#horrible and ugly but such a beauty of nature and

[bunloved]

Im having thoughts about cannibalism again and by God I can not be normal about it

[uraandri]

all of these classy style coaches or whatever the fuck always have the ugliest outfits or makeup or interiors

how are you telling women that wearing boots with skirts is a no go but you can't even blend out your bronzer? i can smell the poliester in your curtains and you didn't even iron them properly

[comfortless]

hades! konig and persephone! reader

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. abduction, voyeurism, dubcon, not very explicit smut.

notes: this has been on my mind for an eternity actually thank you sweet anon for finally encouraging me to write it out! if you celebrate, merry christmas! and if not consider this just a lil gift for absolutely no reason apart from for being my first Kö request. 💕

A hollow grows within him the moment his gaze meets hers. A chance crossing whilst collecting a rare offering of fruit laid out just for him. Most mortals wouldn’t beckon his attention, and the gods often left him just as well. He knows better than to take insult and become reckless, though… recklessness comes as easily as breathing when his stare settles on her across the glade. She twirls in silent dance, pirouetting carefully as if to avoid crushing the nature that springs up, brushing against her soles. Her voice picks up in a song when she notes the figure watching her from a distance, her cadence no less beautiful than any choir despite the flighty waver in her tone.

When the nymphs rise up from the stream to listen, he stands transfixed for a moment as they pull her in with them for a more elaborate dance, voices all melding until they break into a chorus of giggles and stories.

It should have been left at that.

She walks an earth made for her; flowers blossoming beneath her bare soles, each root extending for just a chance to brush against tender flesh, a breeze that flits gently against her hair. The daughter of Demeter, something unattainable, too precious to be dirtied by the howling abyss below her feet.

He is tethered to darkness and unknowns, an enigma with dried blood beneath his fingernails; the only songs he hears are screams. He’s since stolen flowers from the meadows she dances in. Beautiful peonies and soft green things that smell sweet. Flowers don’t bloom in the dark, they wither and dry.

Days are spent in melancholic longing, nights his roaring grief melds with the wailing of lost souls. Ugly and tainted noises that he dreams will reach her ears, that she will come to him with her lashes wet with tears, wrap him in her arms and quiet all but her own voice as she tells him that he’s more beautiful than her rivers and her blooms.

Yet, she never does.

König takes it upon himself to walk the land of mortals, teemed with life and pleasures more often now. He pulls himself from below with unnatural fire behind his eyes, a horrible, yearning abyss in place of the feathery, clumsy love that he’s watched so many others allow for themselves.

She notices him while he watches her bathe amongst the nymphs, stood upright and imposing beneath the shade of a tree. Each time, while the nymphs shy away with giggles and hands curled over their breasts, she merely keeps her eyes on him; lips-parted and pulse raging. He knows, would swear by it, that his obsession is not entirely one-sided.

Once, she chooses to wave at him, a demure flick of her wrist while his stare remains fixed upon her. The droplets of water from the curve of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts and the pebbled nipples there— down, further into the water that envelopes her and sends his mind to flicker, a roaring flame building from his chest to his groin.

All of his frustrations pale and cower at the fantasy that he just may be able to grant himself the liberty of sinking into something writhing and warm from just one, simple gesture.

He knows he’s fucked, because his first thought after the lullaby of attraction subsides is to poke her just a little; prod her and see what makes her cry the hardest, blanket her in the shadow of himself and pick her apart like a vulture to a cadaver, do things to her that no man ever has or should. It’s not right, and he has to force himself to turn away, the fabric of the veil obscuring his face as he slinks back into the dark where he belongs. Away from the untouchable maiden who seems to haunt him endlessly with her teasing.

The giggles and splashes of the nymphs whisper through the air like the chirping of birds. Though, one voice stands out above the rest of the noise, causes him to halt in his tracks.

“Why does he never speak to us?”

Her voice, so sweet, asking about him when she should be speaking of nothing but the beauty surrounding her, the warmth of the sun and never the cold darkness of the moon.

It’s eating away at him, he realizes, when he can no longer satisfy himself. Nights lain in a haze, staring up at blackened walls with his length in hand. All it takes is the memory of wet lashes and a soft smile, usually. Her beauty is enough to bring even him to his knees, yet, he finds himself instead on the brink of hysteria the first night he finds a vision of her is not sufficient enough to reach the brilliant white haze of a climax.

The thought of stealing her away from her world of beauty to drag her down into the dark with him fills him with both elation and a terrible guilt. Zeus himself is no different; the thought shouldn’t warrant a seeping coldness in his veins, nor should it have caused him to spill his seed into his hand with only a mere flick of the pad of his thumb over his tip, yet it accomplishes both. A waste, when it should be buried deep inside of his beloved.

It takes only two nights for him to plot, to have Gaia choose to favor him, and on the third day the Narcissus flower blooms, pretty and golden. It echoes false promises, softness and beauty beyond even the daughter of Demeter’s imaginations. She will hate him, she will. Her very soul will sour the moment she lays her eyes on him next, but eventually… she will come to understand, return his love with a whisper of her own. Lightly, at best, but it would still be more than he had ever known.

He watches the roots of the plant from below, a pinprick of warm light shining down. The thumps of footsteps overhead, shaking down loose soil like raindrops, giggles like crackling thunder. She’s roaming about with her nymphs again, gentle with her and all of her beauty. After watching her for so very long, he’s more than certain they will be braiding the flowers and falling asleep after fits of laughter with the taste of fruit on their tongues. Only, she’s condemned herself by being so predictable. She will fall, not into soft grasses with a woman’s arms thrown over her, but directly into his own. She won’t eat the fruit of the earth, but drink his wine and allow him to lose himself in her flesh, bedded down against the pelts of beasts and blackened out by shadows.

The wait isn’t long. Her voice breaks through the quiet of the earth below her feet, seems to light up even the space between the two of them as her footfalls halt only several paces away.

“Look at this one!,” she calls out.

Several steps follow after her as one of the ladies of the river comes to join her. He imagines the smile on his beloved’s face, the way her body curves as she kneels down to his trap and his fingers twitch in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Maybe not that one, sweet,” the nymph warns. “There are prettier ones by the bank.”

König can feel his jaw tighten, eyelids pausing to narrow up at the small light as he tries, forces himself to believe that this was fated. She wouldn’t turn away— she couldn’t.

“No... just look at it. We’ve not seen one so lovely since last spring.”

“What if someone else planted it for themselves?”

“But… I want it.”

She sounds so pitiful, so gentle, and he can feel that swell of heat curling inside of him again. The urge to simply love her feels all-consuming with each word that passes from her mouth.

The two above giggle to themselves at her mischief, before finally, the roots begin to move from a gentle tug above. In a matter of seconds, the entire plant has been uprooted. For a daughter of nature to not long for its beauty would be unrealistic, yet he still exhales his relief. The earth riots beneath the women’s feet, splintering cracks and loud discordance echo through the valley. The nymph’s shrieks join the disarray as her featherlight footfalls lead her far, far away from what belongs to him: the dark, the rot, and now her.

With so little time to react, she falls headfirst into the abyss, clutching the narcissus tightly between her soft breasts. Waiting arms are raised to the glimpse of sun and beauty to catch her as he pulls her tightly against his chest, tucks her head against a broad shoulder and grasps at her waist. Whatever he had imagined her flesh to feel like paled in comparison to her warmth, the softness that gives with each press of a digit that makes her tense beneath his touch.

She’s crying, shaking, terrified as she weakly raises her head and offers him a smile. It’s the kind of smile that screams savior, and he can’t bring himself to correct her. No one has ever looked at him with such tenderness.

Everything quiets the moment she looks up to him like that, after condemning herself to him as though she knows nothing of men and gods. She looks at him like he’s an angel, in turn he bites his tongue so hard he can feel the pinpricks of blood and soreness blossom from the wound. He knows he isn’t good, but the heavens have got their filth, too.

“Thank you.” She speaks in a whisper as the world above falls back into place, blanketing them both in shadow and the scent of soil and brimstone. Politeness seems unnecessary, now, though he places her gently onto her feet.

He’s far too mesmerized to stop himself from dropping to his knees in front of her and trailing a hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing flesh so warm that the very feeling lingers pleasantly against his palm.

If a god couldn’t pluck him from this emptiness and set him on a right path, perhaps a goddess could, as he has always imagined. It’s only confirmed the instant he realizes she isn’t flinching away from his touch.

“I didn’t save you,” he explains calmly.

He’s struck down titans, claimed rulership over the underworld, and yet nothing has made him feel smaller than the fretful look in her eyes as she looks down to him kneeling before her like little more than a common man. As if to provide comfort, selfishly to himself, his massive hands drift higher to rest on her hips still wet with river water and blades of grass clinging to her just as he has longed to do. For what’s felt like an eternity of waiting, of pining, only to have it end with something as simple as a flower.

“I brought you here.”

She’s still beautiful when she cries; a palm is clasped over her mouth, eyes swimming as she trembles in his grip. Of course, she knows what this is about without ever having to ask, yet she still does as if to plead him to tell her that her thoughts are all wrong— that she’s safe and will return to her lovely friends, to her mother that would assuredly be worried sick and furious.

The rise to his feet feels like a mile long stretch, whilst he keeps her caged between the dirty wall and the vast expanse of chest. He shushes her with a gentle tone, wipes her tears away with the ghosting of fingertips before pushing up the veil covering his face to lie claim to her mouth as though his very life depended upon it. Perhaps it did. Though he did not fear Demeter, nor his brothers should she call upon them, he feared not having this ethereal, gentle thing at his side. He feared the creep of loneliness that ravaged his bed each night.

She sighs against his mouth, but does not reciprocate. Everything about her is tense and stressed, a wild mare preparing to kick out for the first time. His tongue lolls out to lap against her soft lips, just twice before he forces himself to part from her.

His beloved brushes away stray tears from her cheeks with the meat of her palms, shivering just a little as she tries to force herself to straighten up, appear braver despite the way she teeters on the edge of falling apart so easily before him. The heavy gaze of obsession fixed upon his face turns further predacious when she apologizes for not being able to help herself in response.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” she explains, holding out the ruined flower to him in one, shaking hand. She protests in her own way, eternally kind, but it all falls on deaf ears as he brushes the petals from her palm and takes her up into his arms again. With an arm beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped tightly around her middle, he leads her deeper into the underworld.

A mere taste wouldn’t do.

Her protests are nothing more than soft sniffles when he does take her to his bed of pelts, her arm even thrown over his shoulder as her body presses tightly to him. He thinks for only a moment that he could take his time, stop this all before she truly does grow to loathe him, but the descent into the bed only fortifies his resolve; his belief that this gentle woman of the earth, who smells of magnolia and clear waters belonged entirely to him. For now and forevermore.

“You are to be my wife.”

That quiets her for a moment, her eyes finally meeting his once more as he hovers over her, a palm to either side of her head. She has a mind to shyly curl her hand against her chest then, centered between her breasts which rise and fall with each flighty breath. It’s not panic, but more— curiosity, a misleading thing that he takes to be acceptance until she graces him with a mere murmur of her voice again.

“I don’t belong here.”

König knows that she doesn’t belong in a place like this, for all her grace to be lost to the cold, the rot; his kingdom is nothing but a wasteland riddled with the dead and subjects who take up the mantle of cruelty in his stead. The thought of actually allowing her to go instills rage and melancholy so quickly, he curls his fingers into the fur below to keep himself from flinching.

“You will.”

A digit reaches to trail across her bottom lip, tentative, but the need to touch overwhelms him past the point of caring for much else. To his amazement, she still does not push him away.

“How could that be?”

He doesn’t respond.

More than bedding her, a matter more pressing pushes to the forefront of his mind. Though he knows the likelihood of anyone being aware of her disappearance is nonexistent, a mere whisper from the beaks of crows by this time, he would do well to ensure that she wasn’t leaving. Just as every other soul resigned to dwell here with him, she too would remain.

“You’re famished,” he whispers the suggestion as he splays a palm out over her bare abdomen, only backing away enough to allow her a small length of space between them.

Her concerned stare shoots from his palm to his veil in an instant before she weakly nods her head and props herself up on her elbows.

“Quite… yes.”

She allows herself to be pulled into his lap without a fuss, doesn’t make mention of the hardened cock beneath her. His mind is swimming with the fantasies that kept him tame on so many nights without her as he presses his nose against her temple. A shallow intake of breath, and her lips part readily for him as he pushes the sweet pomegranate seed into her mouth, savoring the brush of her tongue against his fingertip. She eats without thought, never knowing how she’s tethered herself to his plane.

There’s an offering of sweet wine followed by a gathering of honeysuckle for her to sip the nectar from as well before he’s convinced she’s pliant enough. Despite the desire raging within him for all of this time, he would not be cruel to her. The thought of hurting this sweet, little dream doesn’t excite him. It’s her love that he wants, not her anguish.

He lies her back with sweet whispers, gentle caresses as he listens to her murmurs in response. She speaks of the stories only small creatures would know; the way the winds change and the rivers flood, the prettiest places she’s been. No fruit has ever tasted sweeter to her than the pomegranate, and nothing has ever filled him with such emotion as the moment he penetrates her.

He speaks to her through it, tries to, whilst he’s overcome with a pleasure that assuredly no other has ever had the blessing of. She affixes herself perfectly to him, clinging to him as he takes her with gentle thrusts. Gritted teeth and barely contained grunts are met with dulcet mewls as her hands reach for his. His heart aches, truly, at the knowledge that she isn’t meant for this place; his kingdom is nothing but suffering, and she belongs beneath the sun in meadows of flowers. His last thrust is deep, reminds him of the places he dares not tread often, the domains of his brothers, pillow soft clouds and a heaven far above, lost to him.

It’s her consoling him when he fills her to bursting with his seed— delicate arms curling around his head, cradling him against her breasts as she silenced the tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed. He had damned her, yet her soul had not soured; not all flowers withered in the dark.

The endless night is easier on his beloved after the first. She visits with the other souls and comes to him for comfort when the screams and cries in the darkness become too much to bear. She’s less fragile than he had anticipated when she demands he bring her home, and those demands so often end with little else than König taking her into his arms to lead her elsewhere. The underworld can be beautiful too, when seated upon a throne being hand fed by a man that knows little more than to blanket her in as much softness as he can muster. He tells her of the titanomachy, of the white tree, of anything to keep her entertained. His tongue does not shy from telling her that he loves her, too, often met with a shy glance or a soft giggle. Not outright disdain, and for now it feels enough.

She cries often, in longing for her mother and her friends, though never over this love she had never sought herself. Her loneliness only fuels her need for comfort. Selfishly, he believes that he’s saved the night she willingly wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and falls asleep nestled against his chest.

— — —

With the reliance on mortal offerings and Demeter’s anguish having been brought to light with seasons of failed harvests, it was only a matter of time before she was forced away from him. The months without her feel dreadful and empty, but he doesn’t dare disturb her while she walks the earth at her mother’s side. The agreement was beneficial for all of the gods and goddesses, and he knew better than to tread upon it by rushing to her like little more than a pleading dog. When winter took hold, bathing the lands in its icy touch and withering the plants she cherished and freezing over the rivers her nymphs played in, she would return to him as she must.

Each time is different. His beloved is not simply a thoughtless vessel as many of his subordinates. She is the most incredible thing he’s ever had the joy of meeting.

When she returns in tears, calling to him for his comfort he does not hesitate to kiss them all away and remind her that her summers will return and everything above will be just as it was on the day that he brought her below.

Sometimes, she’s angry, jealous even. She asks him often why he doesn’t come to see her while she’s away. He is her husband, after all. Was there anyone else in which he spent his nights with? Someone fairer than even she? The satisfaction of seating her on his cock, satisfying her as she does him on their shared throne far out rivals even ruling the domain itself. He would do anything to prove to her that she was his only; the sole thing he even thought of whilst her mind was filled with new songs and tales from the nymphs she spent her time away with.

Never has she returned with a gift.

Yet, she stumbles back into his realm clutching a small satchel, dripping with the scent of a juice sweet and familiar. A pleasant smile paints her features as she seats herself next to him on the throne. The bench of marble felt far too vast and dreadful to hold someone so delicate, the sight is something he’s grown accustomed to; emptiness is replaced with familiarity seeing her interact with anything here. It may not be home to her, but something in the way she looks to him— as she always had with tenderness, makes him question if a part of her sees him as home.

“I’ve brought something back for you,” she chimes as she pats her thigh.

Each time was different, but it had never been like this before.

He pulls himself to her side before slumping down to rest his head against her, tracing his fingertips along the length of her leg as his gaze drops almost sheepishly.

“Did you?”

She hums in reply, plucking one of the seeds from the satchel before slipping her hand beneath the veil to feed him. His lips part as he takes in the flavor of the aril, the honeyed taste almost akin to the look in her eyes.

“Just like…” She trails off for a moment as she lowers her head to press a kiss to the cheek of his veiled face. The delicate laugh that follows is unlike any he’s heard from her prior, it’s unique, saved solely for him.

“The six that I fed to you?” He asks her quietly, as he pulls himself away from her to meet her eyes directly. The air around them feels thick, loosely charged with a feeling that he can’t quite place; an intensity that he’s never felt before. Any groaning or wailing off in the abyss is silent now, just quiet words spoken.

Things have always felt warmer since her descent, but he’s learned to not expect anything more than she was willing to give. Still, hope cinches his heart tighter than it ever did prior. Even in battle, slaying his father alongside his brothers, he had never felt his heart race the way it does now.

She nods her head, opening up the satchel just wide enough to reveal the other five arils.

“I don’t think that I understand.”

“You should.”

He mulls over that for a moment before the fog finally clears. Any doubt that he had is remedied by a mere two words. He stares at her dumbly, searching her eyes for any hint that this is some horrible, cruel trick; that the implication is something he’s horribly misunderstood.

She couldn’t possibly come to love him… could she?

“To tie you to me,” she says softly.

The smile remains on her face when she closes the distance to kiss him. Not over the veil, but beneath it this time.

Her descent was one of a selfish longing, and his felt as though he was plunging into a world of flowers.

[mr-ribbit]

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[misstycloud]

Platonic. Fae father

Fae father! Who loves you more than anything. He’d trade his immortality and beauty a million times if it meant saving you. It’s worth nothing if he can’t be with you.

Fae father! Who originally wasn’t very interested in you but simply didn’t have the heart to throw you to the wolves like he would if it’d been any other baby- you were his, after all. But as time passed, he found himself more enamoured with you for every second you spent together. Before he knew it, you were an irreplaceable part of his life. He can’t imagine how he managed to live for centuries without you.

Fae father! Who is very protective and while he knows you’re safer inside his territory than you’d ever be anywhere else, there’s still a possibility something could happen you you. He can’t have that happen! What if you accidentally trip on a root and scrape your knee? Sure he can heal you with his magic, but he’d rather spare you the unnecessary pain and tears.

Fae father! Is scared that you’ll leave him eventually. This is especially regarding when you’ll have grown up. He never hid your half-human side(you were bound to find out anyway, considering you didn’t have magic in the same sense as him, and your ears were slightly rounded unlike his purely pointed ones), but he’s beginning to think it was a mistake. His attempt at good parenting could backfire and you would become naturally curious as you got older. Then you would request to leave the safety and familiarity of the forest you grew up in, to go adventure beyond it and come into contact with your human side.

Fae father! Who thought about how horrible that would be. He knew the cruelty of humans. They were greedy beyond imagination and an ugly stain on the world; truly a mistake of creation. He thought about what they could potentially do to you, a wonderful, kind yet naive child. His child. You were part fae and that was obvious- if he had to be honest, he had always been happy you appeared more fae than human, it made him feel more connected to you- the price that you would go for on a market was immense. Fae father nearly faints at what kind of filth could be wanting to get their hands on you.

Fae father! Who wove to protect you at all costs- even lying and misleading you. The only way he saw to do that is to keep you in the forest; your childhood home and his domain.

“Father, what’s beyond the forest? Are there really human towns? The animals tell me they are bustling with life- and there’s so many strange and new things!” You asked your father. You two were in your favourite meadow, you sat up in the lush grass, making a flower crown.

