom window. “You.”

Reve backed up into a corner near an open window- as Papa rushed up and seized Reve’s throat. He shook him back and forth raving- a s Nicholas tried to pull them apart.

(nicky i can’t breathe help me i’m gonna be sick)

“You rat- you parasite-! This is your fault!” he moaned as Nciholas tried to smack him off of Reve.

(don’t touch him don’t you do that papa don’t hurt him hurt me instead hurt me HURT INSTEAD ME HURT ME HURT ME PLEASE GOD HURT ME HURT ME HURT ME HURT M)

“I tried to keep the devil out of my house- and it was so difficult- it almost worked-!” Papa gasped, throwing his head up and whining to the ceiling. “Then you-you came along and taught him about those- those whores! You’ve turned him into an agent of the Wicked One- ” he paused for a moment and stopped shaking Reve- yanking the boy to look straight into the eyes of madness.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Reve shrieked in confusion.

(o god i’m scared i’m gonna shit myself)

Flex.

Papa was flung to the wall. Reve fell against the window sill, as a car pulled up to the house. The three rushed to the window as a station wagon came to a stop.

Mr.Bazarov had stepped out of the car; he was wearing a light, mute blue three-piece tuxedo that surprisingly matched his eyes- with a tar black bowtie.

Papa flew into a panic, he grabbed Nicholas by his wrists- “Please. Nicholas you can just stay here with me-!”

“I don’t want to stay with you papa-!”

“I’ll answer the door- I’ll tell him you changed your mind- that you don’t want to be around him-!”

“Let me go-leave me alone-!”

“You heard ‘im he doesn’t wanna stay-!” Reve yelled nearly breathless.

“Sit down-.”

“I’ll tell him you’re sick-!”

“SIT DOWN BE QUIET!’

FLEX.

Papa was flung to the floor and Reve was flung out of the bedroom.

(reve wait downstairs i’ll deal with this)

The door slammed shut, and Reve finally decided to go to the door.

Reve slammed the door open- to meet Mr.Bazarov, pacing up and down the porch, the slam startled him.

“Faucher! It’s nice to see you!” Mr.Bazarov looked him up and down. “This is wonderful handiwork!” he said,coming closer and examining the homemade dress. “Where’d you get something like this?”

“Nicky made it for me, he didn’t really want me- us- to go to prom- but he wanted to help me get a dress.” Reve said, stepping out on the porch and twirling to give him a full view of the pink gown. “He thought it was too plain but I like it!”

“That’s wonderful-! But where’s Nicholas?” Mr. Bazarov asked.

(oh shit)

“He’s-.” Reve was about to explain, before everything went awry.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Everyone outside, even Ludwig and Matthew who were still in the car-and now leaving to investigate- put their hands over their ears. A scream rang out, a scream from Nicholas- but it wasn’t as vocal as it sounded.

(LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME AL)

Windows and doors all over the house slammed open, and they heard Papa screaming his head off. “Nicholas stop this! Don’t you dare-!”

Finally, everything finally stopped opening- just closed. Save for Papa’s screaming- now accompanied by sobbing.

“N-Nicholas please! Don’t-They laugh at you-THEY’LL LAUGH AND YOU KNOW IT!” he howled. “COME BACK-PLEASE- I’LL PROTECT YOU! I JUST WANT TO HELP!” Footsteps were approaching, fast and loudly- and intensified as Papa’s tirade continued.

“COME BACK-! THEY’RE GONNA LAUGH AT YOU! YOU FOOL! THE LORD IS NOT MOCKED! COME BACK AND PRAY!”

“SHUT UP!” Nicholas screamed into the air, “STAY IN THAT CLOSET- and don’t say a word until I’m gone.”

Everyone outside could finally breathe again as they had been holding their breaths.

Nicholas choked out a sob, “I’ll be home at 11:30, and if you’re good- I won’t leave like this again, okay?”

“................”

“I’m sorry Papa, I love you.” Nicholas hiccupped.

Now a quartet of Mr.Bazarov, Matthew, Reve and Ludwig met Nicholas as he stepped out onto the porch.

Mr.Bazarov approached him and put a hand on his back and rubbed it, bending over to see if Nicholas was crying. “Boy-boy are you alright?”

Nicholas simply nodded.

(please please hold me please someone hold me)

Reve came over and embraced Nicholas. “That was very brave of you Nicky, very brave.”

“Sorry to interrupt-” Ludwig had finally spoken, “But- is everyone ready to go?”

Nicholas said, “Yes, we’re raring to go.”

Reve turned to Ludwig and whispered, “Um, how do I look?”

Ludwig gave him a small smile with a red face, “Wunderbar.” before shoving his face in his hands.

Reve tilted his head, “Eh?”

“Wonderful- he means wonderful.” Matthew said butting in.

Reve swore steam was coming out of his ears like a kettle.

(ohohohohohohohohohoho)

“Thank you.”

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (19/21)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be.

And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I really do love you guys. I swear ❤️

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“Mom?”

“Mom?”

“Mom?”

“Mom!” Henry yells, tugging on the hem of her t-shirt until she looks down at him and at the cowlick that’s working its way to ridiculous levels at the back of his head.

“Yeah, kid?”

“I called your name, like, five hundred times, and you didn’t hear me. Are you going to be like Grandma and not be able to hear sometimes?”

She shakes her head from side to side, trying to drown out all of her thoughts as she focuses all of her attention on Henry. She has to focus her attention on him. She simply has to. “No, I’m not going to be like Grandma. I can still hear you. I was just distracted.”

“By what?”

Well that’s a loaded question, but she is too tired and too confused to be able to even begin to start addressing it to an eight-year-old, especially when she’s about to spend her entire day doing just that with several people who she really hopes are older than eight. That would be something else if there were child federal agents.

Has she lost her mind?

Running on fumes is exactly what’s happening to her, and she knows that it’s not going to be much longer until she is no longer running at all.

“Grown up stuff,” she hums, knowing that it’s a cop out but not caring as she takes a sip of her coffee, surprised by the fact that it’s cold. Didn’t she just make this pot five minutes ago? Her cup should be warm. Has it been longer than that? How long has she been standing in the kitchen zoned out? Is she even really awake? “What do you need, Henry?”

“I want to call my dad.”

Her cup falls from her hands, fingers loosening around the handle until she hears the crash of glass against wooden floor and the feel of tepid coffee moving over her bare feet, the slightest of stings echoing throughout her skin. She watches it happen as if it’s in slow motion, and it’s not until she hears Henry’s yelp that she realizes she just dropped her glass coffee mug on her son, the glass shards hitting him.

“Don’t move,” she shouts, holding her hands in front of her as she watches Henry’s bottom lip quiver and tears gather in his eyes. Ah, fuck. “Just…don’t move.”

She takes a step away from the broken glass and scoops Henry up from underneath his armpits. He’s far too big for her to be picking up, but she still can. And she doesn’t want him to get more cuts on his feet when she can already see some. She is the worst mother in the world. How could she do this?

“I-it hurts,” he whimpers, wiping at his nose while she gets the small pieces of glass out of his skin, guilt settling heavy in her stomach even though she knows it was an accident. An accident. She has to keep telling herself that it’s an accident because it was. Things happen. Accidents happen. That’s all this is. He’s simply in a little shock.

“I’m so, so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

“I know. It just hurts.”

“I know, I know,” she soothes, glad he hasn’t fallen into some kind of full on meltdown as she gets one last piece of glass away from his leg. None of the cuts are deep enough to need stitches or result in any lasting damage, but she absolutely cannot believe that she just did that. “There. They’re all gone, kid. Stick your feet in the sink so we can wash them. They’re kind of stinky.”

“And bloody.”

“That too,” she laughs, if only because Henry’s face has suddenly turned from a quivering mess into some kind of focused fascination on his blood.

Great. She’s got a kid obsessed with blood. Maybe that means he’ll be a doctor or something and not turn out like his…she can’t go there yet. If she fully accepts it more than she did last night – or really this morning – it makes it real. And if it’s real…she can’t handle that right now. Later, she’ll handle it all later.

