#sorry for my wailing anyway lol

[miiaoq]

The Front Bottoms // The Pageant STLMO 9/25/24

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds�� where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[pynkhues]

https://www.tumblr.com/pynkhues/766748848331898880/growing-up-in-a-cattle-station-family-in-rural?source=share

This is kind of blowing my mind--I'm American and we are obviously a very big country, but I'm trying to imagine anyone having so much land (or just so much land being available anywhere) that they would have to drive four hours even to reach the edge of their own property

Yeah, I mean!! Australia's a big country, and - globally speaking - no one lives here, lol. I can't articulate to you how small some towns in rural/remote Australia are, despite the country's size, but mm, okay, I'll try, haha:

When I did that particular tour of rural Queensland [I live in Melbourne, Victoria, but 'm from Brisbane originally, which is the capital city of Queensland], it was a part of a creative project funded by the state archive to build a food memory of Q, and a part of that was taking celebrity chefs to remote parts of the state to help people write about passed-down family recipes. It was genuinely one of the most fun jobs I ever had, and I met so many interesting people, and I think about it all the time, haha.

In that, we flew into Mount Isa, which is a mining town, and then just - - drove! For hours! And the landscape just alternates between this:

And this:

(Both of these are literally just Mount Isa too)

It honestly is such a unique landscape, and when you're out in it truly, you don't feel like there's anyone else in the world. Like, God, half of Australia's entire population lives between Sydney and Melbourne! That's always crazy to me, especially given the breadth of the country. Jodie Foster filmed a movie here years ago and just said she couldn't believe how much of Australia was untouched, which is a lovely thing to say, but only partially true, of course.

But yeah, like, I also did a year-long freelance writing contract for the Q Department of Education about five years ago, and there are schools there which have literally six students per year level MAX. One school we were preparing child safety documents for was a prep-10 school (a lot of remote schools don't offer year 11 and 12) had eight students total in the entire school.

(Slightly off topic, but a lot of the resources I was writing there were just begging children to stop daring each other to eat kangaroo poo, because they kept getting Q Fever, so there's a little bit of trivia for you, haha).

It's why a lot of kids are still sent out to board in city schools - particularly if they intend to graduate - hence Sam going to school in Sydney doesn't surprise me at all. Again, I don't know if he was a boarder, but Cranbrook offers it and I know anecdotally farm kids tend to board (again, my mum did, and I know a lot of other people who did too), and I know Cranbrook caters to rich rural farming families.

Also just anecdotally, outside of schooling, my sister has been living regionally so when I say she's in family court, she's in a regional one, and one of the things that I hate to say surprised me given what I talk about above was that in the Readiness & Compliance Hearing where a group of us are all getting to hear each other's business, the average time to get to the closest court from remote Australia was 7 hours. So yeah.

Big country, and a very, very dispersed population.

[cerealmonster15]

Lunch break doodles ft best boy normal oak. I love when he says something rude and then IMMEDIATELY backpedals with 200% intensity bc he Feels Bad lol

[everymlmhybrid]

this part genuinely makes me feel like eating dry wall like i can't explain how i feel about it without making some of you finally tire of me and block me about it i think

[higherhell]

Popping on to say sorry for the extended absence once again and that I'm not sure when I'll be back in full capacity. To paraphrase that one old newspaper clipping about life being one damned thing after another being an understatement, The Damned Things Are Overlapping, quite a lot right now. Miss you all and I hope to catch up at some point but I don't know when exactly. One would hope soon, but everything feels like shaky ground right now, so no promises. Love you though 💜

[reshinless]

──── 8 times in the morning.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. forest sex. that's it.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader,!!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. he would, idk i just get the vibes, oh and i wrote dialogue this time :)

kinich who's such a meanie, merely observing you, a lustful smirk on his face as you rode him. watching each time how you plop down onto his base, the way your wanton moans mixed with the moist, & musky environment you've both set yourselves to.

kinich who leans against the branches, as your chest leans onto his, repeatedly bouncing. hearing the way you could only whimper out small mewls of his name, seeing how prettily your tummy bulged with his length inside of you, he could watch you for days.

kinich who holds you down by your hips, slamming you against his base when you start to get tired, barely carrying yourself off the branch below you. grunting at the sound of your wails of pleasure. or the way you screamed his name when you squirted on his cock for what seems like the umpteenth time already!!

"ah— shit.. have you ever thought how pretty you look like this?" he huffed out as he held you down to his base. you couldn't make out a reply, simply inhaling and exhaling, in the process of catching your breath. "s' pretty.. i'm gonna miss the way you whine my name.. gonna miss these hips on this cock."

he sounded so condescending. mere pants coming out your mouth, busy trying to formulate a sentence in a way to retaliate against him. but before you can speak a single word—

"mhm? sorry, what was that, pretty?" mock visible in the tone of his voice, kinich had no mercy for you, at least for now. grinding against your g-spot. "a-ahh fffuck.. kin—" you felt like you were about to cum again, deep crescent marks indented to your plush thighs. "mmf.. kin— i-i'm g'na.." "what? cumming again?" he only rubbed against harder, reaching a hand out to touch the precious little bump he made in your stomach.

the dominance of tree covers the whole of the land, yet here you were, instead of hunting for the price of a million mora, you'd get the dopamine of getting it at least. kinich who only let out a scoff, watching your eyebrows knit in pleasure, watching how your thighs simply quivered from it, you were getting close.

kinich who was obsessed watching your expression spoil into a hot mess on his dick. feeling your pussy clench on him so good, he couldn't resist a groan. the moon marks into your hips only worsening, whining for him to just finish you off already—

"c'mon.. say please. please ruin my pussy, kinich. beg for me, tell me how much you've earned this last drop of my cum inside you." such a meanie kinich is! he wanted you to beg him so sweetly, even when you can barely remember your own name. even when you can only see stars from cumming so much. after a few attempts, he lets out a low rasp, giving it to you anyway.

kinich who pistons your hips onto his cock one more time, a lot rougher than the ones he did with you earlier. hitting your womb so good you scream a little louder than earlier, startling a few animals nearby (LOL.)

kinich who arrives back to their commissioners, the ones who originally gave him the mission, saying they forfeit the job.

"hey— kid you can't just leave now! you already—" a bag of the ores they searched for landed onto the table. deciding not to accept payment for this mission this time, making you cream on his cock 8 times in a row was priceless.

this was supposed to be in my kinktober thing but i guess i need to post

[paradlselost]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

Black Noir II x female!reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ spent way too long on this; but I kept picturing him in the piledriver position and omfgggg. also I drank so sorry if the ending sounds strange, this isn’t beta-read at all lol

⎨ 𝐂𝐖⎬ 2.9k words , second person point of view , noir II , s4 spoilers , smut : fantasies of sex , oral ( m receiving ) , p in v , piledriver position , mentioned size difference , stomach bulge , cream pie , aftercare .

A few heavy breaths came from behind the mask, his lips outlined by the black balaclava he wore. A few punches here, dodging and rolling there; just like a real hero would. Did he mind the sweat that rolled down his top lip? Tasting the salt from his overexertion?

His gloved hands reached out, one grabbing the wrists that fought against him to pin them, the other grabbing at the exposed neck as he pinned the black clad body against the glass jewelry container.

“Get off me-! Motherfucker!”

Kicking and shouting wasn’t the best tactic now was it? Not when you were attempting to rob the jewelry store. It was so cliche, a cat burglar going after overpriced diamonds and gems. You’d think the stars themselves had been crafted into the finest necklaces by the way you had been shoving them into your bag.

How were you to know he was on patrol when you happened into the closed jewelers? Maybe it was fate, past misdeeds finally catching up to you in the form of this armored reaper. It certainly felt like a dance with death, the knowledge of his super strength in the back of your mind as you managed to wiggle out of the hold he had on you.

Slipping down against the cracked glass case and through the room left to crawl out from under his legs in a last ditch effort to escape. You were graceful, smooth like a cat slinking away with the pickings it had gotten from a dead bird. But his hands caught your legs like a mouse in a trap and your heart dropped in your chest.

A gloved hand grabbed at your hair, pulling you up enough to get you on your knees in front of him, craning your neck to look at his soulless mask as a peasant would look at a god; and maybe in a way you were, was this being that could kill you in a second really a man anymore? What power did a worldly being have in snuffing out a life so fast?

So you sat at his mercy, begging for forgiveness and looking like a sinner at an altar. How small you looked below him, what penance did a lowly criminal like you get? So you waited for the hand that would tear your heart out or the sirens that would wail… but nothing. He simply looked blankly down at you.

“Fucking-… Cut!!” The bell sounded somewhere in the studio, sighs falling from the directing team under the knowledge that this was the best shot they were going to get, and the ‘mute supe’ had forgotten his next line. One job, really.

“Damn it, I’m sorry. You did great, though.” His hand his outstretched for you to take, helping you get to your feet. He’s kind, behind the mask he wore, would you ever get to see his face? Probably not, being just an actor; but it was cool being able to work with a Supe, especially one in the seven.

“It’s no problem, honestly. They’ll probably just go from the shot of me on my knees, anyways.” You watched as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, gloved hands creating an odd sound against his balaclava. His job was on the line; Homelander had told him they could always find a replacement for Noir just as they had with him - but he couldn’t help it.

Had his cup always been so strained against? He shifted ever so slightly, trying not to make his discomfort obvious as an assistant stepped over and handed you both a water bottle. Silently, he was happy his face was obscured as his eyes didn’t leave your lips, watching them part to welcome a swig of much needed cold water.

Was it his fault he had stuttered and broken the immersion? In his heart, he knew it was; but how could he not have? He could feel your warmth radiating through his armor and seep into his skin, how those pretty eyes looked back and then up at him, how your lips had parted ever so slightly. He was being an idiot.

This was your job; you’re an actress so why did he think those looks you gave him were exclusive? He was probably an idiot in thinking your on screen chemistry could mingle behind the scenes. He jumped every so slightly when the bell rang out again.

“That’s a wrap for now. We’ll pick up again tomorrow. Noir, make sure you fucking practice.”

A pointed look from the director was quickly overshadowed by your soft touch to one of his shoulder pads as you walked past him. A shiver running down his spine as his eyes followed you, watching you. Your delicate fingers had not done him any favors as his heart pounded in his chest. Secretly, he was glad shooting was done for the day.

The door to his trailer shut quickly, the lock turning as he leaned back against it. The curtains had already been drawn shut from this morning; is it in Noirs character to like his privacy? It certainly isn’t to sprawl out on the couch and fist his cock to thoughts of his co-star. And yet.

His head tilted back against the couch, helmet taken off but the balaclava had stayed on; he enjoyed the way it made everything a little harder to breathe, how he could feel the fabric against his lips. Besides; he wouldn’t take off his mask to fuck you the first couple of times, anyways, that’s a kind of trust that’s earned.

