luvyxdovey

[luvyxdovey]

i had some NASTY thoughts earlier so im gonna leave them here,

Chris is the type to pull out almost completely until just his tip sits inside, and then pushes back in at an agonizingly slow pace. he's not even rough with it, he just loves the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so perfectly that he wants to relish in it.

Jisung is the type to barely even pull out because he's soooo pussy drunk and obsessed with the way you suck him in like he's meant to fit inside you. He's barely even pushing into you because he isn't pulling out almost at all, he's just humping you with his cock sitting inside and yes, he's a whiny mess.

Jeongin is the type to pull all the way out and leave you empty for a few seconds before pushing back in until he's buried balls deep in your walls. He'll do it hard, too. Hard and fast. And he'll do that over and over until his patience snaps and he has to fuck into you like it's his lifes purpose.

alright back to your daily schedule LOL

[luvyxdovey]

— YOU'RE RIGHT, BABY | 𝐂.𝐁𝐂

▹ PAIRING: soft!dom fiancé bangchan x f. reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: Chan gets a little upset upon realizing that you weren’t wearing your engagement ring, but you make it up to him by letting him fuck you in his studio after a long day of work…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, teasing, dry humping and heavy petting, mentions of food, breeding kink + cream pie (chan’s a possessive freak and in love with the idea of getting you preggers lol), dirty talk, light breath play (f. receiving), pet names (good girl, baby), that’s about it

▹ WORD COUNT: 1.8k — DAY 2

BEING THE AMAZING partner you are, you decided to stop by the studio where your fiancé was working and bring him some dinner, and by dinner, I mean a box full of his favorite takeout foods:

Grilled beef, steamed rice, broccoli teriyaki, and a chicken egg roll…

He was working a few hours overtime that day, and aside from the fact that you wanted him to have something good to eat after expending such efforts, you really just missed his presence…

You missed looking at his gorgeous face and hearing his adorable voice while he did absolutely nothing but vibe with you… you missed having his hands on you and your hands on him as you both got lost in the lusts of your own hearts—

“Chris,” your voice came out gently as you stood behind him, caressing over his tense shoulders while he remained seated in his desk chair, “just rest your little head, baby… you worry too much…”

“I do… you’re right…” he sighs deeply while leaning his head back against the headrest to look at you, the smell of takeout distant in the room.

His eyes are clearly tired as you know he’s been overworked lately, but you hold yourself from bringing it up to him, placing a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead instead.

“Thanks for stopping by, though, princess,” he went on, and you already feel like he’s trying to push you away, despite how you literally just got here, “I have to get back to work now, though—”

“You’re always getting back to work, Channie…” you chuckle slightly, and his eyes flutter shut as your thumbs come across a particularly tight muscle in his left shoulder…

Digging in, you massage the knot gently, but the pressure you apply doesn’t feel so soothing at first—

“Ouch, that hurts!” Chan exclaims with a wince, and you simply smooth over his skin with your touch, massaging a different area instead as you decided to give that spot time to heal on its own.

“Look… your body’s aching as if you’ve been working in a field all day… that’s why I’m here to make you feel better,” you return, and his body is clearly starting to relax the more and more your fingers smooth along the base of his neck and back down his shoulders again, soft hums coming from his throat at the sensation.

“But you don’t have to, love…” he says, voice a little weak as the warmth of your touch reeled him into relaxation, “just having you around is making me feel better already…”

“Aww,” you pout facetiously, even though he can’t see it from where he’s sitting, “You missed me, Channie?… Your very own nagging fiancé?…”

“Nooo,” he corrects, turning in his chair now to get a proper look at you, “I missed my beautiful wife to be, and my adoring partner in crime…”

Reaching out a hand, the veins in his arm appear highlighted under the dim studio lighting as he guides your face into his before giving you a kiss that you both smile into… weakly though, considering how it’s literally 4 in the morning...

Breaking from the contact, you tug at his wrist slightly, not letting go until he finally gets up from the chair, letting you lead him to sit on the couch.

The look on his face now very clearly lets you know what’s on his mind, but you simply decide to sit on his lap in a straddle position, wanting him to make the first move from here…

And he did.

“Can I?” He asks while lifting his hands from the couch cushion, hovering them over your hips and being careful not to touch until you allowed him to.

“Of course, silly,” you chuckle, making him blush slightly at your brief fit of laughter.

“It’s not like anyone’s here to tease us for it,” you went on, thinking back to the countless times that your fiancé’s friends (specifically Minho and Han) would outwardly gag whenever you two publicly display affection—

“You’re right, baby… no one’s around to bother us,” Chris breathes in agreement, finally letting his eager hands rest at your hips before adding a bit of pressure as he caressed up your waist and along your thighs, “The two of us could practically get away with doing anything we want for the next few hours in here…”

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was specifically implying, but you decide to play dumb anyway, just because you absolutely loved hearing his strong Aussie accent come out whenever he was sexually worked up with you…

“Takeout’s still waiting to be opened, Chris,” you whisper, letting your nails gently drag against his scalp as he melts into your touch, his silky curls looping around your fingers, “we shouldn’t keep it out for too long or else it might spoil…”

“Well I’m not in the mood to eat anymore,” he whispers back in a raspy voice, and you let your weight sink further into his lap, your bottom resting right above the spot his true hunger was pulling him most.

“Use your words, baby… tell me what you want,” You press, leaving a kiss along his clenched jawline… and another one on his pretty thick lips… and a third one against his Adam’s Apple that makes him groan out loud…

Or maybe his groan had more to do with the way you were also rocking your hips against his clothed hard on, making his hands slightly grip at the fabric of your jeans for any sort of leverage.

“Why… of all the bottoms that you own, did you close to wear tight, denim jeans at a time like this?” He asks with frustration, making you giggle a bit at the way his chest rises and falls every time you circle in his lap, the rough material tantalizing him…

“Don’t you think they make my ass look good, though?” You tease with a pout, watching as he smirks at your question, only to hiss at your movements again.

“They make your ass look great, babe… but they also make it impossible for me to touch you properly…”

He was doing it again, you thought to yourself… That thing where he gets you to do what he wants without specifically asking.

Yes, Chris was a typically a pretty confident guy, but sometimes, you had a way of bringing out his shy, reluctant side when it came to sexual things, but you still found it cute nonetheless.

“Fine, then… since you’re too shy to ask for it properly, I’ll just do it myself,” you say in a bratty tone while getting up from his lap, and he visibly scoffs at the way you stood before him now, fingers meddling with the buckle of your jeans until he stopped you.

“C’mere,” he huffs, pulling you close to him by the belt loop of your jeans until you fall into the couch beside him with a gentle plop.

His smirks again once he finally unzips the rough fabric just enough to see a leak of what’s beneath, and the expression is so wide that his dimples come through…

At first, you’re not sure why he’s a grinning mess, but you understand once his fingers run over the lace of your black panties, the same pair that he brought you a while back on one of his tours cross-country.

“I’ll take a wild guess and say you wore these for me, huh?” He asks with a husk to his tone now that you’re bumping your knee against his clothed hard-on, and his hips subconsciously chase the friction.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, lifting up on your elbows now to look at him better, “I just didn’t expect you to take so long to get ‘em off me…”

“How cute,” he returns, and your eyes follow the veins trailing his forearm, his flexed fingers hooking at either side of your hips before tugging your jeans the rest of the way down and past your ankles with your panties, tucking them under the couch cushion for his private use later…

“Cute?” You repeat with a raised brow, spreading your legs before him as you both watched each others cores intently, practically itching within yourself for him to finally untie his sweatpants.

“Yup. Love it when you get in your little attitudes,” he says plainly, but his smile is half-hearted now as he leans over you, bracing himself with his hands before kissing your forehead.

You try to follow where his eyes are looking, but his bangs are in the way, and you can’t help but ask him what the matter is…

However, he doesn’t answer immediately, simply taking your hands in his and placing a kiss to l the closed knuckles of your left hand, right before pinning your wrist at either side of your head on the couch.

And that’s when it hits you… the reason behind his sudden change in aura:

You forgot to put your engagement ring on…

You had only taken it off for a second before coming to meet him in the studio because some oil from the takeout bag had spilled on your hands… while washing up in the bathroom, you had put the ring in your purse and simply forgot to put it back on…

Though, you knew at this point it’d be worthless trying to get that story through Chan’s thick skull, as he had already made up in his mind that you were playing games with him…

“Where’s your ring, baby?” Your fiancé asks while shimmying down his boxers and trousers with one hand, and you near choke on air at the sight of his glossy and girthy tip springing out before you, red and angry with need.

“I-it’s in my purse,” you stammer, almost feeling guilty now that you had even forgot to put it back on in the first place, “I can go and get it—”

“No need,” he interrupts you, lining himself up with your entrance as the depth of his voice equally catches you off guard, “just make sure you put it back on after this, yea?”

You winced at the sudden stretch of his cock filling you up just right, and your hips are already trembling at the delicious fullness.

“Channie… it slipped my mind, baby… please,” you say, and you’re not quite sure what it is that you’re begging for, but you always had a habit of going dumb around his cock, even if it’s just resting inside you.

“I gave you a simple order, love… now, do you understand me, yes or no?” He asks more sternly this time, thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccuping at the force.

“Y-yes, I understand,” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze.

“Say it again,” he orders, and you listen, gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway.

You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all.

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention.

“Good enough to let me cum in you, huh?” He questions, but it’s more so of a suggestion than anything, and you oblige to it, nodding your head in desperation as your hips start to follow the movements of his.

“Yes, baby… w-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded.

“Gonna put a baby in your pretty little stomach,” he huffs in between fucking you open with all his strength, “and at that point, who cares if you don’t have your ring on? Everyone will know who you belong to once your tummy’s all swollen because of me… tell me who this pussy belongs to…”

“Y-you, Channie,” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now.

“Louder…”

“It’s all- fuckkk… yours, b-baby,” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry at that given the way his hand is tightening around your throat, but you don’t mind… not one bit when it feels THIS. Fucking. Good…

He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he break away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.

The couch starts to creak to the rhythm of his movements, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the large cushions it was made with, otherwise you’re certain the both of you would’ve been on the floor at this point.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby… sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second.

“F-fuck~” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you.

He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head.

“Cum in me,” you plead with a soft voice while, lips puffy from how hard you’d been biting them, and Chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star.

“Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now.

“Wait, Channie,” you say, thighs still trembling a bit as he pulled out of you, a bit too early though for you to remind him that his cum would only spill out—

“Shit,” he swears under his breath upon realizing, rushing to catch the fluid spilling from your cunt now with his fingers, trying not to get it on the couch, but to no avail.

He instead lets his fingers push the cum back into you, holding his wrist there until he’s able to reach for a napkin off of his desk to help clean you up.

“Stop that, baby,” he says with a mischievous smile, but only because your walls were sucking his digits in, preventing him from taking them out to clean them off, “give me some time to recharge and then we can go again, okay?…”

All you can bring yourself to do is hum at his words, and he in turn offers you another gentle smile.

Applying light pressure to your lower stomach, he finally gets your walls to release his fingers from the confines of your sloppy hole, wiping the residue off with the napkin.

“Didn’t expect you to cum this much,” you say in a sleepy tone while reaching for your jeans to slide them back on.

“Me neither,” he chuckles, readjusting his pants before getting up to toss the soiled napkin in the bin nearby, “but uh... just know that if in three weeks, we find out that our first future child was conceived on this couch, never tell this story to anyone…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, concluding DAY 2 of my Kinktober Event !! This was also my first time publishing any written work for Stray Kids (my ult group XD) so feel free to tell me how I did in the comments !! Finally, if you're interested in reading more works like this, check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

also, check out THIS fic NEXT if you're interested in more...

[luvyxdovey]

FINALLYYY they talk abt felix and get everything addressed 😭😭 , thank u fizzy this chapter was amazing as always<3!

consort vi | minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

word count: 17.1k

genre: historical au, arranged marriage au, enemies-to-lovers

warnings: period-typical sexism, a boatload of family issues, a rapidly increasing amount of sexual tension, like reader is starting to go the tiniest bit feral about it

series masterlist | one | two | three | four | five

summary:

Minho paused, the lingering traces of cheer disappearing before your eyes. The shift in his mood was almost tangible, and it felt as if you had made some sort of misstep in a dance, thrown yourself and your partner out of rhythm.

His gaze flickered upwards, so very briefly, to look at you, before moving downwards. Down to your notes, down to where the space between your bodies was at its narrowest, barely a few fingers’ width between your skirts and his thigh. He took a breath.

An uneasy sleep must have reclaimed you in the night, because you awakened to soft morning light streaming through the windows – and chambers entirely devoid of Minho.

You sat up, unsteady, the beginnings of a headache already forming. Your thoughts were scattered, muffled as if wrapped in cotton, barely intelligible under the dull throbbing.

An empty bedchamber. Did that disappoint you? The sheets beside you seemed undisturbed, indicating that he hadn’t joined you at any point in the night, hadn’t risen from the couch he’d been sleeping on last night when – 

Embarrassment – hot, ugly flashes of it – flared within you, so violent that you physically shuddered in an effort to suppress it. You wouldn’t be so careless again, risking something so mortifying and so vulnerable as being caught in a position like that.

A tiny voice in your mind uttered thanks for Minho’s order to keep servants out of his chambers without specific request. You didn’t want to imagine having to untangle these awful thoughts in front of an audience waiting to dress you for the morning. 

The more you dwelled on the situation, the more you could feel something in your chest twist. Shame, perhaps. You couldn’t help but picture last night again and again, your awful thoughts painting over your memories, imagining Minho’s eyes open instead of closed, imagining the curl of his lip as he watched you in disdain, maybe even in disgust–

No.

You felt your expression harden, breath expelling from you in one sharp burst. You hadn’t realised how much anger you could summon at merely an imagined Minho. Already, even at just the thought of him, you found yourself itching to rebuke him, to challenge the contempt you had imagined yourself.

There was a danger that you could spend the whole day in this bed, imagining all the ways in which you could argue with Minho.

So, instead, you forced yourself out of bed, determined to focus on the rest of your day and leave last night firmly in the past.

It was strange to realise just how quiet these chambers were. They were so far removed from the bustling of the palace’s lower floors that even now, as scores of nobles and servants alike rose from their beds and began their days, you could almost mistake the palace for being empty.

The spring morning air was no longer a shock of cold, but pleasantly mild. Perhaps you should make use of the weather today, you thought. It would be good to get some fresh air.

And then, you came to a sudden halt – as a flash of orange caught your attention out of the corner of your eye.

You turned your head, startled, to find a tabby cat perched on the low table of Minho’s chambers, staring you down.

This was not the pampered sort of housecat you had seen in the houses of your mother’s friends during your youth. While this cat seemed well-fed, there were tell-tale signs of the fights it must have gotten into. There was a pea-sized chunk missing from its left ear, and a faint scar on its little orange snout.

Perhaps this was a kitchen mouser? But how had it wandered so far into the palace, all the way into Minho’s chambers? How had it gotten past those heavy wooden doors, not to mention the guards stationed nearby?

You dared to take a step towards it – to no response. The cat continued to stare. Its tail twitched from one side to the other, slowly, almost lazily.

It didn’t move as you approached, instead continuing to eye you with an expression so distinctly unimpressed for such a tiny face.

Of course, the second you lifted your hand towards it, it jumped away from you in the blink of an eye. There was no panic to its retreat, just a vague sense of disdain as it withdrew from your reach.

For one brief second, you were bizarrely reminded of Minho.

To your own surprise, laughter bubbled up in your chest, slipping out between your lips. It lifted a weight off of your chest, leaving you feeling just a little lighter as you observed the way the cat shot you what could only be described as the feline equivalent of a scowl before it padded over to the bed and disappeared beneath it.

Deciding against following the cat and disturbing its hiding place, you chose to head for the door and request breakfast be served outside.

It seemed only right that the lingering worries of the previous night’s events would disappear in the light of a warm spring day.

There was something so calming about the palace grounds in the morning. At your request, a table and chair had been set up at the base of a hill, just by the long winding steps back up to the palace itself, in perfect position for you to gaze out at the huge expanses of land in front of you.

Morning dew budded on the still blades of grass. Clouds slowly drifted across the sky above, the sun hiding behind them, only reappearing at just the moment the air grew too chilly. In the distance, a light layer of fog lingered amongst the trees of the royal forest, retreating further and further with each moment.

There was nothing but peace and quiet.

You breathed deeply, savouring the morning air, as you reached for the last slice of bread. Beside it, in a tiny porcelain dish, sat a little pat of creamy butter. You scraped the last of it up with your knife to carefully spread onto the bread.

Your plans for the day were the same as always. Studying, mostly. You were eager to crack open the most recent council records you could find, already making plans to note down the stances of each member, the factions that might have formed, anything that might be useful.

How soon would Minho talk to his father? How much time did you have to prepare? You should have pressed for more details.

You could ask him at dinner this evening, you realised. It was still such a strange idea, to think that you and Minho could talk to each other so…often, now.

Because you shared a bedchamber, a voice in your mind – one that sounded suspiciously like your mother – reminded you. You should be doing so much more than just talking.

A mouthful of bread lodged itself in your throat mid-swallow, making you cough and splutter as you reached for your tea.

Not that you were particularly eager for that, of course. Last night had been a brief moment of insanity, a sudden break from rational thought, brought on by returning to the bed that held so many strong memories. It had infected your dreams, and even seeped into your sleep-addled actions in the dead of night, but now you had recovered.

Now, once again, you were just as uninterested as he was. Moving to his chambers was good enough to mend your image as a successful, stable pairing. It didn’t matter what happened behind closed doors, because you had gotten what you wanted.

But before you could make an effort to divert your thoughts back towards the day ahead, the peace of the morning was broken.

You watched as a group of palace guards marched into sight, descending the palace steps – and you stilled when you saw the person they were accompanying.

Her Majesty, the Queen.

You sat up a little straighter, as your eyes met across the wide-open space of the palace lawns. She always seemed so perfectly put together, her long dark hair twisted and braided neatly into a bun, the soft and sweeping fabrics of her dress somehow spotless even when brushing against the ground.

In her fine features, there was so much of Felix. You almost wanted to look away.

Instead, you followed protocol to the letter, rising to your feet and bowing your head at her arrival. “Your Majesty.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she replied, and there was a genuine soft note of surprise to her voice that reinforced her words. “If you’re finished with your meal, would you like to accompany me across the grounds?”

You blinked, lifting your head in shock. You’d barely spoken to this woman in weeks. You’d half-expected her to ignore you. You’d half-given up on the affection the two of you had grown for each other during your childhood.

“Y-yes,” you replied, and cleared your throat. “Yes, I’d love to.”

She gave you a smile – one so deeply familiar that it made your heart ache for just a second – and inclined her head, silently offering you the place by her side.

You moved quickly, almost without thinking, barely retaining the grace expected for a lady of your position, as you tried to join her before she could change her mind.

Before the two of you could start walking, however, she first turned to glance at the guards behind her. With a firm, clear voice of a queen, she told them. “I trust I’m accompanied by guards possessing the respect of allowing two ladies some privacy while they talk. Am I not?”

The nearest guard’s eyes widened slightly in understanding, and he hurried to nod at her. “Yes, Your Majesty. Of course.”

“Delightful to hear. The usual twelve paces behind will suffice,” she said, her voice so casual that the comment could almost be described as offhand, before she finally set off. You had to quicken your steps slightly to catch up with her.

And, sure enough, the guards waited until you were twelve paces ahead before they followed – at the perfect distance to remain out of earshot.

This was the woman you remembered from your childhood. Always polite, always charming, and just a little cleverer than she seemed.

You fell into step beside her, searching for something to say to start the conversation. “I heard a delegation from the Lakelands are on their way.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding with a warm smile. “Most of the delegates only came to their position after I left, but I know a handful. Among them is a prince I last saw as a young boy. I look forward to seeing the man he’s now grown to be.”

“That will be nice,” you remarked, looking for something else to say. Something clever, or funny, or charming. It used to be so much easier to talk to her. “Do you miss the Lakelands?”

“Occasionally. Especially in the winter. I’ve never developed a taste for the cold that sets in here,” she said, but there was no trace of sadness in her voice. Nothing wistful. “But what about you? Are you keeping well?”

“Yes,” you replied – but it felt like a half-truth at best. “As well as can be.”

“I’m sure you’ve had so many pleasantries asked about your marriage,” she said. “That’s usually all people can think to talk about, with women like us.”

Her words struck something in you, hooking something strange and raw and tugging it out into the open.

“That’s usually the topic of conversation, yes.”

Her lips twitched, the briefest flicker of a smile. “Then we’ll speak about something else. Are you still keeping to your studies?”

 “Yes!” you exclaimed, unable to keep your excitement from rushing out. “Practically every day. Mostly, I’ve been focusing on my histories and geography, but I like to brush up on my languages every so often.”

“You did always love studying your histories,” the Queen nodded, and for the first time in your conversation, you picked up on the slightest hint of sadness in her tone.

It sparked a vaguely familiar feeling. An old desire to cheer her, the feeling so ingrained that it felt like slipping on an old favourite coat.

“My new tutor has helped quite splendidly,” you said, with a smile just a touch forced. “I hadn’t realised how much more I could learn with someone following me in my interests, instead of just telling me what I should be interested in.” 

The Queen smiled back at you, and hers seemed entirely genuine. “There seems so much to catch up on. I’ve been meaning to talk to you sooner.”

Her words, as light and carefree as she had offered them, managed to hit something deep within you. Your expression faltered, as you felt the words dig into you, like claws gripping your flesh, piercing you.

You blurted out your only thought. “Why didn’t you?”

The question came out in a rush, an outpouring of emotion that you had tried so hard to keep dammed. You watched the way she paused, caught off-guard by your sudden harsh words.

You swallowed, trying frantically to recover some sense of manners. “I mean, I…it’s just I’ve been…I’ve been so alone since…”

“…I know.”

Her gaze grew so soft, as she watched you sadly. There were moments, occasionally, when her eyes were so expressive, just as Felix’s were.

For a moment, you pictured what it must have been like for her, all those years ago. Newly married to a stranger, not just alone but alone in an entirely different kingdom. A kingdom that her father and her father’s father and his father before that had been at war with. A kingdom with a people who mistrusted her, who still mourned for her husband’s first wife, the beloved wife, the wife she must constantly be compared to in public and in private.

You wondered how long it took her to learn to hide those expressive eyes. You wondered if it saddened her to look upon her son, and see those same bright eyes shining back.

“I missed you,” you confessed. “I miss how it used to be.”

“So do I, sweetling,” she murmured. There were only two people in this world the Queen called ‘sweetling’. One was standing in front of her. The other was half a kingdom away, quiet and aching by the coast. “But that’s precisely why I’ve stayed away.”

“What?” You asked, sharp in your confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“There are whispers at court,” she began, before pausing. You detected the faintest of eye-rolls as she continued. “There always are. Right now, they are centred on you.”

“Me?” You repeated. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Oh, the subjects never do,” she said, her tone sharpening just a touch. You knew she’d had her fair share of experience with court rumours. “It’s no fun for them if the rumour gets dragged into daylight and exposed for the nonsense that it is. Better to whisper in secret, and give their empty brains something to spin from nothing.”

“What are they saying?” You asked. You’d half-expected something like this to happen, but you’d always thought your first reaction would be worry, or fear – and yet, right now, the news filled you with nothing but anger.

“They’re harmless, for now. Idle gossip. But if any fuel is added to them, they could prove dangerous–”

“What are they saying?” You repeated, cutting her off. You needed to hear it. You already had an inkling, but you needed it in words.

She sighed. “…You and Felix. I’m afraid my son will always be a subject for scandal in your future.”

Felix.

You turned away, eyes searching for the horizon, for something to fix on in the distance.

You hated that this didn’t surprise you. You hated that your paranoia, your constant insecurity about how you were perceived, about how your issues with Minho were perceived, that constant nagging feeling of your marriage being forced under a magnifying glass, was partially justified.

“Anything in particular?” You finally managed to ask when your voice returned to you.

“The stories change every week. Nothing has truly taken hold, which is a good thing,” the queen reassured you. “But until you and Minho…well, when your marriage seemed on shakier ground, I thought it was wise to keep my distance. I thought it would make things easier for you.”

Easier.

Right.

A lump was forming in your throat. You did your best to swallow it down.

“I thought you were angry at me,” you admitted. “For marrying Minho, instead of your son.”

“You did marry my son.”

There was such strong feeling in her voice that it forced your gaze back to her. The queen’s jaw was set, her mouth curved downwards slightly. Years and years of learned authority, of power however scant it might be, radiated through her as she stood firm.

“Minho is my son. In every way that counts.”

You stared, silent, as the faintest hint of guilt began to warm your cheeks.

The queen continued to walk, her gaze softening as she fell back into old memories. “He was so tiny when I entered the palace. I helped him take his first steps. I helped him learn his letters, I selected his tutors and I watched him grow.”

She slowed her steps, as you reached the edge of the forest that surrounded the palace. The two of you would have to turn back soon, but you took a moment to observe the quiet of the trees, the way that sunlight filtered through the newly-grown leaves.

“I might not be called his mother, but he is my son,” she finished, quietly. “And I’m very proud of him.”

She blinked rapidly a few times, clearing her throat, and turned to flash you the briefest of knowing smiles. “As mule-headed as he can be sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh – albeit quietly, softly, as the emotion of the conversation still kept its grip on you. 

There was a pull in you – that familiar one, the one that urged you to please others, the one that pushed you to say exactly the perfect thing – to praise Minho to the Queen. To call him a good man. You knew she would want to hear it, she would want to hear how happy you had turned out in spite of it all, that by pure serendipity, your marriage to Minho was just as splendid and happy as the marriage with Felix you had been awaiting your whole life.

But the words stuck in your throat. You practically choked on them. Not just because they were untrue.