She flips the handle at the base of the faucet, running her hand under it to make sure it’s cold water before placing Henry’s feet in the basin and washing them off, thankful that she managed to do the dishes at some point yesterday. She barely even remembers anything about yesterday right now.

“So can I call my dad?” Henry asks again, and she feels her entire body go cold, any warmth she had left completely evaporating.

“Why do you want to call your dad?”

“I had a dream last night that there were dinosaurs where he lived, and I wanted to ask him if some of them escaped from the Smithsonian. Like in that movie.”

This child is the light of her life. He and Ada are just…everything.

And he loves his dad…he loves Neal so much that she can feel her intestines twisting and breaking down. She can feel the heaviness in her heart and all her limbs, and it is taking every ounce of strength that has settled itself deep in her bones over the years for her to keep from breaking down right here. She thought that she was done crying over Neal, that he couldn’t keep hurting her, whether he meant to or not, but here he is continuously surprising her.

Yesterday he got angry that Henry had Killian, that she was with Killian, and she didn’t understand it. She especially doesn’t understand it now when she knows that he apparently never gave two shits about them in the past.

Because he abandoned them.

He could have come home, and he didn’t.

Did he ever really love her? Was any of her marriage real? Why would he have married her if it wasn’t?

Does he love Henry now? God, she hopes that he loves Henry now. No matter what he’s done she needs some part of him to love Henry even if he does not deserve Henry. He doesn’t…she has no idea how to feel about anything. She can’t decide between curling into a ball on the couch and hiding away from the world for awhile or punching Neal in the face and demanding answers that she doesn’t think he’ll ever give her.

How does she even go about this?

She thought her ex-husband coming back from the dead would be the most complicated thing to happen to her.

It’s not.

Her ex-husband being some kind of criminal mastermind who is most likely going to jail is the most complicated thing to ever happen to her because she has to explain that to a kid who looks up to Neal as the hero that they always told him Neal was.

Even heroes fall.

Sometimes heroes aren’t heroes after all. Sometimes they wear the costume, but behind the mask are dark eyes full of deceit and hatred but that are seen as bright and cheerful and worthy of trust without any question.

She should have asked more questions. She should have asked better ones.

And maybe her kryptonite for her superpower with lies fails a little when she’s trusting someone she loves.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have known?

“Emma, what the bloody hell is happening here?”

“You’re not supposed to use that word.”

“Aye, lad,” Killian confirms as she watches him step further into the kitchen with Ada in his arms, their daughter grabbing at his ears as he tentatively steps toward the sink, his eyes wide and full of concern. “I know. I’m sorry. What seems to have happened that you’ve got your feet in the sink?”

“Momma dropped her coffee, and the glass got stuck in my feet.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs, sticking his feet in the air and splattering water over the countertop, “it stings a little. Do we have any cool band-aids? Am I going to get a scar?”

“Yes to the band-aids, no to the scar.” Killian steps over the shattered cup and toward her, his hand ghosting over her arm until he’s looking into her eyes, pupils moving all over her face. “You have cuts on your feet, love. I’m going to…I’ll take care of Henry if you take Ada and stop moving around in here without shoes on.”

“I’m fine.”

His lips press together and curl downward, but he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding his head up and down and handing Ada to her. “Alright, lad, do you want Spiderman or Ninja Turtles? I know both are your favorite.”

She listens to the rest of their conversation as she takes Ada and sits down at the kitchen table, cringing a little with each step she takes. Shit, she must have a piece of glass in the sole of her foot.

“Mama.”

“Hi, sweetheart, hi,” she hums, placing Ada on the table and holding onto her leg, tapping her fingers against her leg. She turns one in less than a month, and Emma still can’t believe it. “Can you give me just a few moments to deal with this? I know you can’t, but a girl can hope.”

“Mama,” she repeats, clapping her hand down on Emma’s while she picks up her foot and looks at the glass ledged between her toes.

“One minute, Ada bug.” Tugging at the glass, she pulls it out, having to carefully maneuver when it snags on skin, a red gush of flood following it. “Shit.”

“You’re not supposed to say that word either,” Henry so helpfully adds.

“Pay attention to your father,” she mumbles back, having to bite her tongue to keep from cursing out her eight-year-old.

Once she gets the glass out and sees that there are no other pieces lodged in her skin, she stands and grabs Ada, picking her up and making her way to clean her own wound and wrap gauze around the balls of her feet and her toes. This entire morning is a bit of a mess, a bit of a disaster really (a whole ass disaster if she’s honest with herself), but this will most likely be the calmest part of her entire day. She’s gotten no sleep, her mind never turning off even when she and Killian laid in silence for hours this morning. At one point she had needed to turn her brain off, to get out of her own head, and she’d desperately kissed him until he made her forget, thrusting in and out of her and stealing her breath with the way his lips moved across her skin. And she did forget for at least a little while as pleasure curled between her thighs and heat spread across every inch of her flesh. It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and for those few minutes, she didn’t have to think about the brokenness in her heart over everything that she’d learned about Neal.

And everything she’s going to learn today.

She and Henry eventually get all cleaned up, as well as the broken glass and spilled coffee being removed from the floor, and after Killian makes Henry some scrambled eggs and toast and Emma forces Ada to eat some sweet potatoes, they move the kids to the living room and wait for Ruby to show up so that she and Killian can go down to the station. Her leg never stops moving, bouncing up and down off of the bandaged balls of her feet, and she props Ada on her knee because Emma’s nerves might as well work to make someone happy. And Ada definitely still gets the giggles from being bounced up and down.

What she would give for the innocence of a child.

“Hello, Jones clan,” Ruby announces when she walks in the house, easily opening the door since Killian left it unlocked. “Auntie Ruby is here, and I can guarantee my favorite munchkins are going to have more fun with me than with their parents.”

“Ruby,” Henry shouts, getting up from the couch and running toward her, holding his hand up so that they can do whatever kind of secret high five they’ve got going on this week. She doesn’t know how in the world that they come up with it in the five minutes that Ruby sees Henry every day when he comes by after school. “What are we going to do? Did you bring your paints? Can we go to your house so I can paint on the wall?”

“I like your enthusiasm, but we are staying here today. But I have been told by a very reliable source that ice cream is in your future today.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hey, Rubes,” she greets, getting up from the couch and leaving Ada on the cushions so that she can pull Ruby in for a hug. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Well, I didn’t have a date last night, so you guys got lucky while I did not.” She chuckles before pulling back, smiling at Ruby. “You look like crap, Emma. What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?”

She raises a brow. “Tomorrow?”

“Soon.”

“We need to go, Swan,” Killian tells her as she watches him lean down to kiss Ada’s cheek, murmuring something that she can’t hear before he walks over to where she’s standing and rests his hand on her lower back. “Thanks for watching them, Ruby.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything for Emma. And you two look terrible, so I hope this is some kind of spa retreat you’re going on and lying about.”

She wishes.

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the precinct, but her leg stays bouncing the entire time. She doesn’t know how Killian is calm enough to drive, but he effortlessly moves them through traffic, taking the detours around the downtown farmer’s markets until they’re pulling into a parking garage that is as gray and dreary as her mood.

Hell, it might even be brighter than her mood.

When Killian turns the engine off, all of the sounds of the car muting, she closes her eyes and inhales, her stomach attempting to settle itself. Killian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t encourage her to speak, but she feels the heavy, solid weight of his hand on her thigh through her leggingsand it causes a sob to catch in her throat. But she won’t let that one pass through her lips. Not now.

She has to be stronger than that.

In silence she opens her eyes and reaches for the handle on the door, pulling it and pushing it open after she unbuckles her seatbelt. She knows that Killian is following behind her, can feel his presence, but she takes it upon herself to walk down the stairwell with her eyes never leaving the ground until she crosses the bridge over into the building.

The moment she sees David when they walk into the precinct, her steps tick up a pace until she’s got her arms wrapped around his middle and his hand cradling the back of her head, pulling it closer to rest on his shoulder. He’s warm and smells like the spice of his cologne that he’s been wearing since she met him when she was fifteen. David has never liked change, and she finds an odd amount of comfort in that today.