His hand traveled up and down his cock, slow at first as he traced the veins that pump blood to his darkening head; imagining that this is what it would be like with you the first time. Certainly, you’d take your time in getting to know every intimate part of him. His thumb swiped over his tip like your tongue would.

A groan fell from his lips, wetting them after a moment. He could imagine how warm your mouth would be around him, how you would look up at him as he pushed the head of his cock to the back of your mouth, how your hot breath would feel coming out of your nose against his groin.

He felt himself throb against his hand, desperately needing a release when there was a knock on the door, shaking him out of his private moment. How unlucky he was, thinking he had more time than he actually did. Noir grumbled as he fixed his cup back over himself, his dick uncomfortably straining against the cool metal.

He fixed his helmet over himself and stepped over to the door, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting him like a supe should do. He should be allowed to have a power trip every once in a while; should he? A god against a mortal.

“Hey! Sorry I hope I’m not bothering you, I was just wondering if you wanted to practice? I got a bit of free time.” How could he yell at you when you looked so pretty standing on the steps to his trailer? Head tilted to the side, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh uh.” Part of him wanted to say no, to shut the door and hide himself away against his silk sheets and pump his hand over his aching cock, but he couldn’t shut you out. Not when you were the object of his fantasies. “Yeah, sure. We don’t need a lot of space, we can practice in here.”

Noir nodded, moving out of the way to allow you to enter his abode, to get a glimpse of what little the man below the mask could add to a trailer belonging to a dead man. Not that you knew, of course; finding it strange that he could talk but not prying further. It wasn’t your place to ask silly questions like that.

Still, you took in what you could. A picture frame with people you couldn’t quite make out from a distance, a few books and magazines he hadn’t bothered to clean up. The kitchen was tidy, though everything had a black color scheme and it felt a little… draining. Was that really all there was to him?

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of him moving the table out of the way to allow more space to practice your scenes together. He bunched up the carpet, just kind of tossing it against the couch before he looked over at you. A soulless mask, but the way he tapped his fingers against his armor was endearing.

“So- do you want to go from the fight?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

God against man, a mortal who had incurred the wrath of a far more powerful deity; you find yourself on your knees once again. No cameras stuck close to your face this time, no lights to make you sweat, just you and the being who could crush your windpipe below his gloved fingers.

The fabric against his hands is audible as it squeezes a bit, your own moving up to grasp onto his wrist; silent pleas for your pathetic life falling from your lips. This is where he messed up before, the sight of you below him being too much to handle. His cock throbbed uncomfortably against his cup.

“You have to handcuff me now.” You look up at him, a different kind of gaze from being terrified for your life. You’re a good actor, he’ll give you that, but he prefers this moment - how you look vaguely confused as to how he could mess up a second time. His dick hurts now, he can feel pre-cum leaking against his armor and god does he need a release.

“Can I fuck you?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been… thinking about you. I like you like this.”

“Oh.”

You’re quiet for a moment and he fears he’s blown his shot with you. His hand still rests against your neck albeit loosely, and your eyes travel from his crotch up to his mask, obscuring any kind of expression you might be able to make out. Is he messing with you? Why would someone as strong as him decide you’re the one he wants?

“Okay, yeah. Yeah I’d like that.”

A nod is just what he needs, his hand leaving your neck and moving to tangle into your hair, firmly placed on the back of your head while the other moves to quickly undo his crotch armor and throw it somewhere on the couch.

He leaks pre-cum from his weeping slit, far too dark of a color to be comfortable for him. The groan that falls from his lips as you move to place yours against his head is almost heavenly. Like you’re a godsend, the only one who can make him feel like this. His gloved fingers tighten in your hair, an encouragement.

Noir is proved right in his theory of you; that your tongue dances over his head and flattens against his slit, your pretty eyes flutter shut and your hand rubbing the base of his cock. You must think he’s a poor baby the way you hum as you squeeze him slightly, hard and dripping against your tastebuds.

He reaches a hand against the back of the couch you two were beside, gripping it till his knuckles ached below his gloves. He’s swift in his movements, calculated and for the first time he feels closer to the old Noir. Would this be how he would act? Grabbing ahold of a woman like this - like you’re something to be manhandled? He’s usually shy, anxious when with women but you don’t seem to mind so he doesn’t lighten his grip.

Pushing you back against the ground, head resting on the discarded carpet like some sort of pillow below you. You’re an actress; doing your own stunts against him so he’s seen the way your body curves and flexes. He knows you can handle him, even if it takes a few tears.

He grabs your hips harder, shimming sweatpants you had changed into earlier, running his fingers over the growing wet spot in your underwear before he too removed them like they were a barrier to something most precious. His lips press against your thighs through his balaclava, breath hot and fast in anticipation for what is to come.

The angle is awkward and strenuous, but he seems to take great joy in seeing you like this. Not quite missionary, your body is arched below him and your silently grateful for the makeshift pillow because you’re sure your neck would be even more sore tomorrow had it not been for the carpet bunched up. Your legs are pushed back as he moves around you, hand gripping his cock to line up.

Noir inches himself in, letting you take deep, shallow breaths in your position as he tries his best to stay patient and not bottom out. The stretch hurts a bit; you can’t remember the last time you’ve been with a supe in such an intimate display and he’s thicker than most you’ve been with.

His breath his hard and hot against his balaclava; hands resting to keep both your legs out as he finally bottoms out inside of you. You can hear the groan that leaves his lips at the feeling of your walls constricting against him - in such a position they pulse and push around his still aching cock. Your warmth is welcome to him, driving him crazy.

His thrusts are as rough as he is with you on the set; barely giving you time to catch your breath between pumps as the air leaving and entering your lungs is sharp and almost painful. Wanton moans fall from your lips, hands reaching to grasp the underside of the couch in order to keep from moving below him.

“Fuck- Noir…”

“Is that good? You’re such a good girl, staying in this position f’me.”

You barely have the strength to respond, neurons firing in your brain in an attempt to string together words but all that comes out is a few unintelligible babbles. He pushes impossibly deep inside of you; he had reached a certain bundle of nerves quite a few thrusts ago, now he was abusing that spot. It seemed he was trying to get these reactions out of you.

Tilting his head back slightly, he groaned as you tightened around him; one hand falling from your legs to press against your stomach. He took pride in feeling himself inside of you - a large ego boost that his cock was thick enough to create a faint outline inside you. He would certainly have to fuck you more after this, see what other angles could excentuate that bulge in your pretty flesh.

“Gonna-“ Your gasp is harsh, though you don’t need to speak; he can feel it. The way your walls spasm around him as he pulls out and pushes back inside of you. He draws it out, slowing down a bit and cocking his head to the side - blacked out mask taunting you in your state.

“What? Are you gonna cum?”

A nod, breathless ‘yes’s falling from your lips as your hand not grasping the couch for dear life reaches up to grab onto his armor. Tears prick at your eyes, proof of how good he was making you feel. Your head lulls back against the carpet; white toying at the corners of your eyes.

Bliss washed over you quite quickly after that, gushing around him. He can’t help but chuckle at the sight, though it’s marred with a soft moan at how you squeeze. His hips continue to move, stuttering and the trailer fills with the unmistakable sound of sex. Wet, sloppy now as he nears his own climax.

Another thrust, then another before he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and spills his seed against your walls. He could die at the feeling of you milking him, drawing spurt after spurt of hot cum from his throbbing cock. He feels lucky, in his euphoria, that he could have this experience. A god with a mortal, how funny it was.

He pants as he withdraws himself, letting your legs lay back down as he colapses beside you. Head spinning, body aching from the position and the ceiling of his trailer suddenly looks as beautiful as the starry night outside. You two share the air, share your breathing and as you lay there for a moment longer; you can feel him get up.

He’s as silent as a ninja, but you know his presence is no longer beside you and honestly? After the position you had just kept? You were far too tired to move to see where he happened to go. Besides, the sound of the faucet running is enough of an indicator that he’s just moved the kitchen.

He returns after a moment, crouching in front of you as you finally move your head to look at him. He hasn’t taken his top helmet off; not allowing you a peek at the face he was hiding behind the balaclava, but the gentle kisses he places to your trembling legs are more than enough to take your mind off whatever he might look like.

“ ‘m surprised you don’t wanna watch your cum drip out of me.” You earn a chuckle from him as he moves the now wet and soapy washcloth he had gotten in the kitchen over your thighs and, gently, over your sensitive core. Cleaning you up as gentlemanly as possible.

“I’d rather see you tangled in my bed sheets, if we're being honest.”

“Sounds nice - even though I should be heading home after this. Guess you’ll have to fuck me again to be able to see that.”

“I was planning on fucking you again regardless.”

[skzdarlings]

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

-

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call.   You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom.  You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends. 

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces.  Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis.  You don’t know what you would do without them.  Just the thought has you sniffling despondently. 

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other.  Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.      

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears. 

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails. 

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces.  At least you think so.  It is hard to see through your tears. 

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says.  At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it.  You sniffle and pout. 

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.” 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Huh?”  Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly.  They are the very picture of concern.  They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips.  Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.  

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic.  Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you. 

You drop your face and cry some more.  They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down. 

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed. 

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs. 

“Me too,” Hyunjin says.  Their sour faces speak volumes. 

“What!”  This distracts you from yours tears for a moment.  “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says.  He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head.  He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you.  “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says.  He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter.  He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically.  “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says.  “You’ve always got us.” 

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head.  He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves.  Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face. 

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life.  They are still looking at you with concern when you surface. 

“Sorry,” you say.  “The point is, my mom would ask about him.  You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.” 

You love your family, you do.  You do not regret using visiting your parents.  The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight.  You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city.  You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends.  Your parents are proud of you. 

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement. 

You are not in a relationship.  You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious.  You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern. 

You try to show grace.  Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night.  Which is not true.  Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed. 

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit. 

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while.  After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says.  Hyunjin grimaces.  Yeah, your friends know you well.  They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going. 

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say.  “My mom invited me out here for their summer party.  They throw one every year to start the season.  They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids.  It’s huge.  I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do.  Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?”  Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow.  Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine.  “It’s not funny.  I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control. 

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say.  “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me.  I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!” 

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly.  “What did you say exactly?” 

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say.  “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up.  I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.” 

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says. 

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal.  “That’s the problem!  And also—”  A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again.  “I know it’s so stupid.  We’re all grown-ups now.  But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along.  My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it.  They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.”  You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving.  It makes you feel like that little girl again.  It only worsens your angst.  “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say. 

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says. 

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says.  They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt. 

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.    

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds. 

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed.  “At least a little bit.  I know it’s silly.” 

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says.  At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.”  They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other.  It makes you laugh through your tears.  You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say.  “I just have to face it.  It’s my own fault.  Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison.  It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once. 

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat.  “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says. 

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says. 

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases.  “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice.  Jeongin sticks his tongue out. 

Their antics make you laugh.  You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen. 

“Okay,” you say.  “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed.  It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” 

They both smile at you.  They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else.  They are your boys.  They are all you need. 