Because for a second – for such a brief, unthinking second – you had wanted them to be true, just as badly as she did.

Something cold began to take hold of you. It started in your gut, unfurling his long icy fingers, grabbing and twisting and squeezing as it slowly dragged the rest of you into its grip.

Betrayal. In that moment, you felt – you knew – you had betrayed Felix.

Did it show on your face? The queen was watching you now, and you couldn’t imagine the expression you must have had.

You swallowed, trying with all you had to shove that awful pain away.

You needed to say something. Anything.

“Minho…he’s always…he never seems to care when people believe the worst in him,” you said, the words stumbling out of you, as if your mind was two steps behind your mouth. “It’s almost like he prefers it. I don’t understand it.”

The queen took in your words. After one long pause, in which her eyes studied you so intensely that it felt they were about to burn through you, she turned to look up at the palace on the hill. Even from this distance, it seemed to loom over you, waiting so impatiently for you to return.

“This place…” she trailed off. Her jaw tightened - and in that one instant, as her eyes flashed, you saw the teenage girl that had first stepped foot into this court, so far from home and facing such a nest of vipers. “It pulls something out of the people here. A way to protect themselves. My husband already had his ingrained when I came here. I felt it take hold within myself. I watched it form in Minho, that desire to push people away. And you…” she turned to you, briefly, and you blinked at the twist of amusement in her lips. “What opposites you and he are. How perfectly you mirror.”

You stared. Her words were vague, cryptic…and yet, you couldn’t help feel as if you had been insulted. You opened your mouth to protest, but the queen had already turned away back towards the palace.

“You can’t live in a place like this without growing a few thorns,” the queen sighed. “Like the roses in my gardens, I suppose. The ones without thorns are the first to be eaten.”

There was something layered in her words, something sad, something resigned.

You realised then that of all the members of the royal family she had just mentioned, there was one obvious name left unsaid.

“Let us return,” she said, finally. “Before those guards grow too curious and drift too close.”

Not only did Minho keep his promise of returning for dinner again that evening, he arrived even earlier than you.

You almost stopped at the door, thrown by the sight of him at the table, as perfectly poised as he always was, flicking through a sheaf of papers by the side of his plate. He looked up at your arrival, eyes meeting yours, and something caught in your chest.

You hadn’t realised how strange it would be to see him in person after last night, how…affecting.

Clearing your throat, you gave him a tight smile and made your way to your seat across from him – unfortunately for you, as it gave you a clear unobstructed view of Minho at a time when you very much wished for anything but that.

You reached for the decanter in front of you, eager to pour yourself a drink to deal with this building lump in your throat. To your surprise, you found it to be filled with water, not wine.

“How was your day?” you asked, finally speaking, hoping to sound calm and collected.

Minho eyed you carefully, as if you’d offered some sort of complex riddle, and not a feeble attempt at small-talk. “…Slow. Until the Lakelander delegation arrives, there’s nothing urgent to take care of. I’ve been looking over budget proposals for the harvest season.”

The harvest season was months away. In fact, you were almost certain that the fields had only just been sown at all. That truly did seem like a slow day. “I see.”

You knew you should try to continue the conversation, to ask him more about his work. Instead, you let your eyes drop to the plate of food in front of you, words dying on your tongue as you tried and failed to push down the memories of last night.

It felt so…deeply indecent, to sit across from Minho, and pretend you hadn’t touched yourself just a few feet away from him. And it was only made more indecent by the fact that he didn’t know.

It was all you could think about when you looked at him. You knew a secret, and he didn’t.

For dinner, the kitchens had prepared some sort of fish beautifully. Perfectly cooked, tender and soft and practically melting in your mouth.

You barely tasted it. You just kept eating, preoccupied, eyes trained on your plate. You were certain that if you looked up at Minho for too long, you would give yourself away.

In fact, the longer you sat there, the more uncertain you became.

Were you acting unnaturally? Were you too quiet, too reluctant to make conversation?

But, then again, what exactly did acting ‘naturally’ in Minho’s presence entail? You might have finally found yourselves on better terms, but…

“Something on your mind?”

Your eyes jerked up to meet his, caught off-guard.

How long had Minho been observing you? It looked like he hadn’t even touched his food yet, one hand resting on top of his papers, his other arm propped up on the table, hand curled under his chin as he looked at you.

You made an effort to swallow down the food in your mouth, despite how dry your throat had become, and reached for your water with all the nonchalance you could muster. “Not particularly. I was just…”

Think of something, think of anything.

“Wondering about those budget proposals. The harvest season must be months away. Was there really nothing else more pressing?”

Minho was quiet for a second, just long enough to spark the tiniest flicker of nerves in the pit of your gut, before he let out a sigh. “My father likes to drip-feed me responsibilities, one at a time. If there is anything else more urgent, I won’t know until my next meeting with him. And that won’t be for several days.”

There was an edge of frustration in his voice, something long-suffering, as if this were the topic of multiple arguments in the past, arguments that never seemed to resolve themselves in his favour.

He reached for his water, taking a sip, before his gaze returned to you. “That will also be when I talk to him about you joining the council.”

For a brief moment, all thoughts about the previous night and your embarrassing secret disappeared from your mind entirely. You leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you think his response will be?”

Minho tilted his head slightly in thought – and it filled you with surprise at the fact that you recognised this subtle shift in Minho’s body language, that at some point you had come to learn how to read him, even slightly – and replied. “…I won’t mince words–”

“Do you ever?” You retorted, almost without thinking.

Minho’s lips twitched, fighting a smile, but continued without acknowledging your mildest of jabs. “It will be a hard sell. My father is not a revolutionary. A large part of his popularity has come from his upholding of tradition. But he’s been dragging his feet on filling this council seat for months now, and for good reason. It’s a political minefield, and you are the best compromise. I hope he’ll see that.”

Minho was right. Your appointment to the council, however perfect a resolution to the infighting between your father and the blue-blooded nobility, would not be an easy sell at all. “I hope so too.”

The rest of your dinner passed in relative quiet, but the little calm you managed to gain in that time soon evaporated when you exited the dining room – and found yourself confronted yet again with the question of sleeping arrangements.

Minho’s bed was now the site of two of your most scandalous transgressions. Both of which involved Minho, both of which rendered you almost completely unable to look him in the eye whenever you thought of them.

In contrast to your internal strife, however, Minho seemed perfectly at ease.

He transported his sheaf of papers from the dining table to the couch, seating himself comfortably and setting them down on the low table in front of him.

Actually, perhaps ‘stack’ of papers might be more accurate a description than ‘sheaf’. Just how much work went into preparing these budget proposals? Had he done so little in his office all day to bring so much work to do in his chambers? Or was this a far more demanding responsibility than you had assumed?

All evidence seemed to point to the latter, as Minho worked silently throughout the evening, brow furrowed just a hint in concentration. He didn’t look up once, not when you rose to start preparing for bed, not when you returned in your nightclothes, not even when you wished him good night. He returned the words with a quiet murmur, clearly too enwrapped with whatever he was working on.

He was so engrossed, he didn’t see the way you hesitated by the bed.

Should you invite him over? He might have had work to do, but this would be yet another night that you went to bed without him. You were sharing a bedchamber now, surely the two of you should…

At least once, you should…

You tried to decide on the words of the invitation, of how to phrase it. A suggestion that he should bring his papers to bed, if he had so much work still to do? That was a reasonable question, wasn’t it? If he refused, you could press him on it, demand to know why it was beginning to seem as if he were still avoiding you…

“Yes?”

You blinked, emerging from your thoughts, to find Minho had glanced over to you. You likely made a strange sight, hovering by the bed, still yet to get under its covers.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, carefully crafted, ready to ask.

And then, traitorously, you thought of last night again.

Minho had been on the other side of the room, able to sleep through it, but if he’d been next to you… 

You pictured it. You pictured jostling him awake in your sleep, the embarrassing sounds you might make. What you might do.

An awful, awful wave of embarrassment crashed through you because what if you tried to grab at him in your sleep?

You swallowed, turning away without even attempting to reply to Minho, and slipped under the bedcovers without another word.

In the morning, you woke to find that Minho had already risen long before you. The bedchamber was empty, and again the sheets by your side were untouched.

When the third night elapsed in just the same way, and the fourth, it became clear that this couldn’t be mere coincidence. Minho didn’t just happen to be so enthralled in his work that he fell asleep on the couch four nights in a row.

He was refusing to sleep beside you. You might have forced his hand in letting you share his chambers, but apparently he would not let that extend to his actual bed.

You were half-convinced he still held that early contempt for you, that he was still stubbornly maintaining that unconquerable distance between the two of you out of disdain.

And yet, he still sat with you at every dinner. He talked with you about his day, about your studies, telling stories about a particular odious noble that had done something to irk him, or listening to you talk passionately about a particular historical figure or event that had come up in your research. He’d even teased you once, when you confessed that you didn’t have the patience to read through the handful of art history books that Seungmin had added to your list.

The two of you were very slowly developing some odd sense of…well, perhaps friendship was still too strong a choice of word, but at least an understanding around each other that definitely hadn’t been present in the first few weeks of your marriage.

Nowhere else had this become so apparent than on your fifth evening in Minho’s bedchambers.

For a change of scenery, you had decided to spend the afternoon catching up on your research in these chambers, taking lunch there with your books, enjoying the little pocket of quiet in which Minho’s bedchambers were nestled within the palace.

To your surprise, and delight, the cat was back.

Initially, it was just as sullen as you remembered. It eyed you from across the room, perched on the low table yet again, sat as tall and imposing as it could make itself.

That was, until you called for a plate of kippers to be brought to you.

Despite its surly appearance, the cat barely needed convincing before it wandered over to you and the plate of fish, taking each offered kipper from your hand without hesitation. After three fish, it allowed you the softest of pets between its ears. After six, it drew closer, jumping from the table to the seat next to you, a little more relaxed as it took yet another fish from your hand.

To your delight, once the plate was empty, the cat did not abandon you immediately. In fact, it curled up near you – not quite close enough to be within easy reach, but enough that you could lean over and give it slow and gentle strokes as you continued to read. It even began to purr, just a little, whenever you scratched just beneath the base of its ears.

The more attention you gave the cat, the more you realised just how cared for it seemed to be. How comfortable it was with being touched, how well-fed it was, how soft its fur was. Even in a palace, this was not at all typical for a kitchen mouser.

“Someone spoils you, don’t they?” You murmured, giving the cat more strokes. “I can see why, you’re lovely. So cute.”

The cat, while not acknowledging your words, leaned its head up into your hand a little, chasing after those little scratches.

You were close to abandoning your studies entirely for the day, ready to devote your full attention to this adorable little creature, when the bedchamber doors swung open.

The cat jolted a little, jumping from its place on the couch – but to your relief, did not run out of the room. Instead, it lingered by the low table, ready to disappear under it, and stared down the sudden arrival.

Minho, mouth still parted slightly in whatever greeting he’d been about to give you, was silent as his gaze flickered between you and the orange cat eyeing him from the floor.

“We have a visitor,” you told Minho, solemnly, gesturing to the cat.

Minho nodded, briefly, still looking between you and the cat. “Yes. Yes, she seems to like it in here.”

“‘She’?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Minho’s expression immediately smoothed into the perfect neutral, refusing to give even the slightest bit of emotion away. “…I assume.”

“Mm. Well, she seems to be a sweetheart.”

“Does she?” Minho repeated, glancing at the cat again, who seemed to have now relaxed. She began to approach Minho’s feet, sniffing familiarly at his boots.

“I may have had to bribe her with a plate of kippers,” you admitted, increasingly amused by the way the cat began to weave her way between Minho’s legs, but managed not to let it show too obviously in your face. “She seems very well-fed, for a kitchen mouser.”

Minho made a non-committal sound in response, not meeting your eyes. “…Yes, well, I imagine people must toss her dinner scraps here and there.”

“I suppose so. But who would be so soft-hearted in this palace, to feed a kitchen cat from their own plate?” You wondered aloud.

Minho’s face was a mask at this point, unmoving, perfectly calculated. He made his way to one of his armchairs, attempting to ignore the way the cat followed him happily, jumping up and perching herself on the arm of his chair.

You continued. “In fact, I wonder what a mouser would be doing here, so far away from the kitchens. That’s quite a distance for a cat to wander unprompted.”

“I suppose so,” Minho stated, perfectly neutral, even as the cat moved from the arm of the chair to seat herself in his lap.

You continued to stare at him, wordless, eyebrow raised – and finally, he relented.

“I might have given her some scraps, once or twice,” he admitted, even as the cat nuzzled into his hand from where she rested nearby. “I suppose she can’t help it if she isn’t good at mousing, and goes hungry.”

“True,” you allowed, thoroughly unconvinced by his façade. “And do you know if this failed mouser has a name?”

“…I think I’ve heard someone call her Soonie,” Minho said, and finally let his hand drift over to Soonie and begin to give her gentle scratching behind her ears. She purred loudly enough that you could hear her from where you sat, utterly content to receive affection from someone she was clearly very familiar with. “Somewhere. At some point.”

“How odd. Not many kitchen mousers have names.”

“Mm,” Minho hummed, noncommittal, but when his eyes dropped down to glance at Soonie, he couldn’t hide the slightest of smiles.

You took in the sight, this cold and prickly prince melting as he pet the scruffy little tabby cat. Minho was still in his usual daily prince attire, all high-necked and formal. His legs were clad in those familiar riding leathers that you never let yourself look at for too long, so you moved your attention instead to his jacket. Instead of a royal scarlet, this one was a dark blue, the fabric glinting in the candlelight from the clusters of beading embroidered within it. It suited him, you forced yourself to admit, far more than red did.

In fact, you tried to remember the last time Minho had worn the colour red, but nothing recent sprang to mind. Perhaps…

“I’m meeting with my father tomorrow,” Minho told you, and immediately your attention was captured.

Tomorrow.

The word sparked something in your gut – not quite dread, or alarm, but something akin to that. Urgency.

You swallowed back your excitement, remaining as calm and neutral as you could. “And you’ll talk to him about the council?”

“That’s the plan,” Minho replied, enigmatic.

You paused, and a quiet fell over the room. It wasn’t as if Minho was expecting you to reply – in fact, as Soonie settled completely in his lap, chin dropping to rest on his knee, he was looking down and away from you.

But something still just…tugged at you. Just a little bit.

Your eyes darted down to the book in your hands, and as nonchalantly as you could, you spoke. “…Thank you.”

You saw Minho move out of the corner of your eye, head raising to look at you.

“…I’m just doing what I’m supposed to,” Minho said, his voice detached and light. “One of my duties is to recommend the most capable candidate I can find. Don’t think of it as a favour.”

His words rendered you speechless, heart beginning to pound in your ears.

Most capable.

You were the daughter of a rich, powerful man. You had been given many compliments throughout your lifetime.

None of them had ever caused the same kind of lump to form in your throat as you felt now. None had caused this kind of strange heat to bloom behind your eyes, this way your heart swelled.

Most capable.

And just like that, you were spurred into action. If you had only one night left to prepare yourself and construct the perfect defence to prove why you deserved to be on the council, you would take full advantage of it.

You began combing through the papers you had with you, reading voraciously, consuming every piece of information available to you. You did this throughout dinner, chewing absently as you turned pages and scrawled notes. You were so devoted to your studies, you made your way through two full cups of tea before realising, upon looking up, that it was Minho who poured it for you each time.

Your eyes met, just as he held the teapot over your cup to pour a third time, and your gaze held long enough to note the flicker of amusement in his before he looked away.

When dinner was over, you retreated back to the couch with more reading to finish. Minho did the same, taking up the same spot he did every evening, that familiar pile of paperwork set in front of him. There was a strangely companionable silence as the two of you worked into the night.

You almost forgot he was there, despite the sounds of his writing and the crisp sounds of paper-shuffling, slipping into a quiet rhythm of reading and re-reading until words began to blur together.

As the candles burned low, and the hours grew later and later, you felt your concentration start to slip. Your eyes would close, just for a few moments, and the will to open them again slowly began to elude you. Exhaustion crept up on you, an old friend, and you found yourself repeating paragraphs, reading over the same sentence again and again and unable to take in its meaning.

Your eyes closed again, and you vaguely remembered telling yourself it would be just for a moment.

Sleep found you instead.

Blissful, calm. Warmth from the fire. Papers slipping from your hand, but never landing on the floor. You felt safe, wrapped in the quiet.

Something brushed your arm. Soft. Fur. Soonie?

Your eyes opened, bleary, only to find grey instead of orange. The wrongness of it jolted you, your hand darting out to grab at something pale and moving.

Skin.

A hand. Soft.

Except for a callus on the edge of a knuckle on the middle finger. You recognised it, for you had your own on the very same finger. It was where the pen sat whenever you wrote.

Your gaze wandered, still sleep-fogged, and there was no surprise when you saw the hand attached to a Minho.

Your grip on him relaxed, fingers slipping from his, and you barely mumbled a half-formed thought. “Your hand matches mine.”

Your eyes closed again, just as Minho stilled, and you drifted back to sleep.

You woke up, neck aching, still upright on the couch. Your books and papers lay scattered around you, from where you’d been too tired to put them away properly. Morning light streamed in from the windows, and despite the ashes in the fireplace indicating that it had long since burned out, you found yourself unusually warm.

Ah. You had fallen asleep in the previous day’s clothes – and with very familiar furs draped over you.

There was a brief flash of a memory, of Minho’s hand pulling the furs over you. You dimly recalled saying something, perhaps, but the details escaped you. You pushed the furs off of you, your movements unusually gentle as you handled the blanket, as if it commandeered an unthinking respect from you. Sentiment, maybe.

As always, Minho had risen before you and left your chambers, but today this observation filled you with equal parts excitement and nerves.

Were they discussing it right at this moment? Did their meetings take place in the mornings? Or in the afternoons? Would other items be brought up first?

It was maddening, to have so many questions and no way to pursue the answers.

With a night’s worth of sweat sticking to your skin, you made up a bath for yourself, even heating the water entirely on your own. The only oils in Minho’s bathroom were lavender, suited for relaxation in the evenings rather than energising in the mornings, but you made do. 

The water was a touch cooler than how you usually liked it, but you didn’t have the patience to heat more water. Instead, you stripped and climbed into the bath with as much grace as you could muster and set about cleaning yourself.

This wasn’t the first time you had bathed entirely without servants – in fact, since you had moved into Minho’s chambers, the only times a servant had been permitted to enter was to bring them dinner each evening.

You found yourself becoming…amenable to that arrangement. It gave Minho’s chambers a sense of quiet, a private solace, that could not be found anywhere else in the palace.

Perhaps that was why it was so jarring, almost invading, when you heard knocking from afar, the sound of a door swinging open, and a woman’s voice ringing out hesitantly. “Your Highness?”

You startled, upsetting the water, letting some of it slosh over the side of the bath and onto the floor. “Yes? Is something wrong?”

Footsteps approached – timid, rushed – and the voice drew closer. “You’ve been summoned, Your Highness. By the king.”

Your stomach dropped, your breath cut short.

“He…said it was urgent, Your Highness, but I can let them know you’re still bathing–”

“No,” you blurted out, quickly, sharply. You got out of the bath hastily, dripping water all over the floor. “Help me change into something quickly, and I’ll go now.” 

There was only one reason you would be summoned by the king on this particular day, and from the sounds of it, it wasn’t to congratulate you on your new position on the council.

You needed to stand your ground, to explain your reasoning in the face of his refusal. And if there was any chance of persuading him to grant you the position, to ignore the concerns of your gender…

Well, telling the king that he needed to wait to discuss urgent business until the princess finished drying her hair was not the kind of image you wanted to present to him.

And so, you were laced into a dress with impressive dexterity by your maid, the luscious fabric increasingly dampened from your dripping hair. Was it an uncomfortable sensation? Absolutely, but it was difficult to dwell on it when all you could think of was why you were be summoned, what could have happened between the king and Minho to warrant such an urgent demand for your presence.

Discussions must not have gone as smoothly as Minho intended – but not so disastrously as to be dismissed out of hand.

As you slipped on a pair of shoes, your maid gave one last attempt to persuade you to wait. “Your Highness, are you sure…”

 You turned, smiling politely at her. “Yes. I’m sure it will dry soon enough. Thank you for all your help.”

She returned your smile, somewhat nervously, eyes darting to the dishevelled aspects of your appearance, but seemed a little more assured. Marginally. Barely.

Before she could protest again, you marched straight for the door.

Of course, as was so often the case with grand gestures, there were certain factors you didn’t think through entirely.

The palace halls were unforgivingly cold, especially as your hair continued to slowly drip water down your neck, soaking into the back of your gown. It made every step uncomfortable, as every little drop of water that landed on the nape of your neck was another reprimanding shock of chill.

You made sure to stand tall, proud.

If your head was bowed, if your shoulders were slouched and your steps more resembling a scurry than a stride, you would have made a pitiable sight. It would look as if you were caught off-guard, as if you were panicked, incapable, scared.

But with your chin held high, with your shoulders back and a confidence steeling you, this was intentional. This was a statement. An image fit for songs, for stories, a princess devoted to her role and to the orders of her king.

As you drew closer to the king’s chambers, navigating through the ever-narrowing hallways, you felt your chest begin to tighten. You realised you might genuinely hate it here, this deep within the very depths of the palace, its cold little stone heart. A king might be well-defended here, the walls witness to nearly a thousand years of history, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were descending into a tomb.

And then, you heard the voices.

The last time you had been summoned by the king, you remembered catching a snippet of conversation at the very doorstep of his chambers. That was how close you had to get before Minho’s and the king’s voices could be heard through the thick wooden door.

But now? You heard them in the corridor - because they were loud.

Not quite a screaming match between father and son, but–

“–talk of duty, but what’s your solution, Father? Burying your head in the sand, that tried and tested trick?”

You almost stumbled, shock rendering you clumsy, because did Minho just say that to the king?

“Caution, boy, is not ignorance. How do you mistake the two? You’re well-versed in the latter.”

The two guards in front of you exchanged a glance. You noted that they did not share your horror. In fact, you could almost mistake it as…resigned.

“Was it age that turned your belly yellow? Is that my fate too? Cowardice?”

“I will not be lectured by a son still wet-around-the-ears on age.”

Not just resigned.

Long-suffering.

They’d heard this all before. Frequently, by the looks of things.

And then, as if that knowledge had unlocked something, had lifted the veil over your eyes, you could hear it. The hint of familiarity, the ease with which the two hurled insults at each other.

This was not the first time Minho and his father had quarrelled. In fact, you’d wager this wasn’t the first time this week.

The argument paused when the guards knocked at the door, announcing your arrival. As the doors swung open, you caught sight of Minho and his father – not a hair out of place, not even a flush of anger to their cheeks – glaring at each other with familial exasperation.

Minho looked away first, turning to look at you – and paused.

His Majesty followed his gaze, and you watched those regal eyes blink in surprise at your appearance.

You must have made a sight, your gown on its way to being ruined, your hair still slick and dishevelled, trying hard not to shiver in the cold of these chambers.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted, not even the slightest bit affected, and bowed low. You straightened up before offering Minho’s greeting. “Husband.”

“My dear,” the king spoke, just the slightest bit alarmed. “If my summons caught you at an inopportune time, I assure you it’s perfectly reasonable to delay answering until you’re presentable. Don’t concern yourself so thoroughly.”

You smiled brightly. The picture of obedience, of devotion. “I hated the thought of keeping you both waiting. I imagine I know what this conversation is about.”

The king’s gaze flickered between you and Minho at this, a frown soon beginning to form. Still, there was a subtle note of surprise in his voice when he spoke again. “I see. The two of you are conspirators in this…”

“Proposal?” you supplied, gently.

“Attack?” Minho offered, bitterly.

“…Folly,” the king said, finally, turning back to you.

You dipped your head, keeping your voice soft and sweet. “I’m sorry to hear that you see it that way. I believe it to be a fair compromise, to ease the tensions at court.”

“Yes, Minho said the same thing,” the king sighed, dismissive. “Both of you are blind to the same issue. Any conflicts that your position on the council might resolve are outnumbered by the discord it would certainly cause.”

Minho sighed, eyes darting up to the ceiling. You wondered how many times he had heard that argument this morning. “And yet, a good king prioritises the future of his kingdom above all else, is that not so?”

The king shot Minho a look. It didn’t take much to realise that those were likely the king’s own words that had come out of Minho’s mouth, not his own.

“Son–”

“Talk to her,” Minho interrupted, gesturing to you in pure exasperation. “Listen to her. Ask her anything. She’s more than qualified to be on the council.”

After a moment’s hesitation, in which it looked as if the king was debating whether to indulge his oldest son or nip this matter in the bud entirely, he turned to you.

“…Very well,” he said, giving in. You watched as he made his way to the splendid-looking chair behind a monstrosity of a writing desk, sinking into it. For a brief moment, you thought you caught something of a grimace in his expression.

Exhaustion? Perhaps. It must have been tiring work, running a kingdom. Let alone arguing with Minho too. You had first-hand knowledge of how that could drain your energy.  

The king’s eyes became fixed on you, almost pinning you to the floor, as he spoke. “Suppose you were on the council, and a message was received, warning of a great army about to invade. What would you advise?”

Your brow furrowed as you considered the question. You needed to remain calm, measured, and use every scrap of information you had studied.

“Which border is the army advancing toward?” you asked, thoughtful.

The king’s face remained unchanged. “The one we share with the Lakelands.”

Interesting. No cardinal direction given – you assumed that must have been on purpose – but still plenty of information to form an answer. The Lakelands were in the north, and under treaty with your kingdom.

“I would advise you to send missives to Lords Kim and Geum in the north with instructions to muster their forces and man our security garrisons along the border. I would also–”

“Which garrisons?” the king interrupted, gently but firmly.

“Yalrock and Banna. Yalrock is the largest garrison on the northern border, Banna is strategically advantageous because of its position on the river plains. You’d be forcing the army to march along the mountain passes instead.”