Your father had laid down a while ago and was content with the relaxation the summer weather brought. However, the moment you began talking about humans and your curiosity for the outside world, his eyes snapped open and he, too, sat up.

He gave you a soft smile, “The animals told you that?”

You nodded vigorously. He reminded himself to warn the animals to not tell you about such things, afterwards. If he had to guess, it was most likely that damn squirrel friend of yours that didn’t know when to shut up.

“Well, dear-“ he said, finding the way you were hooked on every word incredibly endearing, “yes, there there are human settlements outside these woods. But I do not want you going anywhere near them, you hear? It’s simply not safe for you.” Your father ended the sentence with booping you on the nose.

“What? What do you mean?” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, “I am older- I have many tricks to defend myself with; you do not.”

Pouting, you crossed your arms and said in defiance, “Why would you have to defend yourself? You’re not fighting, are you?”

You father ran his hand through his long locks with a sigh. “Dear, I am afraid that might not be the case.” You looked at him in confusion. “You see, we- as in magical kind- have not been on good terms with mannkind for centuries- maybe even ever.”

You were silent, pondering over what this meant as your protector watched. Had it not been a serious subject, he would have thought about how cute you look whenever you are thoroughly grumbling over something. He took it upon himself to expand his reasonings while combing through your hair.

“We are rare, beautiful, immortal and have powers they could only dream of.” To prove his point, your father held out a seed in the palm of his hand. He closed it for a second and a green light flashed. Opening his palm again, the little seed quickly grew into a wonderful, fully grown flower in a matter of moments. “See, if they had the means to do this, then a new war would break loose every day. They are greedy and selfish and struggle because of it, while we live away from such mundane troubles.”

“But what about all those amazing things they have invented? I hear they sing and dance just like us. They have families too, just like us. They can’t all be bad!” You protested. If all those things your friends had told you were true, then you needed to know and find a way to see them for yourself.

Your father sighed once more. He appeared to be doing that a lot during your conversation. He grabbed a hold of your hand and squeezed it tight. “I understand your curiosity regarding humans- trust me, I do. I was young once upon a time, as well. You believe that I did not sneak away to peek at the towns myself?”

“You have gone there yourself?”

He nodded to confirm your question. “However, they are far from what your little friends have been tricking you into believing. They are not fun and do not sing nor dance. Like I said, they are selfish and horrible, you best stay away from them.”

“But-“ you tried.

He cut you off immediately. “-No ‘buts’. You stay away from the town, alright? Simply stay here where you’re safe. I won’t tolerate any violation of the rules when it comes to this.” He took notice of your gloomy expression and added, “It’s for your safety, nothing else. Oh, sweetie, I do wish the world was different. However, this is a truth we must face. You do understand, correct?”

Seeing your worrying father’s serious demeanor as he urged you for an answer, you looked down before saying, “Yes, Father. I won’t go into human towns. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

He sighed in relief. “Good child. Remember, I am only looking after you. I’m your father, I know what’s best for you.

[kyruskumiho27]

Prompt idea: from @bluemadnessstuff

Warning: •smut •fluff

Summary: Miguel shows you how much he loves your body after pregnancy🩷

Miguel couldn’t look at you the same. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t do it.

You were currently walking around in an oversized shirt and some basket ball shorts of his. Your body had changed for sure. Stretch marks here and there. And no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t look at you the same.

Gorgeous. The first word he thought of when he laid eyes on you. Fucking beautiful.

The perfect women for him, bright smile and brighter eyes. He married you on the spot. (Well not really but you get the point).

You weren’t the same now, tired eyes and even more tired breathes.

Amazing. The first word that came to mind. Holding your baby close to your chest as you breastfed, cooing and humming. Your smile was kind and loving.

What a perfect mama.

And if he thought you were pretty before, well now, now.

It blows him away, the way the women’s body works. Like a goddess creating life. Caring for it with love and everything in between. You blew him away, the changes in your body. God.

You were so sexy. It turned him on how you cared for the child. How natural you seemed to be at it.

You didn’t think so.

You hated the way you looked, mistaking his glance of love for glances of disgust.

And you loved your baby, truly you did. But you were so tired. Not only was everything sore, but your hormones were acting up. Even after pregnancy you were sensitive, crying at the drop of a hat.

And no, it wasn’t the pretty crying. Your nose would run and your eyes would swell and you would gasp for breath.

The baby would be upset and so would you. Seemed liked the only calm person was your husband, which was saying a lot.

You felt ugly, unworthy of love.

Miguel started to notice this after a bit, the first few times you refused intimacy , refused to let him touch you.

Your eyes were sad when he asked, and after the fifth time you just broke down into tears.

You explained to him what you were feeling g, which broke his heart. Shattered it.

He wondered how his pretty little ma could feel so much shame about her body.

And Miguel, Miguel’s horrible at giving comfort. So he did it the only way he knew how.

When he has put the baby to sleep, and allowed you to freshen up he beckoned you over to the bed. He smiled sweetly, laying you down gently.

He started with massaging your legs, you always loved that.

He whispered about his day, he knew you’d love that. Nothing interesting. He allowed you to talk, also about nothing.

You smiled as you recounted your day, hands mindlessly messing with the sheets.

Slowly he starts to kiss on your leg, humming an acknowledgment when you say something. You’re so pretty, staring up at the ceiling. Your whole bodies relaxed now, a relief.

You only notice what your husbands trying to do when he reaches your stomach.

Cupping his face you smile sweetly, trying to deter him. It doesn’t though. He shakes his head, pulling your hand gently away from him and kissing both your palms. He chuckles at the light blush that’s dusts your cheeks afterwards.

He moves from your stomach to your breast, groaning at the feeling on them in his hand. He gently rolls your nipples, causing you to gasp.

His pretty baby.

He kisses under your neck, to your jaw, to your cheeks.

He emphasizes your eyes, your mouth, everything.

He slowly peeled off your shorts, biting his lip. It’s been so long and he missed the feel of you. He missed making love.

And since it’s been so long, how about he preps his girl?

His tongue glides against your pussy, fingers gently rubbing against the inside. His cock twitches at your small moans, so pretty against your lips. You pull and tug at his hair, causing him to groan.

When he’s made you cum twice he pulls away, kissing you and making you taste yourself.

You whine.

And when he finally sinks himself into you he whines.

He moves slowly but deep, kissing anything he can get his hands on. He cups your ass, groping it as he whispers into your ear.

He tells you how much he loves you. How sexy he sees you. He tells you how bothered you get him, walking around like you aren’t the most beautiful, attractive, caring and loving persons he’s ever met.

He gasp as he whispered, beautiful cunt clenching him so good.

He flips over so your on top, and tells you how much he needs you. His lovely wife taking care of him for so long, and now the gorgeous child you both had.

Telling you how perfect you are, how good you’re doing.

And you cum when his hand snakes down to your pussy, thick fingers circling your clit. He comes a moment after your, thrusting himself once, twice, three times to the sound of you moaning his name.

You both lay against each other. Satisfied.

And when you’re falling asleep to his heartbeat, he whispers a soft; “Love you ma, never forget.”

To the creator of the prompt I LOVVVVVEEEEE your fic ideas and all credit to you😘😘🩷

In case you just want the fic. Link for the prompt above🫶🏽🎀

[byhees]

when you’re insecure about your smile.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship kissing petnames mention of insecurity — more

a/n. requested— because the poll showed that u all would like more reactions ! ♡

heeseung would feel his heart drop; the way you’d often snap your head to the opposite side whenever you’d smile, strikes him as unusual— it’s as though he’s never able to catch a glimpse of your pretty grin; wouldn’t point it out directly, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable— would instead sneakily engulf you in tight embraces, making it difficult for you to conceal your little smiles whenever he cracks up silly jokes in hopes of making you laugh…

jay would feel his entire world crumble; his daily serotonin boost would be to see your pretty smile, to see the precious way the corners of your lips would curl upwards in the wake of a grin, eyes crinkling to resemble small crescents— and now that you’re deliberately hiding such a beautiful sight from him, he feels the need to reassure you of just how ethereal said smile is— “baby, your smile is so, so pretty. please, don’t ever feel that way about yourself”, he’d say, peppering kisses all over your face…

jake would be visibly shocked upon realising the pattern of you turning away from his direction whilst breaking into a smile— it’s done with such an intent, it’s almost certain to him that you’re purposely trying to hide your stunning grin; wouldn’t hesitate to burst into a series of cute poses and little ridiculous dances in hopes of eliciting a giggle from you— “ah! there’s that beautiful smile!” he’d say, cupping your cheeks in his palms, admiring the way your smile’s glued onto your face, complimenting your every feature…

sunghoon would be flabbergasted beyond belief— the mere thought of you finding your smile unpleasant to look at, strikes him as unbelievable in all the many ways; you couldn’t be more wrong— your smile’s just the definition of perfection, it’s the first thing that he wishes to see every morning, it’s the first thing that he looks forward to catching a glimpse of during arduous days; that’s the beauty of your smile. would try his very best to make you laugh— be it through breaking out into a random tiktok dance, or through horribly-timed jokes…

sunoo would break into the deepest of frowns after finding out about your hidden insecurities about your smile; wants you to know that your smile is, single-handedly, one of the prettiest and most breathtaking things that he’s ever seen in his lifetime. would feign the biggest of pouts when you ever mention how “ugly” your smile is— “baby, love, sweetheart— don’t say that.. you’re so, so beautiful, and so is that little grin of yours”, he’d say before pressing kisses onto the surface of your face…

jungwon wouldn’t waste a second to let you know just how pretty your smile is; would try his very best to elicit even the smallest of grins from you— would even tickle you whilst cuddling in bed, adoring the soft laughs that slip past your lips, the wide smile that’d find itself on your face; would playfully tease you, wanting to elicit that pretty, shy smile of yours— leans in with an intent to kiss you, only to pull away centimetres away, leaving your cheeks flushed pink, a bashful grin naturally spreading across your face; “you look the prettiest when you’re happy, princess”, he’d coo, pressing a kiss onto your forehead…

riki would be in pure disbelief; he merely can’t comprehend how you’d find that precious smile of yours, unpleasant— if anything, it’s the very, very, very opposite of that; “don’t you dare hide that pretty smile from me”, he’d say, lips jutting out in a very non-intimidating pout, arms crossing over his chest; and the mere image of him acting all adorable has you grinning on your own— little did you know, it was his plan to pull out the cutesy act; after all, he’d do practically anything and everything to see that beautiful grin of yours…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[yandere-sins]

Monstober 2024

Monster-Enthusiasts, Monster-Lovers, and Monster-Fucker, I call upon thee! This upcoming October is going to be spooky!

It's time for a whole month of delicious monster content! Whether you want them to stalk, to hunt, or to devour your little protagonists (mind you, the monsters are the real protagonists of the story, hehe), I want to see a month dedicated to the beauty of the Ugly and Horrible! All things monster are welcome—art, writing, any kind of showcasing a monster! No matter how cruel or how obscene you like it—now's the time to show it off! ♥

I have prepared a list of monsters & prompts for your guidance, however, if you'd rather do a different monster or a different prompt, that is totally fine! If you prefer to stay private and not have your post reblogged to this blog, that is totally alright, too! This is merely for fun and giggles, and I welcome everyone who wants to challenge themselves this upcoming October to use this list if they want!

How to participate in my Monstober:

- Starting October 1st create something with the monster or prompt of the day! That is all you have to do.

You don't have to do all days or even in chronological order. Feel free to alter the prompts as needed. Your monsters do not have to match the usual descriptions of their kind! Post whenever and whatever you like as long as it is still connected to monsters!

- If you want your entry to be reblogged: @ me yandere-sins in your post, don't forget to put content warnings if any apply (especially Violence & Sexual Content—however, those are very welcome!), and put long texts (once they reach 3k words) under a read more! I'll reblog the posts as soon as I see and have the time to get to them!

Prompts

Day 1: Chimera | Mixed // Misunderstood // Insanity

Day 2: Werewolf/Werecat | Full Moon // Claws // Beastly

Day 3: Alien | Otherworldly // Uncanny Valley // Space

Day 4: Harpy | Cliff // Flying // Illusion

Day 5: Nymph/Dryad/Leshy | Plants // Playful // Nature's Bounty

Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous

Day 7: Sphinx | Riddles // Sand // Giant

Day 8: Merfolk | Water // Singing // Alluring

Day 9: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity

Day 10: Mimic | Treasures // Hungry // Wrong

Day 11: Yuki-onna/Snow Spirit | Snowstorm // Promise // Guiding

Day 12: Witch/Wizard/Magician | Magic // Spells // Towers

Day 13: Shifter | True Form // Unbelievable // Transformation

Day 14: Minotaur | Labyrinth // Bannished // Following

Day 15: Eldritch Horror | Eldritch // Imprisoned // Tentacles

Day 16: "Church" Grim | Graveyard // Protecting // Spirit

Day 17: Dragon | Fire // Hoarding // Fairytale

Day 18: Kitsune | Tricked // Tails // Mystical

Day 19: Elf | Warrior // Swift // Merciless

Day 20: Goblin/Orc/Troll/Oni | Hordes // Village // Brutish

Day 21: Kelpie | Deception // Following // Stuck

Day 22: Skeleton/Zombie | Undead // Loved // Grave

Day 23: Angel | Feathers // Guardian // Watching

Day 24: Ghost | Shadows // Invisible // Coldness

Day 25: Vampire | Blood // Biting // Night

Day 26: Fae Folk | Lost // Fairy Circles // Names

Day 27: Drider | Silk // Cave // Ensnared

Day 28: Demon | Summoning // Contract // Otherworldly

Day 29: Gods | Reign // Glow // Worshipping

Day 30: Human | Real Monsters // Dangerous // Smile

Day 31: Free Choice of your favorite monster or a completely new one!

I look forward to all the monstrous ideas you'll come up with! ♥

[skzdarlings]

the same but different | the threesome series ; skz ; han/reader/felix

masterlist.

threesome series part 3/4.

You grew up with Felix and Jisung.  Your definition of normal has always been unique, considering Felix is a faerie and magically connected to Jisung.  So even though you are dating Jisung, when Felix tells you he needs to marry to keep up appearences in the faerie court, you see no reason to say no…

pairing: han jisung/reader/lee felix content info: sexual content. threesome. faerie au. this is an almost 16k word read. one day i will meet my maker and have to atone for that. warning for some ambiguous motivations plus general freaky faerie and supernatural stuff. felix and jisung have a magical connection, reader does not know the details but it seems they can physically feel each other's reactions and urges and they do a lot of the same things in an uncanny way. there is a 'consummation ritual' that involves being watched but reader is clever about it.

:)

-

Autumnal flurries follow Han Jisung everywhere, little tornadoes of red-and-gold kicking up an elemental fuss wherever he steps. It might be a remnant of his time with the faerie folk, or maybe a coincidence, or maybe he is such a blustery font of chaos that he is simply kicking up wind storms on his own. 

He totters into the café with his usual trail of leaves, much to the displeasure of the bus boy who follows with a broom.  The wind gets restless at the window.  It throws itself against the pane with a heavy, reverberating thunder as if nature is knocking in pursuit of Jisung’s attention.  You watch a few pine cones hurl themselves at the glass before everything settles down on its own. 

Jisung pays it no mind.  He slides into the booth across from you, heaving a big dramatic breath. 

“Good afternoon,” you say, amused with your boyfriend’s theatrics.  They are as constant as his flurries.   

“Yo, is it, ‘cause ah, HAHA—I’ve been having a day.”  He thunks his head on the back of the booth and pretends to fall asleep.  His round glasses skew with the loll of his head.

Jisung dressed up for today’s date.  He is wearing a beige coat that flatters his warm complexion plus that cute checkered scarf you gave him last winter.   You don’t mind his usual hoodies and caps as it always puts a swagger in his step, but you appreciate his effort even if it is a little random. 

He lifts his head with another musical sigh, golden blonde hair fluttering from his breath.  His big glasses make his dark eyes even bigger and you smile again.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

He whimpers with more theatrical misery. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says like it is the most painful fact in the world.  “Why are you so beautiful?  And funny, and smart, and mine.  If you weren’t gonna be ugly and horrible, the least you could have done is reject me.  It wouldn’t have been so bad.  I could have been a lonely suffering artist, hidden away in a basement, composing symphonies for the beautiful woman out of my league.”

“I think you just described the Phantom of the Opera,” you say.

“Even better.”  Jisung sighs wistfully.  “He lived in an underground sex dungeon, right?  I don’t think he even paid rent.”   

You laugh into your hot chocolate. 

“What’s gotten into you?” you say.  It’s a rhetorical question.  Jisung is always a little silly. 

Your playful boyfriend thumps his hands on the table and glares past you, out the window. 

“Faeries,” he says brusquely.  “And their stupid faerie bullshit. My life is a nightmare and an arthouse horror movie and no one has ever suffered more than me—oooh, is that a chocolate croissant?”

You slap his hand when he reaches for your pastry.   He yelps like you chopped it off. 

“Jisungie,” you say, lifting an eyebrow, “what do you mean faerie bullshit?” 

He pouts spectacularly while unknotting his scarf.  He speaks in a watery, despondent voice, very contrary to his usual goofiness, “What do you think I mean?”

This, it seems, is also rhetorical as you have no opportunity to answer.  The bell jingles above the door and a little shiver moves down your spine. 

Unlike Jisung, you have never been to the faerie realm, but you have a gift for recognizing a supernatural presence.  Everything catches your eye as if they are sparkling fireflies, no matter their efforts to hide. 

The courtly fae, the ones that look human, have a tendency to cast enchantments both literal and metaphorical, their impossible beauty captivating to any human eye.  You are not immune to their gravitas, the way space seems to warp around them like earth is little more than gelatinous mire, but you can sense their other-worldliness before seeing them.   This is most likely due to exposure.  You did, after all, grow up with a faerie. 

You look to the doorway.  

Ah.  Speaking of. 

“Oh my god,” Jisung whines.  “He said he’d give me time to tell you.” He steals your hot chocolate and takes a swig like it’s hard vodka. 

“Tell me,” you repeat.  “Tell me what?” 

Though you are talking to Jisung, you cannot help but look over at his… his…

His Felix. 

Felix smiles when he sees you.  He scrunches his nose cutely and it makes his constellation of dark freckles dance on his sunny face. 

The freckles have always been an intriguing part of his glamour – for his human-like appearance is a mask shrouding his true faerie form – because faeries typically regard such things as imperfections.   Perhaps the freckles are residual from his time in the human realm, as Jisung’s flurries are the opposite. 

Felix is unbelievably beautiful.  He is wearing mortal clothes but he does not look truly human.  There’s something in his movements, fluid and dance-like, sometimes too swift to perceive.  His blonde hair catches the light with a perfect glow at every angle, his slender frame flawlessly draped in a black long-coat and a flattering black sweater.  His lovely ringed fingers part the air with his little wave and his perfectly pink mouth curls up in a sweet smile.  His dark eyes seem to sparkle.  

He crosses the restaurant in a few strides, quicker than a human would.  He smiles the whole time. 

“Hello,” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter.  Or maybe you’re the butter, his voice the knife, gliding right down the centre of you and settling low in your belly.  It has always had that effect. 

“Felix, hello,” you say in that quivery way you always greet him.   You grew up with both Jisung and Felix but Felix flits off to the faerie world when it suits him, and every time he returns you find yourself awestruck by him, as if you had never truly seen him before. 

Jisung smacks his head down on the surface of the table.  You and Felix look at him, you with considerable more concern.  Felix just draws his mouth into a flat line, neither smiling nor frowning, more like he anticipated his… his… his Jisung would behave this way. 

“Is it okay if I sit?”  Felix asks, pointing to the spot beside Jisung.  Jisung is somewhat sprawled in the booth but this doesn’t seem to concern Felix.  When you nod, he smiles, smooths out his coat, and simply bumps Jisung with his hip to squish himself into the booth. 

Jisung whimpers again, resting his head on the wall and pouting at it. 

“So,” Felix says.  He folds his hands on the table and tips his head, looking at you.  “How are you doing these days, hmm?” 

Faeries are known for their decorum.  It can turn sour very quickly, but it is imperative to adhere to rules of hospitality and general politeness.  