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

-

That smile is gone the next day.  You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning.  Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety.  Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises.  You claim he is still working but you are optimistic.  You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would. 

At least you look pretty.  You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish.  If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully. 

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them.  You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think. 

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests. 

They come in waves.  Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends.  You greet everyone pleasantly.  There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else. 

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend.  Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group. 

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says.  She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying.  It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions.  This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party.  “Is he going to be here?” she asks.  “I can’t wait to meet him!  He’s your first boyfriend, right?” 

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth. 

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. 

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say. 

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.  

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat.  You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house.  You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it.  You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath.  Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on. 

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips.  It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision.  Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him.  His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look.  It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket.  A silver chain sparkles around his neck. 

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself. 

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says. 

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush.  You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down. 

“Oh, wow,” you say.  “You shouldn’t have.  But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots.  He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body. 

“Yeah,” he says on a breath.  “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him.  It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled. 

“Stop that,” you say.  “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me.  And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here.  I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.”  You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard. 

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good.  Okay?” 

You very literally fall into the yard.  Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright.  You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest.  He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave. 

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn.  She immediately starts hollering for your father. 

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you. 

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin.  “Oh, I’ve heard so much.  No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything.  Tsk, crazy girl.  Always with her secrets.  But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome!  Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail.  “Stop pinching his cheeks!” 

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt.  It is the girl from before and she is grinning.  He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you.  You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not.  Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin.  A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up.  You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes. 

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again.  You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts.  “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair. 

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself.  He takes her hand and pats it affectionately.  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you.  Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile.  You refrain from smacking your forehead. 

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse. 

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile. 

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you.  “Your boyfriend is here!  Everybody, this is Hyunjin.” 

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago.  Now, it freezes solid.  It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut.  You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you. 

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father.  Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket.  He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin. 

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you.  Hyunjin looks at you.  Your mother looks at you.  Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.  

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting.  And why is it so hard to swallow?  Where is your tongue again?  Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up.  Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.” 

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him.  He blinks at her.  Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight.  His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity.  Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother.  He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one. 

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two.  No, not even, because they are fake.  You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends.  That must be a feat. 

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence.  She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce.  “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you.  Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle.  “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically.  “Oh, that’s just like her too.  You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact.  Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university.  You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time.  You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away. 

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin.  He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks.  They watch as your mother takes your hand.  “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details.  But it’s a brave new world.  There’s all sorts of different loves out there.  I’ve been reading books!” 

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party.  “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say.  This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people.  “Thanks,” you say. 

Your father is holding barbeque tongs.  He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says.  “Who’s hungry!”

-

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin.  It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard.  Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. 

You slam the door shut.   

“Seriously!” you shriek.  “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!” 

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet.  They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door.  You cover your face with your hands.  “This is insane.  My life is a joke.  Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.”  You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered.  You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong.  When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table.  He smiles nervously.  “Sit down,” you say, unamused.   

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time.  They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom.  Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy.  The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on.  It’s not.  No.  No.  You refuse. 

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says.  “We should have checked first.  With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head.  “I feel really embarrassed.  You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense.  You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology.  It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you.  The complete opposite.  Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do.  From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything.  No task has ever been too big or too small.  If it’s for you, they will do it.  You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.  

They are your boys.  You are their girl.   

“I’m sorry too,” you say.  “In fact, I’m even more sorry.  This whole thing is my fault, after all.  I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says. 

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds. 

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him.  It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins. 

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it. 

It’s no good.  Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless.  The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you.  When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering. 

“Come here,” he says. 

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them.  You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower.  Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek.  Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face.  Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower.  Your toes even curl. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says.  He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?” 

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.    

There is a moment of tense silence after this.  You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door.  Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor.  Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised.  You sit straighter.  Hyunjin groans and rubs his head. 

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says.  “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night.  But right now we have company.  Come spend time with the guests.  Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool.  Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer.  She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came. 

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?” 

“Ow,” Hyunjin says.  “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

-

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets.  When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.   

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty.  Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it.  You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows.  You smile affectionately. 

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting. 

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.    

You giggle but also drop your gaze.  Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys.  Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display.  When did he get so damn fit?  He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now. 

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow.  He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean.  His hair is also damp.  You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears.  He really is absurdly good looking. 

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets. 

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers.  His foot nudges yours under the water.  “Is that them?” he whispers. 

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there.  A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction.  It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about. 

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly.  You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water.  You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys. 

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod.  You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you.  You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest. 

“What is it?” you whisper. 

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile.  “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?” 

“Oh,” you squeak.  “I suppose that’s true.”  You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin.  Your heart is pounding against your hands.  The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy.  “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice.  Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends. 

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question.  Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy.  Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile.  He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him.  It is a teasing expression.  It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water. 

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface.  And it is a grab.  Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover.  He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things.  But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes. 

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck.  Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control.  Your mouth falls open with surprise.  Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in. 

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not.  His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm.  He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips.  You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his.  That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder. 

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong.  You melt between them, all heat and need. 

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire.  His eyes are dark, lids heavy.  You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face. 

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about.  “Get it girl!” someone shouts. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed.  Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him. 

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively.  “We’re all making out in a hot tub.  Of course I’m hard.” 

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss. 

You look over your shoulder.  Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry. 

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply.  “Are you saying you’re not turned on?” 

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head. 

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him.  He just smiles at you.  “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?” 

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever.  You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you.  He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again. 

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh. 

-

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day.  The guests have all gone home.  Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight.   You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility. 

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt.  They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear. 

You did not bring much sleepwear.  You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room.  You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone.  Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten. 

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference.  You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say. 

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light.  The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards.  Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position.  You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence. 

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow.  You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head.  There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says.  You feel him roll onto his side, facing you.  “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment.  But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again. 

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say.  “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says.  You look at him.  He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?      

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin.  “Only because that’s fair.” 

Jeongin does not hesitate.  He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be.  Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head.  He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips. 

You quickly lose yourself.  Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling.  Yes, falling helplessly head over heels.  You have been for a long time. 

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds.  Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots.  His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours. 

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass.  Your breath catches and the kiss breaks.  He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours. 

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder.  Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised. 

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back.  You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin. 

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body.  His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest.  You arch your back instinctively.  Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts.  It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you. 

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing.  You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality. 

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you.  But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging.  You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap.  He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you. 

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel.  He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used.  You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness.  But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there. 

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass.  Your shorts are riding up from your position.  He could get an eye-ful at the right angle. 

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice.  It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity. 

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again.  Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant. 

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him.  It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled.  You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh?  Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer.  You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator. 

“Hyunjin!”  You cannot help but scold him.  “I told you to stay out of there!” 

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues.  “I can’t help it.” 

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead.  “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face.  He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face. 

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape. 

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile. 

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks. 

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest. 

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk.  He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes.  “If you think about us,” he finishes. 

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says.  “It’s normal.  I think about you.” 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp.  You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is.  You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed.  Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up.  He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth. 

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry.  I bet you’d look pretty.” 

You swallow hard.  Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy.  You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin. 

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases. 

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him.  He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently.  “Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand.  You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them. 

“My friends are perverts,” you say. 

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch.  Jeongin is sitting upright behind you.  You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks.  Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye.  He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick.  They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh. 

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back.  You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband.  You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear.  You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile.  “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.” 

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands.  He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise. 

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck.  He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective.  You squirm a little.  The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close. 

The boys shuffle quickly.  You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest.  Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture.  You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast.  You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this.  Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time.  You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up.  You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm.   He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks. 

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy. 

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops.  You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom.  Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight.  He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now. 

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly.  He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour.  Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down.  They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear. 

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his.  When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again.  Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips.  Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in. 

You are caught by surprise when you come again.  Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms.  A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms.  Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy. 

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face.  You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek. 

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says. 

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth.  It goes easily.  In the end, they follow your lead.  You know your boys.  They would do anything for you.  They would start.  They would stop.  

You do not want them to stop. 

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence.   Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet.  Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin. 

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks.  He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them. 

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer.  “Please.” 

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple.  He smiles at Hyunjin.  “Since you asked so nicely.” 

You all tumble over, laying on your sides.  Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you.  Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist.  You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere.  Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin.  You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside. 

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs. 

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him.  Hyunjin shoves him back. 

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick.  “I’ll get her ready.” 

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you.  If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there.  You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you. 

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves.  It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back.  Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you. 

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest.  You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand.  He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him.  He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead.  He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off.  You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed.  He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin. 

“Your turn,” he confirms.  They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you.  You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in.  He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations.  It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan. 

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands.  You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly.  You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it.  But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future. 

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you.  Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes. 

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out.  Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back.  He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed. 

“You can swallow,” he says.  His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it.  But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs.  You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy.  Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations.   Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time. 

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting. 

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard.  “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this.  Two boyfriends is no joke.” 

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel.  When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep. 

-

Your parents return at lunch the next day.  While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish.  She is practically beaming at you. 

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask. 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says.  She kisses your forehead.  “I heard you on the phone the other night.  I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!”  You look at her with alarm and surprise.  “But – but you didn’t say anything!  You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says.  “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend.  Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog.  Easy.  Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her.  And you found two.” 

Your mother wraps you in her arms.  You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says.  “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone.  But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up. 

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle. 

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh. 

“I knew it,” she says.  “Sometimes fate just needs a hand.  Maybe two.” 

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away. 

“You are glowing this morning.  Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”  

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

hihi!! Can I request Astarion with someone who has ptsd? Maybe him trying to comfort them or something? As someone with it I usually just keep it to myself lol

Hiiiii sorry I took forever to answer this. Sending you virtual hugs alongside this fic, hope it makes you feel just that little bit better. Here's your vampire comforter!

It's kicking in again. The weakness you try so hard to hide from everyone else, afraid of the ostracisation you're sure will follow should they know of it. You feel your throat constrict, wheezing as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. Your vision is a blur, your mind racing and your body is frozen to the spot.

You hate this. The feeling of blood freezing in your veins, the inability to move, to fight back, it makes you feel completely helpless and being completely helpless is never a good thing. Your heart hammers in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you struggle to put one foot in front of the other. Your throat is dry, flashbacks tearing your mind apart and you barely feel your body tip forward but something, no someone, catches you before you hit the ground.

"Falling for me again, darling?" His honeyed words are muffled, ringing in your ears. Your skin prickles where he touched you and you pull away quickly, curling into a tight ball. Clapping your hands over your ears, you try to drown out the voices, whimpering hoarsely and suddenly, your throat seizes up. Your lungs scream for air but no matter how fast you breathe, no air makes its way into them.

You're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die.

"Darling, focus on my voice. Find me, like you always do." A quiet gentle voice cuts through the haze, reaching out to you from beyond the veil. You strain your ears to pinpoint where it's coming from, the voice familiar.