The king’s expression remained cold, neutral – and you realised, in that moment, exactly where Minho might have learned the same habit. “Continue.”

“I would also advise you to send word to our allies in the hills and across the Sunrise Sea, informing them that the Lakelands have broken our treaty pact.”

“Broken the pact?” the king repeated. “I never said the Lakelanders were the ones invading.”

“The treaty pact also forbids the harbouring of any forces with aggressive intent towards treaty members. In this scenario, the Lakelanders would be doing just this – unless they themselves were invaded by this army too, which I doubt if we received no summons for aid or word from our ambassador there,” you said. Was this too much detail? Were you rambling? You did your best to keep your words steady, unrushed. “Therefore, the treaty would be broken.”

From out of the corner of your eye, you caught Minho watching you, a hint of a smile on his face.

The king, while perhaps a touch surprised at your answer, pressed on anyway with another question, changing the subject entirely.

“…Suppose Lord Sun’s lands are failing to produce the amount of grain demanded of them. How would you advise me?”

“I would be confused,” you admitted, “because Lord Sun’s lands produce fish, not grain.”

“And why is that?”

“Because his lands are in the east, along the coast. The land there isn’t arable.”

“Why?”

“The weather is too hot in the summer, too dry. There isn’t enough freshwater for crop-growing.”

The quickness of your answer was rewarded with the smallest – almost unthinking – of nods from the king. He paused once more, and spoke again. “Suppose I wanted to–”

“Another question?” Minho interjected, sighing, as he wandered across the room and took a seat by the window. He rested his head against his hand, elbow planted into the plush armrest of his chair. 

The king shot him a look, either for the interruption, or for the flippant tone Minho had used, or perhaps even for the way he was lounging in the presence of his king, but he made no move to reprimand him. Instead, he turned back to you. “Suppose I wanted to offer a gift to the Lakelander delegation when they arrive next month to renew the treaty. A personal one, not a grand spectacle of an offering. What would you suggest?”

You paused. This wasn’t a question that could be answered with any of your recent studies of war or economics or geography. This was a question of hospitality, knowledge you needed as a queen, not as a councillor.

It took a moment, longer than it took with the first two questions, but soon there was an answer in your mind. “When the last Lakelander delegation came to this country to sign the treaty, one of the gifts they gave Your Majesty were wild rose seeds. Wild roses that were native to the Lakelands, difficult to grow in this climate, meant to symbolise a new peace and the care needed to maintain it. Her Majesty, the queen, still grows these roses in her private gardens, does she not?”

The answer to your question did not come from the king, but from Minho. “She does.”

“Then, I would suggest a bouquet of these roses. It would be symbolic of the care this kingdom has taken to nurture this new relationship with the Lakelands, a sign that we do not take their gifts for granted.”

The king eyed you carefully for a moment, silent. “…You weren’t present at the first signing of the treaty, were you? You’re too young for that.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t present, Your Majesty,” you replied. “But the queen graciously allowed me to play in her gardens when I was a child, and taught me the origins of those roses.”

Not quite. The queen allowed you and Felix to play in those gardens. She told you the origins of the roses when Felix tried to pick some for you, and accidentally cut open his palm on the sharp thorns of their stems. You remembered him, tears in his eyes, sniffling as Her Majesty held the both of you close and warned him gently that these roses were wild, were Lakelanders just like her and a little like him, and because of that, they were fiercely protective.

You remembered sitting and watching the two of them exchange smiles, and silently wishing that you were a Lakelander too. You wanted to be protective. You wanted to be like the roses, like them.

“Any more questions, Father?” Minho asked, jolting you from your memories. “Or has she proven our point? Impressively?”

And again, just as they had last night, Minho’s words stirred something within you. A kind of warmth, filling your chest.

The king regarded the both of you, silently, before sighing. “Your education is…indeed, as Minho says, impressive.”

Your heart soared, mind so entirely filled with elation that you almost missed his next words.

“But I’m afraid that still does not change the obvious. I did not secure decades of unprecedented peace under my reign by breaking with tradition. A woman sitting on the council is not tradition.”

You swallowed, heart sinking just as sharply as it had risen just moments ago.

“…There is precedent,” you pointed out, softly. “I found records of Princess Jiyoon on the royal council, less than two centuries ago.”

“That is true,” the king conceded, before tilting his head slightly. After a moment of consideration, he pushed himself out of his chair with the same half-grimace glimpsed earlier, and crossed the room towards a bookcase stuffed with leather-bound volumes. His hands hovered over them, fingertips brushing their spines, until he found the one he was searching for and pulled it from its stack with ease.

He made his way back to the two of you, opening the volume and thumbing through the pages as he walked, before offering the volume to you.

You took it, uncertainly, and looked down at what exactly he had handed to you.

Council records – but unlike the ones you had studied with Seungmin, you were shocked at just how much more detail this version contained. You supposed that made sense. The records in the library were likely censored, or edited for public consumption. These were private, a king’s own personal records, passed down from ruler to heir most likely.

Jiyoon’s name was there, listed amongst the other councillors, but these records included a strange symbol next to her name.

You frowned, and the king spoke again.

“I imagine you found no records of any contributions she made, correct? No votes cast, no motions brought to attention?”

“…No,” you admitted, reluctantly, looking up at him as dread began to curl in the pit of your stomach.

“There is a reason for that. Jiyoon filled a particular role. If you scour through the legal treatise of the time – dry reading, all of it, but it is there – you’ll find it. Jiyoon was not granted the role of an adviser, but of an observer. A silent one, there only to watch the council proceedings so that she could better educate her heirs in service of her husband. That is the precedent that Jiyoon set.”

Silent. Heirs. Husband.

Of course.

Of course. You should have known. That was what it always came down to. Centuries of royal women, millennia of royal women, and it was always the same.

Silent. Heirs. Husband.

You should have known. You should have known not to get your hopes up.

“What are you saying?” you heard Minho ask, dimly, as these thoughts repeated endlessly in your mind.

“The observer is required to be silent. She cannot vote, she cannot dissent, she cannot speak even when called upon to do so in session. She observes.”

Minho made a sound of disdain, maybe even disgust. “Then, what’s the point? Why have that great of a mind on your council if she can’t even use it? What a waste.”

“Perhaps, but that is the precedent you argue for. If you seek a compromise, that would be it.”

“A compromise? What–”

“I would accept it,” you interrupted, quietly. Your eyes were trained on the floor, voice barely above a murmur. Your brain still thundered with those three words, again and again. Silent. Heirs. Husband. “If Your Majesty were so gracious as to offer this role, I would accept it.”

You didn’t have to look at Minho to know the way his mouth was parted in surprise, astonished and outraged in equal measure. You could sense it in his tone when he spoke. “You can’t be serious.”

You raised your eyes to look at the king, purposefully avoiding Minho’s stare.

“I hope His Majesty knows that I don’t ask for this council seat out of personal ambition,” you said, softly, lying through your teeth to your king. “You said Jiyoon took the role as a duty to her husband and her children. If anyone objected to my position on the council, I would ask you say the same of me.”

“…You would take the council seat in service of Minho,” the king said, and even he sounded sceptical. You weren’t sure what that said about your marriage, but it wasn’t exactly promising.

“And our future children. We both take that duty very seriously.”

“Do you?” the king questioned, sharply, pointedly, but surprisingly it wasn’t you he was addressing – it was Minho.

You might have tensed at such an insinuation, but Minho practically bristled.

“Don’t,” Minho warned his father, straightening up in his seat. No, more than warned, he practically spat out the word. “I thought we agreed.”

Agreed? Agreed what?

You glanced between Minho and his father, sensing a tension that remained unspoken as the two eyed each other, jaws both set.

You were clearly missing something vital to this exchange, some secret piece of information – and, as always, the idea chafed at you.

And then, with a quiet and cold anger that you hadn’t heard in weeks, Minho told his father. “You owe me this.”

The king’s expression twisted. It was guilt, you realised. “Minho–”

“You owe me something.”

Another pause.

And then, finally, the king broke this staring contest with his son to look at you. “…The role requires complete silence. If I decided to grant you the seat on these conditions, and you flout them immediately, I will not look kindly on it. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you replied, solemnly.

“…Very well,” the king said, eventually. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

You did it.

It was a hollow victory, yes, but a victory nonetheless.

You couldn’t quite muster happiness about it, or even gratitude, but there was a sense of achievement.

You nodded, quietly, and curtsied low before the king. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

When you lifted your head again, you found the king glancing between your face and Minho’s before he spoke again.

“You do have quite the mind,” the king said, gaze still shifting between the two of you. “You might not be able to speak in the council room but…well, you share bedchambers now. Whatever you might discuss in there is your own private business. Is it not?”

Within days, news of your appointment to the council spread across the palace like wildfire.

You expected this, to some extent. Precedent or not, observer or not, this was still an undeniably shocking development. You knew there would be whispers about it, gossip passed around, growing and contorting with each telling and retelling.

All of this, and still you did not expect the conversation you happened upon one evening as you took a shortcut through one of the palace courtyards on your way back from a tutoring session with Seungmin.

The sun had just descended below the horizon, casting the square into shadow wherever the dim glow of torchlight did not quite reach. You caught snatches of voices as you walked, whenever you passed doors to parlours, to sitting rooms, to the dozens upon dozens of meeting places for the elite that resided within the court. Some of these doors were cracked open to enjoy the fresh air brought by the open-air courtyard on their doorstep, unaware of any passers-by.

And then, one particular comment caught your attention.

“Perhaps the poor girl is simply bored,” a haughty voice said, with a hint of laughter. “That council room might be a dreary place, but I’d wager it’s a damn sight better than her bedchambers.”

You froze, half within shadow, half without.

There was only one person that comment could possibly be referring to.

Immediately, you slipped behind one of the stone pillars lining the courtyard, heart pounding.

Finally, after all this talk of rumours, of whisperings at court behind your back, you finally had the chance to listen for yourself.

“Careful, Park,” another voice cautioned, although sounding more amused than concerned.

“A prince too scared to share a bed with his wife for weeks after the wedding,” the first voice – Park – scoffed. “What, did he hope no one would notice?”

A third voice chimed in, low and gleeful. “You want to hear something good? My wife heard a maid talking the other day. They change the sheets of that marriage bed every day. And they’re always pristine.”

Your face heated, something approaching bile threatening to burn the back of your throat. There was something about hearing your privacy be so…violated, and said so casually. Your bedsheets? They all talked about your bedsheets?

“You know my theory,” the third voice spoke again. 

“Your wife’s theory,” Park corrected, sounding dismissive.

“It makes sense. She’s saving herself for the other brother. Traded one for the other before, maybe she’s waiting to trade back when he comes home.”

Felix.

Traded one for the other. Is that how they saw it? Is that how they all saw it?

“He’s not coming back,” Park scoffed. “Not for a long time. Not unless His Highness fancies looking down and wondering why all his children have the Lakelander look to them.”

Your heart stopped. You felt the blood in your veins freeze, matching the ice­-cold anger settling into your bones.

“Gods be good, close the door before you say horseshit like that. Moron.”

This was more than fury.

This was wrath.

You stepped out of the shadows, just at the right moment to lock eyes with Lord Park as he stood by the doors, his too-late hand stilled on the handle.

“Good evening, Lord Park,” you said, voice so syrupy-sweet and cloying, and watched the blood drain from his face as he stared back at you in horror. You craned your neck to peek over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the two other men with him. “Oh, I see Lords Song and Ryu have joined you. How nice.”

“Y-Your Highness,” Park stammered, and there was genuine fear in his eyes.

He knew what you had heard. He knew the words that had come out of his mouth, and how close those words danced along the line of treason. It would take you only one conversation with Minho, or with the king, and his career would be done. His family. His fortunes. Possibly even his life.

You smiled brightly at him. “I look forward to seeing you next week at the council. I’ve heard you’re quite the contrarian. You’ve voted to reject the last, what is it, seven bills put forward by my husband?”

Park didn’t answer. Perhaps it was more accurate to say Park couldn’t answer. You wondered what could possibly be going through his head at that moment. You wondered if he had ever felt this afraid in his entire pampered little life.

You tilted your head slightly, eyeing him. “Perhaps from next week, you might find yourself second-guessing a decision like that. Don’t you think so?”

Park’s face, still pale, twisted into something approaching realisation. He seemed to grasp exactly what you were hinting at – the threat that remained unspoken.

“…Y-yes, Your Highness,” Park agreed, nodding erratically.

“And your companions? Perhaps they’ll have similar changes of heart?”

From behind Park, his friends stammered their assent, just as rattled.

You beamed.

“Perfect. Have a nice night.”

You attended your first council meeting the very next week, finally taking that last empty council seat that had remained vacant for so long.

Sixty-two members attended the session in total.

You felt sixty-one pairs of eyes on you throughout.

You recognised quite a few of the faces in this meeting. Lord Young, as delightful as ever, sat just a few seats removed from the royal family – a position of great honour, especially for a man with neither blood nor marriage ties to the crown.

Lord Park had also made an appearance, and blanched the moment your eyes met his.

Good.

You paid the stares little notice, attention completely and utterly captivated by the debates that took place. Every idea proposed, every motion considered and accepted and denied, every opinion volleyed back and forth, you noted down.

You might have been silent, but you wrote feverishly. Pages and pages of scrawls, near indecipherable as you worked to keep pace with the spoken word of the other council members.

Minho was seated next to you. Of course he was – he served as a visible explanation for your presence there at all. To be useful to him, to educate his heirs and better his legacy. In the eyes of everyone else, your seat on the council was essentially just an extension of Minho’s.

You weren’t sure what to expect of him during these council meetings. You knew just how seriously he took his position as heir, and his duty to the kingdom – but you also remembered that carriage journey home from Lord Young’s orchards, the disdain he had for politicking, his derision in his voice when he talked of strings attached.

It turned out that in council meetings, Minho kept up the same perfect princely mask he always did in public. Never once raising his voice, never slipping into anger or mockery. Exemplary behaviour from the first second of the meeting to the last.

Except for one moment, when an old lord from the Tan family had loudly proclaimed an argument so poorly constructed, with parts so moronic that you made sure to underline his exact wording for its stupidity, that you heard the quietest of noises from Minho. When you glanced up at him, he was watching the debate with apparent rapt attention. If you weren’t sat so close to him, you would have missed the slightest way his jaw clenched, as if to fight a look of disdain as he watched Lord Tan blather on.

Minho proposed only one new bill – investment in a new mill, to be built in one of the kingdom’s slowly-dwindling rural villages, in the hopes of creating employment opportunities. You paused your notetaking to watch each council member cast their votes for or against the bill.

Most supported it. Some rejected it. Your eyes sought out Lord Park again, and you watched as he reluctantly raised his hand in favour of the bill, gaze nervously flickering towards you as he did so.

What an astonishing change of heart from the man. Who could have predicted?

Still, despite it all, the council meeting ended without incident. The issues tabled for the next meeting were fairly standard: a new maritime trade deal with a kingdom across the Sunrise Sea, preparations for next year’s census, the ongoing reports from the Lakelander delegation slowly making its way to the palace. You made note of it all, jotting down your own thoughts on each matter when you were able to, and kept the notes closely guarded on your person.

You made sure to take them straight to your bedchambers as soon as the meeting finished, intending to lock them away in your desk until dinner that evening, when you could discuss them with Minho.

To your surprise, instead of making his way back to his office to spend the rest of the working day, Minho followed you back to your shared chambers. You tried and failed not to focus on his footsteps, how they matched your pace precisely, echoing along the empty corridors.

The slightest sense of frustration sparked within you. If you had to be watched by gossiping onlookers, why couldn’t they at least see this? Minho ignoring his usual duties to accompany you back to your bedchambers? Let them whisper about that, sordid or not, that could at least be useful.

You pushed away the thought with one last scoff at your own poor luck, reaching your chambers without so much as a single pair of prying eyes to witness you.

“So,” Minho said, as the doors swung shut behind the two of you. “How did you find it?”

Frustrating. Exhausting. Borderline insulting.

“Informative,” you replied, collapsing into a seat. Your hands ached from how feverishly you had written throughout the meeting, and you began to clench and unclench your fists in the hopes of relieving the pain. “I made a few notes.”

“I noticed,” Minho commented, eyebrow raising as he appraised the pile of papers at your side. “They look…detailed.”

“They are,” you confirmed, picking the papers up and beginning to flick through them. “If I can’t speak my mind in that room, writing will just have to do.”

For now, you added internally. You refused to accept that this silent role would last forever.

“Can I…read them?” Minho asked, and his question came out hesitantly, almost cautiously.

You looked up, surprised. You weren’t sure how much use these notes would be – you were both just at the very same meeting after all – but there was something about the request that was almost…endearing.

Minho. Endearing.

Hell had truly frozen over.

“Of course,” you replied, holding the notes up.

Minho paused for a moment before, slowly making his way towards you. When he sat next to you, he was close enough that his jacket sleeve brushed your bare arm.

You cleared your throat, focusing your attention on anything but how close he was. “These pages are about the logging site proposals, this one was on the Lakelanders’ progress, this…oh, this page is actually about Lord Tan.”

“Lord Tan?” Minho repeated, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes. He’s…” you trailed off, trying to think of a polite way to phrase it. “…He’s a blithering idiot, honestly.”

Minho, to your surprise, laughed. Openly, loudly, with a note of genuine delight. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have thought him capable of producing such a sound.

“Do you know how many hours of my life I have wasted listening to that old man ramble incoherently?” he asked. “There were moments I was driven half to madness. But he was my father’s first real supporter when he became crown prince, so he’s adamant on keeping the man around.”

You watched as Minho turned the page over, half-smiling to himself.

“He’s a sentimental old fool like that, sometimes,” Minho said, too lightly to really be considered critical – or treasonous.

“Who was your first supporter?” You asked, curiously.

Minho paused, the lingering traces of cheer disappearing before your eyes. The shift in his mood was almost tangible, and it felt as if you had made some sort of misstep in a dance, thrown yourself and your partner out of rhythm.

His gaze flickered upwards, so very briefly, to look at you, before moving downwards. Down to your notes, down to where the space between your bodies was at its narrowest, barely a few fingers’ width between your skirts and his thigh. He took a breath.

“…Felix,” Minho said, softly, discreetly shifting away as he held your notes out to return them. “He was the only one to never doubt me. Not even for a second.”

Yes. Yes, that sounded like Felix.

You took back your notes, and tried not to notice how Minho avoided your touch as your notes exchanged hands.

A new silence fell between you.

Stifling.

Deafening.

You tried to take a deep breath, and stood up, making your way over to your desk to lock away your writings from prying eyes.

From behind you, Minho’s voice brought you to a halt.

“We haven’t talked about Felix,” he noted. “…And we probably should. At some point.”

He said it so plainly, so devoid of nuance or emotion. As if it were a mere observation, a comment about the weather and nothing more. As if his words didn’t strike something deep and vulnerable within you, like fingers clumsily probing a freshly-formed bruise.

You hated his apparent nonchalance. You despised it, and you envied it because you might never be able to do the same. To speak Felix’s name as if it meant nothing to you.

To speak his name as if…

To speak…

You…

Realisation – cold, violent realisation – hit you at once.

You had not. Not once. In months.

It had been months. And you had not spoken Felix’s name.

Not since your wedding day.

Others had. Countless others had. They murmured it gently and sweetly like Her Majesty, or they crowed it before you mockingly like those noblemen, or they threw it at you, cold and cryptic and horrifically empty like Minho.

They dragged him out of your memories where you kept him locked away.

Away, where he was safest to you. Safest from you. Safest for you.

“…No. We haven’t,” you said, and the words were quiet. Pained. Final.

The two of you did not speak again that day.

Soon enough, your father found you.

Your mother, all those weeks ago when she summoned you for that painfully awkward afternoon tea, had at least shown you the decorum your new status demanded and sent you a formal request.

Your father, a proud man, a pragmatic man, had no patience for such etiquette.

You were in the library, sat with Seungmin and poring over budgetary records with tired and bleary eyes, when he came marching in. He was flanked by two panicked guards, too fearful of your father’s status to lay their hands on him, too mindful of their duty to let him wander freely.

They fixed you with beseeching looks. “Your Highness, we – no one told us…y-your father…”

“Desires to speak with his daughter,” your father finished, in a tone you’d never heard from him before. “Urgently.”

Usually, your father was calm, collected, never one to show even a hint of vulnerability.

Now, here, he was impatient. Almost rattled.

You rose to your feet, so thrown off-kilter by the situation that you were a touch unsteady. After a moment, you nodded to your guards. “Very well. Please leave us.”

They did just that – and so did a third guard who had been sat just a few paces away from you and Seungmin.

Your father’s eyes darted to your tutor. “Him too.”

Seungmin, however, stayed seated. Slowly, he laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table in front of him, returning your father’s glare with an unimpressed stare.

“It takes a bold man to order around a princess,” Seungmin remarked. Gently, as always, but firmly.

Your father’s expression hardened. He opened his mouth to speak back, but you cut him off at the pass.

“He’s right, Father,” you said. You couldn’t quite shake the nerves from your voice. You supposed that was only natural, after a lifetime of loyally following his orders and keeping your mouth shut in the process. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Mother?”

Your father stared at you for a moment, almost…bewildered. He recovered quickly enough. “Your mother is fine, which is more than I can say for the state of your…of…” he gritted his teeth, swallowing back whatever he desperately wished to say, and instead cut straight to the point. “You took a seat on the council?”

His question, and the venom behind it, almost took you aback.

Still, you lifted your head, trying to stand firm. “Yes, I did.”

“How could you be so…foolish?” your father demanded to know, anger giving way to frustration. “I could have protectedyou there.”

It took you mere moments to read between his words.

You didn’t take a seat on the council.

You took his seat.

“Could you?” you said, swallowing. “Or would you have protected your own interests?”

Your father’s eyes blazed at the accusation. You knew the look. Your own temper was a family trait – and it certainly didn’t come from your mother.

He thundered his response. “You are my daughter! My interests are your interests!”

“Are they?” You shot back, your voice rising to match his.

“We are family, we are blood–”

“And what have I done, except increase our family’s legacy?” you interrupted him. “I did that, I secured our first council seat.”

“And what seat is that?” he replied, incensed. “A mute councillor, never to vote, never to speak?”

Your face burned, as you tried to think of a rebuttal to his questions. Something began to twist in the pit of your stomach.

Your father sighed, fixing you with a stern look. “Let me be frank, girl, if you’re so eager to play politics. Your position is not secure.”

You swallowed. “I know–”

“No, you do not,” he snapped, briefly raising his voice, before dropping his voice to a more controlled volume. “You inspired the love of the people, but what else? I know half a dozen lords are plotting your annulment, and another dozen with their own girls waiting in the wings. What will you do with that council seat, when a proposal comes to terminate your marriage? Watch silently when they vote to cast you aside?”

You stared at him, as that twisting sensation in your gut finally earned a name: dread. You tried to respond. “Royal marriages are a king’s prerogative, they can’t–”

“Yes, they can,” your father said, simply. “Any silver-tongued politician could convince the king that your marriage is a matter of the state. Perhaps if you were married to the younger prince, you’d be safe, but you’re married to the heir–”

At those words, coming out of your father’s mouth of all people’s, your vision turned red. Your response, when it came, hung heavy in the air.

“And whose fault is that?”

Your father’s eyes widened, and he hissed. “Mind your tongue.”

“I did,” you said, your voice cracking. Before you could top yourself, words began tumbling out of your mouth, every secret silent thought that had festered in the darkest, most vulnerable corners of your mind, spilling to the surface. “I was happy and content and loved, and I still bit my tongue and let you scheme to take it away. I married the right brother for you, are you still not satisfied?”

In an instant, your father stormed his way towards you, eyes blazing as he loomed over you. “Be careful, girl.”

For a moment, you thought he was threatening you. Your own father.

And then you watched his body crumple slightly, panic and concern finally bleeding through all that pomp and anger. “Especially about…that. Him.”

You watched him take a deep breath, rendered speechless. You had never – not once, in all your life – seen your father like this.

He seemed almost…scared.

“If there are plots to annul your marriage, there are plots for something far darker. Annulment would be catastrophic, but bearable. But any whispers of adultery, of treason? To see you executed…”

Gently, he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. And for a moment, you were four years old again, showing your father your very first letters, beaming as he called you his little princess, long before the rest of the kingdom was obliged to.

“You are my child. My only child. Doubt my intentions, if you must, but do not doubt my love.”

You were stunned into silence. His words should have been touching, and you supposed on some level that they still were. But you felt almost numb as you absorbed them. Was it shock, hearing your father speak of his emotions so plainly? Perhaps.

There was a small part of you that whispered if this was all just too little, too late.

Your father dropped his hand and stepped away from you, silence filling the air between the two of you.

Then, he paused, and turned his attention to something behind you.

For a moment, you felt confusion, turning to follow his glare – before embarrassment consumed you.

Seungmin, of course, had been sitting there the whole time.

“And you,” your father interjected, his voice cold and bordering on menacing, pointing at your tutor. “If you breathe a word of this–” 

Seungmin, despite showing the very clear signs of awkwardness one would expect from someone who had just witnessed such an intense and private family dispute, managed to keep calm as he replied with unfailing honesty.

“I am no fool. This position keeps my family fed, and will see my sisters marry well. I am only here at Her Highness’s request, and if the princess goes, this job goes with her,” Seungmin said, fiercely. “…And if nothing else, I know about your reputation, sir. I would rather like my tongue to remain inside my head.”

Your eyes widened.

That was a bold insinuation on Seungmin’s part. Tongue mutilation had been outlawed years ago, deemed too brutal a punishment when death was a surer way to guarantee silence.

You half-expected your father to deny this with bluster and offence. And yet, all he did was eye Seungmin silently, before nodding once and turning to the door.

As he approached it, your father spoke one final time to you.