“You okay?” he whispers into her ear, pressing his forearm a little harder against her back.

“No,” she admits honestly. There is no part of her that is okay, and there’s no point in lying to David. He knows more about her life than even she does right now, and he’s probably about to watch her have her heart ripped out of her chest. “I’m not.”

“You will be,” he promises, patting her head.

She nods her head and pulls back, taking a deep breath and straightening her back before fixing her ponytail, tightening it so that it rises on her head. “So where do we go? Who am I meeting?”

“Ah, that would be me,” a man with an Irish accent greets, holding his hand up with a shy smile on his face. He’s more handsome than she thought he would be, not that she really thought too much about it. She figured she’d be meeting with a man in his sixties with graying hair, not someone who can’t be older than forty with curly brown hair and a beard that kind of reminds her of Killian’s. “Agent Graham Humbert.”

“Emma Swan,” she says as she takes his hand. “And this is – ”

“We’ve met,” Killian grits as she turns to the side to look at him and the clench in his jaw. “Hello, Agent Humbert.”

“Hello, Mr. Jones.” Graham nods at him before looking back at David. “Do you two want any coffee or water before I take you into the conference room? We’ll be in there for awhile.”

“Coffee. All of the coffee that you have.”

“I’ll get it,” David offers, pressing his lips together before walking off to where she knows is their break down.

Agent Humbert tells them to follow them to the elevators, and they move up four floors before getting off and wandering down hallways she’s never been in before. Granted, she doesn’t spend too much time here, only coming when she’s getting lunch with David or dropping something off, and instead of focusing on how nervous she is, how her legs feel a little wobbly, she focuses on the sleek gray walls with few decorations, only framed certifications and one picture of the lighthouse resting just outside a conference room.

“So you’re a high school guidance counselor?” Agent Humbert asks as he holds open the door to the room, all of the blinds on the windows closed to the point where she’s starting to feel claustrophobic.

“I am.”

“My mum is an English teacher at a high school back home. I had her during my last year, and she mortified me nearly every single day.”

She laughs at that, but says nothing else, sitting down in an empty chair and scooting into the long table.

“Our son’s teacher is his aunt,” Killian fills in for her, pushing her chair in the rest of the way before he takes his own seat next to her. “I’m sure it’s not quite the same as having your mum be your teacher when you’re eighteen, but I know he gets frustrated over her assigning him homework.”

“This is David’s wife, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She watches as Agent Humbert takes his seat across from the two of them, and it’s only then that she notices the boxes of files he has stacked behind him. For some reason, out of everything that is making her nervous and angry and terrified out of her mind, it’s those that really get to her. This is real. This is happening. This is…this is really happening.

Holy shit.

Killian’s hand finds hers underneath the table, and even though her hand feels a little lax, Killian twines their fingers together and squeezes before running his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. It’s warm and soothing and altogether comforting, but she cannot focus on anything but the blind that is slightly bent behind Detective Humbert’s head.

She wants to go back to yesterday morning where Ada and Henry were having simultaneous meltdowns. That was so much better than this.

“Miss Swan – ”

“Emma,” she corrects, “please call me Emma.”

He smiles. “You may call me Graham as well. We may as well get to know each other.”

“Don’t you already know everything there is to know about me?”

Killian’s thumb taps against her, and her eyes dart to the side to look at him. He’s smiling the slightest bit, and surprisingly that helps calm the rolls of nausea making their way through her.

Graham laughs a bit too, but she can tell that he feels awkward around the two of them. It makes sense. She kind of just called him out on the fact that the government has been spying on their family.

Again, holy shit.

“No, no I don’t,” he answers with a soft smile as he twists around and grabs a tablet off the top of the box. “I assume Mr. Jones told you most of what’s going on, including that we’ve been surveying your ex-husband as a part of protocol for any criminal of war as they readjust to life as a regular member of society.”

“He did.”

The door opens behind them, and she twists her head around to see David walking into the room with a tray of coffee all poured into to-go containers. He hands her the drink first, and she immediately takes a sip, needing the caffeine. Bless David Nolan for knowing how she takes her coffee so that it isn’t some sludge.

“And you know that we’ve found suspicious activity, yeah?”

“Do I know that Neal is a fucking liar, yeah? Yeah, I know that.”

“Emma,” David scolds, sitting down next to Graham. “Detective Humbert is just doing his job.”

“My life is falling apart, David, so excuse me if I’m not perfectly polite in every way. I’m not a freaking Disney character.”

Her eyes squeeze close at the same time that Killian’s hand squeezes hers. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if he lets go.

“It’s okay,” Graham soothes, smiling at her before looking down at something on the tablet. “I can’t understand what you’re going through, but I understand that there are emotions behind it. I’m fully prepared to get yelled at many times today. Your partner did the same yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such creative cursing.”

She has to look at Killian then, has to look at the dark circles under his eyes and the lines covering his face that seem a little more prominent than usual. For a few minutes last night she took the time to check on how he was doing, to make sure that he was okay, because she knows just how much he’s been beating himself up over all of this. She knows. For weeks she thought it was something else, she thought that he was working on a proposal or something. How could she have continuously been so blind to things that were happening under her nose? A part of her understands not knowing that Neal had other loyalties, but another part tells her that she should have known. She knows him better than anyone does, at least she thought she did, and she should have known something was up.

With Killian…she has no reasoning or excuses. There is no plausible reason for her to have not realized that he was struggling with something far bigger than she ever could have imagined.

She was so damn stupid for thinking that he was okay.

She was so damn selfish for spending all of that time thinking that he didn’t want to marry her because he thought that she was too much and not enough all at once when Killian has never made her feel anything but just right.

Last night he walked into the home that they share with secrets that he knew would break her down, and he still managed to do that, to say the words, to try to calmly explain things to her when she was losing her mind. She gulps and blinks for a moment to calm herself before moving their hands from her thigh and bring them to her mouth so that she can brush her lips against his wrist, a silent thank you for taking all of this on.

From now on, though, they have to talk about things. They are not carrying these burdens alone.

“Just…can you go ahead and talk to me about everything? You don’t have to beat around the bush. I can handle it.”

Graham nods before reaching behind him and handing David a file of paper and returning to his tablet. “So we had a protocol to follow Sergeant Cassidy because he fit the profile for someone who had been tortured and brainwashed, possibly for terroristic threats. He was so well adjusted when he returned home, all of his psychological profiles being passed with flying colors, and all of his scars seemed to be aged and healed, not fresh ones. None of that really means anything, but we have discovered a pattern in the past for prisoners of war that make things like that be a warning sign.”

“For terrorism?”

“Yes, but we don’t think Sergeant Cassidy is carrying out some kind of terroristic plot to destroy the government or kill our leaders. But that is part of the reason therapy was strongly encouraged, especially by a therapist that the government recommended, but as soon as Neal was finished with his mandated sessions, he stopped going altogether.”

“When was that?”

“December.”

She thought he went every week. He’s…he hasn’t been going in four months.

“So where did he go?”

“We’re not sure entirely. Killian said that several times he saw Neal getting into a car or not going to his appointments or his support groups. That was a bloody risky move, by the way.”

“Keep going,” Killian demands, his voice gruff as he’s obviously not in the mood to talk about anything that he did to help this. Neal is his friend too, and it all stems back to her not even knowing how in the world he had the strength to keep himself together.

“What this all basically boils down to,” Graham continues while David flips a page in his folder, writing down notes, “is that we’re after Robert Gold, Sergeant Cassidy’s father. I’ve only been involved recently since this now involves the United States, so I don’t have the full extent of experience like some of my colleagues overseas.”

“Then why aren’t they talking to us?”

“Because the things they know they cannot tell you, and I tend to get assigned to explaining things to family and questioning them for international affairs since the bureau thinks that my dual citizenship makes me seem worldly or something.”

That sounds like a load of crap, but Killian gets things like that happening to him all of the time because he used to live in England.