Astarion.

That singular thought drives you forwards, grasping in the direction of his voice.

"That's it, darling. That's it. Keep going, you're almost there. Don't forget to breathe, you still need that air." His voice is strangely comforting, even with all the teasing. With an unusual gentleness, he guides your breathing, whispering reassurances into your ear.

"I'm right here, darling. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you alone to face this."

When your vision swims back into focus, it's just you and him. You're huddled on the ground, knees pressing against your chest while he sits on said ground next to you. His eyes are filled with concern, a hand resting on your back.

"Darling?" Astarion murmurs.

"Star —" You rasp, devolving into a fit of coughing. He panics for a moment, fumbling for a flask of water in his bag and thrusts the flask into your shaking hands. You struggle to open the flask, still trying to calm yourself down and Astarion leans over, opening the flask for you. All snark is gone, replaced by genuine worry and seriousness as he watches you gulp the water down.

Once the flask is empty, he holds out a hand and you place the flask in it. He puts the flask down and holds his hand out again.

"Take my hand when you're comfortable," he says softly, and silence falls over the both of you. You slowly reach over, feeling his cold fingers gently curl around your hand and tug you towards him. Wordlessly, you sink into his embrace, feeling the tears start to prick the corners of your eyes.

Astarion tentatively wraps his arms around you, relaxing only when you press against him. He buries his face into your hair, hugging you tightly and traces random patterns on your skin. You bite back the tears, gripping his arm but a whimper still escapes your lips anyways and you feel your vampire lover curl around you, gentle kisses pressed against your head.

"It's alright, no one else is here. Let it all out."

His words are enough to burst the dam and you find yourself crying into his chest, clutching at his shirt as each wail tears your body apart. You've never allowed yourself to cry like this before, but this feels…cathartic, and knowing that your lover is right there for you to lean on only serves to comfort you further. Your tears stain his pristine shirt and you babble an apology, voice thick from crying but he hushes you, stroking your hair in an attempt to comfort you.

He holds you close, a hand resting on the back of your head as the last of your cries fade into sniffles, gently rocking you as he hums a lullaby he thought he'd long forgotten. The lullaby's words are lost to him, but the tune alone helps you calm down, and when you next look up at him with puffy eyes, he smiles at you softly.

"Feeling better, darling?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with a fondness you never knew he had in him. He gently wipes away the tears that have fallen, cradling your cheeks in his hands and presses his forehead against yours. You reach up to rest your hands on his, basking in the quiet comfort of your vampire lover.

"Yeah," you croak out. "Feeling better."

He nuzzles you and you lean in, inhaling the familiar scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close. You feel him rest his head on top of yours, and the both of you simply stay like this, embracing each other until the sun dips beneath the horizon and the stars come out.

"Stay a little longer, please?" You whisper, feeling him shift.

"Of course, darling," he whispers back. You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at his words. He wasn't going to leave you, he didn't see you as a burden, he was choosing to remain by your side.

Letting out a deep breath, you look up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "thank you."

"Anything for you, love," he purrs.

"I mean it. Thank you for not abandoning me, for staying with me through all…this, for…for everything really." Your words catch him off guard and the tips of his ears turn red. He huffs, trying to pretend that your words didn't affect him and gives you a peck on the top of your head.

"I'm only doing this because you did it for me," he mutters, hiding his face from you.

"Doesn't mean I can't thank you," you chuckle, brushing his silvery white locks aside so you have an unobstructed view of his face. He lets you catch a glimpse of his shy smile, fangs peeking out and you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you."

He blinks, startled at your confession and splutters, struggling to find a suitable response. You simply smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze and his cheeks flush, but he returns the gesture and continues holding onto your hand tightly afterwards, refusing to let go.

The both of you may be broken, shattered by the past but it doesn't mean you can't try to put the pieces back together, with each other's help. The scars will forever remain, but they don't have to define either of you, they don't have to control your lives, and they don't have to separate you from him.

You know that no matter what, he will stay by your side, even on the bleakest of days, on the days where your past tears you apart, and you vow to do the same for him. As you walk back to camp holding his hand, you make that silent promise and unbeknownst to you, he makes the exact same promise. He won't ever let you feel like a burden, you won't ever let him feel alone. He won't ever leave your side, you won't ever let him fight alone.

He will love you with everything he has, and you will love him with every breath you take until the end of days.

[malereadermaniac]

Insecure ~ Natsu Dragneel x Male Reader

Natsu is insecure about you having past partners - SHORT smut -> Hurt/comfort Top!Natsu x Bottom!Reader word count: 750 - Short fic in general lol Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

When you and Natsu started dating, he'd never been with anyone before

Both romantically and sexually

He's known you for a while so he knew that you'd been with a few guys before, and it never bothered him

But when the two of you had sex for the first time, you said something that made him start to feel a little insecure...

"Fuck... you feel amazing (y/n)!" Natsu grunts, his dick plowing into your ass like a madman

You moan loudly, Natsu's name bouncing off of the walls of his home

Your face was flushed and your body was sweating, you back against his bed, legs on your boyfriend's muscular shoulders

"Unnngh Natsu..." you moan, your ass clenching around the dragon slayer as kisses at your neck

His sweaty body against yours as you get closer and closer to cumming

"Fuuuuck are you sure you're a virgin, Natsu?" You moan, your dick twitching in need of release

"A-Ah... Yeah of c-course, baby Haaaaa~" Natsu moans, his face a mix of confusion from your comment and pleasure

"Holy shit - Ahhh~- you're better than anyone else I've had before FUCK!" You moan loudly

The thin string you were hanging onto snaps as you shoot ropes of white onto your chest and face

Natsu cums as well, biting your shoulder to ground himself as he finishes inside of you

His cum steaming hot, as expected of the fire dragon slayer

After the two of you clean up, you lay your head on your boyfriend's bare, muscular chest, his arm around your shoulders

You're talking about your day and a small mission you went on

But you were mainly talking at Natsu, not to him...

The pink-haired man was stuck in his thoughts

Natsu was having an argument with himself

He felt insecure that you were his first, but you had been with other men, who were probably more experienced and better than him

The other side of his internal argument was angry at himself, Natsu felt guilty as if he was slut-shaming you

It was fully within your right to have sex with as many men as you wanted before you two started dating, you were SINGLE for gods sake

But he felt icky knowing that other man had felt your touch the way he did...

"And then I ran into Lucy who-" you were mid sentence when Natsu interrupted you

"Sorry baby but... can I ask you something?" The pink haired man says meekly, avoiding eye contact

You chuckle "Yeah go ahead, I could tell you were stuck in your own thoughts anyway" you say with a smile

"Were... We're your past lovers better than me?.... like in bed" he mumbles

Natsu's question catches you off guard, to the point where you're speechless

Which Natsu takes as an answer

"Yeah I thought as much but...-"

"No! No they weren't! Sorry Salamander your question just caught me off guard" you explain, sitting up to look Natsu in the eye

"Oh... are ya sure? You don't have to lie to me, (n/n)" Natsu says as he brings a hand up to your head and plays with your hair

"I'm sure babe. You're better than any other dickhead I've been with in the past! Besides, I've only ever been with two other guys, and not one of them made me cum on their own haha" you laugh, your comments making Natsu blush

As the Dragon slayer keeps twirling your hair around his fingers, he looks into your eyes lovingly

"I'm glad I can make you feel good... cause your rock my world, (n/n)" Natsu chuckles

You laugh at his comment and after a little while, slap Natsu's shoulder gently and go to get up

"C'mon salamander, let's go start our da-" you were saying, however Natsu's tug on your arm interrupted you

"Wah!" You wail, Natsu's muscular arm immediately overpowering you, situating you onto his wide, muscular hips

"Let's go for a second round" Natsu says with a grin as the eager (no longer virgin) man grinds his hips upwards into your ass

"Noooo... I'm so tired already Natsu - bottoming is much harder than topping ya know!" You whine, but as Natsu grinds up, you too grind down

"Pleaseeee, you're hard too, (n/n)" Natsu chuckles, his rough palms rubbing up your side, his eyes focusing on your waist...

Fuck he loved your waist

"Ha.... Fuck it alright" you chuckle and bend down to kiss your boyfriend with a passionate, looooong kiss, that turned into a make-out

[alysrivrs]

❛ ♡. gif credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ vampire!aemond intends to keep you—his blood singer.

𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: i hope y’all are ready for this one—i tried making it a bit more darker, but aemond is still… pussy whipped, even though he wants to kill you, lol. also, i shall try (hopefully) to make a second version of this where aemond fucks & impregnates the reader—promise. anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated ! thank u. ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: mdni, smut (not really), noncon & suggestive themes, dark!aemond, petite!reader, profanity, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, size kink, innocence kink, compulsion, manipulation, sexual tension, possessive & obsessive behavior, blood drinking, breeding kink, talks of forced pregnancy, pet names, dark romance, fluff—any grammatical errors are my own -- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: this is dedicated to my lovely friend, @arcielee. i hope you like it & enjoy reading it, love !

w𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 1.2k

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃—𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃… 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

his precious, little blood singer.

“come here, darling,” he purred, his voice seductive and sickeningly sweet as he followed after you, his gait a slow, but purposeful prowl—almost like he was hunting you down as his next prey.

“n-no, no! you just want to kill me,” you wailed over your shoulder, completely hysterical and running down a spiral staircase in the red keep—your little feet softly pattering against the flagstones.

aemond sighed.

“don’t you trust me, my beloved? i shall never hurt you, i promise—‘twas only a suggestion,” he comments lightly, strolling casually down the long staircase behind you, hearing your little heart fluttering inside of your chest from anxiety and fear.

hmm, the perfect mix.

aemond licked his lips, hungry for you.

huffing softly, he continued following after you effortlessly, causing his cock to harden in his black leather breeches, as well as his sharp fangs to ache within his sore gums with desperation—a need to feed.

from you.

aemond purred, hearing your blood pumping through your heart as you tried—oh, so adorably, did you try running away from him yet again (‘twas a normal occurrence), your skin dewy and flushed from the exertion.

perfection, aemond thought to himself.

in a strange sense, he almost felt sorry for you—his shy, but sweet girl.

suddenly, the one-eyed prince appeared right in front of you, making you shriek in horror and halt abruptly—otherwise, you would’ve slammed right into his lean, hard-muscled chest.