“Keep your wits about you. You’ve made a dangerously bold move, and your enemies will use it against you,” he warned, before finally leaving, letting the heavy door slam shut behind him.

The echo of it reverberated across the library, as you stared after him with far more questions than answers.

It was Seungmin who first broke the silence, clearing his throat with just a touch of unease. “…Well, I imagine you’re no longer in quite the right mindset for last year’s harvest calculations. Would you like to finish our sessions early today, Your Highness?”

You didn’t speak. You barely looked at him, in fact, as you silently sank back into your chair.

Seungmin waited a moment or so longer, beginning to tap nervously on the smooth wooden surface of the table in front of him. “…Your Highness?”

“I…” you trailed off, as you realised the incriminating words that had fallen from your own lips just moments ago, and your head jerked towards Seungmin in panic. “Don’t… I don’t know how much you report to Minho about our lessons. But…please don’t tell him what I said about being…you know, about…”

“Biting your tongue?” Seungmin supplied for you, but his tone was heavy, knowing. He knew that wasn’t the offending part of your outburst.

“Yes,” you replied in the same tone, and when your eyes met, you knew you had an understanding. “He’s a smart man, I’m sure it’s nothing he doesn’t already know, but…it just seems cruel. I think. To hear it directly.”

Seungmin observed you for a moment, brow furrowing just a touch. He opened his mouth as if to say something, hesitated, before speaking anyway. “Actually, you should know that I don’t ‘report’ anything to Minho. Sometimes, he asks questions about what we study, and I answer them. Nothing more.”

You blinked, and before you could stop yourself, your curiosity won out. “What kind of questions?”

Seungmin eyed you again, and for a split-second, you could have sworn something akin to amusement quirked the corner of his mouth. Whatever it was, it disappeared in an instant, as he replied. “He asks about what interests you. Once, he asked about a book he’d seen you reading, and took a copy for his own use.”

“Oh.”

Whatever you were expected, it wasn’t that. A strange, unbidden feeling began to spread in your chest, warm for just a moment before common sense returned and drove it away.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense. Minho sometimes takes an interest in my education. Perhaps he wants to test me on it, make it a competition or something.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Seungmin said, perfectly politely. “Or something, indeed.”

Soon after that, the first move was made against you.

Details were leaked about the maritime trade deal discussed in the council meeting. Confidential details that were now freely gossiped about, within the palace and without. No one could say for sure who was the source of those leaks, but the evidence was damning.

Before you joined the council, there hadn’t been a single leak in years. And now, after you attended your first meeting, sensitive information was being bandied about within days.

There was only one simple conclusion to be drawn about the identity of the leaker.

You.

Your father was right. Whoever your enemies were, they’d been scheming, and they did use your position on the council against you.

Perhaps the library would have been a better place to take a breath, dwell on the knowledge a little longer, turn it over in your mind alone to work out the whos and whys and how to press forward.

But your feet drew you to your chambers, through the doors, and even once inside they refused to let you sit idle. You paced, backwards and forwards, going over the situation, the accusations about to be levelled at you, the defences you might need, the evidence you had and did not have to prove your innocence.

You paced and paced, and thought and thought, until your head spun and your feet threatened to leave its imprints in the stone beneath you, until it became clear to you exactly what you were doing.

You hadn’t chosen these chambers for silent contemplation.

You were waiting here.

Because when you imagined defending yourself, you didn’t picture a faceless mob before which to protest your innocence. You didn’t picture the king, and his councillors, and the lords scheming behind your back.

You pictured Minho. His expression flickering between accusing, betrayed, angry, cold, pitying, wounded. It was him you wanted to convince before any others, as illogical as it was.

It was hurt, perhaps, maybe, at the idea that Minho thought you would betray his trust. You knew how he’d pushed hard for your position on the council. You would never throw it back in his face like this, and you needed to make sure he knew that.

You questioned just when Minho’s good opinion of you had become so…important.

Eventually, the chamber doors opened, and your words came spilling out at the mere sight of Minho in the doorway.

“I didn’t do it,” you declared. You wished you could be calmer. You feared that the panic in your voice would mislabel you guilty.

Minho, blinking in surprise for a moment at your sudden outburst, regarded you calmly. “Ominous words to hear when entering a room.”

“I’m not the leak,” you clarified, with little patience for his cleverness. “And don’t pretend you haven’t heard about it. I know the information being spread, and I know fingers are pointing in my direction. With some reason, I suppose, but it was not me.”

“You seem agitated,” Minho remarked, maddeningly, all but ignoring your words as his hands moved to begin undoing the fastenings of his jacket. It was some sort of rigid construction, high-necked and broad-shouldered, and perhaps once the imposing princely sight of him in it might have intimidated you. Now, there was a familiarity to the sight – and a bizarre comfort that came along with it, perhaps. “Usually I’m the one to spark it. It’s actually quite bemusing when something else is the source.” 

You stared at him for a second. Off-guard, waiting for any kind of actual response to what you were saying. When none came, irritation sparked in your chest. “Minho–”

“You’re innocent,” Minho said simply, halting you in your tracks. “I know. I told my father as much.”

It took you a moment to register exactly what he said, your head too full of practised arguments to leave much room for the recognition that Minho didn’t need to hear them.

He believed you without them.

It felt as if you had been barrelling towards something at high speed, a runaway horse, only to come to a sudden jarring stop. Air left your lungs in one unconscious breath, like a weight that had crushed your chest had been lifted.

“…Good,” you said, haltingly, and then relief struck you with such a violence that your eyes began to sting with tears.

At the sight of them, Minho’s expression shifted instantly from flippancy to something bordering on horror.

Frustrated, and more than a little mortified, you wiped them away impatiently. “Don’t. I’m fine.”

Minho opened his mouth, about to speak–

“No,” you interrupted, pointing at him, embarrassment warm in your cheeks. “This is just a serious allegation to be faced with, and I’m…relieved that I don’t have to waste my time defending myself.”

You managed to regain your composure, with no more tears threatening to make an appearance and humiliate you further. Taking a deep breath, you refused to look at Minho, refused to know if he believed your words or if that damned expression still lingered on his face.

“People are talking,” you said, finally.

“…People always talk. We’ve discussed this before.”

“It’s different now. I thought it was just idle gossip before, but…” you trailed off. “My father came to me a few days ago. He believes some of the nobles are scheming to dissolve our marriage. Free you up to marry a daughter of their own, and have me removed.”

Or worse.

You hadn’t fully comprehended what your father had hinted to you that day, not until now. You could see it all now. The image of your execution, a hundred smirking noblemen awaiting it, ready to thrust their own girls into your role. Perhaps to perish after you. Their scheming would not end with your death. They would simply turn on each other, try again and again, a dozen dead brides falsely accused and outmanoeuvred and doomed from the start.

And then, you snapped out of your dark thoughts when you realised that Minho had closed the distance between you, standing almost toe-to-toe.

His eyes sought your gaze, and held it.

“They can’t do that,” Minho said, firmly, gently. Certain. “We are married, and nothing can change that now.”

“It could. It would be easy, really,” you argued. “There’s no real proof of our consummation. You could say it never happened, and our marriage could be annulled by day’s end.”

“I would not,” Minho said, firmly. “Believe what you will about me, but I would never break off our marriage with a lie like that. Those are a craven’s actions, not mine. I swear it.”

Perhaps to your surprise, you found that you believed him. Minho could be called a great many things – indeed, you have called Minho a great many things – but ‘craven’ was not one of them.

Minho’s lips set into a grim, serious line. “Is that what concerns you? That I would set you aside?”

Would he?

Even after so many years around Minho, after weeks of being married, you still could not guess his true intentions.

“…I don’t know,” you confessed.

Something small flashed in Minho’s eyes. It looked like hurt.

“You have done a lot for me these past few weeks. More than I ever expected. More than I could ever ask for, truthfully. I think…I hope that we are friends, or at least something approaching it,” you told him, because it was true, and the lastthing you wanted was to destroy this budding trust you had developed between the two of you. Still, he deserved total honesty. “But I know you didn’t want this marriage, Minho.”

Minho was silent for a moment. You knew he couldn’t refute it, and he didn’t try to.

Instead, to your surprise, his hands lifted to rest gently on your shoulders. You could feel their weight on you, and how warm it was. Solid. Grounding.

He held you there and when he finally spoke, his tone was serious – grave, almost.

“…The night before Felix left for the coast, he came to me,” Minho admitted. “He made me swear – on my life, on his, on my mother, on my crown, on everything I have ever valued – that I would protect you from harm.”

Your lips parted in shock.

Felix.

“I love my brother, more than anything. He was once my only friend, in all the world. The very best of me,” Minho said, words beginning to pour out of him, as if finally freeing thoughts he had kept buried deep inside for months, perhaps even years. “I didn’t tell him how much he meant to me, not really. And now…”

Minho swallowed, eyes closing for a brief second, before meeting your stare again with a quiet intensity.

“He will never forgive me for marrying you. Never. The least I can do is honour the last thing – the only thing – he has ever asked of me.”

You didn’t know what to say.

A sudden realisation hit you. A small piece of an inscrutable puzzle, revealed.

“Is that what you meant, when you told your father he owed you something? For making you marry me?”

Minho swallowed, pausing for a second, and answered.

“Yes, in short. My father and I have had our squabbles but this marriage…it was the first true fight we had. The first time he’s ever had to order me to do something as a king, not asked me as a father. We haven’t seen many things eye-to-eye since. He doesn’t…understand,” he said, and then, almost to himself, “but he doesn’t need to. I know I’m doing what is right.”

There was a terrible sadness in his eyes, a shocking vulnerability. It was almost alien to see such an expression on Minho’s face, to glimpse beyond the walls he so skilfully kept up.

Unthinkingly, you surged forward and wrapped your arms around him.

He stilled in your hold, tense with surprise. You ignored it, squeezing him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. It was an awkward embrace, perhaps. The hard edges of the embroidery on his jacket dug into your cheek, stitching rough against your soft skin, and Minho’s movements were stiff and unpractised as he returned the hug.

But it didn’t need to be perfect. It only needed to prove the one thing you intended to show him.

Trust.

That night, when dinner was cleared, Minho retreated to his couch and paperwork. You left to change into your sleepclothes in private, as usual, and returned to slip quietly into bed.

There, however, you fidgeted and fumbled with exactly what to say before finally, bravely, breaking the silence. “…You can sleep in the bed. Next to me. If you were…unsure about it.”

Minho’s stare in response was indecipherable. But he nodded once, and when he finished whatever report he had picked up from the pile of papers, he disappeared to the bathroom and reappeared dressed for bed.

White linens. Thin, soft. You remembered them from your wedding night.

It was enough to make your breath hitch – and, embarrassed, you rolled to your side to avoid looking at Minho, lest you stared too openly at him.

You heard him pull back the covers on his side, and felt the weight of him sink into the mattress. He seemed to keep his distance, as not a single part of you touched, and yet you were painfully aware of his presence there.

Silence fell over the two of you, interrupted only by quiet breaths in tandem.

Something squeezed gently in the pit of your stomach. You recognised it as something like anticipation, which was bizarre, as you knew nothing was going to happen.

Nothing would happen.

…And yet, you supposed it would be easy for Minho to shift closer towards you. You could imagine him reaching over, and setting his warm hand on the curve of your hip.

Would he turn you, so you were facing him? Perhaps, but you could also see him keeping your back to him. Letting you hide your face, a small mercy, because he would probably know how embarrassed you would be.

Your eyes drifted shut.

It would be easy for him to press his face into the back of your neck, his mouth into the crook where your neck and shoulder met.

And perhaps he would whisper, soothingly, as his hand travelled lower, seeking the hem of your nightgown, sliding it up your thighs and…

No.

Your eyes snapped open as you scolded yourself, a mixture of excitement and shame heating your face. You banished every remotely inappropriate thought from your mind, turning to lie on your back and stare up at the ceiling.

You wondered, briefly, if Minho was looking up at the same thing too. You refused to glance over at him to check. The thought of seeing his face after all…that that had been swirling in your thoughts? Absolutely not.

It took far longer than usual to fall asleep in the deafening silence, but eventually you managed to.

The next morning, you awoke and realised, for the very first time, you had woken up before Minho. He was sleeping peacefully, unaware that the two of you must have turned to face each other in the night, bodies still a careful distance apart.

With one exception – Minho’s left arm lay outstretched, the knuckles of his hand just barely kissing the delicate skin of your wrist.

You stared at where your hands touched, skin-on-skin.

And you did not move your hand away.

[luvyxdovey]

stop i loved this sm, esp how the reader is so quick to shut down any doubt chan might have bc she knows what she wants 10000/10🤭🤭

୧ ‧₊🎧 let me in your ocean, swim bangchan x producer!reader

summary: “Chan, you’re an idiot,” Changbin sighs and Chan whips around. “What did I do now?!” he asks, trying to give his voice a joking edge but failing miserably. “She’s so into you, and you don’t even see it,” Changbin states grandly, like it’s the most glaringly obvious thing in the world. Jisung huffs out a giggle next to him, but nods. -> In which Chan is a little self-conscious and a lot clueless, Changbin is his therapist and his wingman, and you get really sick of waiting for Chan to get his shit together.

word count: 9.9k words

author's note: a little self-indulgent producer!reader bang chan fic because I too wanna make him feel safe and confident and I think the studio is where he would feel like that. I know I do, too, because fun fact I used to want to be a producer but then i studied music journalism and then life happened and here I am. also this is equal parts plot and smut sooo .... enjoy?!

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); oral & throatfucking/oral (m & f receiving); fingering (f receiving); only a tiny bit of choking; only the slightest d/s dynamics; cursing because it's channie; mentions of other idols I don't know anything about so don't lynch me if something doesn't work ok soz

skzms' masterlist

“Okay, hear me out, what if the 808 did a dum dum d-dum at the end of this bar?”

Chan hums, fingers flying over the keyboard, mouse dragging the notes around. When he’s done and hits play again, the verse burst through the speakers. It sounds good, better even.

This was your job. Producing, mixing and editing music. You had replaced their previous guy about a year ago, breezing into the studio on day one, so pretty it had taken Chan’s breath away, and had given them firm handshakes and a huge smile, before taking control of the room and the computer with such professionalism that it made his knees weak. The three of them spent a solid day scuffing their feet into the floor like boys on the first day of school before they finally managed to relax. Now, not a week went by without Jisung jokingly referring to your joint studio sessions as “4racha time”.

“I like that,” he hums when he presses pause, and you clap excitedly, bouncing up and down on your chair a little. When he rests his chin in his hand, he realises he’s smiling.

“I love it, it even creates a little syncopation with the vocals there. It’s catchy,” you gush before swivelling around on your chair, turning to where Jisung and Changbin are lounging on the sofa.

Changbin and Jisung were usually less involved with this specific part of the work – this part being the painstaking adjustment of the mix, the addition of details, last-minute changes to the music. They didn’t have the patience for it, so they usually took the time to scroll through TikTok or doze while you and Chan sat there for hours, clicking, replaying, looping, adjusting the EQ.

Chan loved this kind of work. Loved that he could let himself sink into your proverbial professional hands, let you guide him from song to song, not letting him get hung up on something for too long, always solid and calm and confident. It was soothing. Here, he didn’t have to be anything, be anyone. He just had to do what he did best. It felt better than being shoved into clothes and smouldering at the camera ever could. Not that the minded that part of the job, but this was the part he loved.

“I agree, that little syncopation sounds really good with Jisung’s vocals,” Changbin agrees, running his hand through his black curls and giving you an exaggerated thumbs up.

You give him a smile before turning to Jisung.

“Jisung?”

Jisung looks up from his phone blearily and blinks at you.

“Sorry, can you play it again?”

Chan huffs out a laugh and restarts the verse, letting it play until the end, where it leads into the pre-chorus. Jisung purses his lips and finally nods with an approving smile.

Chan can basically taste the satisfaction rolling off you. Your energy was always like that; like a current running through the studio, one that he gladly let sweep him up, letting it carry him along and through so many long days and nights.

He doesn’t realise you turned back to him until he hears your voice. When he turns his head, you’re looking at him expectantly.

“So we keep it?” you ask, and Chan watches your eyes race over his face to try to gauge his reaction.

“We all just agreed,” he chuckles out awkwardly and he can feel his ears starting to burn. Great. You’re still grinning when you roll your eyes at him and shrug.

“Yeah, but you only said you liked it, plus, you have the final say,” you say calmly and Chan blinks at the screen dumbly, his cheeks flaring up more, before he finally turns to you.

“I’m pretty sure JYP doesn’t pay you to listen to us,” he quips and raises a playful eyebrow at you. He hopes you can’t hear that he kind of means it.

You glare back at him, but your lips are still curled into a smile.

“JYP pays me to make your music great – and to do that I will listen to whoever I think is really good at what they do,” you say and give him a wink that makes his ears burn more.

“So … keep?” you ask again and this time Chan just nods and you mumble a quiet nice, scooting your chair closer to him. When you take the mouse from him, your fingertips trail over the back of his hand and it sends goosebumps racing down his arm.

When you get up to leave an hour later, much earlier than usual, you rest a hand on Chan’s shoulder as you chat with Changbin. He tells himself that it’s normal, that you’re friends, that he shouldn’t be overthinking about how comfortable you must be with him to do this so absentmindedly. He also has to tell himself to keep breathing normally.

“Why are you leaving already?” Jisung asks with a yawn, “we all know Channie-hyung gets nothing done when you’re not here.”

Chan half turns and gives Jisung a glare, but Jisung just grins at him.

You chuckle and shift your weight, your hand falling from Chan’s shoulder. He feels the absence of it way too keenly.

“I gotta be back here tomorrow at 10 with Gunil and the boys,” you shrug and hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“From Xdinary Heroes?” Changbin asks and you nod, “I didn’t know you started working with them.”

Right. Sometimes Chan forgets you’re not just here when they are. You work with other groups.

“Started at their last comeback. They’re the exact opposite of you, funnily enough,” you chuckle, “they always wanna come in first thing in the morning.”

Do you work with them the same way? The other boys are too young, but do you joke with Gunil the same way you joke with Chan? Do you rest your hand on his shoulder before you leave? Chan furrows his brows and keeps clicking around ProTools aimlessly.

There’s a lull in the conversation.

“Well, I’ll be going,” you announce before your hand comes back to Chan’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly, “don’t work too late. Same time tomorrow?”

Chan doesn’t trust himself to look at you, so he just nods, and waits until Jisung hums out an affirmative. Your hand disappears, the door opens and shuts, and your footsteps echo down the hallway. He finally lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“Chan, you’re an idiot,” Changbin sighs and Chan whips around.

“What did I do now?!” he asks, trying to give his voice a joking edge but failing miserably.

“She’s so into you and you don’t even see it,” Changbin states grandly, like it’s the most glaringly obvious thing in the world. Jisung huffs out a giggle next to him, but nods.

Chan shakes his head jerkily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She treats me the same way she treats you guys,” he denies, though his heart clenches uncomfortably in his chest.

Jisung properly laughs at that.

“Channie-hyung, she touched your shoulder twice. For, like, literally no reason. Also, she keeps staring at you when you’re not looking. Just watches you click around. It’s really cute.”

Chan can feel a single tendril of hope lick up his spine. Changbin seems to see it in his eyes.

“You’re clearly into her as well,” he states, and Chan makes a non-committal sound that half sounds like a negation. Changbin’s brows furrow. “You go stupid every time she smiles at you. You comment on her outfit, you bring her coffee, sometimes you drive her home. You always agree when she makes a suggestion.”

Anger flares in Chan’s gut.

“She makes good suggestions! She’s a really good fucking producer!” he can tell he’s almost yelling and he clears his throat. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“She is,” Changbin says with a little smile, “She’s a really good producer, she’s super hot, and she’s into you.”

The words make Chan nearly sick with promise, but there’s a whisper in the back of his head that keeps him from believing Changbin fully. Surely, it wouldn’t be him. The mental image of you flirting with Gunil makes him flinch.

“It wouldn’t work anyways,” he mumbles, turning back to the computer, “plus, maybe she’s the same way with Gunil. He’s definitely the hotter choice.”

“I’m pretty sure Gunil’s gay,” Jisung muses. Chan just glares at the screen.

“Well, if it’s not Gunil, then it’s one of the other 20 idols she works with. Or literally anyone else.”

He hears how pathetic he sounds and he’s glad he can avoid Changbin’s prying eyes. But, predictably, Changbin doesn’t leave him alone. He gets up and plops down into the chair you only recently abandoned and leans forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Chan, you need to stop talking about yourself like that,” he says intently, and Chan almost feels bad. Changbin’s right, he should stop talking about himself like that. But it still wouldn’t change the fact that that’s what he thinks about himself. What a lot of people think about him, for that matter.

He doesn’t respond, just saves the project for the 12th time in the last five minutes. He can’t forget to fix that snare, like you said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Changbin throw a look towards Jisung, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. They’ve been here before. Changbin lets it go and gets up.

“Let’s go home, get an early night for once,” he suggests and Chan looks up at him, “you know Jisung’s right, you get nothing done when Y/N’s not here.”

Chan waves him off.

“I’ll stick around for a while, I wanna figure out the bridge on the last track.”

They leave, begrudgingly. Chan sticks around until 3 in the morning, until his eyes are burning and he’s halfway convinced himself that Jisung’s wrong and you’re hooking up with Gunil. The bridge sounds worse now, so he reverts the project back to where it was when Changbin and Jisung left and goes home.

It’s no surprise that he sleeps like shit. He wakes up and drags himself through dance practice, Minho giving him worried glares every now and again. He nearly falls asleep in the shower after.

When he opens the door to the studio at 7.30pm and is welcomed by the smell of leather and technology, the whirring of the computers and the eery soundlessness of the padding – it’s like coming home.

He drops his bag on the floor and lets himself fall into his chair with a sigh. He leans back all the way, his muscles slowly relaxing, legs stretching out in front of him deliciously. Maybe he can rest his eyes, just for five minutes, until Changbin and Jisung get here …

He must’ve nodded off pretty quickly because he’s awoken by a gentle pressure on his arm and a soft voice saying his name and he hums, still half in his dream, before he flutters his eyes open.

You’re leaning over him with the gentlest look in your eyes and a soft smile on your lips, and for a second, he thinks he’s still dreaming, but then he realises where he is and that he fell asleep in the chair and that you just found him.

He blinks the sleep from his eyes and you lean back, pulling your hand back in the process. God, he hates when you pull your hand back. But you’re still smiling at him, which makes him feel a little better.

“Long day?” you ask, and Chan sits up slowly, blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes. You fall into your chair and pull out your iPad. He turns to you and nods.

“Didn’t sleep much last night,” he mumbles, his shoulder cracking loudly when he stretches his arms behind his back. He thinks he sees your eyes flutter down to where his t-shirt rides up, but he tells himself to stop projecting.

“Did you stay late again?” you scold gently, and he shrugs apologetically.

“Tried to fix the bridge,” he explains, and you nod.

“God, that bridge,” you mumble, “how did it go?”

Chan just shakes his head.

“Nothing worked, it’s still the same,” he admits and averts his eyes. He half expects you to be disappointed in him, which he doesn’t want to see. Or maybe you’ll make a joke about what Jisung said last night, that he wouldn’t get anything done without you. But you just shrug.

“There are those days,” you say and pat his arm gently. Right, he thinks, you wouldn’t make him feel bad about things. You never do. He can’t think about it too long, so he changes the subject.

“How did it go with Gunil today?” he asks and he hopes he sounds neutral, despite the hours and hours last night that he had imagined you flirting with the guy.

You look at him briefly and then you shrug.

“It went well,” you reply, “they’re really professional and Gunil always has great input. Also, I get to record actual instruments, so that’s always fun. I don’t get to do that often.”

Chan just nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and turns back to the screen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His brain chants. Say something.

“That’s … nice,” he offers and grimaces immediately. That was the most awkward thing he could’ve said. You watch him carefully and it feels like your gaze is burning holes into his soul.

He’s saved by his phone buzzing, Changbin’s name lighting up the screen. Right, Changbin and Jisung. They’re meant to be here by now.

8.15pm Changbin hey man, jisung and I can’t make it to the studio tonight send Y/N our love you should make the most of tonight

Chan blinks at his phone stupidly. He has all their calendars. He saw them earlier. There is no reason why they wouldn’t be able to …

Ah. They’re setting him up. Great. Fantastic. Annoyance flares up deep in his gut. He’s not in the mood for his meddling members.

He does his best to shake off his frustration before he looks up at you and oh dammit, fuck, you’re so pretty. It doesn’t happen often that he gets you all to himself for a whole evening. It’s making his heartbeat flutter in his chest.

“Jisung and Changbin can’t make it tonight,” he announces and you turn around, surprise written all over your features.

“Really?! I thought I saw them in the cafeteria earlier.”

Chan curses Changbin out in his head.

“Yeah, something just came up, very spontaneous,” Chan explains and you shrug.

“Oh well, this more our work anyways, isn’t it,” you say, smiling at him in a way that Chan can’t quite read. You turn to the screen and double-click on the song with the cursed bridge.

Our work, it reverberates through Chan’s head.

For the next two hours, Chan doesn’t focus on work. He can’t. He’s too busy wondering if he’s going insane or if you’re sitting closer to him than usual. But he so clearly feels your thigh resting against his knee, feels your jeans rub against his sweats with every one of your movements.

You’re finally finished with one of the tracks and you lean back, lifting your hands up in celebration with a yawn. Chan can’t keep his eyes away from your thighs, how they’re squished together on the seat of your chair, running up into your waist, the barest sliver of skin visible …

“You don’t have many parts in this one,” you state and his eyes snap up to your face, but you’re not looking at him, instead pursing your lips at the project that’s still open on the screen. “Like, you only have half a chorus and some ad-libs.”

Chan shrugs. Of course, of all the people, you would notice.