“Emma,” David sighs, finally speaking, “when you and Neal were dating, what did he tell you about his father?”

She turns to David, happy to be talking to a familiar face, happy to be talking to her brother. She needs him as much as she needs Killian right now, and a part of her can’t believe he’s allowed to be in this room. None of this makes any sense, but she’s kind of given up on the hope that things will. Insanity is her new normal.

“That he was dead, that his mom was dead,” she explains, taking a sip of her coffee. “He grew up as an orphan, and I believed him because I mostly did too, you know? I felt like that made him understand me in a way that a lot of people can’t, so I had absolutely no idea that his dad was alive. I can’t give you any information about that because I know nothing about it. But…Robert Gold, that’s his name? And he’s an engineer?”

“His name is Robert Gold, yes. He’s sixty years old, from London, and he owns Aurum Engineering. He’s been suspected of illegal arms manufacturing and trafficking for a little over two decades, but the trails are always covered expertly. It’s…there were no flaws until Neal Gold was hired as a project manager in the company. Paper trails started to appear so that we could track where shipments of weapons were being delivered, and last October, they started showing up in Maine. It took awhile for the connection to be made, as I was unaware of the case happening in England, but once it was, it was pretty easy to tie together.”

“I get…” she sighs, throwing her head back and sinking a little further into her chair so that her neck rests against the cushions of it. “I get that Neal’s dad is apparently alive, which is batshit crazy, and that the two of them are apparently making money off of selling weapons to criminals, which is also batshit crazy, but I need someone to explain to me how in the world Neal went from being deployed and captured by Al-Qaeda to living with his dad in London to being rescued and moved home. None of that makes any fucking sense.”

She reluctantly releases Killian’s hand and pushes back from her chair, standing to her feet and pacing back and forth over the gray carpet. She can’t look at any of the people in this room anymore. She can’t even look at Killian because right now she feels like looking at him will only break her down instead of building her up. This is so damn much to take in, and even though she hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, she cannot sit down to listen to this. She needs to know how and why Neal left her, and even though she knows that Graham can’t really give her those answers, she wants them.

She needs them.

“The people Robert Gold sells his weapons to, his main source of income comes from criminal and terrorist organizations, including the one that captured Sergeant Cassidy. We don’t know for sure, especially because this isn’t our main focus, but we believe that Sergeant Cassidy most likely told his captors who his father was in some desperate attempt to escape. A man who was a prisoner at the same time as him, August Booth, told us that one day they were in the cell together and the next that Sergeant Cassidy was gone. He’d assumed that Sergeant Cassidy was dead, but then he showed back up years later looking as healthy as he did when they were captured.”

“Neal,” she mumbles under her breath, watching the white of her sneakers move against the ugly gray carpet. “Call him Neal instead of Sergeant Cassidy. You’re ripping apart our lives. You can call us by our first names.”

“Neal then,” Graham agrees. “We’re assuming that his father paid for his release, and that’s why Neal started living in England under his birth name. We were kind of hoping you could help tell us why he’d stage being captured again only to be rescued so he could come home.”

Her pacing stops, and she digs her heels into the carpet, wishing that she could burrow a hole in the floor and escape all of this. Her legs feel heavy enough. She should be able to fall right through the floor, but realistically she knows that she cannot. When she looks up, David is staring at her, his eyes widened, and she has to look away and back to the floor. She can handle this if she’s looking at the floor and focusing on the pulls in the carpet.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, the words steadier than she thought they would be even though she can hear the tremble in her own voice. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t know anything. All I knew was that my husband died, and I was left alone with our baby. It took me years to even come close to being okay with that, to moving on, and even with that, I still had all of this lingering guilt, you know? I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be happy again. And then I was. I had this great life, and then Neal shows up alive which was…wonderful. But apparently, he’s a lying jackass who left me and our son, but no, no I don’t know why he would fake another capture and rescue and come back into our lives just to do all of this. I can give you nothing.”

Her lungs gasp for air when she’s finished talking, and as her chest keeps heaving, she settles back down in her chair, folding her arms over each other and resting her face against her forearms on the table. A hand finds her back, rubbing in circles, and she refuses to look up as she keeps speaking.

“I don’t know,” she continues. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything about Neal leaving me, abandoning me. I don’t know anything about him coming back because he sure as hell didn’t come back for me. And if he did, he obviously didn’t do any research on me because he would have seen that I had a baby with another man, which he seemed to be very surprised at. But who knows? That could have been a lie too.” She groans, leaning back in her chair and running her hands through her hair as she stares Graham down. “I was an idiot and didn’t see any of the signs, any of the clues. Why would I ever suspect anything? To me, Neal is my sometimes asshole ex who I thought was my friend. I didn’t see the things Killian or David saw. I didn’t see any of it. But my question is, out of everything since you apparently don’t know anything, is why the hell haven’t you arrested him yet? You say you have all of this evidence, but he’s still living in Washington DC working for the fucking government, and you guys haven’t done a damn thing about it.”

Graham simply nods his head, his lips staying in a firm line. He really must be used to upset people yelling at him.

“We don’t want to alert his father to anything since, really, we don’t care about Neal. We mostly care about Mr. Gold. Neal will undoubtedly be arrested and go to prison, but we’d be willing to work with him to give us information on his father. His jail sentence would be at a minimum for his crimes, and one day he could reenter society, be a part of your family again.”

“Like hell he will,” Killian growls, slamming his hand down on the table. “You barely said any of this yesterday. You’re telling me that he has lied to the federal government, to all of us, and has helped actual terrorists, and you say as long as he helps you get dear old dad in jail, he can be free in a few years with a pat on the back and a free invitation to come back into my son’s life.”

“It’s how the law works.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.”

“Killian – ”

“No, Swan,” he stops, looking down at her while his upper lips snarls, white teeth showing. “I have killed myself over this, over trying to protect our family, and now I’m told that they only want Neal’s dad.”

“We discussed that yesterday. You knew that.”

“I thought you wanted them both. That’s the impression that I was under. I’m being dragged through the mud, my girlfriend is being dragged through the mud, and it’s for what? So we can essentially help Neal go free on a shortened sentence?”

“Isn’t that what you’d want? So you can all be a family again one day?”

Killian cackles, actually cackles, and she wonders if she sounded as crazy, as mad, as she did earlier. She’s never heard him like this, never heard his laugh as twisted as this, and her skin breaks out in gooseflesh. This is all too much, and she’s still so damn confused about everything.

“The man is a criminal who left his son and his wife and lied about all of it. He doesn’t deserve any part of them. He doesn’t deserve to be let off for his crimes simply because his father is the mastermind behind it all. He doesn’t – I don’t want him back in my life, in my son’s life, and I’m sure that Emma doesn’t either.”

Killian looks over at her, his eyes widened with rage, and she nods her head in agreement. “For all of mankind or whatever, I would definitely like an arms manufacturer who sells weapons to terrorists and criminals to be arrested and charged and for all of that to stop. For me personally, I think if Neal was a part of this, he deserves his due too. It breaks my heart for Henry, for me, and I don’t want our son around someone who could cause him harm, even if I don’t think that Neal would do anything to hurt Henry. But Neal works for the State Department dealing with arms control. Obviously he’s not innocent. He could be hurting a hell of a lot of people, and you’re going to let him go…just like that.”

“We thought this was what the two of you would want for your son.”

“Have you, Detective Humbert, ever been betrayed by the person you loved most in the world? You ever had everything taken away from you and had your world altered forever? Had everything you thought you knew ended up being a lie? No? You haven’t? I didn’t think so. But I have. That happened to me, and there’s not going to be some tearful, heartfelt family moment where I forgive him.”

“He’ll do his time,” Graham sighs as she tries to catch her breath after her rant, but it doesn’t bring her any comfort.

Nothing for the rest of the day does.

She and Killian spend the next five hours talking to Graham and David. It’s mostly Graham, but David pipes in every now and then. She thinks that maybe Graham expects her to feel better talking everything through, making it all be coherent, but little by little she can tell that she’s only really there because they need more information from her. But she doesn’t know. She can’t answer any of their questions about Neal because she doesn’t know any of the answers.