It is still strange and unnerving to have a faerie prince plunk himself into your booth and smile at you so politely.  Especially when you haven’t seen Felix in more than a year.   A year and fifteen days, to be specific, because Jisung has counted them all.  Jisung complains endlessly when Felix visits but he complains even more when he’s gone for too long. 

You think Felix must have returned to the human realm a while ago.  Jisung is usually friendly when he firsts sees him, but right now he is glaring. 

“What?”  Felix looks at Jisung.  They cock their heads at each other, the same angle, same time. 

It is always funny seeing them side-by-side.  Singularly, they look nothing alike, perhaps because Felix has intentionally deviated his glamour from being identical.  Jisung has a round face, cartoonishly cute at times, his build bulkier from his somewhat erratic workout schedule.   Felix is all sharp lines with a pointed elegance to his features, though his presence fills what space his slender body does not.  Their only similarity is their hair, similarly bouncy, alike in length, and identically shaded.  Right now it is a matching blonde. 

Despite their ample differences, there is an uncanny sameness to them.  They move the same way, tip their heads at the same time, roll their eyes in tandem.  They even take a breath at the same time.  You are certain if you pressed a hand to each of their chests, you would find their hearts beating to the same steady cadence.   

Felix was once a changeling.  Faeries sometimes swap their infants for human ones, occasionally for fun, oftentimes when their offspring is sickly or malformed.  Once a changeling swap has occurred, the faerie and human are inexorably linked to one another.  If the human parents try to kill the faerie or let it die, it will also kill their child, so it is in their best interest to nurse the sickly baby and hope the faeries swap them back. 

Felix was born too soon, a shrivelled little creature, third son of the autumn high prince’s third wife.  His mother swapped him for Jisung, stealing the little mortal away in his infancy.  Jisung’s mother was not a bewildered, simpering mortal, however.  Her resilience and intelligence was part of the family’s initial allure, but it was also the downfall of the changeling operation.  She ventured into the faerie realm and won back her son, plus the right to see the lonely faerie prince that had been so unceremoniously abandoned by his unloving family. 

She returned to the mortal world with Jisung and Felix.  The changeling prince spent his childhood bouncing between the human realm and the world of faerie.   You grew up next door to Jisung and the three of you have been a tight-knit trio since before you can remember. 

You love Felix just as much as you love Jisung, it’s just that… the faerie-ness complicates things.  You aren’t sure Felix really loves you or Jisung in a way you understand.  Even now, his enquiry after your well-being seems more like a necessary script than genuine question.  He will be uneasy until you complete your side of the exchange. 

“I’m good, Felix,” you say.  “How are you?”

He smiles, freckles dancing.  “Good,” he says.  “Thank you.”  

Felix cracks his neck and Jisung is compelled to do the same, though he looks irritated about it.  The depth of their connection has always been ambiguous to you, but sometimes Jisung feels phantom aches and pains, urges that come out of nowhere and pester him like an itch until he satisfies them.  

He seems impatient today, his glare not subsiding for a second.  

“You said I could have time to tell her,” Jisung says. 

“I gave you time,” Felix replies calmly. 

“You gave me like five minutes, man!”

“It doesn’t take more than five minutes,” Felix  says.  He seems genuinely perplexed that Jisung would believe otherwise.  He looks at Jisung with a head tilt that Jisung mirrors, then they both look at you.  “Hi,” Felix says.  “Will you marry me?  See.  That was less than five minutes.  It was five syllables, actually.  Well, I guess if you had asked it, you would have said, ‘Will you marry Felix,’ so it would have been six syllables, but that’s still less than five minutes, even if you streeeeetch it ouuuut—”

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Jisung says, then plants his forehead in his palm.  “That came out wrong.” 

Felix does not plant his forehead in his palm but he does rest his chin in his hand. 

“So,” he says to you, smiling. “Will you?  Two syllables, by the way.”

“Shut up about the syllables, dude.” 

“Wait,” you say, interrupting their inane blabber.  If you leave them to it, Jisung and Felix will dance in verbal circles for hours and still not clarify anything.  “Marry you?  Why would I— Felix, you know Jisung and I— I don’t understand what’s—”

You love Jisung and Felix.  You find them equally attractive, in their own way and as a complimentary pair.  As much as you adore Jisung, you feel bereft when Felix is gone for a long time.  Your crush on Felix was as inevitable as your romance with Jisung.  Only where that relationship has long since solidified into a stable love, you and Felix have never done much more than hug. 

Jisung and Felix, on the other hand, have shared their own intimacies.  You caught them kissing back when you were teenagers.  You got pouty rather than angry, viciously jealous of both of them at once.  Jisung was too flustered to speak, mostly chirping like a frightened bird, while Felix just smiled and cheerily said, “Jisungie says we’re practicing.”

“Practicing?” you asked, hands on hips.  “Practicing for what exactly?”

Felix frowned, looking confused, like it had never occurred to him to follow that line of questioning. 

“For girls!”  Jisung exclaimed. 

Felix snapped his fingers and nodded.  “Right,” he said.  “Girls. That was it.  Wait.”  He looked confused again and pointed to you. “Isn’t she a girl?” 

“She doesn’t count,” Jisung said, getting redder by the second.  You threw a shoe at him and stormed out of the house. 

That was a long time ago.  That momentary flicker of suggestion was the only time Felix brought up potentially kissing you.  Even then, it seemed less desirous than pragmatic.  

And now, for some reason, he is asking you to marry him. 

“Oh my god, man, maybe if you used more than five syllables, she would get what’s going on,” Jisung says.  His gaze softens when he looks at you.  He reaches across the table to take your hand, though it takes you a second to respond.  Your fingers are frozen stiff around your mug.  “Baby,” he says in a soft, apologetic voice, “I know it sounds a bit strange, but I promise I can explain.” 

“I have to get married,” Felix interrupts, ignoring when Jisung scowls at him.  “I think it’s just for, uhhh, appearances, basically.  My brother Chan just became high prince and I’m the only one of my mum’s kids who isn’t married and she thinks it makes her look bad because all my dad’s other kids have their lives together… anyway, she said either I find a bride for myself or she was going to give me one.  And, uh, she’s not very, hmm, generous, is she?”

Definitely a rhetorical question.  You do not need to have met the faerie princess to know of her predilection for malice.  Felix would most likely be saddled with some Shakespearean donkey-headed monstrosity for all his days.  Felix, being Felix, would smile blithely and accept his awful fate, saying little on the matter when prompted. 

Felix is like that.  He shows neither amity nor animosity to much.  His emotions, whatever they are, manifest unpredictably.  He smiles a lot of blank smiles.  Occasionally he bursts into random tears that flood out of him with terrifying distress.  It comes upon him unexpectedly, so big that it is almost theatrical.  You think he might be mimicking expressions of human pain to convey whatever interior hurt he is feeling, however severe or benign, then it just stops until next time.  

He is not the sort to wail and harass you.  Even if he was desperate, he would not force you to marry him.  Looking into his dark eyes, you know that much.  There are plenty of stories the world over where supernatural princes steal mortal girls from their beds, where they compel them to dance until their feet bleed, where they fill their heads with songs that play until the human goes mad and dies in some anguished pit in their own mind. 

There are not many stories where they propose in a café.

“Felix, you idiot!”  Jisung smacks Felix on the arm.  “You didn’t even tell her the important part.” 

“Oh yeaaah,” Felix says. 

Jisung scoffs and looks at you, his expression soft again.  He squeezes your hand.

“Baby,” he says, “you know how Felix and I have a special, um, connection?” 

You know he means the changeling magic but you think about them kissing.  You push the image aside, as well as the lingering jealously, and nod. 

“Right,” Jisung says.  “We’re like… tied together and shit, right?  Like if I got hit by a bus, Felix would also go splat.”

“Faeries don’t splat,” Felix says, bristled. 

“Splat,” Jisung says sweetly, “like a big stupid faerie pancake.” 

“Jisung,” you say, “are you going to make a point?” 

“The point,” Jisung says, “is Felix is gonna live a long time, if he doesn’t go splat.  So that means… I’m gonna live a long time too.”

“If,” Felix interrupts, “he comes with me to live among the folk.” 

The fair folk.  Another name for the courtly fae.  Divided into seasonal realms, the four courts host a variety of faerie life.  Felix is from the autumn court and Jisung was spirited to it as baby.  You have never crossed from this world into the faerie world.  You know the stories better than anyone, almost more familiar with the foreign realm than the world around you, but its reality has only ever been a distant dream. 

This seems like the world’s strangest break-up: your boyfriend leaving you for his changeling faerie to live an immortal life in the faerie realm.

Except it’s not a break-up.  It’s a proposal. 

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” you say, juggling feelings of confusion and jealousy and desire.  “What does that have to me with me?  And getting married?” 

“It will bond us together too,” Felix says, smiling again.  “Do you understand?  Isn’t that wonderful?  The three of us can be together for always.  I think you’ll really like it.”  He looks sideways at Jisung and adds, “And you’re smarter than him when it comes to the fair folk.  I would feel better if Jisung had your company.”

“What?” Jisung slaps the table.  “What are you talking about?  I’m the one who’s been there!  I am so totally super smart about faeries all the time!” 

“You once ate a magic apple and grew a tail,” Felix says.   

“You know I get snacky after my naps.  Besides, I got better.  Suck on some salty iron and boom, no tail.” 

Felix sighs, exasperated, and Jisung sighs, even more exasperated. 

“Please marry me,” Felix says imploringly.  “For all of us.” 

Felix cannot lie.  Faerie magic ranges from miniscule to immense, but lying is an impossibility regardless of rank. 

An inability to lie does not guarantee honesty. The truth can be obfuscated.  Faeries are clever with words, cleverer still what they reveal at all.  

Felix has not lied.  He needs to marry.  It would bond you.  You are smarter than Jisung when it comes to the fair folk.

Felix has not told the whole truth.  He does not need to marry you specifically.  He would be happy with just Jisung, you think.  They have something special, something you have always watched from the outside.  You know a lot about faeries but you do not belong to their world.  Felix could keep Jisung safe.  You are a spare. 

Despite the loving stare of your two oldest friends, you feel woefully insecure.  You take your hands back and rest them in your lap, staring morosely into your cooling hot chocolate. 

“Baby?” Jisung says gently.

You look up.  They look equally concerned.  They reach for you at the same time then look at each other.  They mutely come to an accord and Felix takes your hand.  You shiver immediately. 

“Sweetheart,” Felix says.  “It’s just me.  I won’t… I won’t make you do something you don’t want to do, but I… I want to know… I mean, do you not…”

“You don’t want to come with us?”  Jisung asks, his bottom lip wobbling.  Tears spill over his cheeks seconds later.  “I-I-I know it’s a bit weird.  But you’ve always talked about wanting to see it anyway.   And you don’t have any family here anymore.  Are you worried about the royal court thing?  Because I’m gonna be there and Felix says we’ll spend most of our time at his bower anyway and okay I don’t even know what that means and I didn’t wanna seem stupid so I didn’t ask—”

“It’s just my tree-house, Jisung,” Felix says.

“It’s just his tree-house,” Jisung sobs. 

“It isn’t that,” you say.  You reach for Jisung so you are holding both their hands.  You give them a squeeze.  “I love you both.  So much.  It hurts a little sometimes because of how much.  And I’m scared… I’m scared of being left behind.” 

They both pause.  Felix looks more bewildered than any supernatural creature in history, you are sure.  They are inviting you to come along and you express fear of the opposite.  It must be incomprehensible to his mind. 

Apparently it also confuses Jisung because he softly whispers, “What the fuck.”

You bring their hands together and withdraw your own touch. 

“I just mean…”  You are too embarrassed to vocalize it. 

Recognition lights their eyes at the same time.  Jisung rips his hand away. 

“I can’t be alone with Felix forever!”  Jisung cries.  “Are you crazy?  We need you!  Without you it’s just… just… just us.  It’s nothing, it’s empty.  You… you’re our person.  If you’re not there too… then… then… then I’m not going either.  I’d rather get old and die with you than live forever without you.” 

Felix’s mouth opens and closes with a storm of unspoken thoughts.  He has sobbed spectacularly at birthday cards and scraped knees, but he doesn’t cry now. 

Jisung’s exclamation rattles you.  It was such a genuine burst of emotion, so rich with devotion that you feel silly for ever doubting either of them.  Empty, he said.  You never considered what kind of echo might exist between them, how your presence filled it and made it better, not worse. 

You intend to remedy your blunder, an apology on your lips, but then Felix finds his words.

“I’ll tell you my name,” he says.  “My true name.  Will that be enough to convince you?”

Enough?

Enough?

You and Jisung stare at Felix with your jaws dropped.  Felix clenches his jaw, staring back at you. 

Faeries go by many names in their long lifetimes.  Felix was the name Jisung’s mother gave him, but it is not his true faerie name.  Names are powerful things.  If a mortal has a faerie’s true name, they can ensorcell and compel that faerie to do their bidding.  It essentially enslaves them. 

Faeries do not freely reveal their true names, not to other faeries and certainly not to mortals.  Tricky mortals have uncovered faerie names, stories of humans triumphing over wicked creatures, but you cannot think of a single story where the faerie got down on one knee and willingly offered it.

Because that’s what Felix does.  He gets out of the booth and gets down on one knee in front of you, then looks up at you with dark, desperate eyes. 

“I’ll tell you right now if that’s what it takes,” he says.  His hands are shaking.  The wind starts knocking at the window again, harder than before.  Leaves form columns of colour, shooting up to the sky, scattering in every direction. 

“Don’t,” you say.  “Don’t.”  The trust this requires is extraordinarily substantial.  It means more than any simple I love you.  Maybe Felix feels human love or maybe he feels something different.  Maybe losing you is not like losing a person, but like losing a limb or something equally vital.  It must be, for him to offer up his entire being in a word. 

The gesture means more than you can say.  The best way to reciprocate it is by refusing it. 

“It’s enough,” you say, choked up.  “It’s enough that you would offer.” 

“I’ll tell you,” he says, like he thinks you don’t believe him.  But of course you believe him.  He can’t lie. 

“I know,” you say.  “I’m sorry I doubted you.  Come here please.” 

Felix sits beside you and lets you wrap your arms around his neck.  He is tentative at first but then he looks at Jisung and holds you tighter.   The world outside settles once more. 

“Wow, that was intense,” Jisung says.  He grabs a napkin and blows his nose.  “Wheeew.  Wednesdays, am I right?”  

Felix pulls back, just enough so he can see your face.  You feel shy under his rapt attention, flush with warmth when his fingertips sweep from your temple to your jaw.  He holds your chin and tilts your face up.  He seems to be studying you.  This close, you can see all the shades of brown in his eyes, even flecks of dark, dark green and threads of gold.  There is a shimmer to the black of his iris.  If he turned a certain way, you think his glamour would disappear.  You think he would be beautiful anyway. 

He exhales.  His breath flutters over your lips. 

“Will you come with us?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling so soft and low.  “Will you marry me?”

You look at Jisung.  You cannot imagine any circumstance in which a man would look so eager for his girlfriend to accept another man’s proposal, yet this feels completely normal. 

Normal.  The three of you have always had your own definition of that word, haven’t you? 

You look at Felix, at the shimmer of his bold gaze.  

“Yes,” you say.  “Yes, I will.” 

Felix smiles and Jisung lets out a whoop!  You laugh, turning aside to wipe an unbidden tear from your eye.  Felix touches your cheek.  He looks more entranced than anything, blinking long and slow like a content cat. 

Jisung is still celebrating.  He shoves half your croissant in his mouth while you are distracted.  Then, with his cheeks stuffed full of pastry, his eyes get wide. 

“Ohyeah, weforgotsumffing!” he says around a mouthful of food.  He coughs, swallowing too quickly.  Felix clears his throat and passes Jisung your mug.  Jisung gulps it down while you and Felix exchange an affectionate glance.  

Then Jisung clinks the cup on the table and looks at you, sheepish. 

“Haha,” he says.  “By the way, you have to fuck Felix.” 

-

There are entrances to faerie in the deepest part of the woods.  Doorways are found in unlikely patterns that most humans will declare peculiar but innocuous: rings of spotted mushrooms, circular patches of darkening grass, shadows that arch with a perfect curve beneath a canopy of leaves.   

You have known this all your life, but you also knew to never go looking.  Not on your own.  A mortal wandering into faerie is not so different from a lamb wandering into a wolf den.  

Even with a wolf escort, you feel like that vulnerable lamb.  You hold hands with Jisung the entire trek, trailing behind Felix who hums as he lightly dances his way through even the harshest terrain.  Finally you come across two branches, twining up and up until they tangle like two hands clasping across a chasm.  

Winded from the exertion of the hike, you and Jisung come to a slow stop to catch your breaths.  Felix hurries ahead, his face brightening as he approaches the archway. 

“You ready?”  Jisung asks, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you say.  “You?”

“Oh, hell yeah, baby,” he says with a laugh.  You look at him only to find his gaze turned on the archway, faraway with reminiscence.  “I remember it, you know,” he says.

“What?” you ask.  Jisung has never mentioned this before. “But you were just a baby.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he didn’t expect an answer.  Maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud.  He laughs, deflecting the tension, and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says.  “Magic I guess, or something.  I dunno.  I just know I remember it.  There’s stuff that happened last week I can’t remember.  In a year, or fifty, or a hundred, I don’t know what I’ll remember from here.  But I remember this place like I never left.” 

You squeeze his hand again.  He looks at you and smiles, squeezing back. 

“Come on!”  Felix calls.  He is standing at the archway, waving to you.  He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a leather satchel slung across his chest.  The mundanity of his clothing looks unnatural.  If he looked inhuman in that café, he looks even less human now.  His glamour is in tact, his freckles pronounced, but there is a quality to him that defies logic.  He looks like he could take off flying and it would not be unusual. 

You and Jisung exchange a final glance then approach.  Felix smiles and walks backwards through the archway.  You can see him clearly as if he merely took another step in the woods.  He holds out his hands, you and Jisung taking one each, then you step through as well. 

Oh.

October orange sunlight pours through the trees, the early sunset colour of a clear autumn day at its close.  The woods are a mosaic of colour: green, orange, yellow, red, brown, little swirls of leaves flying from branch to branch, gathering in piles and scattering again.  You watch leaves settle over a pile of bones only for the whole apparatus to knit itself together.  You stumble to a surprised stop as a cat made of bones and leaves unfurls before your eyes.  It scampers up to Felix, rattling like an ivory windchime and somehow still purring.  Felix scratches behind its leafy ears, smiling and greeting the kitty affectionately. 

“Come on,” Felix says, not noticing the way you and Jisung are completely arrested by the sight of the cat.  “It’s not far from here.” 

It is the domicile of the autumn court.   It is built into the woods, or swallowed by it, grand structures built within and around trees, some abodes very high in the sunlit branches, some disappearing into the ground.  They are decorated with garlands of dried flowers, gardens of gourds and harvest fruit weaving around the lower rooms.  You jump, startled, when a pile of nearby leaves rises up, revealing itself to be a deer, presumably also made of bones beneath its leafy surface. 

“Whoa,” Jisung says, an apt summary.   The leaf animals have no eyes, the faces uncanny.  The deer turns its neck with a click of bone, dipping its head in a respectful bow to Felix as he passes. 

Felix doesn’t notice.  He is watching you and Jisung now, smiling with so much mirth you think he might start glowing. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking directly at you.  Maybe he knows what Jisung is feeling without asking.  You try to school your expression to show more than just awe. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say.  You can see how a mortal could be a swept away by the beauty of the faerie court.  Between the glitter of crunchy leaves and the wafts of cinnamon and spice, it fantastically overwhelms the senses.  You can also see how quickly this dream could turn into a nightmare, if the sun was eclipsed and the undead creatures of the earth turned their vacant eyes on you.

You do not convey the complexity of your thoughts.  Felix takes for granted that you always tell the truth, even though he knows you can lie.  You think he sometimes forgets.   His whole face crinkles up with a smile now, maybe too severely, but you appreciate his attempt to render delight for you. 

“A little further to the palace,” Felix says. 