“Oh, you know,” he starts, burying his fists in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He should really start dressing nicer for the studio, he looks like a slob next to you in your nice tight jeans and sweet, soft sweaters. Fuck, he wants to run his hands underneath those sweaters every damn time. Stop, Chan. Stop being weird.

“Why?” you ask, finally looking at him, cocking your head to the side. The look in your eyes reminds him a lot of Changbin’s and he bristles.

“Well, you know, Jisung sounds much better on the bridge. Minho had less parts last comeback and gets the centre” he tries to reason, but you keep looking at him, “plus, nobody wants to see that.”

Your eyebrows pull together.

“See what?”

“Me,” he says quietly, “Stay wants to see the boys, wants to see Hyunjin dance and hear Seungmin sing and Jisung rap.”

You’re staring at him now and he feels like an idiot. Fuck, why did he say that?

“You think they don’t want to see you?” you ask calmly, slowly and he nods and shrugs. You scoff and shake your head.

“You’re an idiot, Channie,” you say, your pretty face pulled into a scowl as you turn back to the screen. Ouch.

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?!” he snaps, his face darkening. “I’m doing my fucking best, okay?!”

He has never gotten angry at you, ever. But now his heart is thumping in his chest and he’s glaring at you. You look surprised for a second before the expression on your face sours.

“Exactly! You’re doing your best and you’re doing a great fucking job, but you keep saying you don’t.”

Your words confuse him. You look angry, but also something else he doesn’t understand. Clearly, you didn’t want silence because you get up, and shove your iPad into your bag.

“You’re an idiot because you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You’re an idiot because I like working with you the most because you’re so good at what you do and you’re so fucking kind and always pay attention to the people around you. You’re an idiot because you say people don’t want to see you when you’re literally sex on legs. And it’s not that you lack confidence, no, because you wouldn’t be here without it – you’re an idiot because everyone keeps trying to be nice to you and you pretend like you don’t deserve it. Well, guess what, you do.”

And without another word, you stomp out of the room. The door slams behind you and Chan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. What?!

“She said what?!” Changbin squeaks out the next morning, in the hallway of their dorm, waiting for Hyunjin and Jisung.

Chan nods, running his hand through his hair nervously.

“Chan,” he just says, and Chan can see the disappointment in his face.

“Bin, if you call me an idiot, I swear to God I will punch you.”

Changbin scoffs.

“I won’t, but you know what you have to do now, right?”

Chan groans.

“No, I don’t know, actually. What am I even meant to say?”

Changbin sighs.

“She basically told you she likes you,” he says carefully and shushes Chan when Chan is about to interrupt him.

“Who told Chan she liked him?!” Hyunjin exclaims from behind Chan, and he lets his head fall back against the wall with a thud.

Changbin repeats everything Chan just told him, and Hyunjin excitedly grabs Chan’s arm.

“Dude, that is so romantic! It’s like a movie!” He gushes, staring at Chan with stars in his eyes, “she totally likes you.”

Chan wants to fucking cry because he wants to believe it so badly.

“Fine, let’s assume she does, which is still crazy to me,” he finally says and Changbin nods, “how on earth do I talk to her now? She’s angry with me!”

“Oh, Channie, she’s not angry,” Changbin says with a smile, “what you’ll do is you’ll go to the company and find out what her schedule is like today and then you will go get her a coffee and you will pick her up from her last session and …”

“And then you kiss her and tell her something really deep like ‘I want to deserve you’ and then you go home with her and make sweet love to her until the sun …”

“Hyunjin!” Chan all but shrieks, but Changbin giggles.

“Not the worst plan, to be honest,” he teases, and Chan presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until it hurts.

Jisung finally walks into the hallway with his hood over his head, blinking at them.

“What did I miss?”

Changbin laughs and turns to open the door.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

Despite it all, Chan does listen to them. When they’re done with the music show recording and everyone goes home, he ignores Changbin’s eyebrow wiggle, gets into his own car and drives to the company – with a brief detour to his favourite café down the road.

As he walks up to the reception with your coffee in hand, he has a brief moment of panic and his steps falter. What if you’re not there any more. What if you already left. You’re meant to record vocals with them tomorrow afternoon. He can’t face you in front of everyone.

The receptionist looks up at him when he stops in front of her.

“Hi, I was just wondering, is Y/N still here?”

His voice sounds odd to him. The receptionist taps away at her keyboard.

“She is, she’s booked with Itzy for another hour. Studio 5.”

Chan nods, hoping that she can’t hear the nerves in his voice.

“Does she have anything else on her calendar today?”

The receptionist looks down and then shakes her head.

“No, that’s her last thing today. She’s back tomorrow at 3pm with you.”

Chan nods again, giving her a quiet thank you before he turns and makes his way to the elevator.

In. Out. In. Out. He can do this. If Hyunjin and Changbin both say you’re not mad at him, you’re probably not, right?

He walks up to Studio 5 and mercifully, the ‘recording’ sign above the door is off. Before he can chicken out, he raises his hand and knocks rapidly. There’s silence, then a distant, “come in”.

When he opens the door, he’s faced with 6 women staring at him; you at your desk, Yeji leaning against the desk next to you, the rest of her members scattered around the room. His face immediately flushes red-hot.

“Y/N,” he says quietly and you rapidly blink your eyes before you get up and walk over to where he’s rooted to the spot in the doorframe.

You stop in front of him, far too close to not be distracting.

“Chan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“I … uhh, I brought you coffee,” he says, awkwardly extending it to you. He can feel the eyes of the other girls burning holes into the side of his head. You take the coffee from him wordlessly. He tries to ignore the audience, tries to focus on your eyes. Oh, your damn eyes, so pretty and intelligent.

“And I thought, uhh, maybe, if you don’t mind, after you’re done, we could talk?”

You’re looking up at him, your face unreadable. You’re wearing new earrings today, he notices. They look pretty.

You watch his eyes rest on your ears and huff out a laugh when his gaze meets yours again. You shake your head, but you smile.

“Sure, I’d like that, but we still have at least an hour left.”

“I’ll wait,” Chan says, too fast and much too eager. “I’ll wait for you. In our studio, I’ll just get some work done.”

He won’t, he thinks. There’s no way.

You nod, your smile even softer now. So soft. Fuck.

“Okay,” you say and he smiles, too, unable to help it.

“Okay … I’ll uhh leave you to it, sorry, I’ll go, I’ll see you later,” he mutters out, bowing awkwardly at the rest of the girl group and closes the door behind him. Once he’s outside, he can hear silence and then loud squeals and chatter.

He doesn’t get any work done in the next hour, haphazardly clicking through his open projects until the door cracks open slightly.

He slams his laptop shut when you poke your head into the room, and you chuckle. He just smiles at you, so giddy with your smile, your presence, this feeling that something is about to change. He doesn’t say anything, just waits, lets you set the pace. He can be patient, he’d do anything for you.

“Wanna drive me home?” you ask and he nods, already shoving his laptop into his bag.

You’re quiet as you walk down the hallway, you’re quiet in the elevator, though you do lean against the wall right next to him, so close he can smell your perfume. He leads you into the garage and to his car and you punch your address into his phone. As if he hadn’t memorised the way there the third time he drove you home, almost 10 months ago.

You still haven’t said a single word when he pulls up in front of your house. Did he miss something? Were you waiting for him to talk? Your hand finds the door handle and you crack it open, though you look back at him and raise your eyebrows.

“I figured it would be nicer if we didn’t have this conversation in the car,” you say slowly and he blinks at you.

“Do you want me to–“

You laugh, a clear, shimmering sound.

“Yes, Chan, please come inside with me.”

He nods, his cheeks already on fire again, as he kills the engine and scrambles out of the car.

When you unlock your door, he realises he has driven you home countless times, but he has never actually seen your apartment. You push the door open and hold it for him, before toeing your shoes off. He does the same and follows you into the living room.

His first thought is that it’s cozy, so cozy he feels like an intruder, like a stranger that just walked into your head. The sofa looks worn and comfortable, full of throw pillows, a thick blanket bunched up next to your laptop. There are candles on the low table in front of it, most of them half burned down. He wonders if that’s where you sit when you work from home. Cozied up in the blanket, your laptop on your lap, the candles burning.

Behind the sofa there’s a large wooden dining table, half of it taken up by miscellaneous papers and magazines. All around the room there’s … music. Two electric guitars on one wall, a bass leaning against the side of a low storage cabinet that is bursting open, cables hanging onto the floor. There are records on the walls, records under your TV, your record player next to it.

“Do you want anything to drink?” you ask from the half open kitchen, and he looks over. You’re leaning over the half open fridge. “I have water, Diet Coke, beer, wine, or I can make you some coffee?”

“Geez, you have everything,” he hums out, brutally reminded of the yawning emptiness and ungodly mess of his dorms. Compared to that, this place seems calm, clean … mature.

Your laugh echoes back to him.

“Hardly. For example, I actually have no idea how long this wine has been open for.”

That makes him laugh as well, some of the tension melting from his bones.

“I’m good for now,” he says and you shrug, getting a bottle of water from the fridge and walking past him until you’re sat on the sofa, folding your legs underneath yourself.

He follows you, but suddenly gets distracted by a pile of bright pink books on the storage cabinet next to your table. No way.

“Are those …?” he asks, a disbelieving chuckle tumbling from his lips. You giggle and get up, rounding the sofa until you’re standing next to him.

“Your albums, yeah, the ones I worked on,” you explain with a smile. Now there’s a blush on your cheeks. “A couple of versions for good measure.”

Chan just chuckles again, shaking his head.

“I hope you at least got them for free from the company,” he mumbles and you just chuckle. He stares at the pile. They’re all there.

“And you’re displaying them in your living room?” he adds, voice full of wonder.

“Hey,” you argue sheepishly, “I’m proud of my work, of our work. And look, …”

You reach around him and pluck one of the albums from the pile. You’ve never been this close to him; your arm is pressed up against his chest, your hair within a few inches of his face. He’s staring at your hair, so close he’d just have to …

Then you hold up a small, shiny piece of cardboard, victory written all over your features.

“I even pulled you!”

It’s a photocard. Of him. Him, with smudged eyeliner, his bangs in his face, holding up a peace sign. You look up at him with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.

His brain crashes and burns and his hand finds the back of your head and then he’s kissing you; pressing his lips to yours softly, but insistently, a deep sigh fighting its way out of his chest because God he’s wanted this for so, so long.

You make the cutest surprised noise in the back of your throat, but then you melt into his embrace, kissing him back eagerly, your hand wrapping around his wrist where he’s holding on to you, as if to keep him from letting go. When he pulls back, you make a sad little sound in the back of your throat and he swears you could ask him to do anything right then and there and he would do it.

He rests his forehead against yours softly. His breathing is laboured, eyes heavy.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “probably should’ve asked before I did that.”

You chuckle, but still roll your eyes at him.

“I thought I made it clear enough that I like you.”

Chan swears his heart stutters to a halt for a second.

“You … like me,” he breathes out and you pull back in disbelief.

“Yes, of course, I … how was that not obvious?”

Chan shrugs helplessly, his cheeks starting to burn.

“I mean, Changbin told me you did, and Hyunjin also said it sounded like it.”

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms across your chest.

“So, how many of your members did you ask about this?”

He flushes, but you grin at him. He takes a tentative step closer, his hands finding your wrists and gently uncrossing your arms. His eyes are caught by the image of his fingertips on your skin, the feel of it underneath his.

“Only Changbin and Jisung, and then Changbin involved Hyunjin,” he says, slowly moving your hands to come to rest on his hips. You let him, your palms coming to rest over his hoodie. When he looks up again, your eyes are glued to his lips.

“What else did they say then?”

Chan smiles, leaning forward only enough to rub his nose against yours. He can hear your breath hitch in your throat. His heart is thundering in his chest.

“Hyunjin said I should kiss you and say something profound like ‘I want to deserve you’,” he whispers and he feels you breathe out a laugh against his lips. He wonders if your heart is beating as fast as his.

“Channie,” you breathe out and it makes a shiver run down his spine, “you already deserve me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps out, his hands surging up to cup your face. But he doesn’t kiss you yet. “You’re the best part of my day, do you know that? You’re so … so damn pretty and so fucking hot and so good at what you do and so capable and … fuck, I like you, too, I hope you know that.”

You breathe out another laugh, but something in your face looks like you might cry.

“I was hoping so, yeah,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. He leans forward and ghosts his lips over yours.

“You know what else Hyunjin said?” he murmurs and it’s taking everything in him not to lean in yet. You hum in question.

“That I should make love to you until the sun rises,” he whispers, against your lips, and you whimper. His knees nearly buckle at the sound.

“God, please,” you mumble before you fist your hands into his sweatshirt and pull your body into his, pressing your lips against his hungrily. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth readily. When your tongue swipes over his, blistering electricity shocks down his spine. He kisses you harder, his tongue dipping into your mouth like he’s trying to map out every inch of it, one hand coming to your waist to pull you closer.

He would be embarrassed at the fact that he’s already filling out in his pants, if it wasn’t for the pretty little gasps you keep breathing into his mouth. God, you like him. You like him, too.

His head is swimming with the taste of you on his tongue, his body pressing closer and closer until you hit the edge of the wooden dining table. His foot hits one of the chairs and it nearly topples over, but you catch it before it can fall over. He hesitates only for a second, but it’s enough for you to notice.

“Don’t you dare apologise for that,” you mumble against his lips before you kiss him again, pulling him flush against your body. And you don’t have to tell him twice this time. He wraps one arm around your waist and lifts you onto the table, your legs falling open until he can stand between them. He leans his hands on the table on either side of you, caging you tightly against his body.

“Better?” he growls and you nod deliriously, letting your hands travel under his sweater and over his bare back, before you dig your nails into his skin. A deep groan rips from his throat at the sensation, his hips bucking forward into nothingness. Your hands are shoving his sweater up, desperately running your palms over his skin.

You’re staring at him with fire in your eyes, mumbling a quiet, “off,” and he complies instantly. And he’s used to people staring at him, of course he is, but nobody has ever looked at him the way you do. Like you had no expectations, but like he exceeded every single one of them anyways. Your eyes are roaming every piece of exposed skin, your fingertips coming to trace over his abs.

“How are you real,” you breathe and suddenly, he blushes. He’s standing in front of you half naked, rock hard in his jeans, and his face flushes crimson like he’s a school boy. You smirk at him and pull him closer.

You press a feather-light kiss on his jaw and his eyes flutter shut, his hands falling to the thighs he’d been staring at for the better part of 5 months. They feel so much better under his hands than he could’ve ever imagined, so plush and thick, he wants to feel them wrapped around his fucking head for hours. You keep kissing down his neck torturously slowly, sucking a deep mark into the skin right above his collarbone, and he thinks like he’ll go insane.

He threads his fingers into the hair on the back of your neck and tugs you backwards, your head following the motion readily, a little gasp falling from your lips. He kisses you again, with everything he has. But you pull back with a desperate little moan that makes his cock twitch in his sweats.

“Take me to my bedroom,” you breathe out and he smiles at you, scooping you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist effortlessly. You press messy little kisses all over his cheeks and temples, giggling slightly as he makes his way down the hallway and through the half-open door of your bedroom.

But before he can throw you onto the bed, you untangle your legs and jump from his arms, pulling him down into your lips again and turning him around, pressing your hands into his chest and walking him to the edge of your bed, forcing him to sit down. You bend down to press a few more kisses to his lips before you sink to your knees.

Oh fuck.

You stare up at him, eyes wide, lips slick and slightly parted, and the view itself makes him lightheaded. He barely thought he deserved you earlier today and now you were on your knees in front of him, looking at him like you were ready to give him whatever he asked for. You rake your nails up his thighs and he shudders out a breath when your fingers reach his waistband.

“You … you don’t have to,” he stutters out, though his cock visibly twitches in his pants. Traitor.

You stare at him steadily as you push your fingertips underneath his waistband. He leans back, supporting himself with his arms behind him, his fingers fisted into the sheets.

“I need you to stop doing that,” you say, your face serious. He gulps, but you continue before he can ask you what you mean, “stop telling me what you do and don’t deserve. I’m on my knees in front of you because I think you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life and I want you to absolutely ruin me.”

He blinks at you, unable to form a coherent sentence, as you slowly pull at his waistband. So instead, he just lifts his hips to let you pull down his sweats and boxers. When his cock finally springs free, he hisses, watching you as your eyes dip down.

“Fuck, you’re big, Channie,” you breathe and lick your lips. Chan thinks he won’t survive you. “And so beautiful. Such a beautiful cock on a beautiful man.”

With those words, you press a hot kiss to the inside of his thigh, dragging your lips across his skin. You accidentally bump is cock with your soft cheek and he whines. Whether from the touch or from your works, he doesn’t know at this point. You chuckle.

But you seem to have mercy on him because you don’t tease, dragging your lips up his shaft sweetly. Chan’s pretty sure it’s the softest thing he’s ever felt, but then your tongue peeks out of your mouth and licks at him and he has to correct himself because holy shit.

Your hands are on his thighs, massaging his skin when your lips loosely wrap around the tip of his cock. Your tongue swipes over his slit, humming at the taste of his precum, and then you sink him into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly, intentionally, swirling your tongue around his base. When you look up at him, it’s like the breath has been punched out of him. Your lips are stretched around him, a trail of saliva running down your chin, your make-up smudged around your eyes. It’s better than any of the wet dreams he’s had about you, and he’s had many.

“Fuuuuck”, he breathes out and you hum around his cock.

You shuffle a little closer and then the hand that was holding him comes down to his balls, running lithe fingers over the velvety skin as you sink him further into your mouth until he hits your throat and you gag around him slightly.

The pleasure is overwhelming, every slide of your mouth so fucking perfect on his sensitive cock, and when your throat constricts around him, his hips jump before he can control himself.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, breathing a ragged whimper as he tries to get his breathing under control.

Suddenly, you pull away from him. He flinches at the sudden loss of contact, your spit rapidly cooling on his cock.

“Channie,” you purr out, and his eyes immediately flicker to yours, like he never had a choice, “I want you to fuck my throat.”

Chan blinks at you. Surely, you didn’t just say that.

“Huh?”

You roll your eyes.

“I want you to fuck my throat. I want you to wrap your hand into my hair and tug me down onto your cock. And I want you to cum in my mouth.”

There’s a solid beat where he tries to figure out if you’re serious, but your words are echoing through his head. Stop telling me what you do and don’t deserve. And you’re staring up at him with so much desire, he wants to eat you whole.

So, carefully, he nods, mumbling something about pinching his thigh if it gets too much, before he gingerly unclenches his hand from the sheets and brings it to your face. He takes his time, lets his fingertips caress down your cheekbones, over the soft skin of your cheeks until they’re cupping your jaw. Delicately, he guides you forward, back to his cock, and you smile prettily before you wrap your lips around his head, tonguing at him in a way that that forces a moan from him. The sheer pleasure of it melts some of his hesitation, and he lets his fingers trail into your hair, running through it gently before he sinks his fingers into it and gets a good grip.

He starts slow, bobbing you up and down shallowly, the wet heat of your mouth already better than anything he’s ever felt. Then he pulls you down further, his grip on your head tightening, and the way you choke out a moan at the feeling is all the confirmation he needs. So he lets go a little bit, making you take him deeper and deeper with every subsequent slide of your mouth, and your throat opens around him readily. Then, all at once, he’s so deep that your nose bumps into his pubic hair and he’s pretty sure he’s seeing God because he has never in his life felt anything like it. He watches you, your pretty eyes fluttered shut, your nails digging into his thighs as he drags you up and down, and the image alone makes him hurtle toward his release. He can feel himself throbbing in your mouth.

“Oh, baby, baby,” he pants out, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, “I’m gonna … I have to … oh God if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth stop me now.”

But you just hum lapping your tongue along the underside of his cock and that does it, his vision whites out as pleasure explodes in his abdomen, shuddering through his body until he can feel it in his toes. He’s cradling your head, his hips canting up ever so slightly with every wave of cum he shoots down your throat and he feels like it’s never-ending.

When he’s spent, he collapses backwards, falling against the sheets, breathless. He distantly registers you, gently unthreading his fingers from your hair and getting up before the bed dips and you crawl over him.

You look like an angel, looking down at him with a satisfied smile, even if your lips are red raw and your make-up is runny. A debauched angel. His debauched angel.

He smiles back at you before he pulls you into his lips, tasting himself when he swipes his tongue across yours. When his hands find your waist, he mewls out.

“How are you still dressed,” he complains, one hand coming to hide his face, “I can’t believe you did all of that while you’re still dressed.”

You giggle into his lips endearingly, but he flips you over until he’s hovering over you, caging you against the mattress with his elbows on either side of your head.

“Let me undress you, beautiful,” he whispers and presses a soft kiss to your lips and you just nod, eyes wide and wet.

And he does, lets his big hands finally push underneath the softness of your sweater until he can feel the unbelievably softer skin of your stomach, feeling every inch of your plush waist, squeezing and caressing to his heart’s content before he rucks the sweater up and over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, sliding it off you with a heady groan, his lips immediately pressing kisses from your collarbone to your tits, mouthing at the supple skin. When his lips wrap around your nipple, your back arches off the bed so sinfully, his cock twitches again already.

He hums as he continues to lap at your nipple, switching from one to the other, using his free hand to roll them between his thumb and pointer finger.

“P-please,” you breathe out and it makes his head spin, the airy quality of your voice like he’s never heard it before. He wants to draw every single sound out of you and he wants to catalogue them all. So he trails his kisses down your sternum, down the expanse of your belly, nuzzling his nose into the skin underneath your belly button with a hum as he works open the button of your jeans.

He gets up enough to pull your jeans and panties off you in one fluid motion, hooking his hands underneath your knees to pull you to the edge of the bed. Now he sinks to his knees and it feels almost reverent. He doesn’t care about the way his knees dig into the plush carpet because his eyes are glued to where your core is on display for him, beautiful and glistening. He hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, then the other, nuzzling the skin of your thighs with a deep sigh. Finally. But he can smell your arousal now and it’s so sweet and addicting that the kisses he places on the inside of your thighs more resemble a wet drag of his lips than anything else.

With the first lick to your folds and the first sweet moan he drags from your lips, his hand shoots down to squeeze his cock because he’s already hard again and_fuck_ you sound good and you taste even better, so sweet and tart and heady.

He leans into gathering the wetness from your entrance, swirling his tongue up to your clit and rubbing at it until your knuckles turn white on the sheets and only then does he let himself dip down and into your entrance, his tongue rubbing over the sensitive skin. You whimper and reach your hand out for him. When he sees you hesitate, he reaches out, interlacing his fingers with yours slowly and deliberately, as he laps at you. You blink down at him and you look so sweet and wrecked and so vulnerable, it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It’s so unlike your professional demeanour at work, yet it’s so much more like you. It suits you. He dips his tongue into your hole, sweet wetness exploding on his tastebuds as you mewl.

“Channie,” you breathe out and he fists his cock loosely.

“What, baby?” he mumbles against your folds and moves back to rub your clit with his tongue. Your hips jump off the sheets and he brings your interlaced fingers to rest on your belly, pressing you down.

“P-please, touch me,” you whimper out, and Chan presses his tongue harder against you for a second, revelling in the way your body responds to him immediately.

“I’m touching you, baby,” he hums. When he looks up, you’re pouting and he can’t believe how fucking cute you look.

“I wan’ … wanna be full,” you whine out, and Chan’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He lets go of his cock and slowly traces one of his fingers through your folds.

“Want me to stuff you with my fingers, baby?” he asks and chuckles when you shake your head frantically.

“Wan’ your cock,” you mumble and open your eyes, the big watery depths of them making Chan questions everything he’s ever known. He haphazardly wipes his mouth on the sheets before he moves up your body, lifting you up the sheets with an arm around your waist until your pretty head is cushioned on the pillows. You look so ethereal like this, he wants to worship you and ruin you. Yes, both. He grips you by the chin, letting his eyes roam over your features, taking one more second to revel in the fact that he has you under him. Then he kisses you deep and dirty, hard grip on your chin as he forces you to take it. He can’t resist it, and he slides one finger into your wet warm entrance, entranced by the way you flutter around him, your hands flying to his shoulders as you curse out.

“Fuck, I want your cock,” you curse out, head tipping back when Chan adds another finger.

“You think you’re ready for that, baby?” he questions, head dipping down to nip at the skin of your neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

You nod frantically.

“‘M so ready. Please, Channie, I want you to stretch me open really slowly, so all I can feel is you,” you breathe out and Chan is glad his face is buried in your neck because he’s pretty sure his eyes just rolled into the back of his head “I want it to slide in real slow until I’m full.”

Chan pulls his fingers from you so abruptly it makes you sigh disappointedly. He grasps himself and spreads your slick along his shaft as he strokes his cock, dragging the head of it through your folds. Next time he will make you wait, draw more of these filthy words out of your mouth, make you cum on his tongue and on his fingers until the only thing you can say is his name; but today he’s not strong enough to resist you any longer, not when you’re begging like this.

He pulls his head back and looks into your eyes.

“You have a filthy mouth,” he mumbles, watches your eyes crinkle with a smile.

“Do you love it?” you ask coquettishly and he grins as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance.

“I love it, baby,” he mumbles as he pushes in slowly, almost breathless with how your walls are sucking him in almost by themselves, enveloping his aching cock in velvety heat. “I love your filthy fucking mouth_oh my gooooood_.”

Whatever he means to say is lost when you cross your legs behind his back and slowly pull him into you, your heat enveloping him slowly but all at once and it’s so tight and so hot. If you hadn’t already given him an earth-shattering orgasm earlier, he’s pretty sure he would be fighting tooth and nail not to cum right now.

He sits up a little bit and rocks into you gently and you whimper, quietly, brokenly, and he’s consumed by how much he wants you. He laces his fingers with yours again and pins your hand up and over your head, his other hand coming to your hip to hold you in place.