“my love, do not run from me—don’t you see how much your resistance hurts me?” he frowned, reaching up with one of his big, veiny hands to gently twirl a lock of your luscious hair around one of his long index fingers—before he bent his knees slightly to lean his face down to your shorter level.

his sharp, prominent nose grazed the delicate skin of your neck, feeling intoxicated by your sweet scent as he smelled you, feeling you flinch.

aemond smirked, clearly getting off by your fear.

after another long moment of just smelling your soft, smooth skin—aemond cursed.

he wanted nothing more than to take you back to his chambers, get you into his bed and position you into the mating press, before biting your neck as he spilled his seed deeply inside of your tight, wet cunt—while he continuously drank your addicting blood until you passed out beneath him.

aemond relished that you were so short and small compared to him—he practically towered over your petite frame, making his loins ache terribly with the need to fuck you—hard and fast, almost like an animal in heat.

what the fuck was happening to him?

how… did you—this shy, innocent girl, captivate him so much, making his mind feel as if he were going completely insane with the need to have you, to taste you, to spill his seed inside of your womb until your belly swelled with his son.

somedays, he swore to the seven above that you were the one compelling him.

you whimpered, looking up at him pleadingly, your pretty eyes wet with unshed tears and your plump, kissable lips quivering.

“my sweet love,” aemond murmured, speaking mostly to himself as he tilted his head from your delectable neck, his nose now nuzzling yours—affectionately.

still, he ignored your pathetic pleas—you belonged to him, there was no escape now that he has caught you.

aemond smiled—all sharp, dangerous, and cruel.

the prince deeply inhaled, groaning lowly to himself as he took in your mouthwatering scent yet again—so close, your pulse was beating wildly and driving him nearly insane.

to him, you smelled heavenly—like lavender oils, vanilla, sweet and ripe for the taking.

surely, you would be aemond’s greatest damnation, if only he were not already cursed by this hellish existence of immortality—no thanks to his ex lover, alys rivers.

however, now he had you.

for his own twisted, selfish reasons (which he didn’t even understand, no human girl had ever captivated him the way you had), did he eventually decide he’d keep you—at least for a little while.

your blood—fuck, it smelled and tasted so delicious, as if he were a god feasting on the finest ambrosia. “now, you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” he cooed mockingly, his violet eye flashing in amusement as you shuddered like a little lamb before him.

unknowingly, aemond had been feeding off of you for months—nearly a year.

it had seemed, that even with his compulsion over you, his charms also had a great effect on your innocent, naïve mind.

aemond chuckled softly, the black veins underneath his natural one-eye appearing, his fangs protruding out of his gums—he couldn’t control himself around you any longer.

he had to taste you—now.

…and forever.

leaning down once again near your neck, aemond wrapped his lean, strong arms around your trembling frame, tugging you closer towards him until you were snuggly pressed up against his tall, lithe frame.

mine, mine, mine.

“do not worry, my sweet girl—you will enjoy this, as you’ve always had,” he teased, before quickly leaning down and sinking his fangs into the soft skin of your neck, making you screech with pleasure.

you cried out, your petite frame falling limp in his strong arms, your head falling to the side as your eyes grew heavy, long lashes fluttering as more and more blood was taken from you.

somewhere, deep in your subconscious, you were grateful that aemond was able to hold you up so effortlessly—however, it still left a bitter taste in your mouth for the reason why he was holding you up in the first place.

tears spilled from your eyes, streaming down your flushed cheeks, your head beginning to feel fuzzy and your body felt numb—yet you also felt this indescribable feeling of euphoria, barely feeling the prince continuing to drink from you—hungry and greedy.

after several more moments, aemond pulled back, licking a tiny drop of crimson from the corner of his plush, curved mouth, smirking down at your vulnerable state.

“see? my darling girl, ‘twas not so bad,” he mused, gently reaching up with one of his calloused hands to gently cup one of your wet cheeks, the pad of his thumb wiping away a few tears.

you nodded slowly, obedient and pliant in his grasp, letting him do what ever he wanted with you.

“soon,” he began, his voice a sweet whisper, “you’ll be carrying my son in your womb—wouldn’t you like that, sweet thing?”

“y-yes, aemond—b-but i d-don’t think…” you started, your voice small and meek—only to be cut off with a bruising, passionate kiss, feeling aemond’s hands reach down to cup and squeeze your plump, little ass through the sapphire blue gown he compelled you to wear, in honor of him.

“shhh,” he hushed, his gaze intense and dangerous—almost like a warning.

his swollen, bloody lips brushed against yours, forcing you to taste the metallic taste of your own blood on his lips. “you needn’t worry about a thing, darling,” he continued in that same tone of voice—sickeningly sweet, charming and sadistic all at once.

“i shall take care of you, as i always have,” he promised, sweet and innocent.

but you knew better—still, you obeyed and kept quiet, like a docile doll.

then, his left sapphire eye gleamed menacingly, his violet eye trained on the side of your neck, his pupil dilated and observing as two, little streams of blood seeped out of the tiny, punctured holes in your neck, due to his bite—his one-eye sharp, piercing, and hungry as he looked at you.

“cantante,” aemond hissed, before your world turned black.

fin

[intern-seraph]

forget-me-not (Chp 1)

also on ao3

Summary: For the first time in your seven years alive, you meet someone new in your small town. Little do either of you know that your brief friendship will bind you together long, long after you are forced to part ways.

A/N: hi :)

shoutout to matcha twstjam for being my cheerleader thru this insane, ongoing journey

For those who have been following me on my socials, i'm sorry you know that this fic has been in the works for over a year as of last month. I was originally intending on publishing it only when it was complete, but it very quickly grew way out of hand and I realized that it would definitely not be complete any time soon. Still, I wanted to put it out into the world! So I decided to publish the first chapter! When will the rest come out? Who knows? I certainly don't lol ALSO the presence of forget-me-nots in the actual fic is, at most, debatable lmao i just thought it was a cool and fitting title

Anyways, I have a deep, desperate need for more jewishness in fan content, so I'm filling that dearth myself.

————

You peer out from behind the gnarled oak tree at the edge of the town park. Its trunk is almost half as wide as you are tall, and its boughs are so thick and heavy that the branches droop under their own weight. Once, there was a rope swing that hung from one of the thicker branches. It was destroyed in a storm a few years ago, and nobody has bothered to replace it since. As one of the few children living here, you don’t mind its absence much. After all, you only ever come here to read. Usually you sit on the other side of this very tree, enjoying the shade and the rustling leaves. However, today someone’s taken your spot. The stranger seems to be only a few years older than you, dressed entirely in black. Their clothes shimmer as light filters through the leaves, and you know that the fabric must be fine and expensive. Slivers of their pale skin peek out from the ends of their sleeves and the hem of their robe. It’s a far cry from the homespun woolen garments and rough, sun-kissed skin of your neighbors. The most bizarre thing about them, however, are their spiraling black horns.

You hug your book to your chest, unsure of what to do. You’ve never seen this child before, after all, and you know all of the other kids in town (all four of them, that is). Even worse, you just know that whoever this is must be rich and therefore important. Why are they here, of all places?

“Um…” You tiptoe over the tree’s massive roots and draw closer to the stranger. “Are you from around here?”

The stranger startles, and you yelp as the world burns bright green for a moment. With a grunt, you fall back and land squarely on your butt. You lie there for a second, blinking away the spots in your vision before your throat begins to tighten and tears form at the corners of your eyes. Beside you, the stranger’s blurry face appears. Your sniffling turns into sobs, and you cover your face with both hands as you start crying.

“H-hey,” says the stranger, touching you lightly, “don’t cry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

You wail even louder, rolling onto your side and curling up into a ball. The stranger pats your shoulder stiffly.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, voice breaking. “Please don’t be scared.”

Finally, your crying peters out. You hiccup as you wipe your tears away on your sleeve. “I-I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say. The stranger remains silent. “That was magic, right? I scared you and you used your magic…”

“That’s okay. Are you hurt?” The stranger extends a hand into your field of view and hauls you up onto your feet with little effort. Now that you can see clearly, you lean closer to examine his face. He’s a boy around your age, you think. His cheeks are round and soft but you can see where his baby fat is starting to recede. His lips curl into a small pout, accentuated by the embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. You can’t help but gawk at his electric green eyes. They’re so distinct that, without taking his horns into account, their color and slit pupils alone would tell you that he’s not human. When he notices you’re staring, he shifts back in discomfort. You jolt and giggle abashedly.

“No, I’m okay. Uh, who are you? Are you from around here?” You start to circle him, eyeing his odd features with interest. Are those scales crawling up the back of his neck? Why is the back of his robe moving so weirdly?

“No,” he mumbles. He holds something close to his chest. A book! “I’m… from really far away. My grandmother brought me with her to do some —” his nose scrunches up “— official business. But that’s boring so I left.”

“Won’t your grandma be worried?”

He puffs up like a particularly proud pigeon. “Nuh-uh. I’m big and strong so I can take care of myself!” As he speaks, the thing moving under his robe finally lifts enough to reveal itself: a thick, scaly black tail. It swishes from side to side as he practically preens. Cute. “What about you? You’re here all alone!”

“I know everyone here, duh.” You crouch down and pick up your book, then trot over to sit in your usual spot now that it’s empty. The stranger pouts at you, puffing out his cheeks. You turn your nose up at him. “This was my spot first.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. You can sit next to me, I guess.”

He blinks slowly at you, fingers tightening on his book, before he breaks out into a brilliant smile and plops down at your side. You take note of his sharp fangs. Part of you is tempted to touch them, but you restrain yourself well enough. “What’s your name?” asks the stranger.

You give it to him immediately, pausing to spell it out letter-by-letter just to show off. He nods, but when you ask him the same question, he balks.

“Is it okay if I don’t tell you? I don’t wanna… uh…” He waves his hands for emphasis. “I don’t want my grandmother to hear about me.”

“Well then what should I call you?”

“Hmm…” He furrows his brow and scrunches his eyes shut. Then, he gasps and beams at you. “Nickname! You can gimme a nickname!”

“A nickname, huh? How about…” Your voice trails off. You stare at him, pursing your lips. First, you glance up at his horns, then his tail (thumping against one of the oak tree’s roots), then back up at his horns. “Horn…ton? Yeah, Hornton!”

“That sounds weird.”

“Too bad! You’re Hornton now!”

Hornton rolls his eyes. He opens the book in his lap, clearly trying (and failing) to look smart and above-it-all, but you can see the pointed tips of his ears turning red. Giggling, you follow his lead and open your own book. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch his petulant expression melt into contentment while he reads. He’s cute like this. He’s cute in general — which is a thought that makes you want to gag — but you especially like his sweet little smile. Although you were loath to share your spot beneath the tree, he does make for good reading company. That is, he’s quiet and doesn’t take up too much of your personal space. Before you know it, the sun is setting.

You dog-ear your page and nudge Hornton. “Hey, it’s getting late. You should go back to your grandma.” Hornton jolts, but doesn’t react as violently as he did earlier. His tail thuds against the tree trunk.

“Oh, yeah. I gotta go!” He doesn’t move, only fidgeting with his robe. “Uh, thanks for sitting with me.”

“Why’re you thanking me? It’s no problem.” You pause and look away. Feeling your face grow hot, you say, “Will you be back again?”

“C-Can I?”

“Yeah! I mean, you’re a pretty decent reading buddy, so… yeah.”

“Yes! I’ll be back tomorrow!” He smiles so broadly that you think it must hurt.