“Palaaace,” Jisung says in a sing-song, squeezing your hand.  He almost knocks you over when a bird swoops by his head.  This raven is real, not made of leaves, and it perches on Felix’s shoulder.  “Birds,” Jisung says woefully.  “There’s always a freaky-ass bird.” 

“This is one of mine,” Felix says, scratching its head.  “I think my brother sent it.”

You watch as the bird leans in, eerily person-like in how it seems to whisper in his ear before fluttering off.   Felix neither smiles nor frowns, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he comes to a halt.

“What is it?”  Jisung asks.  His startled tone reveals that Felix might be perturbed. 

“They’re expecting us,” Felix says, gazing ahead as if he can see your destination through all the foliage.  “They’re already preparing our wedding.”

“What?” you and Jisung say at the same time.  You look at each other then you ask, “Did you tell them already?”  Felix only proposed yesterday and he has not returned to the faerie realm, unless he snuck away overnight, but you don’t think so.  He spent the night with you and Jisung, Jisung insisting on being the little spoon between two big spoons.  Felix had his arm around Jisung and his hand in yours all night. 

“No,” Felix answers.  “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“This feels spoooooky,” Jisung sings, then laughs nervously. 

“Maybe,” Felix says with a casual shrug of his shoulders.  “Maybe not.  Let’s go.” 

You and Jisung exchange another look, but you have gone too far to turn around, so you follow Felix.  He leads you to a red-bricked path that thickens with moss the further you walk.    When you reach the base of a hill, Felix stops to hold your hand. 

“Don’t look back until I say,” he says.  “You could fall.  Keep your eyes on me or the cat.  She knows the way too.” 

The cat is running around your feet, mewling, though the clack of its jaws is louder than its airy voice.  You decide to look at Felix instead.  Apparently Jisung picks the cat because he coos, “Aww, she’s kinda cute in a freaky way.  What’s her name?” 

“Babyeater,” Felix says. 

“Oh nooo,” Jisung replies.

You follow Felix and the cat up an incline that grows so steep that at one point you are walking perpendicular to the forest below.   You look at Felix the whole time, squeezing his hand tightly.   His returned squeeze is reassuring.  You remind yourself this is Felix, the same boy who kissed your scraped knees better, who sat through all your childhood tea parties even though he never really understood the concept of playing pretend, the same boy who has dutifully and lovingly obliged your every whim, however much he failed to understand its human purpose.  For Felix, it was always enough if it made you happy. 

He leads you safely over the crest of the hill, then it’s just a few more steps through a darker patch of woods before you are stepping into a huge clearing, bright and orange and gold.   Three massive, broad trees stand in the distance, an elaborate stone citadel built around the trunks.   There are faeries and other supernatural entities wandering around an autumnal garden, some scurrying with bundles of lights and candles and drapery.   The clearing and castle have been beautifully and frightfully decorated with pumpkins and dried flowers and bones. 

“Is this for us?”  Jisung asks.  “Uh, I mean, for you?”

“It looks like it,” Felix says uncertainly.  “I don’t know how they—”

Jisung screams, a proper shrill yell right in your ear, when something bursts out of some shrubbery and blocks his path.  You stumble back with wide-eyed surprise and Jisung instinctively shields you even in his terror.  Felix is not scared, his face neutral as ever, but his connection to Jisung has him reacting similarly, guarding you with his body. 

An eyeless husk straightens itself, bony limbs stretching for the sky.  You hear the crack of a neck-bone and the flutter of leaves, then all at a once a glamour settles over the faerie, revealing a handsome young man with short brown hair and dark eyes. 

“He’s still loud,” the faerie says.  “You were loud as a baby too.  Wahhh-wahhhh-wahhhhhh—” 

“Seungmin,” Felix says, nonplussed.  “Thank you for the raven.” 

Felix bows and the faerie, Seungmin, who must be the aforementioned brother, bows back as per the dictation of decorum. 

“Chan is mad he had to find out the news from Hyunjin,” Seungmin says, his mouth quirked in a smirky little half-smile.  “You better to be ready to grovel.”   

“Ah,” Felix says.   He looks over at you and Jisung who are clinging to each other, still wide-eyed with surprise.  “Hyunjin is a prince from the spring court,” Felix says.  “He can see the future.”

“Oh,” Jisung says.  “Yeah, sure, makes sense.”  He looks at you with a face that says, it definitely does not make sense. 

“Spring court,” Seungmin says with a little eye-roll.  “They burst in here with a dramatic fuss like always.  It’s embarrassing that the high prince of autumn learned about his favourite little brother’s engagement from a different court...”

“I can’t help that Hyunjin sees the future,” Felix says, more disgruntled than you have ever heard him.  It occurs to you, as you look between him and Seungmin, that Felix stands out here just as much as he did in the human world.  It is different, as here it is the little cracks of humanity that fracture his faerie face.  Not just the glamour, the freckles or his clothes, but some intrinsic bearing.   Maybe it is the sameness to Jisung, the way they block you with the same stance, the way they shuffle on the same foot.  Maybe it’s something else, but it is suddenly pronounced. 

Seungmin does not appear to notice Felix’s tone.  He just gives another bow which Felix is forced to return.  You see Jisung twitching and you squeeze his hand. 

“You don’t have to bow,” you whisper.    

“I know,” he says, then bobs twice in an aborted half-bow. 

You sigh.  You jump when Jisung shrieks again, startled by a little leaf-dog that comes running out of the shrubbery.  It is being pursued by some frantic sprites.  They yammer at the puppy in a faerie tongue as it starts to chase the cat.  All their bones are clattering as they run around, cat then dog then sprites.  Seungmin blinks at the fiasco then looks at Felix. 

“Let’s go,” Seungmin says.  He turns and gives you a bow, as is polite, then looks at Jisung and says, “Boo!” 

Jisung jumps and Seungmin cackles, bowing. 

Felix gives Seungmin a little shove, his mouth a grim line again. 

You follow Seungmin further into the garden, coming upon a feast that seems to be currently underway even while servants continue to set the party around the guests.   Food appears and disappears off the table, some faeries eating and some of them throwing food at the servants.   You have heard stories of ensorcelled human servants being trapped in places like this, but you only see faeries so far.  It doesn’t put you at ease exactly, but you don’t feel quite as frightened. 

Then all the faerie guests at the grand table stop and look at you.   Then you are frightened. 

“Hi,” Jisung squeaks. 

It is nervously and thoughtlessly blurted, but it would be impolite to ignore it, so a chorus of “hi” and “hello” circles the table in return. 

Most of them have a glamour of some kind.  A stockier, handsome faerie with bright orange hair stands.   He is on the other side of the long banquet table but manifests in front of you in mere seconds.  You are very alarmed to find him wearing bandages under a black army coat, the white wraps stained with blood.  It is very at odds with his deeply dimpled smile. 

“Hi there,” he says, looking past Jisung and straight at you.  “Wow, Felix really did it.  Welcome.  Call me Chan.  Sorry for the, ah, blood, I think it upsets humans?”  This apology seems sincere enough, accompanied with a tilt of the head, but he offers no further explanation.  He pulls you into an embrace, tucking you into the fold of one muscular arm, and laughing with an unexpectedly adorable giggliness.  “We have a human little sister.  That’s fun, yeah?”  He looks at the table and everyone nods and claps, only a few characters mutely unresponsive. 

You smile, maybe.  It feels a bit boxy.  Your brain is fitting all the pieces together, recalling that Seungmin referred to Chan as the high prince of autumn.   Chan is thus the highest font of power in this faerie court and he is hugging you. 

The hug pulls you away from Jisung who moves closer to Felix.  You look at them, watching as they hold hands, trying to convey with your eyes that you would rather be with them.

There is no time for any extraction attempt because a fuss stirs at one end of the table.  A pink-haired faerie bursts out of his seat.  He is long-limbed, tall and spindly, and he runs around the huge table at a fairly human speed.  He is wearing a billowy green jacket and a long string of pearls, his pastel appearance at some odds to the deepness of the autumn court. 

“Hey Fee-lix! Heeey!” he says, very literally bouncing when he reaches Felix.   

“Aha, hi, Hyunjin,” Felix says.   

“You brought humans!”  Hyunjin says, sweeping down to look at Jisung, then turning his dark-eyed stare to you.  His glamour is astonishingly beautiful, as bright as his pearls, a face like a handsome marble statue and a supermodel’s stature.  But he slinks like a ferret, as smirky as a fox.   “The bride,” he says with something of a wistful sigh.  His dark eyes are sparkling.  “A faerie and a human.  How romantic.  I love romance.” 

Then you are freed from hugging Chan, but only because Hyunjin cups your face in both hands and kisses you.  Not a greeting kiss either, but a deep kiss.  You sputter when he licks you. 

“Um,” Jisung squeaks. 

“This is High Prince Hyunjin.  Of the spring court, of course,” Chan says amiably, not doing anything to stop the high prince of the spring court from sucking face with his brother’s bride. 

Hyunjin stops on his own, smiling at you fondly.  “Pretty girl,” he says, stroking his whole hand over your face.  “I wish I could marry you.”  This is spoken without much longing, but it must be true or he couldn’t say it.   

He turns his sights on Jisung next.  Jisung straightens, eyes darting around for an escape. 

“The changeling baby,” Hyunjin says.  “He’s so cute now.  Can I marry this one, Felix?” 

Jisung’s eyes widen, looking at Felix, then at you. 

Felix looks unamused.  “No,” he says simply. 

Hyunjin pouts, slinking up to Jisung.  He grabs his face, long fingers grasping him tight.  Jisung’s lips part with surprise, his cheeks puffing when Hyunjin shakes his head around. 

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin says.  “You already have one.” 

“I said no,” Felix repeats. 

Hyunjin just sighs.  “I knew you’d say that,” he says.  “Oh well.”  Then he kisses Jisung full on the mouth too, Jisung squeaking through the very wet onslaught.  Hyunjin just smiles and strokes his face, then goes back to the table. 

Hyunjin’s self-introduction triggers a similar desire in the remaining guests.  Soon they are swarming you, forced into the vaguest semblance of a queue when Chan waves a demanding hand.  You meet Felix’s mother, who smiles and coos at you like she didn’t mandate a wife in the first place.  You meet Changbin, another half-brother of Felix, who thankfully follows the example set by Chan and not Hyunjin and simply hugs you.  He is so burly and strong that it lifts you off your feet, but he has enough restraint not to crush you, so that’s something.  

There are clusters of other faeries, all noisy, all dipping in bows or trying to kiss you, and all of them from the spring or autumn court.   A hush falls over the garden when the remaining guests approach for an introduction.  Felix finally appears at your side, Jisung too, standing on either side of you and holding your hands. 

“Winter and Summer,” Felix whispers as two courtly fae and their retinues step forward. 

You know very well why Felix deigns to warn you.  The autumn court and spring court, as per their seasonal equivalents, are shifting and transitory in many ways; they grow and they learn, and they often host humans, be it in a generous or malicious capacity.  The winter and summer courts are hostile to change, and both have little to do with humans at all.  Whatever human encounters have transpired in those courts have left few survivors to speak of it. 

Their glamours fit them strangely, like new clothes not yet broken in.   The first prince wears his glamour like a boy forced into dress clothes by a parent, walking with a stiff sort of discomfort.  His robes are coloured blue and yellow, long and loose, his blonde hair turning dark blue at the root.  His dimples are deep and cheekbones very sharp, and when he smiles he reveals a whole row of long, piercing teeth that he forgot to glamour altogether. 

You jump, staring aghast as the otherwise too-pretty prince sweeps into a bow.  He looks at Chan, sees him smiling, and copies the expression with a frightful brightness. 

“Prince Jeongin,” Felix says.  He squeezes your hand, reminding you to bow back. You do so swiftly.  “Summer.” 

“High Prince,” Jeongin says, laughing for some reason, a wheezing sound. 

“You have fourteen older brothers,” Felix says. 

“Had.”  Jeongin smiles again, his dimples deepening, his teeth glittering.  “I ate them.” 

“Oh,” Felix says. There is a pause as he looks at you then looks at Jeongin.  Your face reveals terror, you are certain, but Jeongin is waiting expectantly.  Felix weighs his words and says, “Uh.  You must be happy to be congratulated.” 

You wonder how you ever thought Felix was strange.  He seems so normal suddenly, the only one who finds something wrong with a person eating fourteen brothers.  If he did approve, he would not have to word his congratulations so strangely to avoid a lie. 

Unless he just did that to appease you, a small voice says in the back of your head. A different truth is not a lie.

You wish you were not such an overthinker.  This is Felix.   Your Felix.  Yours, yours.   As much yours as Jisung, who is breathing a little heavier, so it makes Felix breathe heavier, and their combined strain has you close to panting as well. 

You are thus all breathless when you meet the final prince, introduced as High Prince Minho of the winter court.  He is wearing dark clothes, apparently sans his usual furry winter accoutrements, and his glamour is a barely-there mask that vanishes when the light hits him at certain angles.  He wears it like a loosely tied scarf, grudgingly donned.  He has not glamoured his eyes, mismatched and vibrant and vacant of all human emotion.  He does not smile when he bows.   Like Jeongin, he does not hug or kiss you. 

He looks you over, his stare raking, then he does the same to Jisung.  Whatever he sees makes him laugh, though it is a derisive sound.   Then he looks at Felix and says, “They’re fragile.  Be careful, changeling.” 

When he leaves, Jisung whispers, “Honestly, that last one got me kinda hard.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, unhappily, “I know.”   

And just like that, you are trying very hard not to laugh. 

You look at Felix and find his returned gaze to be very affectionate.  You always thought his regards looked a little too precise, like he was concentrating on forming the appropriate expression, but compared to certain toothy grins and cold laughs, Felix looks positively alight with sentiment.   He still looks strange in his t-shirt and jeans, but you think he might look strange anyway. 

It never occurred to you before that Felix’s changeling life might have made him an oddity on both sides of the veil. 

You feel a pang of sympathy, suddenly. 

Felix looks down at where you are holding his hand.  You see his gaze flit across to where you hold Jisung’s hand as well.  It exacerbates that pang in your chest, recalling your own jealousy when you found them kissing, plus all the years spent wishing you shared their magical connection.  It never occurred to you that Felix might feel some type of way about you dating Jisung, about you and Jisung both being human.  Maybe it reminded he was an outcast wherever he went.  Always very close to being part of something, never quite belonging. 

Funny enough, Jisung has always been significantly more blasé.   He sets his sights on what he wants and it never occurs to him that he will not have it.  He has Felix, he dates you, you marry Felix, he lives forever.  You look at your human boyfriend, at the way his dark eyes seem to sparkle as he looks around the garden.  You think somehow, despite his occasional shrieks and frights, he looks more home here than Felix. 

“Right then!”  Chan suddenly claps in your face, startling you.  “It’s wedding time, yeah?  We’ve never had a human wedding here before but Hyunjin is an expert so he helped us out…” 

Two faerie servants rip you away from Felix and Jisung.  Hyunjin follows you, looking very keen, his hands clasped behind his back but his whole face lit up brightly.  His eagerness does not put you at ease, nor are you reassured by his seemingly “expert” advice.  Seeing as he thought it was appropriate to introduce himself by making out with you, you sincerely doubt he is the human expert he has proclaimed himself to be.  

Sure enough, the slapdash preparations are very random.  You are shoved into a very pretty dress, but then Hyunjin attempts to adorn you with both a veil and a headpiece, and you can see an array of other accessories from international wedding regalia.  Being as polite as possible, you decline the offer to any headpiece at all.   

“Wow,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face.  “You are so humble.  Humans are so amazing, the way they just let themselves be ugly.  Wow.  Wow.  I won’t interfere with your hideous but humble head.  Should we kiss again?”        

“I think it’s better we don’t,” you say.  “It might wrinkle the dress?”

He nods sagely.  “That would be bad,” he agrees.  “Especially because your head is so bare and horrible.  The dress is doing all the work.  Can I put flowers in your hair or do you really prefer to be ugly?” 

“Uh, flowers, yeah, sure,” you say.  He says everything so frankly that you somehow can’t feel offended.  A compliment would feel just as meaningless. 

“I’ve always wanted to attend a human wedding,” Hyunjin says.  “You know, spring is a very popular time for human weddings.  But humans are always dying so fast after, so it makes me sad to watch them properly.” 

“You feel sadness?” you ask.  Though Hyunjin and Felix seem quite different, perhaps you can glean an answer to the depth of faerie emotions.  Especially considering this marriage business feels like an entirely different beast now that you are in a wedding dress with an entire congregation of faeries sitting in a garden waiting for you.  It seemed like a simpler affair when it was just Felix and Jisung in a café booth.     

“Oh, of course,” Hyunjin says.  “I feel sad all the time.  I feel sad right now because you aren’t marrying me.”  He says this with a great deal of joviality, smiling at you like he’s proud of his supposed sadness.  

You decide not to ask more questions on that front, because you doubt his answers will be very helpful.  You do enquire after the wedding festivities.  You try not to frown at the very random assemblage of traditions he has baked into a single ceremony.  It sounds like a tedious affair but you decide to brace it, supposing it could be worse. 

“Then we all watch the royal consummation,” Hyunjin says casually, adding another flower to your hair. 

You grab his wrist without thinking, stopping him.

“Did I stab you?” he asks, blowing on your head to check for blood.  “Sorry.  I keep forgetting pins in heads kill humans.”  He says this with a lot of exasperation, like it’s a personal inconvenience to him that humans die so easily. 

“No, it’s not that,” you say.  He pops another peony on your head, manifesting the little buds out of thin air.  “What do you mean ‘we all watch the royal consummation?’  Who is ‘we’?”  

“The high princes, obviously,” he says, tucking a rose behind your ear. 

You stare ahead, mouth hanging open. 

Yesterday seems so long ago now, but Jisung and Felix did explain to you that the autumn court required an act of consummation to legitimize the marriage.  Apparently it has nothing to do with virginity or rearing heirs, mostly functioning as a ritual for the sake of itself.  Once faeries decide something is a rule they must follow it. 

You were very hot in the face the entire conversation.  Jisung seemed content to describe the way you need would have sex with his changeling faerie, but you were too embarrassed to meet either gaze. 

Maybe it would have been easier if you did not want to sleep with Felix. If it was just a necessity, it would be meaningless.

But you very much do desire Felix, even if he only smiled blithely during the discussion.  He seemed unaffected while you were very flustered. 

This is a very different type of flustered. 

“I was not told there would be an audience,” you finally say.

“There isn’t usually,” Hyunjin says.  “But that’s how human princes do it, if I remember.  A whole council watches.  Felix doesn’t have a council, though, so we’ll have to do it.  It would be very rude not to indulge your human traditions.  There!  All done.”

He steps back to admire your appearance.  You are still frazzled from the conversation, from the strong floral scent that is now wrapped around you, from everything. 

“You look—”  Hyunjin pauses, then, “—not horrible at all!  I did a very good job.  Now the wedding can start.  I’ll tell Chan to start killing the sacrificial wedding goats.   We only have one and it’s made of leaves and bones but I assumed that would be okay with you.  This way we can just keep killing the same one over and over again.  I’ll be right back.” 

“Can I—”  You feel panicked.  You need to see Jisung.  Hyunjin has you sequestered in some little golden alcove.  You do not want to be hunted down if you just flee, so you ask, “Can I go look at myself in a mirror?” 

“You’re testing me,” Hyunjin says, his long fingers covering his mouth with a surprised gasp.  Then he giggles.  “I passed!  I know you can’t look at the bride before the wedding.  Wait here!”  Then he disappears out the gate and around the corner. 

You sit down in a huff and close your eyes.  You try counting backwards from one hundred to calm yourself, but you reach the low twenties and still feel tense.   

Then you hear the patter of human footsteps.  You know it is a human because faeries scarcely disturb the ground where they walk.  You hear the crunch of leaves and lift your head, feeling a rush of relief with Jisung pokes his head into the alcove. 

“There you are,” he says.  “Felix is – uh – they’re getting him – dressed – and I wanted –  wanted you—” 

You stand as he talks, as his voice drifts, as his breath catches.  He looks down the length of your dress then back up, his dark eyes watery as he exhales with a gut-punching whoosh. 

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he says.  “This – this feels weird.  I know it’s – weird.  But it’s not – it’s not wrong, right?  It’s just weird.  But weird isn’t bad.   It’s just—”

“Weird,” you say, with a little laugh.  “Yeah.  I know.” 