Everything around him melts away, any thoughts of his members or his work or the traffic outside the window, it all vanishes when he locks eyes with you, his own shimmering desire mirrored in yours, and rolls his hips.

“So good,” you breathe out and he dips his head down to kiss you, deep and lingering, as he grinds into you.

Much like everything else with you, this feels easy. He pulls out and pushes back in slowly, builds momentum gradually, wanting to taste every inch of you until the pleasure is prickling under his skin and he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get more friction, just how he likes it – and you’re underneath him, smiling as you moan, your eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips to meet his.

It’s like there’s something tying you to him, aligning you on a level that he can’t comprehend just yet. And when he picks up his pace, rutting into you harder, you take that, too, the nails of your free hand raking down his abs as his hand tightens on your hips, holding you down against the mattress with ease. He adds a little experimental tilt of his hips at the end of his stroke and oh, you clench around him with a heady moan, another wave of wetness coating his cock and making the slide even wetter.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, slightly breathless with the motions of his hips, the words falling from his lips before he can keep them in.

You chuckle, the sound of it interrupted with a heady little moan. “Says you,” you tease him and he just … laughs, throws his head back and laughs, happiness spreading through his entire body. How are you making him laugh, and this is still the hottest sex he’s ever had.

He lets go of your hip and lets himself fall forward, his body folding over you, his sweaty chest pressed to yours. He feels the drag of your nipples against his chest as he fucks into you harder, and the pleasure makes his toes curl.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he pants out and presses a kiss to your parted lips, “ever since you walked into the studio on the first day, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Your hands are digging into his shoulders and he picks up his pace even more, his head falling into the crook of your neck. He inhales, the familiar smell of your perfume mixing with the entirely new smell of your body and creating something so intoxicating he never wants to lift his head again. He runs his tongue over your neck and it’s like a drug, his hand falling from yours over your head and cupping the side of your neck tightly, pulling you impossibly closer against him, as he pistons his cock into you faster, his balls tightening with how close he’s getting to his release.

He sucks on the skin of your neck, letting his teeth graze over your pulse and he can feel your walls flutter around him, tightening more with every single one of his thrusts. He knows you’re close and he winds his hand down to touch your clit, but you stop him, bringing his hand back to your throat, but to the front this time. He pulls back to look at you, and the image of his fingers wrapped around your throat burns itself into his head.

“I wanna cum like this,” you mumble and he groans in disbelief.

“How are you real?” he echoes your earlier sentiment and you huff out half a laugh that’s interrupted by your eyes rolling into the back of your head when Chan angles his hips up slightly and tightens his fingers around the side of your throat.

“God, fuck, look at you,” he pants out, nearly delirious with how you’re clenching and gushing around him so hard now. He can taste your orgasm and his is nipping on his heels close behind. Your hand comes to his wrist and then your back arches, a long moan of his name tearing from your chest as you cum around him. Your hips rock back into him wantonly as you cum and your cunt squeezes his cock tightly as you fuck yourself onto him, and that’s what makes all his careful self-control turn to dust. You rip an orgasm so visceral from his body that he doubles over, shoving himself as deep into you as he can when he cums, his thighs trembling helplessly as he fills you up.

He’s still breathless when he pulls back, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I’m so fucking in love with you. Let me take you out to lunch tomorrow before we record,” he says, and it’s like he has never felt surer of anything in his life, all his usual hesitation crumpled up somewhere on the floor of your bedroom, discarded with his sweatpants.

You smile up at him, wider than he’s ever seen it before.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, too. Please take me out to lunch tomorrow,” you repeat, and Chan lets all the happiness bubble up until his cheeks are dimpled, and his eyes are crinkling with a smile.

He doesn’t go home that night, only checks his phone and sees Changbin telling the group chat that he’s probably boning his new girlfriend. He sends a text to tell them he’s alright and will meet them at the studio tomorrow.

You order dinner, make love again and fall asleep with your legs tangled under the sheets, kissing, talking about everything under the sun. Chan feels like his whole life has led up to this day, when he realizes that everything with you is easy. It feels like home.

And when you walk into the studio after your lunch date the next day, all of his members fall silent and stare at you expectantly. Chan catches your eyes and there’s a silent, amused agreement. He just walks over to his seat and pulls out his laptop and asks them if they’re ready to start.

But Changbin gasps out loud and cheers when Chan’s hand finds your thigh under the table half an hour later. Chan blushes and his eyes snap up to yours immediately, finding you grinning at him with so much fondness in your eyes, he wants to pull you into his lap and kiss you for all the world to see. Instead, he squeezes your leg, giddiness in his chest at the fact that he can do this now. This is the beginning of something new.

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

taglist: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows @ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq @bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731

GENERAL TAGLIST OPEN 🔖 (please be 18+ and have your age in your bio, otherwise I won't add you)

[luvyxdovey]

🙇🙇

TITLE: Play Fight

PAIRINGS: Hyunjin x Jisung x f!reader

SUMMARY: Hyunjin and Jisung remain stumped at what unfolded during a game of dirty truth or dare with you. There's no going back from it. No ignoring the obvious layout of what naturally happens next between the three of you under one roof where Jisung's needs get the better of him and Hyunjin's dream becomes a reality. A continuation of Play Bite.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: smut, hints of voyeurism/exhibitionism, swearing, oral sex (f!receiving and giving), unprotected sex, messy sex, dirty talk, porn w/plot, making out, nipple play, hints of oral fixations, begging, orgasms, deepthroating, very vague hint of cum eating, creampie, reader says 'stop' but doesn't mean it in a way where she wants to stop having sex or isn't enjoying it (she says it out of the overwhelming sensation from needing to orgasm).

🏷️LIST - @leftkittenface @twinklix @meilix @weareapackofstrays @elizalabs3 @goblin-waifu @imnotjjini0325 @livzsposts @dawn-iscozy @princejisung @itsthatbri @20minsat180degrees @groovygroovyhyunjin @stayconnecteed @chillichillicrabcrab23 @valibals @oiikaro @galamxy (I also added people who were interested in part 2 just in case)

MASTERLIST - Play Bite (First Part)

A/N: this is just pure, filthy smut. I’m hoping I tagged everyone! Thank you all for waiting patiently! 🩷 This has been checked over a couple of times but I’ll check over it once more in the morning for any mistakes etc! x

The blood running through Jisung's body had frozen over. Stiff with shock, his eyes are still glued to the screen of your phone - at the message his best friend just sent through to you. As a result, a million and one questions fire around Jisung's brain in such a short amount of time. 

The first and most important thing was deciphering whether you and Chan were together. In his mind, there was no way. No way. Chan had recently come out of a long-term relationship and even said so himself the other week that he wasn't looking for another one any time soon. That he has zero plans to dive back into the dating scene for a long time.

Not to mention, you wouldn’t do anything as terrible as cheating. Jisung trusts that and his friends wholeheartedly. 

That seemed to be his only saving grace from wanting to justify his next actions, or at least Hyunjin's, because as soon as Jisung managed to peel his eyes from the screen, he catches full sight of his two friends, lip locked. 

You were still in between Hyunjin's legs, slightly twisted around in order to reach his mouth whereas he leans down just a bit to help. His hands were dangerously close to the waistband of your underwear - your underwear which had been soaked through after getting yourself off in front of them minutes ago.

Jisung still couldn't believe he witnessed that, nor what he's witnessing right now.

It was clear that the game of truth or dare had been derailed and preoccupied by a more pressing matter. As Jisung listens to the wet sounds of your mouths moving, he feels the familiar, aching throb in his pants. A reminder that he's still hard and has been for a while.

It only gets worse for him when he watches Hyunjin eventually slide down the front of your damp underwear, feeling how warm and slick you are. It doesn't take long for his fingers to lather up nicely and ease over your sensitive clit.

This is his dream unfolding.

The way you silently plead for Hyunjin to fuck you with his long fingers by opening your legs is hampered when Jisung inches closer to the pair of you. This time in between your bent legs. Hyunjin regrettably peers up and away from you for a second, the pads of his fingers still rubbing delicate barely-there circles over your clit.

"I wanna taste you," he says, leaning forward and closer, his doe eyes gazing pleadingly.

Hyunjin removes his hand from your pussy and holds his slender, glossy fingers up to his friend's mouth. Your cum is glazed over his digits, sticky thin strings that connect his middle and ring fingers, gleaming desirably for Jisung who shuffles forward eagerly to take them in his mouth, suckling and licking everything he’s being offered. 

But it's not enough for him.

"So good," Jisung murmurs as if he's under the influence after Hyunjin retracts his fingers. "But I need more than that. Let me taste that pretty pussy of yours.”

You cower half of your face into Hyunjin's chest with embarrassment, trying to hide the flush of red his comment brings out in your cheeks. He uses his other hand to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

“Alright,” you give an affirming nod to Jisung who inflates with joy on the inside. 

He leans forward once more, this time to kiss you; slowly yet heated and needy for each other. There's an equal division of lust between you and him the moment his lips connect with yours.

As he breaks away from you, his eyes lock with Hyunjin for a few lingering moments before the pair of them share yet another kiss. Neither of them cared too much about it or what it was going to mean afterwards. All they knew is that they liked it and would have no trouble doing it again.

“You’ll get your turn,” Jisung teases, licking once over Hyunjin’s plush lips. “Maybe.” 

Hyunjin scowls at him, but with that in hand, Jisung finds the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your thighs, all the way down to your ankles, and off. The wet mess you left for them has Jisung salivating like some rabid dog. He lowers himself onto his elbows where his hot breath washes over your inner thighs. He hasn’t started and already has you pressing back further into Hyunjin, further into his crotch where he needs you the most.

That first point of contact makes your skin tingle. He presses chaste kisses into your skin. To truly bury his mouth into your pussy, Jisung snakes his hands around your thighs, gripping lovingly into your flesh. It helps anchor him and you more importantly. You squirm and quiver, legs trembling as he begins to kitten lick over your clit, using it to wet you up even more. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, focusing on the sensation, “y-yes…feels…”

“How does it feel?” Hyunjin begs the question for you.  

It feels like nothing else you’ve ever felt before. There have been a couple of times where a man will give you good head, but not like this. Jisung knows what he’s doing. He’s taking advantage of your over sensitive pussy, switching up his tongue game by sucking and flicking to keep you just above the edge. His skills have you gripping onto Hyunjin’s thighs that still cage around your body. 

“Good, feels good,” you swallow, feeling and listening to the way Jisung has come to lap everything up in between your legs. 

Hyunjin reckons he can make you feel better too and decides to use his hands to slide underneath your shirt. He gently supports your back with one hand while Jisung continues to eat you out. The other hand unclasps your bra, giving Hyunjin free access to grope your tits under your shirt once it’s removed. By then, you’re able to lean back into his body and continue to melt from the sensations.

Strained mewls and moans tear up your throat when Hyunjin uses his index fingers and thumbs to pinch roll your nipples. He savours the pathetic whimpers you make when he starts rolling them too. You struggle helplessly against him, pressing your chest up only for him to pinch them just a little bit harder. It’s like you wanted him to stop, but you also needed him to keep going.  

“Hyun…jin, s’too much, can’t-“

He finds himself nuzzling against your face, kissing your cheek here and there as an attempt to touch you as much as he can. He lingers on the fact that you’re barely able to speak in full sentences which does something to his brain. Like he and Jisung have reduced your mind and body to a point where it only knows and seeks pleasure. There’s no room for you to be able to speak when words can’t even describe what you’re feeling. 

“Can’t what baby?” He asks. “I’m sure you can take it.”

Jisung’s mouth throws your mind off of answering Hyunjin, right when he starts flicking his tongue right over the heavily stimulated bud of nerves. Your thighs firmly clamp around Jisung’s head, trembling from its effect that Hyunjin can even feel you quiver from behind. 

Turns out his best friend is good with his mouth. Hyunjin couldn’t help but wonder what other use it has. 

“Cumming, please I need to cum,” you beg desperately.

One of your hands makes it through Jisung’s dark hair, something to hold onto to brace yourself for that intense round of pleasure. The assault from his tongue leaves you no choice but to tug and pull on his hair until Jisung himself starts moaning into your pussy from the pain - good, inviting pain. 

“Nobody’s stopping you baby. “Gonna cum for us? Again?” Hyunjin urges gently.

“Yes!” You whine pleadingly. “Mm, r-right there!”

The closer you are to the edge of your orgasm, your hips start to make subtle upward movements. Almost like you’re trying to ride his face, which Jisung welcomes, would invite actually. It’s what he wants anyway - for you to use his face until you cum all over it. 

“Don’t stop…please don’t stop, fuck!” You plead hysterically.

The pressure has you feeling like you’re about to explode into bits. Your thighs continue to squeeze unapologetically around Jisung’s head, fearing for a second that you might crush him. Meanwhile, Hyunjin’s fingers and thumbs roll and tug on your nipples. The sensations easily sweep over you, compelling deep moans and small yet shaky screams from your throat as you cum loudly. 

“Good girl,” Hyunjin exalts you with praise. “Sound so pretty…”

Jisung could’ve kept going had your body not wanted to completely give way. But he does slow down his pace for you to finally linger in what was one of the best orgasms you’ve had from getting head. It makes you melt into Hyunjin’s front, your muscles twitching yet relaxed at its best. 

“Christ…” you swallow, breathing heavily in big pockets of air. “Jisung.”

The man finally pops his head back up, a sight for you to absorb with the way his mouth is covered in your juices. The humiliation settles under your skin when you see the mess you’ve made on his face. As if he could care any less, not with the content grin he’s wearing. 

When you start descending from your high, it dawns upon you that you’ve had a total of two orgasms so far and not once have you returned the favour to Hyunjin and Jisung. Particularly Hyunjin, who hasn’t had much of your body in comparison to Jisung. He’s been sitting behind you patiently, taking all of the brunt force you made while his friend was going down on you. 

Amid the orgasmic haze in your brain, you push past it as best you can to speak, “condoms.”

Jisung nods mindlessly, trying to get the image of you looking so fucked out, out of his head. However, he snaps out of his daze and springs to his feet. He flounders around, thinking that if he doesn’t hurry up and find them, you’re both going to leave.

As Jisung is preoccupied, it gives you an opportunity to sit and turn around and face Hyunjin for the first time in half an hour.

“Lay back,” you mumble to him. 

“Hm?”

He tilts his head innocently that it makes you wonder if he’s just pretending or genuinely too dumbfounded with what you’re about to do. You shuffle forward, in between his legs still and kiss him gently. His parted mouth is so plump and supple that it makes you bite down on his lower lip and tug, forcing a tiny whimper out of him. 

“Condoms. Okay. Hyunjin, where are your condoms?” Jisung circles back to ask, checking the coffee table, the fruit bowl, even dipping into Hyunjin’s room and tearing open the drawers to his bedside table to check.

After coming up short, he returns to the lounge to see your mouth around Hyunjin’s cock, drawing long, deep, and slow strokes. He swallows hard, watching for a few moments too long until he pulls himself out his daze.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung calls out again. 

Hyunjin’s eyes roll back when you sink your entire mouth down onto his length as he grips the rug beneath him, “d-don’t have any here.”

“Shit,” he groans and strides over to the bench where he left his wallet when he first walked in.

Amongst his cards and loose change where he would also keep a few condoms for occasions like this, were unfortunately not there. Out of all the instances where he’s had spontaneous sex, this is the only time he wishes he really had them on hand. 

“I haven’t got any either-” he frowns but all he gets is a strained, echoed whimper when you deepthroat Hyunjin’s length. “Fuck…” 

Visibly spaced out for a moment, Jisung starts acting a bit like Bambi when he wants to start walking; struggling to put one foot in front of the other as he makes his way back over to you both. From this angle, he’s able to see Hyunjin in a different light. His wavy brown hair covering most parts of his face, knuckles now another shade of morbid white as he nearly shreds the carpet beneath him with his nails.

Jisung thought he looked good - fuckable. But he excuses that thought for the time being. 

“Y/N, please…fuck, not…not gonna last if y’keep doing that,” Hyunjin barely manages to get his words out, having to fight them every single time you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip. “I-I’ll cum, fuck.”

For a moment, you pull back from his cock, replacing it with your hand instead to keep up the pleasure you initiated. His body contorts and writhes, the back of his head pressing painfully into the ground. He must be an easily over-stimulated type. 

“Fuck me then,” you say to him. 

He blinks hazily, like he’s just waking up from a nap, “h-huh? But you - the-“

You were not going to listen to what he’ll start babbling about so this time, you fully abandon his dick and turn around to face Jisung who had been silently watching you both from behind. The obvious, rock hard tent in his pants was alluring. If you didn’t have other motives of getting him off first, you would be in his lap, grinding your wet pussy over his bulge. 

From the way he’s been acting, you know he’d let you too. 

Jisung gazes into your eyes like a snake that’s being charmed. He’s wondering what your next move is when your lips inch closer to his even though it’s easy to predict a kiss.

That being said, you arch your back, giving Hyunjin a not so discrete choice to fuck you. Presenting your wet hole to him as an invitation. It was a devious move but nothing in comparison to the grand scene of things. That being you and two of your best friends touching each other in ways that friends don’t normally touch. 

It isn’t ‘friend behaviour’ if you reach down into Jisung’s lap and palm his hard, neglected cock through the strains of his pants. It’s not ‘friend behaviour’ if Hyunjin moves himself closer to you so that he can delicately graze the pads of his fingers over your dripping slit. Friends don’t do this, yet, as friends, none of you could care less. 

All that mattered was sex and to be touched. To be relieved of the delicious pressure that you want to keep just so that the feeling of ‘cumming’ lasts forever. But, you all know that you can’t have too much of a good thing. You can’t get greedy when Hyunjin rises to his knees, stroking his cock a couple of times in hand. Or when he starts slicking up his length in between your wet folds and slowly pushing in. 

“S-Shit,” you gasp, causing your hand to stall over Jisung’s dick right as you were about to free him from his pants. 

His cock starts filling you up little by little. Hyunjin presses in a few centimetres then pulls back out. He does that until your pussy swallows up his entire dick nice and snug, reaching the base of it. With the amount of prep you’ve had so far, it made the process all the more easier to take the amount of inches Hyunjin packs. 

From what you can feel inside you and what you’re palming beneath your hand, it was simple to conclude that Jisung and Hyunjin were relatively similar in size. When you pull the waistbands of Jisung’s pants and underwear down, you were right in your assumption. Beads of pre cum had been leaking pitifully from his angry red tip and down his shaft, most of which were soaked up by the fabric of his clothes. 

“Fuck baby,” Jisung whines, sucking in long draws of breaths when your hand wraps around him and slowly tugs. “So good…so hot.” 

A small, tired smile spreads on your face, but his compliment does not distract you from the fact that Hyunjin has begun to thrust slowly, along with applying a soft grip on your hips. With that, you lower your mouth down onto the tip of Jisung’s cock. He hisses and grits his teeth, the sensitivity he feels is already overwhelming.

Even more so when you start taking him as much as you can. Thankfully Hyunjin’s thrusts help you take more of him too, bucking forward from the force he starts putting in. 

“Bet that…pussy feels just as good as your mouth,” Jisung says breathlessly, carding some of your hair out of the way. He bundles as much of it as he can for you, holding it in a subtle grip on top of your head. 

"It does, like warm velvet”, Hyunjin says to himself in his head as a response to his friend's comment. 

A hot, wet, and lush pocket that he has the privilege of fucking and not once did he ever fathom a possibility that is so real right now. He has to quickly snap out of his own head for a minute, distracted by that creamy ring around his cock being pushed back to the base of his cock when he slides his entire length in and out of you so fluidly. Taking him all the way. 

It’s like you were made for him…

For a second, Hyunjin was convinced you could hear his thoughts as you decided to deepen the arch in your back. His cock now repeatedly hitting a delicious angle that makes your thighs involuntarily shake each time his tip connects with it. The shockwaves of pleasure start to surge and pool inside you, waiting to be released. 

“Fuck…yes, baby,” Hyunjin mutters to himself, making the mistake of looking down at where his cock is vanishing in and out of. “Taking us so fucking well.” 

You moan around Jisung’s length at the praise, prying more strained whines and cries from him that fills Hyunjin’s ears. It has so much effect on him that he has to look up and see for himself. Jisung looks and is fucked out, like he’s already on the verge of cumming which is a given considering that you’re taking all of him like a champ. The wet sounds your mouth makes as it glides up and down Jisung’s cock sounds just as good as it feels. 

Every now and then you suck on his tip when you need to come up for some air, still making sure he has some contact before you mercilessly sink back down again. Once Jisung started rutting slightly into your mouth, tightening the grip he has on your hair, and his loud, quick paced breathing from above, you knew. You knew he wanted to cum. 

“Close, fuck I’m so close,” he swallows, biting down on his bottom lip as you bob your head up and down. “Gonna cum Y/N…gonna make me cum.” 

Hyunjin observes attentively from behind. Watching in the moments leading up to Jisung’s orgasm, the way he keels forwards, crying out in a series of loud moans as you continue to bring him to the edge, “yes, yes, yes, fuck yes!”

You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his cum spurting out rhythmically and orgasming so hard that his body shivers over. Not once do you let up, even after his orgasm and even the fact that you have a hypothetical eye on your own which Hyunjin has been curating for you. The pressure has been built so high that it’s hard not to feel like you’re about to explode. Similar to the way you could tell Jisung was about to cum, Hyunjin could easily tell when you were. 

You had gotten noisier, even with a dick in your mouth that barred you from using any words, it was obvious the way you were feeling. Your plush walls were starting to tighten themselves cosily around Hyunjin, gripping onto him so that he wouldn’t leave. 

As you finally peel back from Jisung’s cock, a long line of spit connects you and his length, mixed with his warm cum. But in a matter of seconds, you’re already there too. You pull back entirely, now a panting, gorgeously ruined mess who’s getting railed the way people can only dream of.

Something possesses Jisung to lean forward and kiss you sloppily, quickly evolving into some messy, wet makeout. He can taste himself in your mouth, exchanging the salty residue that invites him to linger on your lips a little longer, unbothered about the fact that you’re about to be swept over by an intense orgasm. 

Only when you start breathing heavily and quickly, Jisung decides to pull away and witness the event unfold. He watches Hyunjin fuck you to your orgasm while his mind is tormented by the way that you look. How his cum mixed with your spit starts drooling out of your mouth when you start crying out from such concentrated pleasure. It feels like Hyunjin just pulled a pin to a bomb inside the pit of your stomach. 

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin groans, pulling your body back and forth onto his cock by your hips. “So fucking close.”

“S-Stop - I…cumming, fuck, I’m cumming-” your words are cut short as pleasure shoots throughout your body, fingernails digging into the carpet.  

Everything inside of you feels heightened and rocked with a euphoria so immeasurable that your entire body cannot do anything but still and take what Hyunjin gives you. His steady pace doesn’t waiver. Despite the fact that he’s seconds away from busting a warm load inside you, he’s capable of not switching things up drastically so that you get a steady flow of pleasure. 

As your walls quiver and spasm around his cock, Hyunjin coats them in a hot thick white. His bruising grasp on your hips is the other outlet he has to mitigate such an intense orgasm. As for you, all you can do is absorb yours. To take his entire cock so greedily when you cum hard that your vision has gone all blotchy. You’re seeing cosmics of tiny glistening stars on Jisung who does nothing but watch out of desire to see you lose your mind so easily. To see you writhe and tear up from how strong the ecstasy is. 

“Yes! Fuck, Hyunjin!” You scream out, moaning loudly around his apartment that both of them are sure his neighbours will hear. 

But it’s not like he cares if he ever receives a future noise complaint. It’d be an honour to know that he fucked you so good that everyone in his complex could hear you. What a dream that would be; to make you feel good all the time. A very distant dream at that. 

“That’s it,” Hyunjin sighs out when your body gives one final shudder, giving you some shallow thrusts to help ease you down. “Good girl.” 

Hyunjin pulls out slowly with a hiss as a giddy feeling in his gut that makes his mind twist when he sees his cum mixed with your juices, leak from your hole. So captivated by it that he only starts to realise that you need to lie down. Your body does what it feels like and collapses steadily onto the carpet beside Jisung who lies back with you. It’s not long before Hyunjin follows suit and rests by your other side too. 

The three of you then laze on the floor, sticky bodies meshed together for the time being as Hyunjin comes up to spoon you from behind and Jisung from the front. Minutes tick by as you all relax peacefully. You could’ve almost fallen asleep like this until Jisung, who was ‘just closing his eyes’, flashed them open and looked dead into your soul. 

“Why’d you need a condom if you let him fuck you raw?” he asks out of nowhere, suddenly expecting a long and complicated reason from you. Despite the filthy things you guys just did, his question seemed so amusingly crass. 

“Because I wanted you both to fuck me…at the same time,” you murmur tiredly yet so honestly. “Needed at least one for that.”

“Oh, r-right,” he stutters, then plays it cool. “Usually I carry them with me but-“

“You ran out?” You guess, cutting him off. “Whore.”

Jisung went to open his mouth to object your claim until Hyunjin reached over and covered it with his big hand, “shut up please.”

Hyunjin’s closes his eyes again but his brain now whirs with the thought of what could’ve been. Not that it mattered now. He enjoyed himself and he’s sure that you and Jisung did too who could not think of any words that come close to describing how he feels. His head was clear of thoughts - all except one. Chan. Or at least, what’s going on between you and Chan. Not that it was any of his business.

Nonetheless, he was interested but decided to keep it to himself for now. So while your eyes closed once more, Jisung turns around and reaches for your phone to unlock it before heading to the message he sent to Chan, and the one he received from him too. He checks it over one final time to be sure that what he read earlier was correct.  

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x 

He still struggled to believe it. But, with that in mind, Jisung deletes the message and forgets that it ever happened knowing that the next time he sees the others, he’ll ask if they too know anything about what’s going on between you and Chan. 