“Cool! I’ll be here after noon, that’s when our classes are over.” You stand up and start patting your clothes to get rid of any dirt. Then, you turn and give Hornton a grin of your own. “‘S nice meeting you! See ya!”

He waves timidly, eyes wide and almost shimmering. You don’t give it too much thought, you just start sprinting back down the dirt road leading into town.

—

“Mister Crowley!”

You slam the front door open, practically vibrating with excitement. The schoolmaster yelps from further inside your house, then rushes over to greet you. He’s pouting, feathers positively ruffled. Gently, he grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a once-over.

“Now, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I was at the park!” You grin and hold up your book.

Crowley sighs and shakes his head. He wags his finger at you as he starts walking you to the dining room. “Now, child, what have we said about staying out late?”

“Uh… tell you?”

“Indeed! I have been very generous with allowing you free reign of the town! Nevermind all your tchotchkes and trinkets! If you’ll be gallivanting around like this in the future, make sure to inform your very magnanimous guardian beforehand! I was about to send the entire neighborhood out to look for you!”

He probably wasn’t. You know him well enough to know that. But the concern is appreciated. “Sorry,” you say.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Crowley mutters. He pulls out your seat at your little dining table and returns to his own chair. Just at a glance, you can tell that he’d tucked in to his dinner before you came home. As you pick up your fork, a soft little body butts up against your calf. You squeal with delight and duck under the table to scoop up Grim, your bratty street cat. He mrows petulantly, but lets you cuddle him. It had taken a week of relentless begging for Crowley to let you take Grim in, and you had to pinky promise to take good care of him. Then, your friends got the bright idea of trying to bind the cat to you as a familiar (despite your lack of magic), and while it hasn’t worked yet, it certainly helped warm Crowley up to the idea. Something about his sweet baby becoming a beast tamer. You’re not sure what that is, and you’re definitely not a baby, but if it works, it works.

The air is filled with the quiet clink of silverware. After a while, you speak up. “I met someone today.”

Crowley nearly chokes. He pounds on his chest, coughing into his fist. It takes a second for him to recover. “You what?”

“There was a boy at the park,” you explain, “we read together.”

“What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

“Nothing, we already know everyone in town.”

His mouth opens and closes silently. Then, sighing, he shakes his head. “Well, yes, but you were supposed to say that we don’t talk to strangers.”

“He wasn’t scary or anything,” you lie, remembering how you startled each other.

“Very well! Be careful, though. If something were to happen to you, I don’t even know what I would say, er, do!”

You pointedly ignore that slip-up in favor of finishing your meal. Pushing your chair away from the table with a screech, you grab your dishes and your cat and say a quick “good night!” to your guardian.

—

First thing in the morning when you and Crowley arrive at the schoolhouse, you’re accosted by Ace and Deuce. It’s mostly Ace doing the accosting, really, but Deuce joins him in hanging on your back like the world’s heaviest and most annoying koalas. You shake them off and whip around to start wrestling with Ace. Deuce takes his loss better, choosing to sit on the grass and watch you and Ace play fight. Crowley clears his throat several times, probably to get your attention, but you’re preoccupied and he gives up quickly in favor of unlocking the door and stepping inside. There’s a holler nearby, a series of rapid footsteps, and another heavy body falls on you with a grunt.

“Epel!” you wheeze out, squirming on top of the also-squirming Ace. “Can’t breathe!”

“Oh!” Epel rolls off of you, and you roll off of Ace. “Sorry, looked like you were havin’ fun!”

“Was fun,” Ace mumbles, “until you two crushed me.”

“Oops.”

“You didn’t die, though,” you say before you get up. “Also you started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“How do you guys do this every morning?” says Jack as he trots up to join you all on the lawn. He rolls his eyes in a remarkable impression of his mother when she’s scolding all five of you. “We’ve gotta go to class.”

“Ace started it!” you repeat.

“Whatever, c’mon.” Jack hauls both you and Ace up by your forearms while you both giggle. He shakes his head, marching you both into the schoolhouse with Epel and Deuce hot on your tails.

"Ah, there you are! I was wondering what was taking you all so long. Take your seats! We have Professor Trein visiting from the city today for our lesson."

Ace groans as he flops into his seat. You lean over and smack his shoulder. Deuce takes his own seat beside you, trying his best to look enthused.

Professor Trein works in the capitol as a history professor for the university. While he's nice enough (and his familiar Lucius is cute and fluffy), every time he comes to give a lesson at your schoolhouse is somehow more boring than the last. You sink down in your seat, ready to daydream until class lets out. When Professor Trein takes Crowley’s place in front of the blackboard, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Without looking at him, you take the slip of paper Ace passes.

‘my mom wants u to come to a party tonite’

Aside from a time scribbled beneath the words, there’s no other information. Great. History lessons with Professor Trein followed by a party where you’ll be stuck at the kids’ table. Again. At least you have a few hours to hang out with your new friend after school.

—

After class, Epel hands out little brown sacks full of apples to everyone. “Ma ‘n Pa said that they’re ‘not fit to sell’ or somethin’, and Meemaw said I should give ‘em to all of you.” You sling your sack over your shoulder, say your “see you later!”s to your friends, and march off to the park.

Beneath your tree, Hornton is waiting. You sprint towards him, grinning, and he looks up at you with wide eyes before returning the smile. He has his book in his lap, open to a different page than he left on.

“Hi,” you say shyly, hugging your sack of apples to your chest. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not really. I mean, maybe? Dunno, I didn’t really notice.”

You sit next to him and set the apples between your splayed legs. Fishing a plump red one out, you wipe it on your blouse and offer it to him. “Here!”

“Why do you have apples?” He eyes it curiously, hand hovering over it.

“My friend’s family has an orchard so he gave us all some after class.” You wave the apple around. “Take it! They’re good!”

Hornton takes the apple. He inspects it in the sunlight for a moment, then takes a bite. His eyes light up as he sinks his teeth into the apple’s hard skin, and he demolishes the fruit in less than a minute. Licking the juice off of his lips and fangs, he mumbles a messy thanks. You just smile and bop your temple against his. As you pull your novel out of your bookbag, you take another apple from the sack and shine it on your trousers. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Hornton staring longingly at the sack.

“You can take another if you want,” you say.

He jumps, green eyes going comically wide. Cheeks flushed a bright ruby-red, he snatches another apple from the sack and rubs it clumsily on his very expensive robes.

“Do you like apples?”

“I do now,” he replies. He’s visibly struggling to keep his attention both on you and the book in his lap.

Curious, you lean over his shoulder and try to make sense of the foreign words in his book. Your brow scrunches up. “What’re you reading?”

His body goes tense the moment you touch him, but he doesn’t flinch away. When you glance up at his face, his expression is more severe and excited than you’ve seen yet. “It’s about arky… archee… uh, it’s about buildings and art! And this is the chapter about gargoyles!” He jabs an excited claw against an illustration of a beastly statue whose jaw hangs open. Water pours down its chin. The page (and the ones preceding and succeeding it) is clearly more worn than the rest of the book. “We have a bunch at the — I mean, at home — and Grandmother saw that I really liked them so she gave me this book!”

“What’s a gargoyle?”

He looks at you like you just confessed to murder. Shaking his head, he flips back a few pages. “They’re ‘ornamental stone carvings of animals or people that project from the side of a building and serve as the spout of a gutter.’ You’ve seen one before, right?”

“No.” You lean in closer to inspect another illustration. “They’re weird.” He stares at you, aghast. You roll your eyes. “Cool weird. We don’t have these out here.”

"Oh… that's a shame. Maybe one day you could come see the ones in my home."

You peer up at him. "Maybe. I gotta ask Mister Crowley."

"Who's that?"

"I live with him. He's weird."

"Cool weird?"

"Weird weird." You nudge him with your shoulder. "Do you live with your grandma?"

"Yeah."

"So it's you and her and your parents?"

Hornton goes completely quiet. He fingers the gilded edge of the page. Softly, he mumbles, "They aren't here anymore."

"Oh. Mine too. That's why I'm with Mister Crowley."

“... Do you know what happened to them?”

You shrug and pluck another apple out of the sack. As you wipe it on your trousers, you reply, “Nah. I dunno if Mister Crowley knows, either. He says he found me in a box left outside the school. There was a note, but it only said my name.”

“Oh.” Hornton looks away. “That’s sad.”

“I guess.” You shrug again. “If they didn’t want me, I don’t want them neither.”

He stares at you, wide-eyed. All he manages is another quiet, “Oh.”

Scowling, you take a bite out of your apple. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Let’s just read.”

“Okay. I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He seems to wilt at your curt statement. You add, “Really, it’s fine. Please, I wanna get through another chapter before I have to go.”

“You’re going somewhere?”

“Yeah, some party at my friend’s house. It’s not even for him, so I dunno why I’m invited, but I think his mom invited everyone in town.” Another bite. You look over the words on the page, not really processing them. “So I gotta go in a couple hours.”

“That must be nice,” Hornton sighs. “Getting invited to parties all the time.”

“What? No, it’s boring. It’s just boring grownup stuff most of the time. It’s only fun when it’s a birthday party, and there’s only four other kids in town so those never happen.” You emphasize this with a long groan.

“Really?” He thinks on this for a moment. “I guess it’s like the parties Grandmother throws.”

“What kinda parties?”

“Uh, they’re… big and fancy, but there aren’t any kids at all. And I can’t go dance or talk to people. And… um… it’s a lot. I don’t like them that much.”

You watch him as his voice shrinks and his head droops. Gently, you bop your temple against his. He perks up a little. With a small smile, you say, “Maybe I can invite you to my birthday party this year. It’d be fun!”

For a moment, you’d swear his eyes water. He beams at you, reaching out to grasp your hand. “I’d like that.”

—

The party at Ace's house is full of tipsy adults while you and your friends drink your juice in a corner. Well, everyone except Ace. His mother parades him around to talk to the other adults who apparently know him. None of you envy him — he looks miserable.

It turns out that the party is for Ace's brother. He emerges from a side room with his girlfriend on his arm and introduces her as his fiancée. When Deuce gives you a questioning look, you lean over and tell him that that means they're going to get married. The adults cheer and sing and dance for hours longer; the celebration only pauses for bedtime (which is fine with you, the party was boring anyways).

The next morning, Crowley wobbles out of his room with most of his weight held up by his cane. He has a faint green tinge to his face, but that doesn't stop him from walking with you to the schoolhouse. This is all, of course, just to announce that class is canceled for the day. You gather with your friends and, after a brief argument, decide to play in the park together.

That's how you find yourself nearly tripping over a familiar figure sitting beneath the oak tree. Hornton looks up from his book, gasps, and reaches out to help steady you. You wheel your arms around haphazardly for a moment before you breathe out a sigh of relief. Then, you take in Hornton's face and gasp.

"Oh! You're here today!"