She doesn’t know anything. Not anymore.

No part of her life makes sense.

She can’t…this is really happening. How the hell is she going to tell Henry? Does she really even have to?

Every part of her body is numb, all of the sensations dulled as a low buzz rings in her ears, and even though she knows they leave the building, that she hugs David and shakes Detective Humbert’s hand, she doesn’t really recall. All she knows is that right now she’s sitting with Killian in the parking lot of a Whole Foods and staring at people walking in and out of the building because she told him that she wasn’t ready to go home yet.

The warmth of his right hand covers her left, their fingers intertwined, and she feels the rough pad of his thumb moving over her knuckles once more. It’s soothing like earlier, and it makes her stomach twist a little less inside as she messes with the pendant around her neck. Laughter bubbles within her, working its way up her throat and past her lips, and the sound almost seems unrecognizable as it makes its way through the air and settles between she and Killian. His thumb stops moving against hers for a brief moment before starting up again all while her chest heaves in laughter.

She’s lost her mind.

“Would you care to enlighten me to what’s happening in that mind of yours? I’m afraid I missed the joke.”

“I – I…it’s,” she sniffles, leaning her head back against the headrest while her eyes squeeze closed. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Why do you think that?”

She twists her head to the side to look at Killian and his soft smile and quirked brow. She loves him so damn much and doesn’t understand how in the world she got lucky enough to have such a partner in life when she wasn’t ever supposed to have such good things in her life. Not like Killian and her kids and her family. Not like this.

“Can I – can I share something ridiculous with you?”

He nods his head, his lips still curved into a smile even though she can see how stressed he is from the heaviness of his eyes. “You can share anything with me.”

God. It’s just not fair sometimes. He is such a damn good man.

“This whole time, these weeks that you’ve been secretive, I…this is dumb, okay? And literally the last thing I should be focusing on, but this whole time I thought you were being weird about things because you were going to propose. Like, how self-centered am I for not noticing that you were going through so much and for thinking that it was all about me? How many times did I blatantly ignore your suffering and make it about us getting married when that doesn’t even matter right now?”

Killian’s face doesn’t change, his smile never faltering, but he does bring their hands to his mouth and brush his lips across her knuckles while his eyes close, unfairly long lashes landing against his cheek. “Emma, my love, I have loved several women in my life, but I have never loved anyone in the way that I love you. You are – you are my everything,” he promises, opening his eyes and reaching his free hand over to her to rest his thumb against her cheek while her stomach twists inside. But in a good way this time. “I know that’s what you’ve been thinking, and darling, I’m glad for it. You deserved to be thinking happy things, hopeful things, instead of being in the pits of despair like I was. You’re not selfish. You’re human, and you were happy. That’s what I was trying to do…keep you happy.”

“I want you to be happy too.”

“Aye, and I am. I mean, not necessarily today but overall. I’ve got this great life. I have all of these people who love me, and I have these two kids who make my life worth living even when they’re being pains in my ass. And I have you, the woman who makes me laugh and the woman who I very much intend on marrying once our lives aren’t quite so hectic.”

“Is that every going to happen?”

“I have faith that it will, yeah,” he nods before leaning in to softly brush his lips over hers, nothing but the barest of touches that still means the absolute world to her. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and even though I have trouble accepting this for myself, I want you to know that everything you feel is valid, love. You were in the dark about a lot of things, but that’s not going to happen anymore. We’ve been through too much not to be open with each other.”

She nods her head in response, resting her forehead to Killian’s as his nose bumps hers. “I hate him for making me learn to love him again only for him to do this to us.”

“Me too.”

For the next hour she and Killian sit in that parking lot doing little more than exchanging a few words every so often, some of them deep, others playful, most of them solemn, but eventually she agrees that she’s ready to go home and hug their children and maybe not think about all of the heaviness that’s surrounding them. All she wants is to eat some junk food and sit with her family as they watch a movie in the darkness of the living room. She wants that comfort, and the thought of it makes her feel infinitely better as Killian pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park, squeezing her hand one more time before she steps out.

“Mom,” Henry squeals when she walks in the door, running up to her and pointing behind him, “look, my dad’s here.”

The words don’t register before the sight of him standing in the living room with Ada on his hip does, and suddenly she can focus on nothing but his arm wrapped around her daughter’s waist.

“Hey, Ems,” Neal smiles.

And her stomach drops.

[jui-imouto-chan]

This came around because of a mental combination of the hentai, Papa Datte, Shitai and Does Your Mother Know from Mamma Mia.

Ships: RK1K/Conkus//Markus/Connor and RK1700/900800//RK900/Connor

••••

Markus waved to Cole as the blonde dashed towards the bus at the corner of the block, lunchbox partially shut and backpack set askew on his shoulders.

He turned to the other man in the room, admiring the lean frame adorned in a sweatshirt and shorts, long legs captivating with the way the morning sunlight bounced off of them to reflect onto the counter. Little moles dotted the skin, creamy canvases that carried the promise of supple muscle that could be bitten and marked as they quivered and tensed—

���My eyes are still up here, Markus.”

The twenty-two year old sputtered out a quick, “Sorry,” his sheepishness having long been forgotten—certainly gone since after the second week of being Cole’s babysitter.

That was a night he’d never forget.

Unfortunately, that was not something he could dwell on; not until he was either somewhere Connor couldn’t see him or until Connor accepted his advances. Not to say Markus wanted to force himself upon Connor, no. North would sooner castrate him, though Markus would likely do so to himself out of sheer shame before she could get the chance.

No, it was because Connor was holding himself back.

“You’re handsome as ever, Connor.”

“And you’re young as ever,” Connor retorted around an exasperated sigh, “So, for the last time, call me Mr. Anderson.” He leaned over the counter to grab at another teabag, pouring more water into his mug and dropping the item into his mug. As it steeped, his hands drummed and twitched against the counter.

And perhaps Markus might still have been a ball of hormones at that moment, but he couldn’t help but consider where those hands have been over the course of Connor’s life—exploring and learning and discovering—and where they could be, at some point, if Markus would get lucky enough to convince Connor to let go of the inhibitions and false morality behind considering Markus a child. The age gap was barely fifteen years, but for whatever reason, it had Connor spooked and steering clear of Markus’ interest despite the two of them knowing he reciprocated it.

“You’re not as old as you try to insinuate with those comments. In fact, if I recall,” Markus hums, smirking, “there’ve been many people who think I’m the older one.”

Connor’s mouth twisted bitterly at that, taking a petulant sip of his tea. He cursed, tongue smarting between his lips; it was still far too hot to consume.

“Cudth you geh me thum ithe pleathe?”

“No, ice isn’t good to put immediately on a burn. Here,” Markus retrieved water from the sink in a glass. Connor continued to point at the freezer, particularly the ice dispenser, displeased sounds muffled by his dangling tongue. “Drink.”

“Uh-uh.”

Markus rolled his eyes. Connor could be more of a child than Cole, at times.

He shrugged, then, half-smirking at Connor.

“You asked for it.”

“Wha—?”

Markus took a swig from the glass and set it down, arms caging Connor against the counter and putting his mouth to Connor’s.

“Mmmphh—“

Markus gently brushed Connor’s tongue with his own, carefully flicking water onto it. Connor didn’t fight as much as he’ll claim he did after this, melting into the kiss, Markus’ arms pulling him closer, fire spreading under his skin everywhere Markus’ hands touched.

Connor was always weak to Markus. The younger seemed to take advantage of that whenever he could, and now was certainly no exception. He took and took and took, and Connor let him, Markus’ hands coming down to pull his legs up around his waist, gripping his ass with intent to leave marks.

Markus growled into his mouth with his teeth seeking out Connor’s lips, grazing Connor’s tongue in the process and earning a hiss of pleasure underlying a played-up, false pain. It was excuse enough to separate from the intoxicating liplock. Connor was dizzy from the desire that pulsed through his body, leaving his knees weak and his limbs fuzzy, like static buzzed in every tendon.