For the time being, he relishes in the afterglow of one of the best nights he’s had. To rest peacefully in the warmth and comfort of his two friends.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

-

A/N: 060124 - Play Right

[luvyxdovey]

stfu i love this conceptttt

The Symphony Smut Series

A series of oneshots based on lyrics from my playlists and their songs

Day 1: Lana del Rey's Gods and Monsters;

In the land of gods and monsters I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard - Lee 'Know' Minho (Skz)

Day 2:Lana del rey's Brooklyn Baby

My boyfriends' in a band, he plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed - Heeseung and Jay (Enha)

Day 3: Doja Cat and Starbo3's D!ck

She came in like an addict - Kim Sunoo (Enha)

Day 4: Cat Peirce's You belong to me

Do what you please to me, I won't resist - Jake (Enha)

Day 5: Lancey Foxx's Lancey or Lancey

Took her to Paris, she took her panties off- Felix (Skz)

Day 6: Lana del Rey's Peppers

We write hit songs without trying like, all the time, all the time - Han Jisung (Skz)

Day 7: Julia Michaels' Heaven

they say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you - I.N/ Yang Jeongin (Skz)

Day 8: Lana del Rey's Cherry

My cherries and wine and all my black peaches are ruined - Kim Sunoo (Enha)

Day 9: Flo Milli's Ride

He love how I ride it, hop on a dick made him get excited - Changbin (Skz)

Day 10: Skz's Red Lights

I cannot breathe without you being right by my side - Seungmin (Skz)

Day 11:Charlie Puth's Dangerously

I love you dangerously - Han Jisung (Skz)

Day 12: Staind "Right Here"

But you always find a way to keep me right here waiting. - Sunghoon (Enha)

Day 13: Amaarae's Angels in Tibet

Louvre and Armani I like how you say it - Jay (Enha)

Day 14: Doja Cat's Agora Hills

Suck a little dick in the bathroom - Chan (Skz)

Day 15: Doja Cat's Agora Hills

Kissin I hope they caught us - Sunghoon (Enha)

Day 16: Todrick hall's Both

I can make you moist or i can make you fire - Heeseung (Enha)

Day 17: The Neighborhood's You get me so high

We just slept together, you're my best friend I love you forever - Hyunjin

Day 18: Amaarae's Angels in Tibet

Touch me where you need to, I can give you more - Sunghoon

[luvyxdovey]

TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed.

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

MASTERLIST

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand. 

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around. 

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room. 

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink. 

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him. 

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled. 

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself. 

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks. 

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely. 

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves. 

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung. 

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.  

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed. 

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground. 

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.” 

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask. 

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender. 

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further. 

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out. 

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement. 

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise. 

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?” 

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung. 

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.” 

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers. 

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!” 

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.” 

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.  

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it. 

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside. 

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs. 

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.” 

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.” 

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out. 

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body. 

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting. 

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you. 

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?” 

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it. 

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare. 

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking. 

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight. 

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying. 

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?” 

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour. 

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled. 

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.” 

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity. 

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face. 

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late. 

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?” 

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off. 

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process. 

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin. 

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off. 

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?” 

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.” 

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.” 

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that. 

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate. 

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.” 

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees. 

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit. 

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants. 

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning. 

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge. 

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun. 

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you. 

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.” 

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself. 

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.” 

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches. 

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps. 

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear. 

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again. 

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

[luvyxdovey]

just came back to tumblr && this was perfect 👏👏

seungmin being drunk on eating you out.

pussy drunk seungmin who takes every chance he gets to taste you. his eyes getting all sparkly and big when you deny him.

you'd remember how it had all started when he wanted to try out face sitting. at first being very hesitant until he actually got the feeling.

the feeling of not being able to breathe. your pussy leaking all over his mouth and nose.

had he really been missing out on the good stuff? how could he let it all go to waste?

he doesn't even want to cum, he just wants to eat you out and make you cum. he'll make you cum over and over again until you actually have to tug a handful of his hair to pull him back.

he's the type to walk in behind you when your leaning against the counter.

an innocent smile on his face and his not so innocent hand slipping down your pants. before you can even utter another word, he's on his knees. fingers playfully tugging at the waistband of your panties.

sometimes you'd wake up feeling completely dazed. an unexplainable sensation. but its all explainable when you see his head between your legs. face buried in your cunt. seungmin doesn't even try to hide how desperate he is.

you worry about how he'd breath when you can feel his nose rubbing against your clit harshly while his tongue is all over the place. licking you completely. swallowing whatever he can take.

"seungmin..hah-" you'd whine, closing your thighs around his head. he'd moan, panting against you. he'd want you to do that. so he could get breathless and only smell your sex. your essence. seungmin wants you to push his mouth against your cunt. use him for your pleasure. make him your toy. your bitch.

"what is this for?"

seungmin smiled, unbuckling the thick collar and fastening it around his neck. 'puppy engraved into the light blue collar in gold.

"so you can control my pace"

by now you had figured he knew your pussy from the inside and out. his tongue finding all your spots in quick successions.

other times he'd make a peace sign and stick his tongue through it playfully when y'all were in public. just to tease you.

.

.

"i just don't understand how people can be so stupid" you frustratedly, holding your head in your hands. today was a bad day. everything was pissing you off.

"couldn't you wait until i was done ranting?" you sighed out airily. looking at the boy who was sitting on his knees, lazily mouthing at your heat. he locked eyes with you, obviously not hearing what you asked him.

"kim seungmin." you hissed out, tugging the chain that was attached to his collar.

he jerked forward, a whiny 'sorry' leaving him.

[luvyxdovey]

foaming out the mouth rn

lia idk if you've already done this before butttt.. what do you think txt would sound like in bed? and what are some of their things they do a lot while making love? 🫣

— lei 🦠

LEI AAAAAA i actually haven't done one of these lol!! doing one rn tho omg omg

sounds txt make in bed/their sex habits~

warnings: dom!txt, fem!reader, lots n lots of discriptive, nasty sex

i see soobin on the quieter side; he's noisy, but not loud. lots of whining and whimpering in your ear, breathy breathy moans you have to focus hard to hear-- when you're on top bouncing on his fat cock, he's a little noisier, soft staccato "ah, ah, ah!"s everytime his cockhead kisses your cervix >///< he doesn't dirty talk as much as the others either, just breathy moans of "yeah, like that", "good girl, doin' so good", "so tight!" "feels so good!" lots of praise too, loves praise both giving n receiving :> binnie really loves being ridden too imo, loves laying back n watching his baby impale herself on his big big dick !! he holds on really tight to your hips no matter what position you're in tho (his fav is mating press!), big hands warm n nails digging into your skin keeping both you n him grounded heehee!! n his breeding kink oml, babbling about making you a mommy when he's especially fucked out... it's impossible to get bin to cum anywhere except inside your warm wet cunt eee ><

i've said it before and i WILL say it again yeonjun is such a whimperer! he makes noises that would put some pornstars to shame fr fr... high pitched broken whines n whimpers, loud loud open-mouthed moans high in his throat,, he's especially loud when you suck his dick heehee, head thrown back n just losing it. jjun's trademark is how he never shuts up tho!! constant constant dirty talk, pussy drunk to the point he can't keep his mouth shut; "fuck, fuck, shit--i'm gonna cum!!" "so pretty, baby, such a pretty girl wrapped around my cock~" he LOVES being called daddy/calling himself daddy and question/answer dirty talk especially, spitting shit like "pussy's all for daddy, right baby? fuck-- say it! who's this pussy belong to?!" "god, look at you; you love daddy's cock, don't you? show me how much you love it~" jjunie loves your ass n anal, loves spanking n doggy style, n his favorite way to get his dick sucked is with you on your knees <3 he's a creampie king too, next to soobin lol

beomgyu is loud as shit too lol, low moans deep in his chest, adam's apple bobbing constantly; he's so breathy too heehee, always gasping and huffing like he can't breathe! a lot of "hah, hah, hah"s and "fuck, fuck, fuck"s, strangled whimpers and super loud "hnnghh!!"s when he's feeling especially good heehee >< like jjun gyu is CONSTANTLY dirty talking, nasty nasty mouth spewing the lewdest things; he LOVESS degrading you n calling you names, holding you down and throwing you around, treating you like a whore. sprinkles in some sweet praise amongst all of the mean words tho!! "pussy feels so fuckin' good! made for me, made for my dick!" "you like that, huh? like it when i treat you like a slut? you're my slut, yeah, perfect f'me~" "fuck yeah, take it, bitch, take it!" beomgyu was literally made for doggy idc... loves holding your arms behind your back while he pounds your cunt >< gyu is another ass/anal enjoyer, constantly grabbing ur ass... he's a brutal facefucker too, n loves choking and hairpulling, both giving n recieiving!

i have the most trouble dicerning what i think taehyun sounds like... also very breathy n moany, either whines super high in his throat or moans super deep in his chest aaa >< he's also on the quieter side like soobin is imo, mostly heavy gaspy breathing n pretty low moans in your ear ^^ he gets super whiny n high pitched right when he's about to cum,,, i feel like he could stay relatively silent if he tried but can't stop himself from letting out the loudest prettiest cries when he cums! but right after he cums his voice gets all low n gravelly... aaaaa!!!!! tyunnie isn't that big on dirty talk either, not that he doesn't do it at all, just not as much yk :> just short n sweet things like "fuck, you're so tight!" "feel so good, princess, so good for me~" "pussy's gonna make me cum-- where do you want me? inside? want me to cum in your pussy?" tyun loves missionary/mating press, loves seeing your face as he makes you feel good! also likes backshots while putting you in a headlock w his beefy arms.... guhggjuhjhj... tyun is rlly the most vanilla out of all of them imo...

oh hueningkai... my chubby chaser perv... soooo noisy :( he's not that great at dirty talk either, mostly because of how much he's moaning n whimpering... most of his "dirty talk" is just jumbled together words mixed in with all of his noises, lots of "f-fuck!" "shit!" "oh!" "so good!" heehee,, he's also sooo big with the praise and the sweet pet names eeeee.... "oh! oh, f-fuck, you feel so good!" "oh honey, look how tiny you are... i can see my cock in your belly~!" "i l-love your pussy! 'm gonna cum, baby, can i? can i cum inside?" he loves booties and boobies n thighs, loves chubby girls with plush that he can squeeze and jiggle.. he has such a giant size kink too oml, obsessed with how much bigger n stronger he is than you!! look how easily he can lift you up n throw you around, hold your shaking thighs apart while he makes a meal out of your cunt <3 his sweet words n sugary smile are such a contrast to his harsh thrusts and strong hands, big fat dick bullying your tight cunt with no prep cos hyuka is just too impatient to wait! don't worry though, kai will take such good care of his sweet girl-- all she has to do is lie back and take what he gives her !

[luvyxdovey]

AGHH i can tell this is abt to be crazyyy good!!!

Rare and Pure (cbg) - Teaser

PAIRING: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

GENRES: smut, angst, werewolf au, childhood friends to lovers, neighbors to lovers, accidental lovers?

TEASER WC: 0.35k idk how long this is going to be i'm already at 7k and have not gotten to the meat of anything :):):):):)

SUMMARY: Choi Yeonjun was the love of your life, the one you were unequivocally sure the Moon Goddess had chosen for you. His younger brother, Beomgyu, on the other hand, didn't even register on your radar as mate material. But fate, as it often does, had other plans. One night was all it took for your entire life to flip around as you found yourself accidentally mated to your childhood friend. Now, you're left grappling with the emotional wreckage of it all as you are not only struggling to feel the unbreakable connection that mates are supposed to share with Beomgyu, but you're also dealing with the harsh reality that your dreams of forever with Yeonjun will never come to fruition. It's a bitter pill to swallow, and it's forcing you to reevaluate your very sense of self.

Your wolf clearly had some serious explaining to do.

"Fuck! What the hell did we just do?" you screamed at him, hastily pulling up your pants and bolting out of the stall. Beomgyu followed, his words stuttering in his panic. "I-I don't know, shit!"

You dashed to the mirror, inspecting your neck, and what you saw made your heart sink. The bite was deep, and you could make out every detail of his teeth. A trickle of blood ran down your shoulder, and you winced in pain as you carefully traced the mark. Turning around, you pulled his shirt to the side to examine his neck, finding an almost identical bite mark, mirroring your own. There was no denying that the two of you had permanently claimed each other.

Panic was overwhelming, and the alcohol only added to the haze that clouded your thoughts. You rushed out of the bathroom with Beomgyu hot on your heels, shouting your name as you weaved your way through the growing mass of dancing bodies, which seemed to have multiplied in the last hour.

Your desperate attempt to reach the front door came to an abrupt halt when you accidentally collided with the last thing you needed to see tonight. Before you could turn and find another route, you found yourself facing the one scene that would shatter your already fragile state.

Yeonjun and Yunjin were passionately entwined on the dance floor, their lips locked in a heated kiss. Before you could react, they both noticed your distressed presence. "Y/N?" Yunjin called out.

Overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions and events, you couldn't fully deduce on how to react, and you felt your eyes burning as tears blurred your vision. Beomgyu had finally caught up to you, but his arrival only served to intensify the situation. Yeonjun, with his keen senses, quickly picked up on the extremely potent mix of your and Beomgyu's scents that wafted in the air, which were a telltale sign of what the two of you had been up to. His eyes zeroed in on the glaringly obvious marks adorning your bodies, and it didn't take long for all hell to break loose.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ya'll know i love a good one night stand to lovers and making it werewolf au phew i'm so down for this plot lmao but honestly i'm so excited to finally have something for you guys it's literally been ages i'm so sorry ㅠㅠ and while i def do not know when it's going to be released i have enough to know that it'll hopefully be soon?? i'm about 7k in rn and have a good bit to write but it's going well so i'm so excited !! also beomgyu's the best i love that mans sm

[luvyxdovey]

this is canon idc idc !!

How every member of xdinary heroes would kiss you according to the ✨ voices in my head ✨

JOOYEON: that slow kiss with his hands lost in your strands of hair, you would be facing each other on the couch, jooyeon wishes your hands were around his neck while he lightly tugged on your strands and slowly sucked yours bottom lip.

GUN-IL: slower kiss too (not as much as Jooyeon's), but with a nice touch in the same rhythm as the kiss, his hands would be around your neck, squeezing lightly and you would be in his lap (the voices of the My head thinks he would also like to squeeze her buttocks).

JUNGSU: a more romantic kiss, with him on top of you, holding your face with one hand while the other would be caressing your waist underneath your blouse, your hands would spend most of the time on his broad shoulders, sometimes going down to his back ( However, the kiss being more romantic wouldn't stop him from pressing his hips onto yours :D).

GAON: BREATHTAKING kiss!!! he would leave you pressed against the wall and put one of your legs around his waist, lightly pressing his hip against yours, his other hand would be holding your wrists preventing you from touching him, he would leave bites on your lower lip frequently.

O.DE: Seungmin's point according to the voices in my head would be one of those erotic kisses, you know? He would leave you sitting at the dining room table, he would suck your lips and your tongue masterfully while his hands would start to wander between your legs, squeezing your thighs until he kissed your jaw.

JUNHAN: Junhan's kiss would be the cutest and most adorable thing according to my voices, you would be sitting sideways on his lap holding his shoulders and he would leave your hands together most of the time, only letting go when he was going to hold your waist or your neck.

[luvyxdovey]

Congratulations on 2k! I have request for the event in the mic is yours!

Dom! Gyu × bunny hybrid reader in heat ?

“In which you, Beomgyu’s odd and eccentric neighbor, take an interest in him.”

beomgyu x fem!bunny hybrid reader // wc: 2.7K // fluff, smut, hybrid au, MDNI.

warnings: barely edited hehe, dom!gyu, sub!mc, unprotected sex, breast play, dry humping, oral (f. rec), fingering, multiple orgasms, gyu is big sorry not sorry, dacryphilia, manhandling, creampies

Notes: haven’t written a hybrid au in so long omg… i've been thrown back to my roots.

Beomgyu who, when he first met you, thought you were a little strange. 

The strange person he held the elevator for when he first moved into the apartment complex, unsure of who you were as he instead took in the way you were shivering violently, hood pulled over your head tightly and arms wrapped around yourself as you barely made an effort to look at him; you wore a mask, hiding your features and leading Beomgyu to assume you were just sick. 

You had gotten off on the same floor as him, and it wasn’t until he found himself trailing behind you that he realized that you were neighbors— and, though he didn’t mean to, his eyes inevitably fell to a certain something that piqued his interest, white and fluffy and peeking from under the hem of your hoodie as he couldn’t help the breath of surprise that he let out— and, without realizing it, he got your attention, watching as you turned around and gave him a look through your wide, sparkling and slightly dazed eyes; he could only smile sheepishly before he turned back to unlock his door, pretending as though he didn’t feel your intense stare on him before you finally decided to go into your home. 

Beomgyu never thought he’d be in this position before; his neighbor, a bunny hybrid, floppy ears and fluffy tail always twitching with surprise every time you bumped into each other; as much as you wanted to hide your emotions, you simply couldn’t, and it wasn’t long before your excitable personality forced you to strike a conversation in the very place you first met— an elevator ride has never felt so short when he talked to you, wishing nothing more than to properly be friends and maybe, get to know him better. 

Over time, your wish comes true— but it’s never enough for you, stuck with small talk and conversations that are always cut short because oh, I have to go, or sorry, I just got back from work and I’m pretty tired, only getting more and more discouraged because your meetings are always limited to the hallways, or the lobby, or worse, the elevator. But of course, this does little to hinder you— your face always lighting up every time you see him, your cute ears always coming up in attention before you’re quickly forcing them down with a sheepish smile, your fluffy tail twitching wildly behind you as you tug your hoodie down a little more and keep your hands behind your back. 

Beomgyu who, in one of your two-minute conversations, lets it slip that he’s been so busy these days, and that he hasn’t eaten a home cooked meal for so long, half-heartedly joking that my stomach feels so empty all the time. 

And as a rational person, what do you do? Make him a meal, of course! Compiled of all his favorite foods you’ve managed to weasel out of him, pretending to be casual about it as you instead took note of them each, your mind racing on how to make them— for once, you find yourself oddly shy as you finally approach him, taking that it’s one of his few days off into account as you ask him if he’d like to eat dinner tonight. 

All Beomgyu can think is that he’s never seen you like this— your usual outgoing and eccentric personality gone, your face flushed and your ears practically hiding you as you tap your foot absentmindedly— the feeling that festers inside him is new and intense, pretending as though he’s not holding back the urge to coo at you as he instead tells you I’d love to with a charming smile. 

Beomgyu who, after aweing at the intricate meal you prepared and sheepishly telling you that you didn’t have to go all out for him, thinks he might have a little crush on you. 

Two-minute conversations turn to five— only because he’s off to work in the mornings, but he tries really hard to push past his fatigue and stop you in the hallways to talk. Boring days off turn into days where he’s over at your apartment— or you’re cooped up in his, never a dull moment between you two as you eventually take those days to cook together— he finds himself looking forward to those days even more, unaware of the way he’s begun to actively seek you out as well; you’re no longer the one pining desperately, and you barely have to do anything but text Beomgyu are you home? If you want to see him.

There’s an unaddressed tension to your relationship; surely, it’s normal to spend days at each other’s apartments, acting clingy and stealing his hoodies every chance you get, right? Yeah, it’s completely normal to hug Beomgyu a little tighter when you’re about to leave, telling him it’s completely normal and instinct when you nudge your nose a little closer to his pulse point, your scent rubbing off on him and his onto you as you bid him goodnight with a satisfied smile. 

It’s totally normal to be like this with a friend; normal to lay in bed restless, unsure of how else to get rid of the feeling that festers in your stomach than to reach for the hoodie you discarded because it was too hot, bringing the soft item to your nose and closing your eyes as you inhale deeply— and suddenly he’s there with you, and it’s not your hand that’s slipping under the waistband of your shorts, body alight with a carnal desire that seemingly doesn’t end— it isn’t until your mind is exhausted but your body continues to buzz impatiently that you realize what’s going on. 

Beomgyu catches onto your ill state immediately— when he hasn’t seen or heard from you for three days, he’s at your door immediately, meekly asking if you’re home and pressing his ear against the wood for any signs of sounds. 

Meanwhile, you’re absolutely miserable. The sound of his voice alone is enough to have you whimpering and crying, his hoodie wrinkled and held tightly in your hands as you shift restlessly on your bed— it doesn’t smell like him anymore, and your nose twitches at the way his scent practically floods through the door, your mind clouded and impairing your mind that screams at you to not answer. 

But you’ve never been good with self-control, have you? Throwing yourself on him the moment you open the door, pulling him in a bone crushing hug and hiding your face into his chest as you inhale deeply— your body feels like it’s on fire against Beomgyu’s skin, and he’s gasping slightly at the way he’s practically holding you up, taking in your state before he’s leading you back inside, asking you quietly if you’re alright, if you need to go to the hospital. 

Beomgyu shouldn’t have gone inside. It’s the last sober thought that passes through your mind, every other instinct soon taking over the moment he closes the door behind him; you’re tugging at his hoodie, face buried in the crook of his neck as you cling to him desperately, cute fluffy tail going wild behind you at the mere scent of him— he’s caught off guard by the way your hands grip onto his hoodie, pulling him closer to you by the waist as you merely whine that you missed him; voice shaky and soft, eyes brimming with tears as he feels the way your wet lashes brush against his skin— he tries to remain calm at the way your warm breath and soft lips continue to brush against his sensitive neck, gulping heavily as his arms slowly come up to hug you back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, feeling the way you barely seem to process anything as you stumble forward instead, pushing him back and against the door as you press yourself flush against him, too afraid to make any advances but too desperate that you just have to feel his touch all over you, “Are— are you sick? Do you need me to go get you some medicine?”

His worried voice is what lets you snap out of it, even if it’s just for a moment; pushing yourself off him with haste, eyes wide and sobered as your mouth parts slightly with shock from your behavior— you’re embarrassed to meet his gaze, his eyes wide like yours and his cheeks flushed a slight red; you’re stuttering useless excuses as you stumble back, wringing your hands nervously and chewing on your lip as you proceed to look everywhere but him. 

It takes a while before it all clicks for him; your behavior— eerily similar to when you first met, he thinks— clingy and shaking yet holding yourself back as you tell him you should leave, your eyes longing but your actions saying otherwise as you reach to open the door for him— only to be stopped, pulled back by Beomgyu as you whimper weakly at the way his hand feels on your searing skin. 

“Let me stay,” he whispers, watching as you only let out a shaky breath at his words, “Let me help you.”

There’s no going back after that; you’re on him without hesitation, ignoring any rationality that tells you not to give in, that you could ruin the way things are— but it doesn’t really matter to you as you’re pulling him along and stumbling to your room, unable to take your lips off his as the kiss grows rough and messy, his hands firm on your waist as he smiles at your eagerness. 

You’re desperate to shed off everything; there is no slow and romantic moment, not when you feel as though your body is on fire and your mind craves nothing more than the man who hovers over you. His eyes are low lidded and dark as he takes you in, soft skin tempting and covered with a thin sheen of sweat from how hard you’ve been holding yourself back— immediately grabbing his wrists and encouraging him to touch you, back arching and mouth falling open the moment his cool hands play with your breasts, your mind reeling at the fact that you finally get to have him like this. 

Beomgyu isn’t faring very well either; in awe at the way you’re so desperate and fucked out for him, kneeling between your legs and feeling the way you’ve already begun to grind against him— pussy leaking onto his sweats, leaving a stain you don’t seem to care much about as you press yourself harder against him instead. Your hair is mused and your face is flushed as you whimper desperately for him to touch you, do something to make the pain go away; need you, want you to fuck me so bad, please, gyu…

He never thought he’d be in this position; the cute neighbor he met a while ago, now in heat and under him as you whine and whimper for his cock, still not satiated even after he’s made you cum on his tongue and fingers, his hair tangled and held tightly in your hands as you cry and pull him closer to your pussy, still not satisfied even after countless rounds. 

Gotta prep you baby, make sure you’re ready, you thought that was nothing more than him teasing you, stringing you along with the promise of fucking you as he played with your pussy until you were a crying and begging mess— fluffy ears plastered to the pillows below you as your hips bucked into his face, mindlessly babbling that it didn’t matter, you can take it, you need it.

But your reaction says it all; he’s much bigger than you expected, eyes widening and mouth watering at the sight of him pulling his cock out and slowly stroking it, hovering over you and aligning himself with your entrance as he lowly whispers if you’re sure, if you’re ready— you merely respond with a hasty nod, leg hooking around his waist and pulling him closer to you as you feel his tip finally push inside you. 

The stretch is a bit uncomfortable at first. But you push through it, swallowing thickly and letting out a weak moan that only has his cock twitching inside you; shaky breaths escaping him as he waits for you to tell him to move, his fingers digging into your hips in order to try and control himself. 

When he finally gets the okay, he’s no better than you— holding your hips still and fucking into you with hard, calculated thrusts, figuring out what feels best by the choked cry you let out, frantic hands grabbing onto his forearms and your cute ears perking up— eyes rolling back, your thighs close around him and threaten to pull him in closer, practically unable to move as he feels you cum around his cock; clenching around him so tightly he’s barely able to keep fucking you, resorting to harsh shallow thrusts that make you let out hiccuped, whiny moans.

Your body falls limp, but only for a second; Beomgyu’s cock is still hard and rutting slowly inside you, humping you pathetically as he has yet to cum— your mind is suddenly engulfed with the need to feel him fill you up, broken voice quietly begging him to keep fucking you as the same fire from before festers in your stomach, lips bitten raw from how desperate you feel yourself become; hips slowly rolling against his, feeling the way he hisses at the action, pulling your hips flush against his before he’s leaning down to kiss you.