He smiles softly.  He wore his glasses here but he has since put in contacts.  His hair is neatly styled and he changed into slightly nicer clothes, still human world, but very handsome in his black pants and black shirt.  He is so handsome that for a moment you forget about all your worries, taking a step towards him with your hand extended.  He catches that hand, bringing it to his shoulder.  He sweeps you into a kiss that banishes all your bad thoughts, the familiar taste and feel of him engulfing you.   You sink your fingers in his hair, parting your lips under the press of his mouth. 

It's him who ends the kiss, breathlessly, stuttering, “S-sorry, wait.  I came here to tell – to tell you – the consummation – that pink guy—”

“I know,” you say with a cringe.  You bury your face in his neck.  “Ugh, a bunch of faeries are gonna watch me have sex.” 

“Faeries and me!” he says with a nervous laugh. 

“Huh!”

“I tried to stop it, but no one would really listen to me,” he says.  “Someone only listened when I said it was weird for a guy to watch his little brother have sex, and some people agreed, so Prince Chan said I should take his place, since there were no faeries of equal rank to him and at least I was human.”  He slaps a hand to his forehead.  “Sorry.  I tried.” 

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, giggling a little helplessly at your morose boyfriend.  “How do you get yourself into these situations?” 

“You’re wearing a wedding dress!” he replies. 

“That’s only because I know you!” 

“Your life would have been very boring without me,” Jisung says, smiling. 

“I know,” you say.  “It would have been awful.” 

Because for as strange as all this faerie nonsense is, you cannot imagine a world where you never knew Jisung, where you never knew Felix, where you never had this love in your life, as messy and jealous and complicated as it has been at times. 

You tip your head, gazing into Jisung’s eyes.  He shivers when you twirl a bit of his hair around your finger. 

“Jisungie,” you say, thinking of your own jealousy, of Felix’s confounding glances.  “Do you ever feel jealous at all?”

“Of what?” he asks, totally innocent.

“I don’t know,” you say.  You are not sure how to explain it without seeming ridiculous, which puts it into some perspective.  “I mean, me and Felix are about to… you know.”

“Uh, yeah.  That’s okay.  I don’t want to have sex in front of the cannibal faerie,” Jisung says, making you laugh.  “Not a joke!” 

“I know, I know.”  You kiss his cheek. 

“I couldn’t be jealous of you two,” he says, looking contemplative, as if this has never really occurred to him before.  Then he looks at you a bit sheepishly, his gaze skittish in how it darts around. 

“What?” you ask, recognizing his shy mischief. 

“I think it’s… uh… kinda hot?”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “I love you and I guess I also love that stupid faerie boy.  And… maybe… I kinda wanna see…”

You feel very hot again. 

“You, um, want to watch Felix fuck me?” you ask, frankly as you can. 

“Yes.”  He stares straight up, his ears gone completely red and his cheeks turning pink.  “I think you’ll look hot together.  I was kinda hoping we’d do something like this one day.  I mean, the cannibal faerie is a surprise, but other than that…”

You kiss him.  His arms circle your waist and he tugs you close, the kiss deepening naturally.  You let all your flustered embarrassment fizzle away, thinking about Felix, thinking about Jisung.  You get a bit handsy, squeezing Jisung’s biceps then resting your hands on his chest.  He makes a little sound into the kiss, one of his needy whimpers.  It never fails to light you up. 

“I’m nervous,” you say, speaking low, against his lips.  “Thinking about so many of them watching me and Felix…”

It is clear by his gulp and frantic nod that Jisung finds the scenario sexier than he should.   “Yeah, baby,” he says.  “What can I do?” 

You know the faeries will be occupied with Hyunjin’s myriad of rituals for a while, so you peck his lips and ask, “Get me ready?”

“Ready,” he repeats.  His gaze jumps up to the flowers in your hair.  “You are ready.” 

“Not like that,” you say.  

Jisung really does his best to be appropriate, but he gets pussy-drunk faster than any man you have ever known.  A suggestion is all it takes.  You tap his shoulder and he obediently drops to his knees. 

“Baby,” he says in a reverent whisper, sighing, eyes closing when you run your fingers through his hair. 

Heavy-lidded and so seemingly submissive to your desire, Jisung looks up at you.  Then he reaches past you, grabs the chair by the leg, and yanks.  He is not too gentle, spilling you onto it with a forceful nudge. 

You know Jisung does nothing by halves.  He is singular in his passions.   You ask him to kneel, so he kneels, so he closes his eyes, so he opens his mouth.  He pushes your dress out of his way and licks through your panties until the fabric is sticky and you are so so wet that it clings to you.  Your thighs tremble and he whimpers softly, high and light in the back of his throat. 

“Jisungie…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he says in a raspy voice, drawing the fabric aside.  “It’s okay.  Don’t cry.  I’ve got you, baby.” 

He speaks so sweetly, like he is incapable of being mean, even while he torments you with long, twisting strokes of his tongue, never committing to a single pattern.  It is a storm of sensation, rolling through you over and over again.  You are so sensitive that slightest nudge feels like a miniature orgasm all on its own.  You gasp and whine, trying and failing to close your legs around his head. 

“Jisuuung,” you say, your voice rough. “We don’t have much time, I need to come…”

He moans when he buries his tongue in you, when he licks messily up past your clit and back down again.  You grab his hair and tug, though it does nothing to deter him. 

“Your husband can make you come later,” he says, giggling an inch from your pussy.  “I’m just warming you up…”  

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

“Hmm?” is his reply, then he sighs and dives back. 

Your eyes close, brow furrowing in concentration.  You rock your hips against his mouth as he finally starts circling your clit with a single-minded resolve.  You feel flushed and shaky, pleasure and heat coursing through you, and you know you must look as ravaged as you feel.   

You open your eyes and see Felix standing in the entryway.  He looks astonishingly beautiful, his long blonde hair neatly styled back, his freckles pronounced and eyes so dark.  Long earrings made of sparkling orange gems dangle from his ears, looking at once like rippling flames and water running over bronze.  He is dressed in an approximation of a tuxedo, except the pants are leather and the shirt and blazer are cropped too short. 

He tips his head, his eyes on Jisung for a moment.  Then he holds your gaze unflinchingly, maybe daringly.  His smile appears slowly.  It is too gentle to be lecherous, tender despite the fact his gloved hand runs over his belt and tugs.  His tongue touches his bottom lip and he tips his head the other way. 

His presence startles you for a moment.  You should feel caught, or embarrassed, or something.  But the initial surprise fades and you just stare back at him.  You dig your fingers into Jisung’s hair and breathe harder as he strokes and strokes and strokes you with his tongue. 

Felix exhales.  His smile is still soft.  He lifts a darkly gloved hand and gestures to you, curling two fingers, a suggestive come here. 

Then Jisung’s hand goes from your thigh to your pussy, two fingers curling inside you without any resistance.  Felix’s smile curves into a pleased, satisfied smirk.  He nods. 

You come, holding Jisung’s face against your pussy, letting him moan and whimper with his own pleasure as you roughly fuck his mouth.  When he lifts his head, his mouth is so obscenely wet that you throb with a renewed ache of desire. 

“I think you’re ready now,” Jisung says.  He lowers your legs and slowly slides his fingers out of you.  Your breath catches, swallowing up a sound of a surprise when he uses both thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze – his and Felix.  Your head feels fuzzy and not with faerie magic. 

“I think so,” Felix says. 

Jisung does not seem surprised by his voice. He lets you go, your dress falling back over your lap.  He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks over his shoulder at Felix.  Felix approaches, his steps silent despite his big black boots.

You watch.  Jisung’s bottom lip twitches.  He looks up at Felix with the same hazy intoxication he looked at you.  Felix bites the tip of a glove, pulling the fabric off with his teeth, then he swipes his thumb across Jisung’s glistening mouth.  Felix brings that thumb to his own bottom lip, his tongue only just swiping the tip of it. 

Then Hyunjin struts into the alcove and slaps a shocked hand over his mouth. 

“What are you doing?” he demands.  You think he is going to remark on the man kneeling at your feet, not to mention your sexually dishevelled appearance, but then he says, “Felix.  You’re supposed to have a hat.” 

“I don’t need a hat, Hyunjin,” Felix says with a sigh.  “I would like to talk to my bride for a minute.” 

“That is impossible,” Hyunjin says.  “You need a hat.  Come with me.”

It occurs to you that you are watching the two most emotional faeries in their courts, even if those emotions are aimed in strange directions, like hats.  Because Hyunjin is very adamant and Felix is very annoyed.  You are more than a little concerned that if things come to a head, it will turn horrifying without much effort.

Then Jisung leaps to his feet and puts himself between the two faerie princes.  It surprises everyone to silence.  Even Hyunjin stumbles to a stop.  He cocks his head like a predator regards a measly scrap of prey, eyes flashing as he takes a menacing step forward.  

Felix has no time to react.  You have no chance to scream. 

Jisung is a step ahead of everyone.

He bows.  Hyunjin stumbles to a stop for a second time.  It takes him a second to realize what has happened but when he does his eye twitches.  He bows back, then straightens with a huff.

Jisung bows again.  You slap a hand over your mouth to hide your surprised laugh.  Hyunjin looks far less amused.  Glaring, he bows too, as per the rules of politeness. 

Jisung leaps to the side and bows again, forcing Hyunjin to follow him.  He does this twice more, leading Hyunjin to the exit, bowing back and forth the whole time. 

“Make him stop!”  Hyunjin shrieks.

“Okay, okay!” Jisung says, hands raised in surrender.   He bows one more time, swooping low, then he turns and runs as fast as he can.

Hyunjin, obliged to return the bow, goes chasing after him with a frantic yelp. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” you ask, springing to your feet.  You dress falls neatly down. 

“Yes,” Felix says.  “Hyunjin won’t hurt humans.  He likes them too much.”  He turns to you then, his expression returned to a more passive neutrality, though you do not miss the way he looks you over.  “Will you be okay?” he asks.  “I’m sorry.  I thought we would have more time when we got here.  I didn’t know they would do this.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, too shy for a conversation after he very much watched you orgasm.  “Um.  Might as well, I guess… get it out of the way.” 

“Yes.”  He frowns at this, turning aside.  “You want to… get it out of the way.  I understand.  I’m sorry it had to be this way.  You don’t want to marry me.” 

He says it so plainly and without any hesitation.  He must believe it is the absolute truth.  For a moment, you can only stare at him, his handsome profile, the tendrils of sadness that tug at his features.  How did you never see it before?

“Felix,” you say gently.  He does not look at you.  You touch his arm and he looks at your hand.  “Felix, I am happy to marry you.  I love you.”  He looks up at that, his brow furrowed.  “And Jisung,” you add.  “I’m… I’m glad it happened this way.  So that you and I—”   He turns to you and your heart skips a few beats, affected by the warmth of his steady gaze.  “So that you and I could come together as well.  And now the three of us—” 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, then looks aside.  “I’m sorry.  That was forward, yeah?  I just… don’t want the first time to be out there.  Is that strange?  To be honest, sometimes I don’t know what’s strange or what isn’t.  The rules are different everywhere, you know?  I don’t think I’m doing a good job of this.  I’m sorry.  We don’t have to—”

You cup his face and kiss him.  It is very stiff for a moment, because you are both surprised by your brazen action.  He somehow grounds himself first, a careful hand curling around your hip to guide you a little closer.  A breath passes between you then he kisses you back. 

You touch his chest, making a sweet small sound into the kiss when his lips slide so softly against yours.  You are about to deepen it when Jisung interrupts with, “Aww, you’re kissing!  So cute!” 

You and Felix look over at him.  His hands are clasped and he is gushing as only Jisung can. 

“I thought you were running,” Felix says, with a hint of amusement. 

“Stupid labyrinth led me back here,” Jisung says.  He mimes zipping his lips shut and gestures to you.  “Keep kissing.  Pretend I’m not here.” 

“I wouldn’t want to pretend that,” Felix says, so sincerely that Jisung’s eyes widen.  They look at each other for a long moment, then Felix looks at you.  He cups your face. 

Then Hyunjin comes running in.  He swings his arms in a dramatic flail and flower petals fly everywhere.  The leaf dog comes running in and starts nipping at the air, trying to catch the petals.  In the midst of this chaos, Hyunjin storms up to Jisung and promptly bows.  Then he shoves him to the side and grabs Felix by the arm.

“Hat!” he shouts.  “Now!” 

-

It is a twenty-six hour wedding ceremony.  You and Jisung fall asleep halfway through festivity number twelve, curled up under a furry blanket near a fire pit.  You wake when Felix lifts your head into his lap.  Jisung is already curled up with his head on your belly, so you smile and snuggle into Felix.  He cups your face and strokes your cheek, the flickering firelight casting shadows on his face, making his smile seem bigger than usual. 

The consummation ritual is last.  It takes place inside the castle, in a beautiful room that appears to have been designed for this express purpose.  The mossy stone walls are decorated with dried flowers, the plush bed laden with thick red throws and burgundy cushions.   Despite the tall open windows, there is no autumn chill, a lit fireplace cozying the room with its warmth.

It would be a lovely chamber if not for the translucent curtain with a literal audience behind it.  The winter and summer princes sit ramrod straight, so uninterested in their surroundings that it actually puts you at ease.  Hyunjin looks… a little too eager to be honest, but you aren’t convinced he understands this ritual anymore than anything else today. 

Jisung is side-eying Jeongin, who is sitting beside him because Hyunjin refused to sit by ‘the annoying changeling brat’.  Minho is sitting between Jeongin and Hyunjin, casting the occasional side-eye to the spring prince.  Despite his stoic countenance, his displeasure with the company is clear. 

Honestly, the whole tableau is quite comedic.  You find yourself trying to stifle laughter when Felix finally arrives.  You were sent to separate rooms to undress and change into robes, but you arrived here first.   Felix looks at you curiously, clearly perplexed by your laughter. 

“You’re not nervous anymore,” he observes. 

“No,” you say.  “I’ve just been thinking like a faerie.” 

He tilts his head at that.  You smile and kiss him, a chaste kiss that makes his lashes flutter.  The little reaction tickles a flurry of butterflies in your belly.  You hold his hand and lead him to the bed where you sit down.  His eyes shift with a nervous scuttle, but he follows the direction of your hand when you gesture to him. 

You keep your eyes on his, intensely locked as you lift his hand and take two fingers in your mouth.  When you close your lips around his fingers and gently suck, his breath catches.  It echoes in Jisung. 

Then Jeongin whispers loudly, “Is she going to eat him?”  He sounds moderately intrigued. 

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin replies. 

“I think it’s over,” Minho says, catching onto your ruse before anyone else.  

You smile and open your eyes.  You separate from Felix and turn your head to the silhouettes beyond the curtain. 

“A penetrative performance,” you state.   “I believe that was the requirement.  And I believe that should qualify.” 

You are stretching the meaning of those words and you know it, but that’s what faeries do.  His fingers ‘penetrated’ the breach of your mouth, so it should count on the most technical level. 

“All done,” you say with a smile and wave. 

“So you’re not eating him?”  Jeongin says, frowning. 

Minho is the first one to stand.  He flicks Jeongin’s forehead as he passes, but otherwise says nothing before fleeing the room.  Jeongin follows with a slightly disgruntled shuffle, then Hyunjin stomps his foot. 

“Humans,” he says, marching past Jisung. 

The door closes behind Hyunjin.  Jisung claps a hand over his mouth and laughs into it, so hard he has to put a hand over his stomach as he doubles over.   Felix laughs too, a pleasantly low rumble that he tries to stifle with a cough.  You smile up at him, leaning back on your palms and admiring him in the warm orange light.  He tucks some hair behind his ear, regarding you with a very tender gaze when he nods his head in a curt little bow. 

“All done,” he says.  It makes your brow furrow: the little shift in tone, the tension that still draws his shoulders back.  You realize that even after everything, he is still uncertain about his place.  Even Jisung knows where he belongs, not for a moment thinking he should leave the room, but Felix takes a step away from the bed like he intends to do just that.

You grab his hand, drawing his attention back to you.  Blonde hair falls around his face, shadowing it.  He doesn’t quite meet your eyes, gaze somewhere on your chin. 

“Felix,” you say.  His fingers tighten around yours and it feels like a question.  You answer by tugging that hand, drawing him closer.  His eyes flash gold when you drop his hand to open your robe.  This time you can hear Jisung’s sharp breath too, all laughter subsiding as you let the robe fall off your shoulders, laying yourself bare before Felix. 

He looks awed but stricken.  You can see when he swallows.  He looks at Jisung then back at you, his brow furrowing.  His lips twitch in a bid to speak but no words come.   

It would be funny, this supernatural being somehow struck dumb by you in your most vulnerable state, but your smile is more affectionate than amused.

“Felix,” you say again.  “Have you ever done something like this before?” 

He shakes his head frantically, his eyes still running up and down your body. 

“No,” he says.  “Uh, no.  No.  I can – feel something when Jisung – when you – I mean—”  He chokes on an awkward laugh, turning away for a second. 

“I fucking knew it!”  Jisung says, poking his head between the folds of the curtain.  “Bro, you’re such a liar.  I asked if you could feel when we fuck and you said no!”

“I can’t lie,” Felix replies, turning to Jisung.  He forgets to be embarrassed while arguing, very plainly and patiently stating his case.  “I told you most faeries don’t think about sex like humans and that I couldn’t be certain what you were doing, yeah?  And I can’t.  And I would have told you more but you only asked the first time and I didn’t know you were going to keep… being with her.  And I – I didn’t want to make things awkward… for you… okay?  By thinking of me every time… so I just… What are you smiling at?”  His deep voice breaks, pitching comically higher for a second. 

Jisung is smirking and nodding, just a floating head with a vague silhouetted body behind the curtain. 

“Man,” Jisung says, “you’ve been acting like a monk but secretly jacking it while we get freaky in the other room… That’s naughty.”

Felix draws his mouth into a flat line then looks at you for help.  You are trying to hold in your giggles, lips pressed tight together.  When he looks at you, you exhale, waving at Jisung to back down for a second.  He ducks behind the curtain again, giggling to himself like the menace he is. 

Fortunately, Felix is easy to distract.  All it takes is opening your legs for his all his attention to zero in there.  He swallows again. 

“Sounds like we’ve been teasing you too long,” you say, your voice drawing his eyes back up to your face.  You smile and beckon him forward.  “Come on.  Let me make it up to you.” 

He looks like he is going to deflect politely, either because he is a faerie or because he is Felix, but then you grab his robe and yank him closer.  He stumbles up to you, his fingers fluttering at his sides and his shoulders still tense.  You take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, soothing him with another gentle smile as you unknot his robe.

He is already very hard and this seems to fluster him, but he points to the curtain and sputters, “He’s – touching—“ 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Jisung says. 

“Jisung, shh,” you say, trying not to giggle again.  “And slow down.  You’re always so impatient.” 

“Am not,” Jisung says, but you can see him lean back, folding his hands behind his head. 

You look up at Felix, holding his gaze the way you did when you sucked his fingers.  You like the way he twitches and breathes harder, the way his eyes flash, the way his jaw clenches.  His thumb curls under your jaw when your mouth slides over him.  You can’t help but moan when his whole face contorts with more natural emotion than you have ever seen from him.  His breath stutters and stops and starts, his sounds so low and guttural that you feel them inside you. 

“Oh, fuck, dude,” Jisung says, rasping.  You pull back just a little, drooling and stroking with your hand, and glancing at Jisung out of the corner of your eye.  He lifts his hips and squeezes himself over his pants.  “We were fucking torturing you, holy fuck.”   

“Mmmmrrgh,” is the approximate sound Felix makes.  His eyes are partially-lidded, his expression one of immense concentration.  He pulls your face back to him with a flick of his wrist.  Appetent and quite demanding, he leads your mouth back onto him and holds you in place to shallowly and gently fuck your mouth.  He makes a pleased sound, one of deep relief, his head lolling back and the tension leaving his shoulders.   