Before you can give a proper greeting, Ace hollers your name. Both you and Hornton turn to look at the four boys coming to join you. Ace stops, bare toes curling in the grass. He eyes Hornton warily, the sloppy heart painted around his left eye scrunching up. "Who're you?"

"Uh…"

"He's Hornton and he's my friend," you say for him.

"'Hornton?'" Epel repeats. He snorts. "That's a stupid name."

"It isn't my real name," mumbles Hornton.

"Your name is stupid, Epel," you snap. You cross your arms and stick out your tongue. He returns the gesture.

"You guys are children," says Jack. Epel appears comically devastated at the deadpan insult. You huff softly.

Deuce snorts. "You're the youngest!"

"By a month!"

"Your friends are loud," Hornton whispers. You nod. He picks at the page he's on, a tiny film of gold foil flaking onto his black claw. "Should I go?"

"No!" Your friends turn to stare at you. Hornton blinks slowly, pink tinting his cheeks. He smiles bashfully, shrinking a little into his robes. Ace, meanwhile, gets that certain spark in his eye that instantly makes you shoot him a glare in warning. He grins, showing off one of his missing baby teeth, but keeps his mouth otherwise shut.

"Wait, is this the kid you mentioned yesterday?" Deuce asks. He peers over at Hornton. "I thought you were kidding."

"Why would I kid about that? That'd be weird."

"'Cause you're weird," Epel mutters, and you lunge for him while he shrieks with laughter and ducks away.

"You've got pointy ears," says Jack, his own fluffy white ears swiveling towards Hornton before he turns to look at you, "kinda like your dad."

Ew. From your spot on the grass wrestling with Epel, you sit up. "Mister Crowley is not my dad."

"But you live with him?"

"So?"

"I live with my Meemaw," Epel adds. "She's not my mom."

"See?"

Hornton observes your conversation. He tilts his head and hums thoughtfully. "I live with my grandmother, that doesn't make her my mother."

"You talk funny."

"Epel!"

"What? It's true! He talks all fancy like Professor Trein!"

"Fancy?"

"Fancy!"

You roll your eyes and shove Epel. Ignoring his indignant squawk, you scurry over to sit beside Hornton. "Wanna hang out with us?"

He stares at you, mouth agape. Again, he smiles shyly. "You're really inviting me?"

"Duh," Ace drawls. "Why else would they ask?"

Hornton tucks his book into his robe. A tiny green light sparks at his fingertips for a moment as he does so. Then, he stands up. He holds his curled fists close to his chest, guarding. Ignoring his nerves, you grab his hands and use him as leverage to stand, too.

"Whaddya wanna play? Or talk about?"

"Uh… I don't know?"

"Do you guys think you'll ever get married?" Deuce blurts out. All 5 of you turn to stare at him. He goes pale before blushing furiously. "Wait, no, I mean —! Since Ace's brother's gonna get married I was thinking about it!"

You hum. "I'unno. Maybe? Mister Crowley cried last night when I asked him if I'd ever get married."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna get married," Jack asserts. His tail swishes with excitement. "My mom and dad said that I'll know when I found 'the one.'"

"What does that mean?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. But they've been together for forever."

"True. Ace?"

He makes an exaggerated gagging sound. Complete with gestures. "No way! My brother and his fiancée are so gross with each other all the time! It's weird."

"It's gross 'cause he's your brother, dummy."

"And?"

"My mom's not married," Deuce says, plucking at the grass. "She says my dad was a… uh… a 'good-for-nothing scumbag'. She gets all sad when she talks about him, so I dunno about getting married."

"My Grandmother told me that I have to get married one day." Hornton shrugs. "But I don't really think about it."

"So you've never thought about your wedding?" you ask.

Ace shoves you. "You're the only one who has! You're always reading those kissing books."

"So?"

"Kissing books?" Hornton repeats.

"They're called romance and they're good!"

"Real life is grosser," says Ace. You shove him. "Hey!"

"What if we did our own wedding?" Jack interjects. Everyone pauses to look at him. "It can be like training. For when Ace's brother has his, I mean."

"Yeah but who would be who?" Deuce glances over at you, then Hornton. "Why don't you guys play the people getting married?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeah! Me 'n Ace 'n Jack 'n Deuce will put up the… the thing!"

"Thing?"

"A chuppah! We gotta make a chuppah!"

"We gotta get some big sticks!"

"I think I saw some branches over on the other side of the tree."

"Nice, Jack! Hey, you 'n Hornton should make some rings! We'll be right back!" Deuce scurries off with the other boys, leaving you and Hornton standing in a stunned silence.

“What?”

“I guess we’re playing wedding?” You shrug and start looking for wildflowers. Hornton watches you with wide eyes. You glance over at him. “C’mon! Help me make the rings!”

He crouches down next to you. Giving you a helpless look, he holds his hands to his chest in hesitation. “Um… how do we do that?”

“We’ll get some flowers and tie the stems! Like making flower crowns! Oh oh oh! We should make flower crowns, too!”

“Oh. I’ve never made a flower crown before. Can you show me?”

“Yeah!” You kneel next to him with a fistful of brightly-colored wildflowers. Hornton watches in rapt attention as you slowly weave their stems together, forming a ring just big enough to fit you as a bracelet. He claps when you present it. Then, without a word, you reach up and drop it onto one of his horns. Hornton sits in stunned silence for a moment before he blushes and mumbles a quiet thanks. He takes the leftover flowers and carefully weaves a crown for you, this one large enough to actually be a crown. His brow furrows as he finishes the crown and then places it on your head. Giggling, you touch the petals. “Thank you, honey!” “H-Honey?”

“Yeah! That’s what the ladies in my romance books call their gentlemen! If we’re getting married I should call you that!”

“Oh!” He smiles, shoulders hunched, then grabs one of the few remaining flowers. “Here, uh, honey. I’ll make your ring.” He winds the stem around your left ring finger, sticking his tongue out in deep concentration. Once he’s knotted the stem, he uses a claw to snip off the excess. Without your prompting, he holds out his own left hand for you to do the same.

“We match!” you whisper-shout, holding your hand next to his.

“Mhm!” His tail thump thump thumps behind him. “Wait, let me try something…” Hornton leans over and touches your flower crown and ring. A bright green light envelops the both of you, and you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. Once it fades, you crack open one eye. The flowers seem unchanged.

“What’d you do?”

“I tried a spell my Grandmother taught me. It’s s’posed to keep plants from withering!” He twists the flower ring on his finger. “I mean, I don’t know if I did it right, but if I did then we’ll always have these!”

“I like that.” You take off your own ring and cradle it in your palm. “I like it.”

A holler from Epel breaks your focus, and you turn to look at the oak. Beneath it, the boys have stuck four massive branches in the ground. Now, they’re arguing over who will give up their jacket to use as a canopy. Beside you, Hornton sighs and takes off his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, it floats up to rest atop the branches and shade the ground beneath it. The boys shut up, seeing the matter settled.

“Okay, I think we gotta start with… uh…” Deuce frowns and scrunches up his nose. After a long moment of deliberation, he looks at the rest of you helplessly.

“You gotta give each other your rings!” Ace shouts.

You tilt your head. “But we already did that while you were getting the sticks.”

“Then give them back and do it again!”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you gotta!”

You roll your eyes but slide the flower ring off your finger. Hornton does the same, cradling his delicately in his palm. You drop yours in his hand and take his. Pinching the stem between your fingers, you glance over at Ace. “Aren’t you supposed to say something?”

“I’m not the one who’s… uh…” His nose scrunches up as he thinks for a moment. “Mom called them an o-fish-ant?”

“You’re not a fish,” Deuce supplies helpfully.

“It’s ‘officiant’, stupid,” you interject. “Did you guys even pick someone for that?”

“I’ll do it,” says Jack, “‘cause if I don’t, this’ll never be done. And then I’ll miss lunch and my mom will yell at me.”

“You’re taking this way too seriously.” Ace folds his arms behind his head. “We’re just playing!”

“A wedding’s a wedding.”

“Whatever, do your fish thing!” “It’s ‘officiant’!”

Jack clears his throat. You and Hornton turn to give him your rapt attention. His nose scrunches up and one fluffy ear flicks at the air a few times before he begins speaking. “Uh, we’re gonna… start with you giving each other your rings.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “... Go on. Do it.”

You raise your left hand dutifully, and Hornton slides the flower ring onto your finger. You do the same for him. Both he and Jack look so serious about this that it’s hard not to giggle. “Okay, now what?”

“Um…”

“Oh! I remember one’a my cousins got married and she walked ‘round her husband a bunch!”

“That sounds weird.”

“It was! But she did it!”

“How many times did she do it?”

“I dunno.”

“Wouldn’t you get dizzy?” Deuce mumbles.

“I mean, she seemed fine.”

You glance at Epel, shrug, then look back at Hornton. “Wanna do it?” He nods eagerly. Again, you try not to giggle. Hornton beams. “Okay, I’ll go first! Epel, how many times should I do it?”

“Uh… I dunno, until you start getting dizzy?”

“Bet I can do more than you,” you whisper to Hornton. He stares at you, wide-eyed, then grins so sharply you barely recognize him.

“Bet you’re wrong.”

You both laugh. Taking a deep breath, you start to walk around and around and around Hornton. He spins with you, wobbling. Meanwhile, your friends count every lap. One, two, three, four — you get to seven, and decide to tap out. Hornton puffs out his chest and, a little green in the face, starts circling you, instead. He also makes it to seven.

“Aw,” you mutter. “It’s a tie.”

“I totally could’ve beat you if I went first.” You stick your tongue out at Hornton. He giggles to himself. Then, he turns to Jack. “So, uh, what next?”

“Umm…” Jack’s face screws up in contemplation. His ears swivel back and forth for a moment, before he hesitantly replies, “Uh… you’re married now?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you say.

“Aren’t we s’posed to… kiss?”

You stare at Hornton, who appears just as flustered as you now feel. “I think so.”

“Wait!” Ace reaches into his coat pocket and retrieves a small pinecone. He sets it on the ground between you and Hornton. “You’re supposed’ta crush it first!”

“Isn’t it supposed to be glass?” Jack asks, and Ace shoves him. “Hey!”

“Do you wanna go get glass to step on?”

“... No.”

“‘Kay, then pinecone it is!” He gestures enthusiastically at the pinecone. “Crush it! Go! Go! Go!”

You squeeze Hornton’s hand, giggling, and in unison you both lift a foot and crush the pinecone under your feet. It gives a loud, crackling crunch, and its little seed pockets burst and go flying. Your friends hoot and holler in celebration.

“‘Kay, now you need to kiss!” Ace declares.

Hornton turns beet red. “Kiss?”

“Like, for real?” you squeak.

“Uh, yeah, otherwise it’s not a wedding.”

You fidget with your ring, face hot. Hornton stares at you with wide, uncertain eyes. All the while, your friends (well, everyone but Jack) chant, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You’re the one to take the initiative. Squeezing your eyes shut, you lean in and give Hornton a brief, chaste kiss. It lasts only for a second, and from his startled squeak, it’s almost as if he expected that nothing would ever happen. Behind you, Epel and Ace gag dramatically.