“...I can’t keep doing this.” Connor murmured, hazy eyes meeting Markus’ and then fluttering, looking somewhere else so Markus couldn’t persuade him to give in, no matter how Connor wanted to offer himself up to those hypnotic orbs. “You should really just find someone your age, Markus.”

“This has nothing to do with our ages, Connor. There are plenty of people at school I could sleep with if I wanted to, but that’s not the point. Because I don’t just want to sleep with you, Connor.”

The brunette gestured to their current position, raising an eyebrow to show off his counterargument.

Markus sheepishly released him, though he didn’t back away in the slightest. If anything, he drew closer, until they shared breath. Connor’s legs, weakly falling to either sides of his hips, twitched and squeezed his body for a moment before quickly releasing him, coloring jumping to his cheeks at his accidental action. “Sorry about that. But, you do something to me,—always get me going and craving you. I can’t stop thinking about you. And when you’re so close to me, letting me do this....well, I can’t seem to stop myself.”

Connor let out a long exhale, smiling somewhat sadly. “That’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t let you keep making this mistake—“

“It’s not a mistake, Connor. I never said that. Just because I lose control doesn’t mean I don’t want to... don’t want you.” Markus rubbed his thumb along the curve of Connor’s cheek, observing Connor’s lashes flit across the tip—the same sensation as the batting of a butterfly’s wings. “Is it me, Connor? Do you not want me? Or is it my age?”

No matter what impression Connor hoped he could give off, he yearned. Yearned to be able to kiss the somber look off of Markus’ face and return his embrace. Yearned to care less about the opinions of his gossiping neighbors, who looked upon him with such ire in the days following any night he’d bring a man home.

Yearned to live without fear that his dear, precious Cole would be tainted by the perceptions and misconceptions of the people around them.

Markus’ eyes melted, lidding as he drew nearer, lips tenderly brushing across Connor’s, caressing with feather-light touches that sent little shocks down Connor’s spine, all the way to his toes, which curled against the wood cabinets below the counter. His entire body tingled with desire, begging Connor to submit, to accept and allow Markus to see him entirely, more than he had on the one night Connor wasn’t careful enough—

But Connor couldn’t.

With a gentle hand, he pushed at Markus’ shoulder, weakly separating from him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. With that, he dropped to the floor and padded off to his room to get ready for work an hour early.

Markus’ hands clenched at his sides. Biting his inner cheek, the heterochromatic man collected his things and headed home.

This was far from over.

•••

“Why haven’t you been doing your homework?” Connor asked, attempting to smooth down some of Cole’s rampant cowlicks, blonde curls flicking about his fingers before springing up, wiry strands fluttering in the breeze of his breath.

Cole pursed his lips, avoiding eye-contact. Out of habit, he toyed with the extra button that‘d been sown into his shirt, stubby fingertips circling and picking it. “I want you to help me with it. But Markus has me sleep before you come home, so I never do it. And in the morning, you’re always so sleepy....”

Connor paused, seeking Cole’s large ocean pools and catching them. After a moment of gazing into them, losing himself in a train of thought he deemed unimportant, he patted his child’s cheek and let the tiniest ghost of a smile subtly lift his cheeks and curl his lips.

“Alright.”

Taking Cole’s hand, they ambled over to the classroom, Connor asking Cole quiet questions about random objects in the room, Cole explaining each and every item eagerly, as eventually pointing things out on his own to eagerly regale jumbled anecdotes about them.

Connor reached the front of the room after Cole had gestured wildly while telling a story about Alice and then apologized with fervor upon accidentally smacking Connor in the stomach with one wayward hand motion, worried his strength had “pulverized [Connor’s] internal organs”.

Connor made a mental note to monitor Cole’s media consumption—at least so he could watch whatever show he’d quoted with him. He’d ask later, once he found a break from the department and had enough free time.

...When was the last time they’d watched anything but the morning news together?

“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Anderson. I know you’ve been quite busy, so I’m sorry to have called you on such short notice.” At that comment, Cole appeared bashful to the point of shame, guilt washing over him as his eyes directed themselves to Connor’s face, which held a pleasant smile.

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help Cole in any way I can, so coming here is not at all an inconvenience. In fact, talking with Cole made me realize that I haven’t been doing enough for him as a parent. I promise that Cole will start turning in his work soon.”

Cole’s teacher, Mr. Stern, gave him an appraising glance up and down, his snowy eyes glimmering with interest behind his glasses, the dark frames a stark contrast to his pale skin.

“Pinkie promise?” he said, a half-smirk pulling mischievously at his mouth.

Connor was fairly certain that he was intending for Connor to be staring at it, especially when his tongue flicked out for a moment to wet his lips.

Connor shook off any thoughts beyond politeness, pointedly aware of Cole latched to his hand. He grinned playfully, as much as was appropriate, and twined his pinkie with the teacher’s, Cole joining their agreement with his own tiny finger curling over theirs.

Mr. Stern patted Cole’s head. “I’ll give you time to get caught up, and if you ever need help, feel free to ask me, alright? Alright. Now, I think Alice wants to tell you about the house she made at recess.”

Cole’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, insistently tugging Connor down for a kiss on the cheek and a rushed, ‘I love you,’ before dashing over to Alice, a bounce in his step and giggles in his breath.

Connor watched after him with fondness, soft eyes sparkling.

“You’ve raised him splendidly; I’m honestly impressed. Despite the rare hiccups, he’s one of the best I’ve had.” Mr. Stern gave him a tiny smile.

“Thank you.” Connor turned his smile to the teacher, only to bite his lip when he saw silver lazily drag over his features once more. A peek of tongue slipped over Mr. Stern’s lips, earning a shiver and a lip bite from Connor. It was hard to suppress the urge to respond, his body still a bit needy from going so long barely able to sate himself.

If only he’d let Markus—

No.

It wasn’t the best alternative, still being a close, semi-authoritative figure in Cole’s life, but Connor could tell that Mr. Stern wasn’t too concerned about the potential ramifications of a quick coupling.

A one night stand wouldn’t hurt them, and the school year was very nearly finished. Connor likely wouldn’t have to see him again afterwards, as long as he’d get Cole to do well and behave.

“You know,” Connor began, grin gaining a bit of salacious intent, “I’d be just as eager to have a lesson as Cole is if I’d have you for a teacher. Would you mind... teaching me a little something after class has finished, Mr. Stern?”

Said man’s eyebrows raised, amusement coming across clear. Connor hoped he wasn’t getting too ahead of himself, especially with his forwardness. He wasn’t used to being the one to lay on the flirtation, but the way Mr. Stern leant in close, voice soft but still deep—enough so to get Connor’s knees to buckle and a shuddering breath to leave his mouth— and whispered, “Only if you’re a good boy and behave during my teaching,” well, Connor was certain that it worked.

After school, Connor urged Cole to leave with Markus, claiming to want to speak more in-depth with Mr. Stern. The way he shifted his weight and played with his own hair, along with the slight puffiness in his lower lip from biting it, seemed to have roused some suspicion in Markus, but the younger man simply cast him a disheartened and disappointed look before driving off, making no comment.

Connor made his way back to the classroom, switching from a stride to a saunter upon entering and heading for Mr. Stern. The classroom door thudded hollowly behind him, earning Mr. Stern’s attention. They locked eyes, and when the teacher opened his mouth to chuckle and smirk, Connor couldn’t help but notice the presence of slightly sharper-than-standard teeth.

“Are you ready for your personal lesson?”

Connor nearly trembled in excitement. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Stern rose, and instead of picking up his bag and keys, he backed Connor into his office chair, which was near a student’s desk. Connor yelped quietly at the unexpected drop into it, but he muted himself when Mr. Stern pinned him to the seat and hovered near his ear. “Exactly what I was hoping to hear.”

••••

Want to see what happens next? I’m gonna need some requests for it!

I now have a Ko-Fi! If you’d like to support me and my ever-rare fics, here’s the link: https://ko-fi.com/jui_imouto_chan

And if you have requests, send them in! I have asks open, submissions open, and I love finding people in my messages!