You let him set the pace, matching the animal instinct that overcomes him.  He stops himself when he’s close, breathing hard and stepping back.  You want to ask if he is okay, but you have to flex your jaw and your voice is momentarily shot.  Before you can find that voice, he turns to the curtain and says, “Show me what you did earlier.  I want – I want to do that too.” 

There is a quiet moment, Jisung maybe surprised at the sudden attention, but then the curtain parts and Jisung steps all the way through.  He has unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, his partially unzipped pants doing nothing to hide the bulge behind his fly.  The sight of him sets off more sparks, especially when he winks at you with all his cheeky wantonness.

Felix gives Jisung a once-over too, pushing a hand through his hair and steadying his breathing.  His features look sharper than ever, darkened with a determined resolve.  He says nothing when Jisung sweeps behind him.  Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at you while he gathers Felix’s robe and slides it off his shoulders. 

“She likes your freckles,” Jisung offers by way of explanation, smooching Felix’s freckled shoulder with a playful little mwah. 

Felix tilts his head and looks at you.  “Really?” he asks.  “I can’t fully scrub them off the glamour. I think it’s somehow your fault.”  This is aimed at Jisung.

“Everything’s my fault!” Jisung says with a great deal of pride. 

“Why would you want to get rid of them?” you blurt, showing just as much as horror as you did when meeting the cannibal faerie.   Felix without his freckles is equally abhorrent.

Felix looks at you, thoughtfully.  Firelight is flickering over the room but you do not think it is a trick of shadow when his freckles seem to darken everywhere. 

“Aw,” Jisung says.  “He’s flirting.” 

Felix looks at him with a certain degree of exasperation.  “Show me what I asked,” he says. 

“Oh, wow, okay, geez, pushy,” Jisung says, circling so he standing beside Felix.  Felix drops the rest of the robe, evidently not the slightest bit shy to be standing there naked.  Now your gaze is the roving one, jumping between them, darting upward when Jisung cups Felix’s face and turns it to him. 

“You need to turn her on first, man,” Jisung says, swaying to the playful rhythm of his own voice.  Felix follows, but his eyes narrow into judgemental slits.  Jisung seems unbothered by this, standing still, tucking some hair behind Felix’s ear.  “C’mooon,” he says, with an impatient little shoulder wiggle and a laugh.  “She likes you… she likes me… as they say… badda bing badda boom…”

“I don’t think they say that during sex,” Felix says, frowning. 

“He’s right,” you say, giggling. 

Jisung sighs and looks at you.  “No audience participation,” he says, miming a zip across his lips.  “Just sit there and look pretty, baby.  We’ll get to you.” 

Felix looks at you.  Jisung leans close to whisper in his ear.  You try to decipher what he is saying based on Felix, but all Felix does is furrow his eyebrows then look sideways at Jisung.  There is a moment of quiet, then they smile at the same time.

Felix delicately cups Jisung’s chin.

The last time you caught them kissing, it spurred only jealousy.  But that was different.  That was your childish reaction to exclusion, your own anxieties speaking over everything else.  This time, you are not outside of their connection.  You even swear you can feel the faintest tingling on your own lips when they gently come together in a feather-light kiss.   

Their hands trace similar paths, Felix’s slipping into Jisung’s pants and Jisung touching him back.  The kiss deepens until their tongues touch, then Jisung giggles while Felix grins.  They look at you at the same time.

“Go,” Jisung says, nudging Felix forward. 

They let go of each other and Felix climbs up on the bed, guiding you backwards until your head is on a pillow.  Long tendrils of blonde hair brush your cheeks. He lays over you and kisses you, pressing your head into the cushion.  Even lost in his kiss, you can sense Jisung with a fuzzy awareness.  You recognize the familiar touch of his palm, his hand gliding up your inner thigh.  Felix makes room, joining Jisung at your thighs.  You twitch with an instinctive little jerk, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at them.  Jisung puts a finger over his lips and shushes you, smiling. 

“We got it, we got it…” he says.  He cups the back of Felix’s head and pushes his head down to your pussy. 

Felix glances up at you, then him, then down.  His eyes close and he sticks out his tongue, his expression one of the sweetest pleasure when he puts his mouth on you.   What he lacks in skill, he compensates with eagerness, messily diving in with an open mouth, licking and kissing and making a mess of himself.  Jisung threads his fingers into his hair and tugs, laughing a little. 

“Easy, easy,” he says.  He and Felix look at each other as Jisung lowers his own face.  When he puts his expert mouth on you, your head falls back, thighs parting further.  You throw your arms over your head and dig your fingers into the cushions.  You chase the rhythm of his tongue, looking down when it stops, when Felix replaces him. 

“See, look at her,” Jisung says.  Felix looks up at you.  “Just like that.” 

Then Jisung joins him.  They torturously alternate whose mouth is on you.  Jisung dives at Felix, licking across his wet lips and kissing him before returning to you.  You can hardly tell one mouth from the next, gasping under two tongues as they stroke you and each other, matching blonde heads bobbing in perfect coordination between your thighs.  It is inhumanly perfect, so harmonious that it almost agonizing.  This is how mortals lose their minds here, you think.

Eventually you are so wound up that you can’t help but cry out. 

“Oh noo,” Jisung says, very unrepentant as lays beside you.  “I think we were teasing her… That’s so mean of us, isn’t it, baby?  Huh?”  He pinches your face in his hand, cooing at you while you playfully glare.  He giggles and kisses you, your own wet desire smeared across his lips.  “You’re so wet, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down your body and over your pussy, easing his fingers through the wetness there.  When you whimper, he whimpers back in faux sympathy, pouting and nodding.  “I know, poor baby,” he says, curling his fingers inside you.

Felix’s eyes light up, watching.  He props himself up on one hand and touches you with the other.  You make a sound against Jisung’s mouth, a breathy moan as Felix slides his fingers in too.  It’s thick, that many fingers at once and so suddenly.  Your thighs jerk and you whine into Jisung’s mouth.  You see stars when you close your eyes, their fingers moving at the same time inside you.  They share a heartbeat, a rhythm, not faulting in the slightest.

For a moment, you just lay there and dizzily take it, stretched around their fingers, wet and silky hot and so turned on that you feel like you’re floating. 

“Jisung,” Felix says in his rough, deep voice.

“I know,” Jisung replies, just as hoarse.    

Their fingers leave you and Jisung grabs your throat with that same hand, slick fingers nudging your chin to look at him.  Your breath catches and you think Felix’s breath catches too. 

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says, reaching down at the same Felix reaches up, a hand on each breast, teasing the pebbled peaks.  You squirm and Jisung returns his hand to your throat, smiling at you so innocently, scrunching up his eyes with delight.  “Good girl,” he says, squeezing.  Felix gasps then moans, sucking kisses wherever his mouth lazily roams.  Jisung places those same hot kisses on your neck, each kiss landing one after the other, lighting every nerve.  Teeth and tongue lave at your skin, no doubt bruising it with each little love bite. 

“That’s it,” Jisung says, and you really start to think your human boyfriend is made of more magic than autumnal flurries.  His dark eyes sparkle in the light, his mischievous smirk lighting up his handsome face.  He is so giggly and sweet despite the dastardly torture of his hands and mouth. 

You find yourself sinking into the sensations, eyes closed, body running on instinct. 

“Felix,” Jisung says.  His hand leaves your throat, sliding down your body.  You realize he is spreading your pussy lips again, teasing as Felix pushes inside you.  It is easy now that you have taken so many fingers, but the knowledge of what is happening, of who is fucking you, makes your breath stutter and eyes open. 

“Ohh,” is the only sound you can make, watery eyes on where Felix is moving slowly in and out of you.  His brow is furrowed again, that look of concentration, then he groans and all but sprawls on top of you, fucking you with messy abandon.   Jisung thumps his head heavily onto the cushion, panting heavily, as if he was fucking you. 

“Felix, you gotta—”  Jisung says, his own face twisted up with a tortured sort of pleasure.   Felix does not listen to him, still rocking his hips with a frantic unevenness.  It feels good and crazy and wild, your head lolling to the side, a hum in your throat. 

Jisung finds the resolve to push himself up, groaning with the effort.  You watch him roughly manhandle Felix, yanking his head up to get him to concentrate.  Felix’s eyes flash gold then go dark.  His mouth is hanging open and his cheeks are flushed.  He never stops moving. 

“And you said I was impatient,” Jisung murmurs, grabbing Felix’s hips and evening out his rhythm.  You suppose it stands to reason that if Jisung is the most pussy-drunk man you have ever known, than Felix would be too.  Except Felix actually is magic, and everything about Jisung seems to multiply in Felix.  He looks completely overcome.  Then Jisung suddenly asks, “Good tears or bad?”

“Good,” Felix rasps. 

“So you wanna keep going?”

“Ye-es,” Felix hiccups, then suddenly starts crying, all the messy human-ness mixing with his confusing faerie-ness, coming together in an explosive physical and emotional mania that has him burying his face in your neck and fucking you so deep and hard that your own sniffles start. 

“Yes,” you say at the same time as him, wrapping your arms around his neck.  Jisung touches your hand, his other still guiding Felix’s hips.  Felix moans in your throat then marginally turns his head. 

“Jisung,” he says.  “I can’t—unless you—”      

Jisung very unceremoniously shoves a hand down his pants, then looks up at you and smiles. 

“Okay,” Jisung says.  He moves and Felix sinks back inside you, moaning deeply, clutching you possessively.  You hold him back as fiercely, blinking up at Jisung when kneels near your face.  “Come on, baby,” Jisung says, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip. 

“Yes,” Felix says, nodding at him and at you. 

You open your mouth, nodding at Jisung.  His pants get tossed somewhere and he removes his shirt at the same time his dick pushes past your lips.  They really do fuck with an extraordinary identicalness, perfectly matched without a word.  It is easy to fall into their rhythm, not even straining.  You feel like you were born to be here, between them, sharing them, sharing yourself with them. 

They come at the same time, Felix with his cheek pressed to yours, Jisung with his head thrown back.  They lay down on either side of you, flopping back at the same time. Felix has a completely dazed look on his face, his breath stuttering when you tuck some of his sweaty hair back.  He looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again. 

All three of you exhale at once.  The resulting giggle comes in three-way unison too. 

“Wow,” Felix finally says.  “It’s much more fun like this.”

“Hell yeah,” Jisung says, holding out his fist for a bump.  You swat it down before Felix can return it.  Jisung just laughs, snuggling up to you. 

Felix also rolls onto his side. He tucks one hand under his head and touches your face with the other.  You and Jisung both look at him, his faraway stare, the way a small smile unfurls on his face.

“You’re mine now,” he says.  “Forever.  Yeah?”  It’s posed like a question but evidently it is already fact to him, or he could not say it. 

“Forever and ever,” Jisung says easily, stretching out on the royal bedsheets like he has always belonged there. 

Felix looks at you for an answer too, still smiling.  You are not as easy as Jisung, but you try hard not to overthink. 

But you remember so many stories of humans wandering in the faerie world, never seen or heard from again, the tales of their disappearances ranging from beautiful to horrifying.  You think it would be impudent to think yourself different or better than them.  They thought they were safe too. 

The question tumbles past your lips before you can think twice: 

“Your true name,” you say.  “Would you still give it to me if I asked?” 

He clearly does not expect the question.  He blinks quickly, then his gaze darts to the side.  You look there to see Jisung nodding off, already half-asleep on your shoulder.  Felix is not sleeping.  You look at him, wondering still about the sometimes contradictory depth of their connection. 

“Aren’t you tired too?” you ask. 

“A little,” he says. 

You realize he didn’t answer your other question and you open your mouth to ask again.  He kisses you, cupping your face, making a happy sound when you kiss him back.  Jisung makes his own little happy sound, sighing on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” Felix says, speaking soft and low against your lips.  He strokes the side of your face.  “I want you to stay with me forever.” 

“You’d really tell me your true name?” you ask. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he says.  “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Felix,” you say, about to say more when he kisses you again.  He smiles so big and bright, it crinkles the corner of his eyes.  

“You do,” he says.  “That’s the truth.  You love me like you love him.” 

“It’s the same but different,” you say.   “Like how you love both me and Jisung.”

He is still smiling.  He kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly.  “The same but different,” he says.  “Yes.  I understand.” 

He draws you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head, sighing a happy sigh.  Jisung curls up behind you, already fast asleep while Felix murmurs sweet love confessions at you until you fall asleep too, nestled tightly and safely in his arms.

[spitdrunken]

i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.

notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!

velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.

you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.

all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)

and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.

so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?

she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.

yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?

instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.

(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)

she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…

this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.

your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.

of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.

maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.

you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.

(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)

[star-anise]

So, Easy Beauty by Chloé Cooper-Jones is not by any means a straightforward tale of the specific traumas and experiences of being a disabled woman. In many ways, it's an examination of how holding onto those traumas too tightly can keep you not just from positive chances for connection and experience, but understanding when your choices and behaviours are hurting other people.

But. It does talk about the trauma. And specifically, this splinter I've spent months now slowly drawing out of my soul, because this never happened to me except for the version of it that did happen to me. In her case, it was a conversation with a friend in high school:

I approached him in the library of our school. He was studying for a geometry test. He saw me, closed his notebook, and smiled. “I feel like,” he said, teasing me, “there might be something you want to talk to me about.” I told him yes, there was, and I said that I wanted to go to the homecoming dance with him and would he take me. “Of course,” he said. Relief flooded through me so quickly it turned my stomach. “But,” he continued, “there’s something very important I need to talk to you about first.” He proceeded to tell me that our female friends had been pressuring him for weeks to ask me to the dance, not wanting me to feel left out. “They love you,” he said, “but they pity you and their pity won't help you in the world.” I can, to this day, recall the exact even tone in his voice, his smile. He reached across the table and took my hand. “I want to tell you something as your friend,” he said. “I want to protect you. When you ask a man like me on a date, you put us in a bad position.” He was still smiling; I was having a cute delusion and was in need of his loving, if uncomfortable, correction. “It’s just the truth,” Jim said. “No man will want to date you unless he, too, is desperate or ugly.”

What I've felt, since I was very young, was this sense not just that no one would ever love me, but that I was so pitiful, so unlovable, such a complete failure of femininity, that expressing interest in another person was tantamount to forcing them to pity-fuck me. And how could I do something that horrible to them?

Well, at least in the years since then, I've learned that actually people feel no compunction about rejecting me!

I have almost always felt like such a complete failure at femininity, to the point that discussions about the female experience feel hypnotically surreal, because these things never happen to me. Y'all get catcalled and hit on? I'm struggling to dredge up memories of experiencing that firsthand. I grew up with grownups always warning me about men who'd want me for sex but didn't actually love me, and now I'm like... being wanted for sex? What's that like? I have literally ten seconds of experience of my desire for someone else being something that excited and interested them.

This is my own personal neurosis, not a prescription for widespread behaviour. But I've always kind of hated when people talk about slowburn romances and stories with pining as "two idiots in love" because on a visceral level, it doesn't feel stupid to me to believe you're repulsive and nobody will ever want you. It has always felt like the natural and obvious conclusion to enter adulthood with.

Up until two weeks ago I've always been very careful to describe my feelings about my body as part of me being crazy--I hate the way I look, I don't like seeing or hearing recordings of myself, I think I'm not pretty. Because obviously that means I'm actively working to rid myself of those emotions and attitudes! I've got it handled! I've admitted that I have a problem!

And that's because I always had it locked away in my heart that if I tried to make a factual claim about being ugly, people would say "No you're not!" just to make me feel better, and then I would never ever know if anyone who found me attractive really meant it, or if they were just doing it out of pity.

That is crazy. That's holding onto the lesson of that fucking shitbag who found Chloé attractive and fuckable two months fucking later once he got over himself. That's sitting around waiting for someone to come climb up into my unfuckable tower and do all the work of establishing a relationship themselves. That's lesbian sheep behaviour.

It's only just begun to feel possible that I could begin to take steps to seek people out and express interest in them, instead of holding perfectly still and making someone else do all the heavy lifting to get to me, when I haven't even made it known I wanted them to.

But this doesn't get talked about as part of "the female experience". When men talk about women's experiences in the dating market, they absolutely never mean women like me. Why bother with the experiences of women they wouldn't want to fuck anyway? It's not like we're people or some shit like that.

[sandwitchstories]

What He Likes

Hello, hello! Welcome to Witch's Rengoku Brain Rot hour!

You guessed it! I'm back with more Rengoku smut!

I have had horrible writers block lately, but I managed to put this one together! So here's hoping the block is at it's end!

If you prefer to read it on AO3 please click here!

Summary: A look into the mind of Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku and the dirty things he likes to do to you and with you.

WC: 1500+

CW: MDNI, AFAB Reader, AFAB terms used to describe the sexy bits, SMUT, there's some feels in there, Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, smut with feels, doggy style, NOT canon, and more

Credit for divider goes to @anitalenia

Kyojuro Rengoku is many things. He is a son, a brother, a friend, and a husband. He is the Flame Hashira. He is many things to many people. His favorite title though, is being yours. 

His rightful place is by your side, in your bed and in your arms. There he is just a man, in love with a beautiful woman. A best friend, and a lover. Everything comes so naturally with you, as if loving you is what he was truly born to do.

Whenever he is away from you, he feels like something is missing. He counts the minutes until he can return to you. The moment he is through the door, he is on you. Sometimes he greets you with a smile, laughing as he gives you passionate happy kisses, relieved that he has made it back to you again alive. 

Sometimes he returns and you are met with almost desperate kisses, those moments when the ugliness of the world gets to be too much and he needs to be reminded there is still good. 

And then there are those moments where he comes home and just needs to be inside of you. Those kisses are hard and rough. He is not above taking you on the table, the counter, the closest wall or the engawa, neither of you willing to wait to get to your bed before he is buried balls deep in your bliss.

The second he is inside of you, he feels a sense of absolute peace in his soul. Being inside of you is like a paradise for him alone to return to. Nothing exists but the two of you. Nothing matters but making you feel good and taking you both all the way to Nirvana. 

The taste of your skin on his tongue as he mouths down your body to your breast makes his mouth water so much he almost drools. He loves the little gasp and moan you make as he captures your nipple in his mouth. The way your hands always grab his head and hold it closer to you sends tingles throughout his whole being. The louder you moan the harder he sucks your hardened pebble into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue, teasingly scrapes it lightly with his teeth. Your reactions always make his cock twitch and make him press his raging hard on more thoroughly against you. 

He loves the way your head lolls back, and your mouth hangs open as soon as his finger slides through your slick slit and presses into your hot, tight, wet cunt. Feeling your honey on his fingers at his first touch, and knowing you want him as badly as he wants you, always makes him even more desperate to be inside you, but not before he is done tasting you.

He loves the way you tremble and cry out once his mouth is on your pussy. He runs his tongue between your folds, toying your clit, licking your slit, and plunging his tongue into your pink depths as far as he can go. The smell of your pleasure is heady and the taste of your cunt is like ambrosia. All thoughts besides you flee once his head is between your legs, he is intoxicated by you.

Kyojuro loves to watch you writhe and moan when you cum on his tongue and his fingers, coating his mouth and chin as the dam breaks and your orgasm floods your senses. The way you continue to shake and whimper as he keeps pumping your cunt with his thick fingers while he kisses back up your body makes his cock leak every time.

But the very best part of sex is that feeling of finally pressing his cock into you. The feeling of splitting you open, stretching you to fit him like a glove, is the most amazing thing he has ever felt in his life. You are always so hot and tight on his cock, like living velvet pulsing on him and sucking him in. 

He always pushes his cock in slowly. Both not to hurt you, by allowing you to adjust to his size and intrusion, and also because he is savoring it. Your cunt feels like coming home and he loses himself to that feeling more with every inch.

He always starts with slower shallow thrusts, working you up slowly. He will give it to you slow and sweetly if that is what you want. He can go all night making love to you with long slow thrusts and deep passionate kisses. But it always ends the same way no matter how it starts. With him gripping onto you and rearranging your organs while fucking you into the shape of him. 

He loves when you are on top. Whether facing him or away it is a sight to see. When facing him he loves to watch your breasts bounce and sway. He can never restrain himself from groping your breasts and giving your nipples extra attention while you ride his cock. When riding reverse he loves to watch the way your back arches and your hips move while you fuck yourself on him. You always feel so good bouncing and grinding on him. He loves the way you cry out and dig your nails into his skin when he grabs onto those perfect hips of yours and fucks his cock up into you.