“Ewww, you actually did it!” Epel shakes you by the shoulders and cackles through his words. “Gross!”

“You wanted us to kiss!” you protest. Before you can say more, he lifts you on his shoulders. Your words become a shrill squeal, and you can see Ace and Deuce struggling to lift Hornton, as well. “EPEL! PUT ME DOWN!”

“You’re married!” he crows. “You kissed someone!”

For his part, Hornton buries his face in his hands while Ace and Deuce finally manage to lift him up together.

“Uh… mazel tov,” Jack mumbles.

“We’re not actually married!” Even as you say this, you can’t help your rosy cheeks, nor the way your heart races as you meet Hornton’s electric gaze. He smiles bashfully as he grips Ace and Deuce’s shoulders for balance.

Hours later, after you and Hornton and your friends have spent the rest of the day dancing together and chatting and playing tag, you and Hornton are the only ones left at the park. Everyone else went home as the sun began to set. You run your fingers over your ring’s petals, fascinated by their softness.

“Did you have fun?” you ask, voice small. “I know my friends can be a lot…”

“Yeah.” A faint flush brings life to Hornton’s pale face. He smiles, and the sun casts him in gold. “I haven’t had this much fun in forever. Thank you.” For a moment, he hesitates, then he reaches to grab your hand. “Um… will you be here tomorrow?”

You nod, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Mhm! Do you… wanna read together, maybe?”

It’s as if the sun is rising again when he beams. He gives your hand a squeeze. “I’d like that.”

Though you’re loath to leave, you force yourself to give Hornton a squeeze in return before you pull back. “I gotta go before Mister Crowley starts worrying. Bye, Hornton.”

“Goodbye.”

—

When you go home, you can’t stop yourself from spinning the flower ring on your finger. Crowley asks you what you’re giggling about over dinner, and all you do is grin and show him the ring and crown. He rolls his eyes, muttering about children and their whimsies (whatever that means), and shoos you off to bed once you’ve finished and cleaned up. Before you crawl under the covers, you take off the flowers and place both pieces delicately on your nightstand.

The next day, once school is over, you run to your oak tree. You’re wearing your ring again, unable to stop looking at it and its perfectly-maintained petals. With an excited shout of “HORNTON!” you swing around to the other side of the tree.

And it’s empty.

Your heart drops.

‘Maybe he’s doing something with his grandma?’

The next day, you approach your tree again, less enthused and more nervous. He’s not there.

‘I thought we were gonna play together again.’

Day after day, you check your tree. Day after day, you’re greeted with no sign of the boy you’d started to befriend. Spring turns into summer. Ace’s brother gets married, and all you can think about during the ceremony is a scaly black tail thump thump thumping against the ground. When the leaves of your oak tree begin to turn gold and orange and red, you stop checking.

The ring and the flower crown remain just as pristine as they were the day they were made. You leave the crown on your dresser and wear the ring to class every day.

Years pass. You grow up. Your friends start taking extra lessons after classes a few times a week to train their magic. A new teacher from the city starts to visit, a young man named Divus Crewel. He teaches chemistry and alchemy, and you take to it like a fish to water. The private lessons you get from him almost help to soothe the beast of envy that grows in your chest every time you leave your friends to their magic classes. By the time you turn 13, the ring no longer fits. You keep it and the crown in a little wooden box tucked lovingly beneath your bed. Sometimes, you take them out and marvel at how little they’ve changed. Your friends, however, change just as rapidly as you do. Their magical prowess grows at a startling rate. You content yourself with cheering from the sidelines and working on your alchemical skills. Ace and Deuce try to bind Grim to you as a familiar first when you’re 16 (It doesn’t work, but your hair briefly catches fire). They next try when you’re 18 (It almost works. Crowley says it may have to do with your utter lack of any magic. You try not to feel resentful.). At last, on your 19th birthday, they succeed. It’s quite possibly the best gift you’ve ever gotten; Grim’s life is prolonged for as long as he’s bound to you.

By 20, you and your friends (by some miracle) all get accepted to the university in the city, the same one that Professors Trein and Crewel teach at. You start working under Crewel as a student alchemist (He says you’re one of his most promising students, especially because you have no magic to use as a shortcut. For once, you don’t wilt at the mention of magic.). You see your first real gargoyle on one of the older campus buildings. You take a photo, your mind conjuring up a fanged grin and excited electric green eyes. ‘Does Hornton still like gargoyles?’ you wonder as you save the photo. Years later, at your graduation ceremony, you take another photo of the gargoyle. Now, it’s decorated with a few fabric-flower leis that your fellow graduates managed to get over its head. ‘Look, Hornton, the gargoyle is celebrating, too!’

You return to your hometown after receiving your degree. Crowley graciously allows you to stay at home (although you suspect he might just like having another hand to help around the house) while you continue your work as an alchemist. Crewel has hired you full-time as a lab assistant. Every day you take the train into the city for work. Sometimes, when you get all caught up in your head and the novelty of watching the world pass by through the window, you find yourself reaching for your left ring finger to twist a ring that isn’t there.

‘It’s been almost twenty years,’ you chastise yourself, ‘why are you still thinking about that boy?’

Despite your age, your experience in romance is limited to the cheesy romance novels and cheap bodice-rippers that populate your bookshelf, interspersed between your textbooks and notebooks. For some reason, you could never bring yourself to try dating. Every time the thought comes to you, you feel the phantom sensation of a soft stem wrapped around your finger. Your friends tease you about it. Ace calls you a dweeb. Epel says you’re acting foolish over a stupid game you played as children. Deuce laughs and does a pantomime of your fake wedding. Jack just shakes his head knowingly. He’s the most understanding about it — wolves mate for life, and he gets why you would take a play-wedding to heart. That doesn’t stop him from getting a jab or two in on occasion, though.Some days, you pull the box out from under your bed and look at the flowers. As always, they look just as perfect as the day they were picked. Now that you’re older, you’ve learned more about magic. The spell required to make and maintain such perfect preservation requires both skill and a wellspring of magic. The amount of magic alone would send most experienced mages into overblot. This only stokes your curiosity. How did Hornton, a child hardly older than you, cast such a spell with ease? Who was he? It’s a question that haunts you. It’s a question you know you’ll never get an answer to.

[hyunsvngs]

piss kink ask incoming, sorry if you're sick of these but not many skz blogs are into piss kinks so you're my go tooo

what would each of their reactions be to accidentally wetting themselves when you're experimenting with piss kink/omorashi. as in you give them loads to drink so you can play around and have fun with it but then they actually can't hold it and wet themselves in the car on the way home or on the floor etc.

who would be embarrassed and try to hide it, who would go to you for comfort and who would want to fuck anyway (lol jisung)

i am never sick of piss asks and that i PROMISE you. also thanks to my disciples @jyu-037 and @beesspacedotorg for brainstorming this with me <3

chan: definitely gets embarrassed. he loves doing it to you but god, did he really just piss himself? he’d hide himself behind his hands, legs kicking in his joggers with a little wail of “baby, seriously, this is embarrassing!!” but as soon as you tell him you’re wet and horny over it he’s down. “really? really really? heh, okay. it’s fine then.”

minho: he’s mad bc he’s embarrassed. that cute lil pout on his lips as he stares down at the wet spot in his pants :( he’ll quickly come round though, and then his pretty kitty has to clean up the mess for him with their mouth >:3

changbin: immediately wants to hit. he’s thinking about YOU pissing on HIM now and that’s enough for his cute lil cock to chub up in his pants. “yeobo, yeobo, you wanna make it messier? please!”

hyunjin: he’s shocked because he’s harder than he’s ever been. i think he’s definitely ashamed of it too, hands over his crotch to try and hide his boner, but when you tell him you wanna see…. well, damn, okay. “you like that? angel, that’s dirty!” but he Likes being dirty >:3

jisung: whiney. horny. leaky. hard. “pleasepleaseplease! baby, my baby, it’s hot, please touch me, please, i can’t i can’t i can’t-“ and then as soon as you wrap your hand around him he’s cumming LMAO. piss in his mouth after to get that cute lil heart shaped smile from him <3

felix: cries, but not because he’s embarrassed… he’s so fucking horny. he’s never felt anything like it before and god he’s hard and covered in his own piss and please just call him cute!!! tell him he’s a good little dirty boy and he’ll just cry harder bc he loves being dirty for you :( i love cutie lixie

seungmin: he’d probably not entertain this anyway, like he wants you to do it LOL. if he does, he’s embarrassed and needs comfort at the same time. hold him close and call him your good little puppy for pissing himself so nice for you <3

jeongin: nonverbal. sits there staring into space until you get him clean and them afterwards he’s just like “shit. what the fuck was that. what the fuck.” like in pure shock LMAO!!! he’s not really disgusted though, just in shock! he’s probably still hard bc he likes it kinda wet and messy <3

[oneforthemunny]

getting a new puppy tomorrow and thinking about how mafia!eddie would pull out the works to surprise you.

thinking about when he surprised you with beelzebub. it was sort of a “sorry I won’t be able to give you a real baby bc my job sucks and I’m scared it would get killed or it would end up like me lol so here’s a dog” gift but still (obv pre bea).

he wouldn’t DARE deprive you of going puppy shopping, cradling the sweet, snuggly puppy in your arms and shopping for all the essentials. toys, puppy chow, leashes, harnesses, a bed. strolling through the pet store for hours, eddie is more than happy to let you buy whatever.

you yell at him to drive slow in the porsche bc you don’t want to scare beelzie. “eddie, stop! we have a baby in the car!”

“it’s a dog, honey-“

“he is my baby, and I said slow down! you’re making me sick anyways.”

and ofc he does for you. he would always for you. you introduce him to his brothers who are less than impressed, but don’t dare snap at him the way they want to. even when he’s clumsily pulling in their tails and ears.

the fight happens bc eddie sends him away for training, something you were dead set against. you didn’t understand why he had to go away for a month.

“he’s going to forget me and-and be confused and scared, and… and this is stupid, ed!” you wail.

“baby, he has to be trained-“

“but he doesn’t have to be sent away!” you cry, snatching your things off the bedside, vision bleary with tears. “I’m not speaking to you until you bring my baby back.”

“honey, it is the middle of the night. can you just please-“ the door slams, the dogs following you to the guest room.

eddie tried to coax you out, sweet promises where his only response is a sniffle or muffled cry. eddie’s fed up and for a moment, he really does think you’ll never speak to him again. so at three in the morning, he’s back, baby beelzebub back in his arms, a little sleepy and confused but excited when he sees you, when you smother him in kisses.

“there. will you come back to bed please? please don’t be mad at me anymore?” eddie begs softly. he’s glad no one else is around to hear him speak like that to you.

you grin, wrapping your free arms around him to pull him in for a sweet kiss, beelzie licking his face and yours making you giggle.