The discord is also still around, even if it’s a little dead most of the time! https://discord.gg/2EDyfr9

-Jui

[fountainpenguin]

Continue MML?

I haven’t kept up with “Milo Murphy’s Law” since the crossover with “Phineas and Ferb.” The existence of the crossover was the main reason I watched MML to begin with, and I haven’t yet connected with the show. 

My rough understanding is that there have been other episodes since, and I was wondering if someone who’s seen them could let me know whether the show is worth watching when I haven’t liked it much so far (I’m using “worth watching” to specifically mean whether the show will fit my own tastes).

I would like to know if one or more of these things has happened since I fell out of the loop:

Do Milo, Zack, and/or Melissa show any of the Seven Deadly Sins? Or any character flaws at all? I’m not picky as long as a flaw exists that directly results in a minimum of one consequence at some point in their existence.

Have we gotten any backstory for Dakota and Cavendish (i.e. What even is the Bureau of Time Travel, how does it work, how did their boss get to where he is, what is even the point of including time travel in this show, why has Dakota been creepily obsessed with Cavendish since Day 1, what are their pre-team-up pasts)?

Does Sara get fleshed out beyond her love of “Doctor Zone”?

Do Brick and Savannah get together romantically? Because if so, that’s an instant deal-breaker for me.

For the same reason, has the Melissa / Zack relationship become romantic instead of platonic? I’m getting the sense that it’s endgame, so I’m okay with it shifting that direction, but I’d like to know if it’s already become a big deal or if it’s simply a casual thing that doesn’t take up more time than actual plot stuff.

I was a huge fan of the Adversity Twins in "Total Drama,” so I love the CONCEPT of the show, of a kid genetically predisposed to experiencing a great deal of bad luck but has a cheerful attitude, and I’m eager to enjoy it if it’s going to match my tastes later on, but it’s been a struggle so far and I’m just curious to know whether I should keep pushing through or not (Again, for my personal tastes- nothing against the show itself, which is cute in its own way, but just isn’t my usual go-to flavor thus far).

Thank you.

[thecomicsnexus]

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES ADVENTURES #19-20 / MIGHTY MUTANIMALS #1-3 APRIL - JULY 1991 BY RYAN BROWN, DEAN CLARRAIN (STEVE MURPHY), GARRETT HO, DAN BERGER, BARRY GROSSMAN, KEN MITCHRONEY, GARY FIELDS, ART LEONARDI, MIKE KAZALEH, BRIAN THOMAS, BILL WRAY, HILARY BARTA, JOHN BEATTY AND MARK PACELLA

SYNOPSIS (MIXED FROM COMIC VINE AND TMNT ENTITY)

Leo, Mike, Don and Mondo are enjoying the view high atop a New York skyscraper. Donatello is studying the building with the familiar logo and pondering what the strange meteors that had been floating around it could have been when April and Master Splinter arrive. The Sensei states that Raph is on his way. O'Neil announces that Splinter has begun to teach her how to use a katana and that the pair have been investigating the owner of the building that Donatello was wondering about. April states that the news is not good - the skyscraper is owned by a businessman named Null. Our heroes begin to ponder what other evils Null has his fingers in...

Meanwhile, Mr. Null is negotiating with the buggy Skul and Bean. The aliens are unhappy with Null's proposal that a contract must be signed and state that their Queen Maligna's word is enough. The pair then reveal how they had disguised their ship as a meteor and followed Cudley the Cowlick across the universe to the planet Earth, where they met Null. The bogus businessman dictates the terms of their agreement: Null wants Maligna to give him the means to take his businesses off-planet and in return he will give the bugs the Earth. Maligna's ambassador agrees to the deal and shakes hands with the crooked capitalist. Skul and Bean state that Maligna is on her way to the planet.

Meanwhile, Man Ray is swimming with some dolphins when he discovers a strange array of meteors on the floor of the ocean. When the mighty mutant investigates, one of the asteroids springs to life and crashes into his chest, carrying him out of the sea and high into the sky at tremendous velocity.

Soon enough, the meteor comes crashing down onto a beach - that's inhabited by Jagwar and Dreadmon! Ray is dazed from the crash, but recovers quickly - as does the asteroid, which begins to crack apart.

Back in the Big Apple, April, Splinter and Don are trying to come up with a plan on how to get inside Null's headquarters when they're interrupted by The Kid - who holds them at gunpoint. Fortunately Raphael shows up and knocks out the Kid. As everyone congratulates Raph for his quick take down, Skul and Bean arrive and a battle ensues. Our heroes have a hard time as the bug's body armor is tremendously durable. Eventually Bean launches a stink bomb out of his skull, which creates a noxious cloud that knocks out our heroes. As the aliens congratulate each other for a job well done, Mr. Null arrives and reveals his true form - that of a devil!

After a recap of the important events leading up to this issue, we rejoin Jagwar, Dreadmon and Man Ray on the South American beach as they observe the strange meteorite crack open. The meteorite turns out to be an “egg” full of Maligna’s spawn: weird blue caterpillars.

Speaking of Queen Maligna, back at her outer space headquarters, she has Stump and Sling held prisoner. She isn’t pleased with their interference during the battle of Hirobyl and sentences them to be burned alive in her furnaces. As they’re being dragged off by guards, the two tree-guys are rescued by their employee, Leatherhead. As Leatherhead wrestles with the guards, Wingnut and Screwloose swoop in and airlift Stump and Sling out of the fracas. They all manage to escape through a window and into the maw of Cudley the Cowlick.

Back at Null’s corporate headquarters in New York City, the Turtles, April, Splinter and Mondo Gecko have been subdued and tied-up by Null, Skul and Bean. As Kid Terra comes to, he makes up a hasty (and fake) excuse that he was trying to take down the Turtles for Null when Raph took him by surprise. Null gloats over his victory and then leaves with Skul and Bean to finalize the sale of planet Earth to Queen Maligna. Left alone, Splinter asks everyone to stop struggling and create an environment of tranquility so he can focus on mentally summoning some back-up.

At the Stump Arena, Stump tells what he knows of Maligna’s plot to Leatherhead, Wingnut and Screwloose. The three anthropomorphic animals aren’t about to let anything happen to Earth, so they hitch a ride there with Cudley the Cowlick. The ride is an unpleasant one, though, as Cudley is shot down by one of Maligna’s ships.

On the South American shore, Man Ray and friends inspect the meteorite “egg” and find the last remaining “caterpillars” feasting on their dead brothers (yuck). They then follow the caterpillars and find them munching down the rainforest. The environmentally-minded Jagwar protests, resulting in the hungry caterpillars stampeding toward him and his friends.

At Null’s building, Splinter’s back-up arrives in the form of a pack of rats. The rats chew through their bonds, setting the heroes free. The Turtles grab their weapons (which Kid Terra “accidentally” left in the room with them) just as Skul and Bean return. Better prepared, the Turtles put up a better fight with the aliens this time around. Bean then fires another smoke-bomb from his head and when the fog clears, the Turtles are left to watch as the bad guys escape in their spaceship. As the ship zooms off into the distance, Splinter realizes that both Raph and Mondo have stolen away on it.

In South America, Man Ray, Dreadmon and Jagwar flee the approaching bugs, only to stumble upon the downed Cudley amongst a field of grazing cattle.

At the Hive World, Queen Maligna probes the mind of one of her children and discovers that he successfully shot down Cudley the Cowlick. Grateful, she rewards her child by eating him.

In the Amazon, Jagwar, Dreamon and Man Ray are investigating the downed Cudley, who is having his wounds licked by several local bovine. They quickly make friends with Cudley, only to be ambushed by Leatherhead, Wingnut and Screwloose, who haven’t figured that part out yet. The mutants brawl with one another until Cudley screams some sense into them, redirecting their attention to the forest full of cocoons which were formerly Maligna’s caterpillar-like spawn.