He will never turn down fucking you missionary or in the mating press. The view is incredible and he loves to watch your face as he fucks you. 

But the position he knows is your absolute favorite, happens to be his as well. And that is when he has you on all fours faced away from him. He knows you love when his hand grips your hair and holds your head back. He loves watching the way the fat of your ass recoils with every slam of his hips. 

It thrills him to be able to hear the guttural, dirty sounds and filthy words that fall from your lips. His cock reaches so deep in this position it collides with your cervix on every single thrust. The sound of you crying out his name is music to his ears. It’s like his favorite song and he conducts an opera every single time. 

He loves to watch his cock moving in and out of you. The sight of your pleasure coating his cock and forming a ring around the base always keeps him going - more he wants more, he always wants more, wants to keep this going as long as he possibly can. He loves the way your pussy embraces him, loves the sight of you stretched wide around him as he plunges into your gummy tunnel that grips him like a vice. 

He knows you love it when he decides to lean over you from behind. One hand on your throat, gently squeezing while his other hand goes between your thighs to rub at your neglected pearl. His fingers either rubbing in circles or moving side to side in fast movements pressed against the bundle of nerves. You always clench so perfectly on his cock when he gives you filthy praises. You love to hear how good you are doing, how amazing you feel, how much he loves to fuck you, and all the filthy things he has been thinking about doing to you.

He absolutely loves feeling you cum on his cock. You get so tight, pulsing around him, coating his cock and balls as your cunt leaks and spasms while you ride your high, calling out his name and babbling about how good it feels, and wanting him to cum. 

And when that moment arrives when the dam finally breaks and his own orgasm hits, he fucks into you even harder until every drop of cum in his balls has been drained into your spent cunt. He always kisses you before he pulls out. He likes to observe the aftermath. Your panting, sweaty form with the look of love in your eyes and the lazy smile of a thoroughly pleased woman on your face. The sight of his cum mixed with yours and leaking out of your cunt always stirs something within him. He likes to scoop it back up and press it back inside you. Though sometimes that sight alone is enough to make his cock hard again and he not only fucks that load back inside of you, but he will add another to it.

He always checks in with you after you guys are done, making sure there is nothing more you want or anything you need. Getting you water and cleaning you up are some things he does without fail every time. In his mind aftercare is just as important as foreplay. 

His favorite part of all is when he lays down beside you and pulls you into his arms, wrapping you tight in his embrace and kissing the top of your head.  It is a very special type of peace he feels when laying with you in the afterglow of sex. Still lost in a world that is only the two of you. Cuddling and talking about everything, anything and nothing all at once.

The weight of you on his chest, the feel of you in his arms, and the words of love that leave your lips in these quiet moments are some of the most beautiful things he has ever experienced. Being the man you love is the greatest blessing he has ever received. Being the man who gets to love you is the greatest honor in his life. 

[cobrabobra]

you only do this if ur comfy with it<3 okay so Enid has a big crush on Carl's gf(reader), and he notices they way that Enid looks at her, so he lets her eat out the reader then fucks her in front of Enid<33 sorry if this is too much

I know that y'all probably already forgot about me, really sorry for the long break, but writers block is a bitch. Anyways, I'll try to post more often now, during my break I watched a lot of stuff so I will post something other then twd (hopefully) soon.

gosh, i really hope i did well and you like it, thank you for the request, I'm really sorry this took so long!

Kind of Enid centered?, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, jealousy, possessiveness, no condom

English us not my first language so there might be mistakes!

"His"

Love was a complicated thing, it was cruel and fucked up, it destroyed the very person who felt it yet there was something addictive about it, something that made you want more. And loving a person that loved somebody else was even worse, Enid experienced it herself, the feeling, the need for somebody who would never look at her the same way. It was absolutely destroying, devastating and still so perfect and sweet. It was a drug that gave you the best high, but left you in pieces, crying into your pillow about being so stupid.

  Enid was convinced that (Y/N) — Carl's girlfriend, was the prettiest girl in the world. Her hair was soft and healthy, which seemed impossible during the apocalypse, her skin flawless, angelic face, beautiful long lashes, she was a true goddess in Enid's eyes.

    It wasn't a strong feeling, it wasn't anything major, just a simple crush, an admiration. Maybe it was because her options were very limited and a beautiful girl was better than a sweaty dick-brained boy, maybe Enid's hormones kicked in and it was just lust that she felt for (Y/N) or maybe it was a real feeling, something that could've developed into something beautiful if only given a chance.

  It didn't really matter what it was because Enid knew that acting on her feelings would only destroy their friendship, her and (Y/N)' as well as her and Carl's. She kept her feelings locked in somewhere in the deepest part of her brain, allowing it to resurface only when she was alone.

   It also didn't matter what Carl felt, maybe it was a weird fetish, maybe his risky, experimental nature took over, maybe his possessiveness over his girlfriend or simple pity he felt for Enid. It didn't matter why, it didn't. What mattered was what those fings led to. And they led to Enid sitting on Carl's bed, in front of (Y/N), eyeing her plush, pink lips.

   "Hey, it's okay" she smiled, tearing the brunette from her thoughts. "I'm kinda nervous too"

    Enid swallowed, Carl's words echoing in her head as she braced herself for what was about to come.

  How about you eat (Y/N) out?"

A bold suggestion that seemingly came out of nowhere messed with her head until the only thing she could think about was warm, hopefully, wet cunt she was about to dive in head first. Her mouth started to salivate as she imagined sweet taste of (Y/N) 's pussy on her tounge. Her body tingled with anticipation as she simply nodded her head and carcassed the lace of her crushes panties.

(Y/N) twitched nervously beneath her touch, it probably should've made Enid rethink her actions and slow down a little, but it only drove her mad even more, she was too drunk on the feeling to slow down. The girl's uncertainty only made Enid want to corrupt her even more, destroy her innocence until the only thing left would be her wet pussy throbbing, begging for more.

   Love was an ugly thing, it filled you with need to destroy the very person you cared for, fuck them up in the most horrible way and leave them wanting more. At least that's the kind of 'love' Enid felt right now. She wanted to completely and utterly destroy (Y/N) for everyone else, leave her in pieces only she knew how to put back together

    Carl acted as he'd heard her thoughts, because he grabbed (Y/N) by the hair and pulled her close. Their lips met in a heated, aggressive almost, kiss, it seemed like Grimes felt threatened by her. He kissed his girlfriend deep, keeping eye contact with Enid as if he tried to show that (Y/N) belonged to him and only him, he was only lending her to Enid, but she still was his possession. They played a dangerous game that could only end badly.

    "Enid..." (Y/N) whispered, like she was embarrassed, like she didn't want for the other girl to know how good she was making her feel with just a couple of touches and her breaths right against her soaking pussy.

    That one word, her name said in such a desperate way lit a fire inside if her once again. In this moment she realized how much she needed this, it felt like she was starving and there was a delicious three course meal right in front of her. She gently nudged the wet spot on (Y/N)'s panties with her nose, when she got another whimper in return she couldn't control herself any longer, she liked a stripe against the material, finally getting a faint taste of her crushes juices.

  The girl arched her back, her soft thighs wrapped around Enid's neck, almost suffocating her. If that was her reaction now, how would she act later? What kind of noises would she make? Will she scream Enid's name or will she get embarrassed again and let out only quiet moans muffled by her own hand? Will her legs start to tremble when she'll be reaching her climax? She had to know. She had to know right now.

    Her hands were shaking with anticipation, but she still somehow managed to pull her underwear down. When she finally saw (Y/N)'s cunt, soaked, clenching against the air, ready for her, she could swear she could see God himself as she ascended to heaven.

  She put her mouth on the other girl's pussy and an absolute divine taste reached her, the scent was overwhelming, she couldn't breathe. She lapped on her pussy, like she was starving, like she would die if she stopped only for a second. It felt like the entire world was in her hands with her tongue between the swollen folds and her thumb in her clit, teasing slowly.

   What took her back to reality was a sigh. Carl's sigh to be exact, only now had she noticed that he had his mouth on (Y/N)'s plump breast, sucking on the nipple, while his hand teased the other one. Oh, how she dreamed to have her face burried between those, especially when the girl wore something a bit more revealing.

They both acted like predators feeding on their prey, like they were fighting over her.

Fingers joined Enid's tongue soon enough and (Y/N) let out a loud moan of approval. She wanted to absolutely destroy that pussy, to feast on it until there was nothing left. She closed her eyes and hummed enjoying herself, the girl's legs trembled and her thighs squished Enid's neck even harder. They were in the moment, only them counted, the whole world consisted only of the two of them on this bed.

Suddenly Enid's felt (Y/N) move back and she looked at her confused, only to find Carl impatient and annoyed at being left out of the fun. His arm wrapped around his girlfriend's waist, pulling her close.

"That's enough" his voice raspy and unusually deep, dripping with arousal. (Y/N) let out a disappointed whimper, like she didn't want her time with Enid to end. "No need to whine, I'll take good care of you. As always" he said, confident, like he wanted to show off, make Enid's understand that he was the one that pleasured the girl every night.

He unbuttoned his pants and slid them down with ease, throwing them off the bed, his shirt was already unbuttoned, probably (Y/N)'s work.

"Spread your legs for me" he commanded and the girl obeyed, Grimes only looked around her, pleases to have such an obedient girlfriend. "Thank you for preparing her for me, Enid" he smirked at his friend.

She only watched as his cock slipped inside of (Y/N)'s swollen, wet pussy, the same pussy she was eating out mere seconds ago, it seemed like her moment has passed and she could only watch from now on.

Carl's hips moved slowly, his dick disappeared inside of the girl and all Enid could do was slide her hand down her pants, and touch herself. She should have felt pathetic doing this, but all she felt was excitement as she watched Carl's cock slip in and out of (Y/N)'s cunt. It looked beautiful, her pussy glistening with her slick as he fucked her, it truly was mesmerizing, she felt hypnotized, she couldn't look away even if she wanted to.

"Enid" (Y/N) choked out, her hand reaching out to the other girl. Her body moved without her knowledge, her long hair tickled (Y/N)'s neck. Their lips locked together in a kiss, the sweetest kiss she ever had, she could still taste (Y/N) on her tongue.

They kissed greedily as Grimes pounded into her, she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer as she stroked Enid's hair gently.

Unfortunately there isn't good without bad and everything good has to end eventually. (Y/N) came first, overwhelmed by the pleasure, memory of Enid's tongue, Carl's cock deep inside of her, she couldn't last long. Next was Enid, looking deep into the girl's eyes as she reached her climax. Carl came last, painting (Y/N)'s insides white with his cum, further claiming her as his. Because that's what she was. His.

[trancylovecraft]

Yandere gyutaro?

(KNY) YANDERE! GYUTARO x READER: General Headcannons

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

• Not good.. also the first mf i simped for in kny.

• I headcannon Gyutaro as possessive, Clingy, Protective and sadistic.

• Possessive in the way he gets insanely jealous of anyone else around you. You are his, He starts scratching his skin at the mere thought of you being with another. If he could stay within your body like Daki, He would.

• Clingy in the way where he doesn’t leave you be. Gyutaro loves physical contact, So he always has an arm or a hand on you somewhere. He also likes leaving scratches and bite marks, Tying into his possessive nature of claiming you as his.

• Protective in the way that Gyutaro knows he’s ugly, Painfully aware of that fact. He has horrible self esteem and craves your praise. So if he can’t be the partner with good looks, He’ll be the one that can protect you. His strength and his skill is what he uses to garner your attention, Doing any small task for you in order to get it.

• And sadistic in the way that he loves to see you scared of him. While he loves your praise, He also loves your fear to reinforce that. It makes him giddy knowing you know he’s strong enough to kill you.

• He likes scaring you time to time, But he doesn’t want you to hate him. If you did then Gyutaro would start yelling and be fucking pissed. You can’t hate him, He loves you so much! He’s killed for you, Are you really going to hate him like this?!

• I can see you meeting him going two ways.

• The first is when you’re a Hashira sent into the red light on reports of demons. You aren’t the strongest, But you aren’t weak either since you behead Daki.

• When Gyutaro appears to save the day, He somehow gets infatuated with you and decides to keep you alive. Only trapped within a section of the Oiran House bound and vulnerable.

• The next is when you yourself is am Oiran. One whose beauty rivals Daki’s and kind personality defeating her own by a longshot.

• Daki for whatever reason is unable to take care of you herself, So she sends out her brother to do the job for her and wouldn’t you know: Gyutaro becomes infatuated with you.

• Im going for the latter.

• So you’re an Oiran living in the red light district. You got sold off by your parents for a quick buck and a drink at the bar.

• You don’t mind it, Living in the house was much better than your homelife. Besides, You were pretty and talented with instruments. Not to mention everyone loved you for your generous and hard working personality.

• With it, It didn’t take long for you to become an Oiran either.

• As your appearance and personality made waves in the red light district, Daki was bound to notice you sooner or later and feel threatened.

• So she sends out her brother, Telling him about you and how horrible you are for stealing the spot of most beautiful Oiran and how it was rightfully hers.

• Gyutaro of course, Takes this at face value. Even if he knows his sister is overreacting, He doesn’t mind slaughtering some wealthy good-off Oiran. He’ll enjoy it.

• So he makes his way over to the house you’re working at. He finds you quickly, Knowing the layout of the district like the back of his hand.

• You’re sitting in your room, Working on your makeup before the next client comes in. But you catch a glimpse of green in the corner of your mirror. Making you turn.

• There is Gyutaro, Sitting within the shadows with his sickly orange eyes. He’s ready to strike, The blood sickle  in hand. He’s ready to kill another one of the rich, The kind of person that would look down on him in the past

• But before he can, He feels a warm pair of hands cup his cheeks. His eyes widen as he sees you smiling at him warmly.

• You mistake him for your next customer, Welcoming him in with a bright smile as you pull him out from the shadows.

• Gyutaro is stunned. Out of all the reactions he had expected. Fear, Terror and disgust. He didn’t expect this, The feeling of warm palms cupping his cheeks.

• He’s speechless as you introduce yourself to him, Not even batting an eye at his horrid appearance. Not his greasy stringy hair, The dark splotches on his skin or his sagging skeletal appearance.

• You astound him, Making the sickles in his hands drop to the ground and disappear.

• You bring him forward, Sitting him down at the table in your room and start to pour him tea.

• Gyutaro, Still in shock, Takes the tea as you ask what he wants from you today. The only thing he asks is why you’re not disgusted, A sour expression on his face now.

• You tell him that you don’t care about his appearance, Already familiar with the diseases in the District. You smile and tell him you like his eyes, Despite their sclera being a sickly orange hue.

• If this was anyone else, He would’ve torn you apart immediately for thinking you understood him or his situation.

• But he can’t help the blood rushing to his cheeks as you compliment him. Only itching and scratching at his skin to a normal degree.

• You talk for what seems like hours. The tea you provided was so sweet, So he took more. You played your koto and engaged with him like he was an old friend. You even brushed your hand against his shoulder once!

• He goes home empty handed that night. Daki is pissed as she expected him to bring your corpse home to eat. But Gyutaro shoves her off with a meaningless insult as he went to go hide in a dark corner of the Oiran house.

• From that day, He’s hooked.

• Whenever you roam the streets, Gyutaro is sure to be stalking in the shadows. He climbs through your window at night, Perching over your bed to watch you sleep.

• Of course, Being an Uppermoon means he has duties. Such as searching for the lily, Taking care of his sister and feeding. So that means he can’t be with you all the time.

• When he isn’t, His thoughts run to you. Your face, Your smile, The praise you give him. It’s addicting, He can’t stop scratching his skin in a futile attempt to stop.

• His mind also wanders to who you’re with. Other men? How dare they try and get close to you, He’s seen how they try and get your attention. They disgust him, Believing them not worthy of your affections. He kills them when isolated.

• But he’s not in love, No. In fact, He finds you the most repulsive of them all. So sickly sweet that it rots his yellowed teeth. He hates you, You disgust him, You do.

• But he keeps coming back, For some reason too scared to approach you. That hate he holds for you, It dissolves over months, Transmuting into something more.. Obsessive.

• His behaviour ramps up too.

• Suddenly you find gifts of luxury at your doorstep. Golden hairpins, Beautifully woven kimono’s and bottles of expensive wine. All with a letter of love laying atop the package.

• It doesn’t surprise you though, As an Oiran these love letters were not uncommon by any means. But the rich quality of the fabrics and jewels means that this one was extraordinarily reach, Meaning they might buy out your contract.

• You don’t know that it was Gyutaro who had thieved the gifts from the corpses of his victims. You don’t notice how obsessive the letter was, Already desensitised to it.

• As much as he wants to give it to you by hand, He’s grown ashamed to his appearance when around you. Terrified of your praise and adulation,  as he watches you open the wine from afar.

• That's all he does, Admire. Only taking action when needed or his jealousy is acting up. Just sending you gifts as his form of communication.

• Until someone buys your marriage contract.

• You’re delighted, A rich man has finally decided you to be his wife. While you will miss the girls in your house and the well meaning conversations you had with clients, It’s nice to finally get out of this hell.

• Gyutaro on the other hand is furious

• His skin is littered in blood and scratched off skin. Daki cannot console him anymore as he starts yelling obscenities and hurling stuff around her bedroom.

• How dare he?! How fucking dare he try to take what’s his?! Worst of all he’s rich, Probably attractive too. You’re so fucking perfect for each other, Aren’t you?

• He’s envious, Truly envious. If he was prettier then maybe he would have a shot with you, Maybe he actually would’ve talked to you again.

• Even so you’re so unbelievably nice, The only person other than his sister to not blink twice at his appearance. You mistook it as normal even, You were just so.. Beautiful.

• He wanted to kill him, He wanted to tear him apart for trying to take what he considers his property. You were the only person who could ever stand him.

• You sit in your room, Doing your makeup before spotting a package resting on your windowsill.

• By now you’ve grown to enjoy them more, Expecting them every week with a smile. But now that you’re getting married, You have a suspicion that it might be your new husband.

• But that’s cut short once you find his severed head wrapped nicely inside.

• You scream, Dropping the package to the ground in fear as tears spill out. You had only seen him once, But you could tell it was him from his bulged out eyes.

• You try to run for the door, But before you can a flash of green enters your vision, Then nothing at all as you collapse unconscious.

• Gyutaro picks up your fallen figure, Taking you into his arms with a lazy smile. He caresses your hair, Leaning down until his rough and rotten lips crash into yours, Desperate as he kisses you then takes you away.

• You wake up later in the basement of the Kyogoku house. You’re dizzy, Not knowing what's happening except for a large figure spooning you from behind.

• You scream once more, Flailing about but unable to get up as the arms draping over you tighten. The face pressing into the crook of your neck pushes in further.

• He tells you to be quiet, Not even struggling to keep you in place as he whispers disturbing compliments into your ear, Drawling as he pulls you even closer to him

• As soon as you get a good look at his face, You scream. Not from his looks, But from the fact that you recognise him.

• It’s the man from a few months ago, The shy one, You never forget a customers face never less this one.

• He looks more annoyed once you scream though. You were suppose to enjoy this, He rescued you from a life of servitude to some rich bastard. You were suppose to love him instantly, Just like how it was in his head.

• His compliments turn into horrible threats. A hand wrapping over your mouth and your body held down in place as you’re threatened.

• You’re scared, Terrified for your life. Before Gyutaro finally explains why you’re here, How you wont be getting out and you now belong to him. You cry even harder

• Thus starts the domestic stage

• Gyutaro keeps you within the basement of the Kyogoku house. Don’t try screaming because the walls are thick and even if someone heard you, Screaming is normal for the Red Light district. Besides, Your old house thinks you committed Ashinuke, No one will be searching.

• He brings you food, Whatever he can get at first but if you ask him nice enough he might get you what you want.

• Gyutaro doesn’t know how to express his love verbally so he does it physically. Its mandatory for you to cuddle him for at least half an hour everyday. While this happens he gives you orders of what to do: Hug him tighter, Comb your fingers through his hair or even kiss him.

• You’re too scared to say no as he always threatens you if you hesitate.