Insatiable, is all Beomgyu can use to describe you, fucking you again and eventually turning you around, face pressed into the sheets and your ass up as he uses this new position to fuck you stupid— and it works, his chest pressed against your back as he hovers over you, fucking you into the mattress and whispering things that have you crying and clenching around his cock; whining cutely that you just want him to use you, fill you up and treat you like nothing more than his little toy— words that have him laughing meanly in your ear, cooing mockingly that he’ll gladly do so, sitting up and watching the way your tail and legs twitch with every one of his rough thrusts.

Even after he cums inside you, filling you to the brim and bottoming out as he feels the way you squeal and come undone after, he continues to fuck you; he’s hard again and your fluttering walls aren’t helping him, your hands gripping at the sheets and bunching them in your fingers as you cry for him to do it again, again again, just wanna feel you cum inside, pleasepleaseplease want you to do it again.

Round after round, Beomgyu fucks you like you deserve; putting your body into as many positions he can think of— putting you into a mating press or laughing meanly as he makes you ride him, your legs wobbly and weak as you can barely make a pace for yourself— and it all ends the same, feeling him cum inside you to the point where it can’t stay inside anymore, thighs and stomach all coated with the slick substance as you can only beg for more, more more more gyu please, just one more?

Beomgyu, ever the gentleman, is unable to deny you— fucking you good during the rest of your heat, making sure it doesn’t remain a one-time thing as he sticks around and takes care of you afterwards, telling you sheepishly that this is probably the worst time to tell you this, but I really like you. 

Watching the way you’re only stricken with awe, ears upright and your tail wiggling behind you as a grin overtakes your face— your pessimist heart thought this would end with a friends-with-benefits situation or worse, and not with him laying next to you and staring at you with sparkling, hopeful puppy eyes— and you’re immediately jumping on him, a giggly mess as you pepper him with kisses and bury your face into his neck; inhaling his scent deeply, the warm and familiar smell that will be on you 24/7 from now on.

[luvyxdovey]

xdinary heroes headers

xdinary heroes simple headers <3

[luvyxdovey]

Do you eat books for breakfast ?!? CAUAE YOUR WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL?!? :(( I’m bingeing your fics now☺️🫶🏼🫶🏼

When Gunil notices that he’s in love with you, his world seems to stop in its tracks. It’s like everything in his life have finally lined up and clicked together. After seeing the way you laugh, how bright your smile gets when you’re excited, watching how you interact with others, and being able to know all the little things about you that you wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else; time would seem to stop for Gunil. His daily routine would come to a screeching halt as the realization hits him- he loves you. He loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone. He won’t tell you yet. He doesn’t want to scare you off. What if it’s too soon? It’s a secret he’ll keep to himself to smile about when he’s alone or when you aren’t looking. He’ll keep it a secret until he physically can’t hold it in anymore. Until he’s bursting at the seems. He would try to wait for the perfect moment, but his plans would all crumble around him once his secret unexpectedly comes pouring out of his lips.

[luvyxdovey]

sobbing these are so cute and soft:((( !!!

xdh + soft intimacy 💭💫

i'm not god's strongest soldier. i need fluff too.

cw: disgustingly sweet fluff, suggestive for jungsu, junhan and jooyeon, biting in jooyeon's, 1 little gross comment in ode's.

gunil

soft slaps on the ass.

drying your hair for you <3333333

getting ready for bed together. just being side by side with him in parallel play fashion while you put on your skincare, brush your teeth, etc.

if he's done sooner than you are, his arms are around your waist and his chin is on your shoulder, just holding onto you while you finish getting ready to finally join him under the covers and cuddle until you fall asleep

wearing soft, comfy pyjamas to bed every night. he might have even got you a matching set :-( or maybe he bought a single set and gave you the shirt so you're literally wearing the same pyjamas :-(

likes to wear said shirt to bed when you're away </3

jungsu

taking showers together !!

it doesn't even have to go the sexual route (although sometimes it does), only washing up and helping each other with gentle touches is more than enough.

would know your favorite shower temperature by heart :-) my loveliest.

would take your shampoo and wash your hair soooo gently, massaging your scalp .. if you have any tangles, he'll take the conditioner and slowly go through them.

but as much as he loves taking care of you, he loves being taken care of.

wash his hair with the fancy hair treatment shampoo, massage his scalp, make sure none of the suds fall too close to his eyes. he melts every time.

when it comes to washing your bodies, this is where the danger is at. sometimes you'll get too touchy for it to be .. sfw .. but! most of the time it's just soooooo tender.

body wash suds everywhere, hands everywhere, the occasional tickle and/or pinch..

also, if he was alone and he missed you for whatever reason, he'd steal your body wash so he can try and curb the longing :-( it never worked.

jiseok

looklooklook. sciency booky boy. if you're in uni he's coming with you to wherever you go to study.

he knows practicing guitar might make you lose your focus, so he likes to read or look into science thingies!!

baby likes being close to you and no matter how different your lifestyles might be, he likes to be included :-)

won't let you overwork yourself though.

if you're in public, he'll gently pull you out of your bubble and suggest you go eat something, take a walk, whatever.

though if you're home, he can be more affectionate. he'll come behind you and massage your scalp, run his hands along your body and go baby, let's rest a little, yeah? i have snacks ready for you!!!

if you end up dozing off beside him on the couch he'll nearly pull a muscle trying to get a blanket without waking you up. you wake up because of the jostling and he's actually a little relieved tbh.

will go c'mon, let's nap in a bed. we don't want your neck to be stiff in class tomorrow :-(

seungmin

i'm so sorry to say this. if you have acne he Will go can i pop it pwease... idk if this is a common couple practice throughout the world but it is where i live . peak levels of intimacy = popping your partner's pimples for the oddly satisfying vibe

loves online shopping with you!!!

you would sit together with a laptop on your laps and go babeee you'd look so good in this !!!!

cocky little bastard he is, he might go you should see me/yourself without it ;-) the only way to make him stop talking or smiling like a fool is to kiss him.

then you often end up saving money because you simply forgot about shopping lmaooo

on a softer note, you'd would window shop through the internet, falling into rabbit holes. when you realise, you're looking into real state in minnesota or baby shoes.

even though those seem funny and really far away, your hearts grow a little warmer <3

hyeongjun

idk personally i love i adore boys that are not afraid to be vulnerable.

okay, when the pair of you were still too fresh, too shaky, jun would be more reserved and think he'd be bothering you.

when the relationship gets established/stable though, he would get clingier, softer, coming to you with his worries, leaving you to pet his hair and reassure him :-(

when taking a nap he'll cuddle up to you, head under your chin and making himself as small as possible, and it's so endearing to see your lanky boyfie trying to be tiny so he can be babied and cooed at .. little does he know you'd do that to him even if he was 3m tall.

now, sex wise: when he feels vulnerable and in need of affection, he might go 🥺 could you. uh. lead tonight 🥺 and he'd be theeeee softest warmest loveliest little sub

jooyeon

holding your titties non sexually when you are alone.

cuddling? boob in hand. napping? head on boob. stressed? free stressball.

they're just really warm and soft :-(

omnomnomnom his love language is biting.

will lovingly bite any body part in reach of his mouth. nips at your neck just to watch goosebumps rise in your arms.

might've bitten you too hard once .. was So apologetic, he never wanted to hurt you :-(

but when the bite would bruise eventually, he would like it a little too much. he won't open this can of worms right now though

[luvyxdovey]

THE WAY THIS IS SO GOOD?!? MY TOES ARE CURLIN DONT PLAY WITH ME?!?

red handed

pairing: oh seungmin (o.de) x fem reader

word count: 1.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, panty swiping, dry humping, swearing, seungmin is just a lil perv

note - this is my first official post!! hope whoever reads this enjoys it! it was mostly self indulgent hah

seungmin couldn’t help it.

it was a mistake but he had gone way too far. 

what started off as innocent panty swiping soon turned into a full blown problem.

poor seungmin couldn’t help it.

the first time it happened, you had invited him over to study at your apartment. you were having such a hard time understanding what your professor was teaching so you begged him to help.

seungmin being the sweetest friend ever, cleared his day just to sleep over and help with your homework.

two hours in and you were already exhausted from all the big numbers and formulas. you had fallen asleep and he decided to get ready for bed. 

seems work and school was taking up most of your time because he noticed you hadn’t done laundry. the load was almost toppling over.

but seungmin is such a nice guy.. 

he figured he’d help you out and throw some of your clothes in the washer. he picked up some clothes and tossed them in, he wasn’t particularly looking at what he was throwing in which caused him to accidentally drop something.

oh god, he thinks. breath hitching as he stares wide eyed at the pretty pink panties that happened to fall right in front of his feet.

the obvious thing would be to just pick it up and move on but seungmin was feeling a bit sneaky and a lot needy.

so this is what you liked to wear? so lacy and cute.. he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. imagining how it would hug your hips, how the string would bury itself deep between your round asscheeks.

and seungmin had good intentions! he wasn’t a bad guy! but he questioned himself as he pocketed the panties deep in his pants.

you wouldn’t miss one measly pair, right?

he swore this would be the only time he ever did this. cross his heart and hope to die. but it happened again.

and again.

he just couldn’t stop his pathetic little sticky fingers from nabbing your prettiest pairs! (and he was stupid to think you didn’t realize what was going on) the next time you were sure he was going to strike, you pretended to fall asleep. you were patiently waiting for him to build the courage to go into your laundry room again.

and he did, but not to steal another pair. he was going to kindly put them back before you missed them too much.

just as he was about to drop them into the hamper, you walked up behind him, arms crossed and trying to hold back your laughter. you found the situation quite amusing.

seungmin, on the other hand, wanted to absolutely perish. he wanted the ground beneath him to open and swallow him whole. he knew he was going to the depths of hell for sure.

“i-i can explain-“ he starts, but you wave him off. what explanation could he possibly give?

“did you use them?” “what? n-no- i-i just-“

you reach over him to grab a pair and inspected them. their scent was so strong, the crotch area had dried up stains.

oh, you absolutely caught him red handed.

“you used these to jerk didn’t you, minnie? you stole my panties to cum on them? i didn’t know you were such a pervert.. these are my favorite pair and i had no idea you stole them..” you sigh

“i-i am so fucking sorry.. if you don’t want to be friends anym-“ 

he was shaking, face completely red but you waved him off.

“i appreciate you putting them back.. just come to bed with me please? it’s late..”

you weren’t mad? seungmin couldn’t believe it.. he was certain you had a target on his head. you were probably going to strangle him in your room or throw him out of your window or-

you found yourself back in your room with seungmin. you sat him down on the edge of your bed as you shook your head at him

“minnie..what you did was so disrespectful.. you left me wondering where my panties were disappearing to.. i thought i was going crazy." you scolded him with your arms crossed

 "i had to go to bed all these nights with nothing underneath.. you are so cruel..” 

seungmin swallowed thickly. the sound of your voice buzzing in his ears. “you- are you.. wearing anything right now?”

poor perverted seungmin.

“is that all that’s on your horny little brain right now?..” you chuckle and playfully grab the tips of you nightgown, pulling it up your thighs and letting it linger just beneath your core.

he didn’t know to react. was this his punishment? oh may god have mercy on him. before he could speak, you had lifted your gown over your tummy. your cute little cunt on display for him. he was salivating at the sight, eyes going wild at your bare skin.

you walked over and straddled him, he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch so he just looked up at you with wide eyes, hands at his side.

“isn’t this what you wanted, seungmin?” you whispered as you finally pulled the gown off completely and tossed it.

he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. he wanted to sink his teeth into your soft skin and bury his head between your legs.

“yes.” he answers curtly 

“this is exactly what i wanted.”

and you smiled at him because this is exactly what you wanted too. it played out perfectly and now you couldn't wait to make a mess of him.

the dragging your cunt on his clothed crotch was enough for him to ascend. your hands on his shoulders as you whined in his ear. his erection screaming for release but he deserved the teasing for what he had done.

he could feel the front of his jeans soaking, your cunt making a mess all over him but he couldn’t complain. the friction hurt but the pleasure was too good for him to ask you to stop. he was so scared he was going to cum in his jeans but he just couldn’t hold back. a groan erupts from him as he shuts his eyes tightly. a proud smile plastered on your face as you let him soil his jeans.

“look at you, minnie.. so needy.. you couldn’t even last long enough to get to the fun part?” you mocked him

“i-i can go again.. i promise.. i can..” his brain so scattered, completely pussy drunk just from a little humping.

you got up from his lap and laid besides him, gesturing him to get rid of his pants urgently. just as much as he needed you, you needed him.

he was quick to strip. he didn’t care if he was messy, didn’t care how his cock continually dribbled precum. all he care about was diving head first into your cunt, spreading your legs as he spat on it.

rubbing his cockhead against your folds and smacking your cute little clit with it a few times. 

“fuck.. gonna fuck you so good.. gonna ruin your pussy.. you want that? tell me you want it.. please..” he was trying so hard to sound strong but he was a weak, weak man for you.

you bit your lip as you nodded eagerly.

and he crumbles when he feels your cunt suck him in. just the tip at first, slowly, he was scared he'd cum prematurely again. pressing in and restraining every fiber of his being from fucking you through the mattress of your bed

"s-shit.. so pretty.. pretty girl.. p-pretty pussy.. g-god.." his eyebrows furrowed as he kicked his head back at the feeling.

he sunk himself deeper, feeling how your cunt stretched out on him. you gripped his biceps tightly as he began to pump himself inside of you. it felt even better than you anticipated. his cock slender yet long, pulsing inside of you as he ruined your pussy.

"minnie.. so deep.. can feel you s-so deep" you purred out. he was hitting your gummy spot consistently, making you see stars

he pressed your thighs against your body as he quickened his pace. his forehead had a slight sheen to it and his muscles flexed with every snap of his hips

a ring of your cream formed around his cock as he slipped in and out rhythmically.  he needed you to milk him, he was dying for you to come undone around his cock.

he began to rub tight figure eights on your clit to help push you the the edge, your back arching at the newfound pressure. curses sputtering from your lips as he fucked you so thoroughly. your vision going white as your cunt clenched tightly and spasmed, having reached your orgasm. he continues to thrust, burying himself deep in your pussy to pour his load in you.

he wanted to make sure he left you nice and full of him, even after he pulled out.

he watched as his cum seeped out of you, squirting a few more drops on your cunt and sighing out. the sight was better than he could ever imagine. 

this was so much better than stealing your panties and fisting his cock to them. 

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

thank you for reading my first fic on here!! i was dying for more o.de smut and took matters into my own hands ahsh

[luvyxdovey]

BRO?!? TJIS IS SO GOOD WTF POSSESSED YOU TO MAKE SUCH BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF LITERATURE??? You are officially my fav xhero writer 😭😭

(let me) do it right

pairing: kwak jiseok (gaon) x fem reader

genre: smut, established relationship

synopsis: you swore you didn’t like receiving oral, but your boyfriend insists on repaying the favor. turns out, he’s very good at it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: oral (m and f receiving), hair pulling, teasing, biting, unintentional gagging, fingering (not detailed), spit and drool

@jisungie-han @softboynamjoon @tentenharuno

Jiseok’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer on his lap. The feeling of your weight on his hardened cock bulging in his sweatpants had him sighing into your mouth, drawing one of your own from you at the beautiful sound. You’d been kissing your boyfriend for a while now; you were both out of breath, taking occasional breaks filled with wet, opened mouthed kisses to one another’s neck. Your hands gently held the sides of his face. They settled there after brushing his hair away from his beautiful skin. You adored Jiseok’s face — well, everything about him really. His eyes are wide and have an innocent sparkle to them. Except in moments like this, where he would look at you with his pupils blown and there are a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Most of which involve his dick inside some part of you. And his lips, oh you loved looking at his lips. They’re perfectly plump, a sweet pink color, and when they’re glossed with saliva from kisses like this — you just couldn’t get enough.

You especially loved seeing his face from below. When you’ve sunken to your knees and have your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, perfect and pretty in the same color of his lips. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he couldn’t decide between keeping his eyes open to watch you or letting them close so he can focus on the feeling. Ultimately, he settles for closing his eyes after grabbing a fistful of hair. Not to pull (usually) but just to ground himself with. Because if not, he finds himself entirely too lost in the pleasure of his cock down your throat. When you gag, and not on purpose, you pull off of him for a moment. His eyes shoot open just in time to watch as you let spit dribble out of your mouth. It lands directly on the head of his dick, where your palm immediately runs over it and slicks it down the length of him. With a firm grip on the base, you guide him back into your mouth, only this time much slower to focus on breathing through your nose and easier from the slick of your saliva coating him.

Inch by inch, you take more of him into your mouth until you reach your hand. Slowly, you begin to pull back until just the tip is barely seated on your tongue which then rolls over his slit and around it. Your hand follows closely behind, thumb replacing your tongue for a moment. With one hand, you attempted to pull his sweats further down while mouthing at his balls. Having the fabric out of the way allows you to be messier without absolutely drenching his pants, but just a few moments ago you were both too desperate for his cock in your mouth that you couldn’t bother. You sit up on your knees again, letting another glob of saliva drip down; Jiseok likes it slick and messy. In one swift motion, you yet again took as much of him as you can fit in your mouth. This time, you used your hand to steady him while bobbing your head, hoping to get him near orgasm quickly.

Which you do. If Jiseok’s noises getting more frequent in numbers and higher in pitch told you anything, that is. And they did — after all, he was your boyfriend and you’d made him cum many times before. He lightly tugs on your hair as a warning, as he was unable to form a proper sentence without a few moans cutting between. You don’t let up, however, and even after he’d cum on your tongue, you continued what you were doing. Only for a few moments. The feeling of you swallowing around his dick, swallowing his cum, had his brain turning to mush. If it hadn’t been for a faint sting of sensitivity settling in immediately after his orgasm, he would’ve cum again. But thankfully, you pulled away before he hissed at the feeling of your cheeks still hollowing around him. He knew he would need a few minutes to recover before he was ready to go again.

But in those few minutes, after catching his breath and watching you wipe away the cum that tried to slip past the corner of your lips, he could feel individual pieces of thoughts coming together. “Hey, I have a question.” His voice wasn’t fully there. It was a little ragged and raspy, a much quieter tone than he usually uses, all because of the unapologetic sounds he was making just moments before. He acknowledged your hum as a response and quickly tried to figure out how he could word this nicely.

“Why don’t you ever let me eat your pussy?”

Okay, maybe it didn’t come out at nicely as he’d hoped. The wording was a little dirty, raunchy, but it was unfiltered curiosity. You’d let him finger you; you’d even had sex, but he has never gotten to perform oral sex on you. It’s to no fault of his own, because in fact he was more than happy to do it if you ask. Hell, he could even say he craves it. He wants to know what you taste like. Even after he fingers you, you wouldn’t even let him lick his own fingers clean. You always intercepted and shoved them in your own mouth, sucking them clean until there’s no flavor of you left. Could he really complain about such a sight? Yes, actually, he could. Because he wanted every part of you. He wants to taste you, to feel you as he makes you cum on his tongue. He wants you to coat his mouth until he brushes his teeth and the flavor of mint sadly washes you away.

Your silence slightly upsets him. “You always tell me how much you love my lips. So why can’t I put them to good use? I want to eat you out. It feels a little unfair that I’m the only one getting mind blowing head in the relationship.” His bitten lips slowly form into a pout. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to? I understand if there is, but I just need you to talk to me.”

If it weren’t for his hands moving up to hold your head in place, you would’ve looked away. His words were a little dirty, but he was looking at you with one of the softest looks you’d ever seen. But somehow, you could still see the lust spilling over from behind. That and the situation at hand, caused a heat to rise to your cheeks and your face to fluster. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing to tell your boyfriend why you didn’t want him to eat you out — everyone seemed to love it, except you. You didn’t want him to think you were strange.

But it’s Jiseok, your boyfriend, and you know he would never judge you.

Deep breath, heavy sigh, repeat. “I’ve just never…really enjoyed it. Previous partners would just mindlessly wiggle their tongues or tell me it was gross. I don’t know, maybe I don’t ta— taste good, or something.” It was honestly something you were self conscious about. When you sucked Jiseok’s fingers clean, you didn’t really notice a strong taste, but you considered that maybe it’s just because it’s you that you’re tasting. Maybe it was different to others.

“Oh god no,” he started. “That’s just not true at all. I’m absolutely certain you taste delicious. Will you let me have a taste? Let me do it right and make you change your mind about not liking oral. I promise it’ll be good.”

You nod, and he resists the urge to jump with excitement. You trust him. He guides you to lay on the soft cushions he was previously sat on and immediately pressed his lips to yours. A couple of kisses to your lips, some gentle bites on your neck, and some ghosting his lips of your body until he got to the bottom of your stomach, all had you feeling more and more nervous. What if he decides he doesn’t want to do it, too? How embarrassing would that be?

Jiseok grabbed your ankles, gently spreading them apart so he could fit between your legs. The gentle kisses he pressed from the inside of your ankle, all the way up your calf and to your thigh, blocked by the hem of your shorts felt ticklish and unfamiliar, but so loving. And a little arousing. “May I?” He gestures to your shorts. With a quick nod, he begins to peel them down your legs, lifting them to finally fling the fabric off. He does the same thing with your other leg — kissing from your ankle all the up to the top of your thigh. Seeing him so close to you, legs lazily hooked over his shoulders, had your heart skipping a few beats. He glanced up at you, and oh, you could almost feel an embarrassing gush of arousal pool out of you at the sight. His eyes staring up at you, barely seen behind the disheveled mess of hair sitting atop his head. All you can see is his hungry look, still retaining some softness, zeroing in on your face. Likely to see your reaction.

When he sees you’re intently watching him too, he looks away. With your thighs beside his face, finally, and your pussy only covered by flimsy underwear right in his face, he finds it hard to focus. If he inhaled hard enough, he’s sure he could smell your arousal. But your thighs in peripheral, almost threatening to close in embarrassment, had him wanting to bite down on the fatty flesh. So, to prolong the moment, he does. He gently sinks his teeth into your left thigh, kneading the outside of it with his hand while he gently sucks little marks on your skin. He does the same to the other, leaving both thighs with tiny, blooming red marks and glistening with a thin sheen of saliva. The feeling of his teeth and tongue on your skin and his heavy breath fanning over your underwear had you stomach churning in excitement and nervousness. And unbeknownst to you, Jiseok felt the same; he felt the same flipping in his stomach when he finally gets closer to his goal.

With your permission, he slowly starts pulling at the waistband of your underwear. He kisses and grazes his teeth over nearly every inch of skin that gets exposed by pulling the garment off. As he reaches the seat of your underwear, peeling it off of your soaked core, he curses under his breath. He swears he could see a string of slick still connecting you to them. Like with your shorts, once they were at your ankles, he flung the fabric off, almost feeling rushed to get his mouth on you before you change your mind. However, he doesn’t want to rush and scare you. He wants to take his time and let you enjoy being properly eaten for the first time.

“Are you ready?” His hands follow the same path his mouth took earlier. “Let me hear your words, please.”

You whined a little bit. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Jiseok moves his hands to gently spread you apart. For a moment, he marvels at the sight in front of him. You were dripping wet, and he could only imagine how badly you wanted this. He almost let a sly comment slip about how you should’ve let him do this sooner, but decided that now wasn’t the time. Instead, he runs his pointed tongue all the way from your drooling entrance up to your clit. He closes his lips around it, sucking and rolling his tongue, causing your hips to jolt. He flattens his tongue and covers almost the entire expanse of your pussy, lips brushing your clit and tip of his tongue barely catching the wetness pouring out of you. He closed his lips around your clit again, swallowing the slick juices that collected on his tongue before pulling back. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your own mouth was slightly open, letting beautiful sounds of pleasure flow freely. He dived back in, tongue now greedily lapping at your entrance. Jiseok teased you a few times, letting his nose brush against your sensitive bundle of nerves, gently prodding his tongue inside of you before pulling it out, circling around your entrance instead. His chin, by now, was covered in you, and he loved the idea of that.

One hand moves upwards to rub figure eights while his tongue now fucks in and out of you, the other subconsciously kneading the soft skin at your hip. Your hands reach out for him; one threads through his hair, firmly pushing it back which earned a hum against you. The vibration sends a wave of electricity through your body, and you pull on his hair again to draw the same reaction from him. When he moved his mouth back to your clit, two fingers replacing his tongue, you could tell how close you were. It felt different than all of your other orgasms, but you could still register the familiar feeling bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. His fingers work inside you at the same pace of his mouth, sucking and lapping. Your nerves were being stimulated from both places, and the hums Jiseok was letting out against you only pushed you that much closer to the edge. You can feel it, you’re so close, all you need is—

With a tighter grip on his hair, your back arches off of the cushions beneath you, pushing your hips further into Jiseok’s face. He still works at your clit with his mouth, pumping his fingers inside of you to ride out your high. Your vision flooded with white, mouth agape letting out broken moans. For a moment, you felt as though you lost control of your body. The feeling of his tongue still on you, fingers still in you, had your hips jerking as you ride out the very end of your high. Then your fingers are loosening their grip on his hair, palms pressing against his head to lightly push him away.

He pulls away and you nearly moan at the sight. His plump lips slightly swollen, glossy with your slick arousal that dropped down his chin. Usually wide and innocent eyes are now lidded and clouded with lust. Even his fingers, hand and wrist were covered in a mix of your wetness and his drool. And if you lifted your head any further, you’d be able to see the bulge in his pants (that he barely managed to put on after you finished with him). It was obvious he enjoyed this as much as you, admittedly, did.

Especially when he leans in to whisper to you. “You taste so sweet. So good.” You could taste yourself on him when he pressed his lips to yours. The taste of you mixed with him had your body reacting involuntarily. Attempting to get some friction, you started grinding your hips up, hoping to make contact with him. Instead, he laughs a little when pulling away from the kiss. “Did I change your mind yet?”

Desperately, you nodded. “Yes. God, it felt so good.” You hooked your hands in the waistband of his sweats. “Now can we have sex?”

Jiseok laughed louder, but made quick to get his pants off again.

© xmaslunatic