On Skul and Bean’s ship, Null is ecstatic over the prospect of taking his business into outer space; a goal he had been striving for even before be met Maligna’s stooges. Meanwhile, Kid Terra sneaks Mondo’s skateboard over to Mondo and Raph, who have stowed away on the ship. Terra silently gives them a thumbs up, thoroughly confusing the two heroes. The ship then docks at the Hive World.

After everyone has left, Mondo and Raph sneak out. Knocking out a guard, they find the exoskeleton leftovers of several of Maligna’s children whom she had devoured. They slip into the exoskeleton “armor” (though Mondo remarks at how creepy what they’re doing is) and skulk around the Hive before being sniffed out by several guards. They defeat the guards and begin gloating over their easy victory, unaware that Queen Maligna lurks behind them.

Back in the Amazon, the mutants observe the cocoons. Wingnut and Screwloose want to burn them all to death before they can awaken, though Dreadmon and Leatherhead reject the strategy, as it’s tantamount to killing someone in their sleep. Wingnut and Screwloose disagree and fly away as the mutants prepare camp.

That night, Jagwar tells the story of how he came to be. His mother, seeking enlightenment, journeyed to a temple deep in the Amazon to commune with the Jaguar Spirit (named Yaguaro). The two fell in love (um…bestiality?) and eventually spawned Jagwar. After his twelfth birthday, Jagwar’s mother traveled north to seek further enlightenment while his father journeyed into the heart of the rain forest in an attempt to keep it alive.

Dreadmon then picks up the cue to spin his yarn. His family originated from South Africa, where his father was a fierce opponent of apartheid and segregation. When things became too dangerous, he sent “Dreadmon” to live in Jamaica (in poverty). “Dreadmon” grew to resent the rich white tourists and began stealing from them, eventually acquiring a totem of a Tasmanian wolf from an Australian sheep rancher. The totem gifted him with super speed, but cursed him by transforming him into a wolf-man after the first full moon of his puberty. The totem was subsequently stolen from him, leaving him stuck that way. After the locals began threatening him with bad voodoo, Dreadmon fled to the Amazon.

Storytime is suddenly interrupted by the return of Wingnut and Screwloose. They alert the mutants to the awakening of the cocoons. The heroes then prepare to make their stand.

Back at the Hive World, Queen Maligna pounces on Raph and Mondo. The pair put up a fight, but are eventually subdued. As she orders them to be put in prison cells and fattened up for her feast, Maligna announces to Skul, Bean, Null and Terra that they have at last arrived at planet Earth.

On Earth, the Mutanimals prepare to battle Maligna’s fully-grown children. As the battle begins, Screwloose explains how Maligna destroys planets: Her children eat the planet’s rain forests, converting them into carbon dioxide and chlorofluorocarbon gases which heat up the planet and destroy the ozone, allowing ultraviolet radiation to destroy plankton and crops, thus crippling the food chain (convoluted!). The Mutanimals aren’t about to let that happen and fight on.

Back at the Hive World, Raph and Mondo are being basted in a paralyzing honey in order to make them more palatable to Queen Maligna.

In South America, the Mutanimals continue to take down Maligna’s children with relative ease as Cudley transports the fallen warriors back to a safe place in Dimension X. As soon as they believe they’ve won, though, the Hive World touches down on Earth. With the power of her hive mind, Maligna unleashes thousands of war ships which begin attacking all over the world. The Mutanimals begin to lose hope, only to be attacked by Skul and Bean. The Mutanimals fight back, but find this pair of Malignoids to be far tougher than the others.

Onboard the Hive World, Kid Terra makes his move. He shoots the two Malignoids holding Raph and Mondo hostage and helps them clean the paralyzing honey off of themselves.

Outside, the fight against Skul and Bean remains at a stalemate. Skul requests that Bean launch another smoke bomb from the spout on his head. Bean complies, only to have the spout clogged by a well-aimed rock from Screwloose. The bomb explodes inside his head, rendering him unconscious.

On the Hive World, Raph, Mondo and Kid Terra take Maligna by surprise. Kid Terra shoots off one of Maligna’s antennae which she uses to control the hive mind. Without it, her children become lost and defenseless. Maligna surrenders and orders all of her children back to the Hive World.

Outside, Leatherhead puts the finishing touches on Skul. Raph, Mondo and Kid Terra then teleport over to their location and force Maligna to admit defeat, making her promise to leave Earth. As Maligna leaves with the Hive World, however, she vows to return for vengeance some day.

Later that night, Kid Terra asks Man Ray for forgiveness for accidentally killing Bubbla. Man Ray says nothing and turns his back Terra. Just then, he notices several eyes watching him from the forest. They turn out to be cattle. As the Mutanimals celebrate their victory by a campfire, a very unhappy Null lights up a cigar and marches off into the wilderness. Out in space, Stump, Sling, Tyme an Fayme thank everyone for watching.

Meanwhile in New York...

As the smoke from the rubble created by the spaceship begins to clear, police helicopters arrive and our heroes make their escape to the streets. They find a nearby bin filled with clothes and don disguises. As the Turtles make their way through China Town, Donatello asks Splinter what they're going to do about Mondo and Raph, and the Sensei replies that there's nothing that they can do other than trust in Raph's abilities and have faith that they will return. The group hears sirens and makes for cover, as a fire truck races by. Splinter suggests that they do some shopping at a nearby curio shop, but when they get to the store, they discover that it's the building that has caught fire.

An old man is trying valiantly to save his goods, but a police officer grabs him and holds him back, saying that the items aren't worth the fellow's life. Just then a woman screams that her baby daughter is trapped in the building - the TMNT immediately decide that they have to save the child, but a fireman rushes into the failing structure first. He finds the baby, but as he picks her up, the roof collapses!

Outside, the old curio shop owner clutches a golden dragon statuette and states, "This must not be..."

Inside, the fireman begins to transform - and he becomes a gigantic, golden dragon! The dragon gives the baby girl to her mother, and then collapses, reverting back to the fireman. Splinter and the Turtles speak with the owner of the curio shop and they carry the fireman off to receive treatment.

Meanwhile, the fire continues to blaze out of control as a giant Foot robot appears in the city and begins to wreak havoc!

The curio shop owner, Chu, has done what he can for the fireman. Splinter compliments the man on his healing techniques, and Chu explains that they have been handed down to him from his forefathers. Splinter asks if the dragon spirit is also a family heirloom, and Chu asserts that it is. Suddenly, the TMNT hear the sounds of the Foot robot's attack and rush to investigate.

Outside, the monstrous Foot is demolishing everything in sight. The Turtles attack, but their efforts seem useless. They decide to climb to the head of the robot and do what they can from there - which proves to be very little.

Back inside, the fireman is finally awake. The old man explains that the fireman, Chu Hsi, is now one with the Warrior Dragon spirit. Splinter asks the young Chu if he can summon the dragon again, since the city is under seige by another giant. The fireman is unsure if he can manage it, but for the good of all, he makes the effort, and the Warrior Dragon walks once more.

A gigantic battle ensues, and the Dragon eventually defeats the robot. The TMNT congratulate the golden avenger on his accomplishment, and head for home.

REVIEW

This is kind of a new story to me. I originally read the TMNT issues, but Mighty Mutanimals was never published in my country. It makes much more sense now.

Thanks to the TMNT Entity blog, I also just found out that Dean Clarrain was Steve Murphy’s pseudonym.

Anyway, at this point I am used to this book having an ecological agenda, but I feel like it’s being too heavy-handed. There is one page where Screwloose explains the greenhouse effect in the middle of a fight that just doesn’t work. If you want kids to learn these things, put your exposition in the art.

I was always impressed by the art in issue #20. The style fits Chinatown too well, and I kind of wished these were the regular artists of the book (this title will start experiencing a series of fill-in artists, some of them legends).

Were the Mutanimals a cash grab? Probably, but they didn’t prosper that much (other than a short-lived ongoing, and the eventual revival from IDW and I think the 2012 cartoon).

Speaking of long arc, this story is still not over and it never really had a break since issue 5. It is a good thing that they managed to make every issue its own thing.

I give this story a score of 8.