• He doesn’t mean his words, As I said its hard to express himself with words. He loves you, He really does.

• Is insanely jealous of anyone, So you have no company other than Daki who is the only person he trusts. Though you don’t like Daki much, And she too.

• If any person does get near you, Gyutaro wont even confront them. They’ll be dead in seconds.

• Also forces you to sleep in the same bed as him every night. Just as how you woke up here, Him clinging to you in some mockery of a lovers embrace while you just want to get out of here.

• Some sweeter moments is when you do brush his hair or compliment him, Even if it is a way to soften him up for your escape. He blushes madly and looks away, Too embarrassed to do anything.

• Gyutaro often will do what you want as he wants your praise more than anything. He’ll get you items in return for more of it, He’ll even let you see the night sky if you promise to kiss him when you do.

• When he needs to go out on a mission, He’ll often leave Daki in charge of you which is unpleasant to say the least. If she is unavailable however, He will chain you up on a high wall and keep you there until he’s back. Doesn’t matter if you scream, As long as you’re safe its fine.

• He likes terrifying you too. Often waiting behind corners for you to walk by and for him to jump out at you. He enjoys your expressions, Your fear just meaning that you think he’s strong (-enough to kill you)

• If you ever do get Stockholm then you will be treated SO much better.

• He’ll let you come with him at night, He’ll even put the effort in to make it somewhat romantic with him buying (stealing) you flowers.

• Your basement gets made better to your liking too. More pillows on your bed and maybe a lamp or two for better lighting. Whatever you want you get. Whatever it is he needs to feel that dopamine hit from your love.

• He calms down with the insults, Becoming more vulnerable and showing his insecurities. Bonus points if you comfort him and tell him he’s beautiful, He’ll melt in your touch.

• If you do ever escape then he’ll go on an absolute rampage. Tearing up the entire red light district in order to find you. He’s screaming, Hollering your name with obscenities following close behind. He’s pissed, How could you do this to him?!

• Daki will be assisting him in his search. While she and her brother fight, She doesn’t want him to see him genuinely distressed as he breaks down sobbing at your loss. Her obi will be searching the pipelines, She has a hold everywhere, She’ll find you.

• I actually do think you have a chance to escape him. Only if however you make it out the red light district before he finds you. Its stated that neither he or Daki ever left, So if you get out then you’re home free.

• If you don’t however, Gyutaro will find you and drag you back by the hair screaming. He won’t hesitate to break your legs for this, He doesn’t hesitate to beat your body till its bruised and bloody.

• Afterwards, He’ll throw you down onto your bed half-conscious as he lies next to you. He holds you close, Your legs shattered as he tells you you’ll never be beautiful again with all those injuries.

• But that’s fine, Gyutaro will love you anyways. Isn't that so generous of him, So kind? Why don’t you tell him that, You should be thankful that he’s not as shallow as everyone else out there, So disgusting and vile. Here, How about you cuddle him to make up for it? He’d like that.

• It’s not like it’ll fool him anymore, But hey! What else can you really do?

[thicc-astronaut]

I'm sick and tired of seeing deep-sea anglerfish get called "ugly" or "monstrosities" or "horrifying" like it's a fish. Get over yourselves it's a damned toothed fish not every creature in the sea is going to be some iridescent nudibranch with 27 colors that swims by following a perfect sin(x) wave with its body. Some animals are going to look a little weird by human standards because nature doesn't care about your feelings.

I think deep-sea anglerfish are beautiful actually. And not in like a poetic paradoxical "the lure has the beauty of the day but the fish itself is so horrible" I mean the whole fish. The whole damn thing. The brown wrinkled skin, the wide charismatic smile, the dark eyes twinkling like obsidian, the funny stout shape, the straight tailfin that sticks up at an angle slightly. It's a nice fish

Like heck man those parasitic males must think she's a beaut. They're willing to destroy themselves to be a part of her beauty that's how attractive she is. She's so sexy that normal sex just wouldn't cut it so they had to invent a whole new level of physical intimacy just to get jiggy with her. I bet you're jealous, aren't you?

[leggerefiore]

Sorry if you’ve already gotten this ask, I’m not very good at looking for similar posts:

We’ve seen what happens when the villains and their S/O meet their Rainbow Rocket counterpart, but what would happen if there was also a RR version of their S/O? Someone who failed to stop them from becoming villainous, or perhaps even joined them?

How does seeing this alternate version of their partner affect them?

cw: slight hurt and comfort, redeemed/retired villains

characters: Lysandre, Maxie, Archie, Cyrus

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ The red-haired man opted for a vacation due to a frustration with various happenings in Kalos. His obsession with beauty and creating a perfect world still continued to haunt him despite his best attempts to put it all behind him. Jail had only been avoided due to his deep connections with many authorities, but he could feel the shame constantly. Sycamore had come to him in tears afterwards while his lover seemed horrified by his plans. Having two people so close to him utterly mortified by his actions snapped him back to reality before he activated the weapon. He was truly stopped right in the knick of time. But, now, he was in Alola. At one of its most expensive resorts, too. It was time to work on managing his obsession.

☕️ His time had mostly been kept at the resort, too. Lysandre would not lie and say he was some rugged explorer. It was plain to see that he was a man more than used to the finer things in life. The beach was thoroughly enjoyed by lounging and having a few drinks. He had a few rounds at the golf course, too, naturally. Though, his favourite time was spent locked away in his suite with you. A quiet escape from the constant burden of people and to enjoy fully the person he loved most. Though, his time felt consumed by endless tasks, even on vacation. Especially when the sudden appearance of a familiar International Police agent happened. A request was politely made to chat with a business acquaintance of his and see whether she had any ill intentions was struck up. He agreed, not wishing to see anything ugly happen to such a beautiful region.

☕️ His trip to Aether Paradise had been a fine one. The president spoke with him normally, seeming to find a certain kindred spirit in him. There must have been no better bond than someone who horribly messed up and had to back out while working for a redemption. His heart felt strangely more at ease. He parted with her after their chat, with his determination on the situation entirely decided. Walking around on the conversation floor, he searched for you, as you had tagged along to see the majesty of the structure. His gaze flowed down the pathway before him to spy a familiar uniform. He froze. That shade of red was recognisable anywhere to him. The familiar hair made his stomach twist. What were you doing? Whatever doubts may have lingered about this being another person tormenting him faded as they turned around. Your face greeted him, eyes lighting up with recognition. You rushed over to him.

☕️ “Lysandre,” you called out, “Oh… I know you said not to wander, but I got curious about this place… Isn't the nature here wonderful?” He blinked. Did he say that? He did not believe that he had. You were free to explore any of the public areas, as he was unsure of how long his meeting with the Aether President would take. A nod came from him at your words. “What happened to your clothing?” you reached forward to feel his shirt, “… Is something wrong? I thought you planned to stay in your office while planning to preserve this world's beauty, too.” Lysandre froze. Perfect, too? Office? Your attire suddenly hit him harder. What was going on here?

☕️ Yet, his distress was set only to grow. Another person called out his name from behind. There stood you in a familiar attire set for Alola. You waved at him before walking over, clearly having been searching for him. The you in front of him took a step back from the confusion, blinking at the you behind him's appearance. Lysandre could barely process the situation himself. The you in clothing he recognised stepped to his side and grasped his arm. Your gaze stared at the copy of you in a Flare Admin uniform while they stared back at you. “… Is this some sort of trick?” they spoke, apparently unamused, “Who are you? Is this an attempt by that annoying officer to stop us?”

☕️ Lysandre closed his eyes for a moment. They seemed convinced that they were his partner and spoke of his previous plans. Their clothing was a uniform that he had retired. You stood at his side in the vacation wear he had recalled you wearing before parting, and you seemed just as horrified by their presence as he was. “… I believe you have mistaken me for someone else,” his voice held authority as his gaze narrowed, “Is this some sort of prank? Neither of us finds it funny. Do not harm my partner in an attempt to attack me.” He pressed you closer to him unconsciously, unsure of just what their reaction would be. Their eyes went wide, but before they could open their mouth to argue, something went off into their earpiece. Whatever was spoken made them back away in a rush, vanishing through the twists and turns of the conversation area.

☕️ For a moment, Lysandre spiralled. You had never sided with him… You had been adamantly opposed the moment you learnt of his plans. But, possibly, in some alternate universe, a version of you did. You had supported his plans, and perhaps they had even been successful. Preserve this world's beauty, too… He closed his eyes. No. No – His plans had been stopped. Xerosic had attempted to convince him to, but he – Everything was interrupted by a lovely voice calling him by a nickname. His eyes opened back to reality. True beauty remained at his side. You would never allow him to follow such a path again. He wanted to follow that person, yet he felt that nothing good would follow. Instead, he opted to see some of Alola's natural beauty with you.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 Alola was a change-up for Archie. He needed to get away from the horrible guilt he kept feeling when he looked at Hoenn's beaches. While he had changed his group's initiative from expanding the ocean to instead working to preserve natural aquatic habitats and cleaning up pollution, the glares of those around Hoenn did get to him. His apologies meant nothing, which he understood, but he was trying desperately to repent for his actions. Though, it had unfortunately become too much after a recent incident. A vacation was a suggestion he made to you, his spouse, and you saw no reason to deny the trip.

💧 He had fallen in love instantly with Alola. The endless seas, the natural beauty, the careful preservation of nature. It was no surprise that he found himself at home in the beaches of the island region. His pokemon were let out to join him as he enjoyed the temperate waters. You had joined him sporadically, but your enjoyment for the sea had run out much sooner than his, and you had departed back to the motel. He managed to get his fill when you returned and suggested a visit to the Seafolk Village. Archie wanted to make sure that you were enjoying this trip away as much as he was.

💧 You had hung behind to chat with someone in the restaurant while he stepped out to look at the glistening seas. The shape of the houseboats was fascinating, and the idea of living out on the sea almost did call to him. Perhaps it would get him away from all the lingering shame for a while. His feet carried him out towards the end of the wooden port to stay out at the setting sun. This region really was beautiful. The stress from his mind almost drifted away as he sat down to let his feet rest in the water. Yet, someone called his name. His attention shifted to his left. You stood there, in clothing that bewildered him. An Aqua Admin uniform? And… why were you getting off one of those Aether boats? You were in the restaurant, were you not?

💧 “Archie,” you spoke properly and tilted your head, “Did you get a tan that fast? How did you do that…? Oh, and your beard grew…” He felt bewildered. What about a tan? His beard was well trimmed still — also. One a second glance at your outfit, he went quiet. That was not the wetsuit uniform at all. Was that denim…? Paired with a blue banana? He was silenced. It felt like an earlier decade take on his team's uniform. “Are you getting ready to use Kyogre? That man said you shouldn't, though,” you continued. Archie felt dizzy. Kyogre?! He had not thought about the Sea Basin pokemon since he came to Alola. It certainly was not in his possession either… As much as he adored it, he simply would not allow himself it.

💧 His panic grew worse when another called out his name. He knew that voice. Eyes whipped over to the Wailord shaped boat. You rushed over to him, grinning brightly. Your clothing were the ones he recalled you wearing. The other you seemed taken aback as you hugged him tightly. Slight relief entered his mind. You were not being all weird after all. “Who are you?” the other you snapped, reaching for a pokeball. He was brought back to reality. Right. Something unusual was happening.

💧 “Stop,” Archie ordered. They froze, listening to him. He could not grasp this situation entirely. Two versions of his partner… One in some odd Aqua uniform and the other wearing the clothes he knows they were earlier. One telling him about using Kyogre. His head heart. This area of thinking was not his usual one. He cared more about marine biology than complicated things like theoretical situations, but he identified it due to some show he watched. “I guess you're an alternate version of them,” the Aqua Leader really had no idea what he was saying, “You said your Archie doesn't look like me, yeah?” They blinked at his words. “You said I had a tan that he didn't or whatever,” he shrugged. Suddenly, they tossed out their pokeball to reveal a Sharpedo and surfed away on it, leaving you both alone.

💧 Archie was really lost. None of that made sense. Was there another him with a Kyogre here? Panic rushed through his mind. But, he was forced back to reality by you tugging on his Alolan shirt. Right. That could be handled later. Whatever was happening was concerning, yet he felt a strange urge to stay out of it. Coming face to face with a version of himself who succeeded in getting Kyogre... He felt strangely ill. Clinging to you, Alola suddenly felt a lot less like paradise.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 Something haunted Maxie as he tried to go about his day to day after everything. Naturally, people were upset with him. His actions were deeply misguided ultimately, and he felt foolish for not stopping when Tabitha had warned him. His madness to complete his work – To prove himself to everyone and bring about his ideals were too strong. What a fool he had been. He swore against going to such extremes ever again and dedicating Team Magma to bettering humanity through other means. Alola was a recommendation by his partner. A change of pace but not too dissimilar to Hoenn for it to be unbearable to Maxie. Somewhere nice for him to get away from his stress.

🪨 Alola had been a pleasant change in the end. While he may not have been the biggest fan of most water activities, which led him away from the beach, Akala offered a volcano for him to eagerly observe the rock formations at for hours. The Aether Paradise had been a place of interest, too, as the large structure floated in the water. Its dedication to pokemon preservation was fascinating, as well, and the many scientists in the facility were good conversation for him. He also travelled through the Haina Desert alongside the Lush Jungle to observe the variety of the islands.

🪨 A suggestion by him for another trip to the Wela Volcano Park for a hike together had been accepted by you. The heat was a bit unbearable to most, but Maxie quite enjoyed hotter environments. Everything had been going well, light conversation was shared, and he felt at ease with you at his side. Then, you mentioned needing to take a quick break to rehydrate and sit down for a moment. While he planned to stay with you as you rested, you encouraged him to go on ahead to enjoy more of the volcano. He agreed. Yet, a sight bewildered him as he went further up the mountain. A familiar uniform came into his line of sight, but it was slightly off. The fabric was different. He felt utterly confused when the person turned around to face him. You… How…? He was stunned into silence. That seemed utterly impossible. You had been behind him, after all, and he did not think your bag was large enough to carry a change of clothes.

🪨 You trailed over to him in a trained stride. Something that was expected of his grunts. The Magma emblem on your chest made him pause. Of course, the horned hood should have been a dead giveaway, too, but Maxie had held on to a small hope that he was simply seeing something else. “Leader Maxie?” you called to him, stopping a few steps out, “I thought you sent me here to investigate the terrains of this world before you initiated your plans. Did something change?” Maxie blinked. His plans…? He supposed he had intended to ask you out to dinner, but that did not seem related. Leader Maxie? Hearing his title come from you felt unbelievably odd. “Are those specialised glasses?” you continued, “Actually, what happened to your uniform?” He took a step back. His uniform? Well, he certainly had no intention of wearing that on his vacation. Then, his panic worsened. Another voice called out to him from behind.

🪨 You waved at him and jogged over, apparently recuperated. Two of you…? Except, logically, the you that had just appeared was almost certainly the real one. The doppelgänger recoiled at the sight of you standing at Maxie's side. You stood bewildered yourself. “Leader Maxie?” they called out again, “… What… What is going on?” He struggled to comprehend everything himself. It was truly maddening. Yet… He would not call himself unimaginative or ignorant to certain concepts. The multiverse theory entered his mind. Was it possible that…? He almost wished to deny it. There was no way that in some other universe, his plans had actually continued on without being stopped. The idea was simply too terrifying.

🪨 “… I believe,” Maxie spoke carefully, “You have mistaken me for someone else.” They seemed lost, as did you. He sighed. There was no need for an entire explanation, was there? His hand unconsciously moved to grasp yours in a hidden motion. Everything felt like it was spinning. The redhead swallowed. “Let's go,” he tugged on your hand, “I wish to see the peak again before it is too late.” You seemed to catch on to his wish and followed him immediately, not wishing to be left with your odd look-alike. They did not seem to follow.

🪨 He nearly fell to his knees once they were out of sight. Heavy breaths came from him. Did you support him in some alternate world? The thought terrified him. Then you seemed to agree with his plans of expanding the land even here in Alola. He simply felt shaken to his core. Before he could fall further into emotional turmoil, you called his name, pulling him back to reality. A shaky breath was sucked in. None of that mattered. No. He had changed and learnt from his errors. You had expressed your opinions to him, he recalled. His plans always seemed like some blown up argument between him and Archie. He soothed his hair. Embracing you, Maxie forced down his panicked thoughts. For now, he would enjoy the volcano park with you.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Alola... The salty breeze and tropical heat brought him back to a place he would rather forget. One that would torment him possibly throughout the rest of his life. Cyrus fought against the mental chains that sought to bind him. He had been born anew, in a sense. The pain that he used to allow to dictate everything he did was suppressed. It could not be forced away – be it through remaking this world without spirit, nor could it leave through his best efforts. He managed it. That was all he could do. The life he had, after all, was not so bad. Galactic allowed him as their head, and Cynthia managed to convince the International Police to let him go. Something lingered in her eyes that had bothered him. But, he was enjoying his pseudo-vacation. In truth, he had been asked for his aid personally on the Hokulani Observatory's recent project… And by a certain officer to help manage suspicious goings-on.

☄️ His romantic partner, you, naturally had decided to tag along. While he had not mentioned the information about possible investigative work, you seemed to enjoy the thought of a proper tropical getaway. Cyrus ultimately had been unable to say “no,” past the first time. His pay cheque was still handsome enough that he booked a place at the Hano Grand Resort, and he planned that it should keep you well enough entertained while he attended the meetings required of him. Molayne had been quite impressed by him while his younger cousin, Sophocles was fascinated by the company president. What Looker asked of him had not been so unbearable, either. It had taken him to the Aether Paradise to investigate lightly about his general feeling about their true nature. It appeared they were moving away from their more sinister actions, in his opinion.

☄️ His plan was to leave and meet Looker about his findings, but a figure on the elevator caught his attention as he was going to leave. Familiar hair colour appearing up from the lower floor. The docks, likely. However, something truly gave him pause. A familiar uniform. No, he had not retired them, but you had never really worn any, nor did he think that you would pack it. Your eyes lit up when you spotted him standing near the front desk. Shoes clicked against the floor as you rushed over to him. His stomach twisted. Why were you doing this to him? Had you not been the one to encourage him to change?! You stopped just before him.

☄️ “Master Cyrus?” Your voice sounded far too formal for his liking. Hearing that title come from you made him feel more distressed. “I thought you wished to remain in your office. This world was too filled with spirit to be bearable, you said,” it was trained manner of speaking, not to let emotions enter. He had been changing, he swore. Your suggestions for him to move forward despite his shame helped him finally leave the Distortion World. Not once had he let his mind linger too long on his hatred of sprint. Why would you claim him to say such a thing? Sickening feelings swirled around inside him. Then, another voice from behind called out his name. His head turns to see your visage again, plainly dressed for Alola.

☄️ That version of you rushed over to him, grasping him arm in a playful manner and smiling up at him. Clearly, this encounter had been unexpected but exciting. His hand shakily went to your cheek to cup it. Warmth. His attention went back to the other you in the Galactic uniform. They stood frozen, blinking a few times and trying to process what was happening. “… What is this…?” their voice filled with confusion. You stared at them in as much shock as they were. “Master Cyrus…?”

☄️ “… How odd that I let you call me that,” Cyrus's scientific brain quickly worked to unravel this mystery. Something was amiss here, and they did not seem like an illusion or anything similar. A theory of many worlds entered his mind. A version of you that sided with him. One that perhaps had succeeded. A chill ran down his spine as his arm pressed you closer to him, afraid that if you strayed too far you may vanish. “An alternate version of…” he called your name, “… One that supported me.” They took a step back in shock, eyes going wide. No discussion followed as they rushed away in the depths of VLFS. He decided that chasing them would be a box that he was not ready to open just yet.

☄️ You called his name, reaching a hand to cup the back of his neck. He felt his breaths growing short and quick. Embarrassment flooded his mind. Here? Of all places? He wanted to curse the spirit in his chest – But, he was stopped. Your voice pulled him back from the madness he had been driven back to the precipice of. His new world… It was long gone. Perfection lied here in this one. It lied at his side. The way you called him your sun forced him back here. The meeting with Looker needed to be postponed. He needed time alone with